Undying Hate

[tartaros_avatar]

Dead. No. It was impossible. Marcus couldn't be dead. This had happened before. The nuclear incident in the Soviet Union. The Rikti War. His own plans had seemed to manage it, only for Statesman to rise again.

But they had confirmation of a body. And the method used--he'd considered something similar before. It could have worked. It had worked. And before those useless failures of the Freedom Phalanx could retrieve Marcus, the body was gone.

The Circle. They'd stolen him. Those thieving old wizards were going to use Marcus' body for one of their rituals, and his idiot allies were too distracted saving civilians to notice or care.

But he could not be bound like them. He knew what they were doing, and he knew where. The technique they'd employed left a distinctive signature, one the Mystics could track. No matter where it led, he would follow. And then he would shatter the heart of Oranbega and let the stinking heap of Paragon collapse into its ruins.

A conference of Magi tracked the killers--

--they tracked the killers to a buried Oranbegan outpost, snaking along a ley line from their city. No time to waste. The strike force was already assembled and in motion before he even received the coordinates. Hand-picked months ago for another operation, for a plan that didn't matter anymore.

And they would perform their roles to perfection. If they did not, he would know. And they would die to redeem themselves, or they would live to wish they had been so lucky.

But as soon as they were close enough to strike, his rage could not be contained any longer. He tore into the mages and their demonic allies, the sting of their spells and spectral claws barely felt, their flesh barely felt as he cut them down. They were flimsy, weak things, how dare they, how dare they do this.

He descended through their outpost, his operatives following in his wake, their numbers slowly dwindling. He'd planned for that. When their arch-demon master tried to end him as they'd done to Marcus, he'd planned for that too. He always planned, grown stronger, changed the world to better suit him, and yet it had not been enough.

And this would not be enough to calm him, how could it? He wasn't finished, no matter how much his wounds were slowing him now. He survived the demonic assault, his countermeasures only partly effective. It felt like glass had been ground into his bones. But he could not be stopped.

He tore the demon's burning heart from its chest, and limped on. The ritual chamber was next, the mages trapped in their incantations over Marcus' body. With their ceaseless chanting pinning them in place, all they could do was watch him advance and kill.

And when at last he stood beside the ritual altar, he finally saw.

Marcus was still breathing.

Comments

[zeusincarnate]

It took Marcus a moment to understand the ramifications of what Stefan said. It seemed they had killed him. Recluse went in there thinking he was dead. The Freedom Phalanx thought he was dead.

Between whatever interference the Circle had done in Recluse's plans and running of with his his alleged corpse, Recluse had fought his way in there not expecting him alive. Stefan had likely planned to just avenge the interference and keep them from using Statesman's body.

And then to know that Stefan had known about this shared weakness of their this whole time. Because of course he did.

"I was less careful than I should have been," Marcus reluctantly admitted." I thought the big threat was to the city. The Circle don't come up with anything new very often."

He was always most on guard against Lord Recluse, or the Incarnates from other dimensions. With them, the city or anything else was always the distraction, and it was really all about what was between them.

"Your back is bleeding, too." Cautiously testing out this reluctant and strange cease fire between them. It was the first time Marcus had ever seen the part of Stefan's body where the spider limbs grew out of him. The first time without armor and cape and everything else obscuring it, at least.

[tartaros_avatar]

Of course he hadn't thought it through. Marcus never did.

"They destroyed empires before, as the Mystics insist on reminding me." And it was a point with merit. The Oranbegans were more pawns of the demons they'd dealt with now, but occasionally their magical admixture would produce something more powerful than either could have managed alone.

"I know." He waited to see how far Marcus was going to push the matter.

[zeusincarnate]

The two of them had very good reason to not disregard stories and legends from ancient history. Marcus should have known better.

And those two words right there were Stefan very clearly laying out bait. But at the same time it wasn't also telling him to go mind his own business. Marcus was too tired for that.

"I'm not going to play that game right now."

Still, he made his way over to the first aid kit to eye the contents. Synth skin patches in Recluse's particular shade of inhuman gray, a variety of things he couldn't identify with his limited knowledge of current first aid and medical, strictly for patching up other people when necessary.

And it really wasn't often necessary. Setting his own food down nearby, Marcus reached in to gather a few things from the kit.

[tartaros_avatar]

His only reply was a tired snort. He hadn't expected anything more than that.

A sterilizing swab to clean away the blood from his neck. Another doused in neutralizing agent for the specific class of magical venoms the Circle favored. Forceps to blindly but dexterously remove the shards of something his flesh was slowly pushing out. More neutralizing agent, directly into the puncture wounds. Finally, the synthetic skin.

Patching up small problems rather than facing what should bee done.

bees

[zeusincarnate]

Supplies in hand, Marcus turned to walk away from Stefan. But only because he had to go a fair distance to get around those very lethal spider limbs to actually reach his back. In fact, once he was there, Marcus was standing in the safest place to be around Stefan.

Which was probably for the best. Marcus had watched what Stefan was doing and what he was using, and had enough of an idea what to do to treat the magical wounds and burns and occasional physical damage. Which he did quickly but carefully, picking one that wouldn't require reaching around or under the spider limbs to do first.

Re: bees

[tartaros_avatar]

His eyes followed Marcus' movements, limbs unconsciously flexing as he began to circle out of view.

The greatest problem was ultimately the source of their power. The box. It hadn't taken over completely today. That always had a distinctive, loathsome progression to it. Aura, pain, blackout, confusion, and usually amnesia. But he could account for every second since he'd last slept.

But there were other changes, more subtle ones. He'd noticed some of them from the very first moments, but only some. Over the first years after opening the box, he had thought the alterations had all been beneficial, and under his control. But eventually he noticed patterns in his own behavior. Actions he favored or avoided, without regard for efficacy or personal history.

He understood what he was. He was a villain. He was ruthless, pitiless, unconstrained by morality. Undermining and destroying heroic forces wherever they were found. He didn't just play the role, this was him, in his entirety. And yet so much of it fit to a simple framework. A story. One that would not be allowed to end.

"Do you actually want to do that?"

[zeusincarnate]

Did he want to? No. Not really, but Marcus felt like he should. Because Stefan had saved him, even if accidentally. Recluse had ample opportunity to kill him or leave him for dead or do something and he hadn't. In fact, he had been downright courteous and polite compared to his usual self.

Marcus didn't understand why, and he was pretty sure Stefan didn't know either. Was still figuring things out and trying to plan. Otherwise he would've done something. Recluse could play the long game, but if this was a trick it was absurd by almost any standard.

"You could've killed me, or left me." Except that leaving him wasn't an option due to the fact that they both agreed the Circle gaining control of an Incarnate was a very bad idea all around. That only left killing him. "Don't expect me to start trusting you or to ask for a pardon for you, but I can at least do this much."

[tartaros_avatar]

A pardon? that earned a sneer. "You never would have felt any obligation before." Before. It had been a joke that Marcus didn't want his money going to the Widows and Orphans Fund. The idea that this was the real, unforced personality of Marcus Cole was absurd.

"It wants both of us alive and thwarting each other."

[zeusincarnate]

"Before when? Before you saved me in the war? Before you helped keep me alive on our search for the fountain? Before you saved me again taking us both down there to drink from it? Before you intercepted my mail and tortured our friend to death?" It certainly wasn't for lack of trying, Lord Recluse had come perilously close more than once. "Only one of us keeps coming back to fight again and again, and it isn't me."

Marcus had come close to abandoning everything, abandoning the fight against Recluse. It hadn't been the Well or the Box that had stopped him. He had become less and less proactive about being a hero over the decades. Even with all the organizations and the Freedom Phalanx. He had too many villains and heroes trying to demand his attention to pay attention to everything.

He continued to quickly but carefully deal with the more easily accessible wounds, not ready yet to go working around and under those spider limbs. "We're effectively immortal. We have a very long time to keep doing this." It was hard not to be bitter knowing the only person he had to share eternity with wanted him and everyone he loved to suffer.

[tartaros_avatar]

"If anyone had hurt you as much as I have, you wouldn't give them any charity." No one else had tried so thoroughly, and nobody had needed to. The old Marcus Cole had only cared about fairness when it got him something.

But oh, he had loved to lecture. "You dare assume I never tried to break away. That you never took anything from me." The muscles in his back tensed, wounds flaring open. "Yes. We have as long as it allows us, and I have more than reason enough to never let you rest. With Marlene dead, there's nothing else."

[zeusincarnate]

That was true, but no one else had ever spent so much time going after Marcus. "No one else has the history we do," Marcus said to defend himself, but it sounded like a weak argument. Neither of them could really let go of their shared past, as much as Marcus usually didn't mention Stefan whenever he had to recount how he came by his powers.

An annoyed noise escaped his throat when Stefan's exceptionally bulky muscles tensed up and undid all the work Marcus had just very reluctantly done, and he rested a hand on an uninjured part of Stefan's upper back. Luckily it was easy to remember, or rather, hard to forget, that he was currently weak and powerless and couldn't just take a few moments of rest from arguing by throwing Recluse through a wall. And Marcus had no idea who Marlene was, or when or how she died, but it was clear Recluse was blaming Marcus for it.

Recluse's skin felt strange, not entirely human, and too warm. Although Marcus wasn't sure if that was because he himself was cold or due to Recluse's injuries. Asking about who Marlene was could only lead to Stefan getting more angry as Marcus poked at what seemed to be an entirely different kind of wound. A kind Marcus hadn't thought Recluse was capable of having. "You asked if I wanted to do this, but you haven't said if you want me to stop or keep going." Marcus said as he pulled his hand away from Stefan's back to put more skin patches on the reopened injuries. "Is it making you sit here and let me help?"

[tartaros_avatar]

"Practicality should dictate the answer." It should. Even here, it should. He should take what he needed. He should use his advantage.

He shouldn't be here at all. A properly assembled strike team could have handled the assault. He had altered the team's composition to require his presence, because he had been too angry to leave it to others. He'd wanted to destroy the Circle interlopers personally.

And their magic had cut deep into him, his power. It still gnawed at him with every movement, every tensed muscle.

Slowly he forced his back to relax, even though he hadn't gained much more control over his anger. When it came to Marcus, he always made mistakes.

[zeusincarnate]

"If practicality dictates the answer stop trying to pick a fight and chase me off, and hand me some more skin patches." Which Marcus had always thought was Stefan's weakness. His willingness to give into his rage and his passion.

Marcus waited to see how Stefan would react to that before he started treating the next wound. He still had plenty of the other materials and could start on the wounds around and beneath the spider limbs but he wasn't sticking his hands there until he was more certain Recluse wasn't going to get angry enough to turn on him now.

[tartaros_avatar]

"It should. And I should have killed you, and yet I haven't."

He picked up some of the medical supplies, turning them over in his hands. "I suppose this means that when I finally become angry enough to try again, it will be too late."

[zeusincarnate]

Despite all their fighting, Marcus had always held the impression Recluse would prefer to capture him alive than kill him. And their current situation was strong evidence that despite what he might say, Recluse wasn't going to kill him.

"Why did you attack the Cirlce yourself, knowing you would get this injured." Marcus knew Recluse had some kind of grudge against them and refused to work with them at all, but he didn't exactly know why. Keeping his army of mystics happy was a possible reason, but it just didn't quite fit.

He didn't think Recluse would get injured enough to kill him. Mostly because Marcus was certain Recluse would decide on some plan that involved keeping him alive as a prisoner before Marcus regained his powers and ability to fight back.

[tartaros_avatar]

"I thought you were dead, and they had your body." Those were two separate thoughts, he was beginning to realize. "That could not be allowed."

[zeusincarnate]

On the surface, that might make sense if Stefan thought he might have to take down a fully powered incarnate, but it still didn't add up quite right.

"If they had taken me over, would they have my full power?" Marcus very much doubted it, but since Recluse had already thought over the very attack that had taken him down and developed a countermeasure, he might know something Marcus didn't.

Because it was starting to sound like he was very angry someone had taken the right to make Marcus suffer from Recluse, and that had driven him into a rage. He remembered just how angry and overwrought Recluse had been when Statesman first woke up.

[tartaros_avatar]

"Not at first. Possibly never." In fact the body might have degraded over time, as it rejected the spirit.

A strike force could have dealt with it. The technique the Circle had performed was only effective against incarnates.

"It would have meant a world without you to stand in my way." And he wanted that. He truly did. Nothing drove him mad with frustration quite the way Marcus could.

[zeusincarnate]

He was right. There was no practical reason for Stefan to have been there except that he was angry and wanted to take his Statesman-related anger out on the Circle.

Marcus had never understood why Stefan had shown back up as an enemy, rather than a friend, and he had long ago given up trying to make sense of it. Had long ago given up on Lord Recluse ever coming back from what he was.

But Recluse seemed a little calmer for the moment, so Marcus started to deal with the injuries that would require him getting more tangled up with the spider limbs than he wanted to be.

[tartaros_avatar]

The space between his limbs was still armored, but there was little to be done about his back around it without affecting his movement. His armor was already fitted as close to the limbs as he could afford.

He had to splay some of his limbs apart to expose the burns beneath them, left by mages and demons he'd made the tactical decision to ignore as he pushed ahead through the caves.

And while he sat there, letting his hated enemy bandage vulnerable wounds, he tried to think. To plan. To work a way around whatever this infuriating compulsion was to keep Marcus alive.

[zeusincarnate]

At least they had stopped arguing and Recluse was cooperating with Statesman treating his back. Marcus felt like he should probably take advantage of this somehow, but couldn't think of any way to overcome Recluse. Their current power difference was just too great, and even if Marcus somehow overcame Recluse, he'd have to find a way to get out of here and back to Paragon City. Without his powers.

Watching the muscles around the spider limbs where they attached to the back was interesting, but Marcus didn't let himself be distracted. For a moment he wondered what they felt like and looked like without the armor, but it was a passing thought quickly banished from his tired mind.

[tartaros_avatar]

His mind turned over plan after plan, but he'd already considered them all. Cutting free of the Box was no simple matter. This wasn't a signal that could be blocked out. The web of power that they drew from was too integrated into reality itself.

Theoretically, one could create a pocket dimension that lacked the Box's power. Inside, one could theoretically operate without its influence. A perfect place to trap Marcus, and to perform experiments. Perhaps even a means to permanently sever the connection to the Box.

But it would mean giving up all power in exchange for freedom. While he continued to fund dimensional research, he manipulated their focus away from the idea. He wanted Marcus dead. He wanted to be free. But would he give up the rest of what he'd become? Of course not.

In the meantime, he could at least keep Marcus injured. But inevitably it would fail. The Circle's ritual would wear off. Someone would find them and rescue the hero. Or one of his own followers would undermine him. That was how it always went. Every single time, it failed.

Sometimes it felt like if he could have just a few moments peace to stop thinking about Marcus, he could bend the universe to his whims. He wasted so much energy on the man.

And he was truly impossible to ignore now. There were places between his spider limbs that were always sensitive. Vulnerable. The injuries there ached and spat fire--some of them literally, the Circle's magical flames flared angrily as the wounds were treated.

But most keenly, he felt skin against his. He hadn't allowed anyone to touch there in years.