Chapter Text
“I meant to ask earlier, what made you take an interest in going to the gym with Luc, Bean?”
Head awkwardly slumped against the window of Luc’s dad’s car, Bean perked up slightly at the mention of their name. “Oh, I figured it could be a good way to work through some negative emotions, or at least something productive to do with my days off." Their reasoning wasn't entirely untruthful; they really did want to make the most of the mental health days the school provided the pair, which they finally accepted after that building briefly became their prison, but Bean was less focused on improving their feelings. Instead, they were much more invested in developing better defense skills for the— clearly inevitable next encounter— with Malcom.
Luc corroborated their cover, chiming in with: “Same here. Few extra days would mean a lot when it comes to strength training. Who knows, I might even be able to hit my next weight goal before winter." His excuse was far more fabricated than Bean's, as it was clear to him that strength was hardly the skill he needed to enhance in case they were ambushed again.
His father nodded along to their replies, addressing Bean with a simple: "That's very wise of you." For his son, he had, expectedly, more to say. "Honestly, Tori, if you wanted more days off for you to train, I'd gladly discuss it with your guidance counselor. We both have agreed you could stand to skip more classes, it isn't as though you'd need them for your future." He laughed to himself at his not-quite joke, unknowingly fortunate to be facing the road, as it left him unaware of the virulent glare his son was shooting his way. Bean began anxiously chewing on their pendants while they stared out the window, praying they wouldn't be stuck as a third wheel to a father-son argument. As if there wasn't enough uncomfortable tension in the car, Luc's father continued, "That reminds me, you really should visit your uncle Helios. He told me you've hardly spoken to him since he arrived. Maybe you could ask him about interning at the police station, that would really help you get a sense of how it feels to save people."
Luckily, neither of the teens was forced to dwell on that sore spot for very long, as they saw the visage of the Moncoeur City Gym come into view through the car's window, both looking up at it as if it were a beacon of light in a storm. Luc quickly rattled off an answer to his father's question. "Yeah, sure, I will. Bye, love you." He then practically bolted from the car, barely letting it come to a full stop.
Bean followed suit, although they took a moment to wave and give a less rushed, "Bye, Mr. Mamoru, thanks again for driving us!" It didn't matter that they'd known that man since they were in kindergarten; they had never managed to get past how awkward it felt for them to refer to their friend's father by his first name.
"Goodbye, you two. Do well." Mamoru waved back, with his golden-red wings glittering in the refraction of sunlight through the glass as he drove away.
Briefly jogging up the brick steps, Bean caught up to Luc right as he passed through the gym's glass doors and continued to trail behind him, as they figured that by now, Luc knew the building's layout like the back of his hand. Clearly, he was operating on autopilot at the moment, because he was currently muttering a one-sided version of the argument he held back from launching at his father under his breath while he walked. "How many times will you bring this up before you understand that I *like* going to school, even if I wouldn't need it for some rescue job that I don't even want? 'But you have wings, Tori, you need to save people like me', 'But think of the greater good, Tori', What about what I want to do with my life? What about me? I swear, you care more about what you think all of Potentia needs over your own son."
Acting as though they weren't eavesdropping, Bean nervously tapped him on the shoulder. “Uh, Luc? I think we're here, wherever here is.”
Luc, upon realizing he'd subconsciously been leading them both for several minutes now, snapped out of his family-related melodrama and faced his friend. "Right, yeah. Here's one of the old sparring rooms, they haven't been used since this place stopped teaching aikido, so we shouldn't be interrupted." Pushing the door open, they were both greeted by a spacious, mat-floored and mirror-walled room that had been left vacant, aside from a couple of dusty free-standing punching bags.
“So, what should I do?” Bean asked as they entered, never having been particularly interested in working out outside of their daily activities.
“You tell me, how’d you escape last time?” Luc replied. Both were yet to truly discuss what occurred while they were separated the other day, considering they'd been too overcome with exhaustion once the adrenaline dissipated to even think about unpacking it at the time.
"Maybe this is weird, but I tried replicating my old hockey skills, I guess I was already thinking about the past so much that it was kinda second nature," they explained, further expanding, "I kept my head down and refused to stop moving, and I sorta blocked my body off, like I was a shield almost. I pretty much kept running like that until I hit the principal's office."
Luc considered their strategy for a moment. "I thought you weren't supposed to keep your head down in hockey."
“I didn't say my skills were true to the sport," Bean justified. "And I'm not sure if they'd help much in other scenarios, but it did give me an idea for something that could." Reaching between the straps at the back of their overalls, they managed to pull out their old hockey stick, the bulk of which they successfully hid through one of their pant legs, and held it out in front of them as if they were unsheathing a sword, all while looking very proud of themself.
Luc was slightly confused by the logistics of that move at first, but he was mostly impressed by the end result. "That explains why you were sitting so weirdly in the car."
"Your dad probably wouldn't have cared that I brought it, I was just testing how well I could hide it in the future." They turned the stick over in their hand, still able to feel the faint residue of the stickers that used to cover it. "It's aluminum, so it should hold up pretty well, even if it's just a junior stick. I thought about asking my mom to make it collapsible, like a baton, so I could hide it better, but since I can't find a way to bring that up without sounding suspicious, let's focus on it like this."
Luc nodded as the wheels in his mind turned, already picturing the stick's use. "It's like a bo staff, almost. If you use it right, you could totally push back against a Hypno without hurting them. And as a bonus, once you get to the two World Enders, you can just whack the hell out of them." He smirked. "I got to hit the shadow lady with my backpack, and let me tell you, you wouldn't believe how satisfying that was."
“Oh, I think I'd believe it, I trapped Malcom behind a door and slammed it on him like, four times." They snickered.
Luc's eyes involuntarily widened at the absurdity of it, and he laughed along with them. “Wow, that's just incredible. I’d say I didn’t think you had it in you, but I know you too well." Remembering their goal, he quickly regained focus. "Ok, let's test out your idea. I'll act like I'm a Hypno, and you'll try to force me away."
Bean sheepishly held their hockey stick closer as they hesitated. "I don't know about this, I don't want to accidentally hurt you."
"That's why we have to test it out, so you won't accidentally hurt the Hypnos," Luc countered. "Plus, unlike them, I can just tell you to stop if you hurt me."
They found they couldn't argue with that and accepted his plan. "Alright. Based on how I've seen the Hypnos act, you've gotta clear your mind. Pretend like nothing exists except me and you can't think of anything but capturing me. Once you say go, we can start."
He nodded once more before shutting his eyes, inhaling deeply as he aimed to create a mental wall, blocking off every other topic from his brain. He was well equipped for the task, as in some ways, he was used to the sensation of pushing aside his own thoughts and feelings. While it's never truly possible to clear one's mind entirely, it was undeniable Luc had a stronger will than most. Concluding the brief pause with an exhale, he reopened his eyes. "Ok, go."
Giving no further warning, he darted forward as fast as he could sans wings, zeroing in on Bean above all else, prematurely extending his hands in anticipation of their capture. They were both all too familiar with the robotic nature of how Hypnos would grasp toward any shred of them, with no specific inkling of the details of their apprehension other than to pull them down like crabs in a bucket, and Luc emulated the action well. His performance may have been in part because, even outside of this pseudo-hypnotic state, he didn't actually plan for how he would seize Bean, as he had a feeling they'd successfully fend him off long before he needed to.
Readying for Luc's first approach, Bean held out the hockey stick perpendicular to their body, standing steadfast against the impact of his hands on the metal, thankful for their foresight to bend their arms slightly to lessen the shock. Shoving back, they flicked the stick down towards his thumbs until his wrist dropped enough, causing him to involuntarily release right as they pushed him away. Still mirroring Hypno behavior, Luc did not let up, charging back at them with all the drive his natural stamina provided. Bean attempted a similar kind of parry, clutching the stick diagonally as they figured it freed them up for more movements. This time, once Luc gripped the stick, they wrenched it until it was parallel between them and continued turning until he could no longer hold on, finally using it as a buffer to propel him backward. For his third return, Bean simply swiped at his feet with the hockey stick's blade, successfully tripping him. To them, it felt like a rougher move than the previous two, but they figured that if they used it in the right circumstance, such a small fall wouldn't warrant much worry. As much as they vehemently disliked the idea of hurting an innocent person, especially one forced to fight against their will, when it came to protecting themself, they knew pain couldn't be completely avoided; all they could hope to do was minimize it. That's why they were training, after all.
Luc, who was barely affected thanks to the mats, shifted himself into a seated position, figuring this was as good a time as any for a break. "Good job, Bean. If you keep it up, you might end up stronger than me."
Realizing they were done for the moment, Bean dropped the stick at their side. "Thanks, I doubt it though." Even with the pause, their brain was still buzzing with new techniques to try out. "Do you think that if I waved the stick back and forth, they would back off? Or would they just keep going and end up hit?”
“Ehh, maybe just steer clear of any offensive moves to avoid what happened last time,” Luc suggested. “Speaking of last time, yeah, safe to say Leo can’t offer much help anymore. His memory was wiped completely. To him, we were never there."
Bean held off on commenting that he never offered much help in the first place, instead commiserating, "I know, and Malcom won't stop at just memory erasing. He made it clear that if we try asking anyone for help again, he'll kidnap everyone we love. Not just Leo and our parents either, he even threatened to take Olive, keep her until she's an adult, and force her to be a soldier." They got a sick, pained look on their face at the mere thought of their little sister being stuck as a hypnotized zombie for most of her life.
Luc shared the feeling, barely suppressing a disgusted scowl. As a failed attempt to lighten the mood, he offered, "At least we don't have to worry about the moral ramifications of fighting hypnotized children."
“We'd have more of a chance against children. I mean, we're technically children," Bean retorted. "So's Felix, and I doubt Malcom would bring him anywhere if he's not a soldier, especially since he didn't last time, so..." Bean trailed off, unsure of what point they were trying to make. Why would it matter if Felix was within arms reach again, still hypnotized? What difference would it make at that point?
Luc hadn't noticed them trailing off, as he had been too preoccupied with pulling himself up, and he instead began to focus on the second half of their training. "Alright, let's switch. I don't really have anything combat-based to work on, but there is one skill I need to learn." From the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out what was once a white bandanna, now fashioned into a blindfold. “Being able to get around without sight. That way, you don’t have to face that lunatic alone anymore.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
"I guess as far as your part goes, just try and walk around as quietly as you can, while I attempt to find my way around and hopefully locate you," Luc explained.
“No, not with the training, I mean what are we supposed to do about Malcom, other than fighting him off? How will we get Felix back? More importantly, how will we free him and the others from the hypnosis?” Bean questioned, wringing their hands anxiously as they looked at the ground.
“I don’t really know,” Luc admitted, wishing he had anything better to say.
“Do we have to, uh, you know,” Bean hesitated, questioning if such an old room would have security cameras that picked up audio, and, just to be safe, practically whispered the next two words: “Kill him? Would that even work?"
Luc didn’t seem nearly as taken aback as one would typically be if the idea was mentioned in a regular circumstance. Instead, he had to weigh the pros and cons internally to reach his verdict. "No, I don't think so. For one, it might not even end the hypnosis, with the whole 'powers lingering after death' theory."
"But isn't that just ancient religion? It's not like it was ever proven, and even if somehow, in some unknowable way, it did happen to that one person, the power was immortality, not hypnosis. I don't think any other power can stay like, well, immortality, if that's even a power someone could have." Bean argued.
"Bean, we shouldn't do something so drastic if there's even the slightest chance it could fail and trap Felix and the others forever," Luc calmly, but firmly asserted. "I don't exactly believe in it either, but I don't want to rule it out." That was the frustrating part of the widespread uncertainty of how powers as a whole behave: some questions had never and may never be answered. As absurd as it may seem, they had to treat this theory as fact.
Deep down, a part of them agreed they shouldn't resort to such measures, but they could hardly be satisfied with that answer. "Then what do we do? Wait for him to give up control of his own volition? He'd never do that." They hung their head, already being eclipsed by an all-too-familiar state of despair. "What are we supposed to do when there's nothing we can do?"
Uncharacteristically, Luc was left frozen, in a rare state of having no solution come to mind. "Well," he started, finding his footing as he went. "Maybe we don't focus on that part right now. All we can do right now is get stronger and learn ways to fight back, and once we know we can hold our own, we can go from there. We have to take this one step at a time, after all, trying to rush through a poorly thought-out plan is what got Malcom crushed behind a door."
The reference got them to smile, and while it may have been only slightly, it was far better than nothing. "Ok, then let's work on this step for now and get on with this sightless training."
Luc smiled back as he tied the bandanna over his eyes. "Be as quiet as possible, it doesn't matter if you want to move or stay still, but focus on making no sound. Not that I think Malcom will ever stop talking, I just want to train on the hardest difficulty."
Bean was about to nod until they remembered he couldn't see and verbalized their understanding instead. "I'll try. Dumb question, but do you think you could learn echolocation?"
"I think that only really works with certain bat powers. All I can do is focus on sounds other people make, which is harder to do when I'm high up. So, naturally, I'll test that out first." With that, Luc flapped his wings and began his ascent, circling around the room until he couldn't quite tell where he'd started. Reaching out beside him, he ran one hand against the wall, drifting further away until the faintest buzz of sensation had faded and he was left only to anticipate objects nearby. He could still feel the self-produced wind all around him and how it differed the closer he approached an object, leaving him an adequate amount of foresight to maneuver precisely enough to avoid crashing. Satisfied with his level of disorientation, he halted, letting himself hover in place until he tuned out the faint flapping of his wings. Waiting silently with eyes rendered sightless, he was brought back to being confined in the net, forced to listen to the click of shoes against hardwood. Ever since that moment, he'd sworn he'd become good enough to never get trapped again; now it was time to put it to the test. Honing in on the slightest sound like an owl listening for mice under snow, he began to hear the smallest indications of life. The slight squeak of boots shifting on the gym mats; fabric rubbing back and forth with each step; repeated clink of pendant against pendant; faint, rhythmic breaths. After taking in the near-silent harmony for a second longer, he dove down, landing mere centimeters from Bean, who was left impressed, but not particularly surprised. After all, they'd always known Luc was a good listener.
Repeating the exercise a few more times, it seemed as though the efforts that Bean took to be quieter and quieter had no real effect, as they were always discovered in only a couple of minutes. Signifying his final descent for the training session, Luc undid his blindfold and hid it in his pocket once again. "That should be good for today. Let's work on it again tomorrow." Looking at the clock on the wall, his suspicion was verified. "My dad should be here any minute, let's go wait outside."
The pair descended the building's numerous stairs, resting on the remaining few as they waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with their progress, however small it was. Swaying their head side to side, Bean took the time to appreciate their surroundings, something they felt they hadn’t had the chance to do in ages.
Moncoeur, as cities tended to be, was more urban than the tiny town of Chenille, opting for wider, pavement roads to support the frequent passing cars. Yet it still wasn't very big, nothing in the Midpoint really was, all retaining a similar cozy feeling. A variety of small shops lined the other side of the street. From what Bean could make out, there was a bookstore and a cafe right in front of them, as well as many other indeterminate facilities further in either direction. Nestled between the lot, there appeared to be a sort of bar, but it was hardly dingy looking, giving off an almost inviting aura instead, with some kind of standing sign by the door that Bean couldn't quite read from their angle. Squinting and craning their neck, all they made out was it was an advertisement for some singer, one whose name started with the letter "C".
Just as they considered getting up to read more, their thoughts were interrupted by the honk of a car horn as Luc's father's vehicle came into view. Abandoning the plan for now, Bean ran down to join him and his son, who had managed to get ahead of them while they'd been distracted. Fortunately, they wouldn't be gone from the city for long. They could find out who the singer was soon.
Shrouded in self-imposed darkness, Malcom was left to scheme simultaneously against the pair, although clearly fairing less well, with no real progress made as he'd spent a not insignificant amount of time simply seething, glowering at his study's map that held no answers. All it displayed was the memories of so many successfully sieged towns, though bitterly reminding him how his attempt toward Chenille had gone, and still was going, so poorly.
"I suppose you are to blame for this mishap," he addressed the uninstructed Felix beside him, who was left motionless other than the perpetually spinning spirals. Examining him out of the corner of his eye, Malcom brought his gloved hand down over the boy's cat-like ears until they lay flat against his head. He released them, allowing them to spring back into shape as his gaze returned to the map, eyes drifting from Chenille towards Moncoeur, a scowl forming on his face as he recognized it. "If only it wasn't in such proximity to Ġenish territory, I'd swallow up that cancerous slum in a heartbeat. No, instead I must focus on the dirt-encrusted hamlets that spawned miscreants such as you."
He sighed heavily, collecting one of the only books in his reach that hadn't been scattered across his study floor in a fit of rage, running his finger across the regal inscription on the ancient cover that read 'Esse Supra Mundum: A Delineation in the Immortal Soul' as he returned it to the shelf. "I shouldn't be so downtrodden: Thon fortune behaves in such cycles. With no hardship, one earns no reward. Fate is such a fickle device, no matter what one’s desire may be, one is forever pulled by its unforgiving tide. However, I mustn't doubt the outcome, even if it has been most unfavorable as of late. After all…" His poisonous eyes returned to the boy. "It's fate I found you, Fox."
