[He doesn't know how it's possible -- how this man is so damn fast, that he didn't even see him move, really. The sensation hits him first, the feeling of fingers clenching tight around his wrist, halting his momentum. The needle stops too far from its mark.
He hisses out and tries to push, but it really is like fighting against a marble statue. Like wind battering fruitlessly against stone.
Just who the hell is this man?]
Why would you- Agh! [Oh, yes, those are the bones in his wrist crying out in pain. But he hold steadfast to the syringe, ever stubborn.] Why would you want to keep him?!
[HONESTLY, to make this man want to kill for his sake? To protect him? Henry had to have manipulated him to hell and back-]
[Because it's a wildly unbelievable concept, and he will die (probably literally) on that hill unless it's spelled out for him. Because Henry Creel has never once in his life shown a capacity for empathy, for true kindness. Not a single semblance of wanting to connect with someone beyond trying to pry into their minds to bring them pain. He finds more enjoyment from the company of spiders than people; too many times, he's been more like an animal in a cage than a person, a sorry truth that led to him ultimately working as an orderly instead of utilized as a test subject. He had to be defanged for his own good and for the good of the facility.
The problem is that Brenner cannot see, or refuses to, how these are all simple consequences of a lonely boy stripped of his freedom. How that twists itself up into anger. Because that anger, too, was helpful in garnering results when psionic abilities were often jump-started by emotional responses.
Well, right now, that doesn't matter. The bones in his wrist are breaking.
And Brenner just gives out a cry of pain, dropping the syringe completely, hearing it clatter at their feet. His other hand lashes out to push at Alec's chest. Let him go, you asshole.]
Which is to say that Alec throws him again. By the broken wrist and without care, towards a pile of debris. Boxes and boards and old, dirty sheets. ]
Looks like I don't have quite that hang-up with you.
[ Alec walks over to wherever Brenner is no doubt trying to get back to his feet, the pace almost leisurely. He casts as he walks, the low, stormy purple light of his magic floating along with his movement across the room. ]
But since you don't get it, and I'd so hate for you to die ignorant, I love Henry. It's as simple as that.
[It’s also not the first time he’s been tossed about like refuse caught in a strong wind—psychic kids, remember?—but the first time it’s happened so inelegantly, which is saying a lot all things considered. Instinctively, Brenner flings his arms out to catch his balance, but he just means he lands hard on a broken wrist.
Pain flares like a knife, white behind his eyes. He cries out accordingly, though his face screws up into a grimace soon after. An almost-growl of refusal, because he is not planning on dying here—
I love Henry. It's as simple as that.
It’s almost… comical, the way that stills him, sprawled amongst a bunch of boxes and propped up on one bruised elbow. He gutters out his disbelief, like Alec’s just told him he’s a pink unicorn or something equally ridiculous.]
[Yes, it says something that this apparent declaration of love is what overrides even the very worrisome light show that Alec's magic is putting on. That it even supersedes the way he can scent ozone tinging the air, like right before a storm rolls in.
Honestly, what else can he do? Push himself back up to his feet, try to run from whatever this is? Whatever is going to bear down on him? Brenner is instead overcome by some kind of manic... realization in this moment, instead, like so many pieces are coming together all at once to point to one single thing:
Alec Brennan is just as dysfunctional, just as broken to pieces, as Henry Creel.
A bark of a laugh nearly tumbles out of him. Of course. Why didn't he account for that?]
Made for each other. Tell him his Papa sends all the well wishes he can imagine.
[ A shame he didn't utter that out loud, or Alec would have agreed with no small amount of enthusiasm. He's not so naive as to think that the power of love is an all-healing thing. It doesn't make he or Henry better people. It doesn't need to.
They have each other. Their broken edges simply slot together. ]
Coming from you? I can't imagine very much.
[ There's a sharpness in the way Alec grins at him. The look of a man who's going to really enjoy what he's about to do.
His fingers pick up where they left off, tracing glowing marks in the air with a well-practiced ease. ]
I'll also give your regards to everyone you left behind at the lab.
[Brenner doesn't believe in something so trite and scientifically immeasurable as "the power of love". He believes in cause and effect; in personalities originating from the circumstances of a person's life, sometimes guided by chemical balances and imbalances in the brain. In this, at least, he and Alec would agree.
Probably about the only thing.
You know what? If he's going to die here, he's at least going to do so on his feet. Somehow, he manages to raise himself up in an effort that looks more like a stagger than anything else. It's wobbly, and desperate, but at least it's something.
[ If Alec respects even one tiny thing about this man, let it at least be that he chose to meet his end on his feet, head on. It's not much, not much at all in the face of all the suffering he's caused, but it's something.
Alec angles his head, peering at the doctor over the light of his spellwork. ]
I already am. Better than you ever could.
[ And that's that. With one final motion of his hand, lightning lances from the dark in a blinding, white-hot flash to strike Brenner right in the chest. People survive being struck by lightning all the time, but this isn't one of those instances. This is laser-focused and powerful to the point that, unseen beyond the boarded-up windows, the power for a mile around goes dim, flickering, before humming back to life as if nothing had happened.
This is one old ghost that Alec doesn't want haunting Henry ever again. ]
[Brenner is not given to fear like most; certainly, it exists in him now—why wouldn’t it, given the fate about to be doled out to him by Alec?—but he’s the sort of man to dig his heels in, face it head-on and let it the consequences tear through him and hope that he’s strong enough, stubborn enough, to survive.
It’s worked often in the past.
It won’t this time.
Enough electricity, and it’ll stop the heart. Fry the brain. Cook the skin, leaving behind searing third-degree burns crawling in strange patterns, like vines spreading across the flesh. He knows this, medically and scientifically — but now he gets to experience it, and not even really remain cognizant enough to assess what’s happening.
Because, in those fleeting seconds of awareness, he just feels white-hot pain, born of an energy unlike anything he’s seen before. Alec might as well have torn a hole in his chest, because the feeling must be the same, he thinks. It’s really the only thing that exists in his mind as the lightning bolt wracks every atom in his body with electricity. That and, strangely, Henry’s face; his first day in the lab, alone and scared and morose, but eyes that he knew were brimming with so much potential—
And that’s it. He simply cannot survive longer than that, the human body was not made for it. He crumples to the floor, singed and smelling of burnt flesh, amongst the pile of refuse Alec tossed him in. He doesn’t move and he won't ever be getting up.]
Alec walks over and divests the charred remains of the good doctor's corpse of any personal items that might still be in-tact, including an ID badge that's a little scorched along one side.
God, he thinks idly. He's going to have his work cut out for him, but he'd prefer if any identifying information about himself and Henry was gone from this shady government database sooner rather than later. First, though, he's heading back home. Temp wraps him up in the shadow of her wings, a swirl of darkness and storm clouds, and then he's right back in his office where he left off.
He heads to the next room, Henry's studio, and raps on the doorframe with a knuckle. ]
[Henry's seated next to a large window that lets the sun in, tossing natural light onto the angled space of a canvas before him. He's moved on from big, gestural sketches on an equally oversized sketchpad, and apparently is working on getting an acrylic painting started, if his current set-up means anything.
He looks up from where he's trying to blot away a big blob of black paint with a rag from his shirt, though; a consequence of getting vaguely startled and nearly dropping his brush when Tempest was called away by Alec in a flurry of black feathers crossing his vision.
(Yes, he's been working on that the entire time Alec's been away. Let him live.)]
All the time in the world. [There's a clock joke to be made in there, somewhere.] You were off in a hurry.
[HE IS NOT DROPPING HIS CLEANING EFFORTS FOR WHATEVER YOU ARE THROWING HIS WAY, and the ID badge stops and floats mid-air when it arcs closer to Henry.
Except... he knows the shape of it. The logo printed in plain black on the back, nestled at the bottom. Even the degree of the rounded, charred corners makes something familiar flicker in his memory. He knows it because he carried an ID badge like that once, too, clipped to his belt. His photo, coupled with a fake name: Peter Ballard.
Henry immediately loses interest in the cloth, in his shirt. He drops the former and extends a hand to pluck the badge out of the air, turning it over in his fingers.
The information there stares up at him. It feels like an electric shock, the charged burn of adrenaline running through him at the sight alone. Security clearance information he never could dream of possessing as a prisoner-orderly. A familiar photo. And a name: Dr. Martin Brenner.
Alec just sort of waits for the revelation to land as Henry turns the badge over in his hands. ]
I got a series of texts a little while ago, essentially asking me to name my price in exchange for turning you in. I decided to go tell him "no" in person.
[Eyes flick up to Alec, strange in their intensity. Surprised, even, as this information settles itself into his mind, and the very obvious implication.]
You did what?
[But it's less how dare you and I am being hit with this big revelation as if you were casually talking about the weather. Henry runs a thumb over the ID card again, feeling where the plastic curls up from being nearly melted.]
He... contacted you? And thought you'd trade me in?
[Of course he would. Brenner always thought of him as a thing more than a person. A first number in a series of numbers.]
[ Alec steps into the room, moving to the side of Henry's chair. He spares a brief glance to the canvas before settling himself into a crouch beside Henry. He rests one hand on Henry's leg. ]
[The canvas itself is just blocked out with color, with vague shapes. Red, midnight blue, black. Whatever is there is just a concept more than an image, at least right now.
But he's not thinking of that anymore. He twists his body to face Alec, his free hand gripping the one on his leg.]
Alec...
[Searching his face. Clearly this is worth a response worthy of the event, but everything is fighting for dominance, and he almost doesn't know which one to pick. Give him a second.]
[Does he want to see what happened? Of course he does, he wants to see every moment, draw out every single detail, be present as though he were actually standing there-
His breath hitches, and words find him. Speaking of being there:]
Why didn't you- [Now his hand raises up to fist in Alec's shirt. Not harried, just hit by that sudden, wild surreality of knowing this happened probably less than an hour ago and he wasn't there. SIR!!!] -take me with you?
[But he also doesn't give him a single moment to reply, because then he's leaning forward, quick and heated, to kiss him. The ID badge clatters to the floor.]
[ Well, you know, the thought did cross Alec's mind, but then that whole lab situation cropped up and he had no idea if they knew where he and Henry lived and—
Oh. Henry's kissing him now. Alec eases up from his crouched position just a little, leaning into that kiss, matching heat for heat.
Truly the best outcome he could hope for, coming fresh from the murder of Henry's father figure. ]
[Beneath the heat, or perhaps intermingled with it, there exists a deep gratitude that is full to bursting. A warmth that he has long learned to identify as a deep love for this man, who has done so, so much for him. And yes, that includes killing his shitty father figure. Lancing that ghost away from the pieces of his past that might want to catch up to him -- what very little remains of it, anyhow.
(And relief, too. Even if Henry is less inclined to acknowledge that, as though it might give even Brenner's ghost a scrap of power over him. That he had once existed as a shadow hanging over his new life with Alec, one that might eke in between the cracks at any moment.
Well, no longer.)]
I hope you made him suffer.
[A murmur into his lips, the hand at his shirt now reaching up to stroke his thumb along his jaw.]
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finalflight2023-02-25 01:18 am
no subject
He hisses out and tries to push, but it really is like fighting against a marble statue. Like wind battering fruitlessly against stone.
Just who the hell is this man?]
Why would you- Agh! [Oh, yes, those are the bones in his wrist crying out in pain. But he hold steadfast to the syringe, ever stubborn.] Why would you want to keep him?!
[HONESTLY, to make this man want to kill for his sake? To protect him? Henry had to have manipulated him to hell and back-]
no subject
[ Well, then, if Brenner won't let go, Alec will just keep going until he hears that satisfying crack of bone, feels it give way beneath his fingers.
Poor, poor Brenner apparently wouldn't know love if it walked up and snapped his fucking wrist. ]
no subject
The problem is that Brenner cannot see, or refuses to, how these are all simple consequences of a lonely boy stripped of his freedom. How that twists itself up into anger. Because that anger, too, was helpful in garnering results when psionic abilities were often jump-started by emotional responses.
Well, right now, that doesn't matter. The bones in his wrist are breaking.
And Brenner just gives out a cry of pain, dropping the syringe completely, hearing it clatter at their feet. His other hand lashes out to push at Alec's chest. Let him go, you asshole.]
no subject
Which is to say that Alec throws him again. By the broken wrist and without care, towards a pile of debris. Boxes and boards and old, dirty sheets. ]
Looks like I don't have quite that hang-up with you.
[ Alec walks over to wherever Brenner is no doubt trying to get back to his feet, the pace almost leisurely. He casts as he walks, the low, stormy purple light of his magic floating along with his movement across the room. ]
But since you don't get it, and I'd so hate for you to die ignorant, I love Henry. It's as simple as that.
no subject
Pain flares like a knife, white behind his eyes. He cries out accordingly, though his face screws up into a grimace soon after. An almost-growl of refusal, because he is not planning on dying here—
I love Henry. It's as simple as that.
It’s almost… comical, the way that stills him, sprawled amongst a bunch of boxes and propped up on one bruised elbow. He gutters out his disbelief, like Alec’s just told him he’s a pink unicorn or something equally ridiculous.]
You what.
[He’s sorry, but WHAT]
no subject
I'm over here doing literal magic and that's the part you get hung up on?
no subject
Honestly, what else can he do? Push himself back up to his feet, try to run from whatever this is? Whatever is going to bear down on him? Brenner is instead overcome by some kind of manic... realization in this moment, instead, like so many pieces are coming together all at once to point to one single thing:
Alec Brennan is just as dysfunctional, just as broken to pieces, as Henry Creel.
A bark of a laugh nearly tumbles out of him. Of course. Why didn't he account for that?]
Made for each other. Tell him his Papa sends all the well wishes he can imagine.
no subject
They have each other. Their broken edges simply slot together. ]
Coming from you? I can't imagine very much.
[ There's a sharpness in the way Alec grins at him. The look of a man who's going to really enjoy what he's about to do.
His fingers pick up where they left off, tracing glowing marks in the air with a well-practiced ease. ]
I'll also give your regards to everyone you left behind at the lab.
no subject
Probably about the only thing.
You know what? If he's going to die here, he's at least going to do so on his feet. Somehow, he manages to raise himself up in an effort that looks more like a stagger than anything else. It's wobbly, and desperate, but at least it's something.
Fuck this guy. But also-]
Take care of Henry for me, Mr. Brennan.
no subject
Alec angles his head, peering at the doctor over the light of his spellwork. ]
I already am. Better than you ever could.
[ And that's that. With one final motion of his hand, lightning lances from the dark in a blinding, white-hot flash to strike Brenner right in the chest. People survive being struck by lightning all the time, but this isn't one of those instances. This is laser-focused and powerful to the point that, unseen beyond the boarded-up windows, the power for a mile around goes dim, flickering, before humming back to life as if nothing had happened.
This is one old ghost that Alec doesn't want haunting Henry ever again. ]
no subject
It’s worked often in the past.
It won’t this time.
Enough electricity, and it’ll stop the heart. Fry the brain. Cook the skin, leaving behind searing third-degree burns crawling in strange patterns, like vines spreading across the flesh. He knows this, medically and scientifically — but now he gets to experience it, and not even really remain cognizant enough to assess what’s happening.
Because, in those fleeting seconds of awareness, he just feels white-hot pain, born of an energy unlike anything he’s seen before. Alec might as well have torn a hole in his chest, because the feeling must be the same, he thinks. It’s really the only thing that exists in his mind as the lightning bolt wracks every atom in his body with electricity. That and, strangely, Henry’s face; his first day in the lab, alone and scared and morose, but eyes that he knew were brimming with so much potential—
And that’s it. He simply cannot survive longer than that, the human body was not made for it. He crumples to the floor, singed and smelling of burnt flesh, amongst the pile of refuse Alec tossed him in. He doesn’t move and he won't ever be getting up.]
no subject
Alec walks over and divests the charred remains of the good doctor's corpse of any personal items that might still be in-tact, including an ID badge that's a little scorched along one side.
God, he thinks idly. He's going to have his work cut out for him, but he'd prefer if any identifying information about himself and Henry was gone from this shady government database sooner rather than later. First, though, he's heading back home. Temp wraps him up in the shadow of her wings, a swirl of darkness and storm clouds, and then he's right back in his office where he left off.
He heads to the next room, Henry's studio, and raps on the doorframe with a knuckle. ]
Hey. Got a sec?
no subject
He looks up from where he's trying to blot away a big blob of black paint with a rag from his shirt, though; a consequence of getting vaguely startled and nearly dropping his brush when Tempest was called away by Alec in a flurry of black feathers crossing his vision.
(Yes, he's been working on that the entire time Alec's been away. Let him live.)]
All the time in the world. [There's a clock joke to be made in there, somewhere.] You were off in a hurry.
no subject
I had to make a house call. [ lol ] Catch.
[ He tosses the charred ID badge Henry's way. ]
no subject
Except... he knows the shape of it. The logo printed in plain black on the back, nestled at the bottom. Even the degree of the rounded, charred corners makes something familiar flicker in his memory. He knows it because he carried an ID badge like that once, too, clipped to his belt. His photo, coupled with a fake name: Peter Ballard.
Henry immediately loses interest in the cloth, in his shirt. He drops the former and extends a hand to pluck the badge out of the air, turning it over in his fingers.
The information there stares up at him. It feels like an electric shock, the charged burn of adrenaline running through him at the sight alone. Security clearance information he never could dream of possessing as a prisoner-orderly. A familiar photo. And a name: Dr. Martin Brenner.
Papa.]
Where... did you get this?
[Alec WHAT is HAPPENING]
no subject
Alec just sort of waits for the revelation to land as Henry turns the badge over in his hands. ]
I got a series of texts a little while ago, essentially asking me to name my price in exchange for turning you in. I decided to go tell him "no" in person.
no subject
You did what?
[But it's less how dare you and I am being hit with this big revelation as if you were casually talking about the weather. Henry runs a thumb over the ID card again, feeling where the plastic curls up from being nearly melted.]
He... contacted you? And thought you'd trade me in?
[Of course he would. Brenner always thought of him as a thing more than a person. A first number in a series of numbers.]
Wait. So he's...
[Super dead?]
no subject
He's dead.
[ Super dead, even. Alec made sure of that. ]
no subject
But he's not thinking of that anymore. He twists his body to face Alec, his free hand gripping the one on his leg.]
Alec...
[Searching his face. Clearly this is worth a response worthy of the event, but everything is fighting for dominance, and he almost doesn't know which one to pick. Give him a second.]
no subject
If you want to see what happened...
[ The door is always open. ]
no subject
His breath hitches, and words find him. Speaking of being there:]
Why didn't you- [Now his hand raises up to fist in Alec's shirt. Not harried, just hit by that sudden, wild surreality of knowing this happened probably less than an hour ago and he wasn't there. SIR!!!] -take me with you?
[But he also doesn't give him a single moment to reply, because then he's leaning forward, quick and heated, to kiss him. The ID badge clatters to the floor.]
no subject
Oh. Henry's kissing him now. Alec eases up from his crouched position just a little, leaning into that kiss, matching heat for heat.
Truly the best outcome he could hope for, coming fresh from the murder of Henry's father figure. ]
no subject
(And relief, too. Even if Henry is less inclined to acknowledge that, as though it might give even Brenner's ghost a scrap of power over him. That he had once existed as a shadow hanging over his new life with Alec, one that might eke in between the cracks at any moment.
Well, no longer.)]
I hope you made him suffer.
[A murmur into his lips, the hand at his shirt now reaching up to stroke his thumb along his jaw.]
no subject
Oh, you know. I electrocuted him.
[ It felt like the thing to do. Poetic, in its way. ]
no subject
Good. [He draws his thumb lightly against his cheek this time.] How fitting for a man who loved to do the same to his beloved "children".
[And he's sure Alec's version of electrocution was far, far worse than anything they ever suffered in the lab. Good.]
A weight's been lifted. It's almost impossible to believe. Everything you've done for me, this included... At this rate, I'll never make it up to you.
[Not that he feels he owes Alec anything, either. That, too, just makes him love him more.]
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