Whispers of Insanity

by Blot_Squisher, sourgummibears

Summary:

Accepting a transfer and generous compensation when he catches his boss embezzling funds from work, Marcus has no idea what he’s in for. Crotus Prenn Asylum can’t be that different from the mental health clinic he was working in before… right?

 

~Updates every Wednesday!~

Notes:

Hey ya'll! If you're already familiar with Surviving the Game or the Michael/OC AU I've posted, or And They Were Slashmates comics on Tumblr by the very talented Sourgummibears, be warned that this is an AU not canon to any of those story lines. A friend and I are collaborating on this together, exploring what our characters lives could have been had things been... different.

This fic will updated Wednesdays until complete! Feel free to leave questions or comments for either of us here, or on our Tumblers! (You will need your age in your BIO for Tumblr please)

 

https://www.tumblr.com/sourgummibears (And They Were Slashmates creator and co-writer for Whispers of Insanity)

https://www.tumblr.com/blot-squisher (Surviving the Game, Michael/OC, and other fics writer, and co-writer of Whispers of Insanity)

Chapter 1: Blackmail

Marcus was sure he was going to have a good day at work for once. He’d woken up on time, gotten to work ten minutes before his shift was supposed to start, and even gotten a muffin before his coworkers had eaten them all.

After that, things had progressed as they usually did. He helped hand out the patients medicine, changed out the blankets and pillows in the minimum security ward, had lunch, then moved on to filing paperwork for outgoing patients.

It always made him happy to see them go. Although a few would come back after a few weeks or even months, he liked to think most of them, the ones who never came back, had been able to resume a healthy life outside. Being locked up in a mental health ward was hard, but sometimes necessary, he supposed. It wasn’t bad, or evil, and neither were the people. They needed help, and even if he was still an entry level orderly, he still felt like he was helping in some small way.

Flexing his hands to work out some cramps from typing so much, Marcus sighed. Human medicine was never something he’d wanted or even intended to go into, but a single mistake while signing some paperwork had sent him down exactly that path. So much for being a vet…

Catching a mistake just before he could submit some financial paperwork, Marcus paused. That was odd. The kitchen may occasionally go over budget if they were sent bad produce and had to buy more, but that was… Wow, that was actually pretty bad. That couldn’t be right at all, actually.

Printing out the papers as he went, he started looking back and finding more and more mistakes in the budget. Most of it was only a little over here and there and easy to cover with the surplus from other departments… but the more recent ones were pretty bad, extreme almost. Highlighting the sections as they printed out, he stopped when he had about two years of mis budgeted funds stacked up. He knew it went back further, but he wanted to show his boss before he went any deeper.

Nodding to a couple of people as he made his way down the hall to Richards office, he knocked on the door. There was a brief pause, then, “Come in.”

Closing the door behind him as he stepped inside, Marcus offered him a thin smile. He’d been having a good day and if he was really, really, really lucky, he’d still be having a good day after he got out of there.

“Ah, good afternoon, sir. I wanted to show you something,” he explained, standing beside the chair in front of his boss's desk. God forbid he sit down without being told to. He’d done it once, only to end up being shouted at until he nearly cried. That had been his first day and Richards had seemed to hate him ever since.

“What is it?” he asked, not looking away from his computer screen.

“There have been a lot of… discrepancies with the budget,” Marcus explained, trying to choose his words carefully. Not noticing the sudden tension in Richards’ jaw, he continued, “It goes back at least the past two years. I don’t think anyone’s really noticed it, but I can see why. It started out with really menial amounts, but lately it’s been-”

“Give me those and get out,” Richards snapped, practically snatching the stack of papers out of his hands. “Get back to work.”

Forcing his expression to remain neutral, Marcus risked saying, “I can go look further back and see if I can find when this start–”

“No!” Richards practically shouted. Was he sweating a little? Huh, it sure looked like it… “Just- just get back to work, Marcus! I’ll handle this.”

Nodding stiffly, he turned on his heel and marched out of the office. He really didn’t have much to do at the moment. Dinner wasn’t for another several hours, and he was on a twenty-four hour shift so it wasn’t like he would be going home anytime soon. With that, he marched back to the archives room and started digging.

~~

Marcus was so invested in what he’d found that he missed his name being called over the radio four times. It wasn’t until one of his fellow nurses stuck their head into the door to ask, “Hey, are you still alive?” that he broke off his staring contest with the computer screen.

Blinking his dry eyes, he asked, “What? Who? Who died?”

Laughing, she said, “Richards wants to see you in his office. He’s called you over the radio several times. You better get moving before he has an aneurysm, or you’re going to get to do the paperwork for the coroner.”

“Haha, ha, funny,” he deadpanned, shutting off the computer. He already knew why Richards wanted to see him. Picking up where he’d left off, it had been pretty easy to figure out the man had been embezzling money for the past eight years. He must have been getting greedy or maybe he had some debts to pay off, but his subtle, easy to miss thefts had taken a sharp turn upwards in the past couple of months.

As he shuffled down the hallway again, Marcus tried to mentally prepare himself for what might come next. Would Richards threaten him to try and keep him from speaking up about it? He had all the proof he needed to not only get the man fired, but put in prison for a long time. Mouth set in a determined line, he decided that if Richards tried to fire him or threatened him in any way, he’d threaten him right back. He had no family that could be used as leverage and he highly doubted his boss had the guts to actually lay hands on him… Hell, he’d probably threaten Richards anyway. The cost of living was going up, unlike his paycheck, so maybe a raise was in order. It was certainly long past due.

Not bothering to knock when he reached the office, Marcus pulled the chair out and sat down, staring Richards in the eye the entire time. He could see a vein pulsing in his forehead and knew that he knew. Would he still try to lie? Pretend he hadn’t been stealing thousands upon thousands of dollars from the mental health clinic that employed him? What reason could he possibly have for taking money that could and should have gone to helping the people in his care? Marcus almost wanted to hear how he’d try and justify himself… The rest of him wanted to leap over the desk and strangle him to death with his bare hands.

Clearing his throat, Richards sat up a little straighter before interlacing his fingers, hands resting on the desk between them. “Marcus… I… wanted to thank you for catching the… budget issue.”

“Sure thing,” he answered flatly. Was he seriously going to pretend it was nothing? Did he think the orderly he’d been abusing and berating on a daily basis for the past three years wouldn’t jump at the chance to throw him under the bus and have the law on his side while he did it?

“As thanks for your diligent and thorough work… I’ve recommended you for a transfer.”

Marcus actually let out a sharp laugh. Oooh, no. He’d put up with far too much to just transfer out without a word. He was going to nail Richards to the wall. He had literal years of paperwork to back him up, and no reason not to!

“Mr. Wesker, the CEO, has actually agreed to fast track your promotion,” Richards told him, visibly sweating.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. As much as he enjoyed watching his boss squirm, the sudden change from ‘transfer’ to ‘promotion’ was… odd.

“See, the clinic is out in…” he paused, squinting at the computer screen to read before continuing, “Out in… Alaska.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Marcus finally asked. “You’re going to try and send me to Alaska to cover your own-”

Loudly clearing his throat, Richards was quick to jump back in with, “You’ll receive a very substantial raise, be housed in a fully furnished dormitory a few miles from the clinic itself, and be given a rather nice bonus to help cover moving expenses… They- they could really use the help, as it’s hard to find staff for such a remote location, and with your work ethic and experience, I think- or, rather, we both agree, you’re a great fit!”

As big a load of crap as that was, Marcus was already seriously considering it. His work ethic wasn’t the issue, really. He just had trouble being on time, but he always worked as hard as he could to make up for it and would often stay longer to help cover shift changes. He wasn’t sure how the hell Richards had blown enough smoke up the CEO’s ass to convince him that he of all people would be a good fit… but hey… that kind of money was no joke.

“I’ve taken the liberty of preparing an official offer for you to look over and… hopefully sign,” Richards continued, pushing a piece of paper at him. “This just covers your salary, shifts, responsibilities, housing agreement.”

Looking it over, Marcus paused, eyes widening. “I’d get full health benefits?”

“Dental and vision too,” Richards quickly added. “It’s actually a better plan than even I have here.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, already back to reading. He didn’t trust there not to be some kind of trickery in the wording of the agreement, but so far it all looked legit. Finding the section regarding ‘employee compensation’, his jaw dropped. That couldn’t be right. That was almost quadruple what he was currently making! He could start taking online courses for veterinary school! It wouldn’t be enough to get him his degree or anything, but it would put him on the fast track to get into a physical school and start learning the practical applications!

Snapping his mouth closed, he quickly read the rest of the offer before reading it two more times. It seemed perfectly legal and appropriate. Nothing sneaky or untoward. Was he really being offered all of that just to keep his mouth closed?

It felt… selfish. If he took the job and said nothing, what was to keep Richards from continuing to steal from the clinic? Nothing… But was it really that bad? The money he was taking wasn’t really affecting the day to day or the patient's ability to receive the care they needed… And he’d be able to pursue the career he really wanted! Not to mention he’d be able to get the hell away from Richards for good.

Allowing a smug smile on his face, Marcus reached over and grabbed a pen off the desk. It was Richards’ favorite pen. One that the man nearly broke someone’s wrist for trying to take and protected like it was made of solid gold. It wasn’t, it was just a really nice pen that wrote so smoothly it could make an artist cry.

Signing his name at the bottom of the document, Marcus stuck the pen in the front pocket of his scrubs before smiling at Richards. “Thanks for the recommendation, boss. And the parting gift. So? When do I leave?”

Still looking stunned and maybe a little distraught over the loss of his pen, Richards shook himself slightly before answering, “Tomorrow morning. You can catch a cab to the airport as soon as your shift is over.”

“Or, you can call me an uber so I can go home and pack,” Marcus stated. “That way I can head out first thing in the morning and not risk missing my flight.

Eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown, Richards started to argue, “I fail to see how-”

“I’ll be waiting out front for the car,” he interrupted, standing up. “It’s been great working with you.”

Turning on his heel, he left the office before Richards could say another word. His composure didn’t break until he was outside. Slumping onto a bench beside the front door, Marcus pressed a hand to his chest. Jesus Christ, his heart was racing so fast he thought he might pass out! He couldn’t believe he’d just done that! It felt… good. It felt really good! Feeling the pen pressing between his palm and his chest, he let out a small laugh. He’d even stolen Richards’ stupid pen that he loved so much.

Ahh, it had been a good day after all…

Things happened extremely quickly after that. Marcus was on cloud nine for the entire ride home. He didn’t have a lot of stuff to pack and his roommates wished him luck in his new position. None of them had ever been to Alaska and he was too excited to sleep, so the three of them stayed up all night smoking pot and watching nature documentaries about Alaska and the native wildlife.

Marcus still didn’t sleep, but was sober by the time he was supposed to leave for the airport. Bidding farewell to his roommates when they dropped him off, he was finally on his way to a new, better chapter of his life.

He slept for most of the plane ride, only waking up when they began their descent. Peering out the window, he was shocked by just how massive everything was. The mountains, the woods, the sparse, unoccupied landscape between cities. It was beautiful, and when he stepped out of the airport, he couldn’t help but stare in awe. The sky was so much closer than it had been back home; it almost felt like he could reach out and grab a cloud if he stretched his arms up high enough. The air smelled cleaner and despite the people all around him, it didn’t feel as crowded.

“Marcus Taylor, I presume?” a voice said, and he jumped.

Looking over, then up, he took a small step back. A tall, imposing man was standing right next to him. His long black coat, gloves, sunglasses, shirt, and pants made him look like some kind of secret agent…

In comparison, Marcus felt rather ordinary. He wasn’t all that tall nor was he as built as the blond waiting for his answer. Clearing his throat, he finally confirmed, “Yeah, I’m Marcus.”

“Ah,” the man said, openly looking him up and down. He didn’t hold out a hand as he introduced, “Albert Wesker. Come, I’ll be driving you to the asylum.”

Albert Wesker? The CEO?!

Marcus wasn’t sure if he felt flattered or horrified. The CEO! And there he was, dressed in ripped up blue jeans and a coke-a-cola hoodie that still had smelled a little bit like weed and his former roommates ferrets!

Hiking his backpack a little higher on his shoulders, he quickly took off after his boss. Wesker hadn’t waited to see if he was following, simply turning and walking away after telling him he’d be driving him to the new facility.

Walking up to one of the nicest cars Marcus had ever seen, he actually hesitated to touch the door. What if he smudged it? What if he got pet hair in it?!

Pausing on the other side of the car, Wesker cracked a snide smile. “It doesn’t bite.”

Startled, Marcus blushed but quickly opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. Even the inside of the car was fancy. A large touch screen took up most of the center dash while buttons and knobs of all sizes offered a ridiculous range of comfort options. Seat heaters, seat coolers, lumbar support, arm rest support. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the car could make coffee and give back rubs with as much stuff as it had crammed into it. The engine started up almost completely silently, a fact he only realized when they started moving.

“Do you wear glasses or contacts?” Wesker asked once they were a few miles down the road.

A little surprised, Marcus shook his head. Considering that they were driving and it was probably unwise for him to look away from the road, he said out loud, “No, sir, I don’t.”

“You may consider getting some to help… even out the color of your eyes,” he recommended.

Marcus decided right then and there that he didn’t like Wesker. He’d heard all kinds of comments about his mismatched eyes all his life and the lack of professionalism from the CEO of the company was simply atrocious. Besides, he wasn’t sure that regular colored contacts would do shit to make his eyes match. Not when one was bright blue and the other was coppery brown.

Reaching out, Wesker pressed a couple of prompts on the touch screen. What looked like cue cards popped up on the screen, and he said, “Allow me to formally welcome you to your new position at Crotus Prenn Asylum. We house some of society's more troubled persons who are unable to be reintegrated safely. There is a dress code that must be strictly adhered to at all times. This is for your safety as well as the safety of the patients. Bright colors, patterns, and skin art such as tattoos, piercings, or other modifications must be covered at all times if they cannot be removed while on shift.”

Glancing from the words clearly visible on the screen to Wesker reading them as he drove, Marcus couldn’t stop himself from peering over at the speedometer. Oh god, they were going to fucking die. They were already in the mountains, snow still visible in patches along the pavement and clinging stubbornly to the branches of the trees, and Wesker was doing seventy-five! And not looking at the road!

Clearing his throat, Marcus dared interrupt the incredibly bored, deadpan introduction delivery to say, “It- it’s fine. I can- I can read it if that’s easier. So you can… drive.”

Taking a sharp curve without slowing down, Wesker actually pressed down on the gas, sending the car roaring down the road. Chuckling as Marcus flattened himself into his seat with a look of mild terror on his face, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve driven this route plenty of times.”

It wasn’t so much the route that concerned him, but the fact that black ice, wildlife, and other vehicles couldn’t be predicted or memorized!

“Trust me, it’s a long drive. You’ll want to get there soon so you can rest before your shift tomorrow.”

“Mhmm,” Marcus squeaked, squeezing his eyes closed as trees flew past. He’d made the mistake of looking out his window, only to realize they were on the edge of a very steep drop. Ugh, he was starting to feel kind of queasy…

Wesker let out a mirthless laugh and the rest of the drive was spent in near silence, the only sound being the roar of the car’s engine as they climbed the winding mountain roads.

Even with the speed Wesker drove, it still took them almost three hours to get to their destination. Passing through a huge gate that slid silently closed behind them, they followed the road almost another mile before it split into two paths. Taking the one to the left, they eventually pulled up at a large, five story building. It was clearly the dormitories, and Wesker confirmed it a moment later.

“You’ll be housed here. I have a private dwelling about a quarter of a mile down that path, and the asylum itself is back down the road, then up the opposite path. It’s several miles, so you’ll have to take the shuttle. If you miss the scheduled pick up and drop off times, there’s a number you can call to have it come pick you up. Dwayne or Quiggly should have it.”

Before Marcus could ask who either of those people were, Wesker was already stepping out of the car. Scrambling to follow him lest he be left behind again, he followed him into the building.

“The first and second floors are the women's dormitories, the third floor is the common area, laundry, kitchen, and game room, while the fourth and fifth floors are for men. Should you need to transfer rooms for any reason, put in the request with Dwayne or Ellie.”

Pulling a bunch of keys out of his coat, Wesker unlocked a large metal panel on the wall and swung it open. Rows of keys hung behind it, and he picked one from the top row before holding it out to Marcus.

“Your room. Go ahead upstairs and make yourself comfortable. Your roommates will show you around and take you to the clinic for your shift in the morning. Our head nurse will take it from there.”

Looking at the tag on the room key, then back up, Marcus was given no time to ask any questions. Wesker was already out the door and getting back into his car.

“Well… that was certainly an introduction I guess,” he mused skeptically. With that, he took his bag upstairs so he could look for his new room.
~~~~

Chapter 2: Crotus Prenn Asylum

Summary:

Marcus is introduced to his new boss and starts his first shift at Crotus Prenn Asylum! How fun!

Marcus ended up picking a top bunk. The other three beds already had sheets, pillows, and a few obviously personal items on them and there was no way he was going to fuck with anyone else’s stuff.

He had no idea where to get sheets or if he’d have to buy them himself, so he took a shower and changed into a pair of shorts and a clean shirt. It was a little chilly in the dorms, so he pulled on his hoodie again just as the door swung open, a voice carrying through mid conversation.

“--wasn’t him! There’s no way. No one saw him, no one heard anything. If it was the Trap-”

“Dude!” a second voice cut in.

Popping his head out of the neck of his hoodie, Marcus offered a sheepish smile and a small wave. “Um, hi? Sorry, I’m your new roommate… I think?”

“Well, if your key opened the door you’re in the right place,” the second man said, pulling a gray beanie off his head. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes as he shuffled to one of the bottom bunks. Sitting, he offered, “I’m Quentin. This is Eli.”

Eli waved, looking nervous. “Hi. Uh, welcome.”

All three of them fell silent for a minute, Quentin looking like he was about to fall asleep sitting up, while Eli and Marcus both shifted from foot to foot.

Finally, he said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I took a shower. I’m not sure how much hot water is left.”

“Oh, you’re good,” Eli promised, smiling kindly. “We usually don’t have any issues with the hot water until the deep winter hits.”

“That’s good,” Marcus agreed, slightly relieved. He didn’t want to make a bad impression on his roommates without even meeting them. “Oh, I was told to talk to… Dwayne or Ellie, I think? For any… Why are you looking at me like that? What did I say?”

He really was worried, as both Eli and Quentin were staring at him with far too amused expressions.

“Wesker brought you up here, huh?” Quentin asked, laughing tiredly.

“Um, yes? Is that not… normal?” Marcus questioned.

“No, but it’s fine,” Eli told him. “He can never remember anyone’s names-”

“He remembers,” Quentin argued, flopping onto his back on the bed. “He absolutely remembers.”

Ignoring the interruption, Eli continued, “He messes up people's names all the time. Dwayne is actually Dwight, and Ellie is me, Eli. Dwight should be back soon, but he’s got his own room. He’s the head janitor, so he gets extra perks.”

“And I’m guessing Quiggly is… you?” Marcus asked, looking over at Quentin. To his surprise, he was already sound asleep, still in his scrub bottoms and jacket.

“Yep, that’s him,” Eli confirmed. “David should be here soon, too. He’s our other roommate. Don’t mind him though, it’s nothing personal, he’s just always a grouch.”

“Ah, lovely,” he muttered. “I escaped one grouch and got stuck with another.”

Before Eli could ask who that was, the door was unlocked and a large, rough looking man in a guard uniform came stomping in. He stopped, staring at Marcus like he’d just seen a giant rat run past. Looked like they were off to a good start!

“Speak of the devil,” Eli said. “David, Marcus. And vice-versa. Marcus is a new… actually, what are you?”

“Orderly,” he told them. “Got stuck in medical school thanks to a screw up on my part and couldn’t afford to change degrees or drop out. So, here I am.”

“You should shave your head,” David grunted. “Or dye it. You’re too fucking colorful.”

Aaaand Marcus didn’t like him either. At least he hadn’t made a ginger joke? But still.

Meanwhile, Eli looked like someone had just walked up and taken a shit on his mothers grave. “David! Jesus, man, you can’t say stuff like that!”

“Or, you could grow a few more vertebrae and have an actual spine,” he replied, glaring down at the smaller man.

Marcus had noticed that Eli was pretty damn short, but standing next to David he looked like a twelve year old.

Whereas David stood a good six feet tall and was built like a football player, Eli was barely five foot five and built like a stick insect. Okay, he wasn’t that thin, but next to David he looked a lot skinnier than he really was. Still, he fearlessly glared right back up at the angry Brit like he didn’t have seven inches and at least a hundred and twenty pounds on him.

“If I take a few of your vertebrae, I won’t need to grow more,” Eli stated, crossing his arms.

“You’d look stupid,” David pointed out, tugging off his shirt as he moved to the other bunk. Sitting on the bottom mattress, he kicked off his shoes before saying, “Cause you’d still have those short little legs and arms. You’d look like a bloody giraffe.”

“A reverse giraffe,” Marcus said, before he could stop himself. Both of them looked at him, and he explained sheepishly, “You know? Because their bodies are kind of… small… in- in relation to the length of their legs? And necks?”

Oh god, he was blowing it. That was why he would rather work with animals! What was wrong with him? He didn’t know how to talk to people!

Before he could start to spiral into an embarrassed puddle of silent self depreciation, Eli snorted and shook his head.

David cracked a smile, nodding as he agreed, “Yeah, you’d be a reverse giraffe instead of a chihuahua.”

“Ah, get fucked,” Eli muttered, climbing up onto the bunk above him. Looking over, he winced. “Oh shit, sorry Marcus. You still need bedsheets and a pillow, right?”

“Yes, please,” he agreed. He was jet lagged enough, plus the terror of having Wesker drive him through the mountains had taken a lot out of him.

Hopping down from the bed with the grace of a cat, Eli waved for him to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you around. Linens are kept in the laundry room, so we’ll have to go down to floor three.”

“You two have fun,” David chuckled, laying down and resting an arm over his eyes. “Just try not to make too much noise when you get back. I’m exhausted. It’s like the inmates can smell a new hire.”

“Full moon’s tomorrow night,” Eli added. “You know they always get a little weird around then.”

Led out into the hall, Marcus couldn’t help but ask, “Inmates? Isn’t that kind of a harsh way to refer to them?”

Eli gave him an unreadable look. Finally, he said simply, “You’ll see tomorrow. For now, let’s get you settled in.”

~~

Morning came quickly, and with it, a hand shaking Marcus out of a deep, uncomfortable sleep. It had taken him a while to get to sleep thanks to David’s snoring, and when he did finally sleep, he had nightmares about being trapped in an out of control car careening down the side of a mountain. It had finally gone off the road, pinballing off of trees and rocks before flying over the edge of a cliff and sending him plummeting to the rocks below.

Someone had woken him just before he hit the ground, and he jolted upright with a confused, “Airbags?!”

Blinking at him in the dark, they stated, “No, Quentin, actually. Come on, it’s time to get dressed and head out. You can wear whatever for now. You’ll get your uniforms at the clinic itself. Normally you’d have three sets already here waiting for you, but you got transferred fast.”

“Fastest transfer ever, from what Dwight said,” David’s voice informed from across the room. “He also said to tell you he’s sorry he missed you. He got in super late last night.”

“That does happen a lot, so prepare yourself and your loved ones,” Eli sighed, feet thumping on the floor as he jumped down from his bed.

“You gotta stop jumping like that,” David warned. “You’ll blow out your knees before you’re thirty.”

“Nah, I’m spry as a grasshopper,” he argued, laughing. “I have the balance of a agh fuck!”

There was a crash as he hit the floor, followed by David laughing.

“God, what did I trip over? Whose backpack is this?” Eli called, and Marcus pulled his covers over his head.

“New guy did it,” Quentin called, hopping down himself.

“I’m sorry, I thought I shoved it under the bunk!” Marcus apologized, kicking off the blankets and clambering out of bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I just have shit night vision,” Eli offered, laughing it off. “Come on, the shuttle leaves in about thirty minutes, but we can grab some muffins and snacks from the common room before we head out.”

“Thank god,” Marcus muttered, pulling his shoes on.

“You’ll primarily be working with Jack, the head nurse, today,” Eli explained. “You might get paired up with me or one of the others, but for the majority of your training you’ll be with Jack.”

That sounded good to him, and he nodded, pulling on a clean shirt and hoodie before following the others out of the room. Pausing at the third floor, everyone grabbed some snacks and water before heading outside. There were a few other people waiting as well, and as they boarded the bus, Marcus heard several snickers and snide comments about his appearance.

He was about to turn around and snap at them when Eli shook his head, then nodded towards the bus.

The driver, a man with a truly glorious beard and hair hanging down to his shoulder blades, shouted, “Unless you want to walk, shut it down!”

“Thanks, Jeff,” Quentin murmured, bumping his shoulder with a fist as they filed past.

Nodding, he waited for everyone to take their seats before taking off. Unlike Wesker, Jeff drove like he actually gave a shit about keeping himself and his passengers alive. It took another thirty minutes, but they finally made it to the main building.

A high fence surrounded the structure, topped with razor wire and cameras. What few windows he could see when they passed through the gates all had heavy bars over them as well. More cameras were on every corner, covering every angle and area. It really looked more like a prison than a mental ward…

“Don’t worry, Marcus,” David said quietly. Smiling reassuringly when he looked over at him, the brit added cheerfully, “It only gets worse inside.”

“What the fuck?” Marcus whispered, squinting at him.

The bus came to a halt, brakes squeaking loudly as they pulled up by the main door. “You all have a safe shift,” Jeff called, opening the bus doors. “Full moon’s tonight, so make sure to keep all fingers and noses out of biting range.”

That got a weak laugh out of a few people as they filed off the bus, but Marcus didn’t question it. He’d been working in health care long enough to know that wasn’t really a joke. People did tend to get a little weirder during full moons. Psych wards were no exception.

David and Quentin broke off once they were inside, leaving Eli to guide Marcus through three sets of metal detectors. They had to stop each time and explain that he was new, he didn’t have his uniform yet, and he wouldn’t be carrying anything prohibited by his next shift. That meant no belt, no keys, lighters, pointy objects, pens, pencils, jewelry, or anything that could be taken off his person and used as a weapon. Yeah, it was starting to feel a lot more like a prison…

“Okay, this is the main atrium, and- Oh, perfect! There’s Jack now!” Eli told him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Marcus’s first thought upon seeing Jack in person was that the place he found himself employed was indeed more a prison than an asylum. Everything about her screamed ‘military personnel’ more than it did ‘head nurse’.

Long brown hair pulled into a tight bun, not a single stray strand of hair was out of place. Thin, wire framed, circular glasses that only made her tired brown eyes even sharper. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.

Then again, all of the personnel around him look exhausted. Even David had bags under his eyes despite being the most awake out of his new roommates. Was thas the norm? He thought he’d been mentally prepared enough to say ‘goodbye’ to his sleep schedule, but he was pretty sure something died a little inside when he realized it was more like ‘RIP’ his sleep schedule. He was really starting to rethink accepting Richards’ offer so quickly…

Looking up from the clipboard on the counter, Jack looked at Eli for a moment before turning her attention to the newcomer. Taking a long drink from the cup in her hand, she finally addressed the poor ginger.

“You must be Marcus Taylor. Wesker informed me that we’d be getting new staff today.” Her lips pulled back into a scowl as she muttered, “This late into the year too, that bastard really doesn’t think at all.”

Taking another drink, Jack beckoned for him to follow her before nodding at Eli to dismiss him. “Come, you’ll be shadowing me today.”

“Good luck,” Eli offered sincerely, before making a swift exit. Oh, that was probably a bad sign…

“This way,” Jack reminded, and Marcus hurried after her to a set of double doors.

The moment he stepped through the doors he was practically blinded by the sterile white walls of the hallway. They were so bright that he almost had a “Come to Jesus” moment, convinced he had somehow walked right on up to the pearly gates. Maybe Wesker really had driven them over a cliff and that nightmare had been the last conscious moments before death...

Alas, no singing choir greeted him. Only the light taps of Jack’s shoes as she led him to a small locker room. “Your uniforms will be provided to you by the company. You will be expected to keep them clean and up to code. Any rips, tears, or displacement of the uniform will be taken out of your paycheck.”

“Sounds fair,” he agreed.

Stopping right outside a locker room door, Jack gestured to the adjacent one across the hall as she continued on, “This is the male changing room and that one is the female one. Here is your locker key, try not to lose it. Go get changed.”

Taking his uniform, Marcus hurried into the restroom to change. Looking in the mirror, he winced. Okay, yeah, he kind of got why David said he should dye his hair. The god awful overly sterile white of everything made his red hair even brighter red. No bright colors… Oof.

Well, he wasn’t shaving it either. He had a scar on the back of his head from getting kicked by a mule as a kid and he hated giving people more things to poke fun at him over.

Shaking himself off, he quickly changed and folded up his other clothes. Shoving them into a locker, he made a mental note to remember to go pick them up after his shift. He didn’t have a lot of clothes to begin with and losing those would be a pain.

Coming out of the locker room to find Jack waiting, he asked as conversationally as he could, “So… Do we do anything special for full moons? Or is it just… business as usual?”

His question actually got a long sigh out of Jack. Shaking her head in annoyance, she said, “Did the others tell you that? No, we don’t have a separate procedure for full moons. Just watch your back in case anyone acts up. More than usual at least. But since you’re new, you’ll only be tending to the patients on the first floor. Once you’ve proven yourself to be capable of that, I’ll look into promoting you to a higher clearance.”

Huh, she called them ‘patients’ rather than ‘inmates’. Wait, did she say first floor? As in, there’s more than one floor? It only looked like one from the outside…

As they walked down the halls, Marcus couldn’t help but notice the lack of windows. Or the lack of any identifiable features. It almost made him wonder if the windows on the outside of the building were fake. Some kind of recognizable feature to comfort those who only saw the facility from the outside, like the news or media…

Each hall they passed, each turn they took, looked exactly the same as the previous. Every door was the same solid gray color with only numbers to mark the difference. Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that they’d passed several other nurses, he would’ve assumed that Jack was just leading him in circles. He was so topsy-turvy and turned around by the confusing halls that he nearly missed it when Jack started speaking again.

“Considering your prior history, we’ll be starting you off with the patients on the first floor. They’re a tad bit more manageable then the ones on the second floor, but not by much, so do keep your wits about you.”

There she went again, mentioning the second floor. But why keep patients below ground? That was the only place he could imagine the twice mentioned ‘second floor’ could be located.

“Your ID will double as your access pass. Every doorway will need to be scanned in order to open. You’ll know which ones you can access by the number present on the screen itself. In your case, it’ll be ‘One.’ A schedule will be provided to you at the end of your shift today so that you may familiarize yourself with the day-to-day going ons of the patients, along with a list of their nutritional requirements and medical needs.”

She finally brought them to a stop in front of one of the many gray doors, although that one didn’t have a number on it. Lifting her ID, she scanned it on the small screen next to the door.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. Her badge had a number seven on the back of it. Surely there couldn’t be that many floors underground.

The door opened with a small ‘click’, revealing an office filled with filing cabinets, each one stuffed to the brim with papers. Jack led the way inside, taking a seat behind a large wooden desk and gesturing for him to sit. Picking up a file with his name on it, she said, “Now, we’re going to go over your health benefits first, including any allergies you may have or any physical ailments that may prevent you from working with specific patients. Are you claustrophobic or-“

She paused, eyes narrowing down onto the file before her. “That’s… odd.”

Marcus felt a nervous pang run down his spine. Oooh, what the hell had Richards done? Had that bastared fucked him over after all?

Jack flipped a page. Then another. Then another. Until she’d read through the entirety of Marcus' file, brows still furrowed in confusion as she didn't find what she was presumably looking for inside it.

Taking in a long breath, Jack took off her glasses and stared Marcus dead in his mismatched eyes as she asked, “Did anyone screen you before you got transferred here? Any background checks? Drug tests? Psych evals? Anything?”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. Looked like he was making a great impression on another boss… Telling himself the money was worth it, he answered honestly, “No… No one mentioned anything like that. Um, where I lived before here? Pot was legal so you’ll probably still find some in my system if you do a drug test…”

Dear god if she fired him he’d turn on Richards so fast…

Hoping to somehow salvage the situation, he added sheepishly, “I’m not claustrophobic at all… if that helps?”

That didn’t get her to unfurrow her brows at all. In fact, she didn’t seem to hear him as she muttered to herself, “No screening, no testing, no evaluation, not even a drug test? They’re just begging for another Harley Quinn situation again. And no prior experience with extremely volatile patients? You’re kidding me? Wesker, I’m going to actually poison your coffee.”

After a lot of vague threats aimed at the CEO, which Marcus highly questioned if she was even allowed to say, much less in front of a subordinate, Jack finally slammed his file shut with a glare.

“Well then. Seems we’re going to be behind on your schedule. I was going to start you on patient interactions today but due to the incompetence of my colleagues, we’ll have to push that till tomorrow. Instead, we’re going to start you off with the absolute basics of basics. How to handle the patients, which personal you’re suppose to contact when something goes awry, the dos and don’ts of general healthcare, and a goddamn psych eval because apparently, I’m the only one who does my fucking job around here.”

Marcus really hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. He really respected the fact that although she was clearly pissed off, she wasn’t directing it at him. It wasn’t like it was his fault Richards had somehow gotten the actual CEO of their company to approve a multi-state transfer in less than two days. Richards used to blame him if the coffee he brought from home wasn’t strong enough. He didn’t even know where the guy lived!

Awkwardly clearing his throat, he finally spoke up, asking, “Did you want to try calling my previous clinic? I’m sure they can send you all my records from there. At- at least for the meantime. Until we can get them all redone here…”

He understood her fears about him being inexperienced with… What had she referred to them as? Volatile patients? However bad that could be, he was sure he could handle it… he hoped…

The subsequent glare that Jack sent his way not only had him snapping his mouth shut immediately, it had him practically cowering in his seat as he contemplated that perhaps speaking out of turn would get him fired too. At the rate he was going, he might as well just throw Richards under the bus, promotion or not. Maybe they’d keep him on and just demote him? He could take a pay cut, considering how much of a raise they’d just given him. God, he just hoped he wasn’t out of a job after everything…

At the sight of his chihuahua-like shaking, Jack’s expression softened a bit. Sighing, she put her glasses back on before telling him, “I apologize for my language, but usually we’d be more thorough with our transfers. Your case is.. an exception. I’m afraid we’ve let a few things slip through the cracks due to the suddenness of your transfer. Unfortunately, your previous records won’t work here as we have a very different set of tests that don’t line up with most other psych wards.”

As she spoke, she handed Marcus his crisp new ID, already set into a clip and everything. When he looked down at it, his own face stared back at him, the airport style photo the same as the one on his previous ID… How did they get that picture so quickly? From his understanding, each clinic’s records were closed and had to be requested. Then again, Richards had probably sent all his information over the same day he’d talked Wesker into transferring him. How had he done that, anyway?

There was no time to sit and contemplate, as Jack was already up and heading out the door. Marcus quickly followed her, knowing just how pressed for time their jobs always left them. Several feet ahead of him, he couldn’t quite catch everything she said into her radio, just that she wouldn’t be able to make her rounds until late afternoon.

Turning to glance back and make sure he was still with her, she paused for him to catch up before saying, “Come along. I’ll show you where everything is.”

Nodding, Marcus felt the need to apologize, admitting, “I’m sorry about all this. I know my transfer was… unexpected. I didn’t see it coming and I have no idea how it got approved so fast.”

He wasn’t about to tell the clearly no nonsense head nurse -and his now direct supervisor- that he’d caught his former boss embezzling funds from the clinic. She’d probably report both of them on principle. Still, she already seemed like a much better boss than Richards ever had. As long as he did his job, worked hard, and paid attention to the rules, he was sure he could prove himself and avoid her wrath. Something told him the only thing saving Wesker was the fact that he was her boss and not the other way around.

Jack waved her hand, dismissing his apology almost as soon as it came out of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Wesker himself approved of your transfer so you’re all set. Of course, I would’ve much preferred it if he consulted me first but alas, we can’t have everything we want.”

Marcus smiled a bit at her last comment. Wasn’t that the truth.

The first location she took him to was a small kitchen. It sat behind a set of gray doors very similar to all the other rooms, the only real differences were the lack of a badge scanner, so staff could bustle in and out of the room with ease, and the lack of a number. Instead, the word KITCHEN was printed above the swinging door in big, bold letters.

Inside the kitchen itself, all the personnel were dressed in full surgical gear. Mask, gloves, and an apron that said ‘Kitchen Staff’ on the front designated their positions much like the sewn on ‘badge’ all the Security guards wore on their shirts.

Looking around, Marcus couldn’t help but think that it looked much more like a surgical room than a kitchen. How the hell was everything so clean? Everything was made of stainless steel and polished to an immaculate shine. He could practically see his own reflection on every surface of the room.

“This is the upper kitchen,” Jack explained, watching the kitchen staff work. “The lower one is down in the cafeteria, which you will not be able to access until you’ve gained higher clearance. That is where the majority of the food is made before being sent to each floor for the required patient.”

Each floor? So there were more than two. Between the seven on her badge and the way she kept vaguely mentioning different levels, Marcus was convinced there was a lot more going on behind the scenes than anything at his previous clinic.

“All patients are to have breakfast and dinner in their rooms,” Jack continued, having taken note of his thoughtful contemplation. “Pre-prepped meals will be sent up by this dumb waiter over here. All of them will be labeled with the patient's names and cell numbers. Your job is to bring these meals to the pharmacy down the hall to receive each patients’ designated morning medication before delivering them to said patient.”

Sounds similar to an elevator could be heard behind the small door and a moment later it opened with a gentle ‘ding’. Pulling out one of the cling wrapped styrofoam trays to show Marcus, he couldn’t help but grimace at the sad sight. It has a simple egg salad sandwich on a paper plate along with a sugar free granola bar and a styrofoam cup filled with water.

That was breakfast? Yikes.

Setting the tray on a rolling rack so it could be pushed down to the pharmacy, Jack told him, “All patients are allowed to make three requests a day. It may be for extra medication or a snack or even something as simple as paper. It is your job to determine if the request is within reason. If so, then you may bring them their requested item. Remember, it’s only three times a day.”

“I assume some patients have bans on what they can ask for?” he asked. That wasn’t too unusual, as some people had inclinations that made it dangerous to give them even seemingly harmless objects.

He’d seen a patient try to eat and nearly choke to death on a pack of crayons when they became lodged in her throat. Another time, a man had tried to cut ‘the worms’ out of his legs with a sharpened piece of plastic water bottle.

Looking at the trays of food as one of the kitchen staff moved the rest of them to the cart, he asked, “Do the patients receive any vitamins or supplements along with their prescribed medication? This seems kind of… light. From a nutritional standpoint, I mean.”

“You’re observant. Good. Keep it up,” Jack responded. “All medications, including vitamin supplements, are picked up at the pharmacy and delivered along with their food. You’ll be able to see what the patients are given and what is allowed in their files, which I will give you a copy of at the end of your shift today.”

The praise made his stomach flip flop and he nodded, looking away to hide the blush rising in his cheeks. After his assumption that he’d made a horrible first impression, it was really nice to hear that he was doing something right after all.
~~~~

Chapter 3: The Lay of the Land

Summary:

Marcus meets a new coworker and a few of the patients he's supposed to help take care of... Let's hope first impressions don't last.

The next area Jack led Marcus to was the pharmacy itself. It was located just down the hall from the kitchen, making it pretty easy to get from one to the other. Unlike the kitchen, however, that door has a scanner.

Jack opened it with a simple tap of her badge, leading him inside before explaining, “This is where you’ll receive the medication for each patient. This is our head nutritionist Claudette. Any questions you may have about any patient’s medical history will be directed towards her. Claudette, this is our newest orderly, Marcus.”

Looking up from a chart she’d been studying, Claudette smiled at him. She too wore glasses, although they had thicker, dark rims instead of the thin metallic ones Jack wore. Her hair was pulled into dozens of tight braids, but they were pulled back into a loose ponytail instead of a tight bun. Working in the pharmacy away from the patients came with a slightly looser dress code, but only just.

“Hey, Marcus. Nice to meet you. I heard we were getting a rushed transfer, I just didn’t think it would be quite so rushed.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he offered nervously. “I hope I haven’t caused any problems.”

“It’s not your fault Wesker likes to pull stupid shit like this,” she dismissed. Clearing her throat, she adjusted her glasses before asking, “Please don’t repeat that…”

“Oh, no, not after he almost sent us flying off a cliff on the drive up here,” Marcus promised, laughing slightly.

Eyes widening, she asked, “Wait, he actually drove you himself? Shit… The last time that happened was when Leon got hired.”

“Who?” he asked curiously.

Casting a strange glance at Jack before once again smiling at him in a friendly gesture, Claudette quickly explained, “He’s the Captain of the guard, so you’ll meet him sooner or later. Oh, also, since I know you two are in a time crunch, if you have any questions about specific patient requests, do’s and don'ts, or their medications, feel free to ask me or our other pharmacist, Laurie. She’s actually out on the floor right now. Ah, Jack. Just so you know, Caleb says he needs some extra pain medication. There’s a storm rolling in and it’s making his leg hurt.”

“Goodness, this early in the morning? He usually doesn't make those requests till after lunch,” Jack mused, actually looking a little surprised. Glancing down at the clipboard still in her hand, she sighed and marked something off before saying, “Allow him an extra dose today. Full moon and all that. I’ll make an exception.”

“Sounds good, I’ll let the kitchen know when they come by with the food,” Claudette confirmed, setting down her own clipboard as she turned to grab a bottle of pills.

Glancing down, Marcus couldn’t help but notice the picture on the patient information sheet. Eyebrows shooting up, he had a moment of disbelief when he recognized the woman. Wasn’t that Amanda Young? One of Jigsaw’s apprentices? The police had tried for months to get her to crack, but she’d stayed as tight lipped as a safe. Eventually she was deemed criminally insane and shipped off to god only knew where. Looked like Crotus Prenn was where…

Jack started speaking again and he snapped back to attention, deciding it best not to question or comment on the matter. Wesker had said that they housed some of society's more troubled persons…

After going through a few routine check ins and questions about the types of medication the pharmacy carried, Jack and Marcus continued on deeper into the facility. The next area they came upon was a large set of doors with small windows set at about head height. Two heavily armed guards stood on either side, looking focused if not a bit grim.

His new roommate, David, was one of them and when he saw Marcus he gave him a silent nod of acknowledgement. The guards' work uniforms were black instead of navy blue like his and Jack’s, but there was a soft badge sewn onto the chest that read ‘Security’.

Marcus was about to ask why the doors were so heavily guarded, but the moment Jack buzzed them through he understood. Although it was still within the facility itself, there was a large courtyard full of tables and benches bolted to the ground.

“This is the central courtyard where the patients will go during their allotted hour of recess,” Jack explained, and Marcus almost giggled. Recess. That was kind of a nice way to refer to it. “It’s the exact same time every day, no exceptions. Make sure that all patients are accounted for whenever you escort them here or back inside. No one stays inside during recess, and no one is allowed out here outside of that hour. Whenever the weather gets colder, they will spend recess in a different room down that way.”

Gesturing towards a different set of doors with more guards standing by them, she continued, “That is an internal space with three of the walls replaced with floor length windows. It’s so the patients may still receive Vitamin D from the limited amount of sunlight we get. A mixture of vitamins and supplements will make up for everything else. However, due to behavioral issues, only the patients on the first floor are permitted outside.”

“Oh, I see,” Marcus said, unsure what else to say. “How many… other floors are there?”

He knew he probably wouldn’t get an answer. Hell, he may even get reprimanded. But he wanted to know what she’d say. It was pretty obvious that this place was a much higher security facility than the one he’d just left. If Amanda Young of all people was deemed dangerous enough to be locked up there, just how dangerous were the people on the second floor? Shouldn’t he have at least a vague inkling of what he was really dealing with?

Sure enough, Jack dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. “That’ll be information privy to you whenever you gain a higher clearance. For now, you’ll only be dealing with the patients on the first floor and that’s all you’ll need to worry about. Now then, let me show you where the recreational room is. It’s about nine-thirty-five am, so they should still be in there before-“

The radio on her waist suddenly let out a loud, siren-like beep that had both her and the two guards by the door tensing up. Unclipping her radio with practiced ease, Jack quickly turned it on with a grimace. “Jack speaking, what the hell is going on-”

Loud, garbled shouting exploded through the small speaker, causing Jack to wince back at the sheer frequency.

“Speak up, what are you-” Her eyes widened and her lips set themselves into a tight frown. “Of course he did. Alright, calm yourself. Follow the usual protocol and I’ll be right on down. Ten minutes, tops.”

Without sparing Marcus a second glance, Jack clipped the radio back onto her waist with a rushed, “Apologies but it seems that one of the patients on the second floor is having a fit. I will have to personally deal with it but in the meantime- you!”

The poor boy that she pointed at jumped almost a foot in the air, his large bug-like eyes widening as he pointed to his chest. “M-me?”

“Yes you, Emory. Show Marcus where the recreational room is then the staff lounge,” Jack directed. “I’ll be back soon, so both of you stay out of trouble till then.”

Without giving either men a chance to protest, she turned on her heel and rushed off, the light tap of her shoes echoing down the hollow halls, leaving Marcus with the shaking boy.

He really didn’t look like he belonged there. The poor guy looked like a stiff breeze would snap him in half before having the decency to actually blow him away.

Unsure what else to do and not wanting to come across as rude, Marcus held out a hand to him. “Hi, I’m Marcus. Today’s my first day.”

The way he looked at Marcus’s hand made it seem like he was afraid it would turn into a snake and bite him. Although it took way longer than socially acceptable, he finally reached out and shook his hand.

It had to have been the saddest, weakest handshake Marcus had ever experienced. Yikes.

“Uh, I’m David. Today’s not my first day. Cause I’ve been here for a while. A few years, I think. Aha, yeah.”

Marcus smiled at him, trying not to squeeze his fingers too hard. It was… rather awkward.

David cringed, letting go of Marcus’s hand as if it were on fire. “Sorry, I talk too much sometimes. I think? Maybe. But, uh, you can call me Emory so you don’t get me confused with King-“ he glanced towards the guard David, who looked rather amused at the interaction, “-or Tapp.” The other guard simply nodded at the mention of his name. “But David also works. I prefer David. If you want.”

“If your preference is David, I’ll call you David,” Marcus promised, smiling at him. He was a nice little dude, even if he did kind of bring up the mental image of a sad, wet sock.

He looked like he needed a hug… Although he was pretty sure that if he hugged David, he’d cry, then he’d get fired for sexual harassment. Bad way to start a first day anywhere, but it seemed especially bad in a psych ward for criminals.

David seemed shocked that Marcus had agreed to call him by his first name. Even the ID pinned to his scrubs pocket said ‘EMORY’ rather than his first name. Maybe there were just a lot of Davids there.

Fidgeting his hands like he wasn’t sure what else to do with them, he rambled, “That’s cool, that’s nice. I’d like that, yeah. Um, Ms Jack said to show you the rec rooms so, uh, this way.”

He gestured rather awkwardly towards another hallway, which looked exactly the same as all the others. Jesus, Marcus really hoped he could get a map or something because there was no way he could memorize each area without one.

How the hell did lab rats figure out those mazes? That’s what he was starting to feel like. A lab rat in a maze of blank, white walls. Ick. As they walked, he noticed that, unlike Jack, David wore a dark gray moth bitten cardigan that he kept pulling the sleeves of.

When David noticed him staring, he blushed hard and quickly explained, “It’s not in the dress code but most of us either wear long sleeves under our scrubs or, uh, a sweater. Nothing knitted, though. I wear a cardigan cause I get cold easily. Also cause it has pockets.”

He put his hands into the large pockets of his cardigan to demonstrate. Almost immediately his fingers poked out of a large hole in one pocket. Gazing at it forlornly, he said, “….They’re still pockets….”

“I can… sew that up for you after work, if you’d like,” Marcus offered. “I can probably find a needle and thread somewhere in the dorms.”

Jesus Christ, his eyes were practically marbles. Why were they so watery? Even his voice sounded watery as he asked, “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” Marcus promised. He was getting the strong feeling that David didn’t have a lot of friends at the asylum.

“Wow, that’s so nice of you! Thank you! I’d really appreciate that!” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his tone. In fact, David made it sound as if Marcus just agreed to donate a kidney to him. Now he really wanted to give this poor guy a hug.

“A-Anyways, uh, the rec rooms are right down this way and- shit.” Cutting himself off, David quickly grabbed Marcus by the arm and pulled him behind a wall.

Just around the bend, he could hear a cacophony of voices loudly laughing and chatting as they drew closer and closer.

“Fuck, already?” David asked in a nervous whisper. “Listen, they’re escorting the inmates outside for recess now. The rule is that if you’re not a part of the group escorting them, then you don’t interact with them during crossing. Something about them, like, lashing out or whatever. I’ll show you the rec rooms when they pass so for now, keep your head down and don’t make eye contact.”

Marcus wasn’t sure that was very good advice. Obviously he wasn’t about to go challenging any of the patients, but trying to look as small and non threatening as possible could also be a bad idea. If he was going to be able to handle himself around them, they needed to know they couldn’t walk all over him.

A guard walked past, followed shortly by a man covered from head to toe in burn scars. His skin was twisted and warped, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble moving nor did he appear to be in pain. The name stitched into the front of his uniform said ‘Freddy’.

Amanda Young, the Jigsaw apprentice herself, was the next to follow. Eyeing Marcus with a sharp, dangerous gaze, she moved past without slowing. Yard time was precious and she wasn’t about to waste it on some new orderly. She’d learn what she needed about him later, through other means.

A much older man stepped out behind her, one leg enclosed in a shoddy brace. He walked with a pronounced limp and his jaw was scarred and crooked on one side, but it did nothing to detract from the immaculate Fu Manchu hanging down past his chin. It was the same silvery white as the rest of his hair, which hung down to his shoulders. Marcus didn’t catch his name, too curious about the leg brace.

Behind him was another man, and Marcus couldn’t help but wonder how that kind of hair was acceptable when he got shit for his natural ginger.

Ji-Woon, as his name tag read, had neon green hair. At least, most of it was. A good inch of root was a dull, mousey brown color. His left arm was bandaged from shoulder to fingertips and secured in a sling across his chest. Sharp yellow eyes caught the expression on Marcus’s face, and the inmate grinned, shooting him a wink as he waltzed past.

Another guard followed, and for a second he assumed that was all of them. That was, until a group of four came out behind her. Two men and two women, none of them looked much older than nineteen or twenty. The loudest and proudest of the bunch, a brunette man with a neck tattoo of a flaming jester skull, spotted them and grinned coldly. “Hey, Skrunkles! What’s up lil’ fucker?”

“Bitch, why are you hiding in a corner like a roach?” one of the women asked. Her head was shaved on one side, long blond hair hanging down on the other.

“He’s probably talking to a roach,” the other man and tallest of the group jabbed, snickering. “Or eating one.”

“Pft, we all eat bugs here,” the other woman said. Her hair was mostly pink, roots a bit darker brown than Ji-Woon’s, and her name tag read ‘Susie’.

Bristling, Marcus took a step forward, intent on giving them a stern warning off. As soon as he did, he smacked directly into someone’s chest with a startled grunt. Staggering, he looked up and froze.

Staring back at him were a pair of dark gray eyes, almost as devoid of life as the walls around them. A few small scars littered an otherwise handsome face framed by messy black hair. Mouth twisting up in the most threatening smile Marcus had ever seen, the man greeted, “Oh, hello there…”

Marcus took a small step back, knowing he was standing far too close to the man. It didn’t matter that his hands were cuffed in front of him. He could still easily grab or tackle him with as close as they were.

He did neither, but he did step closer, nearly towering over the ginger. Head tilting slightly, he asked, “Do you feel… in control?”

“I- What?” Marcus asked, feet suddenly rooted underneath him.

“I asked, do you feel in control,” he repeated, tone strangely even. “Right now. Do you feel in control of this situation?”

Swallowing, Marcus nodded, mouth too dry to speak.

“Hmm, you shouldn’t,” the man purred, voice dangerously smooth. “Because you’re not in control. Whatever control you may think you have is entirely an illusion. One you and your fellow nurses and orderlies and guards have built up to help you feel safe. One that won’t keep you safe. One that can’t keep you safe… not from me…”

“Move it, Johnson!” King snapped, bringing up the rear.

The dark haired man didn’t budge, still smirking down at Marcus with a cold, calculating light in his eyes.

“Dammit, you keep this shit up you’re getting locked in solitary for a week,” the guard snapped, grabbing the patient by the bicep.

Looking back over his shoulder as he was dragged away, Johnson’s cold gray eyes bored into Marcus until he was pulled out of sight.

Swallowing again, he managed to wet his mouth enough to speak. “… Who was that?”

Eyes still locked on the bend down the hallway where the large group of the most deranged members of society just went out for recess, his ears barely registered David’s soft voice as he said, “That was Danny Johnson. The Ghostface killer.”
~~~~

Chapter 4: Not Just the Crazy Ones

Summary:

Marcus learns more about the Legion and how things work at Crotus Prenn. At least he's making friends along the way!

In a poor attempt to shake off the jitters from the sudden encounter, David led Marcus inside the room the large group were previously occupying. It was a classic recreational room, and a decent spot to decompress from what had just happened. A small tv sat in the corner on top of a small stack of magazines, still playing some random Sunday cartoon. A large pool table sat in the middle where a game had not been cleaned up yet, along with a half finished game of poker resting on a much smaller table nearby.

As David explained the, quite obvious, function of the room, a group of custodians hurried in to get the room fixed up, one of them Marcus recognizes as his roommate, Quentin, and he nodded when he looked up and saw him.

“So, um, the inmates get to be in here in between their breakfast and recess, and again between lunch and lock up. They get to spend about a total of seven hours in here, although some of them prefer to just sit in their rooms with the doors open.”

He pointed towards a set of doors opposite to the ones they just entered, where another pair of guards stood. “Their rooms are through there. Try not to go into any of them unless you’re assigned to it that day. A lot of them are super duper picky about their stuff so if you don’t want to end up with a broken arm, you gotta be careful.”

David held up his left hand and pulled back the sleeve, revealing a large bandage over his wrist that Marcus hadn’t noticed earlier. “Don’t worry, stuff like this happens all the time. Comes with the job and all that. Thank god for the healthcare, am I right?”

Marcus couldn’t help but wince sympathetically. He’d yet to have a patient break a bone, but he’d been scratched, kicked, and bitten before. “Ouch, I’m sorry. Also, are you okay? I mean, do they always talk to you like that?”

His questioning only got a shrug from David as he tugged the sleeve of his cardigan back down. “I guess? They don’t really mean any harm. They treat me nicer than the other inmates have. At least none of them have ever put their hands on me. They’re… nice.”

Unable to help the face he made, Marcus seriously considered asking if he was sure he was okay. Not just from the previous encounter, but overall.

“A-Anyways, let me show you the staff lounge. Your lunch kinda just happens whenever you have the time for it. Some of us take it in there, but others like to sit outside or in the sunroom whenever the inmates aren’t in there. That’s what we call that big room with three windows since we can still see outside but not get our asses frozen by the cold.”

The staff lounge was located down another confusing set of twists and turns behind another gray door with a scanner. Inside was a small lounge area with a low rise table and several couches. A coffee maker sat on the counter on one side along with a sink, a microwave, and a fridge. A few other personnel were already in the room taking a break, including Marcus’ roommate Eli, who looked absolutely exhausted despite it only being ten AM.

Opening the fridge, David pulled out two chocolate donuts and handed one to Marcus as he explained, “Sometimes they give us food in here, usually a snack or something. If you want warm food, you gotta ask the kitchen people to send one up from downstairs. Otherwise, you can order microwaveable food online or something and have it delivered. I keep a box of fruit gummies in my room for emergencies.”

That didn’t seem too bad, and Marcus nodded. “Sounds good to me. So, should we wait here for Jack? Or do you have rounds you need to do that you’d like me to shadow you on?”

Looking up from where he was nearly dozing in his chair, Eli spotted them and smiled. “Hey, if you both have a few minutes, come sit down. Hey, David. You doing okay today?”

Eli’s question gets only a shrug as David plopped himself down onto the couch next to him. A separate couch, never the same one. He knows better than that. “I’m okay, I think. It’s too early to know. Ask me again after lunch.”

Taking a massive bite of his donut, and practically looking like a hamster in doing so, he mumbled through his mouthful to answer Marcus’s question, “I mean, not really. I don’t really do anything other than shadow the other nurses. I’m not really supposed to do anything on my own. Uh, she said to show you the rec room then the staff lounge so I guess we can wait for her? Unless you, like, want to see the bathrooms or something.”

“Nah, I’m good for now,” he offered, taking a bite of his own donut. It was a little stale from having been in the refrigerator, but it was still good. Taking a seat next to David, he noted that although the other people in the room were sitting in pairs or threes, everyone seemed to be giving Eli a rather wide berth.

Before he could ask about it, David turned to him. “They- The inmates, I mean- all have lunch downstairs. It’s the only time of the day where the first and second floor interact with each other in person, so fights break out all the time. Especially since tonight’s a full moon.”

A nurse standing by the coffee machine let out a snort, pouring a Red Bull into her already partially filled cup of coffee as she snarked, “Oh yeah, me and some of the others already got bets running. I’m telling you, at least five arguments, three actual fist fights, and one of them getting thrown in solitary. My money’s on you know who.”

“Haaa, yeah, probably,” Eli agreed uncomfortably. “He’s been… on edge since Dwight got hurt, but you know how they get when something happens to their favorite staff.”

“Favorite staff?” Marcus asked. “How does that work?”

“Some of them like specific people more than others,” Eli explained awkwardly. “Jack is pretty well respected by most of them, but a few of them only really like one specific person. Maybe two.”

That didn’t sound so unusual and he nodded. “Right, I’ve seen that kind of thing before. But, I have to ask… Is everyone locked up in here a criminal?”

The expression on Eli’s face spoke volumes…

At the same time, David sucked in air between his teeth. “Well… I mean, I guess? Some of them are… and uh, some of them a little less so?”

The nurse practically downed her cup in one go before saying, “Yes and no. Sure, some of them deserve to be here more than others but they’ve all done something to be locked up in here one way or another.” She squinted at Marcus as she looked him up and down, mostly focused on his ginger hair. “You’re the new transfer, aren’t you?”

A little thrown by the change in subject and the focus of the spotlight onto himself, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s me…I guess word about the rushed transfer got around, huh?” He could only hope making light of it would detract from any negative assumptions that may have already started to build among his new coworkers. He still felt like he’d narrowly avoided creating another Richards situation with Jack, so the last thing he needed was to start making enemies with the rest of the staff.

With the way the nurse was acting, it was almost as if everyone had heard of Marcus before he even stepped foot into the building. “Oh, yeah. The colorful guy that the big boss himself drove up here. We all know.” She glanced down towards his ID, mostly at the clearance number, before looking back towards the others with raised eyebrows. “Does he know yet?”

When Eli shook his head, she let out a mirthless chuckle before finishing off her coffee and putting the cup in the sink. “Good luck out there, newbie. Hope you’re still alive by the end of the week.”

Before Marcus could ask what the hell she meant by that exactly, she left the room, most likely having finished her lunch and heading back to continue her rounds.

“Do- do people die a lot or something?” Marcus asked nervously. Sure, he knew it wasn’t exactly among the top ten safest jobs in the world, but he hadn’t been expecting actually criminally insane people!

“Oh, no, no!” Eli quickly jumped in. “It’s more… people get… hurt. A lot… And even if they don’t, it can be a very stressful job. Lack of sleep, long hours, harsh living conditions. It is bum-fuck Alaska after all.”

“I said the same thing about living in Utah,” Marcus sighed. “But yeah, I guess it doesn’t get much more ‘in the middle of nowhere’ than this… So… The patients tend to get violent a lot? Does that include the ones up here on the first floor?”

“Ahhh, sometimes?” Eli offered uncomfortably. “But they’re usually better behaved, which is why they’re up here and not downstairs.”

“About downstairs-” he started to ask, but the door swinging open as Jack walked in had him falling silent.

She still had her clipboard but looked more disheveled then when Marcus had seen her earlier. Her hair was still immaculate, which was a miracle he’d never be able to achieve. “My god, it’s too early for him to be acting up so vehemently. It really sets a bad precedent for the rest of the day.”

Placing her empty coffee cup in the sink with a sigh, Jack finally turned to face the group of men sitting on the couches behind her. “Now then. How are you finding everything? Have you familiarized yourself with the layout of the facility? Emory treating you well?”

Marcus had been about to agree that, yes, David was a great host, when he immediately piped up like an overeager kid fishing for praise from his teacher. “Oh yeah! I showed him the rec room and told him about the schedule! He did have a run in with the Ghostface but it was resolved pretty fast and-”

The absolute ice that overtook Jack’s face got David to clam up faster than an actual clam. Eli winced, actually huddling into the corner of his couch a little when she demanded, “He what?”

Trying to defend his fellow coworker and potential new friend, David quickly tried to deescalate the situation. “It wasn’t anything bad! He just bumped into him during crossing and then maybe got threatened? But the guards took care of it so I’m sure it wasn’t too bad and-!”

“Zip it, Emory.”

“Y-yes, ma’am…”

Feeling bad since the altercation was technically his fault, Marcus offered apologetically, “It wasn’t David’s fault. Some of the patients were being crude and when I stepped in I accidentally bumped right into… Johnson? I think that’s what he was called?”

He knew of the infamous Ghostface killer. Pretty much everyone had, as his insane killing spree had spanned almost a decade before he was finally caught. The shocking revelation that the same man who had perpetrated the killings was also the reporter who’d been so relentlessly ‘chasing’ the killer had practically buried his real name, and most people only referred to him by Ghostface or ‘Jed Olsen’; the name he’d used as a reporter.

Like Amanda, he’d been locked up somewhere very secure and away from highly populated areas. Something about ‘fans and potential copycats’ and not wanting to deal with the ensuing media circus it would bring…

Yet again he found himself wondering… If people like a Jigsaw apprentice and Ghostface were on the first floor and considered ‘more manageable’, who the hell was on the second floor? He was about to ask Jack, but the look on her face stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Listen to me carefully, Taylor,” she practically hissed. “You never, and I mean never, allow any of the patients to corner you or make you feel like you’re not in control of the situation. That’s how you end up with a shiv in your back.”

It sounded like she was speaking from experience, of a time when she was a fresh faced newbie who didn’t know any better herself.

Drawing him out of his thoughts once more, Jack continued, “If you’re going to be interacting with the patients, especially if you’re assigned to do a room check, you always keep an eye on the patient. You do not let your entire attention leave them at any given time. Make sure you can see both of their hands and you make sure they never get between you and the cell door, no matter if it’s open or locked. We do have cameras in each cell, yes, but there’s still a delay between what’s happening and what we can see, and there are only so many people to keep an eye on all the feeds at any given time. By the time we can get guards into the room, you’d already be brutally injured, or worse, dead.”

The look in Jack’s eyes told all. She’d lost more than enough people to some of the more unruly inmates. It went with the job, sure, but that didn’t make it any easier to sleep at night. Marcus had just gotten here and he seemed like a good kid. She didn’t want to be the one to find his mutilated corpse in a week.

Swallowing dryly, Marcus nodded, saying quietly, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll… I’ll be sure to be more careful. I’m sorry.”

He felt foolish, if he was being honest with himself. The moment he’d learned a single patient there was considered ‘criminally insane’, he should have realized it wouldn’t be like any place he’d worked before. The people locked up in Crotus Prenn weren’t just there because they needed help. They were legitimately dangerous to everyone around them.

There was a long tense pause, both David and Eli practically holding their breath as they watched the two of them like it was a boxing match and Jack had just backed Marcus into the ropes.

Just as he was contemplating if he was truly about to lose his job, she finally sighed and beckoned for him to get up. “Thank you. Now come, I have a few forms for you to fill out.”

‘A few’ were code words for ‘a mountain’. Marcus had never before in his life seen so much paperwork for one person. Apparently those were all forms that he was supposed to sign before he got transferred but due to how rushed it was, Richards never gave them to him. Another black mark against his former boss.

Health insurance, NDAs, medical history, school experience; Marcus practically poured his entire life onto those forms. Not only that, but he had to do a rushed drug test and blood work as well, Claudette actually giving him a sympathetic look as she pushed the needle into his arm. At least she was gentle with it, even if she did have to hurry to get it done around her regular duties.

By the end of the process, his shift was over and the sun had set hours ago. Jack finally let him leave with a large pile of files that he was to read over before his shift tomorrow, as they were both files on each patient of the first floor and the schedules that he had to follow per day. Thank god he got a map too. That thing looked like the blueprints for the Minotaur’s labyrinth!

When he reached the bus outside, he saw that there was a completely new bus driver then the one he’d met that morning. Gone was the man with majestic hair. Instead, a younger looking woman in a beanie sat behind the wheel.

She looked him up and down as he stepped up onto the bus, offering him a cheeky grin. “Hey there. You must be Marcus. Jeff told me you were starting today but I wasn’t really expecting to see you already. Lots of paperwork to catch up on?”

A little startled by her welcoming greeting and apparent pre-introduction, he nodded tiredly. “Yeah, hi. It’s nice to meet you. Sorry, I’m just tired and a little overwhelmed with… all this. Now I kind of wish I’d had time to study all this before I got transferred.”

“It did seem a little fast,” she agreed as he took the seat directly behind her. “We’ll be heading up to the dorms in about… five minutes. So, how’d your first official day go?”

“Oh, I got the lay of the land. Kind of,” he offered. “It’s wild, just how different this place is than the one I worked at before. That was all people checking themselves or loved ones in. Maybe the occasional hospital or judge sending people to us, but they were still… easy going. For the most part. This is…”

“It’s a lot,” Nea agreed sympathetically. “My advice? Take a breather every now and again. Safety first, so if you aren’t sure or you aren’t clear on something, take time to double check with someone. Charts can only tell you so much, and there are no stupid questions in a place like this.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he told her, smiling back. It was certainly a relief to see how many of his fellow workers were actively looking out for one another. That could only help create a safer, more secure environment for everyone.

Only two other people were on the bus besides him and Nea, but they were both dozing off in the back row, not listening and unbothered by their conversation. Just before she closed the bus doors to take off, three other people hurriedly shuffled out the front doors and down the sidewalk. Once they’d boarded, they were on their way back to the dorms.

Not wanting to distract her while she drove, Marcus took the opportunity to start reading the first file on the stack. It was the thickest of the files, and to his surprise, it had four patients' information inside it.

Patient profile : The Legion
Frank Morrison, Male, 22-
Julie Kostenko, Female, 21-
Joey Carter, Male, 21-
Susie Lavoie, Female 20 -
All four are to be considered extremely dangerous. All four are prone to violent outbursts. DO NOT SEPARATE. Separation leads to an increased number of violent outbursts.

“Oh, wow,” he murmured, looking over the pictures below. Oh, shit… Those were the four that had been picking on David earlier.

The Legion got their start in Ormond, Canada, but their crime spree quickly spilled over the US/Canada border. The majority of their documented crimes involved vandalism, arson, shoplifting, theft, carjacking, terrorizing the public, stabbings, spree killing, and manslaughter.

Kostenko, Carter, and Lavoie were all offered reduced sentences in exchange for information on Morrison. All three of them swore allegiance to ‘The Legion’ and refused to speak further.

While in police custody, Kostenko reportedly broke an officer's wrist, thumb, and index finger.

When custody was transferred to Crotus Prenn, Morrison bit off a nurse’s finger in retaliation for being separated from the other three.

Carter broke a guard's nose and had to be fully sedated to stop him from attempting to fight even while restrained to his bed.

Lavoie was mistakenly believed to be the most subdued and when staff let their guard down, she violently attacked an orderly in her cell, broke the sink, toilet, and bed before being subdued.

Efforts were made to keep them separated by gender, but that only made them more aggressive as they attempted to gang up on any staff that entered their cells. Do not interrupt if sexual intercourse ensues between any/all of the Legion. All four will become uncontrollably violent and fatalities may occur.

Marcus blinked, rereading the paragraph several times. “If what?! Jesus Christ, I was not ready for any of this…”

Nea let out a quiet laugh, and he realized he’d said it loud enough for her to hear.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“Um, a group of four? I have to admit, I’ve never seen patient info quite like this…”

“Ahh, the Legion,” she confirmed, nodding. “They’re a wild bunch, but as long as you don’t piss off any of them you’ll be fine. They have a pack mentality though, so if you wrong one of them, you’ve wronged all of them.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Marcus muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He was getting a bit of a headache from reading in the low light, so he put away the files until he could get up to his room.

The bus squeaked to a stop only a few minutes later, and the few people on the bus filed off. Bidding Nea a goodnight, Marcus made his way back up to his room to find King and Eli already passed out for the night.

Quentin was sitting on his bed, only the soft light from his phone illuminating his face. Looking up when the ginger walked in, he waved before asking quietly, “Hey, how’d day one go?”

“Could have been a lot worse,” Marcus admitted, keeping it light. “Now I get to study. Why are you up so late?”

“I don’t sleep much,” Quentin explained, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Want me to go over those with you? They can’t include everything, and if you’ve got questions I might be able to help answer them.”

Trying not to yawn, he nodded, agreeing, “That would be great. Oh, also, do you have a needle and thread I can borrow?”

Shaking his head, his roommate offered, “No, but there should be some on the supply shelf in the common room. Did your uniform get a rip?”

“No, trying to help out a friend.”

“Ah, David, right? He came by the room a little while ago looking for you. Eli told him he could stay, but he said he’d wait until you were off,” Quentin explained. “I don’t know if he’ll still be up, but I can go check and then meet you downstairs if you want.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed, changing into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. Grabbing his pile of paperwork, Marcus made his way downstairs while his roommate shuffled off down the hall.

It was pretty quiet in the dorms, as most people were already asleep, or had left for the night shift. Night shift was rotationary, and Marcus knew in time he’d be on it himself. It was supposed to be a little easier since the inmates were supposed to be asleep for the majority of the shift, but supposed to and what they were actually doing were always two different things…

Lost in thought, Marcus failed to see someone turn the corner just as he stepped into the rec room and the two collided with a startled grunt and a lot of flailing. He was trying not to drop all his files, while the man he’d bumped into was just trying not to fall over.

“Christ! Sorry!” Marcus apologized, reaching out to steady him with one hand. He grabbed a wrist and was met with a hiss of pain. Yanking his hand back, he repeated, “Shit, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Pulling his arm up to his chest, the man shook his head. “Oh, no! You’re fine! Sorry, I was- Oh, you’re the new transfer, right?”

Marcus sighed. Seemed like he better get used to hearing that…

“I’m Dwight,” the man continued, blinking at him from behind a rather thick pair of glasses. He was a good bit taller than Marcus, and his soft black hair stuck out wildly as if he’d just been caught in a windstorm. Judging by how fine it was, it would be more trouble than it was worth to spend money on products to try and tame it. “I’m head of the janitorial staff, but if you need anything, feel free to let me know. I’ve been here almost as long as Jack, so I know the patients and the facility pretty well.”

A little surprised by how fast news seemed to travel, Marcus nodded. “Right, thanks. But, really… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Glancing down at his wrist, Dwight winced slightly. A ring of bruises marred his pale skin as if someone had grabbed him incredibly hard. “Ahh. That… One of the patients got a little aggressive the other day. Hey, at least it’s not broken, right?”

Marcus really hoped he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. He knew getting grabbed or scratched was pretty common in their line of work, but still. That looked painful.

“I take it those are all the floor one patients?” Dwight asked, gesturing to the files.

“Yeah, Jack wants me to look over them before my shift in the morning. So far I’ve gotten through the Legion, and that’s it. One of my roommates, Quentin, is supposed to be coming down to help me. And possibly David.”

“Oh, yeah, Quentin is a great guy,” Dwight chimed in. “And, uh… Which David?”

“Emory?” Marcus recalled. “Little guy. Looks super nervous all the time?”

“Right! He’s also a great guy,” Dwight agreed, laughing quietly. “Well, good luck tonight. It does get easier, but it still has its moments. I’m going to go ice this, and try to get some sleep before my shift in the morning.”

“Best of luck,” Marcus told him, waving goodbye as he disappeared out into the hallway. Finding an empty table, he sat down and picked up the next file. He could read while he waited on Quentin and David.

Marcus had just finished off the Legion’s file when he heard the light sounds of shuffling. Looking up from the paperwork sprawled out before him, he caught sight of Quentin exiting the elevators with David in tow.

The latter looked like he had been just about to head to bed. Clad in long sleeved pajamas with an eye mask resting over his unruly brown hair, David looked like the definition of cozy. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eye before giving Marcus a sleepy smile. Was it just him… or were David’s eyes glowing in the dark?

“Hi Marcus. How was your shift?”

Shaking himself a little, Marcus managed to smile back. “It was pretty good. No more incidents with any of the inma- ah, patients. Sorry, by the way. Didn’t mean to keep you from bed. I had no idea how late I’d be getting out or I would have warned you.”

The elevator dinged again, and all of them turned to see Eli shuffling into the room. He looked like he was still half asleep as he made his way to one of the refrigerators, and he only addressed them once he had a cup of milk in hand.

“David ate six burritos for dinner and has officially turned our room into a biohazard zone. I woke up honestly thinking someone had set off a chemical bomb in the dorm.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” Marcus murmured, before realizing that that was his room too and he’d have to deal with it once he went back upstairs… Joy.

“Hey, if it helps, we’ve got extra ear plugs,” Quentin offered. “Just stick them in your nostrils.”

“I’ve done that, and I don’t recommend it,” Marcus interjected. “I inhaled one in the middle of the night and almost swallowed it. That was not fun.”

David nodded sympathetically. “I swallowed a bug once in my sleep. My dad wasn’t happy with me.”

Eli made a face, clearly grossed out by the idea. Reaching over to pick up a file, his hand almost touched Marcus's and he yanked it back like he’d been shocked.

That seemed to be happening a lot with people, and the ginger couldn’t keep the mildly hurt expression off his face. One time was excusable, but he was starting to wonder if he was giving off some kind of vibe or presence that was making everyone around him uncomfortable.

Catching the look, Eli winced. “Hey, um… I’m sorry, it’s not you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Marcus dismissed, flipping open a file.

“No, it’s really not you,” Quentin added, and he shot them both a confused look.

“Remember what I was saying about certain patients having strong attachments to certain staff?” Eli asked, smiling nervously. “I’m… one of those staff members. If I go into… a specific patient's cell or go around him smelling too much like anyone else or just not enough like me, he tends to get really aggressive and possessive. I used King’s body wash once after he first got here and Mi- the patient held me captive in his cell for six hours.”

“Oh my god,” Marcus whispered, not at all prepared for such an explanation. “How did you get out? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, he didn’t hurt me,” Eli promised. “They ended up having to gas the cell to sedate him enough just to get the door open so they could hit him with a tranquilizer dart.”

“They used a sedative gas and he was still up and moving around?” Marcus asked, shocked and horrified. What kind of person could withstand that?

“Yeah, but he’s… he’s not on the first floor, so you don’t have to worry about him,” his roommate reassured.

Some reassurance that was…

“Alright, who’s next on the pile?” Quentin asked, changing the subject. “And we have… Amanda Young. This one’s a doozy.”

“You know, I don’t think most of them are actually insane,” Eli muttered, giving the Legion’s file a look. “Oh, something they don’t say in here. They’re always asking for crayons, and that’s fine. They just have to be taken out of the box and the papers have to be removed. Also, they only get three requests per day, per cell. They’ll try and make you believe they each get three requests a day, but they don’t.”

“There’s a lot of that,” Quentin agreed with a sigh. “A lot of little quirks they just don’t warn you about. Don’t worry though. Only about thirty percent of them will lead to you being brutally murdered if you fuck them up.”

Marcus was about to ask for a quick rundown of the ‘fatal’ mistakes he could make during his next shift when Eli scoffed, “Thirty percent? Come on, Q. That’s not true.”

Before the ginger could feel even an ounce of relief, he added, “It’s more like eighty percent.”
~~~~

Chapter 5: Shadowing the Pro

Summary:

Marcus starts his first day of proper work! Hopefully it goes well...

Marcus ended up staying up most of the night studying. He wasn’t able to get through every single file, but Quentin and Eli guided him through the most volatile of the patients to prepare him for his first ‘real’ day. He did manage to get David’s cardigan patched up to an extent, but was afraid to do too much to the moth bitten clothing in case he ruined it. It was almost falling apart without him tugging and stitching all over it.

Quentin stayed up with Marcus, but it took Eli also promising to go get some sleep to get David back to his room for bed. He really wanted to help, but kept nearly falling asleep and falling out of his chair. Marcus was incredibly grateful for all the support, and he was happy he could start the day knowing someone got a good night's rest.

He made small talk with his roommates on the bus ride up, exchanged a few pleasantries with Jeff, and finally found himself once again face to face with Jack. Although it was technically his second day, it felt a lot more like his first day of work and he was excited to learn the ropes through more practical application. Files and paperwork could only teach so much.

As they both headed towards the kitchen, David quietly joined them with a small smile towards Marcus. He looked much more rested than he did the night before and he sounded quite cheerful as he greeted, “Good morning, Marcus. How’d you sleep?”

Marcus looked at him with an exhausted smile, dark circles under his eyes almost as bad as Quentin. “I managed to read thought about half the files before skimming the rest. I’m planning to get to them tonight, and then probably try to give them all a reread over the next few days until I start to get the hang of everything.”

David cringed, groaning sympathetically. “Oh yeah, it’s a lot of info but it’s super important. I know Eli and Quentin told you that most of the actual important stuff isn’t on there but the files are still the foundations. Learn the rules before you break them, right?”

He couldn’t argue with that, and nodded solemnly. “Yeah, especially in a place like this.”

Just before they entered the stainless steel room, David tugged on Marcus’ sleeve and whispered to him, “I’ll stick with you in case you need help. And if you need a snack, don’t worry. I got your back.” He gestured for the ginger to look down into the now fixed pockets of his cardigan, which were absolutely stuffed full of fruit gummies in a large ziplock bag.

When Marcus looked back up, David had the brightest smile on his face as he happily asked, “Get it? Cause it rhymes.”

“You’re a poet and I didn’t know it,” he answered, grinning just as goofily back at him.

The edge of a steel cart nudged into Marcus’s hip and both men looked up to see Jack with an amused look in her eyes. “You done?”

David blushed hard, mumbling an apology as he tried, and failed, to hide behind Marcus. The sight actually got a chuckle out of Jack, and he blushed a bit as well. At least she wasn’t mad at them or accusing them of wasting time goofing off. It may only be day two, but he was really starting to like her as a boss. She struck him as no nonsense, but fair.

“If you’re both done, we can start with breakfast,” she instructed. “Marcus, do you remember what’s to be done first?”

“After we get the food on the cart, which you’ve already done, we take it to the pharmacy to get everyone their meds before delivering it to their rooms,” he answered, trying to sound as confident as he could. That sounded right… Right?

“Very good,” Jack confirmed with a curt nod. “The medication and vitamins the patients take in the morning are just as important as the breakfast itself. Now then, I’ve already placed the trays onto the cart. They’re all labeled by patient name and cell number.”

Sure enough, nine styrofoam trays sat in a row on the stainless steel cart. Just like everything else in the room, it looked like something one could expect to find in a hospital. That morning, the trays had a cream cheese bagel with a side of baby carrots. The bagel was plain and untoasted while the carrots look slightly mushy from being lightly boiled. Gross.

Gesturing for Marcus to push the cart, Jack instructed, “Come along. We must stay on top of the schedule. All patients wake up at six am on the dot and breakfast is served half an hour later. They have another half hour to finish their food before we collect the trays and trash. Make sure they don't keep any of it in their rooms as food hoarding is prohibited. Afterwards, all patients on the first floor are allowed three hours of free time where they will be allowed to either go into the recreational room or stay in their rooms with the door open.”

Nodding along as he tried his best to remember all the new information being given to him, Marcus asked, “Are they allowed to request food items as one of their three requests?”

His astute questioning actually earned a small smile from Jack. It was very rare for her to get a new hire that actually asked observant questions that even the most experienced of personnel wouldn’t usually think about until it came up.

“Yes, they are. However, there are limitations to what foods are allowed. Nothing perishable, as it attracts bugs or can become a health hazard if it starts to mold. That also means no fresh fruits or anything raw that would require cooking; dried fruits and vegetables are fine. Nothing canned, as they have a tendency to hide it for later, or turn the metal can into a weapon. Nothing caffeinated, but I’m sure you can imagine why. Nothing that will cause bio waste, like gum, and nothing cooked, as they already receive balanced meals during their allotted meal times and the kitchens are on strict schedules. It can only be something within a plastic wrapper that can be finished by the end of the day. Checking for trash is one of your responsibilities when you do room checks, especially at night before bedtime lockup.”

Glancing towards David, she added, “If you wish to carry a snack on your own person, then go right ahead. Same rules apply to you, but you may carry it as long as you wish.”

David blushed again, mumbling sheepishly, “I just get hungry sometimes… I put them in a bag so I don’t have to throw away a bunch of wrappers…”

“That’s smart,” Marcus told him. “It’s better than having to keep track of so much trash until you can throw it away.”

The look he got from David made it feel more like Marcus had told him that he was going to give him a billion dollars and whisk him away from this cruel world. Had he… never gotten a compliment before?

Deciding to unpack that another day, Marcus looked back down at the trays of food, noting that each one was labeled with the patient's file name instead of their legal name. Instead of four trays labeled ‘Frank, Julie, Susie, Joey,’ all of them had ‘The Legion’, and a number behind it. It didn’t take long for him to realize it wasn’t a room number, but a count to make sure all four of them got food.

As they neared the pharmacy, Marcus asked, “Why are they referred to by their…”

Fuck, he didn’t want to say ‘killer’ names. He knew the media was responsible for naming a few of them, but others were self titled. Ghostface was the most notable, but the Trickster had been Ji-Woon’s stage name before he was found out to be responsible for killing his former band-mates and a slew of other, less famous victims…

Clearing his throat, Marcus settled on, “Why are the patients referred to by nicknames instead of given names?”

Jack mulled over his question for a bit before answering. Choosing her words rather carefully as she said, “Those are the names chosen for them by them, the media, or the CEO. It’s… too personal to refer to them by their given name. Plus, some of them don’t react kindly to being called by their given names and prefer the one assigned to them”

They’d already reached their destination and all questions were put on hold as Jack beeped them in once more. Instead of Claudette behind the counter, however, a blonde woman sat there instead.

Claudette herself was actually behind the glass wall next to Marcus, sorting out different pills into small containers before labeling and sealing them. She seemed really focused on her task and he felt as if he shouldn’t bother her. Still, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at some of the names on the sets of pills for the lower floor.

The Evil? The Shape? The Clown?! What? One was simply labeled ‘The Doctor’, and he almost laughed. Okay, that was either a cruel joke or a really fucked up coincidence.

“This is Laurie, the assistant pharmacist under Claudette,” Jack said, snapping him out of his distracted snooping. “If you can’t find her, then you’ll report to Laurie instead.”

At the mention of her name, Laurie looked up from where she was preparing a tray of different cups of pills. When she spotted the group, she gave them all a warm smile and small wave. As she handed the tray to Jack, she glanced towards Marcus and asked, “You’re the new transfer, right? Claudette mentioned something about a new orderly that Wesker brought in.”

Reminded once more of her boss’s lack of critical thinking, Jack sighed as she confirmed, “Indeed he is. And he’s shaping up to be one of Wesker’s better decisions. Not that he has many.”

Marcus wasn’t a hundred percent sure that wasn’t a jab at him too. He hoped it wasn’t, as Jack had been pretty professional with him thus far, so he decided not to worry about it.

Laurie quickly cleared her throat to hide her snicker, obviously trying to hide the fact that she also considered the big bad CEO to be incompetent as well. Judging from the amused look on Jack’s face, it wasn’t very well hidden.

As he and David put the pill cups on their proper trays, he noticed a bright pink post-it-note on the wall by Laurie’s head. It read in bold sharpie !Injections due MONDAY!

Pointing at it, he asked curiously, “Flu shots?”

Laurie looked up at the direction of his finger with a questioning sound. “Hm? Oh, that? No no, they all had their vaccines last month. That’s for the birth control.” Turning towards Jack before he could get out another word, she lamented, “Due to the fight, it’s going to be much harder to get him to cooperate for this. Are you sure that we just can’t get Dwight to stay in the room with him?”

It sounded like a conversation they’d been having for a while and Marcus, despite his better judgment, fell silent to eavesdrop.

Not really paying attention to him or David anymore, Jack shook her head with a grimace. “He’s not allowed since he’s not a part of the medical team. I’d usually make an exception but Wesker put his foot down this time. Said I was being too lenient. Plus, he plans to use this opportunity to test out the newest batch of sedatives.”

The face that Laurie made could only be compared to the face one makes when they’ve stepped in dog shit. “Ugh, I wouldn’t trust that stuff to be tested on animals, let alone people. They wouldn’t have to do all that if they just let Dwight, like, hold his hand or something.”

“I’m sorry, but rules are rules and you know there’s only so much I can do,” Jack sighed.

Glancing over to see what David thought about the implications that experimental drugs were being used on patients, Marcus found him very clearly counting ceiling tiles. Yeah… He really wasn’t supposed to be privy to the conversation currently happening three feet away.

Jack seemed to come to the same conclusion only a moment later and she cleared her throat.

Trying to look like he hadn’t just been listening with a growing sense of discomfort to her and Laurie’s conversation. “So? Breakfast time, right?” he asked awkwardly. There were a lot of other questions he wanted to ask, but something told him it really wasn’t the right time. It would probably be best to wait until he went to lunch or even until he got off for the night.

Jack gave him a curt nod as Laurie grumbled something about someone named… Grimey? He couldn’t make it out but she sounded annoyed with whoever this ‘Grimey’ was, although it was unclear if they were a patient or another staff member. Either way, they left the pharmacy with the morning medications for the inmates and a whole slew of questions that Marcus had to leave unasked and unanswered. Trying to put it from his mind moment, he was determined to find the time to ask his questions later.

As they traversed through the rec room towards the actual cells, David leaned into Marcus and whispered, “Sometimes you hear things and you gotta pretend that you don’t hear them. Some questions are better left unanswered.”

“I… Yeah, maybe,” he agreed hesitantly. “But you know, sometimes it’s hard to know if you don’t ask.”

“You can ask me,” David offered, looking like a kid in a classroom desperate for the teacher to even look in his direction. “I can help you sort your questions out.”

Marcus smiled at him, before promising, “After work. I don’t want to distract you and I really don’t want to miss anything.”

As the heavy duty security door leading to the cells loomed closer, he felt a distinct chill run down his spine. Pushing the incident from the day before out of his mind and chalking the rest of it up to ‘first day jitters’, he watched Jack unlock the door before following David through with the meal cart.

Beyond the door, he was greeted by a long corridor lined with rooms on each side. Cells, really, but rooms was probably a kinder term. Another door sat at the far end of the hall, but without any signage or labels he could only guess as to what was behind it. One more thing to ask either Jack or David about, he supposed.

Despite the fact that it was nearly six-thirty in the morning, Marcus could already hear some of the patients chatting and yelling at each other across the halls. In fact, there seemed to be an argument happening between two cells sitting slightly across from each other.

A rough male voice could be heard coming out of one cell, taunting, “It takes four of you to do a one person job!”

“You’re so old you can’t even do the job in person,” a female voice shouted from the opposite room. “You have to hide out in people’s-”

“Alright, settle down,” Jack yelled, cutting off the fight rather abruptly. “You know the drill. Away from the doors.”

The sounds of scuffling feet took the place of the argument as Jack headed towards the first cell door with Marcus and David in tow.

“When we give them breakfast, the doors will be opened so that we may hand them the trays. They will then have to take the medication in the hallway where you can see them and it’s your job to make sure that they swallow all of them before you can give them their breakfast,” she explained, before knocking on the first cell door in the hall. “Alright, Caleb, I’m opening up the door now. Do be warned that I have a new trainee with me.”

There was no answer until the door itself opened. Standing a good three feet back from the door, Caleb Quinn, also known as the Deathslinger in his file, watched with eerie white eyes. They practically glowed, but Marcus chalked it up to the harsh fluorescent lights.

Rough voice layered with a thick southern accent, the man asked, “He ain’t given’ ya too much trouble, is he?”

Marcus was honestly curious about Caleb. Eli and Quentin had recommended leaving his file for one of the last, as he was the least likely patient on floor one to cause trouble. Maybe it was his age, or his poorly healed leg and jaw, but he just didn’t cause trouble like the others. Due to that, the new orderly was warned that he had some special privileges, but the exact details of those privileges was ‘need to know’, and Jack would fill him in when the time came.

Jack beckoned the older man forward as she picked up the tray and cup that designated him as ‘The Deathslinger’. “Of course not. He’s been following instructions very well and has been the best trainee I’ve had in a while.”

As soon as Caleb stepped into the hallway, she handed him the cup of medication before explaining to Marcus, “Mister Quinn here has a bad leg that has a tendency to act up. He gets painkillers once in the morning, then once more with his nightly meds. He usually also uses his three daily requests for more, especially if the weather is bad. Painkillers are the only type of medication that is allowed in a request, so if he, or anyone else, ever asks for them, just tell Claudette and she should give them to you no problem. As well, the pharmacists will mete out the proper kind and dosage so you don’t have to worry about that part.”

Having heard it all before, David had let his mind drift and not paid a bit of attention to what Jack was telling Marcus. It didn’t help that a little further down the hall, four arms were squeezed through one slot to beckon at him through the heavy metal door.

Glancing over as Caleb took his tray, Marcus spotted David wandering closer and frowned. From what he remembered from their file and what had happened the day prior, he felt pretty sure that would be the Legion. As far as he was aware, they were also the only patients with multiple people in a single cell.

“We have candyyyyy,” a voice called from the many armed door. “Candyyyyy. Come get some candyyyy.”

Marcus was quite sure they did not actually have candy… As David got closer and closer, he asked quickly, “Aren’t they supposed to be away from the doors right now?”

Caleb started to frown until he realized the newbie wasn’t referring to him. Looking down the hall, he snorted before stepping back into his cell, tray in hand. “Thank you, Jack. Marcus.”

“Hm? Oh, oh, yeah, for sure. You’re welcome,” he quickly offered, blushing slightly.

Giving Jack an amused smile, the Deathslinger sat on his cot without comment. That seemed like a good start to the morning… Right?

Glancing down the hall, Jack shook her head in disbelief before handing Marcus the stack of trays and cups designated ‘The Legion.’ “Go give these to them with David. Remember, they need to be away from the door before you open it and they need to take all the medication before they’re allowed breakfast.”

At the same time, David stopped in front of the cell door just out of reach of the four arms. Bending down until he could see into the slot, he gave them all a little wave as he said, “Hey guys! Good morning! I have a new friend with me today!”

There was a long silence, then one of the hands made a kind of ‘why though?’ gesture, as a male voice asked, “It’s not Eli, is it? Cause we don’t fuck with that dude… You know why we don’t fuck with that dude…”

Recalling what he’d said about a patient downstairs and his weird obsession with the guy, Marcus couldn’t say he blamed them. Still, he didn’t trust them not to try something sneaky with David.

Approaching the door, he greeted David before calling to the group of patients, “Okay, time to step back from the door.”

“Fuck you,” a female voice scoffed. “We don’t know you. How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

“Because I don’t get paid enough to play tricks on you,” he lied. He absolutely did, but it wasn’t part of the job so… “If you all want breakfast, you gotta step back from the door first.”

One by one, the arms withdrew and quiet steps shuffled away from the door. Lifting the trays a little, Marcus asked, “David, could you please take care of the door?”

With a nod, David tapped his badge onto the scanner with a small ‘beep’. Just as the door was sliding open, Marcus noticed that the back of David’s ID had a pokemon sticker on it. Were they allowed to decorate their IDs?

No time to ask, as four faces practically pushed themselves into Marcus’s as they all glared bloody murder at him. Admittedly, that was incredibly concerning in a place like Crotus Prenn.

Taking a step back, he was about to ask them to step back themselves when he remembered he hadn’t given them their medicine or food yet. Oops.

Joey and Frank, as he now knew them, stood to one side of the door, while Susie and Julie stood on the other. Recalling what he’d read in their file and the note about birth control, he silently wondered if that was why all the patients were administered it. Wait… they had the men on birth control? That was a thing? Huh… Cool.

“So, what are you supposed to be?” Julie asked snidely, looking him up and down. “A drug dealer?”

“No, I just work for one,” he deadpanned. Hey, technically Claudette did outrank him.

“Aw, a funny one,” Joey snickered. “At least he already looks like a clown.”

Marcus felt his jaw clench before he could stop it, fingers tightening on the trays in his hands until the plastic creaked.

“Hey, that’s not very nice,” Susie chimed in, smiling sweetly at him. “He’s not a clown… Just look at him! He’s a leprechaun!”

All four of them cracked up and Marcus found himself hoping that whoever administered the shots on Monday used the biggest needle they could find.

David frowned as he handed out the styrofoam cups of medication to each member of the Legion. He had never been the best with social cues but that felt like bullying… Then again, that was how the Legion had spoken to him the first time they met him. Hell, they still spoke to him like that even now! He’d just assumed that it was how friends were supposed to talk to each other, but what had just happened left him feeling a lot less sure…

Frank was the only one who had yet to speak up, eyes slowly drifting up and down as he studied the ginger and his reactions. Taking his medication from David when they were held out to him, he tossed the pills back and swallowed them without bothering to use the water provided.

Marcus was pretty sure it was meant as an intimidation tactic but he’d worked in health care long enough to see people swallow much stranger things than that. Most of it was during school, oddly enough…

He’d heard worse. He’d heard much, much worse. He wasn’t going to let them get to him. That was exactly what they wanted. Jack had told him never to let any of the patients make him feel powerless, and he knew if he gave in to the anger coursing through him he’d be doing just that. Knowing better than to try and argue with the three slinging jokes and insults, he passed them each their trays with a stony smile.

As the other three filed back into their shared cell, Frank remained, still staring coldly at Marcus.

Assuming he was being obstinate on purpose to try and get a more visceral reaction out of him, he said, “Sorry, Frank. You’ve got to remain in your cell for breakfast.”

The look in his eyes darkened and several angry murmurs came from inside the cell. Leaning over suddenly, Frank spoke quietly into David’s ear, eyes never leaving the ginger. Standing upright before Marcus could tell him to step back, the Legion leader turned and headed back into his cell without a word.

The cell door slid closed with a quiet hiss and David immediately whirled around to face Marcus with panic in his eyes. “You can’t do that, remember?! You’re not supposed to call them by their first names like that! They hate it!” He sounded frantic, as if he’d seen the aftermath of whatever happened to the last orderly who had called any member of the Legion by their first given names to their face. Marcus was a swell guy and shaping up to be one of the nicest friends -he hoped- that he’d ever had, so the idea of him pissing off the four and potentially getting jumped later on had the poor guy practically hyperventilating.

From across the hall, Jack turned with a questioning look just as she handed the Jigsaw apprentice herself, Amanda Young, her breakfast. “Everything alright over there?”

Amanda looked pretty curious as well, a small frown on her face as she looked over.

“Ahha, yes ma’am!” Marcus quickly called, offering a weak wave. Turning back to David, he said quickly, “Please calm down! I’ll apologize to him later! I totally forgot that was a thing! I’m used to people who prefer to be called by their names and not… whatever the hell those titles are!”

“Bitch! There’s no fucking lucky charms in this!” Joey yelled, and the sound of something slamming in the cell door made Marcus jump slightly.

David actually let out a yelp, practically tripping over himself backing away from the cell door where loud boisterous laughter could be heard. He probably would have fallen over if Marcus hadn’t grabbed his arms, and as soon as he was steady again, he nearly shouted, “No! They hate apologies! They say that those don’t mean anything cause anyone can just say sorry!”

At the sight of the poor guy practically in tears, Jack cursed under her breath. Biding her apologies to Amanda for cutting their conversation short, they both stood back as the Jigsaw apprentice’s cell door slid shut. As soon as it was back in place, she quickly made her way over to where the two orderlies were still hovering around the Legion’s cell door. “What happened?”

Marcus couldn’t help but look like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I… forgot I shouldn’t, and I called Frank by name-”

There were three more loud bangs as something was thrown at the inside of the cell door, then a chorus of loud boos. Ah, yes… They could hear him.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, wincing.

“We have to go back in there later to get their trays…” David practically whimpered.

That made Marcus feel even worse and he grimaced. So much for keeping up a good impression. He knew he shouldn’t be so hard on himself since he was still learning, but it felt like a pretty big screw up. How could he have forgotten something so important?

The booing and jeering continued until Jack banged on the cell door herself, the loud thudding ringing loudly in the sterile white hallway as she shouted, “Knock it off in there or you’re not getting morning rec! I will not allow you to disrespect my new employee!”

The sounds from behind the cell door finally died back down and Jack turned back towards Marcus with a disapproving look. “I believe I’ve already told you that some patients don’t like it when you refer to them by their given name. From now on, think of the patients here as strangers that you’re meeting for the first time. No one wants a stranger to suddenly approach them and refer to them by their first name. You may have read their files and learned their history but they don’t know who you are. They consider being called by their first names, by what is essentially a stranger, to be disrespectful. I know you think their assigned names may be more rude but it’s actually what they prefer and it should be what they’re referred to, got it?”

During the scolding, David had been standing next to him and trying his best to turn invisible. Jack never raised her voice at any of them but it was still scary every time she came down on them. He feared her disappointment more than her wrath.

She shook her head, letting out a sigh before saying, “Please pay more attention to the things I tell you and be more careful next time. Here.” She handed Marcus a new tray and David the cup before pointing to another door further down the hall. “You two go give the Nightmare his breakfast and medication and I’ll deal with cleaning up the Legion’s trays later. It’s too early to be getting this worked up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marcus said, dipping his head. As they approached the next cell, he asked quietly, “Hey, David? Why are they all wearing those collars?”

He’d noticed it the day before but hadn't thought to ask. He’d almost forgotten about it until he saw Caleb again. It seemed odd, considering they all wore wrist and ankle cuffs anyway.

“Those?” he asked. “Oh, I think those are shock collars or something. They’re controlled remotely and the people who watch the cameras are supposed to turn them on if the inmates start acting up.”

Marcus nodded, not particularly okay with the idea, but also understanding why it was necessary. He couldn’t help but feel like he was working in a maximum security prison instead of a mental health ward…

As David tapped his badge on the scanner next to the cell to open it, he added, “If you want, you can carry a taser too. I know some of the others do that for extra safety but you gotta apply for it and get training.”

“That sounds good,” he agreed, hoping it would never get to that.

The door slid open a moment later and they found themselves face to face with the burned man from the day before. His file name was ‘The Nightmare’, and Marcus had to stop himself from wincing. That kind of name seemed cruel, but if that’s what the man preferred, he wasn’t going to question it.

“Oh, look,” Freddy said, stepping out of his cell. “More pills! And a sandwich. Feels like highschool all over again.”

Marcus almost asked if the shock collar and cuffs were also a part of his school experience, but decided it was best not to try and make jokes until he was more familiar with the patients. He’d already fucked up with the Legion. He didn’t need to make his list of problems any longer.

“Speaking of high school, you kids know about the birds and the bees, right?” he asked, giving them both a serious look.

Exchanging a skeptical look with David, Marcus nodded slowly.

“Great! Then if you forget to use protection, at least it’ll be easy to identify who the father is,” Freddy cackled, slapping a hand on his knee.

Not amused in the slightest, Marcus silently held out his tray.

David quickly grabbed his arm before he could place it in the Nightmare’s hands. “Pills first, remember?” He shook the cup of meds still in his hand to emphasize his point.

“Oh, fuck, right,” he muttered, face slightly red. He’d heard snide comments all his life! He needed to stop getting so flustered and focus before he screwed up so badly that someone got hurt!

“You’ll get the hang of it eventually, kid,” the Nightmare chuckled. “And if not, you can hang around… just gotta find a clean sheet and a pipe strong enough to hold you up.”

Did Freddy just tell him to kill himself? It sure felt like it…

The cup was placed into the Nightmare’s hand and he proved to be even more annoying about taking them than the Legion had been. Slow as molasses, he placed one pill at a time in his mouth, taking large gulps of water in between. At that rate, Jack was going to have to bring everyone else their breakfasts and Marcus wouldn’t have another chance to make up for his earlier missteps.

Eventually, Freddy finished off his meds and traded the now empty cup for the tray of food. At least he didn’t have to worry about his food getting cold. Honestly, breakfast was always something cold and gross, especially since they couldn’t use utensils anymore. Lunch was the only time of the day that they got anything warm in their stomachs. Occasionally dinner was decent, too. God, he would do anything for a nice rare steak…

The cell door slid shut once more and David turned back towards Marcus with a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you want to take a break later for, like, a nap or something? The couches in the staff lounge are surprisingly comfy.”

He clearly thought that Marcus’s lack of sleep last night was the reason that he’d been messing up so much, and he had to agree. He was tired and the information overload wasn’t helping.

He was still determined to do his best though, so he offered his new coworker and friend a tired smile. “Here in a bit. I’m okay, I’m just a little frazzled. Come on, we only have this one left, right?”

Jack was already at the Trickster’s cell, handing him his medicine and watching him like a hawk. Probably to make sure he didn’t try to stash anything in his arm sling…

Badging into the last cell, Marcus felt a distinct chill run down his spine as the inmate stepped out to meet them.

Dark gray eyes met his, and the man smiled. “Oh, hello there. You must be the new orderly. Pleasure to meet you… I heard your little argument with the Legion, so to make sure we get off to a good start, you can call me Ghostface.”
~~~~

Chapter 6: First Time Meetings for the Second Time

Summary:

Marcus has an interesting second day at work and learns a little bit more about his new friend.

Marcus found himself staring at Ghostface like he’d just opened the door to find him with his pants down. He hadn’t even glanced at the tray to see who they’d be handing it off to, just taken the fact that it was the last one at face value without giving it too much thought.

Ghostface took another step forward, fully exiting the cell. Instead of moving to stand on one side of the door or the other like most of the other patients, he stood in front of it. It didn’t matter all that much since neither orderly were in the cell behind him, but it still stood out as a little odd in comparison.

Blinking dumbly, it took a small nudge from David to get Marcus to snap out of his shock. Clearing his throat, he did his best to ignore Jack’s eyes burning the back of his neck to say, “Good morning, Ghostface. We have your breakfast and vitamins.”

“Hmm, they’ve really improved on the service, I see,” he laughed, eyes sparkling as he smiled. It looked so, so genuine… Too bad it was so, so fake.

A part of Ghostface’s file came to mind, and Marcus returned a less genuine smile…

The Ghostface
Daniel -Danny- Johnson - Male - 32
Known alias : Jed Olson
The Ghostface -or Ghostface- is extremely charismatic with both female and male staff. All staff are advised to ignore any and all compliments, threats, promises, bribes, or potential offers from patient. DO NOT PLAY ALONG. Playing along has led to multiple casualty events as staff become attached to Ghostface and fail to notice subtle hostilities until it is too late.

Eyes moving slightly past Marcus, Ghostface continued to smile as he practically purred, “Hello, Miss Jack. Having fun with your new trainee?”

Marcus kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him until he felt Jack’s grounding hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he allowed himself to release the tension he didn’t realize he was building up in his muscles.

“Ghostface. I heard that you two had a little… meeting yesterday,” Jack said smoothly.

Neither his smile nor the look in his eyes wavered as he answered, “Was that him? Huh, I normally have a better memory for faces… Especially such…”

In the pause while Ghostface sought the proper word, Marcus mentally braced himself for yet another crude, snide, or otherwise antagonistic comment about his appearance.

“...a handsome face,” Ghostface said, finally completing his thought. “Where have you been hiding him, Miss Jack? Not trying to build a harem, are you?”

Frowning slightly, Marcus glanced over his shoulder at him. Harem? Was he seriously trying to imply she was being or was going to be unprofessional with him? Although he had no issues with dating coworkers, she was his supervisor and it did seem incredibly soon to be considering any such thing.

Jack’s face didn’t so much as twitch. Ever since Danny had gotten there, he’d been trying to make her crack, to show even the smallest evidence that his words affected her in some way or another, be it annoyance or disgust. Nothing. Nada. Zip. It had been years and he was still trying. At least he was smart enough to clock her as uninterested and skipped trying to seduce her.

“I don’t believe I am,” she said calmly, before she plucked the styrofoam cup out of Marcus’s hand and offered it to Ghostface herself. “I hope you remember how I expect you to conduct yourself around my staff.”

“My pants are on,” he chuckled, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Now, now, I’m just making a little small talk. We’ve got time.”

He still hadn’t taken the pills…

“Ghostface, you have exactly twenty minutes left to finish breakfast.” Jack stated bluntly. “If you don’t eat, you won’t get food for another three hours. If you don’t take the medication, then none of you will be allowed your recreational time until you do.”

David made a small ‘ooh’ sound before whispering to Marcus, “The TV only plays the good cartoons in the morning. After lunch, it plays bad reality shows and political stuff. It’s super boring.”

From the Nightmare’s cell, a perturbed voice calls out to argue, “Hey! ‘La fea más bella’ and ‘Fuego en la sangre’ are both masterpieces!”

Boos and jeers came out of almost every cell, while Ghostface continued to smile charmingly. Gently taking the pills from Jack, he winked before saying in a conspiratorial loud whisper, “Neither show is getting a season two, but we don’t tell him that.”

Marcus just raised his eyebrows. Was he seriously going to risk everyone's rec time just to… do what? Make a point? What was the point? Or what point did he think he was making?

None, apparently, as he tossed the pills back before draining his cup of water. Passing the styrofoam container to David without so much as a glance in his direction, Ghostface took his tray before asking sweetly, “May I please have some more water? I’m very… thirsty... all of a sudden.”

David had nearly dropped the cup when it was unceremoniously shoved in his hands. He glanced up at Jack questioningly, who gave him a curt nod. With her approval, he slowly backed away from the cell till he was back at the main door. Mouthing an ‘I’ll be right back’ towards Marcus, David swiftly scanned the door open and hurried off to grab more water.

“That’s your first request of the day,” Jack told him curtly. “Step back in your cell and David will bring you your water when your tray is collected.”

“Ooh, is it now?” Ghostface asked, feigning disappointment. “Hmm, and here I was hoping to be properly hydrated. Oh well, I guess I can make due.”

Turning, he stepped back into his cell. It almost felt like he was purposely making a show of turning his back on them. Spinning around, he smiled suddenly, head tilting to one side as he gazed at the ginger. “It was nice meeting you, Doc… I’ll be seeing you later.”

The door slid shut, hiding him from view once more and safely separating him from the asylum staff. Marcus still swore he could feel Ghostface staring at him through the door and shivered slightly. Whatever. He’d get used to him…

Due to his behavior, Jack took it upon herself to collect Ghostface’s tray the second breakfast was over, and tasked Marcus with collecting Caleb’s tray instead.

David came back much later than expected, holding a cup of water and looking pale as a ghost. “I got lost and heard… stuff. Don’t go- Don’t go to the janitor’s closet in the hall to the left.”

“Dare I ask?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. Caleb had been polite, and Amanda had just given him a lingering, focused once over when he’d grabbed her tray, leaving him in a slightly better mood. At least he hadn’t had to get the Legion’s either. Jack had told him to leave them for last and to let her deal with them.

Both he and David had finished early on, leaving them to stand to the side with the trays and trash on the cart, ready to haul them back to the kitchen to be washed, and for the trash to be incinerated. David had explained to Marcus that he wasn’t supposed to just collect trays but also briefly check the room for trash or anything that could’ve been potentially stashed away.

Caleb and Amanda were much kinder to him, allowing him into their rooms without a fuss. The Nightmare, on the other hand, truly lived up to his name as he whined and complained and hovered over Marcus’s shoulder so much that he was considering calling security.

As both men stood to the side to wait for Jack, David munching on his stowed away fruit gummies, the door to the Legion’s cell finally opened and Marcus’s jaw practically hit the ground from what he heard.

“Ma, can we get some crayons today, please?” Frank asked.

“Hey, Ma? Can we please put in a request for some potato chips?” Susie asked. “I’m PMSing and I need snacks.”

Turning to stare at David, Marcus whispered, “Are they always like that with her?”

David nodded as he ate another fruit gummy, explaining, “She’s their favorite staff member. They’re always asking for her to get them stuff and trying to push the limits of the rules on requests. She was the one who allowed them to stay in a cell together.”

He offered Marcus a fruit gummy as they both turned to watch Jack collect trays. She really did look like a tired mom with the way the Legion were practically bouncing up and down around her.

“Jack is the go to if you need a higher up to help you, but if you need security, you gotta go get Bill,” David continued. “Everyone tells you Leon, but it’s actually Bill. He used to be the captain of the guards before Leon showed up, so he knows what he’s doing.”

“What happened?” Marcus asked curiously. “I mean, why’d he step down and not retire? Or was he not old enough yet?”

David simply shrugged at his question. “I dunno. Leon just showed up one day cause Wesker brought him in, then suddenly Bill wasn’t the captain anymore. He was gonna retire but chose to just step down instead so he can still stick around and help with stuff. He’s on the tech team now and they watch the cams. You haven’t seen it yet but it’s a separate building right behind the facility itself. If you need him, just radio him and he’ll come right on over.”

“Oh… That’s kind of cool,” Marcus said, nodding thoughtfully. Something David said stood out to him, and he asked, “Does Wesker bring people in super suddenly a lot? Like, did Leon show up kind of the same way I did?”

After a long, thoughtful moment, David actually seemed shocked himself as he said, “Now that I think about it, Leon was the only person that Wesker drove up himself until you. That’s weird.”

Behind them, Jack finally pried Legion’s sticky fingers off of the trays so that she could collect them, their cell door sliding shut when she took a wide step back. She placed them back onto the cart with a sigh and beckoned for the two to follow her. “Let’s bring these back to the kitchen. When we leave the connected recreational room, their cell doors will be remotely activated and they’ll be allowed their three hours of morning rec. As for us, we have some paperwork and other prep we should attend to.”

The next few hours went pretty well for Marcus. He managed not to make any more mistakes, although he was mostly doing paperwork and running back and forth between the kitchen, pharmacy, and offices. Every time he’d pass by the rec room, he’d get the distinct feeling someone was watching him. He tried his best to ignore it, but after what was probably at least the sixth time, he turned his head to look through the window himself.

All four of the Legion were sitting around one of the tables playing… candyland. They were playing candyland. And glaring at him like he’d just told them the most offensive ‘yo mama’ joke he could come up with. Looked like calling Frank by his name had been a bigger slight than he’d thought…

Deciding a staring contest was a horrible idea that would only further the animosity they had for him, he quickly looked away… only to realize that Ghostface was also staring at him. Leaning on the pool table with one of the hard styrofoam cues in hand, the man’s smile only grew when Marcus met his eyes.

It was chilling. The absolute lack of friendliness in his expression was almost robotic, like a person shaped thing had draped itself in human skin in order to blend it before getting the nuances of human behavior down.

Amanda was lining up her cue to take a shot at one of the badly painted foam balls, but when she noticed he wasn’t paying attention she smirked. With no hesitation or second thought, she reached over and gently pushed one of the other balls out of the way before sinking the shot perfectly.

Marcus would have laughed if he hadn’t been so off put by the look he was getting from Ghostface. He felt oddly trapped, even with the heavy duty glass and an entire room between them. Was that what a moth felt like when it was pinned in a box?

Thankfully, a pair of guards walked past, talking loudly and snapping him out of his paralysis. He’d completely forgotten what the hell he was even supposed to be doing, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get out of Ghostface’s line of sight. Spinning on his heel, he marched down the hall, trying to look like he actually knew what he was doing.

Because of his rush, he nearly ran over Jack. If it weren’t for the fact that she was far more sturdy than him, he would've knocked his boss over and gotten another black mark against him along with all the other missteps he’d made that day.

Once both of them were steady, Jack gave Marcus a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, “The patients will be taken down to lunch soon so go take your break. David is finishing up his assignment so I’ll send him to join you in a bit. There’s pizza and refreshments in the staff lounge if you want to have some of that.”

“That sounds amazing,” he agreed, stomach growling quietly. He was used to running around for the majority of his shift, but Crotus Prenn was a lot bigger than the small clinic he worked in before. Thanking Jack, he was about to walk away when he paused. Turning back to her, he asked sheepishly, “Which way is the break room again?”

Looking amused, she pointed down the hall in the opposite direction.

Blushing slightly, Marcus thanked her again before turning and making his way towards the staff break room. It was mostly empty aside from the food and a few scattered employees, and he noticed the boxes of pizza were slightly blocked by a woman in a guards uniform leaning against the counter as she talked to someone else.

“Excuse me,” he said, gesturing to the food behind her.

Looking over, then back, she moved aside, saying, “Oh, sorry. You’re new here, right?”

Snagging a couple of slices of pizza, Marcus nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Today’s my second day. First day on the floor, I guess.”

“You can just call me Ripley,” she told him, reaching out to shake his hand. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet the man causing such a ruckus.”

“Am I?” he asked, slightly nervous. “I’m not trying to, really, I just-”

“It’s not your fault,” Ripley told him, smiling over a cup of coffee. “Wesker is… Jesus, I don’t really have a good word for the shit that guy pulls. Stupid genius, maybe.”

Wow, she had some strong opinions about their CEO and clearly wasn’t afraid to share them with everyone close enough to listen.

The other guard snorted, half eaten pizza in her hand as she said, “Barely any genius at all. A proper genius would know to shut a place like this down.”

Ripley nodded, and Marcus got the distinct feeling that having been driven there by Wesker himself was going to be a bigger issue than he’d anticipated. It never looked particularly good when someone so high up appeared to take such a personal interest in a new hire so quickly, much less right off the bat. With the way so many people were talking about the CEO, it made him believe the man was really only interested in running Crotus Prenn for financial gain. He shouldn’t really be surprised, but it still kind of sucked to accept.

Chowing down on his slice of pizza, Marcus mulled over the things he’d seen and learned thus far. He still had quite a few more questions than answers and he wasn’t sure what to try and dig into first. Glancing over, he happened to notice Ripley’s clearance level. Like Jack’s, it was level seven.

Swallowing his bite of food, he asked, “Excuse me, Ripley?”

“Hmm? Everything okay?”

“Ah, yeah,” he promised. “Just, how many floors are there?”

“How many floors?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah… I mean, I know there’s this one, and the second floor below us,” he explained. “But you and Jack both have clearance level seven, and I was wondering if that’s a floor level, or like… a classification level?”

Ripley studied him for a moment, gaze calculating. There was no trace of humor or joking in her tone as she finally answered, “For your sake, I hope you make it out of this place long before you find out.”

Okay, what the actual fuck was that answer?! What did that mean?! For his sake?! Was the job that soul crushing?!

His eyes darted towards the other guard who quickly covered her own badge with a cough, but it was too late. Level seven, same as the other two. What the hell was going on?

Trying to change the topic, the guard cleared her throat and asked, “Hey, uh, I’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging out with the nepo baby. Not to be mean or anything but my advice? Find a new orderly to stick to.”

“The nepo baby?” Marcus repeated. She wasn’t talking about Jack, was she? As far as he could tell, she’d earned her position by working hard and not taking any nonsense from anyone. He could respect that, even if she did initially get hired because she was related to someone.

“Emory,” Ripley clarified. “His father is Wesker’s left hand man.”

Marcus liked David, but it did kind of make sense. He was a really nice guy, he was obviously trying hard despite being so out of his depth, and he seemed competent enough at the job he had.

Frowning, he asked, “Wait… Left hand?”

“You really don’t want to meet his right hand either,” Ripley confirmed, albeit rather vaguely. “Emory is a nice kid, but he doesn’t belong here. This line of work isn’t cut out for him, and he’s going to get hurt, or get someone else hurt.”

“He doesn’t have a healthcare background.” The other guard chimed in. “He’s been here for a few years and he’s still at level one clearance.”

“I barely have a healthcare background,” Marcus defended weakly.

“That’s still something,” Ripley stated. She had a very similar no-nonsense air about her to Jack, leading to her comments to come across as objective reason and not a petty disdain for the young orderly. “He’s not a bad kid, but he shouldn’t be here. They tried him in the kitchen, he set it on fire. Pharmacy? The Legion ended up so high they thought they were at a hotel for a solid week. Cameras? We lost video for two days so the entire asylum went on lockdown. Not even the staff could leave.”

The other guard nodded in agreement with everything Ripley was saying. “Plus, not to mention that guy he got fired.”

“Ah, I forgot that one,” she murmured, taking another sip of coffee.

“Wait, David got someone fired?” He couldn’t believe it was done out of spite or pettiness. His dad probably had the power to do it, but David just didn’t strike him like the type of person to pull that card.

“There used to be this other guy that hung around him a lot, kinda like how you are right now,” the guard started. “They seemed like good buddies or something but the dude must’ve done something to piss off either Emory or his dad cause one day, the guy was just gone. Straight up vanished. No one knows where he went and no one’s been in contact with him since. Kid doesn’t talk about it either. Just went back to doing things on his own and acted like nothing happened, but we all know something did.”

“Oh… Wow,” Marcus said, a bit stunned. That sounded odd to say the least. Maybe David just did a good job of acting unbothered at work? “Is it possible that… maybe the other guy was transferred? I saw people come and go all the time at the place I worked before this.”

“He wasn’t bad at his job, so it’s very possible,” Ripley agreed, rinsing out her empty cup in the sink. “He could have quit. Or been fired for reasons we’ll never know. Whatever happened, I wouldn’t worry about it. Just watch your back around here and don’t trust the wrong people, and you’ll do just fine.”

“Thank you?” he mumbled. “Um, how long have you worked here?”

“Long enough,” she told him, smiling as she tapped her badge.

That didn’t tell him jack shit… Before Marcus could ask anymore questions, the radios attached to both women's hips went off. Loud, garbled yelling could be heard and both guards immediately snapped to attention, switching from their ‘chill coworker mode’ to a proper ‘guard of an insane asylum’ attitude. Without another word, both of them rushed out of the room, half eaten pizza thrown into the trash on their way out.

When Marcus stepped out of the staff lounge, David nearly ran headfirst into him. Stopping just in time, he doubled over with his hands on his knees. He looked, and kind of sounded, like he’d just run a marathon as he wheezed, “G-Gimme a sec. Oh my god, why is this place so big? Hrgh, my stomach’s in my lungs.”

When he finally caught his breath, he cried, “A fight broke out in the cafeteria! We gotta get to the elevators to escort them back to their cells cause they’ve got their evening rec time confiscated!”

“Jesus Christ,” Marcus muttered, eyes widening. What a great first fucking day! He’d already screwed up breakfast, now he got to escort said pissed off patients back to their cells so they could suffer lost privileges! “Um, right, okay. Just breathe. It’s going to be fine. Do you know where the lift is from here?”

In between David’s ragged breathing and coughing, Marcus could make out that the elevators were located in a hallway near the cells. Meaning they both had to run like the Devil were on their heels so that they weren’t late.

They made it just in time to see a section of the wall open and a large swarm of guards poured out, each of them dragging an inmate along with them.

Ji-Woon was cursing and spitting in a language Marcus had no hopes of recognizing. His nose was bleeding and he already had a bruise forming around one eye. Whoever had hit him had hit hard.

All four of the Legion were cackling and howling… and covered in food… What the hell had they done? Started a food fight as soon as the actual fight broke out?

The Nightmare came marching out behind them, also covered in food and swearing about it and ‘those goddamn hooligan teenagers’.

Amanda and Caleb had a lot less food on them but both looked extremely annoyed.

Ghostface was somehow free of food and blood, a smug look on his face as he exited the elevator. He spotted Marcus in an instant, smile growing to something sly and knowing. It was incredibly eerie and he couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

“Alright, shut up!” King shouted, voice a bellow to be heard over the patient's loud complaints. Once they quieted down, he ordered, “You all know the drill. Into your cells, change clothes, leave your dirty clothes outside the door to be collected, do not ask for anything right now, you are on lockdown. Now move.”

With a lot of general grumbling and complaining, the group shuffled down the hall to their cells. Their cuffs unlocked automatically once they were inside, freeing up the guards to return to the second floor to help subdue the other, more difficult inmates.

“Go on ahead with your duties,” King instructed Marcus and David. “They shouldn’t give you any trouble, but if they do there are guards right out here. I have to go back downstairs-”

His radio screeching interrupted him and he swore loudly before rushing to the elevator. Marcus was pretty sure he caught something about ‘is gnawing on my leg’ before the doors slid shut, cutting off the wailing speaker. Dear god…

Exchanging a slightly nervous glance with David, he began making his way down the hall. The Trickster had been dragged off to the infirmary so neither man had to deal with him.

Amanda reached an arm out, nearly shoving her dirty clothes into his face before he could reach up and grab them. It startled him, but he managed to keep hold of them and gave her a curt nod. She just stepped back into her cell, flopping onto her cot with an annoyed sigh.

Going over to the next cell, he kept moving when all four of the Legion hissed at him like a pack of feral street cats. Jesus, he had not made a good impression with them… They hadn’t changed yet anyway, so he wasn’t going to wait on them and endure their verbal abuse.

Freddy tossed his balled up shirt at David’s head, startling a small screech out of the young man. He cackled about it, then flipped them both off when Marcus shot him a dirty look.

Caleb had changed his shirt but was working on getting his leg brace off when the pair stopped by his cell. Giving them a short once over, he huffed, “Give me a sec, kids.”

“Take all the time you need, sir” Marcus offered. He’d rather wait there than on the Legion. And he really didn’t want to see Ghostface again either… Weirdo would probably be standing there with his pants off just to try and get a reaction out of him.

Raising an eyebrow, he chuckled, “Shouldn’t I be the one calling you ‘sir’?”

“Nope… You’re old enough to be my grandfather, so that would be weird,” the ginger replied tiredly. He wasn’t sure why the hell he said it. He wasn’t trying to be antagonistic or anything.

Caleb stilled for a moment, blinking a couple of times before he actually started laughing. Shaking his head, he chuckled, “Not bad, kid. Not bad. But ya’ll don’t have to wait up on me. I’ll leave my drawers outside for you. I’ve been here long enough to know how it works.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” Marcus agreed, trying to decide whether or not he should go to Legion or Ghostface first.

Unfortunately for him, David had already made that choice for him. He was almost to the Legion’s cell, where all four of them were calling him over.

As Marcus slowly made his way towards Ghostface’s cell, he prayed that Jack would magically show up to handle it for him. Sure, she was most likely downstairs, handling the more unruly patients, but would it be too much to ask?

Apparently it was, as he made it to the cell door with no magical intervention in sight. He could hear the Legion jeering at David behind him as he gathered his composure. Ghostface was no different from any of the other patients. He was just trying to psyche him out. He was probably just bored and knew the new guy would be easy to pick on. At least at first. That was all it was. He was thinking way too much into it.

Turning to look into Ghostface’s cell, he cleared his throat to cover a small squeak. The man was wearing clean pants at least, but he was sitting shirtless on the edge of his bed, dirty clothes held loosely between his knees. Wait, he’d been perfectly clean… Why the hell had he changed?

Lips curling up in a smile, he purred, “Hey, Doc. I was hoping you’d drop by. I’ve been thinking about you since this morning, you know? Have you been thinking about me?”

“Hardly,” he lied, trying his best to maintain his composure. “If you have laundry, I’m here to collect it.”

“I do… Right here,” he goaded, giving the shirt a little swing. “Come take it?”

“You can pass it to me through the door or you can hold on to it until someone comes to collect your trash after dinner,” Marcus told him firmly.

Pouting, Ghostface invited, “You’re welcome to come in. I don’t bite… Often.”

Not entertaining him with a response, Marcus stepped back and scanned his badge, closing and locking the door on him. Yep. That had felt good.

He turned around to see David still trying to get Legion to give their laundry to him. In fact, they were playing keep away, tossing their clothes back and forth in the air right above his head.

Marcus realized then that David was actually quite small. Like… very small. Standing at a mere five foot three and built like a stick bug, small… No wonder Ripley thought he didn’t belong there. At least Eli held himself with confidence, David was like a stack of cotton candy that would melt under his own tears.

Shaking himself off, he quickly walked over and snagged the flying shirt out of the air before Joey could get his hands on it again. “Alright, enough. David, come on. I think the Deathslinger is done, so we need to get his stuff and get all this to the laundry.”

The Legion were all staring at him with the same intense, judgemental frown. Clearly they didn’t like him interrupting their play time. Too bad, so sad, cry him a river and drown in it.

Head tilting slightly, Frank didn’t say a word, just held out one hand. The other three dropped their remaining clothes into his hand, and once he had them, he marched up to Marcus. Standing toe to toe, he held out his arm, dropping the dirty laundry outside their cell.

“Thanks,” Marcus stated flatly, taking a step back. He was not having a dick measuring contest with Frank on his second fucking day of work. Guiding David back a step, he closed the Legion’s cell before sighing tiredly and picking up the soiled laundry. What a fun day it was turning out to be…

David shot a nervous glance over his shoulder at the closed door, as if he could feel the Legion glaring daggers into their backs as they left the hallway and started towards the laundry room. “You- you didn’t have to do that… They were just messing around.”

Although he was still pretty angry himself, Marcus wasn’t mad at David and tried to keep his tone as even as possible as he replied, “It may seem that way, but it’s a lot more than just messing around. They have no respect for either of us, and unfortunately that’s probably not going to change. The best we can do is put our foot down on the worst of it and hope they understand it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Sighing, he said a bit more sympathetically, “I know they’re not exactly living a great life right now. This place and the way they have to live is hard. They have such strict routines, people telling them what to do, where to be, how to behave and dress… But that’s not a reason to excuse bullying behavior. A part of our job is to keep them and ourselves safe.”

Mulling over his words, David still had a strange look on his face when he said, “I… I guess?”

He fell silent after that, both men dropping off the laundry and continuing on with their duties as a nurse brought the fresh change of clothes to the inmates. A few hours of menial tasks later, David finally recalled that he hadn’t taken his break yet and he excused himself to do so, leaving Marcus to finish up some paperwork alone.

Time seemed to drag on, and when David returned, he looked pretty upset. Marcus asked him a couple of times if he was okay or if something had happened, but when he refused to talk about it beyond a small, ‘I’m fine’ and ‘nothing happened’, he elected to drop the matter for the time being. He didn’t want to press the other man too hard and risk upsetting him further, especially if he was the one who’d upset him somehow.

By the time it was lights out, both men were exhausted from the day’s events and from the amount of work they’d had to get done. The inmates would usually get locked up at four pm but due to the fight, they were locked in early. Other orderlies brought them their dinner but Marcus and David were tasked with taking out the trash and making sure that they were all set for the night.

As they dragged themselves along towards the cells, David paused when they passed the staff restroom. “Hold on, I need to pee real quick. Wait for me, it’s not safe to lock up alone.” He dipped into the room without waiting for a response, leaving Marcus to stand alone in the empty sterile white halls.

As tired and distracted as he was, Marcus didn’t even hear his warning. He also failed to notice that David wasn’t with him until he actually got to the cell block. Looking around with a tired frown, he sighed and went on ahead. David could help with whoever was left whenever he showed up. Assuming he showed up. For all he knew, his fellow orderly had been called away too quickly for him to get a proper heads up and he was on his own for the trash.

Too tired to care all that much either way, Marcus scanned his badge at the first cell. The door slid open with a quiet hiss and he grimaced. Ah, right… Ghostface.

The man was reclined on his bed, shirt and pants back on and a smug smirk on his face. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Where’s your shadow?”

Ignoring the question, Marcus asked, “Do you have any trash that needs gathering?”

“Hmmm? Trash? Define ‘trash’,” Ghostface challenged, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Spotting a couple of empty styrofoam cups and a wrapper off a granola bar, Marcus silently pointed to the pile at the back of the cell.

Following his finger, Ghostface tilted his head. Pursing his lips, he hummed, “Mmm, that’s art. It’s not good art by any means, but hey, people said the same thing about Van Gogh at first.”

“Did they?” Marcus asked even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“Great artists are always looked down on during their time,” Ghostface chuckled, making no move to get the trash out of the back of his cell. “It’s only after their deaths that they’re truly seen as the masters of their craft that they really are.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, not really feeling like pointing out that Van Gogh was a painter and he was a serial killer… The two were not comparable as far as he was concerned. He also decided it wasn’t worth trying to get Danny to get the trash for him. Anything he asked or said would surely only be met with more subtle contradictions and strange anecdotes.

“Don’t you agree?” Ghostface asked, watching him shuffle past.

Not bothering to respond, Marcus started to reach down to grab the trash when a strip of paper with something red on it caught his eye. Glancing over, he frowned, before picking it up instead. Unfolding it the rest of the way, he was met with two words.

GOT YOU

The sound of the door closing behind him had his head snapping up. Whipping around, it was already too late. Ghostface was right behind him, no longer smiling…

“Got you, Doc…”
~~~~

Chapter 7: Not Your Friend

Summary:

David has a talk with the Legion and Marcus starts to learn just how dangerous his job can get...

Several Hours Earlier

“Imma’ go on my break, I need a Monster or something,” David lied, feeling anxiety creep further into his mind when Marcus simply gave him a smile and a nod. God, he seemed so genuine…. Yet the words Frank muttered in his ear earlier keep ringing through his head.

‘Ditch the ginger and come talk to us before lights out. He’s not your friend…’

As David shuffled down the hallway towards the cells, he lamented the past few years that he’d been working there, along with his rocky ‘friendship’ with the Legion. Yes, Legion. All of them. He wouldn’t dare refer to them by their given names without permission.

It had started out small, a kind gesture shared between two strangers that he wanted to repay. Then it grew into private talks, hangouts, jokes, and soon, a genuine friendship that David never had. It had always been just him and his dad. They moved around so much that he never got a chance to know anyone his age. Wouldn’t have mattered anyways since he was homeschooled and barely left the house. The Legion were his first and only friends in his whole twenty-three years of living.

But… hanging out with Marcus was making him question that.

Unlike the Legion, Marcus hadn’t made fun of his appearance, his inability to do menial tasks properly, his overall air of patheticness that the Legion described as ‘So worthless that if you were a roach, we wouldn’t bother to step on you.’

Marcus had been nice, a type of kindness that David never thought existed.

Which was why Frank’s words kept floating around his mind.

Tapping his badge to open the door to the cell hallway, David had to convince himself to take steps forward as he approached the Legion’s cell, absolutely dreading what it was they wanted to tell him.

‘Whatever it is’, he thought to himself, ‘I still want to be friends with Marcus.’

With a heavy heart and shallow breath, he knocked on their cell door, whispering, “Guys, it’s me.”

There was a creek of springs as several someone’s got up off the lower bunks, then Frank’s voice on the other side of the door, asking, “It’s just you?”

David nodded then remembered that they couldn’t see him. “Yeah, just me.”

“You doing okay? That new guy isn’t giving you shit, is he?” the Legion leader asked. His voice was smooth. Calm. Almost inviting, as if he’d gladly take any secret that was shared with him and keep it locked away, never to be shared…

The response David gave was almost too enthusiastic. “Oh no, not at all! He’s been super nice and we got a lot done today! I really like him!”

Momentarily forgetting about the reason why they had called him there, he quickly tapped his badge on the scanner, the cell door opening with a quiet ‘hiss’. This was absolutely against the rules but they’d always told him that serious conversations required being face to face and he wanted them to know that he always took them seriously.

It would have been all too easy for a single one of them to rush the orderly or grab him and drag him into the cell, much less with a group of four. None of them made a move to harm him, however, and with Frank standing at the front of the group, none of them even tried to leave the cell.

“David, man… This is really hard to say but, he’s not your friend,” the Legion leader stated, voice laced with something akin to pity.

“We’ve met people like him before,” Julie told him, offering a thin lipped smile. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for his whole ‘nice guy’ routine.”

“You’re smarter than that,” Joey encouraged. “This dude is bad news.”

“He’s just using you to get to your dad,” Susie agreed, sighing heavily. “I mean, first he gets chummy with you, then your old man, then the big man himself.”

David’s mouth opened and shut a few times, his expression similar to that of a confused goldfish. His words were hesitant as he said, “He… didn’t ask about my dad… I don’t think he knows who he is… plus, he fixed up my sweater even though we just met…”

His hands started to tug at his sleeves once more, enlarging one of the moth bitten holes that were already there. “And… he said that you guys are bullying me. That you don’t- you don’t respect me…”

All four of them made disgusted sounds, looking at one another as if to confirm they all felt the same way, before Frank shook his head. “David, no, no, no. First, who doesn’t have a nickname around here? Just cause we picked our own and the CEO picked some of the others doesn’t mean us calling you Skrunkles or Goober or Fish or any of the other stuff is bullying. It may look that way to an outsider, but hey, what does he know? He just got here.”

“Hey, don’t forget, he’s probably waiting to ask about your dad,” Julie added. “He’s not going to be obvious about it either.”

“It’ll be subtle, especially at first,” Susie continued. “He’s not just gonna’ go ‘Hey man, introduce me to your dad.’ He’ll probably ask shit like, ‘So how’s the family’, and, ‘Do you have family around here?’ Shit like that.”

“What I want to know is, where does he get off on telling you we don’t respect you?” Joey demanded. “We may not respect him, but why should we? He comes in here acting all familiar, using first names and shit. Like, come on dude. You don’t fucking know us.”

Frank offered a sympathetic smile, before reaching out and patting his shoulder. He didn’t keep a hold of him, just patted him before lowering his hand back to his side. “We’re the best friends you’ve got in this place, David. We can’t do much, sure, but we’re just looking out for you. We all know how hard it is to be the odd man out. The reject. The one everyone talks about behind his back.”

“Where is he anyway?” Julie asked, feigning genuine curiosity. “My guess? Already snickering with his real friends about you…”

“I- no, no, we were doing paperwork together…” David protested, although he didn’t sound confident at all. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the most popular person there, but did people really talk behind his back? All his coworkers seemed friendly enough with him. He generally did things alone but that was mostly since he just wasn’t very good at, well, anything really. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t constantly trying his best!

“I don’t think- but Marcus- I don’t think he’s that type of guy,” David argued. He didn’t even know what that type of guy was supposed to be like in real life, but Marcus didn’t seem like the type. “I promise I’ll be careful around him but... But I want to keep being friends with him, get to know him more. I want to make more friends than just you guys.”

He paled immediately, realizing how his words may come across as him being ungrateful for his strange companionship with the Legion. “Not that I don’t appreciate you guys! Which I do! I like you guys a lot and I’m super grateful for everything that you’ve done for me!”

None of them looked upset or offended, just slightly bored or possibly concerned. It was kind of hard to tell.

Shaking his head, Frank warned, “Hey, we’re not cops, we’re not going to tell you who you can and can’t be friends with.”

“We’re just looking out for you is all,” Joey agreed.

“You’re the only friend we have in this place,” Susie pointed out. That wasn’t entirely true, but again, they weren’t going to tell him that… “We don’t want some manipulative random to come in and try and keep you from being friends with us.”

“He probably thinks we’re all a bunch of delinquents anyway,” Julie sighed. “You know we’re a lot more than what people see on the surface, but that’s because you gave us a chance.”

Not giving David a chance to point out that, hey, maybe Marcus would like to be given a chance to get to know them too, Frank told him, “I’ve been to enough foster homes and through enough foster families to spot his kind a mile away. Just… be careful around him. Pay attention to what he says around-”

“Hey, Emory!” Tapp called down the hall. “You okay down there?”

David practically jumped a foot in the air, quickly stepping back where he had subconsciously taken a step towards their cell. “I- Yes! I’m okay! I’ll be right out!”

He waited for Tapp’s voice to fade away before turning back towards the Legion once more. “I promise I’ll be careful around him. I trust you guys.” His face may show how nervous he felt, but he did trust Legion a lot more than they gave him credit for. Unfortunately, David has been isolated in his life so much that he was way too gullible, almost to the point of stupidity, but it was still something that the Legion could work with.

And work with it they did, as Frank smiled disarmingly, saying, “Just be careful, okay? Now get out of here before you get into trouble. The guards don’t get it and we don’t want to see you get reassigned somewhere just to keep you away from us.”

With a nod, David shut the cell door before turning and scurrying off back to Marcus. He avoided all questions, brushing them off with a simple ‘I’m okay’, but his prior conversation with the Legion kept floating around his head as he went about his shift with his new coworker. He really didn’t seem like the type of guy to only be friends with him to use him… right?

…

Right?

~~

The door slid shut with a familiar quiet hiss, Joey, Susie, and Julie all returning to sit on the beds. Frank remained standing in front of the once again locked door, deep in thought.

“What’s going on in there?” Julie asked, stretching out on one of the lower bunks beside Susie.

“Hmm?” he questioned, still staring at the door. “I think… we need to have a little talk with the new guy… What’s his name again?”

“Marcus,” Joey stated. “What kind of talk you thinking about?”

“The kind that makes sure he gets the fucking message,” Frank stated coldly, turning back to the others. “If he wants to try and get between David and the Legion… He better be ready to die for it.”

~~

Presently…

 

“Got you, Doc…”

Marcus jolted backwards, smacking the back of his head on the wall. Hissing from the pain, he quickly tried to regain control of the situation the way he was trained to.

“You need to step back,” he ordered, proud of himself for managing to keep his voice steady. “It’s almost time for lights out so-”

“Haven’t they told you? The lights don’t go out in my cell,” Ghostface interrupted, moving even closer. On instinct, Marcus tried to raise his hands to push him back.

The only thing on his mind was how badly he’d fucked up. Jack had told him never to turn his back on the patients. To make sure they didn’t get between him and the door… He’d done both, and now his back was against the wall and the patient was between him and the closed door.

Ghostface moved with the speed and grace of a wild cat, fingers clamping around the ginger’s wrists and slamming his arms against the wall beside his head before he could even brush the material of his shirt.

“Ah-ah, hands off, Doc,” Ghostface scolded. “Can’t have you getting handsy with us patients, now can we? Wouldn’t be very appropriate.”

“You need to let go, step back, and let me out of the cell,” Marcus ordered, voice shaking. He couldn’t help it, he was terrified. Danny was taller than him by a good seven inches and his grip was like iron. The man was a known, prolific serial killer, and there he was trapped in a tiny room with him.

“Oh, baby boy,” Ghostface cooed. Dipping down so his mouth was beside his ear, he murmured, “Didn’t you listen? What was the first thing I told you?”

That wasn’t a question he was willing to answer, especially given the current situation. It didn’t seem to matter, as the man asked, “If I give you a little reminder, will that help?”

“N-no,” Marcus stammered, trying to squirm away. It did nothing but get the grip on his wrists to tighten and he winced. Jesus Christ he was going to have noticeable bruises! Assuming he survived!

“Hmm, see, you don’t strike me as having a bad memory, Doc,” Ghostface mused, chuckling mirthlessly. “So, I’ll give you a new little tip to help keep you above water in this vast ocean of bullshit you now find yourself about to drown in… Because baby boy, right now… you’re floundering. You’re here, you think you know your shit because you’ve been in the field for… what? A year? Two?”

“Three,” Marcus whispered, shivering from head to toe at that point. He wasn’t even sure why he answered, but he couldn’t come up with a reason not to. All his attention was focused solely on Ghostface, who’d slowly moved until they were face to face. He had to tilt his head back ever so slightly to actually be looking him in the eyes, but some tiny part of his brain told him he wasn’t allowed to look anywhere else.

“Oh,” Ghostface said, actually sounding a little surprised for a second. His tone didn’t reach his eyes, coldly peering into the mismatched pair before him without a hint of real emotion. “So you do know a thing or two… But you’ve never met a man like me, Doc. If you had, we wouldn’t be having this little conversation.”

“We shouldn’t be having a conversation,” Marcus challenged, stomping his food down on the man's toes. The patients all had socks and slippers, but Danny was wearing neither and he was wearing tennis shoes. Hopefully that hurt.

“Ouch. I think you broke my toe,” he chuckled, hands suddenly vice like on his wrists. Before Marcus could make a move to react, a leg was slotted roughly between his own and he let out a startled sound as he was forced up onto his toes. “I’m joking, lucky for you. Now, allow me to finish. Watch yourself very carefully around this place, Doc. If you trust the wrong people, you’re going to end up…”

Ghostface trailed off, lips pulling into a mirthless smile. “Well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

“You- you need to let me go, right now,” he repeated, voice giving away just how close to panic he was. “Or I’ll-”

Before he could finish his admittedly weak threat, Ghostface transferred both his wrists to one hand and grabbed his jaw, yanking his head back painfully and making sure they were eye to eye.

“You’ll what? Scream?” he purred, not sounding the least bit worried. “Think the guards will get here fast enough?”

Staring into his cold gray eyes, Marcus had no doubt they wouldn’t, and if he tried, they’d find his corpse in the cell instead. The leg between his own shifted slightly and he winced. Why, of all the ways Ghostface could have pinned him… had he chosen to do it like that? It almost felt intimate. Hell, it did feel intimate, save for the fact that he was most likely going to die.

With no indication whatsoever, Ghostface let his wrists and face go, taking a step back and nearly dropping him on his ass. “Well, that was a lovely chat, Doc! On your way now, toodles! Kisses? Hmm, maybe on the third date.”

Marcus was too shocked to move aside from lowering his arms. What the fuck had that been?!

The cell door suddenly slid open, a guard he didn’t recognize stepping in and tasering Ghostface in the side. He hit the floor with a gurgle, body jerking as electricity shot through his body.

Taking the opportunity, Marcus jumped over his flailing legs and rushed out of the cell. He bumped into David, sending them both crashing into the wall and then the floor. Hey, at least he was out of Ghostface’s cell!

The sound of the guard’s shouting drowned out the door sliding shut and it took Marcus a second to understand what he was hearing.

“-the fuck was that?! Why the hell were you in his cell alone?”

“I- I’m not- I didn’t-” he stammered, unable to form a proper sentence.

The guard sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. In a slightly softer tone, he asked, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?”

“No,” Marcus managed, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I mean, no, he didn’t hurt me. I’m- I’m fine. Just shaken up. I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay, that’s what matters,” the guard told him. The name on his shirt read ‘Leon’, and he realized with a start that was the captain of the guards. Oof, not a great way to meet…

“David, are you okay?” Leon asked, reaching down and helping Marcus up.

“Am I okay?! Is he okay?!” David practically shouted as he scrambled back to his feet. “Marcus, what were you thinking?! Do you know how worried I was when I left the bathroom and you were gone?! You could’ve been killed! You’re so lucky I found Leon by the janitor closet!”

Marcus looked at him, frowning slightly. Why was he by the janitor closet of all places?

Leon shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter. Both of you follow me. Marcus, you need to fill out an incident report. David, you’re going to be listed as a witness, so you come too.”

With that, he radioed for medical to go check on Ghostface before starting off down the hall.

Ashamed and embarrassed to have let his guard down and screwed up so badly, Marcus shuffled after him. To David, he said quietly, “I’m so sorry to have gotten you involved in this. It’s my fuck up and I’ll make sure it’s not taken out on you.”

David quickly shook his head as he grabbed onto Marcus’ sleeve, almost as if to ground himself and make sure that he was there and not injured. “I’m just glad that you’re okay and that Ghostface didn’t do anything to you. What happened? How’d he get you in the cell?”

The question drove another spike of embarrassment through his chest and he winced. Looking at the floor as they walked, Marcus admitted, “There was some trash in his cell and I didn’t feel like putting up with his weird banter so I went to grab it myself.”

“So you let him get between you and the door,” Leon stated from a little ways up ahead. “Never let an inmate get between you and the only way out. He could have killed you.”

Marcus wasn’t sure he could feel any lower. He was so getting fired. He knew it. And he couldn’t even blame Richards. He was seriously considering just being petty and exposing him afterwards anyway, but at the moment he had much bigger concerns on his mind.

“I get it though,” David comforted. “Ghostface called me a roach once and said that God hates me.”

“Oh,” Marcus said quietly. “That’s… that’s so mean…”

Before either of them could say more, they nearly walked into Leon’s back as he stopped to knock on an office door. As soon as they heard a slightly muffled, ‘Come in’, Leon unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Leading Marcus and David inside, he gestured to a chair in front of the desk and said firmly, “Sit down.”

Taking a seat, Marcus didn’t want to look at Jack on the other side of the desk. He could feel her staring at him and it made his stomach twist into knots. How the hell had he let his guard down so badly? He knew better. Not only that, but he’d been explicitly warned about doing that exact thing!

Unnoticed by Marcus, Jack looked like she’d had a rough night as well. Her usually impeccable hair was out of sorts and she looked a bit disheveled. She and Leon had also shot each other weird looks when he entered the room, but it was short and swift and was missed as well.

David had spotted it, but not the brightest light bulb in the shed, automatically assumed it was one of disappointment at the situation.

Clearing her throat, Jack finally broke the silence. “What happened?”

“I fucked up,” Marcus stated honestly. “I… didn’t think. I made a mistake and I went into Ghostface’s cell to grab some trash and he… got behind me… and closed the cell door… and then just… talked. Kind of…”

As Marcus spoke, Jack’s face slowly grew more and more concerned. When he finished, she drummed her fingers against her desk in contemplative thought. “This is… concerning behavior. This type of thing has happened before, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon… But don’t worry, you’re not in too much trouble. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

She reached down into one of the many drawers of her desk and pulled out a rather large stack of papers. “I’m going to need you to fill out an incident report, preferably now so I can send it in tonight. Then tomorrow, the CEO will call you into a meeting since he personally handles those. He’ll just ask you a few questions about what happened so that the information can be used in future training to prevent it from happening again. Then I want you to take this back to the dorms and read it over.”

Having looked up when she said he wasn’t in too much trouble, Marcus could see that the folder Jack was pointing at was labeled Harley Quinn. Oh… That couldn’t be good…

“These are all instances of Ghostface approaching different staff members to… talk to them. Some ended up going nowhere, with the staff either transferring or ignoring his advances, while others… well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

Marcus had been about to tell them that Ghostface had invaded his personal space and pinned him to the wall for their talk, but decided it was probably wise to just… keep it to himself. Still, he had to ask, “I’m not going to get transferred, am I? I know it was an avoidable mistake and it could have turned out a lot worse, but I just got here and I-”

“You’re not getting transferred,” Leon promised. “But you need to be more careful, especially around Ghostface. For whatever reason, he’s taken an interest in you. He’s known to be obsessive, so as long as you don’t give in to what he wants, he should lose interest in… a month or two.”

“A month or two?!” he demanded, too shocked to keep it in.

“It’ll pass in no time, just be very cautious around him. More so than the others, who you should also be extremely cautious around. Have you met Tapp yet?”

“Um, very briefly?” Marcus recalled. What did that have to do with anything? Had he had issues with Danny too?

“You saw the scar on his neck?” Leon asked, and when the ginger nodded, he explained, “Amanda Young did that with a broken piece of plastic tray after she overheard one of the cooks badmouthing John Kramer, the Jigsaw killer and her mentor. Tapp wasn’t even the one who said it, he just got in between her and her target.”

“Which is why, as you can see, we don’t use plastic trays anymore,” Jack added. “Either way, go through those files and learn from the previous staff’s mistakes. See the signs and learn how to avoid them. You aren’t the first person he’s gone after and you won’t be the last.”

“We’ve only had to transfer one person without them requesting it, due to Ghostface,” Leon pointed out. “He got sloppy and failed to kill her, so she was transferred for her own safety. Everyone else who’s transferred due to his… attention… has requested it.”

Marcus couldn’t deny feeling a bit relieved. If this was a ‘normal’ thing for Ghostface perhaps it wouldn’t be as hard to deal with as he initially thought it would be. Unless the man decided to try and kill him… That would put a bit of a damper on his ability to do his job.

“Thank you for… not firing me,” he finally got out. “Again, I’m sorry for not being more careful. I’ll do better from here on out.”

“For your sake, let’s hope so,” Leon stated, although it wasn’t intended to be cruel. It was a fact. He needed to be more careful or he or someone else could be harmed or killed. “Swing by medical, if they clear you you’ll be good to go home for the night. David, you can go too after you give your statement.”

Both men nodded and quickly started going through the rather massive stack of paperwork required after an encounter like that. More so for Marcus, since he was the one that had actually been locked in the room with the killer. It took a good hour or so before Jack allowed them to leave, collecting the papers and immediately starting to scan them to send them off to Wesker.

When they reached the pharmacy, only Claudette and Laurie remained behind the counter, the others presumably having left already. Marcus got a thorough check up and, other than the bruises on his wrists, he was deemed unharmed. David had sustained a bruise when he got knocked over like a bowling pin, but it was nothing a little ice couldn’t fix. They were both sent on their ways with well wishes and warnings to be more careful next time.

Neither one of them said a thing on the walk to the bus. Marcus felt awkward and worried still. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened and just how close he’d come to probably dying. What’s worse, he could have gotten David in trouble or hurt, since they were supposed to be teamed up for the night.

Nea gave them both a nod when they boarded, as they were the last two to get on. There were two other people in the back of the bus, both guards judging from what Marcus could see of their uniforms buried under thick coats. One of them had passed out snoring, while the other was on his phone, the faint sounds of Candy Crush coming from the device.

Both men took their seats near the front of the bus as the doors shut. It was a silent, smooth ride back towards the dorm, David mulling things over for a good ten minutes before finally speaking up in a soft tone, as to not disturb the other occupants in the bus. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“I’m glad too…” Marcus said softly, giving him a small smile. Looking at the pile of paperwork in his lap, he couldn’t help but wonder if David was being targeted by the Legion the way Ghosface seemed to be targeting him. Quietly, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay? Not just because of what happened tonight but… overall. The Legion don’t… ask you to do stuff that makes you uncomfortable, do they?”

The way that David immediately tensed up was absolutely alarming. “No, of course not. They’re my friends and I trust them.” He sounded defensive, yet anxious, as if there was more to his answer that he wasn’t saying.

“Oh… No, that’s- that’s good,” he agreed haltingly. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he added, “Sorry, I’m not trying to- I’m not… I don’t know. You’ve been here long enough to know how to navigate the patients.”

“…. No, not really. I’m not good at my job.” David practically slumped down in his seat, looking defeated. “I used to do other stuff before I became an orderly. When I first started, I was a janitor.”

“I… heard a little about that,” Marcus admitted. “Ripley and one of the other guards told me you’ve been through a lot of positions. But you know, I don’t think you should consider moving around so much a bad thing. It just means you know a lot more about how everything runs, instead of only knowing one department.”

“But I don’t! I know how the stuff works but I’m bad at doing the stuff!” David immediately clamped a hand over his mouth, quickly turning in his seat to make sure he didn’t bother the other two occupants at the back of the bus. When neither of them acknowledged him, he continued, although much more quietly. “They only move me around cause I can’t do anything right. I know that I shouldn’t even be here, but I don’t have any real world experience on anything else. Who would want to hire a twenty-three year old who can’t even file his own taxes?”

By that point, David had worked himself up into full blown ugly sobs as he ranted, “I don’t know what I’m doing pretty much all the time! I’m really trying my best but, in this job, my best isn’t enough! It’s never enough!”

Marcus honestly wasn’t sure if he should try and hug him or not. He really seemed like he needed it, but the fear of getting a sexual harassment complaint on him was still very present. Looking around for some kind of help, he met Nea’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Glancing over her shoulder, she mouthed, ‘Hug him?’

Okay, but if he got fired he was going to shove a potato in the bus’s muffler…

Reaching over, he gave David a tentative hug, offering, “Hey, you’re doing great at the job you have now. You’re not the one who got himself trapped in a patient's cell tonight.”

Marcus felt David stiffen the moment he put his arms around him. Ever so slowly, he could feel his hands slowly creep up before clinging to his shirt with the grip of an upset child. He then buried his face into Marcus’ shoulder and let out a full proper sob, snot and tears and everything. It was as if he’d never had a hug before…

Through the fabric muffling his voice, Marcus could barely make out a small, “They don’t want me to be friends with you but you’re so nice. I don’t believe that you’re using me. I won’t believe it.”

For a moment, he thought David meant Jack and the others. It hurt a little, until he realized he actually meant the Legion. Was that because they actually cared about the orderly? Or were they themselves trying to use him for something and were worried a newcomer would get in the way?

Biting his lip as he considered things, Marcus decided to try and smooth things over with them. He didn’t trust them, he didn’t plan to be their ‘friend’, but he didn’t have to be their enemy. As long as he knew they weren’t planning to hurt David anyway.

He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he patted his new friend on the back. Everyone needed someone to help watch their back in a place like Crotus Prenn, and he was happy to be there for David.

~~

“I still don’t know why Wesker brought him here so quickly,” Leon sighed, half sitting on the edge of Jack’s desk. “It’s not like he doesn’t have some experience, but he still should have been given time to be trained properly.”

The soft clicks of Jack’s laptop keys was the only other sound in the room. It was late enough that most of the other staff had left already, with those still left behind being the overnight guards and night crew. “I have my suspicions but I’d rather not point fingers. Either way, he’s doing alright. Same as any other new hire.”

Her nimble fingers momentarily paused as she shot Leon a look over the rim of her glasses. “From what I recall, you had even less training when you first got here. I’m surprised that you’ve made it this long.” The playful look in her eyes made it come off more as a tease than anything malicious.

It looked like he was trying not to smile as he scoffed, “I’ve only made it this long because Bill watches my back and hasn’t beaten me to death with a baton yet.”

After a short pause, he sighed, “You’re right though. He doesn’t seem like a bad kid. But I’m worried. Wesker doesn’t hire people for Crotus Prenn without experience unless he wants something from them.”

Jack mimicked his sigh with a grimace. “Whatever it is, let’s hope that he can make it out alive. Now shoo, I need to finish this and you’re a very big distraction.”

Removing himself from the desk, he wasted a little extra of her time by making a show of stretching his arms and back. Smiling at her, he reached out to brush his fingers over the back of her hand before leaving her to her work. He was supposed to be doing rounds anyway.
~~~~

Notes:

Whispers of Insanity will be going on a short hiatus starting May 27th and will return to regular updates June 14th!

Chapter 8: Sock Puppets

Summary:

Marcus and David deal with the fallout of the Ghostface cell incident...

Sitting in a small, cold, dark room, in a cold metal chair, seated at a heavy metal table with only a small lamp for light, Marcus felt like he was about to be tortured for information that could be used to overthrow the government or something. It was either that or their boss was a drama queen of epic proportions…

Wesker was seated across from him, cold blue eyes boring into him as he studied him. Why was he taking so long to speak? Who was that guy lurking in the corner with a clipboard and pen?

“So…” Wesker finally said, and Marcus jumped. “I understand there was an incident last night during the pre-lights out inspection.”

“Um, y-yes sir,” he stammered, glancing over again when the other man scribbled something down. Looking at Wesker again, he asked, “Who- who is that?”

“Don’t mind him,” he stated, gaze not wavering in the slightest. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Clearing his throat, Marcus did his best not to stammer or stumble over his words as he repeated the same story he’d told Jack and Leon the night before. He told the truth, but decided to once again omit some of Ghostface’s… more interesting comments and actions.

As he spoke, the man in the corner continued to scribble and write, not saying a word or even looking at him. On the opposite side of the coin, Wesker hadn’t stopped staring at him. Hell, Marcus wasn’t sure he’d even blinked since he’d entered the room and sat down.

Hurrying to end the tale, Marcus finished with, “And then he let me go and stepped back. Um, the- the guard, Leon–”

“Captain of the Guard, yes, I know who he is,” Wesker cut in, before resuming his intense silence.

“Right,” Marcus agreed awkwardly. “He came in, tasered Ghostface, and then… That was it, really. I got the heck out of there and he took me to the office so I could fill out the incident report.”

“I see,” Wesker stated, before asking bluntly, “Did Ghostface show any sexual interest in you?”

“God no!” he nearly shouted, but managed to keep his voice down. He winced when the man in the corner looked up at him with a critical squint. Clearing his throat again, he said more evenly, “N-no. I don’t believe so. I think he was just trying to… make me uncomfortable. I- I understand he’s made people quit or request transfers in the past, but- but you don’t need to worry about that with me! I’m not going anywhere! I’m very committed to this job and the opportunity to work here, really!”

Was he blowing it? Fuck, he felt like he was blowing it. Jack and Leon had made it seem like it would just be a simple sit down and go over everything again, not whatever the hell was currently happening!

“Indeed,” Wesker agreed smoothly. “I understand David Emory was also involved. Explain that part again.”

Dreading the idea of his friend getting in trouble somehow, Marcus swore, “No, no, he wasn’t- David wasn’t involved! He- He’s the one who got Leon. If Ghostface had intended to hurt me before I could get out of there… I think I have David to thank for Leon getting there in time.”

“Very well,” the blond decided. “You’re free to go.”

Not wasting a moment, Marcus quickly thanked him and scurried for the door. He could feel the other man watching him and he shuddered. That had been… unpleasant. Checking the time, he winced. Breakfast was almost over. He better hurry and catch up to either Jack or David to see what he was supposed to do for the rest of the day.

~~

“So… You think Ghostface will be the one to do it?”

Wesker was still seated at the table, deep in thought. Rising, he swept from the room, his lackey quickly falling in step slightly behind him.

“It’s hard to tell, as of yet,” he finally said, answering his question. “If not him, probably the Legion. My understanding is that he’s already rubbed them the wrong way and they have proven time and time again to be petty, vindictive little monsters.”

“Yes, perhaps some incentive to encourage them-”

“Don’t be stupid, Talbot,” Wesker admonished sharply. “If he’s going to die, it has to be due to his own negligence, or at an inmate's volition. Nothing can come back to the staff; especially you or I.”

“I’m sure if Emory begins to believe he’s a danger to his son…” Talbot offered, trailing off when Wesker rolled his eyes to stare down at him. Clearing his throat, he quickly asked instead, “What would you like me to do if any other incidents occur?”

“They don’t make it beyond Jack’s desk,” Wesker stated coldly. “Preferably, they don’t make it to her desk to begin with, as it seems she’s already developing a soft spot for the boy.”

“She could be replaced, if need be,” Talbot said, sounding just a bit bitter.

“She cannot,” he seethed. “There’s a reason she’s head nurse, and if you forget that and attempt to orchestrate anything against her, I’ll use you for genetic research instead of the patients downstairs. No, the boy is the only one who needs to die. The sooner the better.”

Accepting defeat, the shorter man nodded. “Yes, sir, of course… Now, I do have a request…”

Badging into the elevator, Wesker snapped, “Spit it out.”

“The flower I’ve managed to propagate from those seeds that I recovered from that dig sight… It’s had some very interesting effects on the mice and rats I’ve tested it on. I’d like to move up to larger animals, if possible. I think skipping smaller primates such as macaques and moving straight to chimps would be wise. It will allow human testing much sooner. Or…”

Trailing off, he looked around conspiratorially even though they were the only two in the lift, before whispering, “I could begin testing on the T02.”

“No,” Wesker almost snapped. “His willfulness is… an issue. But with the biological effects that the mice and rats have experienced, we can’t risk further damaging his programming. Use chimps for the time being, but make sure they’re contained. The last thing we need is a containment breach.”

“Yes, sir,” Talbot agreed, sounding a bit happier at least.

With that, the pair descended far underground…

~~

David was having a rough start to his day. First, his alarm didn’t go off and, due to the fact that he had his own room, he nearly missed the morning bus. Jeff was kind enough to wait an extra ten minutes for him, but he could tell that it had made the others on the vehicle cross with him.

Due to his rush to leave, he’d forgotten to bring his usual cardigan, leaving him to shiver in the frigid temperatures of the asylum. Another orderly was kind enough to offer him a long sleeve shirt but David hated the way most long sleeved shirts felt on his skin. They were too constricting and itchy and he’d rather freeze to death than put on a long sleeve shirt.

Still, he powered on through his day. Marcus had gone to give his report to the CEO, which meant that he was on his own for a decent part of the morning at least. Shadowing one of the other nurses, Kate, David felt he was actually moving at a decent pace and even keeping up for once instead of slowing anyone down. He hadn’t dropped anything yet and he’d even helped her correct some paperwork that he had noticed was off. It felt incredible. It was as if talking to Marcus and working by his side had made him more competent.

As they were getting ready to go to lunch, Kate told him, “You’re doing great today, sugar. Keep it up, and I bet you can get your level two access soon.”

David beamed at her like an actual ray of sunshine. It was a miracle there wasn’t light coming out of him. He was so happy that someone else noticed his improved efforts, nothing could ruin the day for him!

He was actually whistling when he went on his break. Marcus had finished with his meeting with the CEO but due to the length of it, they’d been placed on separate duties for the day. However, Jack had told him that from then on, she’d have them work together whenever possible. They were an efficient team and could watch each other's backs, benefiting everyone. David didn’t mind either way, more than happy to be working with his friend.

With a cheerful hum, he tapped his badge on the scanner, opening the door to the staff room and immediately choking on his own tongue when he saw who was already in there.

“... Hi, Dad…”

Reflective eyes flashing in the low light, Asa looked up from the book he was reading. Setting it down, he didn’t rise to greet his son. Instead, he gestured for him to sit across from him at the table without a single word.

Like a well trained dog, David sat down without a moment’s hesitation, his own reflective eyes staring straight onto his lap where his trembling hands lay folded to prevent him from biting at his nails.

David loved his dad but the man was absolutely terrifying. As far as he remembered, his dad has only ever said at most ten words to him. He was homeschooled and they moved around a lot due to his dad’s occupation, although he didn’t think that most entomologists had to relocate every other month.

Either way, his dad was still a single father. David knew that he tried his best to raise his only son on his own, but even he knew that his dad wasn’t that proud of him. Honestly, he didn’t blame the guy.

His mom had died during childbirth so it had always just been the two of them. Still, sometimes he wondered what it would’ve been like to have a mom… He’d asked about her once when he was very young and the look his father had given him made him nearly throw up. Perhaps wisely, he’d never spoken about her again.

The longer the silence between them dragged on, the more David started to fidget. Tapping his foot, picking at his cuticles, eyes darting back and forth, trying his best to work up the courage to ask why his dad suddenly wanted to talk to him when the man usually spent his days downstairs. David had been working here for a few years by that point and he only saw his dad every few months. At least the man never forgot his birthday.

“You need to be more careful,” Asa finally said, voice low and quiet. If there had been anyone else in the room, they would have had to be seated just as close as David if they wanted any hope of hearing him.

David almost fell out of his seat when he heard his father speak. It was rare and it just scared him even more. What had he done to make a man who never spoke more than one or two words at a time actually say a full sentence. “I-I’m always careful, I promise!”

Asa studied him closely, actually closing the book he’d previously set aside. After a grueling moment of further silence, he said, “I heard about last night.”

That was all he said. Nothing more. Nothing specific. Not about Marcus or Ghostface or Leon or even the small, not really all that involved part David had played. There wasn’t a hint of anger or disappointment in his voice. It was simply a cold, stoic statement. He knew what had happened…

It only served to make David panic even more as the Legion’s words raced through his mind. “It was an accident! It won’t happen again! You don’t need to talk to Marcus or anything, he’s a good worker-!”

A man of action before words, Asa slammed a hand flat against the table, the resounding crack silencing his son. Staring at him with an expression of cold fury, he stated simply, “Be more careful.”

It was almost uncanny seeing eyes that so closely resembled his own filled with tears. Quite honestly, other than his eyes, David didn’t resemble his father at all. Their hair was different, their physiques were different, their demeanors and entire personalities were different. If no one knew exactly who Asa was, most wouldn’t assume that David was his son.

“O-Okay, I’m sorry…” His voice practically quivered as he spoke. Never whispered. His dad didn’t like it when he mumbled.

Asa’s expression neither softened nor showed any signs of concern over making his own son so upset. Perhaps he thought it would make David stronger, or perhaps he really just didn’t feel anything.

“Don’t be sorry… Be better,” Asa stated, reaching over and picking up his book again. It very clearly signified the end of the conversation.

Standing back up on shaky feet, David nodded, clearly trying not to hyperventilate as he made his way to the door. Right before he opened it, he turned back to his father who was no longer looking at him. “I love you.”

Hidden deep behind those marble-like eyes was the same fire that Asa’s own held. There was no denying that that boy was his son, his own flesh and blood that he raised with bloodied hands.

David opened the door without waiting for a response, although he knew damn well that he wasn’t going to get one anyways. Right then, the only thing on his mind was to find a janitor closet to cry in.

Of course, his plans were foiled when he immediately ran right into Marcus the moment the staff lounge door shut behind him. “Ah fuck- oh! Marcus! Hi!” He quickly wiped at his face, grimacing when he remembered that he wasn’t wearing his cardigan, which meant that his arm was now also covered in tears and snot. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t see you there. Are you- shit- are you on break now?”

Reaching out to help steady him, Marcus smiled slightly before sighing. He looked about as defeated as David felt, but he managed to sound cheerful enough as he answered, “Yeah, I’m just going. Sorry I’ve been so behind all day. The meeting with Wesker was… something else. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Giving only a shake of his head as a response, David quickly righted himself again, trying and failing to look like he wasn’t on the verge of a full melt down. “N-No, I’m okay. Excuse me, please.”

With that, David full on sprinted away down the hall. Marcus could actually see him bump into a few other people on his way before he finally turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

“O-oh… Okay,” Marcus told the empty hall. It would have been obvious to a blind man that David was upset, but he wasn’t sure if he should try and chase him down. Last night had shown him David would tell him what he felt comfortable sharing when he was ready.

Heading into the break room, he noted that there was only one other person there besides himself. Seated towards the back of the room away from the doors, the man appeared too invested in the book he was reading to notice his entrance into the common area. Tilting his head slightly to see better in the low light, Marcus raised an eyebrow at the book's title. ‘Horror and Beauty: The Art of Entomological Taxidermy’.

That sounded kind of cool, and Marcus wondered if he did either as a hobby. How would one combine them anyway? Allowing himself to get lost in thought as he dug through the cabinets for some snacks, he nearly walked right into the man when he turned around to find a table.

“Jesus!” he yelped, stumbling back into the counter. “Wow, sorry! I didn’t even hear you coming up behind me.”

The man didn’t respond, eyes flashing a reflective, shimmery green as he stepped into the ginger’s personal space. Ignoring his indignant sound, the stranger reached up and took hold of his badge with two fingers, eyes narrowing as he read the limited information it provided.

Glancing down at the hand holding his badge, then back up at the man, Marcus started to question him before nearly biting his tongue in surprise. He’d just caught sight of his nametag…

Asa Emory. David’s father.

Frowning slightly, Marcus found himself wondering if something had happened between them that had sent David into the state he was in when they’d bumped into one another outside the breakroom.

“You…” Asa said slowly. Releasing his badge, he looked at his face instead.

“Um, me?” Marcus asked, laughing nervously. Wesker had been intimidating, but this guy was starting to give him the heebie-jeebies like nothing else…

“If anything happens to my son due to your negligence, I’ll make sure your remains are never found,” Asa stated, voice just as soft and quiet as before. It was so unnervingly calm it took Marcus a second to fully realize what he’d just heard.

Blinking several times, he asked, “What? What the hell-”

He flinched when the man crowded into his space, looming over him with glowing eyes. Jesus, that was fucking horrifying! And a decent sign that the lightbulbs in the breakroom needed changed.

“If something happens to my son and I find out you were in any way responsible, you will pay ten-fold,” Asa told him, voice growing colder with each word. With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Marcus alone.

Still half leaning on the counter to stay upright, Marcus stared at the door. That was David’s father? That guy? The scary, serial killer vibes exuding, insect eyed man was his dad? They didn’t even look alike!

Whereas David was small and borderline frail, Asa was tall and fit with broad shoulders and an air of dangerous confidence. His hair was dark brown and neatly combed, while David’s was much lighter and fluffier.

David was nervous and kind, while his father was cold and harsh. Both were soft spoken, but the inflection of Asa’s words and tone were much, much darker, leaving Marcus feeling slightly sick to his stomach.

“I’m making as many enemies as I am friends,” he muttered to himself, no longer hungry. It would be impossible to believe they were actually related if not for their eyes. There was no denying that David had his father’s eyes…

~~

“-and then he told me to do better, but I didn’t even do anything wroooong!” David wailed before burying his head into his arms where they rested on his knees. Rather than finding a janitor’s closet, he had passed the courtyard and realized that the inmates were out for recess. Deciding that he needed his friends more than a cry alone, he’d burst through the doors and made a beeline right for the Legion’s table.

And now there they were, sitting by a wall in the shadows just out of range of the cameras. The only blind spot in the entire yard.

Two of the Legion sat on either side of him like a pack of guard dogs. Frank and Julie were to his direct right and left, with Joey and Susie flanking them. If the four hadn’t been wearing plain white pants and t-shirts with their names stitched on the front, it would look like a group of college friends just enjoying a nice break together. Of course, if anyone got close enough to hear, they’d quickly figure out the truth.

Frank pursed his lips, having remained silent for David’s sobbed, hiccuped, and otherwise very damp tale. “Man, that’s wild… But you know, none of what happened in Ghostface’s cell is your fault. I mean, it’s not even Ghostface’s fault, is it?”

That last statement got David to shoot him a rather confused look. “W-What? It wasn’t?”

“Well, think about it like this,” Frank pointed out. “We’re all locked up here for a reason. You know that. We know that. Of course the new guy fucking knows that, right? I mean, he’s read all the floor one files, and he still went into that cell alone.”

“You told him to wait while you went to the bathroom. You followed procedure,” Julie tacked on. “You did everything right.”

“Sounds like the guy either has a death wish, or he’s trying to throw you under the bus for his screw up,” Joey scoffed. “I mean, come on. He went in there alone? Let Ghostface get between him and the door?”

“He’s either suicidal or trying to seduce him,” Susie snickered. “My vote is on suicidal with the way he called Frank by his name on day one. You’re our best friend, and you don’t even get that privilege.”

That was certainly true. They had told him that perhaps one day they’d allow him to address them by their first names, but for the time being, they were more comfortable having him refer to them as a unit.

Picking at his nails, David defended weakly, “But Marcus said it was an accident… He didn’t- He didn’t mean to.”

And yet, the Legion were making too much sense. Ghostface had been confrontational with Marcus from the start. Hell, David had been there when Marcus was threatened that first day. He should’ve known to keep a very close eye on the killer. How could he be so careless?

“When we got careless, we got caught,” Frank reiterated. It was true, technically, and well known. After their bloody start in Canada, the four of them had crossed the border and gone on a rampage through Washington, Oregon, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, and finally New Mexico, where they were caught holding up a gas station in Roswell.

“But what did we do when we got caught?” he continued, eyes glittering as a slow smile spread across his face. “We didn’t deny shit. We owned our mistake. We took credit for the things we did that led us to that point, and we’d do it again in a heartbeat. But this guy? Pfft. Considering how mad your old man was, he probably told Wesker that it was your fault. Or he already talked to your dad…”

David swallowed heavily. His voice felt like it was caught in his chest as he said, “My dad got mad at me… after I said that he didn’t have to talk to Marcus…”

“Your dad’s just trying to look out for you,” Julie told him sympathetically. Out of the four of them, she’d had the best relationship with both her parents. Her lawyer had tried time and time again to get her to play into that, to use the ‘misled rebel teen’ persona to her advantage to get a reduced sentence… She’d laughed at him, not once showing so much as a hint of wavering in her loyalty to Frank and the Legion… “That’s what parents do.”

“That’s what good parents do,” Frank corrected.

Joey scoffed, resting his head against the wall behind them. “At least you’ve got a dad watching your back.”

A bell chimed loudly across the courtyard, signaling the end of their hour of ‘recess’. None of the four bothered to move, rather waiting for the guards to come along and gruffly order them up and out.

“You better get back to work,” Susie told David with a small sigh. “Watch yourself. We can’t always be around to keep an eye on you.”

With a sad sigh, David got back up on shaky legs and bid his friends farewell before making a swift exit back indoors. It was best to make sure to keep away from the guards. If they saw him hanging out with the Legion they’d bombard him with questions, making him late for the rest of his daily duties.

The sour moment with his dad had ruined his day and he spent the rest of his shift in a sluggish trance. It was easily picked up by everyone around him, yet no one bothered to question it. Legion’s words kept racing through his mind. They were right. Marcus had been careless and it had subsequently led to David getting in trouble with his dad for something he didn’t even do. And his dad was right too. He should’ve known better than to allow Marcus to bring him into his own situation. How could he have been so stupid?

David marinated in those dark thoughts all day, even as he sat at the back of the bus after his shift. In fact, he was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice that someone had sat down next to him until a certain red head’s voice called out to him.

~~

Slumping slightly as he took his seat, Marcus offered a weak smile. “Hey… Sorry I didn’t catch up to you today. I… had a lot on my mind. But it kind of looks like you do too…”

He sounded genuinely concerned, a frown creasing his brow as he studied his coworker.

David didn’t respond, although his eyes darted over in acknowledgement of Marcus before returning to their staring contest with the seat in front of him.

Marcus’s lips settled in a thin line and he too fell silent. Although he couldn’t confirm it, he was pretty sure Asa was the one who’d upset David so much earlier in the day. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure it was his place to ask or to assume anything about the kind of relationship they had.

Comparatively, his own relationship with his father was… bad. It wasn’t really a relationship at all, after his father had kicked him out at fifteen. Although he couldn’t confirm it, he was pretty sure the man was also blocking all his attempts to contact his mom…

“I… know what it’s like to have a lot of expectations put on you,” he said quietly. “And I know how much it hurts when it feels like you’re letting those people down. But sometimes, it’s not about what everyone else wants. It’s about what you want.”

As he spoke, he could see David’s shoulders slowly growing more tense till they were practically up to his ears. Although he still refused to look at Marcus, he finally spoke up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nodding, Marcus cleared his throat. Keeping his voice low despite the fact that the only other passenger was several seats up and wearing headphones, he said softly, “My dad wanted me- Well, expected me, to find a nice woman, get married, and start popping grandbabies out of her the second I turned twenty-one. Ah, the flaw in his grand plan for my future? Me.”

Laughing quietly, he looked down at his hands. “I don’t want kids. I don’t hate them or anything, I just… don’t want kids. Ever. It doesn’t help that I prefer men so even the idea of bringing home a ‘wife’ was just… ridiculous.”

Rubbing his legs to help stave off some of the chill in the bus, Marcus summed up, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, it can be hard to make decisions for your own happiness, when you know it’s going to hurt the happiness of the people who love you. But sometimes… sometimes those people want what they want for selfish reasons. And that’s not good for either of you. So… if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I just… I want you to know I’m sorry for any trouble my screw up caused you.”

As soon as the last sentence left his mouth, David’s head snapped around to stare at Marcus with absolute shock and awe. See, he’d never really received a proper apology before. His dad never apologized for anything and neither did the Legion, telling him that they didn’t believe in apologies. Sure, actions were louder than words, but a ‘sorry’ was still nice.

Looking practically like a shocked goldfish, David blurted out, “Did you tell the CEO or my dad that the incident last night was my fault?”

Marcus almost laughed before realizing he was serious. Mouth opening and closing several times, he looked a little hurt as he swore, “Of course not! I- If you- If you hadn’t gotten Leon involved when you did, I honestly don’t know if I would have gotten out of Ghostface’s cell alive! And I told Wesker as much! Your dad and I… Um… We didn’t really talk.”

He was not about to tell David that his dad had made actual death threats against him at work. Or anywhere else, should he ever be unfortunate enough to run into the man outside of Crotus Prenn.

David leaned in closer, his eyes wide and wild and reminding Marcus a little too much of his encounter with his father earlier. “Are you only talking to me to use me?”

“I… no,” he said softly. “I’m not trying to use you… I’ve had enough of that from other people.”

“Are you lying? I don’t think you’re a liar, but are you?”

That did get Marcus to crack a small smile. “I’m not a liar. Not unless I have to be for the safety of the people around me.”

“And you didn’t go into the cell on purpose, right? It was an accident?” He could see that David was slowly relaxing as he spoke, the questions seemingly having been burning through his mind his whole shift.

Marcus winced. “No, that was all me being a fucking idiot. What happened was on me. It was my fault, and I’m not going to try and blame anyone else for my mistake.”

With a slow nod, David finally let his shoulders back down and leaned back into his seat with a sigh. “My dad… Don’t get me wrong, I love him and I’m, like, super grateful for everything that he’s done for me. But sometimes… He makes me feel like I’m a failure of a son.”

“It’s easy to feel like a failure when the only expectations you’re trying to live up to are someone else's,” he said. “But I get the feeling your dad really does love you. He’s just… bad at showing it. But some people are.”

“I don’t even think he has any expectations for me anymore other than ‘don’t die’,” David added on.

“Then you’re doing great,” Marcus pointed out, trying not to laugh.

Conversation came easier after that, both of them sharing much lighter, not so serious stories, until the ginger asked, “How do you get stuff you need up here? I’ve been able to borrow soap and stuff from my roommates so far, but I need to be able to buy my own stuff at some point and I don’t think I’m going to be able to get an Uber up here…”

“Oh! I can show you! I have a laptop in my room!” David said happily. “We can only get stuff from a specific website set up by the company ‘cause some things are prohibited up here, even for us. Still, there’s a lot of things on there if you know how to look.”

Having been seriously worried he’d have to borrow a car or rent one to drive to the nearest town to get supplies, the realization that he could order stuff online and have it delivered was a huge relief.

“Oh, thank god,” Marcus muttered. “That would be fantastic. Thanks, David. I appreciate all the help.”

The sunbeam like smile returned once more to David’s face. “I’m glad I can help my friend.”

Because from then on, no matter what anyone else said, Marcus was his friend and he’d defend him to the bitter end.
~~~~

Notes:

Reminder: Whispers of Insanity will be going on Hiatus starting May 27th and will return to regular updates June 14th!

Chapter 9: Threats and Promises

Summary:

Marcus fears facing the aftermath of his encounter with Ghostface, unaware of the dangers lurking behind the scenes...

It was only four days into his new job, but Marcus was finally starting to feel like he was getting the hang of things. He’d managed to find a pair of ear plugs to drown out King’s snoring, David had helped him place an order for some basic essentials, and he’d managed to avoid doing anything else horrendously stupid. The time change was a little hard to get used too, but even that wasn’t too bad.

Still, he found himself dreading breakfast, and as he and David collected the morning vitamins for the patients, he asked, “You don’t think Ghostface is going to try anything today, do you?”

David vehemently shook his head as he placed the cups in his hands onto the cart. “I’ll watch your back like a hawk. Or an eagle. Like a big bird! I won’t let him get between you and the door again!”

“I have no intention of going into his cell if he’s in there, again,” Marcus laughed. “But I appreciate it.”

Feeling a bit better, the pair made their way to the cell block and began passing out breakfast. Technically, they were allowed to split up and each take one side of the hall to -hopefully- make things go faster, but for the time being, they both agreed it would be better to stick together unless Jack or one of the more experienced guards was accompanying them.

Breakfast that morning was the saddest burrito known to mankind, if it could even be called a burrito considering it only had a simple scramble egg and sliced up sausage on a very soggy tortilla. At least they had canned peaches as a side.

Their first stop was Caleb, also known as the Deathslinger, and as usual, he gave them no issues. Taking his meds, then his tray of food, he asked, “Where’s Jack today?”

“I think she’s in a meeting with the CEO or something.” David said offhandedly. “I didn’t see her, but that’s what some of the others said.”

“I see,” Caleb said, tone giving nothing away. “Well, you boys have a good shift.”

With that, he took his breakfast back into his cell. If only all of them were that easy to deal with…

The Legion were next, and as usual, they had something to say the moment they were out of their cell.

“Goddamn, you’re still here?” Julie asked, looking Marcus up and down.

“I thought leprechauns lived on top of rainbows or some shit,” Joey pointed out, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

“No, they live at the end of rainbows,” Susie corrected, snickering.

As usual, Frank didn’t say a word, just stared coldly at Marcus as if he weren’t worth speaking to at all.

Before Marcus could defend himself as per usual against the tirades of the group, David spoke up first with a frown. “That’s not very nice, you guys shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

All four of them stared at him incredulously. Even Marcus looked shocked that he’d stepped in, but it was Frank that spoke first.

Voice as stiff as the rest of him, he asked, “Excuse me?”

David tensed up immediately but still pushed forward with a brave face. “It’s not very nice. You guys are making fun of him for no reason. I know he disrespected your boundaries the first day but he’s apologized and hasn’t done it since. It was an unintentional mistake anyway. You guys should cut him some slack and at least be not so mean to him.”

The four of them looked almost as shocked as Ghostface had when Leon had tasered him. After a long pause, Marcus held out two cups of pills towards Frank and Joey. “Um, here. Pre-breakfast…”

That was enough to snap them out of it, and all four of them shot him venomous looks before silently taking their medicine and water.

“You know… I think maybe you should think about what we talked about yesterday,” Frank said slowly. “We’d hate to see you get hurt, Skrunkles.”

Marcus bristled, unsure if that had been intended as a threat towards David. The ‘nickname’ seemed rude as well, but he was more worried about his friend’s physical safety for the time being.

“… My name is David.”

All four of them had similarly shocked expressions, as if he’d just slapped Frank instead of correcting him. Damn, Marcus wished he had a camera.

“I know you guys like using nicknames and everything, but right now, it feels like you’re demeaning me.”

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Frank offered a thin smile, agreeing, “Sure thing…”

The look he gave Marcus made him shiver, but that was the end of the conversation. As soon as they finished their meds, all four of them practically snatched their breakfast off of the cart and stormed back into their cell like petulant teenagers. Hell, if they could’ve slammed the door shut, they would’ve.

Only once Marcus shut the cell door did David let out a muffled scream behind his hands. “I can’t believe I just talked back to them. I mean, yeah, what they said wasn’t nice but holy shit, I never talk back to them!”

Marcus smiled at him, a sense of pride like watching a sibling stand up to school bullies filling his chest. “You did good. Standing up for yourself and setting healthy boundaries is important.”

Moving to the next cell, they had yet another… interesting greeting.

Stepping out to receive his medicine and breakfast, the Nightmare asked immediately, “You kids want to hear a joke?”

“If it’s ‘your life’ or something, then no,” Marcus stated flatly. “Otherwise, I don’t see why not.”

Due to his attention being solely on the Nightmare, Marcus didn’t notice David next him vehemently shaking his head. He’d been around long enough to know that the Nightmare only told horrible jokes and shitty puns. It was so bad that Jack actually punched him in the face for it once and that woman was known for her tempered attitude. It could be argued that he’d toned it down since then, but only just to stay on the safe side of sexual harassment…

“What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?” Freddy asked. When neither of them had an answer, he chuckled, “Where the fuck is my tractor?”

It took everything Marcus had not to face palm. That didn’t stop him from groaning, “That was awful. Is that even a joke?”

“Well, at least one person laughed, so it counts,” Freddy scoffed. Before either of them could point out that he was the only one who’d laughed, he asked, “Want to hear a different one?”

“Ah, maybe later. We should really get breakfast done since you all are on a time-”

“Right, so why does a chicken coop only have two doors?” he interrupted, grinning from ear to ear.

From across the hall, Amanda’s voice could be heard shouting, “Cause if it had four it would be a sedan! Hurry the fuck up! I’m hungry!”

Expression souring considerably, Freddy griped, “This is an A B conversation, so C yourself out of it, bitch!”

“Get some better material, you possessed wax melt!”

Freddy gasped, one hand flying to his chest as though wounded.

“Pills, water, breakfast,” Marcus hurried to interject, offering him both cups.

Grumbling and muttering under his breath, the Nightmare finally took his pills and grabbed his breakfast tray from David before shuffling back into his cell. Hey, at least he was starting to get more comfortable with the new orderly. Comfortable enough to start sharing jokes at least.

After that was Ji-Woon, the Trickster. When his cell door slid open, he stepped out with a scowl. He looked like he’d barely slept, but judging from how banged up he was, it wasn’t surprising.

He didn’t say a word to either of them, just took his pills, washed them down with a cup of water, grabbed his tray and stepped back into his cell.

When they opened the Pig’s cell, she gave them both a disapproving look before asking, “Can you start feeding that melted crayon last? Then the only person’s time he can waste is his own.”

“I-It’s not up to us since we only do breakfast every other day so I can’t... guarantee… anything…” David practically cowered under her glare, quickly adding on, “-but we’ll do what we can! Here’s your meds!”

She continued to look annoyed, taking the pills without comment.

“When we bring breakfast, we’ll do what we can,” Marcus agreed. “Sorry for the delay.”

“As long as I get my food, I don’t really care,” Amanda deadpanned, taking her tray back into her cell.

That left… Ghostface.

Looking down the row at his cell, Marcus swallowed dryly. He had a job to do, and he told himself that it would be fine. He had no reason to go into Ghostface’s cell, or even interact with him beyond giving him his rations. David was right there, and if the man tried anything, there were guards nearby who’d be able to step in and help.

As Marcus took a deep breath, he felt David put a comforting hand on his arm. When he looked over at him, he received a rather nervous looking smile back. “It’s gonna be okay, we’re in this together. I got your back.”

“I appreciate it,” he promised, before walking over and scanning his badge to open Ghostface’s cell.

He stepped out, a smug smile on his face and his hands loose by his sides. Not sparing David a glance, he practically purred as he spoke, greeting, “Doc… So nice to see you again. I missed you yesterday. Don’t tell me they kept you away because of little old me?”

“I had a lot of paperwork to do,” he answered stoically. “Here’s your pills, and breakfast.”

“Hmm… Now, is that really the only thing you have for me, Doc?” he pressed, leaning forward.

Marcus had to stop himself from taking a step back. What more did Ghostface expect him to have? They didn’t really have time for any kind of meaningful conversation, and even if they did, he wasn’t in the mood to be subjected to more thinly veiled threats.

Before Ghostface could take another step forward to close the gap, David squeezed himself in between them, filling up the small amount of space with a false bravado. In reality, he was practically quaking in his boots as he said, “H-He said that was it. Take your medication, we have stuff to do.”

Unlike the Legion who’d reacted with open shock at his unexpected show of backbone, Ghostface’s expression didn’t waver. Continuing to stare over David’s head for a tense minute, he slowly tilted his face down to pin him with his cold gray eyes.

“Funny. I don’t remember speaking to you. But since you’re suddenly so interested in the conversation, how’s the family?”

It was such a strange thing to ask that Marcus couldn’t help but frown in confusion.

David stiffened, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally settled on a weak, “That’s none of your business…”

Eyes positively lighting up, Danny began to grin. “Oh! Look at you. I can’t quite say you’re growing a spine, but maybe a shiny little exoskeleton all your own. Just be careful not to grow too fast, or you may outgrow your shell and get hurt…”

Putting a hand on David’s shoulder, Marcus stated firmly, “Ghostface, that’s enough. If you don’t want breakfast, get back in your cell.”

Straightening up again, his lips settled back into a smug smile. “Now, now, Doc. I gotta eat my three square meals a day. Hmm, gotta keep my strength up after all.”

Giving his friend's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Marcus stepped over to offer Ghostface his water and pills again.

Washing the pills down all at once, he passed the cups back before reaching over and taking his tray. Sighing at the sight, he shook his head. “Damn, looks like I’m going to have to have a word with the cooks again. They keep screwing up my order.”

“A travesty, I’m sure,” he muttered, ready and waiting to close the man's cell the moment he was back inside it.

“Oh, before you go,” Ghostface chuckled, standing right in the doorway. “I have a… request.”

Exchanging a suspicious look with David, both of them waited for him to tell them what he wanted.

“Well, I’d ask for you, Doc, but I don’t think I’d be granted my request and I’m not one to let things go to waste,” he said smoothly.

Marcus knew he was blushing. What the hell was that?! Shit, no matter what, he couldn’t react to that. He couldn’t give him the satisfaction of the reaction he wanted or Ghostface would never leave him alone! Besides, the man didn’t want him… He just wanted to mess with him…

“I’d like a notebook. And before you give me that speech about no staples and no spiral bound books and blah, blah, blah, they do make notebooks that are held together with glue. The nontoxic kind that kids can’t get high off of, so don’t try and use that as an excuse to say no.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Marcus told him, quietly wondering how the hell he planned to write. He didn’t appear to have any crayons in his cell and he hadn’t asked for any.

However, David frowned and commented, “You’re not allowed a pen though. Or a pencil.”

Offering an eerie smile, he answered simply, “I have my ways. Have fun with the rest of your shift, Doc,” and stepped back into his cell.

Closing the door as fast as he possibly could, Marcus let out a long breath. Something about the way Ghostface talked to him made him feel… odd. He refused to feel ‘special’ because of the attention. The man was a serial killer known for charming people to avoid suspicion under the guise of reporter ‘Jed Olsen’. There was no way he was going to fall for that just to get shanked in the spine…

The flustered look on his face wasn’t missed or ignored by David, who quickly told him, “Don’t let him get to you, he does that with everyone at first. You just gotta be more careful around him than the others, at least until he gets bored and backs off.”

“Yeah,” Marcus murmured, wheeling the empty cart back up the hall so it could be returned to the kitchen. “How long… does that usually take?”

The question came out as very concerned, and it was for the most part. He was legitimately worried about what Ghostface would try and pull if things went on for much longer. His earlier mistakes of not only getting his attention by bumping into him and then allowing himself to get trapped in his cell had most likely only extended the amount of time the man would be interested in him. He’d have to be extra careful not to give Ghostface any kind of reaction he’d be able to perceive as a ‘win’.

On the other hand… he knew that some patients had already latched onto specific staff, most notably Eli, Dwight, and David, and the idea of someone like Ghostface taking a legitimate interest in him was dangerously enticing… God, he needed to get ahold of himself. That was an incredibly dangerous and stupid thing to let himself think. He had a stack of files telling him exactly why too! Jack had handed them to him herself and if anyone was to be trusted in that pit, it was her!

“Like Leon said, one or two months. Maybe more, but it depends on if he finds you ‘fun’ or not,” David said as the kitchen door swung open. “I think the longest someone actually lasted against him was about half a year and… it didn’t end well. You still have that file Ms Jack gave you, right?”

When Marcus nodded, David continued, “It was the most recent one. Give it a reread cause it was not pretty.”

“I hadn’t gotten to that one yet, but it’s now at the top of my list,” he agreed. He couldn’t imagine anything involving Ghostface to end ‘pretty’, but if even David was still that shaken up by it, it had to have been pretty bad.

Putting the cart away, the pair began to turn to leave, when a young man nearly walked right into David. Managing to stop before knocking the poor guy over, he quickly apologized, saying, “Woah, sorry David! Didn’t see you there! Oh, hey! You must be the new guy. David- Well, King told me about you. I’m Steve, by the way. I normally work downstairs, but they needed to borrow someone up here today and Nancy beat me at rock paper scissors so… Anyway, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

Reaching out to shake his outstretched hand, Marcus couldn’t help but crack a smile. Steve seemed nice already. “Cool, nice to meet you. I’m Marcus.”

“He’s not giving you any trouble is it, David?” the cook asked, smiling at him.

“Not at all! He’s been great!” David gave Marcus that sunshine-like smile, continuing, “He’s also been helping me a lot and I feel like I’ve improved because of him.”

Patting his shoulder, Steve promised, “I’m just messing with you. Glad he’s helping you out too. Alright, you guys better get out of here before the head chef comes around. I swear, the dude thinks he’s Gordon Ramsey or something.”

“Has he seen what the patients eat?” Marcus asked, only half joking.

“From what I remember in the kitchen, breakfast is made the night before then heated up the next day.” David said. “Only lunch is made fresh.”

He found that out when, like Ripley had said, he accidentally set one of the microwaves on fire.

“Yeah, supposedly it’s because it ‘saves time’,” Steve said, including air quotes to really emphasize what a load of bull he thought the reason was. “If you ask me, it just adds more work for everyone. But hey, what do I know?”

A quick glance at the four on his badge told Marcus he actually did know more than either he or David, but he knew he didn’t have time to ask about it. Someone shouting at Steve to grab something out of the freezer confirmed as much, and the cook sighed.

“Back to the grind. If either of you want something specific for lunch, let me know and I’ll see what I can do. We have a lot of leftover bacon we need to use up before it goes bad… We’ll still use it, but you know… We should probably use it before then.”

With that lovely idea, Steve scurried off so he could get back to his duties.

“Alright, well… I guess we should see if Jack has anything for us to do until lunch, right?” Marcus asked.

“I think she’s still in that meeting,” David answered. “If she came back, then we would all know.”

Weaving around the busy kitchen staff, both of them made it safely back out into the hall before he added, “We can ask one of the nurses what to hop on next. I think Kate is in the pharmacy right now.”

Nodding, Marcus followed him down the hall towards the nurses station. There was always a lot going on, so it shouldn’t be too long before they had something to do.

~~

“Having read over his psych evals and your own personal evaluation notes, I don’t think further action needs to be taken in light of the recent incident. Marcus seems intelligent enough,” Wesker stated decisively.

Leaning against the wall a few feet away, Leon pressed his lips into a thin line. He disagreed, but he wasn’t about to say as much. They always had meetings after an incident report had been filed, and he always left with the same sense that it hadn’t really helped anything.

On the other hand, Jack was sitting on the other side of the desk from Wesker and she looked absolutely peeved. Not trying to hide it in the slightest, she argued, “In my professional opinion, I would have to disagree. I believe it’s best to either transfer Marcus or limit his contact with the patients, at least until Ghostface’s obsession with him dies down. We’ve just finished dealing with a Harley Quinn situation and I would much rather we nip this one in the bud before it gets that far.”

“Ghostface is an obsessive personality with severe narcissistic tendencies. If we transfer Marcus so quickly after one small incident, it will only make the patient feel like he’s ‘won’ by costing the asylum one more staff member. A staff member who will need to be replaced, which means more time taken from your already busy schedule to train them properly all while hoping that Ghostface or another patient doesn’t create another ‘Harley Quinn’ situation,” Wesker admonished. “He’s to stay put, and he’s to stay on his assigned rotation. Sudden disruptions in the staffing tends to set the patients on edge, and that only leads to further incidents.”

Leon grimaced, finally speaking up. “I have to agree with Miss Jack. Maybe a transfer so suddenly is a bit of an overreaction, but limiting his exposure to the patients is well advised.”

“There’s no need to punish him for his first infraction,” Wesker dismissed. “He’s young, and with only three years of experience under his belt, we can’t expect him to be as vigilant as you or Jack.”

“This is absolutely not a punishment, it’s for his safety,” Jack argued back. “He’s barely been here for a week and already had multiple encounters with the Ghostface. Who knows how long it’ll take for him to lose interest this time if he gained it this fast. Sure, he’ll feel like he’s won if we move Marcus, but with due time, he’ll eventually forget about him. Not only that, but we aren’t hiring anyone at the moment so Marcus is the only person I’m worried about right now.”

She narrowed her eyes at Wesker. “Besides, suddenly transferring a new orderly this late in the year without consulting me is already causing a disturbance.”

“Despite how much I respect your opinions, I do not in fact need to consult you when making personnel decisions. It is done as a courtesy to your position as head nurse and the time you’ve been here, nothing more,” Wesker stated. He’d obviously made up his mind and all three of them knew there was no changing it. “Marcus handled the situation well, as did Emory’s boy. Dwight?”

“David,” Leon corrected.

“Isn’t he a guard?” Wesker asked, looking at him with a small frown.

“Ah, no… Well, yes, but that’s a different David,” he explained, before adding, “There’s actually two- There’s David Tapp and David King, who are guards, and then there’s David Emory. The orderly.”

“Anyway,” Wesker finally said, turning back to Jack. “The matter is closed.”

Standing, he added, “As well, for the time being, there’s not a need for you to forward me any more incident reports regarding the new hire. Ghostface will lose interest soon enough, and if he doesn’t, it will be addressed before it becomes a liability. Leon, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Right, see you tonight,” he agreed, smiling slightly.

Always professional at work, Wesker simply offered him a thin lipped smile of his own before turning on his heel and striding from the office.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Jack slammed her hands onto the desk in irritation. “What the actual hell is wrong with him?! ‘Don’t forward any more incident reports’, that’s absolutely bullshit! Is he trying to get Marcus killed?!”

She turned towards Leon, still scowling as she continued, “There is something going on here. Wesker always consults me on anything regarding my department. Why the hell would he personally bring in someone new then leave them to fend off the wolves practically alone?”

Finally moving from his place by the wall, he offered a small smile as he placed one of his hands over hers on the desk. “I know. Believe me, I know. I’ll see if I can get him to tell me anything that’ll shed some light on this… whole situation, but he rarely tells me anything unless I ‘need to know’.”

Jack seemed to visibly calm down under his touch, letting out an irritated sigh as she lamented, “He barely tells me anything either. Less, probably. The only way I learn information is through reading the files I have access to, but anything regarding Marcus’s transfer is locked up so soundly that even Zarina hasn’t found a thing.”

Leon looked a bit surprised at the revelation. Not so much that Zarina was involved under the table, but that she hadn’t been able to dig anything up. “I see… Have you tried asking Marcus himself? Or Emory? They’ve been hanging out a lot and seem to be getting close. As good as that is for David… It does make me worry for Marcus a bit. Asa is…”

He trailed off, not sure what to say. Asa was Wesker’s left hand man at the asylum. He was smart, driven, strange… and dangerous. There had been more than one occasion Leon found himself wondering if he should be locked up in there along with the other patients…

The grimace that Jack had on her face didn’t help either. Talbot’s position as Wesker’s right hand man was unstable. He was eager to please yet lacked the proper critical thinking that someone like Asa held. In fact, if she had been more controllable, Jack would’ve been in his position, which is why the scientist hated her guts and undermined her authority at every turn.

“I’d rather not burden either of them with this information right now. Marcus works well, despite his suspicious transfer, and he helps Emory work more efficiently. I’ll keep digging and I’ll let you know if there’s anything else that I find.”

“I understand,” Leon promised. “I’ll see what I can get out of him, but… don’t hold your breath.”

His radio beeped loudly and he sighed. Clicking it back on, he answered, “Checking in, this is Leon.”

There was a crackle of static, then Tapp’s voice came over the small radio, “We’ve got a situation on level three.”

“Dammit,” he swore. Most of the patients on floor three were pretty calm unless provoked… “Sorry, Jack. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”

Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he smiled at her, adding, “Don’t let him get under your skin. I’ll tell King to help keep an eye on Marcus. They’re roommates, and so far he’s got nothing but good things to say about the kid. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

~~

Marcus was not doing fine. In fact, he was doing his very best not to look like he wanted to fade away into nothing even though he really, really wanted to. He and David had been asked to help supervise rec time, which was fine in and of itself. It was easy! They just walked around the room, made their presence known, kept an eye on the patients to make sure they weren’t trying to steal, eat, or vandalize anything, notify the guards if a fight or violence broke out, or otherwise help the patients if they needed something. Simple, right?

Wrong…

The second they stepped into the room, Ghostface had looked up from where he was watching the TV show reruns of Meerkat Manor to pointedly watch Marcus instead. He knew it was him the killer was watching and not David, as he’d paused at one point to pick up a book that had fallen on the floor, allowing several feet of distance between them. As soon as he’d stood up, he’d realized Ghostface had gotten out of his chair and moved a good six feet closer to him…

He’d hurried to catch back up to David and hadn’t left his side since. Ghostface had almost made a show of stretching before moving over to watch Amanda and Caleb play checkers.

It had taken a little longer, but after about an hour, he’d realized Ghostface wasn’t the only one watching him. The Legion were playing pool, but whoever wasn’t currently attempting to hit one of the slightly chewed up foam balls was staring at him and David.

Distracted momentarily when the Nightmare and the Trickster started arguing loudly over the remote, Marcus took his attention off all the eyes tracking him, to ask, “Hey, should we step in before they start fighting, or do we tell the guards or anything?”

David would honestly much rather not have to deal with either inmates in any shape or form, especially since the Trickster was the one who’d previously broken his wrist. Still, he had a job to do, so with a heavy sigh, he started to make his way over to them.

“I hate this fucking show! They keep showing all the cute little animals dying and shit!” Freddy raged, slapping at the remote.

Ji-Woon was holding it as far over his head as he could and trying to push the burned man away with a leg since his other arm was in a sling. Sneering at him, he started taunting him in Korean, which only served to piss him off more.

Marcus could see the discomfort on David’s face and decided it was probably for the best that he step in. Walking up behind the Trickster, he plucked the remote from his fingers and shut off the TV. “Alright, enough. If you two can’t behave, no one gets to watch anything.”

Both of them stopped fighting to turn and glare at him, Ji-Woon arguing, “I have a broken arm! What else am I supposed to do?”

“Play Candy-Land, play checkers, read, nap,” he offered. “Sorry, but if you guys can’t agree on something, you both get nothing.”

“You sound like my mother,” the Trickster scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Only a quarter as hot and not nearly as old,” Freddy added, shaking his head as though he were disappointed.

“Yea- Hey, wait a second… That’s my mom you’re comparing him to, you bald bitch!”

“At least I don’t look like a twelve year old girl who ran out of dye before I could reach my roots!”

Shrieking something in Korean, Ji-Woon threw up his good hand before stalking past them so he could go back to his cell. It was allowed, as long as the door remained open while he was in there and he didn’t try to go into any of the other patients' rooms, so no one tried to stop him.

Once he was gone, the Nightmare turned back to Marcus and David. “So, uh… Can I have the TV now? Triunfo del amor is starting.”

“Ni siquiera hablas Español,” Amanda said loudly, not looking up from her game of checkers.

“Same to you, sweetheart!” he called, waving her off before “She’s madly in love with me, but she’s far too young for my liking. So? Tv?”

Ever so slowly, David gave Marcus a nod, allowing the latter to reluctantly hand the remote back to the Nightmare. Usually, the remote would be confiscated due to their little argument, but neither orderly wanted to deal with Freddy’s gripping for the next two hours. Plus, Amanda would absolutely have their heads if they took away his only means of entertainment and the only thing that kept his attention off of everyone else in the room.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say the Trickster doesn’t like me any better than he did this morning, huh?” Marcus half joked, turning back to David. He jumped almost a foot when he did, startled by the Legion looming in a semi-circle directly behind his friend.

With the object permanence of a toddler, David doesn’t notice at all as his attention had been drawn to his still bandaged wrist. “Honestly, I don’t think he likes anyone. Even Ms Jack has a hard time getting him to listen and- what’s wrong?”

Leaning down so his lips were right next to his ear, Frank whispered, “Boo.”

The scream that David let out could shatter glass. In fact, he practically jumped into Marcus’ arms like his name was Scooby Doo. Fear really does make the human body much more capable of feats that it usually couldn’t do.

Marcus caught David, almost falling over himself in the process as he was startled off balance by the sound.

All four of the Legion had a good laugh, looking far too amused with themselves. As they quieted down, Julie greeted, “Hey, David. You’re not busy, are you?”

David, who was busy clinging to Marcus’s head, only let out a small wheeze as he stared wide eyed at the group. He really looked a lot like a cornered hamster.

“Well, when you’re done…” Frank said slowly, looking a little concerned. “Could you please grab us each a bottle of water or something? I don’t know, the air is extra dry up here or something today, cause we’re all dying over here.”

As if for emphasis, Susie coughed quietly and Marcus squinted at them. They were definitely up to something…

David blinked once, twice, before his brain seemed to finally come back online as he let out a small, “Oh!” and quickly got down from Marcus’ arms. “Yeah sure, I can go do that for you guys.”

“Ah, do you want help with that?” he quickly asked, hoping not to be left alone with the Legion in any capacity.

He shook his head. “It’s okay, the kitchen isn’t that far. I’ll be there and back in, like, ten minutes.”

Turning towards the Legion, he added on, “Hey, I’m sorry for yelling at you guys earlier. I just got frustrated and- I don’t know. I still value you guys as friends, best friends even, but I consider Marcus my friend now too and I-I hope that you guys can be nicer to him.. in the.. future..”

Whatever confidence he had built up was depleted immediately as the Legion simply stood there and stared at him like he was a zoo animal, absolutely fascinated by his, as Ghostface had put it, ‘shiny new exoskeleton’.

With a deep blush and a muttered, “Be right back,” David rushed out of the room like his ass was on fire, leaving Marcus to the mercy of his so-called ‘best friends’.

Before he could even attempt to call after him, Frank was in his face, forcing him back a small step. The others were still flanking him, but had smartly left him with his back to the door. If anyone happened to look up or see them through the cameras, it would simply look like they were talking…

“What is your fucking deal?” Frank demanded, voice cold. “Huh? Who are you and why are you so interested in David?”

“Wha- Marcus?” he answered, but it came out like a question. Grimacing, he tried to sound stern as he said, “You need to calm down and take step-”

“You need to shut up and listen before I beat the shit out of you in the middle of the fucking rec room,” Frank interrupted, eyes intense. They almost looked like they had a thin red ring around the iris, but it was probably just a trick of the light. “We. The Legion. We’re his friends. Not you.”

“This isn’t middle school-” he started to say, but was cut off when Julie stepped closer.

“David is ours, and the sooner you realize that and back the hell off, the better for you,” she told him coldly.

“The sooner you figure out your place here, the safer you’ll be,” Joey told him, smiling as though offering advice from a place of genuine care. The look in his eyes told otherwise…

“David is- He’s my friend, and he’s his own person,” Marcus defended uncomfortably.

“David belongs to the Legion,” Frank hissed, going so far as to jab him in the chest with a finger. “And if you don’t back off, you’re going to belong to the fucking coroner.”

Startled by the sudden escalation, he glanced around the room to see if there was a guard or anyone he could possibly wave over. No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening. Freddy was still planted in front of the TV, Amanda and Caleb were playing checkers, and Ji-Woon hadn’t reappeared after his defeat in the fight for the remote.

Only one pair of eyes were on the current situation, and the owner wasn’t about to help. Head tilting slightly, a small smile played across Ghostface’s mouth as he watched the confrontation unfold.

“Who are you looking for?” Susie asked. “You think someone is going to step in?”

“No one is going to help you in here,” Frank stated, sounding almost amused. “We’re the ones in cuffs, but you’re just as much a prisoner as the rest of us, Red. So, if you want to continue to walk out those doors at the end of your shift each day instead of getting carted out in a body bag, stay the hell away from David. Because I promise you, if he suddenly decides it’s too risky to bring us the shit we ask for, or he suddenly starts telling us ‘no’ when we tell him to do stuff to make our lives a little less monotonous, we’re going to blame you. So… stay away from our shit, or we’ll kill you.”

Although Marcus had absolutely no intention whatsoever of ghosting David or staying away from him, he also fully intended to get out of there alive. Smiling thinly, he said quietly, “Sure, Legion. I’ll see what I can do…”

Before they could decide if he was lying or not, David came stumbling back into the rec room, nearly dropping the armload of items in his hands. He had grabbed water bottles along with a packet of small cookies, two bags of chips, a poptart, and a small zip lock bag with cold bacon.

Wow, he must’ve really felt bad at yelling at the Legion, even if what he did could barely even be considered raising his voice.

“Here, let me help you,” Marcus quickly offered, taking some of the snacks before they could fall and setting them on the nearest table. Pointedly ignoring the seething looks he was getting from the Legion, he added, “That was really sweet, bringing them all these snacks. You’re a good friend.”

Frank looked like he’d just been slapped, but quickly managed a thin smile. Reaching out, he patted David on the shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks, David.”

As the four of them took seats around the small table, Joey called, “Hey, Kruger, want some bacon?”

A middle finger was held up over the back of the couch in way of answer, and the Legion all cracked up.

Rolling his eyes, Marcus gently took David’s arm and led him over to the edge of the room. When he got a worried look, he smiled kindly, explaining, “I think we should give them some space is all. And this way we can watch the room without getting distracted.”

“I guess that makes sense, yeah,” he agreed.

Both of them took a seat on one of the benches pushed up against the wall. From their new position, not only could they see the rest of the inmates in the room, but they could also make sure that no one snuck up behind them.

Trying to smile reassuringly despite the concern for his own and his friends safety, Marcus tried not to let himself get lost in the anxiety churning in his stomach. A part of him really wanted to tell David what had just happened… but he wasn’t sure he should. He didn’t want to hurt him or come across like he was trying to get between him and people he considered friends, even if they were awful to him…

Leaning against the wall, he tried to focus on work. He’d have plenty of time to figure it out after his shift.

~~

Danny watched, not trying to make a secret of it or be subtle. Let them all know he had his eyes on the ginger. He was interesting and that was bound to attract attention. Best to lay a claim on him quickly and loudly, before any of the others got any bright fucking ideas of their own…

Hmmm, the Legion. Promising little psychopaths that they were, they still needed firm guidance from time to time. He and Amanda both agreed they showed a lot of promise, but the current issue was his problem to curb.

Marcus ended up providing him the perfect opportunity to do what he needed when he asked David about the little pokemon sticker on his badge. As the enthusiastic orderly started on one of his seemingly never ending rants about how it was actually slightly inaccurate to the actual character, Ghostface made his way over to where the Legion were finishing up their snacks.

Plopping down into a chair between Frank and Julie, he grinned at the leader. “Hey, kids. Having fun?”

“Oh, hey Ghostface,” Frank greeted, looking a little surprised but grinning back at him anyway. “Want some bacon?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’ll take one of those cookies though,” he accepted, holding out a hand to Susie.

She grumbled quietly but passed one over anyway. He knew she would, as the Legion had an… interesting relationship with Ghostface. He’d been quite shocked when the group had showed up and immediately gravitated to him and Amanda. They knew every bit of media and folklore pertaining not only to Jigsaw and his apprentices, but about Ghostface and his infamous crime spree. They looked at them, especially him, as inspiration for their own blooming criminal lives. That had made it easy to gain an in with the group, and he used it to his advantage. Perhaps they’d grown on him a bit… but he’d never admit it.

Munching on the cookie, he brushed the few remaining crumbs off his shirt before asking, “So, you kids having issues with the new orderly?”

“He’s annoying,” Frank stated without a second of hesitation. “He’s trying to get between David and the Legion, but we’re handling it.”

“Oh? How so?” he purred, voice starting to grow cold.

All four of the Legion paused, slowly setting down their snacks and looking at him.

When none of them answered, he tilted his head to one side. “Well? I asked you kids a question…” All traces of humor were gone but the smile hadn’t left his face.

Clearing his throat, Frank said, “Well, we threatened him… You know? David’s ours. He tries to get between us and we’re gonna’ kill him…”

“Oh? You are?” he asked, leaning forward a bit. Resting his arms on the table, he lowered his voice conspiratorially, ordering, “Come here… Yeah, all of you, lean in a little. There we go, that’s better…”

As soon as all three of them were leaning a bit closer, Ghostface reached over and gripped one of Frank’s hands. Digging his thumb in between the tendons of his index and middle finger, he squeezed until the brunette let out a thin sound of pain.

“Now, you four listen to me,” he said, no longer smiling. Voice as cold as his eyes, he explained in a low voice, “That ginger? Marcus? He’s mine. You touch him again and I’ll do a lot more than dislocate your finger.”

Before any of them could react, there was a quiet click and Frank whimpered through gritted teeth. His hand was let go and he quickly pulled it into his lap.

“You all don’t need to worry about him getting between you and your pet. Okay? He’s going to be too busy with me to worry about how you chose to treat your little… project,” Ghostface promised, one again smiling warmly at the group. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, Ghostface,” all of them agreed.

“Good to know we’re all on the same page,” he beamed, rising. Snagging a cookie as he walked away, he shot the ginger a wink as he walked past.

Yes… It was much better to make sure they all knew… Marcus belonged to him…
~~~~

Notes:

Reminder: Whispers of Insanity is going on hiatus but will return to regular updates June 14th!

Chapter 10: A Harley Quinn Kind of Situation…

Summary:

Marcus reads up on one of Ghostface's more harmful incidents and several interesting things come to light...

Incident Report:
Involved parties – Danny ‘The Ghostface’ Johnson /// Emily Duran
Outcome – Unconfirmed means of death on property ; Suspected suicide

First incident: Nurse Duran reported an interaction with Ghostface. She is quoted as follows: ‘It was odd. He seemed to be seeking any opportunity for us to touch one another. A quick brush of our hands, long, lingering stares, a smile here and there before looking away as though he were trying to work up the courage to say something.’ End of first incident.

Second incident: Nurse Duran reports that Ghostface ‘invited her to spend some time with him in the rec room’. Other orderlies state she was reluctant but after being asked again, sat with the patient and talked. Conversation was too quiet for others to hear and Nurse Duran had nothing to report when questioned by higher ups.

Third incident: It has been six months since a reported incident has occurred between Nurse Duran and Ghostface, but today a guard reported seeing what he believed was ‘inappropriate physical contact between Nurse Duran and Ghostface’.

Marcus frowned, squinting at the page he was reading. Inappropriate physical contact? That could be anything from holding hands to locking lips, but the report didn’t go into any more details than that…

King rolled over in his sleep, snoring louder as he flung an arm over his eyes in the dark. At least someone was asleep… Quentin had also passed out, phone on his chest and shoes still on. He’d sworn he wasn’t the least bit tired, but Marcus was sure he hadn’t seen him sleep for the past two days so he wasn’t really all that shocked that he’d passed out within ten minutes of laying on his bed. He wasn’t sure where Eli was, but he wasn’t worried. He kept odd hours, even compared to the rest of them with their insane work schedules.

Doing his best to tune out the sound of his roommates snoring, he went back to reading.

Fourth incident: After several weeks of seemingly professional behavior, Nurse Duran was reported to have been caught sneaking in contraband. She claimed it was for herself, but there is suspicion that it was intended for Ghostface.

Fifth incident: Ghostface became violent to the point of needing to be fully sedated and restrained after witnessing a male guard initiate physical contact with Nurse Duran. The patient was later recorded as saying, ‘Anyone who touches my things is going to get the same treatment’. Nurse Duran has once again been advised to keep a distance from the patient.

Sixth incident: Several very strange, threatening letters have been discovered in Ghostface’s cell. None of them name a specific person or employee, but it leads to strong beliefs that the patient is experiencing grand delusions of becoming intimate with an employee of Crotus Prenn and has more than likely shared this intent with his target. It is strongly believed to be Nurse Duran, but without concrete evidence, we can do nothing about it. She has rejected a second offer of transfer and has yet to give legal cause to terminate her employment.

The door to their shared room opened and Marcus lowered the file to see Eli shuffling in. He looked exhausted, but his expression quickly became one of surprise when he saw the ginger was still awake.

“Hey, what are you still doing–” he paused, eyes narrowing as he fought to see through the dark and make out what Marcus was reading. Eyes widening again, he warned, “You might want to put that away and finish it in the morning. You’re gonna have nightmares if you read that right now.”

“Ah, it’s… It’s not that bad,” he argued half heartedly. It was starting to get pretty bad, but it wasn’t anything nightmare inducing… He hoped. “How are you doing? You were at work really late.”

“My, ah… special patient got a little rowdy today so I spent some extra time with him after my shift was over,” Eli explained vaguely. Appearing a little unsteady on his feet as he made his way towards the bathroom, he added, “You should get some sleep. It’s late.”

“I will…” Marcus promised, trailing off as he caught sight of his roommate when he flicked on the bathroom lights. Large, dark bruises were covering his wrists and even parts of his forearms and biceps. Although mostly covered by his collar, he also appeared to have bite marks on his neck!

He really wanted to ask if ‘his patient’ had done all that, but decided against it. It really wasn’t his place, and he doubted Eli would appreciate him prying. If he wanted to share, he would. The bathroom door closed a second later and he sighed. He really should try and sleep… but he wanted to keep reading. Jack had emphasized how important it was that he read through that particular file, and he didn’t want to risk not having time later.

Final incident: Nurse Duran has been observed displaying more and more erratic behavior over the past several months. After many strange instances of footage going missing or becoming corrupted during times when she was found to be missing from her regularly assigned areas and duties, she was to be reassigned to a different floor pending a full investigation and forced transfer. Ghostface has since showed a complete lack of interest in Nurse Duran, an odd 180 in his behavior over the past year. Nurse Duran had to be forcefully removed from the rec room today after she began shouting unprovoked at Ghostface. He did not seem to react beyond smiling at her.

Discovery of death: Nurse Duran was found hanged to death in a level two janitor’s closet. A ten foot extension cord was tied to an exposed hot water pipe before being wrapped twice around her neck, suspending her approximately a foot off the ground. Signs of a struggle were noted, but it is unclear if it was caused by a fight, or by Nurse Duran during the hanging.

Summary of findings: It can only be assumed Nurse Duran killed herself after being led on and finally rejected by Ghostface. With no living relatives, her body has been cremated and the ashes interred on the grounds. Multiple department heads have recommended moving Ghostface down to level two to reduce interaction with low clearance staff. After careful consideration, the decision has been finalized to leave Ghostface at his current designated threat level. Staff are to be trained more thoroughly in the future in an attempt to reduce the chances of more incidents.

Closing the file, Marcus set it aside with a renewed sense of apprehension. Sure, they’d chalked it up to suicide, but was it really? Why didn’t the file go into specifics about what signs of a struggle were present? Had the nurse in question had defensive wounds, or was there only damage to the surrounding area? Who or what was on level two that could have contributed to her death? Had Ghostface actually killed her, or had she killed herself because of him?

Rolling over, he did his best to put the questions from his mind. One way or another, it looked like Ghostface would indeed lose interest in him. Hopefully it wouldn’t take almost two years, but if he was careful not to play into his weird fantasies or whatever the hell he was trying to pull, he would lose interest faster… Right?

With that less than comforting thought, Marcus managed to fall into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued by piles and piles of unreadable paperwork whose ink would run and smudge every time he tried to pick it up. When he finally gave up on that, he found himself in a long hallway full of closets hiding faceless bodies.

Morning came all too soon, and he dragged himself out of bed feeling no more rested than he had when he’d crawled under the covers. As usual, King hopped out of bed with the energy and enthusiasm of a person who’d actually slept well. Asshole…

Quentin was in a much better state than Marcus, but Eli was also barely scraping by. Although he was visibly covered in bruises and hickies, he made no effort to hide them beyond what his regular scrubs covered up. No one seemed to question it or even look twice, leaving the ginger to wonder if it was a normal occurrence.

Meeting up with David as they waited for the bus, Marcus waved at him. “Hey, how are you doing this fine, frosty morning?”

He’d thought he knew what cold was, having lived in a few snowy states in his life. Nothing could have prepared him for Alaska…

David looked comfortable enough, but the bags under his eyes told a different story. He was bundled up under a thick parka, a large beanie pulled down over his ears, and a scarf that covered his face till only his tired, reflective eyes stared back at Marcus under the barrier of warmth he had built. “I bought- I bought a new game and stayed up too late… I didn’t realize that it was morning already…”

Eli had to stifle a tired laugh as he asked, “Dude, did you sleep at all?”

The only response he got back was the horrible sound that one would only describe as a full blown mutant zombie. Poor David looked like he was about to tip over and fall asleep in the snow.

“Sleep is for the weak!” Quentin declared, watching the bus pull up alongside the curb.

The door opened, and someone Marcus didn’t know greeted them before he could point out that Quentin had gotten plenty of sleep that night.

“Hey, sorry everyone. I hope you weren’t waiting in the cold for too long.”

“You’re good, Adam,” King answered, stepping inside. “You’re only a couple of minutes behind.”

“I nearly froze to death,” Eli joked. “Look, I think I actually shrunk a couple of inches from the cold.”

“Shrink much further and we’ll start losing you in snow banks,” King laughed, making his way to the middle of the bus to sit.

“At least I don’t have to duck to go under door frames,” he shot back. He was doing his best to sound serious, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile.

“That was one door, one time,” the guard huffed.

“Why the delay?” Quentin asked, sitting a bit closer to Adam so they could talk.

“Ah, the heater went out again so Yui had to do a quick fix on the wires. It’ll go in for maintenance tonight, so be prepared to wait longer for pick up,” Adam explained. “We’re going to have to use the van for a night. Maybe longer.”

There were quite a few groans from the other passengers, but he waved them off. “Tell it to Wesker! He makes the budget decisions, not me!”

David and Marcus finally made it onto the bus, and Adam closed the door behind them.

“Oh, hey, you must be the newbie that transferred in,” he realized, smiling at the ginger. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“It’s all lies, I assure you,” he joked, before holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Adam. I’m Marcus.”

“You’re a nurse?” Adam asked curiously. “Or something else? Most people don’t get transferred in so quickly, so we must have needed you pretty bad.”

“Ahh… No, I’m an orderly,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what I did to get moved out here so fast, but here I am.”

“Fair enough,” the driver agreed. “Alright, everyone take a seat so we can get a move on. Class– Sorry… I used to be a high school math teacher. Did a little bus driving before and some habits are hard to shake.”

Laughing, Marcus made his way down the row and took a seat beside David. Once he was sure the poor guy was still breathing, he asked, “Hey, did Ghostface ever ask for crayons or anything yesterday?”

After rec time, he’d hardly seen or even had to interact with him for the rest of his shift. At dinner, David had been the one to pass him his tray, while Marcus took the other side of the hall.

Having been shaken out of his micro nap, it took him a while to realize where he was and who he was with. When his brain rebooted enough to register the question asked to him, David sighed and said, “No, he never did. And you never brought him any either when you gave him that notebook. So if you didn’t give him any and I didn’t give him any, then he’s probably doing something super suspicious with it.”

“Ah… Like… like what?” Marcus asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

Sinking down more in his puffy jacket, David’s voice came out muffled, “Probably writing with his blood or something. Ms Amanda did that the first week she was here, I read it in her file. Something about extreme psychosis and needing to send a message. That was the one time this place actually did its job and helped her.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. “Well… I guess we’ll find out when we get to work.”

In the end, the pair reported their concerns to Jack. Agreeing that it was odd, she had them do a room sweep during lunch and they found the notebook sitting on Ghostface’s bed, untouched. No pages were missing, marked, torn, or even crinkled. It was very strange to say the least, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t request something to write with later on…

~~
Two Weeks Later
~~

Nothing else really happened in the days following Ghostface asking for the notebook. He hadn’t asked for a single crayon, charcoal, or other writing utensil. He hadn’t said more than a few words to Marcus whenever they interacted, taking his medicine and breakfast or dinner with a simple, ‘Thanks, Doc,’ and nothing more.

It was strange, but kind of a relief for the ginger. The lack of dangerous attention from a patient allowed him to focus on his job and his new friendships. He found his roommates easy enough to get along with and most of his coworkers were pretty cool. David was a lot of fun to work with, and he knew a lot more than he gave himself credit for, often reminding Marcus of small, easily forgotten details and rules they needed to follow like they were second nature.

Since Ghostface finally seemed a bit more relaxed about there being a new person in his day to day routine, Marcus also took the opportunity to try and start making amends with the Legion for his day one blunder. He still didn’t like the way they tended to talk to David, but he kept his mouth shut since he’d begun being more firm with them when they got out of hand. At least they weren’t his only ‘friends’ anymore…

It wasn’t until one morning that something changed. It started off well enough, with all but one of the patients taking their pills and breakfast trays without a fuss. He didn’t so much make a fuss as he did say something slightly alarming.

“Good morning, Doc. Small… other orderly,” he started off, just like most every morning for the past fourteen days. With a sly smile, he looked Marcus dead in the eyes as he asked, “It’s almost time now, isn’t it Doc?”

Pausing for a moment, he frowned, before instinctively asking, “Time for what?”

The sudden change in Ghostface’s entire body was jarring. Instead of a comfortable, relaxed half lean in the doorway, he was suddenly ridged from head to toe, attentive and sharp like a hunting dog that had just caught a scent. Eyes positively gleaming as he smiled, he purred, “Ah, there’s my sweet, curious baby boy.”

Marcus almost dropped Ghostface’s breakfast tray, cheeks flushing at the strange comment. “Um, what– Nevermind. It’s not- Don’t do that.”

Oh, Ghostface looked like he’d won the lottery as he downed his morning pills with a gulp of water. Reaching out with both hands, he brushed very purposely against Marcus’s fingers, lingering for a moment before taking the tray from him. Stepping back with a wink, he didn’t look away until the cell door was closed between them.

Marcus continued to stare at the closed door, unable to snap himself out of it. What the absolute hell… Wasn’t… wasn’t that practically what he’d done to Nurse Duran?!

Meanwhile, David, who had spent the last two weeks slowly growing more of his new exoskeleton, made a face as soon as the cell door had shut. “‘Small, other orderly’? I’ve been here for years! And I’m not that small!”

He was, indeed, very small. He was shorter than Eli…

Blinking several times, Marcus shook his head. “Um… I… Ah, yeah, sure. What? What are we doing?”

Christ, he needed to focus! It was one comment in two weeks. It was nothing! It meant nothing. It was just like the Nightmare and his awful dad jokes. It was just a means of entertainment, nothing more…

Still, he found himself asking, “Should we… tell Jack about what just happened?”

“Absolutely.” David said without hesitation. “Silence for two weeks then suddenly being all creepy again? It’s, like, textbook manipulation or something.”

He spared a glance up at Marcus and squinted at the flustered look on his face. “Hey, are you okay?”

Laughing a little too forcefully, he said too quickly, “I’m fine! I’m- I’m good. You’re right. It’s gotta be something. Let’s get moving.”

Although he looked skeptical of Marcus’s assurance, David decided that he wouldn’t pry and gave his fellow orderly a slow nod as they both took the empty cart back towards the kitchen. “So, like I was saying, the newest update absolutely sucks. They pushed it out way too early and you can clearly tell it was a rush job cause there were so many bugs. People couldn’t even open up the game itself, it was so bad, and-“

David continued on his rant about the latest video game he had started to play, having spent the last hour or so lamenting to Marcus about the bad quality of it. He found it easy to talk to him. Marcus never interrupted him and actually looked interested in what he had to say, even asking occasionally questions that would let him further expand on points, which just proved to David that he was actually listening. Marcus was one of the best friends he had ever made.

On the other hand, Marcus genuinely liked listening to David’s wild tangents, even when they were about games he’d never played or had no interest in. It was clearly something he enjoyed and getting him talking with so much enthusiasm and passion about his interests seemed like a great way to get him out of his shell more. It was also a great distraction, which the ginger seriously needed at the moment.

Returning the cart to the kitchen, they were about to turn and leave to go find Jack when something strange caught Marcus’s eye. Looking over, he did a double take before asking incredulously, “Is that… Is that famous actor Nicolas Cage?!”

A few yards away, one of the kitchen staff was busy reading a long task chart meant for new employees. There was always a lot to do in the kitchen, even if they weren’t cooking. Still, he looked exactly like Nicolas Cage…

David briefly glanced in the direction that Marcus was pointing, immediately doing a double take when he noticed the man too. “Holy shit, is that famous actor Nicholas Cage?!”

“That’s what I just said!” he exclaimed, already making his way over to the man. Once he was close enough, he cleared his throat before asking, “Excuse me, sir? Um, this- this is going to sound weird, but are you famous actor Nicolas Cage?”

He looked up from the chart, blinking a couple of times before saying, “Oh, no… I’m not famous action star, actor, and director, Nic Cage. I’m Brandon. See?”

Marcus squinted at the badge pinned to the front of his scrubs. It did indeed say Brandon… but that was absolutely a picture of someone else… Looking at the man's face again, he said slowly, “Are you… sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” not-Nic-Cage assured, before reaching out and patting his shoulder. “Have a great day… Marcus.”

Glancing down, he double checked to make sure his badge wasn’t about to be stolen. Confident it was still there, he looked up, another question already on his mind, only to find supposedly not famous actor Nicolas Cage was no longer there.

“Wait, where did he go?” Marcus questioned, no longer able to spot him amongst the bustling kitchen staff.

David, who had gotten distracted by a passing group of staff members who had blocked his view of the whole situation, finally made his way over to Marcus. “So was that him? Did you get his autograph?”

Left entirely bewildered and more than a little confused by the encounter, Marcus shook his head. “I have… no idea. Um, let’s just go find Jack and let her know about the thing with Ghostface.”

For some inexplicable reason, he could feel himself blushing as he said his name. Why in god’s name was he blushing?! Ghostface should not be paying attention to him and he shouldn’t be feeling any kind of way about it except worried!

And yet, it was the only thing that raced through his mind as both of them made their way down the winding hallways towards where Jack’s office was. Marcus couldn’t help but replay the moment that Ghostface touched his hand over and over again, only being pulled out of his thoughts when David knocked on the closed office door.

After a moment, the pair received a tired “Come in,” from the other side.

The room looked exactly the same as Marcus remembered it from when he was there to give his incident report two weeks ago. Jack looked up from her laptop, giving both of them a curious look as they took their seats in front of her desk. “Is everything alright?”

Not wanting to dance around it or make it sound more dramatic than it was, Marcus explained openly, “Ghostface is at it again. He made a… comment at breakfast that was a little weird. And he got kind of touchy? Ish?”

The more Marcus explained, the more Jack looked like someone had just pissed in her cereal.

When he was finished, she asked, “Is that so? And here I thought that he was finally calming down. Marcus, as I’m sure you’ve read the files, I would like to ask you the same thing I’ve asked the others: Do you want to get transferred to a different location?”

“No, not at all,” he answered immediately. Wincing slightly, he worried that he may have come across sounding a little too eager to stay, and given what he’d read about Ghostface’s previous victims picked from the asylum staff, he hoped explaining himself a bit better may assuage any fears Jack may have. “See, I would, but I can’t afford to take a pay cut. My goal is to pay off my current school loan debts, then go back to school to become a certified veterinarian… As bad as it sounds, I… I never actually meant to get into human medicine…”

Jack grimaced, saying simply, “I see…”

Although she’d prefer it to not be true, Crotus Prenn did pay much higher than the other facilities owned by the CEO, mostly due to how high risk the job was. There was also location to keep in mind, as well as relocation expenses…

“Well, the choice is ultimately up to you. For now, I’d like the both of you to have minimal contact with the patients,” she decided. “Try to have a guard or two with you whenever you have to interact with them face to face. It may be overboard but it’s still a precaution that I’d like to implement permanently.”

She rolled her eyes. “One that the CEO would disagree on, as he claims we don’t have enough staff for that. Which we absolutely do, he’s just lazy.”

Hoping it wasn’t too out of his lane considering how new he still was to everything, Marcus dared ask, “Why is he so hands on when he clearly doesn’t understand how day to day operations actually work? I know a lot of places are like that, but this isn’t exactly retail or fast food. Isn’t he worried that the decisions he makes could lead to injuries or even deaths?”

“Because he’s a control freak with nothing better to do,” Leon’s voice answered, and both Marcus and David jumped.

Smiling apologetically as he closed the office door behind him, the guard captain added, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare anyone. Is everything okay?”

Marcus was a little curious as to why Leon always seemed to be hanging around Jack’s office, but chalked it up to them both being the heads of their respective departments. Considering what’d he’d seen of Wesker’s managerial approach, it made sense that they’d be around one another pretty often with the amount of work they had to do.

As Jack caught Leon up to speed, David leaned in closer to Marcus and whispered, “I’ve actually only seen the CEO, like, four times since I’ve started working here. He doesn’t really like to show up in person.”

“I’m not really surprised,” he admitted. “I mean, why would he?”

As if to prove them both wrong, the office door opened behind them and the CEO himself stepped into the office. Maybe it was like Beetlejuice and saying his name too many times had summoned him…

Raising an eyebrow at the pair of orderlies, Wesker looked up to Jack and Leon. The guard captain looked more than a little surprised and… worried? Was it just Marcus’s imagination, or did Leon look worried?

“Albert-” he cleared his throat, standing a bit straighter as he greeted, “Sorry, Wesker. Sir. I- We weren’t expecting you today.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I know my visit is a bit out of the blue,” he dismissed.

Marcus made a small wheezing sound, unable to help it as he whipped around to stare at Leon. Darling?! Darling?! Were he and Wesker– Oh… Oh, god… That was why everyone was so shocked that Wesker had driven him up there himself when Leon was the only other person he’d done that for! Oh, ew, did everyone think he was the CEO’s side piece or something?

Leon didn’t look the slightest bit relaxed, but a small smile was forced across his lips as he asked, “Is everything alright? You don’t… normally show up like this.”

“Oh, everything is fine on my end,” Wesker stated, looking at Jack with a slightly annoyed expression. “I actually came to speak with you… I thought I told you not to bother with any more incident reports regarding Ghostface. What’s this?”

Marcus wasn’t sure what part of that shocked and worried him more, and before he could stop and think it over he heard himself asking, “Why wouldn’t you want incident reports? It seems like Ghostface is one of your biggest problem patients.”

The looks on Jack, Leon, and David’s faces had him regretting speaking. The look on Wesker’s face had him regretting ever being born.

“Marcus… are you somehow under the impression that this is a mental health clinic?” he asked coldly.

When Leon started to try and say something, Wesker held up a hand, silencing him. “I asked you a question. I expect you to answer it.”

“Um, k-kind of?” Marcus offered quietly. It was technically a mental health clinic, right?

“Wrong,” Wesker snapped. “This isn’t some willing retreat for anyone to volunteer themselves into. These men and women were sent here for committing crimes deemed too vile, cruel, and evil to be devised by any sane mind. They will not get time off for good behavior. They will not be let out on compassionate release. They will not be cured. They will live out the remainder of their lives here and in the end, they will die here. Your transfer to Crotus Prenn was not based on your schooling, skills, or work history. It wasn’t a favor, so don’t consider yourself lucky. There isn’t a point in continually filing incident reports on a man who will not change nor break from pattern. We have more than enough reports already detailing that little fact.”

Staring at his feet, Marcus nodded. “R-right. Sorry, sir.”

“Now… Why are the two of you here? There’s no need to report relationships to your team leaders, the company takes no part in personal affairs.”

It took David a while to process the implications of Wesker’s question as he was still reeling from the literal CEO basically telling them that he didn’t care about Marcus’ patient incidents. “W-Wait, what? We’re not dating-!”

“Albert Wesker.”

David immediately shut his trap as he and Marcus watched with wide eyes as Jack slowly stood up from her seat, daggers in her eyes.

“I understand that you may find the reports unimportant but I do. Continual documentation of any and all altercations, no matter how menial they may be, is paramount to future staff training. I want my team to have a fighting chance against any of the patients residing here. And considering you don’t do any of the training, I’d say that you don’t have a say in what I want my staff to do.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes with a scowl. “I won’t be furthering any of the reports to you but I won’t be stopping anyone from filing the reports to me, no matter which patient it came from.”

When Wesker finally opened his mouth again, Marcus was absolutely certain the next words out would be ‘you’re fired’. To his shock, no one lost their jobs.

“I see. Well, if you feel you can handle the extra workload, so be it. Now, Marcus…”

He did his best not to flinch when the CEO turned to look at him again. “Since it’s clearly very important that you receive all applicable training, have you conducted a room check yet?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered. He’d done exactly one and none of the cells had held anything they weren’t supposed to.

“Good. Then since you seem to think it’s appropriate to take time out of all three of your work days, you and Emory can go conduct a room check while the inmates are at lunch to make sure that the incident was indeed worth reporting.”

Both orderlies nodded and quickly stood up from their chairs. Bidding Jack and Leon farewell, they practically sprinted out of the office, not slowing down until they were at least two halls away. Only then did David finally speak up. “What the actual fuck just happened?”

Leaning against the wall with a hand over his pounding heart, Marcus shook his head. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but Jesus fucking Christ! I thought Jack was going to get fired! I thought I was going to get fired! And! And! Oh my god! Why has no one told me Leon, the captain of the fucking guards, is dating the CEO?! They are dating, right?! Are they married?! Does everyone think I was brought in as the CEO’s sidepiece?!”

“You were brought in as the CEO’s what?”

Marcus let out a startled scream, nearly climbing the wall as Ripley crossed her arms, eyebrows raised in a slightly concerned expression.

Even David looked horrified at this supposed new revelation. “You were brought in as the CEO’s sidepiece?!”

“No!” Marcus shrieked, and Ripley nodded slowly.

“Okay, both of you take a deep breath… David, not that deep you’re going to pass out.”

Too late, he was already curled into the fetal position on the ground and hyperventilating. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you were brought in as the CEO’s sidepiece and now he thinks we’re dating. Am I gonna get fired?! Is he gonna tell my dad?! I don’t want to be a homewrecker!”

Having actually listened to Ripley and taken a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, Marcus managed to get out, “No, no, I wasn’t, and I’m pretty sure Wesker would fire me long before he’d even consider screwing me. I’m just concerned that’s how it looks to everyone here! Why hasn’t anyone told me he and Leon are a thing?”

“Wait, you didn’t know that?” Ripley asked, sounding surprised. “Honestly, you should consider yourself lucky you weren’t here for all of that. It was a mess.”

”Since when was Leon and the CEO a thing too?!”

“That’s the only thing! We don’t have a thing!” Marcus practically wailed, oblivious to the strange, mostly concerned looks they were starting to get from other staff members. “There’s no ‘thing’ with me! With anyone!”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ripley sighed. “I can’t believe you two have survived this long… Okay, Emory, off the floor. Come on.”

Reaching down, she pulled him upright by the back of his collar and set him on his feet. That was enough to at least get Marcus to quiet down, and he cleared his throat. Oh dear god, that had been… embarrassing. At least the attractive and slightly terrifying security guard didn’t think he had a ‘thing’ with Wesker… Or anyone else for that matter.

“Now that you’re calm, can one of you tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

The answer she received barely made sense as David was still trying to process everything himself. It took a good ten minutes for Ripley to get the proper story out of him with Marcus filling in bits and pieces along the way.

“-and then he told us to do a room check and we ran away and bumped into you and now we have to do room checks and why did no one tell me the CEO and Leon were a thing?!”

“Leon and Wesker have been a thing since before the rookie got hired,” she stated, sounding cold and annoyed. Sighing, she shook her head. “Even if he didn’t know it yet… I don’t blame Leon. He’s competent, capable, and he puts everyone’s safety first. Captain was a lot to dump on his lap so quickly, and he’s made the best of it, but we all know he wasn’t ready for it.”

“Why take the job if he wasn’t ready for it?” Marcus asked, curious as well as worried. That kind of hiring practice was only going to put the staff and patients in danger…

“Because he wasn’t hired as captain of the guard right away,” Ripley explained, waving them along as she started down the hall. “He came in at the bottom of the ladder, just like we all do, but he started getting promoted faster and faster, until Bill was forced to ‘retire’ and Leon was made to take his place.”

“Yikes,” Marcus murmured, stopping outside the door to the cell block. “Hey, I know all the patients are at lunch right now, but do you mind staying with us while we do the room checks? Jack wants us to start having a guard with us when we interact with the patients due to… Ghostface. And Wesker, honestly…”

“You’re fine,” she told him, smiling knowingly. “With the state you two are in, I wouldn’t be going into their cells without backup either.”

“That’s how I got stabbed once. Ms Amanda wasn’t in a good mood and I went in without backup,” David added, surprisingly calm for the story he was relaying. “Did you know that her nails are crazy pointy?”

“Well, I do now,” Marcus agreed. “Should we split up, or do this two to a cell?”

“We can split up to make it go faster.” David pointed to one side of the hallway where the Legion’s cell rested. “I’ll take this side and you take that side. If we find anything, we can let Ms Ripley know.”

“Sounds good,” Marcus agreed, heading down to the end of the hallway. He wasn’t putting off going into Ghostface's cell again even though he wasn’t there, no! He’d never do something like that! He was just… concerned that maybe since Ji-Woon had a broken arm that his cell would be dirty and janitorial could use the extra help! That was all!

Badging into the Trickster’s cell, he wasn’t terribly surprised to see the bed mostly unmade. The thin, flimsy sheet was half pulled up over the mattress as though someone had made a half hearted attempt to make it look… better. Kind of.

Pulling the sheep up and shaking it out, Marcus found nothing of interest. Lifting the mattress up, he grimaced as a stash of nearly thirty ‘fun size’ snickers wrappers scattered across the cell floor. Where the hell was he even getting those?!

Scooping up all the wrappers, Marcus kept hold of them as he checked the rest of the cell. No contraband in the small desk or dresser, the toilet tank or behind it either. He’d have to let Jack know so they could start checking the Trickster’s arm sling. God, he hoped that was where he was hiding them…

Dumping the trash, he moved to Amanda’s cell to check it out. Her bed was made properly and he felt a little bad for stripping it, but it had to be done. Thankfully, there was nothing there, so he remade the bed as best he could before checking the dresser, desk, and bathroom area. Glancing up at the camera in the corner, he shuddered. To have absolutely no privacy at any point in time must be awful.

Stepping out of Amanda’s cell, he glanced over to see David heading into the Legion’s room. Jesus Christ, it looked like they’d taken all the mattresses off the beds and made a nest on the floor! Maybe he should go help dig through it… Ghostface’s cell could wait…

“Hey, David, um… do you want some help with that?” he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

“No, it’s okay.” David grunted, trying his best to wrangle apart two of the bed sheets that got tangled together. “I got- I got it. I checked the other cells already so lemme’ just finish this then we’re good to go.”

“Hooray,” Marcus mumbled, shuffling past the empty cell between Ghostface and Amanda’s. He’d asked about it after his first few days, and Jack had explained that there was always a chance they’d need the extra rooms. There were other cell blocks around the first floor, but for the time being all of them were empty.

After the recent conversation with the CEO and his lovely comment about how the patients weren’t there to be cured and sent home, it made sense that they’d need open cells now and again. It wasn’t like any of the occupied cells would be clearing out…

Making his way to Ghostface’s cell, he took a steadying breath before scanning his badge to open the door. At first glance, the room looked shockingly immaculate. Admittedly, Marcus hadn’t really noticed before, too busy trying to keep track of the patient's hands to even glance past him into the room.

But looking at it then? Holy. Shit. Ghostface had managed to get the bedsheet so straight and tight over the mattress it looked like it had been sewed down. Ugh, he really didn’t want the man to know he’d been in there… Then again, he’d have no way of knowing it was him unless someone told him, but it didn’t seem like anyone would, so it should be fine…

It was a bit of a struggle with how tightly everything was tucked in, Marcus managed to pull the bedsheet back to check underneath it, then lifted the mattress to do the same. Nothing. Not even lint.

A cursory glance at the bathroom and dresser offered more of the same. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not so much as a spec of dirt or trash…

Marcus was about to look in the dresser when something on the desk caught his eye instead. The notebook Ghostface had asked for was sitting right out in the open, but with some obvious changes. He could tell just by looking at it that several pages had been torn out. The question was, where were they?

Almost hesitantly, as if he were searching for an escaped poisonous reptile and not some missing papers, he pulled the small drawer open. The papers were inside, all covered with the same flowing handwriting. Sitting on top of the pages… was a pen.

…

Richards pen.
~~~~

Notes:

Welcome back, everyone! Ya'll ready to dive back into the insanity? >;)

Chapter 11: The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Summary:

Marcus takes a closer look at the papers in Ghostface's cell. He probably shouldn't have...

At first glance, a pen is such a simple tool. A good pen can be hard to find and even harder to keep, but for some reason, Marcus found himself unable to take the pen sitting on the desk before him. It was technically his, right? He’d appropriated it from his old boss fair and square! Sure, he’d noticed it was missing shortly after his first day, but he’d assumed either one of his roommates had taken it without knowing who’s it was, or that he’d left it somewhere and it had been picked up by another staff member, never to be seen again…

But no. There it was. Sitting on Ghostface’s desk.

Oh dear god, it was technically his pen! He could get in trouble if it was found on a patient or in one of their cells!

Glancing over his shoulder to be sure neither David or Ripley were about to walk in, he reached down to grab it when something new caught his eye. On one of the pages scattered across the desk… was his name…

Why was his name on a paper in Ghostface’s room? That had to be bad, right? Fingers trembling, he reached down and picked up the page.

In Ghostface’s flowing handwriting was the following short message.

This new orderly has been dancing through my mind more and more as of late. It’s hard to keep my thoughts from turning to Marcus, although I’m unsure why. Perhaps it’s the front he puts up, so desperate to hold on to control in an environment in which he has none. Control in and of itself is a beautiful illusion to those who have none; a safetynet that allows them to continue blindly into danger under the impression that should they slip, they won’t break every fragile bone in their body on the way down. To those who have control, it’s like a snake, eager to turn back and bite the hand holding it so tightly. The things they chose to use their power for, the decisions they make, the way they exert their will over others is what dictates just how far the venom will travel when the fangs go in. Too many times people assume the snake is harmless. Their control absolute. They see the snake and think it’s a king, when really, it’s coral. Red and yellow harms a fellow… And there I go again, seeing the color red. Once more, my thoughts become consumed. I suppose I should do something about him.

Marcus reread the last line three times before slowly putting the page back where he found it. Exactly where he found it! No need for Ghostface to know he saw it…

Looking back at the bed that he’d half assed putting back together, he swallowed thickly. Yeah… He was gonna know someone had been through his shit…

He knew he should confiscate all the pages scattered across the desk and possibly the notebook as well. The pen was absolutely not something Ghostface should have, but some part of Marcus was still incredibly hesitant to take it back.

Deciding to leave the papers and notebook and only take the pen, Marcus once again stopped when he spotted one page that was different from the rest. Instead of the smooth, unhurried writing scrawled across the others, that one looked almost rushed; it was if Ghostface had such an important idea he needed to get it on paper before it was gone or he was interrupted.

Despite his better judgment, Marcus picked it up to read.

Such a beautiful color as it seeps between my fingers. Red. Always red against black leather. Or pale flesh, if one is lucky. When I see it, my ribs become a cage.

The smell is something so precious. Copper and metal in my nose, heat on my tongue. I can only imagine the taste of it now. It’s almost like an aphrodisiac spreading through me, a teasing precursor to the all consuming fire that follows. The burn must not be rushed.

The sound. A spray at first if the cut is right, followed by a gentle pitter patter as the heart slows down. My heart doesn’t slow, but beats faster. I listen, and watch, until the scene is over. Do not look away. Are you still watching? Don’t worry. I’m watching.

The design must come together to paint a beautiful picture in red. Red. Always red. And when I see him standing there, already bathed in red despite my hands not yet being stained, I know. I can see the design already. Beautiful.

A design so special must come to me. It cannot be forced. I must be patient. It will come to me. Soon, my hands will once again feel that red, hot warmth. And you. You will feel the cold bite that comes before, but I don’t think that’s all I’ll share with you. Not this time.

For you, Doc… I have something truly special in mind.

Marcus couldn’t stifle the shocked sound that left him as he read the last line. It came out a lot louder than he realized, as David’s voice called to him from across the hall.

“Marcus? Marcus, are you okay? Marcus?”

Shoving the page into his scrubs before he could think twice, Marcus spun around. Heart beating a mile a minute, he scooped up the rest of the papers and the pen and dumped them into the desk before spinning around again. Trying to walk normally and not run like his ass was on fire, he poked his head out of the cell with a forced grin.

“Sorry! Sorry, yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he lied.

Ripley didn’t look too convinced, asking, “Are you sure?”

“I just… tripped and banged my hip into the desk. Probably going to have a weird bruise now, but hey, at least I’ll know where it came from,” he fibbed, desperately hoping they’d both believe him.

Even David didn’t look at all convinced. He gave Marcus a long stare, almost as if he planned to ask the fellow orderly later on about his strange behavior. For the time being, he simply asked, “Did you find anything? The other rooms are all clean.”

Clearing his throat, the ginger tried to smile reassuringly. It came across as a grimace instead, and he sighed. God, he hated doing it, but he really didn’t want to have a transfer forced on him if he came forward with his actual findings.

“Okay, it wasn’t my hip,” he lied, face slightly red. “I bent over and jammed myself in the dick. I didn’t want to say anything because it’s kind of inappropriate.”

Ripley looked like she was trying not to laugh, but at least she no longer looked suspicious.

Wincing, David quickly dropped the subject too, not wanting to draw attention to what he assumed was a sensitive injury. “Then we should probably go let someone know that the rooms are all clean and we should be good to go on our lunch.”

Right… All clean and good to go…

Offering a thin lipped smile, Marcus nodded before silently following after him and Ripley. Jesus fucking Christ what had he just done? What had he been thinking?! It was so obvious Ghostface’s weird, murderous ramblings were in fact about him! He’d even used his special little pet name for him! Unless there was someone else he called ‘Doc’, but he seriously doubted that was the case! He should tell someone. Jack! He could tell her! But what if she decided to push a transfer on him regardless? He didn’t want to transfer! Well… Not until he had the money to do what he wanted, then he’d gladly say goodbye to Crotus Prenn and its ‘patients’.

Lost in thought, he almost walked right into Ripley’s back when she paused just inside the breakroom. It was a fairly large area, and for once, there were quite a few people taking up the tables and couches.

Marcus felt David lean around him to peer into the room. He let out a small gasp and quickly ducked back behind him. “Oh god, Ms Jack and Leon are in there.”

Sure enough, there they were, Jack sitting on an armchair with Leon leaning against it. Both of them were chatting with Eli. The hickeys and marks on his neck had begun to fade, but something told Marcus that new one’s would be appearing soon.

Ripley spotted the trio as well and started towards them. Marcus continued to follow her lead, inviting David with a quiet, “Come on, looks like we can sit with them.”

Eli spotted them coming first and smiled. Waving as they approached, he greeted, “Hey! How are you guys holding up?”

“Oh, you know,” Marcus offered awkwardly. “The usual.”

“He walked dick first into a desk,” Ripley shared, sounding amused. “Other than that, I’d say they’ve both been doing pretty well.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up so high that they practically disappeared into her hairline. “Really?”

Trying not to laugh at the mortified look on the ginger's face, Leon offered, “Hey, it’s- It’s okay. We’ve all done it.”

“Have we though?” Eli asked, head tilting to one side. “Have we really?”

“I have,” David called out from where he was still hiding behind Marcus. “But in my defense, it was dark and I swear that table teleported.”

“That! That happens!” Marcus agreed a little too enthusiastically. Blushing even more when everyone looked at him, he cleared his throat before attempting to change the subject. “So- Um, Leon. You and Wesker are a thing? I- I am so sorry if there have been rumors about me and Wesker… There’s- there’s nothing going on. Honestly.”

Leon didn’t look the least bit perturbed, going so far as to wave off his concerns, saying, “It’s fine. We try to keep it professional at work and he’s not usually around so much. There’s no way you could have known.”

Quite a bit relieved that Leon didn’t wrongly suspect him of trying to steal his boyfriend, Marcus sat on the couch with a heavy sigh. Christ, what a day it was turning out to be.

As David dropped onto the couch next to him, Jack spoke up, “How did the room checks go? All clear?”

“It’s all good,” David answered before Marcus could sweat up another lie. “I’m sorry that we bothered you and got you in trouble with the CEO.”

That nearly got Jack to snort but she held it in at the last moment. “No, no, you didn’t get me in trouble. I was simply doing my job and making sure that my subordinates are safe. If either of you see anything suspicious in the future, don’t let his idiotic words stop you from making any more reports.”

“Snitches get stitches but we have pain killers for that,” Laurie chimed in from where she was hogging the coffee machine.

Eli chuckled under his breath, before sighing. “Hey, at least you didn’t find anything this time. I once found half a mouse in Michael’s cell… He tried to offer me the other half and then pouted for a week when I refused to eat it.”

“Half a- Did he eat the other half?!” Marcus asked, horrified.

“Yeah, it was kind of gross, but he’s always hungry,” Eli confirmed. “The portions served to the inmates aren’t exactly filling. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s all about nutrition, not feeling full,” Leon pointed out, but he didn’t sound very happy about it either.

“If we’re talking about grossest things we’ve found,” Laurie offered as she shooed away Quentin, who was trying to grab her freshly brewed cup of coffee, “One time I got a bunch of nails spat at me. Finger nails. Full finger nails.”

“Oh… God,” Marcus said quietly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the full story behind that one. Everything he’d seen up to that point seemed pretty tame in comparison.

“Were you here when the Legion decided to pee on the floor of their cell?” Leon asked Eli, rubbing a hand over his face. When he shook his head, he elaborated, “They’d all been asking for water all day. Since water wasn’t considered a special request yet, the orderly on day shift just kept giving them water. They peed all over the floor of their cell throughout the night, and then refused to come out for breakfast. When the guards went in to pull them out, they ambushed them from the top bunks… It was disgusting…”

“Children are so crude,” Eli sighed, and most everyone shot him incredulous looks.

“Aren’t you… nineteen?” Ripley asked.

“I’m twenty-three,” he corrected. “So they’re all still younger than me.”

“So… That’s why water is now a special request?” Marcus asked. He’d seen patients get creative with bodily functions before, but he couldn’t imagine how nasty that must have been with four of them…

The nod he received from Jack was enough of a confirmation of that statement. Even if that sounded absolutely disgusting, water should still be a given. It wasn’t something that could get confiscated at the slightest inconvenience.

“Ooh, when I was a janitor, I found a finger in the trash!” David said, sounding a tad too excited about that information. Then again, he just wanted to feel included in the conversation.

Jack sighed. “Ugh, I remember that. Evan bit someone’s finger off then we somehow lost track of it. Despite it being missing for a good four hours, we still got it reattached with no major issues.”

“Right, we thought maybe he’d swallowed it,” Leon recalled, shaking his head. “We were getting ready to sedate him and take him to medical when we got the call that it had been found.”

“Speaking of finding things,” Quentin brought up, “And I still don’t know how she did it, but I once found a little effigy of a person built out of human teeth in the Hag’s cell. They weren’t her teeth… I was actually allowed to keep it! I still have it in a jar under my bed.”

Marcus wasn’t sure what shocked him more. That there was a patient referred to as ‘the Hag’, or that his roommate had a human tooth doll under his bed!

Jack’s neck audibly cracked from how quickly she turned around to stare the janitor down. “Who the hell told you that you could keep that?”

The speed with which Quentin made for the door was startling, considering his usual calm, generally unhurried demeanor. Over his shoulder, he offered, “Dwight!” and then he was out the door.

Leon shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I mean, if none of the staff reported being attacked or missing teeth, is it really so bad?”

“I mean, it’s under the bed,” Marcus pointed out, still more than a little disturbed by the idea of a tooth doll lurking in their room…

“I very specifically told him to get rid of it,” Jack sighed. “And by ‘get rid of it’, I meant ‘bury it in the woods somewhere’ because I’m pretty sure that thing would’ve put a curse on us if we burned it.”

“I think that was the intention,” Ripley agreed, unwrapping a granola bar. “I don’t put a lot of stock in curses, but there are certainly things out there far beyond our understanding.”

Leon shot her a look that Marcus didn’t really understand, but he decided not to try and figure it out. There was obviously a lot more going on at Crotus Prenn than he’d ever imagined, and delving too far too fast could only lead to trouble. Well… more trouble. He already had the Ghostface issue to deal with.

Picking up her cup of coffee from the table in front of her, Jack calmly took a sip before saying, “I should've told him to burn it in Wesker’s room.”

The way she said that was filled with a certain malice that Marcus had never heard from her before. She must really hate the CEO.

What really shocked him was how little of a reaction Leon actually showed to the obvious hatred for his boyfriend. No one aside from David seemed shocked by Jack’s attitude, and the ginger once again decided it was best not to ask. Whatever the hell that was all about was none of his business.

“Well, I better get back downstairs,” Ripley sighed, checking her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. “Leon? See you down there?”

“Yeah, you and I are supposed to relieve Tapp and Haddie,” he agreed. “You all have safe shifts.”

Marcus, Eli, and David all waved goodbye as the pair made their exit, before Eli spoke up again.

“Hey, Jack? If you have a second, there’s something I wanted to mention to you about… one of the patients downstairs…”

“Of course you do,” Jack sighed as she pushed herself back onto her feet. Downing the rest of her coffee, she dropped the mug off in the sink. She’d be back for it eventually. “Tell me on the way down.”

Eli quickly bid Marcus and David farewell before hurrying after her.

Watching them go, Marcus asked absentmindedly, “Is he single, by any chance?”

David, who had just reached out to grab one of the granola bars lying around on the table in front of them, turned to give Marcus a hard side eye. “Eli? Really?”

“He is the furthest thing from single,” Laurie added. “Although I’d describe it more as ‘it’s complicated’ than anything else.”

“Fair enough,” Marcus accepted. He wasn’t even sure if Eli was into men or not, and he didn’t need to make things weird with any of his roommates. Especially one who seemed to have no problems allowing himself to be regularly used as a chew toy…

“Why?” Laurie asked with a grin. “Are you single?”

“We’re not dating!”

All heads slowly turned to stare down David as he slapped a hand over his mouth. Oops, that came out wrong but it was too late to take it back. He looked like just wanted to disappear.

Very slowly, Marcus looked back over at Laurie. “Um, yes, I’m single at the moment. I’m not really looking for anything serious right now, more of a casual, open, kind of thing.”

Right as he was saying so, King walked into the breakroom. Pausing, a thoughtful look crossed his face and he asked, “Are you looking for men or women?”

“Either,” he answered, shrugging. “Any.”

Eyebrows rising, King nodded. “If you’re cool with a gay bar, I know a good place if all you’re looking for is a hook up. I’ll take you next time we have a four day weekend. There’s one coming up here in a couple of weeks. Emory, you’re welcome to come if you’d like… Although come to think of it, I don’t… actually know what you like.”

He only received a groan of acknowledgement back, as David had sunk himself down out of the couch and under the table, where he was hiding in shame.

Not wanting to possibly make David feel like he was being forced to come out if he was gay and not out yet, Marcus quickly took the heat off of him, asking, “If it’s nearby, would you want to go this weekend when we’re all off?”

“Ah, that’s the thing,” King admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not close by, so this is gonna’ have to be at least a three day trip. Or two, if we left immediately after we clock out.”

“Oh, shit,” Marcus murmured, recalling the long, long, long drive just from the airport. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense.”

A hand reached out from under the table to tap on Marcus’s leg. “I didn’t mean that I wouldn’t date you. Not that I would. Or wouldn’t. I’ve never dated anyone. But I’d love to go!”

Smiling at him, he agreed, “I’d love it if you came along.”

“Hey, the more the merrier,” King chuckled. “I’ll check with Dwight and see if we can borrow his van. I’m sure Quentin will be down to go, and we’ll just kidnap Eli if nothing else.”

It was unclear if he was joking or not…

The rest of their lunch time was spent in idle chatter with the remainder of the employees in the break room, along with finalizing their future outing with King. They eventually decided that they’d all go whenever their consecutive days off lined up. Unfortunately that only happened every once in a while, so it would be at least a couple of weeks before they could go.

Marcus and David returned to their shift in a much better mood then they were in after the meeting with Wesker, the fact that their shift itself was quiet helped tremendously. No arguments, no name calling, even the Legion just stuck to glaring at Marcus.

All was going well until it was time for the usual evening lock up.

It was time to do bedtime room checks, so David took the side of the hall the Legion’s cell occupied, wanting to talk to his other friends one last time before going home for the night. That, of course, left Ghostface’s side of the hall to Marcus.

Starting with Ji-Woon, he wasn’t surprised to receive a middle finger and eye roll when he opened the door. He was as cheerful as ever. His broken arm seemed to have also healed up perfectly fine as he deemed it necessary to grace Marcus with two middle fingers… Not seeing any trash, he closed the door and moved up to Amanda’s cell.

She was actually waiting for him, but she was nicer than the Trickster had been. She wasn’t particularly happy to see him, but she wasn’t unkind as she handed him an empty water cup and a wrapper from a granola bar.

Thanking her, he was slightly surprised when she offered him a small smile before the door slid shut between them. That was a good sign, he supposed. At least she didn’t seem to have some kind of horrific vendetta against his existence at Crotus Prenn. It was starting to feel like some people did.

Reaching said person’s cell, he hesitated for a moment before badging into the cell. Ghostface was so close to the door it was a miracle it opened at all. The sensors in the cuffs and collars were supposed to keep it from opening if the patient was too close. He’d learned that very quickly during his second week when the Legion fucked with him for two hours, claiming they were trapped in their cell and unable to get out…

Ghostface was nearly pressed up against the door, and when Marcus jumped backwards with a startled yelp, he stepped into the doorway itself. He made no move to actually leave the cell, but the smug smile on his face told the ginger that getting a reaction out of him had been the entire plan.

“Well, hello Doc,” he cooed, head tilting to one side. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Too startled to come up with a good comeback, Marcus grimaced at him instead.

Smiling disarmingly, he said sweetly, “Aw, you look so cute when you pout. I didn’t scare you too bad, did I doll?”

He could feel the blush creeping up his neck as he seethed, “It’s Marcus. Now, please step back into your cell so I can check for trash. It’s bedtime.”

“Hmm, are we on a first name basis already, Doc?”

“I haven’t used your first name,” he pointed out, before sighing, “Seriously, back into your cell. I will call the guard and you will be tased again.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Doc,” he teased, finally stepping back out of the doorway. Taking a seat on his cot so the orderly could poke his head in and look around, he asked, “You know what’s sad?”

“I’m afraid to ask what you of all people could find sad,” he stated, trying to sound disinterested.

Whether he did or not, Ghostface didn’t seem to care. “I haven’t thanked you yet. And that is a travesty.”

Stopping short of closing the cell door, Marcus finally allowed himself to make eye contact with the patient again. He shouldn’t have. As soon as he did, he felt rooted to the spot. It was like the man had reached into him and grabbed him by the lungs. He couldn’t bring himself to break eye contact, even by blinking.

Rising, Ghostface took slow steps closer. Head canting to one side, he stopped just short of the door. Smiling down at the ginger, he said softly, “Thank you… for the gift.”

The door slid closed when he reached a hand out, palm up as though to touch Marcus.

The gift? What… Fuck! That stupid fucking pen! He’d left it there! How did- No, asking how he knew was stupid! Who the hell else would have been in his cell that day that would leave him a pen of all things!

Trying to tell himself that if Ghostface hadn’t ratted him out to his bosses to get him fired yet, he wasn’t going to, Marcus almost jumped out of his skin when someone touched his arm.

It was David, who had seemingly just finished his own inspections of the cells across the hall. “Marcus? You okay? Did he say something weird again? Do you want me to go get Jack?”

Oh dear god, Jack could not get involved now! Forcing a slightly shrill laugh, Marcus cleared his throat before rambling, “No, no, nothing like that. Just- Just- Um, it’s fine. Honestly, it’s all good. I’m good. He’s good. There was no trash. Let’s go.”

That earned him another one of David’s hardcore side eyes, which made him look more like a judgemental dog then anything threatening. “O..kay. Um, let's go let someone know that the rooms are clean and we should be good to head back to the dorms. It’s board game night and the Cards Against Humanity deck that Dwight ordered finally showed up. Speaking of, I think the stuff you ordered should be arriving soon too so keep a lookout for when you get a call from the front gates.”

“Oh, that sounds great,” Marcus agreed, genuinely relieved. Hanging out and doing something to take his mind off the conversation he’d just had would be wonderful. Following David out, he managed not to look back, making it all the way out of the building and onto the bus without incident.

It wasn’t until he sat down and felt something in his pocket that he stopped listening to David’s fifteen minute and still running breakdown of the latest game he’d downloaded called Deceased By Sunrise or something, that he realized something was still very wrong.

The crumpled up paper in his pocket crinkled loudly, pressing into his leg through his scrubs. He still had Ghostface’s little note. The one very clearly detailing his strange obsession with him… Shit.
~~~~

Chapter 12: It’s All Fun and Games

Summary:

It's game night for the staff! Surely it'll be a great way to relax and unwind and nothing else... Right?

“And I choose ’The Hat Man’ as the best card,” David proclaimed, causing several groans to sound around the table. Eli gave him a fist bump, collecting his card with a triumphant smile.

“Oh come on! What do the Hat Man and acid have to do with each other?” Quentin groaned, glaring at both of them in turn. “That’s benadryl!”

“You’re just mad that I’m funnier than all of you!” Eli declared, childishly sticking his tongue out at him. He let out a shrill scream when King hurled a pillow at his face a moment later.

Marcus was laughing too hard to offer any help whatsoever. He’d almost declined joining in to play, too distracted with the day he’d had, but when Dwight asked him and David directly, he couldn’t say no. Besides, David looked so excited, he was legitimately worried that saying no would crush him.

They’d been playing for several rounds, and so far Eli was winning and making it everyone else’s problem. Both David’s were tied for second, Dwight was just barely beating Marcus, and Quentin was coming in dead last. He’d won the first card of the game and gotten cocky, only to lose every subsequent hand and no one was letting him live it down.

“Okay, okay, who’s turn is it?” Eli laughed, trying not to get knocked over by another pillow being flung at his head.

“Haven’t you technically won already?” Dwight asked. “How many cards do you even have?”

“Enough to make Q cry,” he retorted, grinning like a dork.

“Bite me, smurf,” he huffed, squinting at him.

The six of them were occupying one of the tables to play Cards Against Humanity, a relatively new game being offered at game night. At one of the other tables was Steve, along with a few others that Marcus had learned were a part of the kitchen crew. They were all locked in a rather intense game of UNO, with a man he’d since learned was a line cook named Ace, holding at least half of the deck in his hand. Despite that, he still looked smug as all hell and was still betting money into the game.

Some people from the tech team were sitting at a different table, one of them being the famously semi-retired Bill that Marcus kept hearing about, along with a janitor named Ash, and another guard named Vittorio. They had gotten pulled into a game of Monopoly by Feng, who had fashioned herself as a God of Chaos as she quickly and effortlessly turned the men against each other while her own rent kept climbing higher and higher.

At the same time, the large flat screen tv hanging on the wall was playing a rather cheesy slasher movie. One of those old ones with terrible special effects and way too much blood. Yet it kept a good few others absolutely enamored, including two women, Mikaela and Sable, whom Marcus learned were also a part of the janitorial team. They were curled up next to each other on one of the couches, sharing a popcorn bowl and letting out small chuckles at some of the particularly bad acting.

Jack had decided to show up too, which was a shocker since she rarely attended game nights; Mostly due to her erratic work schedule and always being needed at the facility from early mornings till late evenings. Still, it was nice whenever she did show up as she was apparently one of the best poker players any of them had ever seen, good enough that even Ace wouldn’t try to bet money against her. Then again, she mostly stuck to poker since the last time Feng got her to play Monopoly, someone almost got their eyes gouged out. Apparently both of them were very competitive.

Back at the Cards Against Humanity table, Marcus was looking over the cards he had to pick a winner from. He’d already eliminated three of the five cards he had to pick from, and both Eli and Quentin were staring at him like his decision was life or death and he couldn’t deny the sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

“I mean… out of these two, I think I have to go with… Cyanide.”

Quentin wailed as Eli picked up the card with a smirk. “How is that a better weapon than weaponized incompetence?! It’s in the name!”

“It’s not about being a better weapon, it’s about what’s funny,” Eli pointed out, grinning from ear to ear. It was his turn to scream a second later when Quentin leapt over the table and tried to tackle him out of his chair.

Scrambling out of the way, Eli managed to get behind Marcus and he ended up going down instead. Pointing and laughing, he still ended up getting dragged into the fight anyway when someone grabbed his ankle. It was unclear who’d done it, but it was too late to assign blame as both of them stopped fighting each other and focused on not letting him escape.

Neither of the Davids were bothering to help, as both of them started up a rather loud chant of ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’ while Dwight took the opportunity to sneak a peek at everyone else’s cards.

Even with all that was happening, their table was still much, much calmer than the UNO table. Steve had started a villain monologue since, somehow, Ace had cleared his entire hand and was down to a singular card. Everyone else was eyeballing him like a pack of hyenas with a fresh kill, practically foaming at the mouth to scream ‘UNO!’ when it was his turn.

And that was still calmer than the Monopoly table, as Bill had reached out to start strangling Ash while Vittorio suspiciously inspected the dice for any signs of tampering. Cackling like a maniac as chaos descended onto the men around her, Feng leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with her brightly colored fortune.

All in all, everyone was having a great time.

Clawing at the carpet and eventually one of David’s legs, Eli wailed, “Save me! Someone call the police!”

He went down rather quickly with a righteous cry of “ACAB!” as Eli more or less tried to climb him like a pole to get away from Quentin and Marcus. That, of course, was an useless endeavor as David wasn’t very tall. Eli should've gone for the other David, who had begun recording the entire fight on his phone and cheering them on from a safe distance.

Leon happened to walk in at that moment, frowning at the four of them tangled up on the floor. Slowly looking around the room and taking in the growing chaos, he started trying to silently back out of the room.

He was rarely seen at game nights, so Ripley and Haddie took it upon themselves to grab him by the arms and forcefully dragged him towards a different table where Jeff and Nea were locked in an intense round of Candyland. He hadn’t even made it a single step out the door.

“Oh, come on!” he tried to complain, looking around for help.

“Don’t prove Jill right,” Haddie scolded. “You can be allergic to a lot of things, but fun isn’t one of them.”

“I’m not allergic to fun!” he argued, only to glare more when Bill let out a loud guffaw from his table.

“Oh my god, he’s biting my ankle!” Marcus yelped, trying to shake Eli off.

“That wasn’t me!” he yelled, only to get bitten as well when Quentin realized he was gnawing on the wrong leg.

“My bones are fragile! Release me!” That only earned David an elbow to the spleen and for Quentin to start gnawing on his leg too. It was hard to tell what exactly was going through his mind, but it was most likely to prove a point that no one else could possibly reach on their own.

Looking around the room again as he was practically forced into his chair, Leon finally found Jack. Shooting her a look that just screamed ‘save me’, he asked Haddie, “Did I wrong you in a past life or something? Why are you doing this to me?”

“Not that I’ve been able to pinpoint,” she told him, laughing quietly. “We never see you at game night! That’s why we’re doing this to you.”

“I’m surprised Wesker let you out of the dungeon for the night,” Nea agreed. “What’s up with him lately? He nearly took out the van this morning speeding through the parking lot.”

Looking like someone had just stuck a dead goldfish down the back of shirt, Leon offered, “I’m honestly not sure. He doesn’t like talking about work with me. Says he likes to leave work at work when it’s just the two of us.”

“I shudder to imagine having that man’s full attention on me at any given point in time,” Ripley muttered, shaking her head. “I don't know how you put up with him.”

“He’s not that bad,” Leon defended, but it sounded more reflexive than sincere.

He shot another look towards Jack, silently pleading with his eyes to have her get him out of his current situation, but unfortunately, she wasn’t looking in his direction. In fact, she was practically staring into Felix’s soul, both of them with a handful of cards and an audience watching as they maintained their poker faces. It was actually hard to tell who was winning.

Zarina had already gone broke and was watching closely. She’d put up a pretty fair fight, but in the end, Jack and Felix both proved to be a little too good to keep up with. Thankfully, they weren’t gambling with actual money. There were no rules stating they couldn’t, but when Ace had gotten a literal pile of complaints filed against him for ‘attempting to extort a combined total of eighty-thousand dollars’ from several newer staff members, they’d quietly asked everyone to find another way to gamble whenever possible. It didn’t stop Ace from trying....

That night’s poker game was being played with starbursts, and Felix was eyeing the pile of pink candies in front of Jack like he was half tempted to lunge across the table to snatch them if he lost.

It wasn’t unheard of for Jack to lose at poker, just incredibly uncommon, and the growing tension of the situation was starting to draw more and more of a crowd. Leon started to try and get up under the pretense of going to watch, but was once again grabbed by his fellow guards before he could get out of reach.

Unfortunately, no one would ever reach the satisfying conclusion of the poker standoff, as the wild tangle of arms and legs flailing across the floor ended up rolling directly into the table. There was a crack as one of the wooden legs snapped, then a chorus of screams as the table, cards, and a whole lot of starbursts rained down on David, Marcus, Eli, and Quentin.

The screams were amplified even more when Felix made a lunge for the fallen candy like a rabid dog, causing him and Marcus to bump heads with a cartoonish ‘THUD’.

It was only when Mikaela and Sable turned around to shush them that Jack finally spoke up, still sitting stunned in the chair she had taken during the game, “What the hell are you four doing?”

Quentin and Eli were attempting to strangle one another with poor David sandwiched in between them. Marcus was trapped under all three of them at that point, laying face down on the floor with a noticeable goose egg on his temple and not attempting to help or answer.

Felix fled the scene of the crime, a wobbly trail of pink starbursts the only sign of which way he had gone.

Finally putting his phone away, King shuffled over with Dwight in tow. Clearing his throat, he offered, “I have no idea what happened, but I’m almost entirely sure it’s somehow probably one of their faults.”

Dwight blinked several times, slowly turning to stare at him with a bewildered expression as he asked, “What?”

After several long minutes of silence, Jack finally reached down and pulled the two squabbling men apart, allowing David to finally take in a lungful of fresh air. “Alright, break it up. Go find something else to do or I’m banning Cards Against Humanity on game night.”

“Nooooo!” Marcus, Quentin, Eli, and both David’s wailed. Dwight just slapped a hand over his face, too embarrassed to argue since he was the one who’d bought the game.

Sitting up, the ginger added in a dazed voice, “I was winning!”

“You were not!” Quentin argued, before pausing and squinting at him. “Damn, how hard did you hit your head?”

“Pineapple?”

“Oh my god, Claudette!” Dwight shouted, already rushing out of the room to go find her.

“Wow, look at that,” Eli said, wincing as he studied the bump on his roommate's head. “And I thought I bruised easily.”

“You bruise like a banana,” King pointed out. “He bruises like an overripe banana.”

“I think the table broke something,” David groaned, struggling to stand back up again.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Jack sighed before stating loudly, “Okay, game night is over! Everyone go back to bed!”

That started up a bunch of moaning and groaning but nonetheless, everyone started to pack up the games and return to their dorms. Most game nights ended in a fight anyway, so no one was too upset with the group. The worst injury that had happened was when Ace had been knocked out by someone using Ash’s prosthetic hand, with the man himself black out drunk under the pool table and none the wiser.

After the four that were rolling around got checked out by Claudette and another nurse named Kate to make sure that no one was concussed and no bones were broken, they all headed back to their respective dorms.

Which is what would usually happen if they hadn’t also taken David with them. He looked so much like an abandoned puppy when he was making his lonesome way towards the elevators that Marcus and his roommates ended up feeling so bad for him that no one argued when the ginger invited him to spend the night in their dorm. It wasn’t until the five of them stumbled back to their room that they realized sleeping arrangements were going to be a little weird. At least, until they found an old air mattress in one of the shared supply closets. It was leaking and smelled weird, but David looked absolutely ecstatic to be having a ‘sleepover’ with his friends.

As King’s snores started to fill the room, Marcus tried to make himself comfortable in bed, content and happy that he agreed to join in that week’s game night. It had been fun, even if his head was still throbbing slightly. He hadn’t been concussed, but he’d certainly been knocked senseless for a hot minute. It had been a good night. One he’d really needed after the morning he’d had.

Just thankful to put that little incident behind him, he rolled over, arms shoving under his pillow to help support his head. It wasn’t the greatest pillow around, but it would do until the new one ordered came in. Doing his best to ignore the lumps and odd flat spots and strange crinkling- Wait… Crinkling?

Raising himself up on his elbows, he frowned at his pillow for a moment before his eyes shot wide in the dark. Oh shit. Shit, shit shit! Ghostface’s note! He’d still had it in his scrubs pocket when they’d gotten back to the dorms and he’d had to hurry up and hide it elsewhere when Eli offered to drag everyone’s clothes to the laundry room!

Shoving a hand into his pillow case, he gripped the letter tightly, telling himself he was going to crumple it up and flush it down the toilet. He would burn it, but he was afraid the smell of smoke would wake the others and send them into a panic. The last thing he needed to do was cause a fake fire scare…

So why couldn’t he bring himself to pull the note from its hiding spot? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to destroy it! He did! He… did? Right? Well, at the very least he should turn it in to Jack or Leon. Maybe he could ask King to turn it over for him and claim it fell out of Ghostface’s… No, the patient's clothes didn’t have pockets so that wouldn’t work and he really didn’t want to get anyone else involved. He didn’t want Ghostface to continue thinking he held any power over him and destroying or turning over the letter would show him for sure… but it could also get him transferred and he couldn’t afford the pay cut.

Or… so he told himself. In the back of Marcus’s mind was a persistent, worrying concern. Every time it would start to get too loud or come too close to becoming a real thought, he quickly tried to think of something else entirely.

No matter how hard he tried, however, his mind kept circling back to the same thing over and over. As he started to doze off, strange note still held tightly in between his pillow and head, he had to admit… The attention was kind of nice…

~~

Leon watched the groups slowly filing out, exchanging a few pleasantries with the other guards and a few of the kitchen and janitorial staff as they put their respective games away for the night before going to bed. It didn’t take long for him and Jack to be the only two left in the room, and once the door closed for the last time with a quiet click, he let out a small sigh of relief.

“Well, that wasn’t the worst way to end game night,” he said, beginning to push the chairs back under the tables.

Glancing up from where she was collecting a few stray solo cups and soda cans, Jack raised an eyebrow. “Were you here for Bill’s ‘not really a retirement party’?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Emory set Jeff’s beard on fire. I’m still trying to figure out how. He didn’t have any matches or anything.”

“He is rather danger prone,” Jack agreed, tossing the trash into the nearest can. Looking over at the pool table, she pursed her lips, studying it for a moment before approaching.

Following her gaze, Leon tried to figure out what she was thinking. Ripley and Haddie had been playing last but hadn’t gotten to finish their game, leaving behind one hell of a difficult shot. Watching Jack pick up a cue before slowly circling the table, he smiled, content to simply watch for a moment.

She didn’t so much as glance up, although he was sure she could feel his eyes on her. She got like that, a little quirk he’d noticed almost right away when he’d begun working at Crotus Prenn. Jack could be so incredibly focused on the task at hand but still know exactly what was going on around her.

Finding a spot, she leaned over to line up the shot, allowing Leon to easily walk up behind her. He was sure she already knew he was there, and as he gently brushed his hands over her hips, she asked, “Trying to distract me?”

“No, just getting a better view,” he mused, not even looking at the table. Instead, he was looking down at the way her shoulders moved as she repositioned her cue just so, at the curve of her back as she dipped a little closer to the table.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, not sounding convinced in the slightest. When his hands gripped her hips a little more firmly, pulling her back against him, she scolded gently, “We’re in the middle of the rec room…”

“The employee rec room,” he said quietly. “There are no cameras in this one.”

Her hips shifted slightly, pushing her back against him as she argued just as softly, “Someone could walk in.”

Smiling, he leaned down a bit, moving his hands to rest on the side of the pool table instead. “Everyone’s in bed already.”

“I can’t make this shot with you on top of me,” Jack pointed out, but she didn’t sound upset.

“I bet you can,” he challenged teasingly. Grinning at her when she tilted her face to the side to shoot him a good-humored glare, he pressed, “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Looking back down at the table and Leon’s arms outstretched on either side of her, she hummed thoughtfully. Readjusting in the much more limited space, Jack finally made her move. The stick struck the cue ball a little off center, sending it into a spinning roll. Barely missing the eight ball, it bounced off the side cushion before striking the intended ball and sending it rolling towards the corner pocket. For a second, it looked like it wasn’t going to make it, teetering for a heart stopping moment right on the edge.

Clearing his throat a bit too loudly to be real, Leon ‘accidently’ bumped Jack into the table and the ball fell into the pocket with a quiet click.

Setting the cue down on the green felt below them, Jack asked, “You know that doesn’t count, right?”

“Sure it does,” he argued, leaning down over her back. “It went in, didn’t it?”

“You knocked it in,” she pointed out, and he laughed, kissing along the back of her neck.

Sighing, Jack relaxed into the gentle touch, finally allowing herself to start releasing all the built up tension from a long work day.

Knowing that was his cue to continue, Leon smiled, hands sliding around her waist as he pulled her back against his body. A quiet sigh left Jack, and he murmured, “We should do this more often.”

“Game night?” she asked, one hand reaching up to caress the back of his neck.

“Sure, game night,” he murmured, pressing his hips against her ass.

A small laugh left her and he felt pride bloom in his chest. He loved the sound of her laugh, but it was so hard to get out of her most days. Knowing that she was so comfortable around him that she would allow him, and only him, to see that side of her made Leon feel warm. As if he was someone who could be depended on to feel safe around.

“We could get caught if we do this here,” she reminded him, and it was his turn to laugh.

“We won’t get caught,” he argued, pinching the back of her neck with his teeth. When a small groan reached his ears, he soothed, “Night shift won’t be back for hours and day shift is sound asleep.”

‘And Wesker never visits me here,’ he thought to himself, but left it unsaid. In all reality, he supposed Wesker never really did ‘visit him’. He summoned him. Had he always seen him as nothing more than a subordinate? Had Wesker ever loved him like he claimed?

“Hey… Where’d you go?” Jack asked, pulling him back to the moment.

Resting his forehead against her shoulder, he promised, “I’m here.”

Shifting around, she turned until she was facing him, her lower back resting against the pool table instead of being bent over it. One hand remained on the back of his neck, the other coming up to grip his hip for balance as she asked bluntly, “Are you?”

His answer was to slide his hands down, gripping the back of her thighs and hoisting her up onto the table itself. Dipping his head, he kissed along her neck and collarbone, feeling her breathing speed up under his touch. Pushing his hands up under her shirt, he felt the soft, smooth warmth of her skin under his fingers.

Jack tilted her head back, letting out a sigh as he worked her shirt up over her chest. Both of them knew they were already pushing it and time was of the essence. That didn’t stop him from taking his time to work his hand down the front of her pajama pants.

Unable to help but smirk a little as he felt how wet she was, he teased, “So you do enjoy breaking the rules now and again.”

She gave him one of her patented ‘unimpressed’ looks, but he could see through it and smiled wider. Normally, that look flustered him, but at the moment, it spurred him on. Slipping two fingers between her folds, he teased around her clit, watching her eyes light up at the touch.

It didn’t take long before soft gasps were leaving her with every breath, quiet given the situation, but still enough to tell him he was doing well. Hands found the front of his work pants, working his belt open, then his fly, before warm fingers dipped below the waistband of his boxers.

“I’m not the only one,” Jack murmured in his ear, and he let out a soft groan. Lips pressed gently against his neck, and he leaned into the touch. They both knew that was as much as could happen. Although he could bite and mark her anywhere he pleased, a single out of place bruise or scratch on him could lead to their undoing.

The thought of losing her, losing the one good thing he had at Crotus Prenn, had Leon tightening his grip on her hip, fingers pressing forward and in instead of simply rubbing in small, teasing circles like they’d been before.

A sharp gasp and Jack arching her back to press herself more into his hand had him smiling into her skin again and he asked softly, “May I?”

A breathless agreement and gentle squeeze around his shaft told him everything he needed to know, and he withdrew his hand from her pants. Reaching down to free himself as Jack pulled her pajamas down past her hips, he took a moment to rub the slick from his fingers over his cock before pulling her close again.

Sinking into her slowly, he relished the way she wrapped her legs around his waist and her fingers pulled at his shoulders. With Jack, he felt wanted, needed even. Had he ever felt that with Wesker? Perhaps at the beginning of their relationship, before he started to see the subtle manipulations. Before he started to feel like just another of the man’s belongings…

He never felt like that with Jack, and as her soft moans filled his ears, body hot and wet around him, he felt… love. He loved her. He’d loved Wesker once… He wasn’t sure the man had ever loved him back, or simply desired to take that soft, naive young rookie and ruin him before the world could finish the job.

“Leon,” Jack’s voice whispered in his ear, and he leaned down, biting into the junction of her neck and shoulder to distract himself from his own thoughts, while also keeping him from getting too loud. She’d always been good at controlling her volume, something he struggled with even in much more private settings.

Of course, that was when she would encourage him to let it out, not to stifle himself, to let her hear how good he felt. A hand played through his hair and he couldn't stifle the sound it pulled out of him. It was still a bit loud despite being muffled by the skin between his teeth. Normally, Jack would correct him in her firm but gentle way, but she was too enraptured by the building tidal wave threatening to wash over her.

Despite the constant threat of being caught, Leon didn’t rush. He took his time, holding Jack close as he slowly rolled his hips. He knew she liked the slow, unhurried build up. The intimate, passionate heat burning between them. It felt like an equal give and take, both of them fully present and enjoying one another’s bodies and the pleasure they offered one another.

Leon wasn’t sure he’d ever had a partner who offered him so much without taking more and more in return. He’d had a few partners before Wesker, but they’d been more casual, short-term relationships that had ended amicably enough. Only one had gone wrong, but it had been wrong from the start and he considered the end of it a blessing more than anything. He couldn’t imagine ending things with Jack, despite the fact that he knew it, too, was wrong.

But was it, though? He didn’t love Wesker. He hadn’t for a while. But he did love Jack. So why couldn’t he bring himself to say it? He still said it to Wesker in their more private, intimate moments, although he couldn’t recall ever hearing it said back in a way that felt real. If he told her he loved her, would she say it back? Would it be genuine? Or would the fiery, passionate high of sneaking around behind their CEO’s back be revealed to be the only thing keeping them together?

A soft moan in his ear had him rocking into her with a bit more speed. More force. She was close, as was he. He could feel it in the way she clenched around him, hear it in the pitch of her voice.

“Jack,” he whispered, burying his face in her neck. “Fuck, Jack, I-”

“Shhh,” she soothed, lips soft and warm against his ear. Body clenching around him, she let out a soft cry. Body shivering, Jack buried her face against his chest to help muffle the sounds.

It felt so good, and despite the lack of a condom, Leon couldn’t bring himself to pull out. Not that it would have mattered if he’d tried, as Jack’s legs locked around his waist, holding him in place as he came with her. Not for the first time, he was incredibly thankful for her own personal precautions on such matters.

Taking a moment, both of them remained holding one another close, the only sound in the room their breathing. After catching his breath, Leon mumbled sheepishly, “Sorry…”

“It’s alright,” Jack reassured before she started to redress herself. Neither one of them ever liked sitting in the afterglow of their hookups for too long, almost as if both of them feared that something would develop further than it already had.

They were more fearful of that ‘something’ than they were of getting caught. At least for the most part anyway…

As Leon watched her make herself presentable in case she passed anyone in the halls on the way back to her room, he did his best to hold in a forlorn sigh. He wished they could spend more time together outside of work. Outside of work hookups as well. But it wasn’t feasible. Not while he was still trapped in Wesker’s back pocket.

As much as he wanted too, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the man. He hated the fact that he felt indebted to Wesker. Hated that he was only captain of the guard because Wesker promoted him without letting him earn it... and he hated himself for not seeing it for what it was until it was too late.

He’d been attracted to the image Wesker presented. A powerful, attractive older man actually taking an interest in his budding career? Then in him as a person? Being willing to help him search for the person who’d led him to Alaska in the first place? How much of that was a lie? And now that he was too far in, he feared leaving Wesker meant losing Jack too…

As soon as they were both fully presentable again, both of them headed on their separate ways towards the female and male floors. In fact, they even took separate elevators. The last thing Leon saw of Jack was the stoic woman he remembered meeting when he first started working at the asylum. Not even a second glance back at him as the elevator doors slid shut.

As Leon laid back down in his bed in his one person room, it took him a while to fall asleep. It was hard to shut his mind off and stop thinking about everything… In the end, he did manage to fall into a fitful rest, having never felt more alone.
~~~~

Notes:

I shouldn't have to say this but I'm going to. If anyone decides to have a knee-jerk reaction and start trashing characters because they don't like their actions, don't.

It's fine to dislike a character and/or their actions, but being rude about the story/characters isn't constructive or helpful to anyone.

Remember. Be good people. 🖤

Chapter 13: Lucky Charms

Summary:

Ghostface starts to show a little of his crazy side, and we get a little peek into the toxicity of Wesker and Leon's relationship.

Marcus managed to avoid Ghostface for the first part of the morning, even if it wasn’t intentional. When he and David went to get the breakfast trays, one of the kitchen staff told him that Jack and Claudette were already taking care of it since the patients were all getting a scheduled injection that morning.

That… didn’t help ease his worries at all. For all Marcus knew, Ghostface was going to tell Jack all about how a page of his creepy ramblings went missing. She wasn’t an idiot, so even if he didn’t tell her he knew who took it, she’d figure it out pretty damn fast. In the end, all he could do was try and distract himself until something happened, or enough time passed that he could really be certain nothing would happen. Ugh…

Thankfully, David helped provide a pretty good means of distraction as they made their way to the rec room to help supervise morning free time. As the patients slowly started to file in, the Legion immediately made a beeline closer to the chatting pair.

Marcus watched them warrily, still not particularly on good terms with them. They had seemed to be a bit more relaxed around him lately, so hopefully that was a good sign.

“Hey, David,” Frank greeted, before nodding at Marcus and adding, “Leprechaun.”

“Good morning, Legion,” he sighed. “You know, you all can call me Marcus. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, we absolutely can’t do that,” Susie scoffed. “That’s way too familiar, and right now, you’re like… a tier one acquaintance.”

“Is that… good?” he asked skeptically, glancing at David for some kind of help.

He simply shrugged, seemingly more excited about the fact that they’ve all decided to stick to his real name rather than the usual demeaning nicknames.

“Well, it’s not bad,” Joey offered. “Someday, when you reach tier fifty acquaintance, you’ll be given the opportunity to graduate to tier one friend.”

“Wow… I’m honored?” Marcus questioned, scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t be, they’re making it all up to fuck with you,” the Nightmare cackled, ignoring all the glares he was getting from the Legion. “I, on the other hand, make an excellent friend… for the right price.”

“You guys still aren’t allowed porn.” David interjected with a tired groan. It sounded like a familiar subject, one that he was less than thrilled to be rehashing as he emphasized, “Especially old people porn. Or older people porn. Or super old people porn. No porn or old people.”

Marcus couldn’t help the face he made. “Old people porn? Is that like… porn for old people? Or… of old people?”

“Don’t ask him that,” Julie implored, pinching the bridge of her nose.

It was too late, and Freddy’s eyes lit up as he described with what could only be sadistic glee, “Milfs, kid! Dilfs too, I guess, but the milf-ier the better. Gilfs are all well and good, as long as they’ve got all their teeth…”

“What… in god’s name is a gilf?” Marcus dared ask.

All four of the Legion booed him like he’d just said gravy and cheese didn’t belong on fries, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the Nightmare’s explanation.

“Grandparent I’d Like to Fuck! And will you four shut it? I was talking to the leprechaun, not you brats!”

All their attention was suddenly focused entirely on Freddy as they started loudly and aggressively berating him.

“Woah, watch the name calling, old man!” Joey warned.

Lip curling in a disgusted sneer, Julie tacked on, “Wow, old and stereotyping. What? Just cause he’s ginger you’re assuming he’s Irish?”

“I am Irish,” Marcus mumbled, only to jump when Frank threw his hands up as if he’d just helped prove their point.

“He’s our leprechaun, you melted bag of foreskins,” Susie jeered, flipping him off.

“Your- I- Fuck all four of you! You already have a pet roach,” the Nightmare scoffed, obviously referring to David.

“Heeeeey…” he whined, voice practically quivering from the jab. He’d been called a roach many times before but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Marcus opened his mouth to say something, but Frank beat him to it. Stepping up so he was toe to toe with the older man, he sneered, “David is our friend, not our pet, you geriatric has-been. Only we get to call him a roach. Now why don’t you wander off and find some kindergartener to beat to death with your walker, old man.”

Seriously worried Freddy was about to try and claw the Legion leader's eyes out with the way he started to draw back his hand, Marcus quickly pushed in between them.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he ordered. “Unless people want to start losing privileges, I suggest we shut this down and get back to enjoying rec time.”

Freddy and Frank continued to stare daggers at one another over his shoulder, but thankfully each took a small step back. “C’mon, let’s go play uno before Ji-Woon bends all the cards trying to cut guards with them.”

“What?!” Marcus asked, whipping around.

Julie offered him a wink, the four of them already heading for the shelf where the games were stored when not in use.

“Ugh, kids these days have no respect,” the Nightmare complained. “Anyway, thanks for intervening, kid.”

“It’s Marcus,” he corrected as Freddy started making his way to the TV.

“Right, right, since ‘leprechaun’ is copyrighted by the Teen Angst Brigade over there,” he cackled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure something will stick eventually, Doc.”

It was very likely that no one would have even noticed Ghostface getting up from where he’d been playing chinese checkers with Amanda and Caleb if the former Jigsaw apprentice hadn’t complained, “The fuck, Ghostface? It’s your turn, get back here!”

As it was, Freddy didn’t see him coming up behind him until he tapped him on the shoulder. As soon as he turned around, a fist slammed into his nose and he went down with a howl and a spray of blood.

The sudden, seemingly unprovoked act of violence was enough to shock both Marcus and David into freezing for a second. That was all the time he needed, and Ghostface jumped on Freddy, still not making a sound as he wailed on him.

Snapping out of it when the Legion began cheering and howling, Marcus lunged for the emergency alarm button. It wouldn’t send the floor into lockdown, but it would alert all the guards on the floor that something dangerous was happening.

It only took a few seconds for the first couple of guards to enter the room since at least one pair was always stationed outside the rec room. Spotting the fight, both rushed forward and grabbed Ghostface’s arms.

Still not making a sound, he gave Freddy a good hard kick in the ass as he was dragged off of him. If he’d left it at that, he likely would have been locked in his cell for the remainder of the day and had a few privileges revoked for a week or two. But no. He had to make it worse.

Although he hadn’t been fighting the guards before, the moment Freddy was out of range, he turned on the smaller of the two. Jumping, he wrapped both his legs around the man’s waist, throwing them all off balance and sending them crashing to the floor. A sharp elbow to the temple left the poor guy out cold on the floor before the second was howling, Ghostface’s hands wrapped around his very broken wrist.

Standing, he brushed himself off as Leon, King, and Ripley burst into the room, a few other guards behind them to help restrain or subdue any other rowdy patients. Turning, Ghostface held his hands up and out to the sides, a blank expression on his face.

“Hands behind your back,” Leon ordered, taser pointed at the aggressive patient. “Now!”

Still without a single hint of emotion, Danny lowered his hands, arms moving behind him. There was a metallic tap as the cuffs magnets locked them together, restraining him without the need of another guard getting close.

As he was roughly grabbed by the arms again, Ghostface finally stopped his staring contest with the captain. Instead, he looked directly at Marcus, gaze burning in its intensity. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he smiled, eyes creasing at the corners as though he had just presented a loved one with a thoughtful gift and couldn’t contain his joy over their reaction.

Marcus felt rooted to the spot, unable to look away as Ghostface was dragged out the door. He didn’t even blink until their eye contact was broken by the doorframe. Snapping out of it, he shook his head, only just realizing someone was tugging gently at his hand.

Looking down, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find David staring up at him with wide, wet eyes. He looked like he was about to burst out crying!

Before Marcus could say anything to try and calm him, Freddy was dragged past as well, although he was being taken to medical.

The Legion were still jeering and booing at the guards for breaking up the fight, and it took Ripley threatening to send them to solitary as well to get them to quiet down.

“Marcus, Emory,” Leon repeated, snapping his fingers right between their heads. “Hey? You guys home in there?”

“Jesus, fuck!” Marcus swore, jumping slightly.

The only sound David made was similar to that of a deflating balloon. At least he hadn’t started crying yet but he was damn close to doing just that.

“Were either of you hurt during the altercation?” Leon asked, looking back and forth between them both.

When he got a couple of no’s, one much more shaky than the other, he directed the next question at Marcus directly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Um… Yeah, uh, we were… we were talking to the Legion, and that went well, I think… Then the Nightmare butted in and they started getting snappy so I broke it up and they went their separate ways… The Nightmare… called me ‘Doc’, which I guess he’s heard Ghostface call me and-”

The sharp intake of breath from Leon had him pausing, suddenly worried instead of just shaken up.

Clearing his throat, the captain pressed, “Go on, please…”

“So… So Ghostface got up, tapped him on the shoulder, and then just started swinging.”

‘Just started swinging’ seemed both unfair, and inaccurate. Ghostface had moved like a cat. No wasted energy or movements in any of his swings. No flashy, dramatic flair thrown in to try and look cool. Just clean, brutal efficiency. He hadn’t even shown a hint of building aggression before the attack. It had been just like when Ghostface had trapped him in his cell. Except that time he’d let him go of his own volition…

“Marcus? Marcus, are you still with us?” Leon asked, snapping his fingers in front of his nose.

Jumping again, he nodded, blushing furiously. “Yes! Yes, I’m sorry. That… that was everything. I think. Um, David?”

He nodded, finally wiping away the few tears that had escaped. “Um, I-I did notice something else. The collars didn’t activate. Weren’t they supposed to activate?”

Leon looked stunned, giving Marcus the chance to agree, “Actually… David’s right, they didn’t. I mean, I guess the Nightmare’s wouldn’t have, but shouldn’t Ghostface’s collar have taken him out?”

That sounded a bit harsh, but Leon didn’t comment on it. Shaking his head, he muttered, “That’s the second time– Don’t worry about it. Both of you please go on up to Jack’s office and fill out an incident report. Neither of you are in trouble, of course, it’s just so we have an unbiased account of what happened. The inmates tend to be less than helpful most times.”

As if to prove him right, they could hear Frank excitedly telling a very annoyed looking Tapp, “And then he launched himself off the back of the couch for a flying elbow drop, and there was a crunch, and then he snapped that guy's spine like a pencil!”

“Only two guards were hurt, Legion…” he deadpanned. “That makes eight, by your count.”

“Yeah… I can see that,” Marcus agreed, before asking, “Do we need to wait for the rest of the patients to be escorted back to their cells?”

“No, we’ll handle everything from here,” Leon informed him curtly. “Please go make that report and then pick up with your duties as normal, unless Jack has anything else to assign you.”

Exchanging a concerned look with David, Marcus nodded before leading the way out of the room. It was probably best to distance themselves from the patients while everyone calmed down anyway.

Still, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if it was Freddy calling him ‘Doc’ that had actually set Ghostface off, or if it would have happened anyway. Considering the implications, he realized he’d already told Leon exactly that, and paled considerably. He’d have to tell Jack too. He knew she wouldn’t be mad at him, but he sure hoped it wouldn’t give her more reason to try and transfer him for his own safety…

~~

“Ghostface is in solitary, the Nightmare is stable but on a lot of painkillers at the moment and should be back in his cell by tomorrow night, and the other’s are all back in their cells,” King relayed, before sighing tiredly. “This is getting bloody ridiculous. Why the hell hasn’t he moved that little prick to floor two?”

Leon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’d had that conversation the last time Ghostface had begun obsessing over a staff member, and unfortunately his answer hadn’t changed. “I’ve asked Wesker a dozen times, but he just keeps saying he’s where he needs to be. Solitary is the best we can do for now.”

“Is it?” King demanded, not trying to hide his frustration. “Everytime there’s something, it’s him, or the bloody Legion! And even that’s often because of him!”

“And if we can ever prove that he got them to do any of that stuff for him, then we’d have more leverage to get him moved down a level,” Leon reminded, wincing as he recalled a couple of the incidents in question.

The first, and by far the most drastic, had seen the Legion somehow obtain almost sixty gallons of used fry oil from the kitchen. They’d mixed in all the red jello packets, beet juice, and other red colored foods they could find, before flooding the second floor cafeteria with it. In the ensuing chaos brought on by ‘The Flood of Moses’ as it was dubbed, Ghostface had attempted to break into the sealed, maximum security room where they made employee badges. He’d been caught when his collar automatically activated for being in a restricted area unattended. Neither he nor the Legion would admit that the two incidents had been connected and there really was no proof otherwise. No matter what they tried to threaten or bribe him with, he wouldn’t say anything other than he simply saw an opportunity to ‘explore’ and took it, having no idea what that room was for...

“Look… I get that you can only do so much,” King said quietly, glancing around as though afraid of being overheard. “But you’re the only one who has a chance of getting Wesker to listen. Everyone knows he and Miss Jack get along like oil and water, so if she tries, it’s never going to happen. But maybe you could… get him to consider it.”

“He’ll calm down again sooner or later, it’ll be quiet for a few weeks or even months, and then it’ll start all over again. If he starts up on floor two, it may even be worse,” Leon argued, trying to avoid agreeing to any such thing. He could only ask Wesker for so much before he became cold and difficult, and anything he did give came with strings attached. “But why is it such a problem for him to stay on the first floor, really?”

“Because he’s targeting Marcus,” King answered bluntly. “Look… He’s my roommate, and he’s a pretty decent guy. He’s getting along with Eli and Quentin really well, and he’s even helping Emory become less of a bloody loser.”

Leon gave him a scathing look, and the bigger man winced. “Sorry. But you know what I mean. The kid hasn’t set anyone on fire, electrocuted himself, or created any toxic gas or napalm since he started working with Marcus. Even the Legion are starting to warm up to him, but I don’t think he’s realized it yet.”

“You’re genuinely worried that Ghostface is going to do something to Marcus?” he asked, resolve starting to soften. He’d admit, he too liked the ginger. He was obviously trying his best and he did seem to be getting along well with everyone else. Having someone who actually cared about the job and worked well with others was integral to keeping everyone safe, so he couldn’t really fault King for his reasons.

“Yes, I am,” he confirmed. “Remember what happened to the last person Ghostface targeted? He killed her in a fucking closet and played it off as a bloody suicide. I won’t see a friend go out the same way.”

“I’ll talk to Wesker,” Leon agreed, unable to help but feel a twinge of anxiety as he did so. “First, I need to go talk to Feng and Bill. Even Emory noticed it, but Ghostface’s collar didn’t activate.”

“Yeah, I could tell from the stupid smirk on his face,” King sneered. “Doubt he’ll be smiling after a couple weeks in solitary.”

Leon didn’t answer, just offered a curt nod before the two went their separate ways. Having been at Crotus Prenn long enough to know each floor like the back of his hand, he made his way through the winding halls until he reached an unmarked ‘back door’ of sorts. It was heavily reinforced and only a small handful of staff even had the clearance to use it, but as Captain of
the Guard, he was on that list.

A short walk down a small, mostly overgrown stone path through the woods led him to a squat, round structure. Off by itself, it was pretty hard to find unless one knew it was there. It was the surveillance building, although it was honestly more of a large, open room with monitors and keyboards on every surface. Feng had dubbed it ‘The Spy Cave’, going so far as to add a little plaque above the door denoting as much.

Before Leon could even pull his badge down to scan it, the door slid open with a very ‘sci-fi’ hiss and a little puff of steam. More of Feng and her flair for the dramatic. It was honestly harmless and since the inmates weren’t allowed outside of the main building, he didn’t comment on it as he stepped inside.

The interior was mostly dark, the only light coming from the rows of monitors and underlit keyboards. Bill was nowhere to be seen, but a smaller figure could be seen hunched over in a chair, rewinding and rewatching a short ten second clip from a specific camera. From what he could see, it looked like a view of the parking lot.

Stepping closer to try and get a better look, he almost jumped when Feng spun the chair around so fast the bunny ears on her hoodie flopped dramatically to one side. One hit her in the face and she sputtered for a moment before clearing her throat and laughing like an evil scientist in a campy action movie. She even had a cat in her lap. Wait. Where the fuck did she find a cat?!

“Feng…” Leon started slowly, but she held up a finger.

“Before you lecture me, I didn’t bring the cat. She found us, and I couldn’t turn her away.”

“Feng…” he repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I gave her a can of tuna, so now I’m legally responsible for her. I’m calling her Jude,” she confirmed.

Oh god, she’d already named it.

Shaking his head, he warned, “Just don’t let Wesker see her.”

“Speaking of, want to see him get shit on by a goose? I’m trying to get the zoom cleared up so we can really enjoy that look of disgust for all life on his face,” she explained, turning her chair back around.

Ahh, so that’s what she’d been working on so diligently when he walked in.

“Actually, I have some issues to discuss with you and Bill,” he explained. “Where is Bill, anyway?”

“Smoke break,” Feng answered, not looking up from her screens. “You know I make him go a minimum of sixty yards from the building so the fans don’t pull that crap inside. It gunks up the hardware.”

“Sixty yards or sixty feet?” Leon demanded. Bill was a survivalist, sure, but they were in the middle of Alaska! There could be bears or moose or wolves out there!

“Ehhh, kilometers? Hmm, something like that,” she told him distractedly. “So, what did you need to talk to us about? Oh, is this about the issue with Ghostface’s collar?”

Pausing, Leon started and stopped before agreeing, “Yes, actually. That and his cell. I understand the door closed with-”

“With Marcus inside the cell and nowhere near the door. Trust me, I want to know too since going over the tape,” Feng finished. Tapping a key to minimize the screen she was on, she turned to face him again. “Some really weird shit has been happening around that guy. I mean, I was mostly keeping an eye on things because of Ghostface and his whole, ‘playing with his food’, thing that he does, but that was a little too odd. Here, let me show you the footage.”

He hadn’t had time to review the tape from that or the most recent incident with the Nightmare yet, so he quickly joined her at the desk. The cat on her lap looked up and meowed before purring contentedly.

Narrowing his eyes at the feline, he asked, “How long have you had her again?”

She was quite plump for having ‘just showed up’, and her black and white fur was sleek and shiny. Very unlike a stray that had been wandering in the wilderness for god knew how long…

“So anyway,” Feng declared, quickly pulling up the footage from the first incident.

It showed Ghostface lounging on his bed, before turning to speak to Marcus as he stood in the doorway. It was easy to tell from the ginger’s body language and the tone of his voice that he was exhausted and uncomfortable. That was understandable, given the recent transfer and the stress he was already under from dealing with Ghostface.

The odd part, however, didn’t come until Marcus was already in the back of the cell. Standing, Ghostface had yet to take a single step towards him with the door suddenly slid shut. The inmate actually glanced back over his shoulder, a mildly surprised look on his face, before it changed to a wicked grin. As he stepped closer to the orderly, the feed and sound suddenly cut out.

With his hands on the desk for balance, Leon leaned closer to the monitor, demanding, “What the hell?! What happened?”

“That’s what I want to know,” she scoffed. “Bill and I were doing what we’re supposed to do, scanning each screen starting with floor five and then working up to the less volatile patients. It wasn’t until I realized floor one Ghostface’s screen was black that I even started to suspect something was up. Then I got your radio to activate his collar and hit the button. It wasn’t until I got your incident report that I realized it didn't go off.”

“Yeah, I was expecting him to be on the floor already when I opened the door,” Leon muttered, rubbing his jaw. “I had to taser him instead… Today when he attacked Freddy, did you activate the shock system in his collar?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, slumping in her chair with a sigh. “And it didn’t do shit… I’ve seriously considered giving it a little love tap just to see if it’ll work, but that seems kinda mean… Although it would be funny if I did it at the right time…”

“Feng, no shocking the inmates unless they have to be subdued,” Leon chastised. He knew she wouldn’t… well, he was pretty sure she wouldn’t, but it was probably still best to say it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but it would be a lot faster than waiting for this maintenance request to go through,” she complained. “I put one in for Ghostface’s collar and cell after the first incident, and now I’ve put in a second one for his collar. Both are on the ‘awaiting approval’ list. Can you maybe ask Wesker about getting those pushed through?”

Leon sighed. Once he’d thought dating the CEO would come with perks just like that, allowing him to actually help people and affect positive change within the inner workings of Crotus Prenn… He’d been a fucking idiot for ever assuming any such thing, often feeling like just as much a prisoner as the patients he was supposed to be watching over.

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, knowing it probably wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. He wasn’t even sure when he’d see his boyfriend again, much less get a chance to ‘talk work’ with him.

Wesker expressly forbade any and all talk of work in the bedroom. Since that took up almost all of their free time and they rarely ‘had time to talk about trivial things’ while at work, it would take a miracle to get her and King’s requests to him in a timely manor.

“Thank you,” Feng told him, reaching up to pat his arm. “Now, I have a lot to get done.”

“Isn’t that the icon for Stardew Valley?” he questioned, pointing at a little pixelated chicken on the bottom icon bar of the screen in front of her.

Slapping the keyboard, the screen went black and she beamed up at him with a wide smile. “No… I have my personal computer in my dorm for that kind of thing…”

“Just… make sure to keep a close eye on things, please,” he implored, before making his way to the door again. “Also, if you can do me a favor and not tell anyone, I’d really appreciate it.”

Turning her chair again, she steepled her hands over Jude’s head before grinning like an evil mastermind. “I’m listening.”

Oh dear god, it was probably a horrible idea but he was going to ask her anyway… “Send all of that to Jack as well. Marcus works directly under her, so I think it’s important she’s kept in the loop… Also, send her that goose video.”

“Bitch, I’m sending the goose video to everyone,” she scoffed, but still nodded. “I’ll send her the rest of that stuff too. Want me to let her know it was from you?”

“She’ll know,” he dismissed. It was true, considering that Wesker would never send it to her or even probably authorize it if Leon put in an official request for it. Technically speaking it was a ‘security issue’, and as head nurse, it wasn’t something she ‘needed to know’. God, he hated how well he was able to figure out Wesker’s mindset when it came to working with his own employees.

“Gotcha’, Captain,” she said, offering a small salute before beginning to furiously type on her keyboard.

As he was stepping outside, Leon swore he heard the music from Stardew Valley before it was quickly muted. Glancing over his shoulder, he was just in time to see Feng staring back at him with wide eyes as the door closed. Turning back around to walk up the path, he nearly bumped into someone else.

Catching himself, he started to apologize, “Shit, sorry Bill– Albert! I mean, Wesker, sir. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“I noticed,” he pointed out with a thin lipped smile. “It’s fine, Leon. What were you doing?”

“Ah, I was just speaking to Feng about the recent problems with Ghostface’s collar,” he confessed.

“Collar problems?” Wesker asked, one eyebrow raising slightly.

“Yes, the last couple of times his collar should have activated to shock him, it didn’t,” Leon explained. “Feng has already put in a couple of maintenance requests but they’re still awaiting approval. She- Actually, I was also wondering if you might… push them through? It seems a bit concerning that it’s happened twice now, both with the same patient.”

Wesker offered him an unreadable expression before smiling slightly. “I suppose I could do that. Ghostface has been a bit of an issue as of late, and the last thing I need is you getting hurt.”

The sudden, seemingly caring comment threw Leon for a loop and he could feel heat rising in his face and neck. Eyes falling, he murmured, “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir when we’re alone like this,” he told him, voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’ve told you that.”

‘Like this,’ Leon thought almost bitterly. A thumb caressed his cheek and he looked up, meeting Wesker’s eyes again.

“Something’s bothering you…” he observed. “Tell me.”

It was those rare, fleeting moments that Leon saw the man he’d fallen in love with. Soft underneath that cold, stony exterior. Caring, despite how callously he treated everyone else. He’d made the then rookie feel special. Like he’d seen something in him that others didn’t have. It was that nostalgia and longing for something he missed and had always longed for that had him speaking up again.

“After speaking with some of the staff, I agree that it would be safest to move Danny Johnson down to level two.”

Expression once again becoming a steel mask devoid of emotions or warmth, Wesker asked flatly, “This is about his current obsession with the new orderly, isn’t it?”

A bit thrown by his cold guess, Leon hesitated to answer right away. Resolve starting to waver, he forced himself to blurt out, “Yes, it is. Ghostface’s behavior is dangerous and-”

“Crotus Prenn is full of dangerous individuals,” Wesker snapped, cutting him off. “He knew that when he started working here and as long as Jack is doing her job and training him properly, he’ll be just fine.”

“But what if he’s not?” Leon argued, trying not to bristle. “Yes, his training is going very well despite the rush in which he was transferred up here-”

“Ah,” Wesker chuckled, stepping forward suddenly to wrap an arm around his waist. “Is that what this is about?”

“What?” he asked, flustered by the sudden intimate grasp he was in.

“My dear, he’s not here to replace you,” Wesker told him smoothly. “You have utterly nothing to worry about. I know how it must look. How it must feel to you, with the similarities. But there’s nothing going on beyond coincidence. His transfer was rushed, yes, but that’s nothing you need to be worried about.”

Leon blinked, unable to figure out where to start. Or rather, restart. He hadn’t been the least bit worried that Wesker had some kind of sexual interest in Marcus, although he wasn’t sure it would have bothered him if he had. Not out of jealousy anyway.

Wesker turned, the arm around his waist pulling him back up the path and away from the surveillance building as he continued, “I don’t want you worrying about this anymore. His transfer, Ghostface’s little attitude problems, or whatever nonsense Jack has been abusing your ears with.”

Barely keeping himself from flinching, Leon grimaced. Obviously Wesker knew they talked on a daily basis, or at least almost daily. As the leads of their respective departments, it was integral to their jobs. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty and nervous every time the man spoke of her. He knew he should just end things with Wesker… but he was too afraid of what might happen if he did…

Reaching the entrance to Crotus Prenn snapped Leon back to reality. Expecting Wesker to release him so they could go inside, he was surprised when he was instead spun around to face him again. His shoulders hit the metal door behind him, chin tilted up to face the taller man as he held his face with one hand. Lips found his, muffling his startled sound before it could meet the cold Alaskan air, and he felt a familiar pang shoot down his spine.

Why couldn’t it always be like that with Wesker? Why did the spark have to fade, leaving him in a limbo of wanting so badly to love him, but unable to justify it when he knew what lurked beneath the surface?

Gasping quietly when he was released from the possessive lips and hands holding his mind and body hostage, he stared into Wesker’s cold blue eyes, speechless.

“You’re taking the next two days off,” he heard, barely registering what that even meant. “I think it’s time you and I spent some time away from here. Away from work and all these silly little fears of yours.”

“But I-”

“Leon,” he scolded, voice once again icey.

“I can’t just take off in the middle of a work week!” he tried to argue.

“You can, and you will, because I told you to,” Wesker stated, tone leaving no room for argument.

Swallowing, he let his eyes fall as he agreed, “Yes, sir.”

A hand gently gripped his chin, tilting his head back again so he was once more eye to eye with the CEO.

Deceptively soft, the older man praised, “That’s what I like to hear from you, darling. Don’t worry. You won’t have time to think about work… not until well after I’m done with you.”

A familiar, desperate heat wound its way through Leon at the promise and for a brief moment, he felt that old spark that had originally drawn him to Wesker. It left him just as quickly, disappearing along with the warm hand on his cold skin as Wesker pulled away.

“Get inside before you freeze, Captain. I’ll take care of the incident report this time. You have enough on your plate as it is,” he informed, reaching past Leon to badge open the door. “The car will be out front as soon as your shift is over.”

Turning as Wesker breezed past him, Leon shuffled back inside with a quiet sigh. Not for the first time, he had to wonder… What was the point of him being captain of the guard or having Wesker’s ear when it did no good? Who was he actually helping? Rubbing a hand over his face, he let out a long sigh. He needed to find Tapp or Ripley so he could let them know he would be absent for the next two days…

~~

Eli stretched, trying to work the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. Michael had gotten ahold of him during the patients lunch hour and they’d spent the entirety of it in a very cramped closet, leaving him with a whole lot of new bruises and no time to actually eat anything until it was time for his own lunch break back on the first floor. As he munched on a sandwich and tried to ignore the bubble of people actively avoiding him, his solitude was interrupted by two of the only people he could call friends.

“Hey, Eli, how are you– Jesus Christ! What happened?” Marcus asked, eyes widening as he took in his disheveled appearance.

“Those look like really bad mosquito bites but we also don’t get mosquitos up here,” David added on, cringing as Eli’s neck made sounds similar to a rusty door hinge as he turned to look up at them.

The large purple and black bruises wringing his neck and wrists looked absolutely nothing like mosquito bites, but that did nothing to stop him from gently correcting, “David… You know those giant crane fly looking bugs we get every summer? Those are mosquitos…”

“There are mosquitos in Alaska?” Marcus asked, still openly staring at the marks littering his skin.

“Yes…” Eli sighed. “Can you please stop staring? You’re going to see this alot and if you don’t get used to it now, you’re going to upset Michael when you get your second floor access.”

Face flushing as he quickly looked away, Marcus apologized, “Shit, I- I’m sorry. Just… isn’t that dangerous? I mean, is it really safe for you to keep working around this guy if he keeps doing that kind of stuff to you?”

Bristling slightly, Eli defended, “It’s fine. He never hurts me. This is just his way of showing affection since he’s stuck in here. We have to make what little private time we get together count.”

Holding up his hands as he took a seat at the table, Marcus offered sincerely, “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes. I just… You can see why I’m worried, right?”

Sighing again, he nodded. Yeah, he understood. He was small, standing at just under five and a half feet tall, and he wasn’t particularly muscular or tough, especially in comparison to Michael. It had taken a while for him to learn to trust him, and there were still moments he honestly wasn’t sure if the man would hurt him or not. But it was a risk he was willing to take.

He was about to say as much, when Marcus asked, “Aren’t you worried that he’s pulling a Ghostface?”

It took a lot to make Eli angry and even more for him to show it, but the question had him slamming his cup down on the table so hard the entire thing rattled, making both Marcus and David jump.

“We are not the same at all,” he snapped, practically shaking. “Michael doesn’t- He would never-”

Gritting his teeth, he took a deep breath before stating firmly, “Michael doesn’t play those kinds of games. That’s not his thing. Ghostface likes to play mind games. Michael prefers to let his victims know exactly what’s happening when he kills them. He likes the chase. The hunt. So no. No, he’s not doing to me what Ghostface is doing to you. If he was, he would have killed me before I was ever released from Smith’s Grove…”

In the stunned silence that followed, Eli wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake. Michael’s claim over him wasn’t the only reason so many of the other staff members gave him a wide berth. Sure, King and Quentin were well aware of his past and they were fine with it, but he could count on both hands the number of roommates that had asked to be transferred to a different room when they’d caught wind of it.

No one wanted to sleep in the same room as a crazy person…

Instead of reacting with fear or discomfort, Marcus just looked shocked. After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry… I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“Well… now you know,” Eli stated. Grimacing, he down. That wasn’t very fair. “Look… I’d rather you both hear this from me so you can get the full story, and so you can get the truth instead of all the rumors and shit that tend to stem from what little other people know. So, let me tell you how Michael and I met. It all started in a small town known as Haddonfield…”
~~~~

Notes:

Think Freddy will stop telling shitty jokes now? ....Nah, me neither.

Chapter 14: Before Crotus Prenn: Don’t Say Goodbye

Summary:

How did Eli and Michael end up in Crotus Prenn?

 

For those that have read Don't Say Goodbye, here's a slightly different version of how Eli and Michael met and became the strange couple that they are. An 'AU' if you will ;)

~Six Years Earlier~

A slow, cold drizzle beat against the window, obscuring the already dismal view of the cement yard. Forehead pressed against the glass, Eli sighed, breath fogging up the window for a moment before dissipating. Watching raindrops race from one end of the windowpane to the other did little to ease his boredom, but it was better than sitting in his cell and staring at a blank white wall all day.

He’d been locked up in Smith’s Grove for almost a month and a half at that point and he was starting to fear he’d never get out. The court date for the official hearing kept getting pushed back due to his uncle’s claims that he was still suffering from his injuries and unable to make it…

Eli was sure that was a lie. Sure, he’d cut him up pretty badly with that broken bottle, but it had been self defense. Of course, the cops hadn’t seen it that way, nor had the judge… So there he sat, slowly losing hope that he’d even get a chance to try and prove his side of the story and put his abusive uncle behind bars where he belonged.

Assuming he survived that long. Presently, he was the youngest ‘patient’ in Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. At seventeen, the judge hadn’t wanted to put him in a juvenile detention center but he also hadn’t felt comfortable putting him in prison while awaiting the trial date. The incident had made the local news and been picked up by a few of the surrounding towns as well, leading to a well known child psychologist, Dr. Samuel Loomis, picking up his case and offering to provide a full psychological assessment… Under the condition that he was placed in Smith’s Grove.

The first couple of times they’d met, Eli had been very wary of Dr. Loomis. He had a bit of a reputation, to say the least, but it quickly became apparent that he did genuinely care and wanted to understand why the teen had snapped and ‘tried to kill’ his uncle in such a manner.

So Eli told him the truth. His uncle had been physically and emotionally abusing him for years. He’d get drunk or high and smack him around, sometimes going so far as threatening to kill him. There were a couple of times Eli was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t was because he’d gotten too inebriated and passed out before he could.

To his shock, Dr. Loomis believed him and was working to get his case seen as quickly as possible. Although he’d been the one to request his placement at Smith’s Grove, it wasn’t particularly safe and he couldn’t be there to keep an eye on him all the time.

Trying to ignore the two men who kept lurking around whenever he dared leave his cell, Eli stiffened when he heard a voice he’d quickly learned to fear. It wasn’t a patient, but a particular guard. He was awful to all of them, taking great joy in making their already miserable confinement worse.

“Come on now, everyone back to your fucking rooms!” Jacks shouted, slamming his batton against the door to the common room. The sound made several patients jump, a few of whom started to fidget or murmur nervously.

Eli forced himself to raise his head, looking away from the raindrops slowly tracking down the glass to check the clock above the door. It was slightly hard to make out from the angle he was at, a heavy metal grate caging it in to keep it from being damaged or ripped off the wall. Still, he could see the time well enough to know that there should still have been about an hour of free period for all the patients. Looked like Jacks was just being an ass again…

Another slam of his batton on the door and several rude jeers from the other guards accompanying him had the patients quickly shuffling out of the room, heads down and shoulders hunched as they avoided eye contact. Anything that man could use as a reason to single someone out was to be avoided, really.

Still, Eli couldn’t bring himself to get up. There were two other patients there that had seemed to take an uncomfortable interest in him from day one. At first it was nothing. Just sneaking glances and occasionally trailing him around the halls or yard during outdoor time. It had quickly escalated and the teen had begun leaving his room less and less, only really coming out for food or to meet with Loomis when he was available. It was those two men that had him frozen in his spot by the window. Instead of leaving with the rest of the group, they’d hung back as if waiting for him to get up to try and leave.

His first mistake was making eye contact with the closer of the two. As soon as he did, the man grinned, taking a step towards him. Reacting as if it were his uncle coming after him again was his second mistake. Standing up a little too quickly as he looked for an exit, he knocked his chair into the wall, making a loud banging sound.

“Well, well, well, what have we here,” Jacks drawled, saunting over.

The other two patients beat a hasty retreat, shooting between the guards still standing on either side of the door and leaving Eli at the guard's mercy. Flinching when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt, he was dragged back when he tried to make a run for it.

“Hang on now,” Jacks ordered. “The door is that way. Where the hell you think you’re going?”

Eli didn’t answer, knowing no matter what he said it would be turned around on him or used to mock and belittle him in some way. Staying quiet, he stared at the floor, trying not to look as scared as he felt.

“You’re that little trouble maker, Fox, right?” Jacks asked, giving him a shake.

Wincing, Eli nodded, still not willing to open his mouth to answer. He wasn’t given a choice, as he was shaken again, followed by a sharp demand.

“Well? I asked you a question?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

“That’s what I thought,” Jacks continued smugly. “Tried to kill your uncle or something, right? Well, sounds like you’re gonna’ get along real well with the guy we got coming back in. He broke out a few months ago. Just up and disappeared after massacring a bunch of people on the way out of here.”

Eli wasn’t sure who or what Jacks was referring to, but something told him he didn’t want to know. Yanked suddenly, he stumbled as he was half dragged, half marched towards the door.

“Well, his big dumb ass finally showed back up, and now that he’s being released from the hospital, they’re bringing him right back here. So, all you get to go back to your rooms so he can come home to peace and quiet. So… Get back to your fucking room!”

Letting out a startled yelp as he was suddenly propelled forwards, he barely noticed the large body passing by before smacking directly into it. Falling on his ass with a winded ‘oof!’, it took him a second to look up again.

Through a curtain of dirty blond hair, a pair of piercing black eyes stared back at Eli, so full of malice and rage the smaller man couldn’t help but gulp. It wasn’t until his entire body turned that he noticed the heavy chains around his ankles and wrists, connecting them to his waist to keep him from being able to reach out and grab anyone.

“Eli! Eli, are you alright?” a voice asked, snapping him out of his daze.

Looking over, he was slightly surprised to see Dr. Loomis and Ismael, another of the guards and one whom he had begun to consider a friend, helping escort the much larger man.

“Aww, he’s fine!” Jacks hurried to say, grabbing his arms and practically yanking him to his feet. “He just tripped is all.”

Eli couldn’t help a small sound of pain that escaped him, and the giant’s fists clenched, arms shifting slightly as though he wanted to reach out and grab the source of the noise.

“Michael, Michael, it’s alright,” Dr. Loomis said, voice urgent. Giving Jacks a positively venomous glance, he ordered, “If you would kindly vacate the hallway before anything else happens.”

“Go make sure the common room is empty,” Ismael added, dismissing the other guard. “I’m sure Eli can make it back to his room without an escort.”

When Jacks started to argue that he’d already cleared the room, both Loomis and Ismael gave him such ugly looks Eli almost felt bad for him. Almost. Keeping his head down as Jacks slunk away, cursing and mumbling under his breath, he murmured a quick, ‘Thank you,’ before scurrying away.

He didn’t dare look back, but he swore he could feel Michael’s eyes on his back until he was around the bend and out of sight. It was only once he was back in his room, that he realized who exactly that had been. Michael Myers… He was locked up in the same goddamn place as Michael Myers. He was never getting out of there…

~

Eli didn’t see Michael again for three days, although he wasn’t really trying to look for him. If anything, he was trying to make himself scarce. Jacks had been making it a point to harass him any time he laid eyes on him, and that seemed to be making the other two patients even more bold. They’d quickly disappear anytime Ismael or one of the other guards happened to be around, but that wasn’t often enough.

One morning after a breakfast consisting of cold, lumpy, slightly fuzzy cream of wheat, Eli let himself get a little too distracted looking over his shoulder to keep an eye on the pair trailing him. They’d been pretty bold that morning, actually sitting near him despite Ismael coming over to talk to him while he choked down his food. He’d desperately wanted to say something to him then, but the guard had been called away before he could work up the courage.

That left him to his own devices, and when he spotted Jacks lurking around as the guard in charge of meal time, he quickly tossed the last of his tray in the garbage and started back towards his room. He was almost there when the men following him both froze in their tracks, eyes widening before they quickly turned and shuffled away, both looking back over their shoulders at him. No… Not at him. At something just past him.

Eli turned around just in time to smack face first into a large, solid body. Bouncing off the man like a ping pong ball, he landed on his ass with a startled sound. Shaking his head, he blinked as a pair of long legs came into focus. Clad in the same boring gray pants as the rest of them, he was a little surprised to see a ragged blue bathrobe as well. Looking up, and up, and up, he felt the blood draining from his face when he finally reached the man’s eyes.

Still partially blocked by a curtain of dirty blond hair, the rest of Michael’s face was covered by a paper mache jack-o-lantern mask. Black eyes glittered behind the holes left for him to see through, pinning Eli in place like a needle through a moth.

Wait… Why was he even out of his cell? He’d been led into Smith’s Grove in chains, so why was he suddenly out and about, wandering around like all the other patients? Shouldn’t he be under lock and key?

Michael’s head tilted slightly, fingers curling as if picturing them around the smaller man’s throat.

Shrinking down slightly, Eli tried desperately to think of something he could say that wouldn’t get him killed. Stammering, he finally got out, “I- I’m sorry for bumping into you. I- Um, I- I like your mask.”

Leaning forward slightly, the mountain of a man took a step closer and for a moment Eli was sure he was going to reach down and grab him. He knew he needed to get up. To move out of the way so Michael could go… wherever the hell he was supposed to be going, but he couldn’t get his arms and legs to cooperate.

“Michael!” Dr. Loomis’s voice called, snapping Eli out of his freeze. Looking slightly to the side of Michael’s massive frame, he spotted the doctor as he moved around him. He didn’t put himself between the two, but he did put himself where he was visible and could try to intervene if the larger man made a grab for the other sitting on the floor. “Michael, you must come along now. If you wish to stay out of those cuffs, you’ll have to behave.”

“Sh-should I go?” Eli asked, volume barely above a whisper. Michael made a low sound, almost like a growl, and he flinched. Jesus, he didn’t sound human!

“I think that would be best,” Loomis agreed, not unkindly. “I’ll try and set up a time to meet with you later, Eli. I’m sorry for my recent absence, but I’ll explain when I can.”

“S-sure,” he agreed shakily, forcing himself to his feet. Realizing Michael was standing between him and his cell, Eli slowly shuffled backwards, offering, “I- I’m going to- to go hang out in the common room for a bit.”

Loomis nodded, before once more turning his attention to his lifelong patient and project. Michael, however, ignored the doctor entirely, eyes tracking Eli until he was once more out of sight.

Similar occurrences happened with more and more frequency over the next two weeks. Michael would pop up, seemingly out of thin air at times, and stare at Eli. Any time the young man would look away, the man would get closer and closer until Dr. Loomis or one of the guards took him back to his cell or to one of his unending meetings with the doctor. There were plenty of times Eli had to take it upon himself to ‘escape’, leading to him wandering around the facility for hours until he was forced back to his room for the night.

It was due to his growing fear of Michael and his slow, unending stalking, that Eli slipped up. Jacks had been keeping his distance, mostly due to Myer’s presence, but the two men that had been after him had started to grow bolder again. If he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have noticed before it was too late…

Entirely put off by the fuzzy green patches on his scrambled eggs, Eli decided to skip breakfast and head back to his cell before Michael was led into the cafeteria for his morning staring contest. He never actually ate, steadfastly refusing to remove his mask outside of his cell, but a guard still brought him in every morning like clockwork.

Keeping his head down and eyes on the floor to avoid catching any unwanted attention from guards or patients, Eli almost made it back to his cell. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise, he looked up, expecting to find Michael lurking around the corner waiting to grab him.

Someone was indeed waiting to grab him, but it wasn’t Michael. It was one of the men who’d been hounding him since he showed up, leaning against the open door of his cell with an almost impatient expression. Freezing when he saw the man, Eli made a small sound of surprise, giving himself away.

Locking eyes with him, the man grinned, crooked teeth making the smile even less friendly as he asked, “Hey, kid. You, ah… You’ve been here a while, yeah? How old are you?”

Eli wasn’t about to answer that for so many reasons. Silently shrugging, he took a small step back.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” the man dismissed, eyes narrowing. “Where you going? C’mere. I just wanna’ talk. Get to know you a little better. You seem like you could use some friends, kid. I can be your friend. A real good friend…”

Shaking his head, Eli started to force out a small ‘no thank you,’ but it turned into a startled gasp when the man lurched forward, making a grab for him. Nearly falling in his haste, he turned and ran, hoping to find Ismael or one of the other less awful guards. Shit, he wasn’t even sure if Ismael was there that day or not!

Taking a turn that would lead to the front of the sanitarium and a guarantee of at least two staff members, Eli was caught off guard when an arm shot out of an open doorway. Letting out a choked squawk as he was clotheslined, he hit the floor with a painful thump, stars filling his vision as his head smacked the tile.

Hands grabbed at him, dragging him mostly upright before he could shove them away. Throwing his arms and legs out, Eli managed to grab the doorframe, earning a loud swear from the second man.

Biting someone’s fingers when they tried to cover his mouth, he shouted, “Help! Help! Get off me! Help!”

The sound echoed down the halls, starting up a chorus of wailing and shouting as other patients were disturbed by his cries. The men grabbing at him both started cursing, fingers clawing at him as they tried to pry his grip loose from the door so they could drag him into the room.

The jingle of keys and heavy bootsteps made them freeze for a moment before Jacks came rushing around the corner. Pausing, he took in the sight with a strange expression. Meeting Eli’s panicked gaze for a moment, he had the audacity to smirk before dismissing them with a simple, “As you were,” before turning and walking away.

Shocked by his blatant lack of concern, Eli lost his grip on the door when he was yanked backwards. Thrashing and kicking was of little use, as the men grabbed his wrists and ankles, bodily lifting him off the floor so they could drag him further into the room.

It wasn’t until the air began to cloud with steam that he realized they’d dragged him into a bathroom. All the showers were turned on full blast, masking the sounds of his struggling and leaking puddles of warm water all over the floor.

Thrown down, Eli slipped when he tried to scramble to his feet, earning a harsh laugh from his attackers. Just as he was getting his hands and knees underneath him, a foot stomped down on his back, shoving him to the floor with a splash.

“Go watch the door,” the first man ordered, jabbing a foot into Eli’s ribs and shoving him onto his back. “Make sure no one comes in.”

“No one’s coming in,” his partner complained. “It’s breakfast.”

“Just go! The sooner I’m done the sooner you can have a turn!” he snapped, slapping Eli when he tried to shove him off.

“Get off me!” Eli sobbed, thrashing his legs. The man had a hand around each of his wrists, knees on either side of his hips as he pinned him to the damp tile floor. “Leave me alone!”

“Shut up!” the man ordered, releasing one arm to clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Flip him over if he’s being too fighty,” the other advised from his place by the door. “And hurry up! At this rate–”

He suddenly trailed off with a small gurgling sound, mostly muffled by the heavy air and sounds of running showers. Neither Eli or the man groping at his pants really registered it, too busy fighting for control to notice his sudden absence.

It wasn’t until a huge shape emerged from the steam, towering over both of them that Eli froze, struggle all but forgotten as he stared into a pair of glittering black eyes.

“There you go,” the man gloated, shifting to force one of his knees between his victim's legs. “Now just- just relax and-”

Silent as an owl, Michael reached down and grabbed the man by the back of the neck. Lifting him off Eli, then off the floor entirely, he turned him around so they were face to mask.

He made a choked sound, legs kicking as he wheezed, “Put me down! You fucking psychopath! If- if you want him, you can have him! Just put me down!”

Michael’s head tilted slightly, but he didn’t put the man down. Instead, he took two steps, carrying him close enough to smash him face first into the wall.

Eli flinched at the sound of bones and teeth crunching, but Michael was far from done. Pulling the man back, he smashed him into the wall again, shattering the tile. Tilting his head back, Michael looked down at his work, taking in the broken nose, shattered teeth, and bits of ceramic lacerating the man’s mutilated face.

His mouth opened and closed, blood dripping past torn lips as he tried to plead for mercy. With a grunt, Michael slammed him into the wall again, that time with both hands.

Something splashed to the floor, slowly rolling through the water until it stopped near Eli. He nearly threw up, staring at the unseeing eye floating in the puddle before him. Struggling to move, he rolled onto his stomach, clawing his way towards the door, terrified of being next. Michael Myers was a killer through and through and with the way he’d been watching him he knew he had to be next!

He never made it to the door. Crawling several feet, he finally forced himself to look forward and away from where Michael was still smashing a corpse into a wall only to find himself face to face with the other man who’d attacked him.

His eyes were open but no longer seeing as his head was twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees, stuck permanently looking backwards as parts of his vertebrae jutted from the torn skin. The water around him was slowly turning pink, then red as more blood was washed towards the drain in the center of the room.

Frozen in place, Eli heard a splash, then slow, wet footsteps approaching from behind. His entire body was shaking, terror rooting him in place as a shadow fell over him again. Run. He needed to run. Stupid! Get up! Run!

A hand reached down, gripping the front of his neck and lifting him from the floor like he weighed nothing. His head swam, vision blurring with the sudden motion. He could feel wet tile under his feet but try as he might he couldn’t seem to support his own weight, leaving him to grab desperately at Michael’s wrist. Staring up at him, it took Eli a long, dreadful moment to realize he could still breath despite the fact that he was being held up the way he was.

Lips trembling, he could barely get the words out as he begged, “Please… please d-don’t…”

He had no idea what Michael really planned to do with him, but he was sure it would be painful and brutal. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. Mercy? The only mercy he could hope to receive was a quicker death than what had been allowed for his attackers.

The hand around his neck tightened slightly and he choked, pulling at Michael’s fingers with one hand, his other still grasping at his wrist. Looking up at him, he squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting his last thought to be of the orange and black mask looming over him.

Feet dragging over the tile as he was pulled closer, Eli flinched when fingers brushed over his face. He was starting to feel dizzy, limbs growing heavier with each shallow breath. The hot, heavy air wasn’t helping, making him feel like he was trying to breathe through a pillow.

Fingers brushed his face again and he opened his eyes despite his fear that Michael was about to gouge them out with his bare hands. Instead, he found the man leaning down, masked face only inches from his own. It would have been just as easy for him to simply lift him clean off the floor, but he’d chosen to lean instead, and for the first time, Eli could see the blue of his eyes peering back at him from behind his mask…

There was something close to curiosity in his gaze, and his head tilted to one side as he inspected his captive.

Fighting just to stay conscious at that point, Eli reached out with shaky hands. Grasping at the edges of Michael’s robe, he pleaded, “M-medical… Please… I- I need… to get… to m-medical…”

The last thing he felt as everything went black was his feet leaving the floor…

~

Eli woke up almost twenty-four hours later, having been sedated while they waited to see how bad the swelling in his skull was going to be. Once it was deemed safe, they took him off the sedatives and he woke up to find an incredibly worried Dr. Loomis sitting beside his bed. His head still felt like it was splitting open and his entire body was riddled with aches and pains, but he was alive.

As soon as he realized he was awake, Loomis practically dragged the facility doctor into his room to check on him. Once he was cleared, he was filled in on the current situation. After he’d passed out, Michael had carried him to the medical office, ignoring multiple guards when they attempted to order him to stop and even breaking one man’s arm when he tried to grab them. He’d kicked the door to the medical wing down, marched in, placed Eli on a bed, and simply… walked back to his cell. That’s where Ismael had found him hours later, sitting on his bed still covered in blood and bits of gore. He’d been locked in his room ever since, but hadn’t made a single move to try and get out.

It took him a while thanks to the pain in his head, but Eli managed to explain everything that had happened. And he meant everything, starting with the two men stalking him around the facility, Jacks cruelty, and Michael’s apparent interest in him.

Loomis listened with a great deal of interest, and when Eli was done, he confessed, “I am so sorry. I had no idea how bad things were getting for you, nor did I have any idea the guards were exacerbating the problem.”

“Ismael is great,” Eli added, “but he can’t be everywhere at once. He does his best, but he’s just one man.”

“Yes, he’s been rather good with Michael as well,” Loomis agreed. “I have no doubt Michael would still kill him if he got in his way, but for the time being, he’s one of the only people he’ll allow in his cell to place cuffs on him…”

“Why… Why did Michael save me?” Eli asked quietly. “Is it just so he can kill me himself?”

“I don’t know,” Loomis admitted, rubbing his chin. “Michael has never displayed such behavior before. Not with anyone but his sister, Angel, and when she rejected him he turned on her as well and tried to kill her. Perhaps he’s seeking a surrogate…”

“Wha- Me?!” Eli demanded. “Do we look alike or something?!”

“Not in the slightest,” Loomis dismissed. “She looks rather like her brother, although she lacks his stature and violent nature.”

With his wavy brown hair and light brown eyes, Eli was well aware he looked absolutely nothing like Michael, and for that he was grateful. But that still didn’t explain why the man had taken an interest in him.

“Would you be willing to try and get close to him?” Loomis asked suddenly, eyes bright as he stared at the teen. “This is unprecedented action on Michael’s part. Something I never expected to see. You… You may be the key to helping me unlock his inner machinations. To understand his reasons for doing the things he’s done!”

Staring at Loomis for a full three minutes, Eli finally stated, “Fuck no.”

“Eli-”

“No! No, no. I’m not going to try and get close to him for you or anyone else!” he argued, voice breaking. “I just… I just want to get out of here and move on with my life. Okay?”

Loomis nodded, clearly disappointed but not about to press him with the state he was in. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter, as Michael had his own intentions to act on.

Three days later, Eli was cleared to go out for yard time again. Loomis had talked to him a few times, hoping to sway him, but he’d steadfastly refused. He wouldn’t be used, and he wouldn’t try to manipulate anyone for his or anyone else’s gain.

Still, he felt he owed Michael, and over the next several weeks, the feeling only grew. The man had saved him from being raped and probably killed, and even left him alive when he had every opportunity to do whatever he wish to him himself…

By some miracle, they still allowed Michael out for yard time, although he was in chains the entire time. Locked to a small square and only able to move a couple of feet in any direction, he was being treated more like an animal than a human at that point. That didn’t stop him from staring at Eli the entire time he was out there, however. And if anyone stepped between them or blocked the smaller man from view, Michael would start straining against his chains and breathing heavily, growing angrier and more unruly until the issue was resolved.

Finally, Eli’s resolve broke, and he found himself sneaking a water bottle outside with him despite it being against the rules. He could feel Michael’s eyes on him as soon as he stepped outside, and with a grim sense of determination, he cautiously started making his way across the yard towards him.

Michael slowly turned until his body was facing the smaller man, chains rattling quietly as he did.

Stopping just out of his reach, Eli glanced at his masked face before quickly dropping his gaze to his own feet. Maybe he was making a terrible mistake, but he had to say… something. Anything.

“Michael, I… I just wanted to say… Thank you. You saved me from those men in the bathroom and… and I know you didn’t have to do that. So, really. Thank you…”

Michael’s heavy breathing was the only sound that answered him, and he shuffled his feet nervously. Loomis hadn’t given up on his quest to try and get him to get closer to Michael, but that wasn’t why he was there. Honestly, he doubted the man really cared at all and was just acting on a chance to kill…

“I… I brought you some water… I don’t think it’s really fair that they make you stand out here in the sun,” he continued, not sure why he was still rambling. Holding up the bottle, he started to say more when huge hands suddenly covered his own, startling him silent.

Staring at Michael’s hands encompassing his own, he considered just how easy it would be for the man to snap his wrist or yank him in closer so he could grab his neck or face. Once again, his life was in the killer's hands and there was nothing he could do about it…

Michael’s eyes bored into him, cold and unreadable as his fingers wrapped around the water bottle. Almost gentle as he plucked it from his grasp, he didn’t take a step back once he had it. Instead, he simply stood there and watched him.

Eli blinked up at him, stunned into freezing. “I… Um…”

“Hey! Get the hell away from there!” a guard shouted, and Eli jumped.

Quickly taking a step back, he looked down again, quickly mumbling, “Sorry, I- Sorry. Thank you!” before quickly shuffling away. He could feel Michael’s eyes on the back of his neck the whole way, and he wondered if he’d just made things worse for himself.

During outdoor time was really the only time Eli saw Michael anymore, and he spent the rest of the day thinking about the encounter. It was still on his mind when he went to bed that night, leading to him tossing and turning for a couple of hours before finally drifting off. Just as he did start to fall asleep, he swore he heard his cell door creaking open. Trying to ignore it at first, his eyes flew open when the hair on his arms and neck stood up. Was someone in his room?

The only light in the cell was from the tiny window at the back wall, letting in just enough moonlight to see, but before his eyes could even start to adjust to the dark, a hand clamped over his mouth, pinning his head back as a body slowly emerged from the shadows. His heart beating in his ears was almost enough to drown out the sounds of Michael’s heavy breathing as he moved closer, masked face tilting towards Eli.

It was already far too late for his struggles to be of any help, but he did anyway, feet kicking uselessly as the Boogeyman settled on top of his hips, legs on either side of him and one hand practically smothering him. Small, muffled whimpers of terror escaped from under Michael’s palm with each of Eli’s frantic breaths, fingers shaking as he gripped the bedsheets for dear life.

Jesus Christ, he knew he should have kept his distance! Michael may have saved his life once, but he’d been right about why! He wanted to kill him himself and now he was going to die in a tiny cell in an uncomfortable bed! All because of a crime he didn’t commit!

The hand on his face was so large it was easily covering his mouth, and when he started trying to twist out from underneath it, Michael gripped him tighter, covering his nostrils as well. Eli bucked and thrashed, clawing at his hand as he was slowly suffocated. Pressed tightly down, he winced, blinking up at the larger man with tears in his eyes.

Michael’s head tilted to one side, almost appearing curious. Hell, maybe he was amused. It was hard to tell, but Eli supposed it didn’t matter. He was dead either way. A fear that was only further confirmed when something glinted in the corner of his eye, lifted into the light by the Shape’s free hand.

A thin sound of terror left him, turning to pain as the fingers on his face shifted slightly to grip his jaw instead. He could breathe again, but he still couldn’t scream, mouth forced closed by the painful angle his head was being tilted back at. He couldn’t even turn his head to look at the knife as it inched closer, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it coming at all. So he stared at Michael’s mask, lips trembling and hands shaking as he gripped his wrist with all his strength.

Sitting up ever so slightly, Michael lifted his hand into view so that Eli was forced to look at it. Flinching, he blinked, not really understanding what he was seeing at first. In the dim light, it looked a lot less like a knife and more like… a water bottle?

Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, Eli blinked. Why on earth had Michael brought along a bottle of water? Oh god, was he going to try and drown him?! What kind of fucked up way to die was that?!

Fear taking over once more, Eli gulped, slowly looking back up at Michael. His eyes glittered in the dark, predatory and emotionless as ever. Giving the water bottle a small shake, his eyes turned towards it before looking back down at his captive audience.

It was only then that he started to think maybe, just maybe, Michael wasn’t there to kill him… He’d taken him a bottle of water while he was out in the yard, and since his latest double murder, that was the only time they ever saw one another. What if… he was there to return the favor in the best way he knew how?

It was difficult, but Eli managed to force out through clenched teeth, “Th-thank you, Michael… F-for the… the water?”

The grip on his jaw held tight for a few more grueling seconds, before loosening ever so slightly. Just as he started to breathe a little easier, seeing a bit of hope, Michael’s hand slid down, wrapping loosely around his neck instead. Despite that, he couldn’t help the shrill sound of terror that came out of him. Slapping a hand over his mouth before the Shape could start squeezing to keep him quiet, Eli shook his head.

Lifting his hand, he whispered harshly, “I’m- I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me, it was an accident, I swear! Please, you have to believe me! I- I’m not trying to alert the guards or- or anything!”

Dear god, why the hell did he say that?! Why was he still talking?! And he was, in fact, still talking. Babbling in a harsh whisper as he tried to apologize for even bringing up such a stupid idea and possibly for even existing. He wasn’t sure, fear driving words from his mouth before his brain could really register what they were.

Michael’s shoulders moved slightly, a quiet, almost inaudible huffing sound rasping behind his mask. Was he… laughing?! Was that a good thing? It really didn’t feel like it should be a good thing, but considering he still wasn’t strangling him, Eli had to assume it was and finally fell silent for a moment.

Trying to smile, he ended up looking more terrified than anything. Giving up, he said quietly, “I-if you want to- Um, m-maybe you could… p-please let go?”

Quiet laughter stopped immediately and Michael’s fingers twitched, pressing into his skin with enough pressure to threaten bruises if he kept it up.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Eli squeaked, holding his hands up between them. “I- I can’t get out of my cell at night and- and…. H-how did you… get into my cell?”

Michael made no effort to answer, simply staring down at him in silence. After a few minutes, he shifted, one foot finding the floor before he stood, leaving Eli frozen in terror where he’d found him. Not making a sound, he turned, leaving behind the water bottle and a thousand unanswered questions.

~

Eli didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and when morning finally came and he was let out of his room for the day, he contemplated not leaving. He barely ate what they fed them anyway, so just skipping breakfast wouldn’t be so bad. And lunch… and outdoor time… and dinner…

Sighing, he rested his back against the wall, staring at nothing as he tried to figure out what to do. He should probably tell Loomis. He was Michael’s doctor. Maybe he could-

His train of thought was derailed when his eyes found the water bottle Michael had left him the night before. Sitting on the desk right across from his bed, it struck him that it wasn’t the same one he’d given him during outdoor time the previous day. That one had a blue screw on cap, but the one on his desk was green.

Michael hadn’t been rejecting his gift… He’d been returning the favor.

Moving before he could stop himself, Eli grabbed the bottle, inspecting it carefully for any signs of tampering. Satisfied, he opened it, taking a long, much needed drink before deciding on what to do. It was crazy, and probably dangerous, and may even lead to his horrible demise… but maybe it wouldn’t.

Forcing himself through breakfast, Eli waited impatiently for outdoor time. Nearly sprinting outside as soon as the doors were open, he looked around for Michael. He wasn’t hard to spot, towering over every other person in the yard and given a very wide berth by the other patients despite the chains holding him in place, he stood out like a lighthouse in the fog.

Trying not to let his nerves get the best of him, Eli made sure Michael was looking at him before he began his approach. He wasn’t about to try and sneak up on him, chains or not. Once he was in arms reach again, he paused, suddenly unsure what to say.

Blushing, he started and stopped a couple of times before holding out a bottle of apple juice. “S-sorry. I- I don’t even know if you like-”

He froze when huge hands once again encompassed his own, but just like the day before, Michael gently took the bottle from him before it disappeared into his bathrobe.

Letting out a nervous laugh, Eli cleared his throat before offering sheepishly, “I- I appreciate you bringing me water last night… Although, um… I- I thought you- I- I was afraid you were there to kill me.”

He rushed the last part out before he could lose his nerve again. Biting his lip, he looked down. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that at all. What if it gave Michael the idea to kill him anyway? He’d had his life in his hands twice by that point and chosen not only to let him live, but to save his life. Maybe talking about him killing him was a bad idea…

Tensing when fingers brushed his cheek, Eli looked up, eyes wide with shock.

Michael was looking down at him, eyes glittering as he tilted his head to one side. Breaking off the stare suddenly, the Shape looked over Eli, eyes going from blue to black like a shark as his muscles visibly tensed.

Glancing back, Eli noticed Jacks watching them, eyes narrow as he leaned down to speak into his radio.

“Fuck,” Eli swore quietly. Looking back up at Michael, he invited in a rushed whisper, “If you can- or- or if you want to, you- you can come by my cell again…”

The hand on his cheek slid down, gripping the back of his neck and for a moment fear twisted in his stomach. It would be very easy for Michael to snap his neck right then and there… A gentle squeeze was all he received before the hand fell away, releasing him.

Understanding even without a word spoken, Eli nodded before scurrying off to a different corner of the yard. Although Michael’s dark gaze remained on Jacks, the other patients started to give the young man a much wider berth and he spent the rest of the day in relative peace.

Settling into bed that night, he found himself both terrified and strangely hopeful that Michael would indeed visit him again. When he heard his cell door creak open a couple of hours later, he raised his head, both thrilled and shocked to actually see the giant looming in his doorway.

Not trying to move away as the Shape came closer, Eli asked quietly, “Do you… want to stay for a while? The- the guards won’t be making their rounds for- ah… I- I don’t- I don’t have a clock, but it should be a couple of hours.”

A couple of hours where he would be alone and helpless in a tiny room with Evil…

Michael’s head tilted to one side, but he sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment, he reached out and grabbed Eli, ignoring his startled squeak as he manhandled him onto his lap.

It was odd… Loomis had told Eli time and time again that Michael seemed to hate any and all physical contact, barely tolerating Ismael putting his cuffs on for outdoor time, and often lashing out and injuring any other guards that tried. So why was he being pressed into the man's chest like a teddy bear?

Michael didn’t seem to be too sure either, shifting every few minutes before suddenly flopping over on his side, taking Eli with him as he crowded them both onto his tiny cot. For his part, Eli felt like he was handling it very well. Sure, he was terrified that at any moment the Shape would shift his arm up from where it was across his chest and use it to choke him to death instead. That didn’t happen, and after almost an hour of ‘cuddling’ Eli managed to fall asleep.

He was alone when he woke the next morning, jolting out his sleep as Jacks banged his baton on the wall, shouting, “Up and at ‘em princess! Let’s go!”

The rest of the day was much the same as it had been the past two days. Eli snuck a bottled drink out to Michael, spending a few minutes talking to him about whatever was on his mind. Most of it was simple conversation, but as the days turned into weeks, he slowly started opening up more about his life before Smith’s Grove.

At night, Michael would show up in his cell and crowd him between his body and the wall, arms wrapped tight around him. Sometimes he would sit, one hand wrapped around Eli’s neck as he held him on his lap, just content to enjoy the silence. It was odd, and sometimes it was terrifying. Some nights Michael seemed to be unsure what he really wanted, pinning the smaller man to the bed, fingers tight and bruising around his wrists or neck, eyes black as he’d watch Eli squirm in fear.

Still, he never went so far that he hurt Eli beyond a few bruises. It took a while, but he started to realize the nights Michael would get more aggressive were when the previous set of marks were starting to fade. It didn’t go unnoticed by Loomis, the guards, or the other patients, and all but Jacks began giving him a lot more space.

Jacks seemed to have some kind of personal vendetta against him, either because he’d told Loomis and Ismael about his clear refusal to help when he’d been attacked -nothing could be proven so unfortunately nothing came of it-, or because of Michael’s obvious obsession with him.

Loomis had also picked up on it, but despite his constant grilling and prodding, Eli refused to turn it into something to ‘further his attempts to get through to Michael.’ He was pretty sure Loomis was just as persistent with his attempts to glean information about the two of them during his visits to the Shape, but as always, Michael remained silent and uninterested.

Whatever it was that was going on between them wasn’t going to be some experiment, and Eli decided he was going to tell Michael as much. Hiding a bottle of juice under his shirt -Michael would drink literally anything but it seemed like grape was his favorite- a hand grabbed his shoulder and he jumped, letting out a startled shriek.

“Woah, sorry, kid!” Ismael apologized, patting his back. “Can I borrow you for a minute?”

“Oh- Ah, s-sure,” he stammered, trying not to blush. At least it was Ismael and not Jacks or Loomis.

“I got good news for you,” he continued, guiding Eli down the hall.

Frowning, the young man looked at him. Ismael had been honest with him from the get go, even if he never pulled his punches when it came to delivering bad news. The way he was smiling, eyes actually lit up with what could only be considered joy, had to be a very good sign… so why did he feel so anxious?

Looking down the hall, Eli realized, “Are we heading to the transport van?”

“We are, kid. The judge wants to see you. I guess your uncle went and screwed up, and your case is now being reviewed with the prospect of… I can’t remember how your lawyer said it-”

“I have a lawyer?!” Eli nearly shouted, stopping in his tracks. “Wha- How- When-”

“Easy, kid!” Ismael laughed. “I guess with the new developments, Loomis was able to find someone who was more than a little eager to represent you.”

Looking back the way they’d come, Eli nodded, regret twisting in his stomach. “Can I… Can I say goodbye to Michael?”

Ismael looked a little surprised, then grimaced. “Sorry, kid. We really don’t have time. But if this goes the way Loomis thinks it will, you should be able to come back and visit real soon.”

With that small beacon of hope to guide him, Eli stepped out of Smith’s Grove.

~

The trial ended up lasting for several days, only because his uncle kept causing more and more problems… for himself. From showing up high -while in police custody for trying to rob a convenience store-, to attacking a bailiff, he didn’t stop there. The man told the judge his mother was a whore, cat called three of the female jurors, called one man a faggot and threated to ‘show him how a real man fucks’, and finally attempted to attack Eli when he was asked point blank by his uncle’s own public defender if that was normal behavior for the man.

By the end of it all, his uncle had been charged with multiple accounts of perjury, contempt of court, lying on public records, assault, attempted murder, defamation, public intoxication, attempted robbery, possession of illegal substances with intent to distribute, and many other things Eli was far too tired to remember. Regardless, his uncle would be going to prison for the rest of his life, and he’d be sitting on a nice payout.

He was free. He could do anything. Sell the house and move, go back to school, travel. The world was his for the taking… Yet he found himself standing in front of Smith’s Grove, for the first time as a free man, wondering if Michael would even want to see him…

He’d already been approved to visit him, but he found himself wondering if maybe he was being stupid. Maybe he’d read too much into the attention Michael had paid him. Maybe he was just looking for something he could hold on to, some sense of normalcy in a place as cold and uncaring as Smith’s Grove. So why couldn’t he let it go now that he was out?

Shuffling inside, Eli waited to be called up to the desk and told them who he was and why he was there. The guard burst out laughing, not believing him at first. When he refused to walk away, she begrudgingly double checked the computer before shaking her head.

Getting up and unlocking the door for him to come through, she warned, “Your funeral, but go on in. Someone will bring your ‘friend’ in shortly.”

Sitting at the table in the otherwise empty room, Eli waited. And waited. And waited. He was just starting to worry that Michael wasn’t going to come when the door to the patient side of the sanitarium opened.

Jacks and another guard led Michael inside, chained and in his orange jack-o-lantern mask as usual. His fists were clenched, eyes hidden in shadow as he was guided to the other side of the table. He wasn’t particularly cooperative when the guards briefly unchained his wrists and ankles so they could thread them through the heavy metal loops connecting him to the floor and table, but they managed.

As soon as the chains were secured again, Michael lurched violently towards Jacks, causing him to leap backwards with a startled shout. One hand went to his baton but the other guard grabbed his wrist, shaking his head as he taunted, “Aw, come on now! Leave the big dumb animal alone. What’s he gonna do? C’mon. I need a smoke anyway.”

Shooting him one last vile look, Jacks stalked away, leaving the pair alone in the room together. It was highly against protocol, but Eli kept his mouth shut. He may not be a patient anymore, but he doubted that would keep Jacks from doing something to him.

Waiting until the door closed behind them, Eli looked up at Michael, the start of an apology on his lips. It didn’t make it past that, as the moment his eyes met the Shape’s, he surged upwards. There was a series of loud, metallic snaps the chains around his wrists and ankles snapped.

Eli froze in his seat, terrified beyond words. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Michael look so angry and he couldn’t help but feel like a fool. What had he been thinking? Why had he even for a moment allowed himself to believe he meant anything to the Shape? He killed his older sister, his step father, and tried to hunt down his younger sister. Who was he to think he was anything other than just another blip on his radar, waiting to be cut down in his endless lust for blood and carnage?

“Michael, wait-” he was cut off, a hand shooting out to clamp around his throat. Before he could even try to reason with him, he was hoisted into the air. Legs kicking slightly as he looked for the floor, Eli felt nothing but air. Hands shaking, he clung to the man’s wrist for dear life, eyes once more finding his through the haze of spots starting to encroach on the edges of his vision.

Trying and failing to leverage himself up through his grip on Michael’s arm, Eli forced out, “I- M- Mi- s- sor- sorry!”

Eli hit the floor, legs collapsing like wet noodles as he wheezed and choked. Tears blinded him, every breath feeling like sandpaper as he forced them in and out. Despite knowing there were no longer fingers clamped around his neck, it still felt like he was being choked.

He wasn’t sure if Michael was listening or even close enough to hear him, but he wheezed, “I- I’m sorry! Michael, I’m sorry! I- I d-didn’t know I was getting out! I’m sorry I- I didn’t tell you! I t-tried!”

The sound of slippers shuffling across tile moved closer and he curled in on himself, expecting to be grabbed or maybe kicked. Arms over his head, he cried, “I’m sorry! I- I came back t-to tell you what happened! I- I didn’t think- Aah!”

Michael had stooped down and grabbed him, fingers curling in his shirt as he hauled him upright. Breathing heavily as he stared down at him, it seemed like the Shape was waiting for him to explain.

Hearing banging at the door, Eli barely managed to look around the much larger body blocking his path to see a chair jammed under the knob. Jacks and the other guard were furiously trying to force it open, but getting nowhere fast.

Still, they’d be in sooner or later. Knowing he didn’t have long, Eli rushed out, “I promise, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye! I wasn’t given a choice! I didn’t know I was getting out until they were taking me to the van, and while I was going through all the court proceedings they kept me in a county jail. But- But I was cleared of all the charges! So- So I… I came back… for you… To explain… and to say, I’m sorry for not saying goodbye. If you’ll let me- Or- or if you want me too, I- I’d like to come back and visit you! I- I know I won’t be able to come every day, but- but I’ll come as often as I can.”

Michael’s breathing had slowly evened out while he was talking, grip loosening in his shirt until he was no longer being held up on his toes.

Cautiously, Eli reached up to hold Michael’s wrists with trembling fingers. He was still utterly terrified, but he meant what he’d said. He wasn’t sure why, or if it was entirely one sided, but he felt drawn to the Shape like a moth to flame. Maybe he’d burn, only time would tell… But it was a risk he was willing to take.

One of Michael’s hands shifted, no longer gripping his shirt, but wrapping firmly around his tender neck instead. Eli winced, closing his eyes as he braced for whatever was to come. Instead of being hurt, his head was tilted back and he opened his eyes to find Michael leaning over him. He was so close his mask was almost brushing his face, paper mache jaws not quite touching his lips.

Fingers slid away from his neck, Michael standing and turning to face the guards as they finally broke into the room. Even though both of them had their batons drawn neither one of them wanted to get close enough for the Shape to grab them. Of course, that also meant neither of them could grab him.

Not wanting things to escalate or for either of the guards to get killed -for Michael’s sake, not theirs-, Eli reached out and took the larger man’s hand before he could talk himself out of it.

Michael tensed for a moment before slowly looking down at him, head cocking to one side.

Offering a weak smile, Eli asked softly, “Can I… walk you back to your cell? I- I won’t let them put the chains back on.”

There was a soft huff, as though Michael found his boldness amusing. Still, he turned and stared at the guards as if to dare them to come closer…

Neither of them did, and before either of them could say a word, Loomis rushed into the room behind them. Taking in the sight of the mangled chair, the broken chains on Michael, and the way he was allowing Eli to hold onto his fingers like a lifeline, he seemed speechless for a moment. Finally, he found his voice again, and when he did at least ninety percent of it was unrepeatable swearing, threats directed towards the guards, and demanding to know why in god’s name Michael had been allowed to be alone with someone.

Still, Eli was allowed to walk him back to his cell, and he double checked that he’d be allowed back the next day before saying goodbye. Keeping his promise, he started visiting Michael almost every single day. Jacks was often a problem, but Loomis and Ismael did what they could to keep him in line, and when a position opened up for a night shift janitor, Ismael helped him apply.

He still visited during the day, and his nights were generally spent cleaning and trying not to bring any attention to the massive shape lurking in the shadows of whatever room he was cleaning. Loomis ended up helping him apply for several grants, and with that and his payout from his uncle, Eli managed to go to nursing school. As soon as he was legally allowed, Michael stopped allowing anyone else to touch or handle him for any reason, including Ismael.

Things settled to a new normal, and for three years, it worked well. Until Jacks fucked it up…

Eli was mopping the empty cafeteria late one night when a slow clap broke the relative silence in the room. Looking up, he froze when he spotted Jacks leaning in the doorway.

“Ya’ know, I can honestly say, you got some kinda scam going here that I gotta admit… I ain’t buying,” Jacks said, waltzing into the room. “I mean, of all the inmates you coulda’ got wrapped around that finger of yours, you picked the biggest, ugliest, dumbest motherfucker in the joint!”

Eli returned his attention to his mop, muttering under his breath, “He’s smarter and better looking than you…”

Spitting a glob of phlegm onto a table, Jacks jerked his head at it, sneering, “Missed a spot. So, tell me somethin’. How they let a mop jockey like you stick the big bastard when it comes time for his medical check ups? You ain’t on the nursing staff.”

Eli refused to answer him, not wanting to give him more ammo to use against him. Technically, he was a certified nurse. Unfortunately, there were no openings at Smith’s Grove on the medical staff. So, until there was, he was still employed as a janitor, but under proper supervision, he was allowed to administer any and all medical checks and vaccinations to Michael when required. It was better than having to fully sedate him any time he needed a flu shot…

“So, you’re his bitch, huh?” Jacks sneered, still slowly approaching. “Don’t think I ain’t heard you in his cell at night.”

Face bright red, Eli kept his eyes down, not about to acknowledge what had just been said. Crying out when a hand grabbed his wrist and twisted painfully, he looked up to find Jacks sneering down at him.

“I asked you a question you little shit! So what’s your deal, huh? Fucking your uncle got old, so you went and got yourself a prison husband?”

“G-get off me!” Eli demanded, shoving at him with his free hand.

“That ain’t what I hear you telling him,” Jacks snarled, shoving him against a table. “So what is it? You got a pussy between those legs? Or are you such a bitch that Michael fucking Myers decided you’d do for the time being? Why don’t you show me what’s got him so enamored with y-”

The sound of his skull cracking would be forever etched in Eli’s memory, the look of dumbfounded shock as one of his eyes was nearly dislodged from the force of Michael’s first punch alone would haunt him.

Grabbing Jacks by the back of the neck as he collapsed on top of Eli, briefly pinning him to the table behind him, Michael yanked him away with a sound of rage. It was the most noise he’d ever made, and each subsequent blow landed with an equally angry grunt of exertion. It would be a miracle if Jacks wasn’t dead by the third punch, but that didn’t stop Michael from beating him until his head and chest were both caved in, bones and organs a mess of red pulp.

Eli was still in a state of shock when Ismael and the other guards found them in Michael’s cell a couple of hours later. Michael had picked him up, carrying him to the only safe place he could think of before sitting with him on his lap, arms wrapped around him as he shook uncontrollably.

The next two days were a blur of medical check ups, statements, and desperately negotiating with Loomis and others to try and keep Michael from being moved to a maximum security prison.

The only thing that saved them both was the arrival of one Albert Wesker. Sweeping in with a pile of legal documents and fancy talk that Eli had no hope of deciphering, it was quickly and quietly decided that Michael Myers would be moved to Crotus Prenn where the facility, staff, and location were all better equipped to handle him.

Before Eli could fall into despair over not knowing how he’d possibly be able to contact Michael, Wesker pulled him aside, offering him a job. He’d already read all of Loomis’s reports and understood that he was the only person capable of handling Myers without having to resort to inhuman methods of restraint or sedation. He hadn’t thought twice, taking the job and explaining to Michael that it would take approximately a month before he’d be able to see him again. He had a lot of paperwork to do, not only for the job itself but for his training, relocation, and the other patients he’d be dealing with.

~~

“So, we’ve both been here ever since,” Eli concluded. “Michael still has outbursts and he’s killed a few people since we’ve been here… But, hey, it’s better than the alternative.”

Marcus blinked, unsure where to start after hearing such a tumultuous story. Finally, he asked quietly, “How… how long have you been here?”

“Three years,” he answered. Gesturing to the bruises on his neck and wrists, he added, “I’ll actually be twenty-four in a few days, so uh… Don’t be surprised if I show up looking worse than this.”

The tense silence that followed was only broken by a loud sniffle. David had tears running down his face, occasionally wiping away at them with his sleeve as he lamented, “That’s the most beautiful love story I’ve ever heard, even if there were a few murders along the way. I hope you two get your happily ever after! I’m rooting for you!”

Both Eli and Marcus gave him a strange look, before the brunette sighed. “David… that’s… That’s not the point. Yes, I love Michael. And in his own fucked up, super possessive way, he loves me too. I guess my point is that despite that, he’s dangerous. There’s always a chance he’ll kill me, whether because he snaps or just decides he’s too mad at me to hold back. Marcus, I hope you understand the point I’m trying to make…”

Not entirely sure, he offered, “If you’re going to hook up with a patient do it on the down low?”

Eli slapped a hand over his face, cheeks flushing as he sank down in his chair.

Wincing, Marcus added, “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to be a jab… I guess, just be careful with Ghostface?”

Dragging his hand down his face, Eli stared at him incredulously for a tense moment. “My god… No. Michael and Ghostface are incredibly different. Similar in that they’re both mass murderers, yes, but their entire system and setup is different. Michael doesn’t play with his food for very long unless he has no choice. Ghostface does it because he likes psychological warfare. If Michael had wanted to kill me in the bathroom or my cell or in the yard or during visitation, he would have. He has daily opportunities, but he’s… well, he’s not really very gentle, but he takes measures not to hurt me in ways I won’t like.”

Marcus blinked several times, almost asking Eli if he was a masochist… Clearing his throat, he said instead, “Ghostface plays with his food… And judging from the files I’ve read, that’s what he’s trying to do to me, so I shouldn’t assume that he’s actually trying to cozy up to me because he likes me the way Michael likes you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Eli sighed, looking relieved. “Ghostface can and will play with his victims for months, we’ve seen it before. So just… don’t let your guard down around him. Please.”

Nodding, Marcus forced a small smile, promising, “Don’t worry, I have no intention of getting involved with Ghostface. The guy is… psychotic.”

As the three of them got up, not terribly eager to get back to work but going nonetheless, he found himself hoping it was a promise he could keep…
~~~~

Chapter 15: In a Hell of My Own Making

Summary:

Today we take a closer look at Wesker and Leon's relationship. Oof...

Wesker’s boots hardly made a sound as he swept down the maze of corridors and halls. The few staff he passed quickly moved aside with curt nods and murmured greetings, shocked to see him but smart enough not to question what he was doing or where he was going. Not that he would have answered even if they had been foolish enough to question him. He was not inclined to entertain the ignorant mewling of such small people.

Reaching a heavy metal door, he swiped his badge and stepped inside. Barely sparing a glance at the man already there, he took a seat across from him at the heavy metal table.

“I’m flattered,” Ghostface cooed, looking him up and down. “When they dragged me in here, I thought it was going to be for some kind of drug test, but considering I don’t see any syringes... This seems much more interesting.”

Ignoring the obvious prying for information as to what was really going on, Wesker asked, “Why the sudden uptick in activity, Ghostface?”

Although his sly smile remained fixed, his tone was suspicious as he mused, “Using my killer moniker right off the bat, are we? Hmm, you know how much I love to be flattered, but coming from you it rings so… hollow.”

“If you’d rather I call you ‘Daniel’-”

“I’d rather have my ear tongued by that weird little bug eyed creature that’s constantly hanging around the Legion,” he laughed, not an ounce of humor in his tone. “I’d still feel the incredible urge to set myself on fire afterwards, but at least he looks like he’d make a good little spoon. You? Not so much. Although, throwing either of you down an elevator shaft would be so satisfying… Want to try it out? We can push him first, then compare notes! Oh, I can see the headline now. ‘Elderly Versus Young: Whose Bones Can Handle a Seven Story Drop Better?’ A bit of a mouthful, I know, but it’s been a while and I’m a little rusty.”

“Did Freddy do something? Perhaps he insinuated something?” Wesker continued, ignoring the attempt to get a rise out of him. “Has he challenged you, or otherwise stepped out of the line you’ve so carefully cultivated on the first floor?”

“What do you want, Wesker?” Ghostface questioned, staring at him with a rather bored expression. He’d already figured out that the song and dance routine wasn’t going to work, so he had no interest in trying to play any more games. “I prefer my solitary confinement to be a little more solitary.”

“I don’t repeat myself,” he answered coldly. “So if you’d like to get back to your cell on the first floor sooner rather than later, I suggest you answer the question.”

Pursing his lips as though actually thinking things over, Ghostface finally let out a long, dramatic sigh. “It all started when I was a boy, you see? My mom wasn’t in the picture and my old man was one of those hard ass former military types. Kind of a… bigot. Very ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of mentality. Beat me with a belt if I didn’t keep things to a military standard. Now, I’m no psychologist-”

“Why Marcus? Did he say something to rub you the wrong way?” Wesker interrupted. He could care less why, but that wasn’t really why he’d asked. It was more to gauge the other man’s reaction than anything.

Ghostface had stopped mid-sentence, eyes sharp as he studied the blonde a lot more critically. Relaxing in his chair, he cocked his head to one side. “Why? Interested in him yourself? One malleable twink not enough for you?”

Of course Ghostface knew he’d driven Marcus up there himself. The entire asylum knew, even if they only spoke of it in hushed whispers, so of course it was only a matter of time before the inmates found out as well… But that was the entire point.

“Ah, is that it? You can’t get to Kennedy so you’re targeting him instead?” Wesker pressed, maintaining the uninterested expression he’d had since setting foot in the small room.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your slice of bacon,” Ghostface scoffed. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d just burn a pile of money.”

Wesker arched an eyebrow, not amused, but certainly entertained by his ridiculous empty threats.

“I wouldn’t worry so much about Marcus if I were you,” the dark haired man continued. “He’s in my capable hands now, and no amount of time in a small dark box is going to change that.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “I suppose that’s acceptable, given your track record.”

Ghostface blinked, starting to say something before stopping, a slight frown creasing his brow. It was incredibly rare to catch him off guard, but the CEO savored the small victory as he asked, “Excuse me?”

“The late Nurse Duran comes to mind,” Wesker recalled. “Before that was an orderly who’s name I don’t think I ever bothered to learn. Not to mention the cook before that and the guard and the string of other unfortunate staff members you’ve taken an unhealthy interest in. I don’t think there has been a single man or woman here who hasn’t been forced to transfer… More often than not to the morgue, but I digress.”

Sitting up, Ghostface leaned a bit closer to the table, frown deepening as he asked slowly, “Are you implying… you expect me to kill or otherwise harm a member of your staff? Goodness me, that is horrifying.”

“It’s what you’re known for,” Wesker stated flatly. If Ghostface was attempting to play dumb it wasn’t working. It was annoying, however, and not a game he had any interest in playing. “Of course, if you aren’t up to the task, I’m sure one of the more temperamental inmates will get to it soon enough.”

“I see,” Danny agreed, nodding stoically. “I see…”

Without a second of warning, Ghostface surged out of his chair and lunged over the table. It was enough to take Wesker by surprise, but he still managed to knock the man aside with one arm.

Tossing his chair out of the way as he stood, Wesker barely had a chance to get his feet underneath him before Ghostface was attacking him again. Something pierced his shoulder and he grit his teeth, Danny’s speed and weight pushing him back against the wall.

Snarling at him through clenched teeth, Ghostface warned, “Marcus is mine!”

Wesker didn’t bother to respond beyond narrowing his eyes. Using the wall behind him for leverage, he gave Ghostface a hard shove. Using the distance between them, it was a simple matter of striking his leg with the toe of his boot.

Danny was fast, but already off balance and unable to dodge in time. Faltering as his leg buckled, he wasn’t able to defend himself from a hard strike to the side of the jaw and he hit the floor with a grunt.

Not waiting for him to recover, Wesker pulled a small remote out of his coat pocket. A single press of a button had Ghostface writhing on the floor, electricity coursing through his body as his collar activated.

Watching impassively for a moment, Wesker finally cut the power, allowing the killer to fall into a panting heap. With a small sound of disgust, he turned on his heel and strode from the room. He didn’t look back as the door slid shut behind him, instead glancing down at the pen still jutting from his shoulder.

Frowning, he pulled it out just as Grimes came rocketing around the corner. Leveling an annoyed stare at his head scientist as he skidded to a stop, he asked, “What is it?”

“Sir, you’re bleeding,” he pointed out.

“How observant,” Wesker deadpanned. “Did you need something? Or are you just here to tell me the sky is blue?”

“It’s not actually-”

“Grimes!”

“Sir!” he nearly shouted, almost tossing the clipboard in his hands. “Right! There was a small problem with the other one, and I wanted to make sure you were aware.”

“Were you able to contain it before it could kill anyone this time?” Wesker snapped. “I’ve got more important things to be worried about right now!”

“Y-yes, yes, we subdued it and put it back in its cell,” Grimes quickly summed up. “I assume you want to go over the camera footage yourself but… um… I think I know how it may have escaped its cell this time…”

“Do go on,” Wesker prompted irritably.

“It stripped all of its clothing off and… slipped out through the slot in the door…” Grimes said, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably.

Wesker stared at him for a moment before asking, “The cuffs and collar can fit through the tray slot?”

“Yes… sir… The cell doors with tray slots are uniform on all levels, so-”

“Then put it in a cell without a fucking slot in the door! And stop feeding it!” he snapped. Gritting his teeth, he looked at the pen again, stopping just short of verbally eviscerating his right hand man.

“Sir?” Grimes asked, sounding worried. It was likely more for his own safety at that point, as he half hid behind his clipboard.

“This… isn’t a facility pen,” Wesker mused, deep in thought. Wiping a bit of the blood off with his other hand, he turned it over in his fingers. It was a rather nice pen, even having a person's initials engraved on the body.

“It’s possible he stole it from one of the staff,” Grimes pointed out. “Ghostface is excellent at sleight of hand-”

“I’m quite sure he did, but it’s irrelevant,” Wesker interrupted, putting the pen away inside his coat. “Unfortunately, it looks like he won’t be of any use in this situation after all.”

“This situation?” he questioned, starting to frown. “Oh! You mean the new-”

Wesker gave him a sharp look, warning him silent without a word. There was a time and a place to discuss such things openly, but that was neither.

“Yes, that situation… So be it. I suppose it’s about time he started moving deeper into the asylum. Perhaps one of the inmates on level two can help solve this little problem…”

~~

Leon was used to the silence. It was always quiet in the car when Wesker drove. Not only did the radio stay silent, but the car itself did an excellent job of shutting out the outside world, secluding the occupants inside their own little luxurious bubble.

That bubble used to excite Leon. Being so isolated with Wesker was a rare occurrence and one he savored every moment of… At least at first. Now, it made him feel tense and trapped, like a fish in a too small tank. A part of him felt like he was just waiting for someone to tap the glass and startle him out of his hidden spot inside the safety of the car.

A hand on his leg startled him slightly and he looked away from the trees and bushes flying past to look at Wesker instead. His eyes were still on the road, just visible behind his dark sunglasses, but his attention seemed elsewhere as he asked, “What’s on your mind, darling?”

‘I don’t love you the way I used to and it hurts. I wish I’d seen the person you were before I let things get so far. I wish you still made me feel like I meant something to you instead of feeling like another one of your possessions…’

Leon couldn’t say any of those things, so he simply forced a small smile, offering somewhat truthfully, “I know it’s been five years, but your driving still scares the crap out of me.”

A thin smile split Wesker’s lips, and he glanced over at the younger man, offering, “I don’t know when you’re going to learn to trust me. Have I ever hit anything?”

“There was that seagull,” Leon recalled, unable to help the small, genuine spark of affection he felt at the sound of Wesker’s laugh. It was a rare treat. Even rarer for it to be genuine and not a mocking, cold sound meant to convey the utter condescension he felt for those around him.

“Yes, that was rather unfortunate,” he allowed, still sounding amused. “But tell me… What’s really bothering you?”

Just like that, the amusement in his tone was gone and it was back to the cold, commanding tone that left no room for argument. It may have sounded like a question, but it was an order.

“Just… thinking about everything that’s been happening at work,” Leon offered. Again, it was at least partially true. He hadn’t been given much of a choice in taking two days off in the middle of the week, and although Ripley, Ada, and Tapp had all understood, they all knew it was leaving them in a tight spot. With no approved overtime to have a guard to fill the sudden vacant spot, Bill would have to step in, or one of the other more experienced guards from the lower floors would have to come up to handle anything that might happen.

A slight grimace from Wesker had him adding, “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like talking about work when we’re spending personal time together, but… It would be a big help if we could promote a new lieutenant. It would… make it easier for me to put work behind me when we’re on personal time and… take some of the pressure off of me.”

‘And the other guards,’ he added silently.

The hand on his leg raised suddenly, grabbing his jaw and turning his face towards Wesker before he could pull away. They were still speeding down the blacktop and the man was staring directly at him instead of the road!

“Leon, you know I hate seeing you crushed under such a heavy workload. But you know that more so, I detest work talk when we’re on personal time.”

Eyes darting from his face to the road quickly being eaten up under the car's tires, Leon’s eyes widened as he spotted a sharp curve quickly approaching. Glancing back at Wesker, he started to say, “Albert, the road!”

“Leon,” Wesker stated forcefully.

He couldn’t help the way he immediately snapped to attention, eyes locking onto the older man’s even though they were hidden behind dark lenses. Even though he wanted to look away, to check the road as if that would somehow keep them from careening off the side of the mountain, he couldn’t. And to his shame, it sent a sick thrill through him. That same old familiar pull that, like a drug, kept him going back for more. Just one more, even though he longed to stop.

“I will take care of it. For you,” Wesker promised. “You know I will, darling. Although I wish you’d asked before we left…”

Releasing his face to grip the wheel with both hands, he maneuvered them safely around the sharp turn without so much as taking his foot off the gas. Sighing almost as though he actually felt an ounce of remorse, he added, “You know I’ll have to punish you now.”

Leon swallowed thickly, sinking back into his seat with a small sound. The lack of touch or stolen glances were a punishment in and of themselves, but he knew that wasn’t what Wesker had in mind. Oh no. The real punishment would start once they got to their hotel room…

~

Leon made a pained sound through gritted teeth, fingers clenching as he fought to remain still. The sting had yet to fade as he forced out, “Th-thirteen.”

“Good,” Wesker growled, followed quickly by a loud crack and a pained whine from the younger man.

“Fourteen,” Leon counted, arms trembling as he gripped the headboard. Another strike and he gasped, “F-fifteen!”

Nearly swearing when the crop landed across an already raised welt just above his ass, he caught himself before it slipped out. There was a dangerous pause, but before it could stretch on too long, he managed quietly, “Sixteen.”

It was rare for his punishment to last past fifteen, but the slowly increasing numbers told him he’d really pushed Wesker’s temper. They made it to twenty-three before he felt like he couldn’t take anymore.

Head dipping between his arms, he panted, “Albert, please…”

“What was that?” he asked, voice cold.

Before Leon could answer, the crop snapped across his thigh and he let out a pained cry. Still, he kept his head down as he counted, “Twenty-four.”

A sharp strike to his other thigh made him flinch, eyes watering as he grit out, “T-twenty… five.”

The bed dipped behind him and he raised his head, daring to look back as an arm looped around his waist. Pulled back, he finally let go of the headboard, fingers white and cramped from how tightly he’d been holding on.

Wesker’s other arm slid over his chest, fingers clasping around his neck as his head was tilted back onto the man's shoulder. His back and thighs stung, each welt throbbing painfully as they were pressed tightly against the body behind him. He didn’t have to check to know that none of them were bleeding. No matter how far Wesker took whipping him, two things were constant. He never hit him with his hands, and he never made him bleed.

Lips found his, a tongue demanding entrance to his mouth as he whined from the stinging pain across his back. It was all the comfort he was to be given for the time being, the hand around his neck sliding down between them. Gasping as the plug in his ass was teased, he barely registered the cruel chuckle the sound he made elicited from Wesker.

“There’s what I like to see from you,” he purred, drawing Leon’s arms behind his back.

He didn’t need to order him to stay put, the past several years having been enough to thoroughly teach him what was expected of him at almost any given moment. It wasn’t that they never changed things up, more that he knew what each position meant, what would happen and what he was to do. Or not do.

So he remained still and compliant as his arms were securely bound, the rope quickly and efficiently becoming almost an extension of his own body as well as his prison. Still resting on his knees, he didn’t move as Wesker finished binding him. A hand gripped his hair, tugging his head back so they were eye to eye for a moment.

A thin smile cut Wesker’s otherwise stern expression, and for a brief moment his eyes were soft. Leon wondered if he really felt something for him, or if he only viewed him as an object. Had he ever been more than another of the man’s things? Why had it taken him so long to start wondering…

A hand on his chest guided him back a bit, giving Wesker room to sit comfortably with his back against the headboard. As he did, Leon noticed a bandage just below his collar bone. When he’d been told to strip and take hold of the headboard the moment they entered the hotel room, he hadn’t given it a second thought. But seeing the dark patch staining the otherwise white gauze, he realized with silent concern that Wesker had been stabbed with something.

…Why hadn’t he told him? Why had he waited until he was in no position to ask questions to let him see?

Cold blue eyes looked Leon up and down, taking a moment to take him apart even further. Naked, bound, cock half hard between his legs, expression slightly lost and uncertain, the painful sting still blooming across his back and thighs making him tremble slightly.

Head tilting slightly, Wesker offered a smirk as he waved him forward with two fingers. Summoning him like a dog. Perhaps that was all he saw him as. He wasn’t an object… He was a pet.

The idea made him flush from his neck to his ears as he scooted forward on his knees, positioning himself over the older man’s lap.

Hands caressed his thighs, slowly feeling around behind them until fingers brushed the raised welts on each one. Leon couldn’t help the way he hissed, back stiffening at the pain.

“Now, now, darling,” Wesker murmured, tracing the shape of his ass. “You broke the rules after all. I told you I’d have to punish you… You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“No,” Leon answered reflexively. He wasn’t. Not really. He knew what he was getting into when he pressed him about work related things during personal time, so what right did he have to be mad about facing the consequences?

… Jack never punished him for taking his coworkers' safety seriously…

The thought made him jolt, eyes flicking to one side as he tried not to let the sudden emotion show on his face. A hand grabbed his jaw, demanding his attention, and he quickly looked back at Wesker.

The smile was gone, replaced with a look of deep thought. “You seem distracted, darling…”

“Mmmh,” Leon hummed, forcing a nervous grimace across his face. Hoping to play it off, he let his eyes drift to the bandage on Wesker’s shoulder.

“Oh, that? No need to worry, it’s been taken care of,” he chuckled, the hand still behind Leon sliding over. “Allow me to help you clear your mind.”

Back arching, he gasped as the toy inside him was pressed ever so slightly deeper, before being gently twisted. He’d been offered a distraction and it worked oh so well, his thoughts quickly consumed by the physical feelings flooding him.

The throbbing stripes on his back were still present, adding a bitter tang to the sweet sensation the plug teasing at his prostate sent through him. Panting as it was tugged gently, he swallowed several times, trying to keep from sounding desperate as he asked, “Albert, please-”

“Hmm, asking for things, are we?” he questioned, giving his jaw a tight squeeze.

Wincing at first, Leon groaned as the toy was given a less gentle tug before being pushed back in to the hilt. Panting, he said, “I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, sir. I… I won’t do it again.”

“Oh, Leon… Always making promises you have no intention of keeping,” Wesker taunted, before soothing in a kinder tone, “Now relax, darling. Let’s get this out of you, shall we?”

“Thank you, sir,” Leon moaned, legs almost giving out as he finally allowed himself to let some of the tension out of his muscles. The plug was tugged out with ease, but before he could really take a moment to get comfortable again, his hips were pulled forward and something else was prodding at his hole in the toy's place.

“Sit down, and don’t be shy about it,” Wesker ordered, the hand briefly leaving his back to help guide his cock into him instead.

‘Not being shy about it’ didn’t mean he was to simply drop; not that he was quite ready for that anyway. The toy was simply to save time since he wasn’t being allowed to use his hands. Wesker rarely took the time to prep him himself, either using a toy or having him do it himself. At one point, he’d genuinely enjoyed putting on a show for him, showing him how badly he wanted him as he made himself ready to be used… Now it felt more like it was expected of him, just like clocking in for work or brushing his teeth.

As soon as the head of Wesker’s cock was past his rim, he gently lowered himself until he was fully seated on his lap. Trying his best not to let the burning sting that accompanied the mostly comfortable fullness show on his face, Leon couldn’t help the small, half panted breaths that left him. Shivering when hands caressed his hips, he lifted his eyes to Wesker’s face, looking for some idea of what was going to happen next.

“Such a handsome man,” he praised, hips shifting under him.

Leon groaned, cock twitching as his mind and body finally started to receive the kind of stimulation he craved. His moans became louder as strong hands guided him up and down, allowing him the brief illusion that he was setting the pace.

Half lifting him when his legs started to falter, Wesker began thrusting upwards, punching desperate sounds out of him each time. Teeth flashing in a cold smile, he crooned, “Darling, you want to be good for me now, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” he panted, legs trembling as he struggled to lift himself up again.

Pulled down, he couldn’t help the throaty moan that left him as Wesker rolled his hips underneath him, grinding as deep into him as his body would allow. He wanted to be good for him just as badly as he wanted Wesker to show him he was still the man he’d fallen in love with.

“Oh, Leon. So young and beautiful. So eager to please,” he praised, voice sweet as sugar. Hands roaming Leon’s body, his fingers paused on his lower back as he murmured, “Almost the perfect specimen… If only you weren’t damaged goods.”

Leon felt his heart sink to his stomach, legs seizing as his cramping muscles became too much to contend with. Damaged goods. That’s what he was, wasn’t he? Not an object to be prized. Not a pet… Just damaged goods…

He hadn’t even realized he’d looked away until fingers were caressing his face, guiding him back to Wesker’s icy blue eyes.

“Now, now,” he soothed, leaning forward. “You know I would have never treated you like that, darling.”

The hands holding him pulled him closer before he was suddenly being dropped onto his back. He let out a sound of surprise, eyes widening as the larger man caged him in, arms on either side of his head, chest against chest. It felt so intimate and yet… terrifying.

“Don’t I always give you exactly what you need?” he asked, one hand moving to play through his hair. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Leon whispered, body twitching and shivering. Gasping when Wesker began gently rocking his hips into him, he repeated obediently, “You always take care of me, sir. You- ah! You- you always give me- Ah! Wh-what I- I need!”

And he did. Surely he did… Wesker had given him a job. A better job. He’d saved him from a monster and he was certainly the best hope for finding what he’d even gone to Alaska to look for in the first place. It was his money, his resources that Leon had at his disposal. If Wesker didn’t really care for him anymore, why would he still allow him to continue searching?

“I’ll always take care of you,” Wesker promised, voice dripping with honey. “I give you what you need. Even if you don’t always realize it at the time, darling.”

Leon was too breathless to answer anymore, moans the only sounds making it past his lips. The stinging welts on his back flared with pain each time he was roughly pressed into the bed, ropes and arms digging into his skin as he remained immobilized by Wesker’s handiwork. It only added to the high of pleasure he was sinking into, mind starting to fog as his worries and concerns were pushed aside.

Hands grabbed under his knees, pressing his legs to his chest as Wesker roughly fucked into him. Voice nearly a snarl, he warned, “You’d do well to remember that, when you allow your underlings to push you to ask me for things they’re too scared to ask for themselves.”

Despite the jarring snap out of his distant, fucked out head space, Leon couldn’t help the way his entire body reacted to the physical stimulation. With a strained moan and sharp arch of his back, he came across his stomach as his partner continued to work him through it.

Legs jerking slightly in Wesker’s grip as the overstimulation began to edge into pain, he gasped when the man suddenly pulled out. Panting, he stared up at him with wide eyes, unsure if he’d done something wrong and dreading what may come out of his mouth next.

Reaching down, Wesker grabbed his hips, a smirk on his face. “It’s a good thing young men have so much stamina.”

“I- I guess?” Leon croaked, voice raw and scratchy.

With an absolutely wicked smile, Wesker rolled him onto his stomach. He could feel his cum soaking into the bed sheet under him, cold and sticky against his skin before he was guided up onto his knees.

Leon made an unholy sound when Wesker entered him again, bottoming out in one smooth thrust. Stars exploded behind his eyes, his voice cracked and strange to his own ears as half moaned nonsense spilled past his lips. Still, despite the raw burning of his nerves as his body reached the point of being too sensitive, he could feel himself growing hard again. Pulled back into every thrust, it took him several tries to get the words out and when he did his voice was thin and strained.

“Al- Albert, please!”

“As you wish, darling,” he purred, one hand leaving his hip. Fingers curled around his throat a moment later, raising him so the side of his face was no longer pressed into the bed. Instead, his back rubbed against Wesker’s chest with every movement, sending sharp, burning sparks through his skin as the welts were irritated once again.

“Nnngggh!” was the only sound Leon was capable of making, his fleeting attempt at arguing that that wasn’t what he meant choked off before it could become a single coherent word.

The grip on his neck tightened, constricting his airway until he was seeing spots. It only served to heighten every feeling and sensation shooting through his body. The pleasure. The pain. The burning, twisting coil in his stomach that told him he was already on the edge of cumming again. If not for the arm wrapped tightly around his waist and the fingers pressing bruises into his neck, he would have collapsed, legs trying to buckle under him as he came with a strangled shout. There was one final rough thrust, then heat filling him. Thank god. He was spent, mentally and physically.

Leon coughed quietly when the hand around his neck loosened, head lolling forward as he waited for his vision to come back entirely. Lips pressed against the back of his neck, hot like a brand against his clammy skin.

“Get a shower, darling,” Wesker told him, voice a low murmur in his ear. “Relax a little. I’ll have the help change the sheets so they’ll be clean when you get done.”

Swallowing in a poor attempt to wet his dry throat, Leon gave up on verbally answering him and settled on a small nod. Wincing as the ropes around his body began to loosen, he let out a sigh of relief when he was finally able to bring his arms back to his sides. His shoulders were incredibly tender and his wrists hurt, fingers tingling slightly as proper blood flow was finally restored.

The bed shifted behind him and he lost his balance, letting out a startled sound as he fell on his ass. It still got a hiss out of him, but at least he had a soft landing after everything. Taking a second to breath and make sure he could actually get his legs under him, Leon finally forced himself off the bed so he could shuffle to the bathroom.

Wesker had pulled on a robe, already on the phone with the front desk to order them dinner and some clean bedding. It was always like that when they went out. They went to the same room in the same hotel. They had sex, and Leon was left to clean himself up and tend to his bruises on his own when they were done.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he ignored his reflection as he moved around, turning the water on and grabbing some soap and hair products from his bag. Despite his claims he did nothing to it, that was a bold faced lie only intended to keep the others from giving him shit for it every time they had the chance.

Stepping under the nearly scalding hot spray of water, Leon closed his eyes, wishing that once, just once, Wesker would actually take care of him after the way he used to. Once upon a time, he would at least offer him a few words of comfort. Check on him, make sure he wasn’t in any pain afterwards if things got rough…

Leaning against the wall, he took slow, deep breaths, just trying to steady himself as his thoughts became tumultuous. His entire body hurt. Having been forced to kneel for so long had left his legs weak and toes slightly numb. His back and thighs were throbbing from where he’d been whipped and his ass was sore from such a rough night without nearly thorough enough prep.

What he wouldn’t give to know back then the things he knew now… Things he’d only learned because someone else had taken the time to teach him. To show him what a real, healthy relationship should look like… but even that wasn’t real.

Maybe someday it would be… If Wesker finally lost interest in him. If he let go of whatever thin strings were still holding them together… Or if he ever built up the courage to risk it. To tell Jack how he really felt. And if she felt the same, that would be enough. He couldn’t think about what he’d do if she didn’t.

Scrubbing himself with soap, he winced at the sting it sent through his back and shoulders. Jesus, just how hard had Wesker really hit him? Staying in the shower for a while with the flimsy excuse that he wanted to be sure the hotel staff had time to come and go, he finally forced himself out of the shower. Drying off, he wrapped the towel around his waist before wiping the steam off the mirror with one hand.

Looking at his reflection, he sighed. He looked dead on his feet. Despite knowing he shouldn’t, he turned to look over his shoulder so he could see his back in the mirror. His pale skin was marred with long, red welts from the crop. Some had even started to bruise, and he winced, knowing he’d be feeling them for a few days. Still, none of them were bleeding, so he supposed he couldn’t be too mad.

Eyes briefly lowering to rest on the staggered line of round scars dotting the small of his back, he quickly looked away. Damaged goods… Right…

Maybe it was best that he hadn’t told Jack how he really felt. She deserved someone… better. Someone who wasn’t damaged…

A quiet knock at the door had him snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking a bit of water out of his hair, he quickly answered the door.

Wesker smiled at him, one arm coming down to wrap around him as he all but pulled him back into the room.

“Come, darling. Dinner is here.”

“Ah, thank you,” he murmured. Yes. It was better that way. At least… It was better for Jack…

Right?

~~

Wesker stared at the screen of his laptop, lost in thought. Leon had been asleep for a couple of hours, allowing him to work uninterrupted. Of course, he wouldn’t pull out work while the younger man was awake. He couldn’t go breaking his own rules, now could he?

Sighing, he looked away from the computer to gaze down at Leon’s sleeping form. He was an attractive man. Smart. Sometimes too smart for his own good. He was bold, but that had been easy enough to curb with the right counter moves.

If only he’d been able to curb that boldness with him.

Leon was so much like him. He had that same passion and enthusiasm for his work. He was younger and that made him easier to control. To mold to his will and his desire.

Perhaps… perhaps he’d been foolish to think Leon could replace Chris…

Stopping himself just before his fingers could brush the sleeping man’s face, he pulled away, a soft sigh leaving him. He’d only found Leon because he’d come to Alaska in search of his friend. It was easy enough to keep him searching, following false leads and chasing nothing but air. He’d assumed he’d give up after a few weeks, but weeks had turned to months and the months to years, and there they were. Leon no closer to the truth and Wesker… wondering how much longer he could keep him from asking the wrong questions.

Turning his attention back to his computer screen, he allowed a small smile to play across his face. Either way, he had contingency plans. Closing out the file he’d been working on, he moved onto a different subject. The X program could wait…

Leon had asked him to promote someone to lieutenant in an effort to help with his workload and the unruly outbursts from the asylum’s subjects. Well, he’d get his wish. However, he wouldn’t be promoting someone from within. Oh, no. He had a much better plan already in motion.

Pulling up the incoming man’s file, Wesker almost laughed. Poor Leon… It would be easy enough to feign ignorance should he confront him over his choice. He knew a past relationship gone sour had been the cause of the burn scars on his back and his vagueness when it came to talking about his time in the police academy, but he’d never given him a name. Not that it had been hard to find.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Leon was drifting further and further away from him and if he wasn’t careful, he’d slip from his grasp entirely. But this… this would drive him right back into his arms where he believed he was safest. Where he was protected. Right where he belonged.

Giving the file a final once over, Wesker finally shut his computer and set it aside. He still had the rest of the night to enjoy his current company away from the demanding, prying, whining of his underlings at Crotus Prenn.

Underlings he’d deal with in due time…
~~~~

Notes:

Well none of that bodes well for... anyone really.

 

Whispers of Insanity will be going on a temporary hiatus for the month of August and will resume posting on its normal schedule September first <3

Chapter 16: Even if You Don’t Know it Yet

Summary:

What feels like porn but isn’t actually porn? This. You’re welcome.

Two days without Leon as Captain of the guard ended up not being that much different than two days with him there. The only real difference was Jill, one of the guards from a lower floor, was around a lot more often, acting as captain in his absence. The rest of the staff seemed to respect her, and Bill spoke highly of her, going so far as to say he thought she should be promoted to lieutenant.

Marcus liked her too, he decided, after witnessing her shut down what had to have been one of Freddy’s most horrendously offensive attempts at a joke to date. Without batting an eye, Jill had cut him off mid set-up, asking, “Would you rather spend the rest of the week with Ji-Woon in control of the TV remote, or would you like to finish that joke?”

Pausing, Freddy squinted at her for a moment before mumbling, “Well would you look at that, I forgot the punchline…”

The Legion did seem to have a bit of a problem with her, murmuring amongst themselves whenever she was out of earshot before quickly quieting down and silently glaring daggers at her whenever she’d pass by.

It was the second day of Jill acting as captain and after the umpteenth time Marcus witnessed the Legion’s attitude towards her, he pulled David to one side. They were in the rec room, supervising the patients free time, so it was easy to sit somewhere mostly away from prying ears.

Double checking to make sure the Legion weren’t within earshot, he needn't have been too concerned. The four of them were across the room, huddled around one of the small tables and pretending to play Trouble while not so subtly shooting Jill murderous looks.

She wasn’t even doing anything, just standing inside the door talking to Caleb about some mundane topic. Something about needing a slightly smaller screw for a project he was assigned to work on downstairs.

Not paying them any mind and able to let his guard down a little with Ghostface still locked in solitary, Marcus finally asked, “Hey, David? You're in pretty good with the Legion. Do you have any idea why they seem to dislike Jill so much?”

Thus far, he hadn’t seen or heard her do anything that could possibly justify their constant ire towards her. As far as he was aware, she hadn't called them anything other than ‘Legion’.

David looked down in contemplation, mumbling a bit to himself before shaking his head. “No, I don’t. She’s rarely up here so I’m not usually around when they see her.” His lack of knowledge seemed to upset him. They were friends, so shouldn’t he know if his friends didn’t like someone? Especially if it was a higher ranking guard.

Frowning slightly, Marcus had just started to try and point out that maybe they had a good reason for not sharing it with him, when an entirely unwelcome voice hummed right next to his ear, “Oooh, gossiping about people, are we?”

Nearly jumping into David’s lap, it occurred to him that perhaps he’d let his guard down a little too much if the Trickster had been able to get that close without either of them noticing him.

If it weren’t for the fact that they were both sitting, David would’ve been knocked over from the sudden weight in his arms. Instead, he peered over Marcus’s shoulder to shoot the Trickster a suspicious glare. “Nuh-uh. Go away.”

One somehow perfectly manicured eyebrow rising in an amused arch, Ji-Woon scooted onto the bench beside them. Marcus joined David in glaring at him as he was smooshed against his friend, but before he could protest, he was being talked over.

“So, here’s the tea. The Legion, feral pack of angst driven teenagers that they are, hate cops and anyone associated with cops. Thirteen going on thirty. A B C D. Whatever. It’s classic ‘angry rebellious teen, fuck the police’ syndrome. Except, you know, they did kill like four cops before they were caught.”

The pair of bewildered orderlies exchanged a glance, but allowed him to continue. The Trickster rarely chose to speak to them first unless it was to belittle them in some way. Just the day before he’d taken one look at King and told him the way he ate yogurt was so gay it made him look straight. No one was sure what that was even supposed to mean, but it was still an effective insult.

“Now, take Jill,” he continued, turning to gesture at the woman in question. “She’s young, smart, and attractive. Why would someone like her want to come to a god awful place like this? Well, it’s simple. Wesker made her an offer that was too good to turn down.”

“Wait, what?” Marcus asked, looking at her with mild shock. What the hell was with Wesker and collecting people like pokemon cards? She was so nice! Bill liked her! He’d seen her and Jack laughing while talking over coffee in the break room! If Jack of all people liked her she couldn’t be one of Wesker’s people, could she?

“Ooh, you’re so easy to read,” Ji-Woon chuckled. “She’s not like that toad, Grimes, or… Emory Sr. …Lovely man that he is…”

Ignoring the way David immediately tensed up, Ji-Woon cleared his throat and waved a hand, explaining, “Jill graduated the academy at the top of her class. She set records. She could have gone anywhere, done anything, climbed the ladder and been the police chief of whatever city she chose if she’d really wanted. So of course Wesker swooped in like a hawk and sunk his claws in her so fast that she barely even had time to put on a uniform. Only the best and brightest will do, after all.”

That actually explained a lot… It also explained why she hadn’t been promoted yet. Bill had been ‘retired’ to make room for Leon to take his place. Perhaps that would have been her, had she been in his place instead.

Although she was still speaking to the Deathslinger, Jill suddenly turned and looked directly at the trio. All three of them quickly looked anywhere else, trying to pretend they hadn’t just been sharing gossip about her while she was only a couple of yards away.

Trying and failing to look inconspicuous, David whispered, “So why does Legion not like her? She seems super chill.”

Ji-Woon stared at him like he’d just told him his roots needed to be touched up. They did, but god forbid anyone point it out.

“You are… a lucky little mouse,” he finally said, tone making it clear he wanted to say something else entirely.

A quick glance over his shoulder at the Legion was enough to verify that they too had taken notice of his proximity to their favorite orderly. While Susie and Julie were still keeping a nasty eye on Jill, Joey and Frank had begun watching all three of them with dark eyes.

“Jill… was going to be… a cop,” Ji-Woon explained slowly. “The Legion. Hate. Cops. Are you getting it now? Not only was she going to be a cop, she would have been one of the best to join whatever force was lucky enough to have her.”

The lightbulb that lit up over David’s head was almost visible. The dots had finally connected and, in an almost too loud voice, he said, “Is that why they don’t like Leon?! I thought it was because he called them hooligans that one time!”

The low chatter in the room got a lot lower, and Marcus could feel himself blushing as most of the room turned to look at them.

Blinking slowly, the Trickster finally said flatly, “You’re absolutely terrible at this… And your face is like… ugh. Just, no. All of you is just so blah. You’re like a stale saltine with no salt. You’re the communion wafer of crackers.”

“But I’m half Asian-?”

“I think you need to give them a little space, Trickster,” a voice stated firmly, and he rolled his eyes, turning to find Jill standing over them with her arms crossed.

“Oh, so we’re into policing free speech now?” he scoffed, but still got up. Offering a clearly insincere wave goodbye, Ji-Woon sauntered out of the rec room so he could finish his free time in the relative privacy of his cell.

Once he was gone, Jill turned back to David and Marcus, arching an eyebrow at them like a critical teacher.

Before she could question what exactly they were discussing so passionately with the Trickster, David spoke first. “Do you know how to dual wield pistols? I heard that shooting two guns at once is super hard.”

That got Jill’s other eyebrow up alongside the other one, expression becoming one more of confusion than judgment.

Realizing he was still pretty much in David’s lap, Marcus quickly scooted back over. Clearing his throat, he apologized, “Sorry, if- We were just- It was nothing.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, nodding slowly. “In that case, will you two please go to the pharmacy and grab the Nightmare’s pain medication? He’s due for his second dose.”

On the couch, Freddy lamented dramatically, “I am the victim of an unprovoked attack!”

“I highly doubt that,” Jill muttered, shaking her head. Stepping aside as the pair quickly rose to fulfill their task, she added, “And that was one of the records I set. Dual wielding pistols is a lot harder than the movies make it look.”

“Oh my god, you’re so cool- Hey, wait a minute!” David quickly turned towards the Legion, where they were watching the interaction like a group of cats ready to pounce. “I’m mad at you guys now! But pharmacy first!”

That actually got all four of them looking confused, but before they could get up to question him, Marcus was nearly chasing him down the hall. Christ, he moved fast for such a little guy!

“David! Why are you running?” he finally asked, nearly smacking into him as he paused to badge through a door.

“Because I’m mad!” He huffed, shoving the door open. “We’re friends, why didn’t they tell me that they didn’t like Jill and Leon cause they were cops? I mean, it was obvious, yeah, but I didn’t want to assume! They know so much about me but I barely know anything about them!” He paused mid rant before suddenly turning around and grabbing Marcus by the shoulders, half dragging him down to his eye level.

“Unless they did tell me this stuff but I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe? I don’t remember now! Oh god, am I the bad friend here? You don’t think I’m a bad friend, right? I don't feel like a bad friend but my feelings are kinda irreverent right now. Or maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion? Am I making too big of a deal? Maybe I should just drop it and apologize-”

Finally working through the shock of David actually grabbing him, Marcus reached up and gently grabbed his hands. Pulling them down, he held on to them as he said kindly, “You’re not a bad friend. Not at all. I can’t speak for the Legion, but if I had to guess, they probably didn’t want to involve you in a hate fest against people you work with.”

That seemed rather nobel logic to be applying to the Legion of all people, but he wasn’t about to say it was most likely because they hadn’t figured out a way to use the situation to manipulate him into doing something for them. Their ‘friendship’ wasn’t hurting anything as far as he could tell, so trying to drive a wedge between them all would have just been cruelty for no reason.

“Y-You think so?” David did not look like he believed a single word that just came out of the ginger’s mouth but he was still making an effort. “Should I still apologize for not being understanding? I think I made a scene.”

“I- No,” Marcus disagreed. “I mean, maybe for shouting at them, but not for being mad. That seems kind of valid, I think.”

Before he could say anything else, Steve rounded the corner. Stopping, he stared at them for a moment, frowning at their clasped hands before smirking. “Nice…”

“Wait, Steve! It’s not-”

“I’m telling Nancy!” he shouted, turning on his heel and running back the way he’d come. “Nancyyyy!”

“Oh my god,” Marcus groaned, dropping David’s hands.

Staring at his hands with an increasing blush on his face as the singular brain cell in his brain finally hit a corner, David weakly asked, “Soo.. pharmacy?”

“You know, you two make a cute couple,” a voice told them.

Trying not to die on the spot, Marcus turned to very politely tell the man that although he was very fond of David, they were in fact not a couple. Blinking, he instead sputtered, “Wha- You- Ahha! Famous actor and action star, Nicholas Cage!”

“Oh, no,” he disagreed, shaking his head. Tapping his name tag, he corrected, “I’m Leon S. Kennedy.”

“No you’re not!” Marcus shouted, throwing his hands out in exasperation. “That’s not even your picture!”

“I mean…” David said slowly. “It does say ‘Leon S. Kennedy’ right there. What does the ‘S’ even stand for?”

Eyes slightly wild, Marcus turned to him as he jabbed a finger in Not-Leon’s direction. “David! Forget what the badge says! His face isn’t even the same as the picture on the badge! He stole Leon’s badge!”

“Who stole Leon’s badge?” someone asked, pausing on their way past.

Marcus glanced at them, about to point out the badge thief, when he looked over to find him gone again. Silently mouthing ‘what the fuck’, he didn’t protest when David grabbed his hand, dragging him along to the pharmacy. They still needed to get back to the Nightmare with his pain medication. Even if he was taking every opportunity to ham it up, Ghostface had really done a number on him.

~

Leon ended up being gone for four days. The two he’d taken off, then his regular weekend. Marcus had no idea when exactly he was supposed to be back, so when he looked up from some paperwork early one morning to see the captain shuffling through the doors, he did a double take.

Blinking, the ginger started and stopped a couple of times before saying simply, “Ah, hey, Leon… How are you doing?”

David had just walked past with his own stack of paperwork but nearly tripped over his own two feet, doing a double take as he saw the state Leon was in. “Oh my god, you look like you just survived a week in the woods! And not in a good way!”

Leon paused, cardboard coffee cup halfway to his lips. He really did look like shit. His hair was a mess, he had dark circles under his eyes, and there were definitely bruises under his jacket sleeves.

What the hell had he and Wesker been doing while they were gone? Marcus was pretty sure it was better not to ask, but before he could try and figure out how to subtly and politely silence David before he could put his other foot in his mouth, King and Jill came walking in.

Spotting Leon, King smiled from ear to ear. Walking up behind him, he started to greet him along with a slap on the shoulder. As soon as he made contact, Leon let out a near shriek, hand clenching around his coffee cup.

The cardboard crumpled, spraying the four men with -thankfully lukewarm- coffee. Jill had been the only one fast enough to jump out of range, just avoiding the caffeinated shower.

Slowly withdrawing his hand with a mortified look on his face, King offered, “I’m… sorry?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Leon mumbled, “It’s fine… I’m going… to go change. And get caught up on paperwork. Is there anything to report? Any incidents while I was gone?”

“Everything went pretty smoothly,” Jill assured him, walking with him on his way to the locker room so she could fill him in.

Watching them go, King had a strange look on his face that neither David nor Marcus missed. Exchanging a worried look themselves, the ginger finally asked, “What just happened?”

“That… means he asked Wesker for a favor,” King said quietly. He almost sounded guilty…

Before either of the orderlies could ask him to elaborate further, he shook himself. Sounding a lot more like his usual confident self, the guard invited, “Let’s get to it then, shall we?”

“But wha–”

“Glad to see you’re both so eager!” King interrupted before David could get the question out. Grabbing both him and Marcus by the backs of their necks, he nearly propelled them down the hall towards the kitchen as he decided, “I’m not sure who’s on breakfast duty today, but until Leon or Jill tells me otherwise, I’ll keep an eye on you both.”

He ended up staying with them through breakfast and the better part of morning rec. His mood seemed pretty much back to normal for that time as well, at least until he got a call on his walkie. It was a little over midway through rec time, and he frowned, wondering what he could possibly be needed for.

As he spoke into his radio, Marcus half listened to his side of the conversation. He was honestly more invested in David’s long winded rant about some pop idol group that he was heavily interested in. It was already going on twenty minutes and he was just getting to a fascinating story of how he’d found and placed a winning bid on some rare piece of merch a couple of years ago, when a name caught the ginger’s attention.

“Did he just say Ghostface?” he asked, unintentionally interrupting David.

The other orderly paused mid sentence, narrowing his eyes in thought before shaking his head. “May- Maybe? What about Ghostface, though? Are we eavesdropping now?”

Seemingly having forgotten his own passionate tale, David leaned to the side to peer around Marcus, suddenly very much invested in whatever King was saying on his walkie. “Ooh, he sounds mad.”

“Why does he sound mad though?” Marcus worried, voice a loud whisper.

Before David could answer, King snapped into his radio, “Yeah, I’ll be right there!” Storming out of the rec room with a dark expression on his face, he didn’t pause to explain.

Although it wasn’t unusual for guards to get called to other floors they were cleared to work on, his reaction to whatever he’d heard on the radio must mean it was bad. Considering they weren’t being told to escort the patients back to their cells and the lack of concerned urgency in King’s exit, Marcus doubted anyone was in danger. But if Ghostface had done something on whatever level solitary was on, would they bother locking down the first floor?

Admittedly, Marcus had been trying to avoid thinking about Ghostface for the past few days. Unfortunately… he couldn’t stop thinking about him. If anything, his absence had made it even harder for the ginger to keep him off his mind. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t miss the man’s attention or his weird interactions. Eli was right. It was dangerous and Ghostface’s track record only served as further proof of that claim. The note that he still hadn’t been able to bring himself to destroy was… a problem. He’d read it so many times he’d practically memorized it, even though each time looked at it he couldn't ignore the strange feeling of unease it caused.

He was so lost in thought that it took him a solid minute to realize that David was asking him a question. Wincing, he said sheepishly, “Shit, sorry. Can you say that one more time?”

David didn’t look perturbed by Marcus’ lack of focus as his own eyes were still glued to the doors King had left through. “What’d you think Ghostface did this time? I heard the last time he was in solitary, he was calm for a few days then attacked a guard that brought him lunch and broke a rib.”

“Oh my god,” Marcus mumbled nervously. “What- You don’t think- I mean- I hope he’s okay.”

Narrowing his eyes, David said ever so slowly, “Yeah… she was fine. Healed up in a couple of weeks. In fact, she still works here. She got paid a lot of money for it.”

“What?” he started to ask, but bit his tongue when he realized what he’d said. “Oh, r-right, the guard. Yeah, I’m- I’m glad she’s okay.”

No. He wasn’t worried about Ghostface. Sure, he’d read case studies and seen first hand how mentally detrimental solitary confinement could be on a person, but he wasn’t worried about Ghostface. That would be ridiculous…

David was still squinting at him when King came back into the room. His expression was dark, brow furrowed and hands clenched by his sides as he stepped to the side of the door. Crossing his arms, he barked over his shoulder, “Well if you’re not going to sit in your bloody cell, get in here.”

Before David or Marcus could question who he was speaking to, none other than Ghostface himself came waltzing into the rec room. His expression was absolutely smug, shoulders loose and gait confident as he walked into the room like he was the CEO and not a patient.

From their corner, the Legion all began whistling and cheering until King snapped, “Shut it! Or you’re going into your cell until lunch!”

All four of them booed him, but Ghostface waved them off. Turning to the guard, he cocked his head to one side, asking smoothly, “Why not let kids be kids? They’re just happy to see their idol, after all.”

Starting slightly, Marcus glanced at David. Did the Legion idolize Ghostface? Was that something he should be worried about?

The ginger only received a just as confused look back. It seemed that information was new to him too.

“You’re on thin ice,” King warned, jabbing a finger at the killer. “I don’t care that the bloody CEO was the one who ordered you out early. One fucking step out of line and I’ll gladly drag you right back down there myself.”

Unperturbed, Ghostface turned back towards the pair of orderlies. Neither of them had budged from their spot, frozen in place by his sudden arrival. He was supposed to be in solitary for another week!

Not so much as sparing a glance at David, he looked Marcus up and down before winking at him. He couldn’t help the small sound he made, cheeks burning as he looked away. What the hell was that reaction?! What was wrong with him?!

Wincing when David grabbed his arm, he quickly looked over. Spotting the look on his friend's face, he looked back up, only to freeze when he realized Ghostface was walking right towards them.

Looking past them suddenly, Ghostface continued walking, joining the Legion at their little table in the corner without so much as glancing back.

Turning to watch them for a moment, Marcus just as quickly looked away when Frank and Ghostface both looked up at him. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “So… Um… Should we… talk to King? Maybe find out what the fuck is going on?”

“Yeeeeah...” David agreed, giving a hesitant smile when Frank’s gaze shifted towards him. “I think so too. This has, like, literally never happened before. At least, not that I’ve seen since I’ve been working here.”

The guard nodded slightly at them as they approached, acknowledging them even as he maintained a suspicious, angry staring contest with Julie and Joey.

“Hey…” Marcus started slowly, uncertain what exactly he should ask or how to start his question. “Um, so… Ghostface is out of solitary kind of early. Is there- Why? Why the hell is he out already?”

King didn’t look the least bit surprised, not so much as arching an eyebrow at the questions. Still not breaking off his enraged glaring, he huffed angrily, “I don’t know. It came from the top.”

“Leon?!” the ginger almost shouted, and the guard looked down at him, appearing slightly startled.

“What? God no! That stuffed shirt, Wesker!” King complained. “I don’t know what the fuck happened while he and Leon were on their little ‘vacation’, but pretty much as soon that sunglasses wearing cunt stepped foot inside, he ordered Ghostface released…”

Marcus wasn’t sure what to think. It made absolutely no sense for Wesker to order such a thing and he doubted Leon would have requested any such thing himself. That couldn’t have been the favor King had mentioned him asking for, could it?

“But why?” David interjected. “No one’s ever been let out early before. Pretty much everyone’s been kept longer, but no one’s ever gotten out earlier!”

“I have no idea,” King admitted, deflating slightly. “I think- It’s just… It- …It might be my fault…”

Before Marcus could ask what he could possibly have done, the Brit continued, “Before the whole ‘surprise vacation’ stunt, I asked Leon if he could talk to Wesker about… moving Ghostface down to floor two with the more dangerous inmates. I know you guys haven’t been here long enough to really pick up on it, but anytime Wesker does anything for someone, he takes something a lot bigger in return.”

“But… he didn’t move Ghostface down a level,” the ginger murmured, running a hand through his hair. “I just- I don’t get it! What did he do-”

“I don’t know yet,” King interrupted, looking frustrated. It wasn’t directed at either orderly, a point he made clear when he sighed, “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. I’ll try and talk to Leon while the patients are having outdoor time today. Maybe he knows something.”

That did little to ease either Marcus or David’s concerns, but it would have to do for the time being. Taking a seat against one wall so they could keep an eye on the room, the pair didn’t say much for the remainder of the patient's rec time.

Although Marcus tried not to, he couldn’t help but continually glance over to keep an eye on whatever Ghostface was doing. He remained at the table with the Legion, but it looked like he was done talking, simply watching them play Uno.

At one point Amanda got up from where she’d been reading and went over to talk to him. Too far away to be overheard by any of the guards or either orderly, the conversation appeared brief and uneventful. Nodding, the former Jigsaw apprentice went back to her original spot to continue reading.

When a soft chime sounded through the room and cells, Marcus jumped. He knew it was coming, having been told the first time he’d heard it that it was the auditory signal for outdoor time. Any patients in their cells were to file out so they could join up with whoever was in the rec room and be escorted outside if the weather was nice. It was finally a nice enough day, so instead of the indoor room with a great view of the cement yard and extra vitamin D lights for the long, cold winter months, the patients would actually be going outside.

Although David had actually gone outside with the patients multiple times, Marcus hadn't gotten the chance to do so yet. It was mostly due to the fact that both of them would get pulled away to other responsibilities since they usually supervised rec time. Generally, whoever oversaw rec was then rotated out so someone else could oversee outdoor time. That day, however, they were told that they would be the orderlies assigned to go outside.

Although he didn’t say it aloud, Marcus initially balked at the idea, not wanting to be stuck outside for an hour with Ghostface fresh out of solitary. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty when David excitedly explained that the two of them being assigned to outdoor time was actually a good sign.

It meant that Marcus had been there long enough to finally start gaining more responsibilities, and that he should receive his Level Two clearance soon.

David himself hadn’t received his level two clearance yet, as he hadn’t been able to hold a single position long enough to earn one. Finally, thanks to his recent, steady improvements and his ability to hold his current position for enough time, he too was on the verge of earning a coveted level two clearance. He was rather excited about it and that helped ease the ginger's mind… A little bit, anyway.

Of course, their excitement was diminished when both of them realized that meant they had to escort Ghostface and the rest of the patients outside where there weren’t as many guards as the sun room. Most of them would rather stand right inside the doors where it was ever so slightly warmer than the frigid air of the Alaskan mountains.

As both orderlies got up, David started to pick at his sleeve again, a nervous habit of his that Marcus had quickly picked up. When he shot him a questioning look, David reluctantly mumbled, “I don’t.. really feel safe going outside with Ghostface right now… especially since he did something to get out early, which never happens. Out of everyone on the first floor, he’s absolutely the most dangerous cause he’s unpredictable.”

Unpredictable. Right. Marcus could see that all too well and he wholeheartedly agreed. Ghostface’s actions weren’t random. He planned everything he did, thinking up contingency plans for hypothetical situations in order of likelihood with a speed that could make a computer jealous.

As the patients dispersed across the barren yard, Marcus made sure to keep an eye on Ghostface as he wandered seemingly aimlessly, following the walls around in a large, not quite rectangle shape.

“Hey, David. Leprechaun,” Frank’s voice called, cutting into his suspicious tracking. “Nice to see you finally getting some sun.”

Marcus squinted up at the sky. “Right, sun…”

The sun was up, but it was already nearing the horizon. The days were still rather short, but they were slowly getting longer again.

“Shit, you’re so white, if you wore patient clothes you’d turn invisible,” Julie snickered, garnering a laugh from the others. “Apart from your hair anyway.”

“Hey, David,” Joey said, slightly changing the subject. “Can Susie and I talk to you for a second?”

David practically cowered behind Marcus, sheepishly asking, “Is this because I walked in on you guys yesterday? I said I was sorry!”

Marcus had to cover his laugh with a cough, but none of the Legion looked bothered.

Joey actually snorted while Susie just giggled behind her hand.

“No, we don’t care,” she promised. “You know, you could have stayed and watched if you’d wanted to-“

“NO THANK YOU, I'M GOOD!”

That got both of them laughing out loud, and Marcus had to fake an entire coughing fit to cover his own amusement. As mortifying as it was to walk in on anyone in the act, the Legion’s nonchalance about it coupled with David’s near panicked reaction was admittedly pretty funny.

“Hey, Doc, can we borrow you a second?” Frank asked quietly.

Nearly biting his tongue with as quickly as he stopped laughing, Marcus looked around, admittedly worried that Ghostface was about to appear and K.O. the brunette from behind. Before he could pick out the killer, Frank was weaving into his line of sight, an irritated look on his face.

“Hey, Lucky Charms! I’m not stupid! Ghostface is cool with the Legion. Just cause Fire Safety Brief Gone Wrong can’t call you that doesn’t mean we can’t. We are not on the same level as that scrotum with eyes.”

Freddy was actually standing within earshot and had slowly turned to glare daggers at the younger man. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, muttering, “One of these days… I’ll get into his stupid little head one of these days…”

Before Marcus could attempt to get Frank to apologize in hopes of staving off a patient grudge match between an old man and an almost child, Julie was nodding at them both to follow her.

“Come on, I don’t feel like talking over Susie and David.”

The pair had begun excitedly sharing details of some trading card game they both played. Or, had played, in the Legion members case. She wasn’t allowed an entire binder of cards, so she occasionally checked in with David for updates on new cards and creatures. It was a small wholesome light in an otherwise dark, shitty place.

Walking with the wall to one side of him and Frank and Julie on the other, Marcus asked, “What did you want to talk to me about? Is everything okay?”

The pair exchanged an amused glance before Frank chuckled, “Yeah? I mean, it’s not like we have homework to worry about.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered. “Look, no offense, but if you just asked me away from David so you could talk shit without upsetting him, I’m good. I’m going to go hang out by the door where it’s warm.”

“Okay, okay, cool your jets,” Julie laughed. “Look, we actually wanted to tell you something more than we wanted to ask anything.”

“Okay… What’s up?” Marcus asked, a little exasperated. They were almost to the corner of the yard, and thus far no one had bothered them. Actually, looking back over his shoulder, most of the patients were on the other side of the yard entirely… Wait, where was Ghostface?

“Well, that’s the thing,” Frank sighed, pulling his attention back to their conversation. “It’s more… something we need to show you.”

“Oh god, it’s not a dead bird, is it?” He was well aware that somehow the entire first floor was already knew that he’d never wanted to get into human medicine and had fully intended to go to veterinary school. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t put it past the Legion to try and fuck with him using that information.

Reaching the end of the wall, Marcus glanced around. There was a small bend in the wall, leading to an almost alcove of sorts before it straightened back out again. Thankfully there were no dead animals, so he shook his head as he turned back to them, starting to say, “I don’t see what–”

He froze, eyes widening. Both of them had already started walking away, still chatting to one another and not paying him any mind. That wasn’t so bad, but what they’d left behind was terrifying. Because standing where they’d just been… was Ghostface.

He had a very smug smile on his face, as though he knew the ginger had been looking for him but not quite been able to figure out where he was until it was far too late. Head tilting to one side slightly, he said quietly, “Hello, Doc.”

Marcus swallowed, unable to speak. Afraid to take his eyes off the patient, he forced himself to look over for just a second. Just long enough to try and find David and get his attention. Just long enough to see Joey and Susie still watching David waving his arms around as he animatedly info-bombed everyone within earshot about a brand new holographic dragon card that had just dropped.

His back was to Marcus, but as soon as he looked up, he found both Legion members smiling at him over his friend’s shoulders. They looked a little too friendly. Almost… pitying. As though they were apologizing for throwing him to the wolves, but still more interested in staying on the wolf’s good side…

There was no help there. Glancing over slightly, Marcus realized he couldn’t see the door inside anymore. All of it took only a couple of seconds and the start of a shout was already on his lips as he realized if he took even a single step back, he’d be entirely hidden from view unless someone walked all the way to his end of the courtyard. With every patient except Ghostface on the opposite side, there was no reason for anyone to even think to go check on one small, far off, hidden corner.

Before his voice could gain enough volume to even scare away a nearby crow, a hand was clamping over his mouth, shoving him out of sight and back against cold brick. Marcus let out a muffled shout, trying to jerk his head out from under Ghostface’s hand.

His skull bonked the wall behind him with a small thud and he winced, eyes watering slightly from the pain. It wasn’t enough to cause any lasting damage, but it still hurt. A body pressing up against his distracted him a moment later. Kicking one of his legs, he tried to push at the larger man but it was useless. A knee pressed into his thigh and he let out a muffled yelp.

“Ah, ah, none of that,” Ghostface hissed, voice manic and eyes wild. He looked like a cat who had finally gotten his claws on the scheming mouse. “You get too loud right now, and we’re going to have uninvited guests. I prefer not to kill anyone on the first date. Set’s a bad impression.”

Marcus found himself instinctively shrinking down, just trying to look like less of a target. It was pointless, for many reasons, and he quickly started trying to struggle again.

“Oh, none of that now,” he purred, fingers digging into his jaw. “Don’t you want to know why I had the Legion bring you over here?”

Eyes widening, Marcus shoved at him with both hands. He was not about to get murdered in a fucking mental asylum in bum-fuck Alaska! Fingers scrabbling at Ghostface’s chest, he let out a muffled scream, fully expecting to feel something sharp sliding between his ribs at any moment. Fingers squeezed his face but he refused to stop struggling. He didn’t care if his jaw got broken. He was not going to roll over and die quietly!

“I said, none of that,” Ghostface hissed, having the audacity to sound frustrated. When Marcus kept squirming and pushing, he sighed, leaning his down beside his ear. “Doc… I really wish you’d listen to me… But if it’ll help… I’ll show you what I want before I tell you. Reverse the game a bit. Hmm?”

Oh dear god, he was going to fucking die! Realizing he couldn’t tell where Ghostface’s other hand was, a horrible thought occurred to him. He was going to get stabbed to death with a pen, wasn’t he? He knew he should have taken back Richards’ stupid pen!

A mirthless chuckle made him flinch. Why was Ghostface dragging things out? Hadn’t he spent enough time toying with him already? Shit, how had no one noticed that both a notorious staff killer and the staff member he’d been fucking stalking had both vanished?!

In a moment of what seemed like divine interference, David seemed to snap out of his own tunnel vision and finally started to turn his head questioningly, almost as if he’d just realized that his friend wasn’t standing next to him anymore.

However, Ghostface seemed to have his own divinity, as all four of the Legion practically swooped around David like a pack of vultures on fresh road kill, pulling him further away from where Marcus was until he was completely out of sight, along with any hopes of help evaporating into the ether.

Marcus let out a muffled whimper as his head was forced back. Lips brushed his neck and he flinched, sure he was about to have his throat ripped out like some kind of animal. Shit, an animal would have been kinder. At least its teeth would have been sharp enough to cut through him. Human teeth would rip and tear, causing more damage and pain.

Breathing rapidly, he shivered between Ghostface and the wall as a mouth closed on the side of his neck, tongue lapping over his rapid pulse. Pressure was applied, but… it wasn’t enough to hurt. Choking slightly on his own spit, he froze, hands still pressed against the taller man's chest as he sucked on his skin. Oh dear fucking god, that was somehow worse than the fear of being killed. At least when he was sure he was going to die, his emotions felt justified!

But now? Admittedly, he was still fucking terrified he was going to die. But worse, he was kind of enjoying the sensation of Ghostface’s teeth gently holding his neck. It felt good… So much so, that he couldn’t hold back the whimpers that slipped between the killer’s fingers with every breath. Despite his inhibitions, he couldn’t help the way his fingers curled in the man's shirt as he bit down ever so slightly, just enough that the orderly knew that it would leave a mark.

When he tried to pull away, telling himself he should probably be trying to escape still, Ghostface bit down harder and he stiffened, heat pooling in his stomach. He wasn’t proud of the sound he made either, but he wasn’t given long to dwell on it.

Pulling back just enough that he could look down into the ginger’s hazy mismatched eyes, Ghostface smiled calmly. “Now, Doc. I’ve done the showing. If I uncover your mouth, are you going to behave and let me do the telling?”

Marcus had no intention whatsoever of ‘behaving’ but he nodded as best he could anyway. As soon as Ghostface let go of his mouth, he was going to– Fuck. Okay, no. No, he wasn’t going to be shouting for help. Not with Ghostface’s hand wrapped around his neck instead, fingers pressing into his skin hard enough that he could feel each one when he swallowed a small whimper of fear before it could escape.

“So, Doc,” he said, eyes glittering. “Why do you think I brought you back here?”

He really didn’t want to answer that…

“Come on now, baby boy,” Ghostface prompted, not so gently leaning more of his weight on him.

Marcus’s eyes went wide as his hands were trapped between them. Effectively restrained, it left Ghostface’s other hand to plant on the wall beside his head. Looked like he wasn’t going to get a choice in answering...

“Mmm, you know I like to take my time… But we don’t have all day, Doc.”

He didn’t sound angry, but his words still held a subtle threat. Trying and failing to clear his throat, Marcus finally managed, “You… You’re going t-to- to kill me, aren’t you?”

Ghostface laughed softly, smiling like a shark. Way too many goddamn teeth for it to look friendly. “Now, why on earth would you think that?”

Voice shaking, Marcus asked weakly, “Is… is that a serious question?”

Shaking his head, Ghostface told him, “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Doc.”

He was left to assume that meant it was a serious question. Again, not something he wanted to answer. Still, he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Oh, n-no reason. Just- just, possibly- Y-you know, luring me back here after the whole… um, ev-everything.”

“Everything, yes. Since the beginning of time, even,” Ghostface agreed solemnly. His sudden change to an almost patient, stoic demeanor was jarring, and Marcus blushed. When one of the man’s eyebrows raised, he looked down. Fingers pressed ever so slightly harder on his windpipe and he quickly looked back up at him, meeting his eyes with a pleading expression.

The smile he got in return made his knees weak and he gulped. Ghostface was planning to kill him… Wasn’t he? So why was he looking at him like that? Why was he looking at him like he wanted to–

“Good boy,” Ghostface murmured, and he actually whined quietly. Nope. Oh, no, he could not have just done that! He could not have just reacted like that!

“You’re mine, Doc,” he continued, still smiling at him. “I hope you understand that now. Freddy gets it. The Legion get it.”

Expression becoming dangerous, Danny loomed over him. “The fucking CEO gets it. So it was time to make sure you get it. Got it?”

Nope! And there was no way he was going to admit– “Nope. I- I’m actually m-more confused now…”

Oh god, he was hopeless. He should have just taken the loss and asked for a fucking transfer.

Thumb pressing into the bruise he’d left on the side of his neck, Ghostface squeezed until he was choking. “You. Are. Mine. I’ve had a lot of fun in these bleak walls, Doc. But I’ve never met anyone like you. So, for your sake, you’re mine.”

“Okay! O-okay!” he wheezed, not sure if he was making things worse for himself or not. “But, wh-what does that mean? What- what do you want?”

“It means, none of the others mess with you, sweetheart. And if you hope to survive working here, you’re going to want that,” Ghostface promised. Leaning down so their lips were almost touching, he continued softly, “If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, I’ll gouge their eyes out. If anyone touches you, I’ll break their fingers. If anyone wrongs you, I’ll pay them back ten fold. No one touches you but me.”

Marcus gulped, uncomfortably aware of just how much of Ghostface’s body was already touching his. It wasn’t just the bare skin of his fingers as they remained wrapped around his throat, but the way his chest was pressing against his hands, heart beating steadily under his palm. Legs and hips flush with one another, one thigh almost slotted between his. It was sending a lot of conflicting feelings through the ginger, and he couldn’t seem to think a single thought long enough to work through any of them.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby boy,” Ghostface soothed, fingers shifting a little higher. Pushing Marcus’s head back, he leaned down, kissing the tender bruise he’d left only a few minutes before. The action was met with a soft gasp, and he chuckled. “I’m possessive, but all the better for you that I am. I’ll take good care of you, Doc. I’ll make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

The sound that left him when teeth nipped his neck again was nothing compared to the near moan he let out when Ghostface’s leg pressed firmly between his own. The sound was just as quickly stifled, turning to a muffled whimper as a hand was placed over his mouth.

“Hmmm, you’re a noisy one, aren’t you, Doc?” Ghostface teased, expression all too smug. “I can’t wait to see what other sounds I can get out of you… But I fear our time here is almost at its end. Can’t have anyone interrupting and getting the wrong idea after all.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Marcus tried to focus on something, anything, to distract him from the heat spreading through his body. Lips brushed his skin and his eyes shot open, a thin whine escaping between Ghostface’s fingers. Panting when the leg between his own pressed upwards, he found he had nowhere to go. He was already standing on his toes, but he couldn’t figure out if he’d done that or if the taller man had lifted him.

Legs shaking, his eyes darted to Danny’s face, attempting to appear defiant but helplessly clouded with desperation. Marcus tried to tell himself it hadn’t been that long since he’d been physical with someone. It had been a couple of months at most! Sure, that was a long dry spell for him, but… but it wasn’t that long! So why was he finding it so difficult to fight back against his own feelings?

“I’ve got one last question for you, Doc,” Ghostface purred. “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll reward you…”

Marcus swallowed thickly, knees starting to give slightly. The more his feet tried to lower, the more weight he found himself resting on Danny’s leg. It felt… so good. And it scared him. He knew it was wrong. He knew it had to be the same tricks and traps he’d used on his previous victims. But he hoped… maybe if he played along for the time being, he’d be able to stop it from happening again. At least, that was what he told himself as he hummed his agreement from behind the hand on his mouth.

Fingers sliding away from the ginger’s mouth, Ghostface asked smoothly, “Who do you belong to, Doc?”

Eyes widening, Marcus bit his tongue to keep quiet. He wasn’t about to give the man the answer he wanted. He couldn’t. If he did, he was sure he would go ahead and kill him. If not right there and then, later. Once he was more certain he’d fallen into his trap… That was his game, right? If he said no… would he switch to ignoring him to try and get a reaction out of him like he had with his previous victim, Nurse Duran?

Whimpering quietly when the leg between his thighs shifted, he licked his lips. Fuck, his mouth felt so dry. Despite the cold air and the freezing bricks behind him, his entire body felt too hot. His head spun, thoughts still as slippery as eels, leaving him grasping at nothing.

It would be so easy to just… answer. Give Ghostface the answer he wanted. It felt… good? Did it feel good to consider that just maybe he really did have some kind of interest in him beyond simply selecting him as his next victim?

Victim. That’s all Ghostface saw him as. It had to be.

Looking down as best he could, Marcus forced out, “N-no one. I- I don’t belong to anyone.”

Eyes darkening, Ghostface let out a disappointed sigh. “Oh, Doc… I’m disappointed in you.”

“S-sorry?” he offered, voice thin. Leaning closer and closer into his personal space, Danny grinned when he tried and failed to shrink down. Their lips were almost touching and Marcus found himself holding his breath, almost longing for them to finally meet and break the suffocating tension in the air.

Mouth so close to his own he could almost taste him, Ghostface murmured hungrily, “Next time, baby boy…”

What? Next time? The thought lingered at the front of his foggy mind, a small sound that he tried to pretend wasn’t disappointment escaping him as the warmth of Danny’s lips left him without ever touching his own.

“Marcus?! Marcus, are you out here?”

David’s voice was like a brick through glass, snapping the ginger back to reality.

Gasping, Marcus nearly fell on his ass as Ghostface vanished from his personal space. He could still feel the fading warmth from his body, the indents of his fingers on his neck, and the soft brush of his lips against his skin

Ghostface had already managed to get a decent amount of distance between them when David finally came darting around the corner with the entire Legion hot on his heels. They seemed to have finally run out of things to distract him with, and looked more than a little concerned.

“Aw come on David, we told you that he probably went inside for something-”

“No! I don’t believe you! This is the only corner we haven’t checked yet! He has to be- MARCUS!”

Jumping at his sudden shout, the ginger slapped a hand over the side of his neck. Oh god, oh god, he wasn’t going to be able to explain that!

The looks of fear turned to shock then quickly to relief as the Legion took in the sight. Clearly whatever Ghostface had wanted to do, he’d done, so they didn’t have to worry about him blaming them for David interrupting…

Clearing his throat, Marcus forced out a nervous laugh. “Um, I- Ah, I just- Hey, David! What- How’s it- how’s it going?”

In a bold act of fearless concern for his friend, David nearly shoved Frank out of his way so he could reach Marcus quicker. Eyes wide, he was clearly checking him over for any injuries as he babbled, “Oh my god, are you okay?! Do you need a medic?! Do you want me to call a guard?! I can call a guard! I’m gonna call a guard!”

“No, no, no!” Marcus shouted, half panicked. “I’m okay! Nothing- Um, it’s- I’m fine. Honestly, I’m okay! I’m okay.”

God dammit, he was so not okay, but he wasn’t about to go shouting to a guard about what had just happened! It was already clear that Ghostface wasn’t going away and he really couldn’t afford a transfer no matter how much safer it would make him!

Quickly holding up his hands, he offered weakly, “S-see? No blood! I’m fine! I was just… talking to Ghostface…”

“What the actual fuck is that?”

Due to him raising his hands, Marcus unintentionally uncovered the rather large hickey developing on his neck. The one that wasn’t there earlier.

All four of the Legion had similar expressions of utter shock on their faces. Clearly they had been expecting something very different when Ghostface had given them their instructions.

“That? Oh, that…. It’s- It’s just- um…”

Oh dear god, he couldn’t lie to him! David was his friend and even if he was kind of a ditz, he wasn’t stupid!

Wincing, he mumbled in a tiny voice, “It’s a hickey…”

David’s eyes darted back and forth between Marcus’s flushed face and Ghostface’s smug grin, his own face growing pale as he put two and two together. After a long moment of silence, he seemed to have come to a conclusion, his jaw tense as he quietly said, “I’m telling Jack.”

Marcus saw his life flash before his eyes and before he knew what he was saying, he heard himself blurting out, “You can’t!”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he looked away, unable to meet David’s eyes as he said, “I- I need this job. If you tell her, I- I’ll be forced to transfer and I can’t afford it!”

David shook his head, his eyes filled with determination as he argued, “I’d rather you be broke and alive then have money and be six feet under. This isn’t- whatever is happening, it’s not safe.”

Despite his attempts at a low volume, it was clear that the killers nearby were eavesdropping. Ghostface was at least subtle with it, as he was no longer looking at the two orderlies. Meanwhile, the Legion had actively leaned in close, eyes wide as if they were watching a soap drama.

Marcus could even see the Trickster from the corner of his eye. He was leaning around the corner with a hand over his mouth, practically vibrating with all the new juicy gossip he’d been given. If Ghostface hadn’t already spread the word about ‘his’ orderly being off limits to the others, the entire asylum would know in a matter of days…

Shaking his head, Marcus held his hands up in a pleading gesture. Taking a step closer to David, he said as quietly as he could while still being heard, “David, please! I- It’s- I know it’s dangerous! I do! I’m not- it’s not going to happen again! But- but if Jack finds out I’m going to get transferred and I’m going to be stuck in fucking health care forever! It’s not a matter of having money! It’s about getting my ass out of debt so I can get into veterinary medicine and never having to deal with this kind of shit again!”

“Hey, everything alright out there?” King shouted, leaning out of the doorway. The interior guards had finally taken note of the patients seemingly gravitating to the far end of the yard, leading to someone finally stepping in to investigate.

Glancing frantically at the waiting guard, then back at David, Marcus begged him, “Please, just- Can we talk about this first? Please.”

Poor David looked like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, he cared about Marcus’s safety more than his comfort. He’d seen how vile Ghostface could be when he started playing with his food. In fact, David himself would’ve been one of his victims if it weren’t for the fact that he was apparently ‘too dumb to know the difference between potatoes and tomatoes.’

On the other hand… he really cared about Marcus, period. And this seemed to be something that had been stressing the orderly out for a while. As the silence dragged on, with Marcus looking like he was about to throw up, David finally gave him a small nod of agreement before shouting back to the guard, “We’re all good! It’s just cold!”

King squinted at them, but since there was no visible sign of danger and none of the patients were misbehaving, he couldn’t really do much about it. With a mumbled curse, he ducked back inside where it was warm.

Running a hand through his hair, Marcus stared at the ground. He could barely bring himself to look at David, feeling sick for unintentionally dragging him into his mess and for asking him to help hide something from Jack.

Unsure what else he could possibly say, he finally mumbled, “Thank you… I promise, I… We’ll talk about it after work, okay?”

David wouldn’t look at him either, merely nodding as he grabbed his coworker by the arm and led him out of the corner, finally returning to the gaze of the many security cameras. “Y-yeah, later…”

~

The rest of the shift seemed to drag on. Marcus managed to find a bandaid that mostly covered the bruise on his neck and he was able to avoid Jack, but both David King and David Emory had been shooting him knowing, concerned looks ever since outdoor time had ended.

Jack ended up serving the inmates their dinner, allowing him to avoid Ghostface for the rest of the night as well, but it didn’t stop the ginger from dwelling on the events of the day until he was sick of it.

Everything felt… off. Not in a bad way, and that made it worse. He couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed the feeling of Ghostface’s skin against his. He couldn't get the sound of his voice as he murmured promises and threats out of his head, nor forget the intense presence of his body crowding him against the wall. Every time he took a step, he couldn’t help but recall Danny’s leg pressing between his own, and he grimaced.

No. No, it was wrong. Ghostface was trying to get into his head and it was working. He needed a distraction. A better distraction. And to his unending gratitude, he was provided with one on the bus ride back to the dorms.

Awkwardly taking a seat beside David towards the front of the bus, he hadn’t gotten a chance to get a word out when King practically lunged over the backs of their chairs, excitedly telling demanding, “Who’s ready to fucking party?!”

After David stopped screaming in terror and Marcus got his heart rate back to a normal, non-life threatening speed, the guard apologized. “Sorry, I thought you guys knew I was back there… But, I was looking at the schedules, and guess what! We’ve got a four day weekend!”

“Wait, why?” Marcus asked. He’d been so tired and distracted with work, he’d forgotten he had the next day off, much less the next three. Still, the timing couldn’t be better.

“We get four days off once a year, and every so often, they line up just right,” King explained, grinning smugly. “Of course… I may have pulled a few strings and traded in a few favors to actually get mine to line up with you guys, but that’s not important. I think we all need a day or two away from this pit, so… You guys up for a road trip?”

“A-A road trip?” David wheezed, hand still clutching his chest where his heart was going a mile a minute. “Where will we even go? Isn’t everything, like, super far away?”

“It’ll take us most of tomorrow to get down there,” King admitted. “But that’s why we go over a four day period. We’ll split the costs for a hotel room and then go to the local bar to see what kind of mischief we can get into.”

Recalling him previously inviting them out to a gay bar, Marcus felt his heart skip a beat. Yes. That! That was exactly what he needed! He didn’t belong to Ghostface. He didn’t belong to anyone! And what better way to prove it to himself and Danny then to go to a bar?

“That sounds like an amazing idea,” he said aloud. “But… how are we going to get down there?”

He could just see his entire paycheck being eaten alive by Uber fees…

“We’ll borrow a car,” King dismissed. “I know a guy!”

“Oh- I, uh- okay?” Despite the massive confusion at the impromptu vacation, David seemed excited. Or maybe he was still trying to recover from the near heart attack King gave him. Either way, the conversation had taken his attention away from the heavy conversation that Marcus would much rather not have at all.

Leaning over from the other row of seats, Quentin told them in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “It’s literally just Dwight. That’s his guy. It’s Dwight. It’s his car.”

“You little-”

There was a shrill scream as King practically dove across the aisle to jump on the janitor. Nea actually turned around to look over her shoulder before rolling her eyes. “Are you serious right now? Do you want me to turn this bus around?”

“I need an adult!” Quentin wailed, before King shouted, “Nah, we’re good! Stop biting me!”

Shaking her head, Nea turned her focus back to the road. “I swear to god…”

The rest of the drive was relatively peaceful once Quentin and King finally settled down and moved behind Marcus and David. The four of them talked about what time to get up, how much they actually needed to pack, and who would drive.

Although everyone kept warning that it wasn’t a guarantee until they talked to Dwight, King waved them off every time. So, as a group, they marched upstairs and huddled around the head janitor's door.

Knocking, King waited a full thirty seconds before knocking again. Rapidly. With both fists. The door swung open a moment later, Dwight looking frazzled as he tried to get his glasses on and open the door at the same time.

“Wha- David? Oh, hey Q. Marcus. Other David? What…”

“Can we borrow your car?” King asked, forgoing any and all greetings.

Blinking sleepily, Dwight squinted at him. “Ah… No?”

“We’ll bring it back in one piece-”

“I don’t think so!” Dwight sputtered, quickly shaking his head. “The last time you said that, you brought Bessie back with no mirrors! Not even the rearview mirror!”

“I paid you back the repair bills,” King offered sheepishly. “So, I sometimes forget that you all drive on the wrong side of the road-”

“Wait, you what?” Marcus asked, suddenly a lot less sure about the trip.

“Oh my god,” Dwight whined, leaning his head against the door frame. “It’s that weekend, isn’t it? Ahhh… Just- No- I- Ugh. I’ll go with you all. David, you- No, sorry Emory, not you. King, you’re not allowed to drive. You can be in charge of snacks or something.”

“Brilliant,” King agreed. “We’ll meet you out front at seven?”

“Sure, now go away so I can sleep!” Dwight begged, already pushing the door closed on them.

Before anyone could say anything else, Leon went shuffling past in an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He looked dead on his feet, barely noticing them as he made his way towards his own room with a cup of milk in one hand.

“Hey, Leon!” Quentin called.

Pausing, he turned to them with a tired, “Yeah?”

“We’re going on a four day down to–”

“Yes,” Leon interrupted.

“Don’t you want to know where-”

“No…”

“Oh… Well, did you want to-”

“Yes. What time do I need to be ready?”

“Um… Seven?” Marcus offered, exchanging worried looks with the rest of the little group.

“Right, sounds good,” Leon agreed, shuffling away.

“Alright! Looks like we’re going on a road trip!” Quentin cheered. “Where are we going, anyway?”
~~~~

Notes:

Well this is the last chapter before August's hiatus! Normal posting will resume in September!

Chapter 17: Out of Town, Out of Mind

Summary:

Oh dear lord...

Notes:

Welcome back from hiatus everyone! Here's a little surprise welcome back chapter ;) Regular Friday updates will resume this week, but we just couldn't wait to get back to posting! xD

Although the group had agreed to meet downstairs at seven am, Marcus found himself waking up much earlier than he needed to be able to get ready on time. He wasn’t sure what woke him, and he rolled over to peer down from his bunk to check on David. They’d invited him to share their room again that night, and although Eli had tripped over the air mattress and fallen on him when he finally got in around one am, the rest of the night had been uneventful.

David was still passed out, contorted into a position that made him look more like roadkill than a sleeping human being. King was still snoring quietly in his bunk, and Eli was knocked out with an arm flung over his eyes. He was covered in fresh bruises, and Marcus winced, not needing to ask anymore how he’d gotten them.

The hickey on his neck throbbed slightly as he recalled his own encounter with a patient, and he briefly wondered if Ghostface would mark him up like that if given the chance. The question made his cheeks burn and he quickly looked away. Starting to roll over, he paused when the note still hidden in his pillow crinkled. God fucking dammit. How could he get Ghostface out of his head when he still had that disturbed bit of rambling under his pillow every night?!

Sitting up before he could get stuck in another loop of ‘I need to destroy it but maybe I shouldn’t’, he blinked when he noticed Quentin kneeling on the floor in front of the desk at the back wall. It looked like he’d lit a couple of candles and was talking quietly to something in between them.

Morbidly curious, Marcus crept towards the foot of his bed. Squinting down, he grimaced when he still couldn’t make out what his roommate was talking to. It looked like a jar of some kind, but he couldn’t see what was in it…

Giving up, he climbed down to go take a better look. Feet hitting the floor, he turned only to let out a startled shout as he found Quentin an inch from his face. Flailing backwards, Marcus’s foot hit the corner of the air mattress and he lost his balance entirely. Letting out a startled shriek, he landed on King, who jolted awake ready to defend himself and his roommates from the perceived intruder.

Wrapping an arm around the ginger's neck, he rolled onto the floor and Marcus, with a loud, “We got a code forty-three!”

Unfortunately, he also ended up ‘getting’ David, as the air mattress was right next to their bunk.

The poor orderly woke up with a startled wheeze when King rolled over him, his spine making an audible crack as he was smooshed further into the old mattress. “Wah-?!”

“I got ‘em!” King shouted, pulling Marcus into a full headlock. “I got- Oh, hey Marcus.”

“Ack! Gah!” was all he managed, wheezing when he was released. Flopping face down on the floor between the air mattress and the other bunk, he groaned, “What… is a… code… forty-three?”

“Patient in a restricted area,” Eli answered sleepily, arm not budging from over his eyes. “Who’d he get this time, Q?”

“The only other roommate we have,” he told him, bending down to poke at Marcus. “Oh, he also got Little David.”

“Well, I guess now that we’re up–” King paused, sighing heavily before asking, “Q… What is God’s Mistake doing out?”

“That’s so fucking mean,” Marcus admonished, lifting his head to squint at the Brit. It wasn’t until he followed his gaze to the jar on the desk that he realized who, or rather what he was actually talking about.

In the jar between two burning candles, was a human shaped effigy… Made entirely out of human teeth.

“Oh my god,” he murmured. “Is that… the doll you were talking about? The one they found in the Hag’s cell?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t call him ‘God’s Mistake’,” Quentin defended. “His name is Tiddly Winks.”

“I thought it was Quentin Jr.?” Eli mumbled, but Quentin just shook his head.

David let out a muffled groan from his spot on the slowly deflating air mattress. “Wha’ time’s it? Hngh, why?”

“It’s… too early. Especially for whatever that is,” Marcus offered, still staring at the doll. It didn’t have eyes, just a couple of little empty holes in the head where eyes would be, but it felt like it was staring at him. No wonder King had called it God’s Mistake. It was awful.

A knock on the door had almost all of them looking over, and when Quentin went over to answer it, none of them were surprised to find Leon and Dwight waiting sleepily in the hall, both with a backpack over their shoulders.

Just as Leon started to say something, he stopped, eyes focusing on the doll. Making a face, he asked, “Is it that time again?”

“Oh, god, not that abomination,” Dwight groaned. “Q, come on man. Didn’t you just ‘feed it’ a moth on the last full moon? Does it really need another offering?”

“What is happening?” Marcus asked, shooting King a mortified look.

He shrugged, offering simply, “Hey, it works so…”

“What works?!” Marcus nearly shouted, and Eli chucked his pillow at him with a tired groan. It missed, walloping David in the face instead and sending him back onto the old air mattress.

“Quentin Jr. has blessed our trip down the mountain!” Quentin proclaimed, dramatically gesturing towards the doll with both hands.

“Great, put it back under the bed and leave it there!” Leon implored. “Dwight and I are going to get the van heated up. If you want us to take any luggage down, now’s the time to-”

Grabbing Marcus, David, Quentin, and his own backpacks, King shoved them at the pair in the hall, cheerfully offering, “Thanks! We’ll see you down there! Just gotta get dressed.”

“Hurry uuuuup,” Eli moaned, rolling over and burying his face in his arms. “Go… So I can sleep.”

“Are you not coming?” Marcus asked, pulling on a clean pair of pants. God, it felt so good to be in jeans again instead of scrubs.

“Hmm? Oh, no,” Eli yawned. “I’m going to enjoy three nights and four days of peace and quiet.”

King squinted up at him, the wheels obviously turning in his head.

Before he could say anything, Quentin piped up, saying, “Aww, come on! It’ll be fun!”

“I think you popped my appendix,” David groaned, the air mattress fully deflated on the floor with the orderly laying on top of it, showing no signs of moving. It took King grabbing his arms and giving him a good shake for him to finally stand up. Wobbly kneed and unsteady, he stumbled to the bathroom to go change.

As his other roommates argued, Marcus waited for David to finish up and rejoin them before asking, “Should we head down? It’s almost seven.”

“Oh, shit!” Quentin swore. “Yeah, I’ll be right down!”

King squinted at Eli, then at the others before saying slowly, “Right… Go on ahead, I just got to grab a couple more things.”

Nodding, Marcus joined David as he shuffled sleepily out into the hall. They’d just made it to the elevator when Quentin came rushing out of the room with an extra jacket bundled up in his arms.

“What’s that for?” David asked, staring at the suspicious bundle like it was going to jump up and bite him. “It’s not that cold outside.”

It was but the orderly mostly ran warm. In fact, he was only dressed in jeans and a light button up with a soft sweater pulled over it. He honestly looked like he was going to a library rather than on a road trip.

Pulling the bundle closer to his body like he was lying about having a child to escape the Titanic, Quentin defended, “I have my reasons!”

The elevator dinged before either of them could question him further, and he quickly hurried inside.

Exchanging a confused look with David, Marcus just shook his head before joining him. He was growing more and more excited about the trip and couldn’t wait to get on the road.

Dwight’s van was already pulled up to the curb outside the front doors when they reached the ground floor. The bags were already loaded and the engine was running, keeping the interior nice and warm as the three of them piled inside.

Behind the wheel, Dwight turned around to greet them as they got settled in. “Alright, so this is Bessie.”

“Booo,” Quentin jeered, nearly sitting in Leon’s lap as he attempted to get to the glove compartment. “Pick a better name!”

Sighing, Dwight ignored him and continued, “You’re welcome to snack in the car, but anything with pepper is banned.”

He said ‘banned’ so aggressively it almost sounded like a hate crime.

“Why?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you… allergic?”

“I’m allergic to most seafoods,” David piped up, already munching on one of his packs of fruit gummies.

“Okay, we’ll keep that in mind,” Dwight promised. “No, I’m not allergic. But the last time we took a road trip, someone decided they wanted extra seasoning in their food, and dumped an entire bottle of pepper on it.”

He glanced at the ceiling as he explained, leading both Marcus and David to look up. A giant reddish brown stain stretched across the interior from the sliding door all the way to the window. It almost looked like an old blood stain…

“Dwight… Did someone die in this car?” Marcus asked quietly. The better question was probably, ‘Did someone kill themselves in this car?’, but he didn’t really want to think about that…

“What? No! Well, almost,” he admitted. “That’s the tomato soup King was eating when he sneezed so loudly I almost went off the road at sixty miles an hour.”

“Wow,” Leon mumbled, turning to look as well when Quentin finally clambered into the back seat with David and Marcus. “That almost looks like someone shot themselves in the head.”

“I know…” Dwight sighed, looking far too depressed over a stain in a van that was likely older than he was.

The trunk suddenly being opened made everyone jump, but it was just King throwing a duffle bag over the rear seat. Climbing in after it, he shoved it into a corner before it could fall over and began hurriedly buckling it in. The bag seemed very top heavy, as it kept slumping over and flopping back and forth. Was there… muffled yelling coming from inside it?

Realizing everyone was staring at him, he scoffed, “I just had some last minute packing to do! Let’s go!”

“Why is that bag moving?” Leon questioned, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“It’s not!” King lied, leaning on it to keep it still. “Now, less yapping, more driving!”

Squinting at him, Dwight sighed before putting the van into drive. Pulling away from the curb, he asked, “So, what happened to your neck, Marcus?”

The ginger choked slightly, hand twitching as he fought the urge to reach up and cover the bruise on his neck. They didn’t have any band aids in the dorm that was big enough to cover it and Ghostface had made sure to leave it high enough up on his neck that his hoodie wouldn’t be able to hide it either.

Leon frowned slightly, turning in his seat to look back at the ginger. Eyebrows rising, he chuckled, “Damn, Marcus. Looks like you had fun.”

Leaning forward on the back of the seat, King pinned him with a hard stare. “Yeah, Marcus. How did that happen?”

David, who was seated next to his fellow orderly, turned his head to stare out the window and remained silent. They still hadn’t had a chance to discuss what had happened, mostly due to the sudden road trip planning and various other distractions, but he kept his promise to his friend. So far, he had yet to utter a single word about Marcus potentially hooking up with Ghostface to another soul, no matter how much he wanted to.

Fiddling with his hands, Marcus tried to think of something to say. He wasn’t sure that Leon wouldn’t order them to turn around so he could go file an incident report if he told them all the truth. He didn’t want to ruin the trip for everyone, but he didn’t feel comfortable forcing David to lie for him, even if it was a lie of omission.

“Well, I… It’s… complicated?” he finally said.

Before anyone could say anything more on the subject, the duffle bag began lurching back and forth rather violently. Zipper jerking open, Eli popped his head out of the bag, eyes wild and hair sticking out in every direction as he gasped, “You kidnapped me?!”

Unfortunately, his sudden appearance was enough to make David and Quentin both scream, which startled Marcus who also let out a shout. Leon had immediately started yelling at King, and the sudden outburst of chaos scared Dwight so badly he nearly lost control of the van. When he jerked the wheel to try and correct them and stay out of the wrong lane, he pulled it a little too hard.

Leon’s seat belt snapped and he flew halfway out of his seat and into Dwight’s lap. Hands knocked from the wheel, there was nothing to keep them on course as the van veered into the next lane. That wouldn’t have been too bad if there wasn’t already a fully loaded logging truck taking up the blacktop.

The chorus of screams that filled the van would echo in all of their ears for days, but thanks to Leon’s quick recovery, it was only screams. Grabbing the wheel with one hand, he blindly yanked it to the right. There was a loud crunch as the side view mirror was obliterated, but everyone inside the van was safe.

There was a thump as the glove compartment popped open, and Leon quickly pushed himself out of Dwight’s space and back into his seat so he could get it closed again. Before he could try, Quentin Jr. the tooth doll came flying out to land in his lap.

Leon let out a startled shout and tried to bat it away, demanding, “Why is Satan’s Abortion in the fucking car?!”

“Mr. Bojangles! No!” Quentin wailed, lunging towards the front seat. He would have made it, but Marcus had the foresight to grab him by the back of the pants before he could, stopping him short.

“Why is it out of its jar?!” Dwight screeched, leaning as far away from Leon as he could without actually abandoning the driver's seat.

“Oh my god, it bit me!” Leon hollered, swiping at his lap.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Dwight swore, recoiling before pointing out, “It’s made of teeth!”

“Why’s it in the car?!” Marcus demanded. “Quentin, why is Tiddy Wonkis in the fucking car?!”

“Tiddly Winks!” Quentin wailed, still fighting to get into the front seat. When Leon began trying to stomp on something on the floor, the janitor let out a bloodcurdling scream.

With one good hard lunge, Marcus was left holding an empty pair of jeans and Quentin was halfway in the front seat, wrestling with Leon as he tried to stop him from killing the doll.

Looking down when something off white caught his eye, it was the ginger’s turn to scream as the toothy abomination rolled over the toe of his shoe. “It touched me! Oh my god, it touched me! I’m going to contract leprosy or something!”

“Don’t let it come back here!” Eli demanded, reversing course and attempting to get back into the duffle bag.

“I don’t- I don’t feel too good,” David moaned, looking a little too pale for anyone’s comfort. All the tossing and turning and the rather abhorrent driving skills displayed in the vehicle had left the poor orderly with violent motion sickness. Something he was about to make everyone else’s problem.

“Don’t you dare puke in my car!” Dwight ordered, but the amount of panic in his voice severely undercut his attempt at authority.

“Don’t say that! If you talk about puke then I’m gonna think about puke then I’m gonna have to think about not puke but I can’t do that when I’m thinking about puke and- HRGH!” David let out a rather violent dry heave, his whole body wretching forward as he slapped a hand over his mouth. He looked like he was seconds away from making a new stain in the van.

“Out the window! Out the window!” Dwight started shouting, but it was nearly drowned out by Quentin, Eli, and King.

The doll had skittered all the way to the very back of the van, causing a whole new chorus of screams. Eli was back in his duffle bag prison, his screams of terror muffled as he zippered himself back into safety.

King had taken over trying to stomp or possibly kick the toothy abomination, and Quentin was trying to climb into the very back seat to get Jr. back safely. In the process, he managed to kick Leon in the ribs and Dwight in the ear, once again causing the van to wobble back and forth in the lane.

In retrospect, Dwight should have just pulled over to the side of the road until they could safely get the doll back into its jar. Unfortunately, the terrified animal part of his brain was telling him that the best way to get away from the doll was to keep his foot pressed down on the gas pedal. If he was moving, it couldn’t get him! Right?!

Scrambling to get to the window before David hurled on him or anyone else, Marcus managed to get it rolled down in time. Putting a steadying hand on David’s shoulder, it was more to keep Quentin’s flailing legs from knocking the poor guy out the window than anything else.

David stuck his head out the window immediately, sounding far too much like a cat about to spit out the nastiest hairball known to mankind. He was so focused on what he was doing, that he didn’t notice the telephone pole making a beeline towards him at a hundred miles per hour.

Thankfully someone was watching out for the orderly, but it wasn’t god. Looking away from the chaos in the backseat for a moment to make sure David wasn’t about to get sucked out the window like a passenger in a crashing airplane, Marcus saw the pole a split second before it was too late.

Grabbing the back of David’s shirt with both hands, he yanked him back into the van. There was a whizzing sound outside as they passed the pole, both of them laying on the seat with wide eyes and pale, if not slightly green in David’s case, faces.

King had looked up just in time to witness the near beheading and had fallen silent, a shocked expression on his face. Eli was still wiggling around in his bag, muffled sobbing coming from within as he pleaded, “Don’t let it bite me! I don’t want to catch whatever it gave Marcus and Leon!”

“I got it!” Quentin shouted victoriously. Nearly sitting on David and Marcus when he squirmed back into the middle row with them, he looked back and forth between the occupants of the van before holding up the doll. It was safely back in its jar, a little bit of fresh blood staining a few of the teeth. Horrifyingly, they were right around the ‘mouth’ area… Maybe it really had bitten Leon.

Holding a paper towel over one thumb, Leon stared at him incredulously. “Quentin… What the hell?!”

“Mr Bojangles the Tooth Man is angry!” Eli shouted, exploding out of the bag. “Let me out of the van! I’ll hitch hike back!”

“Cavity Craig tried to kill David!” Marcus accused, half shielding his friend with his body. “It tried to take him as a sacrifice!”

“I think the vomit went back down…”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Quentin called, scooting a little further away from David. Went back down or not, he wasn’t going to risk it. “First of all… It’s Anti-Gingivitis Greg… Not Cavity Craig. And B, that’s why he’s mad! You guys are all being so mean to him!”

“Why’d you go from ‘first’ to ‘B’?” Marcus asked, but Leon talked over him, demanding, “Didn’t you already give it a sacrifice before we left?!”

“I saw a white light… Was that God? Ghostface said that God hated me,” David said, eyes distant.

“Oh my god,” the ginger whispered, suddenly feeling a lot more guilty for kind of enjoying the hickey on his neck. Not that he’d enjoyed it! Not one bit!

“Quentin, man,” King started, leaning over the seat to clap him on the shoulder. “Buddy…”

“If you hit me… I’m going to start letting him out at night again…”

Slowly lowering his other hand below the back of the seat, the Brit continued, “You can’t just be bringing Mr. Sparkles into confined spaces like this.”

“Well, he was in the glove box, but then Dwight started trying to kill us all,” Quentin pointed out.

There was a mortified ‘Heeeeey,” from the driver’s seat, before Leon reached back and tapped him. “Hey, put that thing away before it gets loose again. If it bites anyone else, especially me, I’m going to shoot it.”

“Oh my god,” Marcus repeated, covering his mouth with one hand. “How are all of you not locked up in Crotus Prenn with the rest of the crazy people?”

Like an activated sleeper agent, David immediately sat up, nearly bumping heads with Marcus as he shouted, “Crazy?! I was crazy once! They locked me in a room! A rubber room! A rubber room with rats! The rats made me crazy!”

Everyone in the van went very, very quiet. A lot of worried glances were exchanged, before Quentin silently squeezed between Leon and Dwight again to return BoJangles the Tooth Man to the glove compartment.

After another few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Eli finally asked loudly, “You all know this is kidnapping, right? I don’t want to deal with Michael when I get back! He’s going to be so handsy! He’s not going to let me out of his cell until he’s decided we’ve made up for lost time! Four days of lost time!”

“You know, technically you shouldn’t be telling me any of that, right?” Leon asked, turning around to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m going to have to pretend to forget the entire last thirty seconds.”

“Listen here you motherfucker-” Eli started, but King shoved him into the duffle bag, grinning sheepishly. “So, anyway! This hotel we’re going to? It’s supposed to be really nice. It’s kind of pricey, but with so many of us we can split the costs down to nothing. Only downside is that we gotta share one room.”

“And there was only one beeeed,” David groaned, head flopping forward like a newborn baby.

“I- no, there’s two beds.”

“There are seven of us,” Quentin pointed out helpfully.

“Gonna split the costs of repairing my van?” Dwight grumbled, hunching behind the wheel like an angry old man with a van full of loud children.

“We can double up,” Marcus offered, and Eli booed him.

“Ya’ know? There’d be six of you if someone hadn’t kidnapped me!”

“So, are you all’s trips to town always this… exciting?” Marcus asked. He was rubbing a circle on David’s back, just trying to comfort him as he sat with his head between his knees. At least he’d managed not to puke in the car.

“Not usually, no,” Quentin said, but there were several sounds of disagreement.

“My van usually ends up with some kind of horrible new abuse,” Dwight complained. “And before you ask why I don’t just get a newer, safer van, it’s because it’s way too much to get shipped up here. I’d rather just save my money with a cheap but sturdy still working van. Is that too much to ask?!”

“I’ve never- oh fuck- I’ve never been out of the asylum much.” David wheezed, taking deep breaths to make the nausea go away. “I’m actually still surprised that my dad let me go on this trip.”

“Your dad is an… interesting individual,” Leon said slowly, squinting at David. “Don’t tell him I said that…”

Marcus had to try not to look like he agreed. Thankfully David wasn’t looking at him so that made it easier to hide it when he failed miserably.

Popping out of the duffle bag again, Eli huffed, “You’re all accomplices. All of you!”

“So, what’s this hotel we’re going to?” Leon asked. Having never actually gone out with the small group of friends, he was just as curious as Marcus and David about where exactly they were heading. “Is this where you guys normally stay?”

“No, this is a lot nicer than anywhere we’ve stayed before,” Dwight answered. “I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s a lot bigger and nicer than our usual haunt.”

“What can I say, I prefer not almost getting stabbed outside of work,” King scoffed. When Marcus and David both shot him horrified looks, he elaborated, “The place we used to go to isn’t in a great part of town and we didn’t know our room door didn’t like to lock until a drunk guy decided it was going to be his room too.”

“That sounds horrible,” Marcus said slowly. “You’re sure this new hotel is… safe?”

“It better be,” Eli complained. “They’ve got valets for Pete's sake.”

Dwight made a quiet hissing sound, while Leon’s expression became one of mild concern.

Before he could say anything, Eli continued, “I bet they don’t get paid to kidnap people and transport them across state lines!”

“I’m not getting paid,” Dwight deadpanned.

“We’re not going across state lines,” Quentin added.

“Right… By the way, where are we stopping for gas?” Eli asked, sounding a bit too eager. “A gas station or a road house? Truck stop, maybe?”

“I brought a gas can,” Leon pointed out.

“We can all just pee in the woods,” King dismissed, ignoring the trapped man’s wail of despair. “Gas stations are for the weak.”

“What about snacks?!”

“I brought snacks,” Quentin cheered, pulling another backpack out from under the seat.

“I have fruit snacks,” David added, finally feeling well enough to sit up again.

“What if I want something salty?” Eli pressed. “Like… a payday bar?”

“I have chocolate and regular,” Quentin offered.

“I meant potato chips.”

“I have six different kinds, including spicy.”

“What about gatorade?”

“I brought twelve different colors!”

“Did you bring Cool Blue?” Leon asked, turning around.

“You sound like a cop, ew,” Quentin scoffed. “What the fuck is Cool Blue? It’s light blue and dark blue.”

As they bickered, both David and Marcus leaned forward slightly to peer into the half open bag in Quentin’s hands. Liar! He had a half eaten bag of cheetos, a melted snickers bar, and an empty bottle of pepsi!

Grumbling discontentedly, Eli finally interrupted Leon and Quentin’s argument about gatorade colors to ask, “Can I please get one of those payday bars? Someone kidnapped me before I could get breakfast.”

“Ooooh, shit, sorry… Looks like David and Marcus ate them already,” he fibbed, squinting suspiciously at them as they glared at his empty backpack.

“... You know I’m allergic to peanuts, right?”

“Who wants to play twenty questions?!” Quentin asked, voice slightly shrill as he forced a laugh.

“You liar!” Eli howled, thrashing uselessly in his duffle bag.

That ended up being how the rest of the drive went. There were no more near death experiences, although Eli swore he was almost snatched up by an eagle when he tried to run off into the woods during a pit stop. The group finally arrived at the edge of a small town a couple of hours before sundown.

As King pointed out a few different places they could go the next day to waste time until the bar opened, Marcus and David both watched through the windows with growing excitement. Even Eli seemed a bit more on board with the whole trip by that point and Dwight wasn’t as grouchy since his precious van hadn’t taken any more damage.

Only Leon looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat every few blocks, brow furrowing more and more as they drew closer to their stop. Dwight adamantly refused to leave Bessie with the valet, and when the blond pointed out the parking lot without a second thought, all of them gave him curious looks.

“Have you been here before?” Dwight asked, finding a relatively decent parking space. It was close enough to the front of the hotel that they didn’t have to walk very far with their luggage, but positioned in such a way that it was unlikely to be dinged by any careless drivers.

Offering nothing but a noncommittal hum in response, Leon was out the door and pulling their backpacks out of the back of the van before anyone could question him further.

Not thinking too much of it, Marcus and David piled out with the rest of the group, grabbing their stuff and following King inside.

The moment they stepped through the front doors, it was as if they were in a completely different world. The lobby of the hotel itself was bigger than any of their dorms. Other guests milled about, some in plush armchairs and others grabbing food from the complimentary hotel refreshments. Multiple pieces of art decorated the walls, some of them easily being worth thousands of dollars. Hell, there was even a fountain with a statue in the center of the room! Everything was so bougie!

As everyone else looked around with expressions of awe and wonder, only Leon remained stoic. Hell, he almost looked uncomfortable, but he stayed quiet so as to not ruin it for the rest of them.

Finally picking his jaw up off the floor, King led them to the front desk to check in. As he was grabbing their keys and collecting payments, one of the staff looked up before doing a small double take.

“Oh, hello again, Mr. Kennedy! We weren’t expecting to see you again so soon! Will Mr. Wesker be joining you again?”

“No,” he stated flatly, and the woman’s smile faltered slightly.

“Ah, I… see. Well, please do enjoy your stay. If you or your… acquaintances need anything, please don’t hesitate to phone the front desk.”

“Of course,” he acknowledged quietly, doing his best to pretend he hadn’t noticed the way the rest of the group was silently staring at him.

Although the walk through the overly lush hallways was slightly tense, no one was sure what to say to break it.

Finally, just as they were passing an impressive indoor pool, King said, “Hey, I’m sorry if this is… weird. I had no idea that this was the same place-”

“It’s fine,” Leon dismissed abruptly, trying to smile. “You didn’t know and I did kind of invite myself along.”

“Not really,” the other guard argued. “We were going to ask you and you said yes before we could finish the question.”

“Are you really going to argue semantics right now?” Leon questioned, smile starting to look a bit more genuine.

Shrugging, King scoffed, “Semantics are everything. Semantics are what got me kicked out of rugby before I could go pro. So yes, I’m going to argue bloody semantics with you.”

Leaning in between them with wide eyes, Quentin whispered loudly, “Now… kiss.”

Both of them paused, looking at him, then at one another before they both grinned. Before Quentin could escape, King grabbed him by the ears and planted a huge wet kiss right on his lips.

Ignoring him as he fell to the floor gasping and wailing like he’d just been poisoned, Leon unlocked the hotel room door. Waving the others inside, he offered, “I guess Quentin’s taking the floor tonight.”

No one else heard him as they were all oohing and ahhing over the room. It wasn’t a luxury suite but it was still nicer than any of the men were used to. Two giant king size beds took up one side of the wall while a large TV screen took up the other. A minifridge sat underneath it, the transparent door revealing the large assortment of complimentary snacks that beckoned their names. There may only be one bathroom but the tub alone could have fit three of them inside comfortably. The wall opposite to them was a ceiling to floor window, revealing the rest of the town in the Alaskan evening glow. This was the peak of luxury.

David threw himself on the nearest bed with an excited sound, nearly disappearing under the sea of blankets and pillows that decorated the plush mattress. “Holy shit, it’s like a cloud!”

Crawling across the floor, Quentin pulled himself up onto the bed with him. “Ooooh, it’s so sofff…”

He fell asleep before he could even finish the word, and Marcus poked his hip to see if he would feel it. When he didn’t so much as twitch, he asked worriedly, “Should we roll him over so he doesn’t suffocate?”

“Well, he might catch the death penalty anyway for kidnapping-” Eli’s latest attempt to guilt them for dragging him along was cut short when a pillow was flung at his head. Nearly as big as he was, it knocked him clean off his feet.

King, Marcus, Dwight, and David all turned to stare at Leon, who had begun whistling innocently and looking at literally anything else in the room.

“So… plans for tomorrow?” the blond finally asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Right…” Dwight said slowly. “I think I’ve got a few ideas.”

With that, they settled in for the night, discussing their plans for the next day until all of them passed out, strewn across the beds fully clothed and too tired to bother changing.
~~~~

Chapter 18: We’re Still Human

Summary:

What’s group bonding without a little chaos?

Marcus woke up to the sound of someone loudly banging on a door. Sitting up with a start, he blearily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he looked around for the source of the noise. If that was room service, they were in serious need of a lesson in manners.

It wasn’t room service at all, he realized. Spotting most of the others gathered by the bathroom door, he begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed and made his way over. “Whas’ happen’?”

David turned at his voice, looking a tad distressed as he explained, “Leon has been in there for almost two hours. He’s hogging all the hot water!”

Sure enough, King was the one banging on the door, yelling, “Come out already, you bloody bastard! We all know you use products to make your hair look like that, you don’t need that long to shower!”

Marcus could just barely hear Leon’s voice over the sound of the shower running, muffled by the heavy wooden door as he screamed back, “Lalalalala! I can’t hear you!”

“Why you little-!”

“I got this,” Marcus offered, holding up his hands. Stepping up to the door, he cleared his throat before calling, “Hey, Leon?”

There was a pause, then a muffled, “Yeah?”

“How mad would you be if I started sending dick pics to all your phone contacts? I mean, they’ll know it’s not you for obvious reasons, but how are you going to explain ginger–”

The bathroom door flew open so fast Marcus almost fell over. Soaking wet and with nothing but a towel around his waist, Leon looked half drowned as he demanded, “Keep your dick away from my phone!”

“I don’t actually have it,” he promised, scooting out of the doorway. “I don’t even know where it is.”

Leon didn’t get a chance to move before he was nearly shoved to the floor as Quentin practically flew into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind him as he cried, “Move bitch! I need to shit!”

His declaration was immediately followed by a shrill scream and a crash as he slipped on the wet bathroom floor. Giving it a minute, King called through the door, “Q? …You alright in there?”

There was a muffled curse, then, “I’m good… Not sure if I still need to shit, though… I may have shit my pants.”

“If you did, burn them,” Dwight yelled. “They’re not going in my van!”

“Calm down, it’s fine!” Quentin yelled back. “It’s just some blood.”

Marcus wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, but before he could ask, Leon was telling them, “Breakfast here is really good, so if you all want to save some money, we can eat here before we go out.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement before David piped up, asking, “Do you really use products in your hair?”

Staring at him for so long Quentin actually emerged from the restroom with a goose egg on his temple and cheerful, “False alarm!” Leon finally lied unconvincingly, “...No… Just shampoo and conditioner.”

None of them looked the slightest bit convinced, but no one pressed the argument either. It didn’t take them much longer to all get changed and ready for their first day out, and once they were all ready, they headed down for breakfast.

When Leon had said that the breakfast was ‘good’, he failed to mention just how many different breakfast options there actually were. Three long bars held an assortment of fruits, yogurts, granola, bread, toast, waffles, pancakes, eggs, and more.

After a moment of open mouthed staring from most of them, Eli finally looked at King, asking, “This is the real reason you chose this hotel, isn’t it?”

Not missing a beat, he nodded, confirming, “You’re a growing boy, you need to eat. Otherwise you might get blown away by the next strong wind.”

“I’ll just tie a rope around my waist and the other end to your fat head. That should keep me from going anywhere,” he huffed irritably. King had rolled over on him in the middle of the night and he was still sore from it.

Trying not to drool, Marcus nudged David. “Hey, have you ever been here? Any idea what’s good?”

He was mostly referring to some odd looking food at the end. It kind of looked like fish, but it smelled sweet. It wasn’t labeled, and he wasn’t about to try some without knowing what the hell it actually was first.

David shook his head, although he was more interested in the small section labeled by the ‘No Nuts’ sign. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a hotel this nice. When my dad and I used to travel for his work, we’d usually stay in kinda shitty motels. Woke up to a spider in my hair more than once.”

“Oh, wow,” was the best response Marcus could come up with. In the end, only Quentin was brave enough to try the ‘fish’. He still wasn’t sure what the hell it was, but when he mentioned that it tasted like pineapple, the ginger leaned away from the offered fork.

“Haaa, no thank you. I don’t want to die today,” he declined. Getting several weird looks, he explained, “I’m extremely allergic to pineapple.”

Glancing at the fruit salad on his own plate, Leon said, “Oh, that explains a lot.”

Pretty much everyone had grabbed some, but Marcus had avoided that entire end of the buffet with an expression of malice.

“I thought it was just ‘cause you’re a fruit racist,” Quentin offered, eating the rest of the strange food. “Vegetable supremacist.”

“Did you actually sleep last night?” Dwight asked slowly.

“Did I?” he retorted, turning the question around on him.

“The rest of us did!” Eli pointed out. “So how would we know?”

“That’s for you to know and me to wonder about,” Quentin scoffed, before reaching over and grabbing a biscuit off Leon’s plate. Trying to stab him with his fork when he tried to take it back, the janitor wailed, “Security! They’re trying to starve me!”

As the rest of them argued with the janitor, David was trying his best to figure out the difference between the pancake with peanut butter and the pancake with banana filling in it. They looked exactly the same from the outside, as the filling was inside like a donut. “I think I grabbed the right pancake… Dammit, I didn’t bring my epipen… maybe I can wing it?”

Pretty sure he overheard the word ‘epipen’, Marcus glanced over in time to see David about to take a massive bite out of one of the -what the ginger assumed- peanut butter filled pancakes. Knowing how bad his own allergy was and having heard one too many of David’s horror stories, he reacted purely on instinct to an ‘emergency’ situation.

With a dramatic, “Oh no you don’t!” he slapped the pancake out of his friend's hand.

David was left with a slack jaw and empty hand, the fork having been slapped away with the pancake, landing somewhere on the nice carpet with an audible ‘splat’. Hopefully none of them had to pay for dry cleaning.

Slowly turning to squint at Marcus, he complained, “Heeeey, I was gonna eat that…”

Everyone else at the table was staring at him too, food and argument all but forgotten thanks to his… heroics?

“Um, I… It was- Ahha… Sorry. I thought you were allergic to peanuts?” he finally managed, face almost as red as his hair.

“I am,” David said slowly. “That one didn’t have peanuts. See?”

Marcus’s gaze followed where David had pointed towards the fallen pastry. He was right. It didn’t have any peanut butter in it. In fact, the one that did was still untouched on the buffet table in front of the ginger. They really did look that similar.

Doing his best to shrivel up and die didn’t work, so he said quietly, “I’ll go get you a new one… Sorry.”

“Hey, I think that guy’s got an allergy!” King teased, pointing to a random table across the room. “Go save him!”

Flipping him off, Marcus hurried to go grab David a new pancake. The conversation had thankfully moved on by the time he got back to their table, and the rest of breakfast was uneventful.

Once everyone was done, they piled back into Dwight’s van so they could drive to the adjacent town for sightseeing. Parking in a small lot downtown, King waited for all of them to pile out of the van again before pointing across the street. “That’s the bar we’re going to tonight. They open at eight pm, but if you want more of a crowd, it’s best to show up around ten. If you just want to get hammered and maybe pick someone up, midnight.”

“And this parking lot is my favorite one,” Dwight added, “Even though it’s kind of far from the arcade.”

“Wait, why this one?” Leon asked, frowning.

“‘Cause it’s free and Dwight’s a bloody cheapskate-” King started to say before he got interrupted by David.

He practically had stars in his eyes as he asked, “Did you say arcade?”

King looked a little surprised, but it was likely more due to the fact that the smaller man was almost vibrating with as excited as he’d gotten. Glancing at Marcus to check if that was indeed normal, he stared critically down at David when he received a nod. “Um… Yes? It’s a little older but they’ve got a decent amount of games and some pretty cool prizes.”

“I will get that lava lamp if it kills me,” Eli whispered, clenching a fist over his heart.

The absolute death grip that latched onto King’s arm was actually a bit shocking. Who knew that the little guy had so much strength in those noodly fingers?

Looking up at King with the eyes of a maniac, David pleaded, “Can we go? Please? Please?!”

“Aww, I wanted to go antiquing,” Quentin pouted. “Sir Squeaky Clean needs a hat-”

“Arcade it is!” Marcus interrupted, clapping his hands. “Anyone else?”

King was still staring at David’s giant puppy dog eyes and rapid hopping with a surprisingly soft expression. Finally planting one huge hand on top of his head, he said, “Alright, alright, stop that before your brain pops out and we gotta go chasing it down the bloody road. Come on, Q. We can look at all your dusty old shit tomorrow. This is Leon, Marcus, and Mini Me’s first time out here after all.”

“He did not just call Short David ‘mini me’,” Eli whispered, leaning over to Dwight.

“We’re never going to stop giving you crap for being short, so don’t get too excited,” he warned, shaking his head. He let out a startled scream a second later when Eli flung his arms around him with a dramatic crying sound.

He quickly stopped his fake pouting when David almost ran off in the wrong direction, too excited about the arcade to wait for directions. It took Leon running after him and carrying him back under one arm to get him back on the right track. Setting him down as they rejoined the group, the former cop made sure to face him in the right direction before letting him go, just in case he took off again.

It did end up being quite a walk, but it wasn’t bad at all. There were lots of little shops along the way and the weather was nice. A little warmer since they weren’t all the way up in the mountains anymore, it was easy to walk around and just breathe the fresh air without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Quentin would pause and peer into the windows of every shop they passed, looking for a hat or other odd article of clothing he could buy for the doll. He couldn’t find anything, so they weren’t really delayed by him disappearing to buy it.

When they finally reached the arcade, King offered, “The first bucket of tokens is on me.”

“Bucket?” Marcus questioned, looking at Dwight as the Brit walked up to the counter.

“Oh, yeah, they changed from the old quarter operated machines a few years ago,” he explained. “It was harder to get business when every game cost a quarter, so now they sell tokens. The more you buy the more money you technically save, but then you feel like you’re saving money so you go buy more.”

“Sounds about right,” he agreed. He jumped slightly when an actual bucket of game tokens was thunked down on the counter right next to them.

Smiling, King held out a handful of plastic cups. “Grab some, come back to me if you run out. I’ll keep hold of the bucket.”

Without missing a beat, David practically snatched a cup away from him. With speed never seen before, he scooped up a large portion of the tokens before darting off like a raccoon somewhere deeper into the arcade.

Everyone else stared at the puff of dust in the shape of David’s silhouette before they each grabbed their own cup and portion of tokens. The bucket was huge. Even after they each took a cup full, there was still a little more than half of the bucket left.

It didn’t take long for Marcus to figure out why the arcade was willing to sell so many tokens at once. They went really, really fast. Some games ate tokens pretty quickly, but gave a pretty good payout. Other games took barely any or none at all, and gave little to nothing in return in most cases.

Eli beaning Dwight between the eyes with an air hockey puck put an end to that game, and they ended up regrouping at the skee ball racks. Looking at the ramps, Leon snorted.

“Man, I used to be so good at this. Back when I was in middle school–”

“Back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth,” King snickered.

“Fuck you, you’re only a year younger than me,” he argued. “I used to play this almost every day! But if you’re so confident, we can make a challenge out of it.”

“Pft, I’d wipe the floor with you, little man,” the other guard scoffed. “All of you.”

“You’ll be lucky if you can even get the ball on the ramp,” Quentin laughed, pointing at Leon. “I could do better in my– Ooh!”

“They kicked me off the machine.”

David’s sudden reappearance made everyone else jump. Whirling around, they found the orderly with a thousand yard stare and a literal armload of tickets. He practically had a ticket tail dragging along behind him, where several small children were stealing some of it. “I need more tokens please.”

“Um… I- Holy shit, David, how-” Marcus couldn’t find the right words, but thankfully Eli got it for him.

“Holy fucking shit, David! What in gods fucking name did you play?!”

“Wow, you swear a lot when you’re startled,” Leon said, squinting at him.

“Um, skeeball?” King asked, staring at David. “My god…”

“No, Pac-Man,” David answered evenly. “I can play skeeball too, but I need more tokens. Please.”

“Not my highscore!” Dwight shouted, rushing off to check the Pac-Man machine for himself. A moment later a loud, “Nooooo!” could be heard from across the arcade. Oops…

“Oh my god, it finally happened,” Eli whispered. “I owe Michael a milky way bar and blow j-”

“Okay, Eli!” Leon shouted, a little too close to the side of his head. Ignoring his startled scream, he continued, “Here’s a token for skeeball! David will play winner!”

David merely made a sound of acknowledgement. Having passed off his arm load of tickets to Quentin, he was currently too busy trying to steal the bucket with the remaining tokens in King’s arm. God, he looked like a zombie with the hollow look in his eyes. Just how high was the high score that he left on the machine?!

Marcus finally chased off the kids trying to steal David’s tickets, collecting the absurdly long tail and folding it up as he went. Adding it to the pile of other tickets, he asked, “David, how’d you get so good at Pac-Man?”

“How’d you learn to climb like that, you bloody lemur?!” King demanded, trying to fend David off as he climbed on his shoulder.

“I played a lot online! There wasn’t anything else to do at home then go online! I taught myself how to do a lot of things with the internet- I want more tokens!”

“Okay, but get down!” King relented. “What the hell are you going to do with so many tickets anyway? You could buy a whole shelf with that!”

“Lava laaaaamp,” Eli hissed, tossing his ball up the ramp.

Almost foaming at the mouth, David hissed, “I want glow in the dark vampire teeth!”

Leon would blame it on that comment alone, but he whiffed his shot so hard it flew up the back of the ramp and shot through the mesh net ment to stop exactly that from happening.

There was another scream from Dwight, although that time it was much closer, as the wayward ball almost smacked him in the head.

“Hey! Share those!” King yelled, watching David disappear into the rows of games with the bucket held triumphantly over his head.

Laughing, Marcus offered, “I’ll go get him,” before following after him. He kind of wanted to see how he was doing it for himself.

It took him a while but Marcus finally found David by the pinball machines. That time, a small group of teens were gathered around the orderly, watching with wide eyes as the score grew higher and higher. David himself was locked in, barely blinking as he smacked around the ball with pinpoint accuracy. A pile of tickets were once again spilling onto the floor, although the crowd around the machine seemed to respect David’s tenacity enough to not touch it.

Watching with wide eyes, Marcus found himself totally absorbed by the ongoing game. How on earth David was able to hit the ball with such accuracy and speed when he could hardly walk through a door at work without bumping into it was a question the ginger would probably take to his grave.

It wasn’t until David maxed out the score at the highest possible number that the game ended, automatically locking the paddles and eating the ball before spitting out a few final tickets. That was also around the time Marcus finally noticed the rest of their group had come to join them, the token bucket finally empty and filled with tickets instead. Even combined, they only made up about half the tickets the orderly had won on his own.

“Did you break it?” Dwight asked, peering over Marcus’s shoulder at the quiet machine. The lights had all turned off, the paddles drooping ever so slightly as though the game itself was taking a much needed rest.

Quickly grabbing David by the shoulders while Quentin and Eli scooped up his tickets for him, Leon guided the orderly back towards the skee ball games.

“Okay, let’s get out of the general area,” the blond muttered. Only once they’d put the shocked crowd and silent pinball table behind them, did he say in a voice loud enough for their group to hear, “Okay, David, Marcus, you two are the only ones who haven’t played. Right now Quentin of all people–”

“Why you gotta say it like that?” he asked, squinting at him.

“–is in the lead! So, Marcus? You want to go first?”

“It’s just cause you lost immediately,” Quentin sniffed, and Leon glared at him. “C’mon, Marcus! We each play one round and whoever ends with the highest score wins!”

“Ahh, sure,” he agreed, taking a token from Leon. Quentin hopped onto the lane adjacent to him, and the two faced off.

Although the janitor ended up being faster, it was at the cost of his aim and the orderly ended up beating him in the last five seconds when he landed three consecutive shots into the one-hundred point pot.

Falling to his knees as the game spit out a few tickets, Quentin wailed, “Nooooo!” so dramatically a small child nearby started crying.

“Okay, okay, you’ll live!” Eli scolded, pushing him over.

Ignoring their theatrics, Marcus turned to David, about to ask if he was ready, when he spotted the look in his eye.

The smaller orderly looked like a rabid squirrel, fingers twitching as he held onto the token Leon had handed him. Letting out a Gollum-like hiss of ‘Ticketssss,’ David inserted his token and the game was on again.

To say Marcus lost was an understatement. He was obliterated. How the hell someone as non-athletic as David managed to roll his balls up the ramp so quickly and with such accuracy bordered on impossible. If the rest of them hadn’t been there to see it with their own eyes, none of them would have believed it.

As his lane spit out the maximum number of tickets a person could possibly earn from a single game of skee ball, Dwight asked Leon, “You almost lost to that. How does that make you feel?”

“I will shoot you,” he muttered, throwing his hands up as he walked away.

“Are you sure you won’t miss?” Eli called after him, hiding behind King when the blond whipped around to glare at him.

Helping David carry his unholy amount of tickets up to the counter, Marcus asked, “So, what are you going to get?”

There was a lot to choose from; most of it was simple arcade prizes. Cheap plastic slinkies, stickers, plastic toy soldiers, ninjas, some plastic turtles with interchangeable scooters and weapons called ‘Tutant Meenage Neetle Teetles’, and some colorful plastic vampire fangs. The higher shelves held better prizes, including a few stuffed animals, pens, sticker books, metal slinkies, and Eli’s coveted lava lamp. Looking at it, Marcus could see why he wanted it so badly. The base was decorated with the silhouettes of Alaskan wildlife against snowy mountains, and the ‘lava’ inside was a rich blue.

With absolutely zero hesitation, David said, “Twenty vampire teeth.”

The sound that Eli made was similar to a balloon deflating, while Quentin and Dwight both started laughing so hard they had to cling to Leon to stay upright. King had an absolutely lost look on his face,

Blinking a few times, Marcus looked at David, then at the tickets, then at the plastic teeth. Repeating the process several times, he finally said, “They only cost two tickets a piece. You could probably buy out the arca- mmhf!”

Catching the armload of tickets before they could go everywhere as Marcus was dragged away with a hand over his mouth by King and Eli, Dwight asked curiously, “Why so many?”

As David happily accepted the large amount of cheaply made plastic in the shape of false fanged dentures, he absentmindedly explained, “I’ve never been to an arcade before. I’ve always wanted to go. In all the movies and shows I used to watch where the group of protagonists go to an arcade, the thing that always appeared were these.”

He held up one that was neon pink and probably not safe for small children. “I know it’s kinda dumb but I always wanted one. Something that would say hey! I go to arcades too! I have a bunch of these too! I’m just like everyone else!”

A neon blue one was then placed into Marcus’ hand, way too small for any grown adult to even wear properly. He looked up from the cheap plastic to David’s beaming face, a colorful array of neon garbage gathered in his palms. “We can each have one. Like- like as a token or something. Because we’re friends. And friends go out to arcades and hang out and eat shitty pizza and have fun.”

King and Eli both stopped, having been about to bodily tackle the ginger before he could escape again. Quentin, Leon, and Dwight had also fallen silent, having been arguing about if it was appropriate to ask David if they could dip into his massive pile of remaining tickets or not.

Closing his hand around the plastic teeth, Marcus smiled at him, feeling for just a moment…. Like everything was going to be okay. Like everything was normal…

It had already been two months since the orderly had started working at the asylum and those two months had passed in a rapid blur. The facility was so isolated up in the mountains that even most of the locals didn’t know that it was up there, as Marcus learned when he had spoken to some of the other guests at the hotel during breakfast.

That was the first time in a long time that he’d actually gotten to go out and have fun without the stress of work and bills and getting potentially fired. It made him feel like he was still human, that he still had a life to live.

“Thank you… That means a lot, David.”

“Thank you guys for being my friends.”

There was a small sniffle, and all of them turned to Eli. King arched an eyebrow, starting to ask, “Are you bloody cry-”

“No! You are! Shut up! Stop being so tall!”

“Don’t mind him,” Quentin interjected. “Short people are closer to hell, and therefore, emotions.”

Grabbing him by the beanie, Leon dragged the janitor away from David, hissing, “What is wrong with you?”

Before the two could start arguing, David was holding out a pair of vampire teeth to each of them. Leon’s were glow in the dark yellow, and Quentin’s were a horrendous shade of orange. If one was just to go off the look on his face however, they might think he’d just been handed a solid gold pair of dentures instead of a cheap plastic toy.

“I know they’re too small to wear. Probably not even good enough for a Halloween costume, aha, but I hope that you guys still keep them.”

“Eli could probably wear them,” King joked, laughing when the nurse shot him a dirty look.

“There are going someplace safe,” Dwight promised, pocketing the Grimace purple teeth he’d been gifted. “Thank you.”

“I wonder if Mr. BoJangles will assimilate them if I add them to his jar…” Quentin whispered, earning worried looks from all three of his roommates.

“He can have one too!” David wasted no time in handing the janitor another piece of plastic. That one was colored like traffic lights, with different sections of it in different shades of red, green, and yellow. It looked very Christmas-y.

Quentin’s little scream of joy was loud enough to drown out the horrified protests from the others, but they were once again distracted when David asked, “Eli, was that the lava lamp you wanted?”

Freezing like a deer in headlights, it took him a second to squeak out a small, “Yes?”

Even though he was only two inches taller, Eli still almost knocked David off his feet when he hugged him, the lava lamp now safely in a bag along with a few other knick-knacks the others had chosen.

As Leon and Marcus worked to pry the nurse off David before he accidently sent them both through the glass display case, he sniffled, “Thank you so much! If I didn’t have a giant, overprotective, jealous, serial killer boyfriend, I’d kiss you!”

“Eli! I can’t legally hear any of this!” Leon complained, sounding exasperated.

In the end, it took King grabbing both of the shorter men and tucking them under his arms and physically carrying them to get out of the arcade. They’d been there a lot longer than any of them had realized, having played right through lunch. Swinging back by the car, they dropped off their prizes from the arcade before walking a bit further into town to a small restaurant for a late lunch.

The sun had already mostly set by the time they were done eating, so King suggested, “You all want to go to the bar from here? It’s better not to drink on an empty stomach anyway.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Leon agreed, pulling some cash out of his wallet. Leaving it in a pile on the table with everyone else's contribution to the meal and tip, he asked, “Do we need a DD?”

Raising his hand, Dwight sighed. “I volunteer as tribute.”

“You never get to drink,” Eli pointed out. “It’s fine, I can DD tonight.”

“He just doesn't want you to have to break out the booster seat so you can drive,” King accused. Ducking a balled up napkin when it was chucked at his head, he snickered.

“I’ll be designated driver tonight so you won’t be hung over for the drive back to Crotus Prenn-”

A bunch of booing drowned him out and he threw his hands up, shouting, “Okay, okay! I forgot! I know! God!”

A little confused, Marcus didn’t get a chance to ask what had just happened until they were all walking down the sidewalk towards the bar. When he and David caught up to Eli, he asked, “What was all that about?”

“Huh? Oh, that!” he realized. “We have a rule. Whenever we go out for a four day weekend, no one mentions where we work. If you say the name, you have to buy the first two rounds. Now that there’s three extra people, it’s more of a punishment.”

Marcus winced. “Oof. Sorry.”

His apology was waved off immediately. “Nah, don’t be,” Eli said with a grin. “It’s not like I can’t afford it. Although, you and David are off the hook on this trip, since neither of you knew.”

“What about me?” Leon asked, trying to smile endearingly.

“You’re buying the next round,” King told him with a wide grin. When the blond started to protest, he explained, “That’s the other rule! The highest ranked person in the group buys a round!”

Leaning in between Marcus and David, Quentin whispered, “That’s never been a rule.”

As Marcus let out a barely contained snort, David weakly admitted, “I’ve never drank before.”

“Ah, it’s easy,” King promised, looking back at them. “And the best part is, we’re going to a gay bar so no one will judge you for your drink of choice!”

“Wait, really?” Marcus asked, not particularly fond of most beers. If he was going to get drunk, he’d prefer it be off of something that tasted like fruit rather than fucking hops…

“No,” King answered flatly. “It’s a bar. Of course people are going to judge your bloody drink choices.”

His blunt words only serve to make David look more nervous. “Are we gonna get kicked out if we order the wrong drinks?”

That got both King and Leon laughing out loud, leaving Dwight to come to the rescue. “No, no, we won’t get kicked out. It’s not all that big a deal, he’s just messing with you.”

“It’s like when people give you shit for driving a certain kind of car,” Quentin added, giving the head janitor a hard side eye. “Like, with the kind of money department heads make, you’d think they’d drive much nicer vehicles, right? Like a luxury SUV with heated seats and built in DVD players… and a sunroof. And-”

“It was an ugly color!” Dwight shouted, whipping around to glare at him. “It was the color of burnt mustard!”

“She was beautiful and we could have named her Jannis Junebug and if you’d cosigned with me, we could have shared custody!”

“I’m not letting you tank my credit the way you tanked yours!”

“Oh thank fuck, we’re here,” Leon muttered, nearly breaking into a run as the janitors bickering got louder and louder.

It absolutely screamed “GAY BAR”. It was the very definition of a gay bar. Maybe even a gay club. The sun had set by that point, leaving the neon lights of the bar to glow like an oasis in the desert. The loud bass of the music inside could be heard down the street, rattling their eardrums and making adrenaline course through their veins. Multiple men and women were lined up by the main entrance, most of them in various forms of dress. A few more of them could be seen in the alleyway next to the building, either smoking or already hammered from pregaming. The bouncer, a large, burly man who looked like he could fold King like laundry, was silently checking the IDs of each guest before allowing them entry.

“I feel… underdressed?” Marcus mumbled as they joined the queue. In faded jeans and a lightweight hoodie, he looked perfectly fine, but compared to some of the slightly more flamboyantly dressed bar goers, he very much stood out as a newcomer. Then again, the others were just as underdressed as he was, making it a bit less awkward.

“Oh, this is just the start of the night crowd,” King explained as they moved closer and closer to the door. “Don’t worry, you’re not that out of place. It’s the fucking straight guys that think they can come in here to pick up chicks that stand out.”

“Wait, people actually do that?” Leon asked, sounding slightly surprised.

“You have no idea,” Eli sighed. “They actually have a running tally amongst the regulars on who has kicked out the most each month.”

“That’s wild,” the blond muttered.

“It’s not usually too bad here,” King explained. “It’s during the peak of tourist season that you really got to watch out.”

That was the end of that conversation, as they’d finally reached the bouncer. Without a word, he nodded at King before looking past him and squinting. Pointing at Quentin, Dwight, and Eli in turn, he said, “You, you, and you. You’re good.”

Crossing his arms, he stared at Marcus and David like he was seriously considering eating them for a quick snack. “You two. ID’s.”

Eyes as big as saucers, both men passed their ID’s over to the bouncer.

Looking them over, he then squinted at David again. Studying him and his ID for a solid minute, he finally looked at King as he asked, “Is he really twenty-three?”

“Yeah, he’s worked at the same place as me for the past few years. I can vouch for him.”

With a curt nod, he passed them their cards back before openly looking Leon up and down. Cracking a smile that seemed to change his entire ‘I’ve killed a man and you’ll never find his body’ aura as he took his ID, he glanced at it before saying, “My break’s in a couple of hours… if you’re still around.”

Mouth opening and closing a couple of times, no sound came out until King clapped him on the back. Quickly clearing his throat, Leon offered a small smile before mumbling something about having a boyfriend but thank you very much he was flattered, before their group was ushered inside.
~~~~

Notes:

You can’t tell me Leon S. Kennedy doesn’t use products in his hair. There’s no way he got it that lustrous with just soap -_-

Chapter 19: A Toast to Us

Summary:

Drinking and bonding and someone have a slight crisis and--

The interior of the club was a bit bigger than it looked from the outside. A couple dozen small tables with three or four chairs each were spread between the door and the bar itself. Along the wall to the left and right of the door and to one side of the bar were a few overstuffed couches, mostly already taken by various couples and groups just drinking and talking. To the other side of the bar was an open portion of floor where people could dance to whatever was playing. The back of the stage was dark, but in the strobing lights it was possible to pick out a few instruments available for nights when they hosted live music. That night a wooden podium was set up with a book open on top of it. A small sign hanging underneath it read ‘Karaoke sign up’.

“Drinks first, then music,” Eli ordered, digging his heels in as he tried and failed to push King towards the bar.

“Aren’t you the DD tonight?” David asked. “How is drinking going to help?”

“If he gets too drunk to make it on stage, he can’t sing!” he grunted, nearly falling over when King took a step.

Navigating the tables and various people, the group made their way up to the bar. Badgering Eli until he handed over his card, King told the woman behind the bar, “First two rounds are on him tonight.”

Laughing, she asked, “You said it, huh?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “And I’m the DD tonight so I don’t even get to enjoy it!”

“Ouch,” she said, sounding more amused than sympathetic. Shaking her head, she added, “I still can’t believe that place exists.”

A little surprised, Marcus asked, “What, the asylum?”

Quirking an eyebrow, she nodded. “Yeah! Up until David started rolling in every few months, I’d never heard of Cactus Pen. I mean, no one around here has. It’s pretty much impossible to find any information on it.”

A little stumped by the growing air of mystery surrounding a place housing so many infamous killers, the ginger looked at King for answers. He wasn’t paying attention, however, pointing out a drink on the menu to Leon.

Before he could ask anyone else, the bartender was requesting, “So what can I start you guys out with tonight?”

As everyone gave her their orders, Marcus found himself slowly relaxing. He’d been to a couple of bars before he’d actually turned twenty-one using a fake ID an ex had made for him, but none of them had been as interesting as the one he found himself in that night.

“Is it always this…busy?” Leon asked, searching for the right word.

The bartender laughed, passing him and King each a mug of something dark and slightly chocolatey smelling before starting on the rest of their drinks. “We’re running specials all this week, so the crowds are going to be a little bigger. Tourist season is right around the corner, so we’re doing a little something for the regulars before it becomes more of a minefield.”

“Specials?” Eli asked, sounding hopeful.

Passing him a bright yellow and orange drink with a slice of mango and a pineapple wedge, she said, “Tonight is, ‘buy a drink, get a free song for karaoke’. Tomorrow, we have a live band and buy one get one free on all drinks of equal or lesser value.”

Nearly falling out of his chair, Eli begged the group, “Can I pay for the first two rounds tomorrow instead?!”

“Boohoo!” Quentin jeered, accepting what could only be described as a glass of toxic waste. It was bright green and literally glowing! “You said it, you pay for it!”

“Oh, thank god,” Dwight groaned, taking a much less toxic green drink. It had a couple of apple slices in it, and it looked a lot more appealing to Marcus than either Quentin or Eli’s drinks.

Before he could ask him what it was, a drink was being handed to him. Blinking at it, he looked up at the bartender with a confused expression.

Pointing down towards King, she offered, “He ordered it for you. Normally we don’t take drink orders for other people, but I know him and I saw you come in with him.”

“Oh… Thanks,” he offered, smiling as he took it. The drink was red and orange, but it didn’t smell like pineapple nor did it have any of the offending fruit visible inside it. Taking a sip, he was pleasantly surprised by the strong tropical flavor.

“That one’s mango and passion fruit,” she told him, before adding, “Dwight said you’ve got a pineapple allergy?”

“Yes, I do,” he confirmed. “Thank you.”

“Bummer,” she lamented sympathetically, before setting down what had to be the most insanely pink drink any of them had ever seen in front of David. In a tall, wide glass, it was easy to see the edible glitter floating around inside the neon pink liquid. Topped with a pale pink whipped cream and several strawberry slices, it looked like something Hello Kitty might puke up.

“What in god’s name…” Leon started to ask, but she was already gone, helping the other bartender make drinks for several other people that had just come up to the counter.

David took a curious sniff of his cup before taking a small sip. Then, like a dog who found something vaguely food shaped on the sidewalk, he started to chug it, much to the dismay of the others. Whatever he had in his hands was definitely not something to be chugged.

“Oh my god, David no!” Marcus yelled, right as Quentin shouted, “Yeah! Let’s go!”

“Q, stop that!” Leon badgered, trying and failing to stop him from also chugging his drink.

“Okay, let’s get a table,” King invited, not paying attention to what David and Quentin were doing. He was already busy eyeballing someone across the bar, leaving Eli and Dwight to shoot one another a knowing look.

David was halfway through his drink when Marcus finally got him to come up for air. Putting his hand over the top of the cup to keep him from going back in, the ginger pointed out, “Hey, they’re finding a table. We should probably go too.”

Making a sound like a deflating balloon, David vaguely nodded as he followed after his friend, face already flushed from the sheer amount of alcohol he’d just chugged. His concoction was strong, yet the overwhelming flavor of strawberries and raspberries hid it well. Considering how he was already eyeing the bar for his next mix, Marcus could tell that it was going to be an interesting night.

Joining the majority of the group at the table, it took him a second to realize someone was missing. Looking around, he asked, “Hey, where’d King go?”

“He’s scouting the scene for his first victim,” Quentin giggled. Good lord, he’d already finished his first drink. At least that allowed them to see that most of the glow had been from a glow stick bracelet under the bottom of the glass. Still…

“Trust me, he needs this,” Dwight offered, smiling slightly oddly.

“This is pretty much the only time he gets laid, so yes, he needs it,” Eli confirmed. Sipping his drink, he pursed his lips as though suspicious, but didn’t say anything else.

As Marcus went to take a sip out of his own glass, his mouth met the top of a fluffy head instead. Looking down, he was shocked to see that David had somehow already finished his drink and was now stealing sips of his.

Blinking a couple of times, he finally said, “Heeeey…”

Looking over, Leon and Dwight both burst out laughing, only to each lose some of their drinks to Quentin. They only got him to stop by stealing his glow bracelet and frisbeeing it over his head and out the front door as another small group came in.

“C’mon,” Marcus invited. “I’ll go with you to the bar and we can get you another drink.”

What he didn’t say was that it was going to be water or maybe a sprite. Something without alcohol if he could help it…

Making sure to take his drink with him, Marcus ended up leading both Quentin and David back to the bar. They had to wait a minute as both bartenders were busy with other people, and he took the time to look around again.

As he did, he happened to catch a glimpse of King half leaning on another table, deep in conversation with someone. He looked… very familiar. Blinking a couple of times, Marcus squinted through the low, strobing lights until it clicked. With his dark hair and glasses, he kind of looked like Dwight.

Quickly distracted when David nearly dragged him off his feet, he made a ‘no, absolutely not’ gesture over his head at the bartender while the shorter man asked for another of the sparkly pink drinks. Trying to find the words to describe it beyond ‘red fruity’ and ‘super pink and glittery’, he finally said, “Just gimme’ a glass of that unicorn crap!”

It was even more concerning when he slapped down a card that did not have his name on it. In fact, it looked really fancy, fancy enough that even the bartender let out a low whistle when she saw it. As Marcus stared down at it in disbelief, he slowly realized that this was none other than Asa Emory’s credit card.

David had stolen his dad’s credit card.

Before he could stop his friend from potentially getting them all in trouble with his rather terrifying father, Marcus heard a low voice right behind him. “Excuse me?”

Turning around, he was met with the sight of another man, one that he’d certainly not seen before. Short dark hair, hooded eyes, shirt tastefully open just low enough to leave more to the imagination, the guy looked down right devilish as he asked, “Are you here with anyone?”

Feeling like his mouth was suddenly full of cotton, Marcus started and stopped several times. Clearing his throat, he offered, “K-kind of?”

Despite knowing it wasn’t and couldn’t possibly be him, he couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at… Ghostface. Was that how he did it? Showed up looking so… attractive?

Face flushing slightly at the thought, he offered a small, slightly embarrassed smile to the man. He wasn’t even sure why he was embarrassed! Sure the guy was attractive, but he wasn’t Ghostface! So there was no reason to feel so flustered!

The guy raised an eyebrow before leaning back ever so slightly to see David with something that could only be classified as a mad scientific experiment. In fact, it most likely was as even the bartender looked hesitant about him drinking it. Smiling invitingly, the man said, “I’m open to both of you, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Mhmm,” Marcus squeaked, quickly taking a long, long sip of his drink. It was… very tempting. Hell, it was incredibly, awfully tempting. As he opened his mouth to say god only knew what given his flustered, slightly tipsy state, he shut it just as quickly as the memory of Ghostface’s mouth on his neck shot to the front of his thoughts.

In the strobing lights and with the slight buzz already blurring his judgment, he could almost imagine he was in fact looking at Ghostface instead of some stranger in a bar. Forcing an apologetic smile, he mumbled, “I’m sorry, I- We’re just here for- for, um…”

“Karaoke!” Quentin suddenly cheered, grabbing his bicep. “Marcus! Lil’ David! C’mon!”

Nearly dragged off his feet, it was all Marcus could do to keep the rest of his drink from spilling as he was pulled back towards their table. King and the guy he’d been talking to were nowhere to be seen, but Eli and Dwight were doing their best to not sound drunk as they sang along to some pop song. It wasn’t working but it was funny as hell.

As the night went on, Marcus found it difficult to get the man from before out of his head. Each time he replayed the brief conversation in his mind, the man’s voice started to sound more and more like Ghostface’s predatory purr as he’d pinned him to the wall. Drinking more to try and drown it out only served to get him even more lost in his thoughts about Danny, and he found himself desperately searching for something else to distract himself.

Thankfully, he found a distraction in Leon and King. He wasn’t sure when the guard had gotten back or where his ‘friend’ had gone, but since he’d gotten back, he and Leon were dominating the karaoke stage. No one seemed to mind, as even though they were horribly off key and occasionally almost falling off the stage, they were entertaining to watch and gladly welcomed anyone else who wanted to join them.

Laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair himself, Marcus jumped slightly when Eli giggled, “I think David’s drunk.”

He sounded drunk, and the ginger squinted at him. “I thought… I thought you weren’t drinking?”

“I thought so too,” he answered, grinning goofily. “But then I did, and now I’m… quite drunk.”

“Wait, which David?” Dwight asked, swaying slightly as he turned around in his chair.

“There’s more than one?” Marcus asked, forgetting King’s first name. Shit, had Tapp shown up? Wasn’t his first name David too? “Oh… Oh my… god… We need to go find him…”

As the three argued over where this other David could have gone, David Emory pushed himself onto the stage and snagged the microphone from his named counterpart.

“No, no, you’re not doing it right,” he hiccuped, face completely flushed and unsteady on his feet. “You gotta do it like this.”

It was at that moment that the previous pop song that King and Leon had been singing suddenly switched to an upbeat Japanese song, one that immediately caught the attention of the bar. Was that… was that an anime song?

With a quick countdown of the opening tempo, David drunkenly brought the microphone up to his face and, honest to god, started to sing in absolutely perfect Japanese. No stutter, no mixups, he kept himself to the key of the song perfectly, as if he was performing the song himself.

A strange glaze came over Leon’s eyes and, as the entire bar stared on in amusement, he lifted his microphone and joined in with David at the next chorus. His Japanese was slightly off, not as well spoken as the orderly, but it was steady enough that they sounded good, way better than when he and King were singing.

“God…” Eli groaned, leaning on the table. “It’s too- too bad Michael would… turn him inside out… Cause he’s… really cute.”

“Which one?” Quentin asked, stretching across the table to try and grab the remainder of David’s abandoned drink.

“Yes,” was the nurse's answer, not clearing up a damn thing.

Pulling the drink out of reach to stop Quentin, Dwight started to say something before suddenly stopping. Turning to look at Eli with a bewildered frown, he questioned, “Wait… How long have we been here?”

“Few… hours?” Eli questioned, looking like he was about to doze off.

Gasping, Dwight asked incredulously, “Who’s going to drive Bessie?”

“Your mom!” Quentin and Marcus both blurted out, before laughing so hard they forgot what the hell they were talking about.

“You’re paying for the uber,” Dwight groaned, before waving at the trio around the stage.

As David and Leon’s song came to an end, King helped them stumble back to the table.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” the janitor told them. “We’re all too drunk to drive and the hotel is… it’s not that far but I don’t know if we can all walk that far.”

“I can walk,” Marcus boldly volunteered, only to stumble directly into Leon when he stood up.

It took King catching both of them to keep them off the floor, and he nodded. “Yeaaah. I think it’s about time we got back to the hotel. I’ll drive.”

“We’re getting an oobleck,” Quentin whispered. “Oob- Ooh- Ahh. Hrgh, I need to throw up.”

“I’m not cleaning it up,” Dwight complained, leaning away from him.

Helping him up, Eli started leading him towards a random corner and had to be physically redirected a couple of times before the group finally made it outside.

Shuffling over to a bush, Quentin bent over and heaved a stream of neon green. It was still glowing slightly…

Thankfully, he managed not to throw up in the Uber and everyone made it back to the hotel room okay. Nobody was even the slightest bit sober, so no one complained when the mattresses were smartly flipped onto the floor so they could all sleep in one giant drunken pile of elbows and knees.

Marcus grunted slightly when David flopped across his chest, but his fellow orderly was light enough that he could still breath so he let him be. Mind drifting as he started to succumb to a drunken sleep, the last thing he thought of was Ghostface and a small smile crossed his lips…

~

The next morning ended up being the next afternoon. Every single one of them slept right through breakfast and most of the way through lunch. There were a few complaints about hangovers, but Dwight had come prepared.

Passing around a bottle of tums, bottles of gatorade, and the eventual recommendation that they go to a nearby cafe for a late lunch, the head janitor saved all of them a much larger headache.

A round of greasy burgers, milkshakes, and a good long walk through the crisp air had everyone feeling a lot better, and by the time they circled back around to Dwight’s van, everyone was ready for another round at the bar.

“Oh my god, Bessie!” Dwight wailed, sprinting the last block to his previously abandoned vehicle.

He was checking over it like it was made of solid gold by the time the rest of the group caught up. Muttering to himself the entire time, he gasped suddenly, one hand flying to his mouth.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Eli whispered, trying to slowly back away.

It was too late, as Dwight looked up at him with wide eyes to accuse, “This wasn’t here yesterday!”

“What? A dent?” King asked.

When Dwight shook his head, Leon asked skeptically, “A scratch?”

Another horrified disagreement from Dwight, and Marcus finally asked, “Is there actually something wrong? Or…”

“Come look at this!” Dwight demanded shrilly, gesturing at the car with both hands.

All of them shuffled over, inspecting the outside of the vehicle for damage. Or… more damage anyway.

It wasn’t until Leon looked in the front seat and jumped that everyone else figured it out.

Somehow, Quentin Jr was not only out of his jar, but in the front seat as though preparing to drive.

“Awww, no, Boodles!” Quentin cried, mashing his face against the window. “Your little legs are too short to drive!”

“Can he even see over the steering wheel?” Eli joked. As soon as King opened his mouth, the nurse elbowed him in the gut. “No! You don’t get to make a short joke!”

“Why are you so angry all the time?” he scoffed, rubbing his stomach. “Is it ‘cause you’re so close to Satan?”

“I’m not that short!” Eli shrieked, sounding positively feral.

Before he could go full goblin mode and attack the much larger man, Quentin and Leon were grabbing his arms and lifting him off the ground as they carried him away.

Ignoring his howling and Dwight’s demands that someone get ‘Satan’s Abortion’ out of his car and back into containment, the group made their way back towards the bar. It was late enough for them to at least get the night started.

There was once again a bouncer at the door, but it was a different man than the night before. It wasn’t particularly surprising since they’d shown up a couple of hours earlier than the previous night, but he too seemed to recognize King and Dwight.

Taking everyone else’s IDs, he looked them over before giving David a hard side eye.

Sighing, King promised, “He’s legal. I’ve been working with him for the past couple of years.”

Nodding, the bouncer passed back their identification but paused when he got to Leon. When the blond looked at him with a small frown, he winked before passing his license back along with a murmured, “Have fun tonight, sweetheart.”

With an expression similar to a pokemon meme David loved showing Marcus anything something shocking happened, Leon quickly followed the group as they made their way inside for a second night of drinking.

They actually had a third bartender that night, but when the woman from before saw them, she waved them over. Smiling, she asked, “Hey, Little Guy! I never got your name last night. How’d you like the pink drink? It’s a new recipe, and in your honor, it’s officially been named ‘Unicorn Crap’.”

It took David a solid minute for him to realize that the aforementioned ‘Little Guy’ she was talking to was him. Once he caught up, he immediately gave her a smile and more than happily said, “I’m David! And it was super good! I’d order it again but my friends said that I don't handle alcohol that well. Do you have anything that’s non-alcoholic but tastes the same?”

Pursing her lips, she thought for a moment before offering, “I can make it with less alcohol if you’d like. But tonight is also buy one get one free on drinks, so if you’d like to take it slow, I can make you another one when you’re done.”

“That sounds great! Thank you so much!” Her flirtatious tone flew right over his head. “Oh! That second drink I got last night was super good too! I think it was a home made mix? That other bartender said he wanted to try something new.”

“Oh, right,” she agreed, already mixing up his drink while one of the other two bartenders took care of the others. “So, are you and your ginger friend going to be joining the others next time? I know that David pretty well, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before last night.”

Looking over at the mention of a ‘ginger friend’, Marcus was a little surprised when she winked at him. Ahh. Right. Glancing at David, he offered a small shrug. He really didn’t know if he was even into women or not so he wasn’t sure how well any attempts at being a wingman would go…

Absentmindedly taking a seat at the bar, David leaned onto the counter as he spoke. “I dunno, we’ll have to see when the next time we’re free will be. But I’ve been having a lot of fun so far, so I’d definitely love to come back!”

Looking amused as she passed him a cup of unicorn vomit -as King had called it last night before ordering one for himself- she asked Marcus, “How about you? Want to try it?”

Eyeballing the slightly sparkly pink concoction, he finally nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ll take one at full strength though.”

As much as he hated to admit it, he still couldn’t seem to get Ghostface or the man from the night before off his mind. Every time he closed his eyes or had more than ten seconds to think, he’d see Danny in his mind's eye. Maybe if he drank enough, he could get properly distracted… or if that guy was there again, maybe he’d still be interested…

The band on stage was still tuning and setting up all their instruments, but music was playing over the speakers in the meantime. It wasn’t terribly loud or as crowded as before, so it was easy to carry on casual conversation over their first and second rounds of drinks.

Well, first and second for most of them. David had been sitting at the bar ever since he got up to get his second drink, distracted by some poor souls attempting to hit on the oblivious orderly and now surrounded by a small group as he talked a mile a minute about some girl group he liked. It was unclear if the people listening were actually interested in what he was saying, or just looking for an opportunity to see if he was interested in one of them.

Dwight and Eli were keeping an eye on him from their table, mostly to ensure no one tried to spike his drink while the bartender was busy with other people. It was a safe club for the most part, but there was always a risk and none of them were willing to chance it.

Marcus was still subtly looking around every time someone new showed up, hoping against odds that the man from the night before would be back. Or not show up. He couldn’t really decide and turned to drinking a bit more than he should to try and distract himself.

Meanwhile, Leon was already on his fourth drink, although he was sticking to much simpler, less exotic beverages than the night before. A few people had filtered past their table, some stopping to talk to King or Dwight and even Quentin, who apparently knew the band. That was fine and it provided an interesting break from only talking to the same people they’d been hanging out with for the past three days. Everything seemed to be going pretty well… until a couple of different people not so subtly hit on Leon.

After politely declining a woman who invited him to join her and her boyfriend for a couple of drinks and ‘some fun’, the guard captain slammed the remaining half of his beverage before asking the table, “Am I really that desirable?”

“I mean… if you weren’t taken already,” Marcus mused, a bit tipsy and more relaxed then he’d been when they first arrived. “You seem like you’d make a very caring top, although I can see you being a great bottom too.”

Leon squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was being patronizing or was giving him a genuine compliment.

“Well, you’re attractive, and you’re blond which is a plus,” Eli added thoughtfully. “You’re kind of short for my taste. But yeah, I can see the appeal.”

“I’m too short?!” Leon demanded, and oh god, he actually looked really hurt by the admission.

Blinking, Eli offered almost timidly, “I- I have a thing f-for guys who… are really tall…”

“You’re short,” the guard huffed, looking for all the world like a pouting teenager.

“I’m… going to go get a drink and check on David,” Dwight volunteered, escaping before he could be dragged into the conversation.

Watching him go, Leon looked at King to ask directly, “Would you fu-”

“You’re not my type,” he quickly interrupted. “I mean, yeah, you’re attractive, but… not my type.”

Drifting off slightly, it was easy to see him tracking Dwight to the bar with his eyes.

Leon seemed to be the only one who didn’t notice as he muttered, “What the hell does Wesker see in me? I mean, why me? He’s not even… He’s not very nice! And I’m his boyfriend! Why isn’t he nice to me anymore?!”

“Cause he’s a bloody cunt in sunglasses,” King offered sympathetically. When Leon suddenly burst into tears, he winced, reaching over to pat him on the back. Clearing his throat, he offered awkwardly, “Look, if… If this is about that favor that I asked you to ask Wesker for on my behalf, I’m really sorry.”

“Oh my god, there’s so much wrong with me!” Leon wailed, grabbing Dwight’s drink as he sat back down.

Looking at his empty hands, Dwight frowned. “That was… mine.”

Already halfway through it, the blond didn’t seem to hear him as he lamented, “I don’t get it! Why do- why the only people who want me- Why don’t I want the people who want me? Why do the people who want me just want to use me?!”

“Well… You’re kind of young and naive?” Marcus proposed, only for the poor guy to start crying harder.

“Oh my god, you can’t just say stuff like that!” Dwight hissed, smacking him on the arm.

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, but it didn’t make a difference.

It was unclear if Leon even heard him, as he dropped his head into his arms on the table. Voice a muffled sob, he cried, “Why can’t I tell the one person I actually want to be with that I–” the rest was lost in a drunken hiccup, and everyone else at the table exchanged worried glances.

“Did… someone put something in his drink?” Quentin asked slowly, pointing at the back of Leon’s head.

“Ahhh, no,” Eli offered. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Nah, roofies don’t do that,” Marcus volunteered. When everyone looked at him, he shrugged. “Eh, personal experience.”

“What kind of personal experience?” King asked, expression darkening.

Realizing how it had sounded, Marcus quickly waved his hands. “No, no! Nothing like that! I’ve been roofied a couple of times! Nothing happened, thankfully. The friends I was out with were able to get me to safety…”

“What the fuck, man,” Quentin whispered. “Serious question, since you didn’t get date raped or anything. Did it help you sleep, or-”

“Q, no!” Eli and King both shouted.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Marcus decided, draining the last of his glass before hurrying to stand up. He knew his roommate had serious sleep issues, but there was no way he was recommending that he take roofies to sleep.

Besides David’s group, there were a few people waiting on drinks at the bar. Standing patiently to one side as he waited his turn to order, he found himself once again scanning the bar for any signs of the almost familiar stranger.

Jumping slightly when someone tapped him on the shoulder, Marcus turned to find someone else standing behind him. He wasn’t bad looking. Not much taller than himself, curly blond hair and a scruffy three day beard with bright blue eyes that creased at the corners as he smiled.

“Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he offered.

Smiling back, Marcus promised, “You’re good, I just- It’s fine.”

He’d been about to say that he wasn’t used to people coming up behind him with anything other than ill intent, but he didn’t want to think about or talk about work. That’s what the weekend was about, right? Getting away from work. Besides, from the sounds of it the guy wouldn’t even know what Crotus Prenn was, and he didn’t want to get sucked into a full conversation about the asylum.

Looking a little nervous, the blond asked, “Are you… here with anyone?”

Marcus blinked, not sure what he’d been expecting him to ask. Opening his mouth, he paused when he heard David cheerfully going on a few feet away. Looking back, he spotted Quentin animatedly talking to one of the band members by the base of the stage. King was nowhere to be seen, while Dwight and Eli were talking over Leon’s head as he sobbed into the table.

Turning back to the stranger, he shook his head. “Nah, just some friends. But… no partner, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The blond let out a sigh of relief, a small grin gracing his lips as he said, “That’s good to hear. Listen, I’m gonna be honest with you. I think you’re cute. Bathroom’s back that way. One person, door locks. I have protection.” After a moment of silence, he quickly added, “Only if that’s what you’re looking for, of course! No pressure!”

Unable to suppress a smile of his own, Marcus tried not to sound overly enthusiastic as he agreed. “That sounds great. I mean- Yeah, yeah, lead the way.”

With that, he followed the man towards the back of the club. Under the strobing lights, it was easy for Marcus to forget his previous inhibitions. He was there to have a good time, and he’d found one. Or, one had found him.
~~~~

Notes:

Ooooh, Marcus is trying to not get Ghostface brain rot and it's not working very well >;) See you all next Friday!

Chapter 20: Me, Myself, and My Regrettable Decisions

Summary:

Marcus finally breaks that dry spell he's been in! Good for him <3 Hopefully.....

The dim lights of the bathroom did nothing to detract from the buzz of alcohol and growing arousal burning in Marcus’s veins. He could hear the music still blasting through the locked door, and when his back was pressed against the wall he could feel the bass thumping through his bones.

Just as quickly distracted by the lips and hands on his body, Marcus let his mind drift, just enjoying the sensation. He hadn’t been with a partner since getting to Crotus Prenn and he’d been having a harder and harder time ignoring his growing frustration over the fact. Especially since Ghostface had–

No, no, that wasn’t what he was there for. That wasn’t who he was with. A fact he was quickly reminded of when a voice just as thick with lust as his own asked in his ear, “Top or bottom?”

Wincing slightly, he admitted, “I, uh... I don’t have a condom, so I’m cool bottoming.”

A hungry grin was the blond's answer as he pulled a condom and a small bottle of lube out of his pocket. At least one of them had come prepared.

With that, it was back to lips and teeth and tongue as slick fingers pressed past the gingers rim. The blond had a firm grip under one of his knees, holding his leg up and out of the way as he hurriedly stretched him open.

Using the wall behind him and one hand on the back of the man’s neck for support, Marcus slowly pumped the other man’s cock with his free hand. He wasn’t too worried about himself. As pent up as he was, even the slightly rushed finger fucking had him leaking precum.

Christ, how long had it been anyway? A few months? His appetite for sex had always been high, but he’d failed to consider just how hard it would be to satiate, living and working at Crotus Prenn. Unless… Ghostface really did want to–

He gasped, back arching slightly. There was a murmur against his lips as the fingers withdrew, then the blond was pulling back slightly. Moving his hand to his own shaft as his partner rolled the condom on, he let out a needy groan when he stepped closer, body pressing him back against the wall.

Fingers pressed into his hips, pulling him slightly more forward to give the blond a better angle. Marcus tilted his head back, soft moans leaving him as he felt himself being filled. It was good, hot and a little rough as they both gave in to their lust.

A shocked, higher pitched sound left him when teeth met the side of his neck, the memory of another man’s mouth in almost the exact same place not too long ago bullying its way into the front of his mind.

Jolting when fingers wrapped around his cock, Marcus bucked into the motion, unable to help but picture himself back in the hidden corner of the yard with Ghostface pressed up against him instead.

He wondered how good it would feel to have Danny inside him instead. To have his mouth sucking a dark bruise into his skin as he pumped into him. Would he fuck him like that? In a dim bathroom with their pants around their ankles since they were in too much of a rush to find someplace better?

Panting when the blond pulled out, he was turned around before he could ask what was wrong. Bracing himself against the wall with his arms, he shivered when fingers pressed into his hips. Both of them groaned as the man reentered him, pace steadier with the new position.

As his thrusts grew faster and harder, Marcus reached under himself to stroke his cock in time with the blonds movements. It was enough to have him cumming in only a few strokes, but he didn’t care. The continued stimulation felt good, and the sound of desperation from his partner as his body clenched and squeezed him was delightful.

It did bring a new question to Marcus’s mind, and he couldn’t help the way he whimpered as he tried to imagine what kind of sounds Danny would make for him. What kind of sounds would he make for Ghostface?

Movements stuttering slightly, the blond groaned through gritted teeth, fingers tightening on the ginger’s hips as he finally stilled. Both of them took a moment to breathe, before the stranger gently stepped back.

He’d already pulled the spent condom off and tossed it in the trash by the time Marcus pulled his pants up and turned around. Tugging his own jeans up, he gave him a satisfied grin, offering, “I’ll be here tomorrow, if you’re still in town.”

Smiling, Marcus had to shake his head. “Ah, sorry man. I’m leaving first thing in the morning… But I’ll keep an eye out for you next time I’m in the area.”

Nodding, the blond unlocked the bathroom door, slipping out and disappearing into the strobing lights and dancing bodies.

Taking a second to run his fingers through his messy, slightly sweaty hair, Marcus made his way back out into the club as well. Looking around, he found David still at the bar with an even bigger group around him. He was still excitedly talking, his drink sitting almost untouched beside him on the counter. King was still gone, and Quentin was on stage singing with the band, but Leon, Dwight, and Eli were still at their table.

Swinging by the bar to grab a new drink, Marcus couldn’t help the incredible sense of smugness he was feeling. He didn’t belong to anyone but himself. He could make his own choices, and if that meant choosing to fuck a random stranger at a bar on his day off, more power to him.

Sipping his drink as he made his way back to the group's table, he sat beside Leon, who had thankfully stopped sobbing.

Swaying in his chair as he looked at him, the guard squinted at his neck. Pointing, he slurred, “You bruise like… a fugin’… bandana.”

“And you’re very drunk,” Marcus pointed out, too buzzed and satisfied to be bothered by the call out.

He was also too buzzed to notice the look Eli and Dwight exchanged. Perhaps if he had seen it, the head janitor’s following question wouldn’t have caught him by surprise.

“Hey, Marcus… You were gone for a while. Did you, ah… hook up with someone?”

Shrugging, he turned to them with a grin. “Yeah?”

“Ah,” was all Eli said, and the ginger mistook the reason for both his friends' concern.

“Don’t worry, we used protection,” he snickered. “Besides, it’s not like I have a boyfriend waiting for me back at Crotus Prenn…”

~

The first thing to cross Marcus’s mind when he jolted awake to four different alarms the next morning was, ‘What the fuck was I thinking?!’

After his hookup, he’d continued to drink for a couple more hours. King had finally come back, rescuing David from the bar and looking just as smug as the freshly bruised ginger.

They’d finally had to cut Leon off after he started incomprehensibly ranting about how he couldn’t tell her how he felt because he was too damaged to be good for her. No one was sure who ‘her’ was supposed to be, but the way he kept staring into the distance made them think it was most likely an ex-girlfriend he was lamenting. Probably a ‘the one who got away’ kind of situation. He didn’t seem to remember a thing from the night before, hungover and groaning as he was forced to go shower off the linger smell of alcohol and regret.

Eli and Dwight were in the best shape, having been much more careful about monitoring their drinking throughout the night so they could take turns driving if need be on the ride home. They’d actually stayed sober enough to retrieve the van and drive back to the hotel, so they could simply load up and go after checking out of the room.

Quentin had slept through every single alarm and everyone else taking their showers. King was about to toss him into the running shower, clothes and all, when he suddenly jolted awake. Looking up at the guard with wide eyes, he asked, “Why are you carrying me?”

Holding him bridal style, King offered, “I was, uhhh… Taking you to breakfast?”

“Fantastic!” he agreed. Pointing at the hotel room door, he declared, “Onwards!”

Rolling his eyes, King dropped him on the nearest bed before dusting himself off. “C’mon. We’ve got about an hour before we actually have to be on the road and breakfast just started. We should eat before we go.”

“Hrggh, just let me die,” Leon groaned, face down on the other bed.

Marcus couldn’t help but share his sentiment, although his wasn’t from a massive hangover. He couldn’t bring himself to regret his impulsive bathroom hookup, but he knew there would be no hiding the fresh hickey on his neck. The bruise previously left behind by Ghostface had faded almost to the point of not being there anymore. What little of it remained had been covered by the blond the night before, and he knew there was no way Ghostface wouldn’t see it.

“Oooh, breakfast this early?” David yawned, still half asleep. Even a shower hadn’t been enough to wake him up, and he’d almost put his shirt and pants on backwards as he stumbled through getting dressed.

“You can take something for the road,” Eli prompted, yawning himself. “I don’t like to eat this early either, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“We can stop for lunch along the way as well,” Dwight promised, helping check for any missed clothes or personal belongings.

Once everyone was upright and dressed and the room was cleared of all their belongings, the group made their way outside. Loading up the van first, they headed back inside for a small breakfast before checking out of the room.

Conversation was mostly limited to tired grunts and murmurs, the majority of the party either too hungover or too tired to feel talkative. As they began groggily piling into the van, Quentin nearly knocked Eli over as he dove into the front passenger seat.

When the nurse started to protest, Quentin slowly turned to face him, the jar holding Anti-Gingivitis Greg, or whatever his fucking name was, in his hands. Raising both his eyebrows, he watched Eli quickly and quietly climb into the far back seat of the van beside David and Marcus.

Unscrewing the lid of the jar, Quentin dropped a hard boiled egg in with the voodoo doll before closing it up tightly once more. As he was placing it back in the glove compartment, Marcus caught a glimpse of something strange. In the middle of the doll’s belly was a set of plastic vampire fangs…

David was already asleep in the corner, using a backpack as a pillow, so Marcus turned to Eli with a bewildered expression.

Before he could find the words to voice the unspoken question, Eli quickly shook his head, muttering, “It’s best not to ask. Whatever it is, it works.”

“Does it though?” he whispered, eyeballing the closed glove compartment uncomfortably.

“Hey, our room is the only one with no mildew in the showers,” he offered. “And the AC never breaks. And the heater never goes out in the winter…”

“Ahha…” Marcus said, settling into his seat. As disturbing as Mr Bojangles the Tooth Man was, it wasn’t enough to distract him from the anxiety swirling into a raging storm inside him. He couldn’t seem to get Ghostface out of his head, nor his fear over how he’d react. Would he be mad? Betrayed? Or would he get the hint and leave him alone? But… Did he want that? Did he really want Ghostface to leave him alone?

Obviously he didn’t want to die! But what if Ghostface didn’t plan to kill him? Or what if that was his whole game? Make him think he didn’t intend to kill him to get his guard down, then kill him anyway? Was that what he’d done to Nurse Duran?

Left with more and more questions and absolutely no answers, Marcus found himself simultaneously eager and dreading getting back to Crotus Prenn. A part of him just wanted Ghostface to see the hickey and get whatever reaction he’d have out of his system. The rest of him was seriously tempted to call in sick until the bruise faded out of sight and memory…

Why did it feel like he’d cheated? He and Ghostface weren’t together! Even if they were, he didn’t particularly subscribe to the idea of strict monogamous relationships. That was something he made sure any potential partners knew beforehand, but still. He and Ghostface weren’t in a relationship no matter what claims the patient made.

Those thoughts plagued him the entire ride back to the asylum. Although he tried his best to engage with the others as they woke up and chatted and joked, he found it difficult. No one pressured him about it, everyone easily assuming that he was still tired and slightly hungover. He didn’t correct them, unwilling to risk reawakening David’s concerns in case he insisted on going to Jack after all.

At least the hickey on his neck could be legitimately explained away that time. Frowning slightly, he realized he could barely remember the man’s face or voice. Hell, he never even got his name nor shared his own. It was likely he’d never see the blond again or even recognize him if he did.

Ghostface however… He couldn’t get his face out of his head. Or his voice. Or the heat of his body as it pressed against his and the soft touch of his lips as he–

“Marcus!” King yelled, and he jumped so hard he smacked the top of his head on the inside of the roof.

Rubbing his aching skull, he asked, “Ah, yeah?”

“Last stop before home,” Dwight called from the driver's seat. “It’s about two hours to go from here and we’re not stopping again, so if you need to pee or stretch, now’s the time to do it.”

“You could just use this empty gatorade bottle,” Quentin offered, holding up the aforementioned container. He was beaned in the head mere seconds later by a balled up burger wrapper before being booed out of the car.

It didn’t take very long for all of them to do what they needed to do and for Dwight to finish gassing up the tank. The final two hours of the trip passed uneventfully, with all of them agreeing that they’d have to do it again. Even David was invited to join them on the next excursion, having been accepted into the group despite his oddball personality.

David, Dwight, and Leon all went back to their own rooms to unpack and sleep, while the four roommates settled into their own beds that night. Marcus found himself wide awake and staring at the ceiling, a million things running through his head.

The paper in his pillow case crinkled under his ear and he grimaced. Even without taking it out to look at it, he could practically see the words printed on the inside of his eyelids every time he tried to close them.

Rolling over a few times, he finally got up to take a hot shower. Quentin was still awake as well, scrolling aimlessly on his phone as he laid in bed. Offering a small wave, he just as quickly went back to his phone as Marcus shut himself in the bathroom.

Peering at his neck in the mirror, he couldn’t help but grimace at his reflection. Running his fingers over the dark bruise, he wondered if maybe… just maybe... Ghostface would mistakenly think it was still the one he’d left behind.

Well… He’d find out tomorrow…

~

Marcus wasn’t sure when he’d actually fallen asleep, but he knew he hadn’t been under for nearly long enough. Shaken awake, he squinted blearily at Eli as he asked, “Wha’ time’s it?”

“Earlier than it needs to be,” he yawned. “C’mon. A bunch of us are being called in early. The bus will be outside in five minutes.”

Scrambling out of bed, Marcus managed to find and pull on his scrubs, racing out the door and to the elevator with the rest of his roommates. They met up with David and a few other staff members along the way, all of whom looked just as sleepy and bewildered as the rest of them.

The bus was just pulling up when the group got outside, and they joined another small bunch that had already made it. Nea was still driving, but judging from the look on her face, she was just as surprised as the rest of them by the sudden last minute change in schedule.

Taking the first available seats they came too, Marcus and David sat behind Quentin and King. Leaning forward, the ginger tapped the guard’s shoulder and when he turned around, asked, “Any idea what’s going on?”

“Nope,” he admitted tiredly. “I’m just as in the dark as you are… Speaking of in the dark, I think I’m wearing someone else’s undershirt. This shit is tight.”

“Nooo, not your tiddies,” Quentin whined, making a mock horrified expression.

King didn’t look impressed at all, trying to stretch his arms. There was a tearing sound and he froze, eyes wide as the rest of them stared at him incredulously.

David peered over the back of the seat with narrowed eyes. “Heeeey, that’s my shirt.”

“That was your shirt,” Marcus muttered, trying not to laugh when both David’s glared at him. Clearing his throat, he asked more seriously, “Has anything like this happened before?”

He was quietly worried that it had something to do with the patients and although he was conflicted over it, he couldn’t help but worry that one of the others had gone after Ghostface in retaliation for something he’d done.

Thinking for a minute, Quentin asked, “Didn’t this happen when Feng got promoted to head of tech?”

Nodding, King confirmed, “Yeah, actually it did. And when Leon was promoted. Shit, maybe someone’s getting a big promotion.”

That did little to put Marcus’s mind at ease, not because he wasn’t sure that meant Ghostface was alright, but because it meant there was nothing to stop Ghostface from seeing the hickey on his neck.

What the hell had he been thinking…

The rest of the bus ride was spent in a buzz of quiet chatter and whispered rumors. Some people speculated that Wesker was going to propose to Leon while others said it was another demotion slash promotion that had nothing to do with the captain. The idea that a new patient was being introduced was batted around but just as quickly shot down. New patients were never greeted with any form of fanfare or announcement. A memo was silently sent around to the relevant asylum staff and another cell would suddenly be occupied on whichever floor they’d been assigned.

Saying goodbye to Nea on their way off the bus, Marcus and David stayed close together as they hurried inside.

Stopped by a guard as they made their way through security, he simply directed, “If you’re here early, go to the staff room. The CEO called a meeting or something.” Under his breath he muttered, “Probably another fuck-boy getting promoted…”

Stepping up behind them, King shoulder checked the other guard hard enough to smack him into the wall before apologizing with obviously fake sincerity, “Sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there.”

Joining the rest of the staff as they made their way into the break room, they were greeted by an interesting sight. Leon, Jack, Asa, Talbot, and Wesker were all present, along with a man none of them knew.

The newcomer looked like he ate nails for breakfast without any milk. Tall, broad shouldered, and built like a brick house, his face was heavily scarred, only adding to the aura of menace he exuded as he surveyed the gathered crowd.

Jack looked annoyed, eyes cold as she stared straight ahead. Marcus had to wonder just how early she’d been woken up to manage making it on time and still look so professional.

Asa looked a bit more bored than anything, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the meeting to start. Eyes drifting past his son without so much as a glimmer of acknowledgement, he paused, expression becoming hard when he met the ginger’s mismatched eyes.

Marcus quickly looked away, startling slightly when he took a better look at Leon. He looked uncomfortable to the point of near sickness. His face was pale, lips a thin line and hands clasped behind his back as he maintained a professional bearing.

Before the orderly could whisper a question to King about it, Wesker started speaking.

“Good, now that you’re all here, we can begin.” Holding up a small stack of index cards, he sounded borderline annoyed as he read, “Thank you all for coming in early, we have a special announcement today…”

Tossing the card over his shoulder, he either didn’t notice or was completely ignoring Dwight, who was standing nearby with a broom and dust pan and an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. As soon as the card hit the floor, the janitor quickly swept it up before waiting for the next one. Obviously it wasn’t his first time experiencing such a meeting…

“Although we don’t normally make such a fuss over low level promotions, this is a special occasion...” Casting what could only be an annoyed glance at Asa as he said it, Wesker tossed another card over his shoulder before continuing, “Let’s all take a moment to congratulate Markel Taylor and David Emory on gaining their level two clearance. Congratulations, we are all very impressed.”

He didn’t sound the least bit impressed, but he did pass Jack a pair of badges as he added, “Jack will be in charge of explaining everything that entails your new clearance levels to you both, but for now go about your regularly assigned duties. Next up, this is something that will have a much greater impact on the day to day running of the asylum. After a great deal of vetting to ensure we found the right candidate, I’m pleased to announce we have a new Lieutenant. With a history in military special forces and police work spanning over two decades, he will be working directly under Leon.”

Only then did the newcomer smile, and good god did Marcus wish he hadn’t. His smile just made his already intimidating demeanor even more so. It was the kind of smile a person would likely see right before having a knife slipped into a vital organ…

“All of you, please give a warm welcome to your new Lieutenant of the Guard, Jack Krauser.”
~~~~

Notes:

I'm sure Krauser will be an excellent addition to the staff at Crotus Prenn! Let's all give him a big hand!

Chapter 21: Nothing is Without Consequence

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Leon confronts Wesker about his newest hire, Marcus tried not to panic about how Ghostface might react to his defiance, and the staff get a small preview of just how different things are going to be with the new Lieutenant around...

Notes:

OOF sorry for the day late update. The internet was out all day yesterday and we only just got it back up.

“Did you know?” Leon asked, voice thin.

Behind his desk, Wesker arched an eyebrow. “Leon, what are you talking about?”

Jabbing a finger down on the open file between them, he seethed, “This! Of all people- Why- Why him?”

Glancing down at the documents, he looked back at Leon with an unreadable expression. “You asked me to find you a lieutenant. I’ve done that.”

“Why didn’t you consult me first?!” he demanded, knowing he was toeing a dangerous line. But he could worry about that later. At the moment, he needed answers. Trying not to sound desperate, Leon pressed, “Why not promote Jill? Or have Bill come back to security? He knows the patients and the staff and–”

“Leon,” Wesker said sharply. Rising from his chair, he gestured to the file as he explained, “Krauser’s background in both military and law enforcement is impeccable. To work here, especially as Lieutenant, we need someone who can handle not only themselves, but the inmates. Jill is already Ada’s Lieutenant. It was difficult enough not having her downstairs while you were gone. Losing her to the top three floors permanently would have put the rest of the lower floor staff in danger.”

Forcing down the twinge of guilt he felt for putting Jill in such a precarious position, he reiterated, “What about Bill? He was an excellent Captain!”

“He’s past retirement age, but he does still provide valuable assistance through a less physically demanding job,” Wesker argued. “Tell me, who would you rather have down there with you if the Trapper or Clown decided they didn’t want to cooperate on any given day?”

Biting back a sharp retort, Leon grit his teeth. On a technical level, the answer was obvious. But he knew better…

Wesker moved around the desk, voice softer than before as he explained, “I didn’t consult you because I could tell how stressed you were, darling. I didn’t want to bother you with work things while you were out with… them. Your friends or… whatever.”

“I- That’s not fair,” Leon seethed. His attempt to step away was foiled when strong hands grabbed his hips. Forced to turn and face the older man, he stated, “I can’t- I can’t work with him.”

“Nonsense,” Wesker dismissed. “You won’t know until you try.”

“I have tried!” Leon shouted, yanking out of his grip. Rubbing his hands over his face, he demanded, “Did you know? You knew, didn’t you? You said it yourself! You know he has a background in law enforcement, which means that you know where he was previously stationed!”

He stepped forward, glaring up at the taller man, his boyfriend, who simply stared down at him with cold indifference.

“So let me ask you again. Did. You. Know?”

Lips a thin line, Wesker said coldly, “I was aware that he had a hand in training recruits for the Racoon City Police Department. Considering how well your training prepared you, I assumed hiring someone from the same background as you would only be a boon. I did this for you.”

Leon felt cold. Anxiety twisting through his stomach like barbed wire, threatening to choke him as he tried to get words out.

Cutting him off before he could say anything more, Wesker scoffed, “You asked for help and I provided it. I can’t believe how childishly you’re behaving right now. I never took you for the jealous type, but if it will assuage this temper tantrum you’re throwing, he’s not here because I think you’re incapable of doing the job. He’s here because I don’t want to see you crushed under the burden this place can become. You are an excellent Captain, Leon. Now you need someone with a strong background to be your Lieutenant.”

Fighting the tightness in his throat, Leon forced out, “All you know about him is what’s on that paper.. I- I know… better. I… knew him. He’s dangerous. He’s not- He can’t be trusted to-”

“This place is full of dangerous people,” he snapped, voice once again icy. “I hire dangerous people to keep them in, so that everyone out there can sleep safely at night. I’m sure that whatever missteps Krauser had while working with the RPD have long since been corrected.”

Just as Leon opened his mouth to argue, there was a loud knock at the office door. Over his shoulder, he snapped instead, “Not right now!”

Waving a hand at him as he retook his seat behind the desk, Wesker ordered, “Enter.”

Leon froze when the door opened, instantly recognizing the figure looming in the doorway. Any argument he would have made died on his lips and he found himself looking forward, not at Wesker but through him. He felt rather than saw the body brushing past him, stopping just outside his peripheral but close enough that he could feel his presence. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to get out of there, to not let himself be trapped in a room with him. Not again. Never again…

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Wesker greeted. “Krauser, this is your new Captain, Leon. You’ll be working directly under him while you learn the ropes.”

It took everything Leon had not to flinch when the man laughed. His skin felt like it was crawling, almost able to feel it when Krauser turned and looked him up and down.

“Captain, huh? Never thought I’d see the day, pretty boy.”

Taking a deep breath, Leon forced himself to turn and face him. The moment their eyes met, he swore he could feel the burn marks on his back flair with searing white heat. Voice rough, he ordered, “It’s Captain, now.”

Turning to Wesker, he gave him a curt nod before storming out of the office without waiting to be dismissed.

Watching him go, Krauser snorted.

“Something funny?” Wesker asked dryly, closing up the file on his desk.

“This little song and dance we’re doing…” he mused. “Is all this shit for his benefit? Or yours?”

Rising, the CEO offered him a thin smile. “Consider it mutually beneficial. For all of us…”

Krauser nodded, eyes sharp as flint as he looked out the door again.

Breezing past him, Wesker waved him along. “Come. It’s time to introduce you to the rest of the staff. The sooner you can get on the floor, the better.”

~~

“Do you think it’ll be confusing now?”

Marcus gave a questioning hum as he stacked the patient's breakfast trays on the cart. “Will what be confusing?”

“You know, the new Lieutenant being named ‘Jack’ too,” David explained, checking names off the list one by one as they sorted the trays. “We’re probably gonna call him ‘Krauser’ instead of ‘Jack’ cause I don’t actually know Ms Jack’s last name.”

“Well, there’s three David’s now,” Steve chimed in, carrying a large pot of what looked like melted glue. It was probably cereal, but none of them really wanted to try it to find out. “We’ve always called Tapp by his last name, since it’s what he’s used to. I guess now we’re calling the other guard David, ‘King’, since David Jr prefers using his first name.”

“David Jr?” Marcus asked, eyebrows rising as he looked at his fellow orderly.

“What do you mean ‘now’?” David questioned, finally looking up from the list. “I’ve been here for years.”

Wincing, Steve nodded before offering a drawn out, “Yeaaaah, true. That’s, um… That’s true. See, most people, not me necessarily, but a lot of people just thought you were a mini Emory? A... A nepo-baby, if you will? And cause all of us are- Well, a lot of people, again, not necessarily me, are scared of your dad-”

Catching the ‘I will drown you in that fucking pot of cereal if you don’t shut up’ look on Marcus’s face, he tried to backtrack.

“Not that Mr. Emory isn’t a stand up guy and all! I’m sure he is, but you know! A lot of people, again, not-”

“Steve, shut up,” Nancy ordered, walking past with a tray of biscuits.

Nodding a little too quickly, Steve muttered, “Yes, ma’am,” before shuffling away with his pot of breakfast.

David looked absolutely crestfallen. All he could manage was a sad “Oh…” as he turned back to the list, his voice cracking and clearly trying not to cry. “I-I guess that makes sense? Cause, um, I don’t have a medical degree and all that, aha…”

Setting the list down on the cart, he dodged Marcus’s concerned looks as he muttered something about heading to the pharmacy first before quickly pushing the cart out of the room, leaving the remaining occupants in a tense silence.

Sighing, Marcus shot Steve an irritated look as he passed by, a box of frozen muffins in his arms. Catching the cook’s eye, he admonished, “There was a better way to tell him that, you know? You could have just said it’s because you didn’t know what he preferred to go by. You didn’t have to be mean or drag his dad into it.”

Looking slightly ashamed, Steve admitted, “I know, and I’ll apologize to him when I see him again. But it’s true. I mean, how else would someone like him get hired here? It’s kind of a miracle he’s still alive.”

“That’s great, Steve,” Nancy told him sarcastically, dropping another box on top of the one already in his arms. He almost fell over, but she turned and walked away without offering to help him.

Marcus did the same, unable to help a small snort when he heard a small scream and a thump as the cook lost his balance and fell over under the weight of the boxes. He’d be fine… and if he wasn’t, well, at least he was surrounded by medical personnel.

Catching up to David just as he reached the pharmacy, the ginger hesitated to say anything. He wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he didn’t want him to feel put on the spot after what had just happened. Already aware that David felt out of place in the asylum, he decided to share something instead.

As they collected and distributed the cups of medicine amongst the trays, Marcus said quietly, “I wouldn’t have been hired here if not for my boss lying about my work ethic and job abilities…”

David paused in his movement, cup still hovering in the air as he slowly turned to stare at his friend. He’d clearly been crying, eyes watery and red. “What?”

Shrugging slightly, Marcus admitted out loud for the first time, “Technically, I blackmailed my boss into getting me this job. I mean, I was just going to ask for a raise and maybe some health insurance, but when he told me he could get me a transfer that would practically quadruple my pay and provide me with insurance, I rolled with it. I needed the money, and getting out of Utah was a much needed change.”

“...You’re from Utah?”

A little surprised that that was all the reaction he had, Marcus nodded slowly before pausing, a frown scrunching up his face. “Technically, I’m from Washington state. I was born there and raised there until I was sixteen. Some stuff happened, and my parents ended up getting a divorce. My mom and I bounced all over the place, and eventually settled down in Tennessee. I moved out at eighteen and settled down in Utah so I could go to school and try to make a proper life for myself without being a burden on my mom… but I managed to screw that up by signing up for the wrong classes and not realizing it until it was too late.”

Finally setting the cup in his hand down, David wiped at his eyes with the raggedy sleeve of his cardigan before asking, “Why’d your parents get divorced?”

“My dad’s a bigot,” he stated flatly, before sighing. “I’ve known for a long time that I’m bi, and that I have a preference for guys… My dad didn’t like it, and when he walked in on me and two other guys having sex on his bed, he… Uh, he had a heart attack… My dad wanted to kick me out but my mom refused. She left him a year later and never looked back.”

“Oh…” David said softly. Then, in what sounded like an attempt at solidarity, he offered, “I’m gay?”

Unsure what else to do, Marcus nodded approvingly and gave him a thumbs up.

Hearing a small sound, both of them looked up to see Claudette and Laurie pretending like they weren’t listening from the other side of the security window.

“Claudette, your clipboard is upside down,” the ginger pointed out.

Fumbling slightly as she quickly flipped it over, she blurted out, “Nuh-uh!”

It was enough to make David crack a smile, seemingly no longer as upset over the comment from earlier. As both orderlies finished setting up the cart and started on their way to the cells, he finally spoke up again, “My dad and I used to move around a lot. I was homeschooled so I don’t really know how to do a lot of things.”

A little surprised, Marcus offered, “That’s understandable. I ended up dropping out my senior year since I kept having to change schools, so I got my GED early by going through a community college in one of the towns we stayed in. I could definitely have used a full highschool education, but, hey! You’ve made it this far and that’s what matters.”

“Yeah, but a proper education would’ve been nice.” David said with a frown. “Cause he didn’t really teach me anything that useful. Sure, I learned the basics of math and literature but mostly he taught me stuff about psychology and the human body. I think he’d always wanted me to enter the same field as him but it just didn’t interest me.”

He looked up at Marcus with an uncomfortable glint in his eyes. It reminded the ginger all too much of the stare Emory Sr. gave him when he threatened him in the staff room. “I don’t think entomologists are supposed to have full, intimate knowledge of the human body.”

“Um… That… that is odd,” he agreed slowly. He didn’t want to say something rude about his friend's father, even if it did feel justified. Asa was still David’s dad, and for all he knew there was some kind of trauma in his own past that made him feel justified in his borderline violent protectiveness over his son… Maybe that’s what a dad was supposed to feel for his kids.

The moment between them lingered on a little too long for Marcus’s comfort. It almost felt as if there was something there that David wasn’t telling him. Something that he refused to share that likely would have answered most of the questions that were floating around his head.

Before Marcus could put any of that out in the air, a familiar yet unfamiliar voice chimed up behind them. “Cowabummer.”

Freezing for a moment, both orderlies slowly turned to see a man in green scrubs. Before Marcus could have another ‘Ah-ha!’ moment, the man held up a hand.

“No. I’m not famous action star, movie director, and actor Nicholas Cage…”

Eye twitching slightly as he fought the growing urge to strangle the man, Marcus asked through gritted teeth, “Who are you, then?”

Pointing at his badge, he said, “I’m Ravioli, the Tutant Meenage Neetle Teetle.”

The photo was of a large snapping turtle with a little bandana on its head…

Marcus was about to grab a tray and fling it at him when Jack’s voice distracted him. Turning to look back in the direction they had originally been walking, he found the head Nurse frowning at him.

“Marcus, who are you talking to?” she asked.

“Nic Ca-” he cut himself off, turning to find an empty hallway behind them. “Oh, that sneaky mother fucker… David! David, you saw him too, right?!”

“Umm,” he hummed, scratching his head. “I mean, I saw a guy… But then Miss Jack walked up. Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Eyes practically bugging out of his head, Marcus croaked, “How?! He was. Right. There!”

That only served to get him concerned looks from both David and Jack, the latter slowly saying, “Right… Well, I’ll be supervising both of you for breakfast today. The patients don’t tend to react well whenever new staff are hired, especially one placed in such a high rank.”

Jack looked annoyed too, most likely having not been informed of Krauser’s hiring until it was too late. “Lets stay on our toes today. Watch your backs and don’t let your guards down. Come to my office after your shifts, I’ll brief you on what Level Two Clearance entails and provide you with the necessary files.”

“But- But, Nic Cage,” Marcus lamented, expression crestfallen as he trailed after Jack and David. He needed to start carrying a camera or something… Yeah, he’d get a picture of the actor, then share it with the rest of the asylum! He wasn’t some kind of mysterious cryptid! Surely that would be enough to get him found and removed from the grounds once and for all! Then again, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing there in the first place. Okay, he’d find out first, then Cage could be removed from the grounds…

He was yanked out of his scheming with a rather concerning realization. It had nothing to do with the identity stealing action movie star, and everything to do with his ability to remain at Crotus Prenn.

How was Ghostface going to react to the hickey on his neck? And how would Jack handle the patient’s likely less than healthy reaction?

Trying not to visibly fret over the probable upcoming shit storm, Marcus found himself hoping either Jack or David would end up taking Ghostface his breakfast. Maybe he could avoid him a little while longer…

Reaching the cell block, Jack picked up the first tray. It was the Deathslinger’s, and when his cell was opened, he stepped out with a polite nod to the orderlies. As he took a minute to chat with the head nurse, David turned to Marcus.

“I’ll take the Legion if you want to get Freddy,” he offered. He looked so excited to see his friends again after the mini vacation he’d had, Marcus couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Silently hoping he wouldn’t get distracted and leave him to pass out the remaining trays alone, he agreed, “Yeah, I can do that.”

Grabbing the next tray after the Legion’s, he shuffled down to the Nightmare’s cell. Opening the door, he waited for Freddy to step out before saying, “Good morning. How did you sl–”

“Terribly,” he interrupted. “So, who’s the new guard? How old are we talking? He’s not another twink, is he?”

Blinking several times, Marcus finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “No! He’s not– I’m not- I mean, who are you calling– How do you even know there’s a new guard? The staff just found out this morning!”

Rolling his eyes, the Nightmare scoffed, “Networking, kid, networking.”

“You don’t have a network,” Amanda shouted from across the hall. “Get your fucking food and get back in your cell! I’m hungry!”

“You need to go on a diet!” Freddy shot back, before winking at the ginger. “Honestly, she could stand to put on some weight. I worry about her sometimes. But don’t tell her I said that or I’ll deny everything. And kill you.”

“That’s so sweet,” Marcus told him, squinting slightly. “Just take your pills and water, please. Other people need to eat too.”

“Pff, no they don’t,” he argued, taking his pills anyway. As he did his old man act, slowly taking one pill at a time, the hall door slid open again and two people stepped inside.

Marcus actually did a double take as the Legion’s chattering with David fell silent, all five of them slowly turning their attention to the newcomers.

Leon had just stepped into the hall, face pale and movements stiff as Krauser towered over him. Voice oddly flat, the Captain explained, “Floor one patients get breakfast outside their cells, as you can see. The Legion share one cell, as addressed in their file. This is the Deathslinger, and down there is the Nightmare. J- Miss Jack is the head nurse, any concerns you may have regarding patients should be directed to her first, unless it’s an immediate security concern.”

At the mention of her name, Jack took a step back from Caleb’s cell door, her previously calm expression immediately turning tense. “I hope that we can have a fulfilling cooperation.”

An expression that could only be described as ‘aggressively patronizing’ fixed itself on Krauser’s face as he crossed his arms. Looking down at Jack as though she was a toddler in a grocery store that had just offered him a chicken nugget she’d pulled out of her pants, he stated, “As long as the staff here know how to follow orders and keep from doing anything stupid, I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine.”

Leon looked like he wanted to shrivel up and die, actually looking at the ground as Krauser spoke.

Freddy had paused mid-reach for his tray and Marcus hadn’t even noticed, too shocked by the scene unfolding to be bothered by the delay.

The Legion all looked like they were about to try and jump the much larger man, but with David standing between them and him, they held back.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as she fully turned to face him. Krauser stood at a solid six foot seven, practically towering over the woman as he looked down his nose at her. And yet, Jack didn’t stand down, even when she had to crane her head back just to look at the man’s face as she spoke, “I would implore you to not make any comments about my staff. We are all professionals here so we should act like it.”

Lip curling, Krauser broke eye contact to look down the hall. Pausing briefly on David, then again on Marcus before looking back down at the woman, he let out a mirthless laugh. “Right, professionals… That’s why you have six inmates out of their cells at the same time with just a woman, a twelve year old, and a faggot to babysit them?”

Freddy actually gasped, hand coming up to his mouth as his eyes darted towards Marcus.

“I’m going to kill him,” Frank seethed, only for Julie and Joey to grab his arms when the guard looked at them again.

All four of them were glaring defiantly back at him, and to Marcus it seemed like they were already planning a way to take him down…

Although Caleb had his tray in his hands, he hadn’t stepped back into his cell yet. His expression had gone from relaxed and stoic while it was just him and Jack to murderously angry the more Krauser spoke.

Jack didn’t so much as flinch, even when Krauser took a step closer to her with a sneer. “Once again, I implore you to refrain from making any more comments about my staff.” As he started to speak, she held up a hand, effectively cutting him off as she continued. “Need I remind you to remember your place? I am your superior and you will not speak to me or anyone else in that manner, lest I’m forced to take disciplinary measures. You’re the ‘rookie’ here. Act like it.”

Not looking particularly impressed, he continued to stare down at her with narrow eyes. Finally, he let out a low laugh, turning back to Leon. Brushing past him, he ordered, “Come on, Kennedy. I’ve seen enough for now.”

Still looking like he was going to be physically ill, Leon just grit his teeth before turning and following him back out the door.

As soon as it slid closed behind them, all four of the Legion began jeering and shouting. Half of it was cussing and threats directed at Krauser and his next of kin, while the rest of it was cheering Jack on for not taking his shit.

The woman ignored all four of them. Instead, she turned her attention towards Marcus and David, who were both still standing in absolute shocked silence. A vein practically popped out of her neck as she slowly ordered through her teeth, “If he does anything, and I mean anything, that you can deem as unprofessional, inappropriate, or unsafe, you come right to me. I don’t care how small it is, report it. I can already tell he’s going to be a problem and I want to make sure that every action he makes will be documented for when he inevitably crosses the line.”

“Right,” Marcus agreed, only just realizing how dry his mouth felt. He hadn’t had a single word in the argument, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it was trying to break out of his ribs. Half shoving Freddy’s tray at him, he mumbled, “Here’s breakfast, step back, I have to- Just- Just get the fuck back in your cell please.”

Taking the tray without further comment, the Nightmare shuffled back into his cell.

As soon as the door was closed, Marcus hurried over to David, asking quietly, “Hey, are you okay?”

All four of the Legion quieted down, attention turning to the orderly as well.

His hands were actively shaking when Marcus took the trays out of his hand and finally passed them on to the respective patients.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” David eventually asked, eyes wide and practically bugging out of his head. “What- I don’t- That’s the new Lieutenant?! Why?!”

“He won’t last long,” the Deathslinger growled, and Marcus felt a chill run down his spine.

Generally soft spoken despite his gravelly voice, Caleb usually sounded calm and even kind at times. It would be easy to mistake him for a gentle old grandpa if not for the strange white eyes and fact that he was locked up in an asylum for the criminally insane. But the sheer cold fury in that one sentence had been enough to tell Marcus just how wrong any of those assumptions may have been…

Swallowing, he quietly answered David’s question. “I have no idea… But I don’t think Leon is any happier about it than Jack…”

“Maybe he should stop being a fucking pussy and do his job as Captain,” Frank sneered, once again glaring at the closed door. “Next time he talks to you like that, you let us know. Okay, David?”

“Huh? O-oh, yeah. Okay, sure. No problem.” The poor orderly was still in shock, absolutely flabbergasted. “Is it just me… or did it feel like Leon wasn’t in charge?”

“Has he ever been?” Julie questioned coldly, to which the rest of the Legion murmured their agreement.

Awkwardly clearing his throat, Marcus urged, “Alright, Legion. We have to get everyone else fed, so if you could please take your trays back to your cell…”

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” Frank agreed, shooting him a strange look. “You have other cells to visit, doncha’ Doc?”

Stiffening, Marcus wasn’t able to form an answer before the four of them were filing back into their cell, freeing both him and David up to feed the others. Well, mostly him, as his fellow orderly still looked too shaken to do much more than stand upright.

Grabbing the Trickster’s tray, he hurried to his cell. As soon as Ji-Woon started to ask what had just gone down, Marcus rushed out, “Ask the Nightmare, he saw everything,”

Taking his pills with a sour expression, Ji-Woon begrudgingly took his tray and stepped back into his cell.

Turning back towards the cart, Marcus paused when he saw the way Caleb was looking at Jack. It was… soft. Almost tender. Was he worried about her after what had just happened? The Legion seemed to look up to her, but the way the older man was gazing at her seemed very… different.

To his even greater surprise, Jack took a step closer to him. It was certainly closer than they were supposed to stand, but after murmuring something he was much too far away to hear, Caleb nodded and stepped back into his cell, allowing the door to close between them.

Still frozen in place, Marcus wasn’t able to break himself out of it until Jack already had Amanda’s tray in hand and was walking to her cell. That left him with the one person he’d been dreading seeing…

Ghostface.

Picking up the tray, he tried to compose himself. Taking a couple of deep breaths as he stepped up to the door, Marcus silently told himself that it would be fine. If he looked shaken or anxious, it was just because of Krauser.

The door to Ghostface’s cell slid open with a quiet hiss, allowing the man to step forward. Looking as unbothered as always as his eyes fixed on the dark mark on the orderlies neck, he asked simply, “Miss me while you were gone, Doc?”

Ah… That was… good? Yes, that had to be good. He must assume it was the same hickey he’d left. With as easily as Marcus bruised, it seemed believable… Right?

A bit too flustered from all the stress he’d been dealing with leading up to that moment, he said without thinking, “Yeah, I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Eyebrows rising, Ghostface reached out and took his pills and water without further comment. Passing the empty cups back to Marcus, he finally mused, “It’s nice to see I’m growing on you.”

The only thought in his little ginger head was a high pitched scream, but he still managed to smile as he passed the patient his tray. Why had he fucking said that?! What was wrong with him?! Jack was just down the hall! What would she think if she heard him saying that shit to a patient that was obsessed with him?!

Nearly letting out a sigh of relief when Ghostface stepped back into his cell, Marcus quickly returned to David and the empty cart. “Right, let’s- let’s get this back to the kitchen. It’s almost rec time, right?”

He nodded, already starting to make his way towards the exits. “Y-Yeah. Let’s go. We, um, have some paperwork to do or something.”

Marcus wasn’t sure if they had any paperwork or not, but considering they’d just gotten back from a four day weekend, they likely did. They’d find out sooner or later, but in the meantime, it was best to focus on the task at hand. Even if that task was simply rolling an empty cart back to the kitchen.

When they arrived, they could hear shouting and swearing even through the closed door. It wasn’t one of the heavy, sliding doors like most of the facility, but still. The fact that they could hear that much from such a distance didn’t bode well for any of them.

Sure enough, Steve came shooting out the door a moment later, almost crashing into the cart as they rolled it forwards. Stopping in time, he started several different times before letting out a long sigh.

“I would… not go in there right now,” he finally advised. “Chef Ronsy is in a mood.”

“Ronsy?” Marcus asked, frowning slightly. “I feel like I know that name from somewhere…”

“Maybe?” Steve guessed. “Jordon Ronsy? I think he had a restaurant chain or something but it went under after it got some bad publicity on one of those reality food shows. I think it was his attitude though.”

As if to hammer home his point, an accented voice bellowed through the still gently swaying door, “I’m an idiot?! I’m an idiot?! I’ll show him an idiot! I’ll make his bloody head into an idiot sandwich!”

“I don’t know if you all have met Krauser yet...” Steve started to warn, but a small sound from David had him falling silent.

“Yeah,” Marcus confirmed. “We met…”

“Oooh, god, I’m so sorry,” Steve offered sympathetically. “Hey, did… Does Leon seem kind of off to you? Like he’s here but he’s not… mentally here? Like, he checked out and hasn’t checked back in?”

Exchanging a worried look with David, Marcus nodded. “That’s one way of putting it. He seemed pretty okay when we got back from the trip.”

“Hmm,” was all Steve said, before sighing again. “Here, I’ll take this. You guys might want to steer clear of the kitchen until dinner.”

Both of the orderlies had to agree, quickly relinquishing the cart to him before going to the office to check for paperwork. They both had a hefty stack to catch up on, but it was all the usual day to day debriefings.

Skimming each one and signing wherever they were supposed to sign, they managed to finish their backlogs just in time to help supervise the after lunch rec time. That was fine with Marcus, as it gave him a legitimate reason to skip outdoor time and avoid giving Ghostface a chance to try and corner him again. Not that he’d be falling for that trick a second time! But still… better not give him the opportunity to try.

Getting to the rec room just after the patients, the pair found King and Tapp assigned to the area for the afternoon free period. Neither of them looked particularly happy, only offering rough grunts when greeted.

Quickly moving on, Marcus and David were almost immediately swarmed by the Legion when they set foot in the room. It was pretty clear they were really only interested in speaking to one of them, and the ginger graciously stepped aside to allow them time to catch up. He couldn’t exactly say he trusted them not to hurt David, but he felt confident enough that any violent urges they might be feeling were currently directed entirely elsewhere.

Glancing around the room, Marcus spotted Amanda, Freddy, Caleb, and Ji-Woon all sitting at one of the small tables, already deep in conversation. The lack of Ghostface was mildly concerning, but he could still be in his cell. Probably working on more of his psychotic love letters…

With no warning whatsoever, a voice purred in the ginger's ear, “Looking for someone, Doc?”

Entire body going tense, Marcus felt locked in place. How the hell did Ghostface keep doing that?! How was he able to sneak up on him in a room full of people?!

Licking his lips, the orderly forced himself not to move as he ordered, “Ah, you need to… take a step back.”

He could practically hear the smile in Ghostface’s voice as he murmured, “Hmmm, no, no I don’t think so, Doc… See, you and I need to have a little chat.”

Trying to sound unbothered, Marcus failed miserably as he squeaked, “About what, exactly?”

Breath puffed over the side of his neck and he winced. That was the exact spot the hickey was…

“We’re going to talk about the mouth breather that fucking touched what’s mine...”
~~~~

Chapter 22: Staking A Claim

Summary:

Drama, drama, drama >:D

“I thought I made myself clear, Doc,” Ghostface murmured, lips almost touching the ginger’s neck. “You belong to me. No one touches you but me.”

Marcus gulped, still staring straight ahead. David was only a few feet away, still completely distracted by the Legion. It didn’t even look like they were paying attention to him and Ghostface, totally absorbed by their favorite orderly as he told them all about his four-day vacation with his new friend group.

It would be easy for Marcus to raise his voice and get David’s attention. Any of the David’s come to think of it, since both guards were right outside the rec room door. So… Why didn’t he?

Telling himself it was to keep the situation from escalating, he instead forced out, “Take a step ba-”

Fingers ghosted over the back of his neck and he snapped his mouth shut, shocked by the sudden touch.

“Control, Doc… How many times do I have to remind you? It’s an illusion. So if you think you were taking back control by letting some ape slobber all over the side of your neck while you were gone, you were incredibly, horribly, wrong...”

Marcus could feel his cheeks flushing, several different emotions fighting for control. It would be easy to put an end to the entire situation. He could just… call David. Interrupt whatever it was he was doing with the Legion.

It was kind of hard to tell what he was actually doing, as his body blocked most of Marcus’s view and the Legion were quick to spirit away whatever it was he’d just passed them, hiding the contraband in their sleeves before acting like nothing had happened.

“Tell me… What was going through your head, Doc? Hmm?” Ghostface pressed, fingers vanishing as quickly as they’d appeared.

Trying to ignore the twisting knot in his stomach at the sudden absence of touch against the back of his neck, Marcus grit out, “Doesn’t matter. It was just a hookup.”

“And will this ‘hookup’ be showing their face around Crotus Prenn?” he asked, voice as cold and sharp as the edge of a knife. “You know, I’ll know if you lie to me, Doc…”

“I can barely remember the guy's face, so I highly doubt it,” the orderly heard himself say. He bit his lip when there was an almost victorious laugh in response. Unable to help it, he mumbled, “I don’t see why you even care. This is just another of your stupid games, and I’m not playing it.”

“Oh… Baby boy,” Ghostface cooed, almost sounding disappointed. “You’re no game to me… Looks like you need a serious reminder.”

Marcus flinched at the sudden edge in his tone, but when he turned around, Ghostface was already sauntering over to the couch. Watching him scoop up the unclaimed TV remote, he waited for him to fling it at his or someone else's head in a fit of rage.

Instead, he simply turned on the television, flipping through all six channels as though something new would be on before settling for a rerun of an AKC dog show.

A hand tapped Marcus on the elbow and he jumped a foot in the air. Whipping around, he found Ji-Woon staring at him with an irritated squint.

“Ah, yes?” he asked, trying not to sound like he hadn’t almost screamed like a seventies horror final girl.

“Ask Freddy? Ask Freddy?” he snapped. “He’s about as reliable as a fucking garden slug and Caleb is being cagey. What happened?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Marcus groaned, scooting around him. He did, but he didn’t feel like rehashing everything that had happened with Krauser during breakfast. He didn’t want to deal with Ghostface’s bullshit either, but that seemed a bit more pressing.

Gently patting David on the shoulder to get his attention, Marcus told him, “I’m going to go grab a bottle of water. Do you need anything?”

He really wasn’t even thirsty, he just needed a few minutes in a room that Ghostface wasn’t…

Taking a deep breath as he was finally forced to stop talking and breathe for a moment, David shook his head before just as quickly resuming telling the Legion about his adventures. “And then the pinball machine broke! Like, all the lights went out and it made this hissing sound and I’ve never seen it do that before! And then-!”

Shaking his head, Marcus started for the door, only to freeze when Krauser stepped into the room. Leon stepped in behind him, looking just as tense and uncomfortable as he had that morning during breakfast.

The entire room fell silent, even David’s excited recollecting petering off with a small sound.

Looking around the room, Krauser finally pinned Leon with a cold sneer, asking, “Want to explain this shit show to me, Kennedy?”

Leon hadn’t looked at him the entire time, and when he was addressed he physically shied away. Clearing his throat did nothing to help how stressed he sounded as he said, “During rec time all the patients are allowed to come and go between here and their cells. Cell doors remain open during this time and aren’t to be closed-”

“Pathetic,” Krauser snorted. “No wonder so many of your subordinates end up dead or injured. Christ, are those the only two pill jockey’s you’ve got in here?”

Marcus tried not to react, but his face must have showed his displeasure, as the scarred blond was suddenly stepping into his space. Taking a small step back, he found himself looking up at him with wide eyes and a fear close to what he’d felt when Ghostface had cornered him in his cell…

“You got something to say?” Krauser growled, eyes glittering.

Unable to get a word out, Marcus settled for quickly shaking his head. It wasn’t just Krauser that was making him so anxious. He could feel Ghostface staring at the back of his head and was worried what antagonizing the giant would lead to. He had to wonder, if the guard raised a hand to him, would Danny attack?

“You look like you want to say something,” Krauser pressed, head tilting to one side. “How do you expect me to trust you to do your job if you can’t even talk to me?”

Unsure what he could possibly say that wouldn’t make the situation worse, Marcus decided just to say exactly what he was thinking instead. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I don’t need you to trust me. Jack’s my boss, not you.”

The only warning he got before the front of his shirt was being yanked into a tight fist was the look of near murderous rage on Krauser’s face. It wasn’t nearly enough, and he yelped as he was dragged up onto his toes.

“Listen here you little shit,” the new Lieutenant snarled. “My job is to keep idiots like you from getting killed by idiots like them. You do what I say, when I say it. If I have to break a few bones to get that through to the knuckle draggers currently employed here, so be it. Just know, I start with the ones that talk back.”

“Krauser!” Leon shouted, sounding more panicked than authoritative.

Marcus let out a terrified shout as he was yanked off his feet entirely. Flung aside like he weighed nothing, he would have hit the wall if not for Leon catching him.

A shriek from David had both of them quickly looking up as both Tapp and King rushed into the room, expecting trouble from one of the patients.

Instead, they found Krauser holding the small orderly by the wrist as he removed the walkie-talkie from his hand. Using his thumb to turn the dial and shut it off, the blond studied it for a moment before glaring down at David.

“Who do you think you’re calling?”

Letting out a whimper as his bones creaked under the Lieutenant's grip, David finally managed to lie through gritted teeth, “No one! I-I wasn’t calling anyone!”

Slowly bending his arm, Krauser growled, “You know what I hate more than liars? Mama’s boys. How the fuck do you expect to learn a goddamn thing if you’re constantly calling your mommy for help when things get rough?”

“Krauser, that’s enough,” Leon snapped, eyes darting between him and the Legion.

All four of them had slowly begun to spread out, circling the much larger guard like a pack of coyotes hunting a deer. With the way they were eyeing him, it was clear they were close to snapping and attacking him right there in the rec room.

At the table, the Pig, Deathslinger, Nightmare, and Trickster were all watching with equally dangerous body language. Tense, braced to launch themselves out of their chairs the second a punch was thrown… It would be a bloodbath.

On the couch, Ghostface had turned around and was watching, although his gaze was on Leon and Marcus instead.

Still glaring down at David, Krauser stated loudly, “The discipline in this place is sorely lacking. Both in the staff and the inmates. I can see that it’s going to take a very strong hand to break some of these bad habits…”

Shoving David away, he started to turn towards the door. The second Joey caught the orderly however, he whipped around, snapping, “Inmate! Get back!”

Expression twisting with rage, the Legion member raised his hands away from David but refused to move away.

When Krauser took a step towards them, Leon moved in front of him, stopping him. Looking slightly to one side instead of directly at him, his tone was incredibly forced as he ordered, “We’re done here. My office. Now.”

Eyes narrowing, the Lieutenant finally allowed a smug smile to cross his lips. Nodding curtly, he took a step back, allowing the younger guard to stiffly lead the way out of the rec room.

The entire room was silent for a long moment as everyone tried to collect themselves. Finally, Freddy pointed out, “So, that’s basically what happened at breakfast… Except he called him a fa-”

The look on Danny’s face had him loudly clearing his throat instead of finishing his sentence. Waving a hand, he mumbled, “Don’t shoot the messenger…”

“C’mon,” King ordered gruffly, although he was very gentle as he took David by the elbow. “Let’s get you to medical and have that wrist checked out. We can file an incident report after…”

The area around the orderly’s wrist where Krauser had grabbed him was already turning all shades of purple and green, showing just how close he was to getting his wrist broken. At the same time, David had a concerningly blank stare as King started to lead him out the room.

“Why…” he finally mumbled, cradling his hand close to his chest.” Why would they hire someone like that? Why?”

“I don’t know,” King answered, voice nearly a growl. “But I’ll bloody well find out.”

Unsure if he should go after them or stay with the patients, Marcus quickly made up his mind when he noticed the way Ghostface was watching him. The intensity of his gaze was chilling, and the ginger scurried out of the room without looking back.

Catching up to the others just as they were getting to medical, he was in time to hear King explaining, “I’m going to be writing up an incident report and recommending Krauser be suspended pending more formal training… and therapy”

“Think that’s going to work?” Marcus asked. He could only hope it would, as Ghostface was enough of a problem without the addition of a psychopath on the payroll. Well… another psychopath, maybe… Asa was downright terrifying, but at least his aggression was reserved more to his physical presence than actively being violent towards the patients and other staff.

“It fucking better, or I’ll throw his bloody ass down an elevator shaft myself!” King snapped. David flinched and his anger seemed to lessen some. Taking a deep breath, he said more softly, “I’m sorry. Marcus, please wait here with him. I’m going to go speak to Jack and Leon, but I’ll bring the forms for you both so I can file them with my incident report. I can’t promise anything, but it’s more likely to be taken seriously if there are multiple reports on the same incident.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Marcus agreed, offering him a grim smile as he left them. Before he could ask David if he was okay or if there was anything he could do, footsteps came padding around the desk and a nurse in blue scrubs came into view.

Doing a double take, Eli demanded immediately, “Who the hell did that?!”

David let out a dull hiss of pain when the nurse took his wrist to examine the bruises, mumbling under his breath, “The really big new guard. He grabbed me when I was about to call Ms Jack ‘cause he was being a dick for no reason.”

Eli’s expression was caught somewhere between anger and abject terror. Nodding, he said, “I’ve… noticed he seems a bit aggressive.”

“Oh?” Marcus asked. “Did he come by here already?”

“Yeah, and thank god he’s gone,” Eli answered, before telling David, “It doesn’t seem broken, but I’m going to have you come with me so we can do an x-ray. If it’s fractured, it would be better to know now.”

“Can we get copies of everything?” the ginger asked, tagging along as they were led further into the medical wing.

“Oh, for the incident report? Absolutely,” the nurse readily agreed. The fact that he didn’t even have to ask for confirmation before correctly guessing was very telling. And very concerning…

“Did he do anything while he was here?” Marcus questioned.

“Uuuh, he called me a midget,” Eli stated dryly. “He asked if I got lost on my way to the Lollipop Guild, then told me to ‘watch out for falling houses, little guy’. I… really wanted to stab him in the spleen with a dirty needle…”

When both Marcus and David raised their eyebrows at him, he mumbled, “Not that I would or anything… That- that would be terrible…”

“Do you think… Maybe… Maybe he’ll get fired?” David asked, voice still shaky.

“Oh god, I hope so,” Eli agreed.

“I don’t know,” Marcus said slowly. “I get the feeling that he was brought in on purpose.”

Coming to a stop so fast that David almost bumped into him, the nurse turned to face them, demanding, “What? Why?”

“Well, I mean… You’ve seen how he is,” he offered uncomfortably. “He’s- he’s got a lot of experience in military and law enforcement, which means he’s got to have a government record of some kind? I doubt he’d only start acting like that now. So… So whoever hired him or interviewed him had to have known about his temper and… I don’t know, his rancid ass personality?”

Seriously considering it, Eli finally nodded. “I mean… maybe? Dealing with the patients is a dangerous balancing act. That kind of attitude is going to stir up a lot of danger. People will get hurt. So why bring someone like that here? Why Crotus Prenn?”

“You tell me,” Marcus replied. “You’ve got a much higher clearance level than I do.”

Eli visibly paled at that. Clearing his throat, he turned around, opening the door and ushering them inside. “C’mon. Ah, x-rays.”

The x-rays went quickly enough since it was just David’s wrist and hand, but it would be about forty-five minutes before they got the results back. That gave the three of them time to sit and chat, the conversation quickly turning back to the new Lieutenant.

“Do you think…” David started. “Do you think he’s here to take Leon’s place?”

The very idea was enough to make Marcus feel sick. He couldn’t keep his anxiety out of his voice as he asked, “But why would Wesker do that to him?”

“Because he’s a fucking vile, vindictive, wretched, self-centered sack of shit,” Eli ranted. “I bet he hired Krauser to try and- and- and I don’t fucking know! But I bet he has some stupid ass reason that he thinks is totally goddamn justified!”

“But why hire him as Leon’s Lieutenant first?” Marcus questioned. “Is that what he did to Bill?”

“No, no, he came in as a regular floor guard,” Eli recalled. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told by the people who were already here.”

“Maybe it’d be too obvious?” David offered. “Hiring him as the Captain would’ve screamed ‘I know about this guy’s background and I approve of it’. Plus, it would look bad cause it would’ve looked like he was cheating on Leon with him.”

Pondering the idea for a moment, Marcus asked slowly, “If Wesker did cheat with Krauser…. Who’d top?”

Eli wheezed, nearly falling off the stool he was perched on.

With absolute seriousness, David boldly declared, “Krauser. You saw how big that guy was? He’d fold the CEO like a lawn chair.”

That got Eli laughing so hard he did end up falling off his chair. Thankfully he didn’t hit anything on the way down, allowing them to continue onto slightly lighter topics of conversation. Although none of them really wanted to address it, they had no idea what Wesker’s grand plan with hiring Krauser could possibly be.

David’s x-rays eventually came back, showing no serious damage. There was a lot of bruising and Eli did give him a wrist brace to wear during his shifts and at night for the next couple of days, with instructions to ice it for twenty minutes at a time on his breaks and after getting off work for the day.

After that, the pair met up with King to fill out their part of the incident report and hand over the medical report on David’s injury. Although Marcus didn’t say it, he was very seriously hoping that Asa would get involved…

The rest of their shift passed fairly normally. Dinner came and went, and although all of the patients seemed more on edge than normal, none of them started anything. Marcus was admittedly worried about how Ghostface would act, but when the door opened, he stepped out, took his tray, and stepped back into his cell without a single word or lingering stare.

Marcus refused to admit that it kind of stung to suddenly be receiving the cold shoulder. Instead, he silently told himself that it was a good sign. Ghostface had to have gotten the hint and accepted defeat… That was what he’d wanted! So why did the idea of him suddenly treating him just like everyone else kind of… suck?

“–still need to see Miss Jack, right?”

Yanked out of his thoughts, the ginger asked almost frantically, “What?! Why?!”

His sudden outburst made David jump, still on edge from the confrontation that morning. “To… get the second floor files before we leave? Like she told us to?”

Blinking several times, he finally forced a sheepish smile across his face. “Ahha, right! Right, let’s… go do that.”

David continued to give him a strange, sideways look during the awkward walk to Jack’s office, but once they got there, he seemed to let it go. Before either of them could even tap the door to announce their arrival, the head Nurse’s voice came from within, stating, “It’s open.”

Glancing over at his fellow orderly, Marcus asked quietly, “Does she sound… stressed, to you?”

“Definitely stressed,” David agreed.

Both men gave each other one final look before hesitantly entering the office.

The room looked like a tornado had run through it. Boxes upon boxes of papers were strewn around the space, with Jack herself practically buried underneath a mountain of them at her desk. She was flipping through a file, glasses almost slipping off her nose, as she asked, “Are you filing another report?”

“I- no? Were we supposed to?” David asked, confused.

“Seems like that’s all anyone did today.” The head Nurse finally looked up from the papers in her hands, eyes immediately zeroing in on the brace on David’s wrist before asking, “Why are you two here? Aren’t you off the clock?”

Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, Marcus explained, “You were– I– We were supposed to pick up the files on the floor two patients tonight.”

“Oh. Right. That.” Letting out a sigh as she dropped the files back on her desk, Jack pulled open one of the drawers on the cabinet next to her before pulling out two thick binders. How she even knew where anything was in the mess of files and folders was something only the woman herself could figure out.

“Apologies, there’s been a lot going on today,” she excused, pulling a huge stack of files from each binder. “Here.”

David nearly crumbled under the weight of the folders, having barely caught himself on a nearby shelf as he stared at the pile in awe. It looked like a thesaurus when compared to the files on the first floor patients. How many of them were down there?!

“Try to read as much of that tonight as you can. I’ll give you your new badges tomorrow. Bring your old ones since you’re not allowed to have more than one. I’ll be taking you around for the day and you’ll have your first actual shift down there the day after.”

Taking the top half of the stack to keep David from falling over, Marcus nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Is… everything okay? Is there anything we can help with?”

He highly doubted there was anything they could do to help put a dent in the massive stack of papers and files in her office, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. It was obvious she had a lot on her plate with the new hire and his string of day one issues, both his and David’s sudden promotions, and her regular daily duties.

As he suspected, Jack waved off his offer with a firm, “It’s alright. Just some reports and old policies that I have to go through. Nothing for you to worry about.”

From the papers on the desk, Marcus could barely make out the words on some of the papers. One of them said Employee Code of Conduct while another said Anti-Discrimination Policy. The rest of them looked to be an assortment of complaints and incident reports, his and David’s including.

The boxes on the floor also seemed to be more files on different policies and old incident reports, dating back to the beginning of the asylum. It seemed that the new guard was causing more trouble than he’d originally thought. Hopefully that meant that Jack herself was looking into getting the guy fired, or at least demoted.

“You should both hurry along. The bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, right,” Marcus agreed, forcing his attention away from the telling files. He was curious to what Eli, Dwight, and King might make of it, considering they’d all been there longer. Maybe they’d have an idea of what could come of Jack’s digging.

“Well, goodnight,” he offered, both he and David heading out the door. “Just, ah… let us know if we can help at any point.”

Although she was already nose deep in the boxes of files again, Jack nodded before they were gone.

Quietly making their way through the halls and back to the asylum entrance, Marcus finally pointed out in an attempt to keep things light hearted, “I guess there’s a lot of new names to learn now, huh?”

“I’d say.” David muttered as he stared down at the folders with distain. “This feels like I’m about to study for a test I know nothing about. Do you think she’ll let us make index cards so we remember the important stuff?”

“I would imagine so,” Marcus agreed. “Hey, at least we both know the basics of what we're doing already! So it should be easier to–”

He cut himself off, startled by the sudden chill that ran down his spine. All the hair on his arms and the back of his neck felt like it was standing on end, as though something was watching them with ill intent.

Before he could turn to look over his shoulder, a body appeared at David’s other side. Eyes reflecting eerily as they caught the streetlights, Asa looked down at his son just long enough to order quietly, “My office. Now,” before he was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.

Marcus was still standing frozen in place when the rest of the files were silently deposited in his arms. The entire interaction took less than twenty seconds, and he suddenly found himself standing by the curb alone with an armful of papers…

Blinking several times as he continued to stare at the empty space where his friend had just been, he finally shook himself out of his stupor. Turning to look at the doors behind him, he swallowed nervously.

He was sure David would be fine… Hopefully he’d be fine… But Jesus fucking Christ, he really hoped Asa wasn’t going to come back and tell him to join them too. He’d rather be stuck in Ghostface’s cell again…

~~

The halls of the asylum were silent, only making the rhythmic ‘tap tap’ of his dad’s shoes all the louder. David couldn’t help but tug at his sleeves as he struggled to keep up with Asa, his much taller stature giving him more distance with each steady step he took.

He had no idea what his dad wanted to talk to him about but he could only assume it was most likely about what had happened that morning. For a moment, a small bit of hope fluttered in his chest, deluding himself to thinking that he would help him and his friends with the situation.

David shut that line of thought down just as quickly. Asa had been hands off ever since David started working at the asylum, allowing his son to work through his issues on his own. It built character or something.

The only thing it was doing was hurting David’s feelings but that was neither here nor there.

Stepping into Asa’s office, David waited for his dad to sit first before he took his own seat across from him. No matter what he wanted to talk about, David was still terrified that he was going to be yelled at.

Cold eyes boring into his son, Asa seemed to be staring into his very soul as he studied him. After a long, tense minute of silence, he asked simply, “What happened during patient recreation time?”

Fingers digging into the holes in his sleeves, stretching the knitted fabric out even more, David carefully recounted the events of the morning, making sure to keep it short and quick. He knew that he had a tendency to go off on tangents and his dad looked like he had better things to do than listen to him rant.

“-And then, um, Leon told him to go to his office and they both left. King and, um, Marcus took me to medical for an x-ray and I got a brace for my wrist and we filed a report. T-That’s it… I think-?” David cowered underneath the glare Asa sent him, quickly clarifying, “Y-yeah, that’s it! That’s all that happened!”

Asa said nothing, simply nodded before gesturing to the door. He was dismissed for the night. Whatever his father had wanted, clearly he’d gotten so their conversation was over.

His heart felt like it was in his stomach and, before he could stop himself, David blurted out, “Are you not even gonna ask me if I’m okay? Do you even care?”

His father gazed at him with cold eyes, not saying a word as he stared him down.

The longer he stared at him, the more David squirmed, eyes darting back and forth, trying to look anywhere but at his dad.

After several long moments, he finally stood up and weakly admitted, “I-I’m sorry for my outburst. I’ll be more careful next time. I-I’m going to go now. I love you. I’m sorry” His knees felt like they were about to buckle under his weight, anxiety chewing its way through his chest as he tried not to cry. God, why did he say that? Of course his dad cared about him. He wouldn’t have called him into his office if he didn’t… right?

Rising, Asa walked to the office door, pulling it open and standing aside to allow his son to pass. Eyes tracking him as he shuffled quickly past, the older Emory murmured, “You did well today…”

The door was closed behind David before he could register the words enough to actually turn around, but he’d definitely heard them. Blinking several times, he wasn’t able to stop tears from welling up in his eyes as a feeling of pride bloomed deep in his chest. Of course he cared. He should’ve never doubted the love his dad had for him.

Scrubbing an arm over his face, he hurried along, eager to tell Marcus about how well things had gone…

Inside the office, Asa retook his seat behind the heavy wooden desk. Pulling a file out of the top drawer, he flipped it open.

“Jack Krauser… Let’s see exactly who you are…”

~~

Leon was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling as he contemplated… well, everything really. Despite what Wesker claimed, something told him he knew more than he was letting on about Krauser and their history together. Maybe he didn’t know enough to be concerned, and that was on him. He could have told him about his time in the academy…

Oh, god, what about Jack? He should have told her everything already. Obviously there were things he couldn’t tell Wesker, but why couldn’t he tell her? She’d listen, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t the kind of person who’d view him as less of a man because of what had happened… Was she?

God, he didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to consider it. Didn’t want to let his mind spiral into a pit of worst case scenarios if she did learn about his past…

‘Why are you so worried about what she thinks? She’s not your girlfriend.’

Cringing at the unbidden thought, Leon sighed. He was exhausted. He should sleep… But he needed to brush his teeth first… But he didn’t want to get up… Everything felt so hard. Work, relationships, the day in and day out, even menial tasks like taking off his socks and brushing his teeth. It was just… too much.

Forcing his head up, he stared at his socks. At least he’d gotten out of his work clothes. Mostly. His socks really did need to come off. They were disgusting. Hell, he had a bag of laundry he needed to drag down the hall so he could wash it.

Flopping his head back onto the pillow, he sighed again. Maybe he’d offer Dwight fifty bucks to do it for him. He could fold it himself… Or just dig through it as needed…

A knock at the door had him raising his head again, contemplating whether it was worth letting whoever was out there even know he was in for the night. He could just… ignore them. He was off the clock and it wasn’t like he had any real authority in the dorms. Well, technically he was still a department head, but eh…

Another, louder knock had him yelling, “Unless it’s an emergency, it can wait till morning.”

A loud, rhythmic bang answered his decree and he groaned. Forcing himself out of bed as the sound continued, he shuffled across the carpet, fully intending to give the poor soul on the other side of the door a thorough dressing down before putting an ‘out of order’ sign on his knob for the foreseeable future.

Yanking the door open, the start of his rant died on his lips. Taking a small step back, his mouth pulled into a thin line, eyes wide as he stared up at Krauser. He’d thought he wouldn’t see him again until work the next day! After ordering him to his office, he left him with a stack of paperwork so tall it almost put the Leaning Tower of Pisa to shame and went outside to bum a much needed anxiety smoke off of Bill. He didn’t even smoke!

He felt a chill run up his spine as Krauser eyed him up and down, a grin spreading across his scarred face as he practically cooed, “All dressed up for me, Rookie? Just like old times.”

Leon wished that he had kept his uniform on. At least the layers would’ve made him feel safer under the older man’s leering. Instead, he had clumsily thrown everything off till he was just left in his undershirt, boxers, and socks, having told himself he was going to take a shower eventually.

The longer he stood there, the more he felt the air pressing in on him, Krauser’s presence itself made him feel like he couldn’t breath. It didn’t help when the Lieutenant took a step forward. “Well? Where are your manners? Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He said mockingly, having already passed the threshold of the door.

Taking a shaky breath, Leon had to focus every bit of willpower he had left into not stammering as he said, “No… No, I’m… not doing that. You- You need to leave. It’s after hours and-”

“You’re right,” Krauser agreed, taking another step into the room. “It’s after hours, which means ‘Captain’ and ‘Lieutenant’ don’t mean a goddamn thing anymore…”

That was absolutely not how that worked, but Leon couldn’t seem to get the words out. His throat felt tight, as though hands were wrapped around and squeezing it closed instead of anxiety. His tongue felt rough and sticky in his dry mouth, further robbing him of speech.

Glancing around the room, he had to remind himself that the window wasn’t a means of escape. Not unless he wanted to risk a four story fall onto concrete and ice. The only other way out of the room was the door, but that was blocked by a wall of muscle and attitude issues…

Forcing himself to accept that there was no ‘escape’, he finally looked at the floor between them. Licking his lips, he asked in a shaky voice, “What… what do you want?”

“What do you want?” Krauser mocked, taking one final step before reaching behind him and pushing the door shut, never once taking his unblinking gaze off of Leon. “Come on, Rookie. I know you’re smarter than that. Or did that stuffed suit with the stupid sunglasses manage to fuck a few screws loose in that pretty head of yours?”

Leon had no idea how to respond. He never did with Krauser. Even when he was certain he knew what he was expected to say, it never seemed to be right and led to some form of ‘correction’...

“You… You came to me, so- So what do you want?” Leon asked again, eyes briefly rising to search the older man's face. He looked away just as quickly when the only thing he found were his own painful memories. Fuck, he didn’t need to put up with that. He should just walk away, show he was disinterested in entertaining the conversation further. Although he didn’t take a full step, he did shift slightly as though he was about to turn away.

He wasn’t given the chance to go any further, as a large hand roughly grabbed his face and forced him back into uncomfortable eye contact with Krauser. Looking all too pleased, his scarred face twisted in a smile at the look of primal fear in Leon’s eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Rookie. I told you that you couldn’t hide from me. No matter where you went or how far you ran, I’d always find you.”

Although every instinct screamed for him to pull away or fight back, Leon found himself frozen in place. His heart was racing, the sound pounding in his ears and drowning out his own voice as he spoke without thinking, “I- I didn’t- I didn’t come here to- to get away from you… I- I came to- to look for a friend who- who disappeared around here.”

It was half a lie. Although he had gone to Alaska to search for Chris after receiving a strange, cryptic email after sudden months of radio silence, he’d stayed the second he’d seen an opportunity… Not only could he continue his search, but he honestly had believed he’d be safe. That he’d never have to find himself in exactly the situation he was once again in…

“I thought I was your friend, pretty boy,” Krauser challenged. “But you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day. It’s starting to feel like you’re not happy to see me.”

‘I’m not,’ Leon thought silently. Even if Krauser’s fingers hadn’t been digging into his jaw, he wasn’t sure he would have had it in him to say as much.

“Look at you,” the man continued, voice harsh. It was the same cold, unimpressed tone he used to use when berating recruits at the academy and it made Leon feel sick. “I trained you better than this. At least, I sure thought I did, but it looks like living this cushy life has made you soft.”

The only thought running through his mind was how to get Krauser off of him so he could get out of there. Although he wasn’t allowed to bring it into the asylum, he did still have his gun… If he could get to it. Eyes darting over to the drawer where he kept it safely stowed away, his desperate plan was interrupted when he was practically yanked up onto his toes. Reaching up before he could stop himself, he grabbed his former superior's wrist for support.

Leaning down so his mouth was right next to Leon’s ear, Krauser asked slowly, “What have I taught you, rookie?”

As much as he wanted to deny it, to rail against the idea that someone like him had taught him a single goddamn thing… he knew in an instant exactly what answer Krauser was looking for.

Almost reflexively, Leon heard himself forcing out through gritted teeth, “Knives… are faster…”

“Good boy,” Krauser growled. His free hand moved in Leon’s peripheral and he instinctively flinched backwards.

Not actually expecting the grip on his face to loosen up, he stumbled backwards when the fingers bruising his jaw were suddenly gone. Falling on his tailbone, the younger man let out a startled sound of pain. The familiar sound of a lighter flicking made him flinch again and he looked up.

Cigarette already between his lips, Krauser shook his head as he flipped the lighter closed. Tucking it into his pocket, he turned and walked back to the door. Pulling it open, he turned and blew a mouthful of smoke back into the room before promising, “I’m looking forward to working with you, rookie… See you tomorrow.”

The door closed with a slam, but it was several minutes before Leon could force himself up off the floor. Shaking uncontrollably, he stumbled to the shower, fumbling numbly with the knob until the sound of water spraying reached his ears. Almost tripping over the edge of the bathtub, he barely noticed the temperature or even registered the fact that he was still in his undershirt, boxers, and socks.

The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach only grew stronger along with the smell of cigarette smoke. Leon swore he could still smell it so strongly, he half feared that Krauser had come back and was lurking right outside the bathroom.

Head snapping up, he peered past the water plastering his hair over his eyes and out the still open bathroom door. The room was still empty, but the unwelcome presence lingered. Falling to his knees with a splash, Leon doubled over, throwing up what little food he’d managed to force down throughout the day.

Something had to give. Something had to break. It was only a matter of time. The question was… Who would break first?
~~~~

Chapter 23: New Territory

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus and David are introduced to a few of the second floor patients as they learn more about their new clearance level, and Jack deals with a crisis

Patient profile : The Huntress
Anna -last name unknown-, Female, Thirty-six.

Male staff are advised to keep a safe distance from the patient at all times, even with female staff present. The Huntress has a deep, often dangerous, psychological aversion to men. It is unclear why the Huntress has developed such violent tendencies when interacting with the opposite sex, but through much trial and error it has become clear that the patient reacts best to female staff, or a majority female staff for any exams, transfers, or face to face activities. The Huntress should never be addressed by her given name, as she often reacts violently, especially when addressed by men or male presenting persons.

There have been multiple incidents with the Huntress. All have resulted in injury, with six resulting in single casualty events. Two such violent outbursts led to multi-person casualties. All events were found to have started when the patient felt cornered or antagonized by male staff.

Attempts were made to integrate the Huntress into the first floor so she could be closer to another female patient more regularly, but she was almost immediately deemed far too dangerous.

As soon as the Huntress saw the Legion for the first time, she broke a guards arm, grabbed both Kostenko and Lavoie and tried to imprison them in her cell. Two guards were killed before the entire first floor cellblock was sedated via chemical gas. There have been several more kidnapping incidents over the past three years, but as the Legion age, she seems less inclined to ‘mother’ them.

“Do you think she’s ever tried to kidnap Eli?” Marcus asked, still thinking about the sticky note on the cover of the Huntress’s file. It read in bold handwriting, ALL MALE STAFF START HERE!. It was one of the only three files he and David had managed to get through before calling it a night, but it had really stuck with him.

Sure, the Clown apparently cut off people’s fingers and the Cannibal was… well, locked up for eating people as his name implied, Anna’s file really made him wonder if she’d ever mistaken the smaller nurse for a child.

Before David could respond, said nurse popped his head over the back of the bus seat in front of them with a glare. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean, huh?”

“He’s calling you short,” Quentin interjected without hesitation. “God, Eli, get with the program.”

Narrowing his eyes at them, Eli slowly sank out of sight below his head rest again.

Slightly mortified, Marcus offered apologetically, “Not short, exactly! Just like, small!”

“Like a fun-size snickers!” David added helpfully.

Blinking several times, Marcus turned to stare at him incredulously. When he got an excited thumbs up back, he slapped a hand over his eyes.

“I’m telling King,” Quentin snickered. “Fun-size!”

Before anyone could dig their grave any deeper, the bus pulled up in front of the asylum. Cold air flooded the vehicle as the doors opened, and everyone’s focus turned to getting inside as quickly as possible.

Bidding Quentin farewell as they all moved through the security checks, Marcus and David were finally led up to the nurses station where Jack was waiting for them.

“Did you need me to stay for the tour, or am I clear to start with my daily tasks?” Eli asked, grabbing a clipboard with a few papers already waiting for him.

“You’re good to go. They’ll be shadowing you tomorrow, but today, they’re with me.”

With a nod and final wave towards his friends, Eli turned and headed down the hallway, most likely downstairs to start his shift.

“Now then,” Jack started, holding up two new badges. “Did you bring your old IDs?”

Both orderlies nodded and presented them to her, trading them in for the new ones that showed their hard earned level two clearance.

As they attached the new laminated cards to their badge clips, Jack started down the same hallway Eli had taken. “Your new clearance allows you access to both the first and second floor. As per usual, any room marked with a ‘1’ or ‘2’ is one you can enter.”

When both of them made sounds of acknowledgement, she continued. “The elevators work in a similar manner. You would need to scan your badges in order to get on the elevator and to select which floor you wish to exit. If you try to select anything that is above your clearance level, the elevator won’t move. Accidents do happen, but if it happens repeatedly, security will be notified in case a patient has stolen a badge and is attempting to sneak around the facility.”

Having been trying to keep an eye on where they were going and who was around, Marcus couldn’t help but frown. There were a lot of guards he wasn’t really familiar with all of a sudden. He knew they weren’t new, but he also knew they were out of place. Most of them seemed a bit too tense for just being on the first floor. Especially when they weren’t around the patients anyway…

Waiting for a pause in the information being given to them, he asked, “Aren’t most of these guards from the lower floors? Why are they all up here all of a sudden? And where are all of the usual guards for up here?”

When he turned to face Jack, he was taken aback by the scowl suddenly on her face. Sure, he’d noticed that she seemed a bit tired earlier, but wow, she looked exhausted. Recalling how many files she was going through when he and David left last night, Marcus couldn't help but feel a bit bad.

“Yes... You’re right. These are indeed guards from the lower floor.” Glancing towards one of the guards that was just walking up and down the hallway, she explained, “The… new Lieutenant deemed our usual security measures for this floor to be… inadequate. So, he took it upon himself to restructure things, deeming this a safer and more efficient way to keep the patients in line.”

There were an unnecessary amount of guards, way more than Marcus had thought worked there. They were scattered all over, standing by random doors and interspaced between each turn. Most of them looked tense although a few that he recognized looked annoyed. Seemed like even the guards themselves felt like this new rotation was ridiculous.

When they finally reached the staff elevators, Jack concluded, “This wasn’t something I had a say in, unfortunately. The CEO himself approved of it and Leon…” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Leon didn’t disagree.”

Marcus and David gave each other a confused look. ‘Leon didn’t disagree?’ Why the hell would Leon approve of all that? Why would he let Krauser have so much power when the guy has been nothing but trouble since he showed up? It had barely been a day and he was already trying to run the place like a military camp!

That conundrum sat at the forefront of Marcus's mind, even throughout Jack’s demonstration of the elevator’s access requirements. As the machine took them down to the second floor, the ginger concluded that he would ask Leon about it whenever he saw him next.

When they all stepped out of the elevator, they were greeted with the sight of even more guards. Although it was his first time down here, Marcus could tell that there were more than usual.

“The second floor is where we house some of the more unruly patients,” Jack explained as she led them down the sterile white hall. “Patients that were deemed unsafe to be housed with less experienced staff members. There are more of them down here then up there, so do keep your wits about you.”

The head nurse paused by a large metal door, a stark contrast to the one upstairs. Despite most doors needing a badge to open, at least the ones on the first floor still looked like something from a hospital. That one looked like something out of a prison.

Marcus’ thoughts were only confirmed when Jack tapped her badge at the scanner, causing the metal doors to slide open with a hiss to reveal, honest to god, prison cells. Actual prison cells.

The room was large, having an upper and lower floor within, each with a long row of cells. The upper level was lined with thin railing that didn’t look like it would hold anyone back if any of the patients decided to push someone off, while the doors were similar to the ones on the first floor.

They could already see a few shadows moving around behind them through the small window, most likely curious about the ‘fresh meat’. They were plain gray, barely a contrast to the white walls.

As Marcus was picking his jaw off the ground, Jack continued, “This is the main room where the patients of the second floor are kept. Unlike those of the first floor, these patients do not receive recreational time or recess. They are to remain in their cells for all hours of the day, excluding lunch. Breakfast and dinner are to be delivered through a slot in the door. Do not, under any circumstances, open the door unless you have guards with you. These patients have a history of violence against staff and should be treated with caution. Their medications are to be mixed in with their food daily. They will give you trash and empty trays through the slot in the door. Room checks and cleanings are to be done during lunch or any other time the patient is out of their room. Janitorial is stretched thin at the moment, so you will likely be called on to help with those checks for the time being.”

Nodding, Marcus asked, “Are there any patient interactions we need to keep an eye out for? We’ve learned by now who gets along with who upstairs, but are there any grudges down here we need to be aware of?”

“Nothing that isn’t already in the files.” Jack answered. “The patients don’t tend to interact with each other outside of lunch, where they are generally amicable. As long as they don’t turn hostile towards you, try not to step in between any arguments unless you think you can subdue them.”

Thinking back to the only three files they had managed to read and how physically daunting just the patients were on the first floor, Marcus simply nodded his head and prayed that he wouldn’t have to break up any fights.

Exiting the cell area, the next location Jack took them to was the pharmacy. Unlike the one upstairs, that one was much bigger and had quite a few more staff members running about.

“This is where you’ll receive the morning and evening medication for the patients. It will be in liquid or paste form, which you are to mix in with their meals,” Jack explained. “Each patient has their own set of medication so be very careful to not mix up trays.”

“I’m assuming none of the patients get medications with lunch?” Marcus asked. He couldn’t imagine trying to make sure the right person got the right tray with as many patients as there would be.

“Correct,” she told them with a firm nod. “If any patient needs medication during lunch time due to unusual circumstances such as illness or injury, they will be given prior to being released into the level two cafeteria and the patient will not be allowed into the area until an orderly or nurse has confirmed they took their medication as directed.”

The tour continued, with Marcus and David being shown more labyrinth-like hallways, closets with various purposes and equipment within, and a few tightly locked emergency escape routes. Finally reaching the cafeteria itself, the group took a moment just to take in the vast empty room.

Far against one wall was a long, shuttered window. It was likely the kitchen, where the patients were to line up and collect their trays during lunch. There was no door on that side of the room, so if anyone did want to get into the kitchen from the cafeteria itself they’d have to jump the counter. Other than that, it seemed like a fairly normal lunch room. Tables with bench seats were bolted to the floor and a few trash cans sat along the walls.

Directing their attention to a heavy metal door towards the back of the room, Jack explained, “Those are the emergency stairs. They’re accessible from every level and lead directly to the first floor. The door will only open if the applicable alarm is tripped. Your badges will not open the door under normal circumstances. This is to keep any patients from attempting to gain access to floors they’re not supposed to be on.”

‘By killing you and stealing your badges,’ remained unsaid, but both David and Marcus were thinking it.

“This way,” Jack continued, leading them back out the way they’d come. “I’ll show you how to get into the kitchen. You’ll likely be working some breakfast and dinner shifts down here now that you’ve gotten clearance, so it would be better if you already knew where to go.”

Following along behind her, Marcus couldn’t help but say quietly, “This is so much bigger than the first floor… How the hell are we ever going to learn our way around?”

Turning to ask how his fellow orderly was doing, he was taken aback by the sight of David furiously typing on his phone. It seemed his silence during the tour was due to his aggressive note taking. It was understandable. There was so much more to do on the second floor then the first floor, not to mention more patients as well.

“There is a map within the files provided to you,” Jack answered, pulling Marcus away from gawking at the speed of David’s typing. “You may bring it with you to aid you, but I recommend memorizing it. Once you spend enough time down here, you’ll find that it’s not as big as you think it is.”

A little embarrassed that she’d overheard him, he quickly nodded. He knew she was right and it wasn’t like he had any intention of arguing with her when she clearly knew her stuff. His thoughts were quickly redirected back to work, as the first thing they saw when they entered the kitchen was Leon.

The poor guard was sitting on an overturned mop bucket, slowly chewing the most pathetic looking sandwich ever slapped together. Wet cardboard would probably have looked more appealing.

With the dark circles under his eyes and the almost vacant glaze clouding them, it was no wonder he didn’t seem to notice the kitchen staff as they bustled around him at a breakneck pace. Somewhere in the back, a vaguely familiar Australian accented voice was shouting at some poor soul about goat sauce.

Marcus had to wonder what in the actual hell ‘goat sauce’ was, but before he could ask, Leon finally glanced over and saw them.

Blinking a couple of times, he suddenly asked, “Are you supposed to be down here?”

It was only then that he noticed Jack standing right next to them. Frown deepening, he questioned, “Wait, when did you two get your level two clearance? ”

“Just… today? I guess?” Marcus answered, exchanging a worried look with David. Leon had been standing right there next to Wesker when he’d announced their ‘promotions’, even if he had botched the ginger’s name…

“The same day that Krauser guy got hired,” David added, having finally looked up from his phone at the sound of the Captain's ragged voice. “Jesus, Leon. You look like shit. Are you okay?”

Visibly flinching, he turned to stare at his sandwich for a moment. Sighing, he finally set it on a random tray as it was carried past. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

He sounded so far from fine. He honestly sounded like he was trying not to cry…

“Um, is- is there… Anything we can do?” Marcus asked awkwardly.

“Just… listen to Jack and do exactly as she tells you,” Leon instructed. “She knows what she’s doing…”

Rising before anyone could say anything else, he mumbled, “Better get back upstairs. My lunch is just about over anyway.”

Hurrying past before Marcus or David could try to stop him, the guard Captain almost made it out the door before Jack clamped a hand around his bicep. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the floor without saying a word.

Never once looking away from Leon, the head Nurse ordered evenly, “You two. Go find Eli and he’ll give you a better demonstration of what specific day to day tasks look like on the second floor.”

Neither orderly dared ask for clarification or tried to drag their feet in an attempt to eavesdrop. Making a quick about face, both men hurried out of the room and down the hall. There was no telling where Eli could be, but since all the second floor patients would remain in their cells for the next few hours, they felt safe taking a moment to look around for him themselves.

After a couple of minutes of following David around, Marcus asked, “Where are we?”

Blinking owlishly, David paused, looking around before finally looking at the ginger. “I don’t know… I was following you.”

“Ah… Oh…” was all he managed at first. Scratching the back of his head, he admitted, “I was… following you… since you took all those notes… Should we ask one of the guards?”

They hadn’t actually seen a guard since leaving the kitchen. As well as rearranging the shifts, it looked like Krauser had rearranged the area coverage too. It was likely the majority of the guards were now grouped up in ‘high priority’ areas like the cell block and elevators.

“At least we won’t starve for a while,” David offered, patting the pockets of his ratty cardigan. As usual, they were full of fruit snacks along with what looked like an unwrapped lollipop that was going to be a pain in the ass to remove.

Unable to help a small smile, Marcus nodded. “At least there’s that.”

It took a few more minutes, but they finally came to an intersecting hallway with a small placard stating, ‘CELL BLOCK’ and an arrow pointing down the left hall. Agreeing that was a good place to go for directions, they ended up finding Eli instead.

Looking through the observation window near the door, the pair were just in time to see Eli as he was stepping up to one of the cell doors. Two guards were with him, both looking much more on edge than anyone upstairs usually did.

Badging into the room, Marcus waved when Eli looked up, a slightly startled expression on his face. Frowning slightly, he called up, “Where’s Jack?”

“Something came up,” the ginger told him, shooting David a warning look. They could tell him about Leon later. Preferably away from the prying ears of the patients.

“Oh,” Eli answered, looking a bit worried. Shaking his head, he guessed, “Well, I can only assume she sent you to find me on purpose, so go ahead and come down here. I’m just collecting the patients blood for their monthly lab work, so now might be a good time to introduce you to some of them.”

Carefully making their way downstairs, David and Marcus joined Eli outside of the cell door. Neither guard said anything, just watched warily as the door was finally opened.

“Kenneth,” Eli greeted calmly, taking a step back to allow the man room to step out of his cell.

Marcus instantly recognized the name from the file labeled ‘The Clown’. Although his mostly balding hair was frizzy and gray and he had a beer gut to rival any good ol’ American southerner, his file warned that he was still physically capable of lifting a full grown man over his head and throwing him the length of the room with little effort.

The orderly blinked, not really sure what he was seeing for a moment. With a start, he realized it wasn’t a trick of the light, but actually real. Kenneth’s eyes were solid black, like something out of a horror movie. He’d heard of eyeball tattoos before, but good god that was terrifying to see up close and in person.

The crimes that had landed him in Crotus Prenn were numerous and chilling, made worse by the fact that he did all of them dressed as a blood soaked circus clown. Still, the thing that stuck fast in Marcus’s mind was his love of cutting off his victims fingers. They could only guess as to exactly how many people he’d killed. The trunk full of fingers in his caravan wagon were presumed not to be all of them. He’d never given up the exact number and it was strongly believed that not all of the bodies had been found.

Someone clearing their throat rather loudly made him jump and he quickly looked elsewhere. Staring at a patient was never a good idea, but it was especially stupid given the circumstances.

“How in god’s name did a child get in here?” Kenneth asked, before coughing loudly. The sound was rattly and wet, like his lungs were trying to swim inside his chest. It was awful to listen too, and Marcus briefly wondered if the man was on any kind of medication for it.

Having also been thrown off by the Clown’s pitch black eyes, it took David a solid minute to realize the ‘child’ in question was himself. “Nuh uh, I’m twenty three.”

He immediately cringed at his own response. “That… was so childish. I’m sorry. I’m an adult, I swear. Oh god, that’s even worse. I’m legal- nope, even more worse. Uh, I’m legally allowed to drink and vote and drive a car but I also can’t drive and- I’ll stop now.”

Kenneth had been so flabbergasted by the entire reaction, Eli had managed to get a needle in his arm and draw two vials of blood by the time David was done rambling.

Depositing them into a tray on a small cart nearby, the nurse offered, “There, all done. And no, we don’t get stupider as we get smaller.”

Clearly he’d heard enough of the Clown’s snark to have already been able to guess what he was going to say. Still, that didn’t stop Kenneth from huffing, “Could have fooled me. Although usually it’s the other way around. The bigger they are, the dumber they are.”

He stared down at the top of Eli’s head as he said it, sneering as he stepped back into his cell.

The nurse just shut the door, a tired look on his face as he muttered, “I swear to god, it’s like he wants Michael to try and kill him.”

“That’s the guy that cuts off people’s fingers?” Marcus asked quietly, not sure how soundproof the door was and not really wanting the man inside to overhear.

Nodding, Eli added, “Yeah, but it’s been a while.”

“Been a while?” David repeated.

“Yeah, he bit someone’s fingers off about a year ago,” the nurse elaborated. “He spent about a month in solitary. It would have been longer, but he didn’t swallow any of them that time so they were able to reattach all but the pinky. It got kind of chewed up… And that’s why Kenneth now wears a muzzle when he’s outside of his cell for long periods of time.”

Pausing midstep, Marcus glanced back at the cell they’d just left. “I’m… sorry?”

“Oh, right, you should probably know this before you see them all at lunch,” Eli considered. “Kenneth, the Huntress, and the Trapper all have to wear muzzles when they’re out of their cells. They’re all high bite risks, and since the Trapper tore out a guard's throat with his teeth– David, there’s a trash can over there if you need to throw up…”

“N-No, no. I’m okay.” David wheezed, definitely not okay.

“Right,” Eli agreed slowly. Shaking his head, he pulled out his radio before asking, “Dwight, are you on your way yet? I only have the Trapper and Bubba left and I can’t wait forever.”

There was a small burst of static, then the head janitor’s voice crackled out of the radio, “Yeah, sorry, I’m on my way. Third floor had a bit of an incident. Nothing major, just… someone didn’t like breakfast and decided to throw it across the room.”

“Fair enough,” Eli said, putting his radio away. Noticing the questioning expressions on both orderlies' faces, he explained, “Dealing with the Trapper is always a risk, but it’s significantly less so when Dwight’s here… He likes Dwight… He only likes Dwight…”

“I… see,” Marcus agreed as they stopped at another cell. “And this would be?”

“Bubba,” came the short answer before the door slid open.

The man that stepped out was not what the ginger had been expecting at all. Although he was big and burly with a full head of dark curls, he seemed almost timid as he stepped out of his cell. Looking down at Eli, then at the guards on either side of the open door, he finally looked at David and Marcus. Head tilting slightly, his eyes narrowed at the sight of two new people.

Although Eli hadn’t mentioned him wearing a muzzle, for a moment Marcus was under the mistaken impression that he had one on anyway. It wasn’t until he took a slightly better look that he realized it was a simple half mask, covering his nose and the lower portion of his face. There was a hole for his mouth so he wouldn’t have to remove it to eat or drink, but that didn’t explain why he was wearing it.

“Bubba, this is David, and this is Marcus,” Eli introduced. “You’re going to be seeing them around from time to time. They’re really nice.”

He grunted quietly, eyes still narrow as he studied them.

Marcus was doing his best not to stare, but something about him seemed eerily familiar. Hadn’t they read his file the night before? Bubba… Bubba something.

Glancing over as Eli picked up an empty vial for collecting the patient's blood, he spotted a label on the tube, reading, ‘B. Sawyer : the Cannibal’.

Oh dear Christ, that was Leatherface! He’d heard about him on the news when he was still in middle school! His family had been accused of multiple atrocities proceeding a near massacure by the police! Deemed mentally unsound, Bubba had been sent to a mental ward instead of prison, but his crimes had become infamous in his home state. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, as the news had dubbed it…

Oh… That explained the half mask… Leatherface had earned his moniker by peeling and wearing the faces of multiple victims, before allegedly butchering and eating the bodies with his family.

“Alright, Bubba,” Eli finally said, drawing Marcus out of his thoughts. “You’re all done. Thank you for cooperating. I’ll make sure to get you some extra dessert, okay?”

“Hmmm,” Leatherface groaned, not looking super happy.

“I know, but I can’t be carrying snacks around on me right now,” the nurse reasoned. “I can’t have the Trapper smelling food on me before mealtime.”

In the vastness of the room, David’s whisper almost sounds like a gunshot, “I have snacks.”

The way Bubba’s head snapped down to look at him was like a wolf spotting a newborn lamb. In a word, hungry.

It made David freeze up like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as he watched Bubba slowly reach his hand out… and make a grabbing motion at him.

Under the eagle eyes of the guard and worried glances from his friends, David pulled the bag of fruit gummies out of his pocket before cautiously dropping a few pieces into the killer’s open palm.

They vanished almost as quickly, but the way Bubba was smiling at the small orderly was certainly a positive change in his demeanor. With a very gentle nudge from Eli, he shuffled back into his cell without incident.

As the door slid shut, one of the guards muttered, “Is it really a good idea to be feeding him like that?”

Before either Marcus or David could say anything, Eli answered coldly, “Since you’re new to this floor, let me make this explicitly clear to you. Unless I tell you not to do something, assume it’s okay.”

“But Lieutenant Kr–”

“I don’t give a fuck what he said,” Eli snapped. “And if you have an issue with that, you can talk to Jack.”

Fidgeting slightly, the guard started to argue, “But I don’t answer to–”

“Well I do,” the nurse stated, ending the conversation.

Marcus couldn't help the look of mild surprise on his face. Eli didn’t seem like the confrontational type, but he wasn’t a fan of Krauser and was willing to make it abundantly clear… As long as Krauser wasn’t in the room. Still, the ginger couldn’t help but admire his spitfire attitude. Ugh, too bad he wasn’t available…

The sound of a door opening was quickly followed by Dwight’s breathless voice calling, “I’m here! I’m- Oh, god, I’m out of shape… But I’m here!”

By the time he made it to the bottom of the steps, he was panting like he was going to fall over and pass out at any moment.

“Perfect timing,” Eli agreed. Leading them to the last cell on the lower level, he paused before opening the door. Looking at Marcus and David in turn, he said gently, “Ah, both of you please take a step back. The Trapper can be a bit… Um…”

“Violent,” Dwight finished, not sounding at all upset. “Evan can be incredibly violent with new people. Especially if he doesn’t like the way they smell.”

“I thought Michael was the one who had scent issues,” Marcus said, looking back and forth between them.

“Oh, he only cares how I smell,” Eli corrected. “It’s part of why I always start with his cell, and why most people know not to stand too close to me.”

The guard he’d just been arguing with took a noticeable step back, and the nurse smiled humorlessly. Clearly the poor man really hadn’t been assigned to floor two before…

Shooing everyone back a bit further, Eli himself stepped away to allow Dwight to open the cell door instead. As soon as it was open, the patient inside took two large steps out. It was a lot further than any of the others had ventured and both guards immediately reached for their stun guns.

Marcus couldn’t help but flinch when the Trapper snarled like a wild animal.

Before either guard or orderly could do more or make the situation worse in some way, Dwight managed to get things under control. Actually taking a step closer to the patient, he didn’t take his eyes off him as he promised, “It’s just blood draws! Marcus and David are just here to learn! You- They’re not- You don’t have to go downstairs today.”

Lip curling, the man slowly looked over each guard, then David, and finally Marcus. His eyes were dark, although not the same tattooed black as Kenneth’s. Scars and burns stretched across his arms and face and even his head, but none of that distracted from the way his muscles rippled under his clothes with every movement. If he decided to start acting ‘violent’ as Dwight had so eloquently undersold it, they’d need a hell of a lot more than two guards with stun guns to stop him…

“Who said I want my blood drawn?” he finally asked, looking down at Eli.

The nurse, who’d previously been doing a great job of not folding under the dangerous presence of the patients he was tending to, suddenly seemed a lot less confident. Stammering for a moment, he finally looked at Dwight with a slightly desperate expression.

“Evan, please?” the janitor asked. “It’s not- At least- I don’t think it’s– Well… Eli? Why blood draws?”

Giving him the most incredulous look physically possible, he finally said, “I don’t know… I was just told to do my job. So here I am! Doing my job! Hopefully without dying!”

There was a loud slam from a cell upstairs, causing everyone but the Trapper to jump. Looking up, he just snorted, sounding amused.

Looking down again, one of his hands suddenly reached out, grabbing Dwight’s arm before anyone could so much as make a sound of warning to alert him.

Marcus honestly expected his friend’s wrist to be snapped like a toothpick. Maybe even have his entire arm ripped out of its socket so the Trapper could start beating the rest of them with it.

“What’s in it for me?” the Trapper asked, eyes suddenly locking on David.

Even though no one had mentioned the man being a cannibal, it seriously looked like he was considering biting the small orderly’s head off…

The poor guy looked like he was going to kneel over and die, like a startled goat or a possum playing dead. Mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, David only managed to mumble, “I think I need that trash can now.”

“I’ll be by after dinner,” Dwight offered, but it didn’t seem to do much to sway the Trapper. At least he didn’t appear to be in any pain.

Teeth bared in a sadistic smile that looked more like a snarl, he countered, “You’re here now. Stay.”

“I have work to do,” he excused quietly, face slightly red.

“It can wait.”

“Why is he negotiating with an inmate?” the same guard muttered.

With a snarl that scared Eli, David, and Marcus so badly they almost fell over, the Trapper faked a lunge at the man.

Fumbling so badly when he tried to pull out his stun gun and walkie talkie at the same time, he did end up falling over.

Letting out a loud, cold laugh, the sound was matched by laughter from several of the other cells as the patients watched through the small slots in the doors or guessed what had happened from what they could hear.

Sighing, the Trapper settled back on his feet. Looking down at Dwight, he growled, “Fine. Take what you need.”

Head down and face pale, Eli quickly scurried forward to draw the blood he needed. As soon as he was done, he moved as far out of reach as he could reasonably get, but still didn’t say anything.

When the guards hesitantly stepped forward, the Trapper let out an annoyed growl. Leaning down, he pulled Dwight in close, mouth right by his ear as he said something too quietly for anyone else to pick up. Whatever it was, it had the janitor blushing from his neck to his ears and quickly nodding.

With an almost amused sounding snort, Evan finally released him and stepped back into his cell.

“Well, thank fuck that’s over,” Eli muttered. “Alright, I have to take these to the pharmacy dumbwaiter, if you two want to tag along. It would probably be a good idea to know where to go if you have to send any kind of medication or other medical stuff downstairs.”

Exchanging a concerned look with David, Marcus finally nodded. Floor two was… something. But at least it got him away from Ghostface. Although… his offer of ‘no one else will touch you’ was starting to sound kind of nice…

~~

The large walk-in freezer swung close with a thump, securing the two personnel in a soundproof room. It didn’t lock from the inside, making it a good place for kitchen staff to go to scream out their frustrations. Or cry. Or both.

Either way, it was as private as it was going to get for the conversation they were about to have. Turning towards Leon, who was sitting on a box of frozen peas, Jack finally asked, “Okay, what is going on with you? You’ve been acting off for days now. You look like a zombie.”

As he started to open his mouth, she quickly cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t you dare give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. I know you better than that.”

Despite her well intentioned warning, Leon still seriously considered saying it. Opening his mouth, he found himself unable to get the words out. He didn’t want to lie to her, but the idea of telling her the truth scared him. What would she think of him if she knew? Especially now that Krauser was there?

Finally, he let out a shallow breath. As it turned to mist in the freezing air, he said quietly, “I… I know how Krauser operates and it- it’s got me worried. I don’t think… Wesker knows what he’s brought to Crotus Prenn…”

Liar. There was still a small part of him that was entirely uncertain. A part of him silently believed that somehow, Wesker did know… and he’d brought the man there on purpose… But why would he do such a thing?

“It’s pretty damn obvious that he knows.” Leon’s head snapped up towards the nurse in shock, who had her arms crossed over her chest as she ranted, “That man may be a narcissistic fool but at the end of the day, he is still a genius and a businessman. Anyone and everyone that gets hired here, especially someone who starts out at such a high ranking position, is someone Wesker hand selected himself. He would’ve dug up everything about them to make sure they’re the perfect fit for his machine.”

Fuck. Fuck. Wesker knew. He had to know. He knew everything about him and Krauser! He had to! What if he found out about him and Jack? Would he use that against him? Would he tell her everything to ensure that he was left broken and alone?

“But that isn’t what I’m concerned about.” When Jack crouched down to be eye level with him, Leon felt his mouth run dry as she asked, “What does all of this have to do with you? What does Krauser have to do with you?”

Leon shook his head slightly, only to realize his entire body was shaking. It wasn’t from the cold…

“He’s… He just… It- It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbled, panic threatening to choke him. It did matter. It mattered too much. He didn’t want her to know. What would she think of him if she knew? Would she see him as the broken, ruined thing Wesker did? Why would she want to be with him then? She deserved better…

“... What did Krauser do to you?”

No. Not that question. Any question but that one. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to remember. He didn’t. He couldn’t. But despite his desperate attempts to think of anything else or to find something in the frosty room to focus on to distract himself, he couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling into a whirlwind of traumatic memories.

Leon hadn’t even realized tears were starting to streak down his face until warm hands were wiping away the partially frozen track marks from his cheeks. Flinching away from the touch at first, he tried to tell himself that Krauser had never been that gentle with him so it couldn’t possibly be him.

His mind was foggy, his ears full of cotton and his vision swirled as he tried to focus on the face in front of him. Letting out a whimper when a soft hand took his clenched fists, he barely registered the words being spoken to him.

“Leon? Leon, you’re okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m right here with you. I’m gonna need you to hold your breath for a bit, you’re breathing too fast and the cold air isn’t good for you.”

Breathing too fast? He was barely even aware he was breathing at all, but since it had been pointed out, Leon realized he was starting to feel light headed. Trying to hold his breath was difficult, but it did slow him down and he found himself starting to take slower, deeper breaths.

“That’s good, that’s very good,” he was gently encouraged. “You’re doing amazing, I’m so proud of you. Do you know where we are?”

Proud of him? She was proud of him? Despite the cold, hearing that spread a bit of warmth through his chest and he managed a nod. They were at work. They were on shift. In the second floor kitchen. In the freezer.

“Ah, ha, we- we’re at work,” he panted, voice thin. “Freezer. We’re- we’re in the freezer. Downstairs.”

“That’s right. Yes we are. Can you tell me what you see?”

Leon blinked several times. His eyes felt nasty. Itchy from the cold and crusty from his eyelashes sticking together with frozen tears. Still, he managed to look around, picking out a few boxes of frozen food before finally settling on Jack’s face.

She looked worried, for once letting her emotions show clearly through her usual mask of professionalism. She never looked like that unless they were alone.

“I… There’s… ice. Frost. Frozen- frozen food,” he finally managed, hands shaking. “You…”

Leon could practically feel the relief that darted across Jack’s face when he finally looked her in the eyes. “Yes, that’s right. There’s frozen ravioli and days old crab legs right there and whatever that gray sludge is on that shelf. You’re sitting on some boxes and they’re so frozen that they’re not collapsing. And me. I’m right here with you. Okay?’

Leon felt himself nod ever so slightly, cheeks warming up when a smile graced Jack’s lips. God, she had the nicest smile. Made him feel like the most important person in the world.

“Good. Very good. You’re okay, I’m okay, everything is gonna be okay,” she promised.

Before Leon could work up the strength to respond, the freezer door swung open and he stiffened.

Looking a bit surprised, the cook who’d just walked in cleared his throat before saying, “Ah, Miss Jack? They, um, they need you upstairs, I guess?”

Leon’s hands, which were still in Jack’s grasp, tightened ever so slightly before loosening. Of course they needed her. She was the head nurse. She practically ran Crotus Prenn in the CEO’s stead. Hell, she’d done more for the place then Wesker had ever done. He’d be selfish if he kept her from work just because he couldn’t get his shit together

However, before he could pull his hands out of her grasp and tell her that he was okay to also return to work, Jack gave the cook a glare so sharp that it almost made the icy chill of the freezer even colder. “Tell whoever it is that I’m on break now. Don’t bother me for the next hour.”

“But-”

“No buts. The asylum isn’t going to burn down without me. Whatever it is can wait.”

The cook’s mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to do now, but one firm “Leave.” from the woman had him hightailing it out of the freezer, sealing the other two back into their frozen privacy.

Leon couldn’t help the way he gazed at her. Even though he couldn’t bring himself to tell her how much he was falling in love with her, he knew his expression said it anyway. Almost unbidden, he whispered into the frosty air, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It may have been wishful thinking, or the chill of the freezer had finally gotten to his head, but he could’ve sworn the look she gave him was just as soft as the one he gave her. “You won’t have to find out. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens or what we go through. Okay?”

“...Okay.”
~~~~

Notes:

Woooo sorry for the super late update! We're still on track and will be back on Friday with a regular update~ 🙌🖤

 

(Edited Oct 18th) Oops, just realized I uploaded this under the wrong chapter title! It's correct now!

Chapter 24: Paying Dues

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus and David continue to learn floor 2 procedures and Eli explains a little more about some of the more dangers patients

“I’m not ready for this,” Marcus whispered, staring at the elevator doors.

Beside him, David let out a sound like a deflating balloon.

Raising an eyebrow, Eli asked, “You both read more of the floor two files instead of sleeping last night, huh?”

“How can you tell?” David asked, turning to look at him with an expression of pure sleep deprivation.

After the blood draws, they had spent the rest of the day back on the first floor. That night, they’d managed to read up on Jason, otherwise known as ‘The Crystal Lake Killer’, ‘The Doctor’ whose file was very thin and oddly lacking in details, and ‘The Hillbilly’.

Apparently, the Doctor’s name was Herman and he hated being addressed as such. No one really cared, as the worst of his outbursts were usually just verbal tirades consisting of the awful, unethical medical torture he’d subject them all to when he ‘got his equipment back’. Okay, Herman. Okay.

The Hillbilly preferred to be called Max, and the staff were instructed to do so anytime he was within earshot. Unlike Herman, his violent outbursts were almost always fatal. He was strong, fast, and, unlike the Trapper, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be able to reason with him or calm him down without extreme measures…

“It’s a bit daunting,” Marcus admitted, trying not to look nervous as the elevator finally opened. At least they wouldn’t be handing out the first floor’s breakfast that morning. Even though Ghostface had been entirely ‘normal’ towards him the few times he’d seen him throughout the past day, he didn’t believe it was going to last and the longer he could put off another incident, the better.

However, they would be delivering breakfast for the second floor as well as supervising lunch, which wasn’t that much better then just dealing with the patient face to face.

“It gets easier,” Eli promised. Judging from the fresh sets of bruises covering his wrists and neck, that was only partially true. If anything, it looked like Michael had only gotten more possessive over him since they’d been back from their mini vacation.

“Does it?” David mumbled sarcastically, eyes staring blankly at the only guard in the elevator. He looked too fresh to be anywhere near the second floor, but Krauser didn’t seem to care... “Does it really? ‘Cause it feels like we’re gonna get fed to a bunch of sharks. Or dolphins. Sharks are cool. Dolphins are not. I prefer seals. They’re very shaped.”

‘Shaped?’ Eli mouthed silently.

Marcus just shrugged, before agreeing, “Dolphins are sadistic bastards and should not be underestimated.”

“But they’re so cute,” Eli argued, frowning. “Don’t they save people from sharks?”

“Yes, but they also rape everything,” the ginger explained, not missing the slowly growing look of intrigue and horror on the guards face. “They also physically abuse puffer fish so they can get high off the toxins they secrete.”

“Damn, that sucks.” the guard whispered.

“I know where you sleep at night,” David hissed. The sleep deprivation was turning him into a mini Quentin. “I will find you and put crumbs on your bed sheets.”

“What?! Who?! Why?!” Eli demanded, shifting slightly away from the orderly. “Don’t do that!”

Just trying not to laugh, Marcus managed to change the subject back to work. He was pretty sure David had been talking to the guard, but he wasn’t going to point that out in front of him. As the elevator doors opened and they made their way to the second floor kitchen, he said conversationally, “At least we don’t have to haul an entire food cart down from the first floor.”

“Mhmm,” the nurse agreed, still giving David a hard side eye. “Yeah, that’s… nice. David, what are you staring at? It’s like you’re seeing through the veil into the afterlife or something!”

“God and the Devil killed each other. We are alone.”

Exchanging a worried look with Eli, Marcus couldn’t help but join him in staring at their friend.

“I slept, like, two hours.”

“Okay… We’re going to skip studying tonight,” Marcus decided. “But if you’d like, you can crash in our room.”

“He can sleep under the bed with Mr. Squeaky Clean if he keeps talking like that,” Eli grumbled, putting a bit of speed into his step.

“It’s Sir Squeaky Clean,” the ginger recalled. “Or Mr Sparkles.”

“I hate that you already know that,” the nurse sighed, before waving them along. “Alright, on with the show.”

With someone to guide them, it didn’t take long for the group to reach the kitchen. Gathering all the breakfast trays on the rolling cart was a bit of a chore itself. The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity, since that was where they did the lion’s share of the cooking and preparing to send to other floors.

Dodging a whole potato that was flung across the room by a screaming man in a comically large chef's hat, Marcus almost knocked over a line cook carrying past a pot of steam hot… goop. It looked like goop. It was probably supposed to be oatmeal or maybe even malt-o-meal, but Christ, it looked like sludge.

“Shit, watch where you’re– Oh, Marcus! Hey!”

The cook he’d almost knocked down was only vaguely familiar to him. They’d met briefly during game night, but only passed each other ever so often in the halls since and never really had time to talk.

Wracking his brain for a moment, the ginger asked, “Ace, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he confirmed. “I see you and Emory finally got your level two clearance. Congrats! Even if it is a bad time…”

“Wait, what? Why?” David asked with a frown. His tired eyes were following a poor soul carrying a precarious pile of dishes mere moments from disaster.

Eli had vanished, ducking and weaving through the crowd to get to the cart tucked away on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Shrugging, Ace explained rather bluntly, “Well, ever since that blond menace took over security, things have gotten downright stupid. We’ve got inexperienced guards being forced to learn new floors and new schedules all while trying not to say or do the wrong thing in front of the wrong patient. We’ve been lucky so far, but it’s only a matter of time before someone gets killed.”

“That’s a… bleak outlook,” Marcus considered.

“Maybe, but it’s true,” Eli agreed, pushing the cart around a sobbing man stirring a bowl of eggs. “It’s one thing to train two or even three new people on a floor at a time. But to have this many changes all at once is just asking for disaster. It stresses out the staff, and worse, the patients.”

Someone screaming Ace’s name from somewhere in the kitchen made the three non-kitchen staff jump, but the cook looked entirely unfazed. He didn’t so much as blink when there was a loud bang and a sudden ball of fire from the same direction that he’d just been called from… Nodding grimly, he said, “Well, you all have a good shift. I’ll see you again at lunch, I’m sure.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Eli agreed, pushing the cart towards the door.

Forced to tear their attention away from the ongoing chaos, Marcus and David quickly hurried after him. They both knew how irritable the first floor patients could get when their breakfasts were delayed. God only knew how bad the second floor would get.

“Now, the good thing about breakfast down here is, we don’t have to open the doors,” Eli was explaining. “The bad news is, after we drop off all the trays to the top level, we have to carry the trays down to the lower level.”

Recalling the steep metal steps and lack of any interior elevator or lift in the cell block, Marcus nodded. At least they’d be getting plenty of exercise. Lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice as they walked past the turn that would have taken them to the patients. Looking around, he asked, “Wait, where are we going?”

“Pharmacy,” Eli explained. “Every floor gets meds with breakfast, not just floor one.”

“Right, like Jack said,” David recalled. “It’s in liquid or paste form, right? We’re supposed to mix it in?”

Feeling a bit dumb for not remembering that, Marcus nodded. “Ah, yeah I forgot about that.”

“Don’t feel bad,” the nurse chuckled. “It’s your first day on breakfast duty for this floor. All the meds and vitamins will also be labeled, so you won’t have to worry about guessing which tray to mix them into. At least that hasn’t changed.”

The bitterness in his tone wasn’t hidden, and Marcus had to ask, “Has Krauser tried sticking his nose in the medical side of things?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has!” Eli scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, Jack has tried to fight more than a few of his ‘improvements’ but Wesker keeps shutting her down. It’s ‘not her department’. Who the fuck cares if it’s not her goddamn department? She’s been here longer than Krauser or Leon! Fuck, she could probably run the department if she needed to. Not to shit on Leon or anything… but Jack knows her stuff. I wish Wesker would listen to her more.”

Although he didn’t ask it aloud, Marcus had to wonder why Leon hadn’t said anything. True, Jack had been there longer, but the system had been working just fine under the current Captain. Bill had been training him even after his forced ‘retirement’, and even he was pleased with the job the younger man had been doing.

“Now that I think about it…” David started. “How long exactly has Miss Jack been here? Like, I know she’s been here a while but how long exactly is that while?”

Frowning as he thought about it, Eli finally said, “I want to say a decade, but I don’t know for sure. She doesn’t really talk about her personal life and I’ve never explicitly asked her. But I know she’s been here longer than some of the patients.”

“Huh… maybe she’s actually a patient here and Wesker just won’t let her leave.”

Marcus made the mistake of turning to stare incredulously at David as they walked and ended up smacking directly into the closed pharmacy door.

Eli had been smart enough to stop to stare at the orderly, but looked over at the sound of a body crashing into a solid object.

Popping up from the floor just as the door opened, Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly. “Ahha, I… don’t think she’s a patient here…”

“Who’s not a patient here?”

Entire body going stiff at the voice, Marcus slowly turned to find a man in a lab coat standing in the doorway. Pointing one finger at him, he seethed, “I swear to fucking god, if you tell me you’re not Nicolas Cage, I’m going to–”

“I’m Claudette,” he interrupted, pointing at his nametag. “Not famous action star, director, and character actor Nicolas Cage.”

“What’s happening?” Eli whispered, leaning over to David.

Marcus looked like he was going to have a heart attack. One of his eyes was twitching, along with all of his fingers. Too angry to get any actual words out, the only sounds leaving his mouth was a random string of consonants and vowels.

“Here’s your medicine,” Not-Claudette told them, passing a heavily loaded tray to Eli. Waving cheerfully, he stepped back inside and pulled the heavy door closed behind him.

Blinking several times, Eli finally shook his head. “I- Okay. Um, right. If you two want to start helping me out here, just make sure you’re matching the names on the trays to the names on the cups.”

Each cup had a patient’s code name on it, along with a small plastic spoon to mix in the pasty contents. They all smelled slightly like chemicals and undoubtedly added nothing to the taste of whatever the slop on the trays was. The only thing that even looked remotely appetizing was a large piece of flatbread.

“Do they not get spoons?” David asked, already mixing in some of the vitamin paste on the assigned tray.

“No, that’s what the bread is for,” Eli explained, busy with his own tray. He moved a lot faster, knocking out three trays in the time it took David and Marcus to each get one done. “Unlike on floor one, floor two still hasn't gotten their utensil privileges back. There was an… incident. Um, the Huntress gouged a guard's eyes out with a plastic spoon and ate them.”

Nearly dropping the tray he’d just finished mixing, Marcus asked, “Excuse me?”

“Right, so, Bubba isn’t the only cannibal in here,” the nurse admitted. “It’s not in her file, since her cannibalism was more opportunistic than malicious. Well, aside from the eye thing.”

Mouth opening and closing a few times, all David managed to ask in the end was a weak, “She’s… not gonna eat us if she doesn’t like us, right?”

“I mean… probably not?” Eli offered with an equally pathetic smile. It did nothing to ease either of the orderlies' fears, but there was nothing that could really be done about it. They had a job to do.

Once all the vitamin paste was mixed into the appropriate breakfasts, the tray was slid under a small opening in the heavily barred pharmacy window. It was unclear if any patient had ever managed to break into the room before, but they certainly weren’t taking any chances.

Pushing the cart back down the hall, the trio quickly arrived at the cell block.

“Okay, up here on the top floor we have the Shape, the Evil, and the Boogeyman,” Eli told them, pointing to a row of three cells. Handing each of them a tray, he said, “I’ll take this one. Since Michael doesn’t know either of you yet, he’ll be a lot less likely to eat if one of you drops this off.”

“We’re not going to have that issue with the Trapper, are we?” Marcus asked, eyeballing the name on the tray in his hands. The Shape? What the hell kind of name was that?

“No, he’s a little bit less obstinate when it comes to who’s bringing him food,” Eli explained. “Cell numbers are listed right next to the patient name on each tray, so if you need help and I’m not available, just double check the number. Never ask the patient to confirm their name.”

Neither David nor Marcus needed to ask why. Taking the trays they’d been handed to the designated cells, they each slid them into the slot in the door. The one going to the Shape was snatched out of the ginger's fingers so fast it took him a second to realize it was already gone.

Blinking at the slot as it swung closed with a quiet click, Marcus nodded slowly before going to get the next tray. If only feeding the patients upstairs was so hands off…

David’s tray disappeared as well, although not nearly as violently fast. The next tray he picked up was labeled ‘the Doctor’ and was a little further down the row.

Marcus ended up with ‘the Boy’. Shuffling to his cell, he pushed the tray about halfway through the slot as he’d previously been instructed to do. When it wasn’t taken, he looked up to find Eli still at the Evil’s cell. He was talking quickly and quietly, the expression on his face one of mild panic, but when he spotted the ginger looking in his direction, he quickly fell silent. Knocking on the cell door twice, he waited for a second until a loud bang echoed from the other side. With a curt nod, he hurried over to where the orderly was waiting.

“Oh, he’s being a brat again,” he muttered, more to himself than Marcus. Banging on the cell door, he yelled, “Boy! Get your food or you don’t get lunch! You know how this works!”

The tray was snatched a moment later, followed by a pitifully whiny voice pouting, “I want candy.”

“No,” Eli called back. “Not unless you behave!”

Following him back to the cart, Marcus asked quietly, “Does he ever get candy?”

“Oh, god no,” Eli snorted. “For one thing, he never fucking behaves. For another, he’s an absolute menace when he’s had sugar. More than usual, anyway. He once stole a snickers off a guard. Thirty minutes later we caught him trying to scale the wall in the lunchroom. He actually managed to punch a hole in the wall near a vent. It wasn’t big enough for him to crawl through or anything, but god did he try.”

Marcus could just see David from the corner of his eye, clutching at his cardigan pocket like it was full of treasure.

Expression becoming slightly vacant as if recalling the horrific memories of a war, Eli continued stoically, “God, did he try…”

Shaking himself off, the nurse grabbed two more trays. Looking at the names, he handed one to each of them, saying, “David, this one is upstairs still. The rest will be downstairs, so grab a tray and come on down when that one is dropped off.”

The name on David’s tray was ‘the Hillbilly’, while the one passed to Marcus read ‘Crystal Lake’.

Grabbing two trays himself, Eli explained, “I’ll take the Huntress and Trapper for now since they know me and mostly tolerate my continued existence. My advice for when you guys start doing this alone? Just put the tray halfway into the door and leave it there. They won’t thank you, but they won’t try and kick it back out at you either.”

“Has that… happened before?” Marcus asked slowly.

“Ummm, yeah, a few times. The Trapper once kicked his tray out so hard it cracked a janitor's rib.”

Shocked, he questioned, “Oh god, it wasn’t Dwight, was it?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think the Trapper would ever risk hurting him,” Eli admitted. “That guy actually doesn’t work here anymore.”

Marcus was about to ask if he transferred or quit, but something about the way it was said had him asking quietly, “He died, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time.”

“How does someone ‘big time’ die?!” he demanded, voice a harsh whisper. They’d reached the bottom of the stairs and he didn’t want to say anything loud enough for the patients to pick up…

Although Eli didn’t say anything at first, he did glance over at a very large, very suspicious stain on one wall. When Marcus followed his gaze, then quickly looked back at him with a horrified frown, the nurse admitted, “So… You met Kenneth…”

“Yes?!”

“Just… don’t get kicked,” was all Eli said, before scurrying off to deposit the trays he’d brought down.

Casting one last glance at the stain on the wall, Marcus hurried to find the right cell. The tray was taken quickly, but lacked the feral aggression that the Shape had presented. It did nothing to ease his concerns however, as the very next tray he ended up with was indeed the Clown’s. Trying not to think about just how hard someone would have to be kicked into a wall to make that big of a mess, he didn’t waste a second getting the patient his food.

Once all the trays were distributed and the trio met back at the cart upstairs, David asked, “How do we get the trays back?”

“We don’t,” Eli told him. “Janitorial comes in during lunch and does a room check and cleaning. Dinner trays are to be left in the slot for night shift to collect before lights out.”

“Wait, so other than the occasional medical check and lunch, they never get to come out?” Marcus asked. “Isn’t that kind of inhuman?”

He could tell Eli agreed by the expression on his face, but after a long sigh, he said flatly, “It’s for the safety of the staff and the patients.”

That was effectively the end of that conversation, all three of them left a bit disillusioned and uncomfortable. Regardless of the patient's crimes, it didn’t seem right to totally deprive them of basic things like fresh air and sunlight. They wouldn’t even get that during lunch time since their floor was underground.

Returning the cart, Eli showed the orderlies to the downstairs nurse’s station. It was the central hub for paperwork and assignments, and that was where they spent the next few hours doing paperwork until it was time for lunch.

Hearing the chime echo through the halls, Marcus tensed instantly. He wasn’t worried about Ghostface specifically… he lied to himself…. But he was very worried about seeing how all the patients were going to react to two new staff members being present during lunch. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal, but all morning he and David had been hearing murmured complaints about how Krauser’s restructuring was causing tension amongst both staff and patients alike…

“Come on, it’s better if we get down into the cafeteria before all the patients start being brought in,” Eli explained, shoving a pile of paperwork into a filing cabinet. “If we do have to enter afterwards, it’s best to be quiet and stay close to the walls.”

“What, why?” Marcus questioned, trying not to sound alarmed. Remaining calm and collected was important to keeping everyone safe.

“They tend to get territorial over food,” the nurse explained, leading the way down the hall to the lunchroom. “Remember, the kitchen is completely separate from the cafeteria to keep the patients from trying to steal extra food or get their hands on anything they can use as a weapon. They’re allowed to move around the lunch room, but they’re not allowed to take food from one another. If you see anyone trying to bully food away from someone else… let a guard know. Never try to intervene yourself.”

With that warning in mind, the three of them finally reached the lunchroom. Not a moment too soon either, as the first floor patients were already being marched down the hall from the elevators.

“I know it might seem weird, but the first floor is brought in first,” Eli explained, gesturing for both orderlies to stand with him against one wall. It put them a bit further away from the door than Marcus would have liked, but considering it was the only door in and out of the room and it was currently blocked by a line of patients, perhaps the distance was better.

The second the last level one patient was inside, another chime sounded throughout the floor, and the nurse explained, “Now the patients from this floor will be led in. Once they’re all inside, the kitchen will open up so they can grab their food.”

Sure enough, just as he finished speaking a guard entered, closely followed by another line of patients.

When Marcus had first read the Huntresses file, he hadn’t known what to expect. He’d imagined a wiry, half feral woman with insane eyes and scars from living alone in the woods for her entire life… What he was not expecting was a six foot four woman with biceps the size of his fucking head or eyes as pitch black as the night sky. No wonder she was on the second floor. If she decided to start tossing people around, he doubted there were enough people on the first floor to slow her down, much less stop her…

Bubba was right behind her, his soft leather half mask still on his face. He looked strangely happy to be there, but considering lunch was the only time he really got out of his cell, it wasn’t that surprising.

“Okay, so–”

“Holy shit, look!” a voice interrupted, cutting Eli off and drawing the trio's attention away from the entering group. The smile on Frank’s face was sly, but his tone was friendly as he greeted, “David! Nice to see you! Leprechaun. Shortstack.”

Eli just sighed, looking unimpressed as the Legion gathered in front of them.

David happily waved back at his friends before gesturing for them to pay attention to the line in front of them. Lunch was one of the only times all the patients would cooperate, moving in a quick yet orderly manner. They were only allotted an hour and most of them, especially those from the second floor, would like to enjoy that full hour.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Joey scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was smiling as he said it and his tone was more joking than serious.

It looked like all four of them were excited to see their favorite orderly moving up in the asylum. Well, down, technically. Continuing to laugh and joke amongst themselves, the group joined the back of the line as those who’d gone straight for their food were already taking their seats.

Taking a moment to look around, Marcus noted the way the Huntress sat alone at a far corner table. Her eyes were narrow and focused, constantly looking around her as she quickly ate. She didn’t relax when Amanda made her way to her table, but she didn’t seem bothered by her presence when she sat down with her either.

Bubba stuck to Kenneth’s side like glue, going so far as to snarl at a guard who tried to touch the Clown’s arm when he started having a rather violent coughing fit.

“Ah, shit,” Eli muttered. “You two stay here. Just observe for now,” he instructed, before hurrying over to help.

Left on their own, the two orderlies were suddenly in the spotlight. Although the first floor patients were very familiar with them, the second floor were not. Only a small handful of them had actually seen the orderlies during the blood draws the day before, but that didn’t stop the patients from openly eyeballing them. The lack of guard uniforms made them stand out more, and Marcus knew it would only be a matter of time before patients started trying to see just how much they could get away with…

Marcus could feel David’s hand creep into his, gripping onto his pinky as if he could keep the poor orderly safe if any of the patients decided to act out. “Um, what exactly are we supposed to be doing? Stand in a corner?”

“I think here is fine,” he offered, doing his best to smile reassuringly. “Eli did tell us to stay put after all.”

As though summoned, Eli came shuffling back over, looking a bit frazzled but otherwise okay. “Sorry, Bubba is extremely protective of Kenneth. Of course, he’s not in the greatest of health as I’m sure you can hear, and that can make Bubba very anxious…”

“I take it that means a bad time for all of us?” Marcus asked. He’d been half joking in an attempt to lighten the mood, but when he received a somber nod, he swallowed nervously.

“Right, I should probably introduce you both to Michael,” Eli said, looking around. A few of the patients had already finished eating and were milling about the room. They were allowed to get up and move around, so long as they didn’t try to leave or take anyone else's food.

Looking around as well, Marcus frowned slightly. Where the hell had Ghostface gone? He’d seen him come in and grab his tray. Had he been escorted back to his cell for some reason?

Before he could think about it much more, Eli pointed out, “Okay, so it’s a little complicated, but that’s Michael over there.”

Following his head nod, Marcus did a double take. Was… was Eli referring to the old man calmly eating a bowl of unidentifiable soup alone at his table?! Because it sure as hell looked like it! The balding patient was old enough to be his grandfather! One of his eyes was heavily scarred, leaving the damaged iris with a milky film. The ginger would’ve questioned why he was there and not at a nursing home if it weren’t for the fact that he was jacked. The buffest old man he’d ever seen. He looked like he could lift King over his head and throw him if he wanted to.

Tearing his eyes off of ‘Michael’, Marcus stared incredulously at Eli. “Look… I try not to judge. I do. I get that some people have… interesting tastes and there’s nothing wrong with liking older men–”

“What?! No, not that Michael, the other one!” Eli squawked, gesticulating wildly.

Both Marcus and David looked over in time to see a much more reasonably aged man with curly brown hair dumping his empty tray in the bin for the kitchen to collect. He was also a more reasonable height and weight, not too tall and not too muscular. A similar scar to the older man ran over his eye, yet it absolutely did not negate the fact that he had the face of a cherub. Beautiful drooping brown eyes, a perfect cupid’s bow over plush lips. He looked like a classic movie star heart throb.

“Oh yeah,” David nodded. “That makes so much more sense. Good for you.’

Marcus was torn between the confusing fact that both of them were named Michael, and the idea that such a handsome, unassuming looking man was regularly leaving his friend looking like microwaved roadkill.

Eli turned to David, the start of a sigh already passing his lips when he made a small choking sound. They’d all slowly gravitated away from the wall in an attempt to get a better look at the Michael’s, and he was suddenly looking at something over the orderly’s heads.

Clearing his throat, he said softly, “Wrong Michael. Again.”

“What-” Marcus stopped, suddenly very aware of the sound of breathing right above him and David. Freezing in place for a moment, he very slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Finding himself face to chest, he half turned so he could look up.

The man standing over him and David was by far larger than anyone else on the floor. Dwarfing all three of them, his dark blond hair hung down to his shoulders. Dark eyes glittered behind a bright orange mask, calling back to one of the key points of Eli’s story.

“Holy shit, that’s Michael fucking Myers,” Marcus blurted out, not realizing he’d said it aloud until David’s fingers clamped around his arm like a vice.

Above him, Michael’s head canted to one side, while towards the opposite side of the cafeteria, both other Michael’s head’s suddenly turned in their direction. It was like being stalked by a pack of wolves, and the ginger took a small step back.

“Right,” Eli said softly. “A-about that… They- Um, this is… difficult to explain… Old Man Myers was the original Haddonfield Boogeyman. This is his… son. And so is the other one.”

“Is that in their files?” David whispered, eyes as big as saucers as he stared up at the orange mask. They hadn’t gotten to the Michael’s yet, but it seemed like a pretty big oversight if it wasn’t.

“Yeah, it’s not,” the nurse confirmed. It was only then they realized he’d very slowly been inching forward until he was between them and Michael. Although he was still speaking to them, he made sure his body was facing the patient at all times. “It’s not widely known, and is in fact kept out of news circulation to avoid panic. See, when PeePaw Myers was in Smith’s Grove, he had some… fans. And that led to a couple of unexpected pregnancies…”

“Pretty hair,” a childish voice said, and Marcus nearly leapt a foot in the air. That had been so close to his ear he swore he almost felt breath on the back of his neck. Half expecting to find Ghostface playing a joke on him when he turned, he recoiled slightly when he was met with an odd imitation of a porcelain mask. At least, he assumed that’s what it was trying to mimic. Much like Michael’s paper mache jack-o'lantern mask, the one the other patient was wearing was clearly just paper and paint.

Eyes narrowing slightly, the man seemed to be studying him closely, but had thus far not made any move to accost him.

“Ah, fuck,” Eli muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “Boy, get back to your table.”

Shit, that was the Boy?! He was at least as tall as Ghostface! Not as heavily built as Michael, he still looked strong enough to cause a lot of harm if he grabbed someone. Recalling something about him climbing a wall in an attempt to tear into an air vent, Marcus tried to think of a way to calmly deescalate the situation. He wasn’t about to get any of the guards involved, not sure who was still too new to the floor to be of any use and not about to risk starting an altercation over an invasion of his personal space.

“Michael!” Eli hissed, and before Marcus could stop himself, he was looking back over his shoulder again just in time to see the giant taking a step around Eli so he could get a closer look at David.

Knees bending, Michael lowered himself until he was kind of at eye level with the orderly. Clearly Eli had been hoping his presence would scare Brahms away, but since the nurse wasn’t in any immediate danger, he was entirely focused on the smaller man.

The size difference between the two was comical. Eli was short but David was even shorter, practically looking like a child next to the six foot ten killer. When he leaned down, David leaned down too, trying his best to keep distance between them. All it did was corner him even more, but he didn’t realize that as he wheezed, “Hgnh, please don’t eat me.”

“Michael, these are the friends I was telling you about,” Eli quickly explained, doing his best to keep an eye on both him and Brahms. The Boy was slowly inching closer and closer to Marcus, hands twitching every so often as if he wanted to reach out and touch him.

The idea that Eli had been talking to Michael about them both made Marcus shiver, although he wasn’t sure why. It was likely for their benefit. There would be no help for either of them if the man decided he didn’t like them...

Still crouching, Michael scooted closer to David, hair falling over his masked face as he tilted his head to one side.

As soon as Marcus looked over, intent on gently urging Eli to try and call off his… boyfriend? A hand reached over his shoulder and grabbed his chest. Shocked by the unexpected and entirely unwelcome touch, he jerked away, spinning around as he snapped, “Ah! You don’t do that!”

Brahms stared back at him, eyes wide behind his mask. Hand still outstretched, he blinked several times before saying with borderline disappointment, “Small…”

Looking down at his chest, then back up, Marcus frowned. “Excuse me?”

A shrill squeal had him jerking his head around, fearing the worst. It was bad, but not yet as bad as it could have been. Michael had apparently had enough of staring at David and had opted to grab him under the armpits and lift him to eye level.

The silence that followed the orderly’s terrified screech was jarring, and for a moment, no one moved. Every eye in the cafeteria had turned to watch, the guards all with a hand on their batons and the patients interested in watching what could possibly turn into a murder.

Recovering first, Eli snapped into action. Voice low and serious, he hissed, “Michael! You can’t be grabbing people just because they’re smaller than you! It’s one thing when you do it to me, but you can’t do that to him! That’s Emory’s kid!”

Thankfully David wasn’t struggling, hanging limply and silently in Michael’s hands, almost as if he were a dead fish.

At the name, Michael’s eyes seemed to turn even darker and his head slowly tilted to the other side.

Marcus was seriously worried he was about to squeeze David like a grape, when a deep female voice barked, “Myers! Give me that!”

Assuming it was a guard, Marcus turned at the same time Eli did, only to find the Huntress stalking forward. Amanda was still seated at their table, but with a worried expression on her face.

Only Michael’s head moved, body still angled mostly away from the approaching woman as he held David several feet off the floor. He made absolutely no move to drop his captive or hand him over as ordered, and the air in the room seemed to get thinner. A fight seemed inevitable. Two highly volatile patients facing off over possession of a staff member could only lead to trouble.

“Eli, what do we– Eecck! Stop that!” Marcus ordered in a harsh whisper. Brahms had reached out and was attempting to run his fingers through the ginger's messy hair. He’d pulled it back into a small pony-tail, although it did absolutely nothing to keep it out of his face since it wasn’t long enough to all be pulled back together.

It didn’t seem to really matter that he hadn’t been able to get his question out, as Eli was starting to look slightly panicked as well. Not daring to put himself between the two patients, he tried desperately to reason, “Neither of you need to be manhandling David! He’s a member of the staff, and–”

Swearing at him in what sounded like Russian, the Huntress watched him flinch before ducking behind Michael. Turning her black eyes back on the giant, she seethed, “Give me the child, or I will take her from you!”

‘Her?’ Marcus mouthed silently, before physically slapping Brahms’ hand away when he tried to cop a feel of his chest again.

Head tilting slightly, Michael returned his gaze to David before transferring one hand to the front of his scrubs. Holding him out to one side, he finally turned to the Huntress as if challenging her to come take the orderly from him.

Squaring her shoulders, the Huntress stepped closer until they were toe to toe. It was looking more and more like physical intervention was going to be necessary. The only thing keeping it from happening already was the immediate risk to a staff member's life and well being…

Michael didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the woman squaring up to him, even if she was almost at his eye level. He still had a few inches on her, but she didn’t care.

As the two continued to posture like a pair of angry dogs, Marcus noticed David slowly attempting to wiggle out of his shirt. He wasn’t making a lot of progress yet, but neither of the patients had noticed. If he could get free and drop to the floor, it was likely the guards would move in and attempt to subdue both the Huntress and the Evil before they could get physically violent.

Unfortunately, it never got that far. With a shark-like grin, Frank climbed up onto his table, an empty tray in his hands. Before anyone could stop him, he flung it like a frisbee, right at the side of Michael’s head…

The tray connected with a cracking sound, the flimsy plastic splintering before it could even hit the floor. Michael moved so quickly and aggressively, Marcus barely registered it until he realized David had hit the floor.

There was a loud crash as the patient grabbed the nearest table and flipped it, knocking over the three patients that had been sitting there as well as their trays of half eaten food. Perhaps the most shocking part of the violent act was that even though he’d made it seem almost effortless, he’d actually ripped the bolts out of the cement floor in the process.

The chaos was immediate. The Huntress lunged for David, a wild look in her eyes. She was only stopped because Brahms had unintentionally gotten in the way as he made a grab for Marcus as he tried to help his friend off the floor.

Several of the other patients had turned on the Legion for starting a fight with one of the Michael’s, while Freddy, Ji-Woon, and Caleb were cursing and hollering about the table and food that had been flipped over on them.

The Trapper seemed a little too happy for an excuse to act on his violent impulses and immediately grabbed the nearest person. It just happened to be a guard, and the man was flung across the room before the first screech of the emergency lockdown alarm had finished blaring.

“Out, out, everyone out!” a voice shouted, and Marcus looked over to see Leon waving the remaining staff towards the cafeteria exit. He’d been called down as soon as David had been grabbed, arriving just in time to see Michael throwing the table. Since the alarm had been activated, the emergency door to the stairs had opened, allowing the non-guard staff a safe route to the first floor without blocking the elevators for arriving guards.

Grabbing David, Marcus yanked him upright. Propelling him forward, he yelled, “Let’s go! Eli, come on!”

The nurse needed no encouragement, grabbing David’s wrist and half dragging him towards the exit. Following close behind, Marcus found himself ducking fists, dodging flying trays, and just doing his best not to get accidentally taken out by a taser or baton as the guards attempted to subdue what was turning into a full riot.

“This way, come on!” Leon was directing, busy ensuring there was a clear path to the door for the fleeing staff members.

As the trio ran past him, Marcus spared a quick glance back over his shoulder. He mildly regretted it, as he was just in time to see Bubba tear a chunk out of a guard's arm with his teeth…

Whipping back around, he tried to focus on keeping up with Eli and David, who’d gotten a bit ahead. Unfortunately, it meant he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening around him. Not seeing the hand dart out of a barely open closet door, Marcus let out a shocked wheeze when his collar suddenly pulled tight across his throat. Yanked backwards, he was plunged into near total darkness as the door was slammed shut.

The sounds of fighting and panicked shouting could still be heard faintly on the other side of the door, but he barely noticed. Something much more pressing had come up.

Back pushed up against the closed door, a hand over his mouth kept him from trying to yell for help. It was unlikely anyone would have heard him or noticed it was coming from inside a janitorial closet even if they had, but clearly Ghostface wasn’t about to take any chances.

The faint light coming in from under the door was just enough to illuminate the predatory smile on his face as he leaned closer.

“Hello, Doc… I think it’s time I showed you just how serious I am…”
~~~~

Notes:

Oops :)

Chapter 25: Know Your Place

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus: Haha, I'm in danger!

But, really though... When isn't he?

“Hello, Doc… I think it’s time I showed you just how serious I am…”

All Marcus could think was that he was about to die. Surely Ghostface had been festering over his little challenge, scheming up ways to make him pay dearly. Barely able to see in the dark and unable to stop blind panic from setting in, he did the only thing he could think of. After a moment of frozen terror, he began twisting and thrashing as hard as he could, first trying to push Ghostface off, then further away so he could get the door behind him open. Unfortunately, it opened inward, so he’d need a decent amount of space to actually get it open enough to escape.

The smallest hint of a gap appeared between them, and Marcus felt a burst of adrenaline. Twisting as hard as he could, he managed to shove Ghostface back a step. Fingers barely brushing the door handle, his attempt to flee was just as quickly cut short.

Choking as an arm looped around his neck, all he could do was flail his legs and claw at Ghostface’s arm as he was dragged backwards. The ginger let out a strangled wheeze as he was nearly lifted off his feet, caught in a headlock he had no hopes of breaking out of.

“You belong to me,” Ghostface hissed, lips just shy of brushing his ear. “Just like my knife, my mask, and my name… You. Are. Mine!”

Marcus let out a choked whimper, eyes watering as his lungs screamed for oxygen he wasn’t getting. Despite the words being coldly whispered in his ear, the only thing running through his mind was that he was about to die.

“On shift, off shift, in here, out there, you are mine,” the killer claimed, arm squeezing even tighter. “There is nothing that will stop me from finding you. You get fired? You leave? You try to run? I will get out of here and I will find you... Do you know why?”

If he could have answered, he would have repeated the mantra Ghostface was so aggressively drilling into his head. He was his, and no one else's. As it was, he couldn’t get a single word out. Even in the darkness of the closet, Marcus could tell his vision was getting spotty. His fingers felt numb and clumsy as he pawed weakly at the man’s arm, legs starting to go limp as his strength waned.

Dropped back on his feet suddenly, Marcus’s knees almost gave out. Before he could fall, he was being shoved into a corner. Barely getting a single gulp of air before a hand was clamping down over his mouth again, he panted desperately through his nose as he stared up at Ghostface.

Lip curling in a sadistic smile, Danny pulled back enough to look him in the eyes, but made sure he was just as crushed against the wall as before. “Don’t look at me like that, baby boy… I’m not going to hurt you. But when I get out of here… and I will get out of here… I’m going to find the slack jawed mouth breather that bruised up your pretty neck and I’m going to slit his throat so deeply that when the coroner tries to move his body his entire head is going to fall off.”

Marcus flinched, knees shaking as he helplessly awaited his own fate. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he was terrified. The last staff member Ghostface had taken an interest in had been discovered in a closet just like the one he was trapped in, and for all he knew, he was about to suffer the same end.

“Hmmm, tell me something, Doc,” Danny purred, hand slowly moving down to wrap around his throat. “When you were with… whoever the fuck it was… Were you thinking of him? Or were you thinking of me?”

The ginger choked, but it wasn’t from the fingers curled around his neck. He wanted to lie. He wanted to claim that he hadn’t thought of the man even once the entire time he’d been gone… But he couldn’t stop himself from stammering in a tiny voice, “Y-yes…”

There was a brief pause, then fingers digging into his windpipe until he was lightheaded and wheezing. Head pushed back, he wasn’t given room to move away when lips brushed his ear, a voice asking in a low, dangerously smug tone, “What was that, baby?”

“Yes,” Marcus repeated, hands shaking as he gripped Ghostface’s wrist.

“Yes, what?” he pressed, teeth grazing his ear lobe.

Biting the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound he almost made, the ginger licked his dry lips before admitting, “I- I was th- thinking of you.”

“And what… were you thinking about me? Ghostface coaxed, fingers shifting to give himself room to press his lips to Marcus’s neck.

Unable to bite down the whimper that slipped out of him that time, he had to try several times to actually form words. Each time he’d try to answer, Ghostface would graze his teeth along his jugular or press a finger a little harder into his larynx.

“I- I just- I- I wondered– what it– what it would feel like– if- if it was you i-instead,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. He’d expected to feel disgusted with himself, saying it out loud… So why did he feel relieved? Like saying it out loud made it less hard to accept? Like it made it… okay to want.

A low laugh answered his confession and he tensed, waiting for something painful to happen. Instead, his shaking legs were roughly pushed apart by a knee. Ghostface’s thigh slotted between them, rubbing against his dick through his scrubs and pulling a sharp gasp from him.

Blush hidden by the darkness, Marcus tried to look down. What he was looking for was a mystery to him too, as seeing it wouldn’t make it any less real. He had no doubt Ghostface could feel him growing hard from the pressure.

“You want to feel me instead, baby boy?” the killer purred, breath ghosting over the wet patch of skin on his neck.

It sent shivers down the ginger's spine and he bit his lip. He… did. He did, very much so, but he couldn’t say that!

“Ooh, I think you do,” Ghostface continued, seemingly unbothered by his silence. “So? How’d you two do it? Hmm? In the back of Dwight’s shitty van? In the hotel shower?”

“N-no,” Marcus heard himself answer, mind slow from a dangerous lack of oxygen. “Was- wasn’t– s-someone from– work. Just- just some guy– at the club.”

The fingers on his throat loosened just enough for him to take several desperate gulps of air before he choked again, although that time it wasn’t from being strangled. Ghostface had purposefully raised his leg, pushing the vet up onto his toes and grinding against his dick in the process.

“Insatiable thing, aren’t you, Doc?” Ghostface questioned, free hand suddenly grabbing his wrists. Easily pulling them away from his arm, he let go of Marcus’s neck before pulling his arms up over his head to pin them to the wall.

Eyes wide in the dark, Marcus barely caught a glimpse of the man’s teeth as he smiled before two fingers were being shoved into his mouth. Head tilted back, his shocked cry as teeth clamped down on his neck was mostly muffled. Not that it would have mattered if it hadn’t been. From the sounds of it, the riot was still going strong, which meant Danny had all the time he needed to do whatever it was he was planning…

Whimpering and squirming in a weak attempt to escape, it quickly started to become something else. Every movement of his hips in the limited space he was allowed rubbed him against Danny’s thigh, sending sparks of heat curling through him. Teeth, tongue, and lips moved deliberately over his skin, biting and sucking and licking, leaving behind more than a single hickey to commemorate the moment.

‘I should stop,’ Marcus thought hazily, legs tightening around Danny’s thigh. Muffled sounds of pleasure escaped him, sneaking past the man’s fingers as he drooled around them. ‘He might kill me.’

But the thought was quickly swept away by the burning knot tightening in his stomach. Every thrust of his hips felt more and more desperate, half formed thoughts flitting through his mind as one consistently pushed them aside.

‘I’m gonna cum,’ Marcus realized, eyes shooting open. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, but it was too late to do anything about it. Entire body shuddering, he couldn’t stop himself from biting down on Ghostface’s fingers as he came with one last stuttering thrust.

Feeling entirely drained of energy, the ginger couldn’t help but go almost completely limp in the killer's hands. Held up mostly by the body pressing him into the wall, he didn’t have the strength to protest when the fingers in his mouth turned, hooking under his tongue and pulling his head down.

Finally abandoning his relentless assault on Marcus’s neck, Ghostface straightened up to meet his eyes. Smirking, he purred, “Oh, you are eager, aren’t you, Doc? And to think, if you’d only behaved last time, we could have done this in the yard. Oh well. It’s not too late to make up for lost time.”

Drooling around his fingers and unable to ask, Marcus could only silently question what he meant. He didn’t have to wonder for long, as he was suddenly spun around. Shoved against the wall, he let out a startled squeak when his pants were yanked down.

The fingers that had just been in his mouth were suddenly pressing teasingly at his ass and he couldn’t help the way he groaned. His body already felt sensitive and drained, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest. It felt good, and despite the fear of what was at the end of Ghostface’s plan for him, he couldn’t convince himself to try and put a stop to it.

Hey, if he was going to die anyway, why not die satisfied?

Shivering from head to toe as fingers pressed inside him, Marcus tried to brace himself with his arms against the wall. As soon as he did, Danny’s other arm snaked around his ribs, reaching up under his shirt until his fingers were playing across the ginger's chest.

“Look at you, opening up so easy for me,” Ghostface purred, nuzzling his face into the back of Marcus’s neck. “Some part of you must want to accept it already, Doc… You’re mine. You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Haa,” was all he managed in response, brain full of static at the sensation of lips against his skin. Back arching as fingers slowly pumped in and out of him, he found himself rocking back against the hand fucking him. When a hand brushed over his nipple, he had to bite his tongue to stifle a moan. It didn’t work very well, and he whimpered when teeth grazed his ear.

“Ooh, sweet boy,” Ghostface cooed, fingers withdrawing. “You love to be touched, don’t you, Doc? Is that why you’ve been trying to keep your distance? You knew if I got my hands on you it would all be over?”

His whine of protest turned into a choked squeak as his nipple was pinched rather hard. It had hurt, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny how much he liked the way it felt.

Feeling something long and hard pressing against the small of his back, he froze, eyes wide in the dark. Pushed against the wall as Danny slowly ground against him, he gulped when he heard a low laugh.

“God, I’m going to absolutely ruin you.”

Bracing himself against the wall wasn’t enough and he moaned, legs nearly giving out as Danny finally pushed his cock into him. It burned, but the way it filled him was something he’d only shamefully daydreamed about.

Bottoming out in one hard thrust, Ghostface held him there, pushed up on his toes against the wall as he sputtered and whimpered incoherently. He felt like his brain had short circuited. He could feel hot breath against the back of his neck, Danny panting heavily before sinking his teeth into his skin.

Gasping, Marcus almost didn’t hear him snarling, “Fuck, you’re goddamn tight!”

Pulling back to the point of almost pulling out entirely, Ghostface waited until he was squirming and whining to slam back into him. Cooing praises in his ear at the near sob that mingled with his moan, the killer mused, “I promised you something last time I had you, didn’t I, Doc?”

Panting tiredly, the ginger tried to think back to anything other than what was happening inside the janitor's closet. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a single thing, too distracted by the burning in his gut.

“C’mon, baby boy,” Ghostface guided, nipping gently at his neck as his other arm curled around his waist. “I know you haven’t been able to stop thinking about me. I’ve been thinking about you. About all the things I’m going to do to you.”

Marcus cried out, his weak attempt at an answer lost as he was nearly lifted off his feet entirely. The arm around his chest squeezed tight, holding him close as Danny began a slow, rhythmic thrust of his hips.

“God, you feel so good around me, Doc,” Ghostface praised, voice low and hungry. “And to think, if you’d just been a good boy for me we could have done this without me cashing in even more favors with the Legion.”

Although his comment sent alarm bells off in Marcus’s head, they were quickly drowned out by the sounds being punched out of him with every deliberate snap of Danny’s hips. Heat pooling in his stomach and legs trembling, he felt like he was about to cum again. Through the haze clouding his thoughts, he briefly wondered how many other people had experienced what he was now, before Ghostface killed them.

When all movement suddenly stopped, he let out a pathetic whimper. It took him a second to realize the sound had come out of him, but he was given no time to dwell on it. Gasping and twitching when the killer pulled out, he was powerless to stop himself from being spun around. Back hitting the wall, he was caught even more off guard when hands hooked under his ass, lifting him up off the floor.

Back arching off the wall as Ghostface pressed back into him, he wrapped his arms around the back of his neck. Burying his face in Danny’s neck, he let out a muffled cry as he was dropped down on the man's cock.

Keeping one arm under him, the killer reached up to grab a handful of his hair. Yanking his head back, he ordered, “Let me hear you, Doc.”

“Nggh, ah, Gh-Ghostface,” he whined, eyes watering. He was so sensitive and close, it was torture.

“Hmmm?” he purred, pressing him back against the wall. Not waiting for an answer, he dropped his hand back to the ginger’s leg, effortlessly holding him up as he began aggressively rutting into him.

“Oh, oh g- god, fuck!” Marcus moaned, head forced back as Ghostface leaned down to clamp his teeth onto his bruised skin. “Ghostf-face, please, I- I’m going to- I- I need to-”

Head rising so the ginger could see his victorious smirk, he asked in a thick voice, “Do you remember now, Doc?”

“I- I’m– Oh, fuck,” he whimpered, fingers clawing desperately at Ghostface’s shoulders. His fucked out mind could only come up with one answer, and he heard himself promising brokenly, “I’m- I’m yours, Ghostface.”

There was the briefest pause in the killer's movements but Marcus was too gone to notice it. The next second, lips brushed his ear as Danny cooed, “That’s my good boy. Now, you’re going to cum on my cock, and as a reward, I’m going to cum inside you.”

“Mmhm,” Marcus whimpered, too desperate for release to be worried that he wasn’t using any protection.

A few more targeted thrusts were enough to push him over the edge he’d been teetering on and he came between them with a strangled cry.

“Oh, fuck,” Ghostface moaned, fingers digging into his thighs. “Holy shit, this was worth the wait.”

“Ghostface, please, please,” Marcus begged, tears starting to build in the corners of his eyes. His body was so sensitive, too sensitive even, but the killer wasn’t quite done with him.

“Hmm, so pretty,” he murmured, before leaning down to press his lips to the gingers.

The sound of shock he made was muffled, only to be further silenced by Danny’s tongue forcing its way into his mouth. He’d been kissed plenty of times before, but there was something demanding and possessive in Ghostface’s kiss. The way his tongue traced over his lips before once more pushing between them, muffling his whimpers and swallowing every sound he made.

Something hot and wet filled Marcus and he shuddered, body so sensitive he could feel each twitch of Ghostface’s cock as he spilled inside him. Still held tightly between his body and the wall, the ginger shivered as soft kisses were dotted along his neck, slowly working back up his jaw to his mouth again.

Leaning into it when Danny pulled back, he whined when he was met with a low laugh. “Hmmm, insatiable. I like that about you, Doc.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, mind still slow and foggy. Gasping when Ghostface shifted, cock sliding out of him with an obscene wet pop, he whined as his legs were gently guided back to the floor. Hands slid up his sides, caressing him through his shirt before grabbing his face to ensure he was looking where he was supposed to.

“Ooh, look at you,” Ghostface teased. “You need a minute, don’t you Doc?”

A minute. An hour. Marcus wasn’t sure what the difference was, as he slowly started to come back to his senses. Despite the warmth inside the closet, he couldn’t stop shivering. His legs felt like noodles, throat raw and mouth dry as he tried to swallow.

It was interesting… He couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d just done or what he’d participated in… But he was once again starting to feel that creeping fear that he was about to be brutally murdered.

Head tilting slightly, Ghostface pursed his lips. “Hmm, I know that look. You’re worried.”

“Sh-should I- should I not be?” he asked, voice tight.

“I’m not into snuff films, baby boy,” Danny promised, sounding rather amused. “But from the sounds of it, we finished up just in time.”

Forcing himself to focus past the sound of his heart racing, Marcus realized the commotion outside the closet had indeed started to lull. Eyes widening, he gulped. He could feel the mess dripping down the inside of his legs, only adding to the mess in his scrub bottoms. His boxers were sticking to his skin, and he knew there’d be a large wet patch in the front when he pulled them back up all the way.

The realization that his scrubs were still pulled down had him scrambling to grab the hem of his pants. Yanking them back up from where they’d been bunched up under his ass to allow Danny access, he sputtered, “How- What the fuck am I supposed to do?! How am I going to explain this?! What if someone asks–”

“Shhh, baby,” Ghostface soothed, one hand sliding down to gently grip his neck. It shut him up instantly, and the man took the opportunity to instruct, “Keep your head down and get back to the first floor by any route necessary. Take the stairs if they’re still open to avoid the guards and patients using the elevators. You have extra scrubs in your locker, right?”

Nodding quickly, Marcus found himself wondering how many times he’d dragged someone into a closet to have such a readily available action plan.

“Now, if anyone sees you before you can get cleaned up and asks…. Tell them you hooked up in a closet. It happens all the time around here,” Ghostface said, entirely calm and in control. “But do not tell them with who. Not yet.”

Marcus was about to ask why not yet, but he was being tugged away from the wall and guided towards the door before he could get a single word out. Stammering for a moment, it wasn’t until Danny had a hand on the doorknob and an ear pressed up against the barrier that he managed to ask, “What about you? What- how are you going to get out of here without getting caught?”

Grinning like a wolf, Ghostface reached up to pinch his cheeks with one hand. Pulling him close, he promised in a low voice, “Sweetheart, I have no idea what you mean. I’ve been out there this whole time, and there are plenty of people who will back that up. Now get your pretty little ass upstairs before I bend you over that mop bucket and make an even bigger mess in your scrubs.”

Blinking several times, Marcus wasn’t able to come up with a single thing to say in response, brain having flatlined the second the man’s fingers were touching his skin. Before he knew what was happening, the door cracked open and he was momentarily blinded by the sudden harsh light.

Stumbling as he was propelled forwards into the hall, he barely noticed Ghostface slip out behind him, disappearing into the slowly settling crowd in the cafeteria. Multiple patients were on the ground, magnetic cuffs locking their hands behind their backs while the ones around their ankles were keeping them from jumping up and kicking the guards.

Most of the first floor patients were lined up along the far wall, hands behind them but ankles loose so they could sit cross legged on the floor. Caleb was the only one who’d been allowed to sit in a chair, his leg brace making it impossible for him to sit like the rest of them even if he’d wanted to.

Just as he was starting to turn away, thankful that the door to the emergency stairs was still open, he noticed both the Trapper and Huntress being dragged towards the center of the cafeteria. Both had been much more heavily restrained than the others still inside, with a second set of cuffs having been manually placed around their biceps, pulling their arms further back and keeping them from having any real range of motion. The most shocking thing, perhaps, was the heavy duty leather muzzles placed over the previously partially open mouth guards. It looked like the ‘bite risk’ warning in their files hadn’t been exaggerated after all.

Tearing his attention away from the ongoing chaos, Marcus quickly ducked through the door to the stairs. Ghostface had been right and he didn’t see anyone else on his assent. Reaching the heavy metal door at the top, he fumbled around for his badge to get it open.

Peering cautiously out into the hall, he winced at the sight of several guards a few feet away. They weren’t paying attention to the door, busy listening to orders being barked over the walkies to notice another orderly escaping the now contained riot.

Still, Marcus couldn’t help the way he blushed as he hurried in the opposite direction. Thank god he knew his way around upstairs. He knew a longer, less busy path to the locker rooms. It would be bad enough running into other staff members looking like he did, but running into one of his roommates or David, or worse, Jack, could put him hot water. He needed a shower and a change of clothes before he could even consider dealing with that…

Scurrying along the back halls, Marcus ended up running into far more people than he’d expected or anticipated. It seemed that due to the riot, everyone was on high alert, which meant a lot more people moving around the asylum. He didn’t really know any of them, but he kept having to turn around or pretend to be bending down to check his shoe laces to cover the giant wet patch on the crotch of his scrubs.

Certain he’d gotten past the worst of it, he almost had a heart attack right as he reached the locker room door. A voice had spoken right behind him, asking, “Can you point me in the direction of the security office?”

Freezing for a second, Marcus tried to think. He was facing the locker room door with the person behind him, but if he turned around they’d see the mess… Slowly lowering his hands in front of his crotch, he interlaced his fingers as though he was just fiddling with his hands and not trying to cover a suspicious stain.

Turning, he started to answer but stopped immediately. “You!”

Not famous action movie star and film director Nic Cage was standing there in a guards uniform that looked far too large for him. Smiling at the ginger, he agreed, “Yes, me. Anyway, I’m looking for the security office! I have paperwork to do.”

If he could have raised his hands, Marcus would have tried to strangle him. “You don’t have any paperwork! You’re not even supposed to be here! Who’s badge is that anyway?!”

“It’s mine,” not-Nic Cage told him. “I’m-” he paused, lifting the badge to look at it before turning it around to show the orderly as he said, “Jack Krauser.”

“How the fuck did you get that?!” Marcus screeched, scrambling backwards as though the picture glaring back at him was about to come to life and beat him with a baton.

Instead of answering, the fake Lieutenant advised, “You might want to put some ice or even aloe vera on those.”

“On what?!” he demanded, too busy looking up and down the hall for any signs of their actual Lieutenant coming to take back his stolen property.

“All those bruises,” the intruder explained. “You can trust me. I’m a doctor.”

“No you’re not!” Marcus argued, whipping around just in time to watch him throw a pharmacist's coat over his security uniform.

“See? I’m a doctor, and you’re bruised like a banana that just lost a boxing match against a kangaroo.”

“I now understand why people commit murder,” Marcus seethed, nearly lunging for the man.

“Oh, I better get going,” not-Nic Cage said, looking at his wrist as though he had a watch. He didn’t… “Lot’s of important paperwork to do.”

He was hurrying away down the hall, around the corner and out of sight before Marcus could demand he answer for his crimes. At least, he was pretty sure he was committing crimes. Identity theft for one. Maybe trespassing or breaking and entering as well…

Sighing, Marcus knew he had no other choice but to let it go for the time being. Taking one last quick look around, he ducked into the locker room to get cleaned up.

As with any health care job, he knew to come prepared. Pulling a towel and some extra clothes out of his locker, he quickly stripped and chucked his dirty clothes into his take home laundry bag. He could throw them down the chute for janitorial to wash and return to him later in the week, but he was paranoid that if he did, someone would question the unusual mess.

Turning the water on full blast, he stepped into the spray before it had a chance to heat up all the way. It wasn’t unbearably cold and it warmed up fast so he wasn’t too worried about it. Not that he had room in his head to do so anyway.

Grabbing a bottle of body wash, he used almost twice as much as he usually would. Scrubbing at his legs and thighs, his initially frantic, worried pace started to slow. He couldn’t help but pause as he took in the fingerprint shaped bruises already appearing on his thighs. Each one its own distinct event, and with them, the fresh memory of Ghostface’s hands on his body.

Marcus had never been so effortlessly held up like that. Never been taken apart in such a manor, only to be pulled back together by the same hands. Tearing his eyes away, he continued washing. But he couldn’t stop replaying what had happened over and over in his mind.

Ghostface could have done anything to him. He could have killed him, or even forced him if he’d said no. Not that he would have, he realized. He hadn’t wanted to stop, despite his lingering fears that he’d be killed in that closet instead…

Shit, he needed to move. His absence was undoubtedly going to be noticed, if hadn’t been already, and he didn’t need anyone organizing a search party over fears that he’d been killed or hurt during the riot.

Giving his hair a quick rinse to help wash the remaining smell of sweat and sex off of him, the ginger hurried to shut off the water and wrap a towel around his waist. Shuffling over to where he’d left his pile of clothes, he made quick work of drying off before pulling everything on.

Tossing his dirty towel down the shute, he started to make his way back out when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. His neck was entirely ringed with dark bruises. There would be no covering them or hiding them, even if he was to borrow a turtle neck for a few days until they healed. Ghostface had taken his little challenge and flipped it on its head, making sure there was no way anyone could cover his work again…

Reaching up, Marcus ran his fingers over the tender, bitten skin. A shuddering breath left him, the memory of Ghostface’s teeth and tongue in the same place, so fresh he could almost feel him there still. The killer had made his point, but too many questions and doubts still lingered for Marcus to be truly at ease.

Still, something new was winding itself through him. A strange, nearly foreign feeling… He felt… proud. Of the marks on his skin, of the deep buzz of satisfaction Ghostface had left him with, and the lingering high of pleasure burning in his veins. Despite knowing that he’d allowed himself to be put into a dangerous situation… he couldn’t bring himself to regret a moment of it. He’d enjoyed it…

Marcus knew it was only a matter of time before he’d see both Ghostface and his friends and coworkers again. There was no avoiding it and putting it off any longer would only make it harder to explain away the bruises. There was no hiding them, nor could he avoid them all until they faded away.

Taking a deep breath, Marcus nodded at his reflection. He could do this. He just had to take it one day at a time, but it would be okay. Repeating the silent mantra over and over, he headed back to work.
~~~~

Notes:

Eyyyyy, looks like Danny finally got him! See ya'll next Friday!

Chapter 26: Difficult Questions

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus is faced with some very tough questions...

The nurses station was connected to the pharmacy, and the closer Marcus got, the more he started to worry. It was busier than usual, with more guards, nurses, and other orderlies milling around. The low buzz of chatter was all centered around one thing.

The riot downstairs.

From the sounds of it, or at least from what little he heard of many different conversations, no one had died. Quite a few people had been hurt, most of them being guards who shouldn’t have been assigned to the second floor yet anyway, and a lot of people were starting to throw Krauser’s name around.

Trying to tune it out, Marcus kept his head low, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to himself while he looked for David or Eli. He was seriously hoping to avoid Jack and Leon for at least a couple of days, but something told him that would be impossible given the circumstances.

He still had no idea what he’d say to any of them when questioned about the bruises all over his neck or where he’d been during the riot. Ghostface had said to tell the truth, but not all of it. What was he supposed to say, then? He’d gotten horny from the adrenaline rush and dragged a random and miraculously willing stranger who also happened to be a member of the staff into a closet for a quickie?

Not that there’d been anything quick about it… Oh, god, he was in trouble…

Hearing a shrill voice, he winced. It sounded like David had noticed his disappearance and was very, very worried.

Ducking around a few scattered guards as they waited on some ibuprofen for their accrued bumps and bruises, Marcus finally spotted the cause of the commotion.

Eli looked like he was about ready to put David in a headlock to try and help subdue him, but instead argued over his ranting about needing to find their missing friend, “You can’t go back down there until Leon calls the all clear! All the patients have to be put back in their cells and locked in before anyone else goes back down!”

”I don’t care if it’s safe or not, Marcus is still down there and he could be dead cause we’re all sitting on our asses and doing NOTHING!”

The guard that was holding onto the distressed orderly was actually struggling to hold him still, as he wouldn’t stop thrashing about. The little guy was surprisingly strong for his size. “Look man, he would’ve been up here with the others and- fuck- is probably in a different room or in medical- ow, that hurts! Stop kicking me!”

“I HOPE YOU GET CRABS!”

“We already checked medical, but I can go check again,” Eli offered, hoping to placate the frantic orderly. Just as he started to turn, he locked eyes with Marcus and froze. Eyes dropping to his neck for a split second, he looked back up at his face, something unreadable in his expression.

‘Oh fuck… He knows,’ Marcus realized, entire body going cold. Before he could say anything, the guard that had just been fighting to restrain David saw him too.

With a quiet, ‘Oh thank god,’ the man released the tiny, furious creature before loudly pointing out, “That’s him, right?! He’s the only ginger around!”

David whirled around with a gasp, eyes wide and frantic like a feral chipmunk as he practically threw himself at his friend.

”MARCUS! YOU’RE ALIVE!” His noodly arms felt like iron bars as they trapped the ginger in a suffocating hug. “Don’t you ever disappear like that again! You were right behind me and then you weren’t and I wanted to look for you but there was so many people and they wouldn’t stop pushing so I thought that maybe you fell and were getting trampled cause crowd crush is a thing but then no one saw you at all and no one would let me go look for you and I was so worried-” He finally took in a breath, burying his face against Marcus’s chest with a shaky breath. “I’m glad that you’re okay.”

Marcus felt so fucking horrible for worrying him. He hadn’t meant to! But he also hadn’t really stopped to consider what anyone would think if they noticed him missing at the time. It had taken so long for anyone to realize he’d disappeared in the yard, he’d kind of just… ignored it.

Eli was still staring at him from a few feet back, but his voice was surprisingly calm as he said, “It’s good to see you’re …in one piece. What happened?”

Still holding David as he sniffled a wet patch into the front of his scrub top, Marcus silently wondered if he could smell Danny on him… Clearing his throat did nothing to stop the intrusive thought or the way he blushed, and he quickly answered, “I, ah… got sidetracked. But I’m okay, really. Nothing… nothing happened that I… couldn’t handle?”

It almost sounded like a question at the end and he winced, looking away from Eli’s piercing stare. If it weren’t for the intense pressure of the situation, he’d have been more than a little annoyed with the nurse. He was the last person who had any right to judge him for
what had happened…

David peeled his face away from the tear stained fabric, mouth opened as he was about to ask a question when his eyes finally fell upon the fresh marks on the ginger’s neck. Before Marcus could think of an excuse, David had already grabbed his hand and started to drag him towards medical. “‘You could handle’, my ass! You got grabbed, didn’t you? That’s why you were gone for so long! Come on, Eli and I are gonna make sure that you didn’t get any broken bones with those bruises too! Then you can tell Leon who grabbed you when he gets back up here!”

Arm nearly yanked right out of the socket, Marcus staggered several steps before finally managing to get his feet moving fast enough to keep up with David’s breakneck pace. If he did have any broken bones when he got to medical, it would most likely be from being dragged face first into a wall at full speed.

Eli was right behind them, silent but clearly deep in thought. As soon as they arrived at the medical wing, he badged them in and led them back to one of the few unoccupied rooms. Most of the other doctors and nurses were already busy, so they slipped past practically unnoticed.

David walked like he was supposed to there and no one tried to stop and question them. It likely helped that an actual member of the nursing staff was with them, but still, Marcus really wished someone would step in and give him a chance to get the hell out of there… Dragged into an exam room, the door closed with a depressingly final sounding click, and his fate was sealed.

“So…” Eli said, crossing his arms. “What happened?”

“I… it was all kind of a blur,” Marcus lied, scratching the back of his head. In all honesty, he remembered every second of it with crystal clarity. The sound of Ghostface’s voice. The warmth of his hands and lips. The way his body– Oh, fuck, he needed to stop remembering it and lie! Convincingly!

“Well… Can you tell me who grabbed you?” Eli asked slowly.

Good lord, had he even blinked? His stare was awfully intense for someone usually so skittish and non-confrontational…

“Was it Ghostface?”

Marcus’s head whipped around to stare at David with wide eyes. “W-What?”

The orderly looked hesitant, tugging at his cardigan sleeves and eyeing the bruises warily. “I said, was it Ghostface? ‘Cause, you know… he’s like, weird about you.”

Fuck… Fuck, he didn’t want to lie to David. He didn’t want to lie to Eli, either, but he couldn’t tell them the truth! What if they told Jack and she had him transferred?! What if Ghostface found out and hurt one or both of them to teach him a lesson about not doing what he was told?! Wait, why the fuck should he care what Ghostface wanted? It wasn’t like he owed him anything! Shit, he was spiraling. One thing at a time. And that meant…

“No… It wasn’t Ghostface,” Marcus lied, unable to continue meeting his gaze. Looking at Eli instead, he added,. “It- I didn’t… get hurt. I wasn’t hurt. I’m fine…”

The nurse’s eyebrows slowly rose, the look of absolute disbelief on his face scathing. Yet, he said nothing.

Jesus, why wasn’t he saying anything? It was painfully clear he didn’t believe a word of what he was hearing and he had enough experience being the object of a patient's obsession to know it wasn’t something that just went away.

“I call bullshit.”

Marcus almost choked on his spit as he swiveled to look at his other friend.

David had moved from picking at his sleeves to crossing his arms, looking stern for once as he explained, “You look like you just lost a fight with Batman. Your neck and your wrists-” Marcus quickly hid his arms behind his back, cursing himself for never wearing a long sleeve shirt under his scrubs, “-look terrible. Like someone held you in place while they tried to strangle you. So please just tell us who it was or I’m gonna text Feng to pull up the security footage right now.”

Mouth opening and closing several times, Marcus struggled to think. He couldn’t lie about what was on camera! What would he even say if he tried?! The footage was doctored?! By who? He didn’t even know how the cyber security part of Crotus Prenn worked or who was in it!

Unless… Ghostface knew where the cameras were. Where the blind spots were… And had chosen that location for exactly that reason. They suspected him of murdering Nurse Duran in a janitorial closet but had no way to prove it, which meant if he had, he hadn’t been caught on camera…

Steeling himself, Marcus took a deep breath. “I… wasn’t lying about not getting hurt. I’m just… embarrassed. See I- I hid… in a closet. I panicked, and jumped for the nearest door and then it ended up not being the stairs and I was too fucking scared to leave right away and someone else was in there and I guess the adrenaline hit us both so we ended up hooking up and I’m not even sure who the hell it was! And I- I don’t want to be branded a slut by the entire staff, so I- I didn’t want to tell you the truth…”

Eli looked like he was about ready to stab him with a scalpel. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long sigh before asking critically, “Are you fucking serious?”

The slow dawning of realization over David’s face was visible. His furrowed eyebrows slowly turned to embarrassment at his accusations, then concentration as he recalled the previous time he had found his friend with hickeys, then horror as he remembered what Marcus had asked him to keep a secret. “Was it G-?!”

His mouth shut so quickly that his teeth clinked together, his face pale as he mumbled, “N-Never mind. Um, let’s get you a cold pack.”

Eli had a sour look on his face, but shuffled over to a cabinet anyway. Pulling out a cold pack, he twisted it in his hands until it cracked, activating the liquid inside it. Passing it over to Marcus, he asked, “Anything else… sore?”

Marcus had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from making a smart-ass remark. He’d drop it eventually.

“Why were you missing for so long anyway?” Eli asked, apparently nowhere near being ready to ‘drop it’. “And are those different scrubs than you had on earlier?”

Bristling slightly, he was about to snap out a retort that he’d probably end up regretting when the exam room door suddenly flew open. Leon stepped inside, already asking, “Eli? David? Okay, good. I heard Marcus was missing. Do I need to go back down there and– Oh, there he is.”

All three of them were staring at Leon, attention completely gone from the previous issue. The poor guard looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since they’d gotten back from their vacation. He had dark rings under his eyes and even his hair somehow managed to look depressed, hanging around his face in an emo fringe rather than its usual luscious swoop.

“Ahha, here I am,” Marcus said weakly. He was holding the ice pack against the front of his neck, hoping if the most visible bruises started to fade first, he could avoid a lot of unpleasant conversations…

Leon didn’t even seem to notice, stating tiredly, “Right, good job during the riot, all of you. No one died, and no one needed any limbs reattached so… we’re calling it a win. Ah, right, David. For future reference… Please don’t bite other staff members. I know you were stressed… but just don’t bite people, please…”

Marcus couldn’t help the way he slowly turned to stare at his friend, who was staring at the wall sheepishly. He’d been that worried?! About him?! Oh… Wow, he felt like such a jerk…

“Eli,” Leon continued, oblivious to the emotional turmoil he’d walked in on. “We had to sedate all three Michael’s. The crusty old one started getting violent when the other two were subdued, and the staff overreacted.”

“Oh, um… Sorry?” he offered. “I don’t think my being there would have helped. Last time I got caught up in a riot–”

“Yeah, Michael beat someone to death with their own boot when they tried to pull you out. I remember,” the blond sighed.

“His foot was still inside it,” Eli whispered, a thousand yard stare on his face.

David blinked, finally looking away from the wall. “Did they… did they reattach it during the autopsy?”

“I need… to fix the staff rotations,” Leon muttered, ignoring the orderly’s rather concerning question completely. It sounded like he’d already mentally checked out of the conversation. Shaking his head, he instructed, “Sorry, but if all three of you are capable of returning to the floor, please go to your department head for assignments. The patients are going to be on lockdown for at least the rest of the day, but there’s always a lot of extra work to do after something like this.”

Their Captain was gone before anyone could say another word, leaving the door open behind him. Barely waiting until he was out of earshot, Eli’s head snapped back towards the ginger as he tried to subtly make a break for it.

“So can you describe this ‘someone else’ you were in the closet with? His voice? Build? Height?”

Marcus almost blurted out in a blind panic, ‘It was not famous action star and film director Nic Cage!’ but thankfully, David inadvertently came to his rescue before he could get a single syllable out.

“S-So like, why did the Huntress get so violent? Did Michael do something wrong? Does she not like him grabbing people? And why did he grab me anyways? Was I doing something he didn’t like? Is he gonna eat me now?”

Eli kept trying to get a word in, but was interrupted by every new, increasingly frantic question. When David began rapidly waving his hands around as if it could make him talk faster, the nurse had to take a step back to avoid getting unintentionally clobbered.

“And why did she call me a girl? Or a child? Like, yeah, I get the whole kid part cause I’m kinda short but I don’t think I look like a girl. Do I? Do you guys think I look like a girl? Marcus, do you think I look like a girl? I don’t, do I? Maybe? Do you think I should get a haircut? I don’t know how to cut my hair but I can try.”

“I… don’t think you look like a girl,” Marcus slowly stated, filling in the awkward silence that followed David’s rambling.

“Michael doesn’t eat people,” Eli finally answered, still looking entirely lost. “I mean, he’ll eat pretty much anything, and he did eat a bird that got into his cell in Smith’s Grove once, and there were those dogs that–”

He stopped when he noticed the look of horror on Marcus’s face. Clearing his throat, he quickly changed the subject as he led them out of the medical wing. “Um, s-so- About the Huntress! Her- She’s- See– Oh, god, let me start at the beginning. So, we don’t know a lot about her or her background before she was sent to us. We do know that she has incredibly dangerous maternal instincts, specifically towards girls.”

Before Marcus could voice an incredibly disturbing thought, Eli added, “It’s not sexual. She just… wants a daughter. We think it has something to do with her own mother dying when she was young, but again, we don’t know for sure. The staff tried giving her a few dolls as stand ins in the past, but that just pissed her off. She’s not so delusional that she can be fooled into thinking a toy is a child and she doesn’t want a fake baby, but if she sees someone that she can envision as a child, she can get… possessive.”

As the nurse continued to explain the Huntresses' tendency to attempt to kidnap and mother people who looked small or young enough to be ‘children’ and how David could avoid drawing her attention in the future, Marcus found himself getting lost in his own thoughts.

Whether or not David had done it on purpose, he’d done a remarkable job getting Eli off his ass about Ghostface. Or, the ‘person’ he’d been in a closet with. Hopefully if he could keep everyone off him about it for long enough, it would be forgotten. Or at least they’d stop asking about it.

Glancing over, Marcus felt his stomach flip flop as he caught sight of David picking at his cardigan. Although he was keeping his eyes on Eli and nodding along as if he was listening, his hands wouldn’t stop moving, slowly enlarging one of the holes on the sleeves that couldn’t be fixed. Despite only knowing him for a little over two months, he had quickly started to pick up on the other orderly habits and nervous ticks, and knew that was a big one, only ever used when he was anxious or nervous.

Guilt twisted in his gut like a knife as the weight of what he’d done really sank in. He’d been so consumed with his own fate, and his own interests, that he hadn’t once stopped to consider the potential impact on his friends…

If they knew what had happened and he ended up getting fired, would they get fired too? Not to mention the mental and moral stress it would likely cause… How had it not occurred to him that they would be worried for his safety?

Losing himself in a whirlwind of unspoken questions and stress, Marcus almost walked right past the nurses station upstairs. Freezing in his tracks when he heard Jack’s voice directing different people and answering others' questions, he tried to fade into the back of the small crowd receiving instructions. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look her in the eyes and lie if she spotted him and questioned him about the bruises…

~~

“–that’s the best advice I can give you. Just be careful and try not to panic too hard if you get grabbed again,” Eli said quietly. He’d pulled David and Marcus aside, taking the initiative and trying to help Jack out a bit since he already knew the drill. “You did good this time so I’m just happy that no one got hurt.”

David nodded rapidly, hands twisting the hem of his shirt as he not so confidently agreed, “Yup! Got it! All good here! Thanks a bunch but we should, um, p-probably get back to work now. File paperwork and all that. M-Maybe find Miss Jack or something.”

“Ha, right. Yeah, you go on ahead and do that. I’ll just be here with Marcus because I still have some questions for him and-”

David didn’t give him a chance to finish, already grabbing Marcus by the hand and pulling him along. “No can do! We’re supposed to stick together with our paperwork and there’s a LOT to be done!”

Eli’s eyes widened before narrowing with suspicion. “Stick together for paperwork? Hey, wait a damn minute! You-!”

It was too late, as David had recognized that look and immediately as he quickly picked up his pace the second he realized the nurse had finally caught onto the fact that he’d been duped.

“Sorry, Eli! Gotta go! Talk to you later, text me or something! Bye!” he yelled. Quickly tugging Marcus along behind him, they vanished into the hustle and bustle of people as the nurse called out after them, “I don’t even have your number!”

They barely caught his words before he was completely out of sight. Shuffling away from the tense atmosphere, David only allowed himself a sigh of relief when they were mixed into the crowd, finally away from the prying questions and horrifying knowledge.

God, what was Marcus thinking?! He understood wanting to hook up with someone, but time and place man! And with Ghostface of all people?! He knew that something was off that day in the courtyard! That had been a hickey!

David had tried his best to convince himself that they were strangle marks, a bruise from a punch, anything, but Marcus’s subsequent panic and his pleas for secrecy, in addition to what happened only a few hours ago, couldn’t paint a more obvious picture.

Marcus was hooking up with Ghostface and David knew. He knew and he was just letting it happen.

…

No. Not today. It had gone too far. He wasn’t going to just stand by and let his best friend turn into another statistic and be thrown aside as some idiot who got into something that he knew he wasn’t supposed to. David was going to finally talk some sense into that ginger head of his! And if not, then he was gonna tell Miss Jack no matter what! Marcus wasn’t going to die, not on his watch!

Squaring his shoulders with more purpose, David dragged the strangely quiet Marcus through the crowded hallways, away from the nurse’s station, past the first floor patient rooms, until they were finally in the empty courtyard. All the guards had either been called downstairs or were currently in the infirmary so he had comfort in knowing that they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Letting go of Marcus’s hand, David finally turned to face him with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he asked, “Well?”

Marcus barely blinked, still staring at the ground as if in deep thought. “...Well, what?’

David threw his arms up in exasperation. “What do you mean ‘Well what’?! What do you have to say for yourself?! Do you know how reckless and dangerous that stunt was?! What if someone saw you two?! Or had heard you?! Did you even think about the cameras before you decided to fuck Ghos-!”

It happened so quickly, David barely even registered that Marcus had moved before he found himself suddenly pinned against the wall. Ice pack discarded in favor of clamping a hand over his mouth in a vice grip, the ginger's fingers were freezing cold.

“You can’t say shit like that in here! What if someone hears you?!” he demanded, voice thin with barely held back panic.

Despite the churning in his stomach from the sudden movement, David still found the strength within him to grab his friend’s hand with his own equally cold palm and force it away from his mouth. “No one is gonna hear us at all, you idiot. There’s literally no one out here cause the guards are all downstairs and Feng’s probably also watching the second floor cameras too.”

Taking a deep breath, Marcus slowly withdrew his hand. Taking a small step back, he still looked around as though paranoid that someone might come waltzing out and walk in on their conversation at any moment.

“David, it’s… It’s not… what you think. Okay? It’s- it’s complicated…” he mumbled, sounding more anxious than ashamed.

“Bullshit,” David hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend’s chest. “You said this last time too. And that time, you probably would’ve done more then let him slobber all over you if I hadn't found you.”

“He did not–” Marcus took a deep breath, trying his best to not raise his voice at the smaller man. He was usually so jittery and non confrontational, the ginger had no idea how he was supposed to react. “He didn’t slobber on me. It’s- It’s complicated, okay? It’s super complicated and I really don’t know how to respond to his attention either but I’m not in danger and… I just- I don’t think he’s going to hurt me… probably.”

“Probably?! Probably?! There is no probably when it comes to Ghostface! It’s either you die or you transfer! There is no in between! Get your head out of your ass, Marcus, and consider the fact that at this rate, you’re not going to survive! And that one day, it’s gonna be your body that I find in the janitor’s closet! Is that what you want, huh?! For me to bury my best friend because he was being a reckless idiot and threw himself at a serial killer who wouldn’t even give a rat’s ass about him?!”

Something close to anger crossed Marcus’s face, before a look of resignation settled in. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he started and stopped several times before finally asking, “How is what I’m doing any different than Eli and Michael? Or Dwight and the Trapper? I… I appreciate that you’re worried about me. I’m worried about what Ghostface really wants from me too… But that’s why I need time to actually figure it out! I need to- to talk to him. But I can’t do that if I get transferred! Or fired! So please, please just… don’t tell Jack or Leon. I- I don’t like lying about it, but they can’t know… But, you’re my friend. I trust you.”

Before David could interject, Marcus shook his head. Gently putting his hands down on the smaller orderly’s shoulders, his expression was pained as he pleaded. “No, you said your piece. Let me say mine.. I’m sorry for dumping all this on you. I feel like I’m putting you in more danger by telling you… But you’re the only person I can trust with this. I promise, I’m going to get this figured out, and if I really believe that Ghostface intends to kill me, I’ll go to Jack myself. But I need to be the one to do this. So… Please. Don’t say anything to her or Leon, even if they ask.”

Mouth opening and closing a few times, David finally managed to ask weakly, “You promise that if he gets violent or does anything to hurt you, you’ll tell someone? You promise?”

Smiling slightly, Marcus nodded. “I will. I promise.”

All the fight seemed to leave the smaller orderly as he let out a long sigh before nodding his head. “Okay, I won’t tell Leon or Miss Jack. I… I trust your weird judgment.”

His friend let out a sigh of his own, although it was one of relief rather than exasperation. Pulling David into a tight hug, his voice was muffled as he said, “Thank you. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for being a good friend.”

As David patted Marcus awkwardly on the back, he quietly pondered to himself how much longer he could hold all these secrets in before they inevitably suffocated him…
~~~~

Chapter 27: Difficult Answers

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Hooooo boy....

Marcus was pretty sure he hadn’t slept at all. After a long shift of dodging Eli, Quentin, King, Leon, and Jack, lest he be questioned by his roommates or superiors, he’d practically snuck back to his dorm. Eli and David were both working late, and Quentin had been glued to his phone when he’d gotten in, allowing him to quickly shower and clamber into bed, claiming he was exhausted and not in the mood to rehash the events of the riot.

Tossing and turning all night, he couldn’t quite the raging battle in his head. A part of him just wanted to relive every moment of his hookup with Ghostface. The wild, dangerous rush of adrenaline he’d felt. The heat of the man's lips and hands on his body…

The other part of him felt like the worst person on the planet. He knew he was using David’s friendship in the worst possible way and it made him feel slimy. He didn’t like the idea of manipulating him into silence, but he felt like he didn’t have a choice!

Alarms went off, waking the other three, and the morning progressed mostly as usual. They were all a bit quieter, still tired thanks to the excess work from the day before. Getting dressed mostly in the dark was normal, and Marcus was grateful for it. It gave him the perfect cover without raising any questions, and he managed to make it to work without being grilled for information.

He and David sat together on the bus ride as usual, but neither of them had much to say. A few quiet pleasantries were exchanged, but nothing of substance. Neither one wanted to talk about their previous conversation, or the reasons they’d had it.

Overall, an air of discomfort and tension seemed to hang over the small group. Eli seemed incredibly tense, not looking directly at anyone and jumping anytime he was addressed or touched to get his attention. King didn’t have as many jokes and Quentin looked like he was trying not to nod off in his seat. It was going to be a long day for all of them.

Heading to the nurses station for their morning assignments, Marcus was entirely unsurprised to find them both stuck with a full list of floor one duties. With a riot on the second floor within the past twenty-four hours, it was unlikely any of the newly cleared or inexperienced staff would be allowed back down for at least a couple of days.

Looking over his tasks, Marcus frowned. It looked like he and David would be doing a lot of solo work that day. Maybe that was a good thing, as it gave him time to think over everything. The things that had happened between them. The lies he’d told and how he was supposed to keep up with them if pressed by more people. The things Ghostface had told him… and done to him… that he’d willingly let happen.

Going through his morning paperwork like a robot, Marcus found himself wondering if there was something wrong with him. He knew of the crimes and horrors Ghostface had committed both inside and outside of Crotus Prenn, yet he hadn’t even tried to tell him ‘No’. He could have. Yet… he hadn’t wanted to. He’d hoped Ghostface hadn’t actually wanted to kill him and he knew the only way to find out was to let things play out. He’d done that, and he was happy with the outcome.

Oh… Wow… What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe he wasn’t looking at things rationally. Maybe he was giving Ghostface too much credit. David had been there longer and seen his patterns and how he interacted with his victims once he’d singled them out.

Gritting his teeth, Marcus forced himself through another stack of papers. No. He wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions, good or bad. He would find a time to talk to Ghostface. Alone… Shit. That wouldn’t be possible any time soon! The entire first floor was on lock down for three days since the Legion were the ones who’d technically started the riot.

That meant no outdoor time, no going down for lunch, and no coming out of their cells for breakfast or dinner. They’d be passed their trays through the door just like the floor two inmates. His lunch was scheduled for the same time as the patients that day… He could wait for them to be given their food and then just… go to Ghostface’s cell.

The tip of his pencil snapped, jolting him out of his thoughts. Looking down at the paper he’d been signing, he sighed. At least he hadn’t torn through it. It would have been a simple enough job to just reprint the page and re-input all the information, but he didn’t feel like going to all the trouble when he had so much other stuff to do.

Right, he had a lot to do! He didn’t have time to go to Ghostface’s cell. If he took too long, people would wonder where he was and start looking for him. Unless… all the tasks he had to take care of right after lunch were already done. And since most of it was paperwork, it would be pretty easy to get it done before lunch if he could buckle down and focus…

“What the hell am I doing?” he muttered, quickly sharpening his pencil. Hunkering down over the desk, he began knocking out paperwork like his job was on the line. Then again, if he wasn’t careful, it would be…

~

The rolling click of steel wheels on cold tile was still audible as Marcus badged into the cellblock. He’d finished all his paperwork for the day, barring any that may come up towards the end of his shift, and been waiting for the lunch cart to be rolled back to the kitchen.

He felt a little bad when he peered around the corner to see David working with Steve and a guard he didn’t know, but if that’s who’d been assigned to lunch for the day, that was just the way it had to be.

Thanks to Krauser’s new guard posts and the lockdown, there was no one watching the cellblock door. That made it all too easy to slip into the hall unnoticed, and he hurried to Ghostface’s door.

Hesitating, he finally raised a hand and knocked. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but when a voice called breezily, “Come in,” he scanned his badge and stepped inside.

Ghostface was sitting at the small desk in the back of the cell, his tray in front of him along with the empty cup for vitamins. At least he’d taken them even if there was no one to enforce it…

“Oh, now this is a surprise,” he purred, scooting the small stool back a bit. Turning without standing, he rested his hands on his knees, posture relaxed as he looked Marcus up and down. “What brings you by, Doc?”

Doing his best to sound even and controlled, the ginger asked bluntly, “What exactly are you planning to do with me?”

Blinking several times, Ghostface maintained the unbothered, almost amused expression as he considered the question. Finally, he turned back to his lunch, answering, “I think I’ve made it extremely clear what I plan to do with you, Doc. Now, hopefully I won’t have to incite a riot every time I want into your pants, but if that’s what it takes, so be it.”

“Stop- stop dodging the question,” Marcus stammered, shaking his head. Frowning as what Ghostface had said really sunk in, he asked hesitantly, “What do you mean, incite a riot? The Legion did that…”

“Yes, that is what it looks like,” the man agreed, picking up his tray so he could eat as they talked.

Flabbergasted, Marcus barely caught himself before he could raise his voice. “Are you– Are you serious? I just–”

“Take a breath,” Danny soothed. “Sort out your thoughts, Doc. We’ve got a little time. I’ll be here all night after all.”

Letting out a long sigh, Marcus finally repeated, “What do you want from me? And don’t say it’s fucking obvious! I can’t tell if you want to kill me, or if you want to fuck me again, or if now that you have fucked me you’re finally going to leave me alone!”

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” he questioned, before making a face. Setting his spoon down on his tray, he muttered, “Remind me to kill the next line cook I see. This tastes like dish soap.”

“It’s probably because they didn’t rinse the trays properly,” Marcus told him, rolling his eyes. “You know. Cause there was a riot yesterday… You still haven’t answered my question.”

“You haven’t answered mine,” Danny responded coolly.

“I asked first,” he shot back, and to his surprise, a slow smile spread across the man's face.

“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you, Doc?” he purred. “I’ll answer your question without any more mystery or veiled promises… But first… ask me what’s really on your mind.”

Marcus blinked several times, a bit thrown by the seeming compromise. Uncomfortably rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he asked quietly, “Do you do this to all your victims?”

“Which part?” Ghostface pressed, and the orderly glared at him.

“You know which part…” He didn’t need to gesture to the bruises collaring his neck to make his point, but he did anyway.

“Ahh, you mean dragging them into janitorial closets and making them beg for more instead of mercy?” he teased, and Marcus felt his face heating up. Giving him a minute to awkwardly fidget, Ghostface finally said more seriously, “No, I don’t fuck my victims. I don’t do snuff films, Doc. If I was going to kill you, we wouldn’t have had sex. I would have wrapped my hands around that pretty neck of yours and squeezed until the light left those gorgeous mismatched eyes… Although, I will tell you, you’re not the first person here who’s wanted me to drag them into a closet and ravish them. You’re just the first to actually get what he wanted and not what he feared.”

Choking on his words, Marcus sputtered, “I didn’t want you to drag me into a closet and- and– do that! I just- I was–”

“Didn’t you?” Ghostface asked, voice smooth and charming. “I thought you were thinking of me, wishing it was me while you were at the bar. Or were you just telling me what I wanted to hear?”

“No! I just- It’s- it’s wrong for me- f-for us to–” Looking down at his hands, Marcus took a deep breath before forcing himself to meet Danny’s dark eyes. “Yes, I wanted it. I don’t regret what we did… I know I could have said no or tried to fight back but I… didn’t want to. But I have to know… Is that really all you want from me? And if that’s all you were after, are you… done with me? Am I free to move on with my life now?”

Rising, Ghostface crossed the cell before Marcus could even think to try and open the door. Walking the orderly back until his shoulders hit the cold metal barrier, the man planted a hand on either side of his head.

“Move on? Done with you?” he repeated, tone icy. Leaning forward until his nose was almost touching Marcus’s, he asked calmly, “What did I tell you, baby boy? Hmm?”

“I- Um, I-” Marcus stammered, frozen in place. His heart was beating a mile a minute, mouth suddenly dry as he stared up at the killer. He was starting to feel some sort of way and he knew it was definitely not the way he should be feeling in such a situation.

“You. Belong. To me,” Ghostface told him, smiling charmingly. “The day I’m ‘done with you’, is the day they put me in the ground.”

“Ah,” was the only thing he could manage, a weak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “S-so you’re not... You’re not going to kill me.”

“Mmm, no baby. I’m not going to kill you,” he promised. “I’m surprised you still doubt me after all this.”

Despite how badly he wanted to look away in an attempt to hide how badly he was blushing, Marcus couldn’t bring himself to do so. He felt pinned in place even though Ghostface wasn’t actually touching him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he found himself almost embarrassed to be doubting his promises.

“So, was there anything else you wanted to ask me, doll?” Danny pressed, voice low and smooth. “Go ahead. I don’t always get the chance to be such an open book.”

“Why me?” Marcus asked quietly. “Why’d you pick me?”

Eyebrows rising, Ghostface hummed thoughtfully before answering, “Because I see something in you that most people just don’t have. I see… the possibilities. And I want to be the one who's there to watch you grow into your full potential.”

Frowning slightly, he asked, “As a veterinarian?”

“Oh, baby boy,” Danny purred, one arm snaking around his back. Pulling him away from the door as he stepped back, he teased, “You’ll see what I see in due time… I’ll make sure of that.”

Laughing nervously, Marcus glanced over his shoulder at the door, then up at the camera watching over the main part of the cell. “Um, d-don’t you think I should be going now? If they look at the cameras-”

“They're going to see you having the time of your life,” the killer interrupted, spinning him around.

Let go rather suddenly, Marcus barely managed to stifle his startled yelp before he was landing awkwardly on Ghostface’s cot. Hands planted on his shoulders, pushing him down on his back before he could stand up, and in less time than it took him to question what had just happened, the killer had him pinned down.

Wrists caught and pulled over his head and his legs on either side of Danny’s waist, it took Marcus several seconds to find his voice. It came out slightly high and nervous as he stammered, “I- I should be getting back to work!”

“Lunch isn’t over yet,” Ghostface murmured, voice low. “And I’m still hungry.”

“Ah, ha,” Marcus squeaked, eyes widening as the man pressed between his legs. With just his thin pants, it was impossible to mistake Danny’s intentions as he ground against the ginger through his scrubs. “Um, a-aren’t you worried about getting caught? You told me not to tell anyone about the closet and now there’s a camera right there–”

Head dipping low enough that his lips brushed the orderlies ear as he spoke, Ghostface growled, “Jack isn’t going to be looking at the cameras right now and Feng knows better than to fucking talk. I guess you can thank your friends for that, and her own wayward moral compass.”

He knew the friends in question were Dwight and Eli. Both of them were ‘claimed’ by patients on the second floor, but no one talked about it or tried to intervene. Was it possible he and Ghostface would really be granted the same leniency?

As if he’d read his mind, the man chuckled, “Don’t go getting too excited just yet, sweetheart. Both of us are still in a precarious situation, so we need to lay low for the time being.”

“Right, of course,” he agreed sheepishly. Trying to ignore the tension in his groin and the way Ghostface’s slow, deliberate grind was rubbing against his dick, Marcus bit his lip to keep in a needy moan. Shivering slightly, he tried shifting his body to take some of the pressure off, but the moment he did, the hands around his wrists tightened.

“Excuse you? I didn’t say you could leave yet,” Danny warned, breath hot against his neck. “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to let go of one arm. You’re going to reach over and pull open that drawer. There’s a small bottle inside; you’re going to grab it, pass it to me, and put your arm right back over your head where it belongs. Then, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk a straight line out of this cell. Got it?”

Mouth opening and closing a couple of times, Marcus finally gave up and nodded. As soon as he did, his wrist was released and he blindly reached over to fumble for the desk drawer. A hand snaked down between them and his breathing hitched as his pants were tugged down. Fingers wrapped around his dick and he slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound he made.

Teeth nipped his neck and he winced, eyes rolling to meet Ghostface’s as he growled, “Better get that bottle, Doc. Unless you want me to use whatever the fuck they gave me for lunch…”

Unable to help a small ‘ugh’ of disgust at the very idea, Marcus scrabbled blindly in the drawer until his fingers bumped into a plastic bottle. Grabbing it, he brought it into view and was admittedly relieved to find himself holding a small bottle of lube. Whining quietly when the grip on his dick disappeared, he wasn’t surprised when the same fingers plucked the bottle from his hand.

“Hmmm, good job. Now, what are you supposed to do, Doc?” Ghostface murmured, nuzzling against the side of his neck.

Swallowing thickly, Marcus raised his arm over his head, resting it on the mattress as he’d been told. The following ‘Good boy’ had him grinning like a dope, head already a little fuzzy. His grin faltered a moment later when Danny asked in a low murmur, “You going to be able to handle taking me without prep, sweetheart?”

“Without prep?” he repeated, voice thin. “Ah, how- how ‘without’ are we talking?”

Something slick and hard prodded at his hole and he squeaked, body stiffening. Raising his head slightly, he dropped it right back down with teeth grazed tender, bruised skin. Licking his lips, he reasoned slightly desperately, “I don’t need a lot of prep, but some prep would be nice!”

“I’ll be gentle, doll,” Ghostface promised, pulling his arm over so he could pin both wrists down with one hand. “At least… at first anyway.”

“Huh?!” Marcus demanded, only to choke as Danny shifted his hips. He could feel the head of his cock as it slowly pressed past the tight ring of muscle. It burned more than starting with two fingers and he bit his lip, trying his best not to get too loud.

“Just relax, baby boy,” Ghostface soothed, dotting gentle kisses along his neck and jaw. “I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll forget all those doubts you walked in here with. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to entertain the idea that I’d ever hurt you. At least, not in a way you won’t enjoy.”

“Mhmm,” he whimpered, startled by the taste of blood in his mouth. He hadn’t realized just how hard he’d been biting his lip, but he couldn’t help it. He could feel Danny’s cock slowly pressing into him. Inch by inch, his body was giving in. The burning, stinging sensation mingled with a growing feeling of fullness, and he couldn’t decide if it was too much or if he wanted more.

“Oh, look at you,” Ghostface whispered, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “Taking me so well. Don’t worry, Doc. We’re almost there. Almost all the way in. And once I am, I’ll give you a minute to adjust as a reward for being so good for me.”

“Fuck!” Marcus hissed, back arching. “Hnng, fuck! Ghostface, please!”

“Ooh, no need to beg, sweetheart,” he teased. Letting out a low groan as his hips finally pressed flush against the ginger's ass, he raised his head to look him in the eye as he promised, “I’m going to give you exactly what you need. No begging required… This time.”

Before Marcus could come up with a thing to say, teeth latched onto the pulse point on his neck and he moaned. The next sound he made was a startled yelp as a hand clamped over his mouth. Hands still pinned over his head, he tried to wiggle slightly, only to let out a muffled cry as Ghostface jerked his hips.

“Shhhh, baby,” he soothed, slowly pulling back. Smiling wryly as more muffled whimpers made their way out from under his hand, he reminded, “I know you want to let it all out for me, but the neighbors are nosy and right now, I want to keep you all to myself.”

The words barely registered to Marcus, mind entirely taken over by the overpowering sensations firing through his body. He could feel Ghostface slowly pulling out, the head of his cock tugging at his rim. He felt empty without his length buried inside him, and he whined.

“Mmm, you are a vocal one,” was whispered in his ear, tone teasing. “I can’t wait to really make you scream.”

Marcus would have if not for the hand over his mouth. Back arching and legs jerking as Ghostface snapped his hips forward, all cognitive ability to try and stifle himself vanished. The hand on his mouth squeezed a bit tighter, barely able to muffle the sounds that left him as the man began to thrust into him with tight, fast movements.

“God, you feel so good around me. Like you were made for me. Made just to take me,” Ghostface praised breathlessly. “You were worth the chase, Doc. But now you’re mine, and I’m never letting you go. Not in this life, or the next.”

It was easy to forget where they were and the taboos surrounding what they were doing, and as heat coiled in Marcus’s gut, he found himself worrying less and less. Ghostface’s intentions with him were clear in his mind, and he found them too enticing to resist any longer. Work was stressful, more and more so as of late, so why should he feel bad for finding an unorthodox method of unwinding? He was into it and Ghostface was very, very clearly into it. So why not?

“That’s a good boy,” he murmured. “Now, let me see you come undone. Let me feel you, baby.”

Marcus almost knocked them both off the small cot with as hard as he jerked, but Danny managed to keep him in place. Fucking him through his orgasm, his pace became more erratic.

“There it is,” Danny growled, teeth flashing in a feral smile. “I love the way you come apart for me.”

Marcus wasn’t the only one coming apart, and the killer let out a shuddering sigh, movements finally slowing to a more deliberate grind as he prolonged his own climax. When he finally stilled, he let out a low laugh, head tilting as he gazed down at the ginger. “Hmmm, I love that look on your face, Doc. All fucked out and satisfied.”

Still holding him down, Ghostface looked up, directly at the camera in the corner of his room. Marcus followed his gaze with his eyes, head still pressed against the mattress by the hand over his mouth.

The little red light continued its steady blinking, showing the camera was active. Grinning, Ghostface winked at the device, before sitting back on his knees.

Marcus gasped, both from the sudden freedom and the unexpected emptiness. Taking several deep breaths, he finally managed to raise his head to inspect the mess. At least he’d managed not to cum in his pants that time… Still, he needed something to clean himself up with before he pulled his pants back up.

“God, I wish I had my camera,” Ghostface lamented, openly eyeing him up and down. “This is a good look for you.”

“Fuck off,” Marcus groaned, grabbing the edge of his thin bedsheets. Pulling them up, he wiped his stomach off before cleaning up between his thighs as best he could.

Eyebrows rising, Danny teased, “You know someone has to clean that up.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect I was going to need to bring a towel,” he countered, blushing. “Are you going to let me out of here now? I need to get back before someone realizes I’m gone and comes looking for me.”

“You’re the one with the badge, Doc,” Ghostface answered smoothly. “Feel free to come back anytime. I’ll be here.”

Marcus couldn’t help the small smile that played across his lips as he stood up. Wincing slightly, he tried not to stagger as he made his way to the door.

“Told you so,” a smug voice sing-songed as he slipped out of the cell.

Rolling his eyes, he waited for the door to close behind him before allowing himself to smile. Taking a good look around, he hobbled out of the cell block. It was time to get back to work.

~~

Busy with paperwork, Eli let out an irritated sigh as he tapped his pencil against his temple. At least, he was pretending he was busy with paperwork. If anyone actually stopped to watch him, they’d quickly notice that he wasn’t even reading the page he was looking at, simply staring through it as he lost himself in thought. He’d been staring at that same page for the last fifteen minutes, knocked out of ‘work mode’ by a specific name…

Ghostface.

As far as all the reports from the guards and the few kitchen staff who’d actually been able to give witness statements said Ghostface hadn’t even been involved in the riot. They didn’t remember seeing him participate anyway, but after some prodding, all of them eventually agreed that they were pretty sure they’d seen him there. He’d been there before the riot started after all, and he was sitting quietly against the wall with the Deathslinger and Pig when the Riot finally ended, having opted not to take part to avoid any extra punishments.

Eli didn’t believe that, not one fucking bit. Patient testimonies should always be taken with a grain of salt– Scratch that, an entire cup of salt, but when it came to Ghostface… No one was to be trusted. It wasn’t even personal! Ghostface had never taken an interest in him, and the few patients that had attempted to mess with him quickly learned better thanks to Michael, but still. None of that made Ghostface less dangerous to everyone around him.

A small smile tugged at Eli’s mouth as he recalled the first and last time Frank had ever tried to pick on him during lunch. It was during his first day attending lunch on the second floor, and the Legion leader had decided picking on ‘the little guy’ would be entertaining. He didn’t find being picked up by the throat and thrown head first into a trash can very fun…

Too bad he couldn’t get Michael to extend that kind of protection to Marcus. The best he could do there was try to ensure Michael didn’t kill the ginger himself. He didn’t usually lash out for no reason, and he had abandoned kills a couple of times when Eli had begged him to, but still. There was no guarantee. He’d once looked the nurse dead in the eyes and snapped a guard's neck, twisting so hard the bones had torn through his skin.

Shaking his head, Eli sat upright with a frown. Right, Ghostface. He was the problem. He knew Ghostface was the one who’d dragged Marcus into the closet during the riot. It wasn’t the first time the killer had dragged someone into a small, hidden area out of sight of the cameras so he could work uninterrupted, but again, there was one big problem. They could never actually prove he’d done it. Every single time, he would somehow have an alibi. Other patients, other staff, someone swearing they saw him during the approximate time of the incident, always something that they couldn’t prove yet couldn’t disprove either.

He hated to admit it, but there was one difference between what had happened to Marcus and what had happened every time before… Eli was certain Ghostface had never actually slept with any of his previous victims…

“Why does this have to be so fucking complicated?” he asked, thinking he was alone.

“What’s that?” a voice asked, and he jumped.

Collecting himself, he excused sheepishly, “Oh, nothing, I’m sorry, I just–”

He paused, squinting slightly at the man in question. He looked really goddamn familiar for some reason. Glancing at his name tag, Eli did a double take. That definitely wasn’t Ada. He knew Ada, and that wasn’t her… Before he could question it, the man held up a finger.

“I know what you’re thinking, but no, I am not famous movie director and action star, Nicolas Cage. I’m Ada Wong.”

“No you’re not,” Eli said slowly, squinting at him. Looking around, he asked suspiciously, “Is this a prank? Did Laurie put you up to this? How’d you even get her– Hey!”

As he’d been looking around, the man had turned and simply walked out of the small office. It was adjacent to the nurses station, and where most of them did their paperwork, but that didn’t stop other staff members from using it as a place to take short breaks or to just escape the chaos for a little while.

Letting out an irritated huff, Eli set aside his half finished stack of paper work. He’d finish it later. He’d already worked well into his scheduled lunch break, so if he was going to eat, he needed to hurry up and get to the breakroom.

Forgetting all about Not-Ada, he quickly navigated the halls to the common area. Hopefully, since it was so late, there would be less people. Normally, he didn’t care. He was used to the other staff members giving him a wide berth and, although he never said it, he was grateful for it as he was now planning to use it to his advantage. One way or another, he was going to get answers. And the best way to do that was to corner the orderly in the center of the whole mess.

Slipping into the break room, Eli looked around, quickly moving past each face as he looked for the distinctive red hair of his roommate. Spotting him in a corner of the room munching on a bagel, he almost let out a loud, ‘Ah-ha!’ of victory before he could stop himself. Not wanting to give Marcus a chance to escape, he quietly crossed the room and dropped into the chair next to him.

Ignoring his startled shriek, Eli offered a slightly too cheerful greeting. “Hey, buuuuddy! How’s it going?”

Clutching his bagel to his chest like he expected it to be snatched from his fingers, Marcus stared at him for a minute, cream cheese dotting the corners of his mouth, before answering slowly, “Um… it’s… going? I almost choked on my bagel, so… I guess I’m having a better day for that not having happened?”

“That’s wonderful,” Eli agreed, a forced smile plastered on his face. Marcus was starting to look mildly terrified, leaning to the opposite side of his chair and eyes darting around as though plotting out the quickest route of escape.

Clearing his throat, the nurse allowed his expression to relax to a more natural look. “Sorry, it’s been… a day. You know, post riot paperwork and all that.”

Admittedly, he was fishing for a reaction of some kind. He wanted to see what Marcus would do if he started talking about the riot itself first.

Relaxing slightly, the ginger settled back into his chair. Nodding, he agreed, “Tell me about it. I had to cram to get a bunch of extra stuff done so I wouldn’t be interrupted during lunch.”

“Lunch plans?” Eli pressed innocently. It could be just that. After all, Marcus had been sitting alone when he’d walked in, so he could have already finished visiting with whoever else had been there.

“You could say that,” he allowed, shrugging. “Sorry, I would have come and sat with you if I’d seen you. But, you know how busy the breakroom can get during lunch.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Eli dismissed. That was an odd thing to say. Was he trying to imply he’d been there for his entire break? Doing his best not to be obvious, he studied the orderly from the corner of his eye. Was it just his imagination, or did the bruises on the side of his neck look slightly irritated?

“Um… Eli? What are you doing?”

He blinked, eyes raising to meet Marcus’s concerned gaze. Oops…

“Seriously, why are you staring at me like that?” he asked. Where most people would have been annoyed or even angry, he sounded worried. Scared, even.

“Oh, just… The bruises on your neck look irritated. That happens to me sometimes. Usually when Michael doesn’t give me any time to recover in between–”

“Ahha, haha!” Marcus laughed forcefully, hand creeping up to awkwardly cover the side of his neck. “Hey, look, I’ve met the man, and to be honest, I’d rather know as little about what he and you get up to as possible! No offense! I just- I don’t need the mental image of the things that man is capable of doing keeping me up at night.”

“You know, he’s not the only one capable of–”

Eli was interrupted again, that time by Marcus actually choking on his bagel. It started the nurse, who quickly smacked him on the back. He hadn’t been about to make a sexual reference, just warn that Michael was capable of nearly inhuman acts of violence, as were all the other patients. The orderly’s reaction told him he’d thought otherwise, and he was trying to hide something along those exact lines.

Clearing his throat several times, Marcus finally turned to Eli, asking directly, “Are you trying to get at something here?”

Dropping the act, the nurse nodded. “Yeah. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

Eyebrows shooting up, Marcus blinked several times. “Excuse me?”

“Why the hell won’t you at least admit to me what really happened?” he demanded. “Even if I told Jack or Leon, they can’t do anything about it without proof, or you going to them!”

Several different emotions flitted across Marcus’s face and he quickly looked away, glancing around the room at the other people lounging about. Lucky for him, none of them seemed to be paying attention to their conversation. “Look, I already told you. It was dark and–”

“Bullshit,” Eli interrupted. “After everything you’ve seen happen and everything you’ve read in the incident reports, why are you trying so hard to protect him? Is he threatening you? Did he hurt you?”

Stammering as his eyes darted around the room, Marcus suddenly fell silent, eyes locking onto something over the smaller man’s head.

Dammit. He was probably just trying to distract him. Shit, but what if Jack or Leon had just walked in? He couldn’t grill him with them in the same room! Marcus would clam up tighter than a Nun in a chastity belt! Gritting his teeth, Eli decided it was worth the risk and glanced over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, David stood frozen in the doorway. An egg salad sandwich was halfway towards his open mouth, most likely on his lunch break as well. His wide eyes darted back and forth, momentarily locking onto Eli’s before quickly looking away once more.

Ever so slowly, as if he were in a minefield, David took small, deliberate steps back, trying to make himself look smaller than he already was. It wasn’t until he was completely out of sight that Eli heard the sounds of his beat up converse squeak along the smooth tile as he practically sprinted down the hallway.

Letting out a tired sigh, he turned back to Marcus, a question already on his lips, only to be met with an empty chair and abandoned quarter of a cream cheese bagel. He could almost picture a dust cloud in the shape of the ginger floating over the seat from how quickly he’d taken off.

Swearing, Eli pushed back from the table. Hopping to his feet, he decided it would be easier to try and catch up to David. Not only was he more likely to crack under pressure, he was also the only person the nurse knew that was small enough to possibly be intimidated by him. He wasn’t one for confrontation, but his friend’s life was very likely on the line! He’d fight god if it meant keeping one of his only friends safe!

Speeding through the door, he almost ended up fighting satan instead. Skidding to a stop only a few inches from crashing face first into the asylum’s new Lieutenant, he took a small step back, dipping his head to avoid risking eye contact. Realizing he was somewhat blocking the door, he moved aside, pulling his arms closer to his body in an instinctive attempt to make himself look smaller.

If Krauser even noticed he was there, he didn’t acknowledge it. Continuing on his path like nothing had happened, he disappeared into the break room. Less than thirty seconds later, three of the remaining six people that had been inside came shuffling out, all with similar tense expressions and nervous body language.

Shuddering, Eli did his best to put the near miss behind him. He only had about ten minutes before his lunch was officially up, and then it would be back to work. Sure, he could try and catch David while doing his regular duties, but the chances of their paths actually crossing for any length of time were slim to none…

And none it was. The small orderly seemed to have evaporated like morning dew on a hot summer day. Eli ended up taking on several other people's tasks just so he could run around the asylum more, but no matter where he went, David continued to evade him. And at that rate, it almost felt like he was doing it on purpose because he had something to hide too…

Between dodging Krauser, looking for David or Marcus, and trying to get his extra workload done, Eli ended up feeling like Quentin by the time his shift ended. For the first time in a long time, he actually managed to get off on time, having long since completed his work. Normally he’d swing by Michael’s cell for a few minutes, or more, if the man was in a mood, but with the current lockdown he wouldn’t be allowed in the cellblock alone, much less into a cell.

Deciding to try and corner David in the morning before he could get on the bus, Eli shuffled outside to wait for the shuttle back to the dorms. It was rare for people to actually get off right when their shift was scheduled to end, so when he caught sight of another person out of the corner of his eye, he actually took the time to look over.

That time, he did shout, “AH-HA!”, pointing a ridgid finger at the other man.

David managed not to scream, but after a second of staring at one another with wide eyes, he tried to make a break for it.

Years of dodging Michael and other grabby hands had made Eli quick, and he was just fast enough to snag the back of the orderly’s heavy winter jacket before he could make it out of reach. “Oh no you don’t! I need to talk to you!”

“Nuh-uh!” was the only response Eli got as David tried to wiggle out of his jacket towards freedom. Alas, his jacket was built like a marshmallow. Combined with his scarf and beanie, he was trapped in a prison of warmth.

“David, please!” Eli shouted, sounding desperate. “I’m worried about Marcus and he won’t fucking talk to me! You’re his best friend! If anyone can help, you can!”

He meant every word of it too. Surely if anyone could help resolve things without Marcus getting hurt or killed, it would be David. The poor guy paused, just long enough for Eli to yank him closer and get a firmer grip on the orderly who’d been evading him all day.

David’s face was tinged red from the cold, lips pulled into a tense frown as he muttered, “I plead the fifth.”

Letting out a frustrated groan, Eli managed to resist the urge to shake the slightly shorter man. Instead, he took a deep breath before asking, “You care about Marcus, right?”

When he received a slow nod, he continued, “Look, I know that you know that I know that you know something about what happened during the riot. Either Marcus told you, or you saw something, or heard something… I don’t know. But I have to know! I have to know just how far in over his head Marcus is. If you know anything that can help keep him safe… please tell me. I don’t want to see him die in here… We’ve both seen too many people get killed because of this place.”

David shrunk down into his scarf, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with his friend. His voice sounded broken, as if he had said the same words to Marcus prior only to get shut down. “He… made me promise to keep it a secret from Miss Jack and Leon, that he’d go tell them himself if it got too bad…”

Voice quieter than before, Eli told him, “I’m not Jack or Leon… But by the time it gets ‘too bad’, he could very well be dead. We both know that…”

A long silence stretched between them, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Eli was this close to dropping to his knees and begging David to say something, anything, when the orderly finally broke the silence. “Okay… I’ll tell you… “

Eli let out a long sigh of relief, glad that he could finally get to the bottom of this entire mess. “Thank you. Please. Start from the beginning. What did you see during the riot?”

David cringed, his face scrunching up like he ate a lemon as he admitted, “It actually started right before we left on vacation, when I found them together in the courtyard…”
~~~

Notes:

Okay, I hate doing this but having looked at the calendar and everything else, I'm having to change up my holiday hiatus dates.

Both WOI and STG will be going on temporary break starting Monday the 25th of November 2024, and will resume regular updates Wednesday February 1st 2025.

Chapter 28: It’s For Your Own Good

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Time for Marcus to face the consequences of his actions...

Marcus wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but he managed to dodge Eli for the rest of his shift. He’d also ended up dodging David for the rest of the day, but that hadn’t been intentional. They’d been put on slightly different tasks for the day then they usually were and simply hadn’t met up again.

Finishing up a little late, the ginger lingered for a while longer, wanting to give all of his roommates enough time to get back to their dorm and settle in for the night. He knew he couldn’t avoid Eli forever, but hopefully if he gave him time to sleep on it, he’d calm down and stop grilling him for information.

Only a few other people were at the shuttle stop when he arrived, and he was relieved not to see any familiar faces amongst them. Offering Nea a tired greeting before plopping into the nearest available seat, he was content to spend the trip back to the dorms in comfortable silence.

Thinking back on his latest meeting with Ghostface, he couldn’t bring himself to feel the least bit guilty about hooking up with him again. He hadn’t really expected it to happen again, especially so soon, but the fact that it had left him with an oddly giddy, slightly smug feeling.

His internal basking was interrupted suddenly when someone dropped into the seat adjacent to him. Leaning across the aisle, a young woman grabbed the front of his hoodie, yanking him halfway out of his seat so she could speak quietly in his ear.

“Listen to me, you fucking idiot. You cannot just drop into a patient’s cell like that without warning me ahead of time. Do you think I wanted to look at my screens and see Ghostface’s pasty white ass?”

Barely shaking off his initial shock at having been grabbed, Marcus’s eyes went wide as he registered what she’d just said. Before he could get a word in edgewise however, she continued, “You are lucky Bill didn’t see that before I did. He’s not nearly as forgiving as I am, and, my fucking god, do you know how bad that looked? I seriously thought he was forcing you for a second!”

Wincing, he finally managed to ask in a loud whisper, “Is this really the place to be talking about this?!”

“Nea’s not gonna’ say shit,” the woman hissed, and Nea raised a silent thumbs up from her place in the driver’s seat. “But you should have warned me that you and Ghostface are going to be doing that kind of shit. I’m going to throw Dwight down a flight of stairs for starting this shit…”

“What- Who- What the hell does Dwight have to do with any of this?” Marcus asked, still caught between confusion and deep concern. “Who even are you?!”

“Did he not–” she paused, a look of understanding crossing her face. Letting out a long sigh, the woman nodded. “Right, sorry. I’m Feng. Head of cyber security. The woman in the booth. The eyes in the sky… I watch the cameras.”

“Oh my god…” Marcus whispered. Oh, god, he was so fucked. He was doomed. He was about to be obliterated from orbit by a nuclear strike of his own making! Feng was going to throw him under the metaphorical bus! And possibly the literal bus! He was going to lose his job and–

“Dude, calm down,” she said, interrupting his racing thoughts. “I can hear your anxiety ramping up and I am not here for that.”

“Then why are you here?” he half wheezed, trying his best not to panic.

Letting go of his hoodie to wrap both arms around the backpack on her lap, she explained, “I’m here to berate you mercilessly for not warning me you and Ghostface were hooking up. Like, I get it, it gets lonely up here, but at least I know to turn the sound down and turn the screen off when Dwight or Eli go to the Trapper and Michael’s cells. But you decided that screwing in full view of the cameras without warning the camera person was the way to go, which I do not appreciate.”

“Wait, hang on,” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face. Squinting at her, he tried to clear up his confusion one question at a time, starting with, “You know about their… relationships?”

Staring at him with a deadpan expression, Feng answered, “Worst kept secrets in the Asylum, my guy. Even Wesker knows. Even if he pretends he doesn’t know their names, he knows who’s doing what. Honestly, he probably already knows about you and Ghostface.”

Marcus felt like he’d just been slapped in the face. Mouth opening and closing, he wasn’t able to get a sound out but his expression said it all.

Wincing, Feng muttered, “Ooh, god, I shouldn’t have assumed Dwight already talked to you about all this. Okay… Let’s start at the beginning. Wesker doesn’t give a shit if you die. He’d barely give a shit if Dwight or Eli died. He’d probably have an aneurysm if a patient died, but none of us are really a threat to any of them, so he doesn’t care if they pick a favorite staff member to blow off steam with. Okay? You see where this is going?”

“I… think so?” he agreed hesitantly. Noticing movement on her lap, he glanced at the backpack in her arms. It moved again, and he raised his eyebrows as he looked at her questioningly.

“Nothing to see here, just a bag,” she stated a bit too quickly, before hugging it closer to her body. Sighing, she continued, “Look, as long as Ghostface isn’t forcing or coercing you in some way, I’m not going to say shit. No one is. You’re an adult and you’re responsible for your own decisions at the end of the day. So if you die because you decided to continue hooking up with a patient, that’s on you. Lots of people have died because they thought they’d formed a ‘special connection’ with a patient, only to wear out their welcome or catch them on a bad day.”

“I… see,” he said slowly, glancing at the backpack. It had definitely moved again and he was pretty sure he’d heard something scratching around inside it. Forcing his attention back to Feng, he tried to sound nonchalant as he asked, “So, all the patients use sex as a… lure? To kill staff?”

“Pff, no!” she snorted. “Well, not usually. Obviously, for legal reasons, all staff are ordered to reject and report any sexual advances or favors offered or made by patients… but they don’t really proposition staff members all that much. On the occasions patients do approach staff about that kind of stuff, it’s because they know they’ll get a yes. A few of them have used it to get close to people just so they could kill them, like Ghostface.”

Just as Marcus was about to fall into a pit of despair, Feng unknowingly extended him a lifeline.

Scratching the back of her head, she mused, “It’s weird though. As far as I can tell, you’re the only person he’s actually slept with since he arrived at Crotus Prenn. Like, he’s ‘seduced’ a few staff members, but he’s killed every single one of them before actually doing the no-pants-dance.”

Unable to suppress a small grin as he realized Ghostface had most likely been telling him the truth about not having slept with any of his victims, he jumped when fingers snapped in front of his face.

“Uh-uh, wipe that smitten look off your face,” Feng told him sternly. “Just cause I’ve never seen him do it doesn’t mean he hasn’t. Even with as good as the camera coverage is on most floors… There are blind spots. So be careful… Although that post-sex wink felt personal…”

“Wait, how much did you see?!” he demanded, voice slightly shrill.

Clearing her throat, she looked away before mumbling, “I had to make sure he wasn’t killing you… Oh! Right! If PeePaw Myers ever tries to get with you, especially in his cell, don’t do it.”

“I’m sorry?!” Marcus asked, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “PeePaw Myers? The- Michael Sr.?”

Nodding, Feng confirmed, “That old dude gets more action than anyone else here… Aside from the Trapper and Michael. The really big Michael… But he and the Trapper are both exclusive to their partners soooo... But yeah, PeePaw’s got game.”

“People are… into that?” Marcus asked. He wouldn’t deny liking older guys himself, but… not that old!

She shrugged, admitting, “I don’t judge… But honestly, like I said, don’t risk it. Out of the eighteen people he’s let try, only three succeeded. Thankfully neither of the women got pregnant and the guy… Well, he wasn’t able to walk straight for about a week, but he lived to tell the tale. Still works here too. I think you’ve met him. Line cook? Gambling problems? Ace? Yeah, anyway.”

Too stunned to speak, Marcus just stared at her with an open mouth as she continued.

“Six of them left with blue balls and broken bones because he changed his mind halfway through, and the rest of them… Well, we had to scrape what was left off the floor. And those are just the people who he didn’t flat out refuse.”

“Wha… But- How– When did Ace–”

“No time. We’re here,” she said cryptically. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as she made it sound, as the bus rolled to a stop in front of the dorms. Standing, she pulled her backpack over her shoulders before making a beeline for the open bus door.

Hurrying after her, Marcus caught up to her at the elevator. After she hit the button for the second floor, he pressed the button for the fourth floor and they started a slow, slightly awkward assent.

He’d caught up to her to keep the conversation going, but it just felt so awkward now… Finally, he broke the silence, saying sheepishly, “Sorry about not warning you… I had… no idea that was going to happen when I visited his cell. Or that I was supposed to warn you. I just went to question him about some stuff and–”

Waving a hand, Feng promised, “You’re good, just be careful. And be glad Bill was sleeping instead of watching the screens. With the way you were being held down, he’d probably have activated Ghostface’s shock collar before thinking twice. Ghostface doesn’t have a history of sexual violence or anything, but you know… it looked sus at first glance… Then I saw the look on your face.”

“Is there anyone else I need to be aware of in the tech team?” he asked, voice slightly high as the doors slid open to her floor.

Laughing, she shook her head, turning to face him as she explained, “Nope. It’s just me and Bill.”

Ignoring the doors as they slid closed again, Feng waved him off when he tried to hit the button again before they could go up another two levels. Although he wasn’t technically allowed on the second floor since it was the women’s dorm, they could still talk in the elevator.

“I pretty much designed– You know what? Fuck being humble, actually. I designed Crotus Prenn’s entire security system. Sure, Felix was the mastermind behind the architecture and layout, but the tech is all me. Wesker’s tried to hire a team of tech people to work under me before but I always turn that shit down. No one knows my systems like me, and no one can run them like me. God, you should have seen the shoddy ass system that was originally put in.”

“So… Why is Bill in the tech department now?” Marcus questioned, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Because I respect the hell out of him, and I know it raised Wesker’s blood pressure to a stupidly dangerous level when Bill declined a nice fat retirement package in favor of my offer to join me in cyber security,” she told him, smiling smugly. “I got my tech team, Bill gets to keep an eye on the security people and Wesker gets to eat shit.”

That was a lot to take in, but before Marcus could say more, she was gently pushing him out of the elevator onto his floor.

“Go, child. Be free,” she said, waving slowly. Snapping her fingers, she gasped, “Oh, shit! You know what? I’m going to add you to my group chat!”

“Oh, okay,” he started to say. Before he could try to give her his number, she was already typing on her phone. “Alriiiight, there.”

His phone dinged in his pocket and he frowned. How the hell had she gotten his number?

Not bothering to explain, she jabbed the door button to keep them open a moment longer as she instead rushed out, “This is my group chat, by the way, so don’t be adding random people. And don’t go joining any other group chats. This one is safe, cause everyone in it knows to keep their mouths shut about anything that’s said in it. Alright?”

“Um, alright,” he agreed, and she gave him a thumbs up.

Over her shoulder, the backpack shifted and wiggled again before a small black and white head popped out. Staring at him over Feng’s shoulder, the cat blinked slowly.

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could say a word, the elevator doors slid shut between them. Staring at the barrier for a moment, he finally shook his head. That had been an interesting ride, but it was certainly informative.

Maybe he didn’t have as much to be worried about as he’d first thought. Obviously he couldn’t let his guard down completely around Ghostface, but maybe he could relax about the idea of them being ‘found out’. Still, he had no idea how Jack would react if anyone approached her directly to report their recent activity. Feng had made it clear that even though people knew about patient-staff hookups, they were kept hush-hush.

Deep in thought, he slipped quietly into his room, happy to find all the lights off. Something was off though. It was quiet… Too quiet… Maybe King wasn’t back yet. If he was, he’d be snoring by then.

Just as the thought crossed Marcus’s mind, a sudden beam of light underlit the face of a person sitting at the desk at the back of the room, mouth moving as they said in an eerie voice, “Clarice…”

“Christ!” Marcus shrieked, leaping backwards. Instead of slamming into the door, he hit a body. Letting out a shrill scream as arms wrapped around him from behind, he instinctively shouted, “Don’t eat me!”

The lights were flipped on, blinding him, and he screamed again.

“Bloody fucking hell!” King complained, voice right above his head. “Quentin, what the fuck was that?!”

“I had to,” he wheezed, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “I just- I wasn’t expecting him to scream like that! Oh my god, that was so funny!”

“It’s not going to be funny if we get a noise complaint!” Eli seethed, and Marcus heard the sound of what was likely a shoe hitting the wall, having been dodged by the janitor.

“Marcus, I’m sorry! I was peer pressured!” David’s voice wailed. The sound came from above him and when the ginger looked up, he saw a tuft of fluffy brown hair and two woeful eyes peering down at him over the side of his bunk. “Eli’s very pushy and technically you only said ‘not Jack and Leon’ so I didn’t break my promise!”

“Am I pushy?” Eli asked, sounding heartbroken.

Blinking as he forced his eyes to adjust to the light, Marcus looked over to see Dwight patting him on the back.

“No, you’re not pushy… Usually…”

“Usually?!” Eli demanded, head snapping around to stare at him. “Take that back!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” Marcus shouted, squirming angrily. King still hadn’t let go of him and he was starting to feel more than a little concerned. Something about his feet not being on the ground just didn’t feel right… That and David’s little comment about ‘only Jack and Leon’ had him growing increasingly anxious.

Everyone finally settled down, turning to look at him with mostly similar expressions. David seemed to be trying to hide, and he couldn’t really see King’s face.

Quentin looked sleepy as usual, but still appeared concerned as he said, “Marcus, we’re worried about you… How long have you been doing hard drugs?”

Marcus stared at him, struggle momentarily forgotten. Just as he started to ask why any of them would think he was doing any kind of drugs, his eyes zeroed in on the jar on Quentin’s lap.

Mouth Bone Matthew was also present for the apparent ‘intervention’, the creepy hollow sections of his face appearing to stare back at the ginger. The plastic vampire teeth had somehow moved up from where it was previously lodged in the ‘stomach’ of the doll to the now ‘mouth’ section of the head. Marcus couldn’t tell if Quentin had moved it or if it had somehow moved on its own but whatever it was, it seemed to have sunken in a bit further, as though settling into an actual jaw within…

“Why is God’s Mistake here?” he finally asked. Really, if anyone was on hard drugs, it was probably Quentin. It was the only explanation for his weird attachment to the tooth doll…

“It’s not about drugs,” King grunted, finally setting Marcus’s feet back on the floor. Crossing his arms as he skittered out of reach, he asked, “You’re not going to try and jump out the window or anything, right?”

“What? Why- No?! It’s a four story drop!” he sputtered. “Now tell me what the hell is going on!”

“What happened during the riot?” Dwight asked softly, and Marcus froze.

“Does it matter?” he finally asked. “No one died, right? Sorry I wasn’t more help, but I kind of panicked–”

“Bullshit,” King snapped, jabbing a finger at him. He looked incredibly angry, and his voice was barely below a shout as he argued, “You vanished in one of the only blind spots in that area, into a closet you couldn’t have even known was there!”

“We had a tour of the area the day before!” he bluffed, trying to shrug. It looked and sounded unconvincing at best, and he looked away.

“They don’t really show you guys where the janitorial closets are,” Dwight mumbled, and Marcus turned to glare at him.

Before he could argue back, David piped in, “We did technically see some of the closets so that we could help clean up smaller messes but I don’t think we ever saw that specific closet.” He quickly ducked back down behind the railing of the bunk bed when Marcus turned to stare up at him with a look of utter betrayal.

“Regardless,” Eli pressed. “I know for a fact that’s one of the most overlooked, underused, neglected closets on the second floor… Even Quentin forgets it’s there sometimes!”

“I left my badge in there once, and couldn’t find it for eight hours,” he confirmed, nodding solemnly. “The whole asylum almost went on lockdown because they were starting to worry a patient had taken it. It’s a good thing I found it when I did, or I’d have been personally responsible for an entire two floors of cavity searches. Maybe three.”

“You’d probably be dead if that had happened,” King grumbled, before reiterating, “We all know something’s going on between you and Ghostface. So are you going to tell us what it is? Or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

Narrowing his eyes, Marcus challenged, “What’s the hard way?”

He honestly doubted they had a ‘hard way’ in mind. That was just something people said to try and intimidate information or compliance out of people and he wasn’t about to fall for it.

“One of us, or someone I know, will be with you twenty-four-seven,” King stated. “You get on the bus? You’ll be accompanied. Off the bus? Someone’s going to be there. Locker room, lunch, rec time, the shower, I don’t fucking care. You won’t have a single moment of alone time until the day you die, and then I’m going to assign someone to be buried in your bloody coffin alongside you to make sure you don’t bugger off and get yourself killed twice!”

Absolutely flabbergasted by the mostly credible threat, Marcus finally tried one last desperate lie. Pointing at the jar on Quentin’s lap, he fibbed, “It was Tiddly Wink.”

For a split second, it looked like they might actually believe him. Eli at least looked a little concerned and Dwight pushed his glasses up his nose with a worried grimace in the doll’s direction. King didn’t look nearly as convinced, eyes narrowing dangerously.

However, all that flew right out the fourth story window when David spoke up once more, “No it wasn’t. It was absolutely Ghostface. The hickey you had before our trip was from Ghostface and the hickeys you have right now were definitely from him too.”

“Yeah, no, he’s right,” Quentin agreed, driving another nail into the coffin. “Boodles doesn’t like to go out for random strolls, especially in the asylum.”

After a long moment of silence, Dwight said, “Q… We’ve talked about this…”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes before digging his wallet out of his pants. Pulling out a dollar, he put it in a small, doll free jar he kept in the desk before turning back to the conversation at hand.

“What the hell was that about?” Marcus asked, more hoping for a distraction than an actual answer.

“Quentin’s not allowed to talk about God’s Mistake like it has autonomy,” Eli explained, before attacking the subject once more like a dog with a bone. Aggressively jabbing a finger at the ginger, he threatened, “Now tell us the truth or I’ll dump Satan’s Abortion on you while you sleep!”

Jumping slightly, Marcus looked around at the gathered group. He was met with looks ranging from worried and guilty to stubborn determination. Knowing they had him, he finally let out a defeated sigh. “Look, it’s not… it’s not what you all are probably thinking. I can explain, but you can’t go jumping to conclusions about shit!”

“Jumping to– Are you bloody serious?” King demanded angrily. “Ghostface is a high threat risk! This is what he does! He gets into your head! Makes you feel special, like you’re different, like he’d never lay a hand on you! And then you know what happens?!”

Marcus had just opened his mouth to answer when the guard continued his rant, even gesturing at the still mostly unread pile of ‘Harley Quinn’ files gathering dust in a corner of the room. “That! He does that! And you die!”

“He’s not going to kill me!” Marcus snapped, only to instantly regret it. He knew he must sound exactly like every other person Ghostface had ever killed at Crotus Prenn.

“You’re joking,” Dwight said, sounding stunned. “Marcus, I know I have little room to talk, but-”

“Actually, I don’t think either of you have room to talk,” he interrupted, scowling at both him and Eli. “Both of you are- are- I don’t even know how to label it! Dating? You’re both dating patients? Dwight, your partner has to wear a fucking muzzle when he’s in gen pop because he’s a bite risk! And Eli! Michael fucking Myers?! The Haddonfield Boogeyman?! Seriously?”

“Technically the Haddonfield Boogeyman is his father,” he mumbled awkwardly. “But that’s different!”

“How?” Marcus demanded. “How is you hooking up with him, or Dwight hooking up with the Trapper any different than Ghostface and I hooking up?”

“Because Ghostface doesn’t ‘hook up’,” King argued, sarcastic air quotes and all. Gesturing at the bruises peeking out from the neckline of Marcus’s hoodie, he huffed, “All that’s just a game meant to lure you in closer! As soon as he gets you where he wants you, he’s going to kill you!”

“Considering both times he had a chance to kill me we fucked instead, I don’t think it’s going to happen,” he shot back.

The silence that fell over the room was so complete it would have been possible to hear a pin drop.

Finally, Quentin asked slowly, “You and Ghostface… smashed?”

Letting out a long breath, Marcus nodded. “Yes… Twice now. And that’s how I know he’s not going to kill me! Okay?”

“Wha- How– When-” Eli sputtered, looking torn between shock and disbelief.

“Definitely during the riot,” Quentin guessed, looking up at David for confirmation.

When he gave a small nod of affirmation, Eli hissed, “Oh, I fucking knew it! I fucking knew that it was Ghostface! And you had David lie for you?! Seriously?!”

“No, I–” Marcus stopped himself off, cheeks flushing with shame. “I… Yes. I didn’t… want to. But Ghostface told me not to tell anyone who I had hooked up with if I was confronted but it didn’t feel right to keep lying to him.”

“But you’d have happily kept lying to the rest of us?” King snapped, starting to look hurt under all the anger.

“No!” he protested guiltily. “Not- I wouldn’t have done that. I would have found a way to tell you all… Just… not right away. Because I had a feeling all of you would freak out, and then we’d end up having a giant argument about it! Just like this!”

“He didn’t make me lie for him.”

All heads turned up to stare at David, who honestly looked unsure of his own words. “I.. I chose to keep quiet because he said that he needed time to think about stuff. And that he trusted me with the information. I just- When Eli came to me and asked about what was going on, he sounded so worried and I just couldn’t keep it from him. We all care about you, Marcus so can we just- can we talk about it? Please? We don’t have to yell.”

Nodding, King agreed gruffly, “Sure, sure, we can talk. No more yelling. I can do that.” As he spoke, he was already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Wracked with guilt, Marcus almost didn’t notice as he said sincerely, “David, I’m sorry for putting all that on you. And, I get why you all are so worried. But if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll tell you what Ghostface and I talked about and what Feng said–”

“You talked to Feng and not us?” Quentin gasped, hand flying to his heart.

“Well, she ambushed me on the bus and–”

“Wait, who are you calling?” Eli asked, turning to look at King.

He was just putting his phone up to his ear as he answered coldly, “Leon. I don’t bloody care what fucking Wesker or his overstuffed guard dog have to say. I’m getting that wanker moved down to the second floor if–”

Marcus lunged for the bigger man before he could finish speaking. Although King was taller and outweighed him by at least sixty pounds, he had the element of surprise on his side and managed to smack the phone out of his hand.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to go around him to retrieve it from where it had landed halfway under the bed.

“You can’t!” Marcus argued, going so far as to tackle the guard around the waist. It barely slowed him down, but it did stop him from being able to bend over to get his phone.

“I bloody well can, and I will!” he snapped, trying to pry the ginger off. “I’m not going to let you get fired, but I’m not letting you get killed either!”

“He’s not going to kill me! But if you say anything to Leon and he takes action against me and Ghostface, he’s going to do the same thing to Eli and Dwight!”

“I don’t care! I’ve seen too many friends die to these fucking animals and I’m not going to see you die too!” King yelled, grabbing Marcus by the hips.

The ginger let out a shrill scream as he suddenly found himself almost entirely upside down. Unable to keep a hold of the other man’s waist with the way he was being lifted, he grabbed him around one leg instead. His first thought was, ‘Good lord, he’s got some serious muscle definition in his thighs’, only to quickly follow that up with, ‘Oh my god, if he trips and falls on me I’m going to die!’

Before that could happen, King let out a startled grunt and Marcus nearly caught a socked foot to the face. Eli had launched himself at the guards back and was attempting to climb him like a rabid raccoon.

“Get the phone!” he shouted. “Dwight, get the damn phone!”

From the floor, Leon’s confused voice could just barely be heard through the tiny speaker, asking, “Hello? David? Hello?”

“Aaaaaaah!” Quentin yelled, diving for the device. “Kill it with fire!”

Unfortunately, Dwight was also making a grab for it and the two smacked heads with a loud thud.

Struggling to dislodge both Marcus and Eli, King didn’t notice the other two on the floor and ended up stepping right on Dwight’s stomach.

He let out a sound like a retching cat, jerking to the side as he tried to stop himself from getting crushed.

Thrown off balance, King fell over, landing on top of Quentin and Marcus. Eli’s arm was pinned under the larger man, leaving him just out of reach of the phone. The call had ended, but the screen lit up as Leon attempted to call back, likely assuming King had butt dialed him accidently.

“David! Get the phone!” Eli shouted, looking up at him from the pile on the floor.

“Don’t fucking think about it!” King snapped, trying and failing to disentangle himself.

On top of the bunk, David looked frozen. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure who, or how, and he certainly didn’t want to get dragged into the pile of bodies on the ground. He doubted he’d make it out without being turned into a messy paste on the carpet.

“David! If all three of us get ratted out, they’ll stop you from spending time with the Legion!” Marcus wheezed. The next sound he made was of airless pain, as King squeezed his midsection between his thighs. It was what the ginger assumed being caught in an industrial press would feel like and his life flashed before his eyes. Well, at least it wasn’t the worst way to die.

“Oooh, my head,” Dwight groaned. “Oh my god, oh my god! I think I have brain damage! I can’t see!”

“Me too!” Quentin wailed. “Mr Bojangles giveth and Mr Bojangles taketh away!”

Neither of them had brain damage at all. Dwight had simply lost his glasses and Quentin had picked them up and put them on to keep them from getting stepped on, forgotten he had done so, and panicked.

Still, it was probably good he had, as David skittered down the ladder of the bunk bed a second later. Moving too fast and in a bit of a panic himself, he slipped on the last rung and fell on his ass with a startled shriek.

“The phone! The phone!” Eli hollered, trying and failing to grab it himself. Both he and King’s fingers were just barely out of reach, almost brushing the bottom of the device without being able to get a grip on it.

Scrambling around, David managed to snatch the phone before either of them could get close enough. Nearly dropping it several times as he jumped to his feet, dodging arms, legs, and hands as they grabbed for his ankles, he shrieked, “Oh my god, I answered it!”

“Hang up!” Marcus rasped. He was turning slightly blue, still trapped in King’s death grip.

“Throw it!” Dwight yelled, blindly holding up his hands to try and catch it. He was facing the wrong direction, but his heart was in the right place.

“Um, ah, ah, h- Hi, Leon! Bye, Leon!” David yelled into the phone, before turning and whipping the phone at the window.

There was a sharp sound of breaking glass, then silence as everyone turned to stare at the new hole in the window, then at David.

“I can’t… breathe!” Marcus wheezed, slapping at King’s hip.

“Good!” he snapped, but he loosened his hold, allowing the ginger to roll to one side as he caught his breath. Pushing himself up, he shook Eli off before standing and throwing his hands up. “Well, that’s just bloody great! Have all of you lost your fucking minds?!”

“Just- maybe- Can we- Just let him explain,” Eli panted. “He’s got a point… If you do go to Leon and he enforces any kind of permanent separation, it’ll have the same effect on Dwight and I!”

“And I should care?” King snapped, glaring down at him.

Marcus had never really thought about it, but it hit him at that moment. Obviously King knew about his roommate and friends' relationships. According to Feng, pretty much everyone did. But he’d never stopped to consider what others thought about said relationships…

“You should care, because it affects us,” Dwight reasoned, shoving his glasses crookedly onto his face. Blinking a couple of times, he frowned. “Oh, god, these are so dirty.”

“I know! How the hell do you see out of them like that?” Quentin asked, rubbing his eyes. “Oof, that gave me a headache.”

King crossed his arms, gritting his teeth as he seethed, “It would be safer in the long run…”

“Not for you,” Dwight stated. It wasn’t a threat or delivered petulantly. The way he said it almost sounded like someone talking about the weather or reading the time off their watch.

“It would get out,” Eli agreed uncomfortably. “One way or another, they’d figure out who was responsible for taking us away from them and then it would be your life on the line. Leon’s too, probably.”

“Maybe that would be better,” King insisted stubbornly. “I could find a new job, or work on a different floor. Or…”

“Or, you could consider the fact that despite how dangerous it is, and despite the fact that it’s not always… healthy, we are happy,” Dwight said softly. “Maybe… we should hear Marcus out. I mean, has Ghostface ever actually slept with any of his victims here at Crotus Prenn?”

“I… don’t know,” King mumbled begrudgingly. “I guess we can hear him out.”

Suddenly turning to David Emory, he jabbed a finger into his chest, warning, “You owe me a new phone!”

Letting out a sharp gasp, David quickly took a step back, hand flying up in front of him as if he was placating a wild animal. His voice practically quivered as promised, “O-Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’ll get you a new phone when I can! I’m sorry!”

“Hey, it’s fine, calm down!” Marcus pleaded, sitting heavily on the edge of the lower bunk. “Everyone sit, please. I’ll tell you everything…”

Once everyone finally settled in, he did tell them everything, starting with his very first encounter with Ghostface on his first day on the job. He left out the sordid details of their blooming sex life of course, but he did tell them about his claims and warnings, how he wouldn’t let anyone else touch him or hurt him. Once he was done with that, he went over his surprise conversation with Feng, before turning to Dwight to say, “So, you were supposed to tell me to tell her, I guess.”

Eli had a hand over his mouth, caught somewhere between laughter and horror as he looked back and forth between them. Finally, he chuckled, “I can’t believe you two hooked up in his cell during lunch. I mean, it’s one thing on the second floor, but on the first floor? Jesus, man. No wonder she saw you guys.”

“Yeah, it’s… I guess it’s kind of my fault this whole, patient-staff relationship thing is even… a thing…” Dwight mumbled, wincing when King shot a scathing look at the side of his head.

“Is it?” Marcus asked, more curious now that things had settled down. “How so?”

“It’s… a long story,” he offered, scratching the back of his neck.

“I don’t mind,” the ginger promised. “And I can’t lie. I’m really curious how someone like you ended up with someone like the Trapper.”

“You and me both,” King muttered, rolling his eyes.

Dwight sighed, rubbing his hands together as he considered it. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. Well, it started shortly after I got hired here at Crotus Prenn…”
~~~~

Notes:

Weeeee sorry for the super late update today! It's been a day. See you all Friday for one last chapter before the holiday break starts!

Chapter 29: Before Crotus Prenn: They Started This Mess

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Dwight does his best to explain how he and the Trapper ended up together, paving the way for other staff/patient relationships...

The exact circumstances of Dwight Fairfield’s hiring at Crotus Prenn were not spectacular nor interesting in the slightest. He simply applied literally anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to escape the crushing weight of his dead-end job under his awful boss and the possible repercussions of something he’d done…

When he’d finally gotten a call one afternoon asking about his resume and when he’d be available to start a series of phone and video interviews, he decided to risk it. Even hearing that the job would require relocating to Alaska wasn’t enough to get him to cut his losses and go for a safer, closer to home kind of job.

Dwight had found the enormous stacks of nondisclosure agreements, liability waivers, and request for his wishes regarding his last rights should anything happen to him on company property concerning, he still found himself needing to get as far away from his current life as possible, and so he filled it all out and sent it back without a second thought.

He started having second, third, and even forth thoughts before he was even three hours into his first day at Crotus Prenn. An inmate known as ‘the Pig’ had apparently had a major psychotic break and attempted to kill a guard. She’d actually managed to rip his jaw halfway off before she could be restrained, and the job of cleaning up the blood and teeth that had been left behind fell to the janitorial staff. More specifically, to him. The ‘new guy’ who needed some first hand experience.

It wouldn’t be the last shocking act of violence and aggression Dwight would have to clean up, but it did teach him a cold hard truth that very first day. The patients expected to be treated like animals, even by brand new staff members… because most of the staff talked about and treated them like animals.

Not all of them did, and he quickly learned who the patients liked and didn’t. Unfortunately, that didn’t make his job much easier. Although the guards were outright hated amongst the first floor patients, the janitorial staff weren’t far behind, even if they were nice. A large part of their job was to go through the patients rooms while they were at lunch or outdoor time, confiscating anything that was prohibited and double checking that they weren’t trying to make weapons or hide extra food.

Another thing Dwight quickly learned was that his direct supervisor was a complete and total moron. How the guy became head of any department was beyond his understanding, but there he was. Head of Janitorial. Making a simple job like cleaning out the breakroom microwave or emptying the trash ten times more complicated because ‘this is the way I like it done’.

It didn’t take long for him to start hating his boss. He was lazy, rude, and awful to the patients and other staff. He never did anything so horrible it was reportable, but everywhere he went he dragged a cloud of irritation and anxiety. Nothing was clean enough, everything was taking too long, the patients had an hour so the janitorial staff had forty-five minutes. It was exhausting, but it was a job, and it was doable.

Making friends definitely helped, and as the days dragged on, he was pleasantly surprised to find a few other genuinely pleasant people to hang out with. Claudette had just been hired a few weeks before him, but as a pharmacy tech. She was in school to become a nutritionist, and the hands-on experience was contributing to her grades.

It was through Claudette that he ended up meeting one of the guards. He was always kind of gruff and seemed to have constant scowl on his face, leading to most people assuming he was mean and unapproachable. It turned out he was just tired and incredibly new to America and was having trouble adjusting to the food and time change.

~

“Hold on, you’re not American?” Quentin asked, staring at Eli.

Doing a double take as Dwight’s story stopped mid sentence, Marcus squinted at his roommate. Was he being serious? Or had he really just never noticed King’s accent the entire time they’d been roommates?

“Q… Have you slept in the last forty-eight hours?” King asked gently.

“I have… not,” he admitted. “Sorry. Please continue.”

“Ah-ha…” Dwight said slowly. “Right…”

~

Much to Dwight’s surprise, he was given his level two clearance within his first two months. At first he was flattered to get it, excited since even though he hated his job, he’d been doing his best. Then his boss had to open his mouth and tell him he was getting ‘promoted’ to the second floor since one of the second floor janitors had ended up on the wrong side of a patient's temper. His first assignment on the second floor was to go help clean up the janitor he was replacing…

Escorted by one of the department higher ups, Dwight listened carefully as the situation was explained to him.

“The Trapper is one of our more volatile patients,” Leon explained. “He’s been known to lash out at the staff, but there’s usually some kind of warning in the days leading up to it. This was… out of nowhere.”

He seemed to still be slightly in shock himself, eyes wide and slightly glassy, but he pressed on anyway. Leading Dwight to the elevator downstairs, he continued, “We’ve already gotten the body parts– I’m sorry, we’ve gotten the body taken care of and off to the morgue. It’s mostly just blood and some debris. I am… very sorry that this is how you’re being introduced to the second floor. It’s not ideal, and the Captain even tried to request they not send you down, but apparently no one else will come down to clean until they fix the door, but they can’t come and fix the door until the blood is cleaned up.”

Head spinning slightly from the almost single breath sentence, Dwight nodded like he actually understood. “Right, ‘cause human blood is a biological hazard and only authorized personnel can clean it… Which is the janitorial staff for some stupid reason…”

That got a small laugh out of Leon, and Dwight smiled slightly. Poor guy seemed like he needed it. Just as quickly frowning, he asked more seriously, “What door needs fixing anyway?”

He’d asked just as they arrived at the second floor cell block, and Leon paused for a moment before answering. Looking down over the rail at the lower floor, he finally said, “That door…”

Dwight followed his gaze and immediately froze, feet feeling rooted to the spot.

A large pool of blood was smeared all over the floor and even on the walls and some cell doors. Chunks of plastic, bottles of cleaner, and a broken mop and broom were scattered all across the area, only adding to the chaos.

Right at the spot where the blood was thickest, Dwight could see a cell door half hanging out of a bent frame. Somehow, it had been almost ripped out of the tracks that it slid open and closed on. Blood splattered the frame and the floor inside the cell, although the occupant was nowhere to be seen.

“Where- where is- is, um, the patient?” Dwight asked, voice shaking. He really didn’t want to be stuck in a room with someone who could do that much damage to one of those doors…

“He’s heavily sedated and in solitary,” Leon promised. “And, technically, the guards are also trained and certified to clean up blood and other human waste…”

“Oh, how great for me,” Dwight muttered. He wasn’t sure how that was supposed to help until Leon started pulling on his own pair of gloves. A little surprised, he asked, “Shouldn’t you be helping with… I don’t know, whatever it is you do as Lieutenant?”

“Trust me, this is part of what I do. My paperwork can wait. This is more important, especially since your department head is making excuses for why he can’t send anyone else.”

“He does that a lot, I’ve noticed,” he admitted, before grimacing slightly. “I feel like I shouldn’t complain since I’m getting paid so much. It’s not like I’m not being fairly compensated for the amount of work I do, it’s just–”

“Oh, no, you should absolutely complain,” Leon interrupted, entirely seriously. “If you all don’t make complaints or at least approach us about this kind of stuff, we can’t do anything about it. I will say, I know your direct supervisor. He’s been here longer than I have and he’s never done anything that he could be fired for or anything, but he should absolutely be replaced. We just need the files showing that his pattern of lazy behavior is an ongoing issue, especially if it puts anyone in danger… And… we need someone who will actually be willing to take the job…”

“That’s… interesting,” Dwight agreed, deep in thought. Trying not to sound too interested, he asked, “So, ah, what exactly would someone have to have under their belt to… properly qualify for department head? You know, for their application to be noticed and- and looked at…”

“Someone who takes the job seriously and isn’t afraid to…” Leon paused for a moment. Leaning down, he picked up a human eye as he said, “...deal with this kind of stuff,”

“Oh, my god,” Dwight gagged, quickly going back to mopping up blood. Still, the conversation was on his mind a lot after that, and as more time passed, the more he started to feel like it could be a real possibility.

Head of Janitorial wasn’t all that prestigious or fancy, but it was still a promotion and it would look good on future resumes. Maybe he could move up. None of the other janitors really seemed like they wanted to do it, so there probably wouldn’t be a lot of competition for the position. The others all seemed content to just did the jobs they were paid to do and that was that. No more, no less.

Deciding that wasn’t enough for him, Dwight buckled down and started trying his best to show that he could do the job, and that he wanted the job. Although he didn’t really mention it to anyone, what he was doing quickly made its way to his supervisor, and he took it a little too personally.

From then on, he started giving Dwight the worst shifts he could, scheduling him so he’d be working in the worst areas with the least amount of coverage he could get away with. But, much like Leon had previously mentioned, he never did anything that they could reasonably fire him for.

Assigned to the cafeteria during lunch for the first time, Dwight couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous. The Trapper had finally been let out of solitary, and no one wanted to be in the lunchroom the first day any inmate was let back into the general populace. They tended to act up more, lashing out in an attempt to work off the pent up stress of being locked in a much smaller box with no human interaction for days or even weeks on end.

For the most part, lunch seemed to go okay. The Trapper seemed content to keep to himself as long as he was left alone, and Dwight managed to avoid drawing the other second floor patients attention by doing what he always did. Keeping his head down and acting like part of the wall anytime anyone looked at him…

It seemed to work well enough, but like all good things, it still came to an end. Getting a call on his radio, he listened closely before rolling his eyes. Looked like he’d be pushing his own lunch break to later again, since as soon as the patients were done, he got to stick around and empty all the lunchroom garbage bins.

He wanted to do things right and earn a promotion… but there were some days he seriously considered ‘helping’ the position open up a little bit sooner. It wouldn’t be difficult… Or dangerous… His boss used the same nasty thermos every day. If he was to suddenly get really sick, everyone would chalk it up to that. Food poisoning. And if his food poisoning was bad enough that they had to bring someone in to fill in for a couple of weeks, someone that could do the job better…

Letting out an annoyed sigh when his radio squawked at him for the third time to remind him to respond, Dwight answered shortly, “Got it, I’ll take my lunch when I’m done.”

There was a crackle of confirmation from the small device, and then he was basically alone again. Except, he really wasn’t.

Warm breath puffed over the side of Dwight’s neck and he froze, eyes wide as he registered far too late the body looming behind him.

“I could kill him for you… If you want.”

Continuing to stare straight ahead, Dwight waited for something to happen. A hand to grab his arm or perhaps shove him out of the way. Instead, there was a quiet laugh, then a large body stepping around him.

Dwight blinked, watching the Trapper as he strolled away towards the door to line up with the rest of the patients. He’d read his file and seen his mugshot, but that was the first time seeing him in person and all he could think was…

‘Holy shit…’

~

“Haw! You had a crush on him!” Quentin cackled, and Dwight paused his story to glare at him.

Marcus thought it was pretty damn funny, but when he saw the look on King’s face, he decided not to say anything.

The guard still looked pissed about the whole situation, but his body language had changed to something else when Dwight started talking about his first in person meeting with the Trapper…

“If you interrupted again, we’re moving to my room,” the janitor warned. “You know the rules.”

Hugging the jar closer to his body, Quentin gasped, “No!” He looked like a stricken mother trying to shield the eyes of her innocent child from witnessing something unspeakable.

“What… are the rules?” David asked slowly, eyes darting between the two.

Since Dwight and Quentin were locked in a staring contest, each trying to gauge just how serious the other was, it was Eli who answered. “Anti-Gingivitis Greg can’t cross the threshold of anyone else’s room without their permission. And he needs permission every time.”

“Communists,” Quentin grumbled, finally accepting defeat.

~

Dwight started getting assigned to the second floor a lot more often, and because of that, he started seeing the Trapper a lot more often as well. Nothing really happened at first. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, and although a lot of lingering glances were cast back and forth, it didn’t seem like anything would ever come of it.

And why should it? Evan was a patient, and Dwight was a member of the staff. He had a lot to do. Work to focus on. No time for a personal life. No time for dating…

The next big thing that happened to Dwight was a murder. Not his, obviously, but it greatly affected him nonetheless. He’d been more and more seriously considering poisoning his boss’s coffee, going so far as to start narrowing down the best time and place to do it, when someone took the initiative and removed the decision from his hands altogether.

Dwight was very aware that he was being yelled at, but he’d tuned out the actual words at least three minutes ago. Every single word just made him more and more irritated. He knew he should be listening, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was just the same old bull shit about how he wasn’t cleaning efficiently enough or he wasn’t cleaning well enough.

Letting his eyes zone out so he could stop staring at the center of his boss’s forehead, he realized the patients were filing in for lunch. One particular shape caught his eye, and he found himself looking up. Evan was staring directly back at him, and he quickly dropped his gaze, face flushing.

The tirade of verbal abuse continued, but Dwight couldn’t focus on it for a whole different reason. He could still see the patients moving past them through his periphery, but when one of them started moving closer instead, he blinked.

Time seemed to freeze for a second as he managed to focus on his boss’s face, and the hands about to clamp around it from behind. He knew he had a second, maybe less, to act. He could shove him back into his attacker and throw him off. Or he could grab him and yank him away from the deadly hands about to close around his skull. Or he could shout for the guards. Or he could… not.

He could purposefully do… nothing at all.

It was that simple. The second was gone. And the crack that filled the sudden silence was as loud as a gunshot.

The Trapper dropped the dead man, watching his body and backwards head hit the floor with a thud. Then, teeth bared in a smile behind the leather bite guard, he looked Dwight dead in the eyes and laughed.

For a split second, Dwight was pretty sure he was going to die. It would be nothing for the Trapper to reach out and just as quickly and easily snap his neck.

Although he did raise his hands, it was to put them behind his head, a smirk on his face as guards surrounded him.

Dwight was grabbed by a guard and practically dragged aside to be frantically and loudly questioned, then whisked off to medical for much of the same treatment. When he was finally able to give his statement, he did so almost robotically, recalling it as step by step as he could before staring at his hands with glassy eyes.

The doctors chalked it up to shock and he wasn’t questioned further, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. He kept telling himself that he didn’t want his boss dead. He’d just wanted him to get demoted or transferred… or fired. Even if he’d tried to step in, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Right? It all happened so fast. He was scared, so he froze. No one could blame him for not acting…

But now he had to act.

Waiting a respectable two days and constantly trying to put the incident from his mind and telling himself there really was nothing he could have done anyway, Dwight finally put in his application for the head janitor position.

He was just sitting down to lunch when his name was called on the radio, and he sighed. Looked like lunch could wait, as he was needed at the front desk.

Making his way there, he was a little surprised to find Leon waiting for him. He’d recently been promoted to Captain of the guards, and he was having a somewhat difficult time accepting it. There were a lot of rumors surrounding his incredibly fast climb up the ladder, but thus far he’d proved to be a very capable department head.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Leon greeted, offering him a genuine smile. At least it looked like he was having a good day. “Please follow me.”

“Is everything okay?” Dwight asked. He almost asked if it was about his former boss’s death, but quickly thought better of it. He’d had nothing to do with it, nor had he ever had actual plans to harm the man himself…

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Leon promised, smiling at him. Stopping in front of an office door, he added, “So let me be the first to congratulate you.”

Blinking in confusion, he was about to ask what he was being congratulated for but a firm pat on the shoulder and a knock on the door made him lose his chance. Still totally lost, he didn’t even register the invitation to enter until the new Captain swung the door open and stepped in front of him.

“Sir, Dwight’s here,” Leon said. Stepping aside, he revealed they were in fact at the office of the CEO himself, Albert Wesker.

Dwight had never actually met him. He’d seen him in passing a couple of times, and he’d watched him begrudgingly read a poorly written script off a bunch of index cards during Leon’s promotion ceremony and Bill’s almost-retirement-turned-department-transfer. Dwight remembered it very well, especially since he’d had to clean up all of Wesker’s discarded index cards…

“Ah, good, Quiggly,” the blond greeted, not looking away from his computer screen. “Have a seat.”

“This is… Dwight, sir,” Leon corrected gently, and Wesker finally glanced up from his work.

A very soft sigh escaped him and he nodded. “Right, Quiggly was the new hire.”

“Quentin,” Leon corrected again. “You just approved the paperwork to hire him so we can start background checks and try to get him up here.”

“Of course,” Wesker agreed, before finally turning to address Dwight directly. “So, Dwayne.”

It was probably a good thing Dwight found him too intimidating to correct, as it would have obliterated his hopes and dreams faster than a jury of his peers finding out why he’d left his last job.

Picking up a stack of index cards, Wesker read, “Congratulations, new hire, your application was recently accepted–”

“I’ve… been working here a year, sir,” Dwight muttered awkwardly, fighting the urge to bite his nails.

“Oh, you have?” Wesker asked, sounding genuinely surprised for a moment. Looking at the index cards, he said, “Oh… I see. Right, either way, you’re the new head of janitorial. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“I’m the– I got the job?” Dwight asked, absolutely shocked. Holy shit, all that hard work must have paid off! Sure, he still wished his boss hadn’t had to die for him to get promoted, but wow!

“Mhmm, you were the only applicant and you’ve survived this long,” Wekser stated, crushing the small flame of pride flickering in the janitor's chest. “We will be bringing in more new hires to help out on janitorial, but for now, Jack can help you with any questions involving scheduling or floor coverage. Now, I’m going to turn you over to Emory for the grand tour. Normally I’d have Grimes do it… but he’s a bit preoccupied.”

~

Pausing, Dwight grimaced. “Ah… So, that was the first time I’d ever met Emory Sr… Um, David’s dad… It went well, but… It went well.”

David looked away with a tense expression and everyone else fell silent. They had all, more or less, agreed to not speak too negatively of Asa whenever they were with David. The guy had a rather… complicated relationship with his dad but he still looked up to and loved the man. They didn’t want to make things awkward by telling him what they really thought of his dad but it seemed that David was aware anyway.

It was fairly obvious what Dwight wasn’t saying, but a sentiment they almost all shared. Asa Emory was fucking terrifying…

Still, Marcus was hoping that Dwight would share something about some of the even lower floors. If the patients on floor two were always so heavily locked down, what could be happening on three through seven?

Unfortunately, no information on that front was forthcoming, and the janitor picked up the story a bit after any juicy new information…

~

Jack ended up being the biggest reason Dwight didn’t throw himself off the dormitory roof within the first three days of being promoted. It turned out the entire reason no one else had applied, was because no one else wanted the unforeseeable amount of extra work that came with it.

The lower floors had heavier and heavier restrictions, meaning he had less and less people he could actually assign to each floor the further down he went. The upside was that they didn’t get cleaned nearly as often, so he didn’t have to struggle to find someone to cover time off for those floors.

Leon was a big help too, and Bill, even though he’d since moved to the tech team. Unfortunately, the promotion still ended up putting more of a strain on already strained relationships, and Dwight found himself looking for some kind of distraction. The only thing his mind seemed to circle back to however, was the second floor. Specifically, the Trapper.

Dwight had found out on his very first day as department head that no one liked to work on the second floor. Every janitor assigned to the second floor would complain about it or try to find someone to switch with. Multiple times a week, people would call in or show up late because of some bullshit reason. Covering as many of the lost shifts as he could as he figured out how to get the department into shape, he found himself growing more and more curious about Evan.

The Trapper was considered an incredibly volatile patient, and for good reason. He tended to act aggressively towards whatever poor staff member had to bring him his breakfast and dinner, threatening them with all kinds of horrible violence through the door of his cell. He had to be sedated anytime they wanted to bring him out of his cell for medical checks or even just extra room inspections. But every time Dwight was around, he seemed to calm down a bit.

Evan’s behavior didn’t improve or anything that drastic, but Dwight noticed he’d stop openly staring down any staff member that dared exist in the same room as him in favor of watching the janitor instead. His expression would become less stern, although he’d just as quickly lash out at anyone who got too close to him.

Dwight found it impossible to hold his gaze for long. Something like shame spiraled through him every time he tried. He still felt some level of responsibility for his former supervisor’s death, and eventually, it became too much to bear.

One night, after dinner was over and lights out had been called, Dwight gathered his courage and made his way down to the second floor cellblock. The few people he passed didn’t bother to spare him so much as a glance. They were well aware of who he was, and since he was a department head, they had no reason to question what he was doing or where he was going.

Standing in front of the Trapper’s cell was awfully intimidating, and Dwight shivered. Maybe he was making a mistake. Evan wouldn’t want to talk to him. He just found him amusing, or maybe he wanted to see if he could get him to actually ask him to kill someone!

Nearly losing his nerve, Dwight forced himself to reach out and slide his badge through the slot. The second he did, he realized he should have just knocked on the door, not opened it!

It was too late, and the second the door was open far enough, an arm shot out. A huge fist curled in the front of his shirt and he was yanked inside. The door slid shut behind him with a resounding clang, locking him inside the pitch black cell with the Trapper.
~~~~

Notes:

Alas, here we have the final chapter before the Holiday Hiatus! Don't worry, you can still find both of us on Tumblr, and Whispers of Insanity will return January 3rd 2025!

<3

Chapter 30: Before Crotus Prenn: An Even Bigger Mess

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

The Asylum crew is back and not a moment too soon! Now Dwight can finish his story, and maybe convince Marcus how bad an idea getting deeply involved with a patient can be! At least, he can hope, right?

“Holy shit, did you die?!” Quentin demanded, leaning forward in his chair.

Dwight paused, an incredibly tired look on his face. It would be easy to chalk it up to how late it was or the long day of work he’d put in only a few hours before… but considering the story he was telling was about how he and the Trapper had started their relationship, it was simply due to a very stupid question.

“Quentin… You’ve heard this story before,” Eli said slowly. “I know… Because I was there.”

“I don’t remember that,” he sniffed, refusing to look at any of them.

“Remember? You and Dwight bumped into me when I was coming out of Michael’s cell?” Eli guided patiently. “So he sat us both down kind of like this and explained why neither of you would be snitching on what you’d seen and who I needed to go talk to?”

“Ooooh, right,” the janitor recalled. “Sorry. Please continue…”

~

Dwight probably should have screamed as he was pulled into the pitch black of the Trapper’s cell. He definitely should have screamed when he was slammed against the closed door, fingers curled in his dark green scrub top and digging into his chest as he was held almost a foot off the floor, but he still didn’t.

Instead, he let out a terrified squeak, hands shaking as he grabbed a pair of wrists encircled by heavy metal cuffs. The cuffs! There was a manual lock on the cuffs! If he could find the button and hit it, the magnets would activate and lock the Trapper’s hands together!

In front of him…

Leaving him just as capable of strangling or beating the poor janitor to death before anyone realized he was in there. He’d seen his speed and strength firsthand, and cleaned up after some of his more violent messes. Cuffing him wouldn’t do shit.

“What do you think you’re doing, coming into my cell in the middle of the night?” the Trapper growled, voice low and rough.

It almost sounded like an animal growling and Dwight gulped as hot breath washed over the front of his throat. Just praying he wasn’t about to feel teeth sinking into his neck, he stammered, “I- I- I just- I- See- Um, well- I need to know why you killed the head janitor! The- the other h-head janitor! N-not me!”

There was a pause, then a gruff laugh. Lips so close to his skin Dwight could almost feel them, the Trapper said, “I was bored.”

Bored?! He’d walked up behind a man and snapped his neck with his bare hands because he’d been bored?!

“O-oh,” Dwight managed, thankful the darkness was hiding how red his cheeks had turned. It was bad enough that he was going to die, but the added embarrassment was too much. Hopefully the Trapper would hurry up and end him…

As though he could smell his shame, the man’s next words almost seemed intended to make him squirm.

“Were you hoping I’d killed him for you?”

His sharp inhale was enough of an answer, and the Trapper laughed. His feet still had yet to touch the ground and Dwight let out a high pitched squeak when a hand grabbed his jaw. Fingers dug into his cheeks, pushing his head back against the door. “I asked you a question, boy.”

Yes, and he was afraid of answering the question! It was embarrassing! And wrong! And it might just save his life… Shit.

Voice barely audible, he admitted, “A little…”

A low laugh was growled back at him through the dark. “Is that so? Such a quiet, gentle little thing… No one would ever expect someone like you to be capable of doing such dirty work.”

If Dwight had the spine for it, he would have been offended. Instead, he just drooped pathetically in the man’s grasp as he mumbled, “I… I would have… done something about him… eventually…”

“Oh, really?” the Trapper chuckled darkly. “And what would a pretty boy do with such soft hands?”

It wasn’t his fault his hands were soft! He took care of them! He wore gloves when he was at work since he used a lot of harsh chemicals and he used lotion! The air in Alaska was really dry and he had to wash his hands a lot!

A spark of defiance burned in Dwight’s chest, and although his voice shook as much as the rest of him, he managed to argue, “I- I would have p-poisoned him… I’ve… I’ve done it before.”

“Impressive,” the Trapper snorted. “Maybe they should put you in the kitchen. I’m sure whatever you could cook up would be much more appealing than the slop they usually shovel onto our trays.”

“W-well, y-you’ll have to let me go t-to find out,” he offered, grinning nervously as the hand on his face was lowered back to his top.

“Why would I do that?”

“Wh-why- why not?” Dwight squeaked, once again very aware of the position he was in. Gasping as he was suddenly swinging through the air, he pulled his legs up a bit to keep from being smacked into something. There wasn’t a lot of room in the patient’s cells, but in the dark he had absolutely no bearings and had no clue how close he may or may not be to hitting something.

He needn’t have worried, as the Trapper seemed content to keep him dangling in the air a while longer…

“I kill because I get bored. I was very bored tonight… Until you showed up… If I let you leave already, I’ll get bored again.”

“If- if you k-kill me, y-you’ll just g-get bored again qu-quicker!” Dwight choked, hoping the man would see the logic in his reasoning. Unless he planned to kill him and defile his corpse. God only knew how much entertainment he could get out of that…

“I could kill you slowly…”

“B-but- but if you draw it out, they- they’ll hear it on the camera and you- you’ll get caught,” he whimpered, nails digging into the man's skin so hard he was actually drawing blood. The fact that the inmate didn’t even seem to notice, or care if he had, only made it even scarier for the poor janitor.

“Who said that’s the only way to kill boredom?” the Trapper growled, taking a step.

Dwight let out a shocked squeak when he was lowered, ass landing on something only slightly softer than concrete. The patient’s bed.

“Oh, i-is that- is that n-not the only way?” he stammered, heart beating a mile a minute. That… certainly wasn’t what he’d been hoping for when he went to the man’s cell. He hadn’t even been thinking about him like that at all!

Okay, so that was a load of bullshit, but he really didn’t think anything would come of his wondering and, dare he admit… fantasizing... Sure, Ace had just survived hooking up with PeePaw Myers of all people and–

~

“Wait, you were around for that?” Marcus demanded, nearly falling off the edge of his seat. “Do you know the details? What happened? How did–”

“I am not getting into that,” Dwight stated dryly. “Ask Ace.”

“Dammit,” he huffed. He wanted to know the details! But it looked like that would be a story for a different time…

~

“Are you really going to try and tell me you haven’t been thinking about this, boy?” the Trapper growled, hand moving up to his throat. “Or did you really think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been watching me?”

“Ahhha,” Dwight managed, still trying to convince himself otherwise. Unable to ignore the fingers slowly pressing harder on his neck as the man’s patience ran thin, he stammered, “I- I was just c-curious… Since you s-said you could… kill him for me.”

The Trapper’s lips gently brushed Dwight’s ear as he whispered, “Liar…”

Before Dwight could find the courage to try and protest that that was in fact what he’d said, he was shoved onto his back. He could have screamed then. He could have fought and thrashed and clawed and screamed until his blood was pooling under the cell door. Nothing was stopping him.

But he didn’t. Instead, he squeaked as a hand rucked his shirt up over belly, eyes shooting even wider in the blinding darkness.

“You may not have taken a life yet, but you’ve seen how easy it is,” the Trapper growled, hand surprisingly warm as it stretched across Dwight’s bare skin. “You’ve got that look in your eyes. The look of someone who enjoyed it…”

“It- it… scared me,” Dwight whispered, heart racing.

“And yet you were getting ready to try again,” the man said, voice thick. “So tell me… Are you scared now?”

“Y-yes,” he admitted, swallowing hard as the hand on his neck squeezed gently. Blinking when the fingers on his chest slid down to his hip, he gasped when lips brushed the cartilage of his ear.

“You’re going to do it again anyway… once you’ve gotten a taste.”

It wasn’t a question or a threat. It was a promise, and Dwight’s entire body flooded with heat as a large hand palmed him through the front of his work pants. A single good squeeze was enough to get him hard, and he squirmed, slightly embarrassed.

“So eager…” the Trapper growled, curling his fingers under the waistband of the janitor's scrubs and boxers. Pulling them unceremoniously down to his knees, his hand returned, knuckles brushing the underside of Dwight’s shaft.

Before he could take him in hand, Dwight stammered defiantly, “I- I d-didn’t come h-here for- for sex!”

He really hadn’t! But… he also wasn’t going to complain that that was the direction the night was going…

“Still trying to deny why you really came in here,” the Trapper growled, hand wrapping tightly around Dwight. Giving him a squeeze that bordered on painful, he clamped a hand over his mouth when he squealed. “None of that now. You don’t really want to be interrupted, do you?”

Breathing rapidly through his nose, Dwight managed to scrape together enough brain power to shake his head. No. No he really didn’t want anyone to interrupt. He wanted to see just how far the Trapper would take things.

“Good…”

~

“Achoo!”

David’s harsh sneeze scared almost everyone in the room and they turned to look at him, now wrapped in one of Marcus’ blankets while sitting quietly next to said orderly. Looking mortified, he slowly pulled the blanket over his head till he was more or less a lump on the floor.

Dwight looked like he was about ready to poison everyone in the room as he said, “God bless you.”

Raising Mr BoJangles over his head, Quentin intoned, “Bless you, child.”

“I’m going to drug him,” King decided, pulling a bottle of benadryl out of his bedside table. “Eli, help me make sure I don’t give him too much.”

“Not again,” the nurse sighed, shuffling over to the already struggling pair.

Shaking his head, Dwight picked up where he left off. Although he didn’t go into a lot of detail about his first time with Evan, he did remember it very fondly.

~

The Trapper seemed to be challenging the security crew. It was almost as though he were daring them to turn on the lights or send someone to check out the strange noises they had to be picking up on the camera.

Even with a palm pressed tightly over his mouth, Dwight couldn’t stop the stream of muffled moans and cries he was letting out. Every so often, his legs would twitch and jerk on either side of Evan’s waist.

The Trapper rolled his hips, rocking into him again. They’d been like that for what felt like forever and Dwight still wasn’t sure he’d ever adjust. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but Evan was a lot bigger than anyone he’d ever been with before. He was also a lot stronger, and had nearly folded the janitor in half so he could keep one hand over his mouth as he sank into him.

Growling as he shifted around some more, the man chuckled as Dwight whimpered and squirmed. “Such a tight fit. Maybe I should have kept my fingers in you a little bit longer.”

Eyes watering, Dwight shook his head as best he could. The Trapper had been utterly merciless with just getting him to the point he’d put his dick in him and he desperately didn’t want to take a step in the opposite direction! He’d used the janitor’s own spit as lube to work two fingers into him, massaging and stretching him until he’d been sniffling and begging for him to fuck him.

Of course he’d been more than willing to comply, and Dwight had no idea just how much he was in for until his legs were being shoved apart so Evan could get inside him. With as quickly and roughly as he’d bottomed out, the janitor had been expecting him to set an unforgiving pace right off the bat. He was pretty sure the mostly still, balls deep grinding he’d been subjected to for the past borderline obscene amount of time was simply because the Trapper was trying to make him cry. Or at least, he was enjoying his muffled whimpers and squirming.

“So eager… Is that little guard of yours not satisfying your needs, boy?”

Dwight whined, not wanting to think about work or any of his… work relationships… Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to focus on it for more than a minute. All his attention was currently on the way his body was aching, greedily demanding more despite the almost too full feeling settled heavily in his gut.

A slight shift of the Trapper’s hips pulled a muffled whine from his lips, and he blinked into the darkness with watery eyes. Hands shaking, he dared lift them from where he’d been tearing new holes in the mattress to paw at the larger man's shoulders.

A low laugh reached Dwight’s ears, the only warning he got before Evan unceremoniously pulled almost entirely out before snapping back into him. Back arching, the janitor let out a high pitched wail, breath hitching as his vision swam with stars.

“Fuck, Dwight,” the Trapper growled, surprising him.

He didn’t think the man actually knew his name, but hearing it said so low and hungry in his ear sent fireworks shooting through his body.

His euphoria was only heightened as Evan repeated the rough motion, muscles twitching as he held himself back. Dwight didn’t want him to hold back. He wanted him to push them both to their limits. He wanted to be taken apart. To no longer have to think or worry or concern himself with the day to day. He wanted to let go of his authority and control. He wanted to submit and be rewarded for it instead of walked all over…

It didn’t take long for the Trapper to give him exactly what he wanted. His long, drawn out pauses became shorter, his thrusts faster and more aggressive. His teeth found the janitor’s neck and jaw, kissing and biting as he moaned and keened behind his palm. When Dwight came, body writhing and jerking underneath the much larger man, lips found his own in the dark.

Dwight had been kissed before, but never like that. There was a ferocity and hunger to the kiss that left him breathless and trembling in his post orgasm haze. It also distracted him for a moment longer, and it wasn’t until Evan stopped moving that he realized he’d been slowly rocking into him for the duration of his orgasm, drawing it out and prolonging the pleasure even more. His mouth was finally left uncovered, but before he could find the air to speak, he was being roughly rolled onto his stomach.

A hand grabbed the back of Dwight’s neck, shoving him face down in the mattress as his ass was pulled up. Taken from a whole new angle, it was left up to him to silence the loudest of his moans. Admittedly, he didn’t do nearly as good a job, and his whimpers and moans filled the cell, along with the aggressive slapping of skin against skin as the Trapper fucked into him.

The term ‘rough sex’ was starting to take on a whole new meaning for Dwight. From the stinging slap against his ass and balls every time Evan would snap into him to the bruises being pressed into his hip and neck as the man’s fingers dug into his skin for purchase. His body twitched and burned, nerves raw and overstimulated. And he loved it.

Words spilled from his lips without his mind being able to keep up. Desperate pleas to keep going, to go harder, fuck him deeper. He could feel a second orgasm building, heat twisting and coiling in his belly like a snake preparing to strike. He’d never cum twice in one go before, but he knew it would only take a few more of the Trapper’s heavy, grinding thrusts to get him there.

Spilling on the bed instead of himself that time, Dwight panted and gasped like a fish out of water. Behind him, Evan’s pace started to falter, and to the janitor’s unexpected panic, he started to pull out.

Without thinking, he begged, “In-inside me, please!”

He didn’t need to ask twice, and with an animalistic snarl, the Trapper clamped both hands around his hips as he thrust once, twice more, before cumming. Fingers dug into Dwight’s skin, nails leaving crescent shaped cuts beading small drops of blood in their wake.

Both of them finally stilled, their heavy breathing the only sounds remaining in the dark cell. That time, it was Dwight who spoke first. Mind still a swirling fog of pleasure and post-orgasm haze, the janitor mumbled, “I can die happy now.”

There was a short laugh behind him before a hand slapped his ass. He had to cover his mouth with both hands to keep from shrieking, only to whimper loudly when Evan pulled out. The hand on his hip remained, however, and he blinked. Oh. Oh no. What had he just done? He was so fucked! If he survived, he was going to get fired!

“No dying… not until I’m done with you,” the Trapper growled, and before Dwight could react, something hot and wet was gliding over his leaking hole.

Nearly breaking his glasses with as hard as he shoved his face into the mattress, the janitor let out a sound so undignified it took him a second to realize he was the one who made it. Another drag of the Trapper’s tongue had him letting out a muffled sob, toes curling as his cock started to react to the stimulation. He didn’t think he had it in him to cum for a third time, but thankfully that wasn’t the intention anymore.

Lapping at his hole until Dwight was no longer able to stifle his cries effectively, the Trapper finally showed him mercy. Patting his very tender rear, he growled, “I just wish I could see you all cleaned up and pretty… Next time, come by when the lights are still on.”

“Wha– Huh, what?” Dwight panted, legs shaking too much to try and stand up. “N-next time?”

A hand reached out of the darkness to ruffle his hair as Evan laughed, “Like I said, you’re not allowed to die until I’m done with you… and I am far from done with you, boy.”

~

“Dwight? Dwight?” Marcus demanded, snapping his fingers in front of his nose.

He’d zoned out several minutes ago, looking almost as gone as Quentin usually did. It was unnerving, and Marcus had finally been bullied into trying to snap him out of it.

Jumping, Dwight blushed as he said a little too loudly, “Yes?! I’m here!”

“You were… gooone,” Quentin groaned, face down on the floor beside David, who was squinting at him like a turtle in its blanket shell. The benadryl was already kicking in and kicking his ass.

Using a pair of fireplace tongs, Eli pried the jar containing Mr. BoJangles back onto the shrine on the desk. Making a face as he shoved the tongs back under one of the beds, he quickly wiped his hands on King’s shirt. “Eeugh.”

“Oi, don’t get that on me!” he snapped, smacking at the nurse.

Before they could start fighting, Dwight quickly resumed his story. “Ahha, a-anyway. After we… got done, we actually talked for a few minutes… mostly because Evan wouldn’t let me out of his cell yet. It took me a while to realize it, but he wanted more than just sex that night. I mean, obviously he wanted sex, but he also realized he finally had someone to talk to. I told him I needed to go talk to Feng, but I promised I’d be back within two days to actually visit him with the lights on. I figured I’d need at least that long to get Feng alone and explain things to her…

~

Feng found Dwight within three minutes of him leaving Evan’s cell, and for the second time that night, he was thrown against a door.

Dragged down to her eye level, Dwight swore he felt six inches tall as Feng whisper shouted, “Are you fucking insane?! Who the absolute hell just goes into a patient's– No, the Trapper’s cell like that?! What were you thinking?!! Are you suicidal?! Was this a cry for help?!”

“No!” he hissed, trying to pry her hands off his collar. Good god, how was she so strong?! “I’m not– Ow! You’re pinching me! I’m not crazy! Okay?! I was coming to find you!”

“What?!” she demanded. “Why me?! I don’t want to get dragged into this!”

“Then why did you grab me?!” he squeaked, nearly falling over as she suddenly tugged him away from the wall. “Ow! Why are you pulling on me?! Stop it! Where are we going?!”

“We can’t talk here!” Feng warned, shushing him when he tried to protest. “I grabbed you cause I thought you were going to try and make a quick getaway to the dorms!”

“Why would I do that?!” Dwight asked, pinwheeling his arms as he was released in the middle of an empty office. “You’re the head of the tech team, right?”

“Tech department,” she corrected. “The whole department is me. I am the tech department. Bill is like… the Tech department DLC. Anyway, you’re lucky I was the one who heard your hookup and not Bill! Dude, I thought he was murdering you! Or masterbating. Or both… Ugh.”

“I was coming to ask you not to tell anyone about what happened tonight!” Dwight finally blurted out. When Feng started to argue, he waved his hands in the air. “No, no, no! Just- Just let me explain before you start again! Please!”

Taking a deep breath, Feng sighed angrily. Crossing her arms, she huffed, “Go ahead. Explain.”

“I… went to go talk to the Trapper about something that had happened. I know going into his cell was stupid and yes, I know I could have been killed and it would have been entirely my fault,” he admitted. “I didn’t intend for it to lead to sex, but I don’t regret that it did… and it’s going to happen again… and I am absolutely willing to risk my life to do it again… but I wanted to do you the courtesy of warning you beforehand so you could… not be caught off guard?”

Feng stared at him with an expression like she’d just licked a raw lemon. Finally, she said, “You’re insane… But. You are an adult. I’m not going to tell you who you can and can’t sleep with, even if it is fucking stupid as hell. I will do my best to give you guys what privacy I can... But I can’t shut off the camera and I can’t mute it entirely. If you need help and those cameras are shut off, that’s a lot more than just your life and my ass on the line.”

That was actually a lot more than what he’d been hoping for, so he didn’t try to argue. Nodding, he agreed, “I understand. That seems fair-”

“I’m not done,” Feng interrupted, holding up a hand. “I can delete footage and sound bits after the deed is done as long as you’re not murdered, but I can’t bribe, blackmail, or fire anyone if they catch you and you can’t talk them into shutting up. I can’t protect you from anyone if you get caught in the moment.”

“O-of course,” Dwight accepted. “I appreciate the help–”

“Ahhh! I’m not–” she paused, thinking things over for a second before letting out a defeated sigh. “Alright, fine. I’m helping. But you need to help me too, man. Here, I’m going to shoot you a text and my discord. Just warn me before you go into his cell from now on so I can make sure Bill’s not looking at his camera or anything.”

“Right, I can do that,” he promised. “Um, my phone number is–”

“Don’t bother, I already have it,” Feng told him, fingers tapping furiously on her cell’s tiny keyboard. Not looking up to see the incredibly concerned expression on his face, she added, “I have all the department head’s numbers. And if I didn’t, I have access to the mainframe and employee records, and since you have to have a valid number on file, it’s a pretty simple copy paste.”

“Oh,” Dwight answered, hearing his phone chime in his pocket. He didn’t need to look to know it was Feng.

Replacing her phone in her jacket, she crossed her arms again. “Alright. All I can say now is… best of luck, man. And don’t get caught.”

~

“We got caught about two months later,” Dwight sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Um, it was… bad. But it worked out in the end, I guess.”

“Bad,” King scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fucking a bloody mass murderer and it’s ‘bad’ you got caught. Fuck this.”

Nearly leaping out of his seat when the guard reached for the door to the hall, Marcus demanded, “Hold on, where are you going? You can’t–”

“I’m not going to bloody snitch!” King snapped. “I’m just stepping out for a fucking smoke!”

“You don’t smoke,” Eli pointed out, only to flinch when their roommate shouted, “Well I bloody well need to right now!”

The door slammed shut so hard it actually made Quentin stir slightly from his drug induced sleep. Lifting his head from the floor, he squinted at David for a second, mumbling, “Dad?” before plunking his head back down onto the carpet.

“I take it… he was the one who caught you two?” Marcus asked.

Dwight looked like a deflated balloon, shoulders slumped and head down as he said, “Yes… See, it might not have been so bad, but… King and I had an on again off again, fling, hookup, kind of relationship for a while. He wanted something more serious and I just… didn’t. I wanted a way to blow off steam and forget about work for a little while, and I let things go on too long. Once I became department head, I broke things off completely. I already knew I didn’t want a full blown relationship and it was unfair to him since he was still hoping I’d change my mind…”

“How’d you convince him not to snitch?” Marcus questioned, raising an eyebrow. “He still seems pretty pissed about it.”

“He is,” Dwight stated flatly. “And I couldn’t convince him not to snitch. At least, not entirely. He told Leon, who told Jack… that was a fun conversation, but honestly, she was more understanding than you might think. She just wanted to ensure I understood the risks I was taking and that if the wrong people found out, she couldn’t do anything to protect me…”

“The wrong people?” the ginger repeated. “Who exactly are the wrong people?”

Actually turning several shades of white and gray, Dwight cleared his throat before half mumbling, “Um, ah, well… Wekser, for one… Grimes. And, ah…”

Clearing his throat, he added almost apologetically, “Emory Sr.”

~

After the absolute rollercoaster that had been the past two months, Dwight felt like he was finally able to breathe again. Things between him and Evan -yes, he had been given permission to use his actual name- had actually reached a point where he no longer worried if he’d be leaving his cell every time he visited him.

Sure, King walking in and catching them mid-hook up had been mortifying. And life threatening. But he’d managed to convince Evan not to kill King, King not to tell anyone other than Leon, and Leon and Jack not to tell Wesker. Although that had been less him convincing them and them both agreeing that the CEO just didn’t need to know.

Fresh guilt over hurting King again gnawed at him, but for the most part, he felt better about the entire situation. He still had to be careful coming and going from the Trapper’s cell and around the rest of the patients, but at least the worst of it was over.

Pouring himself a mug of coffee, Dwight nearly spilled it on himself when he turned and almost smacked directly into someone. Somehow managing to avoid the majority of the splash, he fumbled to set the mug back down as he looked around for some paper towels, all while stammering, “Oh, gosh, I- I’m sorry! I didn’t even hear you walking up and I– Mr. Emory! Sir! Hi! Wow, I’m sorry, I–”

“Dwight,” Asa greeted, voice low and emotionless.

Unaware that the man even knew his name, Dwight let out a nervous laugh. It was incredibly awkward and in the silence that followed, he realized the entire break room was dead quiet. There… had been people in there when he first walked in… right?

Unsure what else to do and not comfortable with how close Asa was standing to him, Dwight cleared his throat. “Um, r-right. That’s me. Am- am I in your way? D-did you want coffee?”

When he tried to step to one side, he found his path suddenly blocked by an arm. Looking down, he blinked a couple of times before awkwardly trying to shift the other way. Blocking him again, Asa kept both hands in place as he leaned in, pushing Dwight back against the counter as he tried to maintain some kind of space between them.

“C-can I help you?” he squeaked, suddenly very, very nervous.

Perhaps it was a faulty light, or maybe he imagined it, but when Asa titled his head, it looked like his eyes took on a reflective green glow for a second. It was eerie and only made the janitor more uncomfortable.

“You like your job, don’t you?” Asa asked quietly.

Smiling weakly, Dwight offered, “It- it has its moments.”

“It does… Precious little moments that should be hidden away and cherished,” he agreed. “Keep your circles small, Dwight. It could be incredibly detrimental to your blooming career if rumors were to reach the wrong ears.”

“Rumors?” the janitor asked, trying not to flinch when Asa lowered his arms. Even though he was no longer ‘trapped’ against the counter, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt pinned in place by the dark eyes staring back at him. Into him, almost. At least, that was what it felt like.

“Rumors,” Asa repeated. “I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share by now. Places like this are full of them. And as long as they stay inside these walls, they’re a lot less likely to get anyone hurt… or killed. It’s sad, how many people can be driven to take their own lives… if the wrong kind of rumors get out.”

Dwight gulped, the thinly veiled threats not lost on him…

Flinching when Asa’s hand suddenly came up, he watched like a hawk as the man simply picked up an empty coffee mug. Stepping around Dwight so he could get to the coffee pot, he poured himself a cup, seemingly back to his usual self and content to ignore the other staff member.

Hoping he wasn’t being presumptuous in assuming he was being dismissed, Dwight dipped his head before scurrying for the nearest door. Just as he was about to grab the handle, Asa asked calmly, “Forgetting something?”

“No?!” Dwight yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin. Goddammit, how did he do that? Even from across the room, he managed to sound like he was right behind him when he spoke!

“Your coffee?”

Blinking several times, Dwight searched the counter for a moment before his eyes finally focused on his mug. Right. He needed to either drink it or put it in the fridge. He could pour it out, but then he’d have to wash the mug… Well, he could just take it back to his office…

Glancing at Asa again, he found himself once again being ignored in favor of a hot drink. That was fine with him, but it was still a struggle to force one foot in front of the other. Grabbing his coffee, he decided just to take it to his office even though he didn’t really want it anymore. He could just pour it out and wash it in one of the eyewash stations…

“Oh, I have a message for you,” Asa said suddenly, and Dwight did end up spilling his coffee down his chest that time.

He could actually feel breath on the back of his neck. A cold presence, almost like that of a corpse, hovered just behind him; He knew if he turned around he’d be nose to nose with the man…

“Wesker has noticed how well you’re doing… keeping certain patients calm. Since you’ve become a department head, janitorials casualty rate has dropped almost sixty percent… so keep doing whatever it is you’re doing…”

~

“And… here we are,” Dwight sighed. “Pretty much the entire asylum knows about me and Evan, and Eli and Michael of course. But no one talks about it, and it never leaves the grounds.”

Taking a moment to digest it all, Marcus finally asked, “So… Why is everyone up my ass about Ghostface? Why are we so different?”

Exchanging a look with the janitor, Eli was the one to answer. “Because neither Michael nor the Trapper had ever expressed interest in any staff members before. When the Trapper shows interest in anyone, it’s always fast and violent. When Michael becomes interested in a staff member… It's also very violent, but he tends to subtly stalk them for a while first. Nine times out of ten, we don’t even know he’s doing it until someone’s dead.”

“Ghostface has a history of luring people in by making them feel special. Like they’re different from all the other people he lured in,” Dwight explained. “That’s why they’re referred to as ‘Harley Quinn’s’.”

Sighing, Marcus nodded grimly. “Right… I read a few of the files but it was all… very similar. So I told myself I’d get back to them after reading all the other patient files…”

“You’re still not convinced,” Quentin stated, and all of them turned to stare at him. He was still sound asleep on the floor, but had spoken so clearly it made them all second guess that idea.

“Umm… Well, yeah, what he said,” David agreed, scooting a little further away from the janitor.

All eyes were back on Marcus, and he winced. They weren’t wrong and he wasn’t going to lie. He just didn’t want to argue anymore… Taking a deep breath, he looked at each one of them before stating, “I’m not. And I’m not going to break things off with Ghostface. I get the risks, and I’m willing to keep risking it.”

“If this is a, ‘I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I call it off’ kind of situation–” Dwight started, but the ginger waved him off.

“No, it’s not,” he promised. “Really. If I didn’t want to get physical with him in the first place, I would have said no.”

Sighing, Eli nodded. “Alright, if you insist. We won’t snitch and we won’t try to stop you, but if you need help or you start to feel like you’re in over your head, please come to one of us. King and Leon included, even though they’re not here.”

“You’re our friend and we care about you,” Dwight added.

“No homo,” Quentin mumbled, suddenly reaching out to grab David’s ankles. Managing to sleep through his shrill screams and wild flailing, the janitor dragged him closer before wrapping his arms and legs around him like a possessed koala.

“Alright, I’m heading to bed,” Dwight decided, standing. “See you all for work in… three hours.”

“Three hours?!” Marcus shouted, scrambling to pull out his phone. Yep. They’d stayed up talking for so long it was already almost time to get up and go back to work…

“Uuuugh,” Eli groaned, closing the door behind Dwight. Pulling the pillow off King’s bed, he tossed it to David. “Here, since you’re staying over tonight.”

Shutting off the lights before the trapped orderly could protest or request help escaping Quentin’s iron grasp, the room plunged into darkness. It was time to get what little sleep they could. There was no telling what the next day might bring…
~~~~

Notes:

Well, that didn't work. Ah, well. I'm sure it'll be fine.

 

And no, Dwight didn't go into detail about his first time smashing Evan. Or getting smashed. That was all him privately reliving the moment xD

Chapter 31: Silver Tongues and Honeyed Words

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Let's see how everyone's doing...

Huddled in the corner of his bed, still dressed in his work uniform from the day before and with a knife clutched in his aching fingers, Leon jerked awake from a fitful doze. Eyes darting around the room, he tried to pin-point what woke him.

It wasn’t the bathroom door. It was still closed and the makeshift alarm made from empty soda cans he’d tied to the knob was hanging silent and still. Good… But… Maybe he should double check. Just in case.

Before he could uncurl, he noticed the smell. Cigarette smoke, wafting through the vents. Perhaps under the door. It was so strong, maybe Krauser was smoking in the hall. Right outside his door, even?

It had been a week since he’d discovered that Krauser’s room was directly next to his… One week since he’d slept more than an hour consecutively…

Jumping when his alarm suddenly went off, Leon nearly stabbed his phone into the bedside table. Catching himself, he took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, he tried to tell himself it was okay. It was just time to get up and get dressed for work…

Uncurling his legs, he winced slightly as his knees popped. Well, at least he was already dressed for work. Now he could use that extra ‘getting ready’ time to stretch the stiffness from his muscles. Standing up was met with a symphony of pops, cracks, and snaps, and Leon winced. Christ, he wasn’t even thirty yet. His body had no right to sound like that!

Limping into the bathroom on stiff legs and sore knees, he turned the water on in the shower to heat up before poking his head back out into his bedroom. Nothing looked amiss, nor should it since he’d been in the bathroom for less than a minute, but still. Knowing how close Krauser was had him on edge.

Thinking for a moment, he quickly pushed the dresser in front of the door. Obviously it wouldn’t stop someone if they were really determined to get in, but it would make enough noise and slow them down long enough for him to grab his boxers and his gun.

Speaking of… Grabbing Matilda from under his pillow, he took his precious pistol into the bathroom with him before locking and blocking that door as well. His knife joined him in the shower, propped up by shampoo and other hair care bottles.

Rushing through his shower, Leon barely remembered to change into a clean uniform before reluctantly returning Matilda to her hiding place. Despite the protection a firearm afforded him in the dorms, the last thing he was going to do was risk a gun falling into the hands of a patient. Not to mention that if he was caught with that on the asylum grounds, Wesker would have to fire him or risk causing a much bigger issue amongst the staff.

Then again, if he got fired–

No. No, he couldn’t think like that. Chris was still out there somewhere and Wesker’s continued help and resources were his best bet at finding him. Besides that, if he got fired he’d likely never see Jack again unless she also quit, but he couldn’t ask nor expect her to do that.

Maybe he could get Krauser fired instead. Maybe… maybe if he told Wesker about their past he’d make up a reason to fire him. Or even just fire him on principle. It was incredibly unethical and probably illegal, but so was a lot of what went on in Crotus Prenn.

Tugging his jacket on for the brief wait for the bus, Leon pushed his desk aside enough to open the door, figuring it was best to leave it close by so he could start blocking the door at night too. Poking his head out of his room, he looked at Krauser’s door before stepping into the hall.

The light was off from what he could see under the door and he didn’t hear anyone inside. Maybe the Major was already at work for the day or perhaps he’d stepped out to smoke before catching the bus. He’d likely get his own car in time, but for the moment, he rode the bus with most everyone else.

“I need a car,” Leon muttered. He had a parking space right up front, technically. All the department head’s had reserved parking spaces at the main building, but only about half of them actually had vehicles. The cost to maintain a car all the way up there honestly wasn’t worth the hassle, and Nea had threatened to start putting sawdust in people’s gas tanks if they kept pestering her to do oil changes on her days off…

“What, too good for the bus, Rookie?” a voice asked, startling him so badly he dropped his keys.

Trapped between a body and the locked door in front of him, Leon forced himself to turn and face Krauser. Fucker was too goddamn silent for someone so big.

“Krauser… Shouldn’t you be on your way to work?” he asked, barely managing to keep his voice even.

“Shouldn’t you be picking up your keys?” he countered.

Neither of them looked down, even though the keys were right between Leon’s feet. Instead, they continued to maintain an uncomfortable eye contact, the tension in the air becoming more and more palpable with each passing second.

“Kind of hard to bend over when there’s no room to move,” Leon answered, hoping Krauser would at least take a step back.

He didn’t. In fact, he took a step closer, putting them nearly chest to chest as he laughed under his breath, “Really, now? Your Sugar Daddy not working you out the way you need? You didn’t seem to have any trouble bending over the last time I saw you.”

Leon tried not to flinch, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking away. Things had started out… fun. A bit rough for his liking, maybe, but still fun. Until it stopped being fun…

“My training couldn’t have messed you up that bad,” Krauser continued, eyes tracking down the smaller man’s body.

It made Leon shudder. He felt naked despite the jacket and work clothes layering his body. The closeness made him feel trapped, like he was in a small box without enough air. Before anything else could be said, a new voice interrupted.

“Hey, Leon. Lieutenant… Everything okay?”

“Dwight!” Leon greeted, perhaps a bit too eagerly as he looked over.

The janitor was just coming out of his own room but had paused when he’d spotted the two guards. Pushing his glasses up his nose a bit more, he asked again, “Everything okay? You’re heading out kind of early.”

He was. He’d done that on purpose in an attempt to avoid exactly the confrontation he was currently facing…

“Everything’s fine,” Krauser answered, cutting Leon off just as he started to answer for himself. “You should hurry up and catch the bus. I’m sure Wesker needs his nerd brigade on sight to make sure all the doors are working correctly.”

“I’m head of janitorial,” Dwight corrected dryly. “I don’t deal with electrical. That’s a whole other department… And something you should know, as Lieutenant.”

Dwight outranked Krauser in both position and time with the company, so it wasn’t out of line for him to remind the Lieutenant of such a fact. It was almost brave of him to address the blond wall of muscle and scars like that, and to an outsider that’s exactly how he might have appeared; Perhaps the janitor really did have a spine.

Leon knew Dwight well however, and Krauser was a master of reading body language so none of it was lost on him. Not the pinprick pupils nor the slight tremor in the janitor's hands or the way he swallowed a couple of extra times, just trying to keep his voice from cracking should he need to speak again.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Krauser finally offered the janitor an unfriendly smile. “Right. My mistake. God forbid the toilets are as shit spackled as the way things are run.”

“I think Dwight is doing a fantastic job,” Leon defended, sliding to one side. Stepping away from the wall and around his Lieutenant, he added, “I’m heading in a bit early today. I have some paperwork to catch up on. You’re not required to come in early, so I’ll see you when your shift starts. Dwight? Are you heading down?”

“Oh, y-yes,” he stammered, looking incredibly relieved to be done with the conversation he’d walked in on.

Joining Leon, they had just started down the hall towards the elevator when a quiet jingle caught the former cop’s ear. Shit, his keys!

Retrieving the Captain’s keys, Krauser stood, tossing them into the air before catching them again with a smirk. “Lost something, have we?”

“Just a moment of forgetfulness,” Leon deflected, holding a hand up in a silent signal to toss them to him.

Yet again, Krauser did not… Instead, he looped one finger through the main ring, dangling the keys in the air like he was taunting a kitten with a shiny new toy.

Dwight made a small sound, almost as though he had been about to warn Leon not to go as he took a step, but he closed his mouth on it before it could get out.

Approaching his former trainer, Leon half expected him to grab him or lift the keys out of reach right before he could take them. Neither thing happened, and he tugged them off the larger man’s finger before turning to go.

As soon as his back was to Krauser, a hand landed on his shoulder. Leaning in close enough that his lips almost tickled the guard's ear, he murmured, “See you tonight… Rookie.”

Nearly lunging forward the second the hand slid off his person, Leon didn’t respond. Trying not to look like he was fleeing, he ended up walking rather stiffly to the elevator. Neither he nor Dwight said a word until the doors slid shut behind them, closing them off from the rest of the dorm.

Immediately turning to him, Dwight asked, “Are you okay? What is up with that guy? It seems like he’s got some serious issues! Can’t you ask Wesker to–”

“It’s nothing,” Leon said sharply. Regretting how harshly the rebuke had come out, he sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well and training a new LT is a lot more stressful than training a new guard.”

“Oh, oh, right, of course,” Dwight accepted, but both of them could tell he wasn’t convinced.

Traveling in silence down to the ground floor, Leon could only hope the rest of the day would go better. Still, he couldn’t get Krauser’s parting words out of his head…

Eyes widening suddenly, he gripped his keyring through his pants pocket. It felt like everything was there… but was it? Shoving his hand into his pocket all the way, he silently felt each key, reminding himself what each one went to and checking them off as he went. Reaching the key to his dorm room, he barely managed not to let out an audible sigh of relief.

If Dwight had noticed, he didn’t say anything, but as they stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor, he said almost offhandedly, “Sure would be a shame if someone put drain-o in his coffee… Huh?”

Staring straight ahead, Leon didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, breath frosting in the air in front of him, it was to say simply, “Yeah… It would be a damn shame…”

~~

“Are you sure you’ve thought this through? Is this really something you want to pursue?” David questioned, blinking owlishly at his friend.

Neither of them had gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep and the entire room had almost ended up missing their bus because of it. After the talk they’d had last night, things were a little tense between the friend group, but still felt more ‘normal’ than they had before the truth had come out.

Sighing tiredly, Marcus nodded slowly. Eyelids drooping mid-nod, his chin rested on his chest as he started to doze off standing up. Jerking awake when David tugged his arm, the ginger snorted, “Hngh, what?!”

“I said”, David reiterated with a small frown, giving his friend’s wrist a light shake to make sure Marcus was still with him, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? That this is what you want?”

“I’d rather be working in a veterinary clinic,” Marcus tried to joke. It fell pretty flat, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. Taking a breath, he set his clipboard on the pharmacy counter before turning to face the other orderly. “I’m sure. I mean, he’s had more than his fair share of chances to kill me. I just… I don’t think that’s what he wants. And yeah, I know, there’s always the chance that he’ll change his mind. But Eli and Dwight have both survived this long, so… I’m willing to take my chances.”

“Ghostface is the worst ‘hear me out’ in the entire asylum,” Laurie interjected, practically leaning over the counter to not so subtly eavesdrop.

“Weeeeell…” Claudette drew out, earning a hard stare from her fellow pharmacist. “I mean, he’s technically still hot. And sometimes charming. He said I had nice glasses once.”

“He only said that to get you to give him more melatonin!”

“...But still. Kinda hot.”

“This is why the list is rigged,” Laurie lamented with a shake of her head. “All of you guy’s taste in men are awful. Especially since you put that old fart at third!”

“...What list?” Marcus asked cautiously, not sure if he even wanted the answer after the conversation he’d unwillingly become a part of.

“The ‘hear me out’ list,” Laurie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Feng has a bulletin board in her room and depending on how the patients behave, they either move up or down the list.”

“That’s… insane,” he finally managed, sounding more than a little off put.

“Hey, whatever keeps the boredom away. So what’s this about you and Ghostfa-?”

Before Laurie could finish her question, David had grabbed his fellow orderly firmly by the wrist and dragged him out of the pharmacy. Technically, they weren’t needed there and had just stopped by to pick up some paperwork since it was one of the many tasks they had for the day. They could always come back later, no time for distractions!

The weather was still warm enough for the patients to be outside for recess so David opted for the indoor recess room instead. It was unoccupied, except for a napping janitor. It was a familiar face at least, as the passed-out individual was none other than Quentin.

Keeping his voice low so as to not wake his other friend, David continued, “But what about the others that Ghostface targeted? All the other people who thought that he wouldn’t hurt them only to end up shanked in a closet? He likes to play with his food, he could be pulling a long con with you.”

“Trust me, I’ve mulled over the same exact questions every night since the first time he made a pass at me,” Marcus promised, casting a slightly worried glance at Quentin. What part of him being there worried the ginger was a mystery, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he continued, “Even Feng is pretty sure I’m the only person here who Ghostface has actually slept with. Honestly, I have no room to talk as far as body counts go, but that’s not what makes me happy about that… I really do think if he was going to kill me, we wouldn’t have had sex… Twice…”

His face was bright red by the end of his explanation and he offered his friend a weak smile as he implored, “Please don’t worry so much. I promise, I’ll go directly to Jack and Leon if he does anything even slightly red-flag… ish.”

“Everything he does is red-flagish!” David hissed. “The fact that he’s in here is a red flag! The biggest of red flags! And his ‘body count’ is even redder! A gigantic red flag! You sound like one of his body flags! Red! RED!”

“Green light!” Quentin yelled, sitting upright on the couch he’d been laying on. Blinking a couple of times, he looked blearily around the room before half focusing on the startled pair of orderlies. “No soup for you.”

With that, he flopped right back down and began snoring quietly.

“I… What?” Marcus muttered. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to David. “I know you’ve been here at Crotus Prenn far longer than I have and you’ve seen… a lot. More than I have… But have you ever heard of anyone actually doing it with Ghostface? Any of his victims? Or attempted victims?”

“Well- no, but it shouldn’t matter! What does it matter if he actually sleeps with his victims or not?! They’re still his prey at the end of the day and they leave in body bags! Is it too much for me to want you to not leave in a body bag?!” David practically had tears in his eyes from how frustrated the conversation was making him. It was like talking to a brick wall, Marcus had already made up his mind and there was little anyone could say to change it.

Just as the ginger was opening his mouth to respond, a pained look on his face, they were interrupted by a guard sticking his head into the room.

“Oh, good,” King huffed, although his tone conveyed the exact opposite. So… Maybe not everyone was as calm and unworried about the situation… “We need a couple more bodies in the yard… You two mind filling in?”

“Ah, sure,” Marcus agreed hesitantly. “What happened to the other orderlies that were assigned to outdoor time?”

“They’re there,” King told them. “It’s guards we’re short on. Krauser’s ‘restructuring’. Anyway, we’re two people short and Leon asked for you two specifically. Said you two seem to get along best with the majority of floor one, so you two are perfect for this.”

David nearly turned and snapped at the guard for interrupting their conversation. He already hated confrontation, especially when it was because of his best friend and his idiotic taste in men.

Nonetheless, he took in a deep breath, trying his best to calm his nerves. He almost looked like a fluffed up cat from how worked up he was. Once his blood pressure wasn’t on par with the head chef’s, he finally turned towards King with as calm of an expression he could manage and nodded.

It wasn’t calm. It wasn’t calm at all. He looked like he ate a bad lemon.

Marcus still looked guilty as he followed King towards the yard. Waiting until they were actually outside, he told David quietly, “We can talk privately about this after work, if you’d like.”

Once again before he could answer, they were interrupted. That time, by the Legion’s fearless leader. Nodding at Marcus, Frank looked towards David as he asked, “Hey, can you walk with me for a second? I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm, that might be for the best,” a second voice added, directly behind them. Ghostface smiled charmingly when they turned to stare at him, both wondering how the fuck he’d gotten behind them so quickly. “Well? Shoo, Emory.”

David’s mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly too stunned to form proper words. He didn’t even have time to fully register that Ghostface had shooed him like a dog as Frank was already pulling him across the yards towards the wall the Legion would always stand by. It was just out of sight of the doors and right under the only vents, allowing them some extra warmth in the Alaskan frost.

“So, here’s the thing,” Frank started, tone more serious than usual. “You’ve been here long enough to know what it means when a staff member is claimed by a patient. Or, in this case, a group of patients. Right, David?”

He flinched at the sudden use of his government name, but Frank’s iron-like arm around his shoulders kept him from going anywhere. Geez, it was always a jumpscare whenever they used his real name. It was nice but that time, it felt like a threat. “R-Right…”

“Good. So you know that means the Legion has your back come hell or high water,” the Legion leader continued. “I hate to say it, but everyone between here and floor two knows you’re the weakest link when it comes to the staff. I mean, if anyone’s going to get jumped for a keycard, it’ll probably be you.”

“I- what?” Okay, maybe he wasn’t the most athletic guy around, or even tall enough to be considered a real man, but he wasn’t that weak! He could hold his own when push came to shove!... Probably!

“We don’t see it like that though!” Frank promised. “We see your potential, and now, finally, the big wigs are too. You’re on floor two now, and our protection extends down there as well. Sorry about beaning Michael with a tray to get him to let you go, but I mean, you saw him. He could fold me in half without breaking a sweat.”

David nodded because what else was he supposed to do?

They’d already made a lap around the yard, passing Ghostface and Marcus, who’d either been bullied or sweet talked into standing closer to the Legion and their precious vent. He didn’t look like he was under duress, but he still looked nervous.

“Up here, down there, the Legion will look out for you,” he said firmly. “You may not be claimed in the sense that you get ass privileges, but you’re still under our protection… But here’s the thing. There is still a ladder. On floor one, you could say the Trickster and Freddy are at the bottom of the ladder. They’re the first one’s to get stepped on. Obviously no one really want’s to fuck with whatever Amanda’s got going on, and Caleb’s got the general respect of the staff and, admittedly, the rest of the patients to back him up. We’re not far from the top of the ladder… but there is one person who’s above us…”

Frank came to a stop, hands brushing over his hips as if looking for pockets that were no longer there. Frowning slightly, he shook it off before offering, “The top dog on floor one is Ghostface… and he needs to speak to you.”

Before it could fully sink in, David was propelled into the exact same blind spot Marcus had so recently been felt up in. Frank was disappearing around the corner before the orderly could even reorient himself, and when he turned around, Ghostface was blocking the path to freedom.

The words caught themselves in his throat, nearly choking him as he took a stumbling step back, one that Ghostface matched with a smile.

“David Emory,” he greeted, adding an uncomfortable emphasis on his last name. “Never thought we’d have the pleasure of speaking like this… since I find your very existence so far beneath me, I pay more attention to ants.”

Voice cracking, David could only muster up a weak, “Industrial bug spray. No ants here, bad to have bugs inside.”

He felt like a cornered prey, eyes wide and glued to Ghostface’s approaching form. Some animal part of his brain was convinced that if he stood very, very still, then the predator hunting him wouldn’t see him. Even when his back hit the cold concrete wall, his eyes still remained on Ghostface.

“I could use some of that right about now,” the patient told him, smiling with too many teeth. It didn’t reach his eyes, only making him look even more predatory as he stopped only a step away from David. Head tilting to one side, his smile dropped, voice becoming less friendly as he said, “See, I’ve been having a bit of a pest problem. I know insects find sweets just… irresistible, but I don’t share. Especially with pests… Do you get what I’m saying?”

“... Sharing is caring?”

Eye twitching, Ghostface slammed his hands against the wall on either side of David’s head. Pushing his face only an inch from the orderlies, he snarled, “Marcus is mine, and if you keep trying to interfere, I’m afraid something horrible might happen to you or that bug eyed freak you call a father.”

Smiling sweetly, he pushed himself back again, standing with his arms by his sides as he said more evenly, “You have been… causing quite a ruckus. Asking questions rather loudly, talking out of turn, and, dare I say, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. If I wanted to kill Doc… Hmmm, you know, I don’t have to explain myself to you. So let me make this clear.”

Something dropped out of his sleeve, his fingers wrapping around it before he lifted it to eye level. It was a shiv, fashioned out of a broken tray and electrical tape. “If you don’t shut the fuck up about Doc and I, I’m going to use this to pluck out both those marbles you call eyeballs and feed them to you. Oh, but don’t worry about having to adjust to life as a blind man, because you won’t be walking away from it. At least, not with all your soft, squishy little organs intact… Do you get it now?”

David swallowed hard, his own terrified expression reflected back at him from the plastic of the tray. It was dull enough, but in the hands of anyone with the proper strength, it could still go through flesh. Especially the soft tissue of his eyes. He had his father’s eyes, something he was reminded of every day when he looked at himself in the mirror. Somedays, he wished that was the only thing he got from him…

“... Okay… I- I won’t push anymore. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Look at that… you can be trained,” Ghostface cooed, the shiv vanishing just as fast as it appeared. “Like a circus flea. You know, I was once given a box of ‘trainable circus fleas’ as a child. They infested my dad’s house and he beat me black and blue. Never could look at a bug the same way after that…”

The two of them stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before he sighed, “I’m trying to insinuate I hate bugs, you fucking insect. Christ alive… Do the world a favor and drown yourself in whatever slop they’re cooking us for lunch, will you?”

“Bugs are delightful, you’re just mean,” David mumbled.

It seriously looked like Ghostface was about to snap and murder him right there in the yard, but a quiet whistle from just around the corner had him taking a step back. Once more flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he offered a parting, “Good luck out there, Emory,” before turning and walking away as though nothing had happened.

His voice could be heard a second later, scoffing, “Don’t get your oversized panties in a twist, I was taking a leak.”

King’s voice could just be heard, telling him gruffly, “Don’t be pissing outside, Ghostface. That’s disgusting. Hold it, or ask for an escort back to your bloody cell.”

Frank peered around the corner a moment later, a slight wince creasing his brow. “Yikes, man… That was rough…”

A solid minute passed between them before David’s jaw clenched. “What the hell was that?! Why would you– You lured me over here on purpose! How could you?!”

Holding up his hands, the Legion leader’s expression turned to one of shock. “Woah, woah, slow your roll there buddy-”

“No! Stop talking to me like I’m a dog! Like- like I’m just some stray animal that you taught to sit and roll over! I’m not a pet! I’m a person and I have feelings!”

The rest of the Legion had strolled over in time to hear the majority of David’s rant, leaving Ghostface to corral ‘his ginger’ on the other side of the yard. It looked like Marcus was already demanding answers, eyes wide with concern as he gestured aggressively towards them.

Pausing for a moment, Frank sighed before nodding. “You know, you’re right. Sometimes it’s easy for us to forget that, just like us, you’re a person with feelings.”

“We’re treated so badly, it’s easy to take the people… the person who actually treats us with any sort of decency for granted,” Julie added, tone strained as though deeply upset by it all.

“Man, all Ghostface said was that he wanted to talk to you about Marcus,” Joey pointed out. “Usually when he says he just wants to talk, that’s all it is. I mean, he did promise he wouldn’t lay a hand on you!”

Expression pained, Susie promised, “We’re sorry we had to trick you like that, but we knew you wouldn’t ever agree to a one on one meeting with Ghostface! If we thought he’d actually hurt you, we would have stepped in.”

“Yeah, I’m sure we’d… mostly be okay,” Frank agreed. “Four against one aren’t bad odds, even if it is against someone like Ghostface. I mean, when they caught him, he did take down five fully armed, body armor wearing swat team guys like it was a walk in the park…”

“Liar.”

All four of the Legion seemed to freeze, looking just as frozen as the trapped mice they’d often find after the winter thaw hit.

For once, David’s voice held no emotion as he said, “You just told me that Ghostface is on the top of the ladder and you all listen to him. You knew that he was gonna threaten me and you tricked me.”

Something flashed across Frank’s face, an ugly expression almost like a mask being lifted to reveal the rage bubbling just under the surface. Before he could open his mouth, however, Julie spoke up.

“David… that really hurts… I mean, yes, we do listen to Ghostface. He’s pretty much in charge of the first floor. But if we actually thought that he meant to hurt you, we would step in. You’re our friend. The only friend we have outside of our cell.”

“Shit, if we thought Ghostface was going to hurt you, Frank wouldn’t have led you back here to begin with!” Joey added, gesturing towards the blind spot.

Actually tearing up slightly, Susie asked, “Do you not trust us anymore?”

“...Sometimes, it’s really hard to trust you guys.” David held up a hand before any of them could interject. “It’s ‘cause I barely know you guys at all! I hate having to guess things about you! Like, I know that we have a few things in common but I don’t know your favorite colors or what you use to do for fun or that you apparently hate cops and Leon and Jill and listen to Ghostface!”

Something akin to realization crossed his face and his eyes widened. “... Did you guys start the riot because he told you to?”

Each one of the Legion shared similar expressions of shock, before Julie said, “Honestly… We kind of thought it was obvious that we hate cops. Like, that’s not something we’ve ever been shy about…”

Sounding a bit more angry than before, Frank asked, “Do you seriously think if I wanted to start a riot I’d throw anything at Michael fucking Myers? Any of them? They would run floor two and probably floor one by proxy if any of them could be bothered to give a shit, but that doesn’t stop them from annihilating anyone who pisses them off! Shit, if I wanted to start a whole riot I’d just go steal Leatherface’s fucking food. Damn… It really hurts that you’d doubt me like that.”

“If Ghostface wants something done, he does it himself,” Susie added. “Also, pink? Duh! Ji-Woon wishes he wore it as well as me.”

“I mean… we have been a bit cagey though,” Joey admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Information is currency here, so sometimes it can be hard to know what’s safe to share…”

“But I’m supposed to be your friend!” David cried. “Friends are supposed to be open with each other! Not- whatever the hell this is! This feels like, ‘I have to do stuff for you just so you guys will give me the time of day’! Tell me, if I didn’t sneak you guys contraband, would you even care about me? Would you even know what my name was?! Did you guys call me all those nicknames because you never cared to learn my name ‘till it was convenient for you?!”

All four of them started to protest, but Frank quieted them down with a sharp whistle. Expression settling into a determined grimace, he sighed. “You make some great points and honestly… we never thought of it that way. We figured giving you your own nicknames would make you feel included, since most patients don’t use their real names.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Susie warned, “But… it would be super easy to find a new supplier for contraband. If you want to stop bringing us stuff, I mean, we can’t exactly stop you. We thought you were helping us because you wanted to…”

“I-” It was more than that but David couldn’t find the right words for it. Everything was too much all of sudden and he hated it. Why couldn’t he be happy just being a sheep? Things are nicer when he just did what people told him to do but he just had to want more. “I do want to help you guys and bring you stuff but- It’s just- Can’t you guys give me something to work with too?”

After a moment of silence, Joey volunteered quietly, “I was a part of the swim team at our high school. I even got the mascot tattooed on my ribs. I’d show you, but, uh, I think it would draw a lot of attention if I took my shirt off… and it’s cold out here.”

“I had braces but they took them off early when we were sent here,” Susie told him, actually sounding annoyed. “It left a gap in my front teeth but they figured I’d use the wires as a weapon or some bullshit.”

“You know that guy with the beard and the long hair? Jeff?” Julie asked. “He was my babysitter when I was like… ten. Never expected to see his ass up here, but it’s a smaller world than most people think I guess.”

All of them fell silent, turning to look at Frank who had yet to share anything. He looked a little bit uncomfortable, but after a moment of silent peer pressure, he muttered, “My parents gave me up when I was six… because drugs and alcohol were more important. I don’t like talking about it… but I trust you. So… yeah. If that’s not enough, we get it.”

Honest to god, David looked like a goldfish with the way his mouth was opening and closing. He had no idea what else he was supposed to say. This… all this felt so forced. He wanted information to be shared naturally, not because they felt pressured by him to spill their guts out. That wasn’t fair, he couldn’t just let them leave feeling like he was acting selfish.

Taking a deep breath, David admitted, “My dad… outside of the asylum.. Outside of the asylum, the public knows him as-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud bell tolled through the yard, signaling the end of recess.

“Damn, we better be getting inside,” Frank groaned. Offering David a smile, he patted his back. “Hey, it’s okay. This was a stressful day for all of us. Okay? But we’re not mad at you.”

“Just try not to be nosy when it comes to Ghostface’s business,” Joey warned, offering a grim smile of his own. “If he was going to hurt Doc, he would have by now.”

“Emory! You’re needed inside,” one of the other orderlies called, pointing towards the door. “Something about paperwork?”

“O-Oh, okay! I’ll be right there!” Bidding his friends farewell, David quickly followed after his coworker, a sour taste in his mouth. The whole shift had been a mess and it was barely lunch time! At that rate, he should take up smoking too!

Watching him go, the group slowly started to shuffle towards the line forming to go back inside. As they did, Julie asked quietly, “Frank… I thought your dad died of a heroin overdose and your mom choked on her vomit?”

A small smirk played across his lips, eyes dark as he nodded. “Yeah… Maybe he shouldn’t have left that needle in his arm with all that crap still in it. You know how easy those things are to push in. Maybe then he would have been awake to roll that bitch over…”

~~

Leon’s day only looked better for about the first hour and half of his shift. Just as he’d been starting to feel better, Krauser had arrived, ready for another day of making his life a living hell. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe without his former trainer having some kind of comment or opinion. It was getting so bad, he was about damn ready to go to Wesker and tell him it was either him or the Major. If he had to find Chris on his own, so be it…

But he couldn’t do that… And he knew it. Wesker wasn’t a man who took ultimatums and Leon knew if he tried it he’d only bring some form of creative misery upon himself. Moving through his shift like a zombie, he tried and tried to think of a way out of it… but he couldn’t. He had no idea what to do anymore…

Maybe he should talk to Jack… If there was one person who would listen and not judge, it was her. Right?

But that would mean telling her everything about Krauser and what had happened between them. Why he left Racoon City so quickly, jumping at the chance to find Chris in Alaska and maybe leave that whole situation behind him for good. Telling himself he didn’t want to put that on her, he ignored the shame the memories sent spiraling through him.

When the end of his shift finally rolled around, Leon waited a bit longer. Part of it was hoping Krauser would go on ahead, but the real reason was so he could try and catch Jack as she was leaving. He just wanted to be near her for a bit… even if they didn’t talk.

Somehow managing to lose Krauser -he hoped- Leon found himself standing in front of Jack’s office door like a puppy with separation anxiety. Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open and he quickly threw his hand to the side to avoid hitting her in the face. Accidentally jamming his fingers into the doorframe as he did so, he swore loudly, clutching his fingers in his other hand.

“Leon?” Jack asked, shocked by his sudden appearance and seemingly unprovoked assault of her office door.

“Hey,” he greeted, trying not to sound like he was in pain. Oh god, it was so difficult though. Did he break his damn fingers?! “I was- I just came to see if you were still here. I figured I could walk you to the bus…”

“I was just heading out…” she answered, studying him closely. “Is your hand okay?”

“Never better,” he lied. He could tell she wasn’t convinced, and let out a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been sleeping well and I misjudged my aim… I was just trying not to hit you.”

“Well, at least if it’s broken you did it in front of a nurse,” Jack told him, less curt than she would normally be. Stepping back into her office, she invited, “Come on in.”

Leon followed without question. As head nurse, she had a fairly large stock of medical supplies on hand just in case, although she wasn’t technically required to keep them in her office. After a brief inspection and confirmation that his hand wasn’t broken, she gave him an ice pack and they started to head to the bus stop.

Alone for a moment as they walked through the sterile halls, Jack asked quietly, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Not answering right away, Leon started and stopped just as quickly as someone else passed them. Grimacing, he asked instead, “Can we… talk about it later?”

He could feel the searching look he got, but Jack silently nodded, not pressing him any more. He knew she was worried… and he hated that it was his fault. He needed to open up to her… Tell her everything. But it would have to wait.

Neither of them said much after that, mostly content to quietly enjoy the other's company. Not that they could be all that ‘friendly’ with one another in public. It was normal enough for department heads to chat and walk around together, but rumors were gold in Crotus Prenn and neither of them needed anything about them spreading around…

It wasn’t until they were rounding the corner to the row of security checks inside the front door that something inevitably went wrong…

Krauser was leaning against the wall, looking bored as he watched the guards assigned to that post nervously mill about. They didn’t have anyone coming inside, so they didn’t really have anything to do, but his presence was making them all incredibly anxious…

Leon hadn’t even realized he’d stopped walking until Jack’s shoulder gently bumped his. Taking a sharp breath, he started forward again, eyes fixed on the door as they passed the Lieutenant. Still, he could feel cold eyes on the back of his neck.

He knew Krauser was following them and his mind raced. There had to be some way to get out of there without being followed. He could ‘remember’ some paperwork he’d forgotten! No, that would allow the Major to get back to the dorms before him, and with what he’d said that morning…

“Krauser!” Bill’s voice called loudly, and Leon swore he heard teeth grinding right behind him. “Jack Krauser!”

After a brief pause, the LT answered icily, “Yes?”

“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time, but I had some questions about this week's guard schedule,” the former Captain explained, tone far from ‘curious’. He sounded like an angry drill sergeant gearing up to scream at a recruit that had just messed up in the most spectacularly stupid way possible.

Glancing back, Leon almost cracked a smile at the look on Krauser’s face. He’d half turned and was looking at Bill like he’d just asked to see his dick.

“What?” he demanded. “My shift is over–”

“Your goddamn shift isn’t over until your ass is in bed,” Bill barked. For an old guy, he sure did carry himself like he was still twenty. Shoulders square, back straight, eyes cold… That was the Captain Leon knew and respected.

Eyebrows rising, Krauser had the balls to challenge, “And who are you to tell me when my shift is over?”

Entirely unfazed, Bill marched forward. Stopping in front of Krauser, he looked him up and down before snapping, “Sloppy!”

The look of pure shock on Krauser’s face was worth more than all the money Leon had ever earned. Jack quickly cleared her throat but it did nothing to hide the fact that she had just let out a rather loud snort.

Glancing over, Bill met Leon’s eyes and nodded ever so subtly before returning his full attention to the Lieutenant.

As he laid into the blond like a drill sergeant who’s least favorite private had just kicked mud on his boots, Leon and Jack hurried outside. Just in time too, as the bus was just pulling up to the curb.

There were a few more people on board than he’d been expecting, leading to a rather quiet ride. Leon had a lot he wanted to say, but none of it was something he was willing to risk being overheard… Something told him Jack had just as many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew enough not to ask them in such a public setting.

Reaching the dorms, they both deboarded the bus with a quiet goodbye to Nea, before crowding into the elevator with a group of other tired Crotus Prenn staff members. It wasn’t until he was stepping onto his own floor that Leon started to feel the panic creeping back in.

Every step he took towards his room felt heavier and heavier, like someone had put lead weights in his shoes. Stopping at his door, he nearly dropped his keys when he tugged them out of his pocket.

Christ, his hands were shaking so badly he could barely pick out his room key. Taking several tries to get it into the lock, he still hesitated to open the door. He knew Krauser wasn’t there. He couldn’t be… It would be at least another forty-five minutes before the bus even started back to the dorms with the next batch of off duty staff!

Pulling his key out of the door, Leon clenched the ring in his hand so hard the metal teeth began biting into his palm almost deep enough to bleed. Krauser couldn’t control him like that. It wasn’t right.

Moving before he could give in to his fear, Leon shoved his key into the lock again. Opening the door, he barely made it one step into his room before the lingering reek of cigarette smoke choked him. Wheezing as panic made his throat tight, he spun around, barely keeping himself from running as he stumbled right back into the hall.

He couldn’t stay in that room any more. Especially not tonight. He needed to find someplace else to sleep.

Jack was the first person to come to mind, but he quickly dismissed it before he could even reach the elevator. Being caught in the women’s dorm wasn’t something someone got away with, even if they were the CEO’s boytoy.

King, maybe? No, he had three other roommates. They’d ask so many questions and even though he liked Marcus, Eli, and Quentin, he didn’t think he could handle all the questions and concerned looks they’d inevitably bombard him with.

Fuck, who could he actually–

“David!” he almost shouted, startling the poor orderly into throwing his keys. They smacked Leon in the eye and he swore again, hand flying to his face. “Fuck!”

It took the orderly a while to realize who exactly he just flung his weapon of a key into. That thing was so full of keychains that his actual room key was completely buried. “Leon! Oh god, are you okay?! Are you bleeding?! Please tell me you’re not bleeding!”

Stooping, Leon retrieved the incredibly jangly, almost keyless keyring. Offering it to David, he lowered his hand, glancing at it before confirming, “Not bleeding, so I think we can avoid calling for a nurse… I… I actually… was wondering if I could crash in your room tonight…”

The long silence that rang out between them was unbelievably loud. It was so loud that they could both hear the warm air flowing through the vents. “... Why?”

Oh god, right, he needed a reason! He didn’t want to worry David by telling him that it was because Krauser had threatened to show up in his room! What if the poor guy thought that meant the maniac would come to his room?

Clearing his throat, Leon lied rather poorly, “My room… caught fire… It smells like smoke… I had a– a– a hotplate! And I set my curtains on fire…”

He was going to hell and he deserved it…

It was a terrible lie. If any of the dorm rooms caught fire, then the entire building would’ve been evacuated. Not only that, but there was no smoke smell at all in that hallway. David’s room was too far from Leon’s to be affected by the Lieutenant's habits.

However, David was too emotionally drained and exhausted to even consider all those things. Giving Leon a shrug, he jangled his mass of metal a bit till he found his room key and finally unlocked the door.

Not bothering to go back for any of his stuff, Leon looked around before quickly following him inside. He could go grab a pillow and his toothbrush from his room in the morning. Or he could have King do it… Either way, it looked like he’d finally be getting a safe, sound night of sleep…
~~~~

Notes:

Damn, everyone's going through it right now...

 

(The 'Hear me out' list will be put together and shared eventually)

Chapter 32: Frog in a Pot

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

When do you think he'll realize the water is hot?

Jack was never one to pace when she was deep in thought. She’d usually find a quiet place to sit and think after work, spending her own time on her personal thoughts and issues. Laying in bed, she stared into the darkness, wide awake. Despite getting off work late and trying to get to bed at a relatively reasonable time, she couldn’t quiet her mind enough to drift off.

Something was bothering Leon… No. Not just bothering him. Haunting him. She’d seen him bothered more than enough times over the few short years they’d been working together to know what to expect and how to help. But this… this was different. This was something much bigger. Something that had her legitimately worried.

Leon was scared.

Reaching over to her bedside table, she grabbed her phone. Squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the light from the small screen, Jack pulled up her messages. Scrolling past a few work related conversations with other staff members, she found Leon’s name.

It had only been a couple of hours since they’d parted ways, but she had a feeling he was still up as she texted, ‘I think it’s time we had that talk.’

Within ten seconds of the message going from ‘sending’ to ‘delivered’, it changed to ‘read’... And that was it.

Sitting up, Jack swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet finding her slippers even in the pitch black of her room. They weren’t hard to find as her room was a reflection of her habits. Clean and orderly. Very few personal effects were in the space. At most, she had a picture frame on her desk and a mug her friends had given her before she left for Crotus Prenn. It said ‘World’s Okayest Nurse’. They had crossed out ‘Boss’ and rewrote ‘Nurse’. It was her favorite possession and never left her room.

The hallway was dark, completely void of any life as she made her way towards the elevators. That was to be expected as it was already three AM. Everyone was asleep as a vast majority of them had to be up within a few hours for work in the morning. Jack was included in said ‘everyone’. As the head nurse, she always showed up early and left late, practically living off of the espresso machine Zarina had so kindly gifted to the staff break room. She usually cherished whatever sleep she could get but this was more important.

There were many rules at Crotus Prenn. Most of them got broken regularly and a good portion of them got bent one way or another. Passing by the sleeping cat right outside of Feng’s closed door, Jack finally found herself in front of the elevators with a tumultuous mind.

One of the only rules at the asylum that no one dared to break was the separation of men and women’s dorms. Men were not allowed in the women's dorms and women were not allowed in the men’s dorms. If they wanted to congregate, then they could do so on the common floor between the two levels.

The rule was absolute, one that the department heads upheld religiously. A decent amount of people have been fired for breaking that specific rule.

As Jack pressed the elevator button, she let out a tired sigh. Yes, those rules were there to keep everyone safe but right now, she didn’t think that Leon was safe at all. He looked like he had barely slept and he didn’t have the makeup to cover up his eyebags. He looked like hell and she was worried.

’I’m just going to check up on him,’ Jack thought to herself as she selected the button for the upper men’s dorms. ’I’m not hurting anyone by just checking up on him.’

The elevator opened with a quiet ding, revealing the dark hallway lined with closed doors. Despite the nearly pitch black of the hallway, Jack still knew exactly where she was going. Illuminated by the fire safety lights occasionally lining the floor and emergency exits, she made her way past room after room until she finally reached Leon’s.

Testing the doorknob, she wasn’t shocked to find it locked. Not wanting to wake up anyone else on the floor by knocking, Jack instead opted to dig her keys out of her pocket. Her key ring was very simple, consisting of only her room key and one other. A key that was gifted to her in case of emergencies. This, she felt, was an emergency.

The lock clicked open without a fight and Jack stepped into the dark room, quickly closing and relocking the door behind her in case anyone just so happened to walk past. Squinting into the dark, she shuffled her way towards Leon’s bed as she softly called out, “Hey, it’s me. I know it’s late but I think this conversation is long overdue.”

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she barely had time to register the unoccupied bed in front of her before the doorknob rattled. Hearing the door unlock, she reached over and turned on the lamp sitting on Leon’s bedside table. If he didn’t realize she was already there, she didn’t want to startle him, especially given the state he’d been in as of late. Much to her shock, however, it wasn’t Leon who stepped into the room.

Krauser froze for the briefest moment. Less than a full second, really, but it was still enough time for her to see the same look of surprise mirrored on his face.

Quickly shaking herself off, Jack switched into ‘work mode’, tone and expression not giving anything away as she asked, “What are you doing in here?”

Krauser’s scarred face slowly settled into a predatory smile as he returned in a low voice, “I should be asking you the same thing. What are you doing on this floor?”

“None of your concern,” she replied evenly. “How’d you get in? The door was locked.”

Studying her for a moment, he offered cryptically, “Just checking on my Captain. It’s a little odd that he’s out so late… Don’t you agree?”

“... I suppose so.”

Silence filled the air between them, stretching on well past the point of discomfort as they stared one another done. Finally, with a low laugh, Krauser murmured, “Well, I guess there’s tomorrow night…”

With that, he turned and stepped into the concealing darkness of the hallway. Jack didn’t move a muscle until she heard the distinct sound of a door opening and closing nearby. She waited for an extra several minutes before finally leaving the room herself, making sure to lock the door firmly behind her. As she waited for the elevator, her thoughts ran wild.

What the hell just happened? Why the hell did Krauser suddenly show up in Leon’s room? How did he get through the locked door? And where was Leon himself? Was he staying with someone else? With Wesker? God, she hoped that he wasn’t with Wesker. That megalomaniac barely even noticed when Leon was hungry, let alone sleep deprived and scared out of his mind.

Once back in her own quiet room, Jack still couldn’t sleep. She was restless. More and more questions kept popping into her head and none of them had good answers. One thing for sure, she was going to talk to Leon soon, whether he was ready for the conversation or not.

~~

Leon jolted awake, the noise of someone wailing nearly drowning out the sound of running water. Was someone in his shower?! Wait, what the fuck was on top of him?! Twisting and thrashing, he stood to find himself surrounded by blankets that weren’t his, in a room that definitely wasn’t his either.

Patting himself down even as he visually inspected himself for any signs of assault or undress, he was incredibly relieved to find himself still fully clothed and seemingly unaccosted. He didn’t feel like he’d been manhandled or otherwise abused while he’d been out. Hell, he actually felt better than he had in several days…

The sound of caterwauling continued from behind a closed door, and the second Leon recognized David Emory’s voice as he belted out his shower serenade, it all came crashing back. Krauser’s early morning promise, barely getting out of work without him on his ass, asking to stay in the orderly’s bedroom, Jack’s text–

Wait. Jack’s text? What text?

Frowning, he looked around the tangled mess of blankets, but before he could find it something else caught his eye. Still in the holster on his belt was his taser. His work taser that wasn’t supposed to leave the asylum… Shit. He’d been in such a state the night before, he’d completely forgotten to stop by the armory and turn it back in before leaving for the night.

Sighing, he shook his head. Although it wasn’t common by any means, it wasn’t the first time someone had accidentally walked out with work equipment. It just meant a bit more paperwork for him to file that day.

Just as he was about to start looking for his phone again, the bathroom door flew open and David stepped out, wrapped in a towel and still singing to himself. At least, until he saw Leon standing in the middle of his blankets in his full work uniform.

Before Leon could open his mouth or cover his eyes, David was already letting out a shrill scream and pointed an accusatory finger right at him, “PORCUPINE!!!”

Wincing as his ears rang slightly, Leon rubbed one ear before repeating, “Porcupine? What– David, I slept here last night! Remember?”

Blinking owlishly, Leon could practically see the gears turning in David’s head before he let out a gasp, face turning red as he rapidly said, “Oh god, I totally forgot! I’m so sorry Leon, I didn’t recognize you with your hair like that!”

“My hair–” he started to say, but a quick pat told him all he needed to know. It was sticking out in every direction, slightly frizzy and in desperate need of some conditioner. Too bad all his stuff was still in his room… Trying to smooth it down a little, he awkwardly excused, “It’s fine. It was late, we were both exhausted and I kind of sprang it on you out of nowhere. I should be the one apologizing.”

Glancing around, he finally spotted his phone halfway under the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed it, only to find he had a mere three percent left. His alarm had automatically shut off to save what little power was left, and he was already almost two hours late for his shift. Fuck.

Wincing, he asked awkwardly, “Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Sure, it’s on the dresser,” David offered, preoccupied with digging his uniform out of his closet. “How come you’re here though? Like, I remember letting you in but not why you wanted to stay.”

Shuffling over, Leon looked over the organized chaos, finding the cord coiled up beside a small teddy bear wearing a graduation cap and gown. He didn’t pay it much attention, plugging in his phone as he wracked his brain for some kind of excuse.

Trying and failing to come up with a better lie than what he’d said the night before, he decided consistency was key. Besides, if David did end up remembering their previous conversation, it would be pretty awkward to have two different stories that didn’t line up.

“My curtains caught on fire… so my room is unlivable. Smells like smoke…”

David paused, scrub pants in hand as he slowly turned to stare at Leon with an incredulous look. “Your curtains caught on fire… Just your curtains… And you didn’t use the emergency fire extinguisher?”

“It caught on fire…” he excused, trying not to sound panicked. “I tried putting it out with… a towel. And then that caught fire… So much fire…”

Cold sweat was gathering on his back, especially since David was looking at him like he was on drugs. It was as if he knew he was lying and Leon was praying that he didn’t.

“Okaaaay…” David drew out, finally returning to continue his search for his shirt, allowing Leon to breathe a sigh of relief, marble eyes no longer staring into his soul. “I guess your room is… on fire. What are you gonna do now since your room is… on fire?”

Shit, now came the real challenge… “I was actually wondering… if I could possibly… stay with you? Temporarily? Until the issue is resolved?”

That got David’s attention immediately, his head snapping back towards the guard with narrowed eyes. He may be small but his eyes were haunting, large and bug like, enough to give Leon goosebumps. “You want to stay? With me? Seriously?”

Panic shot through him like a bullet. Jesus, he should have seen that coming. Why the hell would David let him stay? Sure they were starting to get acquainted, but they weren’t really friends. He’d never been mean to the younger Emory, but he’d never gone out of his way to try and treat him like a friend either. He’d never even thought about it until they’d both gone with Dwight and the others on their yearly bar escape! Who the hell else could he ask though? Maybe Dwight? If he moved some of the extra boxes of cleaning supplies around so they didn’t fall on him during the night, he could–

“Okay.”

“Huh?!” Leon grunted, jolting out of his spiral. “What?”

“I said okay,” David confirmed with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t have a lot of space in here but if you don’t mind the mess, you can stay as long as you need.” Something about his tone made it clear that he knew it wasn’t a ‘fire’ that drove the guard out of his room.

Slightly taken aback by his show of kindness despite them barely being acquainted, Leon silently stared at him for a full minute before managing a very small, “Thank you.”

The orderly nodded before disappearing into the bathroom to change, leaving him standing silently by the dresser. Unsure what else to do, Leon waited for him to come back out to ask, “Is it okay if I bring some of my… surviving stuff over? I won’t take up much space.”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine,” David agreed, pulling on a heavy jacket. The forecast for the day wasn’t too bad, so that was all he needed before heading out to catch the bus.

Once he was gone, Leon let out a heavy sigh, the previous night's text all but forgotten about. A new message lit up the screen as he was contemplating how to safely retrieve what he needed from his room, and he looked down to see a new message to the group chat Feng had added him to.

It was from Quentin, reading, ‘Sasquatch has been sighted outside of his natural habitat!’

A picture was attached and, when it loaded, it was obvious he’d been peeking around a corner to avoid being seen while taking it. Slightly blurry and at an odd angle, it was still good enough to show Krauser staring down the coffee maker in the break room while several other staff members tried to disappear into the background.

Starting to laugh, Leon just as quickly lunged for the door. If Krauser was at work, that meant he had time to go grab his shit! Nearly forgetting that he didn’t have a key since it wasn’t his room, he skidded to a stop just before the door could swing closed behind him.

Shoving a foot into the gap just in time, he quickly glanced around for something he could use to temporarily prop the door open. Spotting a… fossil? Bug? Isopod? It was some kind of stuffed bug and it would work so Leon grabbed it, putting it in the door to keep it open while he quite literally ran back down the hall to his own room.

Hesitating slightly before unlocking his door, Leon had to shake himself before stepping foot into the room. Choking slightly as the cloying stench of cigarette smoke greeted him, he briefly wondered if Krauser hadn’t stopped by just to smoke in his room before heading to work that morning.

Refusing to let the Major take up any more of his thoughts, he hurried to his closet to grab an empty backpack. His next stop was the bathroom. Opening the bag all the way, he used an arm to shovel everything off his sink and into the sack. The shower followed, and he was slightly dismayed to find he couldn’t zip the backpack up after…

Realizing he’d have to make multiple trips, he did his best to hold everything in as he hauled it back to David’s room. Nudging the door open, he dropped everything off in the bathroom before starting his second trip. That time, he piled all his clothes, blanket, pillow, and some snacks he’d had shipped up onto his mattress before pulling the whole thing down the hall.

Struggling slightly with the awkward load and trying not to spill anything as he went, Leon almost jumped when an unfamiliar voice asked directly behind him, “Hello, fellow Crotus Prenn employee. Would you like some help with that?”

Not letting go of the ends of the mattress he was holding, Leon did his best to smile awkwardly over his shoulder at the man. “Ah, no thank you… I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I’m a member of custodial and I’d be more than happy to help,” the man insisted. Tapping his name tag for emphasis, he added, “See?”

Doing a double take, Leon squinted, not sure he was reading the name right. “Uhhh… Thank you, Mr. ….Bing Bong… but I really am fine…”

“If you insist,” he allowed, before waving goodbye.

As he sauntered past Leon down the hall towards the elevators, the guard muttered wearily, “I must need more sleep cause I swear to god that looked like famous action star Nic Cage…”

Thankfully that was the only interruption and he made it the rest of the way to David’s room without bumping into anyone else. It wasn’t until he had dragged his mattress into the middle of the room and securely locked the door that he allowed himself a moment to breathe and figure out what to actually do next.

He was extremely late for work, but he still fully intended to show up. Despite his fears of Krauser cornering him in the dorms, he couldn’t not show up to work just to avoid him. Besides, if he wasn’t there, that meant the Major was in command. Working directly under the man was something he had first hand experience with and was truly a fate he didn’t wish on any of his subordinates.

Checking the time, he spotted another text from Quentin to the group chat. That time he was taking a ‘selfie’, while it was quite clear the target was the person in the background. It looked like the Nightmare was gesturing wildly at something off screen, while Krauser stood there with a look of absolute boredom on his face. It was beautiful.

The following text caption followed a moment later, reading, ‘Here we have the ‘squatch facing off with his natural enemy. A man-candle. Aka, a mandle.’

Shaking his head, Leon set his phone aside so he could at least put his bathroom stuff away properly. He had enough time before the next bus, and he could at least smooth down his ‘porcupine’ hair before heading out. Finally, a sense of normalcy.

Speaking of normal, now that he was finally taking a look around David’s room, he realized it looked alot more like a proper bedroom than an assigned room in a dormitory.

The simple twin sized bed that every ‘one person’ bedroom had was so clogged full of pillows and plushies that it looked more like a nest than a bed. A fuzzy rug with a cow pattern laid neatly by the bed along with a pair of fuzzy slippers that had seen better days. The walls were lined back to back with posters from different games and cartoons that Leon had no hope of recognizing. Turning around, he realized that in his blind panic and exhaustion, he had collapsed on a pile of squishmellows in the corner, which were most likely the reason why he didn’t feel an ache in his back. Some time during the night, David had tossed several blankets over him, which now laid in a crumpled heap at his feet.

Taking a deep breath, Leon was pleasantly surprised by the scent of lavender and sage that permeated the room. The guy had a moth shaped wallflower plugged into the socket next to his bed. David’s room was the definition of homey, something that most others in the dorms didn’t do. In fact, Leon’s room looked more like his old barracks room than a proper bedroom. He was at work, afterall, and didn’t want to associate his home with the asylum, even if he had been living on site for the past few years.

Doing his best not to disturb any of his temporary roommate’s things, Leon shoved his mattress into the corner he’d slept in before emptying his backpack of bathroom supplies. Once everything was set up and his hair was tamed, he changed into a cleaner uniform and headed down to catch the bus.

As soon as he was onboard, Jeff greeted, “Hey, Leon. You doing okay?.”

“Better,” he admitted, keeping it short and simple. Still, it felt good to be able to give someone an honest answer. His problems may not be over, but they certainly felt more manageable after a solid eight hours of sleep.

As he took his seat, his phone chimed again, that time with a message to the group from Dwight. Another sneakily taken picture, that time from inside of a janitor closet on the second floor. Krauser could be seen gesturing at another guard who looked about ready to cry, as the janitor asked, ‘Who crapped in his cornflakes?’

Several different people started to type responses, but it was Feng who replied first that time. Sending a video file, she added a sunglasses wearing emoji and the text, ‘Old dogs don’t need to learn new tricks.’

Although Leon had a feeling he already knew what he was about to watch, he had to see it to be sure. The moment he hit play, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Crystal clear security camera footage of Bill aggressively dressing down the new Lieutenant, complete with a characteristic ‘knife hand’ jabbed at his chest. It was both impressive and awe inspiring to watch the much older vet chew Krauser out over his ‘utterly brainless, piss poor handling’ of the guard rotations.

Every time the blond tried to cut Bill off, the former Captain would snap at him like an old bulldog. He had something to say and he was going to say it and he would be damned if anyone was going to stop him. Perhaps the best part of the video was towards the end, where Wesker could just be seen stepping into the frame. As soon as he saw what was happening, he turned on his heel and marched right back out again.

Still smiling as he closed the video down, Leon paused before he could put his phone away. A text from Jack? From last night?

Oh, shit! That’s right! He’d heard the message notification sound in his sleep and woken up just enough to look at the text before falling right back asleep! He’d left her on read and then not shown up for work!

“Jeff… Am I bad with women?” he asked, unable to keep the question to himself.

Not batting an eye, the bus driver answered, “Well, considering you’re dating Wesker… I’d assume so.”

That was not the answer Leon had been expecting -or hoping for- but before he could feel too sorry for himself, Jeff chuckled, “You could be a lot worse. At least you haven’t made any of them request a transfer.”

“Silver lining, I guess,” he agreed as they pulled up beside the curb. “Thanks, Jeff.”

Waving goodbye, as the guard disembarked, he offered, “Have a good shift, Leon.”

Heading inside, he made it through security and all the way to his office without any issues. As he was working on filling out the paperwork for his taser, there was a knock on the door. Instantly tensing, he called, “Come in.”

Wesker entering didn’t relax him as much as it once would have, and before he could even open his mouth to greet him, the older man stated coldly, “I’m surprised you’re here, after simply not showing up for the first three hours of your shift.”

“I slept great, thanks for asking. How about you, sir?” Leon snapped before he could push his temper down.

The look of shock on Wesker’s face only added to the ugly tension suddenly filling the room, and after a moment, he asked slowly, “Excuse me?”

Grinding his teeth, Leon considered how to answer ‘properly’. He knew he was being given a chance to correct himself, but he wasn’t really sure he wanted to… Taking a deep breath, he said in a more controlled tone, “Sorry… I haven’t been sleeping well and last night was the first time in… Well, since your new Lieutenant started, actually.”

“Your new Lieutenant,” Wesker corrected sharply, taking a step closer to the desk. “Unless you’ve somehow forgotten, you’re the one who requested I hire someone for you. I think it’s rather beneath you to start throwing a tantrum over it now just because you don’t like the way he runs things.”

“He shouldn’t be trying to run things, sir,” Leon answered, resuming his paperwork. “He may have more experience, but he clearly doesn’t respect me… Or you.”

“You seem to be forgetting your place as well, Captain. A part of your job is to set a precedent for your direct subordinates. If you allow a man like Krauser to walk all over you, maybe you should reconsider your position.”

Staring back into Wesker’s eyes for a moment, he looked back down at his paperwork, asking quietly, “Are you saying you made a mistake in promoting me so quickly then, sir?”

A hand slammed down in the middle of his form and he looked up, startled to see Wesker leaning into his space with a sneer twisting his lips. For a split second, Leon actually wondered if he was going to strike him, as his other hand hovered in the air between them.

Letting out a shallow breath, Wesker straightened up. Taking a moment to compose himself, he finally looked down at him to dismiss, “I will not have a conversation with you while you’re like this, Leon. We’ll speak later, once you’ve had a chance to catch up on the work you’ve missed. Perhaps then you’ll be more reasonable.”

Mouth opening, Leon had no words. It wouldn’t have mattered if he did, as Wesker was already pulling the door closed behind him, leaving him alone with his paperwork.

Still staring at the door, he asked the empty room, “What the hell was that?”

Shaking his head, he decided to leave it. If Wesker wanted to leave him to his work to ‘think about what he’d done’ like he was a teenager throwing a temper tantrum, so be it. Taking his time to finish the paperwork for the taser, he paused as he was leaving his office.

Thinking for a moment, he texted the group, asking, ‘Any recent sightings to report?’

After a brief pause, Marcus texted, ‘There’s some sort of ape lurking around the lunch room. Probably part of a lost species. Also Brahms keeps trying to grab my tits. Please tell me there’s a way to make him stop?!’

‘OH OH OH!’ Quentin messaged. After several question marks from the ginger, the janitor suggested, ‘Stop having such juicy tits.’

‘BITCH?!’ was all that Marcus sent back, followed by several laughing emojis from other people.

Just glad for the confirmation that Krauser wasn’t even on the first floor, Leon set off to turn in his paperwork. After that, he started getting notifications anytime Krauser moved to a different part of the asylum without having to ask. It was as if they had all collectively decided that helping him avoid his former trainer for the day was a serious part of the job.

Well… He wasn’t about to tell them it wasn’t.

As the day wore on, Leon found himself catching up on work he’d been falling behind on. Not having an angry blond sasquatch constantly breathing down his neck was shockingly freeing. Hell, even his mood was improving, and he started to feel more optimistic about being able to handle things.

Finally chased from his office when King wasn’t able to keep Krauser from making his way there to see if the Captain was in yet, Leon snuck to the breakroom for a quick cup of coffee. He was getting hungry anyway, but he wasn’t going to risk eating somewhere so easily accessible. Considering going all the way downstairs, he dismissed it after a moment of thought. Personal food items were forbidden from the fifth floor down, and the further down he went the less people he had for the ‘Squatch Watch’ as Quentin had dubbed it…

It was a very rare occurrence, but Leon considered himself lucky to be completely alone when he slunk into the breakroom. At least, he thought he was. With the rush he was in, he failed to notice the silent man sitting in the furthest, darkest corner of the room with just a book to keep him company.

Quickly making his way to the coffee pot, Leon let out an irritated sigh when he found it empty. Although it wasn’t a rule, asylum etiquette dictated that whoever emptied it also brewed a new pot.

Not wasting time to debate whether or not he had time to do it himself and enjoy the fruits of his labor, Leon dumped out the old filter and threw a new one in. Adding grounds and water, he waited as patiently as he could for it to start heating. Checking his phone repeatedly, he nearly jumped out of his skin when there was suddenly another mug being set on the counter beside his own.

Turning to find Asa as he waited to refill his mug, Leon almost remained entirely silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the elder Emory… Okay, he didn’t like Asa. That was fine, as the man didn’t like him either. Nothing had ever happened between them to cause a rift or grudge, they simply got along like oil and water.

After a moment of awkward silence where Leon checked his phone at least half a dozen times, Asa suddenly spoke. Voice low and somehow threatening even with the innocence of his words, he said, “I see you finally caught up on some sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Leon answered, unsure what else to say. Christ, how bad was it that someone he barely knew could tell he’d finally gotten some rest when his own boyfriend didn’t even seem to care that he’d been on the edge of a nervous breakdown?

“Will you be staying with my son for long?” Asa asked, and the guard felt a chill run down his spine.

“Ahh, I don’t… know,” he offered hesitantly. Christ, hopefully David hadn’t complained to his father about him staying with him. What if the orderly had only let him stay because he was a department head and he thought he couldn’t say no? Should he talk to him about it? Able to feel the scientist’s eyes boring into the side of his head, Leon forced himself to turn and meet his gaze. “Is there a problem?”

“Only the ones you’re bringing with you,” Asa told him, eyes flat and dark as he stared at the blond. Before Leon could attempt to defend himself, the man looked away, focusing on the brewing coffee instead. “Burning is a horrible way to die. Be sure you’re more careful while you’re staying with David.”

Almost asking what the hell he was talking about, Leon snapped his mouth closed as he remembered his shoddy house of lies. Oh, yeah... His room had caught fire. “Right, of course,” he mumbled uncomfortably.

Just as the coffee was finishing brewing, his phone chimed and he looked down to see a text from Eli, reading in all caps, ‘WHO THE ACTUAL FUCK LEFT A GODDAMN KNIFE RIGHTSIDE UP IN THE KITCHEN 2 SINK? NOW I HAVE TO SEW UP A FUCKING GORILLA PAW! HIS HANDS ARE AS BIG AS MY FACE!’

‘You should be used to that by now lmao!’ Ace messaged back, only to receive a string of middle finger emojis and swear words from Eli.

At least it gave Leon enough time to grab his coffee and his food and get the hell out of there… Even if he hadn’t had to worry about Krauser, he didn’t really feel like sitting down and sharing a meal with Emory Sr.

Taking his lunch to the tech room allowed him to visit Feng and Bill, and he managed to eat his entire meal without being interrupted or losing his appetite. Bill did try to snatch his cupcake, but he caught him when he heard the wrapper crinkling and took it back.

“I’ll bring you one next time,” he offered. “As a thank you.”

Snorting, he just shook his head. “For what? Knocking a useless butter bar down a rung? I’ve been waiting to do that since the day I enlisted in the Army.”

“The video has broken quarantine,” Feng warned, munching on a poptart. “Don’t ask me how… Okay, ask me how. Please. I need to talk about this.”

Already sure he knew the answer, Leon obliged, starting to ask, “How did–”

“It was me!” she cackled. “I sent it to the group first, and then I anonymously sent it to about thirty percent of the staff, staggered between day and night shift, so by the time night shift wakes up and sees it, pretty much all of day shift will already be talking about it. My estimation for total staff saturation is approximately thirty hours.”

“You kids with your technology and fancy gadgets,” Bill grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it when it suits you,” Feng shot back. When he started to protest, she asked, “Do you want to see that video of the goose trying to bite Wesker for parking too close to where its nest was again?”

Pausing mid-argument, Bill sighed. “Alright, alright.”

Leon snickered, recalling the incident in question. It had been the season before, but the video still surfaced from time to time around the asylum despite Wesker’s best efforts to hunt it down and erase it from the face of the earth. He may or may not know a few people who had a copy of it saved to flash drives just so they could send it around every few months.

“Animals are smart,” Feng pointed out. “I’m telling you, it’s cause that one time he kicked that gosling out of his path. You can’t do that. The universe hates animal abusers.”

That started another ‘argument’ between her and Bill about karma and the universe, but Leon didn’t mind. It wasn’t serious and he knew it was a way for both of them to pass the time. And, admittedly, it was nice to hear some lighthearted discussions between friends.

After that, it was back to dodging Krauser around the asylum until dinner time. Leon had checked the schedule and knew the LT was assigned to the first floor dinner shift, so he decided to head down to the second or maybe even third floor to help oversee their mealtime instead.

His plans were changed for him, however, when someone tapped his arm before he could board the elevator. Slightly startled but covering it better thanks to a slightly calmer head, he turned to find Jack.

Before he could open his mouth to even try and explain, she asked simply, “Are you avoiding me?”

Eyes widening, Leon quickly answered, “No! No, it’s- it’s not like that! I can explain, I just–”

Grimacing, he looked around before meeting her eyes. He could see the worry he’d caused and he knew he couldn’t keep it from her any more. He had to trust that she wouldn’t suddenly start thinking less of him…

“Can we please speak somewhere private? Not after work. Right now.”

Jack nodded, gesturing for Leon to follow her before she turned and started to make her way down the hallway. Leon kept to her side, practically looking like a lost dog as they both walked in silence, head on a swivel in case a sasquatch decided to make his unwelcome presence known.

Pausing by her office, Jack badged the door open, allowing Leon to go in first before entering herself. As soon as the door swung shut, she levelled the guard with a stern look, arms crossed as she said, “Where did you go last night? You left me on ‘read’ then disappeared from your room.”

Leon found himself unsure where to actually start. A part of him wanted to start at the very beginning, but that seemed excessive. He’d get there, even if it caused him to die of an anxiety induced heart attack, but first, he decided it would be best to address what had just happened. Not wanting any distractions, he shut his radio off before starting.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he told her sincerely. “I… I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since Krauser was hired. He’s in the room right next to mine and I am… I can’t sleep knowing he’s there. So last night I went and slept on the floor in David’s room.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “King? Tapp?”

“No, Emory,” he corrected, earning a shocked look in response. “I know… I wouldn’t have ever expected to find me there either, but he’s a good kid and he’s helping me out of a really bad situation. I heard my phone go off and opened it up, but I passed out before I could even really register what I was seeing.”

His explanation seemed to be enough to appease the woman as she had a thoughtful look on her face before nodding. “That’s nice of him to do. I’m glad you were with him instead of Wesker.”

Shaking his head, Leon couldn’t help but let out a humorless laugh. “Actually… We just had a fight and… I don’t… I don’t feel bad about anything I said to him. And a part of me hopes that it keeps happening… I don’t want to feel bad about speaking my mind, especially if it’s going to cause him to show me what he’s really thinking.”

That actually seemed to shock Jack, her eyes widening before a rare smile spread across her face. “That’s very good, Leon. I’m proud of you.”

Leon froze in his chair, heart suddenly racing. That felt… good. Genuine. If there was one person in the world he could trust with his past, it was her. It wouldn’t be easy to talk about, but if things were going to work between them, he knew he couldn’t keep hiding it.

“Shortly after I first joined the Racoon City Police Department, I was recommended for a special program…” Leon explained. “I was one of the few who were selected after a rigorous evaluation process, and from there I began training under–”

The beep of the lock being badged open interrupted him, but the door flying open made both of them jump. It was nearly unheard of for anyone to burst into a department head’s office like that, but judging from the look of near panic on King’s face, he had a good reason.

“Jack! There’s– Oh, bloody good timing, Leon!” he panted. “Been trying to radio! We’ve got a situation in cell block one!”

Jumping up from his chair, Leon demanded, “What happened?”

“Five people need medical, now,” King explained, already leading him and Jack towards the cell block. Gritting his teeth, he added, “Marcus is hurt pretty bad…”
~~~~

Chapter 33: Boiling Over

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Oooh, so that's how he got hurt...

“-And so I guess Leon is kind of my temporary roommate now,” David summed up, appearing almost as surprised about it as Marcus felt.

That had been the last thing the ginger had been expecting to hear that morning, but it had certainly been an interesting start to the day. Unsure what else to say about it, he asked curiously, “Do you think your dad will mind?”

“Oh, I haven’t told him…” David admitted, face scrunched up like he ate a lemon. Shaking his head, he quickly tried, and failed, to put on a more confident tone. “And I shouldn’t have to tell him because I’m an adult and can do what I want. He can’t tell me what to do!”

Nodding quickly, Marcus agreed, “Right, yeah, that’s… a good way to look at it!”

What he didn’t say was, ‘Thank god! Because I have no doubt he’d try to murder Leon if he knew!’

“Right so… it looks like we’re on floor one for breakfast today,” he continued, reading off his assignment chart. “Sweet. It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to work as a proper team.”

“Oh cool!” David cheered, very much ignoring the reasons why they’d avoided each other for the better half of the past week.

Easily settling back into their usual routine, the pair managed to grab the cart of breakfast trays and make it all the way to the pharmacy without incident. So far, it seemed like it was going to be a fairly uneventful day. As they parked the cart and began sorting cups of pills onto trays, Marcus couldn’t help but listen in on Laurie and Claudette’s not so quiet conversation.

“–have the guards actually confirmed it, or is it still just a theory?” Laurie asked, one eyebrow raised in a skeptical frown.

“Well, Leon hasn’t made a push to get any or all of them locked in solitary, so it’s probably just a rumor still,” Claudette admitted. “But let’s face it, it’s the Legion. They start shit all the time.”

“Yeah, but purposely starting a riot?” the blonde asked, and Marcus nearly choked on his spit. “It’s one thing when they pick a staff member or another patient to bully, but Frank actually threw something at Michael. No one throws things at a Myers unless they want to die or start a full blown war.”

Jesus Christ, the Legion really had started a riot just so Ghostface could get to him… That was hot.

Marcus couldn't help but feel flattered, then instantly guilty. He should not be okay with that! People could have died! Someone had a chunk bitten out of their arm! He was recovering incredibly well, but still! Ghostface really would do anything to get what he wanted…

Snapping out of his thoughts when David asked Laurie a question, he glanced over at him. The feeling of guilt on his shoulders only got heavier, and he looked back down at the trays of food. Pretending to still be sorting a few of the cups, he mulled over the previous day’s outdoor time.

He was positive Ghostface had threatened David in some way, but when he had tried to question him, he’d run him in verbal circles until it was time to go back inside and he hadn’t gotten a chance to question him again since. He still felt bad that he hadn’t realized something was up sooner, but when he had, the Legion had damn near gotten physical with him right there in the yard to keep him from trying to intervene.

“Ready, Marcus?” David asked, and he jumped. “We don’t want to be late with the food.”

“Ah, yeah,” he answered sheepishly. “Sorry. You’d think I’d know better than to be the one to give Freddy another reason to bitch.”

“He’ll always find something,” Claudette called after them, and both orderlies sighed. It was true, but that didn’t mean either of them wanted to give him more reasons…

Reaching the first floor cell block, they found King and Tapp waiting for them. As soon as Marcus opened his mouth, Tapp held up a finger.

“If you make one joke… I will lock you in an empty cell,” he warned.

“I wasn’t!” he lied. It was kind of funny that all three David’s he knew were assigned to the same exact detail, but a major bummer that he apparently wasn’t allowed to comment on it.

“Triple D’s,” David whispered.

“It’s King’s bra size,” Marcus whispered back, and his roommate narrowed his eyes, demanding, “What was that?!”

“Nothing!” the ginger lied, even less convincingly than before. It didn’t help when Tapp very poorly covered a laugh with a fake cough.

A bunch of banging from the interior of the Legion’s cell, followed by purposefully dramatic wailing for food saved Marcus from having to explain himself, and he and David Emory hurried to start passing out the trays.

As usual, David took Caleb his food first, while Marcus started at the opposite end and side, delivering Ji-Woon his tray. Neither patient had much to say, and things progressed smoothly enough.

When Marcus opened Amanda’s cell, she paused briefly after stepping out, eyes obviously roaming over the still visible bruises all over his neck. She didn’t say anything about them, but she looked far too amused as she took her pills and finally her food.

Getting to his favorite patient while David was distracted by the Legion, Marcus waited for him to step out of his cell to greet dryly, “Good morning, Ghostface.”

“Hmm, now that tone just doesn’t do anything for me,” he complained, pulling a pouty face. “You know, you can call me Danny.”

Marcus froze, the words he’d been planning to say suddenly stuck in his throat. Making a small croaking sound, he snapped his mouth closed, cheeks flushing. Christ, why was he blushing?!

Smiling, Danny tilted his head to one side. “Hmm? You okay, Doc?”

“Ah,” was all he managed, quickly glancing around like he’d done something obscene.

David was still chatting with the Legion, animated as usual, and Tapp was watching with a slightly amused expression. King, on the other hand, was staring directly at Marcus as though peering into his non-existent ginger soul.

“Ignore him, he’s just jealous because he got cucked and doesn’t have his own twink anymore,” Ghostface chuckled, pulling Marcus’s attention back to himself. “Now, you looked like you had something to say. What’s on your mind… sweetheart?”

The way he said it, eyes drifting over the orderly’s shoulder to the Brit, made it seem like he was taunting the man just as much as he was chatting up his… favorite staff member? He wasn’t really sure what to call what they had, but boyfriend seemed like an extreme and unhealthy jump that Marcus wasn’t about to throw himself at…

Shaking himself off, he passed Danny his cup of pills before saying quietly, “I know you said or did something to David yesterday while we were in the yard. The Legion don’t like me, yet they suddenly and inexplicably needed me to ‘hang out’ with them on the opposite side of the yard, and when I tried to leave they made it very clear that ‘wasn’t allowed’.”

The sudden shifts from calm and relaxed to predatory and vicious in Ghostface’s body language would never cease to startle Marcus. Something about it was also starting to turn him on, but he did his best to ignore that.

Eyes dark, Danny asked, “Oh? Did they now? How so?”

“They didn’t do anything to me,” the orderly hissed. “Calm down before King comes over here!”

Laughing as though nothing was wrong, Danny relaxed, going so far as to lean on the door frame. “Just making sure. They’re good listeners, but sometimes they can get a bit overzealous and need correcting…”

Trying not to picture what ‘correcting’ them would entail, Marcus pressed on before he could be distracted again. “The only reason I haven’t asked David is because he’s friends with the Legion and I don’t want either them or him to think I’m trying to drive a wedge between them. But David is also my friend, Danny–”

“Ooh, I like that,” he purred, eyes lighting up. “Say my name again?”

Ignoring him, he continued, “If you hurt him, or you have someone else hurt him, that’s it. I will transfer the hell out of here and disappear and I will find a way to take him with me if it means keeping him safe. He knows about us, but I’m sure you already know that… He’s not going to say anything to anyone. Not unless you actually end up hurting me.”

“Hm, you’re a spirited one,” Danny mused, not sounding the least bit bothered. “Most people would rather choose between one of two parties, or try to make some kind of shitty, one sided ultimatum. But you… you thought this through.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to counter his warning or try to spin him in more circles. Instead, he was shocked to receive a real answer.

“I threatened him, sure, but I didn’t hurt him,” Ghostface explained. “Now, if he does manage to get between us or put someone between us, I’m going to gouge his creepy little eyes out. I think I made that quite clear to him, and now I hope it’s clear to you too, Doc.”

“They’re not creepy!” he argued, glaring at him. “They’re just– They’re–”

“He looks like a roach,” Danny stated matter of factly. “They’re gross, marbly, lifeless like a doll’s-”

“He isn’t, and they’re not,” Marcus insisted, glaring at the killer. “They’re just… shiny!”

“Ah, so you agree. He looks like a bug.”

“No!” he nearly shouted, only to wince when King spoke up.

“Something wrong, Marcus?”

“Nah, we’re good,” he promised, offering the guard a sheepish smile. Even Tapp was looking at him at that point, and he felt like he was under a microscope.

“Smooth, baby boy,” Ghostface purred, and he turned bright red. “See you at rec time?”

“Yeah… and lunch,” Marcus told him. As the patient began to step back into his cell, he quickly asked, “Hey, um… Why now?”

Raising his eyebrows, Danny offered, “Well, I’ve been inexplicably horny ever since you showed up and–”

“Not- not that!” he stammered, trying to ignore the eyes burning into the back of his neck. “I mean, why can I use your name now?”

Smiling, his head tilted to one side. “Oh, Doc… I never said you couldn’t call me Danny.”

Jaw dropping, Marcus couldn’t get a word out before the door slid shut between them. Utterly flabbergasted, he slowly turned back to the empty breakfast cart. Technically, he hadn’t ever been told he couldn’t use his name… But had he really been able to use it all that time and just not realized it?

“I hate… everything about this,” King told him, expression like he’d just drank spoiled milk. “Stop blushing like a bloody school boy.”

“Stop being British!” Marcus shot back, unable to think of anything better. Deciding it was the best he could do for the time being, he doubled down on it by scowling at the guard.

Glaring at one another for a minute, King finally sighed. Crossing his arms, he muttered, “Yeah, well… Stop being so fucking ginger.”

Gasping, he demanded, “Why would you say that like it’s a slur? What’s next? Are you going to tell me I have no soul?”

“Of course you don’t!” King told him, eyes narrowing. “You’re American.”

“You’re just jealous that you’re not,” Marcus scoffed, trying not to laugh at the absurd turn the conversation had taken.

Making a talking motion with one hand, King did his best impression of an American accent as he mimicked in a high pitched voice, “Oh, look at me! I’m an ‘Merican and everyone is jealous of my country’s incest and gun violence! Burger, burger, cheese!”

“That sounded Australian,” the ginger dismissed. “And that’s only Alabama! I’m from Washington!”

“This is so much better than anything that’s on the TV,” Freddy said, and both of them looked down the hall to see him ignoring David, who was still trying to hand him his pills.

“I wish we had a bowl of popcorn, ‘cause this is fucking great,” Frank agreed.

All four of the Legion had crowded around the door and were taking turns peering through the small slot, which they'd propped open with one of the empty plastic medicine cups. Technically they weren’t supposed to have that, but no one really cared at the moment, as another voice angrily chimed in from down the hallway.

“Fuck you, I can’t see anything!” Ji-Woon whined.

“Fuck you, my view is fantastic,” Caleb chuckled. His door was directly across from Danny’s, offering him not only a perfectly framed view through the small observation window, but great volume as well.

“Just think of it like a podcast and shut the fuck up!” Amanda yelled. Her cell was right next to the Trickster’s so she didn’t have a great view, but she could still hear everything pretty well.

“The view’s not bad,” Ghostface chimed in. “At least from where I’m standing.”

Glancing back at his cell, then down, Marcus slapped a hand over his face. Yeah. Now wonder Danny was enjoying the view. All he could really see through the tray slot was his scrubs wearing ass… Literally. Marcus has turned around when he started arguing with the guard and that allowed Ghostface to practically glue his eyes to the ginger’s backside.

“Alright, show’s over!” Tapp decided, but it was obvious to everyone that he too was trying not to laugh.

Several hours later, almost all of them were still laughing about it. David and Marcus had killed the stretch between breakfast and rec time with paperwork, but the moment the Legion had walked into the common room and seen them, they’d all started cracking jokes. It was a rare moment of tolerance shown towards the ginger orderly, and it allowed him a brief moment to hope that maybe they weren’t so bad…

As they continued to talk to David at a small table a little ways away, Marcus quickly found himself otherwise occupied. Prowling over to stand a little closer then he was technically allowed, Ghostface offered him a charming smile.

“Doc… You are horrible at keeping secrets.”

Opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, he finally gave up. Not too worried about Freddy and Ji-Woon’s usual bickering over the remote, he allowed his full attention to move to Danny. “You’re the one who had to leave his mark. It was a little hard to hide all that from three roommates.”

“And I thought my cell was cramped,” Danny laughed. “You know the Legion’s cell is only about five feet wider than the rest of ours? And that’s literally only so they could fit the second set of bunks against the opposite wall.”

Marcus had indeed noticed how small their cell was, especially for four people. They didn’t seem to mind, but still. He couldn’t imagine living in a tiny little box with three other people all the time like that! Not that they had much of a choice…

Before he could say anything, an oppressive presence seemed to fill the room. All the laughter and chatter died as Krauser loomed in the doorway like a golem. For once, Leon wasn’t tucked under his arm like a very reluctant gosling; Everyone noticed, but no one dared comment.

Until, of course, someone did!

“What, no pet Captain today?” Freddy heckled, before looking to Ji-Woon for a high five.

Or, he tried to. Ji-Woon was no longer where he’d been on the couch, having moved across the room to pretend he’d never met the Nightmare before.

Looking unimpressed, Krauser crossed the room to pluck the remote control from the patient’s hand. Before Freddy could protest, the Lieutenant told him in a tone similar to a trainer scolding a badly behaved dog, “You can have this back when you’ve learned to keep your fucking mouth shut, inmate.”

“Patient.”

Krauser’s head snapped towards the table where the Legion were gawking at David. The orderly’s hands were shaking, curled into the bottom of his cardigan. Eyes narrowing, the guard demanded, “Care to repeat that, child?”

David almost flinched at his tone. Almost. “I said patient. Not inmate. This is an asylum, not a prison.”

The remote made a pitiful creaking sound as Krauser’s fingers turned white around it. Marcus couldn’t help but think the Lieutenant was picturing doing the same thing to the smaller man’s throat instead…

Many of the patients were watching with morbid fascination, while the Legion all looked ready to gang rush the blond as he sneered, “You said? And who the fuck are you to be giving me orders?”

That time, David actually flinched, practically ripping a hole into his cardigan sleeve as he mumbled, “Just correcting you.”

Neck making an audible cracking sound as he stiffly tilted his head from side to side, Krauser took a step closer. “Do I look like I need to be corrected? Especially by a brat like you?”

Marcus had heard enough. Breaking away from Danny’s side, he placed himself between Krauser and David when the blond tried to take another step towards him.

Looking mildly surprised, the Lieutenant stared down at him for a moment before asking coldly, “Can I help you?”

There was a split second where the ginger seriously considered correcting his grammar, just to be petty, but he wisely decided not to push it that far. Instead, he stated as firmly as he could, “David’s right. They’re patients, not inmates, and it would be beneficial to remember that in the future.”

Almost toe to toe, they stared at one another for a long, tense moment before Krauser finally broke the silence. Lip curling, he warned, “I suggest you both remember your place, before someone has to put you there.”

The threat was clear to everyone in the room, but no one really wanted to see just how serious he was. When Marcus finally looked away, Krauser turned and headed to the door. Unfortunately for everyone in the rec room, he didn’t leave, just leaned against the doorframe to ‘help’ keep an eye on the remaining free time.

“You know, if he gets killed because he brought it on himself, I can’t be held responsible,” Danny purred, back at Marcus’s side as soon as there was room.

Before he could tell him what an awful comment that was, someone was gripping his hand with clammy fingers.

Taking a deep breath to steady the quiver in his voice, David just barely managed to get out, “I don’t think my blood pressure is normal right now. How did you do that?”

Trying not to blush, Marcus admitted, “It’s actually a technique I picked up for working with animals. You don’t look them directly in the eye. Instead, you look at the center of their forehead or chest.”

“I’d like to stab him in the chest,” Julie muttered from the small table behind them, getting several quiet murmurs of agreement from the rest of the Legion.

Eyes narrowing, David leaned around his friend to peer at the sentinel by the door. Due to their proximity, only Marcus was able to hear the words that came out of his mouth next. “Now that’s a triple D.”

Wheezing slightly, the ginger had to quickly look away when Krauser glanced in their direction. Clearing his throat, he tried not to laugh as he agreed, “Yeah, I guess he does make King look like he’s a member of the itty bitty titty commity.”

“Why are you two so obsessed with tits?” Ji-Woon questioned, having been eavesdropping since fleeing the couch.

Turning to him with an unimpressed expression, Danny looked him up and down before scoffing, “You’re just jealous because you don’t have any.”

With the most offended gasp ever to grace the ears of mankind, the Trickster huffed, “Neither do you!”

“No, I have washboard abs and an ass you can bounce a nickel off of. Both of which you also lack,” Danny told him cheerfully.

Marcus squinted at him. He was certainly fit, but ‘washboard abs’ was quite an exaggeration…

As they began bickering, he noticed Amanda shutting her book before getting out of her chair to stretch. She was probably ready to head back to her cell, but that wasn’t a big surprise. It wasn’t uncommon for her to only spend about an hour in the common area during rec time before heading back to her room to enjoy the peace and quiet.

Not thinking anything of it, Marcus turned back to the argument. It was getting funny, at least from an outside perspective, but he still needed to make sure it didn’t escalate to physical violence.

“Are you fucking serious?!” Amanda suddenly shouted, effectively shutting down the ongoing argument.

Turning, all of them quickly saw the issue. Krauser had stepped into the doorway, blocking her from leaving. Crossing his arms, he stared down at her. “Watch your attitude, inmate. It’s rec time. You stay in the rec room.”

“Fuck you, that’s not a rule,” she snapped angrily. “I’m allowed to go back to my room as long as the door stays open! So move!”

Hands dropping by his sides, the guard stated coldly, “New rule, inmate. We can’t have you all running around unsupervised anymore. It’s too much of a hazard. So, if you want to go back to your cell during rec time, all of you can go back to your cells until lunch.”

“Until lunch?!” Amanda demanded. “So now you’re threatening to take away the only fucking fresh air we get? This entire building smells like a fart shit itself to death!”

Marcus didn’t think it smelled nearly that bad inside the asylum, but it was still a pretty valid point.

“If it were up to me, none of you would leave your cells. Ever,” Krauser told her, a thin smile on his lips. “So unless you want me to drag you to solitary by that rats nest you call hair for attempting to incite another riot, I suggest you shut your fucking mouth and find a place to sit until rec time is over.”

“Fucking power tripping psychopath,” she snapped, whipping around. Stomping over to the couch, she snapped, “Move!” at Freddy, and for once he didn’t have a snarky comeback. Dropping onto the furniture, she opened her book up again, doing her best to distract herself.

“That guy has got to die,” Ghostface said quietly.

It took everything Marcus had not to show how much he agreed…

The rest of rec time and the following outdoor time were unusually tense for everyone. Krauser seemed to linger for a while before disappearing and reappearing throughout each of the patients' allocated time slots, making it worse. No one was sure when or if he’d step in to impose some new ‘rule’, and it put a damper on everyone’s day.

It wasn’t until Quentin started a text based ‘Squatch Watch’ that Marcus was able to relax a little bit more. He knew it was for Leon’s benefit, but it still helped all of them.

When lunch finally rolled around, he and David walked with the floor one patients and assigned guards, escorting them downstairs for the first time. Standing out of the way as the second floor patients filed in after them, Marcus felt the hair on the back of his neck start to rise.

Assuming Krauser was the reason, he turned to find someone else staring at him with a strange intensity. He was pretty sure that was Jason Voorhees, the Crystal Lake killer. His file hadn’t had any stand out warnings like Leatherface or the Huntress’s had, but he did recall a small note about keeping him away from gingers. The only problem was, he couldn’t remember why. Fuck…

Before he could puzzle it out or attempt to ask David if he remembered, he felt the small orderly squeezing behind him. Looking back at him, he followed the direction he was peeking towards, only to find the Huntress staring back at them with the same manic intensity as the day of the riot.

“Oh, god,” he mumbled, quickly looking around to see which guards and other staff were around. Before he could get too worried about David and himself, however, a different situation drew his attention.

The biggest Michael had just cornered Frank, singling him out and pushing him away from the rest of the Legion with his sheer size. Considering he had beaned him in the head with a tray the last time floor one had been downstairs for lunch, no one needed to ask why.

Backing up a couple of steps when Michael stepped closer, Frank offered him a nervous smile, fingers white as he gripped the edges of his lunch tray. “Heey, man… Look, I know I hit you with a tray and that wasn’t cool. I’ve felt so bad about it–”

Michael’s head cocked to one side, fingers twitching as he took another step into the smaller man’s space.

“– so I brought you an apology!” Frank rushed out, shaking one of his arms until something fell out of his sleeve. Quickly showing off a full sized Three Musketeers bar and a Snickers, he held them out to the giant. “I regretted it the second the tray left my hand and honestly, it won’t happen again!”

It certainly wouldn’t, especially if he was dead...

Staring at Frank from behind his jack-o-lantern mask, the Evil seemed to be considering whether or not to accept his meager peace offering. Killing him would be just as easy, but it would mean an inevitable stint in solitary… and no way to see Eli…

One hand finally rose and the candy bars disappeared. Then, he took Frank’s tray before turning and walking away to find a place to sit.

Staring at his now empty hands for a few seconds, he finally sighed before turning to go join the rest of the Legion at their table. He immediately smacked into PeePaw Myers, who was standing directly behind him. He wasn’t the only one, as the ‘pretty’ Michael was right beside him, both of them staring at Frank as though sad they hadn’t gotten to help rip all his limbs off…

Or maybe they just wanted a candy bar too. It was impossible to tell for sure.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, dipping his head as he tried to get out of their way. As soon as he took a step, the younger Myers shifted, continuing to block his path. It was clear from the expression on Frank’s face that he was seriously worried he was about to get jumped anyway.

The rest of the Legion were watching from their table, halfway out of their seats but clearly not thrilled by the idea of having to four versus two against the Myers’. Four vs three if the big one decided to say ‘fuck it’ to the previously accepted peace offering…

After several tense moments where neither party so much as moved a muscle, both Myers’ finally stepped past Frank, nearly knocking him over when they didn’t allow enough space for him to fit between them properly.

Staggering as he regained his balance, Frank double checked over his shoulder to make sure they really were joining the dwindling line of patients waiting for their food before hurrying to the Legion’s table. It looked like he’d get something to eat at least, as the other three had saved him a bit of their own meals.

Due to the limited amount of resources available in such a remote part of Alaska, everything had to be imported. Which meant that the staff were very strict with the patient’s diets. Each meal consisted of the exact ratio of protein, carbs, and just the right amount of calories required to function. Since Frank had already gotten his tray, he wasn’t allowed to get a second one, even though the kitchen staff had literally watched the largest Myers snatch it from him.

Just thankful it had ended without violence, Marcus looked around the room again. The last patients were finally taking their seats and things seemed to be going as they were supposed to. Even if the Huntress was still squinting at David and Jason was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Although he usually wore a paper-mache hockey mask, he had to move it aside to eat. It allowed the orderly to see his face, but it didn’t do a thing to convey what he might be thinking…

The ginger’s attention was once again diverted as a large body appeared in his peripheral vision. Looking over, he jumped slightly to one side to avoid the hand reaching for him. Glaring at Brahms, he ordered sternly, “No touching! You know better than that.”

“Whyyy?” he whined, voice high pitched and grating.

“It’s inappropriate,” Marcus told him. “Besides, you’re not supposed to grab staff members. It’s against the rules.”

“Rules are stupid,” Brahms pouted, before reaching for his chest again.

Smacking his fingers, the orderly snapped, “Stop that, or you’ll be escorted back to your cell early!”

“Pretty lady,” the Boy giggled, inching closer as he tried to cop a feel of the ginger's chest.

So startled by the incredibly incorrect compliment, Marcus was jolted out of his shock when his pec was squeezed by a large hand. Batting the offending fingers away, he had to force himself not to shout as he corrected, “I’m a man!”

“Nuh-uh,” Brahms argued, squinting at him. “You have a pony-tail.”

It wasn’t even a proper pony-tail, but Marcus wasn’t going to argue about it. About to call over one of the guards to escort the patient back to his cell, he snapped his mouth closed when he spotted Krauser entering the lunch room.

Head tilting curiously, Brahms turned to follow his gaze. As soon as he saw the new Lieutenant, he hissed under his breath. Still looking at the blond, he reached over and made another grab for the gingers chest.

“I’m going to bite your fucking fingers off and give them to Leatherface as a snack,” Marcus seethed, actually getting a shocked look from the Boy. Perhaps that had been a bit harsh, but it distracted the patient long enough for someone to notice and intervene.

Ash, one of the janitorial staff, put himself between them, a big smile on his face. “Hey, kid! You left your tray on the table!”

Blinking at him, Brahms finally let out a whiny sigh before shuffling away to go clean up after himself.

As soon as he was gone, David poked his head out from behind Marcus to ask, “Did either of you notice that he had a boner the entire time he was harassing you?”

Wheezing, the ginger turned to stare at his friend incredulously. No! He hadn’t noticed! And he’d rather not have been informed of it either! Before he could say as much, Ash laughed, offering, “I’m not surprised. He’s been an absolute monster ever since he finally got lucky.”

Both Marcus and David turned to stare at the janitor, with the former demanding, “Someone slept with him?! Willingly?”

Shrugging, he explained, “Yes, and it was the first and last time. Really cute gal, too. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure she was a redhead…”

Marcus’ hand flew up to his own flaming red hair, a chill running down his spine as he finally realized why Brahms seemed to be so obsessed with his hair.

“Anyway,” Ash continued. “He became so obsessed with her, he actually started finding ways to break out of his cell. We had to upgrade security four times, including adding the night vision cameras to all the cells.”

“They added what to the cell cameras?” Marcus asked, unable to keep from sounding slightly panicked. He supposed it didn’t matter since the lights in Danny’s cell apparently never went out for some reason, but still!

“Yeah, she finally asked for a transfer,” Ash continued. “Brahms got so pissed he started tearing holes in the walls trying to find her, so he got pushed down here to the second floor. The isolation finally got him to calm down.”

“You call that calm?” David questioned, looking over to where Brahms was lurking. He too was now staring at the small orderly, but unlike the Huntress, he seemed more motivated by jealousy over the fact that the poor guy was standing too close to ‘his woman’…

“Well, calmer,” Ash allowed, before saying, “I better get moving. I don’t actually have anywhere to be, but I don’t like being in the same room as Freddy for very long.”

“What? Why?” Marcus asked, but Ash was already trying to leave.

He didn’t make it very far before the Nightmare himself was blocking his path with a smug smile. “Hey! How have you been?”

“I have a girlfriend,” Ash lied, before nearly sprinting for the door.

Laughing, Freddy watched him go before turning to Marcus and David with a Grinch-like grin. “He wants me so bad.”

“No, he doesn’t,” David said, but alas, the Nightmare was too full of copeium to even consider the possibility that he was on the bottom of the ‘hear me out’ list.

Freddy didn’t even bother to give the orderly a dirty look as he waved him off. “Ahh, what do you know? You give off such strong ‘going to die a virgin’ vibes, it’s not even worth poking fun at. You virgin. Ha!”

“Inmate!” Krauser barked, causing all three of them to jump. “Sit down, or you can go back to your cell.”

“Who crapped in his corn flakes?” Freddy grumbled, shuffling away.

Feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, Marcus decided to check it just in case it was something important. It was, he decided, seeing a new text to the group chat from Leon.

‘Any recent sightings to report?’

Squinting at the Lieutenant for a second, he quickly texted back, ‘There’s some sort of ape lurking around the lunch room. Probably part of a lost species. Also Brahms keeps trying to grab my tits. Please tell me there’s a way to make him stop?!’

Quentin was the one to respond to his plea for help, offering only, ‘OH OH OH!’

Completely lost, he sent a row of question marks in hopes of an actual answer. To his dismay, all he got back from his roommate was the less than helpful suggestion, ‘Stop having such juicy tits.’

‘BITCH?!’ Marcus demanded, only to receive multiple laughing emoji’s from his other roommates and Feng. Bill gave the message a thumbs up, and he sighed. At least lunch would be over soon. The day could only get easier once they only had the first floor to deal with.

“Who are you texting?” a voice whispered right beside him and he jumped.

Shit, David was so quiet it was easy to forget he was there sometimes… Clearing his throat, Marcus explained, “The group chat. We’re helping Leon avoid Krauser.”

David’s eyes reflected light a little too well, reminding Marcus of the ‘bug’ comparison Danny made as his friend asked, "What group chat?”

“The group chat… Feng… made,” he answered slowly, starting to realize several things at once. First, he didn’t actually have David’s phone number. The group chat he made with the others during their vacation was on Discord. Second, he was pretty sure his friend wasn’t in Feng’s group chat. And third, he’d never even thought to offer him his own number…

“I can ask Feng to add you,” Marcus offered. “I didn’t realize you weren’t in here, but she’s the only one who can actually add people… also… I need your phone number.”

David nearly dropped his phone when he pulled it out of his pocket, the singular charm he had on the case jingling as he gave Marcus his number.

Hurrying to put their phones away before Krauser could bark at them too, they managed to get through the rest of lunch unscathed. The rest of the day progressed pretty normally after that. Paperwork on top of paperwork and Marcus sharing the updates from the ‘Squatch Watch’ with David made the time pass quickly, and before too long, it was dinner time for the first floor.

Making sure everyone else had their trays, the ginger opened Danny’s cell while David chatted with the Legion on the other side of the hallway.

“Long time no see, Doc,” Ghostface greeted, stepping out of his cell. “I missed you.”

“We just saw each other a few hours ago,” he pointed out, smiling cheekily when the other man leveled him with an unimpressed stare. Laughing quietly, he cleared his throat before mentioning, “I have a question for you…”

Looking a bit more excited, Danny encouraged, “Ask away, Doc.”

“Do I–” pausing, he glanced back to make sure the Legion weren’t eavesdropping before asking, “Do I have juicy tits?”

Ghostface blinked, actually looking shocked for a full ten seconds before asking, “I’m sorry?”

“Well, Brahms keeps trying to grab my chest and one of my roommates said–” Marcus stopped again, glaring at Danny as he tried and failed not to laugh. “Okay, it’s stupid, I know… Shut up.”

Wheezing, Ghostface managed a nod. “I mean, they’re not big by any means, but I like them. Sorry I wasn’t more ‘on the ball’ during lunch today. Amanda needed an ear and I’m nothing if not incredibly giving.”

Sighing, he added, “Looks like I’m going to have to snap a few fingers next time I go downstairs.

“What– No!” Marcus protested. “I’m not worried about Brahms! And I don’t want you ending up in solitary again.”

“Oh really?” Danny asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he smiled. Not giving him a chance to answer, he reminded, “I did say I’d be taking care of anyone who messes with you, baby boy. I can’t have you doubting me again after everything I’ve had to do to get you to trust me. Right?”

Considering his promise for a moment, Marcus smiled back at him. “True… So, would you fight the old one if he started messing with me?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Danny asked, “Which old one? Caleb? He’s not really the kind of guy to pull that shit, but if you really want me to, I guess I can push him down a flight of stairs or something. His balance isn’t that good so I can probably make it look like an accident–”

A rap from the inside of the Deathslinger’s door had them both looking across the hall to his cell. As soon as they did, he stated, “I can hear you…”

Clearing his throat, Marcus offered, “Sorry!” before turning back to Danny. “No, not him. PeePaw Myers.”

Smile suddenly a lot more stiff, Ghostface asked slowly, “Oh? Has he… been harassing you?”

“No,” the ginger confirmed. “But if he did, would you actually fight him?”

Just as he was opening his mouth to answer, the voice of Satan himself barked from the entrance to the hall, “Inmates! Only one of you out of your cells at a time! Four of you, back into your cells!”

“Ahh, here comes the voice of the King of the Jungle to order us lower class animals back to our hovels,” Ghostface lamented.

“What was that, inmate?” Krauser asked, nearly shouldering Marcus out of the way as he walked over. “I said get back in your cell. Go, before I put you there myself.”

The look of violent contemplation on Danny’s face wasn’t missed by either of them, but it was just as quickly replaced by a thin smile. “Now, now. No need to dirty your hands with the blood of the commoners. I’m going.”

Before Marcus could protest the unfairness of the order or how it was given, Ghostface backed into his cell. He made sure to maintain purposeful eye contact with Krauser the entire time, not so much as blinking before the cell door slid shut with a bang between them.

A finger suddenly jabbed Marcus in the chest hard enough to knock a breath out of him as Krasuer snapped in his face. “Do your fucking job or I’ll find someone who will.”

Rubbing the sore spot, his attempt to protest was ignored as the guard turned towards David and the Legion. All four of them were still standing stubbornly in the hall in an open show of defiance of the blonds orders.

“I don’t give second chances,” Krauser warned. “Get back in your fucking cell. Only one inmate is to be out of their cell at a time.”

“We don’t follow orders from trained monkeys,” Frank shot back, going so far as to flip him off. “Why don’t you run back to Wesker’s office and do the job you were actually hired for? Sucking his di–”

The Legion leader never got to finish his taunt. Before he could, Krauser grabbed him by the wrist and spun him around, slamming him face first into the wall. As one, the rest of the Legion attacked.

Marcus had seen his fair share of fist fights, although he’d mostly managed to avoid getting into any himself. But watching Krauser fight all four of the Legion at the same time? That was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Instead of being overwhelmed by their numbers like most guards would have been, the former Major seemed to be enjoying himself. Every move he made was fast and calculated. Blocking punches and kicks without so much as staggering, it almost looked like he was simply going to let the Legion tire themselves out.

He hadn’t raised the alarm and neither had the pair of guards standing inside the cell block door. They both looked too shocked to do so, mouths agape and eyes wide as they watched their new Lieutenant brushing off blows like mosquito bites.

David had scrambled into the Legion’s cell the moment Krauser had grabbed Frank. It was probably the safest place for him to be, as the fight was taking up the entire width of the hallway and there was no way he could have gotten around it without becoming collateral damage. Peering out around the doorframe, he ducked back inside with a gasp when Joey nearly slammed into him.

That was when the fight took a sudden turn for the worst…

Switching from defence to offence, Krauser grabbed Susie’s arm. Yanking her down, he slammed a knee into her stomach before tossing her aside. Her back hit Caleb’s cell door and she slid to the ground, arms wrapped around her midsection as she wheezed.

“You fucking bastard!” Joey snarled, lunging around Frank as the brunet charged Krauser head on.

Frank took the back of a hand to the face, knocking him aside. It still gave Joey just enough time to land a punch, staggering the guard for a mere half step. Julie took advantage of it, kicking low and hitting the guard in the back of one knee.

Snapping out of his own frozen shock, Marcus rushed over to Susie. Dropping to his knees beside where she was curled up on the floor, he quickly checked her breathing and the back of her head. She was obviously in pain, but she was starting to breathe more normally again and it didn’t seem like she’d received a head injury when she hit the cell door.

Flinching when he heard Joey scream in pain, the ginger looked up to see Krauser tossing him aside. He hit the ground hard, face creased with pain as he clutched one side. Had the Lieutenant just broken his ribs?!

“Stay down,” Marcus ordered, although he highly doubted Susie was going to be going anywhere on her own anytime soon. Jumping to his feet, he shouted at the still stupefied guards by the door, “Hit the alarm, now!”

Not waiting to see if they actually did it, he rushed down the hall towards Krasuer and the remaining Legion members. He was too slow to stop Julie from being dispatched as well when the guard grabbed her by the back of the head and threw her into the door frame. Marcus could see blood as she fell and a strange feeling of panic set in.

He wasn’t afraid of the Legion… He was afraid of what Krauser might do to them if he wasn’t stopped.

“Krauser, stop!” he shouted, grabbing his arm when he pulled back to hit Frank. He was just as quickly tossed aside as the guard met the Legion leader head on.

Grabbing him with both hands, he lifted him off the floor before slamming his back against the wall. Pulling him forward, he tossed him down the hall before stalking after him.

Not sure what else to do, Marcus took a running start before launching himself at the man’s back. His regret was instant, as Krauser spun around like a rodeo bull. Clinging to his shoulders for dear life, the orderly shouted, “Stop! You’re going to kill them!”

Maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard a snarled, “Good!” before Krauser threw his entire weight against a cell door, crushing the air out of Marcus’s lungs.

After that, it was all too easy for the Lieutenant to reach back and drag him over his shoulders. Marcus hit the ground with a winded yelp, only to scream when a heavy boot stamped down on his wrist. Feeling the bone snap was nothing compared to the agony that followed when fingers wrapped around his arm just below the break.

Being lifted off the ground was next to the last thing he remembered before the back of his head hit the wall, causing everything to go black.
~~~~

Notes:

Oops :-)

Chapter 34: Caged Animals

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Damn... That's gotta hurt.

Krauser let the ginger drop, watching impassively as he crumpled unconscious to the floor. When Feng reviewed the tapes later that day, she and Bill would agree, Marcus wouldn’t have left that hallway alive if not for the unexpected bravery of David Emory.

Darting out of the Legion’s cell, he stood over his fellow orderly, fists clenched by his side as he glared up at Krauser with previously unseen defiance in his eyes.

Pausing for a second, Krauser almost pulled back a fist to knock him down too. It wasn’t until movement in the doorway caught his eye and he looked up that he actually stopped his rampage.

Standing in the entrance to the hallway was Asa Emory. Still partially in shadow, his eyes seemed to glow as they caught the light, flashing an eerie green as he stared the Lieutenant down.

Krauser felt a familiar chill run down his spine. Despite Asa’s unassuming appearance, he knew when he was looking into the eyes of a man not so different from himself… Realizing something, he looked back down, catching a glimpse of the same reflective green in David’s dark brown eyes.

Without saying a single word, Asa looked at the guard closest to him. The man looked about ready to keel over, but he quickly reached out and slammed a hand down on the emergency security button. The alarm's blaring did little to drown out the sound of Ghostface slamming against the inside of his cell door, voice horse as he screamed threats at Krauser and the rest of the staff.

Stalking down the hall, Asa stopped beside his son but turned to address Krauser first. Voice cold, he stated, “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”

The sound of running feet could be heard pounding towards them, guards quickly filling the hall as the alarm blared. Multiple people began shouting into their radios, calling for the Captain and for medics.

Despite his injuries, Frank continued to try and fight anyone who attempted to touch him. When a couple of guards tried to help Julie up, he let out an animalistic scream before lunging at the closest of the pair. It took two more guards to grapple him off the other staff member, dragging him kicking and cursing towards medical so everyone else could be taken care of.

Joey and Susie were aggressive towards the staff as well, but neither had to be physically restrained to be moved. Julie was incredibly dazed and the medics that were treating her didn’t feel comfortable moving her until they at least patched up the bleeding gash on her forehead. They were pretty sure she at least had a minor concussion, but couldn’t be sure until they could safely get a CT scan.

Marcus was the cause for most concern, as the ginger still had yet to regain consciousness. Eli was one of the medical staff carefully loading the orderly onto a stretcher when King, Leon, and Jack entered the crowded hallway.

Seeing the blood smeared on the wall and floor around the Legion’s cell and still just able to hear Frank screaming obscenities as he was dragged away, Leon demanded, “What the hell happened?!”

“Some inmates got out of hand,” Krauser answered, eyes glittering. “That’s all.”

“That’s bloody fucking all?!” King snarled, rounding on the larger man. It wasn’t by much, but it was still noticeable, and the Lieutenant sneered at him.

“That’s. All. Get back to your–”

“Lieutenant Jack Krauser,” a chilling voice snapped.

For a moment, everyone in the room froze. Even Jack looked up from where she’d hurried to Marcus and Eli’s side. No one had ever heard Asa raise his voice above a normal speaking tone, so the sharp, clear anger in the single word was jarring. “Consider your shift over. You are dismissed.”

Blinking, Krauser was actually at a loss for words for once. With a low growl, he shouldered past the staff bustling in and out of the doorway.

Waiting for the stretcher to be wheeled past, Asa turned to Leon. Eyes flashing green as he stepped into his personal space, his voice was low and dangerous as he seethed, “Do your fucking job, Kennedy. Keep your men in line, or I’ll ensure Wesker finds someone who will.”

Turning on his heel, he strode from the room. Unlike Krauser who had to shoulder past people, the remaining staff seemed to part like the Red Sea before Moses, leaving him a clear path wherever he wished to go.

Eli left soon after, guiding the stretcher along with a fellow nurse as Jack had gone off to deal with the still screaming Legion leader. David followed closely behind, hand gripping Marcus’s limp fingers like a lifeline. He barely spared his new roommate a glance, face set in an eerie calm, not unlike his father’s. It sent a chill up the Captain’s spine, causing him to subconsciously step out of their way as they made a beeline towards the med bay.

In what felt like no time at all, Leon and King were the only two left in the cell lined hallway. Just as the other guard opened his mouth to speak, there was a tremendous bang from inside Ghostface’s cell, followed by the sound of shattering porcelain.

“What the hell was that?” Dwight demanded, having just arrived with Quentin and his cart of cleaning supplies.

Pretty sure he already knew, Leon banged on the cell, ordering, “Step back! I’m opening the door!”

There was no answer, but it was clear the patient inside had complied when he was able to badge the door open without any issues. Standing barefoot in the center of his cell, he looked entirely unbothered by the water and shattered bits of toilet swirling around him.

“Do I have your attention now?” Ghostface asked evenly. “Where’s Marcus?”

~~

Frank’s screams had quieted, but slurred curses and threats could still be heard from his temporary medical cell. Unlike the staff, the patients would be escorted to a separate medical wing with special cells. The walls weren’t rubber or anything too drastic, but they were slightly padded and there was nothing with sharp corners that they could fall on, while the beds all had straps on them to ensure the patients couldn’t rip out the monitors or medical equipment they might be hooked up to.

It was unfortunate, but often necessary, even for the most mundane reasons. Freddy had once pulled out his IV after purposely getting dehydrated, and used it to stab a nurse to death. Since then, even if they had to go down for a cough drop, they would be strapped to the bed and not allowed to move until all medical devices were removed and they were escorted back upstairs.

Only once his slurred words turned to quiet acceptance did Jack badge the cell door open. Stepping into the padded room, her footsteps were muffled as she approached the strapped down Legion leader. His eyes were drooping but his fingers continued to twitch, trying their best to fight against the thick leather straps around his wrist.

“Frank,” she greeted, voice unusually soft. “How are you feeling?”

His twitching paused, head tilting slightly toward her. Movement limited by the safety straps hooked to his shock collar, Frank blinked at her with hazy red eyes. It seemed to take him a moment to recognize her, but when he did, he sighed, “They gave me… t’much… again… Fuckin’ puss… ass bitch.”

Jack’s lips twisted into a disapproving frown, letting out a mumbled, “Of course they did,” as she started to work on unhooking the straps connected to his collar. It was routine for the medical staff to give the patients sedatives to get them to calm down. Unfortunately, due to many of the patients’ constant hostile attitudes, many of the staff wound up giving them way more than necessary, turning normal medication into horse tranquilizer.

Although she could’ve given him the sedatives herself to ensure the proper dosage, Jack was still just one person and couldn’t be everywhere at once. As head nurse, she had to leave small things like that to the other medical personnel while she handled matters of higher clearance. They were all trained professionals, even if they tend to be overzealous at times.

Blinking slowly, Frank turned his head from side to side, exploring his newfound freedom. It wasn’t a lot and it did nothing to negate the effects of the drugs in his system, but he still seemed to appreciate it. Trying to raise his arms next, he seemed surprised when he could only lift them a couple of inches.

Staring blearily for a moment, he finally squinted up at Jack, asking, “Can you… Ya’ mind… getting the rest… offa’ me?”

Although her tone was apologetic, her voice was still firm as she told him, “You know I can’t do that. It’s for your safety and mine.”

When her answer eventually processed in the Legion’s addled brain, he let out a small laugh. Letting his head flop back on the pillow, he accepted, “S’all right… Can’t hurt… to ask, right?”

Allowing a few moments of silence passed between them, Jack waited for Frank’s eyes to focus on her once more before she finally asked, “Do you feel up to telling me what happened up there? I’ve heard several accounts already but I’d like to hear yours too.”

Thinking for a bit longer, Frank’s expression became grim. “There’s something… not right about the new guard… The way he… talks to us… acts around… us.”

Tugging against his restraints a bit, the patient began looking worried. Breathing speeding up, his tone was a mixture of anger and fear as he started to demand, “Where’s– Where’s the others? What happened to– to the Legion?”

“They’re in separate rooms.” Jack explained evenly. “They’re- Frank, Frank, listen to me- they’re in separate rooms as per protocol. Julie has a head wound and a concussion, but she’s awake and alert. Susie has some bruising but she’s awake and alert too. Joey has a fractured rib and he’s still sleeping off the painkillers we gave him. Once you’re all awake and more level headed, we’ll let you guys stay in the same room while you’re down here, okay?”

Eyes still wide as he locked onto her, Frank didn’t respond right away. It was impossible to tell how much of that had really gotten through, but it seemed to be enough. Slowly settling back against the bed, he stared at the ceiling as he muttered, “That guy… should be in one of these cells… Ma.”

Turning to look at her, he said in a clear, even voice, “He wanted to kill one of us in that hall. He tried-”

The moment of clarity quickly passed, and he closed his eyes with a long sigh. “Mm’ fucking sore.”

“I’m not surprised. From what I heard, you took quite a tumble down the hallway.”

Eyes flying open, he turned towards her again. His expression was pained, unable to mask his emotions thanks to the drug induced high, and his voice cracked as he argued almost pleadingly, “You have to believe us! You’ve seen the fights we’ve been caught up in! You know we don’t go down that easy! Krauser… He was trying to hurt us.”

If Jack had known any better, she would’ve thought his tears were genuine. If she were any other nurse, she would’ve immediately started to comfort the young man and assure him that everything would be alright.

As much as she cared for him, she knew better than to fall for it. Although the Legion respected her above any other staff member, that didn’t make them above attempting the exact same manipulative tactics on her that they would anyone else. They knew it wouldn’t work and she sometimes wondered if they were testing it out just in case they hit a one in a million chance… Or if they considered it a game; Referring to her as their maternal figure and acting like normal spoiled teenagers, it was to maintain her favor and have themselves in her good graces.

And yet…

Letting out a tired sigh, Jack admitted, “Yes, I believe you. Krauser has been a problem ever since he was hired. This was just the final straw.”

With a sleepy smile, Frank mumbled, “Glad to see… we’re on the same page.”

As the Legion leader inevitably succumbed to the sedatives, the storm in Jack’s mind continued to rage on. Only a blind fool wouldn’t notice how the increase in patient incidents were all linked to Krauser’s hostility and mismanagement of staff, something he wasn’t even supposed to be doing. Although she was working tirelessly on her end to get the proper paperwork sorted, it was only a matter of time before another altercation like it occurred, only with more casualties and decreased morale.

Regardless of who ended up ‘handling’ the issue, one thing was certain. Krauser had just painted a giant target on his back and the entire asylum was aiming for it.

~~

Marcus’s first thought as he woke up retching was, ‘Dear god, they think I’m dead and chucked me in the body pit!’

“Woah! Okay, bad reaction!” a voice laughed, and the ginger felt a hand patting his chest. “Easy now. You’re okay. Can you tell me your name?”

His name? Why– Oh, god! The fight! “Ah, um… Krauser–”

“Oh my god! His brain is damaged!” a very familiar voice wailed, and the doctor sighed.

“Sorry, sir,” Eli muttered, followed by him sternly ordering, “David, if you’re going to stay in the room, you have to stay quiet.”

“I’m not Krauser,” the ginger groaned, head pounding. “Christ… I’m not him either! I’m Marcus.”

“Thank god,” he heard Eli whisper, before the doctor was asking him a few more standard questions. Did he know his age, where he was, who the other people in the room were, and finally, if he remembered how he’d been hurt.

Having a little trouble focusing past the pounding in his head and the splitting pain in his shoulder and arm, he recalled, “Krauser hit me… and I hit the ground.”

“Well, you’re not far off,” the doctor confirmed. “Thankfully no other staff members were harmed. The Legion got banged up pretty good, but, honestly, they got lucky from what I’ve been hearing.”

“I, too, would like to know what exactly you heard.”

All heads turned as Jack entered the room, a frown on her face. “Because I’ve been told a different tale from everyone. So until I can see the actual footage from that hallway, I want to hear what you’ve all been sharing.”

“I wasn’t there for the incident, I just came in with the medical team,” Eli admitted, before quickly explaining what he’d found.

Marcus was grateful for the extra time, as his memory of the event was still slippery. Trying to focus on any one part of it was like trying to grab an eel with his bare hands…

As the nurse finished his report of the injuries, including the ginger’s dislocated shoulder and broken wrist, the doctor took over.

“I wasn’t there at all,” he started, “but from what the guards passed along as I was checking out the inmates-”

“Patients.” David corrected with a scowl.

“Ehh, right,” the physician agreed slowly. “The one with the tattoo on his neck. He threw something at the Lieutenant and his military training kicked in. Marcus here just got caught in the crossfire when one of the Legion went after him.”

Practically vibrating with rage, the only thing that kept David from exploding like a shaken soda bottle was Eli grabbing his arm. Quickly sitting in the chair next to him, he almost had to yank the red faced orderly back into his own seat.

Blinking several times, Marcus looked up at the doctor for a critical moment before turning to Jack. “That’s not what happened… They didn’t throw anything at anyone! And the Legion didn’t attack David or I at any point!”

“Krauser started it!” David interjected, hands clenched in fists at the edge of his cardigan. “He antagonized them for no reason because he’s a power hungry son of a BI-!” Eli’s hand clamped down over the orderly’s mouth, nearly making him bite his tongue off.

“No offence, but I think your judgment on the issue might be a tad bit biased,” the doctor dismissed, offering him one of those patronizing smiles usually reserved for calming down a child on the verge of a full blown temper tantrum.

“David’s telling the truth,” the ginger agreed, smiling weakly when the man turned back to him with an almost annoyed expression. “Frank was just running his mouth and Krauser grabbed him and slammed him into a wall. The other three all jumped on him, and he started whipping the shit out of them. I seriously thought he was going to kill Frank so I stepped in… I hit the floor, and I remember his boot landing on my arm… then it’s all black. I woke up thinking someone had shoved me in the trash compactor.”

“That was just the smelling salts,” the doctor told him, turning to Jack himself. “In my professional opinion, it would probably be best to defer to the guards' witness statements before anything else. Mr. Emory here is… quite entangled with the patients in question, lending to the notion that his judgement is already impacted. As for Marcus here, he’s got a concussion!”

“It’s still pretty clear from the state that both he and the Legion were found in–”

Waving Eli off, the doctor said in a slightly lower voice, “Speaking of impaired judgement when it comes to patient staff altercations…”

“I know your schedule,” the nurse hissed, eyes narrowing at the back of the man’s head.

“I know your room number,” David mumbled. “Your window doesn’t have a lock.”

Before the doctor could address the rather concerning threats, Jack finally spoke up, “I will take all of your accounts into consideration. Either way, we have footage of the altercation so the truth will come to light in time. However, it is still evident that Krauser was out of line.”

Holding up a hand before the doctor could argue, she explained, “Even if the Legion started the fight, Krauser still used too much force to subdue them, enough so that one of our own staff members got hurt. Regardless of it being his military training or PTSD, he was unprofessional and will be reprimanded.”

Locking eyes with Marcus, she gave him a slight nod before concluding, “Rest assured, I will deal with him.”

Even though he hadn’t done anything to be reprimanded for, he couldn’t ignore the chill that ran down his spine. As much as the idea of being the one to face the full force of Jack’s wrath was terrifying, he really hoped he’d get to be there to see her bust Krauser down a peg or two.

Straightening himself up, the doctor brushed off the front of his still immaculately white coat and nodded. “Right, of course. Fox, I assume you can get Marcus to his x-rays and the cast room alright?”

For a split second, Marcus had no idea who the doctor was talking to. Was Jack’s last name ‘Fox’? It didn’t suit her, but he realized he had no idea what her last name actually was. Or if Jack was short for anything…

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Eli accepted flatly. “David can help once the painkillers kick in.”

“Painkillers?” Marcus repeated, slightly confused.

“You’re going to want it when we put your shoulder back in, and when your cast goes on,” his roommate told him sympathetically. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you patched up and back at the dorms in no time.”

That sounded good to him, and he did his best to will time to move faster until that point. It didn’t work, and after several more painful hours, he and David finally made it back to the dorms. Too high on painkillers to really register where they were going, he didn’t notice they’d bypassed the room he shared with three other people until he was guided to sit on an unfamiliar bed. He only realized that when he instinctively tried to duck to avoid hitting his head on a top bunk that wasn’t there.

“Ooh… Is this your room?” he questioned drowsily. “Damn, I usually prefer to be sober when a guy brings me back to his room for the first time…”

He didn’t notice if the joke landed or not, already distracted by a second mattress haphazardly shoved into one corner. A pyramid of incredibly squishy stuffed animals had partially collapsed on top of it, half hiding a hastily thrown together pile of clothes, socks, pillow, and bedsheets.

Pointing awkwardly as he was forced to use his non-dominant left hand, Marcus blinked at David questioningly. “Your squishies have their own mattress?”

The orderly looked up from where he was helping his friend take his shoes off, squinting at the offending object with scrutiny. “No… I think that’s Leon’s. He told me this morning that he was gonna bring some of his ‘survival stuff’ in… I didn’t think he meant his whole bed…”

“Hah,” Marcus offered, just as confused as before. Deciding not to question it too much, he chalked it up to the guard having particular sleeping needs. Maybe he had back problems and couldn’t use an air mattress.

Eyes slowly narrowing, he asked, “David… How old is Leon?”

“Mm, I dunno. Probably in his twenties or something. Why?”

“Do his bones pop when he stands up?” Marcus continued. “At least his knees… Or like, does he do that thing when he stands up from a chair that old people and like… thirty year olds do… Where they kind of stretch their back and go ‘ahhh, I needed that’?”

Carefully maneuvering Marcus’s coat off so it wouldn’t irritate his cast, David answered, “No idea but I’ll let you know if I hear his bones crinkle. Do you want to lay down?”

“Do I have to bring my own mattress?” he questioned hesitantly. He’d been officially placed on medical leave, pending a safe start date that he would be cleared to come back for regular duties. Jack had told him it would likely be the standard three weeks for a broken arm, since she doubted he’d been given any suspended days off. That wouldn’t be decided until the security tapes of the incident were reviewed, but he wasn’t worried and neither was she.

David shrugged. “I mean, if you want? I think mine is softer than yours but if you want your mattress, I’ll try to go bring it in here.”

“Oh, god no,” Marcus dismissed, frowning as he started to slouch over. Taking it slow so he didn’t jostle his tender shoulder or aching wrist, he finally managed to get comfortable. “You have a very nice mattress. It’s so soft… Mine’s like… been slept on by at least a couple dozen people and is flatter than the Trickster’s ass.”

David carefully balanced a crab plushie onto Marcus’s chest before scooting onto the bed next to him with his laptop. Once he was settled in, he flipped the device open with a hum. “It’s not that flat but it’s pretty flat. Like only a little bit flatter than Freddy’s.”

“Danny has a great ass,” the ginger stated. “Like, I want to grab it so bad, but I have no idea what he’d do to me if I did… I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy it, but I don’t know if I’d have enough free time to actually get through it without getting caught… or being able to finish.”

“That’s nice, Marcus,” David agreed absentmindedly as he scrolled through YouTube. “Do you want to watch a video essay about murder hornets or iCarly?”

“Murder hornets!” he cheered, tossing his hands into the air, only to let out a stifled scream as he pulled them back down. “Ohh, god, I can’t believe how much that hurts. It wasn’t even that badly dislocated!”

“Yeah, but he broke your wrist too.” Balancing another crab plushie on Marcus’s chest, David clicked onto the eight hour long documentary about murder hornets. It was around hour four, when the commentator was discussing how it all related to bees, when there was a knock on the door.

When Eli poked his head into the room, his expression of concern only deepened. “Marcus?”

Barely visible under a practical ocean of stuffed wildlife, he grinned, reaching one hand out of the mountain to wave as he greeted, “Hi!”

“Well, the doctor did say to rest comfortably,” Eli muttered, shuffling into the room. “Where’s David?”

“Right here!” a pile of blankets answered, shifting slightly until a pair of reflective green eyes flashed in the light.

“Good Christ!” the nurse swore, clutching his chest as he leapt backwards. Tripping thanks to a successful sneak attack from yet another plushy, his landing was thankfully soft. Startled scream cutting off as he hit Leon’s mattress, he raised his head just in time to scream again as the rest of the pyramid collapsed on top of him.

Staring at the pile for a moment, Marcus finally asked, “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Maybe… some of those are weighted.”

“Ooooh,” Eli groaned, slowly clawing his way out from under the pile. “Why… the fuck does this mattress smell like cigarette smoke? And why is your room boobytrapped?!”

“It’s not,” David protested, before adding cryptically, “But it could be… It could be…”

“Want to come watch this murder hornet video with us?” Marcus asked, typing away on his phone. “Hey, David, Feng’s going to add you to the group chat so don’t be surprised if you get a ton of new numbers. Also, she wants to know if you play Minecraft.”

In what could only be called a ‘Gollum voice’, David repeated, “Minecraft?”

It turned out he did play, and they spent the next two hours getting him and Marcus both into the group server. Quite a few of them were actually on it, ruled over by the tyrannical overlord, Feng. She ran a tight ship whose only actual rule was ‘Don’t Touch My Bunnies’. She taunted all of them with a gigantic glass enclosure full of rabbits around the spawn point… Quentin set a wolf loose in the tank one day, only for his character to be locked in a dungeon in the Nether for three months as penance.

Interrupted once again by a knock on the door, the trio looked up to find Dwight and Quentin. They’d gotten out of work at the same time and come to check on their roommate and friend. Eli had been keeping them posted with vague texts to the group chat, but refused to answer any questions of importance on what he called ‘unsecured channels’.

“How’s he doing?” Quentin whispered loudly.

“I’m not a baby bird, you can speak up,” Marcus promised, only for the janitor to then shout at the top of his lungs, “Marcus?! How are you doing?!”

“Okay, Quentin!” Dwight yelled, clapping a hand over his mouth. More calmly, he added, “He can hear you. He’s not deaf, just concussed.”

“Maybe a little deaf now,” the ginger amended, rubbing his ear.

The door swung open behind them, that time without anyone knocking or being pushed into a pile of plushies. King stepped inside, pausing to frown at the entire scene in front of him. Shaking his head, he stepped aside for Leon, who instantly looked like he regretted stepping foot into the room.

“This is a fire hazard,” David said cheerfully. He’d never had so many people in his room at once, and although it was slightly overwhelming, it was also really nice.

“Right, sorry,” Leon offered. Turning to Marcus, he asked, “Are you okay? They’ve been keeping me posted on the entire situation and since I’ve finally seen the footage myself–”

“Hey, it’s all good,” Marcus drawled. “I’m still high as fuck on painkillers and I should have the next three weeks off with pay. I’m just sorry I’m going to miss Krauser getting his ass handed to him. Please tell me he’s getting fired?”

“He’s… not,” Leon admitted. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the ginger said. “It’s not your fault the CEO hired a psychopath as your Lieutenant.”

“Actually, I think it is,” the guard confessed. Taking a seat on his mattress, he let out an exhausted sigh. “He and I have history and… I honestly think Wesker hired him to keep me in line…”
~~~~

Notes:

What's this? A Wednesday update??? That's right! Whispers of Insanity is moving to Wednesdays! *finger guns*

Chapter 35: Before Crotus Prenn: Rookie

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Content Warning: Trigger Warning: This chapter contains discussions of rape, rape aftermath, victim blaming, and physical/mental abuse.

 

Leon shares about his time as a cop, how he met Krauser, and how he ended up in Alaska....

Leon didn’t always know what he wanted to do when he grew up, but he did know he wanted to become someone his late parents would have been proud of. They’d passed away in an unfortunate car accident when he was two, leaving him no real memories of the pair. After being bounced around in the foster system for a while, he was finally taken in by a kind man and his wife.

He was the same police officer who had pulled Leon out of the wreck that had taken his parents, and only a few years later, he and his wife were able to adopt him. Seeing how much good one person could do inspired him to pursue a career in law enforcement himself, so he studied and trained, determined to join the force as soon as he was old enough.

More than a few of his classmates and even teachers tried to push him to join the military instead, telling him with his determination and book smarts, he could easily join as an officer. If he didn’t want to spend time getting a college degree first, he could enlist and work on switching career paths after he had a few years and medals under his belt.

It was his best friend Chris who convinced him not to join the military and instead go for the police force. Leon joked that it was to keep him from making Chris look bad, as he’d already been put on the fast track for some Air Force early acceptance program.

All in all, Leon was excited for the big changes on the horizon. Although the last year of school was a drag without Chris since he’d already shipped off to boot camp, they exchanged letters and texts when the latter’s training and work schedule wasn’t too heavy.

He did manage to get some time off to come home for Leon’s graduation, and they spent a couple of days catching up. Chris was kind enough to give his friend some last minute training tips, and only a day after he shipped back out, Leon was preparing for his first day at the police academy.

It was… not nearly as intense or challenging as Leon had been expecting. Thanks to all the time he’d spent studying, working out, shooting, and learning hand to hand combat, he jumped to the top of his class within a week. It earned him a lot of snide nicknames from his fellow trainees, and although he never went out of his way to ingratiate himself to the higher ups, he started hearing a lot of comments about being a brown noser behind his back…

Ignoring them was easy enough, although holding his temper started to get harder and harder as time went on. He knew if he could just make it to graduation and get into the police department of his choice, things would get easier. Not right away, since he knew he’d still have to learn the ropes of his new job, but it would get better…

And for a little while, he was right.

Graduation day came, and with it, the offer to join his first choice. The Racoon City Police Department.

Racoon City was a decent drive from where he’d grown up with his adopted family, but it was where he’d been born and it was the city his parents had died in. If he was going to make a difference, he wanted to start somewhere meaningful.

His reception to the department was warmer than he’d expected, given the tension that had quickly taken over his days in the academy. His training officer had been a patient, competent man called Marvin. With over twenty years on the force under his belt and getting close to retirement, he’d asked to take the new Rookie under his wing as soon as he’d seen his paperwork.

At first, Leon had assumed it was to keep an eye on him. The department had likely heard the ‘horror stories’ that came out with every class and wanted to make sure he was actually competent at his job. That he had actually earned the position at the top of his class and not just sweet talked his way into the valedictorian spot.

All of those worries went out the window when he was led inside to his new desk by one of the other officers. Inside the shared office space, a small ‘Welcome Leon’ banner and some balloons, along with cake, punch, and his new mentor.

“Don’t feel too welcome,” Chief Irons warned, although a small smile made his mustache twitch. “You’ve got to get into your desk before you can start your first day.”

The warning didn’t do anything to help him, but actually finding the ‘keys’ to the locks that had been added to his desk was a simple enough matter. All he had to do was talk to his new desk mates a bit more, and the letter combos were quickly revealed.

It was a good first day, and for a while, Leon really did feel like his life was on track. Just as his first year at RPD was coming to a close, Marvin dropped a thick file on his desk, a grim expression on his face.

Looking up from the report he was filing, the rookie asked, “Everything alright? You’ve got that same look you get when Chief Irons takes the last of the coffee and doesn’t refill the pot.”

“Remember that special ops program the Chief recommended you for? Well, you got in,” Marvin informed him, forcing a smile. “You’ve earned it.”

Slowly picking up the file, Leon asked slowly, “Then… why do you not sound like you’re happy about it?”

“You do learn fast,” Marvin chuckled, before sighing. “It’s not the program, and it’s not you, Leon. You’re a good kid and you’ve got a lot of potential. More than a police department can put to good use anyway… It’s who’s been assigned as your trainer…”

Pulling a face, Leon half joked, “Oh, does she not take kindly to suave charm and undeniable charisma?”

Marvin gave him a blank stare. All of them knew he was horrible at flirting with women. Thankfully, all the gals at the knew thought his fumbled jokes and stammered attempts at compliments were meant with sincerity, leading to more ongoing jokes than any real issues.

“He… is a hardass,” his trainer finally said. “Major Jack Krauser. Medically retired from the US Army Special Forces, he served an unknown number of years leading some of the best top secret teams across the world.”

“Unknown number of years?” Leon repeated, flipping the file open. “How does that work?”

“That’s all the information we have,” Marvin explained. “His file is so goddamn redacted, there are times I seriously question if his name really is Jack Krauser, or if that’s been changed for some reason too.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, flipping a couple of pages. Pausing when he was met with what he first likened to a mugshot, he studied the battle hardened, stern face scowling back at him. Despite the rather large scar stretching from above his left eye all the way down to his chin, he wasn’t unattractive.

“That man has sent more people to Jesus than a church,” Marvin grunted, tapping the top of the photo. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the… pleasure of working with Major Krauser, but I’ve met a few people who have. He’s got a reputation as ugly as a pig's ass, so be careful. I would tell you to work hard, but I know you’re going to do that anyway, so all I’ll say is… Watch your ass. Krauser is dangerous and a lot of his trainees don’t make it to graduation day.”

That set off more than a few alarm bells in the rookie’s head, and he looked up from the file. “I’m sorry? What’s he doing? Eating them?”

That got a small laugh out of Marvin, before he corrected more seriously, “Training related injuries. He’s known to push his people to their limits, and then keep pushing. I’ve seen too many reports of young, capable cadets being forced to retire before they can even get their careers off the ground due to extreme muscle or bone injuries.”

Glancing at the file as the previous comment about Krauser’s ‘unknown years’ of service echoed in his head, Leon asked critically, “If he’s messing up so many recruits, why is he still a trainer?”

“Because he’s the best at what he does. Despite the amount of critical failures, he’s got the highest success rates in the US,” Marvin elaborated. “The program he’s a part of isn’t a state program. It’s government.”

“Hence the mile long list of recommendations, transcripts, and medical records you’ve been hounding me to collect for the past three months,” the rookie acknowledged. “I’m guessing you had no idea who I’d be assigned to.”

“We don’t know until we get the paperwork back,” the older cop admitted. “And that’s if we’re not getting back a rejection. Recommendations only go so far. You got you into this program, not me or Chief Irons. Your hard work and dedication got you to where you are. I’m proud of you, kid.”

Leon barely registered the pat on his shoulder before Marvin was heading back to his office. A sense of pride and accomplishment bloomed inside him. It was like a fire being lit by a tiny spark, and he spent the rest of the day with a smile on his face.

In the weeks leading up to his start date, Leon threw himself into his physical training with renewed vigor. He refused to be one of the ‘casualties’ of Krauser’s training. He didn’t need or care about being at the top of the class, but he was determined to graduate and prove that Marvin’s faith in him was justified.

During his last shift at the RPD before he was due to leave, Marvin pulled him aside before he could turn in his service weapon. Stepping out into the hall for a bit more privacy, Leon was hit with some unexpectedly bittersweet news.

“I’m retiring…” Marvin told him, a sad smile on his face. “I’ve been putting it off and putting it off, but it’s time. I’m just sorry about the timing. You’ll only be about halfway through your classes when my day comes.”

“No, no, I’m happy for you,” Leon promised, and he meant it. Although it would have been great to work with him for a few more years, he was happy for his friend and short term mentor. Still, he had to ask, “Is this because of that crack-head that bit you a couple of weeks ago?”

Pursing his lips, Marvin nodded. “Yep. Pretty sure it’s getting infected. I’m probably going to turn into a zombie right here in the lobby if I don’t get help soon.”

Sharing a laugh, the pair carried on with their nights from there, and before long, Leon found himself packing up his things as he readied to start the next chapter of his life. If only he’d known just how dramatically things were going to change, he likely never would have accepted the position…

Arriving at his new ‘home’ for the next six months, Leon was shown to his assigned sleeping bay. It looked a lot like an airport hanger full of lockers and bunk beds, but he didn’t complain. Stowing his bag of extra clothes in the locker beside his bed, he was shown the showers, mess hall, rec room, gym, and various other areas.

Although it wasn’t one, it felt like living on a military base and Leon couldn’t help but feel like he’d been swept into a pool of brand new Privates, not up and coming officers hoping to advance their careers with specialized training.

Training didn’t start until the next morning, giving Leon the chance to actually settle in a bit and try to get used to his new surroundings. There wasn’t a lot to do, as most of the trainers were off sight for the weekend. Most of them lived out of state and only stayed on site during the week for classes, spending the weekends at a nearby hotel paid for by the company. The others lived close enough that they were able to commute back home at the end of every day.

For the recruits, they weren’t allowed to leave the training center until graduation day, unless given express permission. Leaving early or trying to sneak out would be met with harsh punishments, often including expulsion from the program.

Finding the on site ‘library’, Leon booted up one of the ancient computers so he could email Chris. They’d been in contact as much as they could, and his friend was openly worried about how things would go. The general consensus seemed to be that Krauser was dangerous. He was mean, despised those he saw as weak, and wielded his power like Zeus wielded lightning bolts.

Assuming that was more of the mythical status surrounding the Major, Leon had been shocked to find out that Chris had actually briefly worked with Krauser on three separate occasions. He couldn’t go into much detail, as the nature of all three meetings were highly classified joint operations between the Air Force and… whoever the hell Krauser was working for after his ‘retirement’. Some contractor that Chris either didn’t know or couldn’t name. He didn’t specify and Leon didn’t ask.

A little surprised to find not one but two new emails from his friend waiting for him, he opened them up to some rather concerning messages. Again, Chris didn’t go into much detail, but he made it clear something strange was going on and he wanted to make sure that if ‘anything happened to him’, someone would be aware that his sudden radio silence wasn’t a normal thing.

Responding as positively as possible, Leon made sure to send messages to his parents and to Marvin as well. All of them had been nothing but supportive, and he’d promised his old mentor he’d keep him posted even after his retirement.

There wasn’t much to do after that, so Leon spent the early part of the evening putting his stuff away properly. Still left with too much time on his hands, he wandered around to look for food. He knew they were supposed to be fed three meals a day while on campus, but he wasn’t sure if the cafeteria had snacks they could munch on throughout the day or not. They did, and he grabbed a premade ham sandwich and a bottle of apple juice.

Just as he was straightening up from grabbing his drink out of the vending machine, he bumped into someone directly behind him. Turning, he started to excuse himself when he caught sight of who he’d just stepped into.

“Hi! Sir. Hello, Kr– Major. Major Krauser, sorry,” he rambled, unable to stop staring at the mountain of a man whose toes he was nearly standing on. Dear god, he was embarrassing himself. Clearing his throat, he offered his hand… and bottle of juice, as he said, “Leon S. Kennedy, sir. I’ll be training under you, starting tomorrow.”

Krauser finally blinked, mercifully breaking the icy stare he’d been pinning the smaller man with. Unfortunately, it was to slowly look Leon up and down. Twice. Brow furrowing, he grunted wordlessly before not so gently shouldering the rookie aside so he could reach the vending machine himself.

Shifting uncomfortably as he stood to one side, Leon considered whether or not it was worth trying to smooth over such an awkward first meeting, or just let it go. He hadn’t arrived expecting to be friends with his new trainor, but he’d hoped to at least make a good impression. He was hard working, dedicated, he wanted to be there, and most importantly, he’d earned being there and he wanted to prove it.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the machine, Krauser didn’t spare him so much as a glance as he strode from the room.

Well… that could have gone worse. The next morning, he learned just how much worse!

The entire bay was woken up by the lights being flicked on at four AM, followed by a rough voice booming through the hanger like a grenade. With words harsher than a sleep deprived drill sergeant, their new trainor had every single one of them out of bed and dressed in their morning gear within five minutes. It would have been three, but one poor soul had the misfortune of tangling himself in his pants before falling over, loudly knocking over one of the standing lockers and bringing the Major down on himself in spectacular fashion.

Instead of yelling and screaming in the recruit’s face, Krauser stalked over and stood silently over him, crossing his arms as the recruit struggled to right himself. As soon as the man was on his feet, the scarred blond grabbed his shoulder, guiding him to the center of the room.

“Attention!” he snapped, and the rest of them quickly stood at the ends of their beds. None of them dared look at one another, eyes fixed on Krauser and their fellow trainee.

Pointing at the man with a stiff hand, Krauser spoke loudly enough for the entire hanger to hear as he explained, “We are now late. We are late because this idiot puts his pants on like a child. I do not teach children. I do not teach you to put on your fucking clothes. I teach you to stay alive. If you cannot even put your goddamn pants on in the morning, you will not survive this course, much less the soccer moms at McDonald’s, which is where you will be working if you continue to be such a goddamn fuck up in my presence!”

Leon expected that to be the end of it, as the instructor watched the man hastily pull up his pants. He fumbled getting his belt on, having forgotten to pre-loop it the night before, but he finally got it buckled and looked up at the Major expectantly. Opening his mouth, he had just gotten out the ‘S’ for ‘sorry’, when Krauser popped him in the mouth.

It took several seconds after the man hit the floor for the majority of the bay to realize what had happened, and even more for it to sink in that someone had just stepped out of line to shout, “Hey!”

Eyes narrowing, Krauser slowly turned to face Leon. Mouth curving in a thin smile, he asked, “Did I address you, or are you just that eager to become a part of the lesson?”

Not backing down, he questioned, “You really think hitting someone in the mouth for trying to apologize is a good way to train them?”

“I do… Apologizing is a show of weakness, and weakness gets you killed. Almost as fast as fighting another man’s battle for him. Are you going to die because your fellow soldier is too fucking weak to carry his own shit?”

Leon wasn’t a soldier. He didn’t need to be to stand up for someone. Still, arguing with his higher ups wasn't going to solve the problem. Biting his tongue, he answered as evenly as he could, “Considering this isn’t a battlefield, sir… I think hitting him in the mouth was a bit extreme.”

Nodding slowly, Krauser started to laugh. Grabbing the recruit he’d previously punched, he shoved him back into line before inviting, “Come here, rookie. If you want to fight his battle so damn badly, come fight it.”

Freezing for a moment, Leon felt every eye in the bay on him. Some were curious. Most were judging. How things played out next could very well affect his standing with his peers, just as it would have in the police academy.

He had no doubt Krauser was a master of hand to hand combat and would wipe the floor with him. He accepted that. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter. If he walked up to Krauser pretending he knew everything and had a hope of winning, he’d be labeled as a cocky, arrogant prick.

But if he refused to fight, he would face the opposite problem. He’d be singled out and labeled as weak and cowardly amongst his peers, and probably by them. It would make getting a good grade a lot more difficult and could harm his chances after graduation. No one wanted to walk away from a school like that with a bad reputation hanging over their head.

Hoping for the best, Leon stepped out of line to face Krauser. Trying to lighten the mood, he joked, “So, I guess I shouldn’t apologize if I actually manage to hit you, huh?”

The look of disgust on Krauser’s face hurt. Not nearly as much as his knee connecting with the young cop’s stomach did, but still. They both hurt in their own ways.

In the end, Leon didn’t land a single hit, nor did he apologize once. He didn’t get an apology either, although it would have done nothing to make him feel better. He felt like he got hit by a truck. Kind of looked like he got hit by a truck as well. Still, he forced himself to his feet over and over, refusing to back down.

For his part, Krauser was kind enough to wait for him to get back up and get his balance before hitting him again. Every strike was followed by some form of criticism. A snide comment about his form, his speed, or his blind spots.

Legs shaking almost too much for him to stay upright, Leon wiped blood off his mouth. His entire body hurt and his arms felt like lead. But he wouldn’t give up. Almost flinching when Krauser raised his arm, he was shocked when he checked his watch instead.

“Look at that. Breakfast is over… All of you. Training room, now. You’ll be doing drills until lunch. You can thank the rookie here for that.”

Without another word on the matter, Krauser strode from the room. The door slammed behind him, and the silence that had prevailed during their ‘sparring match’ vanished under an angry murmur. No one in the bay was particularly happy with the way their first day had started and all of them blamed him.

Well, moping wouldn’t do him any good. Trying to take a step towards his bunk so he could rest for a minute, his knees gave out. Hitting the floor, he blinked dizzily. Shit, he may actually be kind of hurt… Okay, yeah, he was kind of fucked. And, yeah. No one was gonna help his ass up. Great first day…

It was another twenty minutes after the last recruit was gone that Leon managed to scrape himself off the floor. Leaning heavily on the bed, he double checked that nothing was broken before hobbling to the bathroom.

Staggering to the sink, he winced. Blood was still seeping from several small cuts on his arms and face, along with the mess from his nose and lip. He looked like he’d been mugged by a gorilla.

Rinsing the blood off, he forced himself to drink some water before heading to the training room. Keeping his head down as he entered, he stiffened when a voice directly behind him warned, “You’re late, rookie. Front of the line. Now. We’re learning some basic defence. Which clearly you need.”

It was a very, very long day… By the end of the first week, Leon was pretty sure he’d died and was in Hell. He had to be. Breathing was torture by that point. His muscles hurt from a combination of bruises and relentless physical training. If he hadn’t had two days off for the weekend, he was pretty sure he would have had to crawl back to Racoon City in shame.

All day Saturday was spent laying in bed sleeping off his near overdose of ibuprofen. It was the only non-prescription medicine they were allowed to have, and he took as much as he possibly could without poisoning himself.

Sunday saw Leon shuffling through the motions of being a human being. That meant eating at least one meal, showering, and running a brush through his hair. He missed his hair products but it would have to do for the time being…

As he was hobbling back from the showers, he almost bumped into Krauser again. Quickly stepping to the side, he waited for something else to happen. All week, the Major had been going after him with nearly single minded intent. Any opportunity to demonstrate something new and or painful saw Leon being ‘voluntold’ into helping.

But that time, Krauser simply walked by. It was as if he didn’t exist outside of training hours. Once the man was behind him, Leon continued his walk in the opposite direction. Most people would have assumed that was it. They’d passed in the hall without a single word spoken or even a glance from superior to subordinate.

But Leon wasn’t most people, and the second the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, he instinctively lurched forwards. Twisting his body as he lunged, he wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The fact that he had been right and his seemingly ‘out of nowhere’ dodge to the side had been necessary, or catching his own look of shock reflected in the blade of Krauser’s knife as it slashed through the air right in front of his face.

Stumbling back as his sore, tired muscles aggressively protested the sudden activity, Leon was certain he wouldn’t be able to dodge or block a follow up attack. He was right, not seeing the fist that connected with his ribs or the boot that hooked his leg to throw him onto his back on the floor.

Wheezing as he struggled to get his breath back, he didn’t have the strength to flinch when Krauser’s face appeared over him. Lip pulling back in a sneer, he growled, “Pathetic, rookie. You let your guard down like that in a real world scenario, you die.”

Coughing quietly as he forced his battered body into a sitting position, Leon smartly asked, “Where are you from? Detroit?”

Krauser snorted, shaking his head as the smaller man staggered to his feet. Looking at him, he admitted, “Clever,” before slamming the hilt of his knife into his diaphragm. Watching him drop like a rock, the Major started to walk away. Not pausing, he called back over his shoulder, “You should quit while you’re ahead, rookie. You’re not cut out for a life like this, so walk out while your legs can still carry you.”

Curled into a ball, it was all Leon could do to decipher what he was hearing over the rushing of blood in his ears. So, Krauser wanted him to quit? Looked like all those warnings about the Major weren’t so embellished after all. At least he’d been warned. Krauser on the other hand, had no idea what he was in for.

Leon was stubborn as a mule. His adopted parents had said it, his teachers had said it, Chris had said it, even Marvin had said it on more than one occasion. Once he’d set his mind to something, there was nothing that could dissuade him.

Clenching his teeth, Leon forced himself off the floor one more time. Casting a determined glare down the hall after his trainer, he only felt more sure of himself as he thought, ‘Unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, huh? Alright. Let’s see which one gives in first.’

The following week was a lot of the same, but Leon felt like he was handling it better. He still ended up bruised and bloody on the floor at least twice per training day, but he never once considered quitting. Every time Krauser pinned him with a cold, unreadable stare, he’d meet his gaze, holding it for as long as he could. It wasn’t meant as a direct challenge, but as a promise. He was there to stay and no one was going to scare him off.

That weekend, Leon spent his time more carefully. Although during the week Krauser seemed to stick to a rigid routine with little deviation, the weekends were spent prowling around the campus, terrorizing anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

After a successful two days of avoiding Krauser, Leon was forced into another unavoidable confrontation first thing Monday morning. Although the bay had gotten waking up, getting dressed, and out the door down to a tidy two and a half minutes by the middle of the second week, they were still expected to hit the training room for ‘warm ups’ before breakfast. A ‘special addition’ to their training, thanks to ‘first day attitude from certain individuals’.

That morning was no different, and as soon as they were in the room, Krauser ordered them to pair up for sparring. Of course, he also pulled one of the recruits out to use as a demonstration for what he was going to teach that morning.

“Rookie, up front. Now,” Krauser barked, and a snicker rippled through the room.

Despite all of them technically being ‘rookies’ by training standards, the Major had singled out Leon to address solely by the title. The name itself didn’t bother him, but rather the way it was hurled like an insult.

Stopping in front of Krauser, Leon dropped into a relaxed stance as their instructor began verbally explaining what he was going to do, what he wanted them to look out for, and how many times he wanted them to run through it. It was a disarming maneuver… Perfect. Instead of waiting for the man to make the first move or even fully turn to him, Leon struck.

Lashing out with a leg, he managed to force Krauser off balance enough that he wasn’t instantly knocked down when he darted in close. Actually landing a solid hit to his ribs, Leon took his chance. His fingers had just wrapped around the handle of the Major’s knife when he felt a fist grab his hair. Shit.

Yanked backwards and nearly off his feet, Leon was just grateful not to be scalped when he was flung away. Staggering, he caught his balance in time to see the look of surprise still on Krauser’s face as he secured his weapon.

Eyes narrowing just as quickly, his gaze lingered for a moment before he grunted, “Not bad…”

With that, he turned to address them all as a group, asking if they knew where Leon had gone wrong, and what could have been done differently. He barely heard it, still stuck on the almost compliment he’d gotten.

Things continued to change after that. Slowly at first, but still noticeably compared to his previous, almost hateful predation, Krauser’s attention to the recruit began to shift. His gaze was still heavy when he’d turn it on Leon, that hadn’t changed. What had was the way the wheels in his head seemed to turn. It wasn’t respect, but it wasn’t the same contempt either. Maybe he was starting to see the potential he’d initially dismissed as bull headedness.

The rest of week three and all of week four went the same way. Leon was still singled out during most training, but as he improved, the way Krauser looked at him changed as well. It was odd, and he wished he had someone he could talk to about it. Unfortunately, his options were incredibly limited for the time being.

He still refused to drop the heavy moments on Marvin, keeping any news he sent him short and on the brighter side, while Chris’s emails were starting to get fewer and further between. There was no one at the academy that he could talk to either. His first day ‘heroics’ hadn’t earned him any goodwill with his fellow trainees, with most of them still calling him ‘Rookie’ behind his back, mirroring Krauser even though it did nothing to ingratiate them to the man.

The first obvious change came two months into the six month course. After a particularly intense round of sparring that saw Leon hobbling away with enough bruises to file a domestic abuse charge, Krauser waited for him to get to his feet before allowing, “You’re improving. And here I didn’t think you had it in you. Keep it up, pretty boy.”

The silence that filled the room was loud. A couple of people coughed quietly, no one wanting to break the silence, but all with a thousand very loud questions they didn’t dare ask.

Grabbing his water bottle, Krauser stated, “I said what I said,” before dismissing them. When everyone continued to linger, his expression changed to the much more recognized and feared scowl they knew him by, and he snapped, “Get out of my fucking sight!”

Leon started noticing more changes a lot faster after that. Although he still wasn’t given an ounce of leeway or a single commodity that might so much as hint at favoritism, he and everyone else could see it.

The way Krauser would watch Leon spar when he was paired with someone else was… very different. Although the rookie did his best to ignore it and focus on his training, he could feel the Major’s eyes on the back of his neck throughout the day, studying him and sizing him up with a strange, unfathomable intent…

Three days after the ‘pretty boy’ incident, a situation came up that Leon often looked back on as being the point of no return. If he’d swallowed his pride and just followed his gut, maybe everything that followed that day could have been avoided…

“Hey, pretty boy!” a voice laughed.

Keeping his eyes forward, Leon ignored the taunt. Ever since Krauser’s new nickname had come out, it had been catching like a wild fire. Snickered quietly, away from the Major’s hearing at first, someone had finally gotten bold enough to use it out loud as they were dispersing for lunch.

“I’m talking to you,” the cadet jeered again, closer behind him that time. “I said, hey, pr–”

There was a distinct crunch and a howl, yanking Leon’s attention back to the hallway. Only a few feet back, Krauser had slammed the man into the wall so hard he’d dropped to the floor as soon as he’d been released.

Crouching down, Krauser pointed at his scarred face. “Something about this ‘pretty’ to you, cadet?”

“Wha- No, sir! I wasn’t–” he was cut off by an open handed slap to the side of the head. It was actually louder than the sound he’d made hitting the wall and multiple people winced.

“Well now you’ve hurt my feelings,” the Major grunted. “Apologize.”

“Sorry, sir!” the man sputtered, only to get smacked again.

“Don’t fucking apologize!” Krauser snapped. “It’s a sign of weakness! Now, what was my original question, cadet?”

Looking slightly woozy, the man blinked a couple of times before hesitantly asking, “Am I pretty, sir?”

Everyone was expecting it and it was still so fast they barely saw it when Krauser hit him. Standing up, he spat, “No. You look like your mother shit you out in the toilet. She should have done the world a favor and flushed.”

Turning, he left the crumpled, person shaped heap behind. Pausing very briefly at Leon’s shoulder, he said almost conversationally, “You know, I’m starting to think he wasn’t actually talking to me.”

Leon didn’t answer, still frozen in place just as he’d been when the attack had begun. He’d wanted to step in. To stop what was clearly just an excuse to violently abuse a subordinate. But he couldn’t bring himself to step in. None of them ever stepped in for him. None of them were stepping in now! Why should he? Trying to help was what had gotten him into the situation in the first place! Trying to stop it would just make the situation worse for all of them…

Before he could come to any kind of useful conclusion, everything was over and the hall was slowly clearing as people finally made it to lunch. More than a few had muttered comments and dirty looks as they shuffled past Leon, but he barely registered them. He wasn’t sure how, but he felt like he’d made things worse in some way…

When the end of the day finally rolled around, they were allowed their short allotment of free time before bed. It was during that period that Leon found the recruit Krauser had beaten earlier in the day. With as bruised as his face was, it was easy enough to pick him out.

Approaching him as he was gathering up a change of clothes for after a shower, Leon cleared his throat to get his attention. When the man looked up at him, there was a split second of fear before he recognized who had approached him and it changed.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened with Krauser earlier,” Leon offered awkwardly. “I know things here are–

Eyes narrowing, the cadet shrugged, interrupting, “Don’t apologize… It’s a sign of weakness.”

Slightly taken aback, he tried, “Ah, right, sure… But it was a massive overreaction for him to–”

“Why don’t you not worry about it, rook–” the cadet cut himself off, a sour look on his face. Glaring at Leon, he huffed, “Just mind your own business, Kennedy.”

Taking a step away when the man pointedly turned his back on him, Leon didn’t answer. Obviously it was best to let the incident drop. Technically he wasn’t a part of it and trying to make amends would likely only make things worse.

Turning towards his own bunk a few yards away, he paused when he noticed several other trainee’s staring. As soon as they saw him looking, they quickly looked away or pretended to be doing other things while purposefully ignoring him.

Oh… Wow. Okay. So he was being iced out. That was… a change. Probably not a better one. It wasn’t, of course, but at least he wasn’t surprised by it. At least, not that part of it.

What really surprised Leon, was how much physically closer Krauser seemed to be during training. No matter who the rookie cop was paired with or what solo exercise they were doing, the Major almost always seemed to be nearby.

Around the middle of month three, he surprised Leon further. Pulling him to the front for morning warm ups, he explained, “For some reason, the rest of your platoon refuses to be paired up with you, rookie.”

Leon felt ice cold dread grip his spine. Did that mean he was getting cut from the program? If he was, would that even be such a bad thing? Academically, not really, but it would be a massive blow to his pride. What would Marvin think, considering he’d been so certain he could handle it? What would Chris think, assuming he ever got around to sending another email…

Already feeling like he was letting down too many people, Leon jumped slightly when Krauswer suddenly leaned down, lips close to his ear as he said in a low growl, “I guess that means you’re all mine, pretty boy.”

Leon spent the rest of the day with the worst feeling of conflict roiling in his stomach. Training went as usual and he went to bed with just as many new bruises as aches as always, but it wasn’t the physical hardships that had him confused. It was the comments Krauser had started to make.

As the days continued and the halfway point was left in the dust, his comments started to become less degrading and more… oddly encouraging? Instead of being slammed into the ground and told every breath he took was a crime against all the trees that had worked so hard to produce the oxygen he was wasting, he was given a brief comment about how his form wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been and if he worked on blocking a little more maybe he’d outlive his pathetic fellow cadets.

Right at the start of month four, Krauser made his move.

It was the weekend and Leon had just woken up. Shuffling to the bathroom first, he moved on to find breakfast. His guard was down, a mistake he already knew but simply couldn’t bring himself to care about at the moment. The other recruits gave him a wide berth and if the Major was going to pop out of his bowl of oatmeal to sock him in the jaw, so be it. He just wanted five minutes of peace. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was, as the moment he sat down, a shadow covered him from behind. Tensing, he kept his hand flat on his spoon on top of the table. He hadn’t seen Krauser stab anyone with a spoon yet, but he wouldn’t put it past him to do so, and he really liked having two working eyes.

The shadow lingered for a moment, before moving around his side. Before he could fully process it, another tray was set down on the other side of the table, and Krauser sat across from him.

“Morning… sir,” Leon greeted slowly.

“Is that an observation or are you trying to say good morning?” Krauser questioned. Not waiting for an answer, he said, “I’m going to a bar not too far off campus tonight. Join me.”

Thrown for a loop, it took him a moment to answer. Sure it must be a test of some kind, Leon answered robotically, “Sorry, sir, I can’t. Recruits aren’t to leave the base until after graduation, or unless given a special allowance for emergency purposes.”

“Look at you, acting like the perfect little soldier,” Krauser chuckled. “Nice to see you can be trained after all.”

Not ready to assume he’d passed the test, Leon simply nodded. His stomach growled but he ignored it. The last thing he needed was to be murdered via oatmeal for ‘ignoring’ a superior officer. Stupid fucking rule, but the last thing he needed was for the Major to throw his ass across the cafeteria.

“Was there anything else, sir?” he asked, hoping that even if he wasn’t left alone, he’d at least be given permission to go about his business.

“Recruits can’t leave the base without an emergency exemption… for the first ninety days of training,” Krauser told him. “And then, it can only be if they’re accompanied by a superior. So. Go drinking with me tonight.”

Mind spinning, Leon cleared his throat in an attempt to buy himself some time as he figured out how to answer. This was… still a test. Right?

“I’m… sorry sir. I can’t. It wouldn’t be very smart for me to be out drinking on a work night,” he finally excused. It was impossible to tell if the Major was impressed by his answer or not.

Studying him, Krauser offered a thin smile. It was honestly more unnerving than comforting, and Leon found himself bracing for the table to get flipped over on top of him.

“Playing hard to get now, rookie?”

Oh god, he was serious? It wasn’t a test?!

“Ah… No, sir,” Leon said slowly. “I just… thought you were testing me.”

“Smart,” he agreed, that familiar glint in his eyes.

Hunger, Leon realized. It was hunger. A primal, lustful kind of hunger for something that wasn’t food or drink.

Looking away, he mentioned awkwardly, “I’m not sure it would be… appropriate? A superior officer and a cadet…”

“What about it would be inappropriate?” Krauser challenged. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. It’s just drinks.”

“O-of course, sir,” Leon stammered, now entirely certain he’d be leaving the table in a body bag. “It’s just, I don’t know how appropriate it would be for you and I to be seen in public… It’s a perspective thing. You’ve said it yourself… Most people are fucking stupid.”

Laughing out loud, the Major ignored the multiple heads that quickly turned their way before snapping back to their food. “That they are. Good to see my lessons are sticking in that permed head of yours, rookie.”

Still sitting stiffly, Leon watched with shock as Krauser simply stood up and walked away with his empty tray, having eaten while they ‘talked’. Blinking as the trainer disappeared out the door, he finally managed to mutter, “I’ve never gotten a perm.”

For the next month, Krauser would sit down at Leon’s table once a day and tell him to go drinking with him. It was never a request, and it was, shockingly, never met with violence when it was turned down anyway.

Month five of six had just started, and Leon was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The bleak, hopeless, suffocating tunnel…

He was getting better. Blocking more strikes and landing just as many. His run times were improving from their already solid initial scores, and his overall strength had increased. He never expected to actually get a pat on the back or a compliment that wasn’t a double sided put down, so when he actually managed to hit Krauser in the nose hard enough to draw blood, he wasn’t expecting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Huh… Good job, Rookie.”

Leon was lucky Krauser called an end to the morning warm ups then. He’d been so thrown off by the genuine compliment, he’d dropped his guard and was staring stupidly. Trying to shake it off, he found he couldn’t. It had given him such a genuine sense of accomplishment and pride, it was difficult not to let it go to his head. Still, it made it easier to deal with the initial hazing turned cold shoulder and the outright brutal training he’d endured.

Although that was the biggest, and only, compliment Krauser gave him that week, it stuck with him until Saturday when the inevitable lunch visit happened.

“Sir,” he greeted evenly. Admittedly, he’d come to enjoy those few minutes each weekend. It was the one time he felt calm, knowing no one was going to bother him or randomly attack him with a knife.

“Rookie,” Krauser answered. “So do I have to tell you to eat this time, or have you finally gotten it through your head that you're not a sheep?”

Even though his fork was already halfway to his mouth, Leon knew better than to say something snarky.

Taking advantage of the moment of silence, the Major said, “I’m going to the bar tonight so I can drink away the pain of wasting my time trying to teach a gaggle of talentless idiots. You’re coming.”

Finishing his mouthful of food, Leon actually surprised himself when he answered, “Okay. What time do I need to be ready?”

For the second time since he’d met him, he witnessed a look of surprise cross Krauser’s face, confirming that he hadn’t actually expected the cadet to take him up on his offer. At least, that was Leon’s mistaken interpretation of the expression…

Laughing under his breath, the Major shook his head. “You’re something else, Rookie. Just full of surprises.”

Taking it as a compliment, he basked in the warm glow of pride the seeming praise sent through him. He managed to continue basking through the rest of the day, and when nine pm finally rolled around, he was dressed in his everyday clothes, ready to go even though he was half expecting it to be some kind of trick or test. It wasn’t until he was actually in the passenger seat of Krauser’s shockingly decrepit pickup truck and watching him back into a parking space at the bar that he finally decided he could loosen up a little.

It wasn’t a very big bar, nor was it particularly nice, but they all seemed to know Krauser and Leon had been inside far worse places.

Sitting at a small table to the very back, the pair made some small talk over a couple of beers before the young cop finally worked up the courage to ask, “How did you get into this line of work anyway, Major?”

Pointing at the scar cutting his face, he answered with a dark laugh, “Early retirement. That wasn’t all of it. Hell, that wasn’t even the worst of it. This is just the daily reminder that what doesn’t kill you, should nut up and try harder before you come back for its sorry ass.”

“That’s, ah… probably something worth keeping in mind,” Leon agreed, snorting. “But why come back as a trainer? Is that really better than… anything else you could be doing?”

“I was all set to enjoy my retirement, but they asked for me. Several times. I kept turning them down, but when they added enough zero’s, I figured what the hell. Why not come back and prepare the next pound of meat for the grinder.”

“Damn…” he murmured, shaking his head. “That’s kind of a bleak outlook on it.”

“Better than getting your hopes up on someone else,” Krauser answered, eyes sharp as he studied the younger man.

Leon honestly wasn’t sure if he was reading too much into the situation, or if he was actually picking up the signals he thought he was. Throughout the drive and even the conversation up till that point, his superior officer had been making slightly suggestive comments here and there, or asking admittedly searching questions.

Draining the last of his beer, the cop pushed himself back from the table. “Hey, I’ll be right back. Restroom.”

“Don’t get lost,” Krauser grunted, waving at the bartender.

Half smiling, Leon started towards the opposite side of the bar. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but about halfway to the bathroom, he paused and looked back. Krauser was still sitting at their table working on his beer and looking at his phone.

Turning with a small shake of his head, Leon made it to the bathroom without stopping again. Although there were three stalls, he was the only one there. He did actually need to pee, but when he was done, he lingered for a moment longer, watching the door.

After a moment, he sighed, feeling stupid. Jesus, he was young and dumb. Marvin told him that at least once per shift, but he didn’t think seeing it for himself would be so embarrassing. Right. It was better to just go finish drinking, enjoy the moment of peace, and brace himself for tomorrow. His fellow cadets were going to tear him apart…

Exiting the bathroom, he hadn’t made it past the small privacy wall separating the restrooms from the main bar before someone reached out of the darkness and grabbed him. Too quick for him to properly counter, Leon’s arms were wrenched behind his back before he was slammed into the wall, his head colliding with the brick like a basketball. In between the stars in vision, Leon could just barely make out the voice of his attacker.

“That was sloppy, Rookie. I know we’ve got two months left, but I’ve fucking trained you better than that.”

Freezing at the low voice growling in his ear, Leon tried not to think about how it was affecting him. Wincing as his arms were forced higher against his back, he managed to question, “Major?!”

“You better be glad it’s me,” Krauser confirmed, still in that same low near growl. “You sure took your time in there… What were you doing, playing with it?”

Knowing he might be leaving the bar with a black eye for it, Leon couldn’t stop himself from retorting, “Why so interested, Major? Hoping I’d save some for you?”

Yanked away from the wall, Leon was thrown backwards, hitting the bathroom door with a crash. An arm pressed across his neck, keeping him in place as Krauser stared down at him.

“What are you implying, Rookie? You think I fuck men?”

Black eye, broken ribs, maybe a couple of missing teeth… Yeah, there was no way he was walking away from this… Forget his fellow cadets. Krauser was going to rip him apart himself. A large hand suddenly groping his crotch said otherwise, and Leon made a confused sound. What was happening?!

Lips brushed his ear as Krauser leaned in, voice rough as gravel as he murmured, “I don’t fuck men… Except for those rare occasions when I do.”

“What?!” Leon demanded, only for the Major to open the door behind him, sending him stumbling backwards into the bathroom. Hands were grabbing his waist before he could fall, keeping him on his feet while also carrying him backwards until he was pressed tightly between the wall and Krauser’s body.

Rough fingers dragged across his ribs, feeling his body before one hand was dipping back down to hook under his ass. Grabbed by the jaw, his head was tilted back at a sharp angle so his mouth could be captured in a rough kiss.

Every single rational thought left his head and what happened next was a blur. He knew Krauser had broken off the kiss at some point, whispering complete filth in his ear as he pulled him out of the bathroom. At least one hand remained possessively on Leon’s body all the way to the man’s truck, fingers pressing tightly into his thigh as they drove to the Major’s apartment.

Nearly being dragged out of the truck should have been a warning of what was to come, but Leon was too deep in his own confusing whirlpool of emotions and alcohol to really register it. A small, still rational part of his brain was screaming at him to turn around. Call a cab. Just get out of there and go back to campus…

Maybe if he’d been more worried when he was all but thrown onto the bed, rough hands and careless touches leaving more than a few bruises as he was disrobed. It wasn’t until they were both covered in sweat, Leon panting and exhausted underneath the Major with a nasty mess between them and all over the rookie's legs, that things took a nasty turn.

Shoved back down when he tried to get up, his protests were ignored. Limbs trembling with exhaustion, he tried to push Krauser off, saying, “Let me up, this kind of hurts. Besides, it’s three am, I need to get back–”

The sting across the side of his face was nothing compared to the pain from his split lip when he was slapped. Eyes watering slightly, he flinched when fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.

“You can leave, when I say you can leave, pretty boy,” Krauser told him coldly. “And I don’t recall having dismissed you yet…”

~~

Staring at his hands with glassy eyes, Leon took a deep breath. “I don’t… I don’t really remember all of it… clearly after that…”

There was a long stretch of stunned silence, everyone else trying to process the story they’d just heard. Finally, King stood up from where he’d sat beside Eli on the extra mattress.

Patting Leon’s shoulder, he promised, “It’s going to be okay,” before reaching for the doorknob.

Instantly looking worried, Quentin demanded, “Where are you going?”

“To kill that bloody–”

After a short scuffle which Marcus, David Emory, and Leon were wise enough not to take part in, King was convinced -forced- to stay put and not act on his initial killer instinct.

Sitting up a bit more so he didn’t look like a talking mountain of squishmallows, Marcus was the first to actually broach the subject rationally. “Leon, have you… talked to anyone? About what happened?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, an even more pained expression crossing his face. “After… afterwards I went to the head of the academy. And he told me… that although it was inappropriate for a student and teacher to be engaging in… intimate… activities… they were willing to overlook it to protect their best instructor. Just because I had made comments leading to a ‘one time thing’ and regretted it after was no reason to jeopardize his reputation…”

“Oh, wow,” Quentin muttered. “That’s… Jesus, man.”

“I didn’t think I was going to survive the last two months of school. Krauser found every opportunity to make my life a living hell and the other trainees refused to even look at me, much less speak to me,” Leon continued. “I didn’t tell Marvin and Chris… I hadn’t heard from Chris in almost two months by that point. The day I made it back to RPD, I went to Chief Irons. I told him everything, thinking I could find some kind of help or advice… anything.”

No one needed to ask to guess what had happened, but the Captain confirmed it for them a moment later.

“He told me… I needed to keep it to myself. That spreading that kind of thing around could hurt my career. Krauser had a reputation and friends in higher places than anyone in the department could hope to reach. So I kept my mouth shut and my head down, but the damage was done. People in the department looked at me differently, and when several people who’d been in my platoon were brought on at RPD, it only got worse.”

“Cops are fucking useless,” Eli mumbled, and Dwight punched him in the shoulder. Wincing, he rubbed the bruised spot before apologizing, saying, “Sorry, Leon. I don’t mean you.”

Running a hand through his hair, Leon took a moment to gather himself before lamenting, “I don’t know. I can’t help but think that maybe if I had just done something different… Been more firm when I said no, or maybe just not gone back to his apartment–”

“It’s not your fault,” King told him, still very clearly angry about the entire situation. “He used his fucking position and authority to force you to do something you didn’t want to do! He should have been fired and charged!”

“A-And at least you got to leave!” David chimed in. “You never had to see him again in RPD!… R-Right?”

The utterly haunted look on Leon’s face was a loud answer, and the poor orderly shrank down into his blanket with a mortified expression.

“He’s part of the reason I left the RPD…” Leon said quietly. “On graduation day, the only thing he said to me was that he’d find me… Anywhere… and within a year, I discovered that he’s going to be joining the department. I knew I had to leave, but I had no idea where to go or what to do… Then I got an email from Chris. It was vague and, honestly, a little concerning. But he sent me a location and a plane ticket to Alaska, so I had my out. I took some time off and came up here.”

“Did you ever find Chris?” Dwight asked. Judging by the way he asked and the tone of his voice, it was obvious that it was his first time hearing all of it as well.

Leon shook his head. “No. I hit a dead end. A few days before I was supposed to fly back home, I met Wesker at a bar. I don’t even know how we started talking, but he offered me a job. It seemed a little too good to be true, but I was desperate so I accepted. I knew it would keep me in Alaska and close to where Chris disappeared. As Wesker and I grew closer, I finally told him the real reason I had even come to Alaska, and he offered to help me. Since then I’ve followed more leads and found more dead ends than I can count…”

“Is that why you started dating him?” Marcus asked. “Is Wesker holding his help to find Chris over your head in exchange for… stuff?”

“No, it’s not-” Leon sighed. “Not at first… At first, I refused when he’d ask me out or invite me to dinner. I was still emotionally and mentally recovering from the Krauser thing and I was terrified of going through that with Wesker… But he never pushed the way Krauser did. He was never aggressive or violent with me, and when we did start going out, he was so…”

“Good to you?” Eli asked, a look of understanding on his face. “He made you feel like you were everything, huh?”

“Yeah…” the guard agreed. “He did… It took a couple of years for the shine to wear off, and lately it’s just been getting worse and worse. I can’t ask for anything, even work stuff that we could all benefit from, without it coming with a price. Really, I… It always came with a price. It just took me a while to notice it.”

“Why haven’t you broken up with the bloody wanker?” King asked, arms crossed. “What’s he going to do? Fire you?”

“I have my reasons for wanting to stay in Alaska,” Leon answered. “And for wanting to stay at Crotus Prenn. I don’t want to risk losing my job or–”

Cutting himself off as though he’d almost said something he didn’t mean to, he rubbed his hands together. “I have my reasons. But I know I can’t go to Wesker about any of this. Honestly, I think he has some idea of my past with Krauser and that’s why he brought him up here. To keep me in line.”

“But if he knew just how bad it was and how horrible Krauser really is, wouldn’t he do something?” Quentin asked, starting to sound just as frustrated as King.

“That’s– It’s just–” Letting out a long sigh, Leon mumbled almost too indistinctly to hear, “Krauser has… a picture… from that night. And I know if I… push back too much, he’s going to spread it around…”

“Oh…” several people said at the same time, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

“Have you considered… telling Wesker about the picture along with what Krauser did to you?” King asked gently. “Maybe he can get him to hand it over before he fires his ass.”

“He’d be more likely to try and fight Wesker right then and there than he would be to hand anything over,” Leon said, shutting down that idea. “Besides, it’s not just Wesker I’m worried about seeing it…”

“Revenge porn happens,” Quentin offered, earning more than one stern look. Holding up a hand, he insisted, “I’m not making light of this and I’m not saying that you should be okay with it if he were to spread it around. But, there’s a fair chance that if anything did get out, people would be sympathetic, given the history…”

Looking more and more uncomfortable, Leon finally blurted out, “I’ve been cheating on Wesker for the past three years.”

Able to hear a pin drop, not one of them could come up with a question that didn’t sound super invasive and insensitive. Eyes slowly tracking over all their stunned expressions, the guard sighed.

“It wasn’t– I’ve never– …I did feel bad at first. I was incredibly unhappy, Wesker and I had had a huge fight and things were looking so bad with our relationship and with my search for Chris and things with h– with them felt so right in the moment and one thing led to another…”

“And are you… still with this same person? Or are you like… playing the field?” Marcus asked. “Normally I’m completely against cheating, but I mean if you need help–”

“If you weren’t concussed I’d smack you across the back of the head,” King told him, scowling until the ginger was silent.

The offer actually got a small smile from Leon, who just shook his head. “Thanks, but it’s not like that. Emotionally and mentally, I think Wesker and I have been over for a very long time. It’s getting to the point where I really don’t think he can help me find Chris, so once I work out some stuff with… my other partner… I don’t know. If we can’t get Krauser out of here, maybe we’ll both find the door. I just… I don’t want to put myself in another situation where I or anyone else are subjected to his bullshit.”

“Abuse,” Marcus corrected. When everyone turned to look at him, he said more firmly, “Abuse. What Krauser’s doing is abusing people. It’s not bullshit. It’s a fucking crime.”

Shaking his head again, Leon started to argue, “It was mostly my fault–”

Sitting up so fast he nearly followed the small avalanche of squishies to the floor, the ginger interrupted, “No. It wasn’t your fault. You may have made some mistakes along the way, but being taken advantage of and being sexually abused wasn’t your fault. Just because Chief Ironing Board and Krauser’s direct superior at the academy refused to listen doesn’t make it your fault.”

“Marcus, it’s fine,” the guard promised. “It doesn’t matter–”

“It does matter,” he insisted, voice tight. “I know how much it matters because I’ve been there. I was twelve years old and I woke up to my babysitter on top of me… The first question I got when I told my parents was my dad asking what I did to encourage her and my mom telling me that maybe it was best if I kept what happened to myself.”

“Oh… Shit, I’m sorry,” Leon murmured, unsure what else to say. “Are you… okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Shrugging, the ginger answered more calmly, “After my mom left my dad, she put me in therapy for a while.”

“Did it… help?” Eli asked, possibly hoping that maybe it was an avenue Leon could explore as well.

“It was therapy,” was all Marcus said, before reiterating, “What Krauser did isn’t your fault, period. If you don’t feel safe telling Wesker, don’t. There’s no shame in protecting yourself, especially from someone you know doesn’t have your best interests at heart anymore.”

“We believe you,” Dwight added. “And we do have your best interests at heart.”

Almost hesitantly, David poked his head out of his blanket shell to offer, “If there’s anything we can do to help–”

“No!” Leon nearly yelled, startling all of them. Clearing his throat, he said more evenly, “I don’t want any of you getting involved with Krauser beyond the group messages. I don’t– I can’t ask you all to keep tabs on him for me–”

“You don’t have to ask us to,” Quentin scoffed. “We’re going to do that anyway.”

Smiling slightly, the guard nodded. “Thank you. But really, that’s it. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of him. Please just stay away from him. I’m going to do what I can, see if maybe Bill can help. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and one of the patients will get him.”

The last part was said in a forced joking tone, but in all honesty it was a sentiment they all agreed with.

Nodding, Leon stood from his spot beside Eli and King on his mattress. “I’m going to grab a shower, unless you need the bathroom for anything, David.”

“Me? No, you- you have fun,” he offered.

Letting out a tired laugh, the guard disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed behind him and they all waited silently until they heard the water turn on.

As soon as it did, King asked, “Okay, so does anyone have any ideas about how to deal with Krauser?”

“We can set him on fire while he sleeps,” Quentin suggested, flipping open a lighter he’d pulled out of his pocket.

Eli slapped his hand down, snatching the lighter before arguing, “I highly doubt he sleeps heavily enough for that. Besides, if you do that, you’re going to end up inside one of those cells.”

“I think we should probably focus on getting that picture back before we try to kill him,” David pointed out, and Quentin nodded.

“Or, or, we don’t try to kill him,” Marcus suggested. “I’m not saying we try to stop him from getting killed by a pissed off patient or anything, but we probably shouldn’t try to murder someone ourselves… especially someone we work with… especially at work…”

“Actually… I might have an idea,” Dwight said slowly. “It’s going to take time to set up… but I think we can get that picture back without having to kill anyone...”
~~~~

Chapter 36: Retribution

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus deals with some paperwork issues, and Jack is left to deal with Krauser...

Watching a pair of geese fly by overhead, Marcus let out a long sigh. His breath turned to a cloud in the air, drifting away on the frozen breeze as he mumbled into his gloved hands, “This is fucking bullshit.”

Looking over at him, then back at the bus as it pulled up to the curb, David agreed sympathetically, “Yeah, I’ve never seen them call anyone back to work after only three days of recovery.”

“What happened to three weeks?” Eli questioned, knocking some packed snow off his shoes. Clambering onto the bus, he led them to the very back so they could sit together and still talk in relative privacy.

Once they were all seated and the bus was moving again, Marcus let out a tired grunt. “That’s what I want to know. I’ve been waiting on my actual medical leave form to get approved but it hasn’t come back yet. I was able to call Jack and talk to her about it, but she said she never saw it come through. She said to come straight to her office today and fill it out in person so she can put it into the system. I should only have to work today, then start my official recovery time tomorrow.”

“Yeah… Do you know what they’re going to have you doing today? You still look high,” David pointed out.

“I am still high,” Marcus admitted drearily. “That oxy they gave me for the pain is stupidly strong. I can’t bring it inside with me, even if I leave it in my locker, so if I have to stay all day I’m going to have to make at least one personal trip to the pharmacy for a top up.”

“That’s wild,” Eli snorted. “Honestly, I can’t remember a time someone’s medical paperwork had to be redone in person like this.”

Nodding tiredly, the ginger leaned over a bit more against David’s side. He was so warm and soft, especially while all bundled up in his extra jackets and scarf. It was nice.

There was a pause before Marcus felt a light weight on his head. David had leaned back onto him, now looking very comfortable and cozy. “Maybe it got lost in spam or something? Maybe you can try to reach out to Feng and ask as well.”

“It should be alright once I can resubmit it to Jack, but I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” he agreed, letting his eyes drift closed. Dozing off, he woke up with a snort when the bus came to a stop with a loud squeal of brakes.

As they made their way down the steps and into the building, Eli mentioned, “Hey, Marcus, I know you’ve been kept in the loop with the group text and everything, but if you run into Leon or Krauser, just be sure to keep a tight lip on… everything.”

Nodding, he promised, “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret. I’m just glad the psycho has such a boner for routine.”

“Yeah, it should make putting Dwight’s plan into action a lot easier,” David agreed. Although there had been some concern that the orderly wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut, especially with Leon as his new roommate, he’d done a remarkable job of not mentioning a thing thus far. Despite the serious weight of the situation and probable danger they were all putting themselves in, he just seemed excited to be part of a group activity.

“Well, good luck with your medical leave,” Eli encouraged, bidding them farewell as they all filed through the security checkpoints.

Waving goodbye, Marcus trailed alongside David as he made his way to the nursing station. Jack’s office wasn’t too far beyond that, and the few extra minutes with his friend was a nice start to an otherwise infuriating morning.

“Do you think Krauser will ever go see Jack? Or is he just going to ignore her until she gives up?” he asked, looking for his fellow orderlies' opinion. Although he hadn’t been there to witness it himself, the entire asylum knew that she had requested he come to her office for a private meeting three times since ‘the incident’. Technically, Wesker should’ve been the one to speak to him but due to an orderly being the one staff member injured, the CEO was all too happy to let it fall into Jack’s department.

“Oh god, I hope he sees her soon,” David lamented. “She’s been so pissy cause of it. You should’ve seen her yesterday, she came storming into the break room like she was gonna stab someone. Thankfully, she hasn’t taken her anger out on us but the vibes are bad.”

Marcus had guessed as much. She’d been nothing but professional towards him on the phone, but he could hear the stress in every word she’d spoken when she’d requested he come in to fill out his leave form by hand.

Before he could comment on it, Ash ambled past, halfway through tugging on his janitorial coveralls. Pausing as he overheard the tail end of David’s comment, he added, “You think that’s bad? You should hear how some of the guards have started talking. Sounds like they’re getting ideas from Krauser about how things should work around here.”

David cringed, hands tugging his cardigan sleeve over his fingers as he said, “Oh yeah. It’s cause nothing’s been done about him. No punishments, no reprimand, not even a slap on the wrist. I think, like, the only thing that was done to him that was negative was when, uh, my dad yelled at him.”

Head whipping around to stare at him, Ash asked, “Your dad yelled at someone? Bullshit! Yo, Red! You were there! Did Emory really yell at Krauser?”

Letting out a long ‘uuh’, he finally said, “I got hit in the head really hard and was unconscious for… everything. So I can’t say. But, hey, you and Ace are pretty close, right?”

Shrugging, Ash offered, “We’re poker buddies. And I sell him weed. Why?”

“Good to know… but not what I was going to ask,” Marcus said slowly. “Ah, right. Do you know the whole Ace and PeePaw story?”

Bursting out laughing, the janitor answered, “Sorry, kids, that is all Ace. Don’t worry though, he loves telling that story. You should ask him about it next time you see him.”

“But I hardly ever see him!” Marcus called, forlorn as he watched Ash, and the answers to his question, walk away with a cheery wave.

“We may never know what really happened…” David lamented sadly. “Well, good luck with your paperwork! Text me when you’re done!”

Promising he would, the ginger headed past the nurse’s station towards Jack’s office. Tuning out the chatter and sounds around him, he made it to her office door and was about to knock when a cold voice directly behind him addressed him by his full name.

“Marcus Aurelius Taylor.”

“OOH?!” he shrieked, nearly leaping into the office door. Whipping around, he nearly shouted again when he found Asa looming only a few inches back. Waving a bit too quickly with his uninjured hand, he blurted out, “Hello?! Hi! What?! Who?!”

Asa rarely frowned, but the one he gave Marcus caused enough trauma to last him a lifetime. A sigh hissed between his teeth before he asked, “Do you not know your own last name, or are you deaf?”

“What?” Marcus answered, completely bewildered by the question. “Neither? Taylor? My last name? Why?”

Adding ‘disgust’ to the look of emotions he was capable of showing, Asa pointed out, “I called your name three times... Come with me. Wesker wants to speak with you.”

“Ah, I- I have a meeting with–” Withering under the look he got, Marcus swallowed nervously. “Right, yeah, sure. I can- I can reschedule this… I guess…”

Turning, Asa strode up the hall, not bothering to check if the orderly was following. He was, but at a safe distance…

Reaching Wesker’s office without any more jump scares, Marcus knocked on the door. Called inside, he shut the door behind him before approaching the CEO’s heavy wooden desk. Taking a seat in the chair provided, he said, “I was told you wanted to see me. If this is about my medical paperwork being kicked back, I was actually just about to try and get it fixed. I think it was just an error with the system and–”

Looking entirely uninterested in the conversation even though he was the one who’d requested it, Wesker explained rather bluntly, “I was the one who kicked it back so I decided it was best if I was the one to explain why. Besides, Jack is busy with her own little… crusade right now.”

“I… don’t understand,” Marcus said slowly. “Did I fill it out wrong?”

“No, you filled all your paperwork out correctly,” Wesker informed him. “But you won’t be getting medical leave. The dislocation of your shoulder was considered minor, as was the concussion you received, and…”

Looking over the paperwork on his desk, he concluded, “...the cast for your broken wrist is set to come off in approximately four weeks. Since you are considered ‘at fault’ for the injuries you received, we’re not obligated to give you medical leave based pay. Therefore, you must show up for work if you want to get paid. If you have vacation time saved up you’d like to put towards this, you may fill out a new request form and turn it in to your department head whenever you see fit, although it may be kicked back if there isn’t enough availability to cover your absence, given the short notice.”

Starting and stopping several times as multiple questions and responses all tried to come out at once, Marcus finally shook his head. “I’m sorry? What do you mean, ‘I’m at fault’, for my injuries? Krauser is the one who started the fight, and the one who threw me into a wall!”

“Lieutenant Krauser was handling violent, unruly inmates. You shouldn’t have tried to intervene. I’m sure that’s a part of your training, but if you need a refresher course, I can notify your department head,” Wesker answered, sounding annoyed by the argument. “His actions may have been mildly excessive, but unfortunately once the inmates start to believe they can walk all over a staff member, they become that much more dangerous. You should know that by now…”

A chill ran down Marcus’s spine at the implication. Was he referring to him and Danny? Unsure what else to say but not really wanting to roll over and just accept that nothing was going to come of all the reports and statements they’d given, he finally mumbled, “I only have like… two vacation days built up so far.”

“Truely a pity,” the CEO stated unsympathetically. “To make the process a bit easier since you are in a cast, you’ll be moving to the night shift temporarily.”

“What?” Marcus asked, incredibly unhappy with what he’d just heard. “When?”

“Tonight,” Wesker answered. “You have spare clothes in your locker, right?”

Glancing down at his clearly casual wear hoodie and jeans, he answered hesitantly, “Yes?”

“Good. You’re going to have to work a double. Go change, clock in, and see where you’ve been assigned for the morning shift.”

“A double?” Marcus repeated, earning a sharp look from the CEO. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound like he wasn’t on the verge of attempting to beat the man to death with his desk lamp as he laid out his thoughts. “That’s… kind of a lot to spring on me with no time to actually prepare myself. Especially since my wrist is broken–”

“Plenty of staff have managed to work with broken bones. Even your little friend, Emory,” Wesker stated, unmoved. “Don’t worry, you’ll be paid for the overtime, and you earn a dollar more an hour on nights, even if it is temporary.”

“I’m not worried about the money right now!” Marcus sputtered. “I’m still on really strong painkillers and honestly don’t think I should be working around the patients until I can just use ibuprofen!”

“As I’ve already stated, I’m assigning you to nights to make it easier on you,” Wesker reiterated as though he were doing the ginger a huge favor at his own expense. “Given the circumstances, this is the best outcome for everyone.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he muttered, before asking, “Shouldn’t the final decision be made by Jack? She’s my department head and–”

Slamming the file closed with a lot more force than was necessary, Wesker left his hand flat on the desk as he stood. Eyes blazing as he stared down at the orderly still seated across from him, he made sure to end the conversation in no uncertain terms.

“I am her boss and yours. I’ve done my best to accommodate you based on the circumstances that led to this unfortunate situation, but if you’re that incensed over not getting a few extra days off, I can suspend you without pay, pending further investigation into the part you played in the riot, and in the altercation during dinner four days ago.”

That shut Marcus up, and he nodded. “Right… Of course. Um, sorry. I guess I’ll be getting to it then…”

“See that you do,” Wesker ordered, retaking his seat as the orderly stood. “Close the door on your way out.”

Nodding, he shuffled out of the office, almost forgetting to pull the door closed behind him even though he’d just been told to do so. He felt like he wasn’t entirely in his body as he walked on auto-pilot.

As he navigated the halls, barely noticing the odd looks he was getting from everyone he passed, he silently rehashed the conversation he’d just had with Wesker. No medical leave because his injuries were his fault? Not a single concern over the fact that he was going to be on strong prescription pain killers for the next two weeks? And what the hell was with the double?! He wouldn’t even get to go back to his dorm between shifts! He might have just enough time to shower between his morning and night shift, but that was it!

Pausing in the middle of the kitchen, Marcus glanced around. It looked like David had already come in and grabbed the breakfast cart. The fact that it was still gone must mean he was handing out trays already. Shuffling onwards, he didn’t hear Steve calling for him before the kitchen door swung shut behind him.

Moving deeper into the asylum, he finally made it to the first floor cell block. Not bothering to greet either of the guards standing inside the hallway -he was pretty sure they were Krauser’s men so they could get fucked for all he cared- Marcus found David just as he was handing Freddy his tray of food.

Glancing over at the movement, the Nightmare did a double take. Unfortunately it also meant he didn’t quite grab his tray, and when David let go, it hit the floor with a crash. Looking down at the now mixed together oatmeal and ‘biscuits with gravy’, the patient sighed, “First time in years I’ve seen a man in street clothes and it’s not even someone I want to–”

“NO,” Amanda shouted, drowning out the rest of what he was saying. It was probably a good thing though, judging from the cringe on David’s face.

“Why couldn’t you at least be wearing gray sweatpants?” Freddy demanded, stooping to pick up his tray. Giving it a disgusted look, he glanced at David before adding coldly, “Do you see this? Do you see what you did? This is why god hates you.”

Unfortunately for him, the orderly had stopped paying him any mind as soon as he turned and saw his friend. “Marcus! What are you wearing?!”

“Huh?” he questioned. Looking down, he realized with a start that he was still in his jeans and hoodie. “Oh my god! Fuck! Shit! I could get fired!”

Turning to make a break for the door so he could run to the locker room and change, he was stopped by two sets of fingers wiggling through the slot in the door between Amanda and Danny’s cells. A voice quickly followed, yelling, “Hey! Get down here!”

Frowning, Marcus looked at Ghostface’s cell before pointing at the waggling fingers.

“Oh, um, his cell is uninhabitable,” David informed the ginger.

Eyes widening, he hurried closer despite his friends' weak attempts at protest. He could change later, dammit! Tugging his badge out of his pocket, he opened the previously unoccupied cell to find himself face to face with none other than Danny.

Before he could ask why his old cell was now ‘uninhabitable’, Ghostface was stepping out into the hall and right into his personal space. Head snapping up suddenly, he pointed a finger at one of the guards. “Touch that, and I’ll break out of this cell just to slit your fucking throat with a pair of dull fingernail clippers.”

Marcus quickly looked over, eyebrows rising when he spotted the man’s hand hovering over the alarm button. Oh! So they’d call in the calvary for a second patient being out of their cell during meal time, but when it came to four patients almost getting killed it was radio silence? Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder the patients kept killing staff…

Only once the guard hesitantly lowered his hand did the pair look at one another again. That time, it was Marcus that spoke first. “Why did they move you over a cell?”

“I destroyed the toilet, and no, it wasn’t because of the food,” he answered. “Let me preface my next question by saying, I’m so very incredibly happy to see you so soon. But why are you here, Doc?”

Utterly flabbergasted, the orderly rushed out, “My medical paperwork was declined! I’m working a double, then moving to nights until my arm heals. Why’d you destroy the toilet?!”

“Leon wasn’t paying attention to me,” Danny explained, crossing his arms. “What do you mean… All that stuff you just said. It’s a lot and I’m not repeating it all. We don’t have time.”

“Your medical leave was declined?!” David butted in, practically shoving Ghostface out of the way so that he could talk to the ginger. “I thought it was just pushed back?! What do you mean it got declined?! There’s no way in hell that Miss Jack would decline anyone’s medical leave!”

“Jack didn’t decline it, Wesker did!” Marcus explained, not missing either the look of shock on his friends face or the expression of murderous rage on Danny’s. It was unclear if Ghostface was more angry about David butting into the conversation, or finding out what Wesker had done…

Voice icy, Danny hissed, “Why am I not surprised…”

It took David a bit to find his words, absolutely flabbergasted at what his friend just admitted. “But- But why?! You’re literally wearing a cast! It’s like kicking the top off a fire ant hill and sitting on it! It’s not safe to be here!”

“As much as I hate to agree with a failed abortion, he’s right, Doc,” Ghostface pointed out. “This place isn’t exactly safe at the best of times, and right now, you may as well be wearing a sign on your back asking to get your ass kicked.”

“Be nice to David,” Marcus said first. “I know, but… When I tried to complain, Wesker said–”

“Marcus?!”

Jumping, he looked over to see Leon stepping into the hall. Shit…

“Marcus, what are you doing here?” the Captain asked, before ordering tiredly, “Ghostface, get back in your cell. You already have your food.”

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, you pathetic little–”

“Danny, please,” Marcus murmured, turning back to him. “I’ll swing by as soon as I can. When I have time to talk.”

With a dramatic sigh, Ghostface took a step back. He wasn’t technically in his cell, he was just in the doorway, but it seemed like Leon didn’t have the energy to argue, giving him time to actually bid both orderlies farewell.

“Doc, I look forward to seeing you again… Emory… I look forward to the day I never have to see you again.”

With that, he stepped back into his cell, allowing the door to slide closed between them. As soon as he was secured, Leon repeated, “Marcus, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on medical leave, aren’t you?”

“Ahh, about that…” he mumbled. “I don’t get any…”

“You’re joking,” the Captain argued. “Jack would never–”

“It wasn’t Jack,” Marcus corrected again. Realizing he could technically tell all three of them at the same time, he made sure to speak loudly and clearly enough that Danny could hear. It meant everyone else on the floor could hear it too, but information like that spread like wildfire anyway, so there wasn’t a point in trying to hide it.

“My injuries were deemed to be ‘my fault’ by the CEO, so I don’t get any medical leave. Krauser was ‘dealing with violent patients’ and I ‘shouldn’t have gotten involved’.”

The look on Leon’s face kept switching from shock to rage to something close to resignation. Finally, he ran a hand over his face, offering, “I’ll try and talk to him–”

“No!” Marcus shouted, unable to keep from sounding slightly panicked. Blushing slightly when David and Leon both looked at him with raised eyebrows, he awkwardly explained, “It- it’s just… When I pressed the issue, he said that if I’m not happy about it I can take a suspension instead, pending a deeper investigation into the… the riot… and my part in it…”

“You mean the part where you stopped Krauser from literally killing the patients?” David asked sceptically. “That part?”

“No, the riot,” Marcus reiterated. “Downstairs… That riot.”

He could almost see the gears turning in David’s head, smoke practically pouring out of his ears before the lightbulb finally turned on. “Oh!... Ooh…”

Looking back and forth between them a couple of times, Leon finally asked, “Marcus… What exactly happened during the riot that you don’t want Wesker to know about?-”

“Nothing!” David immediately interjected. “Nothing at all! Anyways, what’s with the economic state of our country and the health insurance that a business can deem a workplace injury ‘not their fault’? The point of the insurance is that the company is liable for any injuries that happen on sight! That’s why when someone dies at work, the company compensates the family or whoever they put down as next of kin on their paperwork! Personally, I don’t have a next of kin and I don’t remember signing any papers, I just put on a uniform and started working, but enough about me! Someone should do something about that pretentious asshole! Who even wears sunglasses indoors anyways? Only assholes! Someone should shoot him like that CEO down in New York! What was his name, Mario or something? We should hire him!-”

“David!” Leon finally half shouted. “You can’t be talking about that kind of stuff in front of the patients! No outside information!”

“I actually want to hear more about that last thing!” Amanda yelled from inside her cell.

Shaking his head, the Captain took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts before finally saying, “Marcus, please come with me. If you’re on shift, you need to be in uniform–”

“Am I getting fired?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

“No… You need to change clothes… I’m going to escort you to the locker room to make sure no one else distracts you,” Leon explained with the patience of a Saint. “David, if you’re done giving the patients their breakfast… please go do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing. Marcus will catch up with you as soon as he can.”

“I will?” he asked, shuffling after the Captain. Receiving a concerned look in return, it took him a moment to work through the painkiller induced fog in his brain to remember… He and David were almost always paired up on shifts. It had been like that since day one and both of them were more than happy to continue as long as Jack could schedule them like that.

Once they were ‘alone’ in the halls on their way to the locker room, Leon asked again, “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Wesker? I’m sure whatever happened during the riot–”

“I had sex with a patient,” Marcus blurted out. “During the riot. That’s where I was. In a closet. Having sex with someone…”

Slowly coming to a stop, Leon turned and stared at him with an unreadable expression. Finally, he asked, “Ghostface?”

“Yes,” the ginger mumbled, staring at his feet. “Am I going to get fired?”

“Of course not,” he promised. “But that’s the kind of information I need you to share with me sooner rather than– Hold on, is that what that weird phone call was about the night after the riot?”

“Yeah… We were trying to keep King from telling you…” Marcus admitted, able to feel the Captain’s eyes drilling into his skull.

“So… Emory– David knows, and all of your roommates know… Who else knows about you and Ghostface?”

“The Legion, Dwight, Feng, and possibly Bill, but I’m not really sure. Also the rest of the floor one patients, because we hooked up in his cell–”

“Marcus!”

“I just wanted to talk to him! I didn’t think we’d– That wasn’t intentional! It just kind of happened!”

“What, did you trip and fall into him?!”

“Oh, no, he topped both times–”

“Stop!” Leon ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t… need or want details. Jesus Christ- look, Wesker wouldn’t fire you for that. Then he’d have to fire Dwight and Eli too, and he’s not going to risk losing Eli. He’s the only one who can control Michael. The big one.”

Marcus almost told him that Eli himself had once said Michael only listened when it suited him, but he decided against it. The poor guy had enough on his plate as it was. Instead, he offered, “It’s fine. I get the feeling that Wesker really doesn’t like me, and with as much as he takes it out on you when you ask for favors, I’d rather just work my night shifts and be done with it. Besides, I’ll earn a whole dollar more an hour.”

Making a face as they began walking again, Leon waited until they were in an empty section of hall to say, “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s not you that he doesn’t like. It’s actually Jack…”

“What? Why?” he questioned. Jack was a fantastic boss and an incredibly dedicated worker! What wasn’t to like?!

“Because she corrects him when he’s wrong and she doesn’t take his bullshit, which includes standing up for her subordinates,” Leon stated matter of factly. “I asked him once why he didn’t just offer her an early retirement package if he hates having her around so much. You know what he told me? He absolutely couldn’t afford to lose her because she’s the best nurse and department head the asylum has ever had. She files all the paperwork herself and then some. She knows the inner workings of the asylum well enough that she can make executive orders in his place whenever he doesn’t feel like doing it. In fact, she’s lasted longer than any other head nurse as well, which is really saying something.”

If Marcus hadn’t been so brain fogged, he would have picked up on the admiration seeping into every word as Leon praised the orderly’s supervisor. Instead, he simply nodded along, getting the bigger picture without seeing the smaller pieces of the puzzle.

The oxycodone he’d taken right before hopping on the bus was starting to kick in, adding to the lingering effects of the one he’d taken before bed. By the time Leon got him to the locker room, he was nearly running into walls and doors. Thankfully, the guard stayed with him as he got changed, helping him pull his hoodie off over his cast, and keeping him from falling over when he changed out of his jeans and into his scrub bottoms.

As the ginger was slowly tying his shoes, Leon’s radio started to squawk at him. Rolling his eyes as he listened, he told Marcus, “Give me one second. I’m going to step out to answer this, but I’ll be right back so I can take you to David. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Marcus answered, barely registering what he’d just been told. He was staring at his shoes, trying to figure out how he’d tied his finger into the laces and too high to focus on more than one thing at a time.

Just as he was getting himself unstuck, someone walked in and opened the locker directly in front of the bench he was sitting on. Glancing up as the movement registered in the corner of his eye, he did a double take before squinting angrily.

“You…”

“Me?” the man asked, turning to face him.

“You’re not real,” Marcus hissed, fingers twitching as though imagining strangling the man before him. “You’re just a drug induced hallucination.”

“No I’m not. I’m Jeff. I drive the bus. Beep beep.”

Unsure what else to say and too high to physically attack Not-Nic-Cage, Marcus lied, “I hated National Treasure.”

“Never heard of it,” Not-Jeff said, shrugging. “See you after work, Marcus!”

“How do you know my name?!” he demanded, but the fake bus driver was already sauntering away. Leon came back in a moment later, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Marcus? Who are you talking to?”

“Not Jeff,” he answered, scowling as he stood. That was the best explanation he could come up with for the time being, and Leon let the subject drop.

Escorting the orderly back to David, he left them to the schedule Jack had made for them. She’d had to make some last minute adjustments, but she’d put them both on light duty for the day. It was still a lot for someone who was both in a cast and high on painkillers, but Marcus tried his hardest.

David had to keep waking him out of walking dozes before he could bump into walls or fall down a flight of stairs in one instance. By the time their lunch breaks finally rolled around, Marcus was ready to curl up in a broom closet and sleep for the rest of his double shift.

Stumbling into the employee break room, David guided Marcus to a table in one corner. It was nice and quiet, and it allowed them a small amount of privacy in the otherwise common area. Leon was already there, eating a sandwich as he poured over paperwork at his own table across the room.

Marcus didn’t have much of an appetite thanks to the oxy he was taking, but he still managed a tired smile when David pressed a mug of hot cocoa into his hands. As he sipped on it, Dwight came in for his own lunch, but made a beeline for their table as soon as he saw them.

“Hey, Marcus! I’ve been looking for you!” he greeted as soon as he sat down. “I heard about the double and just wanted to let you know, Quentin will be here tonight and has offered to help you out.”

“Oh, thanks,” he murmured, trying not to fall asleep and drown in his cocoa.

David quickly grabbed Marcus by the shoulder, gently tipping him backwards instead so he was flat against the back of his chair. “I still think this whole thing is bullshit. Look at him! He shouldn’t be here and everyone knows it!”

Indeed, a good majority of the staff on shift had given Marcus pitying looks. His fellow orderlies helped pick up his slack and the other nurses were easy on him when he made simple mistakes that he usually wouldn’t make if he was sober. They all knew that he was a good worker so no one was too hard on him.

“It is, but there’s not much we can do about it,” Dwight agreed sympathetically. Then, under his breath, he added, “Unless I can get to Wesker’s coffee when he’s not looking…”

“Speaking of putting things in people’s coffee–” David started to ask, only to snap his mouth shut as the break room door swung open. He wasn’t the only one to suddenly stop talking, and an uncomfortable hush fell over the room as Krauser stalked inside.

Even without looking, it seemed like Leon knew exactly why the room had gone silent. Shoulders tense, he sat stiffly in his chair as heavy boot steps closed in on his table. Everyone in the room was watching, some more surreptitiously than others, but all with the same morbid curiosity…

“There you are, Rookie,” Krauser greeted, using one foot to shove the empty chair out from under his side of the table. Instead of taking a seat and putting them at a more even eye level, he remained standing so as to tower over the younger man. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to avoid me.”

“That wouldn’t be very professional,” Leon answered quietly. With as quiet as it was, his voice still carried through the room enough for everyone to hear his answer. “I’m just having lunch.”

“Looks like a shit lunch if you’re doing paperwork too,” Krauser scoffed. “Next time, eat with me. None of this… sad looking sandwich and grunt work.”

It was obvious to everyone that it wasn’t a request, and a couple of the other guards that had been in the room exchanged a look before once again focusing on the Lieutenant with something dangerously close to admiration…

“I have a lot of paperwork to catch up on after your altercation with the Legion,” Leon dismissed uncomfortably. “I’m lucky I even made it to the lunchroom today. It’s not that big a deal if I don’t get a break today.”

“If luck is what you’re after, why don’t you put that mess down and come with me. There’s plenty of places for us to blow off some steam,” Krauser proposed, slowly leaning down to put his hands flat on the table.

Starting to look incredibly worried, Leon once again shot him down, mumbling, “I don’t need to blow off steam at work…”

“Oh, so after work then. My room’s right next to yours, so you won’t need a cab to get back… It’ll be just like old times, huh, Pretty Boy?”

The look of sheer panic on Leon’s face as he glanced around the room was jarring. It was only made worse when almost everyone made it a point to suddenly be looking at something else…

When he met Marcus’s eyes, the ginger stood up before he could think twice. He had no idea what the fuck he was going to do, but he wasn’t just going to sit there and watch his fellow staff member and friend get harassed.

Turning at the sound of the orderly’s chair scraping, Krauser pinned him with a predatory stare. Despite the number of people in the room, he boldly threatened, “Sit back down before I break your other arm.”

Marcus felt someone grab his good arm, but he ignored it, still refusing to back down.

Before the situation could escalate further, the break room door swung open and Jack’s voice called out in a clear, stern tone, “Lieutenant Krauser. We need to talk.”

Breaking eye contact with the ginger, he slowly turned to look her up and down. Arching an eyebrow, he had the audacity to huff, “I’m busy. Don’t you have more pills to shove down inmates' throats or something?”

One of Jack’s eyes twitched, her tone turning icy as she reiterated, “Busy for the past three days? I highly doubt it.”

“Maybe you should get better glasses,” Krauser dismissed. “See yourself out, I’m busy.”

Leon looked frozen, still seated on the other side of the table with his sandwich and paperwork abandoned in front of him. The rest of the staff still in the room were watching them with awe and horror, those who had stepped out when Krauser arrived now peering around the door frame.

Taking a deep breath, Jack let it out slowly before saying, “That’s not how things work around here, Lieutenant. I’ve requested that you come to my office so that we could discuss the previous incident in private. I’m asking one last time that you either accompany me there now, or set up a time that we can speak.”

“The last time I checked, I don’t answer to you,” he explained sardonically. “Now, I’m going to request one last time that you fuck off back to your ivory tower and let me do my job.”

The steel in Jack’s voice made more than one person shiver as she stated, “If that’s how you wish to proceed, so be it. Your behavior since arriving at Crotus Prenn has been nothing but unprofessional, antagonistic, and utterly lacking in discipline. I cannot fathom how you ever achieved the rank of Major, but I can assure you, that whatever authority that once granted you means nothing here. You have not only endangered the lives and wellbeing of the patients we are supposed to be caring for, but you’ve caused serious physical injury to a staff member.”

As she spoke, Krauser slowly turned until he was bodily facing her. His expression only became more irritated with every word until he looked downright murderous. When he started towards her, Leon went white but he still didn’t move. No one did. Not even Jack, other than to look up at the Lieutenant when he stopped in front of her.

Standing just over a foot taller than the head nurse, Krauser glared down at her the same way he’d done to Frank just before slamming him into a wall. “And? I did my job. I’ll keep doing my job as I see fit. So? What are you going to do about it, bitch?”

A couple of people actually gasped, but no one dared take their eyes off the spectacle. It was like watching a bomb counting down. No one other than a few of the patients had ever spoken to Jack like that, and in the short time he’d been there, no one had dared to stand up to Krauser…

Without so much as blinking, the nurse informed him, “Wesker has granted me permission to reprimand and punish you as I see fit, since it was one of my direct subordinates that was injured. Consider yourself lucky you’re not being fired with charges against you for assault.”

Lip curling, Krauser was about to say something when she held up a hand, cutting him off before he could start.

“You’re being suspended for two weeks without pay. When you come back, you will have to complete a mandatory eighty hours of de-escalation and safety training. Only once you pass all the courses assigned will you be allowed to return to your floor duties. Although you won’t be getting demoted, you will be losing the power to assign shifts, guard rotations, and floor assignments. During that time you will be paid at an entry level wage,” Jack explained. “If your behavior fails to improve, both Asa and I have recommended you be demoted or fired, depending on the severity of any further infractions.”

Reaching out to grab the front of her scrubs, Krauser started to snarl, “Listen here you fucking whore–”

Whatever he was going to do or say would forever remain a mystery. Including the ten years she’d been at Crotus Prenn, Jack had been working in psych wards and dangerous institutions all her life and was far too familiar with being attacked or grabbed at by much larger, stronger people.

Grabbing Krauser’s wrist, she turned as she stepped to the side, using his own weight and momentum against him to throw him over her shoulder. He hit the floor hard enough to rattle a couple of nearby tables, but Jack wasn’t done. Pulling a taser off her belt, she shot him in the side of the neck when he tried to roll over and grab her legs.

His size and strength did nothing against fifty-thousand volts of electricity coursing through his body, and he let out a pained sound as every muscle in his body locked up for several seconds before falling completely limp.

Expression impassive, Jack stared at him for a moment before bending down and pulling the prongs out of his neck. Wrapping the spent wires up, she then pulled out her radio and calmly requested, “Can we get medical and a stretcher to the breakroom for a non-critical incident?”

The request was confirmed a moment later, and she clipped her radio back into place on her belt before stepping over the barely conscious guard. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office filling out the paperwork for this latest incident.”

No one said a word or tried to stop her as she walked out of the room. In fact, no one really seemed to know what to do until a couple of minutes later when the two nurses showed up with a stretcher. Eli was one of them, and when he realized who was on the floor, he had to step out of the room for a second. It didn’t do anything to cover the sound of his nearly hysterical laughter.

By the time he’d recovered enough to come back into the room, Krauser was already sitting up. He was slightly groggy from both hitting the ground and being tasered in the neck, but that didn’t stop him from snapping at both of the medical staff when they tried to take his vitals.

Finally managing to pull his eyes away from the scene, Marcus looked over to Leon again. He was still sitting at his table, but his look of frozen fear had been replaced by one of guilt. Even high, the ginger knew it wasn’t over what had happened to his Lieutenant…

It took almost another ten minutes, but Eli and his fellow nurse finally managed to get Krauser to go with them to medical, although he refused the stretcher. It was obvious to everyone he was pissed, and no one said a word until he was well out of earshot.

It was a cook Marcus didn’t know who finally broke the silence, asking incredulously, “Did that really just happen?!”

“God, I hope Feng got all that on camera,” Dwight whispered, sounding almost giddy.

Marcus nodded slowly, already excited to tell Danny all about it as soon as he could steal a few minutes to go visit him in his cell.
~~~~

Chapter 37: Midnight Woes

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus has an entirely average night at work....

 

CW: TW: This chapter contains a scene involving mentions of past child abuse, sexual assault, and victim blaming.

“-And then she tasered him right in the neck,” Marcus recounted, a giant smile on his face. “God, I wish you could have been there to see it. He was writhing on the ground like a worm! It was incredible!”

“When Feng eventually sends out the video, and believe me, she will,” Danny chuckled, “You’ve got to show me. That sounds like a beautiful sight.”

“It was absolutely amazing,” he agreed, before offering, “A couple of people did record some of it on their phones. It’s not the greatest quality and it only starts about halfway through them talking, but you can still see him get thrown on his ass pretty clearly.”

Watching him with a half lidded gaze, Danny considered it for a moment before declining. “Ahh, I’d rather wait for the good footage from the security cameras, Doc. But I appreciate the offer. You know, we could make a video of our own right here in my cell.”

It was the short gap between Marcus’s morning and night shift, and he was spending it in Danny’s cell. The day shift was already gone for the night and the patients were all supposed to be in bed. The only reason they could actually sit on Ghostface’s bed and talk so easily was because the lights in his cell really didn’t ever go out. They were dimmed for the night, but that was it.

Blinking slowly, Marcus looked up at the camera in the corner of the room. “Uuuh… I don’t think I’d survive asking Feng for that footage…”

“Hmm, perhaps,” Danny mused, before pointing out, “I actually meant with your phone, but if you want it in four-K HD, I won’t complain.”

Trying not to giggle like a school boy, the orderly shook his head. “Danny, you know I can’t have that on my personal phone. I’d like to… But if anyone sees it, I’ll probably end up in a jail cell.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Ghostface murmured, reaching out to grab his uninjured wrist. Pulling him closer, he asked, “You’re starting to get high again, aren’t you, Doc?”

Nodding tiredly, Marcus admitted, “Yeah, a little… I had to stop by the pharmacy and grab a pain pill and it’s finally starting to kick in. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this stupid night shift.”

“Ditch,” he proposed, like they were in school and not in an asylum. “Spend it right here with me, in my bed.”

“In bed?” the orderly repeated, a bit slow to catch on to what Danny was actually implying.

“Well, I’d rather not do this on the floor,” Ghostface purred, fingers curling in Marcus’s top. Before the ginger could catch up, he found himself being pushed onto his back on the thin mattress. Legs straddled his waist when he tried to sit up, and when he raised his head a hand closed around his neck. It wasn’t tight, but it still startled him into freezing in place for a moment.

Swallowing nervously, he stammered, “H-hey, um, is- is now really the best time? For- for this?”

“Mmm, don’t worry, baby boy,” Danny murmured, giving his neck a gentle squeeze. Eyes glittering when the ginger's breathing hitched, he reminded, “Unless we make a whole hell of a lot of noise, no one should be coming to my cell until it’s time for breakfast. We’ve got all night, Doc.”

“What about sleep?” Marcus questioned, still frozen in place.

Ghostface must have taken his reaction as an invitation, and a predatory grin twisted his lips as he cooed, “Oh, I have to say, I like the idea of you all sleepy and helpless in my bed. I bet I can give you some sweet dreams, Doc. What do you say?”

“Ah,” was all Marcus could get out, robbed of his ability to speak by a cold terror creeping up his spine.

A hand stretched out to caress the side of his face, cool fingers brushing his skin as Ghostface murmured, “Just relax. It’ll be fun–”

Choking on a gasp, Marcus grabbed at the other man’s shirt with both hands, no longer really seeing Danny. For a split second, he wasn’t in the asylum anymore. He was back in that bedroom, half asleep and scared as a soft voice told him to relax. He’d enjoy it if he just relaxed.

“S- stop…” he whispered, jerking his face away from the fingers brushing his skin.

“Hm? Doc? What–”

“Stop!” Marcus shouted, shoving at the person on top of him as hard as he could. Weight disappeared from his body immediately, but an arm caught him around the waist when he tried to roll off the bed.

“Doc? Marcus!” Danny’s voice insisted. He wasn’t loud, but his tone was firm and clear enough to snap the ginger out of the panic fueled haze that had started to set in. “Hey, Doc, you’re okay. What’s wrong? Did I hurt your arm?”

Blinking rapidly, Marcus started to answer but choked on the words. Closing his mouth, he looked down at his feet, just trying to breathe evenly and not choke up. A hand rubbed soothingly down his spine, and he shivered slightly.

Head tilting slightly, Ghostface no longer looked amused in the slightest as he asked, “Doc? Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I- I just- I don’t like… doing stuff when I- When I’m not…”

“Hey, there’s no need to apologize for that,” Danny promised softly. “You don’t have to try and force yourself to do something you don’t want. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were trying to tell me no… I’m not going to do anything physical unless you’re on board, Doc.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marcus mumbled, ears burning. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since I’ve been high and I didn’t think about… what me coming to your cell might mean.”

Although he didn’t see it, Danny frowned as he asked, “What does coming to my cell mean to you, Doc?”

Running a hand through his hair, the ginger offered a half shrug, face burning even redder. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought about it until that moment, but now that he was, it seemed stupid of him…

“Well… I guess… The last two times we were actually alone, we hooked up,” he finally said. “I guess… I started to see this as something more than just sex. I’m sorry. I know it’s not–”

“Yes it is,” Danny nearly snarled, and Marcus jumped. Clearing his throat, he said more evenly, “Doc, this has never been about ‘just sex’ for me. The sex is a bonus, yes, but I’m not in this for ass. I like you. I want to know everything about you. If I had access to a computer and a credit card, I’d already have all your personal information. But I’d still want to know you. And that’s not something I can acquire from the dark web. So. Here we are.”

“Oh…” Marcus said quietly. The idea that Ghostface could get all his personal information that easily was slightly terrifying… But all he said was, “I’d… like to know everything about you too.”

Smiling brightly, Danny promised, “You will, in time. But first, will you please answer a question for me?”

Still slightly shaky from the previous mishap and tired from a long day of working while on incredibly strong painkillers, Marcus nodded. “Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?”

“Doc, I’m going to try and ask… gently. Because I know how bad rehashing old trauma’s can be…” he said quietly. “What happened?”

“I’m just high,” Marcus whispered, hands curling in the hem of his shirt in a very David-like fashion. Warm fingers closed over his, and he let out a shuddering breath. Danny wanted to know everything about him… But it wasn’t like he was lying about anything if he just didn’t talk about it. Besides, it wasn’t like the man even really knew anything had happened! He was just guessing!

“I take people watching to an Olympic level, Doc, and I know that wasn’t just you getting scared because you’re high,” Danny murmured. “If you don’t want to talk about it because it’s still too raw and too painful, I’ll drop it… But if you’re scared to tell me because you’re afraid I’ll judge you for it–”

Pulling his arms a little closer to his body was a loud answer, and Ghostface paused, giving him time to get his thoughts together. It was difficult, to say the least, and Marcus spent more time trying to think of a way to avoid answering without lying. He could have just gotten up and left or said he didn’t want to talk about it, and under normal circumstances he would have… But things were different with Danny.

“Something… happened. When I was twelve. I don’t like to talk about it,” he finally admitted. A gentle squeeze around his waist went a surprisingly long way in calming his spiking nerves, and he pressed on. “I woke up and… It was– my babysitter, she– I told my parents after and… my dad didn’t believe me.”

“Oh, Marcus,” Ghostface soothed. “I’m sorry.”

The ginger barely heard him, but he found himself slumping into his side as he continued in a shaky voice, “I think my mom believed me, but she refused to stand up to my dad. She just told me I shouldn’t talk about it… I should keep it to myself. It wasn’t… it wasn’t until he tried to kick me out at fifteen that she finally had enough. She finally left him, and she took me with her. She put me into therapy and she went too to help her get through the divorce… But I think…”

“What do you think, baby? You can tell me,” Danny guided calmly.

“It’s just too late for me,” Marcus whispered. “I can never forgive him for what he said, or his actions, the way he treated me growing up or how he gaslit and manipulated my mom. I don’t hate my mom, but at the same time, I can’t forgive her either. For letting it all go on for so long. For constantly shutting me out when I tried to ask for help and for cowering to keep the peace… The whole reason he wanted to kick me out at fifteen, was because he had a heart attack… and blamed me for it… and the only thing I could think when I heard what had happened was, ‘Good. I wish it had killed him’.”

After a long silence, Ghostface said, “When I was nineteen, I killed my father.”

Shocked, Marcus raised his head to look him in the eyes. That was the first time he’d ever heard about the killer's family. The only time they’d ever been mentioned were the few times the news stated that Ghostface had no known relatives. Everyone just assumed they were in hiding for their own safety and to avoid the public eye. Some rumors claimed that they never existed at all, as the very notion of a serial killer having loving family and friends was unimaginable.

Expression completely relaxed, Danny continued as though discussing the weather and not patricide. “I didn’t hate my father. I didn’t love him, either. Honestly, I respected him to some extent. He taught me so much…”

The way he said it made it clear he wasn’t just talking about the things he passed on during the time he spent alive and raising his son…

“I don’t regret killing him, although I can’t say he ever did anything so heinous to me that he deserved to die,” Ghostface continued. “There were things I could have done better, but at the end of the day, killing him set me on the path I was always meant to walk.”

Staring into Danny’s dark gray eyes, Marcus said something he’d never been willing to put into words before. Without a hint of shame or embarrassment, he confessed, “Sometimes I wish I could do the things you do, Ghostface.”

Fingers gently caressed his face and he leaned into the touch as the killer smiled. “Ooh, baby boy… When I get out of here, I’ll gladly help you find the start of your path.”

Mouth twitching in the start of a smile, Marcus suddenly frowned. “When you get out? Danny, you’ve been here for almost four years… You were given twenty-four life sentences… How–”

He didn’t finish his question, the words catching in his throat as he took in the expression on Danny’s face. Eyes glittering and lips curved upwards, the smile on his face was one of a predator… A predator that was exactly where he wanted to be.

~

“Welcome… to my domain!”

Marcus blinked slowly, looking like Quentin usually did during the day. For his part, the janitor looked great. His eyes were bright and alert, his shoulders were a little straighter, even his hair wasn’t as messy as usual.

“Look upon my mighty kingdom, and despair,” he continued, dramatically waving a duster in the air. It sprinkled a line of thick gray dust as it went, and the ginger sneezed.

“Q, stop, you’re getting dust everywhere,” Marcus pleaded, rubbing his eyes. “How do you have so much energy?”

“How do you not?” he gasped, slapping the duster against his chest. He started choking immediately, and when the orderly tried to help, Quentin smacked at him with the duster to make him stop.

That was how Dwight found them five minutes later. Coughing and wheezing in a small cloud of dust. Watching without offering to help in any way for a couple more minutes, he finally called, “Hey! Marcus, Quentin!”

“Dwight!” Quentin greeted, blinking his watery red eyes. “At least I think that’s you! I can’t see very well!”

“It’s me,” he confirmed, before explaining, “Marcus, you technically don’t have to help him with any cleaning. But if you want to keep him company, you probably won’t have anything else to do tonight. If you want to hang out in Danny’s cell some more, just warn Feng and try not to spend too long in there, or the guards might start to poke around.”

Marcus had seriously considered going back to Danny’s cell the first chance he got, but he also didn’t want to risk falling asleep in there. He trusted the man not to do anything to him while he slept, but he couldn’t risk being caught by the wrong person. At best, he’d get fired. At worst, it would be Krauser and he’d murder both of them and try to pin it all on Ghostface.

“Wait, are you not moving to janitorial?” Quentin asked, turning to Marcus. “Why are you still here? Your shift is over. Go home. Sleep.”

“I’m on nights now,” he repeated. “I texted everyone! You responded!”

“If it was during ‘daylight’ hours, I was probably sleeping with my eyes open,” the janitor told him cheerfully. “Dwight, why are you still here?”

“I was spending some time with Evan after my shift, and waiting for Marcus,” he explained. “And because I knew you’d forget why he was going to be here tonight and I didn’t want you bullying him into helping you scrub toilets.”

“Ahhh, party pooper,” Quentin huffed. “Go, go. We got this. I’ll probably just put him in Jack’s office so he can sleep until he’s paged for something.”

“I don’t have a pager,” Marcus said, frowning.

“Exactly,” his roommate cackled, before waving him along.

Although he didn’t have to, Marcus helped Quentin with what he could. In return, the janitor told him stories about his time at the asylum. Most of them were funny in an attempt to keep the orderly awake, but a few had small lessons attached.

Finally, they got onto the subject of what things were different about the night shift as opposed to the day shift, aside from the general lack of things to do. First, and most importantly, patients were not allowed to make or receive requests at night. No water, no leaving their cells, no paper, nothing. The only exception was for medical emergencies, and those were to be left to the nursing staff to determine.

The kitchen was technically open, but nothing was being cooked, only prepared for the next day. That meant if he wanted anything to eat, he’d have to get it for himself or bring it with him and leave it in the break room.

“Just be careful though,” Quentin warned. “Even if you label your food, people tend to steal it anyway if it’s good enough. But also be careful if you steal anyone’s food. Some people get stuff shipped up from relatives in the states, and they are super protective over it. Honestly they probably just shouldn’t bring it to work, but you know how it is in the dorms. Everyone’s food gets stolen there too.”

Marcus nodded slowly, but in all reality the words weren’t really registering anymore. He was so tired, and the oxy wasn’t helping in the slightest. Danny’s previous invitation to simply blow off his first night shift and sleep in his cell until right before breakfast was looking more and more tempting…

After a bit more cleaning, Quentin took Marcus to Jack’s office for a break. Unlocking the door with one of his numerous keys, he assured the ginger, “Don’t worry, she knows I come in here to rest sometimes because it’s the only place no one will bother me. Just don’t touch anything. Even if you put it back exactly like you found it, she’ll know… She always knows…”

“Did you steal something from her office before?” Marcus asked slowly. That seemed incredibly unwise…

“No, of course not. But I did move her coffee mug half a centimeter to the right, and she asked about it the next day. It was uncanny,” he recalled.

There were actually a few things Marcus could do as far paperwork went, so after a short rest, he stayed behind while Quentin continued his usual cleaning route. The janitor promised he’d return in an hour or two, so the orderly could do paperwork or nap uninterrupted if need be.

It was a nice gesture, and one he didn’t take for granted. Hoping he could kill some time and maybe help take a bit of work off Jack’s plate as well, Marcus spent the first hour and a half knocking out a large stack of paperwork. He was careful not to touch anything that was either above his pay grade, or required the department head’s signature. Thankfully that only made up about twenty-five percent of the remaining work, so he was able to put a significant dent in the stuff she’d have to deal with when she came in the next morning.

There was a bit more he could probably do, but by that point he was too tired to read a single word, much less process an entire sentence or paragraph. Using his arms as a pillow, he rested his head on the desk, telling himself it would only be for a few minutes until Quentin came back…

Jolting awake what felt like seconds after closing his eyes, Marcus demanded, “What time is it?! Can I go home now?!”

“Woah, calm down, your shift’s not over yet,” Quentin eased. “Sorry, I lost track of time. I found a really cool beetle and started following it. Then I thought, ‘Woah! I bet David would like this!’ Not King, Emory. Cause of all the bug plushies in his room. So I picked it up, and then it stabbed me with its legs. I didn’t know we even had beetles like this in America, much less Alaska. Like, look at this thing!”

Before Marcus could fully process the story, his roommate was pulling a plastic canning jar out of his work clothes. Heavy duty plastic was used in place of glass in the kitchens for anything that it could be, so that wasn’t a shock to see. What was a shock, however, was the possibly exotic beetle he’d captured.

Large and shiny black with an almost metallic green hue, two long ‘antlers’ grew out of the top of its head, while another sprouted up from the tip of its face. Nearly the size of Quentin’s palm, it barely fit in the just big enough jar.

“It looks like a triceratops,” the janitor continued excitedly. “I’m going to name it Bob.”

“What?” Marcus repeated, still staring at the beetle. “Where the hell did you find that?”

“Just walking across the elevator floor,” he explained, carefully setting the jar on Jack’s desk. “Just think! I may have just discovered a new species! Think they’ll let me name it?”

“You already named it Bob,” Marcus pointed out.

“No, no, I mean, like, do you think I can name the species?” Quentin corrected. “I’m thinking… Smith’s Beetle.”

“Smith?” the ginger questioned groggily, pushing himself up from his seat at the desk. Shuffling past the janitor, he nearly walked right into his cleaning car, which he’d parked right outside the door.

Following him out the door, Quentin clarified, “My last name is Smith. Super common, I know. Hmmm, actually, that’s a good point… I could call it…”

“Mr. Beetjangles, the spikey legged beetle,” Marcus proposed.

Starting to agree rather enthusiastically, the janitor suddenly paused. Squinting at his roommate, he finally said, “Ha. Ha. Funny.”

The conversation about what to possibly name Quentin’s ‘new species’ went on for a while as they made their way to the second floor to clean the cafeteria. It wasn’t really all that dirty, but they still changed the trash bags, picked up a few forgotten pieces of trash, and swept before moving on again.

“Okay, so this is where it gets kind of… iffy,” Quentin told Marcus. They were standing outside the floor two cell block door, but the janitor had stopped for a moment to reiterate a few key warnings.

“They should all be sleeping right now. That doesn’t mean they are, but that’s not the issue. Some of them have incredibly good hearing, and even talking in a low voice too close to their doors will piss them off. Don’t knock on any doors and, for the love of god, if they ask you for anything, ignore them. They might not bother you too much since they know you’re not new to the floor or the asylum, but still. You never know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Marcus agreed, already forgetting more than half of it. The power nap he’d taken had been almost an hour long, but it hadn’t done a thing to make him feel less foggy and tired.

Still, he was quiet as Quentin led him down the steps to the bottom floor. Looking around, he pointed out a couple of areas that just needed swept up, before heading back up the stairs to grab a broom.

Too tired to ask why he hadn’t just brought one down with them to begin with, Marcus was about to follow him back up the steps, when a sound caught his attention. Glancing around, he was about to chalk it up to sleep deprivation when he heard someone actually call his name from somewhere on the same floor as him.

“Hey, kid… Marcus, right?” the voice called, surprisingly soft despite the deep tone.

Glancing around, the ginger cautiously approached the cell. Standing about a foot back even though he was pretty sure the patient inside was too big to fit an arm through the tray slot, he asked quietly, “Hello?”

There was a pause, then, “Can you bring me some gauze? I cut my fucking hand in the dark…”

“Ahhh, I can’t…. do that,” Marcus said haltingly. He was still trying to figure out who he was speaking to, but he was also having trouble justifying to himself why he shouldn’t give a patient gauze if they’d hurt themselves in the middle of the night.

“I know the rules, kid,” the voice huffed, almost sounding amused. “I’m only asking you because I know I can trust you.”

“You do?” he questioned. Oh god, he wasn’t talking to Brahms, was he? No, no, he was on the top level.

“You’re one of Dwight’s friends. If he likes you… I’m willing to give trusting you a shot. At least for this.”

Oh god, that was the Trapper!

Letting out a nervous laugh, Marcus slapped a hand over his mouth when someone banged on the inside of their cell door.

“I know protocol demands you send in a nurse, but it could be an hour or better before anyone gets down here…” the Trapper pointed out, voice still shockingly conversational. “It’s just gauze for my hand. I can’t see if it needs stitches or not in the dark, but at least a roll of gauze will tide me over until morning… and it’ll help mitigate the mess being made by all the blood…”

Admittedly, all of that made sense to Marcus, especially considering how poorly the patents were generally treated anyway. Nodding tiredly, he said in a low voice, “Yeah, give me a few minutes though. I have to go upstairs to get it.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the Trapper chuckled, and the room fell silent once again.

Deciding to hurry before he could get distracted and forget all about the small request, Marcus made his way back up the stairs, where he reunited with Quentin. Before the janitor could ask any questions, he quickly offered, “I’m going to go grab some water. The oxy gives me really bad dry mouth.”

“You’re good,” he agreed, nodding. “If you want, just meet me in the staff room after. It’s about time for one last break before we finish out the last few hours of our shift.”

Nodding Marcus trekked through the mostly empty halls to the pharmacy on the first floor. It was the only one that actually stayed open twenty-four-seven, so it would be the easiest place to grab a roll of gauze without raising suspicion.

Claudette and Laurie were long gone, their shifts having ended hours before, but an older, no-nonsense looking woman was behind the counter. Looking over her glasses at him, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“First time on overnights,” he answered, and she nodded in understanding.

“It gets easier,” she offered. “Just make sure you get some good blackout curtains for your room, and earplugs. Now, what did you need?”

“A roll of gauze,” he told her. “One of the janitors hurt his hand and asked me to grab it for him instead of bothering the nursing staff.”

That was a normal, and incredibly reasonable request that thankfully didn’t raise any suspicion. At least not from the pharmacist.

As she was turning to go grab the requested item, a familiar voice asked from behind Marcus, “Who got hurt this time?”

“Fuck me!” the ginger gasped, stumbling slightly as he spun around. “Leon? What are you doing here so late?”

“I’m actually here extremely early,” he answered, looking and sounding like he’d only gotten an hour or two of sleep himself. “I wanted to get a jump on a few things before the day got started… and check on you. How’s your night been so far?”

“Oooh, you know,” Marcus dismissed awkwardly. “It’s– it’s been a night!”

Eyebrows rising, Leon questioned, “A night? A… good night? Bad night? Quentin didn’t lock himself in a closet again, did he?”

“What? No? Is that a usual occurrence?” he asked, unable to help the waves of anxiety suddenly sweeping through him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong! At least, not morally speaking… Sure, he didn’t like lying to so many people, but it was for a good reason… Right?

His sudden self doubts were put on hold when the pharmacist came back, sliding the roll of gauze under the window so he could grab it. “Have a good night, and tell your friend to be more careful.”

“Ahaha, will do,” Marcus laughed uncomfortably.

It should have been easy enough to brush off as lack of sleep making him jittery, but Leon didn’t look convinced. Before he could ask any more questions, however, the ginger was shuffling past him.

Waving a little too quickly as he bid him a quick goodbye over his shoulder, Marcus hurried to the nearest elevator. Jabbing the button until the door opened, he stepped inside without looking back before aggressively clicking the button for the second floor.

It didn’t light up, and he frowned, only to let out a startled screech when someone said, “You’ve got to scan your badge first…”

Leon had silently followed, then joined him in the elevator. Watching with a very concerned expression as Marcus fumbled around trying to scan his badge and hit the floor button in the right order, he said, “That’s it, I’m getting you put on medical leave for at least a week.”

“No, it’s fine,” he argued, trying not to sound panicked. “It’s fine! I’m fine! I’ve just been doing paperwork and walking around with Quentin all night. Super easy stuff.”

The door slid open before Leon could say anything else, and Marcus was hurrying off before he could call out to him. Taking a few extra turns and unnecessary hallways, he finally made it back to the cell block. Quentin was just leaving, so he waited a moment before heading inside himself.

Reaching the Trapper’s cell, Marcus knocked quietly on the door with the back of two fingers. He didn’t want to make too much noise, but he wanted to make sure the patient knew he was there before he blindly dropped something into his room. It would defeat the purpose of giving it to him if he lost it in the dark and couldn’t even use it.

“I didn’t expect you to come back,” the Trapper’s voice said from the other side of the door. “Just slip it through the tray slot. I’m ready.”

“Got… it…” Marcus mumbled, frowning in confusion when he tried to push the roll of cloth through the narrow opening. It wasn’t that the gauze was too big to fit, but rather that the flap wouldn’t push open.

Doing his best not to sound condescending, he pointed out, “I can’t open the flap… Are you… maybe blocking it with your hands? Accidently?”

There was another pause, then an equally confused, “No? It was working this evening at dinner. Do you need to use your badge or something?”

“That’s only to open the cell door,” Marcus told him, trying to force the slot open with his fingers. It was stuck fast, and he let out an exhausted groan. “Hey, I’m sorry, Trapper. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get this open. Maybe… maybe they lock them at night or something. I don’t know. No one said anything to me.”

“They tell us even less,” the Trapper grunted, before considering, “If I step all the way to the back of my cell, could you open the door and just set it inside?”

Marcus was about to decline, when the patient made a pretty decent argument.

“It’s not like the door will even open if I’m standing too close, or stay open if I approach. I’ve seen enough people lose fingers in these damn things to know not to risk it. Besides, where the hell would I go?”

Blinking a few times, Marcus finally nodded. He really wanted to get his ass to the break room so he could rest for however long, and he wanted to get the hell out of there before anyone walked into the cell block and saw him.

“So… What are we doing here, kid?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing slightly. “Um, yeah. Step back and I’ll open the door.”

He could hear the patient’s feet shuffling as he moved away in the pitch black room. Giving it an extra couple of seconds, he tried the slot again just in case. Finding it still stuck, he scanned his badge to open the door.

Before it could slide even halfway open, there was an animalistic snarl and movement within the shadows. Too fast to react to, the Trapper lunged forwards, hands clamping around the edge of the door before it could reverse and slam closed on him.

Marcus stumbled back a step, not sure what shocked him more. The speed with which the Trapper moved, or the fact that his hands hadn’t been crushed or cut off by the door slamming shut. The door tried to do its job, hydraulics audibly straining as the man pulled against it. At first, it didn’t look like it would budge. Every muscle in Evan’s arms were bulging with the exertion, teeth clenched and eyes blazing as he put all of his weight into holding the door open. Surely his strength would run out or his grip would slip and he’d be forced to let go!

But then… there was a loud pop. And the door slid open another inch. Then another, and another, until the patient was able to bend the door outwards, pushing it out of the frame with several more cracks and pops.

Only once it was practically open like a tuna can did Marcus notice something incredibly alarming. The tray slot had been jammed closed from the inside with what looked like a twisted piece of wire.

The noise of the cell door being ripped open had woken up the entire floor, and now multiple patients were howling, banging on the insides of their own doors, or swearing at everyone and demanding they shut up.

Even in the cacophony of screams and wails and banging, the only thing that really registered in Marcus’s ears were two simple words, spoken as a large, calloused hand clamped tightly around his neck.

“Got you…”
~~~~

Notes:

Maybe we should have said Marcus has his version of an average night at work... Not what everyone else would call an average night... Oops （*゜ー゜*）

Chapter 38: Got A Secret, Can You Keep It? : Part One

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus is not having a good time right now...

For several seconds, Marcus felt like he was watching the world through a glass. Everything around him seemed fuzzy and slow, while directly in front of him was overly sharp and in focus. The sound of rushing blood filled his ears, each beat of his heart slow and drawn out as dark eyes focused on his face.

Then his breathing nearly cut off and he choked, the world crashing back in. Above the sounds of the patients howling and banging around inside their cells, Leon’s voice shouted, “Trapper, stop! Let him go, now!”

Marcus let out a pained wheeze when he was jerked forward a step, hands reaching up to grab the man’s wrist. His efforts were ignored, as Evan barked, “Touch that alarm, and I’ll snap his fucking neck!”

The threat was made all the more terrifying by the knowledge that he not only could go through with it, but that he absolutely would. He didn’t need a reason…

“Okay! Okay! See! My hands are nowhere near the alarm!” Leon yelled, and the patients slowly started to quiet down.

It felt like the entire cell block was holding its breath, eager to see how things would play out. Although not uncommon for staff members to get attacked, it was rare that anyone tried to take a hostage…

“Evan, you know we can’t let you out… So what’s it going to take to get you to let Marcus go unharmed?”

‘Ah, lovely, he’s negotiating,’ Marcus thought, feeling his feet drag as he was turned around. ‘Trying to humanize me in an attempt to keep the Trapper from killing me.’

Christ, that was a depressing thought to die on… Thankfully, the grip on his throat loosened up enough to keep if from getting that far. Unfortunately, his broken arm was grabbed by the wrist and pulled sharply at an uncomfortable angle.

“Where’s Jack?” Evan growled, his grip on Marcus not loosening again.

“Which one?” Leon asked, sounding suspicious.

“The pretty one, you fucking idiot.”

That would have been a little funny to the ginger, if his life wasn’t on the line. Currently, if felt like laughing at anything the man said would get him killed.

“She’s off shift and already at the dorms,” Leon explained. “I can see if someone can reach her, but that’s going to take time. Otherwise, she can come see you after she gets in for her shift-”

“Quit talking to me like I’m a fucking idiot and get her here. Or I’ll break his arm,” the Trapper interrupted.

Marcus winced, able to feel pressure increasing on his arm through the cast as it was squeezed. Not knowing what else to do, he wheezed, “Jesus Christ, Leon! Just fucking call her! Please!”

“Dammit,” the blond swore, taking a step back from the top of the stairs. Pulling out his phone, he warned, “If you hurt him, I’ll make sure they bury you here.”

The Trapper just let out a low laugh, knowing he was getting at least his first demand. Every second that passed felt like minutes, as they waited for Leon to finish his phone call. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Jack had picked up, as the Captain swore under his breath before placing a second call.

“Problem?” Evan growled, fingers slowly tightening until Marcus was gasping for air again.

“No problem, just a slight delay,” Leon offered tensely, before barking into the phone, “Feng! Yes, I’m aware, stop shouting! Go get– Go– Feng, goddammit! Shut up and listen to me! …Go get Jack. Wake her up, and tell her under no uncertain terms that we need her here now. There’s an ongoing incident on floor two that requires her attention if we hope to keep it from escalating.”

“Hm… You might be in luck tonight, boy,” Evan murmured.

It took Marcus a moment to realize the Trapper was talking to him, and not Leon, who was borderline yelling at someone else on the phone. Unable to turn his head more than an inch to either side, he kept his eyes on the man trying to save his life as he croaked, “Why?”

Almost sounding amused, he answered, “They’re trying really damn hard to make sure I don’t kill you…”

Why did it sound like he’d already decided what he was going to do? Like he’d already made up his mind who would and wouldn’t be walking away?

Mouth dry and sticky, Marcus forced himself to argue, “You know, Dwight will probably be pretty upset if- if you kill me.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Evan admitted almost sympathetically, “I know…” Then, in the very same breath, added coldly, “He’ll get over it.”

A very shaky, “Oh…” was all the ginger could manage in response to that. He wasn’t sure what else to say, or if he should say anything at all. As much as he’d hoped one of them could actually talk Evan down before he got hurt, it didn’t look like that was going to happen.

Evan shifted behind him, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts as Leon leaned over the railing upstairs. “Okay, Jack’s on her way. But, Trapper, I don’t see what you think this is going to do for you… You’ve been here long enough to know that–”

“Stop talking,” he snarled, shutting the Captain up. “I’m not particularly interested in listening to your bullshit textbook deescalation. Besides, you’ve been here long enough to know that doesn’t work on me…”

Marcus was doing his best not to cry. He was completely convinced he was about to die, probably painfully, and it was entirely his fault. He knew not to open the cell doors like that. Fuck, he should have just stayed in the office and napped for the remainder of his shift!

Those thoughts and a thousand others continued to plague Marcus for the next thirty minutes. It was a record breaking time for a staff member to be woken out of dead sleep, get dressed, and get from the dorms to the asylum, but Jack managed it.

During that time, Leon had been doing his best to keep the rest of the staff calm and at bay, especially making sure none of the guards were ‘feeling heroic’ after the whole Krauser and Legion incident from only days before.

For the ginger, it felt like an hour. One that kept stretching on and on with only one end in sight. Every shift of the Trapper’s fingers made him wince, certain that was it; He’d run out of patience and was about to start snapping his bones like a bored middle schooler with too many pencils.

Finally, the cellblock door slid open, and the pair downstairs could hear Leon quickly and hurriedly explaining the gist of the ongoing situation. No, the Trapper hadn’t hurt Marcus yet. No, they didn’t know what the hell he wanted, other than to speak to her. Yes, Feng was on the cameras and just waiting for the go-ahead to sound all the alarms…

Now, it was Jack’s turn to try and figure out what was going on. Appearing at the top of the stairs, she paused for a moment, looking over the pair before her eyes were drawn the the mangled cell door.

When she looked at them again, moving to take a step down towards them, Evan warned, “One more step… and I’ll kill him.”

Jack froze, not reacting to the sound of frustration Leon made. When Feng had nearly broken her door down with the frantic and, unfortunately uninformative, ‘emergency situation on level two’, she’d assumed it was a staff on staff altercation… What she’d found was much worse.

The Trapper had Marcus pulled tightly against his body, but it wasn’t to use his much smaller frame as a human shield. He didn’t need to when he was physically strong enough to take on a dozen fully armed police officers by himself.

“Evan… let him go,” she said, voice firm. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why he hadn’t killed the young man yet. He’d never hesitated when he got violent before, but they could all hope the fact that he hadn’t yet meant there was a way to reason with him this time.

Marcus choked, rising up on his toes slightly as the Trapper’s grip on his neck tightened. When he tried to pull away, the hand around his cast squeezed and he made a small sound of pain.

“Unless you want me to rip him to shreds, I suggest you stay right there and listen to me very carefully,” he growled, taking a step closer to the bottom of the stairs.

It was the only way up or down, meaning no one could get behind him unless they wanted to jump the railing. They wouldn’t even be able to do that without him seeing them enter the room, however. In retrospect, it wasn’t a very well designed cellblock…

“Jack, please!” Marcus begged, eyes watery.

She didn’t move, mind racing as she tried to puzzle out what the hell the Trapper was thinking. As much as she hated it, there was no letting him leave. He knew that as well as she did, and if he really thought killing another staff member would be enough to force his freedom, he’d truly lost his mind.

Finally, she said, “Evan, let him go and get back to your cell before they send a thousand volts through your head.”

The threat of electrical shock was usually enough to get the patients to reign in their more violent impulses. Usually.

Instead of letting Marcus go, the Trapper bared his teeth at Jack, asking, “Do you really think that will be enough? You think I won’t snap his neck the moment the electricity hits my muscles?”

It was a very real possibility, but it was one they might have to risk… The only question was, why hadn’t Leon given the go ahead for Feng to flip the switch to activate his collar yet?

As if reading her mind, Evan looked over her head to one of the cameras covering the cellblock. “I know you’re watching… But did you know, there’s a two second delay between you hitting that button and our collars activating? The second I hear that buzz, he’s dead. So, unless you want him dead, I suggest you remember what’s at stake here.”

“You know you can’t leave,” Jack said stoically. After seeing so many people die in those halls, it still wasn’t easy to pretend it didn’t faze her, but it was better than showing any weakness to a man like the Trapper.

Evan snorted, ignoring the way Marcus whimpered as he was forced forward two more steps. “Do you think that’s what I want?”

It was what they were all thinking…

“If that’s not it, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?” she asked calmly.

The Trapper stared at her, eyes dark and calculating as he considered her question. Finally, he said, “I want to go outside.”

“Evan, you can’t-”

“Outside!” he roared, scaring a small cry out of Marcus. “I want to feel the fucking sun again! I want fresh air! I just want to go… outside.”

His voice echoed in the silent room. Only his heaving breaths were heard in the aftermath as the staff stared on, absolutely flabbergasted. Even Marcus was speechless, loosening his grip on Evan’s wrist ever so slightly as he considered the implications of his words.

How long had he been down there? How long had it been since he’d seen the sky or been able to breathe fresh air?

Jack was the first one that broke out of her stunned stupor. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a million emotions running across her face before she firmly said. “No.”

Marcus wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard her correctly at first. If all the Trapper wanted was to go out in the yard for an hour, why not let him?! If that’s what it would take to save his life, why not?!

Evan didn’t seem as shocked, but that did nothing to make him any happier about it. Nails digging into the ginger’s skin slightly as his grip tightened, he asked in a low voice, “Are you sure about that? Think about what’s on the line…”

“I am,” Jack replied. “And my answer would still be no. The reason none of you have recess is due to behavioral issues. None of you are known to follow rules. What happens if you’re upstairs and make a break for it? What happens when it’s time to come back inside and you refuse? Down here, it is a safer environment to handle any lash outs, for both the patients and the staff.”

Her voice never wavered but Marcus could see that her hand was clenched tightly by her side, her well groomed nails digging into the flesh of her palm. “Besides, a change like that will need to go through the CEO himself and you and I both know what his decision will be.”

“What’s to stop any one of us from making a break for it from down here? I didn’t have to call for you. I could have snapped his neck, taken his key card, and cut as many of you down as possible before my collar went off. The outcome would be the same whether I did it down here or up there,” Evan countered, giving Marcus a squeeze to really emphasize his point. “Besides, from what I’ve seen as of late, the staff are the real problem… especially the guards.”

“Th- there have been s-studies, that show th-that outdoor time can help decrease p-patient aggression,” Marcus stammered, wincing when he felt the Trapper’s eyes on the back of his head. “I’m sure that Wesker could– could be convinced to let you outside for an hour.”

“At least one person in this room cares about your life,” he chuckled, and Marcus whimpered. He did not want to fucking die in bum-fuck Alaska of all goddamn places!

Jack’s jaw clenched and Marcus could’ve sworn she looked constipated. She had a duty to the asylum as their head nurse to keep her staff safe and to minimize any harm that may happen. However, she was also obligated to keep patients in line. One would think that was the job of the Captain or even the head doctor, but Grimes was a bumbling fool and Leon…

Glancing at the blonde, she was surprised to find him staring back at her. His body was also tense, hand hovering over his taser and prepared to throw himself over the railing if he had to. And yet… he was looking at her with a pleading expression. So much turmoil was rolling through those baby blue eyes and she could practically hear his voice in her head.

’Be reasonable,’ he silently begged. ’Don’t be like Wesker. You’re better than that.’

Tearing herself away from his gaze, her blood ran cold when she saw the grin on the Trapper’s face. A malicious, conniving grin, full of hate and glee. Like a cat that finally caught the canary.

“I suppose… I could discuss it with him…”

Before Marcus could let out a sigh of relief, she continued. “However, he can’t be reached until at least six AM. That won’t be for another few hours and there’s no guarantee what he’d say.”

“That’s not good enough,” Evan growled, not even taking a moment to pretend he was considering it. “I already know how this plays out if I agree to that shit. You’ll ask me to let the kid go, the second I do, your people flip the switch and I end up in solitary for six months…”

The grimace on Leon’s face was confirmation enough, and the Trapper snorted. “No… Here’s not this is going to work. I want out. Now. You can either guarantee I get outdoor time in the next twelve hours, or I can start breaking his bones.”

Nearly screaming when his arm was twisted behind him, Marcus gasped when the pain suddenly lessened. The sound of blood rushing in his ears drowned almost everything else out, but he finally managed to pick out Leon’s voice.

“–alright! He won’t be involved until afterwards! That way you get your outdoor time!”

The atmosphere was tense as all hell. It was a standoff between patient and guard with Marcus as the fragile bargaining chip. At that point, all the other patients were awake and watching. Listening. Plotting. The outcome of the situation would set an example to them for how much they could get away with. The guards may be getting more bold, but all the patients at Crotus Prenn were known to take several miles when given an inch.

Tears were streaking down the ginger’s face, the pain from his twisted arm was stronger than the oxy slowly fading out of his system. Every movement on his wrist was like drills into his marrow. It hurt and he was starting to get pissed off that his own boss seemed so reluctant to help him.

“Fine,” Jack finally said. “I’ll make sure that you get your outdoor time. Until then… you may hold onto Marcus-”

“WHAT?!” the orderly cried out, but Jack quickly spoke over him. “-Just until you get outside. You are not to hurt or threaten him during this time while I work on our end to meet your demands. If we cooperate, you have to cooperate too.”

“I won’t hurt him unless he tries to escape,” Evan promised, tone far too smug. “And I won’t kill him as long as no one approaches my cell, and the collar stays off. As for what I say to him… that’ll stay between him and I.”

“No no no no no!” Marcus pleaded, clawing at the fingers compressing his windpipe. The idea of being left alone with the Trapper was unfathomable. There was no way Jack and Leon could be okay with that! God only knew how long it would be until sunrise! Evan would probably get board of waiting and decided just to torture him to death instead!

“Very well.” Jack said, finalizing Marcus’s fate. “Return to your room. The guards will watch you while we wait for Wesker. Until then, behave.”

A wordless grunt was all the acknowledgment the Trapper gave, before he was dragging his temporary roommate back to his cell. The lights were still off inside, but with the door halfway off the tracks and bent open the way it was, there was enough light to see by.

Every fiber of Marcus’s being was screaming at him to try and run, but he was too shocked to do anything with the adrenaline coursing through him. He could hear Leon yelling something down to him, but it didn’t register, nor was he able to really decipher any of the following argument between him and Jack as they stepped outside.

Three other guards were sent in to stand watch from the upper level, but it did nothing to calm or comfort Marcus as he was dragged into the Trapper’s cell. His arm was released once they were inside, but that didn’t increase his chances of escaping.

A low growl caught his attention, but it wasn’t directed at him. Balling up a fist, Evan smashed the camera in the corner of the small room. Ignoring his prisoners' struggles to stay upright as he was dragged to the other side of the cell, he smashed out the second camera as well, before sitting on the cot.

Absolutely no consideration was given for Marcus, and he was dragged onto the bed with a strangled yelp of pain. The hand around his throat shifted, but didn’t disappear long enough for him to even consider trying to escape. Nails dug into the sides of his neck as Evan’s grip rotated to the back, but at least it allowed him to breathe a little easier.

Pulling his legs up towards his chest, Marcus wrapped his arms around them for security and warmth. He’d never really noticed it before, but the second floor was just as chilly and uncomfortable as the previous level. The hand on the back of his neck was incredibly warm, but it offered no comfort. It was a threat and a restraint, not something he could find any solace in. Keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, he flinched slightly when the man beside him shifted.

“Do you need anything?”

Looking at the door with a small frown, Marcus whimpered when he was roughly tugged closer to the patient. It was only then he realized Evan had been addressing him, not someone outside…

Unsure what else to say and starting to feel incredibly bitter about being abandoned with so little effort to actually rescue him, Marcus blurted out, “Letting me go would do wonders for my mental health.”

There was a drawn out silence, the air heavy and tense in the small cell. Finally, Evan let out a bark of laughter, before advising, “Count sheep, or pill bottles, or whatever you do to pass the time. I was asking more in case you need to use the bathroom.”

As soon as he started turning his head towards the peeled open door, his neck was given a viscous squeeze and he winced. Looking up at the Trapper as best he could in the mostly dark room, Marcus quickly answered, “N-no. Not- not really.”

“Hrm. If you change your mind, say something. I’ll not have you pissing all over my bed.”

Licking his dry lips, Marcus hesitantly questioned, “What… if I have to go at some point?”

“Toilet’s back there,” came the blunt response. “Nice try, though.”

Falling back into an uneasy silence, Marcus found himself growing more and more anxious. Although it felt like they’d been sitting there for hours already, he knew it had only been a few minutes. That didn’t stop his mind from quickly spiraling into a whirlwind of fear and bitterness as he considered the situation. Not that he blamed Jack for all of it. He was the one who opened the stupid door in the first fucking place! He knew better! And he’d done it anyway… Letting out a shuddering breath, he pulled his legs a little closer.

“Something on your mind?” the Trapper growled, and he tensed for a moment.

“No,” he forced out, staring at his knees.

Nails dug into the sides of his neck and he let out a thin sound of pain. “I asked you a question, boy… Don’t lie to me.”

Throat clicking dryly as he swallowed, Marcus found that even though he didn’t really want to talk, once he started, he couldn’t stop the words from coming as he answered. “I’m pissed that my fucking department head was so quickly to offer me up as a hostage, I’m in a ton of pain because my medication is wearing off and you’re not particularly gentle about grabbing people, I’m scared I’m not getting out of this alive, and that if, by some miracle, I do manage to walk away from this, it’s not going to be without a whole lot of pain and maybe some permanent mutilation of my person! And even if I do get out, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get fired anyway, have to pay for my own medical bills, sell at least two organs to avoid bankruptcy, and give up entirely on ever becoming a veterinarian!”

Breathing in shaky gasps by the time he was done, Marcus dropped his head onto his knees with a muffle whimper. His entire body hurt and he was so tired. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to handle it before he broke down completely and started sobbing.

It wasn’t even the pain itself, considering how good his pain tolerance usually was. No, it wasn’t that… It was everything! The lingering sense of betrayal! Knowing he was only there that night because of Wesker! The shame he felt for being stupid enough to open the door in the first place!

After a moment, the Trapper growled, “What are you on?”

“Huh?” Marcus asked, turning his head enough that he could peer up at him with one eye.

“Painkillers. What are you on?” he reiterated gruffly.

Blinking in confusion, the ginger answered, “Oxy? But I don’t have any on me!”

“I don’t want it,” Evan snapped, before shouting, “One of you mouth breathers! Come here!”

There was a bit of scuffling around upstairs, only audible thanks to the door being open and the continued silence from the rest of the patients. After what felt like far too much time had passed, the sound of feet quickly rattled down the metal steps.

Leon came into view, stopping a few feet back from the door when the Trapper warned, “That’s close enough.”

Holding his hands up with his palms out to show he wasn’t holding anything, Leon spoke calmly and evenly. “Alright. I’m just here to talk… What’s going on?”

Before Marcus could ask for any information about what was going on or even the time, Evan stated, “The kid’s in pain. Needs his pills.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t bring prescription pain pills–”

“I suggest you stop telling me what you can’t do, and just fucking do it already,” Evan interupted. “He’s in pain, he needs a pill, you get him a pill, I don’t kill him for annoying me with his pathetic mewling because he’s in pain that you could have prevented…”

“I can’t just–”

“Leon, I will fucking drown myself in the goddamn toilet if you say you can’t do something one more time!” Marcus shouted, going so far as to lunge for the guard. He wasn’t even trying to escape, he just wanted someone to do something without them having to have a ten minute discussion about it.

Holding him back, the Trapper raised his eyebrows. “You heard him, Captain. You better get a move on before he offs himself and neither of us get what we want.”

Grimacing, Leon nodded curtly. “Okay. I will… bring you a pill and a cup of water.”

“No.”

“No?!” Marcus and Leon both demanded.

“We’re not allowed to have water at night…” Evan growled, teeth flashing in a sadistic grin. Looked like his compassion towards his hostage only went so far…

“Marcus, can you dry swallow pills?”

“Leon. I’m going to cry like a baby if you ask one more fucking question. I am scared. I am in pain. And I want to go home. So can I please just have a fucking pain pill?”

With a curt nod and a facial expression that just screamed ‘holding in another comment or question’, Leon turned and hurried back up the stairs.

Only once he was sure the guard was gone, Evan asked, “You want to be a vet?”

“Does it matter?” Marcus asked, unsure why it was even coming up. A low snarl made him flinch, and he mumbled, “Yes, I want to be a vet. I fucked up signing up for collage classes and didn’t realize it until it was too late to back out. So now I’m doing this to pay off my student loans, but now that’s not going to happen cause I’m going to die in here!”

That got a low laugh from the man, who seemed to be taking great amusement in his near panic. “You’re so convinced you’re going to die… But if they keep doing what they’re doing, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Nodding slightly, he stopped when it reminded him of the fingers pressing bruises into the sides of his neck. Instead, he agreed shakily, “Yeah. That’s a good way to look at it.”

“They rarely manage to do that, however,” the Trapper continued, smiling at his look of horror. “Usually, they muck it up around this point and someone ends up dead.”

“Oh…” Marcus squeaked, slowly looking down again. Well, there went that small lifeline…

Letting out a low laugh, Evan was about to ask him something else when the sound of feet descending the steps echoed through the cell block. Leon appeared outside the door a moment later, a pill bottle in hand. Holding it up, he waited for Marcus to hold out his hands before tossing it over.

It was easy enough to hear the single pill rattling around inside. The ginger didn’t think twice, popping the bottle open and downing the pill like it was his first meal in days. Unsure what else to do with the now empty bottle, he tossed it back to Leon with a small, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Leon murmured. “If there’s anything else–”

“No. Get back to your station, Captain,” the Trapper interrupted.

Helpless to do anything beyond giving him a frustrated glare, the blond was once again forced to retreat for the time being. Once he was gone, the fingers on the back of Marcus’s neck relaxed ever so slightly.

“Fucking moron…”

“He’s not,” the ginger whispered definitely. He may still be kind of mad at Leon and Jack both, but that didn’t make either of them morons…

Thinking he’d said it quietly enough to remain unheard and with the brief pause that followed, he assumed that was it. Nothing would come of his comment and he was free to wallow in self pity and terror until something happened.

His wallowing only lasted for a few precious seconds before he was being yanked closer to the Trapper. The almost arm’s length of distance he’d previously been given was gone, and he let out a shaky gasp as he stared up at Evan in the dark.

Eyes glittering, he asked slowly, “Oh, isn’t he? What exactly would you say he is then?”

Marcus’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but he wasn’t able to get a sound out. The hand on the back of his neck shifted, and he made a small sound of panic as the Trapper’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. Shaking from head to toe as he was pulled flush to the patient's side, it was all he could do not to burst into tears when he felt hot breath against the side of his neck.

Lips brushed his ear, followed by a low chuckle. “My hearing is far better than you might assume, as is my sense of smell, so in the future, I highly suggest you think before you speak.”

Not trusting himself not to say something stupid enough to get him killed, Marcus settled for a quick nod. That seemed acceptable, and Evan straightened up, resting his back against the wall instead of hunching into the orderly’s space. The arm around his shoulders remained, however, along with the uncomfortable proximity.

They sat like that for a few minutes, before the Trapper mentioned, “Dwight talks about you a lot. And your other little friend. Emory’s kid.”

Although he managed to bite his tongue in time to keep his knee jerk reaction of making a threat to keep David safe to himself, he wasn’t able to keep himself from quickly looking up at Evan with a scared expression.

“Funny thing is, I was actually banking on grabbing him, not you. I guess both of us should consider it lucky that grabbing you has worked so far. Normally, they don’t give two shits about letting a pissant with a level two clearance die.”

“Then- then why did you grab me?” Marcus asked, still staring up at him. It wasn’t that he wanted anyone to get hurt or held hostage by a patient, but with the way Evan was talking, it sounded like he’d been planning this for a while. Hell, it sounded like he had multiple contingency plans! Just how long had he been scheming to do this?

“As soon as I smelled the drugs on you, I knew you’d be easy to get to,” he answered immediately. “You’re tired from a double shift, you wouldn’t be thinking clearly, you’re small and already injured, and you’re well liked, so they’ll fight harder to keep you alive. You’re no nepo-baby, but perhaps that works in my favor. If you were Emory’s kid, he may have already tried to get them to gas the cellblock.”

It hadn’t even occurred to Marcus that sedative gas was an option, but he knew they’d talked about gassing patients in their cells to subdue them in the past. Looking at the broken door, he immediately understood why that simply wouldn’t work in the current situation. Not only would the gas not stay in the room, meaning they’d have to use a lot more of it, it would be easy for the Trapper to simply kill him and exit the cell before he started to feel the least bit drowsy.

The pill he’d taken was already kicking in, making the fog in his mind even worse, and with the head space he was in, he couldn’t organize his thoughts or filter himself very well. Still, something else stuck out to the ginger, and try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the questions it raised.

Hopefully since Evan seemed to be in such a talkative mood, he wouldn’t mind the questions…

“Ah, y- you… You seem very… well spoken,” Marcus pointed out, struggling to find the right words.

There was a dangerous pause, before a flat, “What?”

Unfortunately oblivious to the sudden, dangerous change in tone and body language, the ginger nodded. Frowning as he tried to figure out how to translate his thoughts into words in a way that made sense, he said, “Y-yeah. You just– Um, you seem… smart–”

The speed and force with which Marcus found himself being slammed back against the wall left him breathless, and not just thanks to the fingers all but crushing his throat closed. Blinking rapidly, he wasn’t able to get a sound out before a scarred face was only inches from his own.

Eyes blazing and lips pulled back in a snarl, the Trapper seethed, “Because I’m in here that automatically means I must be stupid? Right?”

“N– no!” Marcus managed to rasp, fumbling clumsily at the fingers around his neck.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why Dwight likes you so much,” Evan continued, looming over him. “Figured he must have seen something in you. Something different. Something better. But you’re just like the rest of the maggots writhing around outside these cells.”

“Pl- please!” the ginger wheezed, tears leaking from his eyes. Even with the oxy kicking in, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so much pain. His arm, shoulder, and neck were screaming, hurting so badly it felt like they’d been broken all over again. Weakly pushing back against the Trapper with his legs, Marcus forced out, “N-not– s-saying– you’re st-stupid!”

It didn’t seem to matter too much what he was or wasn’t trying to say, as the patient’s grip didn’t loosen in the slightest. Instead, Marcus felt himself being pulled forward, away from the wall and off the bed until his toes were barely brushing the ground.

Speaking a low, angry tone just loud enough not to be drowned out by Marcus’s desperate choking for air, the Trapper growled, “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. I’m ‘well spoken’ because I went to school when I wasn’t working in my father’s mines. I have a fucking degree in structural engineering and hundreds of hours of training and experience as a certified demolition supervisor. I’m in here, because I collapsed a mine on top of a hundred and sixteen men, killing every single one of them. You think I could have done that if I weren’t smart?”

Marcus didn’t believe you had to be smart to kill people, no… But thankfully he was still aware enough not to say that! Instead, he choked, “Your plan– was– smart!”

A confused grunt answered, but he wasn’t rewarded with air or his feet touching the floor again. Looked like more was needed if he wanted to make it out of there alive…

“G-getting me– to– o-open the– door,” he gagged. “I– I should have– known– better!”

“Don’t fucking patronize me,” Evan snarled.“I don’t need your pity.”

Arms and legs starting to go numb as he fought to stay conscious, Marcus used the last of his incredibly precious air to wheeze, “I don’t… pity you…”

He wasn’t sure if there was a pause or any form of hesitation before he was falling. For a moment, his brain told him he was dying and that the falling sensation was him finally succumbing to the lack of oxygen… Until his ribs jammed into something solid and he gasped, only to choke on the sudden lungfuls of air.

Marcus didn’t even try to push himself up again. Instead, he let his body drop the rest of the way to the floor, curling up halfway under the Trapper’s cot as he struggled to catch his breath. That explained what hit him in the ribs, but at least it wasn’t a knee. He wasn’t sure he could take any more physical abuse at the moment.

Not that it mattered what he did or didn’t think he could handle, as a hand grabbed his hair. Pulled out of his defensive curl on the floor, he whimpered quietly when the Trapper knelt beside him.

“What did you just say?”

Stammering slightly between raspy breaths, Marcus finally managed to squeak, “I- I don’t p-pity you…”

Blinking a couple of times, Evan tilted his head to one side. Maybe it was confusion, or maybe he’d just never been told that before, but his next question was one the ginger didn’t expect. “Why?”

Unsure if it was really a good idea to answer or not, Marcus realized he wasn’t going to be given a choice when he was dragged to his feet and shoved back onto the cot. The larger man didn’t join him that time, instead remaining standing over him, arms crossed in front of his chest as he waited.

Still panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath, the orderly winced slightly when he swallowed. Fuck, his throat hurt. But he had to answer…

“I don’t like the way most of the staff treat you all… But I don’t feel bad that you’re locked up… I don’t… feel bad that you’re in here,” he finally said. “You did something horrible. You got caught. You’re being punished for it. I’m not going to feel bad for you for being forced to face the consequences of your actions.”

To his shock, the Trapper actually burst out laughing. Nodding, he chuckled, “I’m starting to see why Dwight likes you.”

Still incredibly shaken from his recent near strangulation, Marcus couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “And I wasn’t– I wasn’t calling you stupid. I- I just- I was surprised by the amount of thought that… went into all this.”

Shrinking down when Evan leaned over him, he added in a rushed out whimper, “I swear to god, I never meant to imply you were stupid! I just– I just didn’t expect this to be so premeditated! I thought this was a spur of the moment thing, since most of the time when you all kill staff members it seems like it’s because of a personal offence!”

For a terrifying, drawn out moment, the Trapper held his position looming over the trembling orderly like a lion that had just downed a wounded antelope. Then, without warning, he took a step back. It didn’t do much to put distance between them simply due to the size of both the cell and the man in question, but it did allow him to breathe a tiny bit easier.

Trying not to think about how easy it would be for Evan to simply reach out and grab him should he say or do even the slightest thing wrong, Marcus said in a tiny voice, “Not to… stroke your ego or anything… but I feel like… you kind of have to be at least a little smart to get locked up in here…”

“Oh, really?” came the unreadable response. “Explain.”

“Normal… people,” Marcus said hesitantly, “Normal people don’t get locked up in places like this… So, either you’re smart enough that they don’t want to risk putting you somewhere with… standard security measures like a jail or mental institution, or you’ve done something so vicious and heinous it makes even hardened criminals fear for their safety…”

‘Like eating people….’ He didn’t say the last part, although it stuck out in his mind as particularly heinous.

“That… and other reasons,” the Trapper answered cryptically. Head turning suddenly, he snarled irritably. Reaching out, he grabbed Marcus by the hair again, dragging him off the bed to stand beside him. Head pulled back so he was looking up at the Trapper again, he was met with a mirthless smile. “I know you can’t hear them talking from here, but I can…”

Oh god. Oh fuck. What the hell were they planning that had Evan looking so pissed? Could he even actually hear them or was he hearing voices in his head?!

“Sounds like Wesker is finally here for his shift… And your chances of getting out of here just got a lot smaller…”
~~~~

Notes:

Well goddamn (⊙_⊙;)

Chapter 39: Got A Secret, Can You Keep It? : Part Two

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Negotiation isn't always easy, and compromise isn't always an option...

Leon was doing his best to keep his temper in check as he marched down the hall. He hadn’t had any intention of leaving until Marcus was safe, but plans had changed. Bill had shown up, letting him know Jack wanted to speak with him in her office, and that was something he couldn’t just ignore.

Bill was one of the few people he trusted not to let the situation get worse, so he begrudgingly left things in his hands. Even though he was no longer a guard by title, he still had years of experience under his belt. Jesus, he still couldn’t believe what had happened, and he’d seen it with his own eyes. Fuck, they might have to start putting sedatives in some of the patients food again…

Knocking, he didn’t wait for an answer before entering. She was already expecting him and he was a little too irritated to waste time on formalities when every second counted. Closing the door behind him, he asked, “You wanted to see me?”

Jack was standing up against one of the bookshelves along the wall, the wood practically digging into her back as she slowly said, “Yes. Can you please remove that… thing from my office?”

Glancing down, he spotted a very large beetle sitting in a jar on her desk. However, from the way Jack was acting, one might have thought it was a bioweapon. Frowning slightly, he picked it up to take a closer look. Yep, just a great big beetle. Surely she hadn’t asked him to come up there just for that…

Holding the jar in both hands, he grit his teeth. Before he could stop himself, he was asking, “How could you just give up Marcus like that?”

Her jaw tensed, either from the fact that he was still holding the damn beetle or from the accusatory tone in his voice. Still, she kept her calm as she countered, “What choice did I have? I had to compromise or else the Trapper would've just killed him instead.”

“How is giving him a hostage a compromise?” Leon demanded. “There had to have been something more we could have done. Some way to keep it from getting this far!”

“There was no other way, Leon,” Jack insisted. “It’s rare for patients to take hostages, but it never ends well. The only reason I was even willing to give it a shot and not just shock the patient is because I believe Marcus can keep his calm long enough to beat the clock on this.”

“Keep his calm?” he repeated. “Jack, he’s terrified, in pain, and alone with the Trapper! It’s only a matter of time before one of them snaps and he ends up dead! I should have done more to get him out of there! I should have put my foot down and sent him home, Wesker’s orders be damned!”

“Should haves and what if’s won’t solve anything,” she said firmly. “If the Trapper really just wanted Marcus dead or to kill a staff member, then he would’ve killed him already. The fact that he’s even willing to compromise is a miracle. There was nothing else that could’ve been done.”

“I saw him going back to the Trapper’s cell,” Leon seethed. “I knew he wasn’t in the right mindset to be here and I let him go into a cellblock alone. If anything happens to him…”

It was clear he was already starting to blame himself, despite the dozen other glaringly obvious mistakes contributing to such an explosive confrontation.

Jack’s face softened ever so slightly. “You know that it would’ve been anyone who was close enough to that cell door, not just Marcus. It’s an unfortunate incident but we have to keep a level head and figure this out carefully. If we panic and show any of the patients that we’re worried, it’ll only encourage them to do the same.”

Grimacing, Leon nodded. Fingers flexing around the jar in his hands, he still sounded frustrated as he questioned, “But why would he do this now? Why not wait until summer, or plan his attack for a different time of day when more staff members would be here?”

Eyeing the jar warily, Jack said, “He most likely took the first opportunity that he got– Hold that thing better, it has wings and I don’t want it loose in here.”

Looking down at the jar as though he’d forgotten he was holding it, Leon managed a small grin. "You know, I never would have guessed you’d be so rattled by a bug. Careful, you might start feeling less like a robot here at work if you start letting your humanity shine through.”

“Oh hush you.” Jack looked like she wanted to smack him but when he raised up the jar and shook it with a sly smile, she quickly took a step back. “Just- go get rid of it! Put it outside or give it to Emory! As long as it’s not anywhere near my office!”

Starting to smile more, Leon was about to take a step around the desk when the office door swung open without warning. There were only three people in Crotus Prenn who were either bold enough or mannerless enough to do such a thing, and unfortunately, it was the one neither of them could yell at.

Without bothering to greet either of them, Wesker asked, “Has the situation downstairs been resolved yet?”

Shock still clear on his face, Leon initially answered reflexively, “Not yet, sir, but Jack has greenlit what we believe to be the only peaceful solution. It should be over within the next hour. We’re just waiting on the sun to–”

“What exactly is the situation?” he interrupted irritably. “And why exactly did I have to hear about this through Krauser of all people? He’s not even physically here.”

“How the hell did he find out?” Leon demanded, earning a raised eyebrow. He never spoke to Wesker like that, especially in front of others…

“A guard passed it along to Grimes, who passed it along to Krauser, who informed me… As you should have done the moment you found out,” Wesker answered icily, before turning to Jack. “What ‘solution’ have you come up with, exactly?”

It was as if a switch flipped in her. Jack’s posture was rigid once more and she was giving Wesker back the exact same glare as she explained, “The Trapper’s only demand is to go outside. It is not unreasonable and can serve to aid his mental health so I am proposing that we allow him into the courtyard for thirty minutes as soon as the sun comes up. Then solitary–”

“Absolutely not,” Wesker scoffed, almost before she’d finished speaking. “We don’t negotiate with the inmates. Period.”

“He’s going to kill Marcus if we don’t,” Leon pointed out, not trying to hide his attitude anymore. He was pissed and it was about time he was honest about it, regardless of the social setting or potential backlash.

“At the risk of sounding crass. What’s your point?” Wesker questioned, hands clasped behind his back as he turned to face the younger man. “It’s unfortunate, but staff are killed from time to time. I won’t make any exceptions just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This should have been resolved already, by the quickest means necessary.”

“Jesus Christ, Albert,” Leon muttered, sounding disgusted. “Do you want him to die?”

To his shock, Wesker recoiled ever so slightly, as though faced with a harsh truth he’d expected to stay hidden. Temple pulsing as his growing anger began to seep into his voice, the CEO asked coldly, “Would you rather allow the patients to run the asylum?”

“At this point, I really don’t give a shit,” he snapped, surprising all three of them. Pressing on before he could lose his momentum, the Captain summed up, “We have a chance to save a life and end this without violence, and that’s something we never get here. So if thirty minutes outside is what it takes to save Marcus or any other staff member's life, I’ll escort the damn patient outside by myself.”

Before Leon or Jack could say another word, Wesker ordered stiffly, “Take me to them, then. The sun is almost up and I’d like to talk to the Trapper myself before any decision is approved.”

The jar in Leon’s hands began to creek quietly from how hard he was squeezing it as he watched Wesker sweep from the room without another word. Turning back to Jack, he could see the tension in her shoulders. Both from the incredibly stressful situation at hand and from the beetle in the jar, which also had started to buzz its wings.

Neither of them said a word as they both followed Wesker down the hallway, passing by many of the incoming morning crew. Most of them looked worried or nervous, likely having already heard about what was happening on the second floor.

As they entered the elevator, both of them saw David and Eli round the corner with wide, worried eyes and almost panicked expressions. It looked like they two had already been brought up to speed, but before they could enter the lift, Wesker held up a hand.

“No, you two remain upstairs,” he ordered coldly. “Consider floor two to be on lockdown until further notice.”

“Floor two is on lockdown until further notice,” Jack corrected stoically.

“I ordered Feng not to turn on the entire… blaring alarms and flashing lights,” Leon added quietly, leaning out to pass the beetle jar to David. “Please do something with that.”

Slowly turning to stare at them as the elevator doors slid closed, Wesker asked critically, “Why wouldn’t you have told the rest of the staff already?”

“A silent alert was sent out,” the guard explained, maintaining tense eye contact. “Given the nuances of the situation, we decided it best not to alarm the rest of the staff already on sight, or let on to the first floor patients that anything was going on downstairs, since it should be resolved before breakfast.”

“I am not ‘staff’,” Wesker sneered, already stepping out of the elevator before the doors had fully opened. “You of all people should know that, Captain.”

It was obvious from the look on Leon’s face that he wanted to say something else, but a warning look from Jack was enough to keep him from mouthing off as they too stepped out of the lift. Following Wesker as he swept down the hall, the guard quickly caught him up on the situation. Unfortunately by the time they reached the door to the cellblock, it still wasn’t clear whether or not he was going to help the situation… or get Marcus killed.

~~

“Sounds like Wesker is finally here for his shift… And your chances of getting out of here just got a lot smaller…”

Marcus felt his heart skip a beat as he stared up at the top level of the cell block. He could see the three guards they’d left inside to keep an eye on things talking quietly amongst themselves, but thus far, he couldn’t figure out how the hell the Trapper knew Wesker had arrived.

Before he could ask, the door opened, and footsteps approached the top of the stairs. Sure enough, Wesker came into view, Jack and Leon flanking him. Although they remained waiting at the top of the stairs, he boldly stepped down until he was on the ground floor, only a few feet away from the Trapper and his captive.

It was impossible to tell for sure with his dark sunglasses, but Marcus swore he could feel the man's eyes inspecting him from head to toe. If he was shocked by the dark bruises blooming along his neck or the exhausted, terrified tremors racking his body, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he asked, “All of this… for thirty minutes outside?”

“Be glad it’s not worse… yet,” Evan answered, fingers curling in the ginger’s hair.

“Indeed,” Wesker agreed smoothly, before pointing out, “You’ve been here long enough to know, we don’t negotiate. Killing another staff member won’t change that.”

Marcus closed his eyes, bracing for a hand around his throat again, when he was startled by a gruff laugh over his head.

“Cute… But I’m not negotiating.”

“You are welcome to throw a tantrum and hurl all the threats you’d like–”

“I’m not making threats,” Evan interrupted, giving Marcus’s hair a hard enough tug to get a gasp out of him. “And I’m not going to just kill one staff member if I don’t get outdoor time. I’m going to kill every single staff member that I can get my hands on. Even if you strap me to a bed and keep me so heavily sedated I slowly devolve into a drooling potato… I will find a way to kill at least one staff member. Every. Day. Two to make up for any days I miss.”

A small smile played across Wesker’s mouth before he challenged, “Go ahead. You’re not the first patient to make a threat like that, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. We have plenty of methods for handling… problems.”

Maybe it was just the anxiety of a life or death situation, but Marcus swore he could feel the CEO’s eyes on him again when he said ‘problems’. Jesus, if the CEO was already blaming him for the situation he was in, there really was no hope of getting out of it alive!

The slightest twitch of Evan’s hand rising towards him had Marcus blurting out, “It’s already been proven that people in facilities like this benefit mentally and physically from regular time outside! So unless you’re actively trying to kill me and the rest of the staff, just give him fucking outdoor time! What do you think he’s going to do? Escape?! Has anyone ever escaped from the yard?”

“We do not negotiate–”

“I don’t want to die!” Marcus shouted, voice actually echoing slightly in the silence that followed. Taking a deep breath, he said in a more even volume, “I know I fucked up… But so did you. You sent me to work knowing I was on prescription painkillers due to an injury I sustained doing my job. Your name is all over the paperwork that put me in here tonight… Is that really something you want on your conscience?”

If only he knew how little of a conscience Wesker actually had…

Veins were visible in the CEO’s temples and neck as he stood still as a statue, mulling over the orderly's last ditch attempt to save himself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Wesker stated, “Fine. You may have thirty minutes of outdoor time. No more than that, and then it’s straight to solitary.”

Before either of them or the pair still watching from the top of the stairs could say a word, he turned on his heel and marched back up the steps. Not so much as pausing as he passed between Leon and Jack, he ordered, “Captain, see that he doesn’t cause any more problems,” before badging out of the cellblock.

As soon as the door slid closed, banging and shouting resumed from almost every occupied cell. Most of the verbal tirades were about how unfair it was for the Trapper to go outside while they were left to stew with no sleep, and no fresh air. A ticking time bomb had just been set, and all the staff and patients knew it.

Marcus was in a state of mild shock at the events he’d just been a part of. Had that… worked? Had he really just convinced Wesker of all people to change the rules? Well, ‘change’ was probably a big leap, but bending the rules was still a big win if it meant he got out of there alive.

Yanked out of his thoughts by a not so gentle tug on his hair, the ginger winced as he was forced back towards the Trapper’s cell. Only a step later, he let out a small screech as he was yanked to a stop when Leon shouted down from the top level.

“Trapper, hold on! Oh, god. Sorry, Marcus!”

“If I get a bald spot, I’m fucking suing you!” he swore, glaring back at him through watery eyes.

“What?” the Trapper snapped, before bellowing, “SHUT UP OR YOU’RE NEXT.”

The banging and howling slowly quieted back down, leaving nothing but a lingering echo to ring through Marcus’s ears. Good lord, he was mildly surprised he hadn’t ruptured an eardrum with as close as he was to that shout.

As soon as Leon opened his mouth again, there was a tremendous bang from one of the cells. Marcus jumped, but both Evan and the blond turned to glare at the cell door. Oh god, that was one of the Michaels. Eli’s Michael, if he was remembering the rooms correctly…

Giving it a second, Leon tried again, only for all three of the Michael’s to slam a fist against the inside of their respective doors. It was unclear if they just didn’t like hearing him talk, were hoping Evan would lose his patience and kill Marcus, therefore losing his prize at the finish line, or if they just thought the constant interruptions were funny.

Stepping forward, Jack spoke loudly and clearly. Ignoring the occasional bang or crash from the other cells, she stated, “The sun is starting to rise. We can escort you outside now, or if you’d like to wait another thirty minutes for the sun to rise more, that’s acceptable.”

“Oh god, please go now,” Marcus whispered, not aware he’d spoken out loud.

Huffing, Evan considered it for a moment before answering. “Now. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a sunrise.”

“Thank god,” Marcus murmured, only to gasp as an arm looped around his waist. To his horror, his feet left the floor a second later, and he was tucked neatly under the patient's arm like a handbag. At least his hair had been released and he was facing forwards so he could lift his head and see where they were going.

Glaring at the extra guards still lingering on the top floor, Evan asked, “Am I going to have to deal with this entourage the entire time?”

“Yes,” Jack answered shortly. “It’s for your safety and ours.”

Marcus highly doubted three extra people would be able to do shit, considering what the Trapper was capable of doing to a cell door, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Hrm. Fair enough,” Evan grunted, dropping the ginger back on his feet.

Before he could celebrate, a hand was around his neck again and he let out an involuntary, ‘Aw, man.’ The Trapper’s grip was still too tight for comfort, but at that point it felt more like a precaution before an outright death threat.

Leon visibly tensed when the patient’s fingers latched around the orderly’s neck again, but he gritted his teeth, keeping any and all comments to himself. Badging the door open, he stepped aside so Jack and two of the other guards could go ahead.

Once they were out of the way, Evan dragged Marcus after them. It may not be obvious to those observing from afar, but the orderly could feel the tension in his grip. Under all the anger and aggression, the Trapper couldn’t help but fear they’d attempt some kind of trickery and snatch the tiny break in captivity away from him. There was no telling how bloody things would get if that happened…

Every step brought them closer to the elevators, where Leon explained, “Trapper, since we know there’s no way you’ll be willing to accept being cuffed for the ride, some of the guards and I will go ahead. Then, Marcus is going to badge you both up to the top floor, and we can continue from there.”

“Hurry up,” he grunted, but waited patiently while the elevator left and returned. As soon as the doors opened, he dragged Marcus inside before shoving him in front of the panel of buttons. “No tricks.”

As if he’d risk using one even if he had any… Scanning his badge, he mashed the button for the first floor repeatedly, even when the elevator started moving. He was still jabbing it when the doors slid open, and he panicked slightly, thinking they’d opened back onto the same floor.

When the doors didn’t close again, he wheezed, “I’m trying, okay?!”

Evan was watching him and trying not to laugh. Gently that time, he tugged him away from the panel, revealing his foot in the elevator door to keep it open, while Leon and the other guards were staring at the ginger with looks ranging from amusement to genuine concern.

It was mortifying. Thankfully no one mentioned it, and less than two minutes later they were back on track to the yard.

Marcus felt like his skin was trying to crawl off. He’d walked those hallways a dozen times over, but they’d never felt nearly as long as they did that morning. That was when it hit him. Aside from the small power nap he’d taken in Jack’s office, he’d already been awake for almost a full twenty-four hours.

“I should be coming in for work right now,” he murmured, and Evan glanced down at him with a strange expression before looking away.

“I should… be checking my schedule for the day with David… Probably getting breakfast ready for floor one,” Marcus continued, throat tightening with every word. It felt so strange, to suddenly be feeling so reminiscent over a job he’d never wanted in the first place. Even though he and David had only been friends for a few months, the idea of never seeing him again made his chest hurt.

“Oh, I wonder if…” he didn’t finish the thought out loud, but in his head, it was a very big question. Would Danny be upset if he died? A part of him hoped he would be, but a small part of him still worried the only thing he’d feel would be anger. Anger over not being the one to kill him, or perhaps anger at losing his favorite toy…

Finally coming to a stop again, everyone moved aside until only Jack and Leon were between the Trapper and the still closed door to ‘freedom’.

“Once you’re outside and Marcus is safely released, you’ll have exactly thirty minutes,” Jack explained. “Once your time is up, you will be given a verbal warning, and then we’ll lock your cuffs. If you resist going downstairs, you will be electrocuted and sedated for staff safety.”

“Fine. Move,” he answered, urgency straining his words.

Without further delay, Leon opened the door to the courtyard and both of them stepped aside.

Evan took two large steps, dragging Marcus to the door with him, only to stop suddenly. His feet were right at the threshold, but he had yet to actually step out. Before anyone could work up the stupidity to say anything, he took an almost hesitant step outside.

One step at a time, he slowly walked out to the middle of the yard, head on a constant swivel. There wasn’t much to see. Just tall, tall gray walls topped with razor wire. Along one of them was a cast off vent from the laundry rooms that pumped out hot air in the winter, but that was about it. If it had been a normal outdoor time with all the first floor patients, the Legion would have already situated themselves beneath it, using their numbers a deterrent to keep a monopoly on ‘their spot’.

But it was far too early for that and all the other patients were still in their cells, leaving only Evan and Marcus to stand in the otherwise empty arena.

Once they were in the center of the yard, Evan finally stopped again. Looking up, they could just see the sun’s rays poking over the top of the razor wire. Although the trees had all been cut far back from the walls, some were still tall enough to be seen stretching towards the sky, and in the silence, it was possible to hear the distant chirp of waking birds.

Wordlessly, the Trapper’s fingers slid away from Marcus’s neck, hand falling by his side as he took a slow, deep breath. Tilting his head back as the sun crested the wall, he let his eyes close, standing motionless in the fresh morning air.

Something about it was so surreal, it actually took Marcus almost a full minute to realize he could probably leave if he really wanted to. And good god, he wanted to! Taking a step back, he nearly screamed when someone suddenly grabbed him by the back of the shirt. In fact, he did scream, but a hand clamped over his mouth before he could get it out, and he was dragged backwards. Kicking and flailing, it wasn’t until he banged a knee on the doorframe with a resounding CRACK that he was released.

“Why would you do that?!” Marcus half shouted the second Leon let go of his mouth. It returned immediately, and he started trying to bite his fingers out of an instinctive need to protect himself.

“Marcus- Mar– Stop it– Marcus Aurelius Taylor!” Leon snapped, and the orderly froze.

Dear god, why did Leon even know his middle name?!

“Marcus. I covered your mouth because I knew you’d scream as soon as I grabbed you. You tend to scream when you’re startled,” the Captain explained, slowly withdrawing his slightly slobbery hand. Trying not to look grossed out as he wiped it on his pants, he continued, “I wasn’t about to risk you scaring the Trapper into lashing out and taking your head off. Not after everything you’ve already been through. But, you’re safe now. We got you. It’s over.”

“It’s… Over,” Marcus repeated slowly, knees starting to shake slightly. The overwhelming stress and anxiety he’d been subjected to for the past several hours was finally over. He was safe. He’d survived. Covering his mouth with one hand, he let out a muffled, “Fuck.”

Arms wrapped around him and before he could fully register the hug, he was clinging to the guards chest as sobs racked his body.

“It’s okay, Marcus,” Leon promised. “I’m going to take you to medical, and then I’m going to have someone escort you back to your dorm. Okay? I’ll clear one of your roommates so they can stay with you, so you won’t be alone.”

Nodding through his tears, the ginger wrapped his arms tightly around his body when he was let go. He couldn’t stop shivering, despite the blanket someone draped over his shoulders. Leon spoke quickly and quietly into his radio as he guided the orderly down to medical, making sure the path was clear and that the shaken man wasn’t going to be bombarded with questions by curious staff members.

That wasn’t the only thing he was ensuring, and as soon as they stepped through the doors into the medical wing, Marcus was almost tackled off his feet by a streak of fluffy brown hair, snot, and tears.

Crying almost as hard as the ginger, David wailed, “I thought you were gonna die!”

“Me too!” Marcus wailed, hugging him so hard his spine popped loudly. Neither of them seemed to notice, however, too busy sobbing and decompressing as the events of the night came to a close.

Standing a couple of feet back, Eli looked at Leon with slightly watery eyes. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Nothing too critical, then?”

“Nothing broken, at least,” he confirmed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. There was still a lot of tension in his shoulders, but the nurse didn’t ask. There would be a better time and place to go over everything later.

Not too much later, as it turned out.

Marcus had been given the green light to go back to his dorm not even thirty seconds before the exam room door swung open. Everyone inside instantly tensed as Wesker walked in, a rather thick folder in one hand.

Addressing Leon with a barely there nod and curt ‘Captain’, he then turned to Marcus, who was still seated on the exam table. He’d stopped crying and shaking, thankfully, but he still appeared quite shaken; Hair sticking out in every direction, dark circles under his puffy, red eyes, skin paler than normal, and a wide band of dark bruises ringing his neck, he looked like a nervous wreck.

“Marcus, I see you’ve been given a clean bill of health,” he started, earning a murderous look from Eli.

A ‘clean bill’ was a bit of an exaggeration… He may not have sustained any new broken bones and, possibly miraculously, his larynx, vocal cords, and windpipe had all survived Evan’s aggressive squeezing with no permanent damage. He was still incredibly bruised and would be sore for days if not longer, not to mention the mental stress the situation had caused.

“I’ve brought you some paperwork to sign-”

“Sir,” Leon started, but the CEO shot him a look over his glasses before continuing.

“-for your medical leave. Given the recent incident, I’ve taken the time to review your previous request and realized a few things had been overlooked.”

“By who?” Leon questioned flatly.

There was a brief pause from Wesker, before he said in a slightly more irritated tone, “You will be given three weeks of paid leave, with the possibility of an extension, should you require more time on any prescriptions. Should any more health issues arise due to the… incident downstairs, the company does offer both physical and mental therapy. If you feel either service may be of use to you, do be sure to tell your department head.”

“Oh…” Marcus managed. He was so mentally, physically, and emotionally drained, the only part of that he’d really caught was that he’d been getting three weeks off. He really didn’t care if it was going to be paid or not, he was just thankful to be getting it.

“Since you’ve been given a clean bill of health, you can go home as soon as you’re done signing that,” Leon instructed. “Eli, I’ve already gotten you cleared to go with him, since you’re both a nurse and his roommate. You’ll still be paid for a full shift today.”

He nodded curtly, a little more tight lipped around Wesker and trying not to blurt out something crass that would get him fired…

“David–” Leon paused, squinting slightly before asking, “What… happened to the beetle I gave you?”

“I put it in my locker,” he said absentmindedly, more concerned with Marcus’s well being.

Wesker continued to look annoyed and uninterested in the ongoing conversation as he waited on Marcus to finish scratching his name in the appropriate signature boxes. Flipping the folder closed almost before he could finish the last letter, the CEO turned and with a snapped, “Captain, with me,” he exited the exam room.

“God, I might be an atheist but please, please give that man anal fissures,” Eli rushed out in one big breath. Turning to Leon, he added, “Don’t worry about Marcus. I’ll keep an eye on him. Do what you have to do… And be safe.”

Leon’s smile as he nodded was more of a grimace, but his name being impatiently barked down the hall had him hurrying after the older man. As soon as he caught up and fell in step beside him, Wesker was all but berating him.

“I’m not sure what’s gotten into your head, Leon, but your attitude has been nothing short of hostile. I know the sudden uptick in altercations is stressful, but you’ve been here long enough to know how to handle these things properly-”

“Refusing to deescalate a situation with reasonable compromise to avoid the death of a staff member is the right way to handle it,” Leon interrupted, shocking himself with how firmly he’d managed to get it out. “Maybe we should do that more. We saved a life–”

“And jeopardized how many more?” Wesker snapped, waving a hand dismissively. “Now the patients are going to believe they can simply force the things they want, because you’ve allowed one of them to do so.”

“Yet if floor two had already had outdoor time, this never would have happened,” he stated coldly. “I saw how you reacted to what Marcus said in there…”

Stopping outside his office door, Wesker turned to him, expression dark as he warned, “Your attitude is becoming quite a problem. I suggest you remember where you are, and who you work for. Be very careful what you say next.”

“Were you hoping the Trapper would kill Marcus?” Leon asked, refusing to back down. Despite everything, every bad moment and every inch of the growing chasm between them, some small part of him still hoped there was something good left. Some part of the man he’d fallen for in the first place…

There was a long, ugly pause, before Wesker stated, “Of course not. The situation has been handled. Let it go.”

Dissatisfied with the answer, Leon started to argue, only for the other to turn his back on him. Anger snapping inside him like a mad dog, he grabbed Wesker’s arm, saying, “A staff member was almost killed and you would have let him die to save face–”

“I said leave it alone, Chris!” Wesker snapped, rounding on him.

The absolute silence that followed was jarring, and as Leon stared slack jawed at Wesker, he could see the emotions playing across his face. Anger, regret, shock…

“What…” Leon started to ask, only to trail off when he saw the way the CEO’s hand was slightly raised. Had he been about to hit him?

As if only just noticing it himself, he lowered his arm, hands disappearing behind his back as he resumed a professional stance while speaking with a subordinate.

“Wesker. I need to speak with you,” Jack’s voice interrupted, and the spell was broken.

Back and shoulders stiff, he hissed, “You are dismissed, Captain,” before turning to the head nurse. He didn’t look the least bit happy to see her, but then again, he never did…

Knowing the conversation was over, as was his chance for any real answers, Leon ground his teeth and nodded. Although he didn’t stick around, he could still hear Wesker and Jack began shouting at one another almost the moment the door closed behind them.

It brought a small smile to his face, knowing that if anyone could knock the CEO down a peg or two, it was Jack. It was kind of a pity he had work to get back to. He’d really have loved to wait outside the door so he could listen to the argument. What exactly was she yelling at him for anyway?

~~

An Hour Earlier

“He’s got a minute,” Bill grumbled, looking at his watch. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have a watch, as it was considered a hazard if patients got ahold of it, but he didn’t give a shit and wore it anyway. He was so rarely even in the building or near patients anymore, no one really noticed, and those that did quickly learned not to try and tell the grizzled veteran what to do. Turning to Jack, he asked, “You want me to go get him?”

With Leon taking care of Marcus, she was the highest ranking person there to keep an eye on the Trapper’s outdoor time, which was about to end. She and Bill had worked together more than a few times, and she was one of the few people there who’d earned the level of mutual respect necessary to tell him, “No, I don’t need you trying to relive your glory days.”

Openly looking around at the crowd of guards huddled inside the doorway, he grunted, “At least I’d have a chance if he started swinging. Most of these kids look like they’re still wet behind the ears.”

Most of them were well into their thirties and early forties, but he still had at least a good thirty years on the oldest guard there…

A faint beeping sound started to squeak out of his watch, and he sighed. “Right. Time to get him downstairs.”

Before Jack could say anything, there was a collective, nervous murmur amongst the gathered guards. Looking out the door to the yard, it was easy to see why.

Evan had finally moved. After half an hour of simply standing peacefully in the rising morning sun, he’d turned around and taken a few steps closer to the door. Stopping just out of arm's reach, he tilted his head slightly to one side, eyes fixed on Jack with a strange, almost excited glitter.

Huffing and puffing as he tried to pretend he hadn’t just been caught entirely off guard, Bill told the patient, “Time’s up. Are you ready to go?”

In a complete reversal of his earlier behavior, Evan silently held his hands out, fingers curled into his palms to show he wasn’t trying to grab anyone, and wrists close together so they could easily manually activate the lock on his cuffs. “A deal’s a deal.”

Jack stepped forward before any of the ‘young and dumb’ guards could try to play hero. She wasn’t naive enough to trust Evan nor his little display of ‘cooperation’. Although she highly doubted he had any plans to push his luck so quickly after having won such a great victory for himself, she’d seen enough to know just how unpredictable patients could be.

The Trapper said nothing as his cuffs were locked together, nor did he make any moves to grab, harm, or otherwise scare the gathered staff. Not even a dark threat to intimidate the guards. It was incredibly odd, to say the least…

Bill, Jack, and several other guards led Evan back to the elevators, descending to the third floor before taking a different hallway to a currently empty cell block. Solitary was somehow even more depressing than the regular cells. There was more space between each cell, but it wasn’t because the rooms were bigger. They were actually the same size, but lacked the bed and small desk that made the upstairs cells more ‘homey’. A camera was set into the ceiling in the middle of the room, protected by a small grate, and a toilet was nestled in one corner.

Badging open one of the cells, Bill waited for Evan to enter and sit against the back wall before starting to close the door again. Before his badge could reach the scanner again, the Trapper finally spoke up again.

“Jack… I need to speak with you for a moment…”

Bill rolled his eyes, fully intending to ignore the patient until the head nurse held up a hand. Eyes narrowing, she said, “Then speak.”

Eyeing her critically for a moment, Evan added, “Alone.”

There was a long pause, both of them staring at each other, calculating, judging. The tension was thick and even the guards that stood nearby looked hesitant.

Finally, Jack turned to Bill and said, “Take the others and leave us. I’ll lock up once we’re done.”

It was very clear just from the look on his face that the older man was incredibly unhappy about it, but he still did as she asked. Once everyone was completely gone from the cell block, she crossed her arms, looking at him expectantly from the doorway.

He didn’t seem to mind her keeping her distance. Unafraid to speak loud enough for her to hear him from the back of the cell, he stated, “The second floor needs outdoor time. Every day. Not just a measly thirty minutes. The full hour, same as floor one gets.”

“My apologies but the offer only extended to you,” Jack said with a raised eyebrow. “Thirty minutes and that’s all. You’re lucky that you’re not spending the rest of your days in here for that stunt.”

Evan didn’t look the least bit surprised by her answer. His hands were still cuffed in front of him and would remain that way until the cell door closed, at which point they would automatically unlock. Still that didn’t stop him from raising them slightly so he could point at her as he said, “You and I both know why he won’t risk that.”

Almost smiling as he lowered his hands back to his lap, he continued, “Besides, that thirty minutes was just to make sure you and I got this opportunity to talk about something personal… Privately.”

“I’m not interested in you. I’d advise you to stick to pursuing Dwight.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m gay,” he chuckled. Expression becoming more serious, his tone was predatory as he considered, “Although since we’re on the topic of pursuing men… It’s a lot easier when there’s no competition. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you’re implying that you’re going to go after David King next, your stay down here will be extended.” Jack said evenly, although her posture was no longer relaxed. “Enough beating around the bush, tell me what exactly it is that you wanted to tell me. Otherwise, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Eyes glittering in the darkness filling the cell, the Trapper smiled. “I don’t give a shit about the others, but there is no more outdoor time for me without the rest of floor two getting the same privilege. So, now that you’ve seen for yourself just how serious I am about getting time outside… If I don’t get it, I’ll tell Wesker that you and his latest boy toy are fucking behind his back.”

Jack’s blood ran cold, her limbs locking into place under the Trapper’s predatory grin. ’No. It can’t be. There’s no way he knows. He’s bluffing, he has to be bluffing.’

Narrowing her eyes, Jack was just barely able to keep the tremble out of her voice as she said, “That’s a heavy accusation. What gave you that idea? Been listening to too many rumors? Does that mean you also believe the ones about me and Wesker being divorcees?”

Letting out a genuine, deep laugh, Evan’s teeth were bared in a sneer as he spoke. “Don’t fucking talk to me like I’m an idiot. I’ve been able to smell that pathetic boy’s lust every time you two are in the same room together. It was only a matter of time before the two of you started showing up, covered in one another’s scent. But the really interesting part? Is when you two show up smelling like yourselves… until after your lunch breaks…”

“You have no proof.” Jack hissed through gritted teeth, although she didn’t sound convinced of her own words. “Why would anyone believe you? You lot all spread rumors just as much as the staff do.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people who would believe it. Especially on the first floor. Now, you may not be too worried about what Wesker would do to you, even if he didn’t believe the rumors… But things like that tend to eat away at people. Especially those who are already… volatile. There’s really no telling what Wesker might do to Leon, if he starts to suspect people think he can’t control his things, especially in his asylum. So, I’ll make this simple. The second floor gets outdoor time, or everyone in here, from floor one all the way down, will know about you two.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Jack had known Wesker for nearly ten years, meeting him back when she was first hired to replace the old head nurse. She was still in training when the woman had an unfortunate accident and died, leaving Jack to be promoted expeditiously.

She’d noticed it on day one, but after getting promoted, it became glaringly obvious just how dangerously narcissistic Wesker was. His retaliatory temper tantrums when he didn’t get his way were always thinly veiled under the guise of ‘business’ and ‘what’s best for the asylum’. With Grimes and Emory at his side, there was little anyone could actually do to challenge him and win. Leon might have his ear to some extent, but the price was always steep and she knew it was taking a toll on him, making him more and more reluctant to steadfastly confront the man. She, on the other hand, could handle whatever Wesker tried to throw at her in retaliation, as long as he remained unaware of the illicit affair…

“Why the rest of them?” Jack finally asked, eyes narrow. “There’s no love between any of you. You could just argue for your own recess instead of advocating for everyone else. What do you gain from that?”

For the first time since the entire altercation had begun, Evan broke eye contact. With a heavy sigh, he looked back at her with dark eyes. “I wouldn’t bother. Doing this all for myself would be much easier… But I have something to lose if they start seeing me being treated ‘better’ than them.”

A wave of understanding washed over Jack and her anger turned to pity. She didn’t have to ask to know he was talking about Dwight. Joey had once tripped the janitor during lunch, leaving him sprawling on the floor with a bloody nose and cracked glasses. The Trapper had retaliated instantly, picking the Legion member up over his head and throwing him through the serving window and into the kitchen. They’d added an extra screen after that…

It seemed that both of them would do whatever it took to protect the people that they care for, even if it meant doing things that they normally wouldn’t.

With a heavy sigh, Jack relented. “I’ll speak to Wesker and see what I can do. It was a miracle that he agreed to the thirty minutes so there’s no telling what he’d say about full recess for the second floor. There’s a reason that none of you get that and you know it.”

“How could I forget?” Evan asked dryly. Then, with what might be a sign of respect or possibly just another taunt, he added, “Good luck. If this goes south, we both have a lot to lose.”

With a thin lipped smile, Jack stepped out of the doorway, allowing it to close between them. It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew she had no choice but to somehow convince Wesker to give the second floor patients outdoor time. Making her way back upstairs, she started towards the CEO’s office when she was briefly sidetracked.

David, Eli, and Marcus were all shuffling towards the entrance, with the younger Emory holding the jar with the wretched beetle still inside. As if able to sense her disdain for it, the beetle turned in the jar so it was facing her before buzzing its wings.

Both she and Marcus jumped, although he was a lot closer and had been caught off guard by the sudden, unexpected buzzing sound. If he hadn’t been so on edge, he probably wouldn’t have reacted in such a manor.

Catching the sudden movement from the corner of his eye, Eli glanced over and spotted her. Quickly saying something to Marcus and David, he left them to hurry over to her.

“Miss Jack,” Eli greeted. He sounded tired, but more relieved than before. “I just wanted to make sure you were aware. I’ll be taking Marcus back to the dorms and staying with him, but I’ll be in for my shift tomorrow. Wesker approved his medical leave in person. Um, David’s just walking to the door with us, but he’ll still be here for the rest of his shift.”

“That’s fine.” Jack said evenly, although her eyes were still glued to the beetle. David noticed her stare and gave her a wave back. Unfortunately, it was with the hand holding the jar and she cringed as the beetle rocked from side to side. That plastic better hold or so help her god–

“Make sure he’s well rested and doesn’t have a concussion. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a hairline fracture but as long as he’s off his feet, he should be fine.”

Nodding, Eli bid her farewell before returning to Marcus and David. The bus would be there soon and they didn’t want to miss it and be forced to wait for the next one.

Once they, and the offending beetle, were out of sight, Jack resumed her march to Wesker’s office. Finding him and Leon both outside the door, she paused for a brief moment. The Trapper’s threat still echoing in her ears, she grit her teeth and stepped forward right as the two’s argument reached an ugly stopping point.

“Wesker. I need to speak with you,” Jack stated, cold and clear. Now was not the time to appear hesitant or unsure…

“You are dismissed, Captain,” Wesker ordered, turning to the nurse with a look of barely concealed contempt.

Well, this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. Not that she’d been expecting it to be…

~~

The hustle and bustle of the asylum was loud for once. Everyone was talking about what had happened on Floor Two with Marcus and the Trapper. Everyone was talking about how lucky the orderly was to survive the ordeal and how Wesker and Jack were heard arguing not too long later. Everyone seemed to have something to say.

David ignored them all, his eyes firmly glued to the beetle in his hands as he made his way to the elevators. As soon as he saw off Marcus and Eli, he had taken the poor thing out of its container. It had spread its wings, buzzing up a storm as David cupped it into his hands. It must’ve been so frightened from all the noise. He’d make sure to return it home.

Pausing in front of the metal doors, David let out a content hum when he saw that the elevator was empty. Good, he really didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Marcus’s brush with death had drained all of them.

Quentin was already back at the dorms as his shift was over, racked with guilt from not keeping a better eye on his roommate and friend. He and Eli would make sure that nothing happened to the ginger for the next three weeks. In fact, they had already discussed having the people in the room next to them watch over Marcus whenever they couldn’t. Just until he was fully off the oxy.

The machine let out a ding, reminding David to scan his badge so that he could choose a floor to go to.

He did not.

Shuffling the beetle to one hand, the orderly pulled out his keys with a jingle. It was a large bulking thing, stuffed with charms of every series that he enjoyed. He usually kept them in his locker since he wasn’t allowed to carry any sharp metals into the asylum.

The keychains hid the fact that there were two keys on the ring.

Flipping past his dorm key, David placed the other one into the lock on the elevator panel. A single twist allowed the compartment to open with a hushed click, revealing a palm reader. His movements were swift, practiced, as if he’d done this a million times over. Once the scan was complete, David locked the compartment back up and pressed the button for the sixth floor.

The machine was swift, a light ding ringing out as it passed each floor. Glancing up into the camera in the corner, David gave it a small wave as the red light blinked at him. He really should go thank Feng for allowing him into her Minecraft server.

Another chime rang out as the doors opened and David stepped out into a long white hallway. There were a few others walking about; Personnel in lab coats and clipboards, heading off to do whatever important thing it was that they did down here. David didn’t know, he never bothered to ask. They were all content to ignore him and vice versa.

His converse squeaked against the tiled floor, a red contrast to how white everything was. Clean, sterile. He stood out like an ant. Or a very buzzy beetle.

The door that he stopped in front of was made of mahogany, the wood standing out against the plain walls. Also like a buzzy beetle. David steeled himself, making sure that the insect was still tucked safely in his hand, before he brought his other one up to knock.

Once.

Twice.

The door swung open with a creak and David gave a weak smile.

“Hey dad, one of your specimens escaped.”
~~~~

Notes:

Hey ya'll! Due to busy work/school/life schedules, WOI will be skipping next week's update. (Wed 12th)

Normal updates will resume the week after (Wed 19th) <3

Chapter 40: Hard Truths, Harder Lies

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Eli gets Marcus back to the dorms to rest, and Leon is forced to confront something that's been haunting him....

Somehow, even Jeff knew about the incident already. He was kind enough not to pester Marcus or Eli about it as they took their seats, but he did pat the ginger on his uninjured shoulder, saying softly, “I’m glad you’re okay, kid. It’s not often I see people walk away from an incident like that.”

Even though he was incredibly grateful for the support, Marcus couldn’t help the way his eyes instantly welled up. Jeff looked slightly horrified and started to try and apologize, but the ginger quickly waved him off with a sniffled, “Thank you.”

Mouthing, ‘You’re fine,’ to the bus driver, Eli gave him an awkward thumbs up. With that, they were off, the trip spent in silence.

Waving goodbye as they disembarked, the nurse led his roommate back upstairs. A couple of people spotted them and started to say something, but a furious look from the brunet had them quickly and quietly retreating. Maybe he had learned a thing or two from Michael…

“Hey, Marcus?” Eli asked gently, pulling him to a stop in front of the door to their room. When the ginger blinked at him with an absolutely exhausted glaze in his eyes, he said, “I highly doubt Quentin’s asleep, and I know he wants to talk to you. If you want to try and rest first–”

The door to the room flew open before he could finish speaking and Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs, instinctively lashing out with a fist. It caught Quentin square in the nose, and he reeled backwards with a muffled yelp of pain, hands flying to his nose.

“Oh my god,” Eli whispered, wincing.

“Oooh,” Marcus breathed. “Oh no…”

“Quentin?” the nurse asked, cautiously leading the way into the room. Their friend was laying on his back on the floor, both hands still clutching his face.

“I deserved that,” he groaned, waving a hand when Eli tried to help him up. Lifting his head, it was easy to see the guilt etched all over his face. “Marcus, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone! None of that would have happened if–”

“Shhhh,” Marcus interrupted. When the janitor tried again, he crouched down and put a finger against his lips. “Shhhhh.”

Going slightly cross eyed as he tried to look at the finger almost in his mouth, Quentin leaned back slightly before halfheartedly arguing, “No, it’s just- I should have– blargh!”

Marcus had indeed shoved his finger in the janitor’s mouth, although he looked like he regretted it instantly. Wiping his finger on his pants, he requested, “Please, don’t blame yourself. I shouldn’t have opened the damn door. I have no one to blame but myself. And Wesker. I feel good about blaming Wesker for this.”

“Goddamn, how high are you?” Eli asked, squinting at him. The question had Marcus trying to turn around, but since he’d forgotten he was still crouching, he started to fall over. Both his roommates attempted to catch him, only to trip over one another and land in a tangled heap.

Rolling slightly to avoid hitting his head, Marcus managed to recover on his own. Grabbing onto the nearest bed, he pulled himself up onto the mattress before burying his face in the pillow. He just wanted to sleep…

“I’m not sharing a bed with King,” Quentin immediately stated, fighting to disentangle himself. “He can sleep with you!”

Glaring at him as he scooted over to the side of the bed, Eli pointed out, “Or… He can just sleep on the top bunk and Marcus can have his bed for a couple of days…”

Pursing his lips, the janitor nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“What if he rolls off and crushes me?” Marcus asked, voice muffled by the pillow. Normally, he wouldn’t be worried about such a thing. But with as rattled as he was and with the painkillers kicking his ass, it didn’t occur to him that if King did manage to roll off the top bunk, he’d land on the floor, not the person directly under him.

Instead of pointing that out, Eli simply promised, “I don’t think that’ll happen, but if it makes you more comfortable, I can sleep there and he can take my bed.”

“But then if he rolls out of bed, I’ll get smooshed!” Quentin complained, earning a scathing look from his friend. Eyebrows rising, he quickly amended, “Yeah, Eli can sleep up there.”

“Is that safe?” Marcus worried, turning to look at them both with bleary eyes. “What if you don’t smell right and Michael kills you?”

That made Eli pause, a strange look crossing his face before quickly being replaced by a soft smile. “Don’t worry about me and Michael. He wouldn’t kill me just because I don’t smell right.”

“But what if he doesn’t like it?” the ginger insisted, sounding like he was about to burst into tears again.

“Look… That has happened before,” Eli explained carefully. “But, he’s never tried to hurt me because of it. He just… does what he needs to do to ensure that I leave his cell smelling more like him than whatever it is that set him off.”

Practically lunging off the bed to grab the front of his shirt, Marcus wailed, “But what if he hurts you?!”

Doing his best to stifle a small scream, Eli blurted out, “I like it when he manhandles me, okay?!”

Eyes slowly narrowing, the ginger nodded. Releasing his roommate, he slowly settled back onto the bed, whispering, “Ah, yes, a fellow degenerate.”

Snorting, Quentin cleared his throat when Eli turned to glare at him. Becoming a lot more serious, he swore, “Anyway, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone, and next time I’ll be a lot more careful.”

“Shhhh,” Marcus said, nearly poking the janitor in the eye when he tried to finger-shush him again. “There won’t be a next time.”

“I’m getting fired?!” Quentin shouted, nearly deafening Eli.

“His medical leave got approved!” the nurse hissed, smacking his shoulder. “Christ, why the fuck would you be getting fired?! How long has it been since you slept?”

“You’re not my lawyer, I don’t have to tell you anything,” he retorted, before mumbling, “Thirty-six hours, I think.”

“Please get some sleep,” Eli groaned. “Look, even Marcus is already sleeping.”

He was indeed, having finally given in to the exhaustion and oxy. Still in his work clothes, socks, and shoes, he hadn’t even gotten under the covers.

“Aww, he’s so adorable,” Quentin gushed, like he was looking at a puppy and not an entire traumatized human being.

“Go to sleep,” Eli ordered, yanking his friend’s beanie off and smacking him with it.

“I shall try, but don’t expect much in the way of results,” he scoffed, pushing himself up. Shuffling to his bed, he flopped down on his back before asking, “So… Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Sighing, the nurse also rose, although he didn’t get into bed. Turning off the light, he sat at one of the desks before answering, “Yeah, given time. That kind of thing… Being held captive and not knowing if you’re going to make it out alive… It’s rough. But he’s got a good support system.”

When Quentin didn’t answer, Eli squinted at him through the dark. Ha. He was already sound asleep. Shooting King, Dwight, and David each a text warning them to be quiet when and if they came to the room, the nurse then pulled out his laptop. Hey, if the person he’d been given the day off to watch was sound asleep, he may as well play some Minecraft.

~~

The rest of Leon’s work day was a bit of a blur. He didn’t see or speak to Wesker again before his shift was over, and without Krauser there to stalk him through the halls, he was able to throw himself into his work with single minded intent.

As happy as he was that they’d managed to resolve the situation without bloodshed or even having to forcefully subdue the Trapper, he knew things weren’t really over. His thirty minutes of freedom were certain to cause serious problems with the other patients, likely leading to bloodshed in the future.

Maybe that was the whole point…

Doing his best to clear the negative thoughts from his mind, the Captain forced himself to focus. He had a lot to do, starting with re restructuring the guard rotations and schedules. No more of the nonsense Krauser had implemented.

Hopefully he’d be able to keep it that way once the Major returned to work…

By the time his shift was scheduled to be over, Leon was miraculously ready to head out. It was incredibly rare for most of the staff to actually get out exactly on time, but nearly impossible for department heads. The fact that he’d been left almost entirely alone to do his job for once and the adrenaline from the earlier ‘win’ had him burning through his work like a wildfire.

There probably would have been fights or possibly even more attacks on the staff, but both floors were put on temporary lockdown, pending ‘further discussions’ about how to prevent similar instances from happening. All in all, it had turned into a perfect day to get shit done.

But now that was over and it was time to head back to the dorms. Catching the bus just as it was about to pull away from the curb, he was a little surprised to find Jeff behind the wheel still.

“Hey, shouldn’t you and one of the other drivers have switched off by now?”

Chuckling, he explained, “You’re usually not out this early. This is my last run, then Nea’s taking over.”

“Ah,” Leon sighed, taking the first seat behind and to the side of the driver. As they pulled away from the curb, he asked, “Did you see Eli and Marcus, then?”

“I did,” Jeff confirmed stoically. “I know I haven’t gotten the full story yet, but it sounds like you were really pulling for the kid. You and Jack both.”

“He never should have been put in that position,” Leon stated, fully aware that the people nearest to him had quieted down to eavesdrop. He was about to continue, when someone walked up the aisle despite the signs ordering everyone to stay seated while the vehicle was in motion.

Looking up, he was about to tell them to take a seat, when he spotted King. The Brit made a ‘move over’ motion with his thumb, and Leon scooted over a spot so he could sit back down.

“You’re off work early,” he said, before instantly demanding, “So what’s being done about the Trapper’s latest bloody outburst?”

The guard had been in a mood ever since he’d found out his roommate had been used as a hostage to negotiate for outside time, and now that he’d finally cornered Leon, he wasn’t about to leave without getting answers to his questions.

“He’s in solitary for at least the next three weeks,” Leon explained, ignoring the unimpressed eye roll. “Marcus has been given medical leave, and he should be back in his room with Eli right now. As it stands, that’s all I can really say on the matter.”

“But what’s going to be done about it?” King pressed. “Don’t tell me Wesker’s actually going to let that bloody wanker get off with a slap on the fucking wrist. He’s too dangerous to be on the second floor. He should be downstairs somewhere. Like floor five–”

“David,” Leon hissed, voice low and tone warning. “First, he’s not an animal, no matter how much he behaves like one. Second, that’s not your call to make, and even if it was, we don’t discuss that out here.”

Letting out an irritated grunt to acknowledge that he understood, King then asked, “So what happened anyway? I keep hearing people say that the Trapper ripped the door off his cell just to get to Marcus and that he threatened Wesker of all people.”

Jesus Christ, who the hell was spreading the rumor that he’d threatened the CEO?!

Leon could only wonder, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he shook his head, explaining, “He took advantage of the fact that Marcus was under the influence, on medical orders of course, and on a double shift with no sleep to trick him into opening the door.”

“So he didn’t rip it off the hinges?” Jeff asked, chuckling quietly. He may not work inside the asylum itself, but he’d heard enough to know those cell doors were incredibly heavy and durable.

“No, he did,” Leon confirmed. Although he wasn’t one to promote fearmongering, that had really happened and he felt it was best that the rest of the staff knew what the Trapper was capable of. Not just him, but a few of the patients. It might just keep them alive…

“Wait, what?” someone a couple of rows back asked, only to be loudly shushed by several other people.

“He ripped the door off the hinges to keep it from closing. It’s not the first time, either,” the Captain explained. “The last time he did that was a little over four years ago, and it was to kill a janitor for waking him up while cleaning.”

“Fuck, I remember that,” King recalled, rubbing a hand over his face. “How the hell did you keep him from killing Marcus?”

“Jack was able to negotiate with him,” Leon explained, preferring to give her the credit. Although he hadn’t initially agreed with her decision to allow Evan to keep ahold of Marcus, the outcome spoke for itself. Any other methods would have certainly ended in bloodshed. Still, he couldn’t give her all the credit, and added honestly, “Despite everything and the condition he was in, Marcus was able to keep his cool and keep the situation from getting worse while in the Trapper’s hands, and even got Wesker to change his mind when it mattered most.”

That caused a buzz of conspiratorial whispering amongst the occupants of the bus, including a few people once again throwing around the idea that Wesker had some kind of untoward interest in the ginger. Now he’d not only driven him up there personally, but he’d changed his mind? Yep. They were definitely having an affair. Or they would, if they hadn’t already.

Pulling up outside the dorms, King and Leon bid Jeff farewell before heading inside. Once they were a little more separated from the rest of the disembarking crowd, the Captain asked, “Have you heard from Eli at all? I was busy all day and didn’t get a chance to check in with him.”

“A little, here and there,” King told him, before inviting, “Why don’t you come with me to the room? If he’s awake, I’m sure he’d like to know what’s going on.”

Not seeing any reason not to and hoping for a positive update, Leon agreed, and the pair headed up the elevator to the men’s floor. They passed a few people along the way, either coming back or heading out for their shifts, but no one tried to stop them to talk.

King didn’t bother to knock since he had a key, and the two entered the dimly lit room. They could make out Quentin, passed out on his bed, and another person covered by a blanket on the guards mattress. Eli was hunched over his laptop with headphones covering one ear, but turned when they came in.

Pulling off his headset entirely, he set it aside before quietly greeting, “Hey, you’re back. Sorry, David, Marcus is going to use your bed tonight.”

“It’s fine,” he dismissed, unbothered by the unexpected occupant. “He needs the rest, and I doubt he can climb very well right now.”

Glancing up at the top bunk, Leon winced at the mental image of Marcus trying and failing to clamber up there with a broken arm. With the way the orderly’s luck had been lately, he’d probably smack his head on the desk on his way down and have to be rushed right back to medical.

“How is he?” the blond asked, stepping a bit closer to check on him himself.

Marcus was laying on his stomach, uninjured arm tucked under the pillow, while his broken wrist was stretched out by his side. He was sound asleep, but even with the meager light from Eli’s computer, it was easy to see the dark bruises around his neck.

“Shaken, nervous, exhausted,” Eli sighed. “But he’s okay, I think. He’ll be okay. He just needs time and rest. And probably therapy.”

“Who doesn’t?” a sleepy voice asked, and they looked over to see Quentin rubbing his eyes. “Fuck. Why’s it so bright in here?”

“The sun is crashing into the Earth and we’re all going to burn to death in approximately ten hours,” Eli told him, completely straight faced.

Leon could only assume that wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, as the janitor just scoffed, before squinting at his phone. “Ugh, I can’t believe– Ooh! Oh, hi, Leon.”

“Quentin,” he greeted. “Alright, I’m going to get out of here before we wake him up too. Please keep me posted on how he’s doing and if any of you need anything, you know where to find me.”

With a few quiet farewells, Leon stepped out into the hall, only to nearly bump directly into David Emory and Dwight. Both of them looked like they were about to be sick, and before he could say anything, the janitor blurted out, “Is he okay?! David already told me how his medical exams went, but have you talked to him? Is he–”

“He’s sleeping, but everyone else is awake,” the blond explained calmly. “I’m sure you two are welcome to go in, but please let him rest. Eli’s been with him, and he said he’s doing okay so far.”

Both of them quickly thanked him, before gently knocking on the door. King let them inside, and Leon continued on his way to David’s room. He’d already given him a spare key, so getting into the room so he could shower and get to bed early for once was the plan. He had a feeling tomorrow wouldn’t be so easy, so he wanted to be well prepared.

Leon was almost to the room when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Stopping mid-step, he slowly turned to look back down the hall.

Krauser was walking towards him, eyes glittering with malice as he stared him down.

A shiver went down Leon's spine, but he refused to flee or back down. Not anymore. He’d hold his ground. Squaring his shoulders as the Major finally stopped in front of him, he spoke first, asking in a less than conversational tone, “Can I help you, Lieutenant?”

“Look at you, Rookie,” Krauser sneered, eyes drifting over him as inspecting a brand new private on his first day. “You think because you finally managed to save one life that you’re suddenly invincible?”

“It’s Captain, and it was a joint effort,” he stated flatly. “Cooperation amongst staff and a willingness to listen and take the appropriate steps is important.”

Crossing his arms, Krauser scoffed, “Oh, I heard all about it.”

“Then I suppose there’s nothing more to say on the subject, and you can be on your way,” Leon attempted, hoping to dismiss him before things could escalate.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, as Krauser immediately let out a harsh laugh. “You mean negotiate. You showed nothing but weakness in front of the inmates today, Rookie. You, Wesker, that bitch-”

Leon swung on him before he could stop himself. Most people would have been caught off guard by his speed and sudden aggression, but Krauser wasn’t most people. He had years of experience under his belt, and to top it all off, he’d trained Leon.

He could have blocked or deflected the blow before returning one of his own, but instead chose to catch his wrist. Spinning him, Krauser let him go, watching him stagger as he caught his balance before hitting a wall.

“That was pathetic, Rookie. No wonder you rolled over under pressure today,” he taunted. “Did you forget everything I taught you?”

Gritting his teeth, Leon turned to face him again. He knew he’d already been at a disadvantage, but that little stunt had cost him…

“Krauser, I don’t have time for your bullshit–”

“Then make time,” he snapped, taking a step towards him.

Leon almost took an instinctive step back. Catching himself, he still moved back slightly, a fact that wasn’t missed by his former mentor.

Crowding into his space, Krauser’s voice dropped to a predatory snarl as he admonished, “You were weak at the academy, and you’re still weak now. If it wasn’t for the fact that the CEO decided to use you as a place to rest his dick, you’d probably be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush instead of letting inmates run the fucking asylum. Today was a perfect example of that.”

“We saved a life,” Leon argued, hating the way his hands trembled. At least his voice was steady, boosted by anger and conviction that the situation had been handled the only way it could have been to avoid bloodshed.

“You got lucky,” he snarled, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That’s not something to depend on…”

An almost sly smirk tugged the corners of his mouth, and he took a step back. Reaching up, he took his beret off as he mused, “I’m sure having backup helped, but you know, that’s not something you can depend on either. People are unreliable. Especially when the image of someone they care about is tarnished.”

“What are you getting at?” Leon demanded suspiciously. Krauser didn’t suspect him and Jack, did he? But how the hell would he know? He didn’t… He couldn’t… Could he?

Pulling a wallet sized photo from the inside of his cover, Krauser looked at it with something close to malicious glee. “For instance, seeing someone they respect in a state like this… could be pretty upsetting. Don’t you think, pretty boy?”

Leon physically recoiled when Krauser flipped the photo around, shoulders hitting the wall behind him. Instantly feeling sick to his stomach as memories of that night flashed through his mind, he barely registered the following taunt.

“What’s the matter? Were you hoping I’d gotten tired of seeing you like this?”

He didn’t answer, unable to come up with any words that could fully express how much he hated the man standing before him. How much he wished he’d never met him. How badly he wished the injury that had given him the scar across his face had killed him instead…

“You don’t have what it takes to survive in a place like this, Rookie. How many people have already died on your watch? How many more are going to die before you realize… You’re weak. You can’t protect anyone.”

Replacing the photo, Krauser adjusted his beret before turning and stalking down the hall without so much as a glance back. Whatever point he’d been trying to make, he must have felt like he’d gotten it across.

Taking several deep breaths, Leon was about to turn and stumble back to David’s room to throw up and cry in the shower, when something bumped his leg. Jolting slightly, he looked down to see the chubby black and white cat Feng had ‘adopted’. Wasn’t she supposed to stay in the tech building?

Looking up at him, the cat, who was now wearing a collar with a name tag that said ‘Jude’, meowed quietly. It almost seemed like she knew she wasn’t supposed to be discovered, but had come out of hiding anyway to check on him.

Sliding down along the wall until he was more or less crouching, Leon scratched Jude between the ears. Sighing, he asked, “How did you even get up here?”

Butting her head into his hand in a silent demand for more attention, Jude began to purr.

It was a soothing sound, and Leon found himself smiling weakly. Quickly looking up and down the hall, he went ahead and scooped up the cat, taking him with her back to David’s room. He hoped his temporary roommate wouldn’t mind, but it wasn’t like the cat would be staying long term.

He needed some time to think and clear his head before he returned Jude, and he was honestly grateful that David was busy waiting for Marcus to wake up. Being roommates with the younger Emory had made him realize a lot of things about the clumsy orderly, mostly that the rumors about him being a spoiled nepo-baby were entirely wrong. Still, the alone time was much needed, and a long shower helped him clear his head a bit.

By the time he was toweled off and dressed in comfortable, casual clothes, he’d come to a decision. It was difficult, but it was one he knew he couldn't put off any longer. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and texted Jack.

‘Please let me know when you get back from work. If possible, there’s something I need to talk to you about tonight. In person.’

As soon as he hit send, he felt his stomach turn violently. There was no turning back now. Not unless the message didn’t deliver? …Nope, there it went, changing from ‘sending’ to ‘delivered’.

“We’re cooked, Garfield,” he mumbled, dropping onto his mattress beside Jude. The cat let out an offended ‘murp’ and turned her head away when he reached out to pet her. Laughing quietly, he asked, “What? Don’t like lasagna?”

He was only saved from the elderly cat's building wrath by his phone dinging with an incoming text message. It was from Jack. Staring at the phone screen for a solid minute without opening it, he was forced to do so when Jude reached up and smacked at the device with a paw, opening the screen and almost calling the head nurse in the process.

Before he could shut the phone off again, the message changed from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’, and the typing bubble popped up. Leon swore his heart was about to stop when it vanished again, only for a second text to come in a second later.

‘I’m here.’
‘Come to my room. There are people in the common area for movie night.’

“Fuck,” he mumbled, before sending back a quick thumbs up emoji. As soon as he hit send, he asked Jude, “Was that too silly? Should I have said ‘okay’? Or would that have sounded too stern?”

The cat blinked at him, looking unimpressed with his dilemma.

Knowing it was pointless to seek further help from the feline, Leon pushed himself off the mattress. As soon as he moved, Jude took the warm spot he’d left behind, and he squinted at her. Shaking his head, he turned the lights off before peering out into the hall. He didn’t see anyone, especially Krauser, so he hurried quietly down the hall to the elevator. Taking it down to the second floor, he cautiously checked for anyone walking around before hurrying towards Jack’s room.

Just as he was about to gently knock on the door, a voice directly behind him asked, “If you two are going to smash, can you please keep it down?”

Nearly jumping into the door instead, Leon spun around, hissing, “Feng! What the hell?!”

“I have had zero sleep in the last thirty-four hours,” she told him, eyes bleary. “I’ve got all my systems set to high alert, so if anything happens, that’ll wake me up. If literally anything else wakes me up before I get a solid ten hours of sleep, like two people smashing in the room next to mine, I will set fire ants loose on every floor of this building.”

Staring at her for a moment, Leon finally asked quietly, “Where would you get fire ants in Alaska?”

“They’re fire ants, Leon,” Feng deadpanned. “They’re fucking everywhere.”

With that, she unlocked the door to her room, and with a ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, vanished inside.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered. Turning to knock on Jack’s door, he nearly jumped again when he found her already waiting for him.

She looked amused, most likely from having watched his interaction with Feng. Leaning against her door frame with her arms crossed over her chest, she looked comfortable. A simple gray T-shirt and sweats functioned as her pajamas. Hair, usually tied up in a Navy-like tight bun, was finally allowed to breathe, falling in dark waves around her shoulders.

Although she didn’t look phased by the events of the day, the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. “I’m assuming you’re here for something other than sex, yes?”

Starting and stopping several times, he finally sighed, asking, “May I please come in? This… is going to be a long conversation.”

It might be excusable if he had something relating to the earlier incident to talk to her about, but only just. If anyone walked out of their room and caught him down there without a legitimate reason, they could both end up in a lot of trouble.

Jack stood back upright, gesturing for the blond to enter. Once Leon was through the threshold of her room, she quickly glanced down the hallway to make sure there was no one else around before closing the door and locking it.

Turning back around, she found him sitting on her neatly made bed, hands clenched together and thumbs twiddling like he was a kid in the principal’s office. He looked… troubled.

She took a seat next to him, the cushion of the mattress causing them to lean against each other, gravity pulling at them till she laid her head on his shoulder. There was a brief pause, a momentary comfort, before she broke the silence first. “What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Leon stared at his hands for a long time. The words were there, floating in his mind like ghosts. Their presence chilling, but intangible when he tried to take hold of any of them. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before saying quietly, “Krauser and I… have history. I was still a rookie with the RPD when I was selected for a special training program…”

Retelling the same story he’d told to Marcus, David, and the rest of his slowly growing friend group was both easier, and more painful than before. It didn’t feel as much like reliving it, but looking at it through a window. He wanted to bang on the glass and warn his younger self, to reach out and grab him and drag him out of that damn school by the hair if he had to. Voice and throat raw by the time he reached the end of his story, he continued into what had happened only a short while before.

“–and he’s still got that… that photo. Of me. He showed me. Wants me to know he has it… And I don’t… I don’t want you to see me like that. Because then you’re going to see just how fucked up I really am… It’s bad enough that I couldn’t stand up to him when he threatened you, but I just… I know I’m damaged, and… broken-”

Jack didn’t allow him to finish before she had her hands on his cheeks, smooshing his face as she pulled him down to her level. Her eyes were firm, filled with a fiery blaze as she told him sternly, “I am going to smack the shit out of you if you keep talking like that. What Krauser did to you does not define you and I will not let you mope around like this.”

Leon took a shuddering breath, eyes dropping before closing tightly. When he opened them again, he looked tired. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and the burden had simply become too much for him to bear.

“Jack… I don’t know what to do. I… haven’t been happy for a long time. RPD was… everything. For a time, anyway. Then Wesker, but he and I… I know he’s been using me, and I’ve been using him. I don’t think there was ever anything real between him and I, but I can’t keep sneaking around like this… But I can’t risk losing you, either. You are my happiness. You have been for a long time. I feel right when I’m with you and wrong when I’m with him… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Her eyes softened, hands slipping down from his face to hold onto his own. For the first time in a long time, Jack also looked hesitant. She usually moved with confidence, assured in her every move because she always knew exactly what she wanted in life, be it her job or her relations with the captain. At this moment, however, she truly didn't know what to do. “I… I don’t think it’s safe for you to leave him. Not now, at least. He’ll do something drastic, I know he will. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I can’t… stay with him. I don’t want him… touching me, anymore,” he said quietly, as though ashamed to hear himself finally say it despite the weight it lifted from his shoulders. “We could both leave. I could end it with him and we could just… go. Leave Crotus Prenn, leave Alaska, put it all behind us.”

Her grip tightened, her voice softer than her words, spoken with a finality that shook Leon to his core. “I can’t leave. You know I can’t leave.”

Leon nodded slowly. As much as he wished it was as easy as just leaving, he knew that wasn’t the case. She had family on the outside, people close to her that she cared about. People that could be used against her if she tried. They were both in far too deep to simply walk away. They knew it, and more importantly, Wesker knew it too.

“I understand. I do… But we can’t stay here forever. It’s a death sentence and I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it because… I love you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Leon froze. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He wasn’t panicking because it wasn’t true, but because he was terrified that somehow, despite everything, she wouldn’t feel the same way even if she did care for him deeply.

His panic wasn’t helped by the slack jawed stare he got back from her. Dammit! Should he make a joke? Some corny pun to lighten the mood? To pretend that he was simply kidding and that he should go back to his room now? Fuck, his palms were sweating up a storm. Could she feel how clammy they were? Did she hate him now? Why wasn’t she saying anything?!

A million and one thoughts flew around in his mind, a buzzing in his ear growing louder the longer the silence grew. He would’ve passed out from the shock if it weren’t for the hand on the back of his neck pulling him down into a gentle kiss.

Leon’s thoughts went blank for a moment, the only thing he was aware of were the soft lips pressing against his own and the warm fingers gently resting on his skin. When Jack finally pulled back slightly so they were looking at one another again, he found himself at a loss for words.

There were stars in her eyes, a whole night sky crammed into those pupils. God, he could stare at them all day. They curled up around the corners, an amused smile spreading across her lips, most likely from the dumb expression on his face. That was their first kiss. They’d been sleeping together for three years and that was their first kiss.

“I love you too. I would also like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She glanced around her barren room, void of any real life. Her metaphoric bird cage. “Preferably not here. But we’ll figure it out, one day at a time.”

For the first time in a long time, Leon felt a genuine smile on his face. Warmth spread through his chest, hope and happiness blooming where there had only been fear and depression before. Jack was right. They would be okay. They’d figure it out one day at a time.

~~

Marcus woke to the sound of someone whispering loudly. Blinking several times, he mumbled, “Why’s it so dark? Wha’ time’s it?”

“This conversation is over,” Dwight hissed, before saying in a slightly louder voice, “Um, hey, Marcus… Are- are you okay?”

“Never better,” he mumbled, dropping his head back to the pillow. He really wanted to go back to sleep, but his bladder had other ideas, and he groaned unhappily. “What time is it?”

“Time for us to get a bigger room,” King grumbled. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Fuck,” Marcus groaned. Making a pained sound when he rolled over, he wheezed, “Oh my god, everything hurts.”

“Marcus!” David’s panicked voice whispered. “Are you guys sure he didn’t break any bones? He looks so purple!”

A phone flashlight nearly blinded the orderly when it moved over his face. He hissed, barely able to lift a sore hand up to cover his eyes. There was a soft curse and apology before the flashlight was turned off again.

“Oh, god,” he muttered. Purple? He looked purple? Then again, he wasn’t too surprised. With as badly as his throat and arm were hurting, not to mention the rest of his tired, battered body, he was sure he looked like microwaved roadkill.

“Um, Leon came by a little while ago to check on you,” Dwight explained, disembodied voice floating out of the dark. “But you were asleep, so he left.”

“Hit the light, will you?” Marcus asked, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, it’s weird being surrounded by people in the dark.”

“We could all get naked,” Quentin’s voice offered. When he was met with dead silence, he attempted to make it better by explaining, “We’ll all feel closer, and therefore more comfortable!”

After another brief moment of silence, there was a distinct sound of someone getting smacked. The lamp was turned on a moment later, and Marcus blinked several times as his eyes adjusted. When he was finally able to look around the room, he spotted David and Eli sitting on the top bunk opposite him, while Dwight was sitting on the lower bunk. Quentin was beside him, but he’d been knocked over by the pillow that had been flung at his head. King was standing in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest with an uncharacteristically worried expression on his face.

“Why are you all up so late?” he finally asked, trying to sit up.

Dwight and King quickly stepped forward, helping him move around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. It was only then he noticed that someone had been kind enough to take his socks and shoes off, as well as throw a blanket over him. He’d been so tired, he hadn’t noticed a thing.

“When aren’t we?” King asked, only half joking. “You want some water or something? Can you have liquids? Eli, can he have liquids?”

With an expression that just screamed ‘we’ve been over this a thousand times’, the nurse confirmed, “Yes, as long as he takes it easy until his throat heals, he can eat and drink as normal. He just can’t have anything super spicy, acidic, or other inflammatory foods.”

“I just want a pain pill,” he stated, before anyone else could say anything. “Please.”

As Eli hopped down from the bed to grab his prescription and a bottle of water, Dwight started and stopped trying to speak several times. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he eventually managed, “Marcus, I’m really sorry-“

“Oh, god, please don’t,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes closed. “Dwight, it’s not your fault. And I already told Quentin the same thing, so if he starts to try and apologize again, someone hit him with another pillow.”

Grimacing, Dwight looked away before forcing himself to meet the ginger’s mismatched eyes. “No. I’m sorry for what Evan did to you. I know why he did it, but that doesn’t make it okay or any less horrible. I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

Marcus had been about to tell him it was fine, but paused. It hadn’t even occurred to him that the Trapper might have mentioned anything about his plan to the janitor. He knew they were ‘dating’, but he wasn’t sure how much they actually talked as opposed to… other activities, while in the patient’s cell together.

“He never… He’s told me he wishes he could have outdoor time before, but he’d never said anything about holding someone hostage to force it,” Dwight admitted. “I have tried talking to Wesker, but he always brushed off my requests for a meeting, saying he was too busy. He did finally send Asa to meet with me when I wouldn’t stop requesting a meeting and… um, he made it clear in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t going to happen and that I needed to stop asking…”

Running a hand through his messy hair, he took a deep breath before continuing. “I swear, if I’d had any idea that he was planning to do something like this I…”

King looked at the ground, a scowl on his face. It was clear what he was thinking, but he kept it to himself. ‘You wouldn’t have stopped him…’

Without an ounce of hesitation, Dwight concluded, “I would have warned you all, so you’d know to stay away from his cell.”

Eli didn’t look at all surprised by his admission, as though he already knew he’d have done the same thing should Michael have confided something like that in him. Quentin looked a bit concerned, but not terribly shocked, while King just looked pissed.

“It’s not your fault.” David quickly asserted. “Marcus shouldn’t have even been on that shift in the first place. Honestly, I think you should sue or something. Or blackmail him like you did your old boss.”

David’s face immediately fell and he slapped a hand over his own mouth but it was too late to take the words back. “Oh shit.”

There was a long silence, before King asked incredulously, “You blackmailed your way into a job… here? Why?! This place sucks!”

That was not the reaction Marcus was expecting, but before he could comment, Quentin shrugged. “I mean, the pay is good. And so is the health insurance.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking Alaska,” Eli complained. “Not even the good part of Alaska, with fishing and hiking and stuff!”

“You can hike around here,” David chimed in. “But there’s bears and moose in the woods, so maybe you shouldn’t.”

“On top of that, he can’t sue,” Dwight added, wincing. When the ginger squinted at him, he elaborated, “I’m guessing Wesker didn’t tell you… but if you sign the forms accepting medical leave, you also agree not to sue the company. If you don’t sign, they assume you’re going to sue, so you don’t get leave…”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Marcus huffed. Admittedly, it made sense. It also explained why Wesker was so quick to show up with the updated paperwork…

“I fractured my eye socket once,” Quentin told him. “I slipped on a puddle at the top of the stairs, fell down the entire flight, and walked away without a scratch. Then I tripped, fell over my own feet, landed funny, and boop! There goes that bone!”

“Oh my god,” the ginger whispered, but his friend wasn’t done.

“Dwight and Feng lied for me and said that it was the fall down the stairs that did it, so the company had to compensate me, since technically it was their fault. No one had put out the rubber mats to collect all the melting snow from peoples shoes, so it was technically negligence. Not mine though, since I wasn’t on shift at the time. Anyway, I had no intention of suing, but dear god, don’t even mention the word. I made the mistake of asking why that clause was in there. You should have seen the way Grimes hovered until I’d signed everything.”

“That dude is fucking creepy,” Eli muttered, shuddering.

“Thank god I don’t have to work with him,” Marcus considered, only to be given a range of uncomfortable looks from everyone else in the room. “Ah… What are those looks for?”

“Well… You may not have to work with him now,” King mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “But if you start getting cleared to work on lower floors…”

“You’re going to be seeing him a lot more,” Dwight explained, wincing. “Mostly for the tour of each floor…”

“There’s seven floors, right?” the ginger asked, only to receive a wall of uncomfortable stares. “Okay… I know there’s at least seven floors, because I’ve seen level seven clearance on several people’s badges. Are there patients on all seven floors?”

“Get the benadryl,” Quentin whispered loudly. “He’s asking too many questions.”

“You’ll… see when you get there,” Eli offered awkwardly. “In the meantime, you should take it easy, focus on resting and getting better. You’ve been through a lot.”

Sighing, Marcus could only nod. Although everyone other than him and David had higher clearances, he wasn’t going to try and push them into risking their jobs by talking about the lower floors.

“Alright, I’m going to head back to my room,” Dwight decided. “I’m off work tomorrow, so I’ll come hang out with you in case you need anything.”

Thanking him, Marcus was happy to see King pulling out the air mattress for David so he could spend the night in their room. He doubted Leon would really mind having a room to himself again, even if it was just for a night.

As they all got settled in for the night, something occurred to him, and he asked, “Hey, David? What did you do with the beetle?”

“Jr.?” Quentin demanded, head whipping up from where he’d just laid down.

“Oh, I put it back,” David answered, shrugging as he scooted under his covers. In no time, he was nothing more than a puff of brown hair nestled into an equally fuzzy blanket.

Not thinking too much of it, Marcus forced himself up to use the bathroom before settling back into bed himself. He was incredibly grateful that King was willing to trade beds with him until his cast came off, and as his painkillers kicked back in after sleeping off the last dose, he drifted into a fitful sleep.
~~~~

Notes:

I hope the week off wasn't too much of a drag for you all, but we're back! <3

Chapter 41: Welcome Back! To Hell….

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus is back at work, thankfully drug free and on day shift again! Let's see what changes have taken place since he's been gone ;)

~Three Weeks Later~

Marcus had been off prescription painkillers for a full week before his first shift back at work. He could have kept taking them, but switched to ibuprofen as soon as he possibly could, knowing it would be best if they were out of his system completely before going back. The cast had come off a few days before, and he was already starting to enjoy the newly returned freedom.

Eli had continued to monitor him closely to ensure he wasn’t doing too much too fast, and in the end, they’d compromised. He was going back to work with a light weight wrap around his wrist to keep it supported. Of course, that was when Marcus found out that Eli’s version of a compromise was to get someone much bigger and stronger than himself to enforce his will. In that case, it was King, and he’d sat on the ginger until their roommate was satisfied with the bandage.

Trying not to pick at the ace bandage around his wrist as he and David walked into the asylum, Marcus asked, “How the hell did Krauser already get approved to come back?”

“From what I heard, he basically speed ran his training courses,” David answered, smacking the orderly’s hand as he reached out to scratch his wrist again. “But honestly, I think he just pressured them to just let him back early. I highly doubt he actually learned anything.”

“Yeah, I believe it,” he agreed, squinting at an unfamiliar guard as they walked past. He’d glanced over at Krauser’s name, and Marcus didn’t particularly like the way he was watching them.

Before he could quietly point that out to David, Steve came hurrying over. “Hey! You’re just in time. Come on, Wesker’s about to make some big announcement.”

Exchanging a curious look with his fellow orderly, the two quickly hurried after the cook as he led the way to the staff break room. It seemed to be where most announcements were held, and the room was already pretty full when they arrived.

Oddly, both Asa and Grimes were present, along with Leon, Jack, and a very unhappy looking Krauser. It was unclear what had crawled up his ass and died that morning, but no one was going to risk asking.

Once again reading off a stack of cue cards, Wesker announced, “Starting today, there will be major changes to some of the patients scheduling. This only affects floors one and two, which is why so many of you now have floor two clearance. Don’t expect to be scheduled downstairs if you weren’t previously cleared to do so.”

Turning to David, Marcus mouthed, ‘Major changes?’ but his friend looked just as taken by surprise as he did. Considering none of his roommates had mentioned it either, it was likely this was the first time the majority of the asylum was hearing about it.

“Floor two will now be coming upstairs to share floor one’s outdoor time,” Wesker continued dryly. Ignoring the murmurs that rippled through the crowd, he read, “Unless assigned to move the patients, do not interfere or attempt to interact under any circumstances. As well, cages have been added to the yard–”

“Cells,” Leon corrected quietly, and the entire room went silent. He did not just correct the CEO in front of everyone.

“Cells,” he snapped, “have been added to the yard, to allow for containment in case patients have trouble acclimating to yard time, or if they need to be restricted. This is up to the guards and applicable department heads discretion.”

The murmurs continued to grow louder, but instead of telling the gathered staff to hush or just deal with it, Wesker lowered the cue cards with a small smirk. “Now, if anyone has any comments or complaints about the new arrangement, feel free to take them to Miss Jack Wu, our Head Nurse. I’m sure you all know where her office is, and since this was her idea,” he gestured to said woman, who looked just as pissed as Krauser did. “Any feedback related to such can be given to her directly… You’re all dismissed.”

The silence that followed was somehow louder than before, and the room quickly started to empty. It wasn’t long before Marcus and David were two of the only people left. The ginger had been hoping to grab Jack before she left and ask how on earth she managed to convince Wesker to get the entire second floor permanent outdoor time, but she was gone before the crowd cleared enough for him to get to her.

Getting David’s attention, he asked, “Is it cool if I catch up with you? I’ll be there to help with handing out breakfast, and I need to let Ghostface know I’m back, but I want to talk to Jack really quickly. I want to know how exactly she pulled that off.”

“That’s fine,” David agreed easily. “Tell me what she says because there’s no way she managed to do that without psychic mind fuckery or something.”

Laughing, Marcus nodded. “Will do. Tell Claudette and Laurie I said hi!”

Parting ways, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find no one waiting to lodge a complaint when he reached Jack’s office. Knocking on the door, he waited for an already slightly annoyed, “Come in,” before poking his head inside.

Grinning sheepishly, he offered, “Heeey… I’m not here to complain or anything…”

“You can resume your normal activities as long as you don’t overexert yourself,” she said dismissively. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help. If you feel like you need a longer break or need to sit down, let me know and I can put you on paperwork duty. Lord knows they could use a hand with the logs right now.”

“Oh, that sounds… great,” Marcus agreed, stepping the rest of the way into the office. It was only then that he noticed Leon standing right behind the door, and jumped at the unexpected presence.

Waving, the Captain greeted, “Hey, Marcus. Are you doing okay?”

He wasn’t sure why he was asking. Since he’d started crashing in David’s room, they saw each other almost every single day, even while he wasn’t working.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered. “Why were you behind the– Nevermind, I don’t have time. Actually, I was kind of hoping you could explain something to me. How… How the hell did you convince Wesker to actually do something right for the patients?”

Leon shrugged. He’d been in a slightly better mood lately, and it translated into more relaxed gestures, even at work. “Don’t ask me. I wasn’t there.”

Looking at Jack, Marcus raised his eyebrows. Well, Wesker had said it was her idea. He’d just assumed he’d said it in case it backfired horribly…

Although, judging by the sour expression on her face, it most likely was. “That is not something I want to get into. Just know that he agreed to it and we’ll have to restructure the schedule because of it.”

Trying not to be disrespectful but too curious to just let the subject drop, he asked lightly, “Did you use some kind of psychic mind powers or something? I won’t tell if you did. I’m great at keeping secrets.”

He could feel the hard side eye Leon was giving him, but he ignored it in favor of offering Jack an endearing smile when she leveled him with a cold stare. Dear god, he’d seen her do that to patients and honestly hoped never to be on the receiving end of one himself. Maybe he should have just let it go…

His tensed shoulders finally dropped when she let out a tired sigh, taking a seat behind her desk and gesturing for Marcus to do the same on the other side as she relented, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to explain. Better that then more rumors starting.”

As Leon leaned against her desk with his own curious expression, Jack recalled the argument that he had heard behind those close doors that day…

~~

“Wesker, I need to speak with you.”

Jack was barely able to keep her tone even when she said it, already imagining her hands around the CEO’s neck as he dismissed Leon. She could feel the Captain's eyes on her as they stepped into Wesker’s office but she didn’t care. Right now, everything was on the line and if she didn’t pull off the impossible, it wouldn’t just be the delicate ecosystem of the Asylum that was in trouble.

Shutting the door behind her, both personnel stood face to face in the center of the room, tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Jack broke the silence first, arms crossed over her chest as she boldly said, “The second floor should receive recess permanently. Same as the first floor.”

Not so much as batting an eye, Wesker scoffed, “Absolutely not, and if that’s all you came in here to ask me, you may leave as well.”

“Allow me to elaborate-” Jack continued through gritted teeth, barely able to conceal the seething hatred for the man in front of her.

“I don’t care!” he snapped, loud enough to be heard through the door if someone was walking by. “You’ve already made the staff look like fools in front of the patients tonight! What could you possibly say that could justify that?”

“I handled the situation in a quick and concise manner!” she snapped back, her usual cool momentarily lost. “I minimized the damage done and reached a solution where no one died! You should be thanking me for how I took care of the situation since you can’t even be bothered to show up until it was almost too late!”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, Jack continued, “The Trapper, in front of the entire second floor patients, has been shown blatant favoritism. Even if it was only for thirty minutes, that is thirty minutes more than any of the others have ever gotten, or will ever have. This is most definitely going to lead to an increase in patient hostility and staff casualties. More people are going to get hurt if we don’t nip this in the bud immediately.”

“None of this would have happened if you hadn’t taken the liberty of negotiating with a patient!” Wesker scoffed dismissively, also ignoring the fact that, technically, Leon had been the one to make that decision by calling her in the first place.

“None of this would have happened if you didn’t put Marcus on that shift, you absolute buffoon!”

Wesker looked taken aback, either by the name, or the call out. Probably a combination of both, really. Teeth audibly grinding, he had the audacity to try and argue, “It’s not my fault he wasn’t assigned a partner for the night. Isn’t that your department?”

Her audacity was even greater when she dared to jab a finger into his chest. “You took that responsibility out of my hands when you assigned him to the night shift without telling me.”

For the briefest moment, a red glow seemed to ignite behind his stupid pretentious sunglasses. Breaking off the staring contest with a disgusted sigh, he moved to sit behind his desk. Throwing his hands up, he allowed, “Alright, fine! If you want the entire second floor to get outdoor time so badly, how would it work? Have you even considered that?”

That time, Jack wasn’t able to contain herself and she rolled her eyes rather dramatically at his stupidity. “The same as the first floor, you idiot. It really isn’t that hard.”

Wesker stared at her from behind his sunglasses, veins visible in his temples and neck. It was so painfully obvious that he wanted to argue. To continue saying ‘no’ just to regain some childish semblance of power over the lives of the patients and staff… And just to spite her. Honestly, it was probably mostly that.

Steepling his fingers in front of his chest, the blond took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, his tone and words were much more calculated as he said, “And do you think the current level one staff can handle such an influx of patients on a day to day basis?”

“Some of the floor two staff can bring the patients up,” Jack answered exasperatedly, as if she were talking to an argumentative child. “And don’t give me any of that bullshit that they have to stay down there. You allowed Krauser to fuck up the rotation so you can allow this too.”

Mouth a thin line, he mulled over her answer for a moment before petulantly arguing, “You do realize this will effectively force me to give a blanket ‘floor two clearance’ to the entirety of the staff? This will seriously affect hiring new staff for all departments in the future, including the nursing staff.”

“As if you don’t already put your grubby hands all over my schedule anyways.”

“I suggest you remember to whom you’re speaking, Jack,” he warned coldly. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but that time, it was followed with a thinly veiled threat. “So be it. We’ll see how well the patients and staff can acclimate to this massive overhaul in the routine we’ve so carefully cultivated over the past twenty years. I hope none of your direct subordinates run into any more issues due to this change. Send Felix to my office. I’ll have him begin designing some changes to the yard to accommodate for your… request.”

“What changes?” Jack asked immediately with narrowed eyes, but Wesker continued to talk over her.

“I can’t imagine it’ll take more than two, maybe three weeks to complete. Say nothing to the patients or staff for now. We don’t need them working themselves up over this,” he decided retroactively. “You’re dismissed.”

As Jack turned to leave, Wesker spoke up again, making her pause with one hand on the doorknob.

“Do take this victory with a grain of salt, Jack. Changes like this don’t happen without a cost… and someone will have to pay it at some point.”

Her free hand clenched but she had no retort. He was right and she knew it. It was a give and take world and she had just taken something major. Now she just hoped that she could afford the price…

~~

Danny’s foot tapped a rapid rhythm on the floor of his cell. He wasn’t usually one to fidget but he was uncharacteristically on edge that morning. Emory Jr., the infamous nepo baby, had been the one to bring him his breakfast again, but that time he’d actually brought news other than, ‘Marcus is doing fine and will be back soon.’

He had finally told Ghostface what he’d wanted to hear. At least in part. Doc was back at work, but he hadn’t accompanied David to hand out the trays. He’d gone to speak to Jack and wasn’t back from her office yet.

He didn’t like that at all. It wasn’t because he didn’t like Jack -he didn’t- or that he was worried about the ginger -he was-. No, it was the idea that his orderly might be requesting a transfer or something along those lines in an attempt to keep himself safe from the Trapper, or any other patients that might get the bright idea to use him as a bargaining chip. He’d have to put a stop to that… He needed Doc to feel safe enough to stay at Crotus Prenn…

“Would you fight PeePaw Myers,” he muttered to himself with a mirthless laugh. He wouldn't if he could help it, but… if it meant keeping Doc safe and out of the blood soaked hands of his unwilling prison mates, he would fight all three of the Michaels.

Thinking about it, he had a bit of a to do list to get started on. First, Evan. That shit needed to be shut down asap. Second, Krauser. He hoped he could get to him first, but the man had a huge target on his back. Ugh, he needed to kill someone soon…

Narrowing down his options and plotting his method of getting to both men was how Danny passed the next several hours, including the majority of floor one’s rec time. Although he sat and watched the Legion chat and ‘yap’ with their favorite orderly as David called it, his face was a mask of emotionless stone.

Amanda and Caleb both noticed it, but neither said a thing, instead focusing on their makeshift poker game. They used Uno cards and checkers pieces for chips and it was fun enough most days, but his mind was elsewhere so they played between themselves.

The chime for outdoor time sounded, and Danny rose with the rest of the floor. Still deep in thought, he let his eyes wander to David Emory again. The only reason no one had killed that little roach yet was the unknown repercussions his father would inevitably bring down on whoever was foolish enough to harm his precious little spawn. If it weren’t for Asa, Ghostface would have strangled the orderly to death within a few days of meeting him… Now he was close to Doc, and he didn’t like it… He especially didn’t like knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. Not unless he got Asa out of the way first, but god only knew if such an opportunity would ever present itself. He wasn’t holding his breath…

Shuffling forwards, he frowned when he nearly bumped into Freddy’s back. About to snap at him to move his melted ass, he paused when he heard Krauser’s voice barking at the Legion. The group were always the first out the door for yard time, and that day was no different. What was different, was the fact that they’d been stopped…

Unable to hear the growing argument at the head of the line, he forced a charming smile and began tapping the others on their shoulders as he passed, muttering, “Excuse me. Sorry, ‘Manda. Pops– Caleb, sorry,” until he was looming over Frank’s head as he foolishly argued with the Lieutenant.

Stupid kid. He had a lot of potential, but potential didn’t mean shit if you didn’t live long enough to realize it fully. He needed to learn to pick his damn battles.

Clamping a hand down on the Legion leader’s shoulder, Danny dug his fingertips into the tendon as he interrupted, “LT, how nice to see your smiling face back amongst us commoners.”

He wanted to slit his throat…

“Mind explaining what the problem is?”

Mind if I pull your lungs out through the back of your ribcage?

Krauser’s Easter Island head expression didn’t change in the slightest, but everyone could feel the malice radiating between them. “New procedures go into effect today. Everyone’s getting cuffed.”

“Oh?” Ghostface questioned. “This is the first we’re hearing of it. Are you sure this isn’t one of those silly little power trips of yours?”

Teeth grinding, Krauser stated, “If you want to spend outdoor time outdoors, I suggest you put your hands in front of you, inmate.”

Adding a little bend to his wrists, Ghostface held them out to the guard with a sly smile. “Normally I prefer to be the one doing the tying up, but I can make an exception for you.”

Not trying to hide the disgust on his face, Krauser reached down and activated the manual lock on his cuffs, magnetizing them together with a solid thunk.

When Frank started to grumble, Danny spoke over him, saying calmly, “I’m sure no one wants to risk losing their outdoor time today, even if this ‘new procedure’ does feel like a load of half-cocked horse shit. But, what can you do?”

The unspoken message was clear, and the brunet followed his lead, silently glaring at Krauser as he locked his cuffs. Following Ghostface the few feet into the hall to wait for the others, they lined up behind King, one of their usual guards.

Once the rest of the Legion had shuffled up behind him, Frank questioned in a low voice, “Do you know something we don’t?”

“Of course I do,” he half lied. He knew a lot of shit most people didn’t, including the other patients, but unfortunately none of it pertained to this… development. The only comfort any of them could take in it was that one patient hadn’t been singled out. They all knew what that meant, and although there wasn’t a particular affinity between any of them, they couldn’t help but pity whoever was selected for those things…

The Legion didn’t ask anymore questions, but when David Emory fell in step beside King, practically buzzing with excitement, Danny asked, “Frank? Your pet flea is about to jump out of his skin. Explain?”

He posed it as a question but it wasn’t…

“Trust me, we tried,” he huffed, sounding frustrated. “He’s gotten a lot better about being tight-lipped when he wants to be.”

Ahh, they had Doc to thank for that. Good thing the Legion knew to stay in line and keep their hands off the ginger.

The general air of unease amongst the floor one patients turned to shock as they were led into the indoor sunroom. They wouldn’t be using it since the weather was nice, but they still had to pass through it to get outside. That wasn’t odd in the slightest. What had everyone abuzz was the similarly restrained group of floor two patients already waiting within.

Danny’s eyes locked onto the back of Evan’s head, a dangerous sense of excitement flooding through him. Oh, look at that… He wouldn’t have to wait for lunch. Good…

“Alright, here’s how things are going to work from here on out,” Leon called, voice raised so that everyone gathered in the room could hear him. “Floor two will be joining floor one for outdoor time from now on. Just like when floor one is escorted downstairs for lunch, you are all required to remain cuffed until you are in the yard. Just like with lunch, misbehaviour will not be tolerated and will be met with appropriate punishment. All other scheduled activities will remain as is. Any questions?”

Susie’s hand shot up, and she yelled to be heard, “Yeah, uh, what about when the weather is dogshit?”

“Then both floors will spend the allotted outdoor time in this room instead,” the Captain explained. When no one else had any questions, he instructed, “Your cuffs should unlock automatically as you pass through the door into the yard. Please keep moving and do not block the door. If your cuffs don’t unlock, step to the side so others can get through, and a member of the staff will manually unlock your cuffs.”

With that, he stepped aside, allowing the patients to file outside. The second floor showed a shocking amount of restraint, although it was obvious all of them were barely holding back from charging through the door and into the long absent sunlight. It had been years for all of them, and they dispersed throughout the open yard without incident.

Only the first floor patients noticed the changes to the yard, and it explained why they’d been banned from outdoor time for the past two weeks. Four large, currently empty cages were placed along the back wall. It was obvious from the size that they were intended for unruly patients, even if the largest amongst them would barely be able to move once shut inside. In a less cruel twist, the old concrete slabs that they called “tables” had been replaced by a nicer pair of picnic tables with attached benches. They’d been bolted to the cement, far enough from the cages and door to be visible at all times, but not in the way so the yard was still open enough for all the new occupants.

“About damn time,” the Deathslinger huffed, already hobbling over to the tables. Taking a seat, he nodded as Bubba guided Kenneth over as well. The two got along well enough, and Leatherface looked up to Caleb almost as much as he did the Clown.

The Legion made a beeline for their favorite spot under the vent, hoping to claim it once more before any of the newcomers could figure out it was there.

A startled squawk drew Ghostface’s attention, and he looked over to see all three of the Michael’s surrounding the big blond’s favorite nurse. Danny had almost killed Eli once. Almost. He’d been in a bit of a bloodthirsty mood and the small nurse had caught his eye through no fault of his own. He’d just been standing by the door to the lunch room, all bruised up and practically begging to be murdered. Whoever had started clearly hadn’t had the guts to finish the job, so he figured finishing him off would be fun.

Danny had gotten within six feet of the nurse before a shadow had eclipsed the harsh fluorescent lights of the second floor lunch room, and he’d turned to find Michael fucking Myers breathing down the back of his neck. Not a single word was spoken, but Ghostface never attempted to go after Eli again. No one did…

Of course, the Michael’s weren’t hurting Eli. They didn’t even appear to be laying a hand on him. They’d just stood in a tight circle around him and weren’t letting him leave. It was pretty funny, but Danny didn’t have time to stand and watch the latest amusement.

Instead, he scanned the yard, finding his target leaning against the far wall, just beside the small hidden dip. Hmm. Not ideal in case Evan attacked him, but he’d make do.

Walking at a leisurely pace, he turned and rested his back against the wall only a couple of feet from the Trapper. No need to start things off badly by invading his personal space after all.

“You’re out of solitary early,” Ghostface said smoothly. “Was that your doing as well?”

“I’m just as surprised I’m already out as you are,” he answered, eyes still slowly tracking back and forth across the yard. “To be honest, I’m equally as shocked that Jack managed to convince Wesker to do all this.”

Ahhh, so the rumors circulating up from the second floor were true. He had gotten to Jack somehow… The part about her sleeping with Marcus was obviously false, as were the rumors about her and Wesker being divorced. So what did Evan have on her?

Alas. Questions for another time.

“At least the weather’s a little warmer, hm?” Danny continued.

“Quit playing and say what you came over here to say,” Evan grunted, finally breaking his vigilance to glance over at him.

“If you ever hurt Doc again, I’ll kill Dwight. And I’ll do it slowly, and painfully,” he said matter of factly. “You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“Then why’d you use him?”

Ghostface didn’t actually expect an answer, but the Trapper surprised him.

“Because I knew he was one of the only two people who’d make it work.”

Before Danny could question that incredibly cryptic thought, a flash of red coming through the door into the yard caught his eye. Looking up, he smiled as he spotted Marcus looking around the yard.

His smile dropped almost instantly as the eldest of the Michael’s also looked up from where he’d been helping his sons torment Eli. No, no. No, no, no. That’s not yours, old man…

That didn’t seem to matter, as PeePaw Myers suddenly broke away from the game of ‘capture the nurse’ to stalk pointedly towards the oblivious orderly. Marcus had just spotted Ghostface, and although he looked hesitant to approach while he was right next to the Trapper, his back was to the Michaels.

Eli was no help, since his view of the entire scene was blocked by his Michael’s big ass body. When he did try to peek around him to see where PeePaw had gone, the smaller, brown haired Michael shifted to block him in again.

“Christ alive, they do work together,” Ghostface hissed, trying to keep his panic on the inside as he pushed away from the wall.

With a low chuckle, Evan considered, “Looks like your boy is getting popular.”

Over his dead body! Shit, it might just be his dead body. Damn, Doc, jinxing him like that! Sure, he would fight any or all of the Michaels if he absolutely had to, but he’d really hoped he would never have to!

Hurrying across the yard at a speed that was just short of a full sprint, he knew his face was pinched with worry. Marcus seemed to mistake the reason for his expression, however. As soon as they were within speaking range, the orderly called out, “Hey! Sorry I missed breakfast, I got put on light duty, and that means a whole lot of paperwork to start the day.”

“Ahaha, that’s awesome, Doc!” he answered quickly. “Why don’t you come with me–”

It was too late, and PeePaw loomed over the ginger with an emotionless gaze. Half blind eyes not leaving the top of Marcus’s head, he reached down and tapped on his shoulder.

Glancing back, he did a double take before turning fully to face the patient. Danny could hear him swallow before asking as politely as he could, “Oh shi– Um, h-hi, Michael. Can I help you?”

The patient didn’t answer, he never did. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on the top of Marcus’s head. It was heavy and not comforting at all.

Danny was pretty sure his heart was about to break his ribs with as hard as it was beating. This wasn’t okay! This wasn’t good! He avoided the Michaels for a reason, and now he had to make sure he and Doc could navigate this… situation without getting killed!

Marcus cleared his throat, admitting slowly, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you’re getting at…”

Michael’s head tilted slightly, one good eye glittering with a strange intensity. Dear god, there were thoughts in that silent, menacing head of his. Evil, nasty thoughts most likely!

The hand on top of his head slowly slipped down, down the back of his head, loose and gentle till it suddenly wasn’t. Calloused digits weaved into his ponytail, entangling the strands between his fingers as the Boogeyman dragged Marcus in closer, so close that he could see the milky blue of his half blind eye. There was a brief pause before the ginger felt Michael’s other hand at the hem of his shirt, very clear with his wants and intentions with him.

It took every ounce of Danny’s self control not to physically attack the other patient. PeePaw Myers may be old, but he wasn’t weak or slow like so many people might mistakenly assume. If anything, his age was simply an advantage. As he tried to figure out what the hell to do to deescalate the situation, Marcus spoke up.

“Ah, thank you? But- but no thank you. I- I am… not currently available.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Danny whispered under his breath. He knew the danger wasn’t past yet, but the fact that Marcus had the spine not to simply cave under pressure was extraordinary. And hot. But that part would have to wait until they could find some privacy.

Although his face remained stone cold, Danny could see Michael’s hands actively tighten. None of the Myers like being told what they could or could not do.

Able to see the slight tremor in Marcus’s hands as they hung by his sides, Ghostface steeled himself. If Doc started to openly panic, there would be a fight. He could only guess the only reason Feng hadn’t zapped the elderly mass murderer yet was because she either hadn’t noticed their small confrontation amongst the much larger group, or she was worried about the ginger getting his neck snapped… Goddammit.

“Sorry, Michael, but my answer is still no,” Marcus insisted, voice shockingly firm. It was still possible to hear the tremor of fear in his words, but he was doing a remarkable job of not making himself look like helpless prey.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, long enough that Marcus’ breathing was starting to get heavier as he fought to not panic. His words were being mulled over, an almost thoughtful expression resting on Michael’s face. It was clear that he had never been rejected before and it was a coin toss whether or not he’d react violently. Danny prayed that it wouldn’t lead to that, but he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable.

Much to everyone’s shock, including the other patients who were watching the altercation, Michael let Marcus go. The orderly practically stumbled back into Danny’s arms, who quickly moved himself between his ginger and the Boogeyman. Michael’s one good eye glanced between the two, lingering longer than necessary on the way Danny glared at him, before simply turning and walking back to the semi-circle around Eli, as if nothing happened at all.

Ghostface let out an audible breath before turning to face Marcus. The orderly still had a slightly shocked expression on his face, eyes wide and cheeks pale.

“Doc, you okay?” he asked, moving a bit more into his space. Fuck the guards and their rules. Danny wanted to be close to him for a moment, especially after the shit Michael Sr. had just pulled.

“How the actual fuck did Ace go through with sleeping with him?”

The question made Danny snort. Oh god, that was a story for the ages.

“Clinical insanity?” he chuckled, smiling as Marcus’s eyes focused on his face. “I’m just glad you knew better than to say yes.”

“I mean, just because I’m not monogamous–”

Wait, he was what?!

“–doesn’t mean I want to die by fucking,” the ginger stated. Frowning suddenly, he asked, “Wait, do you know the Ace and PeePaw story?”

Blinking several times, Danny said slowly, “Yes, Doc… Don’t you?”

Looking slightly frustrated, the orderly admitted, “No! No one will tell me!”

“Just ask Ace,” he chuckled. “The man loves talking about it.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me!” Marcus lamented. “But I almost never see him and no one else will tell me, but everyone seems to know the story!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Danny laughed, the momentary panic at the Boogeyman’s proposition starting to fade. “Look, the biggest reason no one else will say anything on the matter, is because the Michael’s don’t like people talking about them behind their backs. Or to their faces for that matter… Point is, the last person to gossip about them specifically was later found with his face inside out.”

Eyes wide, Marcus asked in a much lower voice, “Then why does Ace tell everyone who asks?”

“Because PeePaw likes him just enough to let it go?” Danny offered helplessly. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Doc. The only person who might have some idea about what goes on in any of their heads would be your roommate. The short one.”

The largest of the Michael slowly turned, eyes boring through the holes in his orange and black paper mache mask to stare into Danny’s very soul. Dear god, he wasn’t sure whether or not to be turned on or turn around and walk away.

“Eli,” Marcus answered, glancing over to the group. Shivering slightly when he noticed the blond Michael watching them, he waved nervously. “I… try not to pry.”

“Fair enough,” he allowed. “Now, why don’t we go somewhere a little less… open.”

“We can’t go inside–” Marcus started to say, before glancing at the hidden away corner. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “How- how much privacy would you say we need?”

Grinning mischievously, Ghostface purred, “Insatiable little thing, aren’t you?”

Absolutely thrilled by the blush his question got creeping up the orderly’s neck, he assured, “We’ll stick to talking while we’re out in the yard. Mostly. The no pants dance will have to wait until we’re in my– Jesus fucking Christ.”

He hadn’t meant to cut himself off like that, but he’d just looked up to see another of the more formidable second floor patients making a beeline directly for them. Jason Voorhees. Almost as much of a legend as Michael Myers, but just as deadly, even without his signature machete in hand.

Lumbering over, Jason didn’t have to tap Marcus on the shoulder. He’d already turned around when Ghostface had looked past him, and he quickly greeted the oncoming patient. He sounded just as nervous as he had with Michael, most likely assuming the camp killer was also going to try and proposition him.

“Hi! Hi, sorry, I don’t know if you prefer your given name or your… other name,” he rambled nervously, head tilting back slightly as Jason stopped right in front of them.

Ghostface had slowly put himself between the two of them, but the larger killer didn’t bother to look at him. Instead, he peered over his head to stare intently at the ginger from behind his paper mache hockey mask.

Raising his hands, he held up a piece of paper, on which he’d scrawled in scratchy handwriting, ‘What is your last name? Where are you from?’

Even Danny was confused by the questions, but he didn’t say anything yet. No, he wanted to see where the hell Jason was going with this…

“Um… Taylor? My last name is Taylor,” Marcus explained. “I’m from Washington.”

Jason’s head tilted to one side, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Lowering the paper, he pulled a piece of charcoal from behind his ear and wrote something else before holding it up.

‘What was your mothers maiden name?’

“Oh, uh, Taylor,” he offered, earning a questioning look from both Danny and Jason. Judging from the look on his face, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain, and he elaborated without being asked. “It’s tradition to keep the family name. We can trace our bloodlines all the way back to our founding members in Ireland. Of course, not everyone keeps the family name when they marry, but most of us do.”

“Huh…” Ghostface said, honestly a little surprised. It was kind of cool though. He wouldn’t deny that.

Not looking satisfied, Jason held up a new question. ‘Are you sure you’re not adopted?’

“I… Yes, I’m sure,” Marcus said, expression becoming slightly uncomfortable. “Trust me, my dad made sure to remind me of what a disappointment I turned out to be every chance he got. If he could have returned me to an orphanage, I’m sure he would have.”

Ahha, he was going to kill that bastard the second he got the chance. He’d killed his father. Killing Doc’s shouldn’t be that much harder…

Writing one more question, Jason asked, ‘Was there ever a Pamela in your family?’

Oh… Did he think Marcus was related to him? Ghostface was incredibly curious, but he wasn’t about to butt into such a riveting conversation.

“Ahhhh,” the ginger vocalized, eyes narrowing as he thought about it. “Not… that I can remember? I’m really sorry, Jason. But I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for. Maybe… What was your dad’s name?”

Jason’s muscles tensed so hard it looked like he was trying to flex through his clothes.

Even Ghostface was slightly startled by the extreme change in demeanor, but he was still ready to go if it came to a fight.

Instead of trying to attack either of them, Jason simply shook his head, muscles slowly relaxing. He still didn’t seem quite as calm as when he’d first approached, however, and Ghostface watched him like a hawk. One wrong move towards Doc, and it was on…

Instead of attacking, Jason let out a sigh before nodding. He seemed to have accepted whatever conclusion he’d come to, even if it wasn’t the one he’d been hoping for. Giving Marcus one last long look, he finally turned and shuffled off to a different part of the yard. Strangely, the tall blond Michael suddenly broke off from the group, a finger hooked in the back of Eli’s scrub top as he pulled him along to go visit with Jason.

“Oh my god, he has friends?” Ghostface whispered. He never really saw the two of them interact during lunch, but sometimes Jason would go sit with the Michaels. Hmm. He might have to start paying more attention to them… Knowing who was friends with who was incredibly important information in a place like Crotus Prenn…

A hand touched his arm, and he turned, half expecting to see someone else trying to grab his orderly. Thankfully, it was just Marcus, and he had a genuine smile on his face.

Expression softening from a frown he didn’t realize he’d been wearing, Danny smiled back at him, asking, “What’s that face for, Doc?”

“Well, you kind of answered my question,” he said, smile growing.

God, he loved that smile.

“Oh? What question was that?” Danny mused, slightly unsure. Doc had asked him a lot of questions… although most of them were about his plans for him which was valid, given his track record of gaslighting and murdering staff. Hey, a man needs hobbies!

“You were ready to fight off Myers and Voorhees to keep me safe,” Marcus pointed out, sounding almost smug. “I just… It’s nice to know you care so much.”

“Hey…” he started to try and scold, but the look he was getting threw him slightly and he found he couldn’t keep up the act. Had anyone ever looked at him like that before? Quickly looking around to make sure no guards were watching, he grabbed Marcus’s hand and nearly dragged him towards the hidden corner.

“Hey, what– Danny, where are we going?” he asked, sounding amused.

“We’re going to make out in the corner and dry hump one another like a couple of horny teens,” he instructed. “And tonight, you’re going to come to my cell so I can fuck you properly, and you’re not leaving until I’ve gotten you to cum at least twice.”

Judging by the almost dazed expression on the ginger’s face, followed by a goofy smile, he liked that idea too.
~~~~

Chapter 42: Before Crotus Prenn: Too Much Information!

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Who had Ace x PeePaw on their bingo card?

Marcus still had a goofy smile on his face by the end of his shift. He also had several fresh bruises on his neck, but unlike the one’s the Trapper had left him, he’d enjoyed getting the new ones from Danny.

King didn’t look happy about it but he didn’t mention it as they all piled onto the bus together. It was one of those rare days all four roommates and David managed to get off work at the same time. The bus ride back to the dorms was spent with lighthearted chatter and a few questions towards Marcus to make sure he was really okay being back at work already.

Quentin asked him for the third time as they were heading back into the dorms, and Marcus responded by leaning down, gathering up a snowball from the still present slush, and throwing it at him. Unfortunately, the janitor saw it coming and ducked, so it hit King right in the side of the head.

“What the bloody hell?!” he demanded, whipping around to try and figure out who’d thrown it. As one, they all pointed at Marcus.

Squinting at him, the guard warned, “The only reason I’m not tossing you head first into a snow drift is because you’re still recovering. It wouldn’t be fair to pick on you right now.”

“Tonight’s game night!” Eli pointed out excitedly. “You can just kick his ass at Cards Against Humanity or something.”

“But he’s not funny,” David whispered, only to scream and hide behind Marcus when King made a grab for him.

They’d all been so busy they’d completely forgotten game night was coming up, but it was a good opportunity for them all to blow off some steam. Heading up to their respective rooms to shower and change, it was soon time to head to the third floor.

Leon was there helping finish setting up when they arrived, and he waved, a rare smile on his face.

“He’s been in a shockingly good mood lately,” King murmured, but he didn’t sound upset about it. If anything, he seemed happy to see the improvement in their friend.

“Hey, Ace is here,” Eli pointed out. “Now’s your chance, Marcus.”

Looking over to one corner of the room, he spotted the cook just as he was sitting at a table with Ash, Jill, Steve, and a couple of people he didn’t know. It looked like they were getting ready to play poker or some other card game, and there were two seats left.

“David?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Since he was also unaware of the details, Marcus figured he might be interested in finding out as well.

Although he looked slightly hesitant to sit at a table with so many faces he didn’t recognize, David was even more eager to hear the tale. He had heard whispers of it in the halls before, but never worked up the courage to ask Ace or join game night. Nodding, he agreed, “Let’s go!”

“Why would you do that to them?” King asked, watching them make their way across the room.

Looking up at him with a haunted expression, Eli answered, “I had to hear that fucking story. Now they get to too.”

Oblivious to the exchange going on behind them, Marcus and David reached the table just as Ace was shuffling a deck of cards. Looking up as they came over, he smiled, greeting welcomingly, “Hey! We’re just getting started! Want me to deal you both in?”

“I’ve never played,” Marcus admitted, before asking, “Mind if we sit and watch? We actually had something we wanted to ask you, if now’s not a bad time.”

Eyebrows rising slightly, Jill said, “Wait… You’re the one who’s been asking about that story?”

The way she asked made everyone at the table pause, except Ace. His already broad smile only got wider, and he looked over his sunglasses at the pair.

“You want to know about me and PeePaw Myers?”

“Um, yeah?” the ginger confirmed, slightly worried by the way Ash was shaking his head and Jill sighed.

Slapping his cards down, Ace reached over and threw an arm over Marcus’s shoulders. With his other hand, he waved it through the air as though displaying an invisible screen as he said, “Okay, so picture this!”

“Wait, what?!” Marcus demanded, starting to look slightly panicked.

It only got worse when Jill, Steve, and the other two people suddenly ‘had something they forgot to take care of’ and abandoned the yet to start game. Ash was the only one who stayed, and he had a slightly sympathetic look on his face. Otherwise he just looked amused.

Across the room, Eli ducked behind King when Marcus and David both shot him ‘what the fuck did you get us into’ looks. The guard just gave them a thumbs up, while Quentin pretended to be talking to a potted plant. He’d even put his beanie on it in an attempt to make it look more real…

“So, it all started with a bet!” Ace began, either ignoring or oblivious to the terror he was causing…

~~

“I can flirt with anyone,” Ace laughed. “It’s just about knowing how to say the words right.”

“You can’t flirt with anyone,” Ash argued, leaning on his mop. “Some people are simply… Unseducable.”

“You’re just saying that because Ada turned you down,” he dismissed. “Look, I’ll prove it. Pick someone. Anyone. And I’ll go hit on them.”

“Anyone?” the custodian questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What if I pick a guy and they’re straight?”

“We’ve all got a little curiosity in us,” Ace said, shrugging. “Besides, they don’t have to reciprocate. I just have to successfully hit on them.”

Pursing his lips, Ash thought it over before nodding. “Okay. Fine. Lunch is about to start, and you said anyone…”

“Ghostface has already threatened to choke me to death with my own glasses if I speak to him,” Ace warned, but his friend just shook his head. “So if you pick him, the bet’s doubled.”

“No, not him. He’d probably pretend to be into it just so he could try and kill you,” he scoffed, rejecting the very idea. Honestly he probably just didn’t want to risk losing out on even more money. Slowly, a smirk spread across his face. “I just thought of the one person not even you’re crazy enough to try and flirt with.”

“I may get fired, but I will hit on Wesker if it means winning a bet.”

Ash almost stabbed himself in the face with his mop handle as he choked on the sound he made. Wheezing, he straightened up before griping, “No! Michael!”

Ace gave him a blank look for a moment before his eyebrows shot up. “Michael Myers? Or a staff member I haven’t met yet?”

“Myers,” Ash confirmed, looking smug. “Like I said, lunch will be starting soon.”

Ace narrowed his eyes, contemplating the challenge. After a moment, he asked, “Which one?”

Not looking quite as smug, his friend asked, “You’re not seriously considering it, are you? All three of them are dangerous. No one approaches them!”

“That short little nurse that came in with the blond Michael approaches them all the time!”

“Yeah, because the big one likes him!” Ash argued. They’d only been in Crotus Prenn for a few months, but everyone knew that there was something… special… between them.

“See? That proves they can be flirted with,” Ace reasoned. “I may not be small and adorably doe-eyed, but I got the moves. And a shit ton of luck!”

“You’re going to die,” the janitor warned, shaking his head as the cook sauntered for the door. “You can’t be serious right now! Wait, let me pick someone else!”

But it was too late. The patients were already filing inside for lunch and Ace was making a beeline for the cafeteria’s dining area. Waiting a few minutes until all three of the Michael’s had their food and had gone to sit at a table, the gambler finally made his move.

Sauntering over to the table, he managed not to show the tremor of fear that shot down his spine with the biggest, and so far meanest, of the trio looked over at him. Even with the paper mache mask they allowed him, the evil look in his eyes was clear as day.

Whoo, time to make it worth the fifty bucks he’d be taking off of Ash!

Walking up to the table, Ace could feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck as the smaller, ‘cute’ Michael also turned his head to look at him. Unlike the blond, his eyes were unreadable. He could be thinking anything. Planning anything…

The eldest of the trio, and the father of the younger two if the rumors were to be believed, continued to ignore him in favor of robotically spooning the slop they’d been served for lunch into his mouth.

“So, how does a guy like you end up in a place like this?” Ace asked, flashing his teeth in a warm smile.

The blond’s head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing behind his mask. The brunet just blinked slowly before returning his attention to his own food.

Technically, that was enough to conclude the bet and make Ace the winner. But ‘technically’ wasn’t good enough… Looking over, he spotted Ash watching with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. More disbelief, but hey, he couldn’t deny what he was seeing with his own eyes, even if he wanted to.

Arching an eyebrow, Ace dared put his hands on the table, leaning down conversationally as all three Michael’s slowly turned their heads to stare at him. Jesus H. Christ he might have fucked up… if luck wasn’t on his side!

“Now, I’m not one to judge based on a body count… either kind of body count. But if you boys ever wanted to add an extra digit to the right one of those two–”

The blond Michael stood up rather suddenly, an aggressive warning sound rumbling past his mask. Ace was pretty sure his life was going to end right then and there, but the giant patient stilled. He didn’t sit back down, but neither did he make a move to go after the cook.

If Ace had been paying more attention to the other two, he might have noticed the way the eldest Michael had begun watching him. His one good eye glittered with unreadable intent, and continued to track the staff member as he bid them farewell.

Doing his best not to sprint back to where Ash was waiting for him, Ace let out a breathless laugh as they rounded a corner back into the safety of the hallway. Bending over, he put his hands on his knees. Wow, that had been a rush!

“You’ve got to be the craziest man alive,” Ash wheezed, trying not to burst out laughing as a guard passed by. “But I’m not paying triple just because you took it upon yourself to hit on all three of them at the same time!”

“Hey, that was the bonus,” he chuckled, wiping a hand over the back of his neck. “I told you, Lady Luck is on my side! No sweat!”

“You say that now,” the janitor warned. “But luck is like the tide. It turns quickly.”

“Then call me the Little Mermaid, cause I’m swimming that current both ways.”

The rest of lunch passed without incident, and after collecting his winnings, Ace almost forgot about the entire thing. Dinner came and went, along with the scheduled end of his shift. It wasn’t unusual for him to work overtime, however, and he was busy putting away a stack of clean trays when someone poked their head into the kitchen.

“Hey, they need help collecting dinner trays from the second floor. Do you mind rounding them up?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” he agreed. It wasn’t an unusual request, but the man looked really damn familiar. Frowning, Ace asked, “Famous action star, actor, and film director Nic Cage?”

“Who, me? Oh no, I’m Michael,” he answered, pointing to his badge. That was indeed the name on his badge, so the cook shrugged it off.

~

“Hhhhhhkggggaaaahhhkkkk?!”

Ace paused his story, raising an eyebrow at the ginger still trapped under his arm. “Not a fan? Fair enough. ‘Not the bees’ did traumatize a whole generation, I suppose. Anyway, this is where the story gets really good!”

~

Ace shuffled around the second floor cellblock, unsurprised to find only about a third of the patients actually leaving their trays in the doors to be collected. Most of them simply refused to cooperate because it was the one way they could ‘fight back’ without being shoved into solitary or shocked into submission by their collars. He couldn’t say he blamed them…

Whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way along the row of cell doors, he had just reached for a tray when it was snatched back through the slot. Pausing, he stopped whistling to sigh. He wasn’t going to demand it back or throw a fit, if that’s what the patient was hoping for.

Walking past, he almost didn’t register the sound of the door sliding open. A hand reached over his shoulder just as he started to turn, fingers clamping around his throat before he could make a sound. Turned forcefully to face his attacker, he could do nothing more than widen his eyes as he found himself face to face with a jack-o-lantern mask.

What the hell?! That wasn’t even the blond Michael’s cell! How had he gotten in there?! And how had he opened the door?!

Black eyes roamed his face, before dropping down and to the side. Ace followed the blond’s shifting gaze, and to his shock, saw the eldest Myers standing in the doorway of the cell.

Turning, the blond shoved him into PeePaw’s arms, before turning and walking back to his own cell. A keycard was dangling from his other hand, Eli’s face and name briefly visible before he was using it to badge back into the cell. Knowing the nurse would never give a patient his badge, he concluded Michael had likely stolen it off him the last time they’d been in the same room.

It struck Ace then, that the blond Michael was the biggest patient on the floor. He also had the longest arms, and could very likely reach far enough to use a badge to open the door from the inside while keeping his collar far enough back that the sensors wouldn’t pick it up. The fact that he was on the other side of the door would keep it from closing, as the system would register it as being a staff to patient interaction… They really needed to fix that.

Yanked backwards into the darkness of PeePaw Michael’s cell, Ace couldn’t get a sound out before the door slid shut again, now that no one was standing in the way. Slammed into the now closed door, he grunted from the mild pain having his cheek shoved against the cold metal caused. A hand missing a pair of digits tangled in his hair, keeping him in place as one of his arms was twisted behind his back.

Jesus, how did a guy missing two fingers have such a strong grip?! Coughing quietly as he tried to recover from the previously crushing grip on his neck, Ace managed to ask, “Is this about what I said earlier?”

It was impossible to see in the darkness of the cell, but he felt every inch of what Michael was suddenly pressing against his back.

“Good god, is that your leg or your dick?!”

His head was let go, only for the fingers to drop to his waistband. His pants were not so gently shoved down, catching around his knees as a leg knocked his thighs further apart. Oh, shit. This was about what he’d said earlier!

Something rather large, hot, and dry prodded at his ass and he jolted. Nope! Oh no! Not without lube!

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” he babbled, turning his head as best he could. It was pointless since they were in a pitch black room, but still. “Absolutely not–”

His order was choked off as a hand with all its fingers clamped around his neck. His arm was still twisted behind him, but now with the other hand. Again, how did someone missing two goddamn fingers have such a tight grip?!

Wheezing past the slowly compressing fingers, he offered, “Lube! You need– lube! I can– take a– a lot– but not– dry!”

The grip on his neck relaxed ever so slightly, and he panted, “Pocket! I got a bottle in my pocket! Always carry one just in case I get lucky! It also makes for a great joke in the right setting- hkk! Okay! Okay!”

Seemed like Michael had heard enough, as he gave the cook’s neck a dangerous warning squeeze before releasing his arm.

Reaching down as best he could, Ace managed to snag the edge of his pants with the tip of one finger. Tugging them up enough that he could get his hand in the pocket, he managed to wiggle the small bottle free. Reaching blindly behind him, he said, “Here! Feel free to use as much as you want!”

Silently, he added, ‘Please use the whole bottle if need be… I’d like to survive to tell this insane tale.’

Hand switching from his neck back to his arm, the bottle was plucked from his grip without a sound. The quiet click of the cap popping open may as well have been a gunshot with as loud as it seemed in the terrifying silence of the cell.

Something clattered across the floor to the back of the cell, and Ace could only guess Michael had just tossed the bottle over his shoulder. Dear merciful God, please say he’d at least used it first?!

The firm, hot head of Michael dick returned, that time much more aggressively and thankfully slick with what felt like the entire bottle of lube. Ah well. It hadn’t been a very big bottle to begin with, so it was nice he was making good use of what he had.

The length of PeePaw Myers’ shaft pressed roughly against his ass again, hips shifting a couple of times as he sought entrance in the dark. Ace would have been more than happy to reach back and help him, but as soon as he moved his free hand, the arm being twisted behind his back was squeezed and he winced.

Michael neither needed nor wanted his help; a point he proved a moment later when the blunt head of his cock caught on Ace’s rim. Ooh, wow. He was… big. Bigger than he’d expected, even from what he’d felt against his back before losing his pants.

With a slow, almost gentle movement, Michael adjusted until his cock was pressing perfectly against the cook's waiting hole. Foolishly, Ace started to relax, thinking that maybe the aggressive force was all for show. It wasn’t. PeePaw had been making sure he was lined up for his sake. Not that of the gambler.

One incredibly forceful push later, he was balls deep in the squealing cook, a mangled hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds. And yes, he did squeal. It would be embarrassing if Ace had any pride to wound, but he had last all sense of shame years ago. Win or lose, pain or pleasure, what’s so wrong with a bit of both if everyone’s having a good time?

And… he was. For the most part. Yes, having a dick rammed up his ass and into the back of his eyeballs with no prep and no time to adjust was a big of a shock. So was selling a kidney to pay off a debt, but hey! At least he could probably cum from this! And was that… Yep. He was uncircumcised! Nice! Yes, that was something he could tell by feel, especially with a partner that big. Call it a special skill of his.

As his body slowly adjusted to the almost agonizing burn as his hole was stretched to what felt like the absolute limit, he became aware of something new. The hand over his mouth was squeezing so hard he was pretty sure his teeth were about to break inside his jaw. A sound of pain left him, and the grip loosened. Then, terrifyingly, it moved down to his neck. Fingers felt along the curve of his jaw, brushing over the stubble there before tracing over his adam's apple.

His throat was given a brief, incredibly hard squeeze that left him seeing spots, before it was clamping down on the back of his neck. Pressure was applied, once again only lifting when it reached a point that going any further would have caused irreparable damage.

The arm being held behind his back was suddenly pulled out to the side, fingers sliding down to his wrist. An iron grip nearly crushed the delicate bones, before slamming his hand flat against the door. Michael’s hand rested briefly on top of Ace’s own, before his other arm was given the same treatment.

Ace couldn’t help but wince and squirm as every bone and joint between his hands and his shoulders were felt and tested. Hands roamed across his chest, squeezing and kneading through his shirt, pressing bruises into tender flesh, threatening to break ribs, and slowly descending to his hips.

The entire time, Michael made no sound other than his deep, slightly raspy breathing. He didn’t move either, seeming perfectly content to keep standing there with his cock buried inside Ace’s hot, pliable walls. The cook could feel every twitch and throb inside him as he squirmed, but he couldn’t help the small movements. He couldn’t tell if PeePaw was going to kill him, break something, or actually fuck him! Still, the lack of thrusting was giving him time to adjust, which he desperately needed, even with the copious amount of lube.

Ace kept his hands flat against the door, not complaining beyond the occasional bitten off whimper of pain when Michael’s grip would become too tight. His fingers were busy exploring every inch of his new plaything, pressing into the soft spots until dark bruises were left behind, along with a strange sense of exposure. If he could reach it, it wasn’t left unexplored, and that included the cooks own dick.

Ace was unable to help the way his breathing hitched, heart skipping a beat when fingers wrapped a little too firmly around his shaft. A calloused thumb swiped over the head, feeling the sticky beads of pre-cum that had started to leak out, then a hard squeeze that had the cook moaning against the door like a whore.

If Michael was surprised by his more positive reaction to the intense pressure, he didn’t show it. Continuing to increase the tightness of his grip, he only moved his hand down more when Ace let out a gurgled croak. Okay, so that was his limit! Now he knew!

Seeming mildly annoyed when his fingers tangled in his messy pubic hair, Michael had the audacity to give it a sharp tug before giving Ace’s balls the same treatment his dick had just been through. That one didn’t last quite as long, and the man breathed a small sigh of relief when the groping hands finally left his nether regions alone.

He might have breathed a little too soon, as fingers dug into his hair, grabbing a fistful along with his scalp so his head could be yanked back. When he opened his mouth to ask PeePaw to please not give him a giant bald spot, two fingers were shoved past his lips into the back of his throat.

Ace was startled by the sudden invasion, but he managed not to choke. He’d trained his gag reflex years ago, and often used his talent of being able to ‘swallow anything’ to win bets and impress possible paramores.

Swallowing around the fingers, Ace was surprised a second time when the grip on his hair loosened, then fell away. The fingers in his throat dipped further, only stopping when Michael’s knuckles knocked against the cook’s teeth. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling, but it wasn’t bad.

The hand that had been holding his hair moved to grip his hip, fingers digging in had enough for Michael’s nails to start drawing small crescents of blood. Then, and only then, did he start moving his hips.

Ace had to hand it to him. For such an old guy, he sure had the strength and stamina one would expect from a man half his age. Every thrust was brutal, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into the cook, pressing him forward and trapping his dick against the cold metal door.

It was a sharp contrast to the heat threatening to burn into his very core, but it just made it feel even better. Sharp moans and gasps slipped past Michael’s fingers, every sound seeming to make him more aggressive. Ace wasn’t sure if he liked the sounds he was hearing, or was tying to fuck him into a coma so he’d shut up. Either way, he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to.

Then, without warning, teeth sank into the side of his neck. It wasn’t a gentle bite like a lover might give to their partner. Oh no. It was hard and aggressive, like a wild animal attempting to subdue its prey.

Just when Ace was sure Michael’s teeth would break his skin, his jaw loosened, leaving a large bruise and a pretty good temporary mold of his dental records in the side of the cook’s neck. He didn’t stop there, hips still snapping against him at a shockingly aggressive pace as he bit down on his neck again.

That time, PeePaw did draw blood, canines digging deep enough to leave slow red trickles down Ace’s skin. Michael continued to bite him, layering bruises and small spots of blood along his neck and even his shoulders at times. He seemed intent to bite every part of him he could reach, just as he had to explore his body with his hands to find his absolute limits.

Ace was so, so close to the edge, but he got the distinct feeling that if he tried to touch himself, Michael would break his arm. Any movement that he didn’t cause or dictate wasn’t allowed. He was in charge. End of story.

Admittedly, the almost disinterest in whether or not he came was really, really hot. The complete apathy Michael showed for anything other than not killing him as he had his way with him sent excitement and need rippling through his body. He needn't have worried, however, as on one particularly hard thrust that jammed the head of Myers’ cock right into his prostate, he came against the door with a muffled moan, drool leaking around the fingers still shoved between his lips.

Michael kept going, still eerily silent as he bit and squeezed and fucked Ace like he was nothing more than a stress relief toy. Already slightly overstimulated just from the constant touching and biting, the continued abuse of his body was utterly delightful.

Perhaps it was his willingness to comply or maybe it was the fact that he enjoyed the bullying nature of PeePaw Myers’ attention, but one thing was certain. Luck was absolutely on his side.

With a low, almost guttural sound, Michael shoved Ace against the door one last time. Nails dug into his hip like claws, teeth pinching and pulling at his skin, and white painted his insides like a fire hose. It was one of the most intense feelings he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing, but as his own post orgasm haze began to clear up, a thought occurred to him.

‘Okay, now is he going to let me out of here in one piece?’

Hot breath washed over his neck, cooling the sticky trails of blood and sending chills through his body. Nails slowly withdrew from his hip, and the fingers in his mouth were unceremoniously withdrawn. That just left one last thing, and Michael took care of it just as apathetically as he did every other aspect of finishing up.

Ace made a series of odd noises as PeePaw stepped back, slumping against the door for a moment as he caught his breath. His legs were wobbly and his neck and jaw hurt, but the pleasant afterglow was spectacular. The still looming threat of death? Not so much.

Hearing the gentle creek of bedsprings, the cook turned slightly in the dark before remembering he couldn’t see shit anyway. Still, that had to be his cue to leave, and he quickly tugged his underwear back up. Just as he was struggling to pull his pants up, he heard the distinct sound of movement approaching him again through the dark.

In a slight panic, Ace fumbled for his badge, praying to his lucky stars that it hadn’t gotten lost somewhere in the cell during the heat of the moment. Finding it, he knocked his knuckles painfully against the wall as he searched for the scanner. He must have been closer than he thought , as the door suddenly slid open and he stumbled out into the cell block. Turning, he was just in time to get smacked right between the eyes by an empty lube bottle.

“Ack!” he yelped, slapping a hand to his forehead. Squinting into the cell as the door closed, he could just make out PeePaw Myers settling comfortably on his cot, hands folded on his chest like he was some kind of Saint.

Blinking at the closed door, Ace finally let out a small laugh. About to bend down to grab his pants from around his ankles, he paused when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he couldn’t help the thin lipped smile that plastered itself across his face.

“Oh… Hi!”

Leon and Eli were both staring at him incredulously. They were standing in front of the blond Michael’s cell, and it looked like the nurse had just recovered his stolen badge…

“Ace… What the hell were you doing in that cell?” Leon asked slowly.

“Getting lucky?” he offered, shooting them a pair of finger guns.

“Oh my god…” Eli whispered. “You fucked my boyfriends dad...”

~~

Marcus blinked several times, a look of quiet terror on his face as Ace wrapped up his story. That had almost been him. PeePaw Myers had propositioned him, and if he’d said yes, that would have been him! He’d never been so thankful to have said ‘no’ to someone in his life!

There was a choking sound and both men turned to see David, face pale and horrified. Oops, Marcus had forgotten that he’d sat at the table to hear the story too. “... Why would you tell us how his dick felt in your stomach?! TMI!”

“Because it was simply fantastic. I would say I highly recommend it, but PeePaw Myers usually kills– or at least slightly maims the people that say yes,” Ace told them cheerfully. “And, what’s a story without all the important little details that really make it special?”

“Dwight told us his story without all the details!” Marcus wailed, burying his face in his hands. “I mean, I like older men, but he’s like, a hundred!”

“Heeey,” Eli called from across the room. “He’s not that old! Be nice to PeePaw!”

“Why are you talking about him like he’s your father-in-law?” Leon asked, staring at the nurse.

“Well, because his son and I are–”

“Don’t answer that! Legally, I’m not supposed to know!”

“I’m so sorry I asked,” Marcus mumbled, a hand still covering his eyes. His face was bright red, and he silently wondered why the hell Danny hadn’t just told him not to ask! Probably because he knew the ginger would ask anyway, but still!

“You know, I just wish there had been enough light for me to see. Then I could give a much better description of–”

“I think I left the stove on!” Marcus yelled, prying himself out from under Ace’s arm.

“We don’t have stoves–” he started to point out, only for David to chime in as he too leapt up from his chair.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot I have to give my toaster a bath! Thanks, bye!”

Ace watched them flee to the other side of the room so they could verbally and physically attack Eli. Chuckling under his breath as the nurse was dragged kicking and screaming from his chair, he told Ash, “You know? I’ll never get tired of telling that story.”

“Why’d you leave out the part about him biting you on the ribs?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Oh, shit, I forgot! Marcus! David! Come here! I want to show you this really cool scar!”
~~~~

Notes:

Marcus and David did NOT need that much information! At least Eli kept it to himself and Dwight kept it vague enough to not scar anyone for life (⊙_◎)

Chapter 43: The Divine Comedy

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

CW: TW: Chapter contains scenes of recreational drug use, overdosing, and bad (drug) trips

Marcus and David look for a way to blow off some steam after a particularly rough shift...

Marcus had a series of strange, uncomfortable dreams that night. Most of them involved PeePaw Myers stalking him through the unending, maze-like halls of the Asylum. Just as a dream hand grabbed his hair, someone actually grabbed him in the waking world and he startled awake with a jolt.

“PeePaw, no!” he shouted, flailing so much he almost fell off the top bunk.

“I’m not that bloody old!” King scoffed, pushing him back from the edge. “You slept through all of the alarms. It’s time to get up for work.”

“Oh god, I don’t think I can ever look at PeePaw Myers the same way,” he groaned, clambering down from the bed.

Eli just gave him a deadpan stare from where he was pulling his shoes on, and the ginger winced. The nurse didn’t have to say anything to get the point across. ‘At least you didn’t have to hear about your boyfriend’s dad shaboinking someone in great detail!’

Quickly pulling on some clean work clothes, Marcus, King, and Eli all met up with David before heading downstairs. Quentin had the morning shift off, and was catching up on some much needed sleep. Dwight and Leon were already at work, which was no surprise due to their positions.

Arriving at work, the four of them were just passing through the security checks when Asa seemed to appear out of nowhere. He really just stepped out from around a corner, but with his silently menacing presence, it felt like a jump scare nonetheless.

Before any of them could say a word, much less still their racing hearts, he said, “Marcus, come with me.”

Continuing the trend of not bothering to wait for an answer, he turned and started back down the hall he’d so mysteriously appeared from.

“It was nice knowing you,” Eli whispered, waving a solemn goodbye when Marcus hesitated to take off after him.

Turning to scowl at him, he paused when he saw the slightly concerned look on David’s face. Knowing he had an… odd relationship with his father and that he was somewhat sensitive about the less than kind comments most people made about Asa, Marcus forced a small smile across his lips.

“I’m sure it’s just a follow up about my medical leave and stuff,” he offered, before promising, “I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”

Hurrying around the corner, he almost smacked right into Asa, who had noticed his prolonged absence and stopped to wait for him.

“Oh, god,” Marcus gasped, quickly taking a step back. “Sorry. I–”

Asa turned and resumed walking, not waiting for him to finish apologizing.

Taking a deep breath, the orderly made sure to keep up that time. Following him down a hallway full of offices, they finally stopped in front of an unassuming white door. Unlike the rest of the offices, it had no name plate, no windows, and no other identifying features. For all Marcus knew, it was actually a broom closet, and Asa was about to make good on his threat to kill him if he ever put David in danger. Considering he hadn’t actually put his friend in danger, at least that he could recall, he tried not to let himself spiral into panic just yet.

Reaching out, Asa opened the door before silently gesturing for Marcus to go inside.

When he hesitated again, not particularly liking the idea of having Emory Sr following him into a small enclosed space with no witnesses, the man actually put a hand on his back and shoved him inside.

Stumbling forward with a small sound of surprise, Marcus jumped when the door slammed shut behind him. The room was dimly lit; A single bulb in the ceiling illuminating a desk in the center of the small room, and a single chair sat empty in front of it.

“Marcus Aurelius Taylor?” a voice asked from the darkness.

With a shriek, Marcus spun for the door, only to smack into it face first.

“Woah, woah, calm down!” the voice said, and he turned around to see someone lean forward on the other side of the desk. It was a middle aged man with a lanyard around his neck. In a purple button up shirt and sunglasses, he looked completely out of place both in the room, and the asylum itself. “You are Marcus, right?”

“Maybe?” he answered unhelpfully. “Who wants to know?”

“The CIA,” the man answered.

Marcus felt like he was about to pass out. Knees threatening to buckle as he shuffled to the empty chair, he sat down before squeaking, “Why?”

Jesus Christ, there were so many reasons the fucking CIA could be looking for him! He bought and used illegal drugs, even if it was just weed! He’d caught his old boss in a money laundering scheme and allowed himself to be bribed to keep his mouth shut! Now he was having sex with a patient in a mental asylum! Oh god, what if they thought Danny had shared information with him about his past crimes? Did they think he’d flip on Ghostface?

“First things first,” the man said, then held out a hand. “Jonah Vasquez. CIA liaison for Crotus Prenn. I handle the more… classified paperwork.”

Staring at his hand like it was holding a live grenade, Marcus finally reached out and shook it. As soon as his fingers were released, he put it back in his lap with the other to nervously pick at the hem of his scrub top.

“Classified paperwork?” he asked, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as he felt. “What– what kind of… classified paperwork?”

“That’s classified,” Jonah answered, before thunking down a stack of papers in front of him. “But, not all of it. Congratulations, Marcus. You’re getting level three clearance.”

He was getting what?!

Scratching his head, the ginger asked skeptically, “I’m sorry… What?”

“You’ve been cleared to receive your level three clearance,” Jonah repeated, holding out a pen. “But first, you have to sign all this. You are more than welcome to read it if you’d like, I have nowhere else to be today.”

Hadn’t he already signed a bunch of NDA’s when he first got hired? Reaching out, Marcus pulled the stack of papers closer so he could look over them. Were there really that many differences between these and what he’d already signed?

He’d barely made it through the first paragraph when the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise followed by a chill running down his spine. Looking up, he noticed that Jonah was entertaining himself on his phone, quiet sound effects playing through the tiny speaker. Was that… Flappy Bird?

The uncomfortable sensation didn’t let up, and Marcus glanced behind him. It’s not like there were windows that someone could be– “Jesus Christ!”

Asa was standing directly behind him, eyes mirrors of reflective green as they caught the light. It was one of the single most terrifying things Marcus had ever seen, and he quickly whipped back around.

Jonah looked up from his phone and sighed. “Do you have to do that?”

Although there was no answer, Marcus was pretty sure he was talking to Asa. Either way, he quickly began finding the places he was supposed to sign and began scribbling his name with the pen. He didn’t know when or how Asa had gotten into the room with them, but he didn’t bother to ask. Jonah may not have had places to be or things to do, but Emory most certainly did and the ginger wasn’t going to be the reason he was kept waiting.

As he made his way through the mountain of papers, Marcus worked up the courage to ask, “So– so what’s the difference between all these NDA’s and the one’s I signed when I first started working here?”

“Oh, that?” Jonah asked, sounding slightly amused. “Well, you’ll have to sign more paperwork every time you get clearance to a higher level. It’s mostly for the increased safety precautions on each floor, and acknowledging that each floor comes with a higher security clearance, and therefore more severe legal repercussions for breaking the NDA’s.”

“Ah,” Marcus managed, hunching down in his chair slightly. He could practically feel Asa looming over his head and it was making him incredibly uncomfortable.

Jesus, what the hell was so bad about floor three and below that the CIA had to get involved?! Oooh! Maybe Asa was also in the CIA. That would explain why he was so fucking terrifying…

“Alright, Asa, I’m going to have to ask you to please wait outside for a minute. Marcus is almost done, and I have to share a few things with him. You know the drill.”

“Make it quick,” he murmured, disembodied voice floating over the ginger's head. The almost unnoticeable sound of the door opening and closing alluded to his exit, but it wasn’t until Jonah shook his head and sighed that Marcus was sure he was actually gone.

“Man… I have seen some shit in my line of work, but that guy gives off the worst ‘serial killer vibes’ of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Blinking at the last blank signature line, Marcus slowly looked up at Jonah. “Is he not… also CIA?”

Eyebrows rising, he let out a short laugh. “Nope. Believe me, I’ve looked into it. He might have been at one time, but with as off the books as his life has been… I can only speculate.”

That was not comforting in any way, shape, or form, but Marcus didn’t press the issue. It was hard to tell how much of what Jonah said was serious… and how much was him being funny. Finishing signing the last page, he slid the pile of paperwork back over.

Clearing his throat, he then asked, “You said you had… something to share with me?”

“Right,” Jonah agreed, gathering the papers into a briefcase. Setting it down on the floor beside his chair, he steepled his fingers in front of his chest before saying in a completely serious tone, “Floor three is nothing like the first two floors. The patients are fewer, but much, much more dangerous. You will see things down there that you will not be able to understand. Things that utterly defy any normal or reasonable explanation. It will come as a shock to you, even with this warning… but under no circumstances are you to speak of, discuss, or share what you see or do down there with anyone that has a lower clearance level than you. Your name, your face, your social security number. Everything that identifies you as a person is now under surveillance, and if you are caught breaking the NDA in any way, you will disappear. I don’t want to have to make you disappear, Marcus, and you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who wants to cut his life short. Right?”

Even though his tone was even and his posture relaxed the entire time he spoke, Marcus could feel just how serious the weight of his words really were. It wasn’t a scare tactic. It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning, that if he continued forward with the path he was on, he would be walking down a road from which there was no easy return. The further into the asylum he went, the less friends he’d have to watch his back…

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

Blowing air between his lips, the CIA agent waved a hand at him. “Ah, you can drop the sir. Jonah’s fine. Good luck on the third floor, kid. Maybe I’ll see you again in a couple of years when you get your fourth floor clearance. Hopefully not sooner than that.”

“Right,” Marcus agreed, unsure what else he could possibly say. Sitting in silence for a couple of minutes, he finally asked, “Am I– Can I go? I don’t want to keep Mr. Emory waiting…”

“Oh, I was trying to keep him waiting,” Jonah chuckled mirthlessly. “Sorry, probably shouldn’t do that since I don’t have to stick around to deal with him. But I’d get with your department head about the third floor tour. I’ve worked with Jack a few times and I can honestly say, you’re in very capable hands.”

Although he was a little surprised, Marcus didn’t press for more information. He trusted Jack, more now than ever, considering that she’d managed to get Wesker to agree to outdoor time for the Trapper and the entire second floor. He may have been incredibly skeptical of her methods in the moment, but in retrospect, he understood and respected the way she’d handled the situation.

Rising, he said, “Thanks for… everything, I guess.”

Jonah offered him a small smile and a wave, and Marcus hurried back into the hall. Asa was waiting for him, and as soon as he appeared, ordered, “Follow me.”

Looking back as he was led past Jack’s office, he started to ask, “Um, I was told to see Jack–”

“She’s busy with something else,” Asa interrupted. “This way.”

Not thrilled but also not about to argue with someone that gave a CIA agent the heebie-jeebies, Marcus quietly continued down the hall. Led to the same room Jack had originally taken him to for both his first and second floor badges, he was a little surprised when Asa was the one to update his pass key.

With another eerily soft, “Follow me,” the man led him towards the elevators.

Honestly not sure he’d survive a tour led by the senior Emory, Marcus dared question, “So… Will you be giving me the tour?”

“No,” Asa answered, not looking back. “Grimes will be escorting both of you and explaining the floor three procedures.”

“Both of us?” he murmured, only to spot David waiting beside the elevators with the aforementioned Talbot Grimes. He was Wesker’s other… hand? It wasn’t entirely clear to the orderly what the man did, as he seemed to primarily work far downstairs, only coming out for ‘important’ events and announcements. Marcus could tell he wasn’t well liked by most of the staff, and certainly not the patients. He’d have to ask Danny about him later…

Giving David a small wave, Marcus was met with a slightly nervous smile that he chalked up to anxiety over the sudden promotion. Admittedly, he was pretty fucking nervous about the sudden promotion too. The fact that Jack wasn’t going to be taking them down didn’t help either…

“Grimes,” Asa greeted, a razor's edge in the single word.

“Emory,” he returned. “It’s nice to see you’re finally letting your boy move up in the asylum.”

Placing a hand on David’s shoulder, Asa pinned Talbot with a look that made Marcus want to take a step back. Ignoring the comment, he said quietly, “Pay close attention to your surroundings at all times.”

With that, he was gone, leaving the pair in Talbot’s… hopefully capable hands.

“Right this way,” Grimes instructed, waving them into the elevator. “I’m sure you both know by now that your badge will only allow you access to the floors you’ve been cleared for. A privilege that can be revoked, should either of you fail to maintain the standards necessary to work in such an environment.”

As he prattled on, Marcus gently nudged David with his elbow. When his friend looked over at him, he asked quietly, “Hey, did Jonah talk to you yet? I seriously thought I was going to have a bag put over my head and wake up in one of the cells with the way that meeting started.”

“Oh yeah,” David answered, pulling at the sleeve of his cardigan. “He spoke to me yesterday, but I didn’t know you were gonna be going down too.”

Something about the claim seemed off to Marcus, but he decided not to push it. He hadn’t even known he was going to be getting floor three clearance. No one had said anything about it, but he could reasonably chalk that up to the chaos caused by him going on three weeks of leave. On top of that, with the second floor getting recess right at the same time he got back, there was just a lot going on.

When the doors dinged open, Talbot led them into a long, sterile white hallway. It was full of more offices and what looked like small labs full of glass beakers and refrigerators for culturing petri dishes of different bacterias.

As they walked past, Marcus noticed people in a few of them. All of them were decked out from head to toe in white bio-hazard suits and masks. One particular room seemed to be testing multiple vials of blood, and he wondered if that’s where all the samples Eli had taken had also gone.

“Now, there is only one cellblock on level three,” Grimes continued, as if that wasn’t the case with the first two floors as well. “However, unlike upstairs, the doors have much larger windows for observation purposes. When feeding time comes, you are not to open the doors to any of the cells. If either of you are required to go into a cell or interact with the subjects for any reason, it’s required that you have at least two guards, and one other orderly, doctor, or nurse present.”

Raising an eyebrow at the way he spoke about the patients, Marcus glanced at David to see if he was as weirded out by it as he was. To his surprise, however, he looked calm. A little too calm. Usually, the orderly would be attached to his tail, practically fusing into his back like a scared chihuahua. That time, however, David was walking a few paces behind him. Still close, mind you, but almost with confidence, as if he knew where he was going.

As if he walked those halls before.

David noticed his stare and quickly shot him a small smile, whispering, “Are you okay? Did the ibuprofen wear off? We can stop by the pharmacy later if you need more.”

Slightly surprised, Marcus shook his head. “Ah, no… I’m okay for now. Thank you.”

Following Grimes along as he prattled on about how strict their procedures were on floor three as opposed to the first two floors, Marcus tried his hardest not to zone out. The information was honestly nothing new. Nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times before, or gone through upstairs.

He was just starting to think Jonah was stretching the truth for his own entertainment, when Grimes scanned his badge to open a large, heavy metal door. It split in the middle, sliding to the sides to let them into a much, much larger rectangular shaped room.

The walls, floor, and ceiling were all the same sterile white, making it almost blindingly bright. A large, see-through cell, most likely made of either bullet proof glass or a very heavy duty plastic, took up the center of the room. It was both shocking and horrifying in its inhumanity.

The sole occupant was sitting on a mattress on the floor, as no proper cot had been provided. There were no walls or blocks for his privacy, leaving the shower and toilet out in the open. An empty breakfast tray was sitting inside the cell door, as well as a few stray papers. It looked like that was all the entertainment he had, and most of them were covered in charcoal drawings.

The man himself was… almost not human. His skin was rough and patchy, looking similar to tree bark in some places. When he turned his head to see who’d come in, his eyes seemed to glow in the stark white room.

“This is the Wraith,” Grimes stated, approaching the door. “He must be under constant supervision, hence the ‘bird cage’ as it’s been dubbed.”

Marcus felt sick as he approached the see-through walls of the Wraith’s cage. That’s what it was. Not a cell. A fucking cage…

Head tilting slightly, the patient stood up, long arms and legs unfolding from the cramped position he’d been seated in. Walking up to the wall dividing them, he inspected Marcus with an expression of defeat. It was only then that the orderly realized… his eyes were actually glowing white…

“Hmm. Don’t let the sad expression fool you,” Grimes scoffed, turning and striding to one side of the room. “He’d rip your spine out as soon as you opened the door, if he was able. Now, over here we have the Hag. Wretched creature…”

Marcus stared at the side of Grimes head with a look of pure revulsion. What the fuck kind of thing was that to say about a patient?!

“Now, the Hag must remain muzzled at all times. She’s a bite risk, a cannibal, and is highly aggressive.”

As if to prove his point, there was a snarling hiss from inside the cell before someone slammed against the inside of the door.

Marcus jumped back a step, shocked by the woman’s appearance. She was even thinner than the Wraith, eyes sunken to the point of mummification. She still seemed to be able to see them perfectly, as her head turned to follow them as they moved on to the next cell.

“This is the Artist,” their guide introduced.

The ginger’s mouth dropped open when he saw the woman inside the cell. Seated on an actual cot with her back resting against the wall, she paid them no mind. What caught his attention was the black ink seeming to flow from her eyes and down her chin. Instead of cuffs around her wrists, they were tight around her biceps. It was clear why, as just below the elbow, her arms and hands were made of flowing black ink…

“The cuffs dampen her… powers,” Grimes explained, almost sounding like he wasn’t sure what to call the Artist’s strange affliction. “Not to the point that she can’t form hands and use them to eat and perform other tasks, but enough that she can’t form weapons out of them.”

Marcus turned to stare at the man. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, she can form a sort of bladed weapon out of the substance,” he continued, turning away. “Now, finally, we have the Spirit. You two are not to open her cell under any circumstances. You may have floor three clearance, but you do not have the training or authorization necessary to handle this subject.”

About to snap at him for referring to them all as ‘subjects’, Marcus almost choked on his words when he looked into the last cell.

The woman inside couldn’t have been any older than nineteen or twenty… If she’d been alive. Her skin was a deathly blue, black hair floating around her face as icy white eyes glared back at them. Shards of glass stuck out of one of her shoulders, while both arms and one of her legs had been cut clean through. No blood was present, and the limbs didn’t appear to actually be attached anymore, but they still remained, almost floating. A huge gash cut through one side, just above her hip, and as they watched, her form flickered slightly. With a horrible scream, she suddenly appeared right in front of the window, hands curled into claws.

Marcus wasn’t ashamed of the shocked scream he let out, flailing backwards for a second before tripping and falling on his ass.

“Yes, she does that from time to time,” Grimes chuckled. Clearly it wasn’t the first time he’d done that…

Voice shaky, Marcus was barely able to speak above a whisper as he asked, “What the fuck… What the actual fuck?! Is she– She’s– Is she dead?! Did– did you all do that to her?!”

“Oh, calm down,” Grimes chastised, rolling his eyes. “We’re not entirely sure if this one is ‘dead’. Clearly she’s capable of at least some thought. The last time the subject got loose, she managed to kill six people. Rather creatively too. If I recall–”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Marcus shouted, nearly elbowing David in the face as he tried to help him up. “Stop calling them subjects like they’re animals or something! They’re people!”

Expression dark, Grimes leaned in close as he warned, “These things are not people. They are murderers. Monsters. And if they got loose, they would kill you just as easily as a cat would kill a mouse. They are creatures without mercy or remorse. I suggest you remember that before your bleeding heart gets you, or anyone else killed.”

Marcus wanted to argue. He even started to open his mouth to say something else, when a hand gently grabbed his wrist. Startling slightly, he looked over to see David.

His face was firm, mouth set in a thin line as he shook his head. “It’s not worth the fight right now,” he whispered, properly helping his friend back up. “You just got back from medical leave and I don’t want them to suspend you for punching the CEO’s right hand.”

Marcus didn’t even realize his hands were curled into fists, clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms. Shaking slightly from the rage still coursing through him, he forced his hands to open. He barely felt the pain as his nails pulled free from his skin, too angry at what he’d been shown to care about his own well being for a moment.

He’d never wanted to be in human medicine, but he’d thought he could make the best of it while he was there. If he had to be around people, the least he could do was help. Right? So… how the hell could he help them now?

“Alright, follow me and I’ll show you where you’ll pick up the subject’s meals,” Grimes instructed, already waltzing for the door.

Marcus lingered for a moment, just trying to compose himself before he did anything stupid. Perhaps if he’d been a bit more clear minded, he would have seen the way all four of the patients watched him, eyes not leaving his back until the door closed between them…

~

“I need some fucking weed,” Marcus grumbled, slumping into his bus seat. The rest of the day had been… trying. He and David had barely spoken. The ginger too angry to carry on a decent conversation, and his friend was strangely withdrawn.

All day, he’d been mulling the tour over in his head, recounting every vile word that left Grimes mouth and fantasizing about shoving him head first into a boiling pot of whatever the kitchen was cooking up for the patients that night. Jonah had told him he’d see things he couldn’t understand, but he didn’t need to understand what caused the patients on floor three to end up like that to know they were being treated worse than animals.

He wanted to ask David… How had he stayed so calm? Why had his reactions to everything they’d seen seemed so muted? Like he’d seen it all before? He’d previously said he’d basically grown up in the asylum because of his dad’s work… But did that mean he knew about all of that already? Why hadn’t he said anything?

“I think… I know where you can get some weed,” a voice said softly, and he jumped. David blinked owlishly at him, before hesitantly explaining, “Ace and Ash both sell weed, I think…”

“Oh… Thanks,” was all Marcus got out. He wasn’t mad at David… At least, he didn’t think he was. He was upset, that much he was confident in. Fuck, he should have stayed back after his shift and gone to Danny’s cell. He needed someone to vent too. Someone as outside the situation as possible. And if it ended in some rough, aggressive sex, even better! He could use that right now!

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, and after a quick text to Eli to confirm what room either Ace or Ash could be found in, they were off to hopefully buy some weed. It turned out the two were roommates, so even if one of them was out, they should still be able to get something.

Knocking on the door, they were greeted by Ash, who looked a little surprised to see them. “Oh, hey. Everything alright?”

“Eh,” Marcus grunted, before asking quietly, “You sell weed, right?”

Eyebrows rising, he waved for them to come inside. Although weed was legal to use in Alaska, they technically weren’t supposed to have it or use it in the dorms or on company property. If the wrong person overheard them talking in the hall, it could lead to disciplinary action for all of them.

Once the door was closed, Ash offered, “I do. Right now I’ve got some pre-rolled joints, or a homemade bong and some hash.”

Tugging at the hem of his own shirt, David muttered, “I’ve never smoked before, um, do you have something… easier?”

Scratching the back of his head, he considered for a moment before saying, “Ace usually deals with the edibles… Let me see if I can get him up.”

It was only then that Marcus and David looked over at the lumpy covers on one of the beds. An arm was sticking out at an odd angle, as well as a foot with an old, worn out sock.

“Good god, is he dead?” Marcus asked, squinting at the hopefully sleeping figure.

“Oh, no. He sleeps like a corpse though,” Ash chuckled. Walking over to the bed, he bonked Ace on the head with his prosthetic hand. “Hey! Yo! The poker tournament is on!”

When he didn’t respond, the janitor sighed. “Alright, he’s out for the night. Usually is on his days off, so I can’t say I’m surprised. I can get you some edibles though.”

Making his way over to the empty bed, he knelt down and dug around for a moment before pulling something out. It looked like a box or container of some kind, but it was hard to tell with the burlap wrapped around it.

Both of them inched closer when Ash set it on the desk to unwrap it, only to jump back a step when he uncovered what looked like a book bound in human flesh. A horrible, twisted face was on the cover, forever frozen in a tortured scream.

“Uhh, why does it look like that?” David asked cautiously. “Did you get it from the same place Quentin got Mr BoJangles?”

With an incredibly forced smile and horribly fake laugh, Ash told them, “Ahh, nah, it’s just a prop! Don’t worry about it!”

Flipping it open, he paused for a moment. Frowning, he mumbled, “Ah, shit, looks like he rearranged his stuff a bit… One second… Nope, not those… Definitely not those… Ah! Here we go!”

Picking out a small brown paper bag, he offered, “These should give you a pretty decent high. If you have to work tomorrow, take them now so you don’t wake up still high. Been there, done that, not a good idea.”

“Sounds good,” Marcus agreed. He’d had enough experiences with weed to know that exact situation, and it wasn’t one he wanted to deal with while working at a place like Crotus Prenn. “After this morning, I really need something to take the fucking edge off.”

“What happened? Ghostface get put in solitary again?” Ash asked, only half joking.

“We got our level three clearance,” the ginger answered bitterly.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Well, at least you’ll be getting a decent pay raise.”

“Yeah, a pay raise to fucking torture people!” Marcus shouted, much to both David and Ash’s shock. Taken aback by his own outburst, the orderly took a deep breath before saying quietly, “I’m sorry… I just… That was a lot and Grimes is… a disgusting person.”

Brow creasing in a sympathetic frown, Ash was silent for a moment before offering him the bag. “Here. Free of charge this time. You both probably need it.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, we can pay for it,” Marcus tried to insist, but the bag was pushed into his hand anyway.

“One time thing,” Ash promised. “Just don’t go telling people I’m giving out free drugs or they’ll never leave me alone.”

Cracking a small smile, the ginger nodded. “Alright, fair enough. Thanks.”

“Have fun,” he chuckled, waving goodbye before closing the door behind them.

“Did you want to take these in my room or your room?” David asked, eyeing the paper bag in Marcus’s hand.

About to say they could go to his room if he’d be more comfortable, he paused. “Let’s… do this in my room. I know my roommates are cool with weed, but I’m not sure how Leon would feel and I don’t want to risk putting him in an awkward spot.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” the other orderly agreed, and they changed direction so they could go to the other room.

Eli and King weren’t back yet and Quentin had already left for his shift, so the two had at least a couple of hours of solitude to enjoy. Getting comfortable on the janitor’s bed after deciding that neither of them needed to be climbing up and down a ladder while high, David set up his laptop to play another documentary, while Marcus grabbed them a couple of snacks and some bottles of water.

Once they were all set up, he pulled two sugar coated edibles out of the bag. They were cut into uniform squares and had a toxic green color to them. Marcus wasn’t too put off by their appearance, having used edibles plenty of times and seen them in dozens of different colors.

David paused for a moment, inspecting his critically before putting it in his mouth with a shrug. Chewing, he screwed up face in a disgusted frown. “Oh, ew. Gross. Is it supposed to have such a bad aftertaste? It’s like a sweet permanent marker!”

Marcus forced his down with a slightly awkward smile. “That wasn’t one of the better ones I’ve ever tasted. But yeah, some of them just have a bad taste.”

Passing his friend a rice crispy bar he’d snagged from the common room downstairs, he offered, “Here. It’ll help get the taste out of your mouth, and it’ll help keep it from hitting too fast if you have more in your stomach.”

Munching on a few snacks, the pair quickly found themselves relaxing to the monotone narration about fleas and their role in the food chain. It was about forty-five minutes into the two hour documentary when Marcus noticed something odd. Maybe he was imagining it, but it kind of looked like the blanket they’d dragged off his bed to sit under was… melting. The threads seemed to be blending together in an almost fluid motion. Running his fingers over the cloth, he blinked slowly when it rippled under his hand.

“Aw… That’s cool,” he mumbled, frowning. “Never had weed that… did that before.”

Looking over at David, he twitched slightly when he caught sight of his eyes. Open wide and glued to the computer screen, they were both a solid, reflective green. Asa’s eyes did that too, he’d noticed. He’d see it when the man had threatened his life… That seemed to be happening a lot around Crotus Prenn, he thought. People threatening his life for one reason or another.

“You know what’s crazy?” David mumbled, tugging lightly at a loose thread on Marcus’ blanket. “That if you put fleas in a jar and leave them undisturbed for a few days then take off the lid, they’ll never jump higher than the jar for the rest of their lives. How crazy is that?”

Marcus blinked again, starting to feel a little too aware of his own breathing. It was… uncomfortable. Trying to focus on something else, and something that wasn’t work related, he repeated what David had just told him in his head a couple of times. Locking anything up for a long enough time could have serious repercussions on its health, both mentally and physically. It happened in zoos all the time. Hell, even humans could suffer those kinds of detrimental effects if their need for stimulation wasn’t met.

Kind of like the patients at Crotus Prenn… Especially like the patients on floor three…

Realizing he’d been staring at the wall for several minutes as he thought things over, Marcus turned back to David. Squinting slightly, he asked, “Hey… Did you… Have you been to floor three before? You didn’t seem surprised by… any of it.”

“... No….”

“No?” Marcus repeated, brows knitting together in a frown. Movement drew his eyes down, and he blinked at the sight of David’s fingers weaving through the fabric of the blanket like minnows darting through a shallow pond. Rubbing the back of his neck, he forced himself to look at his friend's face again, despite the eerie green of his eyes. “Dude… Why the fuck are you lying to me?”

There was a much better way he could have asked that, but instead of feeling more relaxed and calm as the edibles started to kick in, he felt more stressed. His mind wouldn’t still. Grimes’ awful tour was playing over and over in his head, interspersed with flashes of the Trapper nearly strangling him to death.

“Don't yell at me.” David wouldn’t look at him, wide eyes still firmly glued to the screen of his laptop, unblinking. The video was now showing the importance of fleas being prey to larger predators. It was as if he was seeing something that the ginger couldn’t. “I don’t like it when people yell at me.”

“I’m not… yelling,” Marcus said stiffly. He wasn’t, was he? “I just– I don’t get it. You saw what I saw today and you didn’t seem surprised at all. So– so have you already seen it? Or do you just not care about what’s happening to them? That guy- the- the Wraith? He’s in a fucking glass box!”

“There isn’t anything we can do. We can’t- we can’t do anything so I’m not surprised cause we can’t do anything.” He slowly turned to look at Marcus, his green lit eyes seeming to melt off his face. “You and I both know how cruel this place can be, there isn’t anything we can do.”

Marcus leaned away slightly, breath catching in his throat. David wouldn’t say something like that! He was so sweet and kind and timid! Clearing his throat a couple of times, he finally mumbled, “That’s horse shit. This place is bad on the surface… but what’s happening downstairs is inhumane and you know it… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“... I’m not allowed to do that.”

This was so unlike him, to sound so monotone. There wasn’t a day that Marcus didn’t see a smile on his friend’s face, even if it was nervous. His current stone cold expression was off putting, something that didn’t fit David at all.

Right now, he sounded just like his father.

“What do you mean? You’re not allowed to? You didn’t even have floor three clearance before today!” he argued, frustration and anxiety beginning to mix in a volatile combination. “You’re a grown man! Stop acting like your father is the only one who can make decisions for you! Maybe then he wouldn’t go around threatening people just for being your friend!”

David’s shoulders stiffened immediately, his eyes dipping between green and black as he asked, “What do you mean he threatened you?”

In Marcus’s mind, the image of Asa pushing himself into his personal space to threaten him began to merge with the more recent near death experience at the Trapper’s hands. Rubbing at his neck again, the ginger couldn’t help the accusatory tone in his voice as he snapped, “Are you really surprised? Considering the fact that you’ve got no other friends in this goddamn place? You know what everyone thinks of your dad! How can you not tell that he’s the reason people are afraid to get close to you? You’ve been working here for how long? You’re really telling me you can’t just leave and make an actual life for yourself? Go to school? Do something!”

David abruptly stood up, knocking his laptop to the ground with a THUD. The video continued to play, the narrator’s monotone voice seeming to merge with the orderly’s as he practically snarled, “Says the guy who's literally going to throw his entire life away for a serial killer! Says the guy who doesn’t have a dad and uses other people to fill the hole he left behind! Says the guy who’s so delusional that he really thinks Ghostface would want a nobody like him!”

Struggling to free himself from the blankets, Marcus forced himself off the bed. In a cold voice, he said, “At least my dad’s not a serial killer. At least I won’t die a virgin. At least I can actually make friends without them only hanging out with me out of pity because no one else wants to deal with the psychopath who raised his only child in an asylum! At least I have a fucking education!”

He didn’t know where all his rage was coming from or why he was unloading all of it on David, but he couldn’t stop. Events were mashing together in his head. First it was the Trapper threatening him. Then Krauser. Then Asa. Then David. None of it made sense and it left him with a strange, suffocating feeling in his chest.

“Stop yelling at me!” David practically screamed, voice warbling as the video seemed to get louder. “You’re literally letting your education go to waste because you’re here at rock fucking bottom! No one ever leaves here alive and you know it! I’m fucking stuck here but you have a chance to leave and do something with your life! Crotus Prenn crushes people and you walked into the trap willingly! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

‘What’s wrong with you? Why are you like this? Why can’t you just do as you’re told?’

“Stop it,” Marcus whispered, taking a step back as his father’s voice slithered through his head. “You don’t get to fucking judge me for having a relationship with someone just because you don’t approve of it. It- it’s no different than Eli or Dwight–”

“It is different!” he hissed, taking a step forward. “Dwight didn’t have a real job before this place and Eli literally followed Michael here. They literally have nowhere else to go. You keep using the same excuses over and over again because you’re literally deluding yourself into thinking this is going to end well! You keep secrets and go behind everyone’s back because you’re an idiot with a death wish!”

“You of all people are one to talk about keeping secrets,” Marcus shot back, voice strained. “You have been to floor three before! You were picking at your goddamn cardigan the entire time! How many of the other floors have you been to? Huh? How much shit is down there that you don’t want to talk about because your father’s got his fucking hands in it? He’s just as much a monster as Grimes and Wesker!”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT MY DAD LIKE THAT!” David finally snapped, practically in Marcus’ face. “YOU DON’T KNOW ABOUT ANYTHING THAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU DON’T KNOW HIM AND YOU DON’T KNOW ME! I AM NOT A MONSTER!”

Marcus flinched, taking a stumbling step backwards as David’s face melted and shifted until he was looking at Asa. Holding his hands up between them slightly, he stammered, “F-fuck! What the fuck!”

Nothing made sense anymore. There was no reasonable explanation for how Asa could have gotten into his room, but Marcus was no longer able to grasp that concept, his ability to reason lost in a sea of panic and hallucinations. Taking another step back, he tripped on the forgotten laptop and fell on his tailbone with a startled yelp.

“...Stop that.” Asa’s voice was soft, chalk full of emotions that Marcus couldn’t understand. “Stop looking at me like that. I didn’t do anything wrong, Stop looking at me like that.”

Trembling from head to toe as he stared up into the man’s reflective green eyes, his voice was barely above a whisper as he accused, “You… You’re a monster.”

“No I’m not,” he whispered, hands slowly starting to clench. “You’re lying. I’m not a monster. I’m not. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. Stop looking at me. Stop looking at me.”

Asa reached down and picked up the laptop, the narrator now explaining how despite the importance of fleas to maintain a delicate ecosystem, they were still pests at the end of the day. “I’m not a monster, I’m not.”

Panic took over, the silver finish on the computer warping into the shape of a blade to Marcus’s addled mind. Pushing himself back until he hit the desk, he half sobbed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- I never meant to put him in danger! Please, I’m sorry!”

Taking another step towards Marcus’s fallen form, he raised the device over his head, the glow from his eyes turning him into something eldritch as he declared, “I’M NOT A MONSTER!”

The sound of the door opening was lost under the volume of David’s shout, neither of them noticing it nor the people rushing into the room until the computer was all but ripped out of his hands. Arms wrapped around him from behind, and he was pulled away from the cowering ginger before either of them could register what was happening.

Hyperventilating as someone dropped down next to him, Marcus screamed and tried to smack them away when they reached for him.

“No, no, no! Shhh! Hey, hey, it’s okay!” a voice soothed. “Marcus, I need you to look at me. It’s Eli. Your roommate.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. No, he didn’t want to look! He didn’t trust what he was hearing and he didn’t want to see something horrible! Someone touched his arm and he pulled away, curling in on himself defensively. Some part of his mind was still waiting for the knife to come down, but he told himself that maybe… maybe if he didn’t look it would go away. Maybe the monsters were only real if he was looking at them, just like when he was little and thought there were creatures in the dark under his bed.

Another voice reached his ears, but the words didn’t make much sense. If he’d been able to understand, he would have heard Ace slowly bringing David back from the ledge his mind had tried to throw him off of.

“Marcus, hey, it’s okay,” Eli said again, once more gently placing a hand on his back. “Can you tell me what you’re seeing? Where you are?”

It was difficult to speak around his ragged breaths, but he finally managed, “Mm’ not s-sure. Not sure wh-where I am. He- he’s going to kill me!”

“No, no one’s going to kill you,” the nurse promised, voice gentle. “No one in here is going to hurt you.”

“He said– He said he’d m-make sure n-no one finds m-my body!” Marcus sobbed, pulling his arms over his head. “H-he’s going t-to kill me f-for being a- a bad f-friend!”

Eli glanced over to where Ace was still holding David in a bear hug. The small orderly still looked insanely stressed out, but he’d stopped screaming for them to stop looking at him at least.

“David’s not going to hurt you,” he promised, returning his attention to Marcus. “He’s a good guy. He’d never–”

“Asa’s a serial killer,” the ginger whispered. “The CIA guy t-told me!”

“The CIA– Goddammit, Jonah,” Eli muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath, he urged, “Don’t worry about Mr. Emory right now. He’s not here. He doesn’t stay in the dorms at all.”

Marcus had no idea if that was true or not, but in the moment, it did begin to sooth the raging panic in his mind. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, too scared of what he might see. Even the darkness swirling behind his eyelids seemed wrong, but at least it wasn’t full of melting faces with glowing green eyes.

“Marcus, can you sit up for me?” the nurse asked, and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to open your eyes,” Eli promised. “I’ll help you. But I need to make sure you didn’t hit your head on the desk.”

“Hey, Eli? I’m going to take David back to his room,” Ace said quietly. “Are you going to be okay watching Marcus?”

“Yeah, this isn’t my first time babysitting a bad trip,” he murmured, helping the ginger into a sitting position. Guiding his elbows to his knees, then his head onto his arms, the nurse asked, “You know Leon is staying with him for the time being, right?”

“That’s fine, all the department heads come to us at some point or another… But David should be somewhere familiar, and somewhere he feels safe for the time being.”

“If you’re sure,” Eli accepted, keeping his movements slow and gentle as he checked Marcus for any injuries. Once the door was closed and the two were alone in the room, he asked, “Do you think you can stand?”

Marcus was quiet for a moment before shaking his head. When he tried to think about standing up, the entire world seemed to tilt and spin behind his eyes. It was nauseating, and he groaned, “Mm’ gonna’ throw up.”

“Oh, god,” Eli hissed, scrambling into the bathroom to grab a trash can. He got back to his friend not a moment too soon, and rubbed his back as he wretched into the bin. Once he was done, he sighed, “Alright… I’m not going to give you anything to drink right now because I don’t want you to choke. I’m going to grab your pillow, and a blanket, and then I’m going to help you lay down. Okay?”

“Flat… surface… Sounds good,” Marcus managed. He could hear Eli shuffling around, then a hand gently tugged his shoulder.

“Okay, this way. Gently. Gently. Gently, Marcus!”

His descent to the floor was not gentle in the slightest, despite the fact that he was already sitting. If Eli hadn’t already had a pillow in place, the ginger would probably have cracked his head open with as hard as he threw himself sideways. The sound of the door opening and closing made its way to Marcus’s ears and he started to panic, thinking he had just been left alone. Before he could start thrashing or crying again, he heard the nurse talking to someone else.

“Thanks for hurrying. I think he’ll be okay, but if he gets violent…”

“Bloody idiot… Don’t look at me like that, I don’t mean him. I mean Ash. Mixing up his own product like that. Even if they’d been expecting to trip, neither of them are in the right bloody headspace for that.”

“Yeah… Well… It happens…”

“What the hell happened?”

“I’m not sure… We can ask him when he’s sober…”

Marcus wasn’t even sure what happened, but as he succumbed to an exhausted sleep, his last thought was to wonder… Was David right?
~~~~

Notes:

And we're back! Regular Wednesday updates are back!

Chapter 44: The Walls Have Ears

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus vents to Danny about the recent incident between him and David to... unsurprising results. Poor Feng.

David isn't quite as ready to talk about it, but an unexpected friend reaches out a helping hand.

“And apparently the edibles Ash gave us were the ones that Ace makes people sign a fucking waiver to buy! I just– I can’t– How do you mix up your own stash that badly?!”

“I honestly wouldn’t know, I’ve never done drugs,” Danny admitted, almost sounding amused by Marcus’s ranting.

Pausing for a split second, the ginger gave him an incredulous look. “You’ve never done drugs? Really?”

“My body is a temple. Also, weed is a plant and I don’t think it should be considered a drug. Same with shrooms and peyote.”

Marcus blinked. That was… not a discussion he was going to have at the moment. Shaking his head, he continued, “Anyway, I don’t really remember a lot of the details, especially after I started dozing in and out. That’s when it got really hard to tell what was real or not… I just… I know I said some really horrible stuff to David and that was real…”

Sitting up a little straighter against the wall, Danny asked, “Oh? Did you now?”

“Yeah, we… had a bad fight,” Marcus admitted, not really wanting to say more than that. He could remember a lot of what he’d said when things first started kicking off, and he could still recall a lot of what David had said to him. He couldn’t help but feel a lot of guilt over the things he’d said, even if he felt like it was true.

There was something seriously wrong with Asa, and he legitimately worried about the effects it was having on the younger Emory. What affects his father had already had on him…

“Mmm, wanna’ talk about it?” Danny purred, leaning over more on the cot so they were shoulder to shoulder.

They’d been sitting there for about thirty minutes at that point, with Ghostface just letting Marcus vent about the night before. He’d had an admittedly rough shift, with the latter half being spent on the third floor. He didn’t want to talk about that either…

“Not really… For the parts of the day we were scheduled together, we could barely look at each other,” he admitted. “We didn’t even say ‘hi’ to one another. I think the only reason Jack didn’t pick up on it is because she was just as blindsided by the two of us getting floor three access already as we were. Or… as I was.”

Marcus still wanted to know just how much of floor three David was already aware of. How many other floors had he already been to, and how much worse were they? Before he could ask Ghostface what he knew about the lower floors, the man was asking a question of his own.

“Now, Doc, I know we didn’t get to really touch on this yesterday, but I was wondering about a little comment you made in the yard,” Danny explained. “What’s this about you not being monogamous?”

Slightly surprised by the change in subject, Marcus blinked. A little grateful for the new topic, he explained, “Well, I don’t really believe in strictly closed relationships. I mean, I have no problem with people who prefer monogamy, but it’s not really for me. If… you want the two of us to have a serious relationship, this is probably a good conversation for us to have now instead of later.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ghostface agreed stiffly. It was clear he was choosing his words deliberately as he continued, “We’ve all got our body counts, Doc. I won’t deny that and I’m not one to judge or be jealous over the past… But you’re mine now. Which means I don’t want other people touching you anymore.”

Sucking air through his teeth, Marcus considered it for a moment before saying, “I can respect that you feel that way–”

“Doc…”

“–but I won’t outright refuse to entertain the idea of sleeping with other people if we hit it off. Nor would I ask or expect you to remain exclusively committed to only having sex with me, especially if it’s for something I can’t comfortably or physically offer.”

Danny’s eyes had gotten narrower as he’d continued, lips pressing into a thin, unamused smile. “Hmmm… See, that doesn’t work for me. Now, before you start to get worried that I’m going to try and threaten you into anything, don’t worry. I’m not. But, I will promise you something.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, honestly not sure what to expect. He’d had a feeling they were going to have a conversation along those lines at some point, but he wasn’t sure how or if he should be the one to broach the subject.

“Obviously I can’t control what you do when you’re outside of my cell, nor would I feel right putting such a beautiful creature as yourself in a cage,” Ghostface said slowly, an ominous smile spreading across his face. “But, you also can’t control what I do in my free time. And if that free time leads to me, say… finding out the name, address, work, school, and other intimate personal details of anyone you allow to touch you… I’m sure you won’t complain.”

Marcus started and stopped several times. He hadn’t been expecting a… compromise. If one could call it that. As bad as it sounded, he’d never had any intention of trying to get Danny to stop killing people. He wasn’t going to try and ‘fix Ghostface’. As long as he wasn’t the one being targeted for death, he was having a hard time caring anymore… Frowning slightly as the real implication set in, he raised his eyebrows.

“Ahha, you get it, Doc,” Danny chuckled. “I like how quickly you catch on.”

“That’s incredibly fucked up,” he argued, not really all that upset by the ‘compromise’.

“No, what’s fucked up is thinking about someone else getting to do this to you,” Ghostface countered, reaching over to grab his leg. Before Marcus could do anything about the tight grip, he was being yanked onto his back on the cot. Hands caught his wrists, pulling his arms over his head as Danny leaned down, a smirk on his face.

“Oh, ha ha,” the orderly grumbled, wiggling and squirming a bit. He already knew he couldn’t get free unless Ghostface let him, but that didn’t mean he was just going to roll over and let him get what he wanted. Glaring up at him when he chuckled, Marcus fussed, “You know, I’m supposed to give Feng a warning before we start doing anything.”

“Well, here’s her warning,” he countered cheerfully. Looking up at the camera in the corner, Ghostface stated loud and clear, “I’m going to rearrange his guts now, but don’t worry, any crying and sobbing you hear will be because he’s enjoying it. Not because I’m murdering him.”

“Danny!” Marcus hissed. “Don’t harass her! What if she activates your collar?!”

“I can only hope I’m already inside you if she does,” he stated cheerfully. “Now, be a doll and hold this.”

“What–” he started to ask, only to let out a startled sound as something tightened around his wrists. Tilting his head back, he squinted at the strips of shredded bed sheet Ghostface was twisting around his arms. “How did you get that?!”

“I mean, they give us some small creature comforts,” Danny said evasively, a smile on his face as he sat back. “Aww. Now you see? I’ve pictured you like this just… so many times. It’s nice to finally see it for real.”

Marcus could feel his face turning red even as he tried to deny that he felt anything other than annoyed. Gritting his teeth, he huffed, “You’re going to get us both in trouble!”

“Technically I’d be the only one getting in trouble,” Danny pointed out, hands trailing gently down his sides. “See, you have plausible deniability right now, since you’re tied up.”

“I swear to god,” Marcus seethed, tugging at his arms. It only made the strips of sheet pull tighter around his wrists, so he pouted, “The only way anyone would believe I had nothing to do with this would be for me to start screaming–”

“I can make that happen, Doc,” Ghostface interrupted, smile growing at the mortified look he got. “But there’s just one thing I need to take care of first.”

Continuing the theme of not giving him enough time to question his intentions, the killer scooted further down the cot until he was kneeling between his thighs. Fingers tracing along the hem of his scrub pants, Danny mused, “You know, since we get so few chances to do this, I think it would be wise for me to really make our time together count. Especially if you’re going to be running off to other partners when I’m not around to satisfy your needs, baby boy.”

Grimacing slightly, Marcus argued, “Don’t start trying to guilt me into anything. Sometimes relationships require compromise.”

“I know,” he agreed, hands pushing underneath the ginger’s shirt. Feeling along his abdomen and chest, Danny continued smoothly, “And I would never try and manipulate you through guilt. Seeing you all sad and mopey because your needs aren’t being met would break my shriveled, icy heart. A real pity, since you’re the only reason it’s beating the way it is now… But the way I see it, this is actually going to be very beneficial for both of us.”

“It… it is?” Marcus asked hesitantly. He couldn’t deny being a bit thrown by Ghostface’s… acceptance? Was that what that was? He’d been sure the conversation would be difficult, considering how openly possessive the man was of him, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions about how things would go.

“Of course it is,” Danny agreed, fingers ghosting over his skin. Withdrawing one hand from under his shirt, he rested it pointedly between Marcus’s legs. “At the end of the day, by one method or another… No matter what, we both walk away satisfied.”

“Ahha,” he managed, glancing between Danny’s hands and face. He wasn’t sure where to look, as Ghostface’s expression gave nothing away, but his fingers were pointedly rubbing teasing circles across his skin and through his pants. Breath hitching slightly as one of his nipples was pinched, he couldn't help the way he instinctively tried to raise his hips, pushing himself into the hand cupping him through his pants.

A harder pinch and gentle tug nearly made Marcus squeal, and he bit his lip to keep quiet. When he started to glance up at the camera in the corner, his nipple was given a sharp twist, and he yelped, head snapping around to Danny again.

Ghostface’s eyes glittered with malice, the predatory look only amplified by the dim lights lining the floor of his cell. Giving the orderly’s shaft a squeeze, he purred, “Now, Doc… I just… don’t like picturing you like this, unless it’s with me. I don’t like the idea of not being in the moment. Makes me a little… jealous. You get that, right?”

Eyes darting back to his face, Marcus offered a weak smile. “I… I know. It’s not for everyone. But it’s– Communication is key– I mean, it’s not– Look, I’m not going to ask you to stop killing, when we both know that’s a part of who you are.”

Taking a deep breath, Danny let his eyes close as a shiver wracked his body. When he opened them again, it was to look at his willing captive with a heavy, lustful gaze. “You have no idea how hot it is to hear you say that. And I’m not going to ask you to not sleep with other people… But at the end of the day, you’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you know that beyond a doubt.”

A tighter, more purposeful squeeze right when he tried to speak shut Marcus up before he could get a word out, and he lifted his hips with a small, almost jerky motion.

“And because you’re mine, I just… I have to make sure I cover all my bases,” Ghostface continued, fingers finally dipping below Marcus’s waistband. Tugging his pants and boxers down, he ran a thumb up the underside of the orderly’s shaft. Listening to his breathing hitch and stutter, Danny cooed, “Oh, baby. You’re so receptive to my touch. I love that. I don’t even need to get rough with you to get you hard.”

“Sh-shut up,” Marcus huffed, trying to pretend he wasn’t already hard.

“Now, Doc? What makes you think you get to make any demands?” Ghostface questioned, slowly wrapping each finger around his dick. “See, tonight more than ever, I feel the need to… take my time with you. Something like this can’t be rushed, and I want to make sure that you remember me… and only me…”

Not so stimulated that he couldn’t really register what he was hearing, Marcus let out a thin laugh between breathy pants. “Ah, haa, I– I already, haa, th-think about you all the time.”

“Yes, but now,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb in a teasing circle over his other nipple, “I’m going to make sure there isn’t a place someone can touch that won’t have you remembering me. Hmm, doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Grinning stupidly, Marcus still had the willpower to challenge, “I think that sounds like a fabulous time. As long as we actually have time.”

“Oh, we’ll have time,” Danny promised, hand suddenly tight around his dick. It was almost too tight, and the slow, just fast enough to feel good without being enough to get him off stroking made the ginger squirm.

Suddenly a lot more aware of his hands being bound and practically useless, Marcus swallowed thickly before panting, “Ah, Danny? Are you– Um, are you going to, ahh– Are you–”

Every time he’d start trying to ask even a single question, Ghostface would tweak one of his nipples or add a little bit of a twist to his stroke. It was enough every time, and the orderly found himself losing his ability to focus. Hips twitching and jerking more and more as the minutes wore on, he quickly gave up on trying to ask questions and just enjoy the touching.

He was actually starting to get really into it, as Danny’s grip became more gentle and caressing around his shaft. The pinching, rubbing, and flicking of his poor abused nipples turned into warm fingers tracing the curve and dip of his stomach before trailing down the inside of his thigh. A gentle press had him willinging opening his legs a bit wider, and his partner let out a dark laugh.

Then… everything stopped.

Head shooting up with a groggy, “Huh, wha?” Marcus stared at Ghostface with a dumbfounded expression.

Hands folded neatly in front of his waist, he seemed perfectly content to just sit between the ginger’s thighs, a smirk on his face. Eyebrows rising in mock surprise at the confused look he was getting, Danny pretended to remember, “Gotta get lube, sweety. Can’t have you limping out of here for the wrong reasons, now can we?”

Not trusting his voice to come out in a pitch that would be anything less than embarrassing, Marcus nodded quickly.

Head tilting slightly, Ghostface said cheerfully, “Well, I’m glad you agree.”

He didn’t make a single move to actually get up and get the lube, however…

Trying not to let the slight desperation he was feeling creep into his voice, Marcus asked, “You… you have lube, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he confirmed, still not budging. “I’m always prepared, Doc.”

“Ahh… Did- did you want to grab it?” he pressed, trying to smile charmingly. It only served to make him look even more desperate and pathetic, as if being tied to a patient’s bed wasn’t already doing enough of that…

“Of course,” Ghostface repeated, an absolutely mad light in his eyes as he pushed himself up. He made no attempt to hide the tent in the front of his pants as he covered the short distance to his desk, and when he turned to Marcus, he twirled the bottle between his fingers with an unnecessary flourish. “Hmmm, you should see me do this with a knife.”

“Mhmm,” Marcus agreed thinly. “That– that sounds like a treat. Maybe someday. Better to focus on the present now, right?”

“True… Hm. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t waste this opportunity. I just hope we don’t run out of time before you get to cum.”

Eye twitching slightly, he asked, “Wh-what?”

Ignoring his question, Ghostface stood by the head of the bed, a sly smile on his face as he fished himself out of his pants. “For now, Doc, let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.”

Slightly surprised since it was the first time anything oral focused had happened between them, Marcus was too slow to protest to what he’d just heard. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulled his head slightly so he was in a better position for Ghostface to slip the tip of his cock past the ginger’s parted lips.

He wasn’t nearly as aggressive about it as he could have been, allowing Marcus to keep from choking as he blinked up at him with watery, confused eyes.

“Hmm, I do love that look on your face, Doc,” Danny purred, brushing some loose strands of hair away from his face.

Whining quietly, Marcus was forced to swallow his complaints or choke on them, as Ghostface canted his hips. His rhythm was slow and steady, allowing him to enjoy every second of the orderly’s tongue lapping and swirling around his cock as it dipped in and out of his throat. Spit coated his lips, leaking down his chin as he was kept from reaching up to wipe his face, or even pulling back to take a breath. The only reason he could keep up was because Danny allowed it and they both knew it.

One hand remained holding a fistful of red hair, keeping Marcus from rolling away or turning his head to the other side as Ghostface took his time using his mouth for his own pleasure. He wasn’t entirely cruel, however, as he reached over and began stroking him again. He used the same tortuous pace as before, even as his own thrusts became sloppier and deeper.

“Fuuuck, Doc,” Ghostface groaned, eyelids fluttering but never quite closing. He’d been maintaining eye contact the entire time he face fucked him, smile never wavering. It was only when Marcus was just about to cum, body tensing and dick twitching against Danny’s palm, that he finally figured out what the game was… because he stopped again.

Danny didn’t stop fucking his mouth. Oh no. He simply stopped jerking him off, leaving him to whine and sputter in protest, fingers curling and flexing uselessly as the binding around his wrists left him unable to take care of himself.

That was twice Ghostface had stopped right when he’d been about to cum, and he hadn’t expected it either time. It was the complete opposite of his usual, purposefully overstimulating, muti-round sexcapades!

“Now, Doc,” he huffed, fingers twitching against his scalp. “I did say… Mhm, fuck… I said I was going to make sure everything will make you think of me… so… hmm, be a good boy and swallow.”

Marcus sputtered indignantly, but it was pointless. He wasn’t getting off until Ghostface let him, and it didn’t seem like that was going to happen any time soon. The muffled sounds of his gags and whines only increased when Danny suddenly yanked his head forward, hips stuttering slightly as he came.

“Ooooh, there you go, baby boy,” he groaned, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Taking Marcus’s face in both hands as he eased out of his mouth, Danny praised, “Good job, Doc. Our first time doing that and you’re already taking me so well.”

“Mhmm,” Marcus croaked, still catching his breath from before. The praise made his heart skip a beat, and he added a nod to further acknowledge that he’d heard. He really, really wanted to cum at that point, and he hoped showing Danny that he was being good would speed that process up.

Lips met his in a searing kiss, and he whined, only to be left panting and gasping when Ghostface pulled away again.

“Hmm, good boy,” he praised, eyes glittering at the way Marcus went completely relaxed in his hands. “Now, what do you say we see how well you take me somewhere else?”

Nodding again, Marcus watched with a slightly desperate expression as Danny took his time moving back down the small cot before climbing back between his legs. Humming thoughtfully as he lubed up two of his fingers, he mused, “I wonder… what you’re thinking right now. Care to share with the class, Doc?”

Letting out a pathetic moan as two fingers circled his rim, he stammered, “I– I need to cum. Jesus fucking Christ, I need to cum.”

“Hmm. Already thinking about another man,” Ghostface chastised, pulling his hand away.

Voice almost cracking as he fought the urge to start squirming, Marcus babbled, “It– it’s just an expression! I’m not– That’s not what– Danny, please! You’re the only person I’m thinking about right now!”

“I sure hope so, Doc,” he tsked, shaking his head as though disappointed. “But I need a little more convincing first.”

“What?! No, Danny, please! It’s just an expression!” he begged, only to lose his voice in a moan a moment later as two fingers pushed deep inside him. Back arching and legs kicking slightly, he jolted when lips pressed against his belly.

Lifting his head as best he could, he met Ghostface’s eyes as he kissed a deliberate trail across his abdomen and hips. Then, without warning, he bit him. The sudden, sharp pinch of teeth right inside his hip made him jump, but the soothing press of a tongue lapping over the small spot pulled a moan out of him.

Hot breath puffed across his dick, and he made a questioning sound. Choking on a gasp when lips wrapped around the leaking head of his cock, Marcus let out a half sobbed, “Fucking hell, thank you!”

He could feel Danny laugh, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that his fingers kept pressing right against his prostate and his mouth was tight, wet, and hot. Words tumbled out but he wasn’t in control of what they were or how loudly they were coming out. All he knew was, he was finally going to cum, and it felt so–

“You know, Doc–”

“Danny, for the love of fucking god?!”

“Wow, rude. Don’t yell at me like that,” he chastised, crossing his arms. “Apologize.”

“You can’t be fucking serious!” he wailed, throwing his head back. “Danny, please! I can’t take it anymore! Please!”

“I had something I was going to say, but then you interrupted, so no,” he scoffed, inspecting his nails. “Apologize, then we can continue.”

“Danny, c’mon!” Marcus whined, pleading as best he could. “Please? Give me something!”

Yelping when hands slammed down on either side of his head, he cringed as Danny leaned into his face, teeth bared in a sadistic sneer as he hissed, “Doc, I will gladly punish you if that’s what it’s going to take for you to do as you're told. I long to see just how far your limits go. To find that point where the lines begin to blur and you unleash everything you have into one single moment of pure. Unadulterated. Selfish. Pleasure.”

This wasn’t punishment? This wasn’t punishment?! His balls felt like they were going to explode! His dick hurt! He needed to cum! Unable to look anywhere else and too terrified to try and break eye contact, Marcus gulped before answering in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Ghostface. I’m sorry I interrupted you. I– I’ll– I’ll behave.”

“Aww, such a good boy,” he praised, smiling charmingly. Keeping the closeness between them, he continued, “Now, as I was saying. I think you’re ready for me, Doc. What do you think?”

“Y-yes, please,” he agreed, offering a meek smile of his own. “Please, I need you.”

“Hm, good,” Danny murmured, readjusting his hips. Reaching down between them, he used a hand to guide himself in, before returning to his position on either side of Marcus’s head. Taking his time, he worked each inch into him with a slow, deliberate nudge. He was enjoying the ongoing struggle and growing whimpers and cries of the man underneath him.

Nearly sobbing when he felt Ghostface bottom out, Marcus let his head flop back against the bed. Fuck. He was so goddamn close just from the man being inside him. If Danny so much as moved he was almost sure it would be enough to make him bust. He couldn’t remember ever having been so sensitive and close for so long without having already cum at least once before.

Teeth nipped his ear and he whimpered, entire body shivering in response. A low laugh preceded a quiet, “Now? What do we say, Doc?”

“Th-thank you, Ghostface,” he croaked. Back arching sharply when he started to pull out, the orderly babbled, “Fuck! Please, I’m so close! I’ll do anything!”

Lips grazed his neck, the gentle promise of a lot more to come, before he was told, “Doc, I want you to do what you want to do, because you want to do it. I just want to make sure. That I’m. The only one. You. Think. Of.”

Marcus wanted to argue, to swear up and down that Danny was already the only person he ever thought of anymore! Especially when it came to sex! He didn’t know anyone else he could even have sex with! Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to convey any of that. Instead, all that came out of his mouth was incoherent gibberish as Ghostface slowly pushed back into him.

Gagging when a hand wrapped around his neck, Marcus struggled to pay attention as words were growled in his ear. “You do… what you want to do, Doc. But just remember… At the end of the day… Every day… You. Are. Mine. And if people want to use what’s mine, there will be a price to pay.”

“Mmnggh,” he managed, eyes watering as Danny slowly ground his hips into him.

“Let me hear you say it, baby boy,” Ghostface ordered. “Tell me who’s good boy you are.”

“Mm’ yours!” Marcus wheezed, a sharp cry leaving him as the man began rocking into him at a steadier pace. “Danny– Gh-Ghostface, I’m yours! Fuck!”

“And who does this tight hole belong to, Doc?” he pressed, once more pausing right on the brink. “Hmm? Who gets to fuck you like this whenever they want?”

Voice thin and shaky, Marcus managed to gasp, “Y-you! I-it’s for you! Mm’ yours!”

“You’re all mine, baby?” Ghostface teased. “Then tell me who makes you feel good? Who can make you cry and beg so pretty?”

“You, Ghostface,” he choked, chest heaving and tears streaming from his eyes. “You make me f-feel good– Hkk! Fuck! Ghostface, please! There’s only you! Please, please let me cum!”

At the moment, Danny really was all he could think of. The pleasure. The pain. The burning, twisting need crippling his brain’s higher function was because of him. The soft, soothing caresses of fingers was because of him. The words guiding and praising him when he did well were all Danny.

“Oooh, such a good boy for me,” he praised, nipping at the side of Marcus’s neck and ear. Giving the orderly’s throat a squeeze, Ghostface purred, “Come on now, baby. Cum on my cock. Don’t keep me waiting after all this.”

The sound Marcus made was somewhere between a broken attempt at a thank you, and an unholy moan that probably would have made it all the way to the third floor if not for Danny clamping a hand over his mouth.

Burying his face in the ginger’s neck, he held on tightly as he bucked and kicked, entire body spasming as he came between them. Marcus continued to make broken sounds behind the hand covering his mouth, able to feel as Ghostface came inside him.

Shuddering with every breath, he gasped when Danny’s hand slid away. Lips pressed gently against his neck and he whined softly, earning a laugh in return. “Hmm, you are something else, Doc. I wish I could stay inside you forever.”

“Mmm,” was all he could get out, eyes half closed as he tried to keep from falling asleep. Fuck, he was exhausted. His entire body felt like a noodle, and with the pleasant weight of Ghostface’s body on top of, and inside, him, he felt like he could just close his eyes and take a nap if he really wanted to.

“You did a good job, Doc,” Danny murmured, arms shifting to better hold him as he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of his shoulder. Teeth pinched his skin, drawing a small whine from his lips before a mouth was clamping onto his tender neck.

“Ah! F-fuck, Danny!” he whimpered, entire body jerking and tensing. Normally he wouldn’t complain about the man insisting on getting more than one orgasm out of him, but for the moment, he didn’t think he could handle another round. “N-no, no, I’m too– I’m too sensitive!”

“Mmhmm,” was hummed against his throat, acknowledging that he’d been heard. Thankfully, round… two? Maybe three, depending on who was counting. Whatever round it would have been, it wasn’t in the cards for the time being.

That didn’t mean he was free to go just yet, however. It wasn’t until Ghostface had sucked and bitten several large, fresh hickies on the sides and front of his neck that he finally raised his head so they were eye to eye.

Taking a moment to really enjoy the absolutely fucked out, hazy expression on Marcus’s face, Danny smiled. “Oooh, you are a precious treasure, Doc. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

Swallowing thickly, he managed to nod. “Mhm. Mm’ yours, Gh-Ghostface.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he cooed, gently shifting his hips to pull out of the exhausted ginger. Leaning down to kiss his temple when he made a choked sound, Danny murmured, “Shh, shh, shh, baby boy. It’s okay. You may need a little correcting now and again, but I can’t say that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I needed today too. You are truly the gift that keeps on giving.”

Fingers gently loosened the knots pinching his wrists, unwrapping the tight stips of cloth before rubbing his bruised skin. Chuckling at the rings of bruises, Danny joked, “Mmm, now we match.”

“Ah,” Marcus panted, hazy eyes briefly gazing at the heavy metal cuffs locked around Ghostface’s own wrists.

“How are you feeling, Doc?” he murmured, expression soft as he used one of his spare shirts to begin cleaning up the ginger.

Breathing a little easier as his body slowly came down from the intense high, Marcus managed a small smile. “Like jello… I don’t… Ooh, fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked like that before.”

“I aim to be… memorable,” Ghostface laughed, tossing his dirty shirt into the corner.

“You’re a bit more than that,” Marcus chuckled, before groaning softly as his boxers and scrub bottoms were tugged back up to cover him. “Ooh, god. I’m still so sensitive, even wearing pants kind of sucks right now.”

“You could always leave me your underwear,” Danny offered innocently. “I promise I’ll put it to good use and I’ll get it back to you… eventually.”

“If you’re going to abuse them like you just abused me, you can keep them,” he groaned, forcing himself to sit up. Normally he’d be more than happy to stay and bask in the afterglow of their fun for a while, but they both knew the longer he hung out inside Ghostface’s cell, the more risk they ran of the wrong person catching them.

“Hmm, what can I say? I like to take my time,” he cooed, leaning in to kiss Marcus again. When he pulled back, he sighed, “You better get back to the dorms, Doc. The last thing we need is for your roommates to start freaking out thinking someone murdered you.”

“You know they’re going to think someone tried when I show up looking like this so late after my shift,” the orderly chastised, but he didn’t sound mad. It didn’t bother him nearly as much anymore to think about how they’d react to seeing his latest bruises and marks.

“And the rest of the mouth breathers around here will know to keep their hands off of you,” Danny concluded smugly. “Unless they want to lose their hands.”

Something about the indirect threat sent a thrill up Marcus’s spine. It was a slightly jarring, unexpected feeling, and he did his best to ignore it as he staggered to his feet. “Ha, y-yeah. I guess so… Um, I’ll see you tomorrow, I assume. During my shift, I mean. If not, I’ll try to come visit before I leave for the night.”

“I look forward to it, Doc,” he agreed, smiling charmingly. “See you soon.”

Grinning goofily, Marcus badged his way out of the cell, a sense of satisfaction coursing through him. Practically glowing as the door closed behind him, he barely made it a single step before someone was shouting, “Marcus Aurelius Taylor!”

“He’s not home right now!” Marcus shouted right back, leaping a foot in the air.

“Bitch?!” Feng demanded, staring at him incredulously.

One hand still clasping his chest over his heart, he stared right back for a moment before sputtering, “Bitch?! Why would you do that?! Who uses a person’s full government name like that?! How would you like it if I called you…. Whatever your full name is?!”

“Oh my god, I fucking can’t with you,” she griped, shaking her head. “You! You actually made me get up and leave not only my chair, but my office!”

“I’m sorry!” he hissed, face turning bright red. “I know you said to warn you first but it was kind of spur of the moment!”

“My god, you are so whipped,” Feng griped, wrinkling her nose. “Honestly, though! Do you know how much it takes for me to look away from not just one, but all of the damn cameras?! You think I want to see old man dick?! I don’t want to see old man dick! Maybe other people would want to see that, but not me! I’m not into old man dick!”

“Please stop talking about old man dick,” Marcus whispered, trying not to make a face. “Why– Danny’s not that old!”

“Not him! Although he’s so white I don’t think he’ll ever age like a normal human. He’s practically a vampire. He’s got a lightsaber dick. He censors himself just by whipping it out. Honestly, I’m legitimately shocked he’s actually the kind of guy to give oral instead of just receiving… Might have to move him up on the hear me out list…” Feng ranted, before jabbing a finger at the ginger. “You’re so loud! You got the entire floor going! I had to see old man dick!”

About to throw up over the mental picture of Freddy jacking off to whatever sounds he and Danny were making, he was redirected by Feng gesturing wildly at the Deathslinger’s cell door. “I do not want to watch that! There are like, three people up here that I would consider saying yes to, but I still don’t want to watch them like a weirdo! I had to physically leave the tech building!”

“Please tell me you’re exaggerating!” Marcus begged in a harsh whisper. “Please tell me Caleb wasn’t–”

“I was, and I did, and it was actually pretty good,” a gruff voice echoed from across the hall. He sounded far too amused, and when the ginger let out a mortified squeak, he laughed, “That’s the closest thing to porn any of us are ever going to get. Gotta’ make do.”

“Oh god, I’m going to go lay in front of the bus. Just… feed me to the geese,” Marcus whispered, a hand covering his eyes. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, he heard himself asking, “It was just him… right? The rest of that was… an exaggeration?”

“The. Whole. Floor,” Feng hissed, leaning closer and closer. “The Legion are still going at it.”

“I’m so sorry,” he squeaked, trying not to die of embarrassment on the spot. “I had no idea… I’ll try to do a better job of warning you next time?”

“You better, or I will absolutely activate his collar next time. I will ruin both your orgasms!” she seethed, before spinning on her heel. “Now come on! I can’t physically look at my monitors again for at least eight hours, so I’m going back to the dorms! So are you, since you can’t be trusted not to either get fucked or almost die as soon as you’re alone!”

“That’s not– Hey!” he sputtered, hurrying after her. Although his mind and body were still buzzing with the pleasant afterglow of his time in Danny’s cell, he couldn’t stifle the lingering sense that he’d agreed to something without even realizing it. Something that may seem insignificant in a very different scenario… but in Crotus Prenn… it might just be life altering in ways he’d never imagined possible…

~~

The dorm room was dark when Leon unlocked the door, only the soft glow of the moth wallflower illuminated David’s form. He was sitting on his bed, knees hugged closely to his chest and eyes staring blankly at nothing.

He looked small. Small and scared.

Pausing for a moment, Leon set his keys down before kicking off his shoes and stripping out of his work uniform. Once he was in his undershirt, boxers, and socks, he approached David. The poor kid hadn’t even seemed to notice he’d come in, nor had he acknowledged any of the movements the guard made.

Although he was sure David wasn’t high anymore, he’d kept a close eye on him while he was at work to be sure, Leon had noticed how distant and withdrawn the younger Emory had been all day. He’d also noticed how clearly he and Marcus had been avoiding one another…

Reaching the edge of the bed, he cleared his throat. When that didn’t have an effect, he carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, one hand extending towards his roommate as he asked, “David? Are you okay?”

The orderly cowered away from his touch, wide eyes snapping towards Leon’s face as if he didn’t fully register he was there. “No, go away. I might throw a laptop at you too if you don’t go away.”

He paused again, not withdrawing, but not pressing any further either. Taking a calming breath, Leon offered kindly, “I think I could handle myself if we got into an altercation… And your computer is way over there.”

The device was turned off and tucked neatly into a drawer in the desk by the window. Ace had put it there to make sure that it didn’t break from being thrown around. And to be sure it couldn’t easily be used as a weapon any more… David couldn’t bring himself to take it out again.

“Still… I could hurt you.” His voice was warbly, on the verge of tears as he buried his face in his knees. “I could hurt you like I hurt Marcus, ‘cause I’m a bad friend.”

Leon grimaced, unsure how to proceed. He hated to admit it… but he was horrible with situations like the one he’d currently found himself in. Reaching out, he patted David on the back. Channeling some good old Marvin, he offered stoically, “That sucks, buddy.”

Ha… Nailed it.

The orderly came out of his hidey-hole to give the blond a rather scathing look before returning to his wallowing. “He’s mad at me, isn’t he? Because I was mean and said some nasty stuff to him, even though he-” His teeth clack from how quickly he shut himself up.

Leon started and stopped several times. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what happened. He’d come back to the dorms to find Ace helping David through a really bad trip. Apparently Ash had mixed up the edibles and given them some incredibly powerful hallucinogens instead of mood suppressants. He’d been more than willing to help keep an eye on the orderly, and left taking care of Marcus to Eli and his other roommates. As bad as it sounded, it wasn’t the first time someone had OD’d in the dorms either…

“Honestly, I have no idea what’s going through his head right now,” he finally offered. “The only stuff I know about what happened is what little bit I was involved in last night. But anything that either of you said or did, I’m sure it was out of a place of panic and hyper aggression. Like… a drunk hookup at a bar with a stranger you’d normally never consider sleeping with.”

Another stare had him sucking air in between his teeth. Okay, maybe he wasn’t nailing the whole comfort thing. Can’t blame a guy for trying.

Chewing over his words, it took David a solid few minutes to spit them out, voice a soft whisper as he confessed, “But what if… some of it… was true?”

Leon nodded, trying to think of a way to relate positively to the situation and turn it into something helpful. “Well… Maybe it was something that needed to be addressed, but should have been done in a more tactful way. Like telling someone that you don’t want to hook up with them again and to stop calling you before you get a restraining order. Is there even a good way to do that?”

“I understand those words separately.”

Trying not to make a ‘surprised pokechu’ face, or whatever the fuck it was called, he sighed before trying again. “Sometimes hard truths need to be addressed. And a lot of times, things like that come out in the heat of really difficult moments. They come out in ways they shouldn’t, and they can cause damage that was never intended.”

“What does that have to do with a restraining order?”

Dropping his face into his hands, Leon let out a long sigh. Slowly looking back over at David, he tried, “I’m sure Marcus doesn’t hate you. I’m not sure that guy is even capable of hate. Whatever he said to you, I’m sure it was blown out of proportion by the hallucinogens.”

With how scrunched up his face was, it was pretty clear that David didn’t believe him. He most likely would remain that way until he actually spoke to Marcus himself.

Still, he seemed to feel a bit better since he didn’t protest that time when Leon wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him an awkward side hug as they sat in the dark on the orderly’s bed.

Damn, this thing was soft. Maybe Leon should get a new mattress too.

They sat in comfortable silence for a good ten minutes before David finally spoke once more. “Do you think… Marcus will forgive me?”

Leon couldn’t say for sure. He had known Marcus for a few months by that point, but he wasn’t as close to the ginger as David was. Those two were inseparable and he was sure that their spat would blow over as long as they communicated.

And so he told him just that. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you. You guys are like two peas in a pod, but if one pea was red.”

Giving David’s shoulder a squeeze, Leon added gently, “Get some rest. Don’t think too hard about it. Bad trips happen all the time and this wasn’t any of your faults. Go talk to him whenever you’re ready and I’m sure he’ll do the same, okay?”

“… Okay.” David agreed with a nod, scrubbing the freshly spilled tears off his cheeks before leaning onto the blond’s shoulder. “Thank you, Leon. You’re a good friend. I’m glad you’re my roommate.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he returned with a smile. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be just fine. I’m sure of it.”
~~~~

Chapter 45: Fight Club

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

First rule of fight club. We don't talk about fight club. Kidding. Everyone's going to be talking about this shit for a long time.

Notes:

No Ted's were hurt in the making of this chapter

It had been two days since Marcus and David’s fight, and they seemed absolutely no closer to mending things. The void it left was strangely noticeable, not just to the ginger but to his roommates as well.

All of them had grown rather accustomed to David either coming to hang out in their room until well after lights out, or for him to be waiting on the other side of the door when they got up for work in the mornings if Marcus hadn’t gone to his room already.

As three of the four roommates, plus Dwight, sat around the lunch table, Eli pointed out sullenly, “It’s too damn quiet…”

“It’s not,” King argued half heartedly. The lunch room was busy enough, but the distinct absence of one particular person still left a loud void. “It’s more that… there’s now a different kind of quiet. And that’s too quiet.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Quentin too much,” Dwight joked. Everyone gave a small laugh, but it was rather flat and kind of forced.

Glancing around, Marcus let out a tense sigh. The break room wasn’t particularly empty, but they were far enough away from the few other staff members that they could still speak amongst themselves if they were cautious.

“I had an idea for how to move forward handling our Sasquatch problem,” he muttered, and the others' full attention was instantly on him. They’d all been brainstorming exactly what to do and how to do it, but short of killing the man or risking doing something that could land one of them in a place just like Crotus Prenn, they’d all been shot down… But he might have something. “You know those edibles we got from Ash?”

“Yes?” Eli and King both snapped, while Dwight just looked deeply concerned.

“I’ve got two left. The bag he gave us had four, and we took two… Dwight, if I give you the other two, can you find a way to sneak them into his food or something he’ll drink?”

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed, chewing his thumb as he thought it over. “But something like that is going to be hard to conceal. Especially the flavor.”

“Oh, he’s always got that fuck ass thermos of… something,” King offered, glancing towards the staff fridge. “He leaves it in here while he’s on shift. I’m just not sure what it is.”

“If it’s any kind of smoothie or a protein shake, that might be enough to mask the flavor to the point he still drinks it,” Dwight considered. “I’d just have to melt down the edibles… They’re gummies, right?”

“Yeah, and they’re soft,” Marcus answered, recalling how quickly they started getting squishy just from the heat of his and David’s fingers. “Melting them into something liquid again shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Okay, but then what?” King asked. It wasn’t because he was trying to poke holes in the plan, but rather the opposite. All of them agreed Krauser was incredibly dangerous and shouldn’t be underestimated. As far as they were concerned, he should be treated like a patient who’d somehow gotten completely free of their restraints and was running around unchecked… “How do you expect to get them into his drink? And when he gets sick, then what?”

“He’ll either have to go to medical, or go back to the dorms,” Eli pointed out. “Either way, I can try to be the one assigned to escort him. I can get his beret and get the picture from there without him ever noticing.”

“I shudder at the idea of you being trapped alone in a room with that animal,” King admitted, giving his friend a worried look.

“Oh, if he’s in medical I’ll be sedating him so heavily this place could collapse and he wouldn’t hear it,” the nurse scoffed, waving a hand. “On the off chance he refuses medical, he’ll still have to have a nurse accompany him to the dorms. It’s protocol, just like when I took Marcus home after Dwight’s giant asshole boyfriend tried to kill him–”

“I know where you sleep and I will hire David to stand in a dark corner and stare at you,” the janitor hissed. “While holding God’s Mistake!”

Trying to pretend that wasn’t actually a horrifying thought, Eli concluded, “I can still sedate him easily enough if that happens… Might have to sedate you too, Dwight…”

“What if he doesn’t leave at all?” Marcus questioned. “I mean, just looking at the guy, I don’t exactly think he does hard drugs on a day to day basis. But given his build and the likelihood that he’s been exposed to all kinds of chemicals and drugs in the past, he might not have nearly as bad a reaction as the two of us did.”

None of them really wanted to think of the possible consequences if he did have as bad a reaction…

“Well, I guess if that does happen… He’ll probably still get pretty sick,” Eli said slowly. “And like… depending on where he is when it happens, I mean, patients have been known to look for any opportunity to lash out at the staff…”

“Especially staff they have a vendetta against,” Dwight agreed, and even King slowly nodded.

It was only then Marcus realized they were all eyeballing him rather pointedly… “Oooh, god, what?”

“I mean, he did kind of hurt you,” King pointed out. “Badly… Right in front of the entire first floor…”

“Oh, no, I got what you’re hinting at,” he accepted stoically. “But before I ‘tip off’ my boyfriend that we’re planning to poison a staff member, I’d like to know that I’m not the only one willing to clue in my significant other to this little plan. You know. Just in case one of them happens to be around when Krauser starts feeling less than stellar.”

“Oh, I’ve already told Michael we’re going to try and do something to him,” Eli scoffed. “As far as he’s concerned, all the staff are fair game. Anyone I mention having a problem with is a target.”

“Evan probably won’t go out of his way to help us,” Dwight admitted awkwardly. “I… Um, I already asked him about it. Since he just got out of solitary a few days ago, he’s going to hold off doing anything risky again so soon. He did say if Krauser is still around in a few weeks he’d rethink it.”

Incredibly relieved to hear they weren’t just expecting him to try to get his boyfriend to attempt and murder someone, Marcus let out a small sigh. Nodding, he grinned. “Okay. I’ll fill Danny in on the plan and with any luck, we can put this into motion tomorrow.”

“Quentin will be here, so I’ll have him keep an eye on Krauser’s whereabouts while I find a time and place to dose his drink,” Dwight volunteered. “King, if you can, try and be on his rotation, or at least around where he’s supposed to be. Marcus, be ready to make an excuse if you have to do some kind of Mission Impossible shit to get the photo. And Eli… Make sure you have extra sedatives prepped.”

“I do look good in leather straps,” Marcus considered, earning a tableful of incredulous stares. Clearing his throat, he agreed, “Sounds like a really solid plan. I’ll talk to Danny, and I’ll get you those edibles tonight before bed.”

Rubbing his hands together like a fly, Dwight grinned wickedly. It was so uncharacteristically evil of him, Eli immediately started giggling wildly.

“Hey, are we telling Emory about this?” King asked, bringing a level of seriousness back to the conversation. “He was a part of the discussion when all this first started after all, and he’s been through a lot of this shit right alongside us. It doesn’t feel right to not have him here…”

It did feel incredibly strange for him not to be there, and Marcus understood why King was asking. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes, they needed to tell David as well so he was in the loop… but he hesitated. The memories of his father’s threats, his familiarity and lack of surprise at seeing the third floor, the things he was saying while tripping, the strange unapproachable aura that had been curated around him by the rest of the staff… It was a lot when it was all laid on the table at once.

“Just… tell him to keep an eye out for Krauser,” the ginger finally said, trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed how they were all waiting on him for an answer. “Same as usual. I don’t think we should risk getting any more people involved.”

‘Especially if this goes south and someone gets hurt…’ he added silently. As much as he still cared about David and didn’t want to see him in harm's way, there was more to it than just that. The last thing he needed was the real Asa actually popping up in his room to bash his head in with a computer because he’d gotten his son hurt somehow. Although something told him such a blunt, brutal style was a bit too basic for the man…

“Alright… Just let us know what Ghostface says,” Dwight summed up. “In the meantime, let's keep our fingers crossed.”

~

“This is all going… way too smoothly,” Marcus mumbled, back to the cafeteria wall. Normally, he’d be standing with David, but they’d barely interacted any more during the previous day’s shift, and the ginger hadn’t seen him on the short back and forth trip to take Dwight the leftover edibles. Currently, he was by the door with King, staring out at the patients with a strange anxiety in his gut as they ate their lunch.

Across the room, Krauser stood with his usual stoney expression and ‘kill yourself’ aura. What an approachable guy... He paid absolutely no attention to them, or any of the other staff. His eyes were focused entirely on the patients. Every movement, twitch, or cough was picked up and filed away in his memory banks, building a personal profile for everyone in the cafeteria.

“Yeah, well, as long as he stays down here just a little while longer…” King muttered, double checking his phone. “C’mon Dwight. Just dose the bloody thing.”

So far, the day had been going far, far too well. All of them were on shift as usual, with the added bonus of Krauser being on the second floor lunch rotation. None of them had been on the joint floor outdoor time and the staff break room had been relatively crowded up to that point. Now that Krauser was downstairs and a lot of the staff were either helping keep an eye on the crowd or dealing with paperwork while they had time, the staff room should be mostly clear for Dwight’s part of the plan.

“Why hasn’t he sent us the all clear yet?” King seethed, and Marcus finally tore his eyes away from Krauser to glance at him.

“There’s probably still too many people,” he warned as calmly as he could. “Dwight’s done this before. I’m sure he’ll dose him as soon as he gets the opportunity.”

“But what if he tastes it?” King continued to worry. “What if he doesn’t drink it? And what the bloody hell did Dwight mean when he said ‘Don’t worry, I have a plan to get it in his drink in a way he won’t even notice.’?”

“Considering he’s probably smarter than all seven of us put together, I’m pretty sure it means he’s got a plan.”

“You’re just saying that because he has glasses.”

“And I like older men. We’re both making it work with what we have,” Marcus stated, turning to King with a smile when the guard’s head snapped around.

“For the love of god…” the guard huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked back out at the cafeteria. “Oh, speak of the devil. Looks like your ‘old man’ is done with his lunch.”

Ghostface had indeed finished his tray and was in the middle of a long, content stretch. It seemed a bit too relaxed, given the environment, but considering how well the first and second floors seemed to be getting along since getting outdoor time, it was understandable.

“What did that wanker say anyway?” King asked, nodding subtly towards the man.

“He said he’d keep his eyes open and ‘look for an opportunity, even if he has to make one’,” Marcus explained. He left out the part where he was immediately jumped afterwards, but he had a feeling they knew when he showed up to the dorms late and covered in even more bruises.

“What the hell kind of opportunity–” the Brit started to swear, only to cut himself off suddenly. “Oh, fuck.”

“What? No? No fuck,” Marcus hissed, following his gaze to where Krauser and just started walking towards them. It wasn’t actually them he was interested in, but the door they were standing beside. The door that led to the elevators back upstairs to the break room where he was most likely headed!

“Ah, fuck,” the ginger hissed, quickly looking elsewhere. “King, what do we do?! Has Dwight texted yet?!”

“If he’d bloody texted already, would I look like I’m about to give birth?!” he hissed right back, an incredibly tense, borderline pained expression on his face. He did look rather like he was about to start pushing… Or maybe he was constipated.

As the two tried to pretend they weren’t panicking, Ghostface wiped his mouth, picked up his tray, and rotated out from the table so he could stand. Instead of turning and walking to the dirty dishes collection bin, he set the tray on the floor, and kicked it as hard as he could. The flat plastic skidded across the tiles in a gray blur, coming to a perfectly timed stop by the Lieutenants boot landing right on top of it.

It happened so quickly, and with it coming from behind him while he was walking, Krauser was caught off guard. With a startled grunt, his leg nearly shot out from under him before he could regain his balance. Before he could recover or any of the other patients could even fully register who had just done what, Ghostface was launching himself off a table.

Silent as a cat, he struck a speed and ferocity that would have ended in almost any other staff member’s death. Krauser was not just any staff member. It was debatable if he was even human sometimes, and the feral look in his eyes as he spun around to knock Ghostface out of the air only hammered that point home.

Even in the two seconds the entire thing happened, it became obvious to everyone watching… This wasn’t going to be a repeat of the Legion fight.

Although Krauser was able to catch Danny mid-air, the patient reacted like he’d already been expecting it. With fast, precise movements, he wrapped his legs around the lieutenant's arm and twisted his entire body, dragging both of them down as his flying lesson came to an abrupt end.

The second they hit the floor, chaos erupted in the lunchroom. Instead of rioting like when Frank had hit Michael in the head with a tray, both floors worth of patients leapt to their feet, cheering and howling and slamming trays and hands on the tables in a deafening roar of blood lust. It looked like they had been wanting a proper fight for a while, and the target couldn’t have been better.

Marcus’s first instinct when the fight started was to reach for the alarm, but he found himself hesitating, hand hovering over the button. If he hit the alarm, everyone would go into lockdown, which would draw in a lot of guards, but also cause the rest of the staff to evacuate to the first floor… and the break room, more than likely.

If Danny got hurt, he’d hit the button. He wasn’t going to risk Krauser nearly killing him the way he had tried to do with the Legion… Now, if Ghostface hurt the LT on the other hand… Better not to have too many other guards around. Still, the racket drew a lot of attention and alerts started pouring over the radio as people reported what was going on downstairs.

Not pressing the alarm was still… excusable. Given the circumstances. Thus far, the fight was shockingly even, and contained between the two men. The rest of the patients seemed perfectly content to stand and cheer for blood.

Although it wasn’t specified in his file, and Marcus had read and reread it about a dozen times by that point, Ghostface didn’t have any prior military service or training; Yet he was still managing to hold his own against Krauser punch for punch and kick for kick. It was simultaneously one of the most terrifying and erotic things the ginger had ever seen.

Ghostface moved like a serpent, every muscle in his lithe body coiled and tense as he struck and retreated, circling his prey as he looked for any weak spots or openings he could exploit. The smile on his face was one of pure, predatory lust. This was as unrestrained as the killer could be in a place like Crotus Prenn, and with no one making any attempt to stop him, there was no need to rush or take extra risks…

Opposite him, Krauser moved with terrifying grace for a man his size. There was no wasted energy, arms close to his body and raised to jab or defend if needed. He kept his knees slightly bent and balanced on the balls of his feet like a dancer. Every strike from Ghostface meant to test his defence was blocked and returned as he sized up his sudden opponent.

Although it was impossible to see the moment the decision was made, Ghostface struck first, hand suddenly a blur as he lashed out. The blow was barely blocked in time, hitting the LT’s forearm instead of his face. It was followed up with a low jab that hit him in the ribs, but he was striking before Danny could retreat again.

Spinning, he swung out with one leg, catching Ghostface in the hip and knocking him back into a table. Danny recovered quickly, diving into a roll to avoid a boot that sent a crack running down the length of the hard plastic surface.

Darting upwards, the patient drove an elbow into Krauser’s back, then a fist as he turned around to face him again. His third blow wasn’t just blocked, but caught. Ghostface moved with the motion of his arm being twisted, keeping it from being pulled behind him until he could slip free again.

As the fight continued, it occurred to Marcus that the fight was shockingly well matched. They all knew that Krauser’s physique wasn’t just for show, but even without the fighting prowess he was displaying, he wouldn’t have been easy to take down. Yet, even underfed and confined to a box for the majority of any given day… Ghostface made fighting him look easy.

“I wouldn’t have made it out of that closet…” Marcus murmured, the absolute truth of the moment hitting him like a brick to the face. Even so long after the fact, it was still a shock to think about. If Ghostface had intended to kill him in his cell or the yard or even in that closet the first time they’d hooked up… the orderly wouldn’t have stood a chance even if he had been armed.

He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud, nor that anyone had heard him until a voice muttered, “So you bloody get it now?”

Tearing his eyes off the fight for a split second, he glanced up at King. The expression on his face was one of disbelief, but tinged with what could only be hope. Despite his more ‘lawful’ nature, even he was silently hoping Ghostface would be able to put a permanent stop to Krauser, one way or another.

For a moment, it really looked like he just might. Blood was starting to splatter across the floor as noses and lips were cut. Tables were cracked as both men used them to catch themselves or throw the other into. No one tried to intervene. No one moved closer. And both killers continued to smile, cold, predatory intent shining in their eyes. One of them was going to end up dead on the cafeteria floor if the other had anything to say about it.

As the fight continued, a moment came when Marcus did almost hit the alarm. Tired of Ghostface’s speed keeping him mostly out of reach and his agility allowing him to slip out of any holds before his bones could be broken, Krauser changed tactics.

When Danny got in close to strike his midsection after a blocked attack, the blond grabbed him in a bear hug. Lifting the patient off his feet, he squeezed, the veins and muscles in his arms bulging as he attempted to crush the man in his grip.

Teeth gritted as his ribs and lungs slowly began to compress, Ghostface tilted his head back as far as he could. Then, with a snarl, snapped forward. The sound of his head knocking into Krauser’s could actually be heard over the baying of the other patients. Blood poured from his broken nose, but it had the desired effect and he was dropped as the guard staggered backwards.

Despite the blood streaming down his face or the pain he must be feeling in his chest and back, Ghostface used the opportunity to strike the second his feet touched the floor. Lunging forward, he rained a series of fists, elbows, and kicks on Krauser’s torso and legs. He was using his arms to protect his neck and face, but the unexpected headbut had rattled him and he wasn’t as quick to defend the rest of his body.

With a triumphant shout, Ghostface slammed a knee into the back of Krauser’s thigh, dropping him to one knee. Taking a step back, he reached into his pants and pulled out a small gray object. Even from a distance, it was clearly a homemade shiv.

“What the fuck,” King hissed, taking a half step forward. It was pure instinct, not actually an attempt to step in.

Darting forward with the plastic spike poised to strike directly into Krauser’s neck, Ghostface almost made it. The Lieutenant started to reach for something under the back of his shirt, but he wasn’t the one who put a stop to the attack, or the fight as a whole.

Another guard shouldered his way through the wall of inmates, taser drawn… and shot Ghostface in the back with it.

Danny’s entire body seized, a shocked, almost confused gurgle leaving him as he dropped, twitching and jerking to the floor.

Even Krauser seemed taken by surprise, expression moving through a range of emotions from disappointment, to pure rage. Expression hardening, he spat out a mouthful of blood before pushing himself to his feet. Breathing heavily, he looked down at Ghostface for a moment before raising his eyes to the guard who’d downed him.

The entire cafeteria had fallen silent. Although it had been a huge risk for the guard to taser Ghostface the way he had instead of pulling the alarm to call for more staff and initiate a lockdown, none of the other patients made a move to retaliate. Something was still crackling in the air and everyone could sense it…

“What the fuck was that?” Krauser asked, swiping a hand through the blood still trickling down his face.

“Ah, uh, I– I saw a weapon,” the guard stammered. “He was about to kill you!”

“Was he?” the blond asked, approaching the man. Stooping down, he picked up the melted, taped up plastic. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “With this?”

“Um… Yes, sir? Inmates use shivs like that–”

“I know what they use shivs for,” he interrupted coldly, stopping right in front of the other guard. Reaching past him, he set it on the table before sighing. Then, with just as little warning as what he’d displayed during the fight with Danny, he slammed a fist into the side of the man’s head. Grabbing him before he could hit the floor, the Lieutenant hit him again, before raising him into the air to slam him down on top of the table.

Voice practically a roar, he berated, “Don’t ever fucking intervene in my business again! If I was so weak that I needed help from a pissant like you, I’d be in your position, wouldn’t I?”

“Fucking Christ, he’s going to kill someone,” King seethed, running forward. “You! Call medical! Krauser! Lieutenant Krauser, stop!”

Between screaming at him, he’d continued to beat the other guard. It didn’t seem like he was going to stop either. Not until a hand grabbed his wrist, and he turned to find Leon standing there, a look of disgust on his face.

Lip curling in a sneer, Krauser was about to speak when King reached them as well, barking orders into his walkie talkie.

“King, take him to medical,” the Captain ordered, releasing the LT’s wrist so he could help the other, much more battered guard to his feet. “Krauser, get yourself checked out, then go to lunch. Consider yourself on stand-by until the investigation into this latest incident is completed.”

Eyes narrowing, he leaned down slightly, voice barely above a growl as he warned, “Be careful about stepping on toes in the future, Rookie. Or your underlings might not be the only ones who end up being reminded of their place.”

Eyes narrowing, he turned to watch him go before patting King on the back. A nod was all the go ahead he needed to help the other injured guard to hobble towards the door himself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Marcus whispered, unsure if he should step forward to help check on Ghostface or not. Realizing everyone knew about Eli and Michael, and Dwight and Evan, he decided he didn’t care if it became public knowledge that he and Ghostface had something going on. It was clear enough that the higher ups knew and weren’t going to do anything about it.

Rushing forward, he ducked around Krasuer without a word. The man barely glanced at him, but it was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Almost afraid he’d attack him as soon as his back was turned, Marcus cast a quick look back over his shoulder. He almost tripped as he caught sight of a small flash of silver between the hem of Krauser’s shirt and pants.

His top was just as quickly shifted to cover the metal, and Marcus looked up, eyes locking with the Lieutenant’s for a split second. They both knew what he saw. And they both knew exactly what he’d been planning to use that for…

Forcing himself to turn back around, he hurried to Ghostface’s side. Dropping down beside him, he asked quickly, “Hey, can you hear me?”

“Doc?” he groaned, head lolling slightly from side to side as he attempted to sit up. “Ooh, man, that hit to the head must have done something, ‘cause I’m hearing angels.”

“Booo,” Freddy jeered, followed by the sound of someone being smacked with a tray before hitting the ground.

“I think your nose is broken,” Marcus whispered, trying not to wince as he looked at the already swelling mess of purplish-black bruises and blood. “Hey, no, try not to move. Medical will be here in a second.”

“Ahh, if my legs aren’t broken you know they’ll just make me walk,” he chuckled, before wincing. “Oh, god. I think being tased hurts worse than breaking my nose.”

“Holy shit, is all this blood yours?” a familiar voice questioned, and Marcus looked up to see Eli with another nurse.

Peering over at them, Danny rolled his eyes. “Uuugh, the silver dollar pancake is here. Woop woop.”

‘Silver dollar pancake?’ the ginger mouthed silently, and Eli sighed. “It’s because I’m ‘small’.”

The irony of it was that the nurse right beside him was shorter by at least five inches…

“And you’ve got a nice ass,” Ghostface wheezed, forcing himself into a sitting position. Making eye contact with someone far over Marcus’s head, he added, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s a compliment. And I already have an ass, thank you.”

Not needing to look to know it was Michael -he could guess which one- Marcus glanced at Eli. He didn’t look any more tense or bothered than usual, so it didn’t seem like his giant patient must not be so offended as to attack.

“Alright, everyone start lining up. Floor two patients, over here. Floor one, over there. Time to go back to your cells, the show’s over,” Leon shouted.

There was a small uptick of grumbling and murmuring, but the patients were all relatively compliant. The fact that none of them had been subdued or threatened with any form of punishment left them with a tiny bit more good will towards the staff. Besides, getting to watch Ghostface and Krauser fight had been more entertainment than most of them got in a year.

“Ooh, clearing a whole room just for little ol’ me?” Danny questioned, a small grin flitting across his lips. Much more quietly, he hissed, “I think a couple of my ribs are cracked.”

“Yeah, with as hard as he squeezed you, I’m not surprised,” Marcus answered, mind flashing back to what he’d seen tucked into Krauser’s belt. Before he could mention it, Danny was struggling to get to his feet.

When the ginger started to protest, Eli silently put a hand out as if to ask him to wait. When he got an almost angry look in return, he explained in a low voice, “He’s trying not to look weak in front of the other patients.”

That hadn’t even occurred to Marcus, but it made a lot of sense. After a fight like that, he’d need to show that even though he lost -by no real fault of his own- he wasn’t suddenly an easy target.

Once he was upright, Ghostface let out a pained laugh before calling loudly, “Hey! Blondie!”

Krauser paused, halfway out the door. Very slowly, he turned to glare at Ghostface.

“Next time, keep your simps out of it,” he taunted, flipping him off with both hands.

If not for King and the injured guard already almost blocking him from reentering the cafeteria, it would most likely have turned into round two.

“That was so stupid,” Eli whispered, white as a sheet. “That dude could probably suplex Dwight’s shitty ass van, and you have to go taunt him.”

“Of course I do,” Ghostface answered, the smile not leaving his face until the last of the patients had filed from the room. With a groan, he slouched onto Marcus’s shoulder. “Oooh, my god. I need to be carried.”

“No you don’t,” Eli petulantly argued.

Tilting his head to one side, Danny offered him an empty, dead eyed smile. “You’re just mad because if you ever have to carry your boyfriend, your teeny-tiny limbs will be crushed under his massive body, you troll doll with slightly more manageable hair.”

“Let’s just get you to medical, please,” Marcus requested, putting a steadying hand on Ghostface’s back. He heard a small gasp from the other nurse, but the patient just smiled softly at him. The look was in such stark contrast to the one he’d given Eli, it almost made him look like a different person.

“Ah, right, sorry about this,” Eli muttered. “Ghostface, your wrists…”

“Really? Do I look like a threat to anyone right now?” he pouted, turning to the pair of medical staff with a sly grin. “It’s not like I could have a second shank on me or anything–”

There was a quiet clank as his cuffs magnetized together, and he paused. Slowly looking down at his cuffs, he then just as slowly turned to Marcus. Eyebrows rising, he asked stoically, "Et tu, Brute?"

Mouth opening and closing, Marcus blushed as he mumbled, “If it means getting you to medical before your eyes swell shut…”

“They’re not going to– Oh, oh wait. Actually, yeah, I think my left eye is starting to swell. Ugh, this is why I hate headbutting people without my mask on. No protection.”

“Okay, Ghostface,” Eli agreed, waving him and Marcus along as he slowly shuffled towards medical. They’d have to do a full body check to make sure he hadn’t sustained any hidden injuries, or had other weapons on him. At least they wouldn’t have to fully sedate him first like some of the other patients….

“Ah, Marcus? If you’d like to stick around for this, that might be good,” he added, glancing pointedly at the patient.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Fox,” Ghostface purred. “I know what happens to the people who mess with you. Your little friend here… You! What’s your name?!”

“AH! Um, T-Ted?!” the other nurse shrieked.

“Your little friend Ted might have some things to worry abou– Ted? Really?” he asked, staggering slightly as he turned to glare at the nurse behind them. “Is that short for something?”

“Th-Theodore?”

“Ugh… Go by Theo. Now get out of my sight before I decide I’m still mad I didn’t get to kill someone. You look basic enough to not be missed for a while.”

“Oooh, god,” the nurse whispered, looking around the hall as if to escape. The last comment was absolutely a lie, as the poor thing was actually really cute. Still, he didn’t seem to realize that.

“It’s fine, you can go,” Eli answered tiredly. The squeak of shoes on the polished floor told all of them he was running, and the nurse shook his head. “Ahhh. He’s a sweet guy, but I don’t think he’s going to last a lot longer.”

“Oh?” both Marcus and Danny asked at the same time.

“Nervous disposition,” he answered slowly. “Alright, we will have a guard present for the rest of the exams…”

As Eli gave Marcus the rundown on what was going to happen and how the procedures worked with the patients, they were finally joined by a guard. She only offered a small wave and didn’t say much, making it relatively easy to get Ghostface to focus and cooperate instead of harassing the unsuspecting woman.

Just as they were finishing up, the door opened and Leon, King, and another guard stepped in. Leon had been by previously to get Marcus’s statement about the incident since he’d been there for the whole thing, and in hopes that Ghostface would be more willing to cooperate given the circumstances.

….He hadn’t been. His only answer to every question was, “ACAB,” and a cheery smile.

Now it was time to escort him down to solitary. The fact that Ghostface had started the fight ‘completely unprovoked’ was inexcusable, so he’d be spending at least a week in a small cell all by himself… At least, he was supposed to. Marcus fully intended to check with Dwight and Eli to find out what they could get away with down there…

The look on King’s face told a very different story as to his reasons for being there… As Leon and Eli stepped to one side so the nurse could explain what all they’d found as far as injuries went, the guard cautiously made his way over to where Marcus was still standing beside the bed Danny had been cuffed to.

Keeping his voice low and back to the rest of the people in the room, he asked, “Marcus, when was the last time you checked your bloody phone?”

“Ah… Right before the fight?” he answered. He couldn’t really remember, having been far too preoccupied by Ghostface’s welfare.

“Fuck,” he seethed, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Look, I know you’re busy with… other stuff.”

“Hmm, never been called that before,” Danny chuckled.

Ignoring him, King continued, “Dwight got the drugs into Krauser’s drink. He took ‘em an hour ago, and now he’s feeling off his bloody head. He hasn’t gotten violent, but he’s about to go shower to try to get rid of the migrain he’s suddenly come down with.”

Brain filled with nothing more than the unending beep of an imaginary flatline, it took Marcus several seconds to connect the dots and remember why any of that was relevant to him. Almost yelling when it hit him, he quickly bit his tongue.

“Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I can– Um, fuck, I can go now. Danny, are you–”

“Doc, this isn’t my first boo-boo, nor is it my first trip to solitary. Go do what you need to do,” he urged. “And if he dies in the showers… I’m taking credit for it since it’s technically unrelated to what you’re doing…”

“Fair enough,” Marcus started to agree, only to find himself being practically dragged out of the room. Managing not to fall over, he hurried to keep up when King released him. Glancing around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard, he kept his voice low as he asked, “How the hell did he get through medical so fast?”

“He didn’t,” the guard snorted. “He skipped it. Said he was fine. I hope he dies of a brain bleed.”

As much as the ginger agreed with the sentiment, he still had to ask, “Did you ever find out what Dwight meant when he said he had a plan to get the drugs into Krauser’s cup? I mean, it worked, obviously, but how the hell did he get them mixed in?”

“He had Ace dehydrate them, then he ground ‘em up and stirred in the powder when the calls started coming in over the radio,” King elaborated. “A lot of people wanted to see that fight.”

It was probably the only way that part of the plan could possibly have worked, and Marcus felt a spark of pride at his friend’s ingenuity, and Ghostface’s intentionally perfect timing.

“Alright, you’re here,” Quentin hissed, popping out from around a corner.

Gasping, Marcus took a swing at him. Thankfully King had the foresight to reach out and yank Quentin to the side, so all he hit was empty air.

As King and Marcus both stood frozen for a moment, the janitor spoke in a conspiratorially loud whisper, “Okay, so he’s just turned the water on. I put the closed sign up outside the door, and, honestly, I took the liberty of turning on a couple of the other showers. Why did you try to hit me just now?!”

“You just registered that?” King hissed, before shaking his head. “What’s with the extra showers? That was a big risk, Q.”

“Hey, I was already in there mopping!” he offered, before frowning. “Dude took one look at me and told me to leave or he’d put the mop so far up my ass I could still use it to clean the floors when I open my mouth… But this way, Marcus can use the extra steam as cover!”

That… was actually not a bad idea. Not only would it obscure Krauser’s sight should he happen to peek out of his stall, but it would muffle any small sounds Marcus might make while creeping around.

Trying to ignore the chill that swept through him as he stared at the locker room door, he nodded. “Right. You two feel free to make yourselves scarce… I’ll be right back…”
~~~~

Chapter 46: The Great Disappearing Problem

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

*Mission Impossible Music plays*

Good luck, Marcus!

Steam filled the room, slightly muffling the constant patter of water from the running showers. Quentin had taken the time to shut off the vent fans that would have eased some of the muggy air, ensuring Marcus had as much cover as possible as he slipped into the facility locker room.

Slinking past the rows of toilet stalls and urinals, he reached the lockers without any issues. Now he just had to find Krauser’s shit and hope the photo was still inside his stupid fucking beret.

The sound of someone retching briefly cut through the noise of running water, and Marcus froze. Okay. At least now he knew exactly which shower stall Krauser was in. Unfortunately, it was one very close to the lockers, meaning he didn’t have as much distance to dilute any sounds he might make…

Gritting his teeth, Marcus moved forward through the rows of lockers despite the tension building throughout his entire body. He may not have it in his power to get rid of the real problem, but he could at least help his friend by getting rid of the blackmail being held over his head.

The steam was much thicker beyond the lockers, pouring past the open shower curtains with ease, while the one actually occupied shower seeped mist over the top of the flimsy plastic barrier.

Four separate benches stretched between the stalls, and Marcus spotted a towel and a work uniform dropped haphazardly onto the seat nearest Krauser’s stall. Hurrying forward, he cautiously lifted each article of clothing as he looked for the beret.

The first out of place thing he found was when he lifted the man’s work pants. He could feel the weight of keys, his walkie-talkie, and other work issued equipment on the belt, but what caught his eye was a knife. It was large, much bigger than any average hunting knife, and tucked into a polished leather holster. He hovered his fingers over it, goosebumps rising as he realized that the handle was made to fit a much larger hand. Custom made, even.

So… He’d been right. Krauser was armed, and he’d been more than ready to pull that blade on Ghostface.

‘Jesus Christ, he’s absolutely insane,’ Marcus thought, quickly moving the pants aside. He didn’t have time to waste, but he’d be sure to let Leon and Jack know what he’d found.

For a panic-inducing moment, it didn’t seem like the beret was there and he started to wonder if the Lieutenant had put it in his locker. With as hastily as everything had been discarded on the bench, he didn’t think he’d have had time to put anything away!

As he was lifting the guard’s undershirt out of the way, a flash of red caught his eye and he almost let out a sigh of relief. Swallowing it down, he grabbed the hat, seriously considering just taking the whole thing with him. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to really hide it on his person until he was back in his casual clothes and not wanting to be caught with someone else’s property in his locker, he decided against it in the end.

Flipping the beret over, Marcus spotted the backside of a wallet sized photo tucked neatly into the inner seam. Plucking it out with two fingers, he couldn’t help but glance at it as he started to set the hat back down where he’d found it.

The sight was like a punch in the throat, and the beret slipped from his hand without him even noticing. Nausea bubbled in the ginger’s stomach and he quickly folded the picture in half before shoving it in his pocket. Still, the sight of his Captain bound, bruised, and covered in small cuts and cigarette burns was seared into the back of his eyes.

Shoving the clothes back into a ‘close enough to how he’d found it’ pile on the bench beside Krauser’s towel, Marcus felt a much darker emotion creeping in beside the disgust. Glancing at the closed shower curtain, he couldn’t help but look back down at the end of the knife peeking out of the black work pants beside him.

He would have the element of surprise on his side… No one really expected to be attacked in the shower. Especially at work… Right?

Marcus let out a slow breath, pulling his hand away from the sheathed weapon. He couldn’t beat Danny in a fight. There was no way in Hell he could beat Krauser. And, honestly, the idea of being stabbed to death by a naked giant in the workplace showers was just too horrifying to risk.

Just as he was stepping away, movement caught his eye and he looked back. The pile of clothes was slipping to one side and about to hit the floor. Eyes widening, he darted forward, grabbing them before they could fall on the damp tile. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the heavy ring of keys slipping out of the pants pocket until they were already in the air.

Lunging forward, Marcus had to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound as he slammed his funny bone against the bench. He wasn’t fast enough, and the keys hit the tile floor with an unmistakably loud clatter. Staying frozen halfway over the bench, he stared at the shower curtain, just waiting for it to be ripped back.

The water continued to run, and Marcus let out a quiet sigh of relief. Deciding just to leave the keys where they were, he righted the pile of clothes before quickly turning to go again. A little too quickly, perhaps, as his foot landed right in a puddle before flying out from underneath him.

Legs going in two different directions, that time he wasn’t able to stifle a small grunt or the sound his body made as he hit the floor. The squeak of the shower turning off had him scrambling to his feet, and he dove out of sight behind a row of lockers mere seconds before the shower curtain was ripped back.

“Who the fuck is in here?” Krauser’s voice snapped, and Marcus pressed his back against the locker. In a lower, angrier voice, he muttered, “What the fuck– Someone’s messing with my shit?”

The sound of someone angrily sorting through clothing reached Marcus’s ears over the remaining showers, and he carefully began scooting further towards the end of the row of lockers. If Krauser took even a step past the bench, he’d be able to see him! All he’d have to do at that point was turn his head and he’d be caught! He needed to move out of sight!

Even as he slowly got further away, he could hear Krauser swearing, voice growing louder and more angry as he swore and cursed. Then Marcus heard it. The one thing he’d been praying to get away with before the Lieutenant even stepped out of the shower.

In a voice so cold and devoid of emotion it made the orderly’s heart skip a beat, Krauser asked, “Where the fuck is it?”

Pushing himself up to his feet as quickly as he could without risking making any noise, Marcus hurried towards the end of the row of lockers. Glancing back just to be safe, he was slightly relieved to see a thick wall of steam obscuring the last few lockers. Then, horrifyingly, a shape shadow appeared in the mist. A towering figure, arms loose by his sides… and the silhouette of a large, sharp knife in one hand.

Not knowing what else to do and knowing he wouldn’t be able to outrun him in time if Krauser spotted him, Marcus frantically looked up and down the row. There! Shooting across to the other side of the row he was in, the ginger squeezed himself into an open locker before pulling the door closed.

“Come out, come out,” Krauser called, voice low and even. “I don’t bite…”

Marcus had photographic evidence in his pocket that proved that to be a lie… Even without that, there was no way in hell he was going to announce himself. There was no doubt in his mind Krauser would kill him if he caught him.

That idea only became more concrete when the sharp squeal of metal scraping against metal cut through the air. The ginger couldn’t help but wince, hunching his shoulders as he shrank slightly lower in the locker. He could only go so far before he risked his knees hitting the door and pushing it open again, but at least he was slightly below the small slots in the door. Why the fuck did lockers even need those?! Who was leaving anything in a locker so long it needed extra air?!

The scraping sound continued, followed by a slow, rhythmic clack as the knife blade passed over the seam connecting one locker to the next. A low, dark laugh echoed through the steam, followed by another false promise.

“I know you’re still here, and I know you took something from me… Give it back, and I’ll let you off with just a verbal warning…”

‘Like fuck you will!’ Marcus thought silently.

Steam swirled past the small slots in the door, preceding the sudden appearance of a body. Krauser was still shirtless, but had pulled his pants on before starting his ‘hunt’. Slowly looking back and forth, he paused suddenly… Right in front of the locker Marcus was hiding in…

Eyes widening, the ginger slowly brought one shaky hand up to cover his mouth. Had Krauser heard him? Did he know he was in one of the lockers?

With one sudden, violent movement, the Major slammed his blade through the locker door, the tip stopping a centimeter from Marcus's blue eye. So frozen with fear he couldn’t even blink, he was shocked when assurance came in the form of a threat…

“I’m losing my patience…” Krauser warned, still slowly looking around. “I suggest you come out now, because the longer I have to look for you…”

Ripping the blade free, he stalked past, not bothering to look through the hole he’d so carelessly left behind. “The worse your punishment is going to be.”

Trying not to let himself shake in case he rattled the locker, Marcus waited until he heard what sounded like a fist slamming into a locker in the next aisle, followed by a grunt of growing frustration.

Deciding to take the risk, Marcus slowly pushed the locker open. Half expecting the hinges to squeak and give him away, he silently thanked whoever was looking out for him when he made it out without a sound.

Tip-toeing to the end of the row, he crouched down before cautiously peering around the corner of the lockers. Hopefully if Krauser did happen to be looking in his direction, he wouldn’t see him since he was well below eye level.

He wasn’t, thankfully, still heading in the opposite direction as he checked for any signs of life amongst the lockers. Taking several deep breaths, Marcus slowly reached down and pulled off his shoes. Holding them in one hand, he moved as quickly as he could into the next section of the locker room.

The door was so close, but he knew it would only be a few more seconds before Krauser turned around and started making his way back up the final aisle of lockers. If he wasn’t out of sight by then, he'd be as good as dead.

Ducking to one side, he slipped into the first open toilet stall. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do for the time being. Flinching when he heard another locker door being caved in, another terrifying thought hit him. When Krauser didn’t find anyone in the lockers, would he check the stalls?

“Last chance,” Krauser called, an edge to his voice. “Come out. Or you’ll be lucky if you live to regret stealing from me.”

Yeah. Now that he believed. Not wanting to risk being found dead on a fucking toilet, Marcus quickly tugged his shoes back on and dropped to his belly on the floor. He wouldn’t go so far as to say they were clean enough to eat off of as he slowly scooted into the next stall, but he would be sure to compliment Quentin next time he saw him. Assuming he lived that long anyway…

Pulling himself into the third stall, he made it halfway through before something truly catastrophic happened. His phone started to vibrate with an incoming call. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but since his phone was pressed against the floor, the vibrations rattled loudly through the toilet area.

Scrambling to yank it free, Marcus managed to shut it off, but it was too late. He could hear feet slapping across the tile, then the slam as the first stall was violently kicked open. Putting on a burst of speed, he crawled as fast as he could until he ran into a whole new problem. A dead end. He’d finally reached the last stall, and the one closest to the door. Now, he had nowhere left to go.

Another slam as the second stall door was nearly kicked off its hinges, then a third, and forth. Krauser was getting closer and closer, and Marcus had nowhere to go! Starting to panic slightly as he found himself unable to come up with another option besides attempting to make a break for it before the psychotic guard reached him, he was saved by King barging into the locker room.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?! You can’t go around breaking stuff– Shit!”

Marcus flinched when he heard the guard hit the wall, legs kicking slightly as he was slammed into the bricks.

“Where is it?” Krauser growled, voice nearly a weapon all on its own.

“Get off me, you bloody ape!” King snapped. “What the fucking hell are you on about?!”

Realizing he must have stuck around to keep an eye on the situation in case anything went wrong, Marcus finally came up with a plan that just might work. Dropping to the floor again, he scooted back in the direction he’d come from. Back into the stalls Krauser had already searched.

“You’re a part of this, aren't you?” the Major seethed. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you palling around with the Rookie and his gaggle of peons. You think you’re helping him, huh? Think you’re doing something?”

“You’re off your bloody head,” King snapped. “I said get off of me!”

The sound of someone shoving another body was heard, then the final stall door slamming open hard enough to break one of the hinges.

“You bloody fucking lunatic!” the other guard shouted. “Someone’s got to fix that, you know?!”

Krauser didn’t respond, feet rotating until he was facing towards the showers again. Slowly, he began walking back the way he’d chased Marcus from.

Why was he moving so slow? Was he checking under the doors or– Oh god, that’s exactly what he was doing!

Marcus scrambled up onto the toilet bowl, then, in a move born of sheer panic and desperation, up onto the tank itself. Silently praying it wouldn’t break under his weight, he slapped a hand over his mouth again as a shadow fell over his stall.

When the door wasn’t kicked in once more and the shadow passed by without incident, he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. Fuck, fuck, fuck! That had been one of the single most terrifying moments of his life! Oh god, he still needed to get out of there without getting caught…

Reaching up, he gripped the top of the stall and peered over to spot King scowling in the direction of the showers. He was still glaring after Krauser as he reached for his walkie, likely to call for maintenance to come take a look at all the damaged stalls.

Dropping down from the toilet, Marcus pulled the door slightly more open; just enough to get his friend’s attention.

To his credit, King managed not to jump or do a double take at the unexpected appearance. Glancing at Marcus, he looked back towards the showers before giving a single, curt nod. He was clear to move.

And move he did. Without so much as a glance back, he hurried out of the locker room, almost tripping over the yellow ‘closed’ sign that Quentin had placed previously. As soon as he was back in the main hallway, Marcus broke into a dead sprint. His heart was pounding, entire body shaking as the adrenaline of the moment was finally put to good use. A few people made irritated comments as he streaked past, but no one tried to stop him or ask any questions.

Staggering to a stop outside Leon’s office, he bent over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Coughing a few times as his lungs caught up to the fact that he could finally breathe normally again, he finally stood upright. About swinging a fist to knock on the door, he almost smacked Leon in the chest instead.

“Oooh, fuck!” the ginger gasped, jumping as he caught himself. Thank god he was only twenty-one or he was positive he would have had a heart attack.

“Everything alright?” the Captain asked, one eyebrow raised. “You look like you just ran a marathon.”

“Might as well have,” he panted. Clearing his throat, Marcus asked, “Actually… Can we please speak privately? I… have something for you.”

Starting to look more concerned, Leon nodded. Under most circumstances, the orderly would report to his department head if he needed something, so this had to be pretty serious. Stepping back into the office, he waved him inside as well before closing and locking the door behind them. Taking a seat at his desk, the Captain asked, “Is everything okay?”

Marcus honestly had no idea what to say. He hadn’t given this moment a single thought, more worried about actually getting there at all. Silently, he reached into his pocket. The photo was still folded in half, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it again as he placed it on the desk.

“What–” Leon started to ask, only to stop. The silence stretched between them, filling the office almost as suffocatingly as the steam that had filled the locker room. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Thin. As though holding back a tidal wave of emotions he wasn’t prepared for.

“Marcus… Is that… Did you steal that from Krauser?”

Eyes on his lap, he nodded. It wasn’t shame that he felt, but rather a strange weight. Knowing what was on that photo made Leon’s story that much more real. Forcing himself to look up, Marcus met his eyes before saying, “Yes. I did. He knows it’s gone–”

“Marcus, you shouldn’t have put yourself in danger–”

“He doesn’t know who took it,” he rushed to finish, refusing to be talked over. “But this way… he doesn’t have it anymore. He can’t… use it to hurt you again.”

Leon blinked, a strange look on his face. Starting and stopping several times, he finally sighed. Reaching out for the photo, he paused, fingers not quite touching it.

Marcus could see the tremor in his hand. How pale he’d become. The way his throat moved as he swallowed, trying to force down the fear and pain and face the past once more. Reaching out himself, he put his hand over Leon’s.

Actually jumping slightly, he looked at the ginger with glassy eyes.

“You don’t have to look at it. You don’t… ever have to relive that night again,” he promised softly. “Leon… It wasn’t your fault.”

Lips pressing into a thin smile, he nodded before whispering, “Thank you… You didn’t have to–”

Shaking his head, Marcus stated, “I wanted to. We wanted to help. So we did.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Nodding again, he finally closed his fingers around the picture, and Marcus withdrew his hand. Looking at it without unfolding it, Leon said quietly, “Thank you. I don’t… I didn’t think I would…”

Marcus just offered a small smile, happy to have been able to help bring him any form of peace on the matter.

Taking a deep breath, Leon cleared his throat before forcing a laugh as he considered, “Well, that explains King’s request for maintenance in the east floor one locker room.”

Wincing, the ginger nodded. “Yeaaah… About that? Um… Just so you’re aware, Krauser’s got a knife.”

Something close to surprise flashed across Leon’s face before he grimaced. “Who could have seen that coming?”

Shaking his head, he sighed, “That’s all the more reason for you and the others to keep your distance from him as much as possible. I… really appreciate this, but I don’t want to see any of you get hurt for me.”

“You’re our friend. We’re going to look out for each other no matter the risks,” Marcus told him. “We can sit and argue about it, or we can take each day as it comes.”

Letting out a shaky laugh, Leon managed a genuine smile. It was small, but real. After a moment, he asked, “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“After the Mission Impossible I just went through? Shit, I may have to challenge Ace for the title of luckiest bastard in the asylum,” he joked. “What can I help you with?”

“Can you get everyone to… meet me on the roof tonight?”

A little confused, Marcus nodded anyway. That was a lot more doable, and a lot safer, then what he’d just done. “Yeah, of course.”

With that, they parted ways, each still with half a shift left to work, and one pissed off Lieutenant to avoid…

~~

It was just before midnight when they all gathered on the roof. Marcus had sent out a group text, just to the people involved of course, and all of them had agreed to be there. The moon was full overhead, the stars sparkling in the blanket of velvet black sky. It was a gorgeous, clear night, but stargazing wasn’t the plan.

Instead, Leon, David, Dwight, Marcus, and his roommates were all gathered around a large metal barrel. It was a trash can from downstairs, but King and Quentin had hauled it up to the roof. A few newspapers and some branches courtesy of Eli and Dwight got a nice fire going, warding off the chill of the cold Alaskan night.

As the flames crackled and popped, Leon stepped forward. “I don’t have the words to express how grateful I am to each and every one of you for your help with this… situation. I know I said to stay out of it… But I– I’m really thankful for all of you being such stubborn asses.”

That got a few chuckles from the others, with Dwight and Quentin fist bumping. Eli just grinned, while Marcus let out a small breath. He’d been on edge all day, looking over his shoulder for Krauser and half expecting him to come popping out from every shadow he saw.

Now, he was just happy to spend some time with his friends. Looking over at David, his smile faltered slightly as a pang of genuine regret shot through him. He wanted to apologize… but he didn’t think right then and there was a good time.

David wasn’t even looking at him. He had been avoiding him all day, and on the few occasions they were in the same room, he refused to look at him. Not that Marcus blamed him.

Pulling the photo out of his pocket, Leon still didn’t unfold it. Multiple emotions were visible flitting across his face, but finally settled on relief. And with that, he dropped the picture into the barrel. The flames took it in an instant, the corners curling and warping as the center began to melt. In less than ten seconds, it was gone, swirling into the clear night sky as nothing more than ash and smoke.

The group stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Leon spoke again. That time, it was with more confidence, if not a bit of remorse. “Jack and I have been having an affair for the past three years.”

“Jack… the head nurse?” Quentin asked after a solid minute of silence following Leon’s statement.

“Yes,” he confirmed, expression blank. “I haven’t loved Wesker for a long… long time. And I don’t believe he’s ever loved me. As soon as I can safely leave him, I’m going to, but until then, I’m going to have to ask you all to keep this under wraps.”

“It doesn’t leave the roof,” King promised, and the others all agreed.

“Jack has people on the outside. Friends. Family. People who could be hurt if she gets caught up in anything,” Leon continued, the fire dancing in his eyes. “I think… that’s why the Trapper used Marcus to get to her. He knows about us… somehow.”

“Oh, shit,” Dwight whispered, a hand flying to his mouth. When the others looked at him, he quickly waved his hands in front of his chest. “I didn’t– I didn’t know! I didn’t say anything! It’s just– Evan– His- his sense of smell is… really good. Like, he can smell who’s outside his cell without them opening the door. So if you two have ever hooked up right before work or… at work…”

The look on Leon’s face answered that, and Dwight winced. “I’m so sorry… I… would have warned you?”

“No, it’s fine,” he promised, shaking his head. “You had no way of knowing and we should have been more careful.”

“We all need to be on high alert after today,” King agreed, before explaining what had happened when he’d gone into the locker room.

When he was done, Quentin whistled. “I mean, I heard from the maintenance guys that it was bad, but holy shit.”

Frowning, Marcus asked, “Wait, you didn’t notice the knife?”

“He was carrying a knife?” Eli demanded, while the guard shook his head.

“Fuck, he must have hidden it as soon as he heard you,” the ginger muttered. On one hand, he was just grateful Krauser hadn’t gone further with his attempts to threaten King, but the fact that he was still doing what he could to cover the depths of his manic aggression was terrifying.

“How the hell did you pull it off anyway?” Dwight asked, still looking worried. “You’re sure he didn’t see you?”

Nodding, Marcus went ahead and explained the full series of events, minus the details of actually seeing the photo. As he finished his story, he summed it up by adding, “And Quentin? Thank you for mopping. At least I don’t have to worry about getting pink-eye after all that.”

“We janitors are the backbone of society,” he humbly agreed. “Without us, civilization as we know it would collapse. But we keep on keeping on, making the world a cleaner place, one urinal at a time.”

“I can’t give you a raise yet, Q,” Dwight mumbled. “I told you that.”

“Dammit…”

“Alright, it’s late and I’ve kept you all long enough,” Leon chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get some rest. Work will be starting again all too soon…”

~~

Leon’s warning from the night before had been all too true, and Marcus felt like he was slogging through mud for the majority of the start of his shift. All of them were tired, but there was still a sense of accomplishment present amongst their little group.

The trend of him and David barely seeing one another continued, as did his active attempts to stay away from Krauser. Despite his confidence that the man hadn’t seen him and didn’t know it was him who’d stolen the photo, he wasn’t going to risk the Lieutenant taking his anger out on him anyway.

His lunch break finally arrived, and Marcus found himself in the staff break room with Eli, King, and Quentin. As they scarfed down their respective meals, the orderly asked, “Hey, wasn’t Dwight supposed to be joining us today?”

Pulling out his phone to check the time, Eli frowned. “Uuuh, yeah, actually. I guess he’s busy.”

“Maybe he’s with Evan,” Quentin pondered. When the others gave him curious looks, he explained, “Well, I came in with Dwight this morning, but I haven’t really seen him since. I was down on the second floor cleaning up in the cell block, and I noticed the Trapper’s getting really antsy. Like, he’s pissed. Banging around in his cell, swearing at everyone who walks in. I actually had to cut my route short since it seemed like me being there was setting him off more.”

Before anyone could question it much further, Wesker came sweeping into the room, the majority of his usual accompaniment along with him. Krauser was missing, as was Grimes, but no one bothered to question it. A gaggle of other staff crowded into the room behind them, and the seated group all exchanged curious looks. An announcement? Right now?

Starting with his usual bored spiel, Wesker droned on until he finally got to the good part. “For the first time since Crotus Prenn was established, a patient is being moved up to the second floor. Nicknamed ‘the Knight’, his file will be distributed either electronically, or physically, should you need a paper copy. Speak to your department head personally if you require a physical copy, otherwise, check the employee portal.”

“Hey, we might have finally found you a boyfriend,” Eli whispered, nudging King.

The look he got was far from amused, but before the guard could say anything, someone was standing over their table. Looking up, all of them were more than a little shocked to find the CEO himself watching them through his dark glasses.

“Marcus, come with me,” he ordered, ignoring the whispering and strange looks they were getting from the dispersing crowd.

“Right now?” he asked before he could think about whether or not he really wanted to question the man.

A raised eyebrow had him quickly scooping up his trash as he pushed his chair back from the table. “Right, sorry, sir. I’m coming. Let me throw this away.”

Dumping his trash in the nearest bin, he hurried to catch up as Wesker made his way to the door. Marcus could feel his friends watching him, but he was just as confused as they were. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done recently that would garner the CEO’s interest, nor did he feel like he’d done anything to warrant a one on one meeting with the man. Maybe it was about his outburst on floor three? But that had been over a week ago… Why wait so long to bring it up?

Walking in complete silence for several minutes Marcus started to feel more and more anxious as he recognized the hall leading to Wesker’s office. Clearing his throat, he dared ask, “Is everything alright, sir?”

“We’ll speak in my office,” was all he said, and the pair fell back into a tense silence. Once inside the private chamber, Wesker took a seat, gesturing for Marcus to do the same. “Allow me to preface this by saying, you’re not being punished, as you technically haven’t done anything wrong.”

Oh, god. Technically? That was always a really bad thing to hear…

“Due to how… volatile, Ghostface has started to become due to your presence, you’ll be working more shifts on the lower floors. Specifically three, and likely four soon, assuming you continue with this trend of capability in the face of increasing responsibilities.”

Wait, what? Jonah had made it sound like he wouldn’t get floor four access for at least a couple of years!

Not wanting to speak out of turn but with a lot to say, Marcus raised his hand.

Wesker paused, brow creasing slightly before saying, “This isn’t a school and I’m not your principal. You don’t have to raise your hand to ask a question.”

Sheepishly putting his hand back down, he cleared his throat before asking, “If this is about Da– Ghostface attacking Krauser, don’t you think it’s… kind of the Lieutenants fault?”

“Excuse me?” Wesker questioned, his other eyebrow joining the first.

“He’s overly antagonistic with the patients and other staff,” Marcus boldly pointed out. “Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve heard complaints about him and his behavior?”

“It’s not,” the CEO allowed, surprising him. “An adjustment period is often necessary, however. The sooner everyone gets used to working with one another, the better and smoother things will run.”

“He almost killed the Legion and me–”

“You’ve been compensated for the trauma caused,” Wesker interrupted, starting to sound annoyed. “Now, Marcus. I understand that Jack is your department head, but I would greatly caution you against picking up her more unsavory habits. You have neither the seniority nor the importance to get away with insubordination. I suggest you remember that.”

Wow, what a subtle way to tell him to shut the fuck up about Krauser’s insane behavior and not to bring it up again! Dick… Marcus wanted to stick a letter opener through his jugular…

Forcing himself to maintain as neutral an expression as possible, he simply answered, “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Now, take these down to Grimes on the third floor, then feel free to get back to whatever you’ve been scheduled to do,” Wesker ordered, passing him a small stack of folders. “You do know which office is his, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Marcus confirmed, taking the paperwork. With that, he was dismissed, and made his way downstairs.

The entire way, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the Knight had done to get moved up a floor. First patient in Crotus Prenn history? It was both incredible and shocking. Obviously he wasn’t going to make the mistake of assuming the patient wasn’t dangerous, but his behavior must have been good enough at least, if he was getting pushed up from… whatever floor he’d been on. Wesker hadn’t actually mentioned that part…

Finding Grimes’ office on the third floor, Marcus was honestly just relieved not to find the man himself inside it. He still couldn’t stand him, and every time he had to work on the third floor, he only found more reasons to hate him.

Still mulling things over as he made his way back towards the elevator, he paused when he picked up a small, unusual sound. He was nowhere near the patients, so he knew it wasn’t one of them, but that had sounded like a human groan.

Taking a couple of steps backwards, he paused again, listening closely to the silence. He was the only one in the hallway at the moment, so he knew it wasn’t just a random sound from another staff member…

Looking up and down the hall, he spotted an unmarked door a few yards back. Frowning, he approached quietly, wondering if maybe someone was inside. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he winced. Oooh, someone might be hooking up in there. If that was the case, he didn’t want to interrupt.

Hearing another low, pained groan, he moved immediately. If he was wrong and that was a sex sound, he could apologize, but if someone was actually hurt and he just left them there, he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for that.

Pulling the door open, Marcus felt his heart drop into his stomach. Someone was indeed hurt. Badly. Blood trickled from multiple cuts and scrapes, while bruises covered his arms and face in dark patches. One eye was swollen shut already and blood was slowly dripping from his nose.

He’d finally found Dwight…
~~~~

Chapter 47: The Birdcage

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

The aftermath of the guys stealing Krauser's photo isn't pretty, and Marcus deals with even more problems on the third floor...

The smell of blood was heavy in Marcus’s nostrils as he dragged Dwight upright. A soft groan left him, at least letting the ginger know he was still alive. But he was in bad, bad shape. He would have called for help, but the janitor’s radio was in a thousand pieces and he hadn’t been issued one himself.

“Hang in there, Dwight,” Marcus pleaded, doing his best to rest his friend’s head on his shoulder. The last thing he wanted was for his neck to flop around and cause more injuries. A small, pained sound left him, and the orderly winced.

God fucking dammit! Why was there barely anyone on the third floor?! Where was a well placed not famous actor, director, and action star Nic Cage when he needed him?!

It seemed like every lab they passed was empty, the employees either heading upstairs for their breaks or in some other part of the facility. Whoever had beaten Dwight and left him in that closet had picked the perfect spot.

Marcus would have tried his phone and sent out a mass S.O.S, but he’d already found that there was no signal on the third floor and he had no hope of getting through to anyone. Dragging Dwight all the way to the cell block in the center of the third floor, he finally found a means to get help.

As gently as he could, he lowered Dwight to the floor before sprinting past the Birdcage. The Wraith’s head whipped back and forth, looking between him and the janitor with a shocked expression, but Marcus paid him no mind. Slamming his hand down on the emergency alarm, the entire floor was bathed in flashing red lights as a loud siren blared. Not waiting for the guards to come pouring in, he rushed back to Dwight as the patients all peered curiously through the thick, see-through doors of their cells.

It only took a few minutes for the first guards to arrive but it felt like an eternity. The alarm was quickly cut off when it was confirmed all the patients were still secure, but Marcus could hear the frantic radio chatter as medics were called.

Forcefully pulled to one side to get him out of the way as the nursing staff prepared to move Dwight onto a stretcher so they could get him upstairs, Marcus was startled out of his own tunnel vision by a familiar voice.

“Marcus! What happened?!”

“Leon? Um– I don’t– I don’t know,” he stammered, still trying to get back to his friend’s side. “I found him in a closet! His radio was smashed and I– I’m sorry, I don’t have one so I hit the alarm in the main room and–”

“No, no, you did the right thing,” Leon assured him. “Why are you even down here without a radio?”

“Wesker sent me to drop off some paperwork,” Marcus mumbled, mind racing. He knew he’d have to give a statement about everything that had happened, but he wasn’t going to leave Dwight’s side until he knew he was going to be okay.

Already guessing as much, Leon nodded, a grim expression on his face. “Right… Come on, we can accompany them upstairs and you can give me your statement there.”

The next hour was a rush of questions, statements, and phone calls. Due to the nature of the attack and the state Dwight was in, all the floor three security footage had to be reviewed closely to ensure that none of the patients had somehow gotten out of their cells. Marcus already had an idea of what happened, but he had yet to speak on it, knowing it was a slippery slope and that ‘baseless accusations’ would only put everyone involved in more danger.

Sitting in the hall while they waited to be let into his room, neither Marcus nor Leon said a word, even when David shuffled over to join them. Word had spread like wildfire, and the group chat was abuzz with theories and threats towards the person who’d done it, once they were revealed…

Eli was stuck doing routine vaccinations on the first and second floors, and King was stuck on yard duty and couldn’t come himself, but Leon promised to keep them both up to speed. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the head doctor came out of Dwight’s room.

All three of the waiting men were on their feet before he could get a word out, and he paused, a look of mild terror on his face at the trio of intense stares he was being subjected to. Clearing his throat, he finally explained, “He’s stable, and awake now. He’s on some heavy painkillers, and I’ll be recommending he takes at least two weeks off to recover… But you can go in and take his statement now if you–”

Jumping out of the way to avoid being trampled, the doctor huffed irritably. Dusting off his coat, he muttered under his breath about the lack of respect before shuffling off towards his office to file the medical report.

“Dwight!” Marcus said, barely remembering to keep his voice at an even level as he hurried to one side of his bed.

One eye was completely swollen closed and the other was bruised, but he was able to open it enough to make out the three of them standing around his bed. He didn’t try to smile, but he did sound at least a little relieved as he croaked, “Oooh… Hey… guys.”

“Dwight, you don’t have to give a statement right now,” Leon started, but the janitor shook his head slightly.

“No… No I… You need to… know.”

All three of them exchanged worried glances, before the Captain said softly, “Take your time. There’s no need to strain yourself.”

“I’m… so high…” Dwight mumbled, before letting out a slightly wheezy laugh. “Oooh… I was… a message…”

Face going white as a sheet, Leon asked quietly, “What?”

“Krauser… and some other g-guards….” he explained. “He wanted the… the photo back… I didn’t… I didn’t tell him… anything.”

Grimacing at him when Leon started to speak, Dwight huffed, “I’d still… do it again… He just… He threatened me… Figured out I didn’t… have it… and beat me…”

“Feng will be able to back you up,” Marcus promised hollowly. Something told him it wasn’t going to be that simple, but he had to sound confident… “She’ll be able to see it– Or at least enough of it on the cameras.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, before asking, “Where’s… Evan?”

Checking his phone for the time, Leon answered, “Out in the yard. They’ve only got about twenty minutes left… Don’t worry, one of us will let him know you’re… okay.”

Okay was a strong word for it, but Marcus knew that wouldn’t be enough to put the Trapper at ease. He’d been the one to find Dwight… He’d be the one to tell his boyfriend…

“Leon, I know you’ve probably got stuff to do, but can you stay with him until he’s taken back to the dorms?” he asked quietly, and the Captain nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing…

“I’ll find the Trapper,” he added, turning for the door before he could be ordered not to.

“Wait.”

Marcus paused, hands going numb as he looked over his shoulder at David. “Yeah?”

The brunet still wouldn’t look at him, hands wringing and shoulders nearly up to his ears as if he wanted to make himself disappear. He took a deep breath before finally meeting his friend's gaze. His eyes were just as dark as Marcus remembered as he offered, “Be careful, okay?”

Expression softening slightly, he pushed down the pang of guilt that lashed inside his chest before promising, “I will be.”

Turning, he hurried out of the room and down the hall. Technically, he was supposed to be doing paperwork and preparing for his changing rotation down on the third floor. He didn’t really care…

Making his way to the yard with a measly eight minutes left, he ignored King’s questions as he ducked outside. Spotting the Trapper pacing back and forth in front of the row of cages, he started towards him.

The Legion called out to him, but he ignored them too, much to their very loud displeasure. It had the unfortunate side effect of getting every single patient in the yard to turn and stare at him, but when they saw him making a beeline for the Trapper, most of them looked away again.

For a moment, Evan looked legitimately confused as to why Marcus was coming towards him. Then, his nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air. A dark look settled across his face, and he stalked forward to meet him. Grabbing the ginger by the collar before he could get a word out, he dragged him to the far corner of the yard, out of sight of the guards and cameras.

Not nearly as good company as Ghostface, he tossed Marcus into the small blind spot before snarling, “Where is he?! Why is his blood on you?!”

“He’s safe now!” Marcus snapped, voice full of fury despite the fact that he was shaking from head to toe. He hadn’t forgotten just how close the Trapper had come to killing him, but he had more important things to address. Pressing on before the patient could react, he explained quickly, “He’s in medical now, recovering. They’re going to put him on leave for a couple of weeks, but Dwight’s going to be okay.”

Lips twitching as he tried to find the words, Evan settled for smashing a fist into the wall. It actually went into the wall, crushing several of the bricks and leaving a fist sized crater behind. Voice low, he asked, “Who did it?”

Marcus didn’t hesitate nor did he feel an ounce of guilt as he said, “Krauser, and some others, but I don’t have their names yet. I’ll pass them along when I do.”

Evan stared at him, eyes black with fury as he studied him. Finally, he asked, “You helped Dwight?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, thankful he’d come to the correct conclusion instead of assuming he’d helped attack him. “I found him dumped in a closet on the third floor, beaten within an inch of his life.”

He knew he didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to go into the details of the state he’d found Dwight in… But he knew doing so would only make the Trapper angrier, and the angrier he was, the more likely he’d be to act on those who’d harmed the only person he cared about…

“His radio was smashed to pieces so I dragged him to safety and hit the alarm,” Marcus continued. “That’s why his blood is on my scrubs.”

After another long pause so that Evan could maintain enough control to keep his voice below a roar, he snarled, “You’re sure he’s safe now?”

“He’s in medical, under guard. It’s someone he trusts, and the doctor is sure he’ll make a full recovery.”

The chime signaling the end of outdoor time echoed through the yard, but the Trapper ignored it. As the others slowly began forming two separate lines to go back inside, he let out a low growl. Leaning down, he backed Marcus against the wall, teeth far too close to the side of his neck as he warned, “If I find out you’ve lied to me… A single word... I’ll kill you and Ghostface…”

Marcus let out a shallow breath as the Trapper disappeared from his space, leaving him in the nook as he left to go line up. He hadn’t been expecting a thank you or anything, but that had still been nerve wracking.

Still… At least Evan knew. Pushing himself away from the wall, he made his way back inside. The Legion all gave him ?‘What the fuck?!’ gestures as he passed, but he knew David would explain the situation to them later. He was going to go downstairs and talk to Danny…

~~

A full week had passed since Dwight had been attacked… A full week… And Marcus was just as livid about it as the day it had happened. Despite Dwight’s statement and Leon backing him up as being credible… Krauser and the three men who’d helped him had yet to be punished for one simple reason.

There was no proof he’d done it…

If anyone had believed Feng would never raise her voice at the CEO, they’d have been dead wrong. It was likely everyone on the first several floors had heard her when she’d gone on her rampage over the fact that several of the floor three security cameras had been disabled without her knowledge or permission. There were no maintenance logs, no requests, no approvals. Nothing to tell her who had messed with her systems.

Bill had been forced to physically restrain her and remove her from Wesker’s office after the CEO told her that ‘There was no need to investigate it further as it was likely just a malfunction due to faulty equipment’.

Even Danny had been shocked to hear what had happened, and warned Marcus to be extremely careful. Krauser wasn’t stupid enough to get caught. That much was obvious…

It did seem like Evan believed him, however, even without Dwight there to confirm or deny what he’d told him. A few days after the incident, the Trapper attacked and killed one of the guards whose names the janitor had given to Marcus to pass on. It was a horrific affair, one that neither the ginger or David were present for, thankfully. On the downside, it prompted Wesker to put out a memorandum that those men who’d been named in ‘a recent incident report’ were no longer to be on the floor around the Trapper for their own safety.

It wasn’t unheard of for two patients from two different floors to be in solitary at the same time, but Ghostface and the Trapper both being locked up left an odd void during lunch and outdoor time. That might not have been so bad, but it seemed to embolden Freddy, who started making even more completely awful jokes every chance he got.

Marcus wasn’t subjected to too many of them, however, as Wesker made good on his threat. His schedule had been completely redone, much to Jack’s vexation, and he had been on nothing but floor three shifts for the past several days.

Just as he was getting back from his lunch break, which he’d snuck off to spend in solitary with Ghostface, Marcus was pulled aside by Grimes.

“The Wraith needs to be taken downstairs for some medical checks. You can give injections, right?”

Squinting at the tray of three, fluid filled syringes being held out to him, Marcus said slowly, “Yes, technically. I’ve been trained and certified to do so…. But a nurse is supposed to be the one to give patient injections…”

“They’re all busy,” Grimes dismissed, pushing the tray at him. “You’ll have two guards accompanying you, so get to it. The sooner he’s sedated, the sooner he can be taken down for his treatment.”

“I thought you said it was a medical check,” Marcus corrected, eyes narrowing. He wanted to take the syringes and jab them into Talbot’s eyes…

“Medical check, procedure, whatever,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “White one first, it’s to keep him from getting sick. Then the clear, then the yellow.”

“What do those two do?” the orderly questioned flatly. He didn’t like the idea of giving any of the patients injections, but he flat out refused to do it if he didn’t know what the hell he was giving them.

“I hope you wake up deaf and blind,” Talbot muttered. Ignoring the sharp look Marcus gave him, he said more clearly, “One is a muscle relaxer. It’s meant to keep him… calm. The other is an anti-anxiety medication. It’s also to keep him calm while he’s looked at. So unless you want the guards to strap him kicking and screaming to a bed so he doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else, I suggest you go give him his fucking injections so I can do my job!”

Silently taking the tray, Marcus turned and marched out of Talbot’s office. It was directly adjacent to the cellblock, and he wasn’t surprised to find a pair of guards already waiting for him. He wasn’t familiar with either of them, as they primarily worked the third and fourth floors, but so far, he didn’t like them.

The first guard was tall and thin, and constantly had something in his mouth to chew on. Gum, a toothpick, a pencil. If not, he ground his teeth like an anxious squirrel. He snickered at everything he said, as though he was the funniest man alive, when in reality, it was nothing but crude comments at other people’s expense. Mostly the patients.

The second guard was a bit shorter, but built like a smaller version of Krauser. Bulky, mean, with a face like a bulldog, he tended to just grunt in answer to everything he was asked. That might not have been too bad by itself, but he laughed at every couple of jokes Squirrel made, encouraging him to make more.

Doing his best to ignore them, Marcus led the way to the Wraith’s cell, otherwise known as ‘the Birdcage’. The patient spotted them coming, obviously since the walls were all thick glass, and stood up from his nest on the floor. He didn’t look particularly happy, especially when he saw the tray the orderly was carrying.

“You know, I don’t know why they call this guy ‘the Wraith’,” Squirrel started, and Marcus grit his teeth. “They should have called him ‘Florida Man’. I mean, look at him! He looks like the creature from the Black Lagoon!”

“Can you not?” Marcus asked, glaring at him as he badged them into the cell.

“What? Afraid I’m going to hurt his feelings?” he sneered in return. “Pretty sure he gave up his right to feelings when he got put in here.”

“He’s still a person and he deserves to be treated like it,” the orderly snapped, earning a sideways look from Bulldog.

“He’s not a ‘person’,” Squirrel argued, waving a hand at the Wraith, who flinched even though he was all the way in the back of the large cell. “He’s basically an animal! You know he killed his boss, right? This guy welcomed him into the country with open arms, provided him with a job and a place to sleep, and how did he repay him? Fucking threw him in a car crusher to try and cover up his crimes!”

The Wraith made a low hissing sound, face contorting at the accusation. His reaction got a gruff laugh from Bulldog, and Squirrel gestured at him again.

“You see? He gets all pissy when you bring it up! It’s ‘cause he knows he fucked up a good thing!”

“Or, it’s because you’re being rude,” Marcus said, a sense of urgency in his tone. He could see how upset the Wraith was getting, and tried speaking directly to him instead. “Hey, I’m sorry about this idiot. You can ignore him. Do you mind if I get closer so I can give you your shots, please?”

“Don’t fucking ask him,” Bulldog snapped. “You show that kind of weakness and you’ll get eaten alive down here. Piece of shit’s probably a cannibal anyway, just like that bitch with the muzzle.”

“That’s enough!” the orderly demanded, but the guard was done listening.

“Inmate, get over here!” he barked, and the Wraith recoiled, eyes darting from the guards to Marcus and the tray in his hands before looking away entirely. His terror was mistaken for defiance, and Bulldog took a menacing step forward. Lip curling, he demanded furiously, “Did you hear me?”

The Wraith was looking around, chest heaving as he pair of guards started advancing towards him. Realizing he was starting to panic and the two were only making things far worse, Marcus tried to intervene, reasoning, “He’s scared because you’re being so aggressive! Back off and– Hey!”

Shoved aside, he was helpless to do anything when Bulldog stomped forward and grabbed the Wraith by the wrist. Yanking him away from the wall, he started to shout, “I said, get over here and–”

With inhuman speed, the Wraith smashed his other hand across the guard's face. The sound of his flesh and bones rending as his bottom jaw was torn off shocked Marcus into freezing, locking him in place as the guard stumbled away, blood bubbling past his dangling tongue as it hung limply from the gaping wound.

“What the fuck?!” Squirrel screamed, fumbling to grab his taser from his belt. Grabbing for his radio at the same time, he finally yanked the gun free and fired blindly as he shouted into the walkie-talkie, “Code red! We got a code red in the Birdcage!”

The Wraith screeched, expression one of pain and fear as the metal prongs hit him in the ribs. Despite the crackle of electricity, he still managed to grab the wires and rip them free before he could be fully incapacitated.

“Fuck!” the guard shouted, going so far as to throw the now useless gun at him.

“Stop!” Marcus shouted, finally snapping out of his shock, but it was too late. The damage was done, and red lights flooded the room as the floor went into lockdown. An ominous bang sounded, and he looked back to see bars descend in front of the door, locking both of them inside with the Wraith.

A body slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. The tray and syringes scattered across the ground as he hit the floor, before someone’s foot jammed into his stomach.

Marcus let out a wheeze, curling in on himself in pain as Squirrel tripped over him. He’d been the one who knocked him down, and the one who’d blindly kicked him in his haste to flee from the now advancing patient.

Stepping over and past the orderly, the Wraith planted a foot on the guard's lower back, pinning him down as he squirmed on the floor like an insect. With a clicking snarl, the patient dug his fingers deep into Squirrel’s flesh, causing him to scream and choke.

A squelch could be heard, then a crunch, and the guard’s screams reached a pitch so high it almost didn’t sound human. With the ease of pulling a splinter from a finger, the Wraith ripped the man’s spine out, and the screaming ceased…

When he stood, Marcus felt his breathing hitch, eyes locked on the bloody length of bone and sinew in his hand. Slowly, bare feet turned, stepping towards him again. His entire body was trembling, fear locking him in place as the patient stepped closer.

The heavy, metallic scent of blood filled his nose, but he was too terrified to try and cover his face. Instead, he found himself staring up at the Wraith as he peered down at him with an unreadable expression while the alarms continued blaring around them. Yet again the orderly was left with a very important question… Why hadn’t his collar activated and shocked him yet?

Eyes widening, he realized someone had to have tampered with it. Likely whoever had messed with the cameras… But how? Had Krauser or one of his men done it? Pretty sure he would never find out, Marcus flinched when the Wraith suddenly moved. The spine clattered to the floor beside him and he tensed, positive the next thing he’d feel would be his inhumanly strong hands grabbing him to tear him apart.

Instead, the blood stained man made several gestures, hands shaking as he attempted to tell the orderly something. When it became clear to both of them he wasn’t making any sense, he clenched his hands into tight fists.

“I– I- I’m sorry,” Marcus whispered, unsure what else to say. At least… it didn’t seem to make things worse.

Blinking several times, the Wraith stepped past him, retreating to the back of his cell before dropping into the corner. Long legs pulled up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around himself before burying his face to muffle the sobs that wracked his body.

Still laying mostly curled in on himself, Marcus didn’t move for a minute. Finally, slowly, he forced his stiff limbs to move. Sitting up, he glanced at Squirrel’s corpse before quickly looking away. The alarm had stopped blaring, but the red lights were still flashing through the cell block, making the entire room appear as if it were soaked in blood.

The Wraith was still sobbing in the corner, but no one had come to the cell yet to try and pull the still breathing orderly out. Unsure what else to do, he carefully pushed himself up. Looking at the still barred door, he turned his attention to the patient.

Doing his best to avoid looking directly at the jawless body slumped against the opposite wall, Marcus closed the gap between himself and the Wraith with shaking legs. Crouching down so he wasn’t standing over his head, he gingerly reached out to touch his shoulder.

Jolting at the contact, the Wraith’s head shot up, eyes wild as they locked with Marcus’s.

Quickly holding up his hands to show he was unarmed and hadn’t picked up any of the fallen syringes, he promised in a shaky voice, “H-hey, it– it’s okay. It– it’s okay. I- I’m not going to– to touch you again. I’m sorry.”

Still staring at him with a wary, untrusting expression, the Wraith pulled his legs a little closer to his body.

Scooting back a bit so he wouldn’t feel as crowded, Marcus paused when he felt something under his foot. Looking down, he had to fight the urge to throw up as he realized he’d just stepped on Bulldog’s jaw…

Quickly looking away, he took a couple of deep breaths before continuing, “I’m so sorry that… this happened. Really. You– You shouldn’t be treated like this.”

The Wraith blinked again, a soft, almost mournful sound leaving him as he studied Marcus. Lifting one hand slightly, he pointed down at the floor before making a soft hissing sound.

Not understanding, the orderly nodded slightly. “I– Yeah, my clearance only goes to floor three. To- to here. I– I was just asked to give you an anxiety medication and muscle relaxer before your medical check up. That’s all.”

Chirping and whistling softly, the Wraith shook his head before pointing down again, then made a fist. Looking away for a moment, he looked back at Marcus with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I… I don’t know what you’re asking.”

The Wraith made a pained expression, but before he could try to communicate anything else to him, the clatter of boots pounded across the ground as guards finally flooded the room. Starting to look panicked again, he froze when Marcus held out a hand in calming motion.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to let them hurt you,” he promised, before turning to the door.

“Patient, hands in front of you!” Leon ordered, eyes sweeping over the scene inside the cell.

When he started to pull in on himself again, Marcus stood up. Turning to the door, he held his arms out to the side, asking, “Just, hold on! Please?”

“Marcus, he has to be restrained before we can open this door,” the Captain told him, voice strained. “Move away–”

“No!” he shouted, letting his anger into the word. “He’s not going to attack anyone!”

“He just killed two staff members!”

Marcus had to stop himself from snapping that they’d deserved it. Instead, he argued, “He was trying to defend himself! I’ll cuff him, but you have to promise me he won’t be tasered again!”

“You know I can’t promise that,” Leon warned, looking pained. “I don’t want to, but if he doesn’t cooperate, we will use force. He has to be moved to solitary until… this is cleaned up, at least.”

Gritting his teeth, he insisted, “He’ll cooperate if you just… step back! Give him a fucking second and let me help him! He’s just scared!”

Leon looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded. Taking a step away from the door, he gestured for the other waiting guards to step back from the cell as well. Only once they were a safe distance away, Marcus turned back to the Wraith.

Crouching down so he wasn’t talking over his head, he met his eyes before asking softly, “You understand that you have to be restrained before they can open the door, right?”

After a moment, he nodded, eyes downcast.

“May I please see your wrists?” Marcus requested. “I’m going to have to manually lock your cuffs, but as long as you cooperate, I promise, Leon won’t let it go any further than that. No one will attack you.”

Nodding slowly, the Wraith finally unfolded his arms and legs, standing upright before hesitantly holding his hands out in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, before raising his hands to the patients with clear, slow movements. Gently pushing his wrists together first, he only activated the cuffs when he knew they wouldn’t snap together as the magnets turned on.

A couple of seconds later, the red lights stopped flashing and there was a metallic clang as the bars in front of the door rose back into the ceiling. The whoosh of the door opening drew Marcus’s attention, and to his great relief, Leon gestured for the others to wait while he and the Wraith stepped out of the cell.

Once they cleared the door, one of the guards stepped forward, only to stop when Marcus pinned him with a glare that would have made Ghostface’s knees wobbly.

“I’ll escort him to solitary,” he stated. “Then, when he’s safe inside a cell, I’ll go upstairs and give my statement.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Leon told him firmly, and Marcus nodded. He trusted the Captain to remain professional, and he seriously hoped the Wraith would continue to remain calm and cooperative now that he wasn’t being verbally abused or grabbed at.

“Captain, did you want anyone else to escort you?” a guard asked, but he shook his head.

“No. Philip isn’t going to cause any problems,” he answered, and the ginger looked up at the patient.

His name was Philip? He should have known that. He should have read his file already but he was so far behind still… Making a mental note to look at his file as soon as he got back to the dorm that night, he followed Leon as he led the way towards solitary.

Turning his radio down slightly as one of the others put out the call for medical and janitorial to start prepping for a massive clean up, he said quietly, “You handled that extremely well… Why were you in there alone?”

Knowing he meant ‘without another nurse or orderly’, Marcus answered honestly, “Grimes said everyone else was busy and to ‘do my job so he could do his’. Freak.”

Sucking air through his teeth, Leon didn’t say anything else until they got to the lonely cells. Opening a door, he sighed before saying, “Sorry, Philip.”

He let out a low whistle before shuffling inside. Turning, he met Marcus’s eyes one last time before the door slid closed between them.

Somehow, he got the sense there was something the Wraith desperately wanted to tell him. Maybe even warn him about something, but he just didn’t know how to communicate it…
~~~~

Chapter 48: Slipping Through the Cracks

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

CW: TW: Brief scene of self harm, mentions of past self harm

 

Marcus has a serious talk with Amanda, who strongly encourages him to to take the time to look up the case of one Philip Ojomo...

The day after the Birdcage incident found Marcus back on floor one, although he was warned not to expect to stay there as Danny would be released soon. Sitting in the rec room, he watched the patients with a sense of muted anxiety. It wasn’t that he was afraid they’d try and pull anything, but more that he was starting to feel worried about them. Despite knowing they were all locked up for good reasons, he couldn’t get past the fact that they were treated so poorly. God only knew how bad it got when they were stuck downstairs for ‘medical checks’.

Shaking his head, he let out a tired sigh. He’d barely gotten any sleep the night before and was paying the price. At least rec time was back to being a mostly chill affair.

Thanks to the recent sharp uptick in fatal or near fatal incidents, the rules had finally started to relax again. Krauser’s mandate that patient’s couldn’t leave the rec room for their cells had been abolished, and his lack of presence during both lunch and outdoor time was a relief felt by both the first and second floors.

It was still fairly quiet without Evan and Danny around, and the new floor two patient was strangely subdued. Marcus had only worked around him a few times, but he’d instantly noticed the far away look on his face and how he barely seemed to register anything going on around him. Still, it made the day to day on the first two floors fairly easier, and he tried not to take those rare shifts for granted.

Scanning the room again, Marcus frowned when he noticed yet another absence. It looked like Amanda had gone back to her cell, which wasn’t entirely unusual, but what stuck out to him was that she’d left her book behind. He’d never seen her leave it anywhere but her cell before, and decided to go grab it before the Legion spotted it and decided to ‘prank’ her by stealing it or hiding it.

Considering that the Trickster or Nightmare would probably destroy it just for shits and giggles, he put a little speed in his step. Scooping up the book, he took the opportunity to finally get a good look at the cover. He… regretted it.

It was very clearly one of those super smutty, probably poorly written, dime store romance novels. The kind with the long haired, oiled up six-pack, tanning bed skin-tone, perfect men holding a busty, scantily clad, swooning maiden on the cover. Except… Nope, that was an orc. He still had long hair and a six-pack, but the green skin, tusks, and pointed ears said ‘monster fucker’.

Trying not to blush as he lowered the dogeared, suspiciously crusty novel, he realized the title on the spine was almost impossible to make out. It had been flattened and bent so many times, it looked like it would probably stay open on its own if turned to a certain page–

“Oooh,” he groaned, trying not to shudder. No wonder no one else had touched the book… Where was a pair of gloves when he needed them?

Trying not to think about it too much, he hurried down the hall to the cell block. The sooner he could return Amanda’s book to her and hopefully never have to touch it again, the better.

The single guard watching the door barely paid him any mind as he passed by, and Marcus had to wonder if he’d even noticed Amanda going back to her cell. He was not too subtly scrolling his phone, and a song clip that was currently circulating on Tik-Tok reached the ginger’s ears.

Ahhh, that was still better than one of Krauser’s men.

Passing the empty cells, Marcus paused at the entrance to the Pig’s, not wanting to intrude and only intending to announce himself, pass off her book, and leave. What he spotted when he looked inside, however, had him lunging forward with a panicked, “Amanda, stop!”

The patient already had blood dripping down her leg, and the sharp edge of a homemade shiv was pressing into her thigh again. Head snapping up at the sound of his shout, her expression of near panic twisted into one of fury.

Before Marcus could actually reach her to try and wrestle the blade away from her, Amanda sprang up from the bed, slashing at him with the shiv. Stumbling backwards, he let out a startled, “Hey!”

Eyes wild as she advanced, Amanda swiped at him again. In his haste to jump out of reach, he tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his ass. It hurt, but not nearly as much as a plastic shard of lunch tray would if it stabbed him in something vital.

Too close to scramble out of reach and in an awkward position, Marcus did the only thing he could think of to defend himself. He raised the crusty book over his head like a shield.

It was Amanda’s turn to look shocked, and she threw her arm to the side at the last second, missing both the orderly and her precious book. Breathing heavily, she demanded in a harsh whisper, “Give that back. It’s mine.”

Marcus was smart enough to realize the book was the only thing that had saved him, and he quickly argued, “No! Not until you give me the shiv!”

Fingers tightening around the handle, she grit her teeth before threatening, “I can take it from you.”

“Not before I rip it in half,” Marcus retorted, gripping the book with both hands. As much as he’d rather not destroy a book, if it meant keeping himself and someone else safe, it was a sacrifice he’d willingly make.

Starting to look slightly panicked again, Amanda lowered her weapon a bit as she hissed, “Don’t! Don’t rip it! It’s the only thing I have!”

“Then please give me the shiv,” he pressed more calmly than before. “I don’t want to destroy your book, but I’m not going to let you hurt yourself or me either.”

“Goddammit,” she swore, squeezing her eyes closed. Taking a step back, she huffed, “Fine! But I want my book back first!”

Making sure to keep one hand firmly on the book and his eyes on the patient, Marcus quickly pushed himself to his feet. Not about to give up his only leverage and risk being stuck with physically fighting Amanda while screaming for a guard if she decided to attack him again, he instead proposed, “We’ll hand them off at the same time…”

Eyes narrowing, Amanda considered it for a moment before nodding. When she started to raise her arm, he held up the book.

“Ah, handle first, please.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she flipped the shiv around before matching his reach, object in hand. Once both of them had a grip on the other's item, they slowly let go of their own and took a step back.

Taking a closer look at Amanda as she hugged the book to her chest, Marcus couldn’t help but notice several things that were very out of the ordinary. Her breathing was still a bit too fast, skin pale and clammy as sweat beaded on her forehead. Her pupils were huge, not constricting in the slightest despite the bright lights of her cell.

“Oh my god… Amanda, are you high?” he questioned, taking a cautious step closer.

Eyes darting back to his face, she let out a mirthless laugh. “Fuck, I wish.”

“Amanda, I can tell you’re on something,” Marcus pointed out, trying to keep his tone calm and nonaggressive. “If you need medical–”

“They’d never let us have drugs, you fucking idiot!” she snapped, jerking away from him when he took a small step closer. “They’re not going to risk ruining their precious goddamn tests!”

Drawing a blank, he asked slowly, “What tests?”

Staring at him for a moment like he had just asked to see her topless, Amanda finally questioned, “Are you serious?”

His confused expression spoke volumes, and she let out a long sigh. “Jesus Christ, you still don’t know… You’ve been to floor three, right?”

“I– Um, yeah,” he hesitantly confirmed. “Why?”

Studying him very closely for a few seconds longer, Amanda slowly took a seat on her cot. Blood was continuing to seep from the open cuts on her thigh, but she didn’t seem to notice it, only furthering the idea in his mind that she was high on something.

“Marcus… Haven’t you noticed how… different some of us are?” she asked, and he frowned.

“I mean… Yeah, I guess,” he admitted, recalling Anna and Kenneth’s strange eyes. And Caleb’s. And Rin and Carmina’s… everything.

“You’ve seen the people on the third floor,” Amanda continued bitterly. “How do you think they ended up like that?”

Marcus found that he didn’t actually have an answer for that. He’d tried not to think about it too much, simply assuming they were cryptids and Crotus Prenn was some kind of Area 51 type organization where he wasn’t supposed to ask questions about why the patients were the way they were. It was all too easy to fall into the trap of complacency, simply chalking it up to ‘they arrived like that’, when the truth was so much darker…

“Ahh, I thought you were better than that, Doc,” she teased, and he grimaced.

“I just– I guess I…” he stammered, before trailing off, unsure what he could actually say. A pang of guilt shot through him as the memory of his argument with David reared its ugly head, and he admitted quietly, “I don’t know who I can actually ask, that’ll tell me the truth.”

Studying him for a moment, Amanda finally let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, come here. I need something to distract me, so you’ll have to do.”

Back straightening up so fast his spine popped, Marcus quickly declined, “No thank you! I’m with Danny and–”

“Oh my fucking god!” she interrupted. “Not for that! Just– Just sit down, will you?”

Squinting at her, he shuffled closer and finally sat on the foot of her cot. “Okay… Care to explain, then?”

“I need something to distract me from… all this,” Amanda emphasized with a clawing motion of her hands around her body. “I feel like my skin is crawling off. Like there are ants in my bones and I just– Ah!”

No wonder she’d been cutting herself… But then why had she told him she wasn’t high?

“All of us patients… Every one of us here in Crotus Prenn are used for human experiments,” she told him bluntly. Watching his face to gauge his reaction, she cracked a mirthless smile. “I know, it sounds like something out of a shitty horror movie… But think about the patients on floor three, and tell me how they could possibly have gotten to be how they are now? Even on floors two and one.”

Philip’s sense of panic at the idea of going downstairs for a ‘medical check’ was starting to make a lot more sense, but still, Marcus asked weakly, “To what end? Why would… How could anyone justify… doing that to another person?”

“Money,” Amanda offered, shrugging. “Power. They’re using us to test different viruses meant to enhance humans. Make us stronger. Faster… Quieter.”

Recalling the almost unnatural strength many of the patients seemed to possess, Marcus swallowed thickly. Afraid to know the answer, he still forced himself to ask, “If it’s not too much… What have they done to you all? Here on floor one?”

Watching him for a moment, she finally said, “We’re the… successes. Or, the least awful failures, anyway.”

“What… What does that mean?” he questioned, still not sure he understood. Was floor one exempt from these tests? Or were they simply used less often?

“Haven’t you ever wondered why Danny’s cell lights never go out all the way? Why he’s required to always be in a lit room? Or why Ji-Woon is the only patient who isn’t allowed any kind of playing cards? Or how the Legion are able to fight as a unit, despite never having had any kind of formal training?”

What small bits of the fight they’d had with Krauser replayed in his head, followed by the realization that she was right about both Ghostface and the Trickster. Danny had even pointed it out once, asking if the ginger knew that the lights in his cell never went out…

“Danny is faster, stronger, and quieter in the dark. If he’d wanted to kill you in that closet, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” Amanda told him, without a hint of deception in her words. “Ji-Woon can control the trajectory of any object he throws, and with his background in throwing knives, he can turn something as simple as an uno card into a deadly weapon.”

Listening to her with a look of complete shock, Marcus quietly reached out and smacked one of her hands away when she started to scratch at several barely healed scabs on her thigh. He didn’t mean to stare at her, especially since she was in her underwear, but he couldn’t help but take note of the dozens of scars on her thighs. Some of them were obviously years old, but quite a few were noticeably fresher. Many looked like they’d been made with a thin, sharp knife, leaving precise lines behind. Others had been left by something much larger, and possibly serrated…

Making a face at him, she sat on her hands before continuing, “No one actually knows how old Caleb is. He’s like one of those giant desert turtles–”

“Tortoise,” Marcus whispered, not missing the way she was rhythmically tapping one foot.

“–He changes the number every time someone asks him, but he’s some kind of immortal. They’re still trying to figure out how and why, and if they can replicate it. And Freddy… Tell me, Doc? Have you ever seen a burn victim before?”

The ginger nodded slowly, grimacing at the memory. It had happened back when he was still an intern. He had briefly worked in the trauma wing of a hospital and one of the cases he got to witness first hand was a woman who had been set on fire by her ex boyfriend. He could still smell her burning flesh when they rolled her into the ER, and even now could vividly remember the way her skin had melted and folded over itself. She was somehow still alive when she first came in, but died shortly after from her injuries. He quit the same day.

“You’re aware of how the burns affect them, right?” Amanda continued. “How those kinds of injuries drastically change lives. How quickly it can leave someone unable to regain full function of their body, left in constant pain everyday.”

When he nodded again, she leaned in closer, eyes narrowed. “Then are you also aware that, for a surviving human being, Freddy has the worst burn scars in medical history? It’s a miracle that he’s even alive, let alone walking around without a cane or a wheelchair. Have you never considered how that’s even possible?”

“They… did that?” he questioned, although some part of him already knew that if Wesker’s company had somehow created the perfect ‘pain and mobility management’ injections, it would be on the market at a despicably high price.

“He showed up like that,” she stated. “We really don’t know what his deal is, but honestly? There’s something seriously off about him. Sometimes we hear him mumbling about people’s dreams and getting back into the dream world. He may look like a feeble old man, but he’s stronger and faster than he looks. And more importantly? He’s in here for a reason.

And for the Legion, they’re able to fight like a single person. They’ve had no training, not here or from before turning to a life of crime. But when they fight, it’s like watching a pack of wolves. The fact that Krauser was able to beat them so easily is… utterly terrifying.”

Letting out a thin laugh, he agreed, “He really is… Hey, I’m sure you all have figured this out by now, but… Krauser’s been bringing a knife in with him. I saw it on him when Danny attacked him, and then he nearly stabbed me in the face with it while hunting me through a fucking locker room a few hours later.”

Amanda’s eyebrows had slowly risen until she looked just as shocked as he had only minutes before. It looked like she hadn’t actually known, and the new knowledge was something incredibly valuable…

Nodding, she allowed, “You asked me if I was high… And, technically, I am.”

Before he could say anything, she held up a hand. “Not like that. I wasn’t kidding when I said they would never allow us to get high. If someone actually did smuggle any of us something, Wesker and co would stop at nothing to track down the person who did it and dispose of them.”

“Oh god,” Marcus whispered, instantly concerned for Ace and Ash. “But in the dorms–”

“In the dorms,” Amanda repeated pointedly. “None of us can get what you have in there unless one of you brings it to us, so they aren’t going to care about a little weed.”

That made sense, he supposed, and she continued before he could say anything.

“I… used to be a heroin addict. It seems like because of that, my body has been unable to properly bond with… whatever the hell they gave me. Because of that, I was considered a ‘failed’ test subject. Since I hadn’t become uncontrollable or mutated into something ‘less human’… I was left on floor one and given to Emory instead.”

Marcus’s face twisted, and she snorted. “Not like that either, idiot. But it’s nice that you care.”

He settled back into his seat, and Amanda explained, “Asa’s trying to develop some kind of drug along the lines of meth, but with the added benefit of turning the user into a nearly mindless, obedient soldier. A ‘guard dog’, if you will. It’s driven almost every single test subject into insanity and… severe addiction… until me. I still get the temporary boost in speed, strength, aggression, and even durability, but I keep my mental faculties… Unfortunately, I still get withdrawal symptoms after every injection.”

“Oooh, wow,” Marcus breathed, the puzzle finally fitting together. “I’m so sorry.”

Snorting, she shook her head. “Why? It’s not like you’re the one in here.”

“You don’t deserve to be treated like this,” he stated. “Or subjected to this kind of thing. It’s wrong.”

Smiling mirthlessly, Amanda asked, “Oh, Doc. Don’t tell me you believe anyone can change if just given the chance? You think even the most fucked up people just need a little push in the right direction to turn their lives around? Personally, I believe that not all people deserve the chance to change. Some people only deserve to die.”

Grimacing, he admitted, “That’s not… not exactly it. People will only change if they want to change. Most people just don’t care though. But still, that doesn’t mean that anyone should be used for experimental medical procedures without their fucking consent. It’s barbaric and wrong.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed, almost sounding amused. Smile falling, Amanda asked, “Have you read the Wraith’s file yet? Have you seen what they’ve done to him?”

“I… No, I haven’t yet,” the orderly admitted, looking away. “I’ll do that as soon as I get back to my dorm tonight.”

“Good… And then when you’re done, get online, bypass the company's shitty firewalls, and look up the story of a man named Philip Ojomo.”

~~

:Error: No results for search : Philip Ojomo

Marcus leaned back in his chair with a muffled groan. King and Eli were both sound asleep and Quentin was working overnight, but he was still up, trying and failing to find the information Amanda had been pointing him towards. It seemed hopeless, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He could use a break though… Glancing down, he leaned over and picked up the Wraith’s file again.

Patient profile :The Wraith
Philip Ojomo, Male, 24

Eyes widening, he realized with a start that Philip was only a year older than David. He was only three years his senior… Shaking his head, he returned his eyes to the page, slightly dismayed by the lack of information.

‘The Wraith must never be allowed out of direct camera sight, or physical sight of at least two staff members when removed from his cell. Able to disappear from sight, his camouflage ability is broken by strong electric shocks, blunt force trauma, and other physically discomforting sensations.

Incredibly strong and fast, the patient should be heavily sedated before attempting to administer medical procedures of any kind. Patient is easily provoked when cornered, favoring attempts to flee or hide over outright aggression. If left without a path to escape, the Wraith will tear apart any living people on site. To be considered extremely dangerous and aggressive towards staff.’

“I knew Grimes was setting me up to fucking die!” Marcus hissed, recalling his utter mishandling of staff that had led to the Birdcage incident.

Going back to reading, he found the rest of the information to be nothing more than a list of Philip’s usual routines, diet, and general behavior day to day. There was no real information about him or who he was. Frowning, he realized the file also neglected to explain how or where or even when the Wraith had been captured.

“Okay, now I need to know,” he whispered, pulling out his phone. Texting the one person he knew could and would help, he only had to wait three seconds for her to reply.

‘of course i can disable the firewall for you >:D
….
okay you just got an email open it and click on the link and ill do the rest’

Knowing better than to question Feng, he opened his email on the computer and did as instructed. Immediately, the screen turned blue. A few seconds passed before a pixel bunny hopped across the screen and it returned to normal. His phone buzzed several times, and he read several rapid fire text messages with a mortified blush.

‘my god man how much stardew valley do you play and how have you not added me yet
im on your STEAM now bitch
im leavin comments on your profile
how have you only 100% two games
bro
bro ew
bro what is that ew
wtf is this wtf is this
insert gasp here this is adorable
how tf am i just finding out you have a fox furs–’

Quickly shutting his phone screen, he ignored her commentary in favor of once more looking up Philip’s name.

His phone fell silent as the texts actually stopped coming in for a moment. Then, suddenly, one chillingly well written question lit up the screen.

‘Why are you looking for that?’

Blinking, he texted back, ‘Amanda told me to look him up… Why?’

‘There’s a reason the firewall blocks that search.’

Not particularly liking the non-answer, he ignored the text and sifted through the sparse results. It was like someone had gone through and scrubbed the web of any articles pertaining to Philip Ojomo…

Phone beginning to ring quietly, Marcus quickly grabbed it off the desk. Answering it with a hissed, “My roommates are sleeping! What?”

“Why are you looking for Philip Ojomo?” Feng shot back, not nearly as hushed. “And don’t tell me it’s because Amanda randomly told you to google him, ‘cause I know she’s not like that.”

Mulling over his options for a moment, he decided just to tell her the truth. Something told him she was already fully aware, being the head of the tech department… “I know about the experiments…”

There was a long pause from her end of the call, then, finally, “I like you, Marcus. I really don’t want to see you disappear… But if you’re not careful, and the wrong people find out that you’re poking around in this shit… You will disappear…”

“It kind of feels like someone’s been trying that since I showed up at Crotus Prenn,” he grumbled, before insisting, “I know the risks. Now I need to know what the hell Wesker’s trying so hard to cover up.”

He could almost hear the wheels turning in Feng’s head, before she begrudgingly muttered, “Most people ask me to get them around the firewall so they can look at weird porn or pirate Netflix from a different region. Why couldn’t you just be wanting to look at weird porn, or pirating stuff from a streaming site?”

“Feng, are you going to help me or not?” he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” she huffed, and he could hear the sound of her fingers flying over a keyboard. The computer pinged again, and he looked over to see another email. Before he could ask what that one was, Feng explained, “This file will only be accessible once. It’s encrypted, and once you exit out of it, the email will be deleted and scrubbed from your history. So… Don’t click out of it until you’re sure you’ve read everything you wanted to read.”

“Oh… Shit, thank you,” Marcus said, quickly opening up the email.

“Just… be careful,” Feng warned, before hanging up.

Left to himself again, the orderly opened the file to find a lengthy newspaper article detailing the arrest of Philip Ojomo, following multiple disappearances around the junkyard he was employed at. According to the article, police ended up finding over forty bodies, all bound, hidden, and then crushed inside the trunks of junk cars that had been stored at the facility, Autohaven Wreckers. Of all the staff there, Philip had been singled out as the main suspect after he was found covered in blood, with his former boss's skull and spine still clutched in his hands.

The trial had been incredibly short, almost rushed even. A poor immigrant who barely spoke any English and who reportedly had no living family, Ojomo had been assigned a public defender. Within three days of the trial starting, the judge accepted a plea deal, and Philip was sentenced to an undisclosed amount of time in a ‘mental health facility’.

The name of the ‘clinic’ in question was kept out of the report, but Marcus had a feeling he already knew. Scrolling down a bit more, he was surprised to see there was still more in the file Feng had sent him.

“The police report,” he whispered, eyebrows shooting up. Although he knew better than to ask, he really wanted to know how the hell she’d gotten ahold of that piece of information…

Unlike in the news article that claimed Philip had been found in a state of shock, the arrest report seemed to contradict that. Instead, it claimed he’d attacked first responders and had to be forcefully subdued. The report was oddly inconsistent, going back and forth on when exactly Philip had arrived and gotten the job at Autohaven, and even changing the estimated dates for the earliest murders that had taken place at the scrapyard.

“This is a load of horse shit,” Marcus seethed, starting to put two and two together. Although ripping a man’s skull and spine out was a bit of an extreme reaction, he was starting to get the feeling the death had been self defence.

Maybe Philip had caught his boss in the act of killing someone, or even found the bodies himself. Marcus couldn’t blame him for doing whatever it took to keep himself alive at that point, but the idea that he’d then been arrested and framed for the series of horrific murders was utterly disturbing.

“What did they do to you once they got you in here?” he questioned, rereading both the article and the police report. No matter how he tried to fit them together, there were too many inconsistencies and holes in the stories. The fact that he couldn’t even find that article online only hammered home his conclusion.

Someone decided Philip Ojomo needed to disappear before he could tell his side of the story to someone who would actually listen. If anyone tried to ask questions about him or dig up any information, they’d have to struggle past dead end after dead end just to find a hastily slapped together report painting the man as a vicious mass murderer who was better off behind bars.

Unfortunately, that was all the file contained, and after one final, thorough reading of both pieces, Marcus closed the window. As promised, the computer screen flickered once, and when it came back up the email was completely gone.

Shutting everything down for the night, he crawled into bed. Two things were certain. First, he needed to get the real story, and he needed it from the Wraith himself. An idea started to form, and he fell asleep with a renewed sense of determination. Thankfully, this was a plan he could put into action on his own, and without risking his life and limbs…

Secondly, he couldn’t help but agree a bit more with what Amanda had told him… Some people didn’t deserve to be left alive…
~~~~

Notes:

Hey, all! Sorry for the last minute announcement, but Whispers of Insanity will be on temporary hiatus until July 9th! Gummi has some big (fun!) irl stuff going on so we're putting this fic on hold until she's free again! In the meantime, I'll be trying to do twice a week updates on STG until the hiatus is over, and will be releasing a couple of MetalTango oneshots over the next couple of weeks. <3

Chapter 49: Train to Nowhere

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Eli witnesses an unexpected moment of kindness from a patient, and Marcus has a... typical day at Crotus Prenn

Eli shivered slightly as a blast of cold air cut through his thin sweater. He could have worn a slightly thicker jacket since he was helping with outdoor time, but he hadn’t expected the day to be so chilly and blustery.

None of the patients seemed to mind, however. The Legion had managed to keep their claim on the heating vent for the time being, and most of the others were busy just enjoying the fleeting sunshine and fresh air to give two shits about the cold. If the temperatures were too low, they’d have been stuck inside with nothing but a large window to stare longingly out of, so a minor chill was easy enough to deal with.

Eli didn’t mind being out in the yard with all the patients, despite knowing that under normal circumstances, he made a pretty decent target for harassment. That wasn’t something he really had to worry about, and admittedly, he took full advantage of that.

Standing between his Michael and PeePaw, he huddled slightly closer to the giant blond when another gust of wind cut right through him. “Good god, it’s colder than a witch’s tits.”

Blue eyes broke their endless staring into the distance to peer down at him for a moment, before Michael let out a quiet grunt. They both knew if he had his way, Eli would be tucked inside his shirt like a kangaroo joey.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, offering Michael a smile. His boyfriend’s head tilted slightly, long hair shifting with the movement, before he returned to staring at something across the yard.

A hand landed on Eli’s shoulder a moment later and his smile became a lot more forced. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his pseudo father-in-law… PeePaw had never gone out of his way to hurt him or mess with him. At least, he didn’t think he had? And blond Michael wasn’t reacting or trying to pull him away from the mangled hand resting on his shoulder, so that meant he didn’t need to be worried… Right?

Trying not to think about it, Eli looked around the yard again, only to notice the pretty Michael standing in a corner by himself. Ever so slowly, he seemed to be shuffling a bit further along the wall… But where was he going?

Following the most likely path of travel with his eyes, Eli almost burst out laughing when he figured out what was happening. Michael must have gotten cold, and was ever so slowly making his way towards the Legion’s vent. The group had fallen silent, and were watching him like a pack of meerkats watching a hyena in the distance. Should they run? Should they stand their ground? Was he actually coming for them, or was he just wandering around?

Shaking his head, Eli was more than content just to stand and watch, when something else caught his eye. At the far end of the yard, Jason had crouched down beside the wall and appeared to be playing with something on the ground. It was impossible to make out from where he was, but when the patient stood, it looked like he was cupping something in one hand.

Looking around cautiously, Jason nonchalantly started towards them. Nearly trampling the Legion as they were forced to vacate their favorite spot by the Shape, he only stopped when he was right in front of Michael and Eli.

Completely ignoring the nurse, he raised the almost fist he’d had by his hip to chest level before tilting it slightly.

Leaning forward a bit, Michael’s head canted to one side, then he nodded before settling back into his spot.

Undeniably curious, Eli rose onto his toes to try and see, but Jason’s hand was still too high and cupped in a way that he couldn’t peek over his fingers. Wondering if he’d found a cool rock or leaf or maybe even an insect, he asked, “Could I see too, please?”

Jason did a double take, almost as if he’d missed the nurse’s presence when he first walked up. Peering down at Eli, his uneven eyes narrowed suspiciously behind his paper mache mask.

“Oh, I’m not going to try and take it,” he promised, fighting the urge to hide slightly behind Michael. He and Jason had slowly formed a strange friendship of sorts, and although he’d never given Eli a reason to be in fear for his life when he was around, he still found the camp killer utterly terrifying

Trying to lessen the tension, he added, “You should probably be more worried about Michael trying to eat it than me taking it away.”

That got a small snort out of the blond, while Jason seemed to think it over. Finally, he nodded, lowering his hand to the nurse’s level so he could see… the ugliest baby bird he’d ever fucking seen. It looked like a misshapen testicle with a beak.

Eyebrows knitting together, Eli stared critically at the freshly hatched bird for a moment before looking back towards the wall where he’d seen Jason pick it up. It was difficult to tell from the distance, but it looked like there were a couple of early nests on the top of the wall.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, looking back at the bird in Jason’s palm. It was actually a good thing he’d found it first, as any of the Michael’s really would have most likely eaten it if they’d found it first. Several of the patients would have, actually, but he knew for certain the Myers’s would eat anything if the mood struck them. He swore up and down he’d once seen PeePaw eat the plastic spoon along with his soup at lunch…

“Hey…” the nurse said slowly, several things occurring to him at once. When Jason quickly pulled his hand back up to his chest, Eli did his best to reassure him, explaining, “I’m not going to take it away. But if you want the chick to survive and grow to the point you can let it go again, you’re going to need help taking care of it. And you’re going to have to make sure no one else sees it.”

Jason was starting to look angry, and Michael shifted beside him, shoulders tensing slightly as he picked up on the dangerous change in mood. The last thing Eli wanted was for a fight to break out, so he offered, “I can put the bird in your cell for you, that way it’ll still be there when you get back from lunch. I’ll have to tell Dwight so he can keep the cleaning crews out of your stuff for a little while, and Marcus, since he was studying to become a vet–”

At the mention of the ginger’s name, Jason perked up considerably. Nodding, he started to hand the bird over before pausing, a concerned frown behind his mask.

“I promise, I won’t let anything happen to it between now and when you get back from lunch,” Eli told him kindly. “But there’s no way you can keep a hold of it through lunch without the wrong person seeing it and taking it away.”

The chime signaling the end of outdoor time rang across the yard, and Jason looked over towards the door. It was clear he was having his doubts, but logic finally won out and he gently deposited the chick in Eli’s waiting hand.

God, it was such an ugly little creature. But Jason seemed entirely enamored with it and he’d promised to help him, so he kept his opinions to himself. Tucking the bird into his shirt pocket, he offered the patient an enthusiastic thumbs up.

With one last slightly doubtful glance, Jason turned and joined the line for the second floor patients. The hand slid off Eli’s shoulder as PeePaw also started towards the door, and within a few steps, both his sons were trailing after him.

Feeling the chick gently wiggling around in his pocket, Eli hurried inside himself. He didn’t have to accompany the patients to lunch, so he instead took the opportunity to hunt down one of the janitors he knew could help. Dwight would be back soon, but he wasn’t actually back yet. A few more days…

But in the meantime, Eli knew someone else who would gladly help.

“Hey, Quentin!” he called, spotting his friend as he rounded the corner.

Nearly diving into his cart of cleaning supplies, the janitor paused to rub his eyes before greeting, “Oh, hey Eli! What’s up?”

“I could use your help with something…” he admitted, before quickly explaining what had happened with Jason. Showing him the baby bird, he asked, “Do you have any paper towel tubes I can rip up for nesting material? And like… a shoebox or something? And have you seen Marcus?”

“Ahhh, I saw him on the bus so I know he’s here, but that’s about it,” Quentin recalled, already digging though his cart for the things Eli had requested. Dumping a bunch of disposable gloves into the bin, he passed the now empty box to the nurse. “That should work for Lil Ballsack McGee for now–”

“Ooh, we’re not calling him that,” he quickly argued. “I think Jason’s head would explode.”

“Tsk, fine. Nutsack Seth–”

“No, Q! Jason can name it if he wants too! God, you’re horrible at coming up with names.”

“I named Mr Bojangles the Tooth Man and no one argued!”

“That’s because no one wanted to get cursed!”

Bickering over the name a little while longer, the pair finally put together what they thought was a nice nesting box before starting for the second floor cells. Just as they were reaching the elevator, the doors opened and the orderly they’d been looking for stepped out.

Nearly running him over with the cart, Quentin wailed, “Waaaait, don’t leaaave!”

Screaming as he was forced to press himself into a corner of the elevator to avoid being run down, Marcus demanded, “What happened?!”

“Hi,” the janitor greeted, leaning on the cart as Eli hurried into the lift with them.

Still pinned in the corner, Marcus stared at him for a moment before returning in a slightly shaky voice, “Hi?”

“Oh good, we caught you,” Eli said sarcastically, before smacking at Quentin until he backed up enough for Marcus to step out of the corner. “Sorry, we were actually looking for you. Um, Jason found a baby bird–”

“Oh my god, did he eat it?” the ginger questioned, looking incredibly concerned.

“No, no, unlike Michael he likes animals… As friends.”

Blinking, Marcus asked hesitantly, “Which Michael?”

“All of them,” Eli muttered under his breath, before explaining, “I promised Jason I’d help him take care of it until it’s big enough to set free in the yard again. That… is something doable, right?”

Eyebrows rising, the orderly still nodded. “Yeah, I would think so, as long as there’s no internal damage from the fall and it can stay warm enough and well fed enough until its feathers start to fill out. How small is the–”

Pausing as he peered into the offered box, Marcus was silent for a full two minutes before whispering, “Oh my god, you’re just the cutest little baby ever. Hi, buddy. What’s your name?”

Exchanging a ‘what the fuck’ look with Quentin, Eli gently reiterated, “So… Will this work? Or did I just blow smoke up a three hundred pound mass murderer’s ass?”

Head snapping up, Marcus asked, “He weighs how much?”

“I have no idea, that’s not a part of my job,” Eli half lied. It had been forever since they'd weighed Jason and he couldn’t remember what the number was. “Point is, he’s a lot bigger than me, and he’s built like a brick shithouse.”

“Fair,” the ginger agreed, before gently taking the bird from the box. Inspecting it for a minute, he carefully replaced it before explaining, “I’m pretty sure this is a very early season crow. Probably from first time parents. Considering I can’t find any broken bones or lacerations, it’s still warm and moving around, and there’s no blood coming out of anywhere, as long as we can keep it fed I don’t see why not. Eli, can you get an eye dropper? Jason can use it to feed the chick some of the mush he gets at breakfast and dinner, and one of us can swing by during lunch to feed it, and maybe drop off extra food for throughout the night and time between meals. Baby birds eat a lot.”

“I knew there was a reason Mr. Tiddly Wink likes you,” Quentin cheered.

That time it was Marcus and Eli that exchanged a deeply concerned look, but before either of them could mention it, the janitor asked, “So where have you been all day? Third floor shit again?”

Expression darkening, the ginger looked down for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. Wordlessly lifting his badge, he showed them the brand spanking new 4 embossed under his employee photo.

“No fucking way?!” Eli shouted, shocked by the sight. Grabbing the badge, he felt it on all sides and along the edges, still having trouble believing it was real. “What– How– Why?!”

“Oooh, what?” Quentin gasped, staring at the badge with wide eyes. “That’s insane! Most people don’t get level four clearance until they've been here for at least a couple of years!”

“Jesus, are they trying to get you killed?” the nurse questioned, passing Marcus his badge back.

Sucking air through his teeth, the ginger offered a forced smile as he said, “Sometimes it really does feel like that. Since you both have floor four clearance already, I guess I can tell you about the tour.”

“Miss Jack didn’t scare you too bad, did she?” Quentin joked, only to be met with an absolutely unamused expression. His own smile faltering, he asked, “Oh god… Grimes?”

“Better,” Marcus whispered, eyes glittering with a manic light.

“Emory Sr.?” Eli asked, also whispering for some reason.

“Oh yeah,” the ginger confirmed. “It’s been one hell of a morning…”

~~

Marcus’s morning started like any other at the asylum. That is to say, terribly. From having to sit in a cold bus while pretending he didn’t notice David avoiding sitting near him to showing up and being told that even though Danny was getting out of solitary, he wouldn’t be on floor one or two at all that day.

Krauser was the one to tell him, and he looked a little too happy about it. Then, when the ginger tried to step past him to go pick up his actual assignment from Jack, the Lieutenant stopped him with one hand against his chest.

“Where the hell are you going, kid?” he asked, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“To find my department head,” Marcus answered stiffly. Although he was still afraid of the guard, he felt a much stronger sense of intense hatred every time he looked at the blond.

“Wrong,” Krauser snorted, turning on his heel. “Come with me.”

“Why?” he demanded, not budging an inch.

Pausing, the guard slowly turned back to look at him. “Don’t ask ‘why’, just fucking do as you’re told.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Marcus scoffed, defiantly standing his ground. “I know what happens to people who end up alone in a room with you.”

Perhaps that last jab was a bit too far, but before Krauser could close the gap between them, his life was saved by an entirely unexpected source.

Head poking out of a door further down the hall, Jonah called, “Hey! Marcus!”

“Oh god,” he whispered, a strange sense of apprehension twisting around his spine. Keeping a careful eye on Krauser, he quickly ducked around him so he could reach Jonah’s office. Casting one last venomous glance over his shoulder, he dipped into the small room. Taking his seat as the door closed behind him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety being there again so soon caused.

“So,” Jonah said, taking his seat on the other side of the desk. “Marcus… What we have here is what I like to call… Unique circumstances.”

“Is that… a good thing?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, it’s not,” the CIA agent stated matter of factly. “Not for me, not for you, not for anyone.”

“Oh my god, am I going to disappear?” the ginger whispered, terror clinging to him like a second skin. Was this because of his ongoing relationship with Ghostface? Or had Krauser somehow managed to convince the right people that Marcus and his friends were out to get him? They were… But there was no proof!

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that,” Jonah laughed, before quickly growing serious again. “You’re getting your level four clearance today…”

“Ah… No thank you?” Marcus answered, unsure if the whole thing was some kind of giant prank.

Eyebrows rising, the agent studied him for a moment before saying evenly, “I’m sorry, but this isn’t an optional promotion… Wesker cleared it himself despite protests from multiple higher ups, including your department head.”

Marcus completely understood why Jack would protest his rapid fire advance through the floors and totally agreed. He wasn’t ready for a higher clearance! It wasn’t just the amount of experience he had, or rather lack thereof, but the fact that he hadn’t even been at Crotus Prenn for a full year! He was still working through the patient files for the second and third floor, and now they wanted him to take on floor four as well?! Was Wesker trying to get him killed?!

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” he protested, shaking his head. “I can’t– There are people here with more time at the asylum that still don’t have level four clearance! People are going to think I’m the CEO’s side piece or something!”

“Oh, they already do,” Jonah confirmed sympathetically. “Especially since you broke up with Emory’s kid–”

“We didn’t break up?!” Marcus shouted, before sputtering, “We aren’t– We never– We’re not dating! We never were! We’re just friends! Technically I’m dating–”

“AH!” Jonah interrupted sharply, and the ginger snapped his jaws shut.

Right. Just like Leon, he couldn’t legally hear that…

Clearing his throat, the orderly asked, “Did Wesker happen to say… why?”

“He just said he thinks you’re ready for the responsibility, and the extra work load should help keep you out of trouble upstairs.”

Dick…

“Right… And is… David getting level four clearance too?”

“Ahhh, no,” Jonah confirmed. “I asked that myself, but Asa said he’s not ready, despite the amount of progress he’s made in the past few months.”

“I don’t think that’s very fair of him to hold his own son back like that,” Marcus argued defensively. He meant it too. Despite the strange idolization David held for his father, the orderly couldn’t help but feel the only reason he’d gone through so many positions within the asylum was due to Asa never actually letting him grow.

“Be that as it may, he and Wesker both agreed that of the two of you, you’re more capable of handling yourself around dangerous patients, and your background in patient care is a significant advantage,” he explained, piling up paperwork on the desk between them. “Honestly, kid? I’d love to know how you do it. You’ve managed to capture Ghostface’s attention without dying, survived being held hostage by the Trapper, and calmed the Wraith down during the worst panic attack that poor guy has had in months. You know… If you ever decide you’re done with the patient care life, the CIA could use someone like you.”

Too stunned to really know what to say, Marcus finally mumbled, “I’m just trying to pay off my student loans so I can go to veterinary school…”

“Fair,” Jonah chuckled. “Alright, you know the drill. Sign, sign, and sign some more. No speaking to anyone with a lower clearance level about what goes on on specific floors as it is all strictly need to know.”

“What isn’t around here?” he grumbled, scratching his name on page after page of nondisclosure and consent forms. Pretty sure he saw the phrase ‘in case of full body degloving’, he quickly flipped the page. There was obviously a story behind that, but he didn’t think he wanted to hear it.

As he was finishing up the stack of papers, Marcus asked, “Hey, if it’s not… above my clearance level or anything…”

Jonah quirked an eyebrow, curious as to what he was about to request.

“Is… Nic Cage here in the asylum? Like, as a patient, maybe? Or an actual staff member? Or another CIA liaison?”

Staring at him for a moment, Jonah burst out laughing. Wiping a tear from his eye, he cackled, “You got me with that one! That’s funny.”

“I’m entirely serious,” Marcus deadpanned, not at all amused.

Slowly getting ahold of himself, Jonah cleared his throat before asking, “Wait, seriously? Nicholas Cage? The actor?”

“Yes!” he insisted. “He keeps popping up wearing other people’s badges and uniforms!”

Looking more bemused than anything, Jonah just shook his head. “Sorry, kid. I got nothing on that front.”

Sighing as he began gathering up all the paperwork, Marcus pushed himself back from the desk. “Ahh, thanks anyway. I guess I’m meeting with… Jack? For the tour?”

Sucking air through his teeth, Jonah said, “I hate giving people bad news…”

“Please tell me it’s not Krauser,” Marcus whispered. He wouldn’t survive the tour, much less make it to his first shift if it was the Lieutenant showing him around…

“Fuck no!” Jonah scoffed. “First off, only department heads are supposed to give floor tours. Secondly, he doesn’t know the patients like the long term staff so he wouldn’t be able to give you any tips for working around them.”

“Oh thank god,” he muttered, before reaching for the door.

“Marcus,” the agent called, and he paused. “Just a word of advice for when you’re down there… Watch your back. Floor four is a lot different than anything you’ve faced before.”

Recalling a very similar sentiment about floor three, he offered a grim smile. “Thanks, Jonah. I appreciate it.”

Opening the door, he nearly slammed it closed again when he was met with a pair of reflective green eyes.

Asa looked just as irritated by his continued existence as Krauser had earlier, but he was professional enough not to go out of his way to threaten him over it. Without so much as a cold ‘follow me’, he turned on his heel and started down the hall towards the office where they made badges.

“At least it’s not Grimes,” Marcus muttered, hurrying after him. At least, he hoped it wouldn’t be. Last time, Asa had simply made him and David their new badges before passing them off to Talbot for the tour.

Silently accepting his latest updated badge, he followed Asa to the elevators, and to his unease, inside. It was just the two of them, and in the brief silence that followed the doors closing, Marcus swore he could feel the man looking him up and down.

Shifting ever so slightly, he was rather dismayed to see that Asa was indeed staring at him. Trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt, Marcus turned to face him, unsure if he should say anything or not.

With the same eerily soft tone as he usually used, Asa asked, “Are you not going to make sure your badge works?”

Blinking dumbly, Marcus realized they were still stationary. Neither of the previous times he’d been given a new floor clearance had he been instructed to actually use his new badge on the way down. He just assumed that whoever made it was confident it would work, and since he’d never had an issue with it before, he’d never questioned it.

Trying not to let his embarrassment show, Marcus shuffled over to the panel of buttons and scanned his badge. When floors two through four all lit up, he quickly pressed the number 4, and the elevator jerked into motion.

“The cells are not in a single block on this level, for safety reasons,” Asa said, leading the way out of the elevator.

Looking around, Marcus was slightly surprised to find them in a relatively spacious, well lit room. There were cameras in all four corners, and a heavy metal door blocking the only way in or out, besides the elevator.

“You’ll need your badge to get to and from the elevator,” his tour guide continued. “The patients on floor four are… significantly less human than floors three through one. Any of them escaping would have catastrophic effects.”

Not particularly liking the way he referred to them as being ‘less human’, Marcus was about to smart off about it when Asa turned to him with a deadly look in his eyes.

“For your sake, remain silent.”

Marcus swallowed his complaint, looking away slightly as the man took a step towards him.

“Don’t expect to continue getting lucky if you fuck up down here,” was all he said, before brushing past him to badge through the heavy metal door. Four guards waited on the other side, all with heavier protective gear and what looked like electrified batons on their belts.

Although none of them spoke, all of them watched Marcus pass by with looks ranging from mistrust, to doubt. Even they knew he didn’t belong down there…

Unlike the first three floors, even the office doors were much heavier duty, requiring badges to get into any area, including the janitorial closets. After being shown the dumbwaiter where the patients food would be sent down and dirty trays sent back up, Asa told him, “Not all the patients receive meals, as they either do not, or are incapable of eating.”

Before Marcus could ask if they had feeding tubes or other methods of receiving nutrients, he was led into a wide hallway. It looked a lot like the first floor cellblock, which was effectively just a long hallway full of cells. Unlike on the first floor, however, the cells were much more spaced out, and all of them had much larger, heavy duty observation windows. A turn at the end of the hall reminded him of Asa’s warning that all the patients weren’t in the same cellblock, and he wondered if that led to the rest of them. Shit, he wasn’t even sure how many there were…

“This is the Nurse,” Asa told him, stopping at the first cell. “She does not eat, which is why there is no slot in the door. Because of that, you should never have a reason to open her cell or attempt to interact with her.”

Marcus did a double take when he saw the woman inside the cell. Unlike the other inmates, she wasn’t wearing the usual shirt and pants. She’d been given a skirt, which had slowly become tattered and ragged at the bottom, but that wasn’t what made him stop and stare. It wasn’t even because of the filthy pillow case pulled tightly over her head, or the gnarled, claw-like curl and twitch of fingers every so often… It was the fact that she was floating a good seven inches off the floor.

Mouth opening and closing several times, he finally managed to ask, “Do pants… interfere with… with the levitating?”

Asa blinked once, before slowly turning to stare at him incredulously. After a moment of silence in which Marcus was positive the man was considering throwing him down an elevator shaft, he said simply, “No…”

With that, he turned and started down the hall to the next cell. Once again, it had a heavy metal door with a larger observation window, but no slot for a food tray. Stopping in front of the door, Marcus squinted, unsure what the hell he was actually seeing for a moment.

The patient was very large, like Jason or Evan, but his back was to them, making it difficult to see his face. Still, the back of his head and overall appearance told a very… strange story. All the patient’s exposed skin was a rotten shade of green. Patches seemed to be missing here and there, exposing muscle and bone. The straps of some kind of mask pressed tightly into the flesh of his skull, leaving oozing pus and fluid to leak out from underneath. The rest of his clothes were sopping wet, leaving them clinging to his skin in patches while a puddle slowly formed on the floor beneath his bare feet.

“Is… is that a zombie?” Marcus asked quietly, and to his horror, Asa nodded curtly.

“This is… also Jason. Known as the Crystal Lake Slasher. I’m sure you’ve met his younger brother upstairs.”

Head snapping around to stare at Asa, Marcus looked back at the zombie before murmuring, “Soggy Jason…”

When he turned back to the cell, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he was met with the cold stare of one milky eye. They might’ve been blue once upon a time but rot and mold had settled in, leaving the man with a dead fish stare. Unlike the paper mache mask the Jason he knew upstairs wore, this one wore a real one, judging how the plastic was slightly melted into his skin. The bottom of the mask was heavily cracked, revealing a rotten jaw and the glimpse of blackened teeth.

The orderly felt pinned in place, an insect under a microscope as ‘Soggy’ Jason took him in, most likely sizing him up to eat his brains. He was staring too hard at his flaming red head for Marcus’s comfort.

He was finally knocked out of his deer in headlights state when Asa cleared his throat. The man had already moved onto the next cell and was looking back at Marcus like he was a worm. Hell, he probably looked at worms with more kindness than he did with him. “You’ll have more time to gawk at him when you start your shift.”

“I- I thought Pamela Voorhees only had one child,” Marcus stammered, forcing himself not to look back as he shuffled closer. “That’s what the file on upstairs Jason said–”

“Obviously we’re not going to be sharing classified information with staff that aren’t cleared to have it,” Asa interrupted. “We’re not entirely sure if they were twins, or if one was born and died before the other, but DNA testing proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that they’re offspring of the same set of parents. Both answer to the name ‘Jason’, however. Unlike the man upstairs or the trio of Michael’s, this one is undeniably inhuman, and therefore is contained away from prying eyes. It would be most unfortunate if rumors about his appearance or very existence were to start spreading…”

There was an unspoken ‘do you understand?’ at the end of that, and Marcus swallowed thickly. A thud from the cell door they’d stopped in front of made him jump, and he quickly looked over. Peering suspiciously through the observation window when he didn’t see anyone at eye level, he jumped again when a small figure jumped up to smack the glass with a tiny fist.

Squinting, he asked, “Is that a doll?”

“Fuck you, asshole!” the unfortunately ginger doll screamed, flipping him off with both hands. “I’m a real boy!”

“The Good Guy,” Asa deadpanned, already walking away. “He’s a combination of human and inanimate object. A foul mouthed, violent, vile creature, he still has the strength of a full grown man. Do not underestimate him because of his size.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t eat,” Marcus asked, glancing back at the sound of more furious screaming from inside the cell.

“No,” came the short answer, and they rounded the corner to a short hallway. Another heavy metal door blocked their way, and Asa badged them through to another group of cells. The first door was built very much like the previous three, but carved into the metal, glass, and even the wall around it were symbols and sigils Marcus had never seen before.

“You may look inside, but if she comes out, do not look her in the eyes,” Asa warned, and the orderly shot him a questioning look. Simply directed to look through the glass, he hesitantly did as instructed.

The cell was entirely bare, save for a small box television set squarely against the back wall, and more of the same ancient symbols along the walls and ceiling. The TV screen was full of flickering static, but the longer Marcus stared, the more he seemed to be able to see through the wall of gray and white. A mutilated horse, a fly, a mirror, a woman, and finally a decrepit well. It was a strange, uncomfortable thing to watch, but he found it difficult to look away, especially when the static cleared and the well suddenly came into sharp focus.

The screen flickered, jumping several frames at a time as a figure began pulling itself out over the rim of the well. Long black hair hung in front of her face, obscuring her features and standing out in stark contrast to the white nightgown she wore. Moving closer and closer to the screen with every jump of the frame, Marcus jumped backwards with a startled yelp when she suddenly began to pull herself out of the TV and into the cell itself.

“The Onryō is what we can only logically conclude to be a ghost,” Asa explained, almost sounding disgusted. “She seems to have the ability to teleport herself through televisions and even cameras. The sigils around her bind her to the single television within, although she is still incredibly deadly without access to her full powers.”

“What the fuck…” Marcus whispered, able to feel the woman staring at him through the glass. Glancing slightly towards her again, he flinched when Asa grabbed his shoulder.

“Do not look her in the eyes… unless you’d like to have a heart attack,” he murmured, giving his shoulder a warning squeeze before letting go. Moving on to the next cell, he paused for a moment before continuing without saying anything about it.

Looking into the cell as they passed, Marcus frowned. It was entirely empty. No bed, no cot, no sigils either, thankfully… Hiking a thumb over his shoulder as they passed, he questioned, “Who goes in here?”

“It’s currently downstairs for a medical check,” Asa answered cryptically, before stopping at the third and final cell in that hall. “These are the Twins. Never open or attempt to enter their cell alone, or without the use of sedative gas first.”

Noticing the tray slot, he didn’t need to ask if they needed to be fed or not. Looking into the cell, he was honestly expecting to see two separate people inside. He was half right.

A woman was sitting on a small cot along the back wall, eyes glazed as she stared into the corner with the same look of boredom that plagued understimulated zoo animals. From the side of her chest, an incredibly malformed, childlike figure emerged. Noticing them standing outside the cell, the smaller of the two hissed, and the woman shifted, eyes focusing sharply as a sneer twisted her lips at the sight.

“Oh…” was all Marcus could manage, more shocked that the little one was actually alive and able to move around.

He could do more than that, the ginger realized, when he crawled out of his sister's chest cavity. Dropping to the ground, he landed on both feet, another hiss leaving him as he swayed every so slightly back and forth. Then, with a scream, he launched himself at the glass.

Jerking backwards, Marcus slapped a hand over his chest. It felt like his heart was trying to break through his ribs with as hard as it was beating! Watching the smaller twin claw and bite at the glass for a moment before losing his grip and dropping back to the floor, he understood why they had to be sedated first.

Although his face did nothing to betray what he might be thinking, there was a cruel glitter in Asa’s eyes when Marcus looked over at him. Turning, he started for another thick door at the end of the hall. “This way. There’s one more patient on this floor.”

“Only one?” he questioned, looking back at the block of three cells.

“This one has to be kept entirely isolated,” Asa explained, badging through the final door. Instead of leading into a hallway, it led into a very large square room. In the center of the room was a cell very similar to the birdcage, but instead of being made entirely of heavy glass, it was made of a combination of glass panels and incredibly thick metal blocks.

Signs hung on every wall of the room, and on the exterior of the cell, warning in bright yellow and black, CAUTION: EXTREME BIOHAZARD AREA. Other signs warned not to open or even move past a bright red line painted around the cell without full hazmat gear. It was that line Asa stepped up to, and Marcus followed with a deep sense of apprehension.

A woman sat inside the cell, gaze sharp despite one eye being covered in warped, melted flesh. It wasn’t just her eye, but the entire side of her face that appeared to be stuck in a state of necrosis. Patches along her arms, neck, chest, and legs were also afflicted by the terrible disease, and it appeared that one of her toes was missing…

Unlike the rest of the patients thus far, she was the only one not wearing any form of ‘asylum clothes’. Instead, she wore what looked like a ceremonial dress from some long forgotten age. If Marcus had to guess, no one was going to risk trying to take it off of her, even under sedation, and she had enough will left not to be coerced or bribed into changing of her own volition.

“The Plague is highly toxic, although skin to skin contact isn’t enough to transmit the disease she carries,” Asa told him. “The toxin is transmitted through bodily fluids. Primarily through projectile vomiting. The bile is slightly acidic in nature, and contact with it after any amount of time exposed to open air will still lead to infection.”

“She should be in a hospital,” Marcus said quietly. It just slipped out without him really meaning to say it, and he only realized it because of the shark look he got from Emory Sr. Feeling a chill run down his spine, he swallowed nervously before doubling down on his comment. “What exactly did she do to deserve getting locked up in a hellhole like this? She deserves proper treatment. Medical intervention. Some kind of human comfort! She doesn’t belong down here with a literal zombie, a killer doll, and a ghost that gives people fucking heart attacks!”

His voice had risen as he’d continued, and before he knew it, he was almost shouting. Unlike with Grimes, when Asa took a step towards him Marcus took a quick step back. Head tilting slightly, the man’s eyes flashed a bug-like reflective green as he pinned the ginger with a furious gaze.

“Compassion will only lead to your death,” Asa warned, voice threatening. “Compassion will get those around you killed. Stepping out of line. Digging into things you have no business asking about. Dragging down those around you because you’re incapable of handling the reality of life in this place… Remember what I told you, Marcus…”

He did… Vividly. He still had nightmares about it from time to time. The memory sent a fresh wave of guilt through him. He’d never had any intention of hurting David or letting him get hurt because of something he’d done. Yet, he had done both…

Casting one last look back at Plague as Asa led him from the room, Marcus promised himself that he would make things right one way or the other. And he’d start by apologizing to his best friend.

~

“God, I’m so lucky,” Quentin sighed. “Dwight gave me the tour when I got my fourth floor clearance. Chucky told me to choke on my mop handle…”

“Chucky?” Marcus questioned, and Eli clarified, “The Good Guy. His name’s Chucky.”

“Ah…”

“But, hey, it’s great to hear you’re trying to make things right between you and David,” the nurse encouraged. “It’s weird without him around.”

“Yeah, it’s like you two got divorced and you got sole custody of the rest of us,” Quentin lamented.

“Oh my fucking god,” Marcus whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. Sighing, he asked sincerely, “Look, if you happen to see him, can you please tell him I’d like to speak with him… If he’s comfortable talking to me again after… everything?”

“Of course,” Eli promised, smiling warmly. “But if you end up having to fight the Legion for him, I’m putting my money on them.”

“I’ll offer Anti-Gingivitis Greg a hard boiled egg to sway things in your favor,” Quentin offered, ignoring the ginger frantically shaking his head. “Boiled eggs are his favorite.”

Looking at Eli for help, all Marcus got was a shrug. “Well, those are his favorite. And, honestly? You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
~~~~

Chapter 50: Before Crotus Prenn: Rotten Roots

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

David and Marcus are going to make up, even if it kills them, and Leon overhears hears something he wishes he hadn't...

Marcus had a lot on his mind, but not all of it was dire for once. His last two shifts had been on floors two and three, allowing him to keep an eye on Jason and his baby bird, and avoid the fourth floor for a little while longer. He still wasn’t sure who was supposed to go in the empty cell Asa had skipped over, but for the time being, he didn’t care.

The Knight, the newest patient on the second floor, was proving to be one of the least problematic patients in Crotus Prenn. Tarhos, as he was called, never spoke, barely moved if he wasn’t eating or being prodded out of his cell to go outside, and barely seemed aware that he was even being spoken to most times. Honestly the only reason he was even on the second floor instead of the first was due to his sheer size.

The biggest issue Marcus was currently facing was David. Or rather, the lack of David. He’d tried approaching him several times, but any time he called out to him to get his attention, the other orderly would scurry off and vanish before he could get over to where he’d last seen him. He’d considered trying to sneak up on him so he couldn’t run away, but he didn’t want to risk jump-scaring a punch out him.

Shuffling into the break room, he spotted David just as he was sitting down to eat a sandwich. Hoping that he’d be too invested in his food to abandon it, Marcus offered a weak smile and a wave as he called out, “Hey, David!”

The orderly could see the way he tensed up immediately, sandwich only halfway unwrapped when he paused. Before Marcus could take another step towards him, David quickly rewrapped the sandwich and stood up, chair screeching horribly from the force. Head down and barely mumbling a greeting, he left the break room, scooting past Marcus as if he had the plague.

Fingers curling into his palm, he let his hand drop with a sigh. Well, that had gone about as well as he’d expected. Before he could shuffle dejectedly to a nearby table to force down his own lunch, a hand grabbed his shoulder and he jumped.

“Marcus,” Leon greeted tensely. “Got a moment? Great. Let’s talk.”

“Wait, what? My lunch!” he cried, but was practically dragged out of the room anyway.

As the door swung closed behind them, someone whispered, “Oh my god, that’s why Wesker is so up the ginger guy’s ass! There’s something going on between him and the Captain!”

Out in the hall, Leon pulled Marcus along until they reached the privacy of his office. Not bothering to take a seat for once, the first words out of the blonds mouth were, “You’ve got to talk to David.”

“Wh- Huh?!” he demanded, more confused than anything. “I’ve been trying–”

“The past two weeks have been getting weird,” Leon complained, sounding more frazzled than angry. “He just– He just sits there! Staring into space! Sometimes he sighs like a depressed dog in an old western movie!”

“Leon, what the fuck–”

“It’s like living with a widow who’s waiting for her sailor husband to come back from a doomed voyage on the sea,” he continued. “Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and he’s still just sitting there! Staring! Menacingly! Did you know his eyes glow in the dark? Do you know how scary it is to wake up to that at two in the morning?!”

Marcus did, as before their big fight David regularly spent the night in his dorm room. It looked like Leon was finally pausing to breathe, so he quickly interjected, “I know! I’ve been trying to talk to him, even just to apologize for my part in everything, but he runs off as soon as he sees me coming! And I can’t just yell across the asylum that I’m sorry I bought us laced edibles and called his dad a serial killer–”

“Jesus Christ, Marcus!” Leon nearly shouted. Rubbing a hand over his face, he let out a deep breath before saying more calmly, “Look, I don’t really like Asa either… But calling someone’s father a serial killer is…”

“Fucked up? Horrible? Cruel?” Marcus finished for him. “Trust me, I know! Even if it doesn’t fix things… I just want to tell him I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did, I just…”

Expression becoming more sympathetic, Leon sighed. “Look… Don’t beat yourself up too much. People say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment-”

“I meant it though,” Marcus interrupted, wincing.

Blinking several times, Leon said slowly, “Well… David did wonder the same thing… What exactly did you guys say to one another?”

“His dad’s a serial killer and we’re all only friends with him because everyone else is too afraid of his psycho father to get anywhere near him…” the ginger whispered, feeling like every word was trying to strangle him from the inside. “I also told him we only hang out with him out of pity, and that he’s uneducated, and going to die a virgin…”

The way Leon was staring at him only made him feel worse, and he asked, “Should I– Should I even try to apologize? I said such horrible stuff to him… I don’t know how I can even try to justify asking him to forgive me, but it feels wrong to just… never apologize. Even if we can’t mend things.”

Considering things for a moment, Leon asked, “Do you remember what he said to you?”

Looking down, Marcus nodded slightly. “Um, yeah, parts of it. He told me… I’m at rock bottom here. I had a life outside of this place and I’m throwing it all away for a guy I can’t even legally be with. Someone who’s going to live out the rest of his probably short life in these walls, and die in here, when I could easily just… leave. I could move back in with my mom. Get another job, pay off my remaining student loans, go back to school and become the vet I’ve always wanted to be…”

“And do you… agree with that?” the blond asked softly.

“I… don’t know,” he lied past the lump in his throat. “I just know he wasn’t… wrong. Not about everything he said.”

“Alright, you two definitely need to sit down and talk this out,” Leon decided, patting him on the shoulder.

Startled, Marcus started to argue, “But he won’t let me get close enough to try! And this isn’t a conversation we can just have in the middle of work!”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, a smile on his face. “I have a plan.”

~~

“...God, I’m such a coward.”

“Yeah, you are,” Frank agreed, nodding tiredly as he dealt a handful of UNO cards to David and the rest of the Legion.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Susie asked, sneaking a slice of cheese off his almost untouched sandwich before he could answer.

The orderly made a face, attention turned towards Frank, who was sorting out his own UNO cards. “Aren’t you guys supposed to encourage me or something? Tell me that I’m right and he’s wrong? Isn’t that what friends do?”

“That’s what fake friends do.” Julie said with a shake of her head, setting down the first card of the game. “Real friends tell you that you need to man up and talk to him already.”

“Wait, but don’t you guys hate Marcus?”

“We do, but we’ve been listening to you bitch about him for two weeks now,” Joey snorted, elbowing Susie away when she tried to sneak a peek at his cards. “It was funny at first but now we feel like kids of divorce and you got custody of us.”

“I guess he’s kind of growing on us,” Frank allowed, slapping down a draw four right off the bat. “Like mold in the shower. Or mold on your clothes. Or mold on cheese.”

Susie paused to glared at the tattooed man before spitting out the chewed up, half eaten cheese back onto David’s untouched sandwich and snatching his chips instead.

“I can’t believe he risked his life a second time against that maniac,” Julie muttered, glancing at the door where ‘the maniac’ in question was standing like a gargoyle. Wrinkling her nose, she lowered her voice slightly as she added, “What exactly was the point of that, anyway? You guys didn’t even try to kill him.”

Scooping up his own cards, David set down another draw draw four, much to Joey’s dismay. “First of all, he’s like the size of a gorilla and his hands are as big as my face. Second of all, we can’t do that, it’ll get us in a lot of trouble.” Voice shrinking to a mumble, he added, “Plus, that’s wrong and bad.”

“So is this shit,” Susie huffed as she was forced to draw a card herself. “So, are you going to talk to Doc or not?”

“I dunno… we both said a lot of hurtful things to each other…”

“What exactly did you say?” Freddy butted in, leaning over the back of Julie’s chair. “Everyone’s been talking about how you two broke up ‘cause his dick couldn’t perform. She has all yellows, by the way.”

“Mind your business,” David snapped as Julie turned around and gave the other patient a purple nurple. “Why are you always so nosy? I don’t go around telling people that you like to shove ice cubes up your ass!”

The Legion all erupted into disgusted booing while Freddy couldn’t get a retort out since Julie still had a grasp on his nipple. At that rate, she was going to twist it off.

Shrinking in his seat, the orderly mumbled, “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I haven’t- the vibes haven’t been great. I don’t know what came over me.”

Snickering as Freddy was finally allowed to scurry away to lick his wounded ego, Frank leveled David with an almost impressed gaze. “Don’t apologize, that was fucking funny. Now, in all seriousness, why don’t you take some of that pent up anger and let it out on the one guy who deserves it?”

Glancing past the orderly as the UNO game continued, he paled slightly. Clearing his throat, he clarified, “Not by almost bashing his head in with a computer though. Like, verbally. Get out what you need to get out so you can start feeling better. With words. Just words…”

From his position on the couch, Ghostface narrowed his eyes slightly, but broke off the deadly warning look he’d been pinning the Legion leader with.

“But he doesn’t deserve it, though,” David argued. “He didn’t- he said some hurtful things, sure, but so did I. Plus, I’ve been avoiding him for a while now and I don’t know if he even still wants to be my friend anymore. I haven’t talked to the others either because I don’t want them to pick a side.”

’And not pick mine.’ was unspoken but still hung in the air loud and clear.

Scrunching up his nose, he set down a red two. “I’ll talk to him when I’m ready… whenever that is… to either apologize or to officially end our friendship… Uno, by the way.”

Playing an unsurprising yellow two on top of David’s red one, Julie pointed out, “You said it yourself, he’s been trying to at least get your attention. Stop running away or you’ll never find out what it is he actually wants.”

The orderly didn’t answer, only letting out a sad sigh, much like a forlorn widow hoping that her husband would return from war.

“You sigh more than Caleb,” Joey chuckled, pulling a face as Frank played a skip card. Tucking his cards into his hand a bit more tightly when Susie tried to peek at them again, he continued more seriously, “If you want to talk to him on your terms, we can always grab him during yard time and sit on him to make sure he doesn’t try to run away.”

Ironic since it had consistently been the other way around…

Shaking his head, David set down another plus four. “Thanks but no thanks. I’ll figure it out eventually. At least I know I can still depend on you guys to act the same. Uno out.”

“Figure it out soon,” Frank groaned, tossing his cards onto the table, then shaking out the extra cards he had up his sleeve. “Your pity party has me so distracted, I forgot to cheat.”

~

David’s conversation with the Legion played over and over in his head for the rest of his shift, and the bus ride back to the dorms. He hadn’t seen Marcus again, and he was starting to worry that maybe now the ginger was avoiding him instead.

Pulling his keys out of his bag, he let out his millionth sigh of the day as he unlocked his door and stepped into the dark room. Leon wouldn’t be back for at least another hour so he had no qualms tossing his bag to the side and flipping the light switch on. Time for a hot shower and crying session where he pretended that he and Marcus had made up and everything was all rainbows and unicorns.

When he turned towards his bed at the back of the room, however, he was met with a shocking sight. His roommate seemed to have gotten off shift earlier than usual and had brought a guest with him.

Waving awkwardly, Marcus mumbled, “Heey…” while Leon started to explain, “So, I understand–”

David turned back towards the door with a whine, fumbling for the doorknob as he tried to escape once more. That time, however, he only managed to get a foot out of the threshold before strong arms were wrapping around his waist and dragging him back inside.

“Oh no you don’t! No more waking up to you staring at me in the middle of the night!” Leon chastised, carrying him right back into the room. Dropping him on the bed, he quickly turned and sprinted for the door. Almost eating shit when he tripped over the corner of his own mattress on the way, he managed to make it out of the dorm before David could follow, slamming the door closed behind him. His muffled voice, however, could still be heard from the other side, “Talk it out like adults! I’m not letting you out until you guys kiss and make up!”

Looking almost as panicked as David felt, Marcus quickly offered, “You don’t actually have to kiss me. Also, sorry about Leon. And this. And everything. I know I said some… horrible, horrible things to you, and I’m so sorry.”

David didn’t say a word, having pushed himself into the corner of the bed like a scared animal. He looked like he was about to cry but he didn’t tell the ginger to leave, so Marcus took that as his cue to continue.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, and if you don’t, I really won’t blame you, but I wanted to tell you, I didn’t mean what I said about you. Any of it. You’re a great guy, and you deserve to have the friends you do. Everyone really misses having you hanging out with them, and I’m pretty sure I heard Quentin asking Satan’s Abortion to give you prophetic dreams about spending the night in our dorm again. I’m not sure on that one. But anyway… I’m also sorry about what I said about your dad. He and I… don’t get along. At all. But it was still wrong of me to say the things I did, especially while we were both tripping and angry and…”

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before forcing himself to actually meet David’s eyes. “I miss hanging out with you. You’re my best friend, and I honestly don’t think I’d have made it this long at Crotus Prenn without you.”

After a prolonged moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, Marcus offered awkwardly, “I– I should probably go now. Um, sorry about ambushing you. Please don’t kick Leon out, this wasn’t his fault.”

Before he could get up, David blurted out, “Wait! I- I’m sorry… too…”

Freezing in place for a moment, the ginger slowly settled back into place at the other end of the bed.

Tugging at the sleeve of his cardigan, David continued, “I’m sorry I said you were a nobody, and that you’re delusional… and that I tried to smash your face in with a laptop. You’re the first real friend I’ve ever had in the asylum, and I feel like I’ve grown as a person because of you. You’re kind without being fake. You don’t patronize me when I get something right at work, you’re smart, and you’re good to the patients even when they’ve tried to kill you.”

Marcus was starting to look a bit calmer, having clearly not been expecting things to go so well. His expression still fell slightly with David’s next words. “But I’m not sorry about what I said about you and Ghostface.”

Taking a deep breath, he explained, “I know I’ve said before that I don’t have a problem with you guy’s relationship, but I lied. I only said that before because I was afraid that if I told you how I really feel, you’d stop being friends with me. I truly don’t think this can possibly end well for you. But you were so insistent about trying to make it work with him, I just didn’t know what else to say besides agreeing with you. I care about you so much… but sometimes it really feels like you don’t even care about yourself.”

It took Marcus a minute to answer, but when he did, he didn’t sound angry. “David, you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t stop being your friend just because you don’t like me being with Danny… Although, I get it. I understand why you don’t like it, and I respect your feelings on the matter. I know he’s not a good person, and I know there’s always a chance he stabs me in the back… But even if I wanted to, I’m in too deep to just leave now. I lost my chance to get out when I rejected Jack’s offer to transfer me the first time Ghostface showed interest in me. And… even if I could… I still wouldn’t.”

“I know…” David agreed. “I know all of that, but you’ve continued to feed into his delusions, and I’m afraid that it’s going to reach a point where he isn’t happy with pretending anymore and kills you in some fucked up effort to keep you for himself forever. This place… Crotus Prenn changes people.”

Marcus nodded, unable to argue with his concerns. Grimacing, he pointed out in a genuinely worried voice, “I know I shouldn’t have said what I did about your dad, and I understand if you… take this with a grain of salt. But I don’t like the way he treats you. I’ve seen how capable and smart you are, but it seriously feels like he’s holding you back. On purpose. Like, he’s sheltering you and keeping you from actually becoming your own person and is instead molding you into what he wants you to be.”

“He protects me.” David shot back defensively.

“There’s a point when protecting someone becomes the very thing that’s hurting them,” he reasoned gently. “I know it sounds harsh, especially coming from me, but do you realize how hypocritical you sound right now? You’re criticizing me for my relationship with Ghostface while failing to see how damaging and unhealthy your relationship with your dad is.”

“You don’t understand,” the brunet huffed. “You don’t know what–”

“I know I don’t,” Marcus interjected calmly. Scooting a bit closer, he held out a hand in a placating gesture as he explained, “I’m just trying to show you how you’re coming across to me right now. You know my reasons for staying with Ghostface, even though you don’t agree with them. I understand that whatever you guys' relationship is, it’s complicated. But that’s all I can really see from here.”

“You don’t get it,” David continued to echo, crossing his arms over his chest as if they could protect him from Marcus’ truthful words. “You don’t- he’s the only person I’ve got left and I can’t- he raised me and I don’t-”

Swallowing hard, he finally confessed, “I did something really bad and he covered for me.”

Expression becoming slightly wary, Marcus asked slowly, “What… what happened?”

“... Do you know the rumors about me getting some guy fired?” David whispered, eyes haunted.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Well… it was back when I was nineteen and still trying to figure out my role at the asylum…”

~~

“Heeeey, buddy! Whatcha’ doing? I thought we were going to have lunch together today?”

The unwelcome voice intruded into David’s thoughts, snapping him back to reality as he munched on his cup noodles. “Wha-?”

It was Scott, a brand new addition to the janitorial staff, and his self proclaimed ‘best friend’ in the asylum. David may not know a lot about how ‘best friends’ were supposed to interact, but he knew they didn’t try to forcefully insert themselves into every facet and aspect of the other's life.

The issues had started on his very first day. Grimes had given Scott the tour before passing him off to his department head with a firm pat on the back and a cheerful, “Welcome to the team! Good luck!” His wide eyed awe filled expression made it clear that he bought into the propaganda. From that moment on, he would tell others that he and the head scientist were ‘best buddies’ and would continue to kiss up to certain department heads and higher ups, wanting to somehow fast track his career by ‘knowing the right people’.

Bill, the Captain of the guards, told him to piss off when he’d made a joke about him ‘still working at his advanced age’. After that, he’d tried getting in good with Leon, only for Wesker to seemingly materialize from somewhere within the harsh glow of the fluorescent lights to give him a very stern warning about sexual harassment.

He’d ended up cornering Feng on one of her rare excursions through the asylum, but she’d pretended not to speak a word of English. In his following confusion, she’d hidden inside a passing janitor’s cart to escape.

Whenever he’d see Grimes skulking about, he’d attempt to buddy up to him, asking how he might go about making more of a name for himself in the asylum or how he could get an in with the other department heads. Every time, the lead scientist would start by giving him a blank stare, like he didn’t recognize him from any of their previous conversations, before eventually telling him to get back to work.

After that, he’d tried to talk to Jack. She’d let him prattle on for a while before silently turning and walking away. His department head had received a very strongly worded email shortly after, and he’d taken Scott aside to warn him about separating his work and personal life, especially while on the clock.

What was it that he even wanted? A new position? More pay? As a janitor, the best he could really ever hope for was department head, and unless the current one died or left, there was still a line of staff with greater seniority that the position would be offered to first. ‘The right people’ in their pocket or not…

Unfortunately for David, word of his existence spread through the grapevine, and Scott quickly sought him out. As the son of one of Wesker’s top people, he was ‘the right person’ to suck up to.

Without the authority or attitude to get Scott to back off, he quickly found the man showing up everywhere. On the bus to work and back to the dorms, at lunch, on any of the other small breaks he got throughout the day. If he was looking at something on his phone, nine times out of ten he’d suddenly have a chin over his shoulder and someone asking what he was doing. His alone time was now ‘them time’, and it didn’t seem like it would be changing any time soon.

David didn’t mind the idea of having a new friend. He even tried to meet Scott halfway, bringing up his interests and attempting to initiate different topics of conversation. Every time, the other janitor would steamroll him. Either by cutting him off mid word, or half paying attention until he could change the subject entirely to something he was interested in. When he started telling David his interests were ‘boring’ before starting on some other topic of his own, the brunet eventually stopped trying to share at all.

Even now, he was being a nuisance. Before David could even try to answer his greeting question, Scott grabbed a chair from another occupied table and loudly dragged it across the floor. Everyone else in the break room turned to stare, some people rolling their eyes as they saw who was causing the commotion.

Sitting far too close to David instead of across or even on the other side of the small table, he grabbed his cup noodles, asking, “Oh, what’s this?”

Taking a sip of the broth, he made a face before spitting it back out. Pushing the cup away, he complained, “Man, that’s nasty. You should eat something healthier. This tastes like I imagine the inmate’s food would.”

That wasn’t the first time Scott had done that. Over the past couple of months, he’d ruined more lunches than David had actually gotten to eat. He’d taken to hiding to try and eat his food in peace, only for the tenacious janitor to track him down and make some kind of oblivious joke about him adding to his workload by making him track him down to hang out.

When David started to say something, Scott cut him off without bothering to try and listen. “Hey, can you spot me, like, five bucks for some lunch or something? I forgot to bring anything and I’m afraid to touch anything the kitchen is shoveling out.”

A couple of tables away, Ace looked up with a frown. It was hard to piss the cook off, but he took pride in his work and he didn’t take kindly to people badmouthing the staff lunches.

Pulling a face, David stood up without trying to say another word. Scott, of course, followed him, making an asinine comment as he tossed his ruined cup noodles in the trash on the way out the door.

Once in the hallway, he threw an arm around David’s shoulders, which the smaller janitor immediately shrugged off. It wasn’t that he was entirely touch averse, but he really didn’t like being touched by people he didn’t know or like. He really didn’t like Scott, and every time the man touched him it made him feel like he had ants under his skin. Still, no matter how many times he asked him to stop or pushed his arm away, he continued to do it, especially if there were other people around.

He couldn’t go back to his dorm room yet and unable to sneak off to any of his other hiding spots downstairs, David found himself making a beeline for the one familiar place in the asylum he knew he could always go. His father’s office.

Scott was prattling on the entire time, but his voice was more of an irritating buzz than actual words in the janitor’s ears. He was so tired of hearing him talk about himself. His interests. His plans. His ‘connections’. He just wanted five minutes of peace and quiet. And maybe a candy bar, so he wouldn’t have to finish his shift on a mostly empty stomach.

Pausing just long enough to knock on the office door, David let out a sharp, “Hey!” when Scott reached over his shoulder to try the knob. The door swung open, but Asa wasn’t inside, and the pushy janitor took the opportunity to invite himself inside.

“Oooh, wow! I’ve never actually been in here before!” he chuckled, looking curiously around the room. “You know, your dad is such a hardass, I can’t believe he’s the CEO’s right hand man. Like, he’s got the personality of a brick. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say more than a couple of words at any given time.”

“You can’t just barge in here!” David hissed, heart racing. Trying to push Scott back out the door, he stumbled slightly, knocking the door closed instead when the other janitor dodged around him.

“If he didn’t want people coming in here, why’d he leave the door unlocked?” he scoffed, brushing off David’s concerns. Pulling a book off one of the shelves, he read the cover before rolling his eyes. Setting it haphazardly and entirely out of place back on the shelf, he said, “Geez, what’s with all the entomology crap? What kind of weirdo likes bugs so much they’d make a career out of it?”

“Don’t touch that!” David snapped, hurrying over to put the book back in its proper place. “My dad doesn’t like people messing with his stuff!”

“What is he, twelve? He needs to learn to share,” Scott dismissed. “Christ, how did your mom put up with this guy? You’re lucky you’re even here. Your mom must have been a saint. Or desperate, am I right?”

David froze, the heavy book still in his hands as his breathing hitched.

“I mean, I guess there is someone out there for everyone. But, like, she’s either gotta wear the pants in this relationship, making her one scary ass bitch, or he’s got her chained up in a basement somewhere so she can’t run away.”

David’s fingers were turning white from how hard he was squeezing the book, shoulders tensing and eyes practically glowing in the dim light of the office.

Moving behind Asa’s desk, Scott continued his tirade. “It’s too bad your mom’s not here at the asylum. I may not be great with dudes, cause, you know, I’m not into that gay shit, but I can woo a milf–”

The book smashing across the back of his head made Scott stagger, and before he could reorient himself and regain his balance, he was hit a second time. Falling on his ass, expression dazed and confused as blood poured down the side of his face, he was helpless to stop the book from being smashed into his skull for a third time.

David kept hitting him, even after his skull cracked open and his brains began to stain the carpet. He kept hitting him, turning the jelly of his eyes into paste. He kept hitting him… until the book was suddenly gone from his grasp.

Staring at his empty, blood stained hands, David slowly looked up.

Asa was standing behind him, an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. Without a word, he set the book on his desk before reaching out to gently grip David’s shoulders. Turning him around so they were face to face, he said softly, “You’re not ready.”

David stared at his father, expression blank for a long, long time before tears began to well up in his eyes. Chest heaving as sobs racked his small frame, the sounds were only muffled by Asa pulling him close, arms wrapped around him in a firm, comforting hug. Fingers gently stroked his hair, Asa letting him cry into his chest until he could finally speak again.

Voice thin and shaky, he stammered, “Wh-what am I g-going to d-do? Wh-what ha-happens n-now?”

Still holding him close, Asa almost sounded proud as he promised, “I’ll take care of it.”

~~

Marcus hadn’t said a word during David’s story. Now that it was over… he wasn’t sure what he could possibly say. On one hand, it basically confirmed his suspicions and fears about Asa. The man was… something dangerous. But he never expected David’s involvement in any of it…

“People saw Scott going into my dad’s office with me, and then they stopped seeing him around the asylum all together. His department head got an email stating he’d been fired, and everyone just… believe it. Why wouldn’t they?” David concluded. “I’ve tried to forget it. Push it to the back of my mind and pretend it was all just a bad dream, maybe delude myself into also believing that he just got fired. When I… When I tried to bash your head in with my laptop, it- it was because the way you were looking at me… It was the same way I remember him looking at me after I hit him. Like I was a monster…”

Realizing they’d been silently staring at one another for several minutes, Marcus inhaled sharply. Unsure what to do with his hands but not able to sit still anymore, he gestured vaguely as he tried to justify what he’d just heard.

“You– You had every right to defend yourself! He was being a creep and– and god only knows what he would have escalated to if it had continued!”

“But he didn’t even do anything!” David argued, sounding pained. “He ran his mouth, but that was all he did! His back was to me! I attacked and killed an unarmed man! I’m no better than the patients that are locked up in here!”

“Some people don’t deserve second chances,” Marcus countered. “You told him over and over to stop and he didn’t listen. You set boundaries and he crossed them every time. Some people… don’t deserve to live.”

David looked utterly horrified as he asked, “How can you say that?”

Biting his lip, he looked away for a moment before changing the subject. “What… What made you snap? I… I feel like I know you well enough to believe you wouldn’t just attack someone without a real reason…”

Hesitating for a moment, the small orderly finally confessed, “My mother… died when I was born. At least, that’s what dad told me. I didn’t have a mother figure growing up, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have one. I know I never met her… I don’t even know what she looked like… But I like to think she would have been a wonderful mom.”

“I’m sure she would be really proud of you if she were here now,” Marcus comforted. Or, tried to anyway.

Eyes glassy, David stated, “No she wouldn't. I killed someone.”

There wasn’t really a good way to debate that, so the ginger didn’t try. He knew anything he said would either be hurtful or come across as degrading to a dead woman’s memory. Instead, he changed the topic once again, that time back to Asa.

“How… How did your dad know what to do? What did he do?”

Pulling his knees up to his chest, David pinned him with an unblinking stare. When he spoke, his voice was hollow.

“Have you ever heard of the Collector?”

~~

Sitting on the floor with his back pressed up against the door to keep either of the orderlies from making a break for it before they could talk it out, Leon had a shell shocked expression on his face. In his entire time at Crotus Prenn… this was the most illegal goddamn conversation he’d ever heard!
~~~~

Chapter 51: Not the Man I Thought You Were

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus has a friendly encounter with a patient!

 

Surely nothing absolutely horrifying and terrible will happen later （*＾-＾*）

For the first time in weeks, Marcus found himself riding the bus to work alone. It wasn’t because no one wanted to sit with him. In fact, things between the friend group had practically gotten back to normal since he and David had talked. Leon seemed a bit more on edge, especially when Asa was around, but the ginger couldn’t blame him after what he’d overheard. He felt the same unease, but now it was justified.

Marcus didn’t blame David. He couldn’t, not after what he’d learned. If anything, knowing what he did only cemented in his mind that Asa was the entire reason his friend had gone through the things he had. His father was indeed holding him back in hopes of molding him into someone just like him…

Shuddering, he pushed the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. He’d thought about all of that… enough. It had been four days since he and David began mending the rift between them. Two days at work, which had been incredibly tense and awkward, as he found himself dodging not just Krauser, but Asa as well. After that, he’d had the weekend to reverse his sleep schedule, as he’d be taking his turn on the night shift… on the fourth floor.

Quentin had been a huge help with reversing his sleep schedule. The janitor had been more than happy to have someone to stay up with, and they’d spent a decent portion of their time in the dorm common area playing cards and getting to know some of the other overnight staff. Most of them were janitors, including Ash, who was also about to start a stint on overnights.

A few of them had fourth floor clearance, and he took the time to ask them what he could expect from his upcoming shifts. Since they couldn’t talk super openly about the patients themselves, they left that vague, but were still able to give him some good advice.

From the sounds of it, floor four was generally super boring. A certain individual, who was described as ‘the shortest patient on the floor’ and ‘also a ginger but couldn’t pull it off’’, was the only one who really talked. Ninety percent of it was swearing at whoever walked past, but other than that it was uneventful.

Since Marcus was an orderly, he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning all night. Instead, he would be tasked with preparing paperwork and lab equipment for the following morning shift staff. He may be asked to observe certain patients during specific time frames of the night, but he should never have to interact with them outside of their cells in any way. All in all, it sounded like a less dangerous floor to physically be on, and the clearance level was simply due to the inhuman, supernatural nature of the patients.

Still, he’d applied to be trained to carry a taser anyway. It was highly recommended for anyone with floor three clearance and above, but his paperwork had yet to be approved. Requests for tasers, pepper spray, and batons all had to go through Leon, but the Captain swore he hadn’t seen it hit his desk yet. Marcus had a sneaking suspicion it was being blocked by a specific guard, but unfortunately had no way to prove it. The best he could do for now was to redo his request form and hand it to Leon in person.

Making his way inside the asylum, Marcus’s night actually got off to a surprisingly good start. Pulled aside by a nurse before he could go downstairs, he was finally given his own radio, along with a short ‘best of luck’ message from Jack. Although he was still a bit nervous, he found himself becoming more and more eager to actually start his shift. If it was as uneventful as everyone promised, he should have no issue sneaking off to have his ‘lunch’ break with Danny in his cell. He’d even brought an extra snickers bar for him.

Once his radio was set up and he’d double checked that it was working properly, he made his way downstairs. Meeting up with the person in charge of the floor for the night, he was immediately given a laundry list of tasks to work on. He wasn’t expected to complete every single thing on the list, but whatever he could get to between the times he was supposed to observe the patients was better than nothing.

Since his first patient visit wasn’t for a couple of hours, he got to work putting away the previously cleaned beakers and lab equipment that had been sent back by the cleaning crew. Ash helped him since he wasn’t sure where everything went yet, and the pair listened to music on the janitor’s phone while they worked. It was nice, and Marcus was able to relax as his shift progressed. Managing not to break any of the delicate glass as he put everything back in its assigned drawers and cabinets, he found that the time actually passed fairly quickly.

“Smoke break before you go check on… Ooh, Soggy Jason,” Ash invited, pulling a face as he looked at the ginger’s clipboard. “That thing–”

“Person,” Marcus corrected stiffly.

“Sorry,” the janitor apologized. He sounded sincere at least, and the orderly let it slide. “Soggy Jason gives me the heebie-jeebies. Something about zombies and undead people just creeps me out.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed. Not too long ago the idea of a ‘zombie’ would have been laughable, unless it was a form of cordyceps infecting an insect. “Thanks for the invite, but I don’t smoke.”

“Ooh, right, because of the whole bad trip thing?”

“...No,” Marcus answered. “Those were edibles… I just don’t like cigarettes. I don’t like the taste or smell.”

“Oh!” Ash realized, looking slightly embarrassed. “Right, sorry about that. But hey, I’m glad you and Emory made up. Seeing him all mopey around the asylum was weird. Last time that happened, he’d just gotten someone fired.”

Mouth pressing into a thin lipped smile, he agreed flatly, “Sure, I heard about that… Anyway, thanks for your help tonight. I’ll be… observing Jason for a bit I guess.”

“Have fun,” Ash laughed, waving as they headed in opposite directions.

Making his way down to the cell block, Marcus flipped to a page specifically printed to detail anything he saw during the patient’s observation period. From what he’d been told, the times and patients varied from night to night. It was done in an attempt to keep them from purposely skewing the data by acting up when they knew someone was going to be watching.

Stopping when he reached the proper cell, he peered curiously through the observation window. He’d already been informed that none of the interior cell lights on floor four ever went out, so there was no need for him to disturb the patient by turning the cell lights back on.

Just like during his tour with Asa, Jason was standing in the middle of his cell. With his back to the door and entirely unmoving, it only added to the strange undead aura he exuded.

Looking down at his clipboard, Marcus scribbled, ‘Began observation at approximately 2:30am. Patient is stationary and facing the back of the cell.’

Unsure what else he could realistically add at that moment, he flipped a couple of pages to read up on Soggy Jason. Unfortunately, he couldn’t actually take any of the floor four files out of the asylum, so he was limited to reading up on the newest batch of patients when he was at work.

Patient profile : Camp Crystal Lake Slasher (undead)
Jason Voorhees, Male, undetermined-
‘This undead version of Jason was previously unknown. We only became aware of his existence during the successful capture of the presumably still living Jason Voorhees. After a high casualty event, both specimens were almost lost when the undead variant rose from the lake and began attacking the remaining teams.

Tranquilizers and sedatives seem to have absolutely no effect on the undead variant. His capture was only successfully accomplished when he was knocked into a punji pit -previously dug by the living variant- via vehicular strike. Much stronger than the other Jason, the undead specimen had to be bound with chains to contain him for transport. It is important to note, the further he was removed from Camp Crystal Lake, the more docile he became until he stopped moving all together.

Under no circumstances should this Jason be underestimated as he may become active at any time without warning. Since his containment at the facility, there have been two fatality incidents. Investigations into the incidents failed to provide any insight as to what may have triggered them.

We still do not know for sure how he came to be. It is unclear if he is the surviving Jason’s twin, an older or younger sibling, some extension of his or Pamela Voorhees’s rage come to life, or something else altogether. The idea that he is a physical manifestation of the spirit of Camp Crystal Lake was tossed around, but quickly shut down as nothing but superstition.’

“Good fucking god,” Marcus whispered, frowning at the page. None of that was public knowledge, as far as he was aware. Although the legends of Camp Crystal Lake were well known, he’d never heard anything about there being a second Jason or about the late Pamela Voorhees having any other children. The existence of Soggy Jason proved there was a lot more to the Voorhees family than anyone knew or likely even suspected. Of course, there was that rumor floating around the asylum that he had a cousin somewhere inside Crotus Prenn.

“How did that rumor even get started?” he asked himself, glancing up at the cell window again.

That time, the window was almost completely blocked by a massive body and masked face. Jumping backwards with a startled yelp, Marcus held the clipboard up between them when his shoulders hit the wall behind him. Struggling to calm his rapid breathing, he started to realize just how fucking big Soggy Jason really was.

From the previous distance provided by his position within the cell, he looked to be around the same size as the Jason upstairs. He wasn’t. While the living variant was a solid six foot five, Soggy Jason was a little over seven and a half feet tall. The harsh lighting inside his cell caused his shadow to stretch out across the hall, leaving Marcus feeling trapped by the zombie’s presence.

Peering past the flimsy clipboard in his shaking hands, he silently wondered if the glass between them was truly strong enough to keep Jason contained. Evan was strong enough to rip one of the doors off its hinges, and Michael was even bigger than him. There was no telling just how strong this patient really was, given his size and the warning about him in his file.

Thankfully, Soggy Jason had yet to make any further movements. He was just… standing there, seemingly content to silently stare at the petrified orderly as he caught his breath.

Once he was sure he wasn’t about to pass out, Marcus forced his fingers to uncurl from one side of the clipboard. Holding up his hand, he swallowed nervously before offering a weak wave and a shaky, “H-hi…”

The orderly nearly had a heart attack when the zombie raised one hand as well. Instead of smashing through the glass to grab at him like they were in a George A. Romero movie, Soggy Jason waved back at him.

“Holy shit, you’re sentient,” Marcus blurted out, before slapping his hand over his mouth. Oh, god, that was so rude. If the patient actually fully understood that–

Soggy Jason had, as he nodded, confirming the unintentionally rude blunder.

“OH?” he squeaked, lowering his hand. “Um… Wow. You- You understand me?”

Another nod, then an almost pointing motion at the ginger.

Blinking, Marcus cautiously pushed himself away from the wall. He didn’t really want to get any closer to the cell with as close as Jason was to the door. He’d learned his lesson with Evan… But he also didn’t want to yell and get anyone else’s attention, so he took a cautious step forward.

“Um, ah… A-are you… okay? Are you in any pain?” he questioned, wincing slightly.

Jason stared at him for a moment before his shoulders moved gently, as if he were shrugging. Then, he gestured at the vet, head tilting ever so slightly to one side.

Was he asking Marcus if he was okay?

“I-I’m okay,” he offered. “I just wasn’t really expecting you to… move. At all. Or be right there… Sorry, that sounded mean.”

Jason nodded, before once more falling completely still to stare at him.

It was unnerving, and Marcus couldn’t quiet the raging storm of questions it kicked up in his mind. Did this Jason share the same ginger fetish the one upstairs reportedly had? Oh no… Worse! What if he’d also heard the rumor and thought he was his long lost cousin?! Wait, was that worse? No. No. A zombie wanting to fuck him was definitely worse than a zombie thinking they might be related in some way. How would that even work? With as many parts of him as were falling off, did he even–

Marcus had to stop himself there. Clearing his throat as he tried to think about something that would stop the growing blush creeping across his face, he asked, “You know there’s another Jason upstairs, right? You guys are… brothers?”

To his shock, Soggy Jason nodded without any hesitation. Raising a hand to head level, he lowered it slightly, indicating that the patient upstairs was his little brother. There was nothing ‘little’ about him, considering he was still a mountain of a man himself. Younger was probably the better descriptor, even if it was only by minutes if the two were actually twins.

“That’s… neat,” Marcus agreed. Struggling to think of anything under the intense stare scrutinising him, he finally came up with, “Not to stereotype, but, um… D-do you… Do you eat brains? O-or people in general?”

It was almost possible to see the slight movement of the remaining muscle tissue over one eye lift slightly, before Jason shook his head. The first no of the conversation. Patting his stomach, he shook his head again, implying that he had no desire to eat, or possibly that he didn’t need to eat at all.

“Oh, that’s cool,” he admitted, still struggling to maintain a calm composure under the unwavering stare. It really helped that Jason was being so polite, even if his cooperation was a major shock.

Scratching the back of his head, Marcus awkwardly pointed out, “I– I appreciate how nice you’re being to me and all… But, um… Why are you being so polite?”

When Soggy Jason continued to stare without making any move to try and explain himself, the ginger continued, “It’s just, a lot of people around here use information as currency. You know? I guess that’s not as big a deal down here on floor four, but– but you know, it’s– um… I appreciate it.”

Unable to help but fidget under the continued undead gaze, Marcus couldn’t take it anymore and asked nervously, “Do you think I’m your cousin?”

The weight of Soggy Jason’s stare only seemed to intensify, but he made absolutely no move to confirm or deny the idea. Staring back at him, Marcus began to realize… he couldn’t read him. At all.

There was no visible movement of his chest to indicate a change in breathing, if he was breathing at all. His skin was a deathly green, so there was no telling if he was blushing. If he could even blush… Unlike his brother upstairs, his shoulders didn’t hunch or tense, and his hands didn’t twitch or curl into fists to show anger or frustration on any level. Come to think of it, he hadn’t blinked once during their entire conversation… Did he even have eyelids?!

“I’m not your cousin, if that’s what you’re wondering!” Marcus finally blurted out, unable to take the unnerving staring any more. When he still didn’t receive any kind of reaction, he stammered, “I– I’m going to– to go now? Yeah, I’m going to go. But– but it was really nice talking to you! I had a… a good time. Thanks! Bye!”

Jumping slightly when Soggy Jason waved goodbye, Marcus smiled weakly before hurrying out of the cellblock. So rattled by the -for once- harness encounter, he didn’t even think about writing down any of the things he’d observed until it was time for his lunch break…

~

Lunch, although it was technically early, early breakfast if one went by the time, was a relatively uneventful affair. Marcus had brought along a bit of extra food for Danny, and he’d shared his ‘conversation’ with Soggy Jason while they ate.

He’d been absolutely shocked. Although he and the rest of the first two floors were fully aware of the floor three and four patients, both Jason’s were notoriously unfriendly. The second floor Jason was only considered slightly more ‘approachable’ because of his strange friendship with the blond Michael, but even then he could be very aggressive towards staff and the majority of the other patients.

The discussion had brought up a terrifying question for Marcus. If the Jason’s were only being so friendly towards him now because they thought he might be their long lost cousin, how drastically would that change once they finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t? Although he hadn’t said as much out loud, he could tell Danny was thinking the same thing.

Heading back downstairs with the serious hope that neither of them ever had to find out, Marcus picked up his tasks where he’d left off. He had a little bit of time to kill before he had to go observe the Twins, so he spent it wandering around the labs and offices. It was a good way to familiarize himself with the layout of the fourth floor while it wasn’t busy, and it gave him a chance to chat with more of the people also on night shift.

Pushing the time a bit, he finally sat down and wrote out the interaction he’d had with Soggy Jason. He knew it sounded unbelievable, but if they really wanted to, they could check the camera’s to confirm his story. Man, he kind of wished he could be there to see the look on Grimes’ face when he read the observation report.

Pausing before he could drop the stapled together paperwork in the overnight box, Marcus considered… Did he really want to turn it in at all? No one else had actually seen what had gone down, so unless they checked the camera’s, they wouldn’t even suspect anything out of the ordinary had happened.

Pulling out his phone, he grimaced when he was met with no signal. Right, anything below floor two was a dead zone. Oh, wait! He had a walkie-talkie!

As he switched his phone for his radio, he paused again. He had no idea what channel Feng was even on… Deciding just to give the general use channel a try, he spoke into the small device, “Hey, Feng? You there? It’s Marcus.”

Immediately, her voice came back through the speaker, asking, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I need to talk to you. You got a minute?”

“Yeah, but not over the radio. Head to the elevators, I’ll meet you there,” she instructed, and he clicked off the radio.

Face to face in less than five minutes, he wasn’t able to get a word out before she asked, “This is about the conversation you had with Soggy Jason, isn’t it?”

“How did–” he cut himself off. He should know better than to be surprised that she’d been watching. The moment she noticed movement inside his cell, she’d probably been glued to the screen. “Yes, it is. I… don’t really feel comfortable turning in this observation report and I was hoping you could… maybe get rid of the evidence that it ever happened?”

Feng’s eyebrows shot up, and Marcus quickly clarified, “I’ll shred the paperwork, I just need you to delete the video or scrub it or whatever the technical term is.”

Staring at him with an intense, unreadable gaze until he was squirming, she finally cackled, “Of course I will! God, you’re so nervous. I can only imagine how much poking and prodding they’d subject the poor guy to if you turned that in. Good on you for actually putting the patient’s well being first.”

“Why would you do that?!” he demanded, one hand over his racing heart. “For a second I thought you were going to turn me in!”

“Snitches get stitches, so stop crying like a little bitch… es. Ugh, shut up,” Feng huffed, waving him off. “Jason didn’t hurt anyone and it’s not like his fingers or dick broke off inside you–”

“Feng!”

“–so I have no reason not to help you here! Calm down! You look like you’re going to throw up!”

“I might if you keep talking about body parts breaking off inside people!” Marcus gagged. Waving the paperwork, he huffed, “I’m going to go shred this!”

As he was jamming the elevator call button, she continued anyway, “I’ve read all his medical paperwork, and I just want you to know, his dick still works. Fully functional and no signs of decay.”

“Oh my god, open, open, open!” he hissed, nearly falling flat on his face when the doors did finally part to let him into the elevator. As soon as Feng opened her mouth again, he began desperately jamming the ‘door close’ button, but once again, it took its sweet time.

“You know, he’s actually really high up on the ‘hear me out’ list?”

“I’m not banging a zombie!” Marcus hissed, nearly sobbing with relief as the doors began to close.

“Coward!” Feng yelled. “He’s in my personal top three!”

Making a beeline for the shredder as soon as he got back to the fourth floor, he watched with glee as the paper was cut into teeny tiny unreadable pieces. Just to be extra cautious, he emptied the bin into a passing janitor's cart for good measure.

Eventually, it got to the point where he couldn’t put it off any longer, and Marcus made his way back to the cell block. Hesitating slightly before passing Soggy Jason’s cell, he told himself it would be fine. The zombie wasn’t going to go all Night of the Living Dead on him and smash through the door just to rip his guts out.

Still, he couldn’t help but cast a quick glance into the cell as he passed by. Jason was once again standing in the middle of his cell, back to the door as though he’d never moved in the first place. It was eerie…

It was also for the best, he supposed. Although it didn’t seem like Soggy Jason felt pain or discomfort, he didn’t want to be the reason his peaceful… standing? Lurking? Whatever it was, it seemed peaceful and he didn’t want to upend all that for the sake of his shitty fucking job.

Making his way into the second cell block, Marcus dropped his clipboard as soon as he looked up. The cell door in the center of the hall was wide open, light spilling out to illuminate a mangled corpse laying halfway inside. Blood was pooling around the body, but there was no point in trying to radio for the medics to try and save them. Not when their arms had been twisted into shattered pretzels, leaving jagged shards of bone sticking out in multiple places through the skin. Even their neck looked like it had been twisted around several times, the flesh pulled tight as their head was rotated around and around.

Forcing his eyes up from the growing pool of blood, Marcus jolted as he took in the figure looming over the former staff member. It took him a moment to get the name out, but when he did, he was shocked by how his voice carried in the otherwise empty hall.

“Ghostface?!”

For a split second, it really did look like him. The same stature, same build, same muted gray uniform, and with the light cast from the open cell, all he could make out was the patient’s silhouette. It didn’t help that the cell block halls were incredibly dim at night, since all the patients were supposed to be ‘sleeping’.

Taking a hesitant step closer as Ghostface looked up, Marcus began to feel like something was incredibly off about him. Maybe it was because it was the first time he’d actually walked into the aftermath of one of his kills, but he almost seemed to be absorbing the light that fell on him, making him even harder to see. Was this something Amanda had forgotten to mention? Or did she not even know about this… ability?

“Another visitor? Guess I’m popular tonight!”

Marcus blinked, too stunned to speak for a moment. He could clearly tell Danny wasn’t wearing his mask, but that had sounded just like the voice clips he’d heard on the news. Before his capture, Ghostface had made it a point to call and taunt more than a few of his victims, but he’d used a modulator inside his mask to change his voice.

Glancing at the body, he quickly looked away again, searching the featureless face peering back at him from down the hall. “How– How the hell did you get downstairs? Jesus, did they go get you for some kind of procedure after I left?”

There was a long pause, long enough that Marcus could feel the goosebumps forming over his skin. Was it from the perpetual chill in the asylum halls or was it from the patient’s eerie stillness? “Yup! Lucky for me, I broke away. But I got hurt. Why don't you come here and kiss my boo boos better, Marcus?”

Something about the way Ghostface said his name sent a whole wave of alarm bells screaming through the ginger’s head. The pieces of the puzzle just weren’t fitting together, and he stayed rooted to the spot.

“What– How- how are you hurt? I– I might have to get medical involved if you’re injured beyond my ability to care for you,” he lied.

Much to the orderly’s horror, Ghostface took a step forward and he realized that he couldn’t see his face. It wasn’t just a trick of the light, the patient in front of him didn’t have a face. His entire body underneath his clothes was pitch black, eating up all the light cast over his frame as he cooed, “It’s just a scratch, nothing for your pretty ginger head to fret over. Don’t you want to help me, Doc? Don’t you want to make sure I’m okay?”

He didn’t have a mouth… Where was that voice coming from? Was that really even Ghostface? Had the scientists at Crotus Prenn done this to him in the short amount of time since he’d last seen him?

Despite every instinct screaming at him to retreat until he could put the heavy metal door separating the sections of cells between them, Marcus stayed rooted to the spot as the thing masquerading as his boyfriend drew closer. “What… What happened? What did they do to you? Danny, are you–”

His next words were caught in his throat, quite literally as strong hands wrapped around his neck. A strong sense of Deja Vu washed over him as his back hit the cold asylum floor.

”Don’t you dare speak the name of that fucking bastard to me, you ginger rat.”

Marcus clawed at the hands squeezing his throat, but to his horror, it didn’t feel like flesh his nails were digging into. It was too cold, and somehow, it didn’t feel solid. He could feel pressure around his neck, but it felt nothing like when Danny or Evan had their hands on him. It was more like some otherworldly force was crushing his windpipe from the inside.

Kicking his legs accomplished nothing, and the pressure increased slightly, sending dark spots across his vision. Forced to face the killer above him, he could barely make out his– its face. There wasn’t a feature over its smooth face, merely a silhouette of the man that he knew until in front of his very eyes, two eyes blinked into existence. They were wide, too wide, utterly inhuman. They extended over its face, curling up in delight as Marcus choked like a fish out of water.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Its voice was layered, a choir of whispers, a cacophony of all its victims. A smile started to form, a lipless mouth stretching over its cheeks and full of too many teeth.

Marcus could feel his limbs starting to go numb as his pounding heart began to slow with every beat. Only dimly aware of his hands falling away from the fingers pressing into his throat, the chill of the asylum and the body on top of him began to merge into one. A single, freezing cold darkness.

Huh… David had been right… He should have taken that fucking transfer…
~~~~

Notes:

Oops (´。＿。｀)

Chapter 52: Your Biggest Fan

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Who, or what exactly attacked Marcus? Will he even survive long enough to find out?

Marcus knew he was going to die. It seemed truly inevitable at that point. He was practically alone on the fourth floor. The only guards were guarding the only path to the elevator, the rest of the staff were all janitors and one other orderly who spent most of the shift sleeping in a broom closet. Feng had no reason to check the cameras, and he couldn’t make enough noise to get her attention.

Thumbs pressed into his trachea, stopping him from taking any air in as his vision grew darker and darker. His body felt incredibly heavy. And cold. Everything was so cold.

The only reason he even noticed the unexpected, almost violent way Ghostface suddenly released him was thanks to the rapid expansion of his lungs as air flooded down his throat. It was too much too fast and he choked, body convulsing as everything started trying to resume some form of proper function at the same time.

Was he actually breathing? Had he really been released? Or was he just experiencing some last moment hallucination before the rest of his life began flashing before his eyes? Oh, look, there was an angel hovering over him. A scary, scary angel. Oh, god, why was she slapping him?!

It was distorted at first, but words finally started making their way to Marcus’s brain. Wow, he didn’t know that angels were mean.

“Hey, you’re okay. Breathe,” she ordered, voice stern.

Marcus wanted to tell her he was fucking trying, but it wasn’t working very well. Every time he tried, he’d cough a lot more. At times, it almost felt like Ghostface’s hands were still around his neck.

“Ghostface?!” he wheezed, voice rasping like sandpaper on asphalt. Christ, that hurt more than actually being strangled had!

“Don’t worry about him,” the woman told him, putting a hand on his chest when he tried to sit up. “No, stay down.”

He didn’t bother to try and argue, and settled for staying on the floor while she radioed the incident in. Marcus managed to piece a bit of what had happened together from listening to her, and realized she had tasered the patient before shoving him back into his cell.

Even with the call going out, it took much longer for anyone else to reach them than it had on any other floor. Surprisingly, Bill was one of the people that came downstairs with a group of four more guards, and several medical personnel.

“Ada, what happened?” the retired Captain asked, and Marcus listened closely from his spot on the floor as a nurse checked him out.

“I was looking for Greg, and I found Ghostface out of his cell. He was trying to strangle another staff member, so I apprehended him. He’s secured for the time being.”

“And Greg?” Bill asked stoically.

Ada shifted slightly, and he let out a long sigh. “Good Christ… He did that with his bare hands?”

“I didn’t see a weapon on him, but that doesn’t mean anything,” she confirmed, and Marcus shuddered.

The body had looked like a human pretzel… Arms and legs and twisted around, bones sticking out and muscles exposed through torn skin. That could have been him…

The nurse checking Marcus over finally helped him sit up, and once he could stand, he made the mistake of glancing past where Ada and Bill were still talking. Eyes landing on the body again, he felt his stomach lurch. Oooh, he was going to be sick. He was going to… he was going to pass out.

~

Marcus woke up to someone slapping him. Again. That time it was more of a gentle tapping, and when his eyes shot open the person screamed. That made him scream as well, and he instantly cringed, hands flying to his neck as pain shot through his throat.

“Woah, hey, sorry!” Quentin apologized, and the ginger glared at him. “So, uh, the doctor said that you’d probably have a sore throat for a few days, and, umm, that you’d be okay, and that you passed out from an adrenaline crash.”

“Why were you slapping me?” Marcus asked, voice a raspy whisper. Christ, his throat really did hurt. He couldn’t help but wince slightly at the memory of cold fingers pressing into his skin. That eerie smile blurring in his vision as everything slowly went black.

A hand gently touched his arm and he jumped. Looking up, he found Quentin watching him with a worried expression.

“I’m sorry. You were like… making sounds and stuff. And twitching. And everyone was starting to get really worried.”

Glancing around the otherwise completely empty room, Marcus looked at the janitor with raised eyebrows. Who was getting worried?

With a sheepish expression on his face, Quentin held up his phone. Eli, King, Leon, David, and Dwight were all crowded onto one of the lower bunks, peering at the phone with worried, half asleep expressions on their faces.

“Bloody hell, you look like an abused corpse that just got dragged in from outside with the bugs and the animals,” King stated, and everyone on the screen turned to glare at him.

“Was that helpful?” Dwight asked, tone like an upset kindergarten teacher. “Was that a constructive thing to say?”

“Dermestid beetles are actually native to Alaska so they would’ve cleaned the flesh off his bones if his body had been left outside,” David added helpfully. “So he’d actually be a lot more skeletal if he’d just been… outside…”

When he only got blank stares in return, he shrunk back a little, almost like a turtle. “You know… scavenger beetles… taxidermists use them sometimes ‘cause it’s more eco-friendly…”

“Leon, can we trade you for Quentin?” King asked, nudging the blond’s shoulder. When he got a dirty look in return, he shrugged. “Hey, can’t hurt to ask.”

“Marcus, are you alright?” Dwight asked seriously. “We haven’t gotten the whole story yet.”

Forcing a weak smile across his face as the janitor sat on the bed next to him, Marcus offered in a rough, hitching tone, “I’m okay. The Ghostface downstairs almost got me.”

“Fuck,” Leon swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What happened?”

Before Marcus could answer, Eli waved a hand in between the screen and Leon’s face. “No, none of that! He needs to rest his voice! Lots of warm fluids, nothing spicy, and as little talking as possible!”

Offering the nurse and surrounding friends a thumbs up, he let out a small sigh. Now would be a really good time to know some ASL. Recalling Philip’s attempt to communicate with him with what he was pretty sure were hand gestures used in sign language, he asked as loudly as he could manage without hurting himself, “Eli, can you teach me to sign?”

Looking thoughtful, the nurse considered, “I can definitely try. But your voice should be back pretty soon. Maybe in a day or two?”

“It’s not for that,” he whispered, shaking his head.

A look flashed across Leon’s face, but he didn’t say anything. A small nod was his only response, and Marcus hoped that meant that if he had guessed what he was doing, he thought it was a good idea.

“Either way, I can do that,” Eli agreed. “Dwight can help too.”

There was a knock at the exam room door, followed by the doctor stepping inside. Quentin quickly hung up, and the pair listened as the physician explained what was going on.

Marcus hadn’t sustained any permanent damage to his throat, but just like Eli had said previously, would need to limit himself to warm, soothing liquids and soft food for at least a couple of days. The less he could get away with talking the better, and as long as he didn’t do anything stupid, the longest lasting effect would be the ring of dark, ugly bruises circling his neck.

The bad news was that he wouldn’t be getting any medical leave, due to the nature of his injury. He could still safely perform all his work tasks, and he didn’t need any heavy medication that would impair his judgment, so he didn’t qualify for any time off.

The worst part was that he wouldn't be taken off his already scheduled floor four rotation either, since the incident was considered ‘a normal risk of the job as acknowledged by the staff member when they signed their floor four paperwork’. It was a load of bullshit…

At least his shift was over by the time he was released from medical, so he and Quentin took the first bus back to the dorms. There was about an hour of overlap between them getting back and everyone else going to work. It probably would have been wiser for them to stagger their visits and check on the ginger one at a time, but that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, the exhausted, once again injured Marcus was practically mobbed as soon as he and Quentin stepped into their dorm room. All of them had questions and it was left up to the janitor to answer them. Thankfully, he’d had the foresight to grab a copy of the mostly complete incident report before leaving, and he was able to use it to lure the pack of worried hyenas to the other side of the room so the ginger could crawl into bed.

Only once he was safely burrowed into his blankets did Quentin allow the others to file over one by one to check on him. Aside from the usual ‘glad you’re okay’ and ‘at least you didn’t die’, King added, “Please tell me you at least got to punch that creepy fucker right in his nonexistent face-hole?”

Marcus blinked at him, seriously considering lying to save face, but in the end he just sighed. The truth would come out one way or another, and he didn’t need to be falsely boasting about socking a patient when he hadn’t. Especially if it got back to said patient…

~

Midway through Marcus’s shift the following night found him sneaking into Danny’s cell to spend his lunch hour. He shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to be met by the man rising from his cot like a living shadow, but the image instantly conjured something worse in his mind and he flinched. Pressing himself back against the door, he stared in a pair of dark eyes, breath hitching when hands reached out for him.

Solid, warm hands instead of the strange, ethereal cold from the night before. Skin against his as fingers gently curled around his biceps, holding him steady instead of shoving him to the ground to wrap around his throat instead. Those dark eyes creasing with concern as a familiar voice asked, “Doc? What’s wrong?”

Reality snapped back into place like a rubber band and Marcus let out a sharp breath, shoulders sagging slightly as he squeezed his eyes closed. Warm breath ghosted over his neck and he winced, tilting his head away slightly.

“Doc…” Danny asked, voice low and dangerous. “Who did this?”

“Um, a patient downstairs,” he said quietly. His throat only felt slightly better, and he didn’t want to raise his voice too high. Besides, there was always still the risk of them being caught if he got too loud as the wrong person happened to be walking past the cellblock.

“Which one?” Ghostface hissed, tugging him away from the door.

Marcus followed, knees stiff and movements slightly forced. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Danny. Not anymore. But in the shadows of the cell, he looked so much like the thing downstairs… Sitting on the edge of his cot with a small sound, the ginger shuddered when fingers ghosted over his bruised skin.

A sharp intake of breath, then another question housing barely concealed fury. “Does it still hurt, Doc?”

“Y-yeah,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. Starting to shiver, he raised one hand to grip Danny’s as it trailed over his neck.

“You’re shaking,” Ghostface murmured, a very different edge entering his tone.

An arm slid around Marcus’s waist, and before he could protest he was being repositioned. Grunting quietly when his back hit the thin mattress, he felt his heart rate jump when a body settled on top of him.

“Mm, don’t worry, Doc. I can think of a few ways to distract you. Make you feel better–”

“Stop,” he whispered, one hand curling in the front of the patient's thin top. When a questioning sound left Danny, he turned his head to look up at him, eyes watery as he forced out, “Not right now… Please. I… I can’t right now.”

The weight on top of him quickly moved, and when he started to sit, a hand rested gently on his back to help him. Voice calm, Ghostface questioned, “What happened, Doc?”

He didn’t need to ask Marcus if he was okay. It was obvious he wasn’t. The fact that he wasn’t pressing him to keep going despite his obvious hesitation was a great comfort, and the orderly admitted, “I got attacked on floor four last night… At first, I thought… I thought it was you…”

The hand on his back tensed, but didn’t withdraw. After a moment, Danny started absentmindedly rubbing his spine, although it seemed to be equally for his own distraction as it was for the ginger’s comfort.

“Ah... I see you met the fake Ghostface…” he seethed. “That slimy little bastard wishes he was half the killer I am.”

The sheer amount of anger and hatred in his voice pulled Marcus’s gaze back to him, eyebrows rising as he asked, “Wait, do you know him?”

Fingers flexing against his back, Danny slowly turned to look him in the eyes. “Oh, I know him. He’s some… thing that’s taken my shape. Tried to take my name. The only thing he can’t steal from me is my face. Not permanently. Now he’s trying to steal you from me. But I’m not going to let that happen, Doc.”

Lip curling in a snarl, he lowered his voice more but vitriol still seeped into every word as he spat, “I don’t know how long he’s been here, but I know I existed out there long before he ever did. They deemed him ‘more dangerous’ than me. Decided that he’s ‘more deadly’ than I am. They have no idea how many bodies I’ve buried. And when I get out of here… I’ll put that miserable, faceless pretender in the ground as well.”

“What… Was he not… human when he first got here?” Marcus asked, recalling the Wraith’s tragic story. “Did he not end up like that because of the things they do to you all in here?”

Eyes glittering in the low light, Danny pinned him with a deadly gaze. “No, Doc… Whatever the hell he is… He’s always been like that. My shadow. My pretender. The only copycat I haven’t been able to make a masterpiece out of… Not yet anyway.”

Sitting in silence for several minutes, Marcus finally asked, “Can you… tell me anything else about him? How to stay out of his way if he gets out again while I’m down there?”

“If he gets out again, you fucking run like your ass is on fire,” Danny told him. “Trip people, cut someone's tendons if you have to. But you don’t let him get his hands on you again… I’m sorry, Doc. That’s the best I can tell you…”

“Fuck,” he murmured, resting his head in his hands.

Scooting closer so their outer thighs were pressing together, Ghostface gently pulled him against his chest. He made no attempts to grab or grope him, keeping his embrace purely comforting.

Burying his face in the ginger’s messy hair, he asked softly, “What else is on your mind, baby boy? You had that look on your face when you first stepped in here.”

Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before explaining, “People are… looking at me different. They’re pretending they aren’t, but I noticed a lot of the staff I usually work around are doing their best to avoid me. People who have been really friendly with me since I got here are just… not talking to me anymore. If I walk into a room, every conversation suddenly goes silent. No one will speak to me unless I talk to them first, and then it’s as short and curt as possible…”

“Ooh, Doc,” Danny hummed, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “I’m sorry… But, I think I understand what’s going on.”

Lifting his head from where he’d rested it on Ghostface’s shoulder, he winced. “Is it because of… this?”

“Not entirely,” he answered. “See… A lot of us have ‘fans’.”

Not following, Marcus blinked at him. “What?”

“Fans. Like, groupies. People who are obsessed with our crimes, our lives, our stories. The ‘reporters’ and ‘bloggers’, the ‘true-crimers’ if you will, are annoying, but mostly harmless. They just end up getting themselves killed because they want to try and grill the wrong killer for information they aren’t going to get.”

Trailing off, he let out a short, mirthless laugh before continuing. “Then you have the real nutjobs. People who have gone so far as to build us up as some kind of idol. A few even think they can come in here and seduce us, make us fall for them and ‘change’ for them…”

“Oh…” Marcus said, realizing what he was getting at.

“From my understanding, Crotus Prenn has systems in place to try and weed them out during the hiring process. A few still slip through, and it’s gotten rather messy in the past,” Danny told him. “Ji-Woon has the most fans, but that’s not really a big surprise. He was an internationally known pop-star before he got arrested. He lost a lot of followers after that but he still has a rather large dedicated fan base that supports him. I can’t tell you how many people want to claim he only did it because ‘the pressure was just too much’.”

“So… the fact that I keep narrowly avoiding getting killed by famous to semi-famous mass murderers and serial killers…”

“Makes it look like you’re trying to cozy up and getting turned down in the most violent ways possible, yes.”

“Fuuuuck,” Marcus groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t even know what this place was when I took the transfer! I thought it was just a higher security mental hospital!”

Nodding sympathetically, Danny agreed, “I know, Doc. But they don’t. Even if they do, they probably don’t really care. Most of the people here have seen at least one ‘super fan’ get splattered across a cell, and it changes their perspective on the whole thing… Are your roommates… part of this crowd?”

“No!” Marcus told him quickly. Wincing as his unintentional volume made his throat ache, he shook his head before repeating more softly, “No, they’ve still got my back. Feng knows, and she’s shown us all the footage to prove it.”

“Hmm, good,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “Keep your friends close, Doc. This place is dangerous, even outside these cells. I can’t always be there to keep you safe, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Smiling warmly, Marcus leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Thanks, Danny. I don’t know how I’d survive this place without them, or you.”

Returning his smile, Ghostface promised, “You’d find a way. You may be a danger magnet, but you’re a resilient one.”

~

Marcus’s time with Danny ended all too soon, and he eventually found himself back on level four. His reception was as icy as when he’d first showed up for the night, and with Ash and Quentin both busy on another section of the floor, he was left feeling isolated and alone. It was an uncomfortable, disconcerting feeling, and he did his best to bury himself in paperwork and other menial tasks.

Time seemed to drag by, the clock having barely moved at all any time he’d look at it. After what felt like an eternity, but had really only been about an hour and a half, his name was called over the radio.

Perking up slightly, he tried not to sound excited as he answered, “Marcus here, over…”

“Hey, uuuh…. Can you go do the observation reports for, ahhhhh…. Ghostface? Over.”

Choking slightly, he had to take several deep breaths before asking, “I’m sorry, who? Over.”

There was a crackle of static, then an annoyed voice, “Go do the observation reports for Ghostface… Kathy has had a sudden…”

Slightly muffled like the speaker had turned their head but not let go of the button, he heard, “What was it you said to say? ….No, that’s stupid. Just say food poisoning… I’m going to say food poisoning.”

Jumping slightly when the voice returned at full volume, Marcus was told, “Kathy got food poisoning and you’re the only person with a flexible enough shift schedule to pick up the slack. Thanks. Over.”

“Fuck my life,” Marcus whispered angrily. Despite his anxiety over having to see that Ghostface again so soon, or at all, he found himself grabbing the clipboard with white fingers. Taking a few more deep breaths, he made his way through the narrow, barren halls.

Moving slowly and deliberately through each section of the cellblock, he paused before the door that would lead him to the assigned cell. He didn’t want to go in there…

Fumbling with his badge, he finally managed to scan it so he could open the door. On the other side was nothing but a blank floor and cold white walls. No sign of the blood or mangled body from the night before. No open doors. No shadows with eerie, inhuman smiles to bear down on him…

Forcing one foot in front of the other, Marcus approached the cell. Why the hell was he even still in there? Shouldn’t he have been moved to solitary or something? Christ, what if this was a stupid prank being played on him because of his new unwarranted status as a ‘Killer Fanboy’.

Stopping in front of the door, Marcus jumped, raising the clipboard in front of his chest like a shield. Ghostface was leaning against the door, forehead pressed against the glass as though he’d been waiting for someone to walk by.

Cold eyes found Marcus’s, and they curled up in delight. Those two eerie rows of teeth materialized out of the fog that was his face, twisted up into a Cheshire grin as Danny’s voice came out of him.

“Good evening, Doc. I missed you.”
~~~~

Chapter 53: Good Guy, Bad Guy

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Marcus was proud of himself for managing not to flinch, but he still couldn’t suppress the full body shudder that ran through him. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound stern as he ordered, “Don’t do that. I know you’re not him.”

Unfortunately, it came out incredibly thin and shaky, made worse by his still raw throat.

“Do what?” Ghostface continued to coo in Danny’s voice. “I’m just having a conversation with my favorite vet. How’s that baby bird, by the way? I’m sure the big guy down the hall would love to hear about what his precious baby brother is up to.”

Trying not to recoil, Marcus stated forcefully, “If you don’t drop the act, I’m leaving, and you can talk to yourself for all I fucking care.”

The silence that stretched between them was suffocating. Marcus could feel the palms of his hands growing slick with sweat, the clipboard threatening to slip from his grip the longer Ghostface continued to stare at him with unblinking eyes. Did he even have eyelids? Or muscles to hold them in place? Or were his eyes just floating loosely in his face? Were those even his eyes or did he rip them out of a dead staff member?

It took a solid five minutes of their horrid staring contest before the patient huffed and straightened his spine, rolling his eyes as his voice went back to normal. “Boo, you’re no fun. You were more fun last night.”

“You tried to–” Cutting himself off, Marcus took a deep breath before stating more calmly, “You were trying to strangle me to death. I think the only one of us that was fun for was you.”

“Yeah, but did you die?” Ghostface asked condescendingly. “Come on, what’s a little attempted murder between friends?”

“Oh, are we friends?” he asked, feigning shock. “My bad. If I’d known, I would have told Ada not to bother tasing you.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Marcus stared at him, the uncomfortable silence one more blanketing the cell block like a suffocating sheet. He hated it. He hated the way the ‘patient’ was still staring at him. Observing him observing… it? Him? The orderly really wasn’t sure, but he vaguely recalled Grimes referring to a patient as ‘it’ before. That was probably this one…

Unable to sit in the strange stillness anymore, he finally said, “I’m only here to observe you because no one else is willing to… So… What do you normally do when someone’s sent in here to watch you?”

He had yet to actually write down anything that had happened so far and he had no intention of writing down anything that happened later…

“Weeeeeeell,” the patient drew out. “Usually I would slip out of this shitty room and snap their necks. Or I just observe them back. Don’t know if you’re blind or something but I don’t have much to even do in here.”

Peering past him as best he could, Marcus noticed the absolute lack of… everything. Not even the most basic of amenities, like a cot or sink or bucket for him to piss in. The cell was just a blank white cube, the only real color being the inky darkness of Ghostface’s body. He wasn’t sure he could call it skin…

Returning his gaze to the patient, he asked, “You don’t eat or sleep, do you? Or is this… just them trying to see how much you can take before you… I don’t know, melt or something?”

“Aww, are you worried about me?”

“Worried the same way I am about being bitten by a tick and contracting lyme disease,” he offered flatly.

Suddenly much closer to the glass once more, Ghostface’s pupils were wide with mania as he started to talk at a speed that Marcus struggled to catch up with. “Ooh, I bite! I can bite as hard as you want! I won’t even bite through your jugular! Why don’t you open the door and I can show you just how much fun we can have?! I promise I'll play fair! Stick your fingers through the bars of my enclosure, please please please please!”

Eyes darting around the outside of the cell to triple check that there were no actual bars, Marcus noticed a small movement further down the hall. Quickly glancing over, he spotted Victor clinging to the inside of the Twins cell door. His already pinched face was scrunched up in an annoyed snarl. Behind him, Charlotte was laying on their cot, also looking annoyed as she tried and failed to get some sleep.

Smiling apologetically, Marcus blinked when the smaller twin flipped him off before dropping down from the observation window with a quiet growl.

“Hey! Look at me when I’m propositioning you!”

Head snapping back to Ghostface’s cell, the ginger scowled at him. Under his breath, he muttered, “Maybe I should take Danny up on his offer to sleep with someone as an invitation for him to kill them…”

He almost fell back on his ass when Ghostface suddenly threw his head back and laughed so loudly that he could hear Charlotte throw something at the door down the hall from them. “As IF that asshole could touch me! I’d like to see him try!”

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Marcus weighed his options. He wasn’t really supposed to be talking so much, but this might be the only opportunity he ever got to actually get anything close to a real answer out of this Ghostface. Considering his and Danny’s apparent animosity… Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

Crossing his arms, he shrugged before challenging, “I don’t know. He’s the only Ghostface I’d heard of until now, so whatever your connection to him is, it seems like he’s the better of the two.”

Head snapping back into place, the patient sneered, “He may think he’s unkillable but he’s still human at the end of the day. The fear the general public holds for him is only because they made him out to be an urban legend. The shadow in the dark corners of their room. The thing that goes bump in the night. Once he was arrested and unmasked, do you know how many people lost their fear of him? He’s just some white guy from Utah. I am so much more.”

Wheels turning in his head, Marcus nodded slowly. Allowing a grin to stretch across his lips, he asked innocently, “So… You’re saying he came first? Is that why you keep mimicking his voice?”

“Danny Johnson will be forgotten in history. That is all he is and all he’ll ever be. I will continue to live on, carving out a hole in the world for Ghostface to live on. No one will forget me. No one.”

“The world knows Danny as Ghostface. All you’ll be doing is helping keep his name alive–”

His comment was interrupted when the patient slammed a fist into the glass observation window, and Marcus recoiled. Eyes widening, he felt his heart jump into his throat as cracks spiderwebbed through the barrier.

“Don’t fucking test me, Marcus Aurelius Taylor. This cell won’t keep me from finding you and your family. Is that what you want, Marcus? Your mother’s head in a box? I’ll drop it off at your great grandma’s house. I’ll make sure to tell her that YOU sent me.”

Marcus took a step back, shoulders hitting the wall behind him. There should be no way for Ghostface to know any of that. Not even Danny knew any of that… Did he? Mouth opening and closing a couple of times, he finally pressed his lips together in a thin line.

Any conversation was definitely over, and he quickly turned for the door dividing the sections of cells. He needed to call in the broken window before Ghostface smashed it out the rest of the way and killed someone else. Especially him.

Cold laughter followed him as he badged through the door, muffled but not silenced as the heavy metal barrier slid closed between them. It was still haunting his ears, almost causing him to miss a demanding voice calling, “Hey! Hey, carrot top!”

Doing a double take, he paused as he looked into one of the cells as he passed by. The Good Guy was standing in the middle of his cell, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

“Yeah, you,” he snapped. “C’mere, I want to ask ya’ somethin’.”

Frowning, Marcus just shook his head. He’d had enough ‘conversation’ for the night.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” Chucky hollered, banging on the inside of the door. “Doncha’ have any manners?”

Sighing, he turned and shuffled back to the cell door. Glaring through the observation window, he rasped tiredly, “What?”

“Man, the idiot next door was right. You are no fun tonight,” he complained. When Marcus flipped him off and started to turn away again, he quickly changed his tune. “Woah, woah, okay! Hold on, kid! I really do want to talk.”

“About?” he asked, keeping it short and to the point.

Eyes narrow, Chucky studied him for a minute before asking, “Why do you keep sticking your neck out for the dumb fucks upstairs?”

Slightly surprised by the question, Marcus asked, “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, the doll rolled his eyes as if he was trying to explain one plus one to a first grader that just wasn’t getting it. “That shit in the Bird Cage? The thing with the Trapper? The baby bird for upstairs Jason? You and upstairs Ghosty putting on a show for the whole floor–”

“How do you know about that?!” Marcus hissed, nearly mashing his face against the window as he leaned in to stare down at Chucky.

Pausing, he looked startled for a moment before bursting out laughing. Every time he’d try to stop and say something, he’d take one look at the ginger and burst out laughing again. It took several minutes of intense deep breathing and snorting, but the doll finally managed to explain, “I’m pretty sure the whole asylum heard the two of ya’.”

“I’m going now,” Marcus decided, but was stopped before he could take off again.

“Nah, calm down! Don’t be a prude! Gay, straight, whatever! I don’t judge,” the doll implored. Cracking up again, he added, “I wonder what kind of noises this one could get out of ya!”

“Ah, fuck you. My Ghostface is better,” he grumbled, shaking his head. He knew word traveled fast around the asylum, but Christ, that was embarrassing.

“Wow, excuse you!”

Hearing Ghostface’s voice loud and much too clear, the ginger jumped, whipping around to face the door dividing the cell blocks with a racing heart.

“Talking about people behind their backs?” he continued, his voice much closer to the door than the orderly was comfortable with. “Tsk, tsk, I expected better of you, Marcus.”

“Ah, this fuckin’ guy,” Chucky complained, rolling his eyes. Jumping up onto the inside of the door again, he waved a fist in the direction of the other inmate. “Fuck you, you faceless fuck! You’re not scaring this one off too! I never get to talk to anyone!”

“Oh wah, wah! Why don’t you cry to your wife about it? Oh, wait! You can’t! ‘Cause she left you!”

Rattling his door like an enraged chimpanzee, Chucky screamed, “First of all, I left her! Secondly, keep her name out of your whore mouth, you gaseous bag of nauseating discharge!”

“Says the guy who’s dick can’t perform!”

“At least I have a dick!”

As the pair began screaming obscenities at one another, Marcus took the opportunity to scoot towards the far cell block door. Danny had told him to run if the other Ghostface got anywhere near him again. He wasn’t about to test the possible reasons for that.

Before he could scan his badge, Chucky slammed his fist against the inside of his door. The ginger’s retreat hadn’t gone unnoticed, and he was told in no uncertain terms, “You go out that door now, and I’ll track you down and set you on fire while you sleep!”

The gasp that came out from the other side of the metal barrier was so sharp that Marcus could’ve sworn the patient swallowed a fly. “You can’t talk to him like that! You gotta be gentle! Like this!”

Chills ran up the ginger’s spine when Danny’s voice returned, cooing out, “Pspsps, come here~ Be a good boy and come to papa~ I don’t bite too hard~”

A small ‘Ew,’ left Marcus as Chucky rolled his eyes. Before the orderly could speak up for himself, the doll was snapping, “He’s not a fucking dog, you maroon!”

“And you take dick up the ass like a cum dump!”

“We both know you get no action! Hey! Carrot Top! Get back over here before I crawl out there and drag you back by the shoe laces!”

Marcus raised his eyebrows, giving the patient’s door a critical look. He knew enough about Charles Lee Ray to know he wasn’t someone he’d have wanted to run into on a dark night. But now? It was just kind of hard to take him seriously as a two foot something doll that scuttled around like a sugar-high cracked out toddler…

“Let me iiiiin,” Ghostface sang, and the door between them suddenly rattled. It shook again, a visible tremor traveling through the solid metal. “Marcus, let me in! I just want to spend some time with my favorite veterinarian!"

Marcus didn’t answer, practically hiding behind his clipboard as he backed away. Chucky may not feel so scary anymore, but Ghostface? Ghostface fucking terrified him to his core.

If he got in there, Danny wasn’t around to protect him. Shit, how the hell was he supposed to get out of there before that psycho got in with him?! It was likely only a matter of time! He’d cracked the glass on his observation window just by punching it!

Taking another step back when the dividing door rattled violently, Marcus let out a small yelp when his back hit something solid. Spinning around, he half expected to see Ghostface standing behind him, but was instead met with Soggy Jason. And a closed cell door.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, fingers white around his clipboard. The cheap pressboard creaked in his hands, almost breaking without him even realizing it. Glancing up, he winced, sure he must look horribly pathetic to the one eyed zombie. Some potential cousin he was turning out to be.

He flinched hard when Jason lifted a hand, taking a shaky step back as he was sure that the patient was going to smash through the glass and end his pathetic existence, but was shocked to his core when he gently tapped on the glass.

All at once, the rattling and the profanities stopped. Marcus turned back to see Chucky staring wide eyed at the soggy zombie, who tapped the glass again before dropping his arm. His movements were simple but the message was loud and clear: Enough.

Unable to stand the silence that followed, Marcus asked shakily, “Jason, would you… protect me? If they got out and came after me here in the asylum?”

To his shock and honest relief, the patient nodded. Although it wasn’t his style, it made him seriously question just how beneficial pretending to be the Jason’s cousin could be. Smiling as best he could, he nodded back.

“Ah, thank you, Jason. I appreciate it.”

“Jeez, kiss ass,” Chucky muttered, but the venom was gone from his tone. “You know, I’ve never actually seen the big guy move like that. When they first brought him in here, we kinda thought he was just a corpse or a statue or like, mannequin... Then he killed someone. It was kinda’ hot though. That much raw power… You must be something special, if he’s actually reacting to you like that.”

Marcus just offered him a weak smile. Information was currency in the asylum, and rumors based on lies were dangerous. He didn’t need to be spreading either.

The voice that had gone deathly silent popped up again from the other side of the door, thankfully back to his normal tone. “Oh yeah, he’s reeeeal special.”

Not liking a single thing about Ghostface’s comment, Marcus quickly changed the subject, “Look, if that door rattles one more time, I’m out of here, and I’m sounding the alarm on my way out.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Chucky snarled, but that time, it was directed at Ghostface. “I’m bored! I’m lonely! And I don’t even have my spinach and napkin boob effigy to jerk off too! I think Victor ate it!”

Before Ghostface could answer, the ginger asked, “Hold on, did you make a doll out of teeth too?”

Scrunching up his face in a frown, the doll shook his head. “No. That sounds fuckin’ weird. Why the fuck would I make something so fuckin’ weird?”

“Good point,” Marcus allowed, far from impressed by the eloquent answer. Deciding to keep the subject changed while he could, he asked, “You’re married?”

Eyes narrowing, Chucky looked him up and down before grunting, “Was. Briefly. Didn’t you hear the news? She’s dead.”

Blinking, the orderly thought about it for a moment before sheepishly admitting, “You were… a bit before my time, honestly…”

“Fuckin’ kids don’t know shit about the good ol’ days of murder,” Chucky seethed resentfully, before slapping a hand on the inside of the door. “Well, buckle up kid. You’re in for a hell of a ride.”

“I don’t think you need to–”

“So, it was a late night. Rainy. Cold. The kind of night that’s perfect for murder,” Chucky began dramatically, and Marcus winced.

As the doll went through a variety of emotions ranging from seething rage to utter glee at memories ranging from the many crimes he’d committed, to his own untimely death. Honestly, it was pretty much all stuff Marcus already knew through one means or another.

Not sure he should interrupt but not really interested in spending the rest of his admittedly lonely shift listening to Chucky’s Greatest Hits, he turned to look at Jason’s cell for help.

As soon as he did, the sound of angrily snapping fingers pulled his attention back into Chucky’s cell. The moment his eyes met the dolls, he huffed, “Pay attention, cause I’m only tellin’ this once!”

“I already know all… Okay,” Marcus agreed, sighing tiredly. Honestly, it was boring, but it was still better than being openly and obviously ignored by his coworkers all night.

“You already know. Phuh!” Chucky spat. “Well. You want to know something I can almost guarantee you don’t know already?”

“Um… Sure?” he agreed, under the impression it wouldn’t actually be anything new at all.

“I should have died that night, when the cops shot me in that shitty fucking department store. Bullets tore me up good on the inside. Left me bleeding out… Until I found god.”

“Hmm, no, sorry. I’m not taking on any new followers,” Ghostface breezily declined, and Marcus had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Shut the fuck up, you malignant thoughtform!” Chucky hollered, to which the other patient chuckled, “Jump.”

“Thoughtform?” Marcus asked, looking curiously between the two doors as though he could actually see the other patient.

Letting out a dry laugh, all Ghostface said was, “Don’t worry about it,” before falling silent and refusing to elaborate further.

Shaking his head, the doll looked back up at Marcus. “Anyway, as I was saying. I used an old voodoo ritual, and an amulet, to transfer my soul into a Good Guy Doll. There’s a lot more meat to the contract than that, but cutting out all the fine print, I’m basically immortal now.”

“Wait, what?” he asked. He really didn’t know any of that… It hadn’t been in the news or in the file on ‘The Good Guy’.

“So, fun story, any time I die, my soul jumps into the nearest Good Guy doll. Yep. I’m stuck looking like this for… ever,” Chucky sighed. “Ya’ know, being ginger ain’t so bad? It’s being under three feet tall that just burns…”

“Hold on, wait, go back,” Marcus instructed, scratching his head quizzically. “You said you just pop up in another Good Guy doll if you die. Why not kill yourself and escape?”

“I like your style,” he cackled, before shaking his head. “As much of a break from this place as killing myself would be, that won’t work. Wesker used one of his other companies to buy up the whole line. Every Good Guy doll they could possibly collect and contain here at the facility is in a nice, tidy, dark, coffin of a metal box with a motion sensor and temperature monitors.”

“Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?” Marcus asked, one eyebrow rising curiously.

“I’ve woken up in one or two of them,” he answered shortly. “Want to know the real fucking kicker here? I could probably still be out there, killing and drinking and fuckin’ my way across the world! …But I fucked up…”

Shaking his head, Chucky began pacing around his cell. “I orchestrated my own unfortunate demise, cutting my first sleepover at Crotus Prenn short. Had to make it look like an accident so they didn’t suspect nothin’. Anyway, I shuffled myself off this mortal coil and into a new body, and… decided to celebrate with hookers and blow.”

“Oh my god,” Marcus groaned, slapping a hand over his face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah… I got caught two days into celebrating my freedom, and I’ve been here ever since. I did make an escape attempt after the first failed re-dolling. I almost made it, but I was foiled in the end…”

“Really? What happened?” the ginger asked, perhaps too eagerly. Hey, if he could help Danny find a way out…

“He stopped to bite Wesker’s ankles!” Ghostface interjected gleefully. “It was all anyone would talk about for weeks! It was a stupid move but funny as hell!”

Not bothering to cover his smile or laugh that time, Marcus nodded. “You know what, fair enough. I can think of a few of us who’d like to do the same thing when we get off work for the day.”

“Yeah. At least I have that memory to keep me warm at night,” the doll sighed. “I used to be so angry and pent up all the time. I used to scream at the cameras and staff for hours and hours before I’d get bored enough to shut up… I feel like one of those animals in a pet store or a zoo or something. You know? The ones that start to go nuts from living in a ten by ten cement box with just a little patch of piss soaked astro turf for enrichment?”

“Zoochosis,” Marcus answered, feeling a strange pang in his chest. Charles Lee Ray may have been a horrible person while he was still alive… And now still in death. But that didn’t detract from the fact that he was still a living being and deserved to be treated with some humanity.

“At least I have angrily masterbating while making unblinking eye contact with the camera to pass the time,” Chucky cackled, and Marcus almost took back his previous sympathies. “Hey, it kills the time between lab visits.”

Recalling the whispered horror surrounding the patient's thoughts on ‘the lab’, Marcus asked cautiously, “What exactly is the lab?”

“It’s where they find out what makes us tick,” the doll told him grimly. “Where they do their… science shit, to try and either make drugs out of us, or make drugs to give us. Luckily for most of the others, they get put under when they start cutting and poking.”

“Most of the others?” he questioned sharply. “What do you mean?”

Studying him closely for a minute, Chucky finally explained, “I can’t be sedated, because I’m not a living object. I have a soul, and blood and internal organs, and I have some human-like functions, like being able to eat and sleep and fuck–”

“Ew! Moving on!” Marcus interjected.

“–Right, right. So, I don’t get put under. I see and hear stuff that we patients aren’t technically supposed to see or hear. They take what precautions they can, but they can’t block out everything. Let me tell you… the shit they got on the fifth floor… that’s something you ain’t ready for, kid.”

Like almost every question he had as of late, Marcus wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer as he asked, “What… What do they do to you all down there?”

Looking up at him, Chucky sighed. Sounding at least less angry than before, he said evenly, “I like you, so I’m going to give you some genuine advice. I want you to listen real fuckin’ close. Okay?”

Nodding uncertainly, he wasn’t entirely shocked by what followed.

“For your sake, I hope you never find out. Let’s face it, if you go down there, it won’t be as a part of the science team. You won’t be coming back up.”

“Ahh…” Marcus breathed. Jumping when his alarm went off, he silenced it before excusing, “Sorry, I have to get to my next task for the night. Thanks for not… murdering me.”

“Aww, so soon? Without a goodbye kiss? So mean.” Ghostface cooed.

“I’d rather kiss a viper,” the ginger muttered, starting to step towards the opposite door. Pausing suddenly, he turned back around to ask, “Hey… since you two can get out of your cells so easily… why haven’t you tried to escape yet?”

“To what end?” Chucky asked, laughing harshly. “Let me tell you what would happen if that idiot, or any of us, tried to leave. We’ll be hunted down like rats, never knowing a moment of rest, constantly having to look over our shoulders till we inevitably get recaptured or we kill ourselves. It would take every single one of us working together to get even one out.”

“But… could you?” Marcus questioned. “If you thought you all had a chance, would you?”

Looking back at him for a long moment, the serial killer turned doll finally said, “Yeah… Yeah, I would. Not for love of any of these schmuck’s though. But you realize, even then, we’d have to burn this fuckin’ hell hole to the ground and leave no survivors.”

Staring back at him with a blank expression, all he said was a simple, “Yeah… I know.”
~~~~

Chapter 54: And So The Tide Shifts

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Things are being set in motion that can no longer be undone....

The face that Philip was making almost had Marcus convinced that his plan was idiotic and that the patient was going to use his spine as a back scratcher. Crayons and copy paper? Even he would feel demeaned if someone offered it to him as entertainment.

Thankfully, the Wraith picked up one of the sheets of paper and Marcus let out a small sigh of relief. Even though he still looked suspicious of his odd actions, he wasn’t making any moves to attack him through the glass, so a win was a win.

This haphazard plan of his started about three days ago, back when he had that night shift on the fourth floor and had that ‘chat’ with the only two openly verbal patients on that floor. Between Eli and Dwight slowly teaching him to sign -he was only halfway through the alphabet, they didn’t have a lot of time to practice- and the patients on the third floor being almost wholly unable to communicate effectively, he had decided it was time to start doing something about it.

Although Chucky hadn’t said it, Marcus had no doubt that every single one of the patients either had been, or would be subjected to whatever inhumane insanity was going on downstairs. Despite what many of them had done to deservedly end up imprisoned, as far as he was concerned, they’d been stripped of whatever humanity and rights they had left. There was no justifying that.

Looking at him through the door again, Philip quirked an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘You know I can kill you with this, right?’

Marcus offered an awkward shrug in return, before saying softly, “I’m sorry, I should have brought you something sooner. I just… wasn’t sure what I could bring that wouldn’t be found and taken away, or get you in trouble.”

The Wraith studied him for a moment before tugging one of the crayons out of the box. He seemed to have a small bit of difficulty with it at first, but eventually got a grip on the wax stick and used it to scribble something in small, shaky writing.

‘Thank you.’

Marcus smiled at him, waving goodbye before getting on with the rest of his shift.

Over the next two weeks, the ginger found himself sneaking in more crayons and smaller, more easily hidden note pads to the Wraith, and his three block mates. Carmina looked a bit skeptical, but kindly nodded at him. He’d noticed she seemed fairly subdued compared to many of the other patients, but he didn’t feel right trying to ask her a bunch of questions about herself. Besides, according to her file, her tongue had been cut out or ripped out before… whatever they did to her.

The Hag ate the first and second set of crayons Marcus gave her, so the third time he also passed her a Twix, and asked gently, “Please don’t eat the crayons. They’re so you can write or draw if you want to… pass the time or talk to your cell mates.”

She stopped eating them after that, and although she had yet to speak to him, she did draw a little smiley face to hold up in front of the window between them. It was… nice. If one could ignore what looked like poorly drawn strips of flesh in its triangular teeth.

Offering her a thumbs up, he moved on to the Spirit. He had to wait until the medical teams had taken her downstairs to safely enter her cell and hide the pack of crayons and notepad, but he left them where he knew she’d find them. Not that there was much of anything in her cell for them to get lost under or behind…

When he saw her the next evening, she watched him from her cell with an interest he hadn’t seen displayed before. He was sure she knew who’d left the ‘gift’ in her cell, as she’d seen him giving Philip and Carmina theirs.

Giving the patients contraband wasn’t the only thing he’d been doing over the past few weeks, however. He’d slowly been learning more and more of Philip’s story since his unfortunate arrival at Crotus Prenn.

Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t looked like he was part tree when he first got there. He’d also been slightly shorter, but that was the least of his issues. Since being turned into ‘the Wraith’, he’d been forced to relearn how to use his own body. Being taller was easy enough to get used to, but he was often caught off guard by his own strength. His sight had changed, making it harder for him to see under bright lights and easier to see in the dark, or when he was cloaked. With the new, rough, almost bark-like patches of skin covering his body, he found some of his movements slightly limited or stiff, and had to work on rebuilding his range of motion himself since they didn’t give him any kind of physical therapy. Only more tests…

Marcus had had to ask him to explain what that meant, but it had taken the man a couple of days to actually explain it to him.

The Wraith had the ability to turn almost completely invisible. It was more like bending the light around himself, leaving a large shimmer in the air that was only visible at close range. It was ‘normally’ activated and deactivated by the incredibly specific tones produced by an antique bell that Philip had taken to calling ‘the Wailing Bell’.

That particular night, they weren’t talking about much. Philip was having trouble sleeping and was grateful for the company, even if it was on the other side of a ten inch thick wall of bullet proof glass…

Marcus had noticed perfectly laid scars on the patient's arms and legs. They were equally spaced out, although some were further apart than others, but all were placed with such precision, it had to be something deliberate.

Not wanting to assume, the ginger knocked gently on the glass to get Philip’s attention before asking in a combination of ASL and speaking out loud, “Do you mind if I ask about the scars on your arms and legs?”

Philip stiffened instantly, eyes going glassy as his gaze stopped focusing on the ginger, and went right through him instead. Fingers trembling, he rested one hand on his bicep, lips twitching when he felt the line of raised skin.

“I- I’m sorry-” Marcus started, seeing that he’d hit on what was clearly a very raw subject, but the patient’s head whipping up to stare at him made him pause.

Slowly rising from where he’d been sitting cross-legged on the floor, Philip lifted up his shirt. There was another short, perfectly straight scar on his ribs, as well as two more on his lower abdomen. It became apparent then they were from some kind of surgery, not a mark left there for some special reason or ceremonial purpose.

Dropping the hem of his shirt, he bent and picked up a crayon. Writing on his notepad for several minutes, he finally turned it around and pressed it to the glass at the ginger’s eye level.

‘They wanted to see if they would regrow. If I am capable of regrowing limbs. Bones. Organs. They took out part of my liver and a piece of my rib. I’m not sure what else they took. The first time, they reattached my hand after thirty minutes. The second time, they cut off part of my leg. They reattached it after an hour. Every time, they took a bigger piece and they waited longer to see if it could be reattached, or if it would regrow. They hoped that taking a bigger piece, causing more bodily trauma might jump start the process. But nothing has ever regrown. Nothing will.’

Marcus was pretty sure he was about to throw up. Clearing his throat a couple of times, he started and stopped, unable to find any words to express the horror he felt on Philip’s behalf. He wanted to say he was sorry, but what good would that even do? It felt so empty, even though he was truly sorry that it had happened, and that there was nothing he could do to help him at the moment. A tap on the glass had him looking back at the patient, and a new note.

‘You look like you’re going to be sick.’

“I might be,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Before he could say anything else, an entirely unwelcome voice snapped from the entry door to the cell block.

“Taylor!” Grimes ordered, and Philip quickly tucked his contraband into his thin shorts.

Not too happy about either the interruption in talking to Philip or being spoken to by the head doctor, Marcus didn’t bother trying to hide the scowl on his face as he turned. “Yes, sir?”

“Get over here,” he ordered. When he had the audacity to snap his fingers and point in front of him like he was talking to a dog, the orderly felt something inside him start to crack.

Stiffly forcing one foot in front of the other until he was standing face to face with the man, he asked, “You called me?”

“How long have you been working here?” he asked with that tone of voice that just screamed, ‘There is no right answer, I’m just waiting to start yelling at you’.

Ah, it was going to be one of those conversations. Lovely.

“Five months,” Marcus answered flatly.

“What exactly is your job here?” Grimes questioned, still “To help maintain the patients with proper mental, physical, and emotional wellbeing–”

“Your job is to do as instructed! Your job is to keep contraband out of the hands of the inmates!” Grimes exploded. “You of all people should know better than to go around handing out what are basically weapons to the inmates! Especially on the lower floors! With your track record, I’m shocked these animals haven’t used your naivety to–”

“Patients!” Marcus shouted, loud enough to startle the department head silent. “Stop calling them inmates and animals and every other dehumanizing name under the fucking son, you stupid piece of shit!”

Sputtering with rage, the scientist demanded, “How dare you address me–”

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” the ginger demanded, jabbing a finger at him. “Every single patient I’ve met is a person. They’re still people, and from the sounds of it, some of them never deserved to be here in the first place. Even the ones that do deserve to be locked up don’t deserve this kind of treatment! It’s sick and inhumane, and I hope someday soon, you get to feel even a fraction of the pain you’ve helped cause here.”

Lips twisting in a mirthless smile, Marcus didn’t lower his voice as he said, “And as for my ‘track record’? Maybe, just maybe, if the higher ups gave a single flying fuck about how the staff treat the patients, there would be a lot less casualties, and I wouldn’t constantly end up almost dying just for trying to help someone feel a little bit of peace for five goddamn minutes! So you can take your ‘contraband’ issues, and assuming there’s room in there next to your head, shove them up your ass!”

A heavy silence fell over the room, and it slowly became apparent that quite a few staff members had poked their heads in to listen. Multiple guards were openly watching, while a few janitors were pretending to clean the same spots they’d been ‘cleaning’ since they’d first heard raised voices. A couple more scientists and some lab personnel were pretending to write on clipboards, while one person had their phone out and was doing a terrible job being subtle about recording the incident. Even the patients were watching from their cells.

Taking a deep breath, Marcus asked with frosty patience, “Was there anything else?”

Practically vibrating with rage, Grimes made several sounds that weren’t even close to words before harshly jabbing a finger in the general direction of the elevators. Voice a low hiss, he ordered, “Get out of my sight.”

“I’m sure the other floors could use the help,” the ginger spat, before storming out of the cell block. Although he was sure he’d face ramifications of some sort, Marcus was too pissed to care too much at the moment.

Every step he took towards the elevator filled him with more and more rage until he was seeing red. His thoughts were a swirl of things he wanted to do to Grimes, Wesker, Krauser, Asa. All of them. They were responsible for the atrocities being committed at Crotus Prenn and then had the gall to call him out for actually trying to help the patients! They weren’t even really patients. Not in any sense. They were prisoners. Subjects treated worse than lab animals.

Completely blind to the world around him, Marcus moved without thinking. His feet guided him on a path to the one place in Crotus Prenn he’d started to view as a safe space. Ghostface’s cell on the first floor.

Running on adrenaline and rage, he wasn’t even actively thinking about what he’d do when he got there.

Pausing at the door to the cellblock before badging through, he slowly turned to glare daggers at the poor guard stationed there. He didn’t know them personally, but they’d given him a questioning look when he’d first shown up at the end of the hall.

The guard looked at him, a slightly scared expression crossing their face before they turned and stared straight ahead. Stepping through into the cell block, Marcus didn’t knock or announce himself before entering Danny’s cell.

For a split second, Ghostface’s expression was one of predatory aggression and sleep deprivation as he prepared to face whoever was encroaching on his space. Then, his eyes focused and the aggression turned into an almost playful smile. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours, Doc.”

Marcus was across the small cell before he could do much more than prop himself up on his elbows. Putting hand on one shoulder, the ginger pushed him back down on the mattress as he yanked the desk drawer open to retrieve the small bottle of lube he’d snuck in. That was… happening a lot lately…

Instead of resisting the shocking show of aggression, Danny let himself fall flat again, a curious glint in his eyes. When the ginger climbed on top of him to straddle his hips, he raised his hands to his ribs. “Ooh, in a bit of a mood, are we, baby boy?”

“Shut up,” Marcus ordered as hands pushed under his shirt.

“Hmm, I like this side of you, Doc,” Ghostface purred, only to finally be silenced by the orderly leaning down to lock their lips together. The kiss was far from gentle or romantic. It was hot and angry, all teeth and tongue. A mood the killer was all too happy to enjoy.

Nails pulled red lines across Marcus’s back and shoulders, and in a fit of irritation when his scrub top and undershirt started getting in the way, he sat upright and yanked it over his head. Narrowing his eyes when there was a wolf whistle beneath him, he grabbed Danny’s shirt and pulled it off as well.

Raising his arms to help in the process, the last thing Ghostface expected was for his wrists to suddenly snap together as his cuffs were manually activated. Actually looking surprised, he tilted his head back to see his arms secured to the bedframe…

Returning his gaze to the ginger, he smirked as he rolled his hips. “Ooh, playing a dangerous game tonight, are we?”

Marcus’s back arched slightly as he felt the rough press of Danny’s length against his ass. He’d been hard almost since the moment he’d climbed on top of him, and the ginger ground down on him in response.

Ghostface groaned, eyes glittering in the low light. Voice a purr, he encouraged, “Take what you need, baby boy.”

His permission was like a damn breaking, the pet name was still on his lips as Marcus tugged his pants down his thighs. The sight of his hard shaft slapping against his belly as it was freed from the waistband of his pants drew a small sound from the ginger.

Quickly stripping the rest of his uniform off, Marcus poured a generous amount of lube into his palm. Taking Ghostface in hand, he stroked the slick over his length with a firm, almost desperate grip. The half panted breaths that matched his movements had him aching, and he raised himself up on his knees.

Without so much as a finger of prep, the orderly guided himself down onto Danny’s cock. The sound Ghostface made as he sank onto him almost made him pause. He’d never heard him get loud like that before, but his voice was thick and hungry as he groaned, “Fuck, Doc! You’re so tight!”

It was tight. Almost painful. And perfect. The stinging burn that accompanied his body stretching to fit Danny inside him sent waves of intense sensation through his limbs. Pain and pleasure mixed in a distracting swirl, dulling his anger and momentarily distracting him from the cause.

Taking a moment just to enjoy the pleasant feeling of fullness in his gut, Marcus groaned as he raised himself up with his legs, hands on Ghostface’s chest for balance. He could feel every inch of Danny’s cock dragging against his walls, shaping him to better take it all when he dropped back down.

Finding just the right angle only took a couple more hurried falls, and when the head of Ghostface’s cock hit that sweet spot inside him, Marcus let out a guttural moan. Wrapping the fingers of one hand around his own shaft, he began stroking himself with a tight grip. Danny rolled his hips underneath him, meeting his movements and ensuring he got as deep as possible with every drop.

Marcus didn’t stop riding him even when he felt him cum, body tensing and hips jerking as he emptied himself. He was on the edge, but even the extra heat in his belly wasn’t quite enough to push him over. It was mildly frustrating, and he dug his nails into Danny’s chest, gritting his teeth as he ground down on his shaft.

Ghostface groaned, hips still giving small, jerky thrusts. “Fuck, baby. God, you feel so good, Marcus.”

Hearing his own name spoken in Danny’s hungry, husky voice sent a jolt through him, and he came with a relieved whine. Finally stilling, his shoulders slumped, body trembling slightly as he rested his hands on the other man’s chest while he caught his breath.

They stayed like that for several minutes, with Ghostface buried and slowly softening inside him. It felt right. It felt… safe. And when Marcus finally realized he still hadn’t uncuffed Danny, he let out a small ‘oh’, and quickly reached up to unlock his cuffs.

Before he could ask if his wrists and arms felt okay, Danny sat up, wrapping his arms around him as a hand came up to grip the back of his neck. Pulled into a slow, passionate kiss, Marcus moaned into his mouth. Tugged back by a gentle hand tangling in his hair, he met dark eyes with a hazy, fucked out gaze.

A sly smile played across Danny’s lips, fingers trailing down the orderly’s spine as he looked him over. Despite the roles, it felt like he was still entirely in charge. Pulling Marcus’s head back, he brushed his lips over his throat. Gently kissing and biting a slow line up his neck and jaw, he nipped his ear before murmuring, “That’s my good boy…”

~

Word of Marcus’s ‘fight’ with Grimes spread like wildfire. Or possibly like the ash cloud of a volcanic eruption. By the time he got back to his dorm in the morning, Leon, David, and all of his roommates had heard what happened.

Thankfully, they seemed to find it rather fantastic. Quentin had been pretty sad to miss it, as it happened on his night off, and Leon didn’t say as much, but neither did he try to hide the smile on his face as the rest of them made their celebratory comments.

Marcus was happy enough to leave it at that. The fact he hadn’t been pulled aside and written up at some point during the remainder of his shift, or even called back down to the fourth floor struck him as a rare mercy. He doubted it would last, but almost nothing did in Crotus Prenn.

Honestly, the rest of his night had gone smoothly. Too smoothly… After spending a dangerous amount of time cuddling and ranting at Danny about everything and nothing, he’d stuck around the first two floors to look for things to do. He’d ended up completing a massive backlog of paperwork and was off right on time. It was only because of that he got the time to chat with his friends before they left for their own day shifts.

A strange sense of apprehension followed him down to the bus stop and when he boarded the bus, Nea gave him a strange smile. There were several people behind him and more than a few people already seated up front, so he was forced to let it go without asking what that look was for.

Several people gave him looks ranging from curiosity to discomforting unreadability, and he hunched his shoulders slightly as he hurried to the back of the bus where he and David would usually sit. He hated having to work his shifts alone.

When they finally pulled up to the curb, Marcus hung back until everyone else was gone before making his way to the front. Nea was watching everyone file inside, and didn’t notice him until he tapped her on the shoulder.

“Fuck!” she shouted, accidently slamming a hand down on the horn.

Multiple people jumped, with one poor guy flailing wildly as he hit a patch of ice. He took out three other people on the way down, and the entire crowd turned to glare through the windshield at the pair.

Slowly turning to stare at him, Nea asked, “What the fuck was that?!”

“I thought you knew I was still on the bus!” he defended, and she raised her eyebrows.

“I thought you were out there and I was looking for your fucking carrot head so I could say something before you were gone!”

Blinking, he started and stopped a couple of times. He didn’t actually have a comeback for that. Finally, he asked awkwardly, “So, um… What’s up?”

“Mhm,” she huffed. “Nice job with Grimes.”

Marcus had a brief moment of internalized panic, wondering if that meant she knew about floor three, but Nea added, “No security footage this time, which kind of sucks, but the video that’s circulating is still pretty great. It’s mostly floor for security reasons, but you can hear everything. I think he might have cried after you left, but unfortunately Feng couldn’t find any proof.”

“Haa,” Marcus offered weakly. After that near heart attack, he wasn’t sure he could take anymore scares for the night. Thank god Wesker and Krauser both worked days…

Bidding her farewell, he finally made his way inside. Making it through security, the locker room, and grabbing the clipboard with his shift assignment for the night, he was starting to think it was going to be a smooth start to the night.

He’d never learn.

“Marcus Aurelius Taylor.”

Marcus flinched, knuckles turning white around the edges of his clipboard. Ah, there it was.

Raising an eyebrow at his jumpy reaction, Jack said, “I heard that you and Grimes had an altercation last night.’

“Ah, ha, right, a-about that–” he started, but she held up a hand and he quickly fell silent.

“He sent me a strongly worded email, recommending that I reprimand you for your insubordination.”

“But I– He was–”

He was cut off once again by her hand on his shoulder, a rare smile on her lips. She looked… pleased? “Keep up the good work. Know your worth and always question what you’re told, even if it’s by a superior.”

More than a little shocked by the statement, the orderly stared silently at his boss. After a moment, he said hesitantly, “Thank… you?”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually had a supervisor who actually gave that much of a shit before…

“Have a good shift, Marcus. Let's try to keep this one incident free, hm?” With one last pat on the shoulder, Jack walked past him to clock out for the evening.

Turning to watch her go, he almost forgot he’d already clocked in himself until he numbly went over to repeat the process. Maybe he’d let himself get too into his head about how bad things were. Or how bad the people were. Not everyone in the higher ups of Crotus Prenn were bad people. Some of them did actually care…

‘Too bad the bad in here still far outweighs the good,’ he thought, silently making his way back down to the third floor. Looked like Talbot didn’t want him around for a night. Sweet!

To his immense relief, Grimes was on a much lower level for the next week anyway, and shouldn’t be his problem even when he was on the fourth floor. He imagined he’d make himself a problem when he found out Jack had no intention of reprimanding him for his outburst the night before, but he really didn’t care anymore. Both Jack and Leon had his back, and since the head doctor wasn’t his Department Head, he couldn’t actually do anything beyond making a recommendation to Jack.

That night, Marcus didn’t head to the cellblock right away. Instead, he was tasked with more paperwork and sorting an unholy amount of miscellaneous cords and wires janitorial had found in a closet.

When he asked ‘Why?’, he was told they might be able to use them… That might not have been so bad, but the fact that the anecdote was delivered by a man in his mid forties that looked and sounded like he’d rather be anywhere else gave it the same vibes as a dad refusing to throw away a chunk of two by four because ‘I might need it someday!’

At least he was getting paid either way…

After his lunch break, it was finally time to head to the cellblock to check on the patients and take down reports on anything ‘interesting’ he observed. He never did, but he still carried the stupid paperwork with him to look like he gave a shit about that part of his job. Hmm. He might have to doodle a little dick on the signature line one of those nights…

When he stepped into the block, he was a little surprised by Philip quickly getting to his feet and hurrying over to the front of his cell. The patient waved at him, before making a ‘come here’ motion with one hand.

Curious and not worried that he had any ill intentions, Marcus made a beeline for the bird cage. When he reached the glass, he greeted, “Hey, Philip. Are you okay? You all didn’t get into too much trouble because of me, did you?”

Looking a little surprised, the Wraith shook his head before pulling his notepad and a crayon out of the waistband of his shorts. Scribbling a note, he held up, ‘Everyone was so shocked by you screaming at Grimes, they forgot all about us. Thank you.’

Sighing, Marcus nodded. “That’s a relief. I was worried I’d gotten you all in trouble.”

Philip held up another note, reading, ‘No one has ever given us contraband before, so I don’t think most people think about us having things we shouldn’t.’

“That makes sense,” he agreed, before asking, “What’s up? You seemed like you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”

‘I wanted to make sure you didn’t get into trouble. Grimes is horribly petty and very vindictive. I’m actually surprised to see you again already.’

The last part of his message made Marcus blink. Was he in danger from another source now? Hoping it was more of a workplace petty and not the much more likely ‘this man will try and make you disappear’ kind of petty, he decided not to press the issue too much and the conversation moved on to more light hearted topics.

They spoke for almost an hour before Philip decided to turn in for the night. The lights in the floor three cellblock never actually turned off, and they didn’t dim nearly as much as in Danny’s cell. Still, night was generally the best time for him to sleep since there was less staff and less light, so Marcus moved on to check on the other patients.

Carmina and the Hag, who he’d since learned was actually called Lisa, were both asleep. He didn’t do anything to disturb them, and hoped they were having dreams of a better place. He was pretty sure the Spirit didn’t actually sleep.

Rin’s file was one of the most bare, with little to no information about what she was or how the hell she came to be that way. She was described as violent, angry, and impossible to reason with when she was free. They only knew her name thanks to DNA samples that led them back to a horrific murder and disappearance from almost a decade earlier. It was unclear why or if there was any premeditated motive, but both her father and mother had been hacked apart by a sword. Their daughter, a college freshman home for the summer, was declared missing and presumed dead when copious amounts of her blood were also found at the scene.

Her file didn’t say how they found her, much less caught her, just that it had been a heavy casualty event. The only time she ever appeared ‘peaceful’ was when she was in her cell, or extremely heavily sedated. Even with the latter, she would take any opportunity to kill if she was given one…

Walking up to her door, Marcus offered a small wave before turning to go. He tried not to linger like some of the other staff. Either to gawk at her severed, floating limbs, or her… figure.

Admittedly, she was very pretty for a dismembered ghost body, but unlike the other patients, she refused to wear the awful, scratchy clothes they were provided. Instead, she remained wrapped in just enough bandages not to give everyone who looked at her a free peep show. It was… odd. But if she was more comfortable that way, he wasn’t going to judge or leer.

“Marcus…” a soft voice said, and he paused, assuming he was hearing things.

Turning around, he frowned. He was the only staff member in the room, and both Carmina and Lisa were still asleep. Even if they had been awake, the Artist couldn’t speak and Lisa’s voice was muffled by the bite muzzle she was forced to wear at all times. Not to mention they were both on the other side of the cellblock. Christ, he thought he’d gotten more sleep than that.

Glancing at Rin’s cell again, Marcus noticed that instead of sitting in the back corner like she usually did, the patient was waiting at her door, much like Philip had. Glancing around again, he jumped when he actually saw her open her mouth.

“Marcus,” she repeated, making a small gesture with one hand.

Glancing at the multiple cameras he knew were able to see him, he cautiously made his way closer. She… did worry him a bit. Despite the cuffs and collar’s supposed ability to ‘keep her from phasing’, which he still wasn’t clear on the meaning of, he couldn’t help but worry she was calling him over because she’d figured out a way to try and get out to kill him.

Why him? Probably convenience, if he was being honest. He hadn’t done anything to her personally, but in a place like Crotus Prenn, a staff member was a staff member, and an opportunity was an opportunity. The fact that she knew his name wasn’t too surprising either. Staff members talked day and night. Most patients could probably name more of them than he could.

Once he was in front of her door, he greeted kindly, “Hello, Rin.”

The Spirit blinked, glowing white eyes drifting to the untouched page on his clipboard before raising again to study his face. Finally, she asked, “Why did you help him?”

Drawing a blank for a minute, Marcus finally caught up. “Oh! Oh, you mean Philip? When he killed those two guards? Or, like, the crayons and stuff?”

She just stared at him, as if waiting for him to explain… any of it. All of it, maybe.

Deciding he had nothing to hide, Marcus still kept his voice low. He didn’t care if the patients heard him, nor did he give a shit if Feng picked up what he said. But, he didn’t need it getting around the staff, or worse, the higher ups…

“Because he doesn’t deserve to be here, and those guards he killed… deserved it.”

Rin’s expression changed, slowly shifting from a neutral stare to one of wide eyed surprise. “Why… do you say that?”

“Because everything he did to get put in here,” Marcus said, barely keeping his voice even, “is bullshit. He was tricked into hurting people, and the one person he did voluntarily kill was the one responsible for it. As for the guards he killed… They were being horrible to him for no reason, pushing him and pushing him until he snapped. So, yes. They brought it on themselves, and they fucking deserved it.”

The venom in his words by the time he was done was so strong he could almost taste it. The Wraith’s story made him angrier than anyone’s he’d heard so far, and he clenched his fists. Taking a deep breath, he slowly uncurled his fingers from where they were digging into his palms.

“Before you point out that not everyone in here is innocent, or as innocent, I don’t care. None of you deserve the things being done to you, even if some of them are murderers. They’re still people… Even if they aren’t human anymore.”

Rin’s expression softened, one hand coming up to rest against the glass between them. Studying him for a moment as she let his words sink in, she finally said, “You’re very angry for us. You still see us as ‘people’ even though some of us are far, far from human. Why?”

“Because you’re alive,” he answered, shrugging. “I fully believe all living beings should be treated well, regardless of their nature or shape or purpose. Humans are the only animal that will purposefully exterminate an entire species just because it mildly inconveniences us, or we see it as ‘dangerous’. Look what we did to Yellowstone with the wolves. Fuck, look at what American settlers did to the bison!”

Rin’s eyebrows rose, expression becoming slightly alarmed, and he backed off a bit. Marcus knew he had a tendency to get… passionate about certain subjects… The vileness of human versus animal nature was one such subject.

“Sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “But, yeah. That’s it, I guess. Humans suck. None of you deserve to be cut apart and–”

He froze, suddenly wondering if that had been an incredibly insensitive choice of words.

Rin actually smiled slightly, one corner of her mouth twitching before she said, “I know what you’re referring to. I’m not offended.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, he nodded. “Thank you. Um, still. Sorry.”

Expression once more resting in an unreadable mask, she asked, “May I ask you a favor?”

A bit surprised by the sudden request, Marcus frowned slightly. “I can’t promise anything, depending on what it is. If you want more drawing stuff or even a candy bar or something–”

He stopped again, blushing as she waited for him to catch up to what he’d said for the second time. “You… don’t eat, do you?”

“I do not,” she confirmed. “I’m dead.”

“Ah… Um, right. Sorry, what can I… possibly help you with?”

Fingers curling into her hand as she pulled it away from the glass, Rin’s expression became almost pained. Before he could ask what was wrong, she explained, “When I was captured… I wasn’t alone.”

“Oh… Did they take whoever was with you?” Marcus asked, mentally running through all the patients he knew. He was pretty sure Ji-Woon was Korean, and if he was remembering her file correctly Rin was from Japan, so he doubted it was him. He hoped it wasn’t him…

“Yes, my… grandfather. He saved me that night, and we spent years in seclusion… Until they came. Although we fought until the end, we were eventually overwhelmed and brought to this place. I know he’s here. Somewhere,” Rin told him, fingers curling around her biceps in a small bid for comfort. “I can feel his presence. I know he can feel mine as well, but I haven’t seen him since we were taken prisoner. I don’t know what floor he’s on.”

“I only have level four clearance so far,” he explained honestly. “I know there are a total of seven floors, but with as fast as they’ve been pushing me down the asylum, I might still be able to find him sooner or later if he isn’t on any of the floors I can already get to.”

The sound of someone badging into the cell block had both of them quickly looking over, and Rin whispered, “His name is Kazan, but they probably don’t call him that here. They won’t know his name.”

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t know that name either,” he hurried to tell her. “But I’ll ask the other patients.”

She nodded, stepping back a few paces until she could comfortably sit against the wall. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as a pair of unfamiliar janitors came into the cellblock, pushing a cart.

They were chatting rather loudly, and Marcus turned to them with a dark glare. They hadn’t noticed him yet, and he cleared his throat, startling them both silent.

Walking over with a thin smile, he put one hand on the cart. Looking at them each, he said in a low voice, “People are sleeping in here… I’d keep your voices down, unless you want to be the next me.”

Both of them turned white, and he smiled warmly. Patting one of them on the shoulder as he walked past, he had to suppress a mad giggle as they tensed like he might actually do something to them.

It was turning out to be a pretty good night after all.

~~

“Have you ever heard of the Collector?”

David’s voice was small and slightly tinny as it was repeated through the small speaker. A certain ginger’s followed, mumbling something about having heard rumors of such a person, but not knowing all that much.

Wesker let out a shallow breath, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over to view the computer screen. “Perhaps you’ve been a bit too lenient with your son.”

“One could say the same about your pets,” Asa hissed, slamming the laptop closed. He’d already made it very clear he placed a decent amount of the blame for David’s extreme misstep on Krauser’s inability to restrain himself, and Leon’s attempts to ‘help’ his friends, but what he said next had the CEO smiling mirthlessly.

“Taylor has become too much of a problem. Your little plan to have a patient kill him has taken too long, and now my son is straying off the path I laid for him… I’m not waiting any longer. I’m taking care of this myself.”

Wesker nodded, essentially giving his blessing for Asa to target one of his own staff. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last. Still, he paused before opening the office door. Turning, he reminded, “Remember to make it look like an accident, if you don’t plan to use all of him.”

Eyes flat, reflective green discs, the Collector countered softly, “I always do…”
~~~~

Chapter 55: Before Crotus Prenn: In Your Arms I Fall

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Who was Jack before Crotus Prenn and how did she get to where she is now?

Life will always throw people curveballs…

“I can’t believe you’re leaving us! This whole place is going to feel so weird without you!”

“Technically,” twenty-eight year old Jack answered with a raised eyebrow, an open letter resting on the table before her, “I still haven’t decided if I want to go or not.”

The group of four women sitting at the table with her all made various sounds of consideration. Although none of her friends wanted her to go, they all agreed it was an amazing opportunity. Life changing, even.

Jen, the oldest of the group, sipped her coffee, a thoughtful look on her face. Once things died down a bit, she advised, “It would be a fantastic career move, but from the sounds of it, you’d have to sacrifice a lot of personal time outside of work.”

“Hey, some of us have found balancing work and home life to be where it’s at,” Eleanore laughed, rubbing her round belly. “Stop kicking me, you little shit… I swear, her brother only kicked half this hard.”

“Two under two and still running a business from home,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine how you find personal time.”

“It’s only one and a half under two for now,” Crissy joked.

The group shared a light hearted laugh before the conversation grew serious once more.

“I really am considering it. The pros almost outweigh the cons,” Jack elaborated, picking at her french toast. The cafe they were having brunch at was beautiful, not to mention sentimental to all five of the women. “A pay increase, insurance, dental, a push in my career. It’s not everyday that the CEO of a multi million dollar company requests for you to join his staff.”

Hannah nodded, understanding the need to have more connections. She was still fresh on her own plan, merely a dental assistant at her professor’s clinic, but she had big plans for her future. “And the cons?”

“The cons are that I’m basically going to have to move to the middle of nowhere Alaska,” Jack sighed. “Which means I’m basically going to be on call twenty-four-seven, not to mention that an asylum is a big leap from your average psych ward.”

“I mean, aren’t you already a workaholic? That sounds perfect for you!” Eleanore encouraged. “Plus, you’re even less of a people person than Jen over here.”

“Hey!” Jen protested.

“So, how did this guy find you anyway?” Hannah asked, turning the conversation back to Jack’s job offer. “Did he find your resume or something?”

“I was recommended. The previous head nurse at the asylum plans to retire soon so they’ve been looking for someone as a replacement. Apparently, my resume was impressive enough that my department put me up for recommendation and I got accepted. Now it’s just a matter of whether I want to go or not.”

“Oh, right.” Eleanore said with a frown. “Your brother is graduating soon, isn’t he?”

“That’s right. And if I choose to go, I’m going to be on probation and will have to miss it.”

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Jen offered sympathetically. “I know it’s hard to choose between work and family, but career opportunities like this don’t come along often. Sometimes not more than once in a lifetime.”

Jack pursed her lips. They were all right. She was the first person in her family to attend college, she wanted to set a good example with her career choices as well. This opportunity would push her much further and provide her with the income to help fund her brother’s future as well as the futures of her nieces and nephews. And all she had to do was work on site for the next decade or so.

Making up her mind, the woman picked up her glass and held it up with a smile. “Okay, okay. I’m convinced. I’ll take the job.”

The others all cheered and raised their own glasses, tapping hers as they went on to discuss other topics. Jack would miss their monthly hang outs when she went away but she should still be able to meet up with them once or twice a year.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

~
~Five Years Later~

Thirty-three year old Jack sat on her bed, scrolling through Facebook, tension in her jaw as she scrolled through Jen’s wedding photos. It was a lovely venue, something that her friend had planned to be her wedding location ever since high school. She looked so happy in her wedding dress, even more so that the other girls were with her on her happy day.

Jack wasn’t able to make it.

When she first started this position, she was still in training and not privy to the true happenings of the asylum. That was, until the former head nurse suddenly passed away. The incident was unfortunate but swept under the rug just as quickly, leaving Jack to be launched head first into everything. Straight into Hell…

What had seemed like an intense, dangerous job at first glance had quickly become something so much worse. She didn’t agree with Wesker’s ideals or methods. His goals were either too extreme or dangerously shrouded in lies and deception. She hated it. Hated him…

But she was stuck. She was in far too deep to simply walk away no matter how much she disagreed with him. No matter how much she hated him and everything Crotus Prenn stood for. Jack had never believed in true good and evil. There were simply people being people. Seeing the inner workings of the asylum had shaken that belief.

Shaking off the bitter thoughts, she rose and once again dressed for the day, not knowing that she was about to walk into a shift that would kickstart dramatic change at Crotus Prenn. Despite having her own car, she just as often took the bus to and from the dorms. Gas was obscenely expensive in Alaska, and difficult to keep in stock with as isolated as they were. Any gas the company paid for was reserved for the bus, and she hadn’t had time to go out and fill up her extra tanks herself.

Walking into the building, she immediately picked up the buzz of excitement in the air. It crackled like electricity, and the CEO’s name was whispered back and forth by most of the staff she passed on her way to her office.

She was intercepted before she could make it to her solitude, the look on Grimes face as he said, “Good, you’re here. Wesker needs all the department heads,” was about as sour as an old lemon. They hadn’t gotten along since day one, and he’d made it very clear he wasn’t happy with her promotion, even if they hadn’t had any other options.

Her face turned just as sour but she knew she couldn’t refuse. Following Grimes to the break room, she found the other head staff members already there waiting along with as many people as they could cram in the small room. Bill looked like he had better things to do while Feng was very loudly playing Angry Birds on her phone. Jack took her place next to the head guard, giving him a nod of acknowledgement as they all waited for whatever circus performance Wesker was going to put on that time.

Wesker stood in the middle of the room, but instead of being flanked by Grimes and Asa as he usually was, the only person beside him was a young man in a guards uniform. He looked tired, but excited to be there.

Poor stupid thing. He had no idea what he was getting himself into…

“As you know, we’ve been short staffed as of late,” Wesker began, a hand resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’d like to introduce you all to Leon, our newest guard. He’ll be training directly under our Captain, Bill, to make sure he receives the best training possible.”

The mummer that started was like an encroaching avalanche and Jack could already tell what rumours were going to pop up after the meeting. And… judging by the way the CEO was holding onto the blond and the way Leon was smiling up at him, it seemed that most of them were going to be true.

Seeing them together like that made something ugly twist within Jack’s stomach. She’d given up everything for this place and gotten nothing but sleepless nights and missed memories with her friends and family. Why should Wesker of all people get to find happiness in Crotus Prenn? Why should he get something he stripped away from everyone who walked through those doors?

Looking at Leon, she felt an almost sorrowful pang in her chest. His blue eyes were still so bright. His face was soft, almost like he had yet to lose all his baby fat. He still had something most people in Crotus Prenn had long since lost… Hope.

She gave it a week before he was either dead, or running with his tail between his legs. She wasn’t the only one, as Feng looked up from her phone just long enough to mumble to her, “I give him ten days, tops. Three if Amanda gets a hold of him.”

~

Shockingly, Leon didn’t crash and burn within his first few days, nor was he violently murdered by a patient. Days turned to weeks, and Jack found herself thinking of him more and more.

It felt like he was hiding something. Although he was friendly with the staff and eager to learn as much as Bill could teach him, there was something guarded under the surface. Something she couldn’t quite pin down.

They’d only spoken a half a dozen times, but never for more than a few minutes, or to address anything besides work. She’d noticed he would occasionally clam up or suddenly change the subject while talking to others, but thus far, she had yet to catch what the trigger was.

At least he hadn’t let Wesker’s clear attention go to his head. Too many times, she’d seen a new guard or other staff member come in and within weeks try to act like hot shit. Like they knew something about something and could handle anything the asylum or patients threw their way with a few loud words.

But Leon hadn’t done that. He almost seemed resistant to reaching past his rank. Even with Bill training him, he refused to act like he was Lieutenant despite how much it looked like he was being trained to take the position.

Rumors were already circulating that that was why Wesker had brought him in. Instead of promoting from within to fill the position that had been open for far too long even though he had a highly suitable candidate on hand, he’d brought in someone he could control.

‘Control with his dick, most likely,’ she thought bitterly.

“Where are ya’ right now, darlin’?” a gruff voice murmured, lips brushing her ear.

The calloused hands on her hips squeezed gently, and she’s pulled out of her thoughts, once more present in the moment. Releasing her hands from where her fingers were digging crescents into Caleb’s shoulders, Jack muttered, “Apologies, just something itching at me.”

“Thinkin’ of work, even in a moment like this,” he chuckled, one hand rising to brush a strand of hair away from her face. It had come loose from her bun during their activities, and would soon be tucked back into place. Scarred face twisting in a smile, he added softly, “Workaholic.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t refute it. Their… relationship had started off two years ago. Jack had secured her position as the head nurse and had set off to cement her authority to the patients as well. Most of them pushed back, as they naturally did whenever there was a change of hands within the department heads, wanting to test her limits and push her buttons. It wasn’t easy but she managed to achieve a balance of strict benevolence. Some of the previous rules set in place by the old head nurse and Wesker himself were stupid as fuck and there was no way she was going to abide by them.

It was due to her restructuring that Floor One patients were allowed personal effects. It was due to her that they were allowed more freedom during rec time, that the Legion were allowed to stay in the same room together. It was due to her hard work and dedication and it was exhausting.

That was when she started to see Caleb.

Both of them wanted a way to relieve stress, something with no strings attached. Jack knew that it was unprofessional, something she would never allow to happen back at her old job, but she was beyond the point of caring. Everyone else did it, or at least tried too… So what did it hurt if she did as well?

So why was she finding herself so distracted from her distraction? It wasn’t lost on either of them, and they were a bit quieter than usual when it came time to clean up. Neither of them were particularly talkative, but they could both feel something in the air. Caleb knew better than to pry beyond a subtle comment, and Jack wasn’t volunteering any information.

Taking a moment to stretch his leg before retightening the shitty brace he was allowed, he watched her dress. Her back was to him, so she didn’t see him sitting forward until she felt his hand rest gently on her hip. Fingers traced over her back in soothing motions, and she paused before turning to face him with a questioning look.

Offering a small smile, he asked evenly, “Same time next week?”

The tension from her brows softened and she placed a hand over his, watching with half lidded eyes as he kissed her palm. “Yes. Same time next week.”

The bus ride back to her dormitory was uneventful. It was late enough that the driver was Adam, picking up both night and day shifts so that the other two drivers could sleep. The quiet thumps of the wheels on the road was almost enough to lull Jack to sleep, but she knew that if she napped now, it would be impossible for her to actually rest once she was in bed. She had to get back up in a few hours, after all.

Unfortunately, it seemed like sleep was simply not in the cards. After laying in bed for the better part of two hours, she finally gave up. Her mind was still racing, and she could only hope a quick snack of veggies and hummus would help settle her enough to get some proper rest.

Despite how difficult it was to get fresh fruits and veggies over frozen, dried, or canned, Jack liked to keep a healthy supply on hand. She didn’t have to worry about anyone taking her food. They were all too scared to fuck with her like that, and even if they hadn’t been, most people at Crotus Prenn seemed to have a personal vendetta or aversion to fresh vegetables.

So, imagine her surprise when she opened the door to the common room kitchen only to find the one and only Leon S. Kennedy slouched over a table, sadly munching on her carrot sticks and hummus like it was the most depressing meal he’d ever eaten. Still in his uniform, he didn’t seem to notice Jack’s arrival, nor her quiet approach.

“Are those my carrots?”

Nearly throwing the carrot stick he was holding at her, Leon gasped. Sitting up a bit straighter, he blinked several times before his bleary eyes finally managed to focus on her face. Staring at her for a minute, he finally answered hesitantly, “...No?”

Raising an eyebrow, she pointed towards the plastic lid, where her name was written in all caps with a black sharpie.

Following her finger, he blinked at the boldly written name before furrowing his brow. Starting and stopping a couple of times, he finally let out a long sigh. Looking back up at her, he said, “I’m really sorry. I saw that and just thought it was the brand or something. I’m so fucking tired and I just had a fight with Wesker.”

That caught her attention immediately. Trouble in paradise, huh? A dark thought suddenly crossed her mind and her jaw tensed. No, no, it would be too petty. She would be sinking down to a school yard level of taunts. It would be unprofessional and might even get her fired. And yet…

She took a seat next to the tired blonde, leaning on the table as she lent him an open ear. “Oh? Has he been giving you trouble?”

Running a hand through his hair, Leon didn’t seem to notice how it stuck out wildly when he lowered his hand back to the table. “I’m sure you’ve already heard the rumors. That he only brought me on as a guard so he could keep me around him since his job is so time consuming. That I’m only training under Bill so I can be promoted to Lieutenant even though there are more qualified people already available… Well, it’s… partially true. He told me tonight he’s going to be making the announcement in just a few days. I’m being promoted.”

Taking a deep breath, he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “I’m not… ready. I was barely out of my rookie days before everything went to shit with the PD. And here? I haven’t even been here for six months. I don’t deserve this promotion! I haven’t earned this promotion! Jill should be getting this position! She’s been here longer, she knows the asylum, the staff, the patients, and–!”

His ranting was cut off when Jack reached out to fix his hair, blue eyes as wide as saucers when she flattened the unruly strands down into his usual side part.

Her voice was gentle and surprisingly soft as she said, “That’s just how he is, unfortunately. The man thinks the world revolves around him and that he can push the rest of us commoners around however he wishes. Hopefully, he’ll come to his senses soon enough.”

Leon stared at her, eyes wide and more focused than they had been all night. Blinking suddenly as he appeared to realize the position he was in, he quickly sat back in his chair a bit. Had he been leaning closer to her that whole time? How had he not noticed that he was talking so flippantly to a higher up, in her pajamas no less, while he ate her food right in front of her?

Clearing his throat, he quickly closed the partially eaten containers of food before offering, “I’m sorry. I’m… so tired and I– It’s been a long day. I’ll pay you back for the food. Or replace it, if that’s better. It’s late, so… I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

Pushing his chair back, he started to get up to leave, only to nearly trip as he turned back around. Grabbing the food, he took a step towards the refrigerator, only to jerk to a stop again. Turning back to Jack, he asked, “I’m sorry, this is yours. Did you– Were you coming down here to eat? Or, should I throw this out? I didn’t double dip, but I know sharing food with strangers can be off putting.”

His nervous demeanor was certainly entertaining and she couldn’t help the smile that fell on her lips, taking mental note of his subsequent blush as she said, “It’s fine, you can keep it. I meal prep anyways so I have more. Just be more wary when you grab food. Some people here can be very vengeful if their stuff is taken.”

Nodding gratefully, he almost took the food with him before quickly turning and shoving it back in one of the communal refrigerators. Laughing awkwardly, he muttered, “I don’t… have a fridge in my room… Anyway, thank you. Night.”

With that, he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Jack alone with her thoughts.

~

Much to Jack’s surprise, Leon proved to be… actually kind of funny sometimes. His jokes were often terribly delivered or incredibly flat, but he more than made up for it by throwing himself into his work with dedication. He was passionate about protecting people, including the patients. He hid it well, but she could see the toll learning about the lower levels had taken on him.

Maybe that’s why she found them slowly becoming more than just coworkers. She had actually started to view him as a friend within the oppressive walls of Crotus Prenn, and he began confiding in her more and more. The dark thoughts she’d had during their first one on one encounter were pushed to the back of her mind, and eventually forgotten. Their friendship was beneficial for him, and for her.

Leon’s friendship had rippling effects, and Jack found herself slowly loosening up. It didn’t go unnoticed. She’d been added to a few different group chats, and more of the staff held real conversations with her, talking about things beyond day to day work. She could feel her shoulders relaxing more and more, and even took up some of the invitations to join game night as they began trickling in.

It was during her first time joining in the weekend festivities that she was pulled into a poker game with Leon, Ash, Ace, and a couple of other staff members. When Ace accidentally dropped a blunt out of his sleeve while dealing cards, the entire table froze for a moment, all eyes on her. She simply shrugged, saying, “What you do off the clock is none of my business, as long as you don’t land yourself or someone else in the hospital or morgue.”

Lowering his sunglasses, Ace blinked at her. Picking up the joint, he glanced at it before saying, “I’d offer you some as a bribe, but it seems like we’re in joint agreement.”

Almost everyone within earshot groaned, and Ash punched him in the arm while Jack just rolled her eyes. That joke was actually worse than anything Leon had come up with so far.

Nudging her with his elbow, the blond offered her a cheerful smile when she looked over at him. “Wow, so you’re not a robot after all!”

It was at that moment she realized just how dangerously close she’d come to turning into someone just like Wesker. Cold. Cut off from everyone. Using everyone around her for her own gain. She’d almost done to Leon what the CEO was already trying to do. Use him…

In a small gesture of reassurance, although she wasn’t sure for whom, she gently reached over under the table and brushed her hand against his. He was real. So was she. And she would be there for him as a friend any time he needed.

Although the moment went unnoticed by the rest of the room, the changes in her demeanor over the following weeks didn’t. In fact, everyone seemed to have noticed…

“So did you and Gramps break up or something?”

Head snapping up from where she’d been watching Susie attempt to draw a terrible comic of Frank, Jack looked at Joey incredulously. Barely noticing the Legion leader's critiques on Susie’s drawing fall silent, she asked sharply, “Excuse me?”

All four of the teens exchanged looks, but it was Julie who spoke up. Shrugging, she gestured to the other side of the rec room, where Caleb was playing Uno with Amanda. “Well, he’s been a lot crabbier than usual. And, I don’t know… You don’t seem to come to the cellblock during your free time as often. We aren’t going to pester him about it, but we’re worried about you. Did something happen?”

“If he hurt you, or broke your heart or something, we’ll kick his ass,” Frank volunteered hotly.

Nodding, Susie agreed, “I’m not above kicking an old man down the stairs.”

“Yeah,” Joey agreed, crossing his arms. “If we have to throw a cripple down an elevator shaft, we’ll do it. It’s probably not the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

Staring at them incredulously for a moment, Jack said firmly, “Firstly, no. No one is kicking anyone down the stairs or otherwise abusing anyone in any way for any reason. Secondly, what I do or don’t do in my free time is none of your concern.”

“It is too, when you guys are so loud all the time,” Frank argued, only to grin when she immediately rebuked, “No we’re not.”

“Well, we’re also just super nosy,” Julie admitted. “There’s not much for us to do besides listen to whatever is happening outside our cell.”

“You can only play so many rounds of rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock, before it just gets old,” Susie complained.

“I still think you all are cheating, and lying to me about what beats what,” Frank seethed, and Joey looked away, feigning innocence.

Jack rolled her eyes as the group began arguing about the rules of the game. At least when they argued, she could be confident it wouldn’t lead to someone getting stabbed. Maybe.

Looking over at where Caleb was still invested in his card game, she began to wonder… Had she been pulling away? When things had started between them, they had agreed it was just a distraction for them both. A way to get through the day. To briefly pass the time within those cold walls.

But now… She had a real support system again. She had people she could talk to without wanting to rip her own ears off. Department heads usually didn’t make for great conversations, and Feng tended to speak in slang and idioms she had no energy to decipher. And… she had Leon.

Almost as if hearing the thought, Caleb looked up, eyes meeting hers for a moment. There was something undecipherable in his gaze. Something she could no longer read. Maybe they really were growing apart… It was something she thought about for the rest of her shift, and was only distracted from it when she got a text from Leon just as she was boarding the bus back to the dorms.

‘Can you meet me on the roof after you get off work?’

The bus was already moving, and she looked up with a great deal of concern. Thankfully, another text quickly followed, reading, ‘Of the dorms. Sorry. I’m already off work.’

Letting out a sigh of relief, she sent him a confirmation text before settling in for the ride back. Only making a quick stop by her room to drop off her bag, Jack made her way up to the roof. She spotted him as soon as she opened the access door. His back was to her, as he looked out over the low wall into the dark woods beyond.

Deep in thought, he didn’t look up until he heard her shoes crunching across the rough surface behind him. Turning, he looked like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite force his face to make the right expression.

Instead, he offered a scratchy, “Hey.” It almost sounded like he’d been crying.

“Leon, what’s wrong?” she asked, instantly picking up on the sour mood.

Taking a deep breath, he held it for a moment before letting it out in a mirthless laugh. “I know I have to sound like a broken record, but I honestly don’t know what the fuck to do anymore. Wesker is… He’s getting worse. We had a fight… Again. A big one. And I think… I think he was about to hit me.”

Fists clenching for a moment, Jack slowly relaxed her hands before stepping closer to him. Once they were side by side, she leaned against the wall, asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looked hesitant. Almost pained. As though he were worried he was putting too much on her. When she reached out and took his hand, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked less defeated, but still upset.

“Sometimes it feels like he’s hiding a lot from me. Not something normal, like a mistress or sidepiece. Or porn addiction or something. But something bad. Something really, really bad. I mean, you’ve seen what goes on in here. I might be Lieutenant now, but I know there are still a lot of things about this place that I don’t know.”

Gripping Jack’s hand a bit tighter, Leon continued, “There are days I honestly think I made a mistake letting things get so personal between him and I. I told myself over and over this would stay professional. I came here to look for my friend, not hook up with the first person who could actually help me find him. But Wesker was so nice at first. So giving and caring… Now it feels like it’s all been an act, and I don’t know what he really wants out of this.”

Taking in his pinched eyebrows, his scrunched up nose, Jack felt the memories of those dark thoughts creeping back into her. That itching need for petty revenge, no matter who she hurt in the process… but did she really want to hurt Leon? The man that she’d grown so close to over the past two years? The one who had made her laugh, helped her open up, helped her become a better person? Did she really want to hurt him just so she could reach Wesker?

“Well… I could offer you a distraction.”

It was honestly endearing how long it took him to catch on. Completely missing the point of her offer at first, he shook his head. “I’m not sure what could possibly distract me from this shit… Wesker’s promoting me to Captain of the Guard. I don’t even want it. I’m not ready for it! Bill is still–”

He cut off suddenly when she took both his hands in hers. Looking slightly stunned for a moment, it seemed like the wires were finally connecting in his brain, and he said, “Oh… Oh!”

Frowning slightly, it almost looked like he was going to pull away for a moment. Then, quietly, he asked, “Are you… sure?”

She shuffled their position, pressing him onto the edge of the wall behind them, face dangerously close to his as she drew his hands over her waist. “You tell me.”

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath, hands tightening around her hips as he pulled her closer. “...I’m sure…”

~~

~Current Day~

“Maybe these birds wouldn’t be so angry if they went to therapy,” Leon muttered, brow scrunched as he played games on his phone. He was hiding out in Jack’s office, trying to pass the time before he had to interact with Wesker or Krauser again.

“I’m pretty sure they’re angry because the pigs took their egg,” Jack said casually, scrolling through the long email she had been sent the night before. When he gave her a questioning look, she sighed, “Feng spent two hours explaining the lore to me during UNO. I suppose she was just trying to distract me from noticing that she only had three cards left.”

“...It took you two hours to play a round of UNO?” he asked, before smiling warmly and shaking his head. It was such a rare moment of genuine, unburdened happiness. Even if it was such a small thing…

It reminded Jack just how much she cared about him, and how no matter what… She would never hurt him.

A hesitant knock on the office door had him quickly putting his phone away, a grim expression clouding his smile like a storm cloud. They both knew what was coming, and neither of them were happy about it. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do anything about it either…

“Come in,” Jack called, and the door opened enough for Marcus to squeeze through before awkwardly shutting it behind him.

Looking at the two of them, it was obvious he could tell something was up. He looked… tired. Tense. Angry…

“What did I do this time?” the ginger asked, trying to make light of the situation.

Eyes briefly skimming the email still pulled up on her computer screen, Jack took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Marcus. This came directly from the top… You’re officially getting your floor five clearance. You start today.”

…usually when they least expect them.
~~~~

Chapter 56: Blood Echo

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Marcus has his first shift on the 5th floor! I wonder who's down there ψ(｀∇´)ψ

“Another day, another life threatening promotion. But that’s the status quo at Crotus Prenn,” Marcus sighed, reading over the list of ‘patients’ he was about to be…. Not really introduced too. Leon had kindly explained that they rarely ever opened any of the cells on the fifth floor. But with names like, The Thing, The Demogorgon, The Unknown, and The Xenomorph, who would want to?

Snorting, Leon glanced over at his chart. “I know, it sounds bad. But that’s because it is. It’s very bad. Honestly, I can’t imagine how or why you were given floor five clearance already. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a heads up. Wesker… didn’t say anything to me.”

Frowning at the clipboard, the ginger just shook his head. “Honestly, it’s fine. Knowing ahead of time wouldn’t have… Nemesis? Like, someone's arch nemesis? What the hell did they do to earn a name like that?”

“That thing is… an oddity,” Leon muttered, watching him read through the rest of the names.

The Unknown, the Singularity, the Dredge, the Guards, and finally, the Oni. A couple of the names on the list stuck out, and Marcus asked, “Guards? As in, more than one?”

“Three, actually,” he confirmed. “I’m not sure what their story is, but no one does from what I’ve gathered. They don’t speak, and despite their placement on this floor, they haven’t actually done anything in years. They eat, and they sleep. That’s about it. Honestly, I think they’re mostly down here because they’re very… difficult to explain.”

“Huh… And the Oni? That’s the guy we’re going to see right now?”

“Yes,” Leon answered stiffly. “You will be accompanying a couple of the other floor five staff members to collect trays from the patients we actually feed people food. Some of them, like the Demogorgon, are just thrown raw meat or… occasionally live animals.”

“What?” Marcus questioned flatly.

“I had the same question, and was told it’s for ‘enrichment and study’ by Grimes,” the Captain explained. “Come on, let's meet up with the others.”

‘The others’ it turned out, were a pair of orderlies that went by the names ‘BJ’ and ‘Orrin’. BJ looked like he was half asleep, and when Marcus got closer, he could practically smell the weed rolling off of him.

Without missing a beat, he nodded at the ginger and stated, “Sup. There’s nothing to do down here most days.”

“That is factually incorrect,” Leon muttered, rolling his eyes. It looked like he’d stopped questioning how the stoner hadn’t gotten himself killed a long time ago, so Marcus didn’t bother to ask.

The other orderly, Orrin, had a crooked mohawk and tattoos that looked like they’d been done in his mom’s basement. Or he’d done them himself. Probably also while stoned. He looked a bit more awake, and offered Marcus a smile.

“Heyo. So you’re the guy that’s causing all the commotion upstairs, huh?”

Face pinching slightly, Marcus answered, “Not intentionally.”

“Ah, nah, we know that,” Orrin promised. “Quentin keeps us in the loop, and he says you’re pretty cool. He also says you’re not afraid of much, and that’s great, because working down here can be really scary!”

Although he was flattered by the apparent compliments his friend was delivering on his behalf, he was a bit worried about the ‘not being afraid of much’ comment. He was fucking terrified of ninety percent of Crotus Prenn! Just because he pretended he wasn’t in hopes of keeping a target off his back didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid!

Thinking back to that morning, he silently questioned why he hadn’t just turned around and walked right back out of Jack’s office the moment she’d told him he was getting his floor five clearance. He could have quit. He had some savings now. Not much, since he was putting almost all of his admittedly generous paychecks towards his student loans, but still! He’d put away a little!

But he knew why he hadn’t. He couldn’t leave everyone and everything behind. It wasn’t just about his friends or Danny anymore. It was about finding a way to end the disgusting and inhumane treatment of the patients inside Crotus Prenn. He couldn’t do that from the outside. Even if it hadn’t been all of that, he couldn’t just leave Danny… Or David for that matter. Not now, knowing what his father was…

“So, we’re going to be showing you how to collect trays, and spray out the animal cells today,” BJ started, only for Leon to quickly interject.

“I will be shadowing the three of you to make sure there’s no incorrect handling, considering this is his first time on the floor, and there are no other department heads available to oversee his training. What was first on the list for today?”

Looking over his clipboard, BJ hummed in confusion for a couple of minutes before Orrin silently reached out and turned the packet over. Brightening up, he said, “Oh! We need to hose out the Xenomorph cell.”

“They let you two do that?” Leon asked, face twisting in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Dude… A little faith,” Orrin complained, before waving for them to follow. “So, there are no ‘files’ for down here. There’s also a lot less of us, because people die like, all the time. It’s insane how many people try to cut corners while working down here.”

“You can’t cut corners,” BJ scoffed, shaking his head. “You go down the list every time, and you walk away with all your fingers every time. It’s not rocket science.”

“How long have you two worked here?” Marcus asked, and both of them thought for a moment as they led the way deeper into the floor, and finally down a hall full of incredibly heavy metal doors.

“Six years,” Orrin finally said. “BJ’s been here for five, but we both ended up getting promoted kinda fast. I’ve been on floor five for a little over a year now, and he’s been here almost a full year.”

“I have a minor in planetary science,” BJ told him, nodding slowly. “It has not helped at all, but it looks good as fuck on paper.”

“I didn’t know that,” Leon muttered, squinting at him. Turning to the other orderly, he asked, “And you?”

“I don’t know, I just like conspiracy theories about aliens and shit,” Orrin cackled. “Alright, so. This is the Xenomorph’s cell.”

It looked identical to every other cell, and he continued, “So, you never, ever just badge into a cell. In fact, you can’t. The system won’t let you unless the proper safe guards have been put in place, even if the patient is in ‘lab status’. So…”

Flipping up a large plate beside the door to reveal a computer screen, Orrin slid his badge into a small slot underneath it. His name and clearance level flashed across the display before a list of options came up.

Pointing to one, he explained, “Right now, we’re going to choose this one. ‘Cleaning main cell’.”

Pressing the touch screen, he was asked if he wanted to continue, and when he confirmed, there was a muffled rumbling from inside the cell. Something similar to a muffled squeal came from inside, and Marcus raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, gotta get her to move into the containment cell for the time being, or she’ll kill all of us as soon as the door opens,” BJ told him knowingly. “You ever seen someone get their entire head melted off with acid? Because she can spit acid.”

“Excuse me?!” he demanded, but before anyone could answer, the rumbling stopped and the computer screen chimed at them.

“Alright, then you just hit… View cell, camera feed opens up so that we can see inside without having to go inside, aaaand… See! There she is. Nice and secure in her holding pen,” Orrin said, moving to the side so Marcus could see.

Stepping closer, he rubbed his eyes before nearly pressing his face against the screen. “What the hell is that?!”

The Xenomorph was without question, an animal. Or an alien. An alien animal? It couldn’t have ever been human, with its long, knife tipped prehensile tail and extra fingers and thumb on each hand. The cell she’d been forced into was too small for her to get up and move around, but if he had to guess, she’d likely have stood seven or more feet tall if she was to walk bipedally. Her head was long and nearly featureless, save for the mouth full of shiny silver teeth. Four long tubes extended from her shoulders, while long claws dotted each of her fingers and toes.

“Um, that’s an alien,” BJ confirmed, sounding like he was talking about a bug eyed dog at a gas station. “I think Ripley knows more about her, but, like, she’s got some major PMS about it.”

“PTSD,” Leon corrected sharply, and the orderly nodded.

“Right, that. Sorry.”

“So, we can minimize this screen now,” Orrin continued, but Marcus barely heard him.

Blinking dumbly as he droned on, all he could think was, ‘That’s an alien. There is an entire, acid spitting alien locked in the basement and I’ve been working and fucking right over it’s head for the past six months. Aliens are real. Ghosts are real. What’s next? Bigfoot? Mothman?! Oh my god, what the fuck else is–’

The cell door sliding open made him jump, but when nothing came flying out to attack them, he asked, “Wait, what?”

“We have to go collect anything too big to go down the drain,” BJ repeated, tugging a pair of heavy gloves on. Orrin was helping him pull on a shiny silver suit and hood, and when he was fully dressed, he stepped into a pair of thick rubber boots.

Watching him shuffle into the cell, Orrin explained, “Although the inside of the cell is regularly coated with corrosive resistant gel, she will occasionally leave puddles or streaks of acid on stuff. If she starts scraping it off to try and melt her way out, the sensors automatically flood the cell with more liquid nitrogen gas. Now, we have to wear all the protective gear to keep from getting melted when we’re in there.”

“Oooh, okay,” Marcus agreed. Noticing a light mist slowly drifting out of the cell, he asked, “What… is that?”

“We have to use a liquid nitrogen spray to force her into the containment cell, then it locks behind her. It doesn’t harm her, but the Xenomorph hates the cold,” Orrin told him, frowning slightly. “You didn’t hear any of what I said after you saw her, did you?”

“Um, I… No,” he admitted, and his fellow orderly nodded.

“No sweat, it’ll take you a while to get used to it all. Honestly, she’s not even the weirdest thing down here.”

“Oh?” Marcus asked, looking at Leon as he silently prayed for another correction… He didn’t get one. Instead, he was met with a stoic nod. Fuck…

The entire process of washing out and re-gelling the xenomorph’s cell took almost two hours, but the ginger felt no closer to coming to terms with what he’d just learned than when he’d first found out. It was jarring to realize that, without a doubt, there really was intelligent life out there. Angry, acid spitting, intelligent life…

Orrin and BJ made sure to tell him all about just how smart the Xenomorph was. Although they weren’t on the science team and took no part in tests or experiments, they both loved aliens and had done more than their fair share of snooping. So far, they knew she was smart enough to solve puzzles, tell different colors apart, recognize faces… and hold grudges…

“And that is why,” BJ concluded, pulling the hood off his head and holding it under one arm, “We always apologize and tell her thank you when we’re done cleaning out her cell. If she ever gets loose, we’re hoping she won’t immediately hunt us down and kill us for having to use the liquid nitrogen on her. It was all Grimes’ idea!”

The last part was yelled through the heavy door, and a resounding bang answered.

“Oh, right!” Orrin said suddenly. “Since there are no observation windows, you can always look inside the cell through the computer. You can just insert your badge, and then press the ‘view subject’ option. It doesn’t do anything inside the cell, just brings up the cameras.”

“That’s so cool,” Marcus agreed, forcing a smile.

“Do you want to take a break before we go further?” Leon asked quietly. “You look kind of green.”

“N-no,” he declined. Taking a deep breath, he answered more firmly, “No, I’m okay. Thank you though.”

“Hey, don’t worry too much,” Orrin comforted. “You’re in good hands.”

“Yep. Me and Orrin handle each other all the time and we haven’t gotten killed yet,” BJ agreed.

Slowly covering his face with a hand, Leon took a moment before saying slowly, “Okay. What’s next?”

“Tray collection. Starting with the Oni,” Orrin answered, sounding a lot less enthusiastic than before. Catching Marcus looking at him, he cleared his throat, offering simply, “Ah, neither of us are big fans of… demons.”

“What?!” he nearly screeched, and Leon slapped a hand over his ear.

“Like, he wasn’t summoned from Hell or anything wild like that,” BJ quickly interjected. “But, like… He’s an actual oni. Like from Japan or something.”

The clarification hit Marcus like a ton of bricks, and he almost asked if they knew his real name. Catching himself, he covered it with a cough before asking instead, “An… actual oni? What does that mean, exactly?”

Exchanging a look, the pair of orderlies told him, “You’ll see,” before leading them down the hallway to a different door.

“You want to give this one a shot?” Orrin offered, lifting the panel over the screen.

“Ah, I don’t… know,” Marcus admitted hesitantly. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Oh, right! I guess I should show you,” he chuckled nervously. Going through the same few first steps, he pointed out, “So, for this guy, you always, always double check that he’s fully restrained before you even think about opening the door.”

Peering at the line of text Orrin was pointing at on the screen, Marcus read, ‘Retract and lock chains? [Yes] [No]’

“Chains?” he questioned, and BJ nodded sharply. “Yeah. Um, he’s pretty violent at the best of times, and he’s really hard to sedate properly.”

Confirming his choice, Orrin stepped back as a low grinding sound began to rumble through the hallway. It was much louder than the sound that had come from the Xenomorph’s cell, and an echoing bellow boomed behind the door.

Leon was the only one who didn’t jump backwards, but even he flinched slightly. Looking uncomfortable, he offered, “Marcus, this is a lot for your first shift down here. If you feel like taking it in smaller steps, we can schedule another time to come down.”

Knowing it would only cause more problems between him and Wesker if he was caught making allowances for him, the ginger shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I have to learn this floor sooner or later… So why not get it over with now?”

“That’s the spirit,” BJ encouraged, giving him a thumbs up. “Okay, he’s fully restrained, so you should be able to just go in, grab the trays, and get out. Don’t stare, don’t make eye contact, and don’t talk to him. Okay? You’ll be fine!”

Before Marcus could ask if there was anything else he should be aware of, the door slid open in front of him. Looking inside, his gaze was instantly drawn to the patient in the very back of the cell and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it.

That was, in fact, an Oni. Standing at around eight and a half feet tall, the demon’s body resembled that of a very muscular human man. That was where the human resemblance stopped, however. Most of his skin was pale blue, very similar to Rin’s, with long white hair hanging well past his shoulders. His face was dark red with large tusk-like fangs jutting from his upper jaw, just like an oni mask. Glowing red eyes pinned Marcus in place, and a third eye in the center of his forehead rolled back and forth, as if looking for more intruders to forced home. His fingers were tipped with large claws, and they curled into fists at the sight of the man lingering outside his cell.

Marcus flinched slightly at the sound of rattling metal, but the Oni remained in place against the wall. Heavy metal manacles were locked around his neck, wrists, and ankles, the thick chains connected to them having been pulled back into the wall to keep him in place.

Quickly dropping his gaze when Orrin hissed at him, the ginger spotted a pile of trays stacked up against one wall. It felt miles away, even though it was only a few feet, and Marcus hesitated to step foot inside the cell. It was by far the biggest cell he’d seen any one patient housed in. Hell, it made the Legon’s cell look tiny, even if there had been only one person in it.

A part of him wanted to go in there, to try and talk to the Oni and figure out if that was actually Rin’s grandfather. As far as he could tell just going off the list of patient ‘names’, he was the only one who fit. Unless there were even more patients on floors six and seven, he had to try. He told Rin he would…

Glancing over at Leon and the other orderlies, he decided he’d try and come back later to slip a note through the tray slot in his cell door. Shuffling forward, he considered that Kazan, if that’s who he really was, may not be able to read English… It was probably better to go talk to Rin again first, and maybe even have her write him a note that the ginger could pass along. Surely he’d recognize her handwriting, and that would make it more believable that he was actually trying to help.

A deep growl rumbled out of the Oni when he took another step, and Marcus froze. He wanted to look up, but he was too scared of accidentally antagonizing the patient to raise his eyes. Mid step towards the trays, he was interrupted by a new sound. The heavy metal door behind him suddenly jerking into motion.

“Marcus!” Leon shouted, and he whipped around just in time to see the barrier slam closed between them.

“Hey!” he yelled, throwing himself at the door. Slamming a hand down on it, he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice as he cried, “Open the fucking door! This isn’t–”

The sharp, jarring rattle of metal links made him flinch, and he turned to see the chains that had just been pulled tightly into the wall falling into loose coils on the ground. Even the Oni looked startled for a moment, but just as quickly turned to rage.

All three eyes focused on the orderly, and with an animalistic roar, he lunged across the cell towards him. Marcus had no time to hope the chains were short enough to keep the patient from reaching him. He didn’t even have time to watch his life flash before his eyes before he was being grabbed and thrown.

Pain exploded through his arm and body from the impact, but hands grabbed him before he could even register hitting the floor. Lifted, he was slammed into the wall again before being thrown to the ground. Barely able to get his limbs to work as he struggled to catch his breath, Marcus screamed as claws raked down his back. He could feel blood soaking his shirt as a foot slammed down between his shoulders, pinning him to the floor like an insect. A huge hand wrapped around his arm, the other grabbing the back of his head, claws digging deeply into his scalp.

The pressure on his arm began to increase, shoulder muscles burning as they were slowly pulled past their limit. A ragged scream tore from Marcus’s throat, spit and blood splattering the floor as he sobbed. Words made their way between the screams. Broken pleading as he begged, “D-don’t! Please! Stop, stop, please! Kazan! Please!”

His arm was released suddenly as the pressure on his back disappeared. The pain remained, however, and he screamed as he was dragged upright, then off his feet entirely by the grip on his skull.

Thrown backwards, he hit the wall with a bang. His knees buckled and he slid to the ground, unable to even curl into a ball to protect himself. Marcus could hear a low hissing sound under the painful ringing in his ears and the rattle of chains as the Oni crouched in front of him.

Squeezing his eyes closed when a hand grabbed him by the jaw, he prepared to have his head torn off instead, only for a deep, rumbling voice to demand, “Where did you get that name?”

Forcing his eyelids to open as much as possible, Marcus was met with three blazing eyes and a mouthful of fangs. Barely able to get the words out, he wheezed, “R… Rin… asked me… to… find you…”

“She spoke… to you?” Kazan growled, rolling the ginger onto his back. Pressing two claws against his throat, he snarled, “Where is she?”

“Upstairs,” he forced out, trying not to choke on every painful breath. “Th… third floor.”

The hissing sound was starting to become louder, and Marcus could just make out a strange, sour smell in the air over the cloying scent of his own blood. The more he breathed in, the harder it became to keep his eyes open. Only the threat of sharp claws against his jugular and the constant pain shooting through every limb and nerve were keeping him awake at that point.

“Is she safe? What have they done to her? What did she say to you?”

“I… Slow down,” Marcus pleaded, fighting to stay conscious as the gas filling the room began to work its way into his system. “I- I’ll… come back… and tell you… answer… all your questions.”

He was only dimly aware of the Oni’s fingers circling around his neck, dragging him up into a sitting position as he was asked harshly, “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Marcus wasn’t sure if he actually got the words out or not, but his last conscious thought was to say, “You’ll… just have to… trust me.”

~

The faint smell of chemicals accompanied the steady beep of a monitor, welcoming Marcus back to the world of the living. At least, he assumed he was alive. The pain throbbing through his entire body and the splitting headache threatening to make him hurl were all pretty good indicators.

It was a struggle to open his eyes, but the first thing he saw when he turned his head to one side was David curled up in a small chair. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and had finally passed out on the first surface capable of keeping him off the floor.

Leon was sitting in a chair beside him, hunched over as he typed furiously on his phone. He hadn’t noticed Marcus’s return to consciousness yet, so the ginger tried to call out to him. The only sound he managed was something close to a dying goat, and the blond jumped, head snapping up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Marcus,” he gasped, quickly pushing himself to his feet. “Don’t try to talk, just– Give me a second.”

Yanking the door open, he shouted down the hall for a doctor, waking David in the process.

Jerking forward with a shout, the poor orderly nearly fell out of his chair. He gripped onto the side of the bed instead, steadying himself with a tired groan before finally looking up and locking eyes with his friend.

Marcus didn’t have time to make anymore goat noises before David was launching himself at him, fingers digging into his sore shoulders as he pressed the ginger into a bruising hug. No words were exchanged, no words were needed. It was just another day of near death experiences at the asylum.

Leon did a double take, but when it looked like Marcus wasn’t in any extra pain, he made no move to separate them. Turning his attention back out into the hall, he physically grabbed the first passing doctor he saw and dragged them into the room to check the ginger out properly.

The examination itself was pretty short, with the doctor just double checking his vitals and asking if he was in any excess pain. He mostly just hurt all over, but his left arm and shoulder were by far the worst. It wasn’t any surprise, considering he had a torn muscle in his shoulder and his arm had been broken in two places. He’d be in a cast for at least a couple of months, and a sling for a minimum of two weeks to give his shoulder time to heal.

The majority of his body was covered in bruises and smaller cuts, and a few of his organs had actually been bruised, but nothing else had broken and nothing had ruptured. A small mercy, perhaps. Especially considering the state of his poor head.

Although his skull hadn’t been fractured and there was no brain damage, they’d had to shave the sides and part of the top of his head, leaving him with an even more stand out mohawk than his previous mop of red hair. The puncture wounds from the Oni’s claws had needed stitches, so they hadn’t had much choice in the matter, but he still wasn’t happy about it.

Feeling alive enough to sit up, with a lot of help, and sip a small cup of water by the time the doctor was done explaining everything, Marcus just shook his head when he was asked if he had any questions.

Waiting for him to leave, the orderly asked, “Leon… What the fuck happened?”

“We don’t… know,” he admitted slowly. It was obvious something else was up, and Marcus took a deep breath, preparing to demand answers, when the Captain continued, “There was a ‘malfunction’ in the system. Orrin was actually the one to override the system from the console at the cell. Feng was… suddenly locked out, and couldn’t get the door open. The only thing she was able to do was turn on the gas to try and knock him out.”

“To knock him out… or make my death less painful?” he questioned bitterly.

“He let you go,” Leon answered quietly. “Feng… wasn’t able to erase the footage before Asa came in and took the discs. She has backups that he didn’t know about, but it’s pretty clear to me and her at least… that was sabotage.”

Marcus could feel David tense as soon as his father was mentioned, his fingers suddenly rigid in his own. Glancing at him, he noticed him picking at the bedsheet with his other hand. He didn’t say anything, knowing how precarious the line David was walking between his friends… and his past.

“Marcus… I’m sorry to ask this. I know it’s not an easy question. And David… I’m sorry you have to hear this… But is there any chance that Asa, or anyone else on the staff might have a reason to try and–”

Leon was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by it abruptly swinging open before any of them could answer. None of them expected Wesker to come striding in, expression stern as he forwent any greetings to express, “I heard you were awake and decided it was best to come speak to you before you were dismissed.”

“He’s going to be under observation for two more days, at least,” Leon interjected, still looking slightly lost. “Wesker, why are you here?”

“Because once again the most danger prone member of my staff has ended up severely injured and in the hospital. I find it important to check on these things myself, Captain. Now, if you and Emory would wait outside, I have some questions for Marcus.”

“I don’t mind if they stay,” he said quietly, fingers tight around David’s hand. Maybe he was just being paranoid… but the last thing he wanted at the moment was to be alone in a room with the CEO…

“Get out,” Wesker stated flatly, and Leon grit his teeth. Reaching out, he put a hand on David’s shoulder, gently tugging him away from the bed and out of the room.

Closing the door behind them, Wesker turned his attention to the battered orderly. Taking deliberate steps until he was by the side of the bed, he asked, “How exactly did you get out of that cell?”

Blinking up at him, Marcus started and stopped a couple of times before saying, “You’d have to ask Asa. I guess he’s got the tapes. I was unconscious.”

“Funny,” the blond answered humorlessly. “I’ve already seen the tapes. What I want to know is, what did you say to the Oni to get him to let you live? He’s never given in to pleas for mercy before, or anything offered in exchange for a life…”

“I told him a knock knock joke-” he started to say, only to flinch when Wesker slammed his hands down on the bed rails.

Scrunching down when the man leaned over him, the last thing he was expecting was to be asked, “How have you managed to survive this long? You keep slipping into these life threatening situations, yet manage to make it out by the skin of your teeth. How? Are you whoring yourself out to patients other than Ghostface for protection?”

“No!” Marcus snapped, shocked by his own rage at the accusation. “I keep surviving because I actually give a shit about the patients and they see that! Maybe if more people around here did that you’d have less staff casualties! Maybe if you didn’t have a rapist and a serial killer working for you, you’d have less patient on staff violence! Sometimes I honestly think you’re trying to fucking kill me!”

To his shock, a smile actually spread across Wesker’s face. Thin, cruel, devoid of any kindness, it was an answer all its own, and Marcus froze. Swallowing dryly, he asked, “Have you… A-are you actually… trying to kill me?”

“I’m not sure what shocks me more…” Wesker chuckled, straightening up. “That you’ve survived for so long, or that it’s taken you this long to figure it out.”

“Why…” Marcus whispered, fingers trembling as he gripped the thin bed sheet. “Wh-what did I… what did I do?!”

“You interfered with my business,” was the cold answer. “You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, and because of you, I lost a very valuable source of revenue. So, much like Richards, you must also be silenced, lest you cause even more problems.”

At a loss for words, he could only stammer wildly until he finally managed to sputter, “This is about the embezzlement at my old job?! You– You put Richards up to it?! But- So why hire me here? Why–”

“To make sure you kept your mouth shut until it could be shut permanently,” Wesker snapped, a red glow flaring behind his sunglasses. “I should have simply sent Asa to take care of you, but I was under the mistaken impression you would be easy to get rid of. Yet, here you are. Surviving like a roach in a garbage bin.”

“But… but I haven’t said anything,” Marcus argued weakly. “I- I haven’t said anything about that, or– or the stuff going on in the asylum–”

“But you have been digging,” Wesker scolded, actually wagging a finger at him. “Sneaking contraband to patients. Giving them pets. Engaging in physical relationships. Creating discourse. And… looking into things you have no business being involved in, such as patient histories beyond what is allocated in their files. You’re a problem, Marcus. And I don’t like problems in my business.”

“But I… I can keep my mouth shut,” Marcus swore, eyes darting between Wesker and the door. He knew if the man decided to attack him or do something to the IV in his arm, he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He doubted he’d even be able to call for help in time. “I haven’t said anything yet! So why would I? I have my own life goals I want to live long enough to see, and–”

“And now, you know too much,” Wesker told him. “You’re a liability. A loose end.”

“If you’re so scared of me talking… why haven’t you killed me yourself?” he asked, despite his fear of what the answer might be.

Letting out a short laugh, the blond shook his head. “I can give you a number of reasons. No one has ever survived this long once they’ve become a ‘problem’. You interrupted a very important revenue source. You’ve caused far more problems for me than you have solved, and you’ve undermined me every chance you’ve gotten. Unlike your precious department head, you are not valuable. You are a cog. An easily replaceable, often done without, piece of a larger, more important machine. Because of you, patients are becoming more bold. More determined to try and get their own way.”

Pausing, he offered the ginger a final, mirthless smile. “As for killing you myself? What makes you think I would take the time out of my busy schedule to deal with a rat, when I have dogs to do that for me?”

In a bold display of stupidity, Marcus demanded, “What’s to stop me from going public with all this? Or- or spreading it around Crotus Prenn?”

Letting out a short, sharp laugh, Wesker turned to face him, hand falling from the door knob. “With the reputation you’ve managed to build for yourself, who do you think would actually believe you? Emory’s boy? Your roommates, or your little janitor friends? Go ahead. But the more you tell them, the deeper into danger you drag them. And if not them… Think of your mother.”

Marcus felt his heart drop into his stomach, throat tightening to the point he couldn’t get a word out.

“Oh… Did you think we don’t already know all about you, Marcus? All about the family you left behind? It would be a shame if you were to receive news that your mother had suffered a horrible accident, wouldn’t it? Or one of your cousins? Or perhaps an entire branch of your family–”

“Okay, okay, I– I understand,” Marcus whispered, blinking back tears. “I’m not going to say anything. I swear. I– There has to be something I can do to convince you not to kill me! I can’t have done so much damage that it’s not reversible!”

With an expression of mock pity, Wesker sighed. “I’ve already told you. I have no intention of killing you myself. You don’t need to convince me. I don’t deal with the bottom of the barrel scum."

Before Marcus could breathe a sigh of relief, he continued with a cold smile, “Convincing Krauser and Asa on the other hand… Now, that would be a different conversation entirely.”

“Can’t you call them off?!” he pleaded, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his arm.

“Krauser, probably,” the blond considered. “Asa? Doubtful, considering how much trouble you’ve been getting his son into. Perhaps you should speak to him after you get back from medical leave in a few weeks.”

With that, Wesker opened the door and stepped outside, leaving Marcus alone with his spiraling thoughts. He had no intention of giving up, but now he knew just how much danger he was really in. He didn’t have time to take things slow and subtle anymore. There really was a target on his back, and if he wasn’t careful, he wasn’t the only one who’d pay the price if he failed.

The door opened again and he looked up, feeling a split second of panic that it was Krauser or Asa coming to finish him off for good. It wasn’t, thankfully. Instead, David and Leon rejoined him in the room, faces pale and pinched.

“You… heard all of that, didn’t you?” Marcus asked quietly.

Leon nodded, walking forward and grabbing his cell phone out from under the covers at the foot of the bed. There was an active call open between him and David, and he ended it with a quiet beep.

“Yeah… We heard everything. So… What the hell are we going to do about it?”
~~~~

Notes:

Yeah, Marcus... What are you gonna do about it??? (⊙_(⊙_⊙)_⊙)

Chapter 57: No Turning Back

Chapter by Blot_Squisher

Summary:

Questions are asked but the answers may not be what they wanted to hear...

Marcus makes good on his promise to Kazan to surprising results.

“You knew Chris Redfield, didn’t you?”

The question had been on Leon’s mind for years, but he never thought he’d actually seriously ask it. He’d wasted so much time trusting Wesker. Trusting he had his best intentions in mind. Trusting he was actually trying to help him find his friend. Not withholding information from him.

He’d stood in front of the office door with a tight knot in his stomach for almost five minutes, just trying to convince himself to knock. Once he did, once he went inside, there would be no going back. And now that the question was between them, he knew there was no more hiding.

Wesker didn’t even have the decency to look shocked by the question. Instead, he looked angry, tone cold as he demanded, “What makes you think I knew anything about your friend before you showed up here looking for him?”

“I know you’ve been hiding information from me,” Leon accused. “I know you’ve been using your money and connections to bury any leads before I could find them. Trails don’t just end. But as soon as I got here, I ran right into you. The one person in this entire godforsaken state that could possibly help me just happened to be at the same bar I stumbled into?”

“You’re starting to sound paranoid,” Wesker dismissed. “Perhaps you should take a few days of leave, Captain. Lieutenant Krauser is perfectly capable of handling things in your absence.”

“Like he handled the Legion? Or like you’re planning to have him ‘handle’ Marcus?” he asked, voice shaking with fury. When the older man looked at him, expression far more tense than before, Leon spat, “How many people have you had ‘taken care of’ in here? How many murders have you had committed and then covered up for your own benefit?"

“I have done what I needed to protect my research and get it to where it is today,” Wesker defended venomously. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Yes you do!” Leon snapped. “Your behavior and your attitude have gotten so bad I feel like I don’t even know you anymore! Or, did I ever know you? Was everything up till now just an act? For what? Why were you trying to keep me so close to you all these years?”

Slamming his hands down on the desk as he rose, Wesker was nearly shouting as he ordered, “Remember your place, Captain! I do not answer to you, now drop it, and get back to your station!”

“No!” he shouted back. “I’m done with this bullshit! I know you brought Krauser here to try and scare me into backing off! I know you’re hiding something from me about Chris!”

“That’s enough!” Wesker ordered forcefully, coming around his desk towards Leon.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth! What do you know about Chris? Why are you hiding things from me–”

“I said that’s enough!” Wesker bellowed, hand lashing towards the blonds face.

Flinching backwards, Leon hit the wall with a thump as something smashed into the bricks beside his head. Breathing heavily, he stared back at Wesker. They were so close he could clearly make out his eyes behind the black lenses of his glasses. The bright red glow of his pupils was impossible to miss.

Neither of them said a word, the air heavy with a new kind of tension, but it was Wesker that finally moved first. Pulling his hand away, he took a step back. Taking a deep breath, he ordered, “Get out of my office. Now.”

Leon didn’t say a word, jaw clenched and eyes cold as he turned towards the door. His gaze lingered on the large hole in the bricks, but he didn’t look back before slamming the door behind him.

The force caused a thin line of dust to trickle down from the crumbling brick, and Wesker sighed. Dropping into the heavy chair behind his desk, he almost looked dazed as he stared at his computer screen.

Running a hand through his hair, he slowly regained his composure before picking up his phone. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered, "Krauser."

“Come to my office. I have something to discuss with you,” Wesker stated, hanging up without waiting for an answer.

Setting the phone down, he let out a tired sigh as he opened several files on his desktop. Unfortunately, it looked like the X program would have to be sped up. Leon’s insubordination had clearly reached a breaking point. The last thing he needed was his head guard spreading ghastly tales around the asylum…

A knock at his door had a small smile play across his face as he called, “Enter.”

The X program wasn’t the only thing it was time to test… And who better to use than someone he could already control without question? Krauser wanted power… he would give it to him.

~~

Marcus had been on medical leave for three weeks when he had Dwight help sneak down to the fifth floor of the asylum. Staying locked up in his room twenty-four seven was starting to get to him, even with his friends and roommates keeping him company in their off time. Even though he only had a week left before he would be going back to work anyway, he didn’t want to keep the Oni waiting any longer. So, when an opportunity presented itself, he grabbed it by the throat and didn’t let go.

Even though he could have technically just stopped wearing the sling, he was ordered to go in to medical for a full check up before he could be ‘cleared’ to stop using it. The cast would be on a while longer, but everything else had either healed, or was almost healed completely. Instead of turning around and going back to the dorms right away, he had Dwight swipe a random badge with level five clearance out of a locker so he could sneak around without alerting Wesker, Krauser, or worst of all… Asa…

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Dwight asked, pushing his cart of janitorial supplies alongside the ginger.

Wearing a plain gray hoodie with the hood pulled up, Marcus nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m sure. I really appreciate everything you and Quentin have done for me, but I can’t ask you to get any more involved at this point.”

“Taking your letter to Rin and having her write one of her own and delivering them both to the Oni was one of the least crazy things we’ve been asked to do,” he promised. “And, in case Q forgot to tell you, Orrin and BJ are really glad you’re okay.”

Scowl softening, Marcus smiled slightly. “He told me. I’m just glad they’re not beating themselves up over what happened.”

“What… did happen? Exactly?” Dwight asked almost hesitantly.

Marcus sighed. He felt bad for not saying anything to Dwight or his roommates yet, but he’d sworn David and Leon to secrecy for the time being. All he’d said was that Wesker and the other higher ups had ‘issues’ with him that were putting him in a dangerous situation. That was enough for them all to be more on guard, and he promised to tell them the entire story as soon as he could…

He just needed to talk to Kazan first. Maybe, just maybe, he could offer some advice on… anything.

“Are you sure you have to go… into his cell?” Dwight asked for the eighth time.

Absolutely none of them had been happy when he’d told them he needed to go talk to him, but when he’d explained he swore he would, they’d relented. Even Eli, who only had floor four clearance, had agreed. Patients could be incredibly testy when someone promised them something and then didn’t follow through…

“I told him I would,” Marcus said, badging into the elevator. “I’ve got to keep my word, or I have no doubt he’ll actually rip me apart next time…”

“Why would there be a next time?!” the janitor hissed, watching him step into the enclosed compartment. “You could just stay far away from him!”

The ginger just offered him a thin smile. Yeah… Something told him Wesker would make sure that didn’t happen…

Scanning the badge, he pressed the button for the fifth floor. Glancing at the pilfered badge just as the doors started to close between them, his jaw dropped. Staring back at him was none other than that bastard action star and film director Nic Cage! He was wearing a very clearly fake goatee and the name on the badge read ‘Jonah Vasquez’.

“Hold on! Dwight, where did you get this?! Did you look at the picture on this?!” Marcus demanded, but the doors closed before the confused janitor could get a word out. Inspecting every side, corner, and edge of the badge multiple times on the way down. He couldn’t find anything that stuck out as ‘fake’, and he begrudgingly shoved it in his pocket when the doors opened on the fifth floor.

Navigating to the cell block, Marcus went to what he was pretty sure was the Oni’s cell. Not about to risk opening the door and getting sprayed with acid if he was wrong, he looked up and down the hall before quickly opening the panel covering the computer. Scanning his badge, he squinted at the screen as he tried to figure out who was inside. Not seeing a name or any other defining titles, he pressed the ‘view cell’ option.

The screen lit up with the blank interior of the cell. There was no cot or extra spaces for a patient to be shoved into in case they needed to open the door. There were also no chains, and no Oni. Or other patient…

Chewing his lip, Marcus considered that maybe it was just an empty cell. That was good to know, and he was just about to turn away when a small movement caught his eye. Something had moved just out of view of the camera, which was… odd. Considering the camera was mounted in the ceiling just inside the door, the only way something could have moved like that was if it too were on the ceiling.

Like something out of a horror movie, an upside down face suddenly appeared on the screen and Marcus nearly screamed as he flailed backwards. The face was stretched in an eerie, impossibly wide smile, full of crooked yellow teeth. What's worse were the eyes, because at first glance, there were none. Just empty black sockets that seemed to peer directly at him through the camera for a moment before his head tilted, allowing the ginger a quick glance at what looked like deep set, lopsided eyes. He couldn’t tell if they had belonged to the person whose skin the Unknown was wearing, or if they belonged to whatever was inside it.

The patient dropped back down to the floor, his, or perhaps its body contorted and twisted, and the image of the staff member Ghostface had killed instantly came to mind. There was no blood, but the patient’s arms, legs, neck, and even torso seemed twisted around inside and outside of his skin. The hump on its back had a long divot running through it, and as he watched, three thick red tentacles slid out of it, dripping purple fluid in small puddles across the floor.

Reaching up, Marcus slid the viewing screen closed. He’d seen… more than enough. He wasn’t sure if that was the Unknown or the Thing, but both names seemed extremely fitting…

Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath before moving down a couple more cells. That time, he let out a sigh of relief when he opened the camera to see Kazan scowling at the screen from the back of his cell. It looked like he was already chained in place, so he opened the door and quickly stepped inside. The Oni’s expression didn’t change when he saw him, other than to look down instead of up.

“Um, h-hi, again,” Marcus greeted awkwardly, waving with his good hand. “Um, so, Dwight said he was able to get you my note, a-and Rin’s–”

The door suddenly slid shut behind him and he jumped. Quickly looking back to confirm there was actually a way to open it again from the inside, he’d barely located the badge scanner when the rattle of chains had him whipping back around.

It looked like Kazan hadn’t actually been restrained at all. He’d simply stood back and kicked his chains into a pile behind him. His massive body easily blocked them from the camera’s view, and the inexperienced orderly hadn’t remembered the most important thing Orrin and BJ had told him.

You can’t cut corners. You go down the list every time, and you walk away with all your fingers every time. Or, much more likely in this case, his life.

Pressing himself against the door as Kazan reached out for him, Marcus threw his hands up, whispering frantically, “Wait, hold on! Please, just give me a minute to explain!”

Clawed fingers wrapped around his throat, yanking him away from the door and towards the back of the cell. He was released, but before he could regain his wits, a cold metal chain was looped twice around his neck. Gagging slightly as he was pulled up onto his toes, he was forced to look up at his captor.

Kazan held the chain with one hand, eyes narrow as he stared down at Marcus. “You came back.”

“I- I said I would!” he answered, wincing as cold metal bit into his skin. A single tug would be enough to snap his neck, and he knew that was exactly why the Oni had him like that. If someone happened to look at the cameras and attempted to activate the motors that would pull him up against the wall, he’d be killed in the process…

Studying him for a moment, he finally said, “After your letter ‘explaining’ your prolonged absence, I half expected to never see you again.”

“N-no, I- I wouldn’t lie to you,” Marcus promised, only to blanch as he feared he may have come on too strong. Clearing his throat, he offered, “And, honestly, there’s really no way I could avoid you.”

The chain tightened slightly and he reached up to grab it as best he could. It did nothing to loosen it, and he cowered when Kazan leaned down suddenly.

“I could kill you without breaking a sweat, little human. A simple flick of my wrist could remove your head from your body.”

“I am… fully aware,” Marcus agreed, voice practically a squeak. “You– you wanted to know about Rin, right? Y-you got her letter, right?”

Even if he had, the ginger honestly had no idea what she’d told him. Quentin had snuck a peek at the note, but it was all written in Japanese, which none of them read or spoke. Even if they had, it felt weird to try and read something that was probably pretty personal. Still, Marcus could only hope Rin hadn’t asked her grandfather to kill him when and if he kept his word and came back alone…

“I received both letters. Quite an assumption on your part, writing to me in English.”

“I- Um, I’m sorry,” he offered weakly. “I didn’t mean any offence–”

“I can read English, human. As well as I speak it. Now tell me honestly. Is my granddaughter well cared for?”

Oooh, god, that was not a question he wanted to answer. Knowing there was a very real chance she’d already told Kazan exactly how she was being treated in her note and lying was sure to get him killed, he steeled himself before answering.

“N-no… None of you are being treated well, but… but I’m trying to change that.”

“With crayons?”

Oh god, she had told him…

“It– it’s a start, at least?”

“Hrmmm…”

Gulping, Marcus asked, “Did you have any other questions or– or concerns I can help with?”

Eyes boring into him like he was peering into his very soul, Kazan asked, “Why are you trying to help so many patients? It’s obviously not for Ghostface’s sake.”

“Wh-which one? Wait, you know about that?!” he squawked, only to whimper as the chain pulled dangerously tight.

“Shhh,” Kazan warned, and he blushed.

The fact that he was blushing just made him turn even redder, and the Oni blinked slowly. Before Marcus could worry he was done with him and deciding what would be the most fun way to kill him, he spoke again.

“The one you’re fucking. Although both of them are self-serving bastards, one worse than the other. So? Why are you helping them? The Wraith? Voorhees? The Pig? You even risked your life for the Legion… Why?”

The answer came out easily, although his voice still shook slightly as he said, “Because despite what they’ve done, none of you deserve to be treated like this. None of you deserve to be cut apart, or experimented on, or used as guinea pigs, or locked in tiny cells and fed slop while being denied basic necessities like fresh air and sunlight. It’s wrong. And I want to put a stop to it.”

Shaking his head, the Oni let out a rough laugh. “And then what? You think something like me would be put into a prison? You think therapy will ‘help’ the Legion? You think a man like the Deathslinger would ever be welcomed back into ‘normal’ society? Some of us aren’t human anymore… Some of us never were.”

Knowing what he said next could easily get him killed, Marcus agreed, “I know. I know that wouldn’t happen. If the wrong people find out about you, or Rin, or any of the other… different patients, there would be no jail. No rehab. No therapy. Just a new cell. Or worse. That’s why I’m not interested in overturning management or exposing this place…”

Kazan raised an eyebrow, listening intently and now openly curious as to where he was going…

“I want to burn this place to the ground, and I need every single one of you to help me do it.”

Actually looking surprised, the Oni’s grip on the chain loosened noticeably. Marcus wasn’t stupid enough to try and wiggle out of the chains around his neck, and in what may have been a show of building trust, they weren’t pulled tight again.

“You realize how many people will have to die for us to be free… Right?”

“There are few people here who honestly don’t know what’s going on to some extent or another,” Marcus told him. “Those that do either don’t care, or they’re too scared to try and change anything. You want to know why the door closed and your chains suddenly went slack three weeks ago?”

Judging from his expression, he did want to know…

“Albert Wesker, the fucking CEO… wants me dead. He brought me to Crotus Prenn in hopes I would be killed at a patient's hands. When that failed, he gave his new Lieutenant, Jack Krauser, and his pet serial killer, Asa Emory, full permission to take me out themselves. And I know this, because after I survived our last encounter, he told me, because he doesn’t think I’ll be able to do a goddamn thing about it.”

“You’re willing to burn this place to the ground and spill the blood of dozens, possibly hundreds of people to save your own life?” Kazan asked, tusks flashing in the dim light as he smiled. “Or are you really so righteous that you’re moved to commit bloodshed to end our plight?”

“Why not both?” he asked in return, only half joking. In all reality, Marcus didn’t see himself as a good person, much less righteous. More seriously, he added, “Even before I knew I had a target on my back, I was willing to do this. I can’t stand by while you all are tortured for… whatever stupid fucking reasons I’m sure Wesker and Grimes and all of them would come up with!”

Staring down at him for a long moment, the Oni finally let out a low laugh. Marcus flinched slightly when he moved, but it was only to unwrap the chain from around his neck. Before he could breathe too deep a sigh of relief however, he found himself pushed flat against the wall, a huge, clawed hand stretched across his chest.

“Oooh,” he squeaked, eyes darting down to the talons nearly pressing through his hoodie. It would do absolutely nothing to protect him if Kazan decided to rip his heart out. Able to feel the sharp tips of his claws digging into his skin, Marcus looked up at him with a desperate expression. “I can’t help anyone if I’m dead…”

Leaning down so he was entirely blocking the ginger from the camera’s view, he asked in a low voice, “Do you know a man named Gabriel? You wouldn’t have seen him on any of the higher floors. He never goes beyond this level.”

“Um, I– No?” Marcus admitted hesitantly. “I’ve only been down here once before now and that was… when you almost killed me. Is– is he a staff member or a patient or something?”

“No. He’s not staff, and he’s not a patient. Not exactly, anyway. They don’t keep him locked up, but he can’t go any higher than this floor. Find him. He’ll be able to offer more help then I at this time.”

“Oh,” he breathed, watching nervously as the claws pinning him to the wall finally slid away. “Um, th-thank you. So- so I should go now, right?”

Looking him up and down, Kazan smiled again. “You’re not on duty.”

“Um, n-no… I’m still on leave and not actually supposed to be here at all right now…”

“You could stay, if you wish… Help me pass the time. No more than… four, five hours.”

“Gaah,” Marcus wheezed, blushing from his neck to his ears. Stammering and stuttering wildly for a moment, he finally squeaked, “Thank you but I have a boyfriend!”

“And? I don’t see him in here with us.”

“I, um, I- I’m flattered, really, but, um, I- I have a broken arm and no lube, and I really should go find this Gabriel person!” Marcus excused, scooting along the length of the wall under the Oni’s watchful gaze. Fumbling for the badge as he pulled it out of his pocket, he nearly dropped it three times before managing to jam it in the reader.

Dipping his head respectfully as he backed out of the cell, he continued, “Thanks for the advice, and um, for not ripping me apart this time. O-or last time! I’ll keep you posted!”

The door slid shut between them with a final thud, and he let out a shaky breath. Dear fucking god, that had to have been the single most terrifying ‘wanna smash?’ he’d ever been faced with. Not that it wouldn’t have been hot as hell… but if he survived, he wasn’t sure Danny wouldn’t kill him himself…

Shaking his head, he looked up and down the hall again, unsure where to even start. The badge he had only went to level five, but according to Kazan, Gabriel could be anywhere between floors five and seven. He wasn’t sure what was on either of the last two floors, but given the patients he was currently surrounded by, he also wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Sighing, he resigned himself to the fact he’d have to find out if he wanted to help them. But first, he had to figure out who the hell Gabriel was. Maybe Dwight or Leon would know, but there was no cell service on the lower floors. Without a radio, he was stuck by himself for the time being.

Wishing he’d thought to ask the Oni for a description, Marcus made his way down the hall towards the offices. Maybe he could find something on one of the computers, or even find a badge with a higher clearance. Thankfully, the fifth floor wasn’t very populated, and he had little trouble sneaking into an empty room.

Booting up the computer, he was easily able to access it with ‘Jonah’s’ badge number. Dozens of files were spread haphazardly across the desktop. There was little rhyme or reason to their order, and he let out a sigh. He had no idea where to even start.

“What are we looking for?”

The voice right behind him nearly made him jump out of his chair, and Marcus spun around to find himself face to face with someone he’d never met before. His bleach blond hair stood out in stark contrast to his dark eyebrows and facial hair, but perhaps the most stand out thing about him were his clothes. Unlike the patients who almost all wore similar dull gray outfits, or the staff whose scrubs were varied shades of gray, brown, and black, he wore a prison orange pair of pants and a white t-shirt. He actually managed to look more out of place than the ginger, who was in jeans and a plain gray hoodie.

“Um, I just– I forgot something on… the computer,” he bluffed poorly.

Eyebrows rising, the man nodded thoughtfully. “Huh… And here I thought you were looking for me.”

“Who are you?” Marcus asked, although he got a feeling he already knew even as the question left his mouth.

“Gabriel Soma,” he answered, grinning at him. “You must be Marcus. I was wondering how long it would take you to come looking for me.”

“Whaaa… How? Why? How do you know about that? And me?” he demanded, quickly looking at the office door.

“Feng isn’t the only one with access to cameras,” Gabriel chuckled, before offering, “As for you, Marcus. Word gets around. Especially when you’re not locked in a cell twenty-four seven.”

“Are you psychic?” Marcus asked slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied the other man.

“Nah, nothing that special,” he promised, holding up his hands. “Like I said, though. Feng’s not the only one with access to the cameras, and staff members talk. A lot. As for the important stuff, she keeps me in the loop.”

“Right,” the ginger agreed, still incredibly suspicious. “I was told to come find you…”

“Considering how fast you’ve been getting promoted, I’m not surprised Feng told you to come find me. If anyone knows how to navigate and survive down here–”

“It wasn’t Feng,” Marcus told him, cutting off Gabriel’s boast before he could get too carried away. When he was met with a surprised look, he explained, “The Oni sent me.”

“Oh…” Gabriel said, looking completely shocked. “Wait, why? And why didn’t he kill you?”

“Was he supposed to?” Marcus countered, mildly worried by the question.

Shaking his head, the blond disagreed. “Oh, no, I’d hope not. But, he’s got a track record the length of the cell block when it comes to violently disagreeing with staff existing in his general presence. So, why would he send you to me? As far as I’m aware, he’s got no reason to try and have me killed.”

“I’m not here to try and kill you!” Marcus hissed, casting another worried glance at the door. “I’m trying to figure out a way to get everyone out of here, but I don’t know where to even start! Kazan– The Oni told me to find you!”

Staring at him for a moment, Gabriel finally held up a finger. Walking over to the door, he closed it with a quiet click before locking it. Turning back to the orderly, he asked sincerely, “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

Although Marcus was hesitant, he knew he didn’t have time to play games or wait for Gabriel to prove himself trustworthy. Starting with how and when he’d gotten the job at Crotus Prenn, he made sure to include every near death experience and escape, every horrible detail of the patient's treatment that had led him to his decision. He made sure to include his conversation with Wesker, and the fact that there was a target on his back.

Gabriel listened intently, occasionally looking surprised by the ginger’s interactions with patients, but never by the things he was told about Wesker and his staff. When Marcus finally finished his story, the man nodded. “Alright. I never thought I’d see the day someone was actually crazy enough or determined enough to try this, but… I think I can help you out.”

A bit suspicious by how easy it had been to convince him, Marcus asked, “Why, though? What’s in it for you?”

“I get the fuck out of here,” Gabriel answered honestly. “I may not be locked up in a cell, but that doesn’t mean I’m free.”

Studying him intently, Marcus recalled, “Kazan said you’re ‘not a patient, but not staff.’ What did he mean by that?”

Laughing, Gabriel crossed his arms. “Oh, that. I’m a clone.”

“What?” he asked, unsure if he’d somehow misheard him. “A… clone?”

Thinking about it, Gabriel did look a little… off. Almost too human. No matter how he moved, his hair didn’t seem to shift at all. His dark brown eyes seemed a bit too bright, and his teeth were almost too white and straight. The absolute lack of blemishes or markings on his skin was odd, almost like something out of a modeling agency.

“Yep. I was created down here. Well, down there in the lab,” he corrected, pointing at the floor. Leveling Marcus with a serious look, he continued, “You asked what’s in it for me. I have… no legal name. No social security number. No home or identity outside the walls. I’m not a ‘real’ person, and they make sure I know it. But I don’t believe that. I’m not a lab rat, just because I was born in a tube. I don’t believe you need a paper trail to be ‘human’, and I know the only way to find… something. Whatever it is that would show me what it really is, is out there somewhere. So, if burning this place to the ground is what it takes, so be it.”

Nodding, Marcus stood and held out his hand. “Alright. I believe you.”

Smiling, Gabriel shook his hand before gesturing for him to follow. “Come on, we’ll have to be careful so no one catches you, but I can take you to the one patient in this place that should actually be able to help you put some kind of plan into action.”

“A patient?” he questioned, more than a little surprised. “Are they a clone too?”

“Ha! No, I’m the only successful clone they’ve been able to create. Like, a few of my internal organs are in different places than they should be, but I’m healthy, so.”

“Oh, wow,” Marcus muttered. Despite the growing horrors with every new thing he learned about Crotus Prenn, it only fueled his determination to put a stop to it all. “So, which patient is this? Are they on this floor?”

“Yeah, the only patients on the lower floors are… not someone you want to mess with. Trust me,” Gabriel told him, shaking his head. “They’re nothing like anything on the other floors. I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but this is Hux. The Singularity.”

Marcus only knew the name thanks to the list he’d been handed on his first day on the fifth floor, but he had no idea who or what the patient was. “No, we’ve never met.”

“Hm, that shouldn’t be too big an issue. He’s probably been keeping an eye on you anyway, so he won’t be surprised you’re coming.”

“What– How?” he pressed, once more worried there was some kind of psychic lurking around the asylum.

“The walls have ears,” Gabriel told him cryptically, leading him to the far end of the cellblock. Waiting for Marcus to open the door with his ‘borrowed’ badge, he looked inside the cell before nodding and stepping aside. “It’s all you.”

“Ah, thanks,” he muttered, shuffling inside. The second he spotted the patient at the end of the cell, he tried to step back out but the door whooshed shut before he could. In the very back of the cell, hunched over and unmoving for the time being, was a large, partially flesh covered robot.

Marcus would have rather been stuck in a cell with the Oni again. Trying to keep one eye on the robot as he found the badge scanner, he was met with an angry beep and a firmly closed door when he managed to hit the right mark. Head whipping down, he slid the badge several more times, only to be met with a beep and a red light each time.

A metallic rattle caught his attention and he froze. Movement in the corner of his eye had him slowly looking up despite not wanting to confirm what he already knew was happening.

Hux was waking up…
~~~~