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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 20: Respite

Frank spent the rest of the day in his room, door closed and locked. The events of that morning ran around and around in his head, his brain replaying everything and wondering where it went so wrong. Merc's Metamorphs did everything that they needed to in order to eliminate the chance of civilian casualties-- did they not try hard enough to bring in the other Metamorph team in alive? No... all of the net-negs had surrendered. Torpedo hadn't returned to his Human form, but he'd surrendered... hadn't he?

Laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Frank continued to obsess over the way he handled Torpedo-- if only Merc had been more authoritative, forcing him to submit and return to Human form, General Glory wouldn't have been able to get away with-- no... Frank didn't even want to think about it. Every time he closed his eyes, though, Frank could see the slight, pale, helpless human corpse laying at the feet of General Glory, head twisted at an odd angle, flapping loosely as it landed. Torpedo's human form had been handsome in a way, if a little thin bordering on effeminate... he had pretty blue eyes... and he was dead.

Frank normally had four pillows on his bed but, growling out in anger, he grabbed the last of them and threw it against the far wall where it joined the other three that had already spent their turns as projectiles. Every time the young man played out that morning in his mind he came back with the same result: Merc's Metamorphs had done absolutely everything they could have to ensure everyone's safety. In the end, the only fatality had been caused by General Glory, who'd had no cause to be there, no need to be there, and absolutely no reason for killing Torpedo... except the obvious. "Fucking prick."

It was no secret that General Glory was one huge walking HR violation for Legendary Unlimited when it came to his not-so-subtle sexism, racism, and willingness to condemn someone for their sexual orientation or sexual identity. Frank had never liked the man, but he had trouble even considering him a man after that morning; Glory was a monster. The fury that was building inside him cried for revenge, screamed in objection that Merc hadn't put an end to him that morning after such an affront.

Frank, however, was a realist: General Glory was a Legendary Hero, and he was indestructible. It was a well known fact that General Glory had fought in the civil war and, if the history books were to be believed, he also fought in the American Indian Wars, the US's invasion of Samoa, the Spanish-American War, the Philippine-American War, most of the Banana Wars, World War I and II, the Korean War, and the initial steps into the Vietnam War... a lot of history scholars suggested that him stepping out of military service was the reason the US wasn't victorious there, or during the Bay of Pigs invasion. Frank could only conclude that General Glory was a soldier... and soldiers made for shit police. He rolled over, realizing that he was not going to have any luck sleeping and, sighing, he got up.

Stepping out of his room, Frank's boyfriends immediately looked up from the TV to glance his way. Both stood and Chance was the first to speak. "Hey, uh, Frank... the news said that everything's expected to open up again tomorrow... so... classes and stuff."

Juan was a little more personable, taking a step closer and holding out a hand. "¿Cómo estás, cielo?"

Frank managed to smile just a little; Juan tended to use Spanish more often when he could tell something was wrong. Shaking his head, he accepted his boyfriend's hand and pulled him in for an embrace. When he spoke, his voice was more a croak than anything else. "Fine... I guess. Just... thinking about this morning."

Hugging him warmly, Juan stroked the back of his head comfortingly. "¿Hay algo en lo que te pueda ayudar?"

Frank let out a deep breath, resting his head on Juan's shoulder. "No... nothing you can help with. I just need some time... thanks."

He was surprised when Chance came over and embraced them both at the same time. "You know... you don't have to deal with all of that alone, Frank... we're here for you too. Just... let us know what we can do... okay, babe?"

Offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Frank returned both embraces and kissed them both before making his way into the kitchen. "I'm... just gonna grab some bread... and take some more time for myself."

Though both Juan and Chance had looks of concern on their faces they didn't object and so Frank did just that... though he DID add some peanut butter to the bread. On his way back to his room Juan spoke up. "Oh... Cariño... Christopher stopped by today... twice."

That caught Frank's attention and he turned to regard his boyfriend-- a news report was on the television presenting a side-by-side picture of Torpedo and a picture of his human form, much more alive in the candid photo than when Merc had seen him after he was killed by General Glory. The news station had his name and birthday-- he was younger than Frank, who murmured out "Marcus Hillsdale?"

Chance nodded. "Yeah... guy was barely 20... fuck. And the mother fuckers have him listed as a 'retired' Metamorph.. that's BULLSHIT."

Juan watched Frank storm back off to his room. "Amor?"

Frank collected all of his pillows, throwing them onto his bed except for the last one which he retained so he could scream into it; when a Metamorph was 'retired' it meant that they were net negative and they were 'lawfully executed during a sanctioned operation'. His 'scream pillow' was the first to hit the wall again. Trying to find some sense of calm, he grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and looked down at it: 5 missed messages... and every last one of them was Christopher.

The first was late in the morning. "I HEARD WHAT HAPPENED TODAY OUT IN THE CITY, FRANK. ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Ten minutes later was the next one. "I SAW THE NEWS FEED ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH TORPEDO. DO YOU WANT TO TALK?"

The third was just over an hour after the second. "LETTING YOU KNOW I'M HERE IN CASE YOU NEED ME."

The final two were about an hour after that one, and sent in rapid succession. "LAST MESSAGE, I DON'T WANT TO BOTHER YOU-- I JUST WANT TO TELL YOU THAT YOU DO"

"N'T HAVE TO BLAME YOURSELF BECAUSE I KNOW THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE DOING. *SORRY, I HIT 'SEND' MID-SENTENCE."

Letting out a long sigh, Frank collapsed on his bed, caressing his cell phone softly as he chuckled. "You silly goober... and who punctuates texts anyway?"

Frank didn't really notice the passage of time after he finally sent a reply but it had started growing dark. "SORRY I MISSED YOU EARLIER"

Shortly thereafter he got another text from Chris. "I'M OUTSIDE YOUR DORM."

Letting out a sigh, Frank almost didn't want to get up, but his angst was overridden by the prospect of seeing Cy again. Trudging into the living room he saw that Chance and Juan were both still seated at the sofa, watching the TV. Chance mentioned something about dinner being on the stove but Frank was more focused on the front door. Moving to it, the young man opened it up and saw Christopher standing on the other side, a soft smile on his face; without a word, he spread his arms. Frank immediately accepted the invitation, wrapping his own arms around the Asian student, hugging him tightly even as he pulled him inside.

Christopher let out a deep breath, returning the hug warmly, whispering softly. "It's okay, Frank... it's going to be okay."

There was something about Cy that helped Frank feel like he was understood. He loved Juan and Chance both dearly, but they didn't quite understand what he was feeling since that morning-- Christopher, however, really got him. The words were out of Frank before he could even second guess them. "It will be now."

Juan noticed the two of them first. "Christopher! Thank you for coming."

Chance was more casual about it. "Got some spare grub on the stove if you haven't eaten yet, man."

Frank realized that his boyfriends were expecting the visit, and he joined them in the living room with Christopher in tow. Since Juan and Chance were on the sofa, Frank chose the love seat, and patted the cushion next to himself, inviting Christopher to sit with him; the offer was quickly accepted. Juan elaborated once everyone was seated. "We thought it'd be a good idea to get everyone together to kind of talk through everything that happened... it was... a lot."

Chance nodded, leaning forward to rest a hand on Frank's knee "Yeah... we're worried about you, Frank."

Letting out a long sigh, Frank shook his head. "I'm fine... really. I just-- General Glory pisses me the fuck off. He's always been an ass, but he KILLED Torpedo... just... KILLED him.. for no reason."

Chance sat up a little straighter. "But... he didn't surrender, did he?"

For the third time that day, Frank remembered that neither of his team had been able to see what had been going on because they were dealing with their own problems. It was Christopher, however, who spoke up. "No... Torpedo had surrendered to Merc... he just hadn't returned to his Human form."

Frank nodded in confirmation. "It's true. We were talking. He was afraid of what life would be like after he was arrested. He got edged out of working at N.A.L.E.-- he was hurt, and felt betrayed, and indignant... I mean... we've ALL been there at some point, right? And... and while I was talking him down, Glory just... comes up behind him and-- WHAM!" he slammed his fist down on the coffee table to accent it. "Glory snaps his fucking neck. That asshole... he actually smiled when he did it."

Chance was the first to say anything at all. "Damn... that's cold. I mean... we ALL know General Glory is a prick but... wow..."

Juan let out a deep breath. "Merc's Metamorphs should be able to file a complaint... if for no other reason than because it was our operation, and--"

Christopher interrupted. "General Glory accepted the assignment from Legendary Unlimited... The Chessmaster wanted you to take care of it because all signs pointed toward something bad happening if General Glory got involved so we tried to have Merc's Metamorphs poach the job ahead of them." He shook his head dejectedly. "Guess it wasn't enough."

Frank shrugged. "I want to say it can't be helped... but that fucker--"

He froze when the tv, which had been on mute, showed a news interview; General Glory was on with a reporter and the caption acknowledged him as a hero. Before anyone could stop him he reached over to the remote and unmuted it just as Glory started answering whatever question was spoken. "-glad I was there to help. It's not every day Metamorph faces off against Metamorph, but, in this case, as usual, the Net-Negative squad was defeated with minimal loss of life and no civilian casualties."

Standing up, Frank was restrained by a gentle touch on his hand by Christopher. "It's okay..."

Frank sat back down, staring daggers at the screen; he missed what the reporter asked, but he didn't miss Glory's reply. "Metamorphs are flawed, Cindy... we can't fault them for that. Even so, I did want to provide credit where credit is due. The REAL heroes who did the majority of the work before I arrived was Merc's Metamorphs. If not for their intervention today the Net-Negative group might have gotten away. No... I was just here for the assist. THEY were the ones who stood up to the evil and profane. THEY deserve all the credit today."

The remote left Frank's hand before he even registered what was happening; his guttural scream sounded foreign to his own ears and the hurled controller slammed into the flat screen, not just breaking it, but making a hole right in the televison. Chance pulled everyone's attention away from the TV when he shouted "Fuck, Frank! Your arm!"

Frank had no idea what Chase was talking about until he saw that everyone else was staring at his outstretched arm, at which point he looked down only to see that there was no skin-- it was a combination of white and black fur down to the forearm, upon which point his hand, which had become a talon, was sheathed in white scales, covered by a black leather glove. He was still Human... mostly... but his arm certainly wasn't. "What the fuck?!?!

* * * * *

Over an hour passed with Frank sequestered away in his room as Christopher attempted to calm him down. Never before in Frank's life had he ever heard of a Metamorph form manifesting on just a single part of a Human's body, and, even if it had happened, he did't expect to experience it firsthand. No matter what he tried he couldn't get his arm to return to its proper human shape and, with so much going wrong he didn't dare to change over into his full Metamorph form.

He didn't realize that he was starting to hyperventilate until Christopher called his attention to it. "Frank... you need to control your breathing."

Frank didn't respond as well as he would have liked. "Breathing? Like hell-- I need to control my fucking ARM!"

After over an hour with his arm a different shape than his body it had growing more and more uncomfortable. Not only was it heavy, bulky, and unwieldly for a human-sized body to manage, but it felt strange having such a different appendage from the rest of it all. His talon itched and every time he shook his arm more black ichor leaked from where his glove covered his scales. HE growled-- more like a Metamorph despite the sound coming from human vocal chords, but he went silent the moment Christopher grabbed his head and turned it to face him. His newest boyfriend spoke simply. "Talk to me, Frank. Don't just complain. Don't just curse. Tell me how you're feeling... WHAT you're feeling?"

Managing to fight down his growl, Frank tried to control his lungs enough to force the words out. "A... little light headed."

Cy smiled. "Well, considering you have a lot more mass to your arm your heart has to work extra hard. You only have so much blood... maybe try laying your arm down so it's below your heart?"

Even though it was said in jest, Frank realized there was some insight into the suggestion and, letting out another breath, he did just that. "Okay... there."

Christopher motioned to Frank's desk chair and Frank obediently took a seat; Cy sat down on his bed across from him. "Okay... talk to me, Frank. Tell me about what happened. This... this is NEW... but we can work through it together."

Frank was able to appreciate Christopher's desire to analyze the situation without emotion; it was something the Asian student was good at and that helped Frank feel better, but he still couldn't approach things logically. "Okay... uh... I have a fucking Metamorph arm on my shoulder... it's Merc's fucking arm, but I'm not Merc. How's that to start?"

Cy took in a big breath, and let it out slowly, eyes pointedly staring at Frank; he joined his boyfriend for another round, then a third. Chrstopher then asked another question. "You're angry... that shows. Tell me about what you were feeling when you threw the remote at the television."

Frank felt his entire body shaking-- especially his Metamorph arm. Clenching his eyes tight and doing the same with his teeth, he began explain. He told Cy about their fight with the Net-Negative Metamorph group; he told him about subduing the entire team and all of them surrendering. The rest took their Human form but Merc and Torpedo talked without shifting. General Glory-- at that point, Frank began shaking even more. "He fucking killed him in cold blood. He knew that Torpedo had surrendered... he just used him being a Dolphin as an excuse to get away with it."

Christopher nodded empathetically. "That IS wrong, yes."

Frank sprang to his feet, immediately loud and indignant. "Wrong? Glory is a fucking bigot... a racist, sexist, homophobe! He's EVERYTHING that was wrong with the last several hundred years of American history that's still alive today! He refuses to die, and he's carrying all that SHIT around with him!"

Cy remained calm and collected as Frank ranted, and the only thing that got him to stop was when he realized that his boyfriend taking gentle hold of his Human hand as Frank raged. Christopher took another big breath with a slow exhale; Frank reflexively repeated it on the next round and found himself taking a seat after a moment. When his boyfriend spoke his voice was quiet and contemplative. "You work really hard to make sure that Merc's Metamorphs has a very distinctive reputation... I can tell that what Glory did in that interview really upset you."

Grousing and grumbling, Frank did manage to avoid another outburst, but his Metamorph arm drew several long scratches through his comforter. "Yeah? No shit. We all HATE Metamorph hunters, and that's what he made us sound like."

Christopher nodded calmly. "But you're not."

Frank scowled. "But others will think we are!"

Smiling softly, Cy patted his Human hand. "Then just prove them wrong. You aren't...and eventually they'll see that what General Glory led them to believe was wrong."

Frank shook his head. "It's not as easy as you make it sound."

His boyfriend smiled comfortingly. "And perhaps it isn't as difficult as you think. Maybe the real answer is somewhere in the middle" Before Frank could continue the argument, Cy asked "Tell me about Glory... when you saw him on the news report..."

Another growl emerged from Frank-- it was deeper, and much less human-like than his last one. "I... wanted-- no, I WANT to do something nasty... something really REALLY nasty-- something PERMANENT to Glory..."

Christopher's next question was spoken clearly, cleanly, and without any apparent judgement. "You want to kill him?"

Not trusting his voice to admit the truth, Frank nodded. Several seconds passed before he could speak it. "Yeah..."

He was surprised when he felt Cy's hand on his Metamorph talon. "Frank... I know there is a LOT going on. There are numerous moving parts in all of this and your life is changing dramatically... even more than it did when you first became Merc. Everything is in flux and you feel like you have no control..."

Frank growled again, pulling his Human hand away from his boyfriend... but not his talon "But that's just it-- I don't FEEL like I have no control-- I DON'T have control! no matter how much I try to manage this whole Metamorph things, shit just keeps blowing back in my face making me realize that any affect I THINK I have is just a god damned illusion!" He slammed his free hand against the desk, jumping in surprise when the wood cracked; it had also become a Metamorph talon. "The fuck?!"

For the second time that night Frank saw that he had an arm that had transformed without the rest of his body-- he suddenly found himself with two Metamorph arms stuck on a Human body. It was frustrating, confusing, and alarming, but Cy was there to immediately comfort him, reclaiming the talon that he'd released as a hand, pulling Frank's attention back to him. "Frank... listen to me. I know you're angry, and I know you're frustrated... but listen to me... please."

Feeling a typhoon of thoughts running around in his mind, crisscrossing over a hurricane of rage that continued to flare the more he thought about General Glory and his own powerlessness to stop him, it was all Frank could do to pay attention to Christopher who, once again, was leading the way with a breathing exercise. Frank took it up as well, going through three rounds of inhale-and-exhale before he felt like he had even a faint grip of control over his emtions. "Fuck him. Fuck Glory..."

Cy nodded calmly, holding each of Frank's Metamorph talons in his hands. "So... you REALLY want to kill General Glory?"

Frank nodded, his scowl deepening. "Painfully... several times."

Christopher shook his head calmly, a faint smile on his lips. "I don't think you really do, Frank. I think you're angry, but you don't kill people. Merc, and Merc's Metamorphs don't kill people."

Although what his boyfriend said was true, Frank didn't know of any other way possible to balance the scales and remove someone as blatantly WRONG from the world as General Glory. Christopher slowly let go of his talons and, as more thoughts of bloody murder and savage mauling of General Glory went through his mind, Frank rubbed at the itching scales of his chest and the fur standing on-end on his upper thigh. Pausing, Merc looked down at his Metamorph form, the chair beneath him groaning in objection at the weight. His deep, Kangacobra voice rumbled out his companion's name. "Christopher?"

The Human by his side nodded slowly, grabbing a hand mirror to hold up, showing Merc his own face. "I wasn't certain at first, but now I'm sure of it... this is Ngalyod's Grasp at work, Merc."

The Kangacobra turned his head left then right, looking at himself. He was indeed a Metamorph again, but Merc noticed one big difference. "My eyes are red. They aren't usually."

Christopher made a wordless sound of agreement. "Like I said... Ngalyod's Grasp. The stories say that something like this is possible, but it was so vague I didn't realize the significance until now."

Even as Cy was figuring something out, so too was Merc. "Did you hear the guys outside? Doesn't sound like they're Metamorphs... and you're no Raven."

Christopher nodded. "Right... another reason I think that may have to do with your glove. How long has it been dripping ichor?"

Glancing to his talon, Merc gave it a light shake. "I think it's just tanin or other leather-chemical-stuff..."

The Human took hold of the Metamorph's wrist; although Merc could have easily shaken him off, he surrendered. Cy ued the end of a ball point pen to dig some out so he could hold it up in front of the Kangacobra's snout. "No... it's definitely ichor."

Merc pulled his talon free of Christopher's grasp, feeling suddenly defensive against the authoritative assertion. "So?

Cy's response was calm and gentle as he set the pen down on the desk, returning his hand gently to the Metamorph's arm. "Merc... I am NOT trying to condemn you or fight you or argue... I'm here because I know you're hurting, and I know you're angry. The fact that you don't have an outlet for all these emotions is WHY Ngalyod's Grasp is changing you so much-- causing you to take this form. I know it's difficult and, god... I can't possibly understand what you're going through with all this but--"

Merc was easily able to pick up the Human, using only one talon around the Asian student's waist to hoist him into the air, and the Kangacobra pressed the end of his muzzle against Cy's lips. Merc honestly didn't know what had overcome him but, in that moment, a lot of what his boyfriend had said made a lot of sense: he was feeling a lot... and he had no outlet. Cy undrestood him though. He was mindful, attentive, and cared. It wasn't that Juan and Chance didn't... they were just too close to it, which made his newest boyfriend's field of view so much clearer.

Rumbling, the Metamorph spoke softly and clearly. "You're right, Cy... you're right."

He honestly couldn't recall ever seeing Christopher flustered but, that night, feet at least a foot of the ground, held in the iron-grip of Merc, that was definitely enough to give Cy a moment's pause. Raising a hand to his lips, his boyfriend smiled hesitantly. "That... was... unexpected."

Merc's rumbling transitioned into more of a smooth-toned hiss as he made use of his most seductive Metamorph voice. "I like keeping you on your toes... or your back, when there's the opportunity."

Christopher chuckled softly, reaching down to rub the Kangacobra's forearm. "Merc... put me down, and we'll go about this the right way. If being with me will help then you KNOW I'm all for it... but I still want you to breathe with me first."

The Metamorph grinned. wriggling his furry eyebrows suggestively. "You want me to breed with you?"

Once he was set down, Cy smoothed out his shirt and slacks, which had been wrinkled. "Talk with me first, Merc... breathe with me-- Please.... and THEN you can breed with me."

Merc was more than happy enough to take him up on the offer.