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Merc's Metamorphs

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Chapter 34: Chance

Demon lost track of how long he froze, staring at the announcer's box and the scene that played out before him. He watched when Glory twisted Rook's neck and dropped Christopher's body. He stood in rapt attention (and horror) as Merc attacked the Legendary Hero... and KILLED HIM. He was frozen in place long after Merc disappeared without him and without Bruiser. The Orca, in fact, was the first to recover, shouting at the Pit Bull just as the snipers too started snap out of it. It wasn't until the first bullet passed through Demon (he'd fortunately been half-phased when the paralysis first hit) that the Dog finally came to.

The entire stadium was as chaotic as Demon's thoughts; he had a hard time focusing on anything specific but his mind ultimately did grasp on Bruiser's shouting and the sound of gunfire. By reflex, the Pit Bull grabbed onto the Orca and phased them both down through the bleachers and into the walkways below; the path was lined by foodstalls and vendors on the right and the Dog imagined that they were probably pretty surprised to see two Metamorphs suddenly fall out of the ceiling, but he was too focused on other thoughts to really pay them any mind.

Bruiser had stopped shouting and, instead, forced thoughts into Demon's mind, which actually helped the Dog focus on them. "Merc killed General Glory!"

Demon just nodded vigorously, not even managing to push his thoughts together to respond until he'd led the Orca through the wall separating the stadium concourse from the parking lot. Rather than letting up on his phasing ability, he raced straight through the cars too, making a beeline for the main road. Only once they were in section E (four parking areas away from the stadium) did he bother putting together a cohesive response. "Merc's gone."

The next several minutes, as they crossed the highway and continued past the buildings beyond they exchanged single-minded, single sentence thoughts; it was the most Demon could manage and, thankfully, it was all Bruiser seemed to offer-- it kept things 'digestible'. Somewhere in the back of his mind the Dog figured they were probably both in shock. It made sense. He didn't think too deeply on the matter since he had plenty of other issues on his mind.

They didn't stop moving until Bruiser gave Demon's arm a squeeze, saying quietly aloud "I don't sense any minds nearby."

The two had made it to a southern part of town-- it looked like a commercial district full of tech offices; it made sense that it was quiet at night. Finally taking a moment to breathe, Demon raelized that his legs felt weak and he slumped to the ground, resting his back against a dumpster behind one such office. "Fuck.... fuck fuck fuck."

Bruiser didn't seem to be in much better condition emotionally, but he still seemed to have enough presence of mind to state "I can't reach Merc... he's nowhere nearby."

Demon worked to steady his breath, switching back over to mental communication. "I saw him teleport out. He could be anywhere."

Bruiser slowly slid down to take a seat beside him, likewise switching over to heir mind-speak. "He wouldn't have gone too far... he'll probably circle back around for us so we shouldn't go too far from the stadium so he can find us."

The Pit Bull reached into his spandex and pulled his cell phone out from his groin; Bruiser always made it a point of giving him grief about 'packing', but, in truth, he never wanted to be without a way to be in contact with his team and, considering his Metamorph outfit was basically a pair of underwear he didn't exactly have pockets. He did note, however, that the Orca didn't bother saying about it as the Dog typed out a text. "I'll see what's going on. We need to figure out where to meet up."

Once he sent the message he lowered his phone, glancing down to his other paw, which Bruiser had taken hold of with both of his hands. The Orca closed his eyes, obviously fighting to steady his breathing. "I... don't think we've ever dealt with anything like this before."

Demon tried to put on a brave face, giving his boyfriend's hands a gentle squeeze. "What... you mean dealing with killing an unkillable Legendary Hero?"

The humor apparently didn't register and Bruiser scowled. "I mean it, Demon... something like this doesn't really get swept under the rug. We killed a Legendary Hero and... and I don't know what that'll mean for Merc's Metamorphs moving forward."

The Dog tried to maneuver Bruiser out of the dark headspace. "Hey... first thing's first: we meet up with Merc and then we figure things out together. We always have and we always will. Right?"

Breathing finally seeming to have stabilized, Bruiser nodded, giving him is paw a squeeze back. "Right."

A few more minutes passed in silence, each getting worked up every time they heard a car pass by. Demon was honestly surprised that there weren't any helocopters in the air at that point-- if there were he'd just phase himself and Bruiser into one of the buildings until they passed, but the lack of them was almost as disconcerting. He texted several more times, even letting Bruiser send a text on his phone as well, but Merc didn't respond... for almost an hour. When he did, his response was simple and vague: "u2 need to get somewhere safe".

When Demon shared the email with Bruiser neither had an easy time figuring out the significance, and Demon pressed further. He asked if Merc was okay. He wanted to know where they planned on meeting up. Message after message but there was no response and no "..." indicating that Merc was typing. Eventually Bruiser asked "So what's he saying?"

Demon didn't have much to report. "Nothing. He hasn't responded."

Slowly standing up, the Orca was just about to say something back but, finally, the messaging indicator appeared and Demon stood up too. "Wait-- he's responding."

What they got back was definitely not what the Dog was expecting: "u got 10 min. im dropping meta form."

Looking over his shoulder again by that point, Bruiser read it at the same time as Demon. "�Qu� carajo! What is he thinking?"

Demon's response in his mind was similar, at least, he presumed it was since he'd heard the exclamation before but didn't know the translation, but he kept his response much more direct. "That is not the way we operate... what the fuck's going on with him?"

The Orca's response was grave. "Other than him killing General Glory? He's probably going crazy over it... wouldn't you?"

The Dog rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. "For all the times I said I wanted to kill that shithead, I... Merc's Metamorphs... we don't kill. I can't even imagine what's going through his head right now... but... still..."

Rather than continuing the conversation Demon began sending a flurry of IMs. What was going on? Was Merc in trouble? Was he safe? Where were they going to meet up? Demon sent over a dozen of them before pausing to look; he realized quickly that none of them had been read. It took a second for him to come to a realization. "I think he's ignoring us."

Bruiser didn't take that well. "What? Why?"

The Dog shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, but you're probably right-- he's not handling this well and he's not thinking straight."

The Orca wrung his hands together. "This isn't right... and it's not safe. Do you think he really intends to change back? God, I hope he's somewhere safe..."

Demon scowled. "We certainly aren't. Fuck... we gotta get to our drop bags."

That statement seemed to break Bruiser out of his deepest thoughts, snapping him back to the present. "�Mierda! How long do you think we have?"

Muzzle fixed with a grave expression, the Pit Bull shook his head. "Not long." He was very much right.

Merc had always been with them during their return to Human form and he usually hearlded it with a countdown, or at least a "Alright... here we go.", but, that time, the change was upon them without any real warning; it was frightening to experience it with no heads up. Demon's first experience was the vertigo he got as his eyes adjusted to his muzzle shrinking, followed by a lack of balance as his leg bones began to lengthen or shrink depending on where they were in his physiology.

He tracked the change by the acute nature of the sound around him fading away into the dull strum of Human senses; the stark, vibrant scents around him dumbing down as if he were trying to smell through cotton; the darkening of the world around him as his night vision scaled back to that of a Human, and the suddenly cold feeling he experienced of being naked without a full coat of fur. Other than his spandex shorts, he was completely naked, and the asphalt against the soles of his feet felt even colder.

Poor Juan was doing even worse since he only wore gloves and boots in his Metamorph form... but at least he had boots. When their eyes met, Chance couldn't help but smirk when his boyfriend shot back "At least you have underwear." It was ironic, in a way, but not as funny as it could have been.

Chance gave Juan a hug. "Well... whether you dream that you're in your underwear or naked in public, it's still a shitty dream."

Juan offered a half-hearted chuckle. "God, I wish this were a dream."

Sighing, Chance nodded. "Me too."

As if to further heighten the emotional difficulty of the night, the empty street was suddenly much less empty as a vehicle turned down the street at the edge of the parking lot. Chance whispered beneath his breath a repeated mantra of "keep going. keep going. keep going. keep going." but, almost as if it were purposefully belittling his ardent prayer, the vehicle turned into the very parking lot they occupied and then, to make matters worse, cut straight across and headed in their direction."

Juan, ever the quick thinkier, offered up a hesitant "Are we crazy or drunk?"

Not sure if either would help make their case considering how far they were from home, he tried a desperate "Kidnapped but escaped?"

Their planning, however, came to an end as the vehicle turned; with the headlights out of their face they saw that it was a limo. It came to a stop and the very back door opened. A young man, maybe only a year or two their senior by Chance's estimate stepped out; he was wearing army fatigues, and a smile. "Hey guys."

It was a rather unspectacular greeting despite the situation. Not exactly sure how to proceed, Chance offered a hesitant "Uh... can we help you?"

The man laughed, gesturing to the limo. "Actually, I'm here to help you two-- oh!" he paused, as if remembering something. "You'd probably recognize me better if I were a kangaroo."

Chance looked to Juan, who looked back to him, and they asked the man in unison "Dennis Hopper?"

Laughing, he stepped aside as they approached, letting them climb into the limo. "You can just call me Keith."

Each was presented with a set of clothes, which they wasted no time changing into as Keith explained the situation. He'd been sent to pick them up by Reed. When Rook had died back in the stadium almost all of the electronic equipment spontaneously overloaded, but a special agent monitored the survailence systems around the stadium and caught sight of them, bringing it to Reed's attention. From there, he sent out a retrieval team.

The military guy smiled, gesturing to himself and then spreading his arm wide toward the whole of the limo. "Sure beats a military extraction, lemme tell ya."

Chance glanced to Juan, who appeared to be on the verge of cracking; his eyes were damp and one of his hands had a white-knuckle grip on the door handle. "Everything's falling apart... it's all falling apart."

Keith let out a long breath as Chance reached out to take hold of Juan's spare hand. Looking toward their 'rescuer', Chance asked "So what're you even doing here? How could Reed get you to us so fast?"

Smiling, he responded simply. "Backup... just in case. Good thing too, apparently."

Chance felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he began to consider the implications, but Juan was apparently thinking the same thing since he spoke up first. "So Reed thought something like this would happen?"

Before Keith could answer, Chance backed up his boyfriend. "General Glory-- did Reed send him to get involved? Was this his plan from the start?"

The soldier held his hands up in placation. "No... nothing like that. I'm sure Reed didn't send him-- he wanted this op to succeed; there's no way he'd sabotage you guys because then he'd be sabotaging himself."

Chance wasn't entirely convinced. "Well I think I want to ask Reed myself. He's the one who put us up to this, and now one of our number is dead, Merc is missing, and Glory is dead. The whole situation's totally... screwy."

Juan reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Chance, mi amor... I really don't think now's the right time to deal with Legendary. We have other things to handle first-- more pressing than confronting Reed."

Keith leans back in his seat, eyes going from Juan to Chance then Juan, then back to Chance. "I get that you're in an awkward position, guys. I mean, sure, I'm on a registry because I'm a Metamorph in the military, but you guys are civvies-- I know that you need your anonymity and being here, connected to your Metamorph forms is... kinda compromising."

Juan's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat, cabr�n?"

The soldier's hands came up again. "No. No... nothing like that. I'm saying that Reed chose a representative" he gestured to himself, "and a driver" he motioned to the partition behind himself "who know how to be discreet. We've sworn NDAs and we're not talking about anything we see here tonight... Reed won't even ask us any specific questions so you're all good... that's all I'm saying."

Chance, still wary, figured he understood the situation. "You're close to discharge and you're looking for your next job."

Keith nodded. "I already have a contract ready with Legendary."

Juan was quick to point out "Legendary Unlimited treats Metamorphs like shit."

The soldier shrugged. "Not THAT bad if Reed is risking everything to get you two out of this mess."

Chance wasn't convinced. "It's also to get himself out of any danger for being involved in this shit-show."

Keith shrugged. "Well... I'm here now because he sent me-- that much I know. You can take it at face value, or you can doubt him but, either way, my job is to get you two to safety and make sure you're dropped off wherever you want with suitable resoures."

Juan spoke up at the same time as Chance. "Resources?"

The man across from them reached into a center console between the seats and pulled out a big stack of bills. "The limo drops you off wherever you want, with cash. After that, we don't know where you're going or what you're up to... but Reed did ask that I also give this to you." Keith grabbed a flip phone out of the center console as well and held it out toward the two of them.

Chance grabbed it from him. "What's the deal with this?"

Keith responded in a matter-of-fact tone. "Older model. Not traceable. Reed has the number, and his number is programmed in it. He wants to stay in touch."

Juan glanced at the phone, then to Keith. "And if we DON'T want to stay in touch?"

The soldier shrugged. "Just... don't pick up? Toss it? The way I figure, Reed isn't trying to force you to do anything. Maybe keep it just in case?"

Chance tucked it into one of his pockets, along with the cash. "No promises."

* * * * *

It took Chance and Juan almost an entire day to get back to campus from the bus stop they'd selected as the drop off point. Bouncing from bus to bus wasn't cheap but they'd been given a lot of money so the cost wasn't so much the factor... but the time was. Although neither actually put words to their thoughts, Chance knew that Juan was thinking the same thing as he: it was possible that Frank was there. They did not find Frank on campus though, instead, they found out that there had been a murder-- Frank's Poly Sci professor had been killed... and in a very gruesome way.

They'd arrived just as the lockdown was concluding and there were police everywhere. Chance managed to keep his cool, and kept a tight hold of Juan's clammy hald; his boyfriend was shaking but, thankfully, also managed to keep it together until they reached their dorm room. Upon realizing that Frank wasn't there, Juan lost it. Chance was close behind. That afternoon passed in a full-on breakdown of tears, crying, wailing... anything and everything to try and find an outlet for feelings and emotions with nowhere to go and no easy way to be expressed. It was horrible... but cathartic.

Over an hour passed before either of them had enough mental cohesion to take proper stock of the situation; Chance was the first to recover, giving Juan a strong hug before saying delicately "I'm gonna go check his room."

Chance did a once-over, inspecting the scene, including clothing thrown haphzardly around; he realized right away that two of Frank's bags were missing: a backpack and a gym bag. Inspecting the nightstand, he also noticed that Frank's cell and Merc's cell were both gone, as were the chargers. He was mildly relieved that they would at least be able to reach him... presuming he was willing to answer their texts. From there, Chance went to the bathroom, and froze at what he saw.

He stood in the doorway, staring at the broken sink with an ample amount of blood staining the shattered porcelin. It wasn't a huge amount, so at least he was confident that it wasn't any indication of a great injury Frank might have sustained, but he didn't have a lot longer to consider it as Juan had moved up behind him. Gasping as he peered around Chance, his boyfriend murmured. "Dios mio..."

Chance turned around to face Juan, giving him a hug. "It's fine, Juan... it's fine. Frank's not here, but he's okay."

Juan didn't seem to agree. "There's blood."

Sighing, he tightened the hug. "Yes, but it's not a lot. He probably washed up after getting home."

It was an optimistic viewpoint and, unfortunately, Juan was not willing to suspend his disbelief. "Washing blood off? He wasn't bloody when we last saw him, Chance... if there was blood on him it could have been his. They had snipers!"

Chance pulled him closer, keeping his voice low. "Sssshhhh... we have neighbors, remember?" Once he was sure his boyfriend had calmed enough not to cause a scene, he acknowledged Juan's statement. "Yes, they did... but I don't think there's enough blood for it to be anything serious... you tell me, Juan-- you know more about medicine than I do."

The question regarding his knowledge seemed to be just what Juan needed to be able to focus on and, assessing the bathroom, he finally seemed to calm. "No... even if he'd banaged himself after being hurt there would still have been more blood." He went so far as to offer an almost sardonic smirk. "Chances are he got angry and hurt his hand breaking the sink."

The two shared a desperate laugh at that; Chance presumed Juan wanted something like that to be as true as he did himself. They quieted down after that, returning to the living room to talk things out, trying to piece together exactly what had happened, and what was going on with Frank. The loss of Christopher had obviously hit him hard and, in that moment, he'd given over to anger through grief and killed General Glory. They could agree on those two steps in the recent insane events they'd faced but, anything past that was pure conjecture.

From attempting to figure things out they transitioned to lamentation, just holding one another and crying over their joined losses. They cried until they were numb, accepting that things had changed drastically over the course of 48 hours and neither knew what would come next. At some point one of them turned on the television-- Chance thought it was probably him but he hadn't even really registered it, or the TV for that matter, until the news came on and started talking about General Glory's death; Chance knew that he was the one who turned it off.

Eventually, cried out, Chance stood, and began meandering aimlessly around the room. He stopped to inspect little trinkets that adorned the shelves between books, staring far-too-long at a picture Frank had brought with him from New York and, ultimately turned on his cell phone to stare blankly at the home screen: a picture of Frank, Juan and himself hugging one another looking out at the phone Frank was using to get a selfie of the group; the 0 in 5:03 showing on the phone's clock was positioned to almost wholly cover Frank's face.

Juan was the first to speak up after the long stretch of silence. "I... should probably start considering what to make for dinner."

As if suddenly reminded that neither of them had eaten all day, Chance's stomach grumbled in agreement. He nodded to his boyfriend before moving to take the spot on the sofa that Juan had just vacated, still looking down at his phone. He flipped through several screens, bypassing his university email account knowing that the several messages waiting for him were probably class-related, or perhaps referencing the death of Professor Monroe.

Thinking back to that, Chance couldn't keep silent on the topic. "Do you think Merc killed Frank's poly-sci professor?"

Juan's response came in the form of a dropped pot lid in the kitchen. Before he could offer an actual answer, however, the not-yet-engaged conversation was put on hold as a set of text notifications came through-- Chance noticed one was from Demon's cell; the other was Bruiser's notifcation. Both college students had their cells out in record time. Chance stared at the message from Merc's phone: "going MM in 10. b somewhere safe"

Juan slammed a pan down on the counter. "�Juemadre! What is he thinking?!"

Chance quickly started typing out a message to respond to the group chat. A response also came in from Bruiser's phone as Juan offered one as well; Juan's was in Spanish, which Chance didn't understand, but he presumed it was probably similar in nature to his own response: "Where r u? r u ok?"

Staring at the group chat, he noticed that neither his nor Juan's text was read. He tried again; Juan did the same. They spent the next few minutes rapid firing texts but none of them were seen. At that point, Chance realized that Frank's warning was probably all they were going to get. "Juan! Come on!"

The two of them locked eyes for a moment; he saw hurt and anger in Juan's gaze but, a moment later, they were both surrendered for the sake of fear. Chance quickly went to the front door to lock it and put the deadbolt in place. Juan, in the meantime, ran to the back room and drew the shades. Chance met him in there a moment later, closing the door behind him. Juan's room was the furthest from the front door and, with nowhere else to go, it seemed like the best option.

The two of them quickly undressed and embraced, murmuring their concerns aloud; Chance would have liked to have said that sharing the moment with Juan helped ease the confusing pain of the situation but, more than anything else, he found himself wishing that he could have saved his boyfriend from the emotions that he was sure they both felt-- as the change began to happen and Bruiser's mental powers manifested, he could actively sense what he'd known was there.

The Pit Bull and Orca splayed out on the floor after the harrowing shift had overtaken them. Demon panted, stretching his fingers and toes, feeling like they wanted to cramp; when he knew he was going to change it was an amazing feeling but the unexpected changes-- the ones that had come unbidden, were frightening. Flopping his head in the direction of his boyfriend, he saw that Bruiser's eyes were wide and his breath was also labored. Reaching out, he took the Orca's hand in his paw and gave it a squeeze.

Bruiser let out a choked squeak from his blowhole before forcing the words out. "Is this it now? Is this crazy a permament part of life for us?"

Wondering the same thing himself, Chance didn't really know how he could offer any answer that could be seen as comforting. He was saved, however, by a call to both of their cells at the same time. The Pit Bull grabbed his cell, looking at the caller ID, which did not register. He glanced to Bruiser, who was looking at his own phone, turning it so that Demon could see that his caller ID also didn't recognize the sender.

Letting out a deep breath, the Dog cleared all thoughts from his mind and, pressing the call button, answered in his best neutral tone. "This is Demon."

The unregistered number responded at first with a sound that almost reminded him of an old fashioned phone line modem connecting. A few seconds later a digitally manufactured voice warbled in his ear. By that time Demon had answered and Demon was able to hear the voice in stereo; they were in a group call?

The voice tried three more times, each attempt becoming clearer. Bruiser ultimately demanded. "Who is this? What is this about?"

The voice finally came through clearly, though still heavily electronic. Despite that, the Pit Bull recognized it immediately. "Hello. Sorry about dying and everything."

Demon was pretty sure he barked his response. "ROOK!?"