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 Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 12:20 pm
 If I Don't Wake Up Dead
He had been called into conference with some General from Oxford - Arcelite, or something, he didn’t really care all that much - and was surprised when Astrophyllite was not there, because surely news from Oxford was news of Avalon, right? (But Astro was out of town, and the news would be broken to her there, he was made to understand.)
“Avalon is dead,” the General had told him in clipped tones, and Kerberos barely heard the rest. Something about an attempt to corrupt her island, and a powerful explosion of energy, and surely no one could survive that - and did it really matter how or why?
Avalon was dead.
For weeks after getting the news, he was despondent. Nearly considered throwing away his henshin pen, but the Negaverse would find him, he knew that distantly. Natron - Gabriel, his temporary Officer in Charge - was sympathetic and covered for him on energy gathering duties, because Alex Masters could not make himself power up and become Sailor Kerberos. Why bother? His major investments were a) avenge his sister, and b) impress Avalon.
He’d explained to Luka that it was Vanya, that there had been an accident and she had died in England, and it was even true, for once, and made for a convenient name to the reason that he was weighed down by grief.
This was the second person he loved that he had lost in less than a year. And arguably, it was, once again, Order’s fault. After all, there was nowhere else that reaction could have come from - something in her island, something that belonged to Order, had resisted Avalon’s attempts to corrupt it and killed her.
He finally started patrolling again, listlessly, three weeks after he got the news. It as soon enough to be involved in the little escapade with Vespa’s purification, and not long after that a lucky run-in with one of the Negaverse’s cats had led to him gaining the mantle of Super Senshi.
And he still could not make himself give one single solitary ******** about the Negaverse and its orders and its demands.
It felt hollow, without Avalon to share it with. She would have been so proud, he knew it - proud of the increased strength of his magic, of how Chaos bled off him in much stronger measures, maybe even of how much better it made him look, with hair that dragged on the floor, done up partially in elegant braids and mottled with asphodel flowers.
He liked to think she might have still had the flower she stole from his hair, not long before she left for England, when she went to her Wonder and died. Because maybe that meant he was with her, at least in some small way, in her last moments.
That thought comforted him, even if it didn’t change anything at all. Avalon was dead.
But there was something almost beautifully appropriate about the whole circumstance. In his time of grief, the Senshi of Asphodel got a little better at handing it out to others. And oh, hand it out he would.
Order would suffer. He would drown them in his pain.
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 12:26 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 12:31 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 12:32 pm
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Posted: Sat Sep 20, 2014 4:26 pm
The Darkness That You Felt [[CW: Blood, gore, death]]
Kerberos was still furious when he got away from where he’d left Avalon, who, he hoped, was drowning in a mess of grief and guilt and regret and maybe, just maybe, feeling an ounce of the pain he had been suffering from the past month. He’d teleported without thinking ti through, and ended up in an alleyway that he must have known, and it felt familiar - and he realized where it was.
This was where he had cornered that woman with Avalon, the one who had gotten away, and they’d had to fight off the two Mercury Knights.
(He’d been a burden in that fight, knocked over by Babylon and used as a bargaining chip to make Avalon release the Page. If he were more into self-flagellation and self-blame and other variations of aggressive self-loathing, he might have let himself think that was why she had abandoned him, but his self-esteem wasn’t quite that bad.)
His anger flared up again, with an undercurrent of violence that hadn’t been there before. God, he should have attacked Avalon - smacked her around and made her pay for going traitor. For abandoning him. For forgetting him and acting, somehow, like he was supposed to be anything but furious at her. As if he should have welcomed her back with open arms and followed her to whoever had purified her and let them do it to him, too.
As if he should have been glad that she was a pathetic, weak little Page instead of the glorious, terrible General she had been.
He shouldn’t have just attacked her, he realized suddenly.
He should have killed her, made her pay for her treachery in her own blood.
He could feel something at the end of the alley - another Page aura. For a moment, he thought it might be Avalon again, but no - the Page came around the opening and while yes, it was a Page of Earth, a girl holding a walking stick and looking terrified.
“Oh, tonight is not your lucky night,” Kerberos said, and then he launched at her, and she screamed.
He had never really wanted to murder someone before, but he was so angry at Avalon, so furious, that the idea of murdering a Page of her planet and leaving the body for her to find seemed like an excellent idea.
He grabbed her stick, and they struggled over it, but he was stronger - and he wrenched it out of her hands and turned it against her, smacking her with it over and over until it splintered and cracked.
She was still struggling, still kicking and yelling for help - and so he grabbed her face and backed her against the wall.
And he hit her head against it.
Again, and again, and again.
Until, finally, she stopped struggling.
He let go, and stared at his hands, and at the body and the splatter on the alley wall in front of him. He had pulled starseeds before, but this was the first time he had killed and left blood - and it was soaking his hands, and the body, and the ground.
And he had an idea.
It should have disgusted him, but he was too furious, still, and pushed by the adrenaline of the fight and the triumph of victory.
And so he wrote on the wall, in bright red bloody letters, dipping his fingers in the blood around the Page’s head when he ran out of blood on his fingers.
FOR AVALON
and beneath that, the symbol of Earth that he had seen at her waist - a quartered circle.
She had forgotten him.
Well, he would make her remember.
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Posted: Wed Sep 24, 2014 12:54 pm
And You Will Remember Me Kerberos was halfway back to Luka’s when it finally sank in what he had done.
He walked by a store window, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass - and for a moment he couldn’t believe it. He had to turn and stare, and really examine what he looked like. His fuku and hands and even his face and hair were splattered with blood, and he really did look, in that moment, like a monster.
And he thought of Castor and Pollux, and dead Lieutenants, and - well.
Could he really claim to be better than them? The Page he’d murdered had barely been able to fight back.
He wanted to throw up.
Until then he had been running on adrenaline and fury, and it had not quite sunk in that he had really taken a life. But there was no denying it, staring at his reflection. He had murdered someone. Someone who was probably younger than him, and just as lost in this stupid war as he was.
As what? A message? Was it...was it really worth that?
(Yes, something in him said, anything is worth it to make Avalon hurt like you’re hurting, but - well, all around that sort of advice never came from good sources, and Kerberos shook his head, trying to banish the thought.)
He walked up to the glass and pressed his hand to it, leaving a bloody print on the glass.
’Oh ********> he thought, and he stepped back, feeling panic seize him momentarily - fingerprints were identifiable, and he did not want to test the extent of magic glamour in protecting his identity. He grabbed his sash-cape-thing and scrubbed at the still-wet blood, smearing it and obliterating the print from existence.
And yet he could not draw his eyes away from his reflection, now with blood smeared partially across it.
The corrupt powered down - and to his surprise, the blood and gore vanished, washed away with his powered uniform.
That was a strange thought - that Kerberos was so separate from Alex that they might as well have been different people.
And maybe that meant that the things Kerberos did didn’t have to stain Alex. Alex didn't have to live with it, Alex didn't have to add "monster" and "murderer" to the list of terrible things he was (with "slut" and "idiot" and sometimes "waste of space" and "b***h".)
And maybe it meant that Kerberos could go as far as he wanted in his quest for revenge.
And maybe it meant that in a planetary war, in a strike against the enemy (Avalon was the enemy, he had to remember that, she wasn’t his mentor or his friend anymore she was a Knight and that made her his enemy and his target and every Page of Earth was an enemy too and if their deaths hurt her and hurt others it was a strike against Order’s morale and maybe, a little, revenge against Castor and Pollux for what they had done) Kerberos could be vicious. Kerberos could be cruel.
“Kerberos moon power, make up,” he said, and in a flurry of petals and magic, Alex was gone and Kerberos, once again, stared at himself in the mirror-window.
The bloodstains were gone.
But that was fine.
Kerberos could be...well, he could be a serial killer; Alex had seen enough crime shows to recognize a signature. And maybe that would be the worst blow of all; Order would know someone was hunting them.
He would make sure they knew.
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Posted: Sun Oct 12, 2014 9:03 pm
If Heaven's Grief Brings Hell's Rain It felt like a nightmare.
Alex had taken a nap on the couch, in hopes of being able to stay up late for Negaverse work. He was curled up on his and Luka’s bed, comfortably asleep - and since Luka was at a class, he had tossed on one of his boyfriend’s hoodies and was curled around his pillow, all of which smelled like Luka and provided a rather large amount of comfort. He needed that, because lately his sleep, even his naps, had been plagued by nasty nightmares.
Except now they were a thousand times more real.
He could feel his family’s starseeds in his hand.
He could feel Luka in his arms, as he carried him to the Rift - feel the coldness of the crystal prison he’d trapped his boyfriend in.
The agony of Ascension, the glory and certainty and devotion that came after, the gentle and sometimes not so gentle touch of his fellow Ascendeds in his mind. Alkaid, Haumea, Vespa, Atë, Adonis (he had barely gotten to know Adonis except that they had worked in perfect concert in that last battle), Lellouch (who had not been nearly as pleasant as the others, but that was just Lellouch, she wasn’t even nice now). The knowledge that he was part of something, one of many, something special and powerful.
Could feel that beautiful Transcended Knight draining to death in his arms, as she clawed at his skin and tried to pull him into pieces and make a corpse of him.
Could feel the starseed of that Senshi with the teal hair, and the rage of her Princess, as he killed her and ate her very soul.
Alex jerked awake, tangled in blankets and pillow and beanbag bed, and ran to the bathroom. He had to shed Luka’s hoodie, but he kept it nearby, even as he kneeled in front of the toilet and threw up everything in his stomach.
Good God, he had let himself become a monster. Chaos had reached into him and scooped out Alex and left Kerberos behind, and Kerberos had done nothing but destroy, destroy, destroy.
Kerberos didn’t need Alex to exist, Kerberos was ancient and timeless and eternal and Alex was only human and they really were different but that didn’t mean that the acts he had committed in that strange nightmare-vision-prophecy didn’t sit with him and weigh on him and tear him apart.
He threw up again, and then flushed, and then scooped up Luka’s hoodie again and huddled in the corner of the bathroom, back pressed against the tub and face buried in the warm cloth that smelled of him and tied him to his humanity.
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2014 9:23 pm
Falling ApartAfter the return of his memories, Alex collapses in Luka's arms.
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2014 9:24 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2014 9:30 pm
I Need Your Broken Promises Kerberos lingered where Astrophyllite had left him for a long time, staring at what he had created. A dead Knight, a name in blood - and what had it accomplished? He hadn’t even seen Avalon since that night. For all he knew, she’d left, and had never seen any of his little “messages.”
He wasn’t even accomplishing anything with all this, except venting a lot of anger that really wasn’t even justified. Of course Avalon had left him. Everyone left him, in the end, and it was his fault, not anyone else’s.
Order hadn’t stolen Avalon from him.
Avalon had left.
Avalon had left just like Astrophyllite had, even if they were for totally different reasons.
At least there was something to be gained from Astro’s running away, though, and it was that Kerberos realized that he couldn’t do this anymore.
It had already felt wrong to chase and hunt and kill after his talk with Hvergelmir, like he was betraying everything he’d said to her, and everything she thought he could be. But seeing Astrophyllite stare at him and flee like he was going to hurt her, there was no more room to deny that what he was doing was wrong. Wrong even for a soldier of Chaos going to war against Order. Wrong because it was sick and terrible and accomplished nothing, and because it terrified the people around him, and because, just as he’d feared --
Astrophyllite looked at him the way he’d looked at himself ever since he’d recovered his memories of the future. She looked at him like he was a monster, like he was something horrible and evil and everything he had become in that awful, awful world. How was he supposed to even think of continuing down the path he was on when it was exactly the path that had taken him everywhere he didn’t want to be?
He stared down at the body, and he couldn’t help himself. He had to duck around a corner and vomit up everything in his stomach, and then he ran, as far and as fast as he could before his legs started aching and his lungs started burning and he collapsed against a wall and started to sob, pathetically and brokenly. He hated himself more in that moment, he thought, than he ever had before. He had terrified Astrophyllite and he certainly wasn’t serving Avalon’s memory by pitching a fit and slaughtering Pages. All he was doing was being angry and lashing out and hating the world when all of his suffering was nobody’s fault, really.
(Perhaps whoever had killed Cait, but could he really even be that angry about that anymore? It had probably been a mistake, nothing more or less.)
Well, nobody’s fault but his own.
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2014 10:11 pm
Let's Get You Wasted and Alone Kerberos sat there for a long time, curled in a tiny little ball and sobbing heartbrokenly. And the more he thought about it the more he hated himself even for daring to cry, because he didn’t deserve to feel sad for himself. He’d murdered people, taken them away from their families for nothing more than satisfying his own rage.
Part of him wondered if he should turn himself into the police, or something, but he quailed at the idea. And besides, he couldn’t stay Kerberos forever -- eventually he would power down into being Alex and he couldn’t, he could not let his lives cross that way. He couldn’t have Luka look at him the way Astrophyllite had, the way Hvergelmir had, the way his victims had right before he ended their lives.
It was selfish, and stupid, but he couldn’t bear to have Luka look at him like he was a monster. Luka, who had loved him back, who had tolerated all of his erratic behavior and his fluctuating emotions and his sheer stupidity and inability to reconcile his own feelings. Luka, who he loved and who he was so terrified to lose it caused him physical pain. Luka who had no idea what he was doing, and if Kerberos had his way, never would.
He slowly uncurled himself, and groaned softly. Sitting like he had, in the cold, meant that standing up was painful - and he might well have bruised himself a little. He didn’t care. Physical pain and cold kept his mind off the torrent of emotions he was dealing with.
He started walking, barely paying attention to the area around him. He just wanted to stop feeling for a few minutes, to get off the wild ride of emotions that he had been dealing with. Barring that, he wanted to mute everything, turn it down long enough to deal with it.
And like a gift from some deity or other who took pity on him, Kerberos looked to his left and realized that he was walking past a liquor store.
A closed, locked, empty of people liquor store.
And he could teleport.
In a flicker, he got himself in, and he started browsing the shelves, selecting bottles that looked appealing.
A lot of it was vodka, because if he wanted to blot out everything, he could think of no better method.
Once he had a decent armful of bottles, he teleported himself back out, and collapsed onto the ground. He was dizzy and tired - teleporting was draining - but that was perfectly fine with him. He wouldn’t need to move for a while yet.
He was still powered up, still giving off an aura, still probably in danger if anyone Order decided they wanted to cause trouble. Probably more in danger than before, because if he had his way, by the time anyone found him he would barely be sober enough to stand, much less defend himself.
It was dangerous and stupid and reckless.
Kerberos did not care.
Right then, all he cared about was getting to the bottom of the bottle as quickly as he could.
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Posted: Sun Dec 14, 2014 8:31 pm
Don't Take Love off the Table Yet Alex felt like the more he tried to escape it, the more fear chased him.
Sometimes he would be coming home from class and he would catch a glimpse of something small and simple, anything that might remind him of the Negaverse or of his powered life when he was trying to shut it away, and terror would rise up in him and he would bolt for home and shut the door behind him in a panic and flinch, because usually when he got home Luka was taking a nap if he was there and he felt bad waking him up.
It was times like that, when he felt shaky and afraid and he craved a drink like nothing else would solve his problems, that he thought long and hard about purification.
He’d seen it happen, knew it was a possibility, and knew that it would excise the Chaos from his starseed. He would finally be free, and could be Alex again without having to worry about Kerberos dragging him down. More than that -- he wouldn’t have to draw the line between them, anymore, because a purified Kerberos wouldn’t be a monster stalking the night, he would be a hero.
A purified Kerberos could start over, maybe, and start making up for all the things he’d done wrong.
But…
But he knew that Persephone had lost nearly all of herself in corruption. She had no memory of her civilian life, and from what little he knew of purification, going the other way worked the same way. He would forget, and he might forget something critical.
Worse than that, he couldn’t be Alex anymore. Des and Gabriel knew who he was, and they would drag him back, because the Negaverse did not let go so easily.
And...and he would have to leave Luka.
Alx slipped into the living room, and a smile painted its way across his face. Luka was there, fast asleep on the couch. He looked so peaceful like that - Alex liked watching his boyfriend sleep, ven if it was a little creepy, and even if perhaps after seeing him encased in crystal and permanently still, it wouldn’t make sense.
But Luka sleeping was very different from Luka frozen. Luka sleeping was tangled in blankets, hair mussed, looking anything but terrifyingly peacefully still or frozen. Even asleep, Luka was so gloriously alive.
He walked over, and curled himself up on the couch, tucking himself carefully into Luka’s arms. He felt safe and warm, there, more so maybe than anywhere else in the world.
His fingers gently traced over Luka’s face, as the other man’s eyes fluttered open briefly.
“Shh,” Alex said quietly, leaning in to press a brief kiss against Luka’s lips. “Go back to sleep.” That seemed to be enough, because Luka slid an arm around him and closed his eyes. “I love you,” Alex murmured.
“Love you too,” Luka said. Alex felt a faint smile trace over his face.
No matter how afraid he was, no matter how much he wanted to run from the Negaverse -- how could he do that, knowing it would mean giving this up?
Perhaps he was foolish, perhaps he was selfish, perhaps he was only setting himself up for tragedy.
But this was far too much to lose.
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Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2014 4:37 pm
Sand in the Bottom Half of the Hourglass Alex hated that lately all he seemed to do was a lot of laying awake at night and thinking. But damned if talking to Hvergelmir didn’t always seem to put ideas in his head - and right now, the idea that was stuck there was the idea of telling his family, somehow, the truth about what had happened to Caitlyn. He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but surely...surely there had to be a way?
It had been a year since she disappeared, almost exactly. December 18, 2013 had been the last time anyone had seen her. He’d opened her door the next morning - well, it had been afternoon by then, Cait was not one to be up before noon if she didn’t have to be - to wake her up because really, 2PM was approaching ridiculous.
And her bed had been empty, and her window had been open, and there was no sign of his sister.
It had been mayhem in the house, at first. Frantic calls to all her friends to see if anyone knew anything, calls to the police, driving and walking and running and calling her name into the cold December air. It had been the worst day of his life.
The frantic activity had been a blessing, though, because it had given him something to channel his grief and fear (and the tiny flicker of anger that had already begun to flare) into. For the first few weeks Cait had been missing, there had been no time, really, to panic.
But then the energy had petered out, and he had collapsed. Des and Luka had probably been the only things that had held him together - by being good friends, by not letting him sit and mope, by looking after him when he did stupid s**t like get drunk and swing from the monkey bars on a playground. By giving him something else to deal with emotionally, in Luka’s case, because falling in love (or realizing that he had been) had not been part of the plan but it had been an incredible, wonderful, magical thing.
But just because he was happier didn’t mean his parents - or his younger sisters - were. None of them knew what had happened to Cait.
But there was one family member, he realized, who might just know the truth.
Delilah. Delilah, Captain Erythrite, a fellow officer. She had to know what had happened - which meant that there was someone else he could talk to. He could ask her why she hadn’t told, and maybe - maybe they could figure this out together. That sounded a lot less scary than trying to talk to his family, to tell them the truth, on his own. Even if it was as Kerberos and not as Alex.
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Posted: Sun Dec 28, 2014 11:13 pm
Hey, Sister Alex had texted Lila to meet him powered up, because he figured that they had the least chance of being overheard by someone who could get hurt by this if they were tucked in a back alley, as Kerberos and Erythrite instead of Alex and Delilah Masters.
It had felt like a perfect plan when he’d gone into it, and darn it, he insisted it still was, even as he waited for her, pacing back and forth in a panic. He only stopped when he finally felt a Captain aura coming in quickly, and let out a breath when his sister came into view, in her full uniform.
“Alex -” She began, and then corrected herself to to “Kerberos,” when he shot her a brief glare. “What did you want to talk to me about?” She sounded nervous, which he supposed only made sense because he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with all the details.
“I want to talk about Cait,” he said, and he watched her face fall. “I, uhm, I’ve been...talking to this Knight. Hvergelmir.” He swallowed. This was his sister, right? He could tell her the truth, if he could tell anyone.
Erythrite felt her heart start racing. She knew what Gabriel had told her - that Persephone, Clarisse, Cait, whatever she was now didn’t want Alex to know who she really was. And she couldn’t be the one to crack and tell him, not now, not tonight - not even if whatever grief he was wrestling with was sending him towards talking to a Knight, to the enemy.
“What does she have to do with Cait?” She asked, biting the inside of her cheek as she waited for an answer. God, this was terrifying.
“I mean, I…” Kerberos stumbled over his words. How did he even explain this? “She’s a really good listener,” he said, softly. “And I told her about Mom and Dad. How they’re...you know, stuck. Because they can’t let go of her. And she...she said maybe I should tell them the truth. As Kerberos, not as Alex, and I wanted...to know...what you thought of that.”
Erythrite felt her heart drop into her chest. ’Oh, God,’ she thought, ’he thinks she’s dead. Who the hell decided to tell him that she’s dead?’ That was the worst lie any of them could have told, and she still didn’t understand why no one was telling him the truth.
But then...he wasn’t entirely wrong. Clarisse remembered nothing of being Caitlyn. She looked like her, acted like her sometimes, but she was definitely not Cait anymore. It was why Erythrite barely spoke to her. So maybe...maybe it was for the est that Alex thought she was dead, and wasn’t being disappointed every time Clarisse looked at him and didn’t remember who he was.
But telling their parents…
That was a whole different matter.
“I...don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, her voice quiet. “How would we tell them? How would we convince them?”
“I don’t know,” Kerberos said, a little more heatedly than he wanted to. He stopped, for a moment, reaching to actively squish down his temper because snapping at Lila wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed her to understand, not to argue with him. “You know how they are. They can’t move on, they’re just...just waiting for her to come home. Maybe if we could convince them somehow - I mean, if we told them about the war? Not who we are, but that it exists, and that’s what happened to Cait?” He was practically pleading with her. He needed her to get it, he needed someone else on his side. The idea of continuing to let his parents wallow in grief over his missing sister was just...horrible. “They’re hoping so hard they can’t move on with their lives.”
“Who said hope was a bad thing?” Erythrite argued. “They need it - for all you know, knowing the truth would crush them!” It seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to worry about to her. Grief could be just as nasty and paralyzing as hope, and what if instead of an endless cycle of praying for her to get home, all they did was grieve? “What if they decide to leave the city? What would you do then?”
“Maybe that would be for the best!” Kerberos said. “I mean, three of us already have this...this magic thing. You, Cait, me. What if Thalia and Hayley have it too, and they get caught up in this war just like we did? What if one of them dies next?” His voice broke, pain lacing it. “They should leave. It’d be...it’d be safer. Neither of us has to go, you’re living with Anna and I’m with Luka...it’s the best plan.”
Erythrite walked over and pulled her little brother into a hug, holding him close. Rather than answer, she just stroked his hair, and felt him start to sob brokenly in her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder, body shaking, and she carefully, calmingly, carded her fingers through the long mess of hair that his corrupt form gave him.
“Oh, Alex,” she said softly, and this time, he didn’t correct her, “I know you mean well, but we can’t. You know we can’t. The Negaverse is everywhere - if they go somewhere else and they know too much, they’ll be killed. They have to stay ignorant, and they have to stay here.”
It made sense, he supposed, and he didn’t really want to argue with her. So he sagged and nodded.
“Alright,” he said, softly. “Alright, I’ll let it go. I...you’re right. It’s not safe. We...we won’t tell them.”
“Not yet,” he wanted to say, but what he really supposed he meant even if he had said that was “not ever.” Because Lila was right - it would just end up putting them in more danger.
Losing one sister to this war was plenty for him.
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Posted: Mon Jan 05, 2015 6:52 pm
Hard Times Come, Good Times Go When Alex got home that night, his grim mood and lack of joyous New Year’s spirit were pretty easy to explain. The lie he’d told to cover where he was going also made a convenient cover for his dark mood - dealing with his biological mother was never a pleasant experience. So he’d gone home and curled up in Luka’s lap on the couch and they’d watched the countdown and he’d stolen a kiss at midnight.
And he had felt terrible for doing it because Hvergelmir wouldn’t be stealing any kisses, and neither would any of the other Knights and Senshi who had been captured.
None of them would wake up New Year’s Day warm and comfortable in the arms of someone they loved, because instead they would be wherever the Negaverse was keeping them - he had left before getting orders because no, he was not transporting prisoners, there were lines and that was a BIG BOLD GLOWY ONE - and it would undoubtedly be dark and dank and unpleasant. There was no way it would be the type of place anyone wanted to be, at all, and he was seriously considering what it would mean for him if he perpetrated a breakout.
What it would mean, of course, was his execution or some other horrible punishment, because the order had come directly from a General-Queen and he knew it.
Alex didn’t sleep that night.
He finally got out of bed as the sun rose, carefully tucking Luka back in so at least he woke up warm.
He found himself pacing up and down the living room, as if that would fix anything, or maybe just exhaust him. It wasn’t doing much for either.
If anything, he felt like he was just getting more and more wired.
Finally, he had to leave, there was no other choice. The best thing he could do was get out of the house so he didn’t disturb Luka. He left a short note behind, in case his boyfriend woke up before he got home - which wasn’t impossible.
Luka,
Had to step out and clear my head a little, couldn’t get to sleep, hoping a walk will help. Be back as soon as I can!
Love,
Alex
He even drew a dumb little heart on the blank space, because he really couldn’t help himself, given the opportunity. Had he been wearing lipstick, he probably would have left a lip-print.
He stuck it to the refrigerator, and then slipped out the front door as quietly as he could.
And as soon as he did, he called on his moon and powered up to pay a quick visit to the Rift. Luckily for him, there was a captain there, who he could sweet-talk into giving him the information he needed.
The captives were held in the funhouse at the Destiny City. That was all he needed to know.
He would have to pay that funhouse a visit.
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