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Progression, Chapter 6: Eyes Closed

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The Muse finds someone who needs his help. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 6: Body Swap WC: 1303 - CW: a child in peril, minor character deaths (unnamed characters, not the child) A little mind-bendy (that's a bit of a given with Remus' Illusion powers, though.)

The Muse ran.

Broken bits of brick from the latest building lost to ivy battered bare feet and the tangled underbrush threatened to drag him to the ground. He stumbled, feet wetted with crushed moss and blood slipping on the forest floor.

“I see you!” A deep voice sing-songed and echoed against the trees, laughter coming from everywhere at once. "You can't hide from us!"

His lungs burned and he’d lost count of the scratches and bruises on his shins, his arms, his face. They’d first spotted him at dusk down by the creek and he’d been on the run ever since. Every time he thought he’d escaped, every time he thought he’d hidden well enough and long enough, they’d see him trying to sneak away and once again, they’d pick up their hunt through the dark woods.

He dodged to the left, crashing blindly into the thicket and hoping it might slow his much larger pursuers. Thorns grabbed at his skirt, tearing at his skin but he kept running.

His skirt?

The Muse forced his eyes open and stared up at the bright ceiling lights in his room. No, not his skirt… there was someone else. Someone close. Someone hurt.

But they were getting further away and it was getting harder to fight through the buzzing shield around his room. The Muse rolled onto his stomach. His hands and knees were scraped raw, muscles screaming under the strain of movement. When he closed his eyes, he saw the forest, tasted the moss and dirt. And blood.

Inch by inch, he dragged himself to his door. Using first the handle, then the frame, he pulled himself to his feet and palmed the control. His own weight pushed the door open and he fell past the shield and out into the hallway.

Color and light and ice and fire consumed him and filled him to bursting. The world crackled through his nerves, through every cell. A tiny child laughing, clapping her hands when her doll sang. A couple yelling horrible things to each other, unbreakable dishes crashing against the wall and bouncing off back at them. The rush of air as a man fell. Fingers torn and bleeding and…

The Muse shook his head, searching for the girl in the woods. Her sweater had been itchy, sticky with sweat but it protected her arms so she kept it on. Feet numb, knees bleeding, she shivered now, tucked between gnarled tree roots, a crook filled with mold and petrified rat droppings. She pressed both hands to her mouth, muffling her pants as large men—Powereds, too, too large to be Traditionals—tromped over her hiding place.

-”Jannie…”- he pushed past the sharp static of Jannie’s usual shield. He wasn’t supposed to, he knew he wasn't supposed to, that it hurt them both when he did, but this was important. Cold ice slashed at his mind as the static broke. -”Jannie! Jannie, help us…”- His eyes fell shut again as the vision took him.

“Love?” Luc’s voice was so very far away. “Love… wake up!” Orange light bled through Janus’s eyelids and he burrowed deeper under the covers, hiding from the soft hand shaking his shoulder, the insistent voices in his head. “Jan!”

-”Jannie…”- The desperation in The Muse’s voice finally pulled him from his dream—nightmare? No, not a dream. -”Jannie, help us!”-

“The Muse is out,” Janus mumbled, shivering under the warmth of their comforter.

“I know, love,” Luc nodded, hands warm at his shoulder, his cheek. Janus finally opened his eyes and noticed the bright glow of Luc’s. “You were…”

Janus became aware of the tears streaming down his face, his neck. The pillow was soaked. His throat was raw and his palms bleeding from tiny half-moon impressions.

Luc’s eyes dimmed and he brushed gentle fingers over Janus’ cheekbone. “You were…inconsolable without…” His voice shook and he let his hand fall away. Janus’ heart thudded in his chest at the lost contact, a bird fighting its way out of its cage.

“It’s okay…” He swallowed back a sob, the temporary easement of Luc’s powers letting through the full force of everything The Muse shared. He nodded, chasing his hand. “It—than—thank you. He—”

Luc touched him again and Janus smiled, accepting his power. He sucked in a breath and met Luc’s bright orange eyes. “He needs me,” he whispered, already pushing away the covers.

“I know.”

-“Muse… Muse, can you hear me?”- Golden light flickered through the leaves and The Muse reached out from his hiding place, fingers scraping against lichen-covered bark.

“Jannie?” he called, high pitched and broken. And not nearly quiet enough.

“I found her!” Rough hands grabbed at him, pulling his hair and yanking him out from beneath the fallen tree. “Got you, you little—“

The man’s hands grazed bare skin and The Muse saw through his eyes now. A girl shivered before him, dress torn, hair matted with blood and dirt, rivers of tears marking her face. He released her and she dropped to the forest floor, curled in a ball.

Rage and pride coursed through his veins. Filthy lust. But Jannie was there, too, and strong, steady hands circled the faint strains of the man's guilt. Strangling it. Strengthening it.

The Muse pushed back against the foul thoughts in the man’s head and shared with him the girl’s fear, the sting and burn of her cuts, the fire in an ankle that surely must be broken.

The man staggered under the weight of it. “No, please,” he muttered. “Stop!” To The Muse or to Jannie. Or maybe to himself.

They didn’t stop. The Muse pressed both hands to the man’s head and pushed in everything he'd seen. The fighting couple. The child who’d touched a stove. The man who’d fallen—jumped?—from the factory ladder. Another man, hungry and cold, sifting through the bins outside the same factory.

Everything.

He pushed it all into the pursuer’s head. With a strangled cry, he dropped to the forest floor. His friends ran to his body and The Muse touched each of them in turn, adding the memories of the one who fell before him until the bodies of a half dozen Powered rogues lay in a heap around the little girl.

-”Go home,”- he said to her as gently as he could.

Crying, she stumbled away from the men's bodies. The Muse stayed with her until she reached the edge of town and the world around him faded to black.

The floor was cool against The Muse’s back and a soft blanket had been draped over his chest. Fresh stitches itched his hands and his legs. He opened his eyes just in time to see Papa Bear slip through the door, leaving him alone with Jannie.

Jannie’s hand—his bare hand! He’d taken off his gloves and just touched him—his hand was so warm and curved perfectly over his cheek. The Muse melted into the touch, the warmth. Jannie brushed away the tears leaking from his eyes. “I got ‘em, Jannie,” he whispered. “I got ‘em all.” It was important he say it. The words made it real, made the vision real. It was all real. He'd made it real and he’d done something good this time.

“I know,” Jannie said aloud, voice breaking. “Ro and Virge found the girl and brought her to her parents.”

The Muse smiled, wincing at the tug of stitches he hadn’t noticed along his jaw. -“We did it”-

“We did,” Jannie said, so quiet The Muse had to strain to hear. “Rest now, Muse. Rest…” His eyes were half-closed when Jannie slowly pushed up to his feet and shuffled to the door.

As the door sighed closed, the last thing The Muse saw was Jannie falling into Lucas’ arms, the hallway lit in the bright orange glow of his eyes.

#Progression #ts remus #ts janus #ts lucas #Meus ex Machina #The Mad Lads Universe #dukeceit #demus #platonic dukeceit #superpowers #janus sanders #remus sanders #lucas sanders #examines fingernails through gloves‚ what do you mean‚ of course this chapter is on time

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edupunkn00b · 2 days

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Progression, Chapter 5: Killer Inside of Me

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If only Roman and Remus could solve their problems the way they used to. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 5: Cowboys

Warm air spilled from an ancient vent over his door and The Muse pressed a cheek to the grate, breathing it in. Jannie’s cologne, a pot of rice and onions on the verge of burning… bearing grease and singed wire insulation… soap bubbles and steam.

The house was quiet. It was late, the rice probably set for Papa Bear's favorite congee. A door swished somewhere upstairs, faint. Maybe only imagined. Maybe not.

Palm pressed flat against the wall, he fought past the buzz of his shield, reaching for tiny hints of the world beyond his four walls. The shield scorched the edges of his mind and sent the room spinning. He clawed at the wall, seeking purchase in the layers of antique paint and wallpaper. Bile churned in his stomach but he breathed in the scents of home again and smiled.

Flowers.

The flowers weren’t really there in the house. It was winter and the only growth outside was kudzu and stubborn blackberry, but he smelled flowers. Ro's flowers. The Muse inhaled again. Red trillium and hibiscus and posies. Roses.

He was on his way.

His makeshift ladder clattered to the floor as he scrambled down, forehead pressed to the window so he could watch the glow of the elevator’s lights. They dimmed then brightened with each floor change, the peak joined with a near silent thud when the elevator reached the bottom floor.

“Ro!” he shouted through the door, watching light bleed over the basement floor from the now open elevator. “Ro! Ro, you made it!”

Shock widened his brother’s eyes when he stepped into view and The Muse dragged a hand over his face. It came away damp, a rusty smear of sweat and blood staining his fingertips. “It’s okay!” he grinned, hand pressed to the window. “See? It’s healing!”

Ro swallowed, throat bobbing, but he pushed a smile on his face and nodded. “It is,” he said, too quiet to hear but carefully articulated so The Muse could read his lips.

They’d gotten good at that.

Reaching into the bag strapped to his hip, Ro pulled out a pair of work gloves.

“Virge’ll kill ya if you mess up his favorite gloves.”

Ro just smiled and pressed a bare palm to the controls.

The door slid open.

The Muse leapt to his feet, hands out at his sides. “Ro,” he whispered, careful, quiet. Contained. Too loud and Ro might leave. Too loud and Ro might disappear.

“I promised Virge I wouldn’t damage them when I borrowed them,” he said, pulling on the gloves and tucking them up into his sleeves before stepping inside. “May I hug y—”

The Muse barrelled into him before he could finish the question. To his credit, Ro kept his feet, shoulders nearly as broad as Papa Bear’s and arms thicker than The Muse’s thighs hugging him back.

“Missed you, Ro,” The Muse mumbled, tears sneaking past closed eyes. Poppies sprouted around their feet, spreading and looping over the floor, over the boots abandoned by his nest of blankets in the corner. Soft red petals poked between the salvaged paper books on the shelves and green tendrils reached for the gap under the door and the grating in the wall.

Heavy and perfumed, the air tasted syrupy sweet and The Muse’s eyes grew heavy.

“Re, careful,” Ro choked, holding his breath, one gloved hand cupped over his mouth and nose.

Blinking away tears, his eyes burned and he used his sleeve to dry Ro’s face. “It’s okay, it’s…” Mouth gone dry, he shook his head. -”It’s okay, Ro Bro,”- Thoughts came easy and Ro smiled. -”It’s okay.”-

It was too much. It was too much and Roman knew it, but he couldn’t make himself let go. He couldn’t really remember the last time Jan had let them visit but it certainly hadn’t been alone, with Jan and Lucas on guard, watching, waiting.

It had been a good thing then, too.

But this time could be different. They had a plan this time, and they were both older, stronger. They could do this.

The cloying scent of poppies filled Roman’s lungs and he shook his head. -“Re, let up,”- he mumbled along with the thought, but couldn’t voice the words. He tried again, pushing clarity into his thoughts. -”Re, I won’t be able…”- He hummed, waves of poppies softening the floor beneath their feet. He sat down and smiled up at his brother. -”All we need is a good horse and we ride out of town together.”-

Re laughed and sat in front of him. Legs criss-crossed, their knees bonked against each other’s. -”I’ll get the horse. You’ll need to get us past the Sheriff and his men.”-

-”Child’s play!”- Roman scoffed, grinning even as flowers filled his mouth and dragged them both to the floor.

Child’s play.

Alarms blared, red lights flashing along the crown moulding and illuminating the darkened bedroom. Janus and Luc leapt out of bed and ran to the common room. Patton and Virge were already there.

“Ro’s room is empty,” Patton said, a panicked warble in his voice. He reached back gratefully when Luc took his hand.

“He’s not outside,” Virge said from behind his new tablet. The bluish glow deepened the shadows under his eyes and he shook his head. “He’s… Dammit. He’s downstairs.”

They moved to the elevator as one.

“I should’ve asked why he wanted work gloves,” Virgil muttered, swiping and tapping at the screen in search of a better view into The Muse’s room. “I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Kiddo, it’s not your fault,” Patton squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve asked.”

“Would he have been honest about what he'd wanted them for if you had?” Janus frowned. If anyone should’ve known…

They piled out and into the hall, freezing when they saw The Muse’s door swung wide open.

“Stay here,” he ordered the other three. “I promise I’ll call for you if I need help.” Patton opened his mouth like he wanted to argue but nodded, wrapping one beefy arm over Virgil's shoulders. Luc stood a bit behind them, arms crossed over his chest, but he remained silent, eyes a dim amber.

-”Be careful, love.”- Worry seeped through Luc’s ironclad control. -”Be gentle.”-

-”Always.”-

In the room, Ro lay sprawled on his back, head pillowed in his brother’s lap. Blood trickled from his nose and his mouth and his eyes danced, wide and unseeing. The Muse curled over him, stroking back his hair and whispering frantically near his ear. He didn’t look up as Janus approached.

“Muse? Ro?” Janus tried aloud from the doorway, his quiet words carrying easily into the near-silence of The Muse’s room.

Neither brother acknowledged his presence. He closed his own eyes and stepped through the EMF shield.

Dust and grit whirled around him and he pushed past a mass of thigh-deep tumbleweed. “Muse? Ro? Where are you?” He squinted against the scrape of sharp sand and spotted shifting shadows in the distance. The sandstorm’s roar swallowed his voice and he tried again. -”Muse? Muse where are you?”-

-”I’m in my room, Jannie…”- His words came from behind Janus and he spun on the spot, grasping at empty air. The sand scoured his bare skin. He’d run down in sleep pants and nothing else. -”Where else would I be?”-

-”Muse, let me help you,”- Janus called back. -”Let us help you.”-

-”Help?!”- The word rattled through his mind, echoing and layering. -”Help? You want to help?”-

-”Of course I want to help!”- Lightning flashed and fat, heavy raindrops pattered the ground. The sand grew soft and muddy and he sunk down to his ankles. -”Muse! Muse, stop this!”-

The storm fell away and Janus was alone in an empty room. Floorboards gleamed without a speck of dust or dirt to be found. Soft light spilled from windows set high along the walls. -”Muse?”- he called, quieter.

-”You want to help?”- a tiny voice asked and Janus looked down into the bright green eyes of the child he’d first met fifteen years ago.

Janus crouched until he was low enough to see the child at eye level. He nodded. -“Very much so, Re.”-

Nodding solemnly, the little boy turned and picked up something from the floor behind him. -”Take care of him, then,”- he sent in a whispered thought as he placed Ro in his arms. -”Help him.”-

“Patton, take him.” Ro’s whimper filled his ears the moment they stepped over the threshold and back into the protected hallway. The Muse closed the door behind them. "Please, Pat…"

Janus stumbled, shocked by the full weight of the much more muscled Mad Lad in his arm when he left the bubble of The Muse’s Illusion.

Patton rushed forward, scooping Ro up in his arms and steadying Janus. “I got him,” he nodded and examined Janus’ eyes. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Janus lied. He felt Luc’s eyes on him but he pressed a smile onto his face. “Take Ro up to the medbay,” he said, looking up to include Virgil in his order. "I'll be up in a moment."

Quietly, they complied, filing into the elevator and leaving Luc and Janus alone in the hall.

Luc was suddenly at his side. “He needs more control,” Janus let the wall—and his husband—support his weight and his eyes fell shut. “He needs more practice. This shouldn’t—”

“He needs a purpose, Jan. An outlet. When was the last time you’ve let him leave HQ? When was the last time you’ve even let him leave that fucking room?”

“What, so he can put more Eastern guardsmen in the hospital?”

“Would that really be so terrible?" Luc's voice was soft. Reasonable. "Would you rather he hurts Ro again? Or that we help him put his power to good use? That we put all our powers to good use?”

“The Muse is not a weapon." Ro's blood covered his hands and he scrubbed them on his pants. "He would be mortified at what he’s done. The ones who survived are still hidden away in padded cells!”

Luc stroked his hand. “Just like he is, love?”

Rage and fear boiled under his skin and Luc stepped back. Janus stood up straight and met his eyes, embers glowing under ash. “It’s not the same and you know it!"

-Are you quite certain of that?-

Luc raised an eyebrow, unspoken words heavy in the air between them as he turned and walked away.

#progression #the mad lads #meus ex machina #ts janus #ts remus #dukeceit #platonic dukeceit #demus #superpowers #ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts lucas #reblogging because who’s going to stop me?

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