United [A Superhero AU] - Book Two

Chapter Forty-Eight - Plans and Schemes

Mark sits at the dining room table, his chin resting on his hand and his eyes unfocused as he listens to Matthias talk. Felix and Phil sit to his right, assembling a medical kit with their combined powers, and to his left (where Jack would normally sit) is Hudson, jotting notes with his good arm. Matthias goes over their plan to send Felix, Mark, and Jack undercover for what feels like the hundredth time, and Mark can't get himself to focus.  Both Jack and Lili are in that horrible institute right now.  Mr. Vincent could hurt them.  He could hurt Jack.  What if he's beating the Irishman up right now while Mark sits here, doing nothing to protect him?  He goes over every horrendous possibility in his mind until his self-induced stress makes his skin itch. He absentmindedly scratches at his arms and neck, fidgeting endlessly in his chair.

"Mark, do you need to take a walk?" Matthias asks finally, raising an eyebrow at the squirming hero.

"Uh, yeah, I'll be good in like, ten minutes," Mark replies in a rush, pushing his chair back as he stands. He moves to the front door of their hidden base and closes the door behind him before sliding to the ground, staring up at the grey skies. It will most likely rain in a day or two. He desperately hopes Jack is home before then.

Mark curls up a little tighter, wrapping his arms around his legs and staring up at the sky, which is the colour of ash. In his nightmares, the sky is usually red. Anti is usually present as well, choking the life out of Jack while Mark is forced to watch. Stress makes the nightmares worse and more frequent, so for the past two weeks (with the exception of last night) he's been silently tormented in his sleep. He tries to sleep because he knows that that's what Jack would want, but his dreams are always bad and he almost never makes enough sound to alert anyone, even Jack. Staying awake would be better, but Jack would catch on really quickly. At least if he sleeps, he gets some form of rest.

Gentle footsteps scuff the pavement nearby, and then Jack is moving down the stairs towards the entrance of the base. Mark stumbles to his feet with all the grace of a newborn giraffe and engulfs him in a hug, the villain making a noise of surprise before hugging back.

"Why are you sitting outside on the cold concrete, Mark?" Jack asks, resting his head on the hero's shoulder.

"I needed to take a break," Mark replies with a heavy sigh. "You know how anxious I get whenever you're at the institute."

"I know, but usually you're fine... I've never found you like this."

Mark shrugs a bit and nuzzles Jack's hair. "I'm fine.  I'm just glad you're back."

Jack smiles faintly and leans up, kissing Mark's cheek. "Let's head inside, okay?"

"Okay," the hero replies. As he turns to go, he pauses and glances at Jack. "Where's Lili?"

"She wanted to hang out with Matthew and Cry a bit longer."

Mark nods and reaches out, taking Jack's hand and heading into the base.

——

Cry glances at the clock on the wall, sighing heavily and pulling his blanket off his shoulders. "Mr. Vincent will be here in a few minutes. Lili, we can pass you off as a NAI supporter if the need arises, but stay in here just in case. I'll be back soon."

He gives Matthew and Lili a two-finger salute and heads down the hallway, hatred already boiling in his gut. These meetings are always the worst part of his day. He never wanted to run the institute, and now he feels like every day is just another day spent wishing the heroes would come in and destroy his father's work. In the meantime, he has to pose as a leader, and that's the part he hates most of all.

He reaches his office to find Mr. Vincent there already, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back as usual and his briefcase sitting on the floor by his feet. He glances up as Cry enters, giving him one short greasy smile before letting his face fall neutral again. Beneath his mask Cry scowls back.

"I wanted to have a little chat with you, sir," Mr. Vincent states, folding his hands in his lap. "About the abysmal state you've let this institute sink into."

"Whatever do you mean?" Cry replies with mock sweetness. "I think it's flourishing, honestly."

Mr. Vincent glares at him as the villain takes his seat at his father's desk. "Sir, the villains haven't gone out in over a week. You haven't done anything of use in ages, nothing is getting done, and I suspect that Seán is feeding information to enemy groups."

Cry instantly tenses, wishing for once in his life that Mr. Vincent could see the poisonous glare on his face. "You are not allowed to call him Seán. You are only allowed to call him Jack. On top of that, you have no proof to base your accusations on. And to be brutally honest with you, Damien, there's no point in us going out. People are scared enough as it is that they won't even leave their houses for fear that they'll get caught up in a gunfight or simply killed for no reason. I don't see why we would keep going out. Hell, I don't even see the point of this institute!"

"You don't see a point!? All of these people's tax dollars are going to you. You're rich! And on top of that, you have unprecedented power over an entire city! Who doesn't want that!?"

"Me!" Cry yells, standing up from the boss' desk. "I don't want power or money or any of it!"

Mr. Vincent clenches his jaw as Cry slowly lowers himself back into his chair. The advisor sighs heavily and crosses one leg over the other. "It appears to me that you're forgetting your father's mission, sir, and we can't have that. So, I demand that you bring Seán and his accomplice here for interrogation."

"And what if I don't?" Cry retorts.

"Matthew will be on the chopping block. He seems to be a wonderfully effective bargaining chip for you, and I won't hesitate to kill him if you don't do what I say, sir."

Cry freezes, his heart racing faster. Mr. Vincent's words ring with truth, and he can't risk Matthew's life by disobeying. But Jack... Cry can't do that to him. He can't! His mind buzzes with possibilities, and finally he exhales a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Fine."