Epic, then Gassslight and Bio -"
"Wait, why them?" Gaslight was one of the Crusaders that Epic had brought in with him to fight Mackenzie's horde of vampire terrorists (which sounded as crazy as the actual event had been), his specialty was Pushtech inspired by steampunk designs. As for Bio, well, Doc Bio I knew all too well.
"I guesss that the headbands were their creation." Medusa tried to calm the intermittent sobs. I gave her hands another squeeze as encouragement. "Ssso they were alsso the folksss who acted as our directorsss. We rarely if ever saw Epic himssself. I guesss that devotion thossse machines causssed transsferred over time." She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't care. It doesssn't make it any less frightening."
"Maybe they didn't stick a headband on my head, but I do know something about having your mind changed." I moved a hand up to her shoulder. "You're right to be afraid of it. It makes you question yourself and wonder how much of what you did was the influence and how much of it was you all along."
" Sssi , that'sss it exactly." She looked me straight in the eyes. I never quite realized that it had to be hard for her these past months. One accidental gaze, one wrong turn of the head at just the wrong time, and Medusa could kill. Certainly, there was a brief moment when she almost panicked but that passed when I didn't turn to stone.
"Alright then, let's make a pact." I shifted my grip on her hand from a comforting hold to a more traditional clasp of the hand. "You keep me from being an asshole any more. You keep me grounded and save me from myself."
"And you, Irene, you keep me from doubting myssself. You keep me from ssecond-guesssing all my thoughtsss and feelingsss sso I don't go crazy from what thosse pigsss did to my head."
"I swear!" To add an extra level of grade-school solemnity to the affair, I crossed my heart and hoped to die.
"I sswear!" Medusa took it a step further, formally crossing herself in the Catholic tradition.
Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was childish. It didn't matter. There's a refuge to be found in the rituals of childhood. More importantly, there was comfort in simply knowing there was someone else who understood. Someone else who was there to watch your back and support you when you were down.
Whatever our new friends could do, how powerful they might be, that was one thing they couldn't provide.
"Now with that sssettled, my firssst official action to sssave you from yourssself isss to get you back to work." Medusa rose off the weight bench in one graceful motion and gestured to it with a mock bow. "It'sss all yoursss." My arms already started lodging formal complaints at the mere thought of lifting even a pound.
"See, what makes you such a great friend is your boundless compassion and empathy for my pain," I snarked as I forced myself to ignore those protests and turn to lay back on the weight bench.
"It'sss what I'm here for, Irene." Medusa flashed me a final smirk as I grabbed the weight bar to begin.
Chapter 7 Mixer
The next few days passed quickly. I had only the barest idea of where we were, a small property that Rachel and Duane had purchased and somehow kept off the record, but it was safe and secure. Rachel, for her part, seemed to stay purposefully busy for most of her waking hours and I barely saw her outside of passing in the hall or momentarily at meals. Probably for the best. I still wasn't sure how I felt about her place as the master planner of all of this. Unjustified as it was, the stubborn thought lingered as I worked it out of my system.
Duane, well, I had some small recriminations about him as well but that was countered by the simple fact the man had patched me back together more times than I could count. There was something to be said for the doctor-patient bond. Medusa and I were called up daily for a poking-and-prodding session to see how we were
"Wait, why them?" Gaslight was one of the Crusaders that Epic had brought in with him to fight Mackenzie's horde of vampire terrorists (which sounded as crazy as the actual event had been), his specialty was Pushtech inspired by steampunk designs. As for Bio, well, Doc Bio I knew all too well.
"I guesss that the headbands were their creation." Medusa tried to calm the intermittent sobs. I gave her hands another squeeze as encouragement. "Ssso they were alsso the folksss who acted as our directorsss. We rarely if ever saw Epic himssself. I guesss that devotion thossse machines causssed transsferred over time." She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't care. It doesssn't make it any less frightening."
"Maybe they didn't stick a headband on my head, but I do know something about having your mind changed." I moved a hand up to her shoulder. "You're right to be afraid of it. It makes you question yourself and wonder how much of what you did was the influence and how much of it was you all along."
" Sssi , that'sss it exactly." She looked me straight in the eyes. I never quite realized that it had to be hard for her these past months. One accidental gaze, one wrong turn of the head at just the wrong time, and Medusa could kill. Certainly, there was a brief moment when she almost panicked but that passed when I didn't turn to stone.
"Alright then, let's make a pact." I shifted my grip on her hand from a comforting hold to a more traditional clasp of the hand. "You keep me from being an asshole any more. You keep me grounded and save me from myself."
"And you, Irene, you keep me from doubting myssself. You keep me from ssecond-guesssing all my thoughtsss and feelingsss sso I don't go crazy from what thosse pigsss did to my head."
"I swear!" To add an extra level of grade-school solemnity to the affair, I crossed my heart and hoped to die.
"I sswear!" Medusa took it a step further, formally crossing herself in the Catholic tradition.
Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was childish. It didn't matter. There's a refuge to be found in the rituals of childhood. More importantly, there was comfort in simply knowing there was someone else who understood. Someone else who was there to watch your back and support you when you were down.
Whatever our new friends could do, how powerful they might be, that was one thing they couldn't provide.
"Now with that sssettled, my firssst official action to sssave you from yourssself isss to get you back to work." Medusa rose off the weight bench in one graceful motion and gestured to it with a mock bow. "It'sss all yoursss." My arms already started lodging formal complaints at the mere thought of lifting even a pound.
"See, what makes you such a great friend is your boundless compassion and empathy for my pain," I snarked as I forced myself to ignore those protests and turn to lay back on the weight bench.
"It'sss what I'm here for, Irene." Medusa flashed me a final smirk as I grabbed the weight bar to begin.
Chapter 7 Mixer
The next few days passed quickly. I had only the barest idea of where we were, a small property that Rachel and Duane had purchased and somehow kept off the record, but it was safe and secure. Rachel, for her part, seemed to stay purposefully busy for most of her waking hours and I barely saw her outside of passing in the hall or momentarily at meals. Probably for the best. I still wasn't sure how I felt about her place as the master planner of all of this. Unjustified as it was, the stubborn thought lingered as I worked it out of my system.
Duane, well, I had some small recriminations about him as well but that was countered by the simple fact the man had patched me back together more times than I could count. There was something to be said for the doctor-patient bond. Medusa and I were called up daily for a poking-and-prodding session to see how we were
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