Chapter Text
He vividly remembered the events of the previous night, feeling a wave of embarrassment. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb, trying to soothe the blooming remains of his slip-up.
"I could never burden you with me," He recalled his own words, even the twisting ache in his gut as he said them. Yet, there he sat, going over the security cameras of the safe house, a seemingly quaint cabin in the woods, smack dab in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
The team had finished installing the security system, which included a set of hidden cameras covering several acres and every room of the cabin. An unassuming, rustic, log cabin on the outside, it is, like the security, more detailed than it appears.
The place was practically a self-sufficient bomb shelter, powered by its own supply.
He had built it for himself years ago, when he was younger, though he never used it for anything more than a pit stop or a glorified storage unit. Now he had found a use for it.
Convenience, he reminded himself, when doubt began creeping up and he wondered if it would be easier to sever the ties and walk away; it certainly would. Still, he could not risk slipping again and finding himself chasing after you, as being at the mercy of someone else's time was something he couldn't afford. Besides, it was better for you, and you would understand his thought process, eventually, anyway.
The AC hummed louder than you would have liked, but you still made no effort to get up. Despite your reservations, you figured it was about time to take advantage of the well-off government official chasing after you. Any other girl in your position would have done it. How harmful could it really be?
As the fuzziness of sleep faded. Your eyes fully opened, and you picked up your phone to look at the time, only to find the battery had died. You had been expecting an event, not an overnight stay. Naturally, you forgot your charger. Your skin went cold for a second as you realized how dangerous that had been. Luckily, it was Cecil who requested you.
You fell back onto the bed and pushed a breath out of your lungs, once again bringing you back to the memories of the previous night. It had been short-lived and not as intimate as you initially thought, but you were used to it with him and found it endearing. You began to reminisce about the previous night, focusing on the odd details, like Cecil's injuries, and more. Still, just then, you started to wonder what the faint chemical smell coming from him was; it had been there since you first met him, not only that, but the taste of his skin.
The sudden honrn of a car made you shoot up, bundling yourself up in the bed sheets to peek at the window, spotting the shiny black card and the uniformed driver night next to it, you rememebered before he left he had mentioned owing you breakfast, it was well past noon at this point, and but if it was really him you would not pass up the oportunity.
The knock on the door confirmed it. You peeked out the peephole to see that the driver had walked over from the car to the door. Not only that, but after the second knock, he called for your name.
"Just a second!" you shouted.
You had confirmed that Cecil sent the ride and even picked up breakfast for you to eat on your way home. You had to admit, you were swooning, sitting in the back of the car, peering out the window with a stupid smile, only cut by yawning. The stack of pancakes you had eaten made you feel sluggish, and the driver noticed.
"Feel free to nap, I'll wake you once we get there," He offered.
"Uh-uh, it's not that long of a drive." You turned your head to sip on your coffee.
Returning to your apartment had never given you whiplash; the motel room was just as dilapidated as your apartment, but the creaking of your door felt 10 times as screechy. Suddenly, you had become hyperaware of the water-damaged corners of the walls. The clumps of pulled carpet felt like pebbles under your feet, and the sight of the painted-over outlets began to irritate you. From one day to another, you almost felt like a prisoner to the reality you lived in.
Or maybe you finally came around to accept it, your loneliness.
The look Cecil gave you at the motel room had cemented itself into the back of your eyes; you could see it clearly as if you were still stuck in that moment, because you, too, had fallen victim to your own weaknesses. Losing your family, your home, and then your dignity, the day you were desperate enough to make a deal with the devil. You would not be a devil to him, not when he sought after your touch as if your presence was mercy itself.
You had been spared from your morning shift, but that did not mean your night job was avoidable. You did the best with the time you had, took your meds, cleaned your apartment, and got ready to return to reality.
Cecil would never request you two nights in a row; even if he needed you, he had more self-control than that. He also had way too much work now, even to consider accepting another invitation to some frivolous event, which was just an excuse to spend Taxpayer money he could be putting to better use. Even if you were there, because he knew you would be there. The thought of some slob politician getting their hands on you ate at him, but he didn't have time; once he did, though, if the world hadn't gone to shit yet, he would take you out properly, and maybe then you would forgive him for what he was planning to do.
"Do we have eyes on the venue?" Cecil asked firmly, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the monitor as it flashed images of the event, the surrounding location, the staff, the security, and the government officials from different countries, his jaw twitching slightly when the security camera panned over the crowd. Among the sea of faces, he spotted yours.
Forced, fake smile, dull and unimpressed, he held back a scoff, seeing how you had the men fooled, how they could not tell the difference. The image flickered to the outside of the venue.
"We have units surrounding the perimeter, undercover agents inside the event," Donald explained. He had noticed Cecil's reaction; more than that, he was aware of Cecil's newly found habit of spending what little free time he could manage with you. It did not worry him; in fact, he was far more worried about you. Knowing the man for years, Donald figured you were oblivious to his work, to the risks, and as much as Cecil would deny it, he was luring you into horrors you would have never faced if it wasn't for him.
Cecil signed, crossing his arms. "These jackasses would rather spend millions of dollars on caviar and hookers when we have bigger fish to fry." his head snapped to the side when he caught the faint snicker coming from one of the operators, due to the unintended pun, silencing it immediately.
"Any other news? Important ones, I hope." Cecil looked back at the monitor as it showed images from space, different countries, and ongoing operations, calm, no issues, eerily quiet, but not unwelcome.
"Nothing right now, sir," Donald confirmed, looking at the tablet in his hands for verification, noting how Cecil was already on his way out before he could finish the sentence.
"Good, let me know if you need me for anything."
A pop from the champagne bottle snapped you out of the trance you had found yourself in momentarily. You had been led to a private booth alongside other girls; fortunately, for these men, you were not special, you would never want to be, not when you could feel your worth in the way they looked at you, the way they touched you. Cheer from the crowd somewhere at the event. You had tasted adoration, and it was hard to stomach the opposite. Clinging of glasses. You continued to smile and nod, to laugh almost on cue, and keep yourself small.
Another cheer, a pop, a bang, a scream, and shattered glass.
The man across from you stands up, while you and the other girls push together.
"What is going on?" one of the girls asks. Another bang, and the men are gone, leaving you behind. You were never special to them anyway.
"Hide, under the table!" you urge them as the three of you manage to huddle together, vailed under the tablecloth. You faced the corridor. Heels and dress shoes rushed for the exit, escaping from the gunshots, the roars, and the crashing that boomed from the main ballroom. An armored body landed on the floor, inches from the table, the back of their skull bursting on impact as it had been thrown to the marble tile. Their eye bulged out of their socket where the helmet had shattered on their face. Looking at you. The huddle tightened, blocking the sight. You squeezed your eyes shut, held your breath, and for a second, you were back in his arms.
"A monster attack, sir," Donald informs Cecil as he rushes into the control room, where he sees the chaos from outside: security cameras disconnected, and the ones still up showing a mutant monstrosity rampaging through the venue. And not a sign of you, but it wasn't only you he had to worry about, of course not.
"Send in the guardians," He orders. "Now! We have world leaders and civilians in there, and that thing can't distinguish a chew toy from a wall!"
The sobbing and shaking brought you back from your personal reprieve. Silence, no gunshots, not anymore, but a loud, fleshy footstep slapping of the blood and alcohol coated floor, the table shook, the glasses left on the table vibrated closer and closer to the edge with each step. One of the girls covered her face, muffling a whimper as the glass slipped off the table, crashing on the floor. The creature peered into the booth, sniffing the air as if looking for prey.
The corridor was tight but close to the emergency exit. If someone could lure the creature away from the booths, you could make a run for it.
The table shook, as pale claws reached for the top of it. You shook the girls off of you, and they called out your name. "What are you doing?"
Kicking off your heels and crawling from under the table, taking off as fast as you could.
"Run for the exit! When is it out of the hall!" You shouted.
You could only catch a glimpse of the bobine-like face of the monster, human-like claws, like a minotaur. It howled, pained and angry, as it desperately squeezed itself through the hallway, trying to chase you. Your legs moved on their own, ignoring the sting of glass shards digging into your feet.
The green light of the exit called for you, but you turned instead, leading the monster away from the door as it closed in on you. You made it to the kitchen, spotting the door across the room. Tunnel vision prevented you from noticing the mess of scattered plates and food, and your already bloody feet slid off, knocking you over.
You closed your eyes, braced yourself, and once again you saw him, his face, felt his hands seeking your warmth, you were in your family's arms, you were home, and you could rest tomorrow.
The wind whipped around you, and you felt warmth, slimy fluids wash over from under your knees, soaking your dress. Expecting to see a monster, you turned your head slowly. To see its face mangled and unmoving, its long tongue gangling out, dripping saliva and blood.
"Hey," a voice said, "Hey" again, this time deeper, like a child trying to fake a mature voice. "Are you alright?" the effort now half-assed, but the concern genuine.
Your eyes darted around for a moment until you spotted him, a young man in a black and blue suit coated in blood, extending his hand at you. You stared at him for a moment, at the bloodied hand, and he pulled back.
"Oh! Sorry, I'm covered in... Minotaur guts... gross," He awkwardly explained, wiping his hand off on himself, not doing much to clean it.
"W-what?" you murmured, his words not making much sense to you. You took his hands and got back on your feet.
"A minotaur, that thing- never mind... let's get you out of here..." He helped you off the floor; you were floating, you could not tell if it was real or if the adrenaline was still pumping through your body, but soon you were outside. Ambulances, police cars, and reinforced vehicles surrounded the place. You looked around; the man was gone, and you heard a familiar voice call your name.
Your head whipped around in confusion until you spotted him, those blue eyes, that scar.
You figured the floating had been real when your body fell on the grass.