The Wingman #6: Unstoppable Force

==Jumbo Carson's Apartment==

 

One Month Ago

 

Preparing to make his move on Gotham General, Carson watched the monitors intently, footage relayed to him by his short-statured stepbrother. "The blind man's new. And last I heard Rigger and Sharpe were on the outs with Walker," he murmured.

 

"Things change. That one's Reardon. They call him the Ten-Eyed Man," Jumbo's voice replied.

 

"And that's Carpenter, is it? Don't tell me Lynns got that," Carson mumbled.

 

"Fine, I won't. You know he had a baby with Volcana, right?" Jumbo asked.

 

Carson shook his head. "Motherfucker... And what's that one, the blue and silver one with the gauntlets?"

 

"A suit."

 

Carson frowned. "Very funny, who is he is what I- It's really just an empty suit, isn't it?"

 

"Yep," Jumbo answered.

 

"Hhn," Carson paused. "You stay there; don't let any of them leave. I'm gonna gather up the troops. Maybe Krill'll save us the twenty minute walk from here to the hospital."

 

==The Gotham Royal Hotel==

 

Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48

 

Time Until Detonation: 15 Minutes

 

"Not much up close, is he?" Sionis tutted, putting his face close to Day's, a sadistic smile breaking across his skeletal features. "A varsity athlete, he is not. I'm thinking I'll truss him up with the fairy lights... Just as a starter. See, I wanna do something Christmas-y. Something ironic, you know? Hm, or maybe I'll just scalp him, I dunno. Think Zsasz was onto something, Kite-Man?"

 

"Leave him alone," Chuck warned.

 

"What?" Sionis let a low, contemptuous chuckle. "The guy holds you hostage, chokes you half to death and you still won't lemme torture him? And I thought Walker was the sap in your little gang. Hah. Boy, was I wrong there."

 

"Sir," Li walked between him and Brown, whispering words of caution into his employer's ear.

 

"Yeah, sure," Sionis begrudgingly agreed, and adjusting his tie, he followed Li back to his desk.

 

Chuck cast his eyes over to Ten, who was using a small first aid kit to tend to Blake's knife wound.

 

"Stay still," he advised as he wrapped Blake's torso in an excessive amount of gauze.

 

"My hero!" Blake answered weakly. "I like a guy with steady hands."

 

"Don't. It's a patch job at best," Ten stated. "Chuck, we should seriously consider taking him to a hospital," he informed their acting leader.

 

"No hospitals!" Blake protested. "They put you under, then they neuter you and steal your money!"

 

"No, that's- ok, they don't neuter you. Though that would solve a couple of your problems..." Ten murmured to himself.

 

Positioned at the desk, Kuttler rubbed his chest absent-mindedly. Dismissing the ailment, he inserted a cable into the side of Sionis' laptop and pulled up detailed schematics of the hotel. "I've been able to reroute building control to this laptop; the elevators are active again, and the comms are back online. The ones still intact, that is," he glared at Chuck.

 

"I said I was sorry!" Chuck protested.

 

"They had an off button."

 

Li sat down beside Kuttler and started combing through the building's restored security footage. "It appears your team took down Polka Dot Man, and it looks like the hostages have made it outside. Sir, look at this:" he beckoned Sionis forward.

 

Sionis looked at the monitor, recognising The Physician. "Gaige..." he growled under his breath. "Elevators are online, you said?" he asked Kuttler, already making a beeline for the lifts; followed closely by Li.

 

"Where are you going?" Chuck frowned. "There's still a bomb to-"

 

"Hey. That's what I pay you people," Sionis winked, as the door closed behind him.

 

"No. You don't!" Chuck shouted after him. "God... Kuttler... Don't suppose you could stall him for a minute-?"

 

"Stall him?" Kuttler stared at him, a slight smile forming across his thin face as he caught onto Chuck's plan. "I... suppose I could lockdown the elevators. For an hour or two," he spoke.

 

"People don't give you enough credit," Blake smirked at Chuck. "You're a diabolical mastermind."

 

"I didn't think you held grudges," Ten admitted. "But it's Bookworm I pity. Being trapped in a tight space with him for two hours can't be fun."

 

"Just until the bomb's dealt with, and we've left," Chuck defended himself. "Speaking of; Kuttler, you're the one who weaponised the Cloudburst to begin with, think you can locate it?"

 

"Of course. It'll be in the vents, somewhere the gas can spread throughout the building." Kuttler examined his gauntlet, projecting a small map of the hotel. "If it's anything like the one Cobb and I worked on, it'll emit a low pulse that I can track. There; You see this dot on the 22nd floor? That's the disarmed one Day used to scare the crowds. And here... Ah; Like I said, the service duct, floor 32. Should be an easy journey through the elevator shaft. The, uh, other elevator shaft, that is. Still, you can't blame Day for utilising tried and tested methods. The Cloudburst always was a technological marvel."

 

"If you say so." Chuck disagreed. "Gave me nightmares for weeks."

 

"Yes, well, you can't fault Stagg's engineering, only his ethics... It's been modified, compacted into something more lightweight. At a guess, I'd say it was Crane's handiwork. Fearless was a project of his that the Society abandoned years ago, could never find the right bonding agent for it... However did he complete it, might I ask?

 

"Talon blood," Chuck stated.

 

"Hm. Of course, the restorative compound in the dionesium would've been ideal," Kuttler spoke, impressed by the doctor's ingenuity, as he collected his materials.

 

Ten placed a hand on Chuck's back, and murmured in his ear. "Chuck, Blake's in no shape to be moved, and someone's got to stay behind to watch Day," he advised him.

 

Chuck frowned. "So, it's just you and Kuttler? What if you run into any trouble?"

 

"Krill and Kyle were the immediate threats. And we can handle the hired muscle just fine, thank you," Kuttler stated.

 

"We've faced worse odds, Chuck," Blake pointed out.

 

"Your comms still work, Reardon. Call Rigger, Sharpe, Flannegan, Lynns... Anyone who's available, and tell them to meet us there."

 

"I... might have encouraged Sharpe and Flannegan to smash their comms too," Chuck scratched his head.

 

Kuttler's lip curled as he struggled to process Chuck's confession. "Jesus Christ. I never would have got this from Ocean Master," he stated, as Ten led him out of the room.

 

==The Lobby: Ground Floor==

 

With the hostages safe, and Krill indisposed, Needham, Mayo and Sharpe had taken refuge in the hotel lobby.

Sharpe, was wearing Krill's belt across his shoulders as a trophy, looking like a particularly misshapen Miss America contestant. Pouring himself a beer, he sat atop the counter and gulped it down. Preparing a second drink, he offered the hose to his cohorts; Mayo seemed tempted, whilst Needham politely declined.

 

"Well, while you're over there, I wouldn't mind a bevvie," Krill smacked his lips thirstily. The Polka Dot Man, was bound to a chair by Needham's webs, rather harmless without his belt and nanotech dots. "For old times sake, nah?" he probed.

 

"Dude," Sharpe straightened up. "Not only do I barely know you, but you tried to kill me, and you called me a dick."

 

"Shouldn't have called him a dick," Needham reprimanded Krill.

 

"I call everyone a dick," Krill shrugged.

 

"You try to kill them too?" Sharpe responded, still hurt from their last brawl.

 

"Most people," Krill stated. "That was a joke, god. Why can't anyone trust me?" he chuckled.

 

Needham stared at him in disbelief. "Would you like them to?" he inquired.

 

Krill shrugged. "I dunno, not particularly. But suppose if they did, it'd be much easier to weed out the idiots. What sane person would trust this mug, eh? See, I once rigged a supermarket's alarm to go off for every tenth person, just to watch the idiots squirm. 'Oh no, did I pay for that loaf of bread? Did I accidentally buy fireworks? What if they find my copy of Birdemic?' Hah!"

 

...

 

"Oh, bah humbug to the lot of you," he glared at the stone-faced trio.

 

"Me too?" Mayo asked, his upper lip stained with beer froth.

 

"Especially you," Krill decreed.

 

Needham rose from his stool and patrolled the lobby, unfastening his knife from the holster on his boot. Something was off. Krill was stalling.

 

Before he could react, a gloved hand had grabbed his arm and pulled him close, whispering in his ear:

 

"You don't need to fight me. You don't want to fight me," the high, melodious voice sang. "What you want, is to sleep. After all, you're so tired, so very very very tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of the secrets. Tired of the rage. So why don't you have a nice long sleep. And when I'm done, it will all be over."

 

To Needham, it was as though the man had come out of nowhere; in truth he must have simply slipped by them whilst Krill distracted them with unprompted what-about-isms. And try as he might to resist, the man's suggestion was sounding more appealing with each word spoken. His eyelids drooped shut, and he collapsed onto the marble floor, snoring loudly. That, got the others attention, but they fell just as quickly.

 

"Ladies first," The Psycho Pirate tittered, as Bridget Pike timidly followed him into the security room.

 

"Hello, Hayden. Your highness. You know, I was just about to come get you!" Krill lied, still bound to his chair.

 

The Psycho Pirate stared at Krill disappointedly, and skipped ahead.

 

"...I'll just sit here, shall I?" Krill called after them.

 

==Sionis Penthouse: Floor 48==

 

Blake's nose twitched, as his feline senses kicked in. "Do you smell something?" he asked Chuck.

 

Chuck rushed over to the broken windowsill where he had made his earlier entrance and gasped; a thin trail of smoke was climbing up the building as an orange glow bathed the room like the morning sun: Fire.

 

"It's Barson."

 

Blake and Chuck turned around to look at Julian, who had remained silent since his undignified defeat at their hands.

 

"I call him Barson," he added.

 

Blake broke into a fit of giggles before finally composing himself. "I don't get it," he admitted.

 

Catching sight of a blurry red-clad silhouette rising up the building, getting closer and closer, Chuck took a step back from the windowsill, and threw himself to the floor. As he hit the ground, his gun slipped out of his holster, sliding across the ground towards Day.

 

As he ascended up towards the penthouse, thick, billowing smoke sputtered and hissed from Ted Carson's jetpack. And without a word spoken, he aimed both gauntlets at the room, firing a barrage of incendiary missiles at the group.

 

Using his kite as a makeshift shield, Chuck dove behind it for cover, whilst Blake pulled himself across the floor towards Sionis' Italian maple desk.

 

A second round of missiles hit the ground and erupted into orange fireballs, setting alight the burgundy carpet.

 

Spying Chuck's discarded gun and looking for cover, Julian kicked the legs of his chair; landing on the ground with an unpleasant thud. Using Carson's inferno to his advantage, he moved his wrists towards the flames, the fire burning through the thick ropes Sionis had bound him in.

 

As Carson set foot on the penthouse floor, Chuck ran at him, landing an uppercut on Carson's covered chin; An attack that didn't phase the red-clad arsonist, but did scald Chuck's hand; the Mothkiller's metallic armour was hot to the touch, purposefully so. His knuckles bruised with pink boils, Chuck was so distracted by the pain that he couldn't react to Carson's response; pulling him by his tie, and tossing him across the room like he were an Olympic shot-put. Chuck was incapacitated, Blake was out of commission, all Carson had to contend with now, was Day himself.

 

Clang. Clang. Clang.

 

Clang. Clang. Clang.

 

Day fired Chuck's gun at Carson's armour, the bullets bouncing off the crimson battlesuit.

 

Clang. Clang. Clang.

 

The clip empty, he cast the gun aside and made his exit through the same doorway Kuttler and Ten had left through. Carson's armoured form had its own pitfalls; he was much slower on foot than he was in the air, and the smoke from his flames had coated the room in a thick steam.

 

Undeterred, he marched onwards. Day would be screaming for mercy by the time he was through with him.

 

His breathing ragged, Chuck reached into his pocket, and let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned to despair. The diaxymine, had survived the scuffle.

 

==Floor 25: Room 792==

 

Waiting to hear from their teammates, and getting increasingly agitated, Drury started to talk, then pulled Joey away from the King's prying eyes. "What're we even doing here, Joe?" he asked his younger teammate.

 

"You'd know better than me," Joey shrugged cheekily.

 

Drury smirked slightly. "No, but seriously. I had... a talk with someone earlier."

 

"You mean Tiger Shark?"

 

Drury paused, surprised by Joey's perceptiveness.

 

"That old crabby guy downstairs is Tiger Shark, right? The one in the Halloween make-up and ascot?" Joey had sat down on the mattress and was now motioning for Drury to join him.

 

"I- Well, yeah," Drury sat down. "Gaige said... Well, it's more that he ordered me to break the cycle. End the feud with Carson... Hah, whatever that means."

 

"What, like, make peace?" Joey was doubtful.

 

"You think that's Gaige's advice? To invite him over for dinner and watch the Muppet's Christmas Carol? Chuck's maybe."

 

"I dunno, Drury. Wish I did. But he's old school. It was simple in his day. They had rules, codes of conduct. Lines they didn't cross. They'd never try something like Jules or Carson. Never be so... underhanded, y'know? That thing with the car and Gar? Wasn't right."

 

"I guess," Drury spoke, dissatisfied with the answer.

 

"Y'know, I hope he works things out. They were a real cute couple."

 

"Who?" Drury asked, wondering if he was referring to Day and Carson, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic.

 

"...Garpenter," Joey explained.

 

Drury stared at him blankly.

 

"Y'know. Gar and Jenna."

 

"Garpenter?" Drury repeated the term.

 

"It's a ship name. A portmanteau. Like when you take two names and-"

 

"I have a daughter Joe, I know what shipping means. Just didn't think you were a fan."

 

Joey fidgeted. "Right. Yeah. Of course. So, I take it you aren't then-?"

 

"Look, I'm just not that enthused about my best friend getting back together with a woman who abandoned him at the first hurdle. If she got cold feet knocking boots with a pyromaniac, that's her business. But it's mine to protect him from another heartbreak."

 

"The first hurdle-? That's... not why they broke up," Joey said, puzzled. "Gar didn't tell you?"

 

"What? Tell me what."

 

"It was... It was you. She, uh, apparently said that she didn't want to see him wind up in another hospital bed because of one of 'your' enemies. Or worse. But so long as you and Gar are tight and you and Carson aren't, then he'd always be under threat. So she gave him an ultimatum. Her or you."

 

"Her too, huh?" Drury sighed, admittedly touched by Gar's choice, if not a little confused.

 

"I... wouldn't take it personally, Dru."

 

"Well, Joe, it's a little hard not to. I dunno... I always thought I was the one protecting Gar. That I knew what was best for him, for all of you... But maybe I don't," Drury tightened his shoulder holster and rose to his feet. "I'm gonna get some air," he decided.

 

"Hey, Chuck said we should watch the King-" Joey called after him.

 

"You're welcome to stay," Drury smirked. "Or, we could go find that bomb."

 

Joey shot a wary glance at The King, who winked back. "Nah, I'm good."

 

"Good," Drury nodded. "Lock the door after you, alright?"

 

As they got ready, Joey put his finger to his ear, shushing Drury as he answered the call. "Chuck! Funny story; we were actually just about to come and- Woah, woah, slow down... No, yeah, I heard- He's what? You sent Ten where? Who's there-? Wait, where are you, then?"

 

Joey put his hand by his side, his lip quivering.

 

"It's Carson."

 

===Floor 19: East Hallway==

 

Gar was glancing over at Jenna, knelt at Franco's side. Part of him figured he was faking the injury. The other part hated himself for presuming as much, and for insulting Jenna's intelligence.

Moving forward, he greeted Drury and Joey. "You hear?" he asked softly.

 

"I heard," Drury confirmed. "Where's Sharpe?"

 

"He fell out a window," Gaige said bluntly.

 

"Real tragedy," Flannegan tutted.

 

...

 

"He lived," he elaborated.

 

Drury and Joey, exchanged disapproving looks.

 

==Floor 32: West Ventilation Duct==

 

"Mr Kuttler? Noah?" Ten's voice rang in Kuttler's ear.

 

"Wha-? Who-?"

 

"It's Ten, Reardon. What's wrong?"

 

Kuttler's eyes fluttered, his breathing grew heavier, and now he could hardly hear Reardon's words of concern. He should never have wasted that insulin on that failed attempt on Krill. What was he thinking...? He had spent too much time at that damn college, too much time with the Misfits, that was it. He'd have never made a mistake so foolish before he met them. Never!

Without the medication, his throat had dried up... he needed water, fast. But here he was, trapped in a narrow steel tunnel, running out of breath.

He clutched his chest and slumped to the floor, his stomach gurgling with an unquenchable thirst.

 

Anxious, Ten cast his prosthetic hand at him and then to the end of the shaft. At the other end of the duct was a large cardboard box; covered in striped wrapping paper, topped with a large satin bow.

 

'That must be it,' he reasoned.

 

Laying Kuttler on his side (as comfortable as he could leave him), Ten marched onwards towards the ticking parcel, casting aside the handwritten 'Do Not Open Before December 24th label.'

 

Though concerned for his teammate, he knew he had to keep going. His time in the army had taught him that much; the mission comes first. Always. And yet, he still regretted leaving him behind.

 

Sure enough, the device within matched Joey's report; a large spherical drum with a computer interface: The monitor displayed the ticking clock, and Ten's heart sank.

 

Three minutes.

 

Three minutes to disarm Day's bomb.

 

Three minutes to save the Misfits.

 

He put his hand to his earpiece and caught the Misfits up to speed. "This is Ten: I have the bomb in front of me, but Kuttler's down... I dealt with a couple of IEDs in the war, but nothing like this-"

 

"This is Chuck; I've got Blake's earpiece. Don't do anything until I get there," Chuck urged him.

 

"That's a negative, Chuck. He's already set a timer. We've got less than three minutes before this thing detonates."

 

"Ten, listen, it's Joe: You're going to be alright: I'm going to have to guide you through this, ok?"

 

"Ok, ok," he nodded nervously as he began fiddling with the centre console. "It's asking for a code!" he called out.

 

"A code?" Gar mouthed to Drury. "What's the code?"

 

"Try 12/09/65," Chuck suggested as he ran down the hall.

 

The Misfits were silent.

 

"It's... It's the original airdate for A Charlie Brown Christmas," he sighed.

 

"Fuck a doodle-doo, the man has issues..." Gaige shrugged.

 

"Uh, yeah, we noticed," Joey agreed, clearly agitated.

 

The device hummed softly as the front panel slid away to reveal a series of brightly coloured wires. Reardon spoke up again. "Ok, it's opening, now what?"

 

"Ok, Phil," Rigger advised, "All you'll need is to cut the blue wire."

 

Reardon plunged his hand into the device and felt the intricate matrix of wires, searching for his target... Greens... Yellows... Reds... "Got you." He tugged on the bright blue wire and snapped it. The vial of Fearless slid out of the device, rather like a can of soda out of a vending machine, and landed in his awaiting palm.

 

"Ten. Ten, are we good?" Joey's voice wavered.

 

"Well, I'm still standing," he breathed, letting out a relieved, short-lived chuckle.

 

Day had brought a large fire axe crashing down into the Cloudburst. A stroke that narrowly missed Ten's skull.

 

Day reeled it back in and went in for another strike, but this time, Ten caught the blade in his prosthetic hand and pushed it away. Using a free hand, he grabbed the handle and wrestled control away from Day, whacking him in the face with the blunt end of the weapon.

 

"I want that vial," Day snarled, abandoning the axe, opting for hand to hand combat instead.

 

"Tough."

 

Day's first punch broke Ten's nose, the second knocked the goggles off his face.

 

Gargling blood, Ten persisted, tightening his grip on the vial. With his free hand, he threw a left jab at Day's cheek, knocking him off balance. As Day attempted to regain his footing, a hand grabbed his ankle: Kuttler, rooting him in place for Ten to strike again. The next jab hit Day's lip, the next struck his right eye. The fourth, never landed. At that point, Day had shrugged off Kuttler and dodged Ten's fist, retrieving the axe. And before Ten could respond, the axe had landed in his shoulder.

 

"W- What's the point?" Ten panted in pain, as he collapsed to the ground, his hands splaying open. "The hostages are safe. Your bomb's gone. Without- Without the dispersal device, you'll only be affecting, what? Twenty people? Maybe less? Why does it matter to you? What does any of this matter now?"

 

"You still don't understand?" Day said glumly, as he knelt down beside Ten, and recovered the vial. "Everything. Fearless? This little experiment? They are the only thing keeping the Misfits alive."

 

"So I was right. You are too far gone," a familiar voice growled.

 

Ted Carson stepped forward, joined by Bridget Pike and Roger Hayden. "What gives? Thought we were on the same page. Thought we both wanted the Bug dead."

 

The Pirate, cocked his head to one side as he recognised Ten. "The Ten-Eyed Man," he spoke.

 

"You... You remember me?" Ten asked.

 

"Of course. You were the one man in Arkham City who was able to resist my influence. Quite rude, really. Still, I played my role. That's all any of us can do."

 

Day rolled his eyes. "Actually, if you don't mind, Barson, I was actually in the-"

 

"No, stay," Carson compelled him.

 

As he tried to move, The Psycho Pirate wrapped his arms around his torso, restraining him.

 

Carson, noticed the silver tube in Day's hand, and curiosity overcame him. "What's this then?" he asked, summoning Bridget to his side.

 

His daughter moved in on Day and plucked the vial from his hand, holding it up for her father to see.

 

"That, is mine," Day struggled. "Give it back."

 

"Why? Is it some kinda bioweapon? You gonna use it on Walker?" Carson wondered, now fascinated by the prospect.

 

Bridget turning her attention to Day's machine, her eyes widening as she recognised the device. "The Cloudburst..." she gasped.

 

"Eh? What's a Cloudburst?" Carson demanded.

 

"Never you mind," Day dismissed him. "Hand. It. Over," he urged Pike.

 

Bridget looked down, taking a step back from him. "No," she said firmly.

 

"No?"

 

"No."

 

"Hah! The vial, Bridget," Carson demanded, offering Bridget an expectant palm. But he fared no better than Day. "Now, kitten," he hissed.

 

Julian scoffed, and tilted his head towards Carson. "Do you see the kind of bad attitude your parenting fosters? Tell the child that-"

 

"Oho, no. No, I'm done listening to you. I came to you!" Carson snapped. "It was my plan! My people!"

 

Day chuckled. "Yes, you did. And no, it wasn't. You have no scope. No sense of scale. You have two of the most dangerous supervillains on the planet on your payroll, and you use them for manual labour and childish errands.

And what exactly, have you accomplished, after all these years? You killed a piece of fabric. Congratulations." he goaded Carson. "You're about as lethal as a washing machine. A defective washing machine."

 

Carson unsheathed his fire sword, a bright red flame protruding from the golden hilt. "Let him go, Hayden."

 

Dropped to the floor, Day grabbed his axe, and the two combatants began circling the room, their weapons drawn.

 

"No, Dad, please, he's not worth it," Bridget protested, stuck between the two men.

 

"On the contrary, girl, I very much am. Please, continue. I could do with something to raise my spirits," Day teased.

 

"You, stay out of this, Bridget. This is between me and the freak," Carson agreed.

 

"Oh... Freak? Really?" Day asked incredulously. "Tell me, how many times have you been resurrected in some ungodly display?"

 

"You hypocrite... you talk of God, and yet you'd cut off a man's head and stuff it in a pumpkin."

 

"That-! That, was to prove a point. And no, I didn't stuff it in a pumpkin. I placed a candle in its' mouth," Day spoke plainly.

 

"Ooh, a point? Was it a testament to how insane you are? Cause, bravo, it worked!"

 

Incensed, Day swung the axe at Carson's chest.

The Firesword intercepted the blade, cutting through the weapon like it was nothing more than butter.

The axe head, clattered onto the metal flooring while Day abandoned the shaft, and raised his hands up in defeat.

 

Carson let out a satisfied cackle. "What do you say, Hayden? Wanna put that mask to good use? I want this putz terrified when I gut him. Begging for his life, y'hear?" Carson asked.

 

The Pirate stayed rooted in place.

 

"Or... I could do it myself. Jesus Christ..." he sighed, noting the Pirate's silence. As he approached Day, weapon drawn, that all-too-familiar, melodious voice whispered in his ear.

 

"Why fight? Why bother? Wouldn't you rather sleep? Sleeeeeeeeep," The Psycho Pirate skipped over to Day's side. And though he tried to resist, Carson's eyelids were beginning to droop.

 

"Dad!" Bridget screamed.

 

"Quiet, you," Day spat. "Roger?"

 

The Pirate nodded and started to sing to Bridget now too. "You don't want to fight. You've been fighting all your life. Instead, you want to give me that vial. I'll take care of it. You know I will. Better than Daddy. Better than Day. So you'll give it to me, and I'll make sure no one else suffers because of your family."

 

An involuntary smile stretched across her face as Bridget held her hand out, and presented the vial to Hayden.

 

"See? That wasn't so hard!" he giggled delightedly. "Now, silly girl, you had better take a nap!"

 

"He... He works for you-?" Carson waved an accusatory hand at Day, as Hayden passed Day the vial back.

 

"For my partners, yes. After that hospital fiasco, my partners offered Hayden a larger pool of subjects to toy with. And, well, after weeks of being cooped up in that dingy apartment with you? He was all too eager to accept."

 

Carson let out an involuntary yawn. "You... bastard... Turned my men... Against..."

 

"Oh, Barson, you still don't get it, do you?" Day tutted. "This was never about you. You simply gave the Outcasts a face. You brought the Misfits together. And now, they're mine to play with," he smiled, fiddling absent mindedly with the vial of Fearless. "Every last one of them."

 

"Julian, stop!" a strained voice echoed.

 

Day rolled his shoulders, and tilted his head in the voice's direction.

 

"Please! Pretty please! Let me deal with him!" Hayden offered, jumping up and down at the prospect of toying with another mind.

 

"Oh, Roger, that's hardly necessary. Is it, Charles?"

 

"One last chance," Chuck limped towards him, panting. "Please. You have no idea what that stuff'll do."

 

"No?" Day asked sarcastically. "The compound that turned you into a catchphrase spewing socialist?"

 

"- I am a socialist-"

 

"The compound that turned the Condiment King into a reckless lunatic? The compound that turned Crazy Quilt into- Well, I suppose it didn't really work on Paul, did it? Yes, I think I do."

 

Chuck bowed his head despondently. "Then I am truly sorry."

 

No sooner had the words left his mouth, had Chuck charged at Day, bringing them both toppling to the floor; in the ensuing scuffle, he elbowed the medusa mask off of Roger Hayden's face, breaking the hold he had over Bridget and her father: No longer enslaved, Carson snarled, grabbing Hayden by the shoulders. "Muthafucka!" he shrieked.

 

Fumbling around, Hayden put the mask back on his face and once more sought to control Carson. "You don't want to kill me! You don't want to kill me! Not when he still lives! Your greatest enemy! Your vilest foe! 'Cause, you hate him, don't you? Hate. Hate. Hate him. You know this to be true. You know what you have to do. You know who you have to slay. Don't you?"

 

"I- yes," Carson agreed. "Yes."

 

Under his spell, he let Hayden go and sauntered away.

 

As Day clawed at Chuck's arms, Chuck forced the contents of his silver bottle down Day's throat.

Day gagged, his eyes widening as he recognised the bottle, the medication that had plagued him for much of his adult life. Diaxymine.

 

"No... Please... Don't... Charles, I can't go back," he screamed, as Chuck abandoned him on the floor, and rushed to Reardon's side.

 

"I'll be fine, Chuck, he... barely grazed me," Ten wheezed.

 

"It- It wasn't supposed to end like this- he... He told me I was special..." Day drooled onto the floor as his eyes glazed over.

 

"Fearless would have fixed them. Don't you see? They'd be perfect. Just... like... us."

Done