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edupunkn00b · 1 month

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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 11: Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

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Logan meets Hesper and he's only left with more questions. Everything has a beginning, though, and not even Abracadabra was what it is now.

“Kiddos are all in bed,” Patton sighed as he settled into the seat adjacent to Luc, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Janus opened his eyes in time to catch Luc’s faux scowl at Patton’s tousle.

“Gorgeous as always, mon cher,” he whispered, smoothing Luc’s auburn curls back into place. “Simply gorgeous.”

With a blush that rivaled his hair, Luc smiled but quickly sobered and blew on his tea. “You said you had news?”

Setting aside the little flash he caught from Patton, Janus nodded and straightened in his seat. He took Luc’s free hand as he shifted away from the comfortable home he’d made nestled against his side. “I do,” he began, working to keep the worst of his worries shielded from the other two.

And from the children’s drowsing minds.

Luc and Patton’s expressions told him he needed more practice. “What is it, Jan?” Patton asked, reaching for his other hand as Luc gripped his brother’s forearm. Together, they made a little triangle as the night sky darkened outside the big bay window. “Is it bad?”

“It’s… an opportunity,” Janus licked dry lips and painted on something like a smile. His scars pulled at one side of his face, hampering the intended encouraging effect. “I was contacted by the new mentalists department at Abracadabra.”

“The start-up? How—“

Janus’ eyes flicked down to his own wrist and his great-grandfather’s antique Casio, an anachronism even in that time.

“The ‘Foundation…’” Luc sucked his teeth and he closed his eyes, likely hiding his battle for control. After a moment, he calmed and met Janus’ eyes with a crooked smile. “What did those capos want from you?”

Janus sighed, a low near-growl. “They offered me a job.”

“Me, too,” Patton whispered, rubbing little circles against Luc’s arm. “This morning.”

“You both said ‘no,’ right?” Luc’s eyes were wide as he looked between them. His smile faded at Janus’ silence. “Love, tell me you said ‘no.’”

“I…” Janus slid closer to each of them. Patton only tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “I believe this is an opportunity we can’t discount. We—“

“We need to stay as far from them as we fucking can!” Luc’s fingers tingled against his skin and he moved up to grip Janus’ sleeve. Safer that way. But he didn’t concede. “You think just because they’ve stopped hunting Powereds we’re suddenly safe?”

“No. I think we’re safer together. I think we’re safer integrated into society rather than maintaining this us vs. them mentality. Let us be a part of the shared solution. We have so much to contribute, we—“

“Oh, open a fucking history book!” Luc closed his eyes, orange flickering beneath his lashes. When he opened then again, his tone was softer. Just barely. “Love, they’ve just moved on to co-option. Sure, now they want to work with the ‘right kind’ of Powerds like you and Pat and—“

“Luc,” Janus warned, stroking his arm. An itch at the base of his spine told him they wouldn’t be alone for long.

But Luc either couldn’t—wouldn’t?—hear him. He released Janus’ arm and had begun counting on his fingers. “Step two is when they tell us it’s only the ‘risky’ Powerds they need to tamp down on. ‘Four legs good, two legs better,’ right?”

“Luc!” Janus said more forcefully, casting a quick glance at Patton.

Both of the elder Powerd’s hands now gripped Luc’s arm and he tugged gently, keeping him seated. “Lukie, maybe Jan’s right. Maybe we—“

“What, we should heel at the corporation’s side? Strap on our own muzzles so we can duck step together when they figure out their final solution is cull the herd of the dangerous Powerds like—“

“Like Re?” Low and quiet from the hallway, Virgil’s voice managed to cut through Luc’s rant.

Luc deflated, eyes glowing as he swallowed his next argument. “Yeah, Virge. Like Re, and maybe Ro, too. Anyone they think is dangerous and uncontrolled.” He frowned at Janus. “Or uncontrollable.”

“Dangerous?” Virgil asked, sliding into the room and sitting cross-legged on the coffee table between them. He jerked his chin at the pictures of Luc and Patton’s old orphanage. “Like you?”

“Now, Kiddo,” Patton began. “That fire wasn’t his—“

Luc cut him off with a sad smile and a little shoulder squeeze before turning to meet the teenager’s eyes. “Yeah, Virge, dangerous like me, too.”

Virgil’s memory of his truncated hospital stay flooded Janus’ mind, nurses sprawled on the floor, blood pooling from eyes and ears, soaking through their face masks.

“Yeah, I know it wasn’t his fault, Pops.” Virgil’s eyes were teary behind his floppy bangs as he turned to face Janus, hands shoved in his pockets. “What do these capos want you to do?”

“Tin Man, let’s go!” V called over his shoulder from the top of the stairs. Orange lights still glowed from the ceiling but at least the alarm had stopped.

Patton and Silvertongue had already run down to prep the transport and map their route. A low whine from the engines filtered up from below, a little shimmer to the air as dust kicked up from the lower landing pad.

Behind him, The Prince huffed, loudly, as Logan struggled to get situated in his suit.

Logan focused on breathing, ignoring the pounding behind his eyes and the ache in his arm. He briefly regretted not sleeping while he could, a regret that dissolved when he closed his eyes and The Muse’s shaky smile filled his vision.

Palm sweaty, his hand skid along the edge of the mech’s chest cavity but he caught himself, fingers wedged between the collar and chest plate. He pulled and pushed against the mech’s waist with his stronger stump, muscles trembling.

“Sorry,” he grunted. “Almost got—“

“Oh, come on!” The Prince snapped, physically hauling Logan higher and depositing him inside the mech. Logan swallowed back a curse and glared at the Powered.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” he growled.

The Prince rolled his eyes and pushed him toward the stairs. “Or what? You’ll fuck things up?” He glanced down at the mech’s heavy durasteel boots. “‘Sorry,’” he muttered, anything but. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

Heat flooded Logan’s face and neck, hurt and rage warring just under his skin. “You son of a—“

“Princey! Mac! Now!” V’s beckoned from the stairwell, glaring at each of them in turn. “Or we’ll leave you both behind.”

The transport door clanged shut and they shot up into the sky and over the churning Atlantic. Logan didn’t know how much of his altercation with The Prince everyone else had heard, but save for a few quiet mutters between The Prince and Patton up at the controls, the team was silent. He felt the brush of Silvertongue’s questioning thoughts, a warm request, no, an invitation to share. Logan simply shook his head and concentrated on checking the mech’s systems.

Satisfied he was powered up and ready, he watched the screens at the front of the transport, following as they raced over greenish grey waters.

Before long, Patton banked right, aiming for a landing platform somewhere off the coast. Which coast, Logan had no idea. Before them stretched a sprawling city, bright lights casting a haze in the low clouds. Silver towers sparkled, rising up out of the jagged reefs of the drowned coastal city that had come before it.

“I can’t tell if he’s still there.” Patton broke the silence, pointing to a screen where flickering orange lights blipped at seemingly random spots.

“He’s here,” Silvertongue’s eyes were closed but his voice was clear. “Prince? Can you cover our approach?”

“Happily.” The Prince tapped a different screen and it resolved into a view of the landing platform. His eyes half-shut as he watched the dozen or so deck crew move between the ships. Without warning, they ducked low and drew up neon-striped hoods. As though fleeing from a sudden squall, they all sprinted toward the big building at the center of the platform.

All but one.

The last hold out shielded their eyes from some unseen attack and peered up at the sky. They staggered to the closest ship, a tool in their hand.

“Take her down quiet as you can, Popstar,” V murmured and moved closer to Logan, showing him a tablet. “Any idea what he’s doing, Mac?”

The image on V’s tablet followed their approach, zoomed in as far as it would go. V had set a split screen to infrared. The figure—Hesper?—wielded a gun-like tool, glowing orange under infrared, bright white sparking from the tip. This close, Logan could make out a welder’s face plate under his hood.

“Soldering something onto the hull?” Hesper moved a few feet, leaving behind a rapidly cooling palm-sized circle. He repeated his actions then jumped to the next ship in line. “A tracker, maybe?”

“Not an explosive?” V asked, frowning.

Logan watched the screen and shook his head. “It’s too cold. And he’s using quick cool-solder. Safer for microprocessors but not as strong.” He shrugged. “Explosive casings are heavier, thicker. He’d need to use standard epoxy or… magnets, maybe?”

After a long moment, V nodded. He slipped the tablet into his vest and opened his mouth as if to say more, but the transport shuddered under their feet. “Everyone ready?” Patton asked, hand hovering over a door panel.

The Prince nodded, eyes now closed as he moved to the doors, joining V and Silvertongue.

Logan lowered his own face shield and helmet. “Ready.”

Patton slapped the controls and the big door opened with a bang. Hesper didn’t even look up as they circled him, just pulled his hood lower over his head and shuddered.

Before Logan could ask what The Prince was doing to him, Silvertongue sent a single word, -“Now!”-

The Prince’s eyes shot open and Hesper spun around, the movement knocking back his hood to reveal form-fitting headgear.

He tapped the helmet, shaking his head. “Guess this wasn’t worth the price I paid for it if you could still get into my head so easily, dear Prince.” He tucked the soldering gun under his arm and then, finger by finger, peeled off his safety gloves. He left them where they fell and flexed his bared hands. “Glad to see you all came out to play. Well…”

Looking up at Logan, Hesper seemed to stare right through his face plate. “We know how it is. Too bad I have to take a rain check tonight.” He flipped on his solder gun and ran straight for Logan.

On his heels, Patton grabbed at Hesper’s jacket. He wormed out of it then dodged V’s attack. Overcompensating, Hesper slid and landed on his back, centimeters from the mech’s left leg.

Without thinking, Logan stepped up and down, foot pressed—slightly—on Hesper’s chest.

Patton hissed behind him but grew still, arms loose and ready at his sides. Immediate danger passed, V inspected the devices Hesper had fastened to the ship’s hull. He scanned each with the tablet’s sensors before prying off the closest and crushing it under his boot. “Basic trackers,” he said, nodding to Logan, and they all turned to Silvertongue.

“What is all this, Hesper?” he asked, eyes hooded. He didn’t look happy at what Logan had done, frowning in his direction. But he didn’t stop him, either, so Logan just waited, foot locked on Hesper’s chest.

“My, my, my… My dearest Tongue of Silver,” Hesper purred. Head tilted, he managed to look down at Silvertongue even from his sprawled position on the cracked peri-ment platform. “You’ve brought along an extra army of one this time.” He thunked his knuckles against the mech’s ankle servos. “All for me?”

A not-quite shadow flashed over Janus’ face, quick, nearly too quick for Logan to catch. Even with Silvertongue’s back to him, The Prince must’ve felt it, whatever it was, because he stepped closer, eyes boring into Hesper’s obscured face.

“Release him, Machina,” Janus instructed, gaze focused on Hesper. “He’s clean.”

Hesper leapt to his feet with an acrobat’s grace the moment Logan lifted the mech’s foot. “Why, thank you.” He bowed his head with a flourish and Logan watched his mech’s reflection shift and warp on Hesper’s shiny helmet.

With no way of knowing where Hesper was looking, Logan felt like it was everywhere at once.

For all his theatrics, Hesper now behaved as though they were nothing but a minor inconvenience, impolite visitors who crashed an open house. He hummed under his breath, easily picked up by his mic, and made a show of brushing off his synthcloth tactical pants and straightening an old vest that looked a lot like V’s. Sighing heavily, he produced a pristine white cloth and bent over to polish away a smudge from his boots.

Janus watched him with half-lidded eyes, hands flexing at his sides. “What are you up to now, Hesper?” He gestured around them, voice sharp. Acidic. “Why here?”

“And what makes you think I didn’t trigger your alarms so I could have a little company, hm?” He shrugged and carefully folded his handkerchief before secreting it away in a breast pocket. “You know… just like Re used to?”

“Wha—”

Before Logan could finish his blurted question, The Prince stomped forward, hands splayed in front of him, a glowing haze forming between his fingers. “Take my brother’s name from your mouth, fiend,” he growled, drawing close to Hesper. “Or I’ll rip it out with your tongue!”

But as The Prince moved, the air… flickered near his right foot. The mirage tugged at Logan’s mind the same way the faulty Pickerbot had back at the DC, the first time, before he’d found the flaw in its circuitry.

Remembering V’s concern about explosives, Logan flipped on his HUD infrared. Heat poured from the cracked peri-ment, far more heat than could be explained away by the underlying HVAC piping. The ground glowed in blinding purples and white, spiking well past 85° centigrade.

“Prince, look out!” he shouted and pushed his servos to a run.

Patton’s call to Logan cut off and he copied him instead, half-carrying, half-dragging V and Silvertongue away in the opposite direction.

The Prince swore as Logan slammed into him and knocked them both to the ground. Arms locked around him, he pulled The Prince with him into a roll. He stopped, propped onto the mech’s elbows, erecting a cage of durasteel limbs and torso around the Powered just as the floor exploded behind them.

Precisely where The Prince had stood a moment before.

“Are you—”

“I’m good, Tin Man. Let me up,” he muttered, shimmying his bulky shoulders out from Logan’s mech suit shield. -”Thanks,”- he said in Logan’s mind as he stood.

“Anytime,” Logan said aloud and followed him to Silvertongue’s side. Patton crouched a few feet behind him, inspecting V’s hand.

“Tell me!” Silvertongue was demanding, eyes molten gold. “Tell me how you did that without—”

“Without you poking around in here…” Hesper’s laugh was crusted in ice as he waggled his fingers around his head. “Ma cheri! L’amour de ma—”

“Tell me!” Janus’ shout reverberated through Logan’s skull. Even The Prince took a step backwards, head bowed and one hand pressed to his temple. Patton slid closer, nodding quietly to V and Logan watched them all, waiting for any sort of hint of what he had planned.

Hesper just laughed again. “There was no guilt to sense, my dear Silvertongue,” He shrugged. “Not from me at least.” Hesper gestured, almost bored, at the jagged, steaming hole in the landing pad, then at The Prince. “It was his anger, his rage that triggered the charge. I wasn’t sure it would work, but our dear Prince of Dreams always did have quite the temper.”

He fully faced The Prince then. “Ever since you were a little boy.”

Patton reached out and just rested one hand on The Prince’s shoulder. Given the recordings Logan had seen of Papa Bear wrestling an activated Muse into control, he had no doubt a light touch was all he needed to keep The Prince steady.

“Enough with the games, Hesper,” V said from Silvertongue’s other side. “No-one believes you dragged us out here in the middle of the night for a parlor trick.”

Hesper shrugged again, backing away toward the edge of the landing platform. “Worried I’m going to make it a habit of interrupting your beauty sleep?”

He stood on the ledge, one foot hovering behind him. “Besides,” he directed his attention to Logan again. “I know you weren’t all asleep.”

Face flushed beneath his mask, Logan’s fingers flexed against the controls but the suit remained still. Then Hesper stepped off the platform and onto a waiting airskiff.

“Ta ta, for now!” he laughed, voice amplified to carry over the roar of thrusters as he flew off into the smoggy night air.

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edupunkn00b · 2 months

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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 9: Brothers

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Brothers - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan makes another discovery, even if he doesn't yet understand all the implications. But first, another peek into the past.

Little arms hooked on the playground swing’s chains, Patton sat crying outside the Humane Touch Foundling Home. It was dinner time and all the other kids were already in the dining hall. The ones allowed out of the med unit, at least. Meals were always… energetic and the caretakers had their hands full with getting everyone fed. He had a little time before he’d be missed.

Hiccupping, he scrubbed away his tears with his sleeves and fought to get himself under control.

His stomach had twisted into knots when the fifth graders had called him over after school. At first he’d been afraid they’d wanted to fight him, too. The week before, a couple of eighth graders from the middle school had jumped him, only letting up when he’d pulled an air car onto himself and hid under the chassis. He didn’t know where he’d be sent next if he got expelled for fighting again. But if he never hit back, there was nothing for them to tattle on.

So he’d learned not to hit back.

When the fifth graders instead asked him to lift up an electrobike and then a car, his excitement at being included in their games let him ignore the way the twist in his stomach never really went away.

So Patton had laughed along with the older boys. It wasn’t until they’d clambered on top of the principal’s air car and egged him on to lift it with the four of them clinging to the hood that he realized they weren’t laughing with him.

The boys’ taunts rang in his ears.

‘What a show-off!’

‘Aw, what’s the matter, Superbaby? You gonna cry?’

‘Go on, freak, go home and cry to your mommy!’ The boys laughed louder. ‘Oh, that’s right, your parents just dumped you there, didn’t they?’

‘Brad! Peter!’ A sharp adult voice rang out over the teacher’s parking lot. The boys were startled and Patton took advantage of their distraction and ran all the way to his foster home.

“Brubber sad?”

Sniffling, he looked up, then down into the eyes of his baby brother. Technically he was his foster brother, but Patton didn’t care about the distinction and neither did sweet little Lucas.

He nodded and scootched over on the swing, giving the preschooler a weak smile. “Wanna come up here, Lukie?”

The little boy grinned, scrambling up on the swing and then onto Patton’s lap. “Whoa there!” The seat tilted, swaying side to side as Patton laughed and righted them both. “There, that’s better,” he said when they steadied with Lucas curled against his chest, one hand gripping his big brother’s shirt, the other wrapped around the swing’s crackled safety chain. Pushing gently with the one foot remaining close to the ground, Patton began to swing them.

“Brubber better?” Lucas asked, big eyes looking up at him like he could see right into his head and the thoughts inside.

Still chuckling, Patton nodded. “All better,” he said, sneaker skidding in the dirt. And he was all better. Joyful, with another laugh threatening to bubble up from his lips. He still felt the sting of the older boys’ teasing, still felt the worry that by the time they all got to school the next day, everyone would know he’d cried, but the moment Lucas touched his arm, he… he just didn’t feel bad about any of it anymore. He just felt… happy. “Lukie? Did you…” It couldn’t’ve been him. Could it? “Did you… do that?”

Lucas smiled up at him, nodding. “Brubber sad,” he repeated, this time not a question. He drew close again, rubbing his cheek against Patton’s chest like a cat. “Swing?” he asked, rocking back and forth.

“Yeah,” Patton whispered, holding tight to his baby brother. Carrot orange curls tickled his nose as he nodded. “Yeah, Lukie, I’ll swing us.”

The Prince did not join them for dinner. Instead, he remained on the roof for another hour or so before going straight to the kitchen. Patton excused himself with a small, determined smile but, after a few minutes, returned to the table alone.

Without a word, at least not one Logan could hear, The Prince strode past with a small covered dish and went to his room.

Subdued, the remaining group finished dinner quickly. After doing what he could to help V and Patton tidy up, Logan returned to the printing lab. For all that had happened, it hadn’t been long since the printer had finished, the matter jets still slightly warm from the final batch of exosuit panels.

V had cleaned up from their work and stacked the output in a tote set on a low bench.

Next to it was a ruggedized tablet similar to the one V had used. It activated as Logan picked it up, and a message appeared on the screen.

It’ll save you a step if you sketch in the CAD program. Let me know if you need help setting up. - V

The back of the tablet’s case was… soft. Well, grippy, and Logan experimentally laid it on his lap. The case seemed to meld to his stumps and he tapped at the screen, smiling at the way the tablet stayed flat and steady. He hooked the tote of finished pieces on the back of his chair then returned to his room.

Once inside, he wiggled back onto his window seat, the rapidly setting sun burning orange and red through the haze. He pulled the tablet closer and the screen lit up, revealing a menu of options.

Scanning the list, Logan grinned. Internal and external sensors, security cameras, light and climate controls, elevator tracker… Even the ordering program he glimpsed Silvertongue and V using in the meat.

Logan could access everything in HQ from this device. Well, everything he knew about, at least. He was certain there were additional layers of security only V and Silvertongue—and probably Patton—knew about, but Logan could tap through and view cameras throughout the kitchen and the med bay, the common room…

One of the common room cameras faced the wall above a mock fireplace. Given both the angle and the narrow space between the coffee table and the bumpy stone hearth, Logan had never seen higher than the mantle before.

The wall was covered in picture frames, many antiques, housing real silicone-based glass covers and faded wooden borders. Some of them looked old enough to have belonged to the museum that had once owned the original structure.

Almost—almost—without meaning to, Logan zoomed in. The pictures were of the team. There were several of Patton lifting up V or The Prince in a big bear hug, grinning as their feet left the ground. Another was of Silvertongue sitting in his usual armchair, a tablet in his lap and a serious expression on his face, The Prince looming over him, tongue sticking out and waggling his fingers.

Was Logan only imagining the quirk in Silvertongue’s lips? The Prince couldn’t have actually caught Silvertongue by surprise, could he? How precisely would one hide a prank from a guilt-seeking mindreader?

Setting aside that thought, he focused on the other frames. More than half were pictures of children. Logan recognized The Prince and The Muse’s younger selves from the visions when the Muse’s EMF dropped. When he’d dropped it. There were other children, too, children he didn’t recognize. One was an older boy with hair just like Patton’s, holding the hand of a much younger child with curls so red they looked almost orange, like an old 2D video his mother had shown him. The same little red haired boy was in another photo, clutching a blanket.

Both photos, along with a third of a boy Logan belated recognized as a very young Patton, were singed, a big black semi-circle cutting all the way to the colored start of the image. Like what one would see if you’d burnt just the edge of a stack of antique flammable paper.

Off to the side of the collection was a small photo Silvertongue lying on a couch much like the one in the common room.

Logan zoomed in further and smiled. He wasn’t alone on the couch. He lay with his head rested on the lap of another young man. And Silvertongue was young. Not a child, but Logan would guess early twenties? Maybe?

They both were. Silvertongue was dressed impossibly casually, simple slacks and a long-sleeved shirt like the ones Patton seemed to favor. His scars were much darker and, with his open collar, Logan could see they spread down his chest, as well.

The scars on his hands were dark, too, and freshly healed. His bare fingers were intertwined with the other young man’s and Silvertongue lay back, relaxed and smiling up at him as he read aloud from an antique printed book.

The other man’s orangey red curls flopped over his eyes, only a few shades darker than the tiny child in one of the other pictures. Between the hair and the book, most of his face was hidden, but his cheeks were round and tinged pink, just like Patton's.

And the little boy in the other pictures.

The lights dimmed in the common room and Patton’s tall, broad shadow passed over photographs. He and V must be close to finishing up. Logan closed out of the feed, cold prickles crawling up his spine. Surely they could know he'd been watching the common room.

Back in the main video menu, the prickles turned to ice when he found the array of external cameras, as well. Guilt gnawed at his belly. No, this must be a mistake. There’s no way I should have this kind of security access.

He hit the comm button to the kitchen. “Hey, um, V?”

“Yeah, Mac?” V answered, the clink of tools in the background. Almost eerily, Patton’s tread passed the sound pickups, completing his path back to the kitchen. “Need help with the tablet?”

“Ah, no…” Logan rubbed the case, marveling at the texture. “No, it’s—it’s great, thank you. I… I think I might have…”

The clinking stopped. V, too, was quiet, listening. Oh. This was a test. They want to know if they can trust me.

“I think I have the wrong access,” he said at last, eyes falling shut. “I can see all the security cameras.”

“Oh, good, you got in okay,” V’s voice grew more relaxed and the clack of tools against metal resumed. “The menu’s not super intuitive. But I figured you’d take to it pretty fast.”

“But… Should I…”

Patton’s voice rumbled quietly in the background and V chuckled. “You worried you hacked in? Or that our security’s that flimsy?”

“Well…” Logan’s cheeks warmed. “I thought perhaps… Perhaps it was a test of some sort, actually.”

V laughed out loud this time. “Hey, that’s a good idea, Mac. Nah,” he said, catching his breath. “If you’re on the cameras, you should be able to see them, too, y’know?”

Logan blinked, looking down at the tablet. “Well, yes, I… I see the logic. I suppose I… I’m… I’m just…”

“You’re just used to those bastards at Abracadabra,” V finished.

“Language!” Patton scolded, loud enough to be heard over the comm.

Surprised at himself, Logan laughed with V. “I think perhaps you are correct. Thank you, V.”

“Anytime, Mac.”

Minutes bled into hours as Logan explored HQ through the cameras, first the live feed. And then their recordings.

The cameras skipped large pockets of time, presumably when there was no movement in a given area. The size of their data storage was remarkable, with the feeds on some of the cameras seeming to go back months.

The zoom controls were useful, particularly for the high-definition cameras at the entrances, in the hall.

And in the basement.

When Logan found the basement camera feed, he quickly scrolled back and watched The Prince emerge from off camera only to stare at the door for a long while before entering the elevator. Logan double-checked the time stamp. It had been while he’d was talking with Patton in the med bay.

Rolling the feed back further, Logan soon found footage of V and Patton leaving The Muse’s room, the tall bear-like Powered crying as he walked with V’s arm wrapped around him. There were no sound controls, at least none that he could find, but as Logan rolled back through the long stored history of footage, he found himself grateful.

He skipped a little further back and saw himself, small and shaking as he fled to the elevator, slamming the call panel and retreating. Even now, tucked away in the soft window seat in his room, The Muse’s voice echoed through Logan’s mind,through his cells. Those panicked, anguished pleas for Silvertongue to return to him.

The next video timestamp was just over a week ago, shortly before Logan had come to HQ. Silvertongue left The Muse’s room and ripped off his helmet. Tears ran down his face and he crouched on the floor in front of The Muse’s door, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. Both hands pressed against the door, his mouth moved. But even zoomed in as far as it would go, Logan couldn’t make out what he was saying. Just that he was repeating the same words over and over.

After several minutes, Silvertongue pushed up to his feet, composed himself, then swooshed down to the elevator and disappeared. Logan didn’t need to follow Silvertongue’s path through the rest of HQ to know he was on his way to collect him from that abandoned cabin outside the University.

“I’m so sorry, Muse,” he whispered, hand hovering over the last frame of the recording.

Then he kept going.

Logan reviewed the history of the basement cameras as far back as they would go, noting the timestamps jump with each recording. No more than two weeks passed between visits, but even a few days seemed like a horrifically long time to go without seeing anyone at all. The visits were short, typically a couple of hours at most, and the usual visitors were Patton and V, sometimes only Patton.

Silvertongue rarely made the trip downstairs and entered even less often. His visits varied in duration, sometimes only a few minutes, once for over four hours. Each time he left, the Powered looked shaken, crying beneath his mask. And each time, after the door closed, he’d kneel just outside, hands pressed against the door.

And the Prince… The Prince visited even more often as Patton, but he never entered. Sometimes he sat outside The Muse’s door, curled against it with his ear pressed to the reinforced durasteel. Sometimes he paced the long hall. Each visit ended the same, with The Prince pressing his palm against the door before retreating to the elevator.

Tears stung Logan’s eyes when he'd reached the final frame of the last saved video, the silhouette of a splayed hand just barely visible through the door window.

Turning off the tablet, Logan decided that, chair or not, suit or not, he needed to go see The Muse for himself.

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