I remember when the MIBs came for me. I was just about to open the door to my apartment, feed the cat, and settle in for a night of Masterpiece Theatre. They surrounded me and said, "...." Try as I might, I can never remember my name.
I said, "Yes?"
They said I needed to come with them. Their manner told me that if I refused, I would be made to go.
I can only hope that Mrs. Hopwell, my neighbor, noticed my absence and took Queenie in before she died of thirst or starvation.
There is a conspiracy. A web so vast and intertwined my mind boggles at the scope of it. The personality and aptitude tests I took at a college sponsored retreat/staff pep-rally: monitored. My medical records: monitored. A man called Henry Bendix did the monitoring. That's how he chose me to "serve my country."
I could've said no, I suppose. A little voice at the back of my head, the voice of self preservation, also says that if I said no, my dead body would've turned up in some vacant lot somewhere, rigged to look like a suicide.
I don't remember much about the modification process, which is deliberate, I think. Done so I would have no idea of the technology used to remake me should Bendix's little side project be discovered, done so that we would be clay for Bendix to shape as he pleased, and I also think it was done to blot out the pain. Even though I have spotty memories now, I somehow know that all of this hurt.
What I do remember clearly is waking up in a small room. A room with as much personality as a room in a hospital ward. Utilitarian. Spare. Antiseptic. No sooner had I blotted the sleep from my eyes when a middle aged bald man with cybernetic implants forming a half halo around his head walked in and introduced himself as Henry Bendix. I remembered him vaguely and told him so.
Bendix talked at length about his program. He headed a UN sponsored team of Super Powered Beings called Stormwatch. Because of UN restrictions, Bendix had severe limitations on how, where, and when he could deploy the team. What Bendix wanted was a covert team of SPBs answerable only to him. He told me about how I had been chosen to serve my country and had voluntarily submitted to physiological and psychological modification - yes, my memories had been wiped. Desperate times demanded desperate measures, and so forth.
I listened in silence. I wouldn't have been able to get a word in edge wise had I wanted to speak, Bendix talked so fast. At the end of his spiel, he asked if I had any questions.
"Yes, " I said. "Who am I?"
He told me my name, my new name, "the only name that matters from now on."
~~oo(0)oo~~
They kept us all in strict isolation for the first few days. Bendix and the people who worked for him never talked about the others, at least not specifically. I knew I would be part of a team, and I wondered about the others I knew were here -- footsteps past my locked door, voices, fragments of discussions as Bendix and his people passed by.
After two days in a 10 by 10 room with no television and no books I thought I would go out of my mind with boredom. The door opened. A group of scientist types in lab coats came in and attached electrodes and a tiny transmitter to my body. They then led me down a long, dimly lit hall to what looked like a hangar of some sort. I could barely make out a domed ceiling overhead. They led me to the middle of the room and told me to stand. I stood. Several minutes later, a machine whirred to life and the top of hangar cracked open, bathing me in a shaft of sunlight.
I cannot describe the feeling as I stood there and soaked in the light - my first sunlight, my first sky in weeks? months? I felt myself come alive. If you had asked me how I felt before the sunlight hit me, I would have answered "fine." Compared to how I felt now, that was dead. That was lifelessness. The sensation that built in my body was - and still is - the purest most vital thing I have ever felt. I wanted to open my mouth and sing a note of perfect joy, and I don't even sing in the shower. I had to do something, so I let out a whoop and jumped...and kept going up.
Realization blossomed as a tight, almost painful kernel in my chest. I felt the kind of desperate joy that does not want to embrace a reality for fear that good fortune would evaporate.
I ...could...fly.
I. could. fly.
I could fly.
<[>I Could Fly!
I COULD FLY!
I spent about an hour zooming around in the skies above some godforsaken patch of desert, doing barrel rolls, high speed, turns, all sorts of things, just to see what this new body of mine could do. It occurred to me that I could simply fly off. It also occurred to me that after having invested millions in me, Bendix wouldn't hesitate to hunt me down. I didn't like to think about what would happen if he found me. He would be a very dangerous man to cross.
Quite by accident I found out I had other gifts too. Eagle eyes didn't begin to describe my vision. I flew up as far as I dared, several thousand feet, I guess. I could see ants crawling on the ground if I wanted to. I also had heat vision. When I landed, I picked up a huge rock and discovered I had super strength. I decided not to find out if I had invulnerability.
I flew back to the hangar and landed, only to be surrounded by a rush of excitedly babbling scientists, elated that I had exceeded their expectations, relieved that I had not gone supernova with the first ray of sunlight - .05 % chance of that, it turned out.
That night I dreamt of flying.
~~oo(0)oo~~
The next morning an orderly came into my room, bearing my costume, a white and gold bodysuit that covered me from neck to toes and yet left me feeling rather exposed. I'm used to people staring at me. I know I'm tall, buff, and handsome. I know that my prematurely white hair makes me very striking. I've done dance for years, so I know what it's like to wear tights. This bodysuit was so thin it left too little to the imagination.
When I finished, the orderly led me to the briefing room. Bendix perfunctorily introduced us to each other, and then started in on his goals for team, outlined the training schedules, reminded us that all vestiges of our former lives had been erased - that legally we no longer existed - and let us know that from now on, we would have the run of complex. He wanted us to socialize as much as possible so that a team leader would emerge.
I think I heard half of what he said.
I spent most of that hour desperately wanting not to look - all right, stare - at the man sitting diagonally across from me.
He came in about 30 seconds after the rest. Tall, broad shouldered, clad in black leather that molded it self to his robustly muscled body. A masked hood covered most of his head. He had a square jaw and intense brown eyes. I pegged him as the "muscle" for this team.
I wanted him.
I wanted him the way people in hell want ice water.
The naturalness of this want surprised me a little when I thought about it. Then a few new vague recollections floated up through the void that composed most of my memories these days.
I wonder if Bendix knew I was gay when he chose me for his team. It's possible he didn't. I wasn't out. I had had only a few discrete relationships and wasn't involved with anybody at the time they came for me. Or if he did know, did he figure his mind scrubbing, one thorough enough to leave me devoid of my name, would erase that too?
It didn't. You can't erase biology.
I spent the rest of the hour breathing deeply and forcing myself to think about anything but the man across from me.
As the meeting adjourned, Bendix told us to go into the rec room and socialize. I hung back for a few seconds.
"Is there something you wanted?" Bendix was cold and to the point.
I hesitated, swallowing to get the cotton out of my mouth, "Well, sir," I cleared my throat, "It's my uniform, sir. It's...it's... uh..." I gestured, hoping he'd understand.
He blinked at me and said, "What is the problem with your uniform?"
"It's too snug, sir."
Silence.
"Look, Mr. Bendix, I don't mind a form fitting garment, but this is...it's too thin, and so snug you can tell that I'm an outie belly button and that I don't have much in the way of chest hair, and I'm sure if you looked closely enough, you can see that I'm not Jewish, if you catch my drift."
"You're saying that you want a new, bigger bodysuit, made of a heavier fabric?" Bendix's tone of voice and manner made me feel like a whining snot nosed 5 year old.
I could not wear this suit on a regular basis. Period. I looked him square in the eye. "Yes I am."
A long pause ensued.
His eyes flickered and then he said, "Very well."
Feeling very relieved, I went back into my room, changed into some loose sweats, and joined the others in the rec room.
He wasn't there.
"Hey, big guy, " the blonde woman, Amaze, called out to me, "come over here and tell me and Crow Jane what you do."
"Oh, I can fly and I have heat vision, and I'm strong." And it sounded soooo stupid when I said it like that.
"Cool. I have strength and limited invulnerability. Crow Jane here -"
==Is a telepath.== The words blossomed in my mind.
I talked to them and to my other 3 teammates, Lamplight (who was an energy being), Impetus (who had super speed) and Stalker (who was some kind of lizard man and could turn invisible at will).
After a few minutes, I excused myself and headed for the exercise room.
Bendix had spared no expense on the exercise equipment. I hopped aboard a Stairmaster, turned on the TV, found CNN and started to get caught up with he world.
Having worked up a good sweat, I headed for the men's shower room to check out what Bendix had provided for us in the way of facilities. Seeing my name on a cupboard, I opened it to discover towels, toothpaste, body wash, shampoo, lotion, shaving cream, a razor, a brush and a comb. All the stuff I would need. Hurriedly, I stripped out of my damp sweats. I had just wrapped a towel around my waist when he walked in, clad in robe.
"Hi," I said, offering my hand, forcing myself to look just at his face. "I'm Apollo."
He took it in a firm grip. "I'm the Midnighter," he said in a deep slightly gravelly voice. My knees turned to jelly.
There really wasn't much else to say. I grabbed some body wash and stepped on to the cool tile of the shower. I turned the water on hot; no way was I taking a cold shower, I like my comforts too much. Besides, superhot water is just as good as cold water for shutting that down.
He took the shower right next to me.
"So," I shouted over the water, trying to strike up a conversation and hide my nervousness, "What did you ..." the words turned to sand in my mouth as I took a good look at his body. A variety of scars covered it. The puckered blossoms below his right collar bone could only have come from gunshots. "...used to do?" I finished lamely.
A moment passed. Midnighter's eyes flicked over me, taking my measure, before he said, "I worked for the company. You?" He squirted shampoo into his hand and began sudsing his short, sandy red hair.
"Which company?" I asked.
He laughed and said, "The Company." Taking in my utterly blank stare he said, "The CIA. You?"
"I taught at a college." I didn't throw in the fact that I had taught dance. Compared to working for the CIA, it just sounded so...gay. I wanted this man so much, but he frightened me. I had no doubt that if he wanted to, he could really hurt me.
~~oo(0)oo~~
Midnighter entered the rec room about 10 p.m. If a person could be said to radiate an aura of "I'm not your buddy" it would be him. He sat down on the opposite end of the couch from me. We watched Crow Jane and Lamplight play a game of ping pong, but I noticed that Midnighter's eyes kept wandering toward the chess set in the corner of the room.
"Do you play?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Shall we?" I gestured toward the table.
"Sure." He responded, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.
He took black. I took white. The first 30 minutes established that he was no novice.
Breaking the silence I said, "So, you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." Okay, it was coy, but I couldn't help it.
"Tactics. There's a computer hardwired into my brain. It's bumped up my nervous system so I move about 20% faster than even a peak athlete, but mostly it does calculations.
"Before you even moved the first piece, Apollo, I calculated every possible move you could make and every possible move I could make in response to it. You're going to lose this game."
"That's a lot of calculations to keep track of, so we'll see about that, Crayboy."
Two hours later, he finally checkmated me.
"Well, you were right." I stretched out and sighed, leaning back in my chair.
He paused for a moment and said softly, "You are very good, though." He reset the pieces, got up and strode to the door.
"See you in the morning," he said over his shoulder, an afterthought.
~~oo(0)oo~~
The next morning began 3 weeks of combat training and learning to work as a team. I somehow ended up as team leader. I have no military experience. But, I am charismatic, and I have biology to thank that people are naturally predisposed to listen to a tall, well muscled, good looking man. Also, I was a department chair, so I knew how to manage people and set policy. The others just ended up doing as I said. Midnighter backed me from day one.
I had worried that he would challenge me, given his background. He didn't. He's aloof, a loner. I'm probably the closest thing he has to a friend on this team.
Also, I was a better overall tactician than him. His tactical enhancements made him much more suited to hand to hand combat - the chess win over me was simply a result of brute force strategy. In action, he had panther-like moves. I admired his grace and sureness of action. He knew the martial arts. I suspect his work for the CIA largely involved coercion, not that he's a thug or a goon by any means.
Bendix put us through hell. Our modified bodies didn't require sleep or food the way human bodies did - although I needed regular sunlight for my powers to work - but by the end of each 16 hour day, I was dying for sleep. I just needed to recharge mentally.
Working in such close proximity with Midnighter had me on an emotional roller-coaster. On the one hand, being near him was pure heaven. The strain of not being able to do anything about it took a toll on me. I became more curt and moody with the rest of the team - snapping their heads off at the slightest thing. I would yell, and then, later, in private, regret it.
Midnighter called me on it one night when we were brushing our teeth at the sink. "Apollo, I don’t know what the problem is, but you’d better work on solving it. Soon."
I sighed and spat into the sink. He was right. I felt about 2 inches tall. It hit so hard because Midnighter was now a friend, and it always hurts the worst when a friend tells you the hard facts of the matter. Yes, friend. Midnighter was my friend now. I had a good working relationship everybody on the team, especially Stalker, but Midnighter and I had something a little different. We had private jokes. We spent most of our free time together. What had started out as raw lust on my part had become something deeper.
But, it wasn't like I could turn to Mr. Manly Man and ask a few direct questions. I didn't dare.
What's more, I was afraid I would fall in love with him, and god help me if that happened. I don’t think I could keep it from showing, and god only knew what the fallout from that would be.
I groaned softly under my breath. "You're right."
He didn’t ask "Do you want to talk about it?" We both knew that Bendix had the complex under near total surveillance, and there was no such thing as a private conversation.
I laughed and said, a little too loudly, "It's probably nothing that a long weekend away from here wouldn't cure."
Midnighter looked me, eyebrow cocked quizzically.
"Hey, it never hurts to pass a few suggestions along to the management."
He threw back his head and laughed. I joined in - not because it was really funny, but because it just felt so good to let loose. We ended up sagging against each other, sobbing with laughter.
"Oh, but I do feel better." I said, drying my eyes.
~~oo(0)oo~~
Our mission, our first mission, was in 3 weeks, and Bendix pushed us until we dropped. I felt confident in our ability. I had managed to overcome my “problem”, well, not exactly overcome. I still wanted Midnighter as much as ever; I sublimated all of that energy. Pent it up like water behind a dam and let it out in Bendix-ly acceptable ways.
But even the strongest dams can crack if the pressure becomes too great.
My uniform hung on me in shreds. The fabric was supposed to be damn near indestructible, but I still managed to go through at least one uniform every week, much to Bendix’s dismay.
I filled the sink with some warm water and splashed it on my face to wash away the worst of the grime as much as to clear my mind. Toweling the water from my face, I glanced up in the mirror.
Midnighter stood behind me, gaze riveted to my body, eyes hot with desire. A split second later our eyes locked in the mirror. Instantly his facade - cool, analytical, detached - slammed back into place. I almost wondered if I had imagined the wanting look in his eyes, so quickly, so expertly it vanished.
I didn’t know what to do. It wasn't like I could turn to him and say, "Midnighter, this is a dream come true. Your room or mine?" I squirted toothpaste on my tooth brush and began brushing my teeth. He did the same.
I spat, into the sink, then leaned over and whispered to him, "We need to talk. I don't know how. I don't know where, but we need to talk."
He grunted non-comittally in reply.
As I resumed brushing my teeth, an idea burst in my mind. I grabbed Midnighter to me, his body stiffening in shock.
"Hang on." I said.
Flying as fast as I dared, I negotiated the labyrinthine tunnels of the complex before melting a locked door with my heat vision. Telling Midnighter to take a deep breath, I flew as fast as I could. The desert gave way into mountains. I finally located a small cabin by a mountain lake that appeared empty but not abandoned. Somebody's vacation get away or weekend home.
I landed in front of the door. "Can you pick the lock, or shall I kick the door in?"
Reaching into a belt pouch on his uniform, he pulled out a few oddly shaped bits of metal and within seconds had the door unlocked.
"How'd you know I could pick locks?" He asked as we stepped into the darkness.
"It seemed logical. Given your fighting skills, I figure you were more a field operative, as opposed to an analyst who looked at satellite photos or something."
An oil lamp sat on the table. Midnighter lit one of the matches and soon had it going. The cabin was cozy. All right, it was small. A small wood burning stove stood in the kitchen area, while the furnishings consisted of 2 chairs, the table, and a double bed covered with a red flannel blanket.
"So," Midnighter said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table, "What do you want to talk about?"
"Oh, please, don't give me that shit. I saw the way you looked at me. You saw me see it. Bendix doesn't know where the fuck we are, so stop trying to pretend it didn't happen. Listen, I don't care, okay?! In fact, I - I kind of liked it..." I hoped he got the hint.
"Oh." He said, "Sorry. I'm just used to - " His voice trailed off.
Neither of us said anything for several seconds. I think we both waited for the other to make the first move.
Taking a deep breath I asked, "Can I kiss you?"
He answered by leaning forward and softly pressing his lips to mine. His lips had the a faint minty coolness to them. Tentatively I put my arms around him and deepened the kiss. I was vaguely aware of moving as his body pressed up against me, but didn’t fully realize it until Midnighter pushed me down on the bed, then reared up, taking up off his jacket and shirt.
"Undress."
"Huh?! What makes you think I’m easy on a first date?" I can't help it. I'm a tease when I'm with a guy.
"The fact that this," Midnighter stroked my erection gently, "is threatening to bust a hole in what’s left of your uniform, and the fact that I don’t intend to spend my one chance at getting some with the hottest guy I’ve seen in years making small talk. Now get out of that uniform before I tear it off you and you have to go flying back to Bendix naked."
I certainly didn't need to be told twice, and shucked what was left of my uniform off posthaste. It didn’t take Midnighter much longer to drop his trousers (lord have mercy! he was everything I dreamed of) and unlace his boots.
I leaned back on the bed, and reached out my arms to him. I wanted that body of his covering me.
"You're hot." He said, settling on top of me, cock sliding against mine.
"So many have said." I quipped back.
"No, you peacock, I mean your temperature. You're hot. You feel like you have a fever."
"Oh, that’s odd, you cranky bastard," I said, slowly grinding my hips against him, reveling in the heat and friction, both of our erections weeping copious precum - Bendix's surveillance was so through I didn’t even dare jerk off, "I don't feel extra warm."
"Well, you are." Midnighter replied, swooping down and doing incredible, so good there ought to be a law things to my neck with his mouth and tongue as he frantically ground against me. We both came within seconds.
"Fuck...I almost forgot how good that felt." He mumbled in my ear as his body lay collapsed and panting atop me. I had no complaints, either. The sensation of releasing 6 weeks of pent up longing defies words.
After a few minutes, Midnighter rolled off of me and chuckled softly.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"I just realized there’s no kleenex here to wipe the gank off. We’re going to leave an unpleasant surprise for the owners." He wandered into the primitive kitchen area and wiped himself with a clean dish rag. He threw another one to me, and I toweled off the worst of the muck. I scooted over a few inches and he lay back down on his side, studying me intently, his eyes soft and warm, instead of their usual stony hardness. Idly he trailed his finger across my collar bones.
"Sorry about the hickey." He said softly.
"S'okay. It'll be gone in a few hours." I mumbled back. I closed my eyes and relaxed - completely relaxed as his fingers gently traced the hills and valleys of my body. Odd that a man seemingly so cold and brutal possessed such gentleness. These hands were capable of breaking bones, and now they practically floated over my body.
"You're beautiful." He whispered. "Bendix did right in naming you Apollo - when you fly, there's this gold halo of light surrounding you. Did you know that? How like a god you look, how very like a god." Soft lips rained kisses on my chest. "I feel so...earthbound next to you." This time the kiss fell on my shoulder.
Not opening my eyes, I rolled on my side, facing him. I reached out and touched him, trailing my finger along his arm until I found his face, and then his soft close cropped copper blond hair. I opened my eyes, found the scars under his collarbone and traced my finger over them.
"You must think I'm a wreck." Midnighter groaned, staring down the length of our bodies.
"No." I hoped my tone would say the rest - the sort of things not easily put into words. "He did right in naming you the Midnighter, too, you know. You strike like panther in the night. Your moves are a marriage of brutality and grace. You are the mystery in the darkness."
"And what is darkness without light?" He chortled mock philosophically.
"And what is light without darkness?" I said back in the same over-dramatized tone before kissing him again.
We kissed and toyed with each other, stroking, exploring, learning what felt good. Midnighter’s scars fascinated me. Each came with a story. The three bullet scars below his right collar bone, for instance, came from a run in with an Islamic militia in Beirut. The ragged scar across his left thigh was a souvenir from infiltrating an IRA splinter group. Other, thinner, pinker scars were from his modifications. I didn’t ask about those.
It didn't take long before we were both ready again. I wanted something deeper, something better than mutual masturbation or a blow job. Taking a deep breath, I asked for what I wanted from him the first time I saw him. Leaning in close I said, "I want you in me." When a split second without response passed, I blurted out, "I mean, I understand of you don't want to. Some guys don't or maybe you like to get it too, and if it's all the same, maybe I could-"
I never got to say "- just give you a blow job." I was face down in the pillow at that point. "Shut up." Midnighter growled in my ear, turning me on so much that I began to shake.
Rough hands grabbed my hips and hauled me into position. I clenched my teeth waiting for the pain that would come. The pain that was the gateway to pleasure. The pain that I welcomed this time because it meant giving my self totally to him.
What I got was his breath, hot on my ass, and then an insistently probing tongue.
I nearly came off the bed. "Jesus Christ!" I gasped.
"What?" Came the somewhat muffled reply. "You mean nobody's ever done this for you before?" The exquisite torment resumed.
"No!" I said, followed by, "But don't stop."
I tried very hard to stay still, but it was kind of like getting a great blow job; it's not nice to start fucking the other's face, but it feels so good, you can't stay still, no matter how hard you try. I realized if I jerked hard, I could easily send Midnighter flying across the room. It took all of my restraint as his tongue kept teasing, darting, insistently pushing through the ring of muscle.
In a shaking voice I said, "If you keep that up much longer, I’m going to come."
Fingers replaced his tongue, scissoring, loosening the tight muscles. I heard him spit, then felt him rear up behind me, his cock probing.
"Ready?" He asked.
"Yes." I drew in a deep breath and blew it out as he entered me.
It hurt.
It felt fantastic.
"You okay?" Midnighter asked.
"Yes, just give me a moment to adjust, big guy." I savored the feel of his length in me for several moments before telling him it was okay. Midnighter slowly eased in and out a few times, the head of his cock easing over my prostate with each thrust and withdrawal.
It felt great, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
"Hard." I gasped, "I want you, hard."
He fucked me like he was trying to drive my head and shoulders through the mattress. The bedframe squeaked abominably in time. He nailed me with every stroke. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck." I panted under my breath.
"I'm going - I'm going to-" Midnighter slammed into me harder.
I came so hard I’m surprised it didn’t punch a hole in the mattress. My body went completely limp with the pleasure of release. I felt Midnighter stiffen, his hands digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "I'm going to...oh god." He gritted out between clenched teeth, then collapsed on top of me.
I didn’t move for the next 5 minutes, just wallowed in the glow, drank in the feel of limp muscles, the smell of sweat, body heat, and the feel of Midnighter’s breath on the nape of my neck. Eventually, with a happy sounding groan, Midnighter gently pulled his softening erection out and rolled over. I tumbled off the bed, wiped my self on the dish rag, and climbed back on, landing smack in the wet spot. I didn’t care.
We lay breathing softly for several moments, lost in thought. "Okay, so now what?" I asked as the fear began to creep back in.
"Well, I figure we go back tomorrow morning, Bendix yells at us, and gives us some kind of punishment. He won't kill us. We cost too much. And we keep it low profile. I think I can rig the bugs in my room. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, y'know what I mean?"
"Yeah." He had a point. Tomorrow morning we would fly back and take it from there. In the mean time, we would make the most of tonight.
I rolled on my side, "Hey, Bert."
"Yes, Ernie?" Came mock cranky reply.
"I like to be snuggled."
He rolled over, put his arm around me, and snugged up.
"Spoon!" We said in unison. From here on out whatever life and Henry Bendix threw at us, we would face it together.
~Fin~
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