PMOCT: Round 3.3- Brothers

Ed turned Boa's conversation with Deucalion over in his head for what felt like the hundredth time as he and Sisca were escorted down the street.  

It had taken some effort to disguise himself as a normal human being, but in the end some boots that could be pulled over his scales had been the only thing they'd had to buy; the rest of his clothing had come from Phaex's wardrobe.  The long sleeves of an old flannel shirt covered his arms up to the wrists, and his hands had been swathed in bandages.  Both were now tucked in his pockets as a further precaution.  The collar of the shirt was flipped up to hide the plates on the back of his neck.  To top it all off, he had a cap pulled low over his face and a pair of sunglasses to keep his eyes covered.  Both yarn-balls and his mask were hidden under his shirt.

Sisca, on the other hand, had been wearing some of Boa's clothing when she'd left, and nothing of Boa's was very subtle.  Her shirt was an electric blue halter-top that, though technically not a half-shirt, left quite a bit of her stomach showing.  She had a jacket on over it with the hood up to obscure her face, toning the look down a bit.  As though to make up for it, her shorts were so short that Ed felt uncomfortable looking at them.

Even so, Sisca didn't manage to look as... well, as loose as Boa undoubtedly did in the same clothes.  She held herself too stiffly, and her movements were too precise for her to look like anything but a soldier.

"We're coming up on the house," their escort, a man called Khan, said in a low voice.  He was a tall, sculpted man with dark eyes and long hair.  Even with the simple black t-shirt and jeans he wore, Khan looked like he should be a male model instead of a member of an underground rebellion.

Ed glanced furtively around at the man's words.  They were in a shadier part of town than he'd seen so far; there were bars on most of the windows and doors and very few people in the street.  But oddly enough, nothing seemed to be in the states of disrepair one would usually associate with those areas-- no cracked windows, abandoned buildings, graffiti, or any other signs of vandalism.  Hestia must have taken her job very seriously.

Sisca crossed her arms as they stopped in front of an older looking house with brown siding.  Her dark eyes stopped their steady sweep of their surroundings to land on the escort, face as blank as it usually was.  "This path was too open, rebel.  Someone will have seen us."

A slight smirk quirked the corner of Khan's mouth.  "Relax, I've done this before.  We took the cameras out of the picture all ready, so there's not a lot we have to worry about."  He motioned for them to wait where they were as he made his way up the cement walkway.  The door cracked open slightly at his approach, and he leaned in to talk with whoever was behind it in a low voice.

Ed frowned to himself.  Any doubts he'd had as to Boa's manipulative nature had been dispelled by her skillful handling of Deucalion.  It was incredible, the way she'd dodged his questions and diverted his attention... and of course there was the desperate attempt to make him shut up at the end by kissing him.  No, the girl was definitely much more than she cared to let on.  The real question was how he felt about it.

For one thing, their little chat indicated that the higher ups in the Resistance had something bad planned for Catreus.  That wasn't much in and of itself, but he'd asked Boa time and time again about getting some answers from the man.  If she'd just told him flat out that it wasn't an option due to Catreus's position, he could have coped.  Instead she'd put him off multiple times, hinting that there'd be an opportunity for him to ask eventually or saying she forgot to check with the others.  His covert discovery was irritating to say the least; there was no way they'd let him interrogate someone they were setting up.

To make matters worse, Ed had caught enough snatches of conversation from Boa's callers to know that Deucalion and the Resistance's intended victim were not only brothers but Minos's sons.  Set up against everything he'd read about how families were supposed to be, this seemed... well, wrong in more ways than one.  Perverse really.  The idea of the family unit had lodged itself firmly in his mind ever since reading accounts of it while in the Archives, a glowing good that Paradise had tossed out like rubbish.  To see members of a family turned against each other in this fashion was almost sacrilegious.

Sisca tensed and glanced over her shoulder, distracting Ed from his musings.  "I told him this wasn't a good route.  We've been followed."

"Followed?"  Ed shuffled around to see what Sisca was talking about; he was a little too stiff now to peer nonchalantly over his shoulder like she did.

Two men were making their way down the street.  Well, meandering really; there was a casual, aimless quality to the way they moved that suggested they were only going home after a day at work or taking a walk. Their clothing was regular enough, though their jackets were large and shapeless, and they were talking quietly with one another.

Ed would have overlooked them if he hadn't seen their faces earlier.  It was the men from that television program Boa had seemed so interested in.

The first brother, Phoebus, looked just as cocky in person as he had on television.  His blond hair was tousled in a somewhat haphazard fashion that suited him well, and a cigarette hung out of his mouth.  His sharp blue eyes slid lazily toward Ed and Sisca though he kept his head turned toward his brother.  Gabriel, however, seemed less comfortable with the situation than Phoebus.  He kept rubbing the back of his neck beneath his dark ponytail and glancing around nervously.

There was only one reason that they would be here, judging from their show's description in the T.V. guide.

"Crap," Ed muttered as they drew slowly closer.  "How did they find us?  Khan said he knocked out the cameras."

"Maybe Athene let them know when her cameras around this area went out of commission," Sisca remarked.  She sounded much more at ease than Ed felt.

"Yeah, maybe... hang on, where are you going?"

Sisca had begun striding forward in her crisp military fashion, though the movement wasn't quite fluid.  The pain from her healing ribs was still giving her some trouble.  

The side of her face, coolly unconcerned, became visible as she glanced over her shoulder.  "Away."

Ed could hardly believe what he was hearing.  "I'm not letting you go running off by yourself!  You're injured!" he hissed, lumbering after her for a few steps.  What a word to use in association with oneself, 'lumbering'.

The visible eye flickered.  Ed could just see the edge of her scar poking out from under a lock of deep red hair.  "You're not letting me?"

He set his jaw, feeling those oddly shaped teeth scrape against each other uncomfortably.  "Oh calm down, I didn't mean--"

"What are you doing?!" came a hiss from behind them.  Khan and a woman with short wavy hair were watching them in disbelief.

Ed shook his head vigorously and picked up the pace.  They couldn't risk giving away the other Resistance members because Sisca was being stupid.  He'd just see if he could catch up with her, then they could lose the brothers and meet back at the house.  

Khan made as though to follow, but his friend caught him by the arm.  She indicated the people tailing the two mutants.

There were no pretenses now.  Their followers' meandering had turned to determined, purposeful strides.  Phoebus flicked aside his cigarette butt, eyes keen as a hunting hound's as he pulled ahead.  Ed could see slight movements under the jackets as their wings moved.  Gabriel grimaced slightly; keeping his extra appendages hidden must have been uncomfortable.

Sisca's pace didn't change as she kept walking smoothly forward.  Ed hobbled after her, but he was having trouble keeping up with his scales restricting his movement and snagging on his clothes.  Nevertheless, Ed knew Sisca well enough by now to not ask her to slow down.  It wouldn't accomplish anything.

She pulled up short and turned down the sidewalk onto another street.  Ed followed her and soon found himself walking along what must have been a main road.  The houses were replaced by businesses and shop fronts filled with merchandise.  There were still bars on the windows.

He barely had time to take it in.

"Ma'am, could you spare a minute?" came an eager female voice from the muffled yarn-balls.  A woman with a brilliant smile and immaculate white-blonde hair pressed a microphone in on Sisca.  "I'm Janie McJane from Channel Eleven News, and I just wanted to--"

Sisca pushed McJane out of the way and kept walking.  Ed was a little surprised she hadn't broken the microphone or punched the woman in the nose or something.

The journalist's smile dropped very, very slightly, but then she spotted Ed and it was restored.  "Sir!  Sir, could I ask you some questions?"

"I, uh..."  Hang on, she was speaking Greek, and there was no way he could let her know he had a yarn ball.  Well it wasn't like he really wanted to talk to a reporter anyways.  He moved to side-step her, but she darted back into his path.  Her smile was unwavering.

"English?  Do you speak English?"

Huh.  Maybe she wasn't originally from Greece.  It didn't even sound like she had an accent.

"Yeah, but I'm kind of busy--" he started, trying to brush past her as Sisca had done.  The man operating the camera edged his way into Ed's path, the light from the crystalline sun flashing off his camera's lens.

McJane pushed the microphone into his face aggressively, smiling in that unnerving fashion.  "It'll only take a few minutes."

Ed looked nervously at the recording equipment in front of him.  Sisca was getting farther and farther away, and now both the cameraman and the reporter had him in their sights.  Ergh.

"Well I--"

"I know, you're busy, but I just wanted to get your thoughts on the situation involving the mutant monsters wreaking havoc on the city."

Ed's preoccupation with leaving the reporter evaporated.  He gave her a sharp look from behind his glasses.  "That's a loaded question, Miss McJane."

Her penciled brows rose as she made sure the microphone was close enough to his mouth.  "Oh?"

"Yeah.  The way you're phrasing it suggests that all mutants are these horrible creatures running around on destructive rampages, but I don't think--"

"You're sympathetic to the mutants then, Mr....?"

"Uh, Peter...s.  Peters.  And, well, I just think people should stop and think about what's probably going through the mutants' heads through all this.  They're confused and--"

"Probably?  Have you encountered any mutants, Mr. Peters?"

"Uh--"

"How can you KNOW what's going on through their heads?"

Ed scowled.  "I can't, but--"

"Why are you so sympathetic to these renegades?  Are you part of a pro-mutant rights group?  Do you plan on protesting?"  The microphone moved so it was only centimeters away from him.  Ed's patience was gone.

"Get that thing out of my face," he snapped, trying to push the little piece of technology wrapped in foam and plastic away.  McJane resisted and, quite by accident, pegged him in the face with it.

Ed jerked back at the blow.  "Watch what you're doing!"  But the movement caused the microphone to slide upwards, catching his sunglasses and the bill of his cap.  They fell to the ground with a clatter.

McJane and the cameraman stared transfixed at his salt-white face.  The reporter was for once dumbstruck.

And just at that moment, a hand was laid on his shoulder from behind.  "Gotcha," came Phoebus's voice.  You could almost see the smirk that went with it.

Oh boy, this was going to be fun.

Ed spun and shoved the man back as hard as he could.  Phoebus had barely gotten out a grunt of surprise before Ed muscled his way past McJane and her (still-filming) cameraman.

There was a curse.  "We've got a runner!" Phoebus called out from behind.  

"You follow him, I'll see if I can get the girl!"  That had to have been Gabriel.  Ed didn't turn to look at either of them, but he could hear feet pounding the ground along with McJane snapping at her cameraman.  "Hurry up!  You're getting this, right?  Ooh, I can't wait to see Vimes's face when she sees this!"

Ed chugged on, desperation pushing in on him, but even now he knew it was in vain.  Sisca was nowhere to be seen.  He couldn't outrun this guy, not if Phoebus was in any way physically fit.  Each movement was hindered by his plating as though he were trying to run in a suit of armor.  No, a suit of armor with clothes on over it.

As he processed this, Ed slowed down.  If the probability of escaping that way was so slim, why was he still running?

"Decided to take it like a man, huh?  Makes my job a little easier."

Ed turned his white, staring face toward Phoebus.  It was a little unsettling to see his opponent so unphased.  He could see it in the way he almost swaggered forward, cocksure as a rooster in his pen.  But Ed did his best to look as though he didn't notice.  He stood up as straight as he was able and met the other man's gaze.

"Look, Phoebus, I really don't want to fight you or anything."  Ed backed away slowly, hands raised up with his palms toward his assailant.  "Why don't you just turn around and forget you ever saw me?"  

Fat chance, but he might as well ask.

Phoebus chuckled and raised his hands, but he didn't curl them into fists.  It looked more like he was  getting ready to snatch something out of the air.  "No can do, Quasimodo."

There was a sudden scraping noise and a dull grey blur in Ed's peripheral vision.

"Crap!"  Something struck him hard in the side, causing Ed to stumble sideways.  A glance revealed a trashcan lid flying past him toward Phoebus.  Or rather, where Phoebus had been standing.  Ed's assailant had used the time gained by his distraction to close the gap between the two, and now a fist caught Ed full in the face.

He staggered again, the world dancing with pain in front of his eyes.  Ed's mind reeled as it tried to pull everything back into focus past the throbbing and the ringing in his ears.  After a moment it began to make progress.

Ed barely recovered in time to see the fist pulling back for a second blow.

One bandaged hand snapped up before he could think, fingers curling around Phoebus's wrist.  The man tried to pull away, blue eyes wide with surprise, but Ed just held on tighter.  He spun his opponent in a clumsy yet swift half circle before letting go.  The momentum Phoebus gathered sent him careening into the wall of a nearby building, where he crumpled.  Ed stared for a moment in surprise.

Phoebus got back to his feet, winded, yet somehow that smirk never left his face.  "So it's gonna be like that, huh?"  He cracked his neck and started forward again, this time looking a little more cautious.

Ed groaned.  Couldn't this guy just leave him in peace?  Fine, if he wanted to fight that badly, they'd fight.  He ripped the bandages off his hands, exposing the hard plates.  Maybe they'd cause more damage that way.

There was a little squeal of glee from Janie McJane as she watched from the sidelines with her faithful cameraman.  Ed tried very hard to pretend like she wasn't there.

Phoebus eyed Ed's scaly fists, blinking in surprise.  "So... what are you supposed to be, the freakish lovechild of Peter Lorre and an iguana?"

Ed sighed, keeping his fists up and his face toward Phoebus.  "I'm a freak, perhaps, but no more of one than you.  Aren't you angry about what they did to us?"

"It looks like you've got way more to be mad about than I do, kid."  He swung another blow at Ed, who ducked and stepped back.  Phoebus's fist went over his head with a whoosh of air.

Ed's head popped back up so he could watch his opponent.  The man looked amused as he advanced.  "You don't know anything about fighting, do you?"

"What, am I doing something wrong?" Ed asked dryly.  He kept his eyes on Phoebus's fists, his own still up to protect his face.  "Maybe you could enlighten me."

"Nah, I'm a little--" he swung, Ed ducked, "--busy at the moment.  Maybe once I get you loaded in the van."

"What makes you think--"  Ed started, but he hadn't been prepared for Phoebus's knee to sink itself into his gut.

All the air left his lungs as he stumbled backward, even though the scales, the yarn-balls, and the mask absorbed a bit of the impact.  His assailant didn't give him time to recover; before Ed could even get his footing again, the fist came back, ramming into the side of his head.

Fight back, you idiot, fight back!  That was the only thought that seemed to fight its way through the spinning lights and vague ringing that made up his world at the moment, though it sounded like something was crashing a bit in the distance.

Wait, he was making that noise.  Looking down, he saw a trash can he'd overturned as he'd backed away from Phoebus, its contents strewn at his feet.

A rusted out frying pan caught his attention.

"Dios mio," came a voice he'd only heard briefly earlier, "you've made a bit of a mess A-- Phoebus."  Glancing up, he saw the darker haired of the two brothers approaching.  He looked even more unsuited to this job when viewed from up-close, from his good-natured smile to his cheerfully red sneakers.  Gabriel had discarded the jacket he'd been wearing; the large dark wings stretched out from two slots in the midsection of his shirt like an angel's.

What interested Ed most, however, was that Phoebus's attention had been diverted.  He bent down to grab the frying pan.

"Yeah, well, weren't you supposed to be tracking the chick down, Gabe?" Phoebus replied pointedly.

"I don't know where she went.  I was following her, and she just sort of disappeared."  Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish.  Ed kept the frying pan up as he started to edge away.

"Nice work genius.  Anyways-- not so fast buddy."  Phoebus's hand came up almost lazily, and the pan was ripped out of Ed's hands.  He caught it easily.  "What were you going to do with that, brain me with it?"

"It seemed better to have a weapon."  Crud, they were both watching him now, and he'd only just realized that he had a wall to his back.  These were not ideal conditions.

Phoebus looked like he was going to reply, but Gabriel stepped forward.  "Why don't we all calm down a little bit and just talk this over?  Mr... uh, I don't know your name."

"I don't know yours either, unless the last name Icarus is just a big coincidence," Ed said dryly.  "I thought you'd know how to address your own target."

"You've seen our show?  I guess that means we won't have to introduce ourselves."  Gabriel smiled kindly.  "We just got a report of suspicious activity, and they wanted us to check it out.  They were having trouble getting targets cleared past Artemis, so this seemed like a good--"

"Does he really need to know ALL of that?" Phoebus rolled his eyes.  "Just make the offer so we can call the cameras out here, knock him around a little bit, and go home."

"Right, sorry."  Gabriel hesitated, flexing his dark wings in what Ed supposed was a thoughtful manner.  "You've seen the show before, right?"

"A very small portion, and I read the description from the guide."  Ed kept looking for some chance to escape, but he was mildly interested in what this offer entailed.

Both brothers glanced to the side to see McJane and her cameraman filming from a short distance away.  Something like frustration flickered through Gabriel's face.

"Let's put it this way: our employers have provided you with a choice.  If you decide that you don't want to cooperate, we'll have you loaded onto a van and shipped back to Hades and the containment cells so he can keep an eye on you.  You already know what that's like."  He hesitated again, glancing at McJane.  Ed got the feeling he'd prefer it if she wasn't there; come to think of it, he felt the same way.  

"If you'd rather not go back though, there is another option."  Gabriel turned to Phoebus, who sighed and crossed his arms.

"Okay, if staying in a cell back in the prison is something you want to avoid, you can join us on the show.  You'd get a new identity and you'd still be under Minos's surveillance, but the living conditions are better."

Ed watched them both blankly.  "Those are the options?"

Phoebus nodded.  "So which is it?"

To his own surprise, Ed grinned.  He could only imagine how disturbing those new teeth of his must look.  "You've got to be kidding me.  Either I waste away in a cement cube with next to no chance of getting out again, or I humiliate myself in front of everyone in this forsaken hole of a city."

Gabriel's brows rose.  "Being on the show isn't as bad as you'd think.  There's, ah, a lot going on behind the scenes that the audience doesn't know about."  He gave Ed a significant look before glancing at the camera.

But Ed had already made up his mind.  "No.  This isn't how things are going to go.  I've lived quietly in prison for a year before even coming to this stupid place, and I've been made a fool for another's amusement.  I've had my face taken, my humanity taken, my friends and anything resembling a home taken.  There's very little I have left here or anywhere else, and even now they've started using me like some sort of tool to be discarded as soon as I cease to be useful.  And maybe this mess is my own fault, but if there's one thing I will NOT do, it's that.  I won't be played with like some children's toy for the amusement of a bunch of people with nothing better to do than watch television."

It was quiet for a moment, then Phoebus shrugged.  "I guess he made his decision.  Call Artemis and the camera crew."

To be continued...