Chapitre 3: Chapter 3
When he sees the mask on top of that freaking machine, Wade thinks it's another ploy of Francis to make fun of him and his wish to be a hero. However, even with him wanting to spit at the glass to show how fun he finds Francis jokes, his fuzzy mind wanting to faint again doesn't let him take a breath.
So, there is no saliva for him to spit, which is sad.
However, when he sees the person's mask narrowing his eyes, which looks cool and seems too high budget for a simple prank, and hears the sounds of the door of the infernal machine as it bends, even he can't help but hope.
Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen making him hallucinate. Wait, no, the door is moving.
Woah, even with a twink-like body, this person can definitely break him in half with his pinky.
That shouldn't be hot, but he never proclaimed to be sane.
{We're sane enough, though?} a voice says.
[Are we, really?] another one replies.
It makes him want to look around and check where it's coming from, but at that moment, sweet, sweet air is coming into his lungs. However, it's too much, too soon. His body doesn't seem to know how to respond.
{Uh, oh} the first voice says, livelier and not as grave as the second one. {Think someone pressed the reset button? Oh well, the best stories begin with the end}
[Didn't this story begin with an exposition of the 'present', though?]
{tomato, tomahto.}
He wants to ask what's happening, but the lack of oxygen overwhelms him. There's air around him; he can feel it on his skin. However, he cannot inhale it. His eyes flutter close, and he can clearly feel his heartbeat slowing down. The man is mumbling something, but he cannot hear him.
Then, when he's being helped to sit, the person with the very expressive suit notices his plight. He pushes him back to the bed of the machine and does compressions, which are pretty ignorable compared to what comes next.
{Whoa!}
[Woah, indeed, my friend.]
The mask disappears, going who knows where. It's not important. What is important is that this young man has the body of a twink, as previously stated, and the face of one, too. He's young, mid-twenties, and soft-looking without a beard, with chocolate, warm eyes, and hair of the same color that looks so fluffy and cottony.
He almost wants to coo but doesn't, as he appreciates living too much.
However, before he knows it, the guy is kissing him! A real kiss!
[I think it's CPR what he's doing]
{Don't ruin it!}
The voices start bickering about the details of an indirect kiss, but he ignores them. The sensation of soft lips and sweet air entering his lungs is enough for him to write anthems.
[Let's not get carried away, shall we?]
{Yeah, it's already a wonder that you know how to write.}
Rude.
Anyway, almost too soon, the lips leave him, and he sees the serious and blushing young man on top of him trying to talk to him. He doesn't hear it at the beginning because of the fuzziness of the situation.
{Don't get hard. Don't get hard.}
[Let's keep the blood circulating and not only going to one place, yes?]
He ignores the voices as he finally hears what the other is mumbling.
"You're okay," the twink continues as he sees Wade's breathing returning to normal. His hand is on his chest, and half his weight is nicely on top of him. However, he seems to realize this as he soon sits up, lifting himself from Wade. "Oh! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
He's too quick to speak, and Wade cannot help but think it's endearing. With the lights above forming a halo behind him, he looks like a spider-themed celestial being. He moves his hand to steady him, his voice rough as he tries to flirt, "Are you an—"
He stops, his gaze going to his hands as he looks in horror at the scarring sight.
{Oh my, that's so ugly. I think I'm gonna vomit.}
[Put that away if you don't want to scare everyone inside your head.]
He ignores them once again as he continues staring. The spider-themed young man's hand moves slowly as he reaches for his own. "Do they hurt?"
He doesn't answer. Instead, he lifts up the medical shirt those bastards made him wear. He notices that some parts of his skin are heavily scarred while others are not. It kind of looks like he has that skin condition that gives some people diverse coloration, but he has scars instead of a different skin tone. He touches his face and...
[Vitiligo is the name, I think... Some people like it. And there are some famous models out there with it.]
{Yeah, on them it looks exotic, though. On him, it makes him look like the baby of a raisin and a grape. Do you think the twink will like it?.}
[No, but there's always the circus.]
He grits his teeth as he seethes and cannot help but think of Francis. That fugly guy must have wanted to make Wade as ugly as him.
{Probably has got to have some cure or something.}
[That sounds reasonable.]
The little twink talks, but he cannot hear him as he says, mostly to himself, "I need to find Francis. That bastard is the only one who can…" he trails off as he clenches his hands. The action hurts, but his pain tolerance has always been high, and it hurts more to continue looking at them.
"I don't think you're in any shape to fight anyone."
He looks up at his words, not because of the meaning itself but because of the genuine tone of worry. He doesn't deserve it. He's a killer, and he's got lives under his belt, some that didn't deserve it and only bit the dust because they were nothing more than cash cows for him.
He doesn't want to say it because this young man truly worries about him, and he doesn't know why, but it feels nice. So yeah, even if he doesn't want to, he thinks this little twink deserves to know the type of guy he is. Maybe he thinks he's a civvie without a clue about what's happening.
He opens his mouth, and the only thing that comes out is, "I'm a monster."
{This time not only on the inside.}
"Don't say that, Wade," the little guy immediately says and... that's his name. Did Francis put him into it? Did he want to emotionally torture him? "Let's get you out, okay?"
No, it can't be. This guy sounds honest and kind, like he thinks a nice guy would sound.
Maybe...
{Better to look for a weapon}
[Yes, of course, because a weapon will be enough help with this guy's strength.]
The sarcasm is thick on this one, but he's right. Better to be prepared.
He looks around, sees the fire extinguisher, and is ready to go for it when he feels a gentle touch on his shoulder. It's tentative at first, but then it squeezes lightly.
"Hey, look—look at me."
And Wade looks. The guy touches his cheek with the same gentleness as his voice. It almost makes him think there are no scars on his face, even if he's pretty sure there are. He can feel them.
"You're not a monster, okay? Everything is going to be okay. I'll help you out."
And Wade wants to believe it, wants to believe him, but he's afraid.
Nice things don't happen to him, after all.
"… No," he ends up saying. "I need answers from him."
{Aw, you broke his heart.}
[Typical.]
He can almost see the guy opening his mouth to talk through the mask when they hear the steps approaching. He needs a brilliant plan to get some alone time with Francis and to keep this sweet summer child away from the carnage.
"It seems like we're not alone anymore," he says, and Wade uses his moment distractions to grab the fire extinguisher. "Let's focus on getting out of here first, and then we can fight this Francis together. But right now, we need to prioritize the safety of the other prisoners."
He hesitates at the mention of other prisoners, torn between his thirst for revenge and the logical reasoning in the twink's words. After a moment, he nods reluctantly, realizing the other is right.
He needs to modify his plan accordingly.
"Okay," he mutters, his grip on the weapon loosening. "Let's get everyone out of this hellhole first."
{Oh, shucks, the mask is back.}
[Pity, but you could still be used as the bait.]
He cannot see his expressions because of the mask, but he can still tell the other is smiling, relieved that Wade has chosen reason over rage.
{Ha! He is going to be so disappointed.}
[No surprises there.]
He's about to say something when Wade is fast to say, for of being interrupted, "I'll be bait. You can release the others."
[Smooth.]
{Shut up; this is perfect drama material.}
The young man stays silent for a long second, in which the sounds approach. That snaps him back as he says, worry etched in his tone, "I'll lead everyone outside and then return. In the meantime, be safe."
That makes him smile.
"A beauty worrying over me? Who would have thought I only needed to almost die for that to happen? Should do it more often."
"Please, don't."
"Don't worry your pretty, little head, uh... what was your name, again?"
The young man snorts softly. How can someone make a snort sound cute? He doesn't know, but this young man manages.
"Call me Spider-Man."
"Oke, Spidey!"
And then he's gone.
[Sad to see him go.]
{I'm not. Have you seen his ass? What I would do to-}
He ignores the voices and doesn't have the time to worry about it when he hears someone coming down the stairs.
He grips his hold on the fire extinguisher, ready to rearrange Francis' face.
{Like he did yours?}
[Too soon.]
{Is it too soon to bet how much he's going to get his ass kicked?}
... Later, he can look out at what's going on with the voices. He really doesnt want to get crazier than he normally is on top of looking like a monster.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone