Post by mystifyingoracle on Nov 20, 2020 22:47:23 GMT -5
OOC: Collaboration between myself and LRK! A pleasure as always.
“I appreciate you coming out here with me. I gotta admit, I’m kind of intimidated by this whole steel cage thing.”
“It’s no problem, Silvio. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you’re really intimidated by anything they’ve thrown at you at this point.”
Silvio strolled beside Zane as they entered the Carnage arena, eyes drifting upward to the cage suspended above the ring.
“I don’t...really like being in enclosed spaces I can’t get out of.”
Ordinarily, Silvio wouldn’t have been anxious. The locks they used on the cage were nothing. A bump key or a rake pick would have been plenty to pop them; no skill at all. But this wasn’t a situation where he couldn’t bring his usual tools along with him.
His mouth twisted into a grimace.
“Bad memories.”
“... I get that… prob’ly better than anyone else.”
The Lab Rat King looked up at the hanging steel enclosure, his amber eyes drowsy but contemplative. It was a rare thing to be of sound mind outside of the privacy of Silvio’s apartment, but it was a nice change of pace to be somewhere familiar while he had a clear enough head to appreciate his surroundings. The Carnage Arena was really the closest thing he had to a home. He didn’t have much of a life these days, but this was something. It kept him going.
“I dunno how helpful my advice is,” he rumbled, his eyes still up on the cage. “But… I always thought of it as taking back something that used to scare me. When you take ownership of something that scares you shitless, make it your territory out of familiarity… that brings a unique sort of strength. You know the thing better than anyone else because it knows the worst parts of you.”
“Christ, you must have been pissed off being stuck with the Big Guy behind the wheel and having all that eloquence locked up inside for so long,” Silvio said, eyes not moving from the suspended structure.
“He lets it out in his own way. Swiftly your synchronous symphony of vile violence will ring with resonance in these cold, bloody bars. Or something.”
“Huh!” Silvio blinked, grinning. “I guess you’re right. You got a real poetic streak, y’know?”
“Do you always use compliments to distract people when you’re stalling?”
“Stupid big dad energy,” Silvio huffed, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay. You’ve got the controls, I’ll get in the ring. Let’s do this.”
Drawing in a shivery breath, Silvio climbed into the ring, trying to control the tremor that resonated within him. It’s fine. It’s fine! Everything is controlled here. There will be people to keep you safe even if you bust your stupid head open. All of your friends are going to be there and when it’s finished, we can forget all our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream.
Just.
Don’t think about the basement.
“Okay…” he said, giving Zane a grin and a thumbs up that had all the steady surety of a unicycle with a flat tire. “Ready when you are.”
Zane picked up the remote from the nearby commentary table; he seemed to give the moment some consideration, and then, apparently making a sudden decision, he joined Silvio in the ring by climbing the apron and rolling in, clicking the remote as he climbed to his feet. He craned his head back, watching the steel enclosure descend over them both.
“You looked like you needed some big dad energy in here with you, kid.”
“Thanks,” Silvio sighed, watching the cage descend and feeling his heart rate beginning to climb.
--don’t think about the basement don’t think about the basement don’t knives think about the blood basement don’t god the screaming think about the cold struggling basement don’t think about ropes around my wrists and ankles the basement dead you died you shouldn’t be here don’t think about--
As the cage locked into place, Silvio’s breathing began to become rapid and shallow, a cold sweat filming across his forehead.
“Zane...I...uh…”
He blinked rapidly, hands instinctively patting himself down for a pick or a shim.
“I heh I changed my...my mind maybe…”
His vision started to flicker and cloud, and he began to lose sensation in his extremities, legs wobbling.
“Hey. Breathe.”
Zane’s broad hand was warm against Silvio’s upper back; he made no move to restrain or limit him, just offering physical support. His low, rumbling voice was like soothing white noise.
“Deep breaths. You’re right here, right now. The past is gone and it can’t hurt you anymore… just count. One in, two out. Your partners are with you. You’re not alone.”
Leaning against King’s hand for support, Silvio followed his guidance, trying to master himself.
I’m right here, right now.
He shook his arms out a bit, willing feeling back into them as he focused on the anchoring sound of Zane’s voice. Blinking a few times, his vision returning, he looked around, taking in the chain link walls around them. This was still their arena. This was still their ring. This is still where he’d been making a name for himself and finding new ways to connect to people. He felt the bracelet Amber had given him rattle against his wrist as he moved and smiled.
You’re not alone.
“Thanks. You’re good at that.”
“I’ve been told. I guess it’s from learning to do it for myself.”
Even with his muzzle on, Zane’s slight smile is noticeable in his eyes.
“This is your territory. You’ve been a conqueror in here. That hasn’t changed.”
Silvio nodded, even though a look of confusion flitted briefly across his features.
“Still weird thinking of myself like that.”
But he recognized the necessity of it. Especially if he wanted to do something about an itch that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“...Hey...Zane,” he said slowly, “...you challenged for the UV title. Or Big Guy did. What...motivated you to do that? Like, what was it that finally made you shoot your shot?”
For a moment, Zane looked surprised to be asked that. His brow tightened, looking down at his hands. He curled them into fists as he thought of the fight to come.
“It was mutual. We both wanted to do it… but for different reasons. The Big Guy--he just wants that belt to use it as a beacon to find the biggest, baddest bastards to fight. Me… I don’t know, exactly, but it has to do with what brought me here in the first place. This is gonna sound crazy, I guess, but…”
He shrugged, snorting slightly. “What doesn’t, coming from me… anyway. I have this feeling that getting that belt in a circuit like this--not a global phenomenon, but just something an indie enthusiast would notice--it’s gonna help me find… somebody. Somebody important. Someone I used to know is going to see me if I get that title, before the ones chasing me do.”
Silvio nodded slowly, watching him. “You mentioned before you’re looking for a specific person. Any revelations to who that might be? Anything you remember now that you get to be lucid more often?”
King looked a little helpless, his hands uncurling. “I’m not sure… all I know for sure is that it’s a ‘her’. She must’ve mattered, because getting back to ‘her’ was all I could think about for a long time. If I thought for some reason getting this title shot might get her attention… maybe that ties in somehow. Maybe I really did do this before… whatever happened to me.”
That didn’t especially narrow things down. Maybe it was Zane’s wife or significant other, but maybe it was a daughter, an aunt, a mother, a mentor. Silvio reached out, squeezing Zane’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her. We’ll figure all of this out.”
The comfort that brought him surprised the mutant. His shoulders sank a little--it was the first time he’d heard anyone tell him as much. Whether or not it was true, didn’t matter; for the first time in his present memory, he wasn’t trying to figure it out alone.
“... Thank you, Silvio. Really.”
“Least I can do,” he said, lifting his hand to gesture around the steel cage. “Thank you for helping me with all of this. I think I’ll be okay. I just...yeah, bad memories. Anyway, you wanna head back home?”
“... Yeah.” Zane sighed, rolling his shoulders. Several snaps and pops followed that seemed to relax him a little more. “Hn… this might surprise you, but I’m pretty hungry.”
“What! You?” Silvio gasped. “My delicate flower. We must feed you. I believe that side of beef you bought is still in the fridge.”
“This delicate flower has your ticket out of this box, lockpick.”
Zane held the remote directly above Silvio’s head, putting it an absolutely unfair distance out of his reach.
“Better jump for it, shorty.”
“This is worse than when you taped my phone to the ceiling,” Silvio snorted.
“Is it, though?”
“...No. God. Fine. Okay. I’ll pick you up a cheesecake on the way back if you kindly let me out of this godforsaken oversized dog kennel.”
“It’s a rat cage,” Zane said with mock offense, handing him the remote. “You plebian.”
Taking the remote and clicking it, Silvio watched the cage beginning to ascend. “Mea culpa, Rattus Rex,” he said. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders along with the chain-link structure.
He could do this. He wasn’t going to let his team down.
The trip back home was uneventful aside from the acquisition of cheesecake, although Silvio froze when they came to the front door.
“Someone’s here,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. He could hear movement inside; someone walking around with hard-soled shoes that clicked against the wooden floors. Dumb. Amateur thief? Someone looking to intimidate him from the roster? Attack him? He wouldn’t put it past the Wild Cards what with everything Knox had related to him about Kat’s little visit. His hand eased into his jacket pocket, fingers curling around a key chain-sized canister of pepper spray. Didn’t look like there’d been any forced entry, and he’d only given keys to his place to a select group of people, none of whom would be here at this hour. He closed his fingers around the doorknob, moving slowly as he tested it.
Unlocked.
There was a tiny twinge of injured pride at that. He’d done what he could to make his place hard to break into and here someone was practically tap dancing in his kitchen. That was incongruous. No burglar good enough to pick the locks Silvio had installed would be stupid enough to wear noisy shoes.
All this flashed through his mind in a quick succession; cards being shuffled. He glanced at Zane and signaled for him to step back.
“Be ready to fly or fight,” he whispered.
Zane, surprised but apparently unconcerned, merely cocked his head and rolled his shoulders, as if to say ‘fight, obviously’; he kept close, ready to throw out anyone who had the nerve to set foot in here without permission.
Silvio drew in a deep breath through the nose, then exhaled again through his mouth, throwing the door open and bringing his pepper spray up defensively.
He expected a stranger; maybe some jackass from the roster trying to spook him. What he got, however, was none of these.
“...Mom?”
“OWUH!”
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in a voluminous cream-colored blouse with long, black gloves, fitted slacks, and black knee-high boots was a statuesque woman Zane had never met before. Her sandy-colored skin was flawless, as was her make-up; blonde hair teased into a regal bouffant that brought to mind the crests of exotic tropical birds.
As Silvio rubbed his smarting cheek, there was a gasp and the sound of a second person hurrying over from the living room. Zacharie DuBois, dressed down today in an oversized, glittery pink sweater and black leggings, shuffled into view, one perfectly manicured hand brought to their glossy peach lips in shock.
“Silvio Mateo Leon!” the first woman declared, pointing at him. “Of all my children, I never expected this kind of behavior from you!”
“Mateo?” Zane’s unflinching rumble came from behind the altercation. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with Mateo?” he said, trying to dull the ache in his face.
“Well!” the regal woman said, shifting her gaze to Zane. “Hello, tall, dark, and rumbly. Silvio, darling, tell me you haven’t forgotten all of your manners. Won’t you introduce me to your herculean friend here?”
“I’m more of a Hephaestus, honestly,” King muttered, scratching his opposite shoulder.
“And so cultured!” she laughed musically. “Now I really must know him.”
Sighing, Silvio turned and gestured to the woman, a red hand print florid on his cheek. “Zane,” he said, “allow me to introduce you to Artemis Direction. My drag mother.”
“What happened?”
Leslie stood in the doorway of her apartment, looking out into the hallway at the weary-eyed youth standing before her, a backpack and garbage bag that appeared to be full of clothing on the floor to the left and right of him.
“I got kicked out,” Silvio sighed.
“Of the trailer?” Leslie said, raising a brow.
Silvio nodded, rubbing his forehead. “Apparently it transferred to my step-dad’s name after mom passed. He came by earlier today; I didn’t really have a choice.”
Leslie had rarely seen Silvio looking like this. The depression he’d succumbed to after his father had denied him the possibility of going to college for six years was one thing. That was misery and surrender, but it was something.
This?
It was grey; lifeless. Defeated. It was someone who had been kicked when they were down so many times, the blows just stopped hurting.
It was unacceptable.
Her brow furrowed.
“Jesus Christ on a cracker, kid. Come in, come in.”
Picking up his meager belongings, Silvio trudged into the apartment, setting his things aside. The interior of Leslie’s apartment was comfortably hodgepodge; bookshelves with all different kinds of objects on them, house plants everywhere, and a furniture collection that seemed to have been culled across multiple decades from the Goodwill. Frumpkin, Leslie’s fat, orange tabby with his fraying whiskers and ragged ears, turned his shaggy head, regarding the visitor with disdain from his spot on the sofa. Silvio didn’t take offense, however. That was how the cat looked at everyone.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, tone hollow, each word like a pebble dropping into an empty metal pail. “I just...didn’t know where else to go.”
“Sit down,” his mentor instructed. “I’m going to get some tea started and then, hopefully, we’re going on a little road trip.”
“A road trip?” he asked, sinking into the sofa beside Frumpkin. The haughty cat purred and paced over to Silvio, settling upon the young man’s lap and nuzzling under his hand for pets. As he obliged, the boy shook his head, looking at Leslie quizzically. “Where?”
“Seattle. You need to get out of this town, Sil. There’s nothing for you here; not if you’re not going to college in the Fall. You’re just going to torture yourself about it, and you got too many fresh ghosts walking around here looking to haunt you. You need a change of scenery.” Leslie busied herself in the kitchen, putting on the kettle to heat and taking down a jar of dried green tea leaves. “I have a friend in Seattle; known her for years. She kind of specializes in cases like yours.”
“Cases like mine?” he echoed, still petting the cat.
“Young, queer, rejected by their families. You’re not exactly in a unique situation there, but the circumstances are a little different for you than they typically are for the kids she looks after. Anyway, there might be a few catches here and there, but I don’t think it’s anything you’re not equal to.”
Silvio shook his head, grimacing. “Catches? What do you mean? I know you wouldn’t put me in a bad situation--”
“She’s a drag mother.”
“Drag mother?”
“As in,” Leslie explained, “she’s the head of a drag house. She owns a place in Seattle and takes in queer kids; ones who need a place to stay and can help her and her house earn trophies.”
Blinking, Silvio took a moment to formulate his words. “Like...in drag competitions?”
“Exactly,” Leslie said with a nod. “You’ll need to help out around the house any way you can, pay what you can, and she can help get you on your feet. I can talk with some tattoo artists up there and get you some interviews for a spot in a shop, but you have to do the rest.”
Silvio’s jaw worked soundlessly before he sat back, bringing one hand to his forehead. “Listen...this is all happening really fast and--”
“Do you trust me?”
That seemed to snap him back to reality. The young man looked up at Leslie, brow knit. “Of course I do.”
“Then trust me about this,” Leslie rumbled, crossing her arms. “You need out, Sil. A clean break from Olympia. Keep in touch with me if you want to--”
“Leslie, jeez, of course I would.”
“--but I won’t be offended if you don’t,” she continued as if he hadn’t protested. “This has been an ugly chapter of your life, kid. Don’t try to say otherwise - I’ve been with you every step of the way. It’s been an ugly chapter, but it isn’t the epilogue. Take what you can from all the shit you’ve been through here, and leave the rest behind.”
The kettle went off, Leslie turning to make their tea.
“I just hope,” she said, “you still have that winged eyeliner technique down pat.”
“You told on me?” Silvio muttered, casting an exasperated look at Zach. They’d been how Artemis got in in the first place. Silvio had given the make-up artist a key to his place the last time they’d visited.
“If by ‘told on you’ you mean informed your house that you were alive, then yes!” Zacharie threw up their hands, flopping into a seat. “What’s the worst that’ll happen, I thought? Your mom might fly to Baltimore and slap you?”
“Do you even know me, beautiful?” Artemis laughed, settling into a seat nearby, fragrant cinnamon tea in one hand a slice of strawberry-topped cheesecake on a plate in the other. “As if drama wasn’t in my DNA. And anyway, I was hardly going to let this whole situation go quietly into that good night. Silvio’s make up work for the house was fantastic, and he served up some delicious university realness for his walks; cute little school boy with those cheekbones that could cut glass. Not to mention those sticky fingers of his.”
“Hey, I only ever popped some locks. Everything else was all you folks,” Silvio said, holding up a hand in protest.
“Whatever you say, baby. I won’t embarrass you by going into the details of your sordid past in front of your nice, white-picket fence, straight edge friends.”
Silvio snorted a laugh in spite of himself.
“Okay, okay, I might have lifted a few things from Nordstroms to give us the edge now and then.”
“Like anyone in this room hasn’t,” Zacharie commented, inspecting their nails.
“You’re doing well for yourself, Sil. Zacharie told me everything and...my goodness didn’t you fill out, my sweet little string bean!” Artemis ran a fingertip down Silvio’s arm with an appreciative hum. “I can forgive your terrible indiscretion of abandoning us without a word seeing as you’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a twunk and fighting half-naked for fancy belts.” She took a delicate bite of her dessert. “I mean, if I’m honest with myself, what else was I preparing you for?”
“At least she had the decency to say twunk,” Zacharie murmured, sipping their tea.
“What’s a twunk?” Zane’s voice came from the kitchen, out of sight, where the smell of roasting meat was becoming increasingly obvious.
“Oh, darling, are you straight?” Artemis queried with a grin. “Do we have a token heterosexual on our hands? How cute!”
“I don’t remember,” Zane answered honestly, coming to stand in the kitchen door frame as he ate directly from a massive bag of venison jerky.
“Even better!” Artemis laughed. “Think of the possibilities…” She gave a very obvious, teasing up-and-down glance to the mutant. “But anyway, sweetness, a twunk is a cross between a twink and a hunk.” Silvio was gestured to. “The dictionary definition sits before you.”
Zane snorted in amusement, grinning around a mouthful of dried meat. “Hnh. Silvio, you’re a twunk.”
“This feels like a mom sharing embarrassing baby photos” he said with a rueful grin.
“Now, Zach was telling me you have a little cage match coming up,” Artemis said, setting aside her snacks for a moment. “I must say, dear, your opponents are just appalling. You’ve got a man who doesn’t seem to know his shade of self-tanner just does not go with his greasy poodle hair color, another who desperately needs to find out what beard oil is, and the last one? My god, her aesthetician needs to exercise some restraint when it comes to those lips. She has to leave some Restylane for the rest of us.”
“She should probably also work on her tone,” Zacharie sighed, rolling their eyes with disdain. “Every time she speaks… it’s like… she just finished the really intensive scene in her latest porno… and she can’t catch her breath… sweetie.”
“Oh my god,” Zane muttered, swallowing a mouthful of jerky. “I never noticed until now but that’s exactly what she sounds like.”
Silvio laughed. “Honestly.”
“Isn’t this nostalgic!” Artemis said, clasping her hands together. “Us together again, having a kiki. Just like old times.”
“Yeah,” Silvio said slowly, drumming his fingers against his thigh, gears beginning to turn in his head. “It is…”
“Oh...what does my dear little Leon have on his mind?” Artemis said, watching him with a sly smile.
“Just...thinking about the promo I gotta do for this show. I have an idea.”
He looked at those assembled in the room.
“But I’m going to need everybody’s help.”
Slay On, Leon
“I appreciate you coming out here with me. I gotta admit, I’m kind of intimidated by this whole steel cage thing.”
“It’s no problem, Silvio. Honestly, I’m kinda surprised you’re really intimidated by anything they’ve thrown at you at this point.”
Silvio strolled beside Zane as they entered the Carnage arena, eyes drifting upward to the cage suspended above the ring.
“I don’t...really like being in enclosed spaces I can’t get out of.”
Ordinarily, Silvio wouldn’t have been anxious. The locks they used on the cage were nothing. A bump key or a rake pick would have been plenty to pop them; no skill at all. But this wasn’t a situation where he couldn’t bring his usual tools along with him.
His mouth twisted into a grimace.
“Bad memories.”
“... I get that… prob’ly better than anyone else.”
The Lab Rat King looked up at the hanging steel enclosure, his amber eyes drowsy but contemplative. It was a rare thing to be of sound mind outside of the privacy of Silvio’s apartment, but it was a nice change of pace to be somewhere familiar while he had a clear enough head to appreciate his surroundings. The Carnage Arena was really the closest thing he had to a home. He didn’t have much of a life these days, but this was something. It kept him going.
“I dunno how helpful my advice is,” he rumbled, his eyes still up on the cage. “But… I always thought of it as taking back something that used to scare me. When you take ownership of something that scares you shitless, make it your territory out of familiarity… that brings a unique sort of strength. You know the thing better than anyone else because it knows the worst parts of you.”
“Christ, you must have been pissed off being stuck with the Big Guy behind the wheel and having all that eloquence locked up inside for so long,” Silvio said, eyes not moving from the suspended structure.
“He lets it out in his own way. Swiftly your synchronous symphony of vile violence will ring with resonance in these cold, bloody bars. Or something.”
“Huh!” Silvio blinked, grinning. “I guess you’re right. You got a real poetic streak, y’know?”
“Do you always use compliments to distract people when you’re stalling?”
“Stupid big dad energy,” Silvio huffed, rolling his eyes. “Okay, okay. You’ve got the controls, I’ll get in the ring. Let’s do this.”
Drawing in a shivery breath, Silvio climbed into the ring, trying to control the tremor that resonated within him. It’s fine. It’s fine! Everything is controlled here. There will be people to keep you safe even if you bust your stupid head open. All of your friends are going to be there and when it’s finished, we can forget all our troubles with a big bowl of strawberry ice cream.
Just.
Don’t think about the basement.
“Okay…” he said, giving Zane a grin and a thumbs up that had all the steady surety of a unicycle with a flat tire. “Ready when you are.”
Zane picked up the remote from the nearby commentary table; he seemed to give the moment some consideration, and then, apparently making a sudden decision, he joined Silvio in the ring by climbing the apron and rolling in, clicking the remote as he climbed to his feet. He craned his head back, watching the steel enclosure descend over them both.
“You looked like you needed some big dad energy in here with you, kid.”
“Thanks,” Silvio sighed, watching the cage descend and feeling his heart rate beginning to climb.
--don’t think about the basement don’t think about the basement don’t knives think about the blood basement don’t god the screaming think about the cold struggling basement don’t think about ropes around my wrists and ankles the basement dead you died you shouldn’t be here don’t think about--
As the cage locked into place, Silvio’s breathing began to become rapid and shallow, a cold sweat filming across his forehead.
“Zane...I...uh…”
He blinked rapidly, hands instinctively patting himself down for a pick or a shim.
“I heh I changed my...my mind maybe…”
His vision started to flicker and cloud, and he began to lose sensation in his extremities, legs wobbling.
“Hey. Breathe.”
Zane’s broad hand was warm against Silvio’s upper back; he made no move to restrain or limit him, just offering physical support. His low, rumbling voice was like soothing white noise.
“Deep breaths. You’re right here, right now. The past is gone and it can’t hurt you anymore… just count. One in, two out. Your partners are with you. You’re not alone.”
Leaning against King’s hand for support, Silvio followed his guidance, trying to master himself.
I’m right here, right now.
He shook his arms out a bit, willing feeling back into them as he focused on the anchoring sound of Zane’s voice. Blinking a few times, his vision returning, he looked around, taking in the chain link walls around them. This was still their arena. This was still their ring. This is still where he’d been making a name for himself and finding new ways to connect to people. He felt the bracelet Amber had given him rattle against his wrist as he moved and smiled.
You’re not alone.
“Thanks. You’re good at that.”
“I’ve been told. I guess it’s from learning to do it for myself.”
Even with his muzzle on, Zane’s slight smile is noticeable in his eyes.
“This is your territory. You’ve been a conqueror in here. That hasn’t changed.”
Silvio nodded, even though a look of confusion flitted briefly across his features.
“Still weird thinking of myself like that.”
But he recognized the necessity of it. Especially if he wanted to do something about an itch that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“...Hey...Zane,” he said slowly, “...you challenged for the UV title. Or Big Guy did. What...motivated you to do that? Like, what was it that finally made you shoot your shot?”
For a moment, Zane looked surprised to be asked that. His brow tightened, looking down at his hands. He curled them into fists as he thought of the fight to come.
“It was mutual. We both wanted to do it… but for different reasons. The Big Guy--he just wants that belt to use it as a beacon to find the biggest, baddest bastards to fight. Me… I don’t know, exactly, but it has to do with what brought me here in the first place. This is gonna sound crazy, I guess, but…”
He shrugged, snorting slightly. “What doesn’t, coming from me… anyway. I have this feeling that getting that belt in a circuit like this--not a global phenomenon, but just something an indie enthusiast would notice--it’s gonna help me find… somebody. Somebody important. Someone I used to know is going to see me if I get that title, before the ones chasing me do.”
Silvio nodded slowly, watching him. “You mentioned before you’re looking for a specific person. Any revelations to who that might be? Anything you remember now that you get to be lucid more often?”
King looked a little helpless, his hands uncurling. “I’m not sure… all I know for sure is that it’s a ‘her’. She must’ve mattered, because getting back to ‘her’ was all I could think about for a long time. If I thought for some reason getting this title shot might get her attention… maybe that ties in somehow. Maybe I really did do this before… whatever happened to me.”
That didn’t especially narrow things down. Maybe it was Zane’s wife or significant other, but maybe it was a daughter, an aunt, a mother, a mentor. Silvio reached out, squeezing Zane’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her. We’ll figure all of this out.”
The comfort that brought him surprised the mutant. His shoulders sank a little--it was the first time he’d heard anyone tell him as much. Whether or not it was true, didn’t matter; for the first time in his present memory, he wasn’t trying to figure it out alone.
“... Thank you, Silvio. Really.”
“Least I can do,” he said, lifting his hand to gesture around the steel cage. “Thank you for helping me with all of this. I think I’ll be okay. I just...yeah, bad memories. Anyway, you wanna head back home?”
“... Yeah.” Zane sighed, rolling his shoulders. Several snaps and pops followed that seemed to relax him a little more. “Hn… this might surprise you, but I’m pretty hungry.”
“What! You?” Silvio gasped. “My delicate flower. We must feed you. I believe that side of beef you bought is still in the fridge.”
“This delicate flower has your ticket out of this box, lockpick.”
Zane held the remote directly above Silvio’s head, putting it an absolutely unfair distance out of his reach.
“Better jump for it, shorty.”
“This is worse than when you taped my phone to the ceiling,” Silvio snorted.
“Is it, though?”
“...No. God. Fine. Okay. I’ll pick you up a cheesecake on the way back if you kindly let me out of this godforsaken oversized dog kennel.”
“It’s a rat cage,” Zane said with mock offense, handing him the remote. “You plebian.”
Taking the remote and clicking it, Silvio watched the cage beginning to ascend. “Mea culpa, Rattus Rex,” he said. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders along with the chain-link structure.
He could do this. He wasn’t going to let his team down.
The trip back home was uneventful aside from the acquisition of cheesecake, although Silvio froze when they came to the front door.
“Someone’s here,” he murmured, eyes narrowing. He could hear movement inside; someone walking around with hard-soled shoes that clicked against the wooden floors. Dumb. Amateur thief? Someone looking to intimidate him from the roster? Attack him? He wouldn’t put it past the Wild Cards what with everything Knox had related to him about Kat’s little visit. His hand eased into his jacket pocket, fingers curling around a key chain-sized canister of pepper spray. Didn’t look like there’d been any forced entry, and he’d only given keys to his place to a select group of people, none of whom would be here at this hour. He closed his fingers around the doorknob, moving slowly as he tested it.
Unlocked.
There was a tiny twinge of injured pride at that. He’d done what he could to make his place hard to break into and here someone was practically tap dancing in his kitchen. That was incongruous. No burglar good enough to pick the locks Silvio had installed would be stupid enough to wear noisy shoes.
All this flashed through his mind in a quick succession; cards being shuffled. He glanced at Zane and signaled for him to step back.
“Be ready to fly or fight,” he whispered.
Zane, surprised but apparently unconcerned, merely cocked his head and rolled his shoulders, as if to say ‘fight, obviously’; he kept close, ready to throw out anyone who had the nerve to set foot in here without permission.
Silvio drew in a deep breath through the nose, then exhaled again through his mouth, throwing the door open and bringing his pepper spray up defensively.
He expected a stranger; maybe some jackass from the roster trying to spook him. What he got, however, was none of these.
“...Mom?”
*SLAP*
“OWUH!”
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, dressed in a voluminous cream-colored blouse with long, black gloves, fitted slacks, and black knee-high boots was a statuesque woman Zane had never met before. Her sandy-colored skin was flawless, as was her make-up; blonde hair teased into a regal bouffant that brought to mind the crests of exotic tropical birds.
As Silvio rubbed his smarting cheek, there was a gasp and the sound of a second person hurrying over from the living room. Zacharie DuBois, dressed down today in an oversized, glittery pink sweater and black leggings, shuffled into view, one perfectly manicured hand brought to their glossy peach lips in shock.
“Silvio Mateo Leon!” the first woman declared, pointing at him. “Of all my children, I never expected this kind of behavior from you!”
“Mateo?” Zane’s unflinching rumble came from behind the altercation. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with Mateo?” he said, trying to dull the ache in his face.
“Well!” the regal woman said, shifting her gaze to Zane. “Hello, tall, dark, and rumbly. Silvio, darling, tell me you haven’t forgotten all of your manners. Won’t you introduce me to your herculean friend here?”
“I’m more of a Hephaestus, honestly,” King muttered, scratching his opposite shoulder.
“And so cultured!” she laughed musically. “Now I really must know him.”
Sighing, Silvio turned and gestured to the woman, a red hand print florid on his cheek. “Zane,” he said, “allow me to introduce you to Artemis Direction. My drag mother.”
“What happened?”
Leslie stood in the doorway of her apartment, looking out into the hallway at the weary-eyed youth standing before her, a backpack and garbage bag that appeared to be full of clothing on the floor to the left and right of him.
“I got kicked out,” Silvio sighed.
“Of the trailer?” Leslie said, raising a brow.
Silvio nodded, rubbing his forehead. “Apparently it transferred to my step-dad’s name after mom passed. He came by earlier today; I didn’t really have a choice.”
Leslie had rarely seen Silvio looking like this. The depression he’d succumbed to after his father had denied him the possibility of going to college for six years was one thing. That was misery and surrender, but it was something.
This?
It was grey; lifeless. Defeated. It was someone who had been kicked when they were down so many times, the blows just stopped hurting.
It was unacceptable.
Her brow furrowed.
“Jesus Christ on a cracker, kid. Come in, come in.”
Picking up his meager belongings, Silvio trudged into the apartment, setting his things aside. The interior of Leslie’s apartment was comfortably hodgepodge; bookshelves with all different kinds of objects on them, house plants everywhere, and a furniture collection that seemed to have been culled across multiple decades from the Goodwill. Frumpkin, Leslie’s fat, orange tabby with his fraying whiskers and ragged ears, turned his shaggy head, regarding the visitor with disdain from his spot on the sofa. Silvio didn’t take offense, however. That was how the cat looked at everyone.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, tone hollow, each word like a pebble dropping into an empty metal pail. “I just...didn’t know where else to go.”
“Sit down,” his mentor instructed. “I’m going to get some tea started and then, hopefully, we’re going on a little road trip.”
“A road trip?” he asked, sinking into the sofa beside Frumpkin. The haughty cat purred and paced over to Silvio, settling upon the young man’s lap and nuzzling under his hand for pets. As he obliged, the boy shook his head, looking at Leslie quizzically. “Where?”
“Seattle. You need to get out of this town, Sil. There’s nothing for you here; not if you’re not going to college in the Fall. You’re just going to torture yourself about it, and you got too many fresh ghosts walking around here looking to haunt you. You need a change of scenery.” Leslie busied herself in the kitchen, putting on the kettle to heat and taking down a jar of dried green tea leaves. “I have a friend in Seattle; known her for years. She kind of specializes in cases like yours.”
“Cases like mine?” he echoed, still petting the cat.
“Young, queer, rejected by their families. You’re not exactly in a unique situation there, but the circumstances are a little different for you than they typically are for the kids she looks after. Anyway, there might be a few catches here and there, but I don’t think it’s anything you’re not equal to.”
Silvio shook his head, grimacing. “Catches? What do you mean? I know you wouldn’t put me in a bad situation--”
“She’s a drag mother.”
“Drag mother?”
“As in,” Leslie explained, “she’s the head of a drag house. She owns a place in Seattle and takes in queer kids; ones who need a place to stay and can help her and her house earn trophies.”
Blinking, Silvio took a moment to formulate his words. “Like...in drag competitions?”
“Exactly,” Leslie said with a nod. “You’ll need to help out around the house any way you can, pay what you can, and she can help get you on your feet. I can talk with some tattoo artists up there and get you some interviews for a spot in a shop, but you have to do the rest.”
Silvio’s jaw worked soundlessly before he sat back, bringing one hand to his forehead. “Listen...this is all happening really fast and--”
“Do you trust me?”
That seemed to snap him back to reality. The young man looked up at Leslie, brow knit. “Of course I do.”
“Then trust me about this,” Leslie rumbled, crossing her arms. “You need out, Sil. A clean break from Olympia. Keep in touch with me if you want to--”
“Leslie, jeez, of course I would.”
“--but I won’t be offended if you don’t,” she continued as if he hadn’t protested. “This has been an ugly chapter of your life, kid. Don’t try to say otherwise - I’ve been with you every step of the way. It’s been an ugly chapter, but it isn’t the epilogue. Take what you can from all the shit you’ve been through here, and leave the rest behind.”
The kettle went off, Leslie turning to make their tea.
“I just hope,” she said, “you still have that winged eyeliner technique down pat.”
“You told on me?” Silvio muttered, casting an exasperated look at Zach. They’d been how Artemis got in in the first place. Silvio had given the make-up artist a key to his place the last time they’d visited.
“If by ‘told on you’ you mean informed your house that you were alive, then yes!” Zacharie threw up their hands, flopping into a seat. “What’s the worst that’ll happen, I thought? Your mom might fly to Baltimore and slap you?”
“Do you even know me, beautiful?” Artemis laughed, settling into a seat nearby, fragrant cinnamon tea in one hand a slice of strawberry-topped cheesecake on a plate in the other. “As if drama wasn’t in my DNA. And anyway, I was hardly going to let this whole situation go quietly into that good night. Silvio’s make up work for the house was fantastic, and he served up some delicious university realness for his walks; cute little school boy with those cheekbones that could cut glass. Not to mention those sticky fingers of his.”
“Hey, I only ever popped some locks. Everything else was all you folks,” Silvio said, holding up a hand in protest.
“Whatever you say, baby. I won’t embarrass you by going into the details of your sordid past in front of your nice, white-picket fence, straight edge friends.”
Silvio snorted a laugh in spite of himself.
“Okay, okay, I might have lifted a few things from Nordstroms to give us the edge now and then.”
“Like anyone in this room hasn’t,” Zacharie commented, inspecting their nails.
“You’re doing well for yourself, Sil. Zacharie told me everything and...my goodness didn’t you fill out, my sweet little string bean!” Artemis ran a fingertip down Silvio’s arm with an appreciative hum. “I can forgive your terrible indiscretion of abandoning us without a word seeing as you’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a twunk and fighting half-naked for fancy belts.” She took a delicate bite of her dessert. “I mean, if I’m honest with myself, what else was I preparing you for?”
“At least she had the decency to say twunk,” Zacharie murmured, sipping their tea.
“What’s a twunk?” Zane’s voice came from the kitchen, out of sight, where the smell of roasting meat was becoming increasingly obvious.
“Oh, darling, are you straight?” Artemis queried with a grin. “Do we have a token heterosexual on our hands? How cute!”
“I don’t remember,” Zane answered honestly, coming to stand in the kitchen door frame as he ate directly from a massive bag of venison jerky.
“Even better!” Artemis laughed. “Think of the possibilities…” She gave a very obvious, teasing up-and-down glance to the mutant. “But anyway, sweetness, a twunk is a cross between a twink and a hunk.” Silvio was gestured to. “The dictionary definition sits before you.”
Zane snorted in amusement, grinning around a mouthful of dried meat. “Hnh. Silvio, you’re a twunk.”
“This feels like a mom sharing embarrassing baby photos” he said with a rueful grin.
“Now, Zach was telling me you have a little cage match coming up,” Artemis said, setting aside her snacks for a moment. “I must say, dear, your opponents are just appalling. You’ve got a man who doesn’t seem to know his shade of self-tanner just does not go with his greasy poodle hair color, another who desperately needs to find out what beard oil is, and the last one? My god, her aesthetician needs to exercise some restraint when it comes to those lips. She has to leave some Restylane for the rest of us.”
“She should probably also work on her tone,” Zacharie sighed, rolling their eyes with disdain. “Every time she speaks… it’s like… she just finished the really intensive scene in her latest porno… and she can’t catch her breath… sweetie.”
“Oh my god,” Zane muttered, swallowing a mouthful of jerky. “I never noticed until now but that’s exactly what she sounds like.”
Silvio laughed. “Honestly.”
“Isn’t this nostalgic!” Artemis said, clasping her hands together. “Us together again, having a kiki. Just like old times.”
“Yeah,” Silvio said slowly, drumming his fingers against his thigh, gears beginning to turn in his head. “It is…”
“Oh...what does my dear little Leon have on his mind?” Artemis said, watching him with a sly smile.
“Just...thinking about the promo I gotta do for this show. I have an idea.”
He looked at those assembled in the room.
“But I’m going to need everybody’s help.”