Post by mystifyingoracle on Dec 19, 2020 23:43:05 GMT -5
OOC: Thank you to Lab Rat King for the collab!
“Zane! Holy shit, man, are you okay?!”
Upon seeing the big man emerging from the car parked out front of his shop, Silvio all but burst through the front door. His aching muscles kept him from bounding down the stairs, but he was straining in his effort to get a better look at his erstwhile roommate, leaning as far out as he could from the balcony.
He had to be in there still. He couldn’t be gone. If it was just the Big Guy left, there’s no way he would have made it here in a car. Maybe on a car, but not in one.
King looked from the car up to the stairs; thankfully, for Silvio’s sake, the recognition was instant and clear. Those eyes weren’t the wild glare of the monster that had set his teeth into the Ultraviolent Championship belt; they were thoughtful and soft… and more than a little guilty.
“Hey,” he called up, making his way up the stairs to the landing. “Yeah… I’m alright. Sorry if my note worried you…”
Silvio immediately threw his arms around King before drawing back and shaking his head, holding his hands up.
“Sorry, sorry-! I should have asked. I just...I was so fucking worried. I was so scared because I couldn’t do anything. If I came to you before the match, you’d have either been gone or I would have ruined your plan. I had no way of checking on you. I...God, Zane, I’m just so glad you’re alright. After...after everything…”
He winced, shaking his head.
“Listen, I know it’s...technically not my business, but Mitch told me about your lungs. I didn’t know if...that might have made things even worse…”
His feelings about the new Ultraviolent Champion were a complicated knot of hurt, distress, and confusion, but right now the only thing that really had hold of him was relief; gratitude that his friend was still there.
King, still a bit shocked from the hug, only seemed to look more guilty as Silvio spoke. He averted his eyes, shoulders curled inward in such a way that he looked like an embarrassed gargoyle.
“No, it's… I owe you half a dozen apologies, I think. I'm really grateful you gave me the time I asked for, because it ended up working out…” He grimaced. “About my health… I just didn't want to give you something else to worry about. I should've told you sooner, you didn’t have to hear it from Mitch... and then there's…”
He looked back toward the car.
“... She told me my name is Kane, actually. I must've misremembered it from my patient ID in the place I came from… I remember a lot more about that now.”
Silvio nodded, following his gaze to the car and giving him a small smile. “I saw. I couldn’t hear anything, but I kinda read between the lines enough to figure it out. Congratulations, man. I’m glad she finally found you.” He raised a brow. “Does she...wanna come up, or..? Are you guys headed out?” Now that he’d found his wife, Silvio wouldn’t have blamed Kane in the least if he decided to leave Baltimore for wherever it was he had previously called home. Then again, he had just won one of Carnage’s most coveted prizes.
“We’re staying,” Kane was quick to mention, looking back to Silvio. “I’d like to go back to Oregon, but… I don’t think it’s a good time. At least, not yet. Carnage is the closest thing I know to a home right now, and… the belt means I can help to support my kid.”
For a moment, the tattoo artist just stared at his friend.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I think I have something crazy in my ear. Did...you just say you have a kid?”
King nodded with a mix of humour and terror in his expression.
“News to me, too. Is it ok if we head up to talk? Grace wanted to meet you… since, you know. You sorta kept me off the streets for several months.”
Letting out a delirious little laugh, Silvio nodded. “Yeah! Jeez, yeah, of course. Come on; introduce me to the missus.”
Cracking a nervous smile, King nodded once more before heading back down to the car, getting the door for his wife.
As Grace stepped into the warm apartment, recently decked out for Christmas and smelling of pine and cinnamon, she smiled.
“Cozy place,” she said.
“Thanks!” Silvio replied with a crooked smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. You’ve been the lighthouse while Kane’s been lost at sea.”
“And you’ve been the one keeping him from winding up in prison, so you have my eternal gratitude,” she replied. Extending a hand, she continued, “I’m Grace King.”
“Silvio Leon,” he said, shaking her hand. “Did you guys want anything to eat or drink?”
“When am I not hungry?” Kane joked, managing a crooked smile.
“Fair point.”
As the trio put together a small meal of leftovers and snacks and had a seat in the kitchen, Silvio tapped his fingertips against the tabletop.
“So, whoever did this to you like...faked your death and covered up kidnapping you?” the artist asked, leaning back in his chair.
“More or less.”
Kane took a deep drink of water, setting the glass down with a sigh.
“Everyone I used to know thinks I'm dead… Except Grace. Which explains why she's the only one who tried to find me.”
“I got lucky. If Kane hadn’t been featured on that poster, it might have taken me a lot longer,” Grace said.
Silvio nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can understand why you don’t want to go to a hospital or anything,” he said, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. “But we need to get you some help.”
“That’s what I said,” Grace sighed. “But how?”
For a moment, Silvio grimaced. “...Well, I’m not saying it’s a guarantee,” he started slowly. “But...I might...know...a guy.” The words came out as if they were splinters being pulled out of an especially delicate body part.
Kane was silent for a moment, curling his printless fingers against the tabletop.
“A guy,” he repeated, eyes meeting Silvio’s. “A guy who doesn’t leave paper trails?”
“Yyyeah,” the artist confirmed, averting his eyes. “I...like I said, I can’t for sure say he’d help out, but...I mean, if that’s what you need...I can give him a call.”
Grace glanced at Silvio, then her husband.
“If you’re alright with that,” she said to him, “then I can help financially with anything he might need; transportation or supplies. But it’s your call, Kane.”
Exhaling through his nose, the mutant only seemed to give it a moment of consideration before he nodded.
“Well… the alternative is just taking my chances, so… this guy might be my best bet right now. Something is better than nothing.” Avoiding eye contact with both, he added, “the incidents with my lungs are getting closer together. If we don’t try something, I won’t have any choice but to go to a hospital… and the Big Guy isn’t gonna like that.”
Nodding, Silvio got to his feet and took his phone out of his pocket.
“I’ll be back in a sec. If you two are still hungry, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen.”
With that, he stepped onto the landing just outside the door and scrolled through his contacts.
He really hadn’t expected to talk with Ernest again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, it was just that the company he was obligated to keep was fucking terrifying. Resisting the urge to cross himself beforehand, Silvio tapped the ‘call,’ button and waited, hope and fear twisting through him in equal measure.
After the third ring, a voice roughened by stress and age came through on the other end.
“Stitch In Time Tailor’s. Alterations are currently by appointment only.”
“Heyyyy, Ernest! Long time no talk. This is Silvio. We, uh...kinda worked together for a tiny bit there back in Seattle?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a long, belaboured sigh. One could feel the pinching of the nose bridge by the tone alone.
“Damn, kid. You must have a good reason for callin’ me if it’s after all this time.”
“Yeah, I uh...listen. Before I go any further with anything...you’re...alone right now, yeah? Nobody listening in on this?” Silvio asked, involuntarily glancing around as if to make sure he was alone. “Nobody needing to know you’re talking with me?”
There was a quiet groan before the Chicagan on the line answered.
“Yeah, the shop’s dead right now. I’m gonna take this call to the back room just in case. What’d you do now, Leon?”
“Nothing!” Silvio said defensively. “I just have a friend who needs a hand, but...it needs to be discrete. You’re the only person I know of that could do this for him. I wouldn’t be calling otherwise. No offense - you were always the sanest person to hang out with in that bunch and I enjoyed your company. It’s just...y’know. Dorian, Sam, and Snow scare the ever-loving piss out of me.”
“None taken. Perfectly normal assessment of the fuckin’ circus.”
There was a pause, Ernest’s tone coming back curious.
“Am I gonna have to make a house call? Where the hell are ya these days? Thought you went to California last I heard.”
Silvio felt relief wash over him. “I’m in Baltimore. Don’t worry about paying for transportation or supplies. Just let me know what you need and I’ll get everything together.”
“Jesus tap-dancin’ Christ on a pike.”
Another pause.
“Alright. I can be ready to leave tomorrow mornin’. This ain’t a case of somebody dyin’ overnight, yeah?”
“No, no. I mean...I don’t think so? I don’t anticipate that being the case. But it’s a pretty unique situation. Aside from the whole, ‘not leaving a paper trail,’ thing. Just tell me know how you’d like to travel and I’ll get the whole thing in order.” The Oracle made a face and bit his lower lip. “This can just be between us, right? Nobody else needs to know about this. Otherwise, I don’t...I really don’t want to be roped back into things if I can avoid it. I’d like to keep it at, ‘one and done.’ Especially now.”
“You and me both, kid. I haven’t heard from those people in over a year and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Thank you,” Silvio sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You can text this number with a list of whatever you need. I’ll get you set up in a hotel here. Thank you again for doing this. I’ll toss in some tattoo work if you ever feel so inclined.”
At that there was a chuckle, and the sound of something being poured into a glass on the other end.
“I might finally take you up on that. Get those shears I always wanted on my forearm.”
“...Hey, anytime. You...uh...sorry if this is stressing you out that bad,” he said, noting the noise of a drink being poured.
“Don't worry about it, Leon. You're a good kid--I'm plenty happy to do good by the good for a change.”
“I appreciate it. You’re…”
He laughed.
“You’re not gonna believe what I’m doing these days.”
“Zane! Holy shit, man, are you okay?!”
Upon seeing the big man emerging from the car parked out front of his shop, Silvio all but burst through the front door. His aching muscles kept him from bounding down the stairs, but he was straining in his effort to get a better look at his erstwhile roommate, leaning as far out as he could from the balcony.
He had to be in there still. He couldn’t be gone. If it was just the Big Guy left, there’s no way he would have made it here in a car. Maybe on a car, but not in one.
King looked from the car up to the stairs; thankfully, for Silvio’s sake, the recognition was instant and clear. Those eyes weren’t the wild glare of the monster that had set his teeth into the Ultraviolent Championship belt; they were thoughtful and soft… and more than a little guilty.
“Hey,” he called up, making his way up the stairs to the landing. “Yeah… I’m alright. Sorry if my note worried you…”
Silvio immediately threw his arms around King before drawing back and shaking his head, holding his hands up.
“Sorry, sorry-! I should have asked. I just...I was so fucking worried. I was so scared because I couldn’t do anything. If I came to you before the match, you’d have either been gone or I would have ruined your plan. I had no way of checking on you. I...God, Zane, I’m just so glad you’re alright. After...after everything…”
He winced, shaking his head.
“Listen, I know it’s...technically not my business, but Mitch told me about your lungs. I didn’t know if...that might have made things even worse…”
His feelings about the new Ultraviolent Champion were a complicated knot of hurt, distress, and confusion, but right now the only thing that really had hold of him was relief; gratitude that his friend was still there.
King, still a bit shocked from the hug, only seemed to look more guilty as Silvio spoke. He averted his eyes, shoulders curled inward in such a way that he looked like an embarrassed gargoyle.
“No, it's… I owe you half a dozen apologies, I think. I'm really grateful you gave me the time I asked for, because it ended up working out…” He grimaced. “About my health… I just didn't want to give you something else to worry about. I should've told you sooner, you didn’t have to hear it from Mitch... and then there's…”
He looked back toward the car.
“... She told me my name is Kane, actually. I must've misremembered it from my patient ID in the place I came from… I remember a lot more about that now.”
Silvio nodded, following his gaze to the car and giving him a small smile. “I saw. I couldn’t hear anything, but I kinda read between the lines enough to figure it out. Congratulations, man. I’m glad she finally found you.” He raised a brow. “Does she...wanna come up, or..? Are you guys headed out?” Now that he’d found his wife, Silvio wouldn’t have blamed Kane in the least if he decided to leave Baltimore for wherever it was he had previously called home. Then again, he had just won one of Carnage’s most coveted prizes.
“We’re staying,” Kane was quick to mention, looking back to Silvio. “I’d like to go back to Oregon, but… I don’t think it’s a good time. At least, not yet. Carnage is the closest thing I know to a home right now, and… the belt means I can help to support my kid.”
For a moment, the tattoo artist just stared at his friend.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I think I have something crazy in my ear. Did...you just say you have a kid?”
King nodded with a mix of humour and terror in his expression.
“News to me, too. Is it ok if we head up to talk? Grace wanted to meet you… since, you know. You sorta kept me off the streets for several months.”
Letting out a delirious little laugh, Silvio nodded. “Yeah! Jeez, yeah, of course. Come on; introduce me to the missus.”
Cracking a nervous smile, King nodded once more before heading back down to the car, getting the door for his wife.
As Grace stepped into the warm apartment, recently decked out for Christmas and smelling of pine and cinnamon, she smiled.
“Cozy place,” she said.
“Thanks!” Silvio replied with a crooked smile. “It’s an honor to meet you. You’ve been the lighthouse while Kane’s been lost at sea.”
“And you’ve been the one keeping him from winding up in prison, so you have my eternal gratitude,” she replied. Extending a hand, she continued, “I’m Grace King.”
“Silvio Leon,” he said, shaking her hand. “Did you guys want anything to eat or drink?”
“When am I not hungry?” Kane joked, managing a crooked smile.
“Fair point.”
As the trio put together a small meal of leftovers and snacks and had a seat in the kitchen, Silvio tapped his fingertips against the tabletop.
“So, whoever did this to you like...faked your death and covered up kidnapping you?” the artist asked, leaning back in his chair.
“More or less.”
Kane took a deep drink of water, setting the glass down with a sigh.
“Everyone I used to know thinks I'm dead… Except Grace. Which explains why she's the only one who tried to find me.”
“I got lucky. If Kane hadn’t been featured on that poster, it might have taken me a lot longer,” Grace said.
Silvio nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can understand why you don’t want to go to a hospital or anything,” he said, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. “But we need to get you some help.”
“That’s what I said,” Grace sighed. “But how?”
For a moment, Silvio grimaced. “...Well, I’m not saying it’s a guarantee,” he started slowly. “But...I might...know...a guy.” The words came out as if they were splinters being pulled out of an especially delicate body part.
Kane was silent for a moment, curling his printless fingers against the tabletop.
“A guy,” he repeated, eyes meeting Silvio’s. “A guy who doesn’t leave paper trails?”
“Yyyeah,” the artist confirmed, averting his eyes. “I...like I said, I can’t for sure say he’d help out, but...I mean, if that’s what you need...I can give him a call.”
Grace glanced at Silvio, then her husband.
“If you’re alright with that,” she said to him, “then I can help financially with anything he might need; transportation or supplies. But it’s your call, Kane.”
Exhaling through his nose, the mutant only seemed to give it a moment of consideration before he nodded.
“Well… the alternative is just taking my chances, so… this guy might be my best bet right now. Something is better than nothing.” Avoiding eye contact with both, he added, “the incidents with my lungs are getting closer together. If we don’t try something, I won’t have any choice but to go to a hospital… and the Big Guy isn’t gonna like that.”
Nodding, Silvio got to his feet and took his phone out of his pocket.
“I’ll be back in a sec. If you two are still hungry, help yourselves to anything in the kitchen.”
With that, he stepped onto the landing just outside the door and scrolled through his contacts.
He really hadn’t expected to talk with Ernest again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, it was just that the company he was obligated to keep was fucking terrifying. Resisting the urge to cross himself beforehand, Silvio tapped the ‘call,’ button and waited, hope and fear twisting through him in equal measure.
After the third ring, a voice roughened by stress and age came through on the other end.
“Stitch In Time Tailor’s. Alterations are currently by appointment only.”
“Heyyyy, Ernest! Long time no talk. This is Silvio. We, uh...kinda worked together for a tiny bit there back in Seattle?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a long, belaboured sigh. One could feel the pinching of the nose bridge by the tone alone.
“Damn, kid. You must have a good reason for callin’ me if it’s after all this time.”
“Yeah, I uh...listen. Before I go any further with anything...you’re...alone right now, yeah? Nobody listening in on this?” Silvio asked, involuntarily glancing around as if to make sure he was alone. “Nobody needing to know you’re talking with me?”
There was a quiet groan before the Chicagan on the line answered.
“Yeah, the shop’s dead right now. I’m gonna take this call to the back room just in case. What’d you do now, Leon?”
“Nothing!” Silvio said defensively. “I just have a friend who needs a hand, but...it needs to be discrete. You’re the only person I know of that could do this for him. I wouldn’t be calling otherwise. No offense - you were always the sanest person to hang out with in that bunch and I enjoyed your company. It’s just...y’know. Dorian, Sam, and Snow scare the ever-loving piss out of me.”
“None taken. Perfectly normal assessment of the fuckin’ circus.”
There was a pause, Ernest’s tone coming back curious.
“Am I gonna have to make a house call? Where the hell are ya these days? Thought you went to California last I heard.”
Silvio felt relief wash over him. “I’m in Baltimore. Don’t worry about paying for transportation or supplies. Just let me know what you need and I’ll get everything together.”
“Jesus tap-dancin’ Christ on a pike.”
Another pause.
“Alright. I can be ready to leave tomorrow mornin’. This ain’t a case of somebody dyin’ overnight, yeah?”
“No, no. I mean...I don’t think so? I don’t anticipate that being the case. But it’s a pretty unique situation. Aside from the whole, ‘not leaving a paper trail,’ thing. Just tell me know how you’d like to travel and I’ll get the whole thing in order.” The Oracle made a face and bit his lower lip. “This can just be between us, right? Nobody else needs to know about this. Otherwise, I don’t...I really don’t want to be roped back into things if I can avoid it. I’d like to keep it at, ‘one and done.’ Especially now.”
“You and me both, kid. I haven’t heard from those people in over a year and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Thank you,” Silvio sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You can text this number with a list of whatever you need. I’ll get you set up in a hotel here. Thank you again for doing this. I’ll toss in some tattoo work if you ever feel so inclined.”
At that there was a chuckle, and the sound of something being poured into a glass on the other end.
“I might finally take you up on that. Get those shears I always wanted on my forearm.”
“...Hey, anytime. You...uh...sorry if this is stressing you out that bad,” he said, noting the noise of a drink being poured.
“Don't worry about it, Leon. You're a good kid--I'm plenty happy to do good by the good for a change.”
“I appreciate it. You’re…”
He laughed.
“You’re not gonna believe what I’m doing these days.”