Paresthesia Pt. 12

And he gave her two. Such a gentleman. Some of the torn tendons slot back into place with a slick crack, the muscles knit together and the forming purple bruise decides that it better make itself scarce, all while he was under the sweet embrace of the little death. Not even a chipped tooth afterwards.

"Will give you this," she sighed, "You are hard to put down. Very hard. Like a dog that you got for a Christmas present, but don't want by the time you get to your other toys."

"Tombstone," he growled with ashes to ashes and dust to dust in his throat.

"Two things. One, no fun little carpet to make it worse. And two, you'll have to catch me first. So good luck with that."

---

I do not like snakes. In this particular context. My recent past has seen me grow a rather deep fondness for the reptile, but not now. Not when its head is the size of a car and the whole subway style body is trying to crush me. They can drape over my shoulders, crawl up my body, seek warmth in my shirt and pull-down Riot's top so I can see her breasts, but this is a bit too much. And they smell kind of weird.

Riot's doing her best to break me free with rolling thunder and hammer fists, but the snake, the pure length of tense muscle doesn't seem to mind. I can feel her try and shatter something in the beast, but she can't. The other snakes are also probably kind of a hinderance. They would be for me.

"Mizuchi," I whisper to the length of scales in front of my face, "Please. I thought we had something going on. Working past all our differences. I'm sorry I hit you. You didn't deserve that. You were only doing what a good boy does. I understand that now. Just, please, let me go. I'll give you a mouse or a rat or a hamster or something."

My pleas fall on deaf ears. I do not think snakes have ears anyway. But I tried. And I keep trying. I am wriggling and struggling and pushing against whatever mass of scale and muscle I can find. It does not work.

"Riot," I shout, "Are you doing all right out there?"

I don't get an answer, but my prison moves and slides and I now have a window. She punches another snake in the nose while another tries to go up from behind her.

"6 o'clock!" I yell through the scales.

She twirls and fails and fortunately catches the other on the chin. I think that's Azure trying his bit at all this. That one was all sparkly and shiny, almost glitching the reality like my vision is just sliding over it while the brain refuses to acknowledge that it is there. I wriggle some more and I finally get my head free of the serpent's loving embrace. That and an arm. So, really, I'm doing alright. Much better than I thought I would. I reach up and pat a flank with fondness. The glimpsed head flicks its tongue in response. I do not pat it again. Riot rushes back over, toppling a desk to reach for my hand.

My captor tries to stop her, but it gets a fist and a thunder boom to the snoot and now it realizes that I am the pulled punch in all this. A slight gnat that can be swatted away with just an errant hand. But my distress has pulled down the apex predator, a beast so powerful, nothing on the face of the earth can stop it. And said beast is currently pummeling its flank instead of grabbing my outstretched hand. I don't like the beast's plan, mainly because I am being punched, just one degree removed. It hurts. It hurts to be punched like this.

"Just take my arm," I scream. Riot punches the snake two more times and finally grasps my hand.

A yank and a heave have my torso out in the open and my other arm. Pants and legs are in a bit more trouble, but now I can really help. She punches the one holding me still again and I pat the side affectionately. I mean well, but sometimes that simply isn't enough. Hips free and I realize that it is time for something drastic.

I let go. I let go of her hand and dig in my pockets, praying that everything is still safe and constructed. Serpentor might know this particular gambit, but Azure sure as hell doesn't, judging by his confusion over the small red vial.

She takes the hint and downs it in one, clean, no coughing, no grimacing, just right down to the stomach.

I keep wriggling. My hips slipped back in and now I am trapped completely once more. I start punching the snake. Nice guy didn't work, so I have to resort to violence against my better judgment. I hope Mizuchi will forgive me. He hasn't done anything wrong to anyone ever. He is a good snake and I hope he will find joy once again sometime soon.

Riot certainly has. The other twin snakes are beelining right towards her. The blood hit her hard, woozy wobbly stumbly hard. A hiss that's more of a roar slithers up from the maw before it falls silent with an errant hand. The mouth is still open and the throat is still singing, but there is no noise. Riot laughs and it mixes the snake hiss in in the valleys of her manic high.

"Fun fact that I learned recently," she says with her voice doubled and echoed and reversed and reverbed, "You used to be Ms. Sliggles."

And Serpentor blushes. I didn't know she could do that either. I am learning so much about everyone today. The snakes continue to circle, waiting for the command to strike. It does not come.

"Now, now boys and girls," Serpentor says with sugar and honey and ice thin crystal, a hand coming up with fingers clasped and a gentle writhe, "You're being very naughty right now. Remember, silent snake, silent snake, and you get to have your choice of which fun little wriggle puppy to play with later."

"Azure," I shout, "Buddy, you've been kind of quiet through all this. Got anything to say? Something about foul alchemy tainting the blood and corrupting maidenheads or something? Cause I think three giant snakes and a magic potion is pretty sword and sorcery. Right up your alley."

"He's hiding, Beat," Riot whispers in my skull and yells from across the room, "Slipped into the veil of unseen things. Cause he's kind of a pussy when it comes down to it. But that's ok. I'm a coward too. If I saw me like this, I'd run and hide and let the grownups deal with it."

"Silence, you whore," shouts the air, "I am not- "

A crack of thunder appeared with a wave of her hand and the invisible thing went still. Shimmer glimmer shine across the tile, and there was a bedazzled monstrosity of sequins and stripes and polka dots on the slumped over a desk.

"I can see you too, Serpentor," says the legion in one, "I can see your heartbeat. It's going so fast. Thumpthumpthump just like that."

"Beat, dear," Serpentor says, "I've been meaning to ask. What are you wearing? There's something red and lacey you're hiding from me. And Riot's new jacket makes me think you went shopping. That place by the library if I had to guess."

"Actually, it was in Upper Waters," I say, "You might get something if you beat her like this. But I doubt it."

"Oh, don't be so sure. I have some tricks up my sleeve. But I also have a very nice tongue and I'm going to eat Riot out like a good girl and then she'll pat my head. Then I'll blow you."

Riot twirls the orb of frozen shockwave in her palm and the voice kept playing after the mouth stopped moving.

"Beat," Riot says, "This is fun. I need to do this all the time."

"Kick her ass and I'll see what I can do."

That's all she needs. That's all she needs to slip through the last bit of reason and shatter the world around her. I see the panes crack on her walk, the stolen serpent hisses gliding along her feet. Their rightful owners are scared, so scared of her now, with the quake coming at each step. They can feel it, and the tug in their little peanut brains that says Serpentor is something to be obeyed and loved and cherished cannot win out. There is a monster in the room and it controls sound, vibration, the pluck of the strings that make reality.

The steps break and I am rendered deaf. I have the ringing, the high whine, and that is it. The snake above me falls limp. Not the best aim, but it's at least shrinking. I can manage a struggling crawl and a slight shift of Mizuchi's bulk. Poor boy needs a nap.

The punches, I can feel them. I am standing in front of a wall of sound, even as I lay my belly to the floor. Shards and splinters, I am moving through shards and splinters of the world, feeling it rend in half from sheer brutal distortion. Something impact against the floor and I actually jump from the tectonic wave. I can't hear. I don't want to hear. I don't even want to take a hand up to my head and see if my ears are bleeding. They are. I don't care.

Riot breaks the world and all the tricks, all the little bits of experience cannot stop her from a punch to the temple and a floored Serpentor. The snakes follow soon after, each getting a quick jab and a cannon overture to lull them down to sleep. It's breathtaking. It's intoxicating. The soft rustle of her clothes turns to a rushing gale. The gentle clatter of the studs turns to a chorus of church bells. She stands, frozen in a perfect sphere of detonation, stalled by her will and made to heel at a flick of her wrist. Eye of the storm and it looks to me with ice blue eyes and a smile that goes ear to ear and back again.

She finally helps me up and I dust myself off, picking a few errant scales from my shoulders. Those things shed worse than dogs, apparently. I poke at the wall of frozen force, piercing it and letting it ripple.

"So," I say, "You up for breaking more stuff while you're like this?"

---

The Doppel sighed. Still no link and now his coffee was empty. Seemed a bit too much to ask for another at the moment. He was pretty sure the barista left anyway. Good. Being in a riot wasn't really worth minimum wage. Standing behind a counter and making coffee really wasn't either. Very few things were, now that he thought about it. Probably should buy some cafes and see what he could do. He stopped the thought from entering the pool. Did not need debating right now. Always such a headache, the back and forth of firsthand impressions and second thoughts. Terrible, simply terrible.

And beautiful. But that thought didn't need to go to the whole collective either. He had his little hidey hole in the café and that was fine. The crowd was getting into. Someone started a 'fight forever' chant and that echoed up the skyscrapers to their peaks. Someone would try a wave at some point, but those never went on very long. A beer snake, though, that could be fun, if they had the materials. The coffee cups could work. Something to ponder. Not by the group. He really needed to work on the whole thought process of blocking and letting in. Not now later.

The flanks were still holding, although the Troubles had a clear victory in the cards. If only they had not stopped their assault to form a ring around Violence and Deadman. And they were betting. Even some of the Thumbs were in the mix, forgoing all attempts at being civil symbols of law and order. Betting men, each and every one. Money changing hands, completely unaware if the outcome was preplanned or not. Who knew? Not the Doppels. That particular curtain had not been called.

Alizarin was lost to the city. The explosion she caused with the million-car pileup had shattered the looking glass and left them all blind. The replacement couldn't see through the smoke, but a full one saw the squad car peel out and the rest of them heard it roar into the streets. So, she's out having fun, maybe with a kidnapped boytoy, which does raise some objections, but they will be dealt with. Violence just kneed Deadman in the temple after launching herself from his kneeling rise and for some odd reason, the crowd cheered.

Doppel shook his head and look to the screen. Distractions, so many of those running around. He closed a tab. Nothing exciting in the news anyway right now. Same with the cooking videos. Kind of boring really. Maybe the short straw after all. At least the others got to witness something spectacular with their own eyes, although the eyes in question belonged to the all that was one. Confusing things. So many confusing terms he agreed with in the space where he was not. Still makes sense, mostly. And the others agree that it makes sense, mostly. So harmony, all is harmony.

The thoughts collected and asked a question of him from the back of his mind.

"Still no connection," he answered, "Can we get a looking glass inside?"

The answer was the same he got previously. Walls were too thick and the distance too great. The garage was as far as they could go. Violence had Deadman in a spider guard and he couldn't break it. More money changed hands. One of the manifestations reached out to Sunday, who refused anything of the sort. Good man. He had finally learned. The Doppel Gang always won.

This Doppel pumped his fist and almost yelled in pure exuberance. A little circle, almost microscopic, appeared on the screen. He was in. Beat and Riot, he could kiss them. All of him would kiss them. They were in. They were all in and what was hidden could come to light, information, glorious hidden information, was to be unleashed and given to the masses for free. As it should. The wave of jubilance raced through the network and they all had the same motion to give back. A bartender almost spilled a glass. An accountant quickly had to delete a line that would throw off the whole book. A teacher dropped a stick of chalk. A painter smeared the canvas with an ugly stripe of sunshiney yellow. But it was a happy little accident.

Doppel stretched out, laying down on the floor as the fight continued. The floor was nice and cool, if a bit dirty. He had other suits anyway. He hummed, the song that they all had, deep in the back of their mind, the underlying melody that bled through them each and every second of each and every day. It got on his nerves sometimes. But he knew, he knew, that its absence would be even worse. All the while, that little blue bar kept crawling along, ticking along to that same beat.

---

Riot is hugging me. I am hugging her. She is hugging me harder. I do not think I can hope to match the effort she is putting into our embrace. Nor would I want to. I am being crushed and applying this sort of pain to someone else is something I have no real interest in. Maybe someday, But I am happy right now to be on the receiving end, lifted off my feet and spun around like a top in her hands. I am dizzy now and I can only assume she is too. Still, we do not break apart, even as my heels knock against the servers and suggest that the USB stick might come out with one more impact. We just move a bit farther away.

My lips are on hers, locked and struggling think of anything else to do other than that. Interlocked and entwined, no other thing to be. Just the two of us dancing in the whir of fans and the blinking lights. Kind of expected more, honestly. Something with coolant making rolls of fog, something called a mainframe, maybe trojans or fishes or walls of flame. Alizarin would like that. But no, a few rows of black boxes taller than I am in a kind of stuffy basement. All the glitz was upstairs. Always was, always will be.

Unfortunately, we have to break. Mostly because I have the dreadful need to actually breathe. I shouldn't, because that is precious time I could be kissing Hannah. But I'm not. I am looking into her eyes, darting and vibrating in the sanguine high, pupils wide. She hooks her hands into my waist band and runs the back of her fingers along the silk.

"I think I deserve my last present now," she hums. And she has a very good point. One that I unfortunately have to shut down. A gain. If I can walk tomorrow morning then something has gone terribly wrong with her.

"Remember," I say, "There are stockings and garters that go with this. Don't you want the full package."

"It's all the same, really. So, what if it doesn't have the prettiest bow?"

"Isn't part of the fun ripping it off?"

"You're all dolled up already. C'mon, Evan, c'mon. Don't you want to do it here? Well, maybe not here, here, but in the barracks? The situation room? Solar's old office?"

She needs to stop making so much sense and coming up with good ideas because they are all better than what I had planned in mind later. But she's flushed, letting the that wonderful high course through her body and settle I the oddest ways. There's a thin line of drool from the corner of her mouth and I don't think she knows that is there. She's too focused on me, undressing me, riding me, taking me, pressing every inch of skin together until the barrier breaks and the end of the world finally happens.

"Evan," she moans, "I'm serious. Whatever is going on with me, I need it. I need to cum. I don't think I've ever need it this bad before."

I let my hands drift down, and do the same to her, pulling her waistband towards me.

"Quickie in his office," I whisper with a bite on her lip, "Then we should probably go."

She's on me again and I feel like I have enabled something terrible. Her entire being is in ecstasy. Every part of her is turned to eleven, the skin crawling from the bone, muscle loose from tendon. Energy, she is raw energy, turned to heat. Flushed and feverish and barely holding on.

Half pushed, half dragged, half shoved into the elevator, and our promise of waiting until the proper moment in defiance of authority is out the window. Her hands are on my chest and she is pinning me to the wall. All I taste is her. All I feel is her. The energy, the motor thrum, the swirl of molten iron given tectonic plates immense force, all of that is crashing into me, trying the rattle by bones to ruin. There is manic laughter and slipping sanity in the motions and the feeling. I am intoxicated. I am helpless. I am carried along a current I have no chance in hell of correcting. She is touching me and stroking me and pouring every single ounce of that untapped reserve into me. I am not going to survive, I think. I'm okay with that. So many worse ways to go.

I am saved by the kind elevator saying we have arrived at our destination with a soft ding and an open door. I am dragged along once again with the avalanche. I am tumbling like stones cast from a mountain cliff. I am left in the wake of something shattering.

I do not even get a glimpse of what the office has descended into. I am thrown across the room and land on the desk with a cracking thump. Stars, I see stars and it's mostly the lights overhead. Incredibly bright, blindingly bright, half the embezzled money must have just gone to keeping this place lit up like the surface of the sun. Probably could get Serpentor two cars with that money.

She is one me again. I lay back and think of her and her alone. I can't think of anything else. I don't want to think of anything else. Nothing else. I am touching her and feeling her and letting her crash through me into the end of my reason.

I fight back. I should not fight back. I cannot win. I cannot win against all this power. I don't want to win. But I push against her, feeling her body, the shaking of her stomach, the tremor in her core. There is so much there, ignited to a combustion engine.

I undo her buttons, pull her down and expose her legs. It's the most important part at this point. Everything else is a nice distraction. It would be nice to have her jacket off, her shirt off, the paint scrubbed from her face, but that can stay. The lipstick does look good on her. She's ready. She's as ready if I spent the past hour playing this song on her. She's wet and open and my fingers are nowhere near enough for her. Even the play and the slight stutter step into the gray world do not help alleviate anything.

She is still kissing me, playing with my lips, my tongue. No strategy, no strategy at all, other than brutal domination. The fingers help appease her and blunt the effect from battering me black and blue. She is slick and twitching and warm, hot, thrumming and running the redline. I feel the pull and squeeze of her and it means she wants more.