Chapter Text
The house that Oliver let Marcus use was huge. It actually made Marcus double check that he was in the right place.
Marcus unlocked the door with his molecular kinesis.
He wondered if Oliver knew that he could do that or if he just forgot to tell him where a key was.
He entered the house, immediately being hit with the warm air contrary to the cold Pennsylvania air.
He would have to change that. Warm temperatures weren’t exactly the best for him.
He turned the lights on to find that the entry room— the living room— was well and fully furnished.
It was different from any base he’d been at, including the one that really was a house. It was somehow cozy and industrial; Marcus didn’t know how that was possible. It had a big tv, which was… not surprising, frankly.
Maybe Marcus could tear it apart for parts.
There was a fire place that was likely decorative. On either side of the mantle were matching sconces, which also matched the silver of the various lamps in the room.
The couch was large and leather. In all honesty, Marcus was surprised Davenport’s house wasn’t furnished this way.
He wandered into another room, seemingly a laundry room. But there was a keypad that looked quite out of place.
He looked at it for a quick second, scanning the numbers and calculating the possible and most likely results. The code screen had five dashes, indicating a five digit code.
6 5 4 8 3 7
Oliver.
Marcus smiled as the password was accepted.
Two long slots in the floor opened up on either side of the washing machine and dryer, perpendicular to them. They looked like rail tracks, which was proven when the washer and dryer separated, revealing a hall behind them.
The opening was dusty and had spider webs strung about it. Marcus sighed, but again used his molecular kinesis to clear it out.
Who knows what that could do to his circuitry.
He walked through, and there must’ve been some sort of sensor, because the machines shut behind him.
To his right was a set of metal stairs, which Marcus followed. Lights came on as he went— not that it mattered much for him.
At the bottom, there was a room that reminded Marcus much of the lab.
Sure, there were a few differences. The most noticeable being that there was a queen size bed in the corner of the room.
It made sense, in retrospect, if Mr Terror was hiding out here, she would presumably need a place to sleep.
The hideout here was much bigger than the lab. There was loads of open space, even though it also had weaponry, armour, villain costumes, work and torture tables, an anvil, and a whole ass kitchenette in it.
Marcus could work with this.
His only concern was his capsule. He probably wouldn’t be able to get it through the pathway, let alone the narrow staircase. So he’d either have to put it in the main part of the house, or he would have to take it apart and rebuild it down there.
Knowing himself, it would be the latter. He wanted to be hidden.
He wondered if Oliver even knew this room existed. Sure, he recommended to use his old house as a base, but that might’ve just been because it was out of the way and no one would suspect it. How could Oliver know that his mom had this room.
After all, he didn’t know she was a villain until she was fully entrenched in villainy.
It didn’t really matter. Marcus didn’t know why he was thinking about it so much, Oliver’s life story isn’t the most important thing out there.
Marcus had a safe place now. That was what was important.
After he finished exploring the house, he ran back to the base he was keeping Chase at.
Chase seemed to get used to the situation pretty quickly. He’d space out and look at the ceiling for most of the day, and he’d work when Marcus told him to.
In all honesty, it did concern him a little bit…
“Are we moving again?” Chase asked dully.
“Yep,” Marcus said, beginning to write out a note.
“They’re gonna find me,” Chase said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Marcus said. “I keep telling you that you’ll see them again.” He looked at Chase. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not like my father. I’m not going to let someone die.”
“And you expect me to believe you?” Chase asked.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Marcus said firmly. “But that won’t stop me from starving you to tortuous levels when you ask dumb questions.”
“You can’t keep running us around forever,” Chase said. Marcus sighed, approaching his tableside.
“I won’t have to,” He said. He reached for Chase’s communicator and squeezed it until it crushed.
“If you knew…”
“I wasn’t gonna get in the way of you talking to your friends unless it was a problem,” Marcus said. “But it’s a problem.”
“They’ll find us without it,” Chase said, but his voice seemed shaky and unsure.
“Sure they will,” Marcus said, ripping the broken communicator from the suit.
He put it with the note he’d written before picking up Chase’s table and running to their new base.
“Good luck finding us now.”