Chapter Text
A shadow slicer there, right for the hip. Shadow Ghost lunges away from it, sending his own attack towards Cassian. He didn’t get much time to know if it made it even halfway there, as he twisted his body barely out of the way of another attack.
“You don’t move your eyes fast enough. Focus on more than one thing. If you send an attack, you can’t ignore mine.”
“Yes my lord!” His leader was the greatest. After a quick glance around, and dodging some minor attacks, he sent out his magic, Cassian joining the shadows to move quicker. He Followed suit, though keeping a fair distance from Cassian. Getting up close and personal with him during a fight just means you will lose faster. He saw the smallest of openings, and was about to send out an attack when the door opened with enough force to slam onto the wall. Both of them turned to face the door, already ramped up from training and ready to fight.
"Hey! How come he gets special training! So unfair!" Black Hand's outraged whining came soon after he entered the room, a metaphorical storm cloud above his head. He looked like an angry rodent. Cassian sighed, about to reply when Shadow Ghost spoke first.
"How dare you act so disrespectful!" His energy intensified with his glare, and he took the pause to catch his breath.
"What's disrespectful is the unfair treatment here! You-"
"Both of you, be quiet." Shadow Ghost looked at him with something akin to heartbreak. He looked towards Black Hand instead. "You get enough training with me every day. You are being trained to where your at right now. Shadow Ghost is more skilled, so more training is acceptable." He hoped that was enough information to explain, and not so much it fried Black Hand's brain.
"Then give me extra training! I'm stronger than him!" Cassian's eye twitched. Does everything he say have to be shouted?
"Then beat him. Right now."
"Huh- What?" He looked to Shadow Ghost and back to Cassian, "like, right now?"
"If you can beat him, your strong enough for more training. Shadow Ghost, attack." Cassian crossed his arms and stared at Black Hand in an almost resigned fashion.
"Yes my lord!" And barely two second later, he was lunging at Black Hand. Who, of course, screamed in surprise and fumbled to defend himself.
He could feel a headache beginning. It throbbed in his head, making him acutely aware of the windows with striking light, leading him to squint a bit. The fight which moved out to the hallway rang in his ears. He felt somewhat dizzy. Unusually unsteady. He shook his head to ward it off, but it barely dissipated.
"Is something wrong?" Moros asked, moving to float in front of Cassian. He glared, using his current discomfort to amplify it.
"No, I'm fine." He mumbled, even though nobody was in the room anymore. Though he could still hear them fighting, it was muffled through the walls. Moros rolled his eye. His mild dizziness settled into his stomach, a hollow throb registering in his mind. He joined the shadows nearby, traversing through them towards the main kitchen. Thankfully, nobody was nearby and it was blissfully silent. He began opening cupboards and drawers to get an idea of the ingredients on hand here. He knows most of the people here probably don't cook often, or suck at it as he has seen a few times, so he didn't expect to see as much available as he did.
He began taking out some basic ingredients, planning on making a simple small mean for himself. But then he remembered that dinner. How ravenous everyone was, even though it was just fast food. He debated for a moment, before grabbing out more from the cupboards. He checked the nearby fridge, finding veggies that actually seemed fresh. Probably bought in the last few days. The shelf covered in the packages of vegetables had a sticky note stating: Help yourself! ;)
He helped himself to the lettuce, carrots, onions, bell pepper and broccoli he saw. He grabbed a pot, setting it up to boil. A simple stir fry would make quite a lot of servings. Enough for a few people at least. A wave of nausea hit him so quickly that he had to lean on the counter to stay stable. Maybe this is not the greatest idea. But the water is already boiling, and everything is already out. It'll be fine.
He poured some rice into the large pot of boiling water. With the heat lowered and a timer going, he turned his attention to the vegetables. He cut them into strips, throwing them into a bowl for each kind. Finding the largest frying pan available, he brought it to the stove and poured some oil into it. All that's left is making some sauce, and frying everything together. Easy. He took a slow, deep breath. The headache hasn't exactly died down yet, and the sizzle-crack-pop of the heating oil is overwhelming.
"You should go to sleep. You clearly aren't feeling well, and you know it." Moros decided to disrupt his solitude, and brought Cassian's glare to himself. Though, with how squinty he was, it didn't hold much effect.
"I'm fine. Besides, I'm just about finished anyways." He dumped the carrots and peppers in first, since they'll take the longest to cook.
"You are going to fall over. Look at how tightly you are holding the counter." He leveled an unimpressed stare towards him, which he ignored. Though he did take his hand off of the counter, shifting his weight to a wider stance for a bit more stability. He had gripped so hard that the counter had scratches left behind. Whoops.
"You will only feel worse after pushing yourself like this."
"I felt bad when I woke up, and then I felt better. I'll be fine in a minute."
"You realize that's because you took it easy, Cassian." He waved his hand at him, shooing him away before adding the broccoli to the sizzling pan. He blinked for a second before realizing he had no spatula. He turned his head to the side to see which drawer held the utensils, but a sickening wave of pain radiated from the movement so he abandoned the thought. He rubbed his clawed fingers against each other, watching the oil bubble on the pan.
He let them sit for a few minutes before he dumped the rest of the chopped up vegetables into the mix. He washed his hands and then thoroughly dried them off, not wanting to get spit at by the oil. The pan was now a roaring, hissing monster, as it fried the food inside. He hesitated for a second before pushing the vegetables round the pan with his claws. It felt kind of wrong, but they only felt mildly warm.
He’s found that his gauntlets dull his sensations greatly, which kind of sucks, but it is kind of useful too. Such as now. Or when he is punching through armour, or an attack. He barely feels those impacts like he would if he had been in his past body.
The timer for the rice goes off, bringing his attention away from the pan. He dried the oil off his fingers, and went to strain the rice. As he was doing this, he didn’t realize the person who entered the room until it was too late.
“Ohoh, cooking enough for an army, aren’t you?” Driver waltzes into the room, his smile dimming the slightest amount at Cassian’s attempt to hide his flinch. “What are you making?” He came up to the counter nearby, leaning onto it with his hip and peering over at the hot pan.
“Stir fry.” Feeling a little more than unsteady, he cautiously walked over to the stove again. He dumped the rice into the large pan, grabbing the bottle of sauce that he had put out earlier. He wasn’t exactly feeling like making one from scratch at the moment, if he could be honest. Driver nodded thoughtfully, tilting his head the way always does when he’s analyzing something. It sent a small shiver down his spine.
After a plentiful amount of sauce and spices were added, Cassian’s claws made their way back to the pan, mixing everything thoroughly. He whipped his head over to Driver at the man’s alarmed movements to stand, however.
“What?” He sent a disgruntled look at him, continuing to mix everything in the pan slowly and thoroughly.
“..Is that not hot to you?” Cassian glanced at the pan, then back at Driver.
“No?”
“And is it burning?” Cassian scrunched his face at him.
“I just told you it doesn’t feel hot.” Driver sighed, walking over and grabbing the hand that was in the pan, careful not to drip any sauce or oil onto the counter.
“Interesting,” Cassian snatched his hand back, but needed to use it to steady himself on the counter from the sharp movement. Of course, Driver clocked it immediately. He didn’t speak, but he stared very expectantly. Cassian looked back towards his pan. It was basically done. He moved it off the heat and turned off the stove. “Cassian.”
“I’m fine.” Moros rolled his eye in his peripheral. He sent a glare towards him.
“Sure.” In a moment of pure betrayal, Driver jabbed a finger onto the side of his skull. While his movement was a light but fast poke, it felt like a hammer dropped from a 10 story building. He clasped his clawed hand onto his head and glared through squinted eyes at the fiend. “You would have easily smacked my hand away if you were fine. Don’t you think?”
Cassian huffed, and prepared to escape using the shadows in the room when Driver grabbed a rag and began wiping sauce off of his other hand. The action honestly startled him so much that he froze. Driver frowned incrementally, but continued his task.
“You shouldn’t be cooking if you are not feeling good, Cassian. I can see that death grip on the counter, even though you’re leaning on it. You aren’t reacting usually as well. Come on, this way.” He tossed the dirtied rag into a bin he assumed was for laundry, and firmly held Cassian’s shoulders as he herded him out of the room. His brain was sluggishly trying to process what was happening, so he blinked and went along with it.
Driver slowed down soon after they left the kitchen, as Cassian shut his eyes in response to the intense nausea and dizziness threatening to send him under. Driver readjusted his grip, holding up more of the kid’s weight as he took him half-stumbling to the living room. It was closest to the kitchen, yet nobody ever used it. He knew it would be nice and quiet.
“Sit down, there's a couch” He gently instructed, as Cassian still had his eyes closed. He hesitated before obeying and sitting tensely on the cushions. Driver had to hold back a small laugh at how out of place he looked, but he sobered quickly. Draping a blanket over him and dimming the lights, he thought about what else might help. “So, how are you feeling exactly? Anything else other than the dizziness?” Cassian took a few moments to respond, cracking his eyes open first.
“...I’m fine.” Unbeknownst to Driver, Moros sighed along with him, and they both had matching unimpressed stares. Cassian tried his best not to look at either of them, instead surveying the room he was dumped into.
“Stay here, I’ll be back.” Driver left the door open a crack as he left, heading in the direction of the kitchen.
Cassian moved to stand, but upon getting upright the world felt like it was twisting and flipping incomprehensibly and he blinked rapidly, before sitting back down and fighting the urge to curl up. Nausea rose into his chest and settled there, and the throbbing in his head spiked to a maximum. He gave in, groaning as quietly as he could. With his legs tucked up to his chest and one arm holding his head, he ducked his face out of view and burrowed it into the couch.
He let himself groan again, before shutting up as the nausea rose in response. Moros sighed inwardly, before returning into the necklace. He figured Cassian would rather have as little witness to this moment of vulnerability as possible.
The door let out a tiny protest and Driver stepped back inside, setting down a glass full of water and a small serving of the stir-fry.
“Are you contagiously sick?” Cassian's half-hearted mumbles were only distinguishable to be indignant towards the thought of being contagious. A smirk spread on Driver’s face as the kid’s usual attitude reappeared. He let silence fill the room as he opened his phone to check up on things around the vilzone. The note he put up by the food Cassian had made seemed to be working as the villains that had found it only took one serving each.
“Just leave…” Driver took a second to fully process that that had come from Cassian. It was barely audible. He took a second to load Cassian’s vitals onto his visor. His heartbeat was faster than it should be, but not overly-concerningly so. His temperature was getting higher, but it also wasn’t dangerously high. HIs breathing was sowing and steadying, however. He allowed a smile at that. This kid was going to be his downfall. After a few minutes, the vilzone’s boss was sleeping on the cuch, curled up impossibly tight. He knew it would be a very light sleep, so he didn’t dare move or make a sound. He did, however, respond to the texts that Crow had been sending him.
Crow
Darling!!!!! I just got a new flavour of chocolate chips to try in my cookies
They were picked special for you ;D
You could never guess them
They are so perfect, and will make my best batch yet!
You should be very excited
You aren’t ignoring me, are you?
That isn’t very nice, darling
Driver?
Driver
Sorry no, just dealing with Cassian
You know I would never ignore you :)
Crow
Of course you wouldn’t!!
What’s the dark duckling doing now?
Driver
He made food for the vilzone, but he’s sick or something
Crow
Aw how sweet!!
Is there any left for me?
How so?
Driver
He was very unsteady, seemed dizzy
He’s currently curled up on the couch
He fell asleep
He was pretty out of it, for his usual level of attention
Crow
High fever?
Driver
Not dangerously so. But he didn’t notice me enter the room, and didn’t dodge when I poked him
Crow
My my, how out of character
Driver
I know
It’s unsettling
He also acted weirdly when I was helping him
Crow
Oh?
How so
Driver
Froze when I cleaned his hands off, and seemed confused when I set him onto the couch
If I can be honest, I don’t think I like what I can insinuate about his parents
Crow
Of course you can be honest darling!!!!! <3
He does show concerning behaviour, doesn’t he?
We just have to step in then, if you know what I mean ;)
Driver
Hold on, he’s waking up
Crow
<3<3<3<3
He set his phone to the side, ready to speak when Cassian beat him to it.
“No, I’m fine…” He mumbled, slowly dragging his eyes open, though they were unfocused on the floor. ‘I can keep going, I…” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, as he sat up slowly. He locked on to Driver, who was staring blankly at him.
“Was that english?” He tilted his head. His visor had automatically translated it. His visor was also showing his heart racing, even though he seemed calm outwardly.
“What? Um.” Cassian raised his hand to rub at his face, pausing before the hard claws reached him. “Yeah, I guess so.” He stared at his hand, before bringing it to his chest and pressing hard. He thinks it was a dream about his death, maybe. It’s very fuzzy this time. But then again, he felt fuzzy all over. He manually took deep breaths, ignoring the phantom sensation of water in his lungs.
“Here,” a glass of water was held much closer than he remembered Driver being. He shook his head, grateful at the lack of nausea from the movement. “Do you want some tea?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Right. I’m going to make some tea. What do you want in it?” A sigh was heard behind him before a dejected reply answered him.