Chapter Text
„Oh my God, Richie! What the hell is that face?”
Beverly’s outburst made Mike look up from the book he was reading. There, in the doorway, stood a white man in his mid-twenties with slicked back brown hair, wearing khaki shorts, loafers and a pink polo shirt. Mike felt weird just looking at him and the uneasy feeling got worse, when the guy started laughing. His voice was exactly what he imagined it to be.
There was a look of pure disgust on Bev’s and Eddie’s faces, while Stan barely acknowledged him. Bill and Ben seemed to be more amused.
“What, you mean this fuckface?”, the guy said, gesturing to his own face. Mike definitely preferred it when Richie used his own face or at least one of his more common ones. “Well, yesterday this ugly bastard kept harassing me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He even called me a whore!” Richie sat down in the chair next to Eddie, stole Ben’s fork and tried to get some of Eddie’s eggs, but the shorter boy quickly shielded his plate.
“I’m not sharing with you when you look like that.”
“You never share with him”, Mike pointed out, but was ignored. Richie just shrugged and ate some of Ben’s food instead.
“And why would you want to look like that asshole?”, Bev asked, going back to the original topic.
“Revenge! I’m going to get him arrested.”
“Richie, no!” Ben was probably the only one, who still thought that telling Richie No would actually have an effect on him.
Stan sighed. “You’ll get yourself arrested more likely.”
Richie pouted, which made the face he was wearing look like a big baby. Maybe that was just Mike’s bias towards people that looked like that, but he found they were usually whiny babies pretending to be adults.
“See, Stanley, I was going to rob a store or something and buy everyone something nice, but you just put yourself on the naughty list.”
“So are you Santa now?”
Richie leaned over the table to get closer to Stan and wiggled his eyebrows. “I can be, if you’re into that.”
Stan smiled thinly at him before he started gathering the empty plates. “I’m Jewish.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t be into old fat men”, Richie called after him.
“Should I b-b-be offended?”
Mike put his book down, now that Richie was here, there was no point in trying anymore. Although he had gotten pretty good at drowning out his constant jabbering, Mike preferred to read in quieter surroundings.
“Can you at least change your face for now? I’m trying to eat here”, Eddie said.
“He’s not that gross looking”, Richie said. “All the gross stuff is on the inside, but for you, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, of course.”
Richie’s form rippled. Mike always thought he looked blurry and out of focus in between his faces, like something you can see in the corner of your eye, but never directly look at. It only took a second and suddenly there were two Eddie’s sitting at the table.
It clearly wasn’t what Eddie had wanted, as he scowled at his twin. “I thought you could just be yourself.”
“Nah, I wanted to be as cute as can be.” Richie grinned and held out his fork. “Share with me now? Can’t catch germs from yourself.”
“Change again!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Richie!”
Yes, the quiet was definitely over. Richie had always been messing with them, but since Eddie joined them almost a year ago, he’d started to annoy him the most. Someone had to get the short end of the stick, he supposed, and as much as Mike loved Richie, he was glad it wasn’t him. He could deal with being called Micycle every now and then.
While the two Eddies continued to shout at each other the rest of the group slowly backed away. Ben, who had surrendered his breakfast to Richie, muttered something about new batteries for the radio as he exited the room. The others crowded around the sink, suddenly everyone was eager to do the dishes, although it ended with Bill doing the rinsing and Stan doing the drying while Mike and Bev just watched them. Her arm snaked around his middle and he pulled her closer by her shoulder.
“Should we stop Richie?”, he asked after a while. He knew Richie was very capable to look after himself, but Mike couldn’t help but worry. What if he did get himself arrested like Stan said. What if he didn’t change his appearance fast enough? Or worse, what if someone saw him do it? “Maybe we could keep him busy today?”
“Don’t worry ab-b-bout it”, Bill said. “We’ll k-keep an eye on him and you focus on your luh-luh-l-l-little mission.”
Bev smiled up at him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We could do it in our sleep, right, Mike?”
He smiled back. “Right.”
They had been selected to go and stock up on food. Something they’d done so many times, it had become routine and still… Mike could not shake the feeling that someday it would go wrong. Sure, now that they had the money, they didn’t need to actually steal stuff anymore and that took a lot of the risk out of it, but they were never truly safe, were they?
Bill grabbed the rag from Stan to dry his hands, then pulled a map out of his back pocket, unfolding it and holding it against the cold stone wall. “This is the route”, he said, trailing a finger over the map. It was an old thing, torn and stained; some parts had been taped back together.
Mike followed Bill’s finger along the road and onto the nearby highway until it finally stopped at a spot. “There’s a g-g-g-gas station here. Richie went to check it out. You sh-shouldn’t have t-t-t-too much trouble there.”
“How far is it?”, Bev asked.
“20 miles, g-give or take.”
Bill folded the map up and gave it to Bev, then returned to washing the dishes.
“I’ll go find Ben and you can get the bike ready”, Mike told her.
She nodded. “Meet you outside.”
Before they could leave, Stan grabbed her hand. “Be careful, okay?”
“You know us”, she said.
Stan arched an eyebrow, then looked at Mike instead. “Make sure she is careful, yeah?”
Mike patted his shoulder good-naturedly and followed a grinning Beverly out of the kitchen. “See you later.”
There was a shouted goodbye from the Eddies at the table, but Mike wasn’t sure if it was the real Eddie or Richie’s Eddie. Probably Richie, Eddie being too riled up over his friend still refusing to change to a different face.
He found Ben in his room, sitting at his desk working on Richie’s old radio. He’d dismantled the back and was now doing god-knows-what to the inner workings. Mike was always mesmerized when he saw Ben at work. He somehow had a solution for almost every problem.
The walls of the tiny room were covered in magazine clippings, polaroid pictures and a few drawings that fluttered in the draft from the open window. The bed next to it was made, untouched, and Mike wondered if Ben had slept here or somewhere else tonight. It was no secret that he had trouble sleeping in the old asylum, claiming the place to be haunted. None of the others believed in ghosts, but Eddie had his own reasons for despising the place, maybe their shared hatred was what made them sleep in each other’s rooms so much.
Mike waited in the open door for Ben to carefully put his tools down and raise his head.
“Are you leaving already?”
“No point in dragging it out.”
“No, I guess not.”
He opened the first drawer of his desk and grabbed a big wad of cash. When Mike took it from him, he let his thumb run over the bills. He’d probably never achieve the same level of nonchalance about holding this much money as Ben. Money or the lack thereof had always been an issue in his life, even when he still lived on the farm with his parents. Sure, the farm brought in enough money for them to live, but when something happened out of the ordinary, it was tough. Once his dad broke his leg right before harvest season and they had to pay extra workers to come and help on top of paying the medical bills.
Ben opened another drawer, pulled out a M1911 pistol and held it out to him. Mike held his gaze for a moment, giving him time to put the gun away again, but when Ben didn’t he took it, checked that the safety was on and pushed it into his waistband.
“You know I’m supposed to play defense today, right?”
“Just in case”, Ben said. “To keep you safe.” To keep her safe. They both knew he was mostly talking about Bev, always worried she might not be coming back after one of these little excursions, but why say it out loud? Mike nodded in understanding, then slipped out the door.
Bev had already rolled the bike out to the front and handed him his helmet as he approached. She gave him a once over, studying him carefully. “He gave you a gun again, didn’t he?”
Mike nodded. There was no way she could’ve seen it, but then again Ben always made him bring a gun, she would’ve expected it.
“For someone who hates them that much he sure hands them out like candy.” He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or not, or if she even understood the underlying meaning of it. Beverly was smart though, it was hard to believe, she hadn’t picked up on it.
“Well, I feel better having it”, he lied. His distaste for guns was not in rivalry with Ben’s, but Mike wasn’t that fond of them either. Sometimes it was necessary to know how to use one, but he still preferred not to shoot at anyone.
Bev gave him a long look before putting on her helmet and climbing onto the bike. “Sure you do.”
Mike climbed on behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, not bothering to answer as his words would’ve been drowned out by the revving engine. Was his life always going to be like this? Now that he was with the others and they had a place to stay, he sometimes forgot they were all running from something, it would just be nice to be running towards something for a change.
He held onto Bev a little tighter, watching the scenery fly past them. They’d still lived in their cars when she and Ben had joined them.
Stan looked longingly at the cabins in the distance and sighed. He didn’t say anything, but Mike had overheard him talking to Bill before, suggesting they break into one of them and sleep in a real bed for a change. Mike liked the idea, but didn’t mind sleeping in Richie’s van instead. It still beat sleeping on soggy carboard in an alley, hidden behind dumpsters.
“I never thought I’d ever get to go to camp”, Richie said as he poked the small fire with a stick. They’d been driving all day and he was exhausted. Something Mike only knew because he was wearing his own face for a change. “Any of you guys ever go?”
Mike shook his head. There’d always been too much to do on the farm during summer and his parents had needed him there, he’d never really wanted to go anyway.
“Twice”, Stan muttered. Richie perked up, grinning, probably already thought of a jab, but the look on Stan’s face made him reconsider. Mike had only been with them for a couple of months, but he had quickly picked up on the important stuff. All three of them had had trouble with their parents, Richie didn’t mind talking and joking about it although Mike wasn’t sure how much of it was the truth. Bill and Stan were more reserved, especially Stan. Bill would sometimes rant angrily about his parents, but Mike still didn’t know the whole story. It had to do with his powers and them blaming Bill for something that happened a long time ago, he never said what though.
“Is that where you learned to make fires”, Richie asked, poking at it again. “They didn’t teach you well.”
“It’s a fire, isn’t it?”
“A baby fire.” Richie fumbled in his jacket until he found a pack of cigarettes, pushed one between his lips and lit it with the burning tip of his stick.
The sun was setting over the tree tops on the other side of the lake, painting the sky a beautiful orange. Bill, who’d been sitting by the shore, gutting the single fish, Mike and Stan had managed to catch, walked over to them, dangling the fish from one finger.
“Is it time yet to b-bring out the guitars and sing Kumb-b-b-baya?”, he asked, grabbed the stick from Richie and used it to spear the fish.
Richie slowly blew out smoke. “Sorry to disappoint, Billy, but I don’t know that song.”
“No”, Stan said. “The only song you can play is Wonderwall. We know.”
“Aw, Sparkles, I didn’t know you were such a fan. You’re my number one groupie.” Richie winked at him suggestively. “Maybe you and Mike can switch sleeping arrangements tonight, huh?”
Mike looked tentatively from Richie to Stan to Bill and shook his head. Why was he like that? If Stan would bring up Richie’s horrible singing now, Mike couldn’t even blame him. Although that would probably only lead to Richie trying to prove them wrong and they’d have to suffer even more.
“Don’t make me throw that guitar into the lake”, Stan muttered.
“Come on”, Richie continued. His form rippled and the next moment there was a second Bill sitting next to Mike. “I can be whoever you want.”
“Beep beep, Richie”, Mike said.
Bill just seemed to be amused by the whole thing. He sat down next to Stan and pulled his boyfriend into his side, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Why would he g-go for the knockoff, when he can h-h-have the ruh-ruh-real deal?”
Richie dropped Bill’s face and turned back into himself. “We can make it a threesome if you want in so desperately.”
“Don’t want to make Mike feel left out”, Stan mumbled, his face pressed into Bill’s neck.
“I’m good, you guys have your fun.” Mike plucked the cigarette from Richie’s lips and took a drag. He’d been sharpening sticks with his pocket knife while they’d been talking and held them out to Richie know. “There you go.”
“Stealing my cigarette and presenting me with sharp objects. You truly know the way to my heart, Mikey”, he said, making Mike blush slightly. He then grabbed the pack of hotdogs he’d stolen at a gas station earlier, ripped it open and speared them on the sticks.
“You’re a man of simple pleasures”, Stan said, sitting up a little to face them. “We’ve noticed that too.”
“Well, damn, Stanley, you just read me like an open book, do you?” He earned a small smile for that and maybe that was all Richie had wanted in the first place, because he fell silent afterwards. Mike took another drag of the cigarette before passing it back to him.
It was nice to enjoy the silence for a moment, the only sound being the crackling fire. With the sun disappearing behind the horizon it was quickly getting cold, it was the beginning of November after all. Mike climbed into the van parked right behind him and when he came back out, he draped a blanket around Bill and Stan, one around Richie and kept one for himself. As they sat there, huddled together around the fire, Mike thought, he’d met them just in time. He now had people to look out for him, a place to sleep and probably wasn’t going to die of hypothermia this winter. Everything was good.
Well, it was until Bill, who’d been watching the hotdogs and fish intently, jerked alert. Mike blinked at him in confusion, while Stan was immediately concerned.
“We g-g-got to go!”
Bill and Stan were on their feet while Mike still tried to understand what was going on. He knew about Bill’s powers, of course, but it still took him a moment to put two and two together.
“Get in the c-cars now!”
“What is it?”, Richie asked as he rescued the half-cooked food before Bill stomped out the fire.
“I don’t know, Richie! That’s n-not how it works.”
Stan was already sitting in the passenger seat of Bill’s truck, shouting at them to hurry up, while Bill started to pull on Richie. He wasn’t going to leave the food, which Mike actually was very grateful for. It was good food.
“For fucks sake, Richie! Just leave it!”, Stan yelled.
Richie looked over at him, then at something across the lake, in an instant the lanky boy with the huge glasses was replaced by a stunning young woman with jetblack hair, Richie’s go-to face. Mike followed his gaze, there were people over there. “Too late”, he muttered.
“We’re luh-leaving!”, Bill yelled, letting go of Richie and running towards his truck.
It was Mike’s job to pull Richie now, who followed him eventually but unwilling, his eyes still fixed on the people on the other side of the lake. Mike glanced over his shoulder. There were so many of them now, two of them clearly running from the rest. They were both clad completely in white, short haired and was that…? Yes, definitely a gun in the hands of the second one, but their pursuers had them too.
“Bill”, Richie shouted, twisting away from Mike. “We need a shield!”
“No kidding!”
“No, I mean, they need one.” He pointed, but Bill just shook his head.
“That’s who we’re t-t-trying to g-get away from!”
“So are they!”, Richie insisted, throwing his arm out more insistently. Finally, Bill did look, but only shook his head again. “Fuck you, Bill!”
He said it with so much meaning that it made Mike recoil. Richie said a lot of shit and insulted them here and there, but he never meant it. Bill stared at him for a moment so long, Mike feared he’d get in his truck and that’d be it. He and Stan would be gone, but then he sighed and did as Richie asked.
They watched as the pursuers ran into the invisible barrier Bill had put up. Mike could finally haul Richie into his van and watched as Stan slid into the driver’s seat, allowing Bill to keep his shield up as they drove. He wasn’t sure Richie had the right idea about helping those people. It was a big risk to take and if Bill wasn’t willing to do it, then it was probably best to leave it. It was too late now though as Richie steered towards the still running figures.
As they got closer Mike saw it was a boy and a girl around their age, dressed in what looked like hospital scrubs. The boy was a little on the heavy side and completely out of breath, when Richie pulled up next to them and Mike leaned out of the open slide door. “Get in!”
The boy looked to the girl with short, red hair, waiting for her approval perhaps.
“Get in!”, Richie shouted. “Don’t think Bill can hold them off for much longer.”
The girl nodded at the boy, who then finally took Mike’s outstretched hand and let himself be pulled inside, the gun clattering onto the floor of the van as he did. She jumped in herself, ignoring Mike’s attempt to help her. They sat there, panting and eyeing them warily as Richie sped up and they left their pursuers far behind.
“Are you hurt?”, Mike asked, when it became clear neither of them was going to speak. He moved to one of cabinets. “We should have some first aid stuff around here.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Where are you taking us?”
Mike shrugged, climbed into the passenger seat and got buckled in. He could see Richie was just following Bill’s truck at this point and figured it was best this way. Bill would know once they were out of danger.
“Your friend”, the boy said. His voice barely above a whisper. “He’s like… like us?”
Richie looked over his shoulder, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “You have powers?”
Mike felt his stomach turn. “Those were ASHA people?” He’d hoped to never see them again in his life and now they’d probably be on all of their asses.
“Yeah, you know them?”
“Unfortunately.” He brazed himself for prying questions, but they never came. Maybe they could connect the dots on their own. The only one he’d told was Richie because he’d shared his past with him pretty early in their friendship, when Mike had had trouble falling asleep one night. There was just something about Richie that made him trust him. He trusted Bill and Stan too, but with those two he couldn’t help but feel a little left out. No one would ever be as close to Bill as Stan and vice versa.
“How about names, huh?”, Richie asked cheerily from behind the wheel. Probably sensing Mike needed a change of topic. “I’m Richie and this here is Micycle.”
“Mike”, he quickly corrected.
“Beverly”, the girl said and then looked at the boy as if she didn’t know his name either.
“Ben”, he muttered.
Bev pulled into the gas station, waiting for Mike to dismount before she did. There were cars zipping past occasionally, but they seemed to be the only customers around. Well, the gas station wasn’t very inviting with the faded letters on the signs, oil-stained cement and smudgy windows. The only other vehicle was a rusty old pick-up truck parked next to the building, but it looked like it would fall apart as soon as someone tried to drive it.
Running a hand through her short hair, Bev turned to him. “You ready?”
“Yeah.”
She took his hand and pulled him along, not letting go. He liked holding hands with Bev, her hands so small and delicate in his own and somehow always cold; her cheeks could be flushed with heat and she’d still have icy hands.
The door creaked as Bev pushed it open, but the cashier – a guy in his late 50s with a scraggly grey beard and a potbelly – didn’t look up from the paper he was reading. Although he looked like a rundown Santa Claus, he didn’t strike Mike as the friendliest person, so he was glad when he didn’t acknowledge them.
The selection wasn’t so great, but what did they expect from a gas station. Bev still managed to fill his arms with various snacks and somehow succeeded in covering all the important food groups. There was a lot of Reese’s cups, he noticed, which just so happened to be Ben’s favourites. Didn’t seem like she was too bothered about the gun then.
“We’ll need some cigarettes too”, she said, stacking some frozen meals on top of the stuff he was already holding. It was getting more and more difficult for him to see over it now. “Ben’s just don’t taste right, you know? Rich and I just don’t have the heart to tell him.”
To him they all tasted the same, but he only stole their cigarettes once in a while, what would he know about the right taste? It’s not like they were supposed to taste particularly good.
While they made their way back to the register, Beverly loaded her own arms full of stuff. The cashier only looked up, when they dumped everything on the counter in front of him, and he didn’t look happy about it. His grey eyes scanned first Bev, then Mike and then looked back at her with an expression that was somewhere between contempt and disbelief.
Bev smiled at him regardless. “We’ll take four packs of Marlboros too.”
“Aren’t you too pretty to be smoking?”, he asked as he placed the cigarettes in front of them.
Mike ignored the comment, busying himself with packing their stuff in the backpacks they’d brought as he was ringing them up.
“Far as I know appearance doesn’t influence smoking habits.”
“Looks matter a lot”, he grumbled. Mike almost snorted. If he really believed that, maybe he should do something about his own appearance; take a shower to start with and then shave that ugly beard.
He felt Bev’s fingers curl around his bicep and looked up for a second. Had he missed something? The cashier’s eyes bore into him now as if he had read his thoughts, but Mike was fairly sure he hadn’t. Or maybe he had… maybe this was what their future looked like: working somewhere in a rundown shop always afraid ASHA would find them.
“You two together?”
Bev pressed closer to him. “Yeah.”
“Lot of food for just two people.”
Slinging the first backpack on his shoulder, Mike quickly filled the second one. “I’ve got a big appetite”, he said, which was apparently the wrong thing to say, because the guy looked about ready to throw something at him.
Sensing the same thing, Bev pulled a few bills out of her leather jacket. “How much is it going to be? We really have to get going.”
He glared at them for a while as if he was considering throwing them out instead. Mike handed Bev the second bag and she shouldered it, making it obvious to the cashier they were leaving with their stuff paid for or not.
With a sigh, he told them the amount, but Mike hadn’t even had time to push his hands into his pocket, when he suddenly lost his balance and stumbled against the counter. Next to him, Bev yelped as the same thing happened to her.
The door was swinging back and forth, creaking on the hinges and now there were two kids standing behind them. A girl with long, red hair spilling out from a yellow beanie, who was counting a couple of dollar bills, and a shorter girl with short brown curls and a look like she was ready to snap someone’s neck. It was an odd expression on someone who looked an awful lot like a cherub just without the wings and with more clothes.
“My money”, Bev whispered, looking down at her now empty hands.
“Get the stuff”, the cherub told the redhead without taking her eyes off them.
“You could at least say please”, she responded, rolling her eyes and then she disappeared. Just like that, gone, but Mike could still hear her and the next second she was back, her arms filled with various snacks.
“You gotta pay for that!”, the cashier shouted.
Mike stepped in front of Bev, shielding her with his body in case those two tried anything. Since Eddie, they hadn’t met another Super and as much as he didn’t believe these two were with ASHA – because they didn’t employ kids that robbed stores – he didn’t trust them either.
The redhead snorted. “No, we don’t.”
“You’re one of those freaks, aren’t you? Throwing fire balls out of your hands and shit.”
The cherub stepped forward. “What did you say?”
“El, just drop it.”
“You’re one too?”
“Maybe”, Mike said quietly, “it’s not the best idea to anger someone with powers.”
The cashier scoffed. “I’m not afraid of some little girls. And who asked you anyway, boy?”
Mike rolled his eyes. If that guy ended up getting hurt or killed, he wouldn’t feel too bad about it. At the term ‘little girl’, he could feel Bev tense up. If he managed to piss her off enough, he’d soon have another Super to worry about and Mike didn’t know what kind of powers the other girl had, but he was willing to bet that a furious Bev was worse than those two.
“El”, the redhead said, rolling her eyes. “I’m leaving now!”
She turned on her heels and walked out of the door while the other one, El, kept glowering at them. It took her a good ten seconds before she followed her friend. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, Bev started to hurry after them. Mike pulled a few bills out of his pocket and slapped them on the counter, then hurried to catch up with Bev.
To his surprise the two Supers were still there, hurriedly stuffing their stolen goods into a gym bag. At the sound of their approaching footsteps, they looked up.
“What about my money? Aren’t you going to return that?”, Bev asked, stopping a few feet away from them, hands on her hips.
“Sorry”, the redhead said, not sounding sorry at all. “We need it.”
“So do we.”
Mike tried not to look too confused even though he had no idea what Bev was getting at. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having some of their money stolen, but they still had more than enough and it wasn’t like Ben couldn’t get them more.
El exchanged one look with her friend before she stepped in front of her. “Just go away.”
“Or what?”
“Bev”, Mike started. It was just a few dollars, definitely not worth getting into a fight with some Supers over. Especially not with the cops on their way; the cashier was probably on the phone with them right now.
Ignoring him, Bev continued to move towards them just as the redhead pulled the bag closed and threw it at her friend, but she wasn’t paying attention, her eyes flitting from Bev to the beat-up truck, the bag landing at her feet.
The redhead went to her friend, picked up the bag and held it out to her. “Take it and let’s get out of here!”
Apparently Mike wasn’t the only one who was ignored by his friends, because El did not do as she was told and Bev did not stop advancing on them. Instead the gaze of the shorter girl now locked onto the car, staring intently, and then with a sharp jerk of her head, the truck flew towards them. She had clearly only tried to get it between herself and Bev, but misjudged her own power or the truck’s weight, because it skittered directly towards Bev. Mike could see the exact moment El realized her mistake, eyes wide, both arms flying up to stop the out of control car, but it was only a second before it slammed into Bev, nothing to be done.
There was a strangled sound coming from the redhead, probably the scream stuck in her throat, when she realized Bev was fine. The front of the truck had crumpled around Bev’s outstretched hand, the hood popped open and the lights shattered. He let out a sigh of relief. He’d been almost sure Bev would be alright, her power was super strength not super reflexes.
She brushed the rust and flecks of paint from her hands as she turned back to the girls, who were staring at her with shocked expressions. The short one snapped out of it first, grabbed the bag from her friend and slung it over her shoulder. She threw one look back at Mike and Bev before jumping onto her friend’s back and uttering one word: “ASHA.”
For a brief moment Mike could see the same loathing in her eyes that he’d seen on his friend’s faces whenever the Agency for Super Human Affairs was mentioned. The same emotions he felt when he thought of them. Even now there was the familiar sensation of his guts twisting, the heat simmering deep inside of him just waiting for him to let go and lash out at ASHA, but also the clammy hands, the racing heart at the mere thought of having to face them.
“N-…” The girls were gone before he could manage to correct them. He didn’t know them and they’d probably never meet again, but it still made him feel wrong that they now associated him with those bastards.