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Mirage was a strange one. Caustic never understood how one person could have such a range of emotions. Mirage was the type to boast about his abilities and achievements in the legend's lounge but seemed to falter and become more self conscious of his worth when in the ring. Caustic wouldn't admit it to anyone, and certainly not to Mirage, but he found the man strangely fascinating.
It started of with meer observations. The way, Mirage would saunter into a room and tell tales of his victories, only to become embarrassed when praised by anyone else. The way he'd always slick his hair back before speaking to anyone, only for it to drift back into his eyes moments later. He'd always heed advice from others about healthy eating but, had an intense liking for chocolate. In the quieter moments, he'd whip out his laptop and notebook and begin working on improving his gear. This could go one of three ways; with him drumming his pen on the table out of frustration, him thoughtfully running the pen over his lips when considering a new idea, or with him staring aloofly into the distance for some time, eyes eventually sparkling with inspiration. All typically ended with him furiously typing into his laptop.
All of this had been observed and mentally noted by Caustic. The other legends had teased him about his newfound fascination with Mirage, but they didn't understand. Everything Caustic did was for his love of science. He would never pay this much attention to someone for his own satisfaction. Personal pleasure was for those of weaker mind. What really caused a stir, was the day Caustic asked Mirage to join to his squad, so he could engage in closer observations. He received a chorus of childish “oooooh's” from those around them, when the younger legend accepted his offer.
They worked reasonably well together for two people who should have clashing personalities. Mirage surprisingly had an apt understanding of weaponry and would always take the time to modify Caustic's weapons for him. In return, the chemist was forced into a pinky promise that he would stop grumbling at Mirage's jokes. It was only after this, that Caustic realised his jokes weren't so terrible and he was actually quite witty. He could remember multiple occasions where he was thankful his gas mask muffled his laughter.
Caustic missed the jokes when they stopped. Mirage had been more quiet and distant lately. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear the other man was purposely avoiding him. He was sure there must be some scientific explanation for why the absence of Mirage’s constant nattering was making it difficult for him to concentrate in the games. It seemed the less the trickster spoke, the more Caustic was invaded by thoughts of him. It wasn’t like him to focus on anything but his experiments. Maybe he was sick. Perhaps it was time for a trip to the medical wing.
The trapper sighed thoughtfully to himself, as crouched inside one of the buildings in Skull Town, trying to scrape together as much energy ammo as possible. This wouldn’t have been his first choice to drop, but Mirage didn’t have a preference this round and Caustic wasn’t in the mood to argue with their third squadmate when they insisted on coming here. Of course, they had run guns blazing into the heart of the fighting and got themselves killed, and he hadn’t seen or heard anything from Mirage since they landed. It remained this way for a while, until Caustic heard a series of swears and colourful phrasing come through his communication device.
“F-fuck, s-shit...dammit”, Mirage stammered breathlessly, as he stumbled into Caustic’s building, slamming the door behind him. Without thinking, the scientist immediately hopped to his feet and rushed to the other. Mirage was holding his side, which was bleeding profusely, his suit rapidly being stained red. “What happened?”, Caustic asked, as he watched the holographic trickster, slump against the wall, eventually sliding down to sit on the floor. “S-sniper”, he answered. “Don’t worry, the shot sounded far”. Caustic nodded at this and reached into his backpack, producing a medkit, which he left next to the other man.
Mirage let the back of his head rest against the wall, still clutching his side and attempting to breath through the pain. Caustic noticed he was not making any attempt to heal himself, and decided to speak up. The look of sheer agony on Mirage’s face was making him feel...strange. He cleared his throat and gestured to the medical kit, “Are you going to use that?”. Mirage groaned in pain when he tried to move. “I...I will. Just...gimme a second”.
Caustic dropped to his knees and took the med kit in his hands, trying to think of the best way to proceed. “I...um...Allow me”. He placed the med kit to one side, so he could use his hands to undo the other’s tactical belt, getting it out of the way so he could pull the top half of Mirage’s suit up, exposing his wound. “Heh, you could at least buy me dinner first”, Mirage quipped, before immediately cringing at what he just said. Caustic paid no attention to the remark, his full focus on the toned abdomen exposed to him. Luckily for him, Mirage didn’t seem to notice his staring. He was too busy trying to not make eye contact. He could feel his face beginning to flush.
Caustic was eventually able to bring himself back to reality and began administering the medkit, occasionally checking Mirage’s face for any signs of discomfort. It was only then, he noticed the other looking away, biting his lip and appearing more red in the face by the second. Caustic’s thoughts began to be plagued by possibilities, until his sensible side got the better of him; “You are in the desert. His reaction has nothing to do with you or what you are doing. It is the desert. Of course he’s hot...or um...above desirable temperature”.
Caustic wiped his hands on his lab apron when he was done. “T-thanks for...that”, Mirage spoke, as he began dressing himself. “I uh...honestly thought you’d be the last person to give a damn about me. A-about me, y’know, being s-shot that is”. The trapper was caught off guard by the statement. “I do care...I uhh...that is, I care about winning”, he fumbled over his words. “I know that you are my teammate and keeping you at...optimal functioning is beneficial to my own success”. Mirage toyed with the cuff of his sleeve awkwardly. “Y-yeah. Me too”.
The sound of footsteps outside came as a relief to them both. Anything was better than this situation they’d found themselves in. “That’s probably whoever shot me”, Mirage said, lowering his voice. He swore softly when he tried to stand up, his wound still in the process of healing. Caustic beckoned for him to sit back down, as be began to rig the room with gas traps. “Stay here, I will deal with them”, he ordered.
Mirage backed himself into a corner, and began taking slow deep breaths before inhaling deeply and holding it. Although people on Caustic’s team were offered nose filters to help them combat the gas, Mirage knew from experience they weren’t worth a damn, and being trapped in a room rigged by Caustic was never fun, whether you were on his team or not. Caustic observed him for a moment before realising what he was trying do. He mumbled something to himself before undoing the clasp of his gas mask and securing it around Mirage’s face before he could protest. Mirage was momentarily stunned by this, but managed to call after Caustic as he began to leave the room, “Hey w-wait! Don’t you need this?”. “I will be fine”. “Well...at least take this”. Caustic turned to see Mirage tearing his scarf from around his neck before tossing it at him.
Caustic couldn’t help but smirk slightly at the gesture, knowing the thin fabric wouldn’t do much against his gas traps. He decided to humour the younger legend regardless, giving him a curt nod as he wrapped the scarf around his face. Caustic’s cheeks began to burn as he left the room, the smell of Mirage’s cologne clouding his senses. He was definitely coming down with something. Undoubtedly, a trip to the medical wing was urgently needed.