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You entered Black Hat's study with an air of confidence, walking briskly with bold steps laced with purpose and determination.
You tripped on the carpet and landed on your face.
You stood back up, continuing to walk briskly and with purpose, if perhaps with a smidge less confidence than before, but only the slightest smidge.
"Good morning, Mr. Black Hat," you stated, debating whether to give your boss a bow or a curt salute, fumbling awkwardly as you somehow performed both actions at the same time.
You hoped that he didn't pay too much attention to your salute-bow fiasco; you were trying to prove that you were a very capable henchman, after all.
"Yes, it's definitely morning. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a good one, though," Black Hat replied with a sniff, sitting prim and proper at his desk, looking as regal and villainous as ever.
"You called for me? For a new mission, I think?" you asked hesitantly, playing with the hem of your shirt as you glanced up at the imposing figure before you.
"Yes, I did," Black Hat gruffly replied, leaning forward in his chair, "You will be accompanying Flug and Demencia to retrieve some... rather sensitive information from a base. This is a request from a very valuable client, so I do hope that you are successful. We wouldn't want another mishap like the Commander Courageous episode, now would we?" he ended with a dangerous chuckle, eyes narrowing in warning.
You fidgeted slightly, thinking back on your first mission ever given to you. You thought back on how you horribly failed that said mission, returning to Black Hat's mansion with nothing more to show for than some rather nasty injuries from Commander Courageous himself.
The stupid asshole and his tacky name could rot in hell, for all you cared.
"Right, of course Mr. Black Hat. I promise, this time I won't mess up. You can trust me," you replied earnestly, albeit a bit meekly.
"I have the utmost confidence that you understand the severity of this mission, for the good of the organization, and yourself," the eldritch entity simply answered, thrumming his fingers against the soft cushion of his armrest.
You settled on bowing this time around, mumbling an awkward "yes sir" and goodbye to the monstrous, yet well-dressed, creature you called your boss, quickly retreating from the room. Just as you were about to close the door behind you, you heard his grating voice speak up once more.
"One more thing," he said lowly from his place at his desk, raking across your uneasy figure before locking his eyes with yours.
"Don't get yourself killed out there, you fool."
"Promise, boss," you replied with a small smile, closing the door behind you with an extra hop in your step.
You hummed lightly as you walked down the hallway, looking for your coworkers, eager to finish the task at hand. You couldn't fail Black Hat, not this time. You were going to succeed, no matter what, you decided with steely resolve.
"Hey, are you ready to rumble, or what?" came a feminine voice behind you, bursting with energy, and maybe even a hint of bloodlust.
You spun on your heel, turning as quickly as you could because if past experience had taught you anything, it was that it's a bad idea to have your back turned on Demencia.
She had a nasty habit of maiming people, after all.
"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied with a small, anxious laugh, giving a slight wave to Dr. Flug, who looked as nervous as you felt.
He stood next to Demencia, wringing his hands together before sending you back a curt hand motion, his own imitation of a normal greeting.
"So, what exactly are we up against, today?" you asked, walking with the duo as you all headed toward the giant flying hat that would bring you to your next destination.
Black Hat was several things, but, if not apparent enough from the before-mentioned giant flying hat, he was not very subtle.
Flug spoke up first, eager to speak about something in his depth. Small talk, normal everyday conversations, or friendly greetings? They were foreign to the scientist, impossible to predict and too slippery to gain a firm enough grasp on. Talking about missions or rattling off statistics, however? That he could do.
Rocket science was so much easier than discussing the weather, after all.
"We're going on a covert mission to stea- obtain blueprints from a military base near here. A certain client wants them to construct a weapon, but the only intel we have about it is that it's called the Lathargia."
"Is it sorta like ligma?" piped up Demencia with a devilish smile, who had mostly tuned out everything, but thankfully caught the last little bit.
"What's-" started Flug, to your absolute horror and surprise.
You were suddenly seized by a wave of pity for the hopeless doctor, mercifully splaying your hand across his face to stop his question, hoping you had landed on his mouth through the bag.
"Don't ask what it is," you told him sternly, making Demencia pout and stick her tongue at you.
Flug indignantly shooed your hand away from him, smoothing out his bag with a huff before crossing his nerdy noodle arms, lanky figure straightening up with an air of annoyance.
"As I was saying-" Dr. Flug started, being interrupted once more, this time by you.
"Quick question, but exactly how socially inept are you that you don't know the ligma joke? I mean, I'm pretty bad myself, but at least I know li-"
"As I was saying," Flug continued, ignoring your confused expression as Demencia cackled in the background, "I'll be honest, this is a risky mission. We don't have very much to go on, but we'll need to be stealthy, cautious, and quiet if we want to have even a chance of completing the task."
You nodded solemnly, giving Flug a look that you hoped conveyed the severity and importance that you believed this mission deserved. It was a quiet gesture of respect, of something bigger than yourself. You hoped that he realized that you would do anything to make sure things went smoothly, perfectly.
Demencia belched, scratching the side of her head as she let out a snort shortly after, ruining the moment.
"Oops, sorry, must've been the meatball sub I had earlier," she piped up with a laugh, not looking one bit sorry.
She smacked her lips a few times, eyebrows knit together in what looked to be deep concentration.
"Wait, no, tastes like the ice cream I had after the sub," she concluded with an air of victory, happy to have solved the mystery with her keen skills of deduction and observation.
"Oh, do we have any left?" you asked excitedly, forgetting your anxiety for a second at the mention of dessert.
They did just stock up on your favorite flavor, after all.
"Give me strength," mumbled Flug with a slump of his shoulders, hoping that whatever entity that existed in this garbage dump of a universe would take pity on him, given that he was working with two absolute morons.
"Oh, come on," you told him with a laugh, stepping into the flying headwear-designed aircraft, "Don't be so gloomy, Doctor!"
Demencia patted Flug's shoulder in what she thought to be a sincere and comforting gesture, but was, in reality, very painful to the doctor since it was less of a pat and more of a soft pummeling.
"Yeah," she exclaimed, "What's the worst that could happen?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Apparently, you thought to yourself as a wave of thick, coiling gas exploded in the room where the blueprints were, alarm sirens shrieking through the maze of hallways you had to navigate to reach the destination, the distant sound of footsteps that most definitely belonged to highly-trained security headed your way echoing in the background, the worst was pretty damn bad.
"Aw shit," Demencia shrieked, noticing the dark tendrils of gas wafting towards the group of you, mysterious and foreign and probably very deadly, "They got smoke machines here, like in raves?"
"I highly doubt that's what this is," Flug responded, freaking out as he backed away from the fumes, clawing at his paper bag, trying to think of some grand scheme to get your sorry-asses out of trouble.
You all were deep in the secret corridors of the military base, but it might as well have been the belly of some monstrous beast. Everything was going fine until a guard spotted your group, quickly sounding the alarm before Demencia had the chance to pounce on him. You were so close to retrieving the blueprints, but just as you had opened the door to the room they were in, the gas began to appear. It was probably a safety measure, some dangerous booby trap designed to be fatal.
"W-What's the plan, Dr. Flug?" you asked hopefully, turning to the brains of the group since you and Demencia probably only had about ten brain cells grouped together, if you were being generous.
Dr. Flug clasped his hands together, turning to the both of you, his goggles flashing red from the overhead lights warning of your invasion. He took a deep breath and raised a finger to the sky.
"Tactfully retreating," he exclaimed, looking like he was about to book it at any moment and run as fast as his stringy legs could carry him.
"We, we can't do that! We have to get the blueprints!" you exclaimed, sweat beading on your face, knowing that each second lost talking about this only further spelled out your doom.
You had to succeed, that's what you had told yourself only a few hours earlier that day. You had made a promise, to yourself, and to Mr. Black Hat. Screwing up was a rather common occurrence in your relatively short life, mistake after mistake piling up on your conscience, staining it. You couldn't bear doing it again, not when it was for him.
You weren't going to fail yourself, fail him, this time. You'd make sure of it.
"Just stay here, I'll be back," you suddenly said in a rush, bolting before anyone could protest.
You ran into the black, swirling gas, holding your breath as your eyes instantly started to tear up. It was difficult to see your feet from under you, let alone your surroundings. You frantically searched tabletops, counters, anything in the strange room, realizing that it was actually a lab of some sort after knocking over some especially corrosive looking beakers of fluid. Your lungs begged for oxygen, making you lightheaded and dizzy as you refused to breathe in the toxins. In the far corner, you finally stumbled across some papers, blueprints, labeled "The Lathargia Device."
You snatched them from the table, knocking over a steel ball, about the size of your palm. It was a replica of what was shown on the blueprint, and, maybe more importantly, it was secreting the black gas that you were currently suffocating yourself over.
You didn't have time to dwell on it any longer than a quick glance, running with all your might to the exit of the dangerous room, blueprints in hand.
You stumbled, fell for a moment as the world began to spin and spin.
You inhaled, deeply.
You jumped back up, a sick and vile taste coating your mouth and stinging your nose. You couldn't think about it, couldn't stop for it. You ran, faster than before, bolting out of the room and stumbling straight into Flug.
"I've got it!" you exclaimed, clutching onto his long white coat for support before straightening yourself, "Now let's run!"
He and Demencia both stared at you for a single beat, marveling at your blatant lack of self-preservation.
Then, you all high-tailed your asses out of there.
"You're nuts!" Demencia told you through her panting, running like a madman, "I like it!"
You gave her a thin-lipped smile, hoping, praying that you hadn't just made a very, very big mistake.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were tired.
That's all you could think of as you finally settled your weary feet onto the rich carpet of the manor, exiting from the aircraft and taking in a deep, shaky breath.
"How do you feel?" asked Flug hesitantly, noticing you struggle to walk straight as you all headed towards Black Hat's office, where he was waiting.
"Good, I'm fine, really," you responded, only a hint of a slur in your words, "I told you, I barely inhaled anything. I'm fine, ok? Fine."
Flug gave you a weary look, watching as your grasp on the blueprints you had clutched the entire ride back loosened, watching as your chest seemed to heave a bit faster than before, as if you were out of breath.
"That was a dangerous stunt to pull, you know," he told you lowly, sternly, voice void of any sense of humor or niceties, void of his usual anxiety for once, "You could have gotten yourself killed. You shouldn't have done it."
You flopped your head his way, the motion surprisingly difficult to complete. Your face was pale, he noted with a sort of detached observation only an experienced scientist like himself could have. He watched as you lazily opened your mouth, as if searching for words.
"The newbie said it's fine, ok Flug? Quit being such a worry-wort," piped up Demencia before you could respond, your heart warming from her sudden aid, even though you didn't quite appreciate being called a newbie.
She playfully swatted at your back, which you almost fell down from in your weakened state. Ever oblivious, she didn't really notice as she continued to pat you.
"Thanks, Demencia," you said with a small smile, slightly delirious, but still grateful.
She flashed back a very toothy, very wide grin of her own, finally ceasing her barrage of swats as she sprinted ahead of you and Flug, mentioning something about how you both were some slowpokes.
You could feel the doctor giving you sideways glances; the atmosphere between you both was tense, stagnant. You clutched tighter to the blueprints in your hands, daring to glance up at him.
"We both know that I don't really belong here, Dr. Flug Slys," you began, voice barely above a whisper as you broke the silence between the two of you, "I'm not made of the same stuff you and Demencia are made of, and I'm most certainly no Mr. Black Hat. I'm a weak link in a very unforgiving, very cruel chain."
You stopped, finding it hard to concentrate on simply stringing out words. You needed a nap after all of this. A long one, preferably.
"That's why-" you continued, voice slightly cracking, hoping he wouldn't notice, "That's why I have to work twice as hard, why I have to take risks like these. I have to prove my worth, you can understand that, right? You create amazing inventions, and Demencia is a living weapon. I'm- well, I'm expendable. I'm here to help Mr. Black Hat. No matter what. That's my use. I don't stop you from your work, so please, don't stop me from mine."
You looked away, suddenly becoming very interested in the pattern of the floor tiles, exhausted and weak and really, really done for the day.
Dr. Flug, as before-mentioned several times, was not very good at social situations. One could further state that he was especially not very good at comforting others. In his defense, with a professional title of "Evil Mad Scientist," you couldn't really expect much from him.
Even so, he had enough- barely, but still enough- sympathy in the withered-up prune of an organ called his heart to gently place a gloved hand on your shoulder, the smell of antiseptics and motor oil greeting your nose to create a very strange odor.
Flug said your name slowly, as if testing out the word, drawing out the syllables. He didn't say it very often. It was too personal to him; it was linked too closely to your past identity, the one you had left, destroyed when you signed your name in Black Hat's contract.
"You're still a person, you know. You still need to take care of yourself."
You both caught up with Demencia right after he spoke, reaching the door to Black Hat's office. Flug quickly drew his hand away from you, smoothing down his lab coat as he opted to pretend like the last three or so minutes never happened.
Were you really a person?
The question popped into your head as you looked up at the dark oak door, the passage to your fate. Didn't a person have their own mind, their own heart, their own soul? You couldn't say the same, not really. Your soul was Black Hat's now. You had sold it a little while back. He had your mind, too. He invaded it, ruled it; he was always in your thoughts.
As for your heart, he had stolen it, even if you had tried so very hard to guard it.
"You guys ready, or what? I can't leave the love of my life waiting all day, ya know," Demencia practically shouted, disturbing your thoughts, as hyper and wanton as ever.
"Yeah, yeah let's do it," you replied with a forced smile, stomach lurching a bit as you walked forward on unsteady feet, opening the door and entering with the others.
Black Hat was sitting, as always, at his desk, fingers steepled as he leaned back into his chair, an expectant look on his face.
"Ah, finally back? How was your little errand?" he asked, amusement flickering across his face, evident in his coy words.
"It went well, sir," you spoke up, seeing as he was staring at you the most intently, like sizing up which sheep to slaughter first.
"Here are the blueprints, as you requested," you continued, about to walk forward before Black Hat stood up, briskly moving toward you, hands folded behind his back.
You placed them in his outstretched hand, breath coming out ragged and fingers violently shaking. You steadied them, ever hesitant to show any weaknesses around your boss.
He always knew best how to exploit them.
"Hmm," Black Hat hummed lowly, examining the sheets of paper for a moment before folding them up and tossing them on his desk.
"Lethargia, what a tacky name for a sleeping device," he grumbled to himself before leaning down to your eye level, grabbing your chin with a cold, gloved hand.
"I'm pleased to see that you upheld your promise," Black Hat told you with a chuckle, enjoying the way you squirmed under his touch.
He was a bit... concerned that this mission would be too much for you. He had to admit, it wasn't an easy one, not for a moron like yourself, at least. You had a certain knack for getting yourself in trouble, after all, and he hadn't wanted to have to go out searching for another evil lackey to do his bidding. Not that anyone could replace you, with all of your stupid bumbling and silly smiles and funny laughs-
"Yes, sir," you replied, making him lose his train of thought, "I promised I wouldn't fail you again, and I meant it, you know."
Oh.
Yes, of course, you were thinking of that promise, not the one where you said you wouldn't get yourself killed. Black Hat knew that; he was thinking of the same one too, of course. He didn't care about your life; he cared about clients, about money, about the money those clients gave him for successful missions. Not about you.
Yes, of course.
"Um, are you okay?" you asked hesitantly, watching as the living sleep-paralysis demon of your worst nightmares gave you a very, very strange look as he thought to himself.
You absently wondered if Eldritch horrors could ever get constipated, because if his face was any evidence of it, signs pointed towards yes.
Black Hat suddenly jerked away from you, quickly collecting himself, mentally putting back up all of his barriers, going so far as to metaphorically reinforce each one.
"Yes, yes of course I'm fine, you twat. Where were we? Ah yes, congratulations on doing your damn job for once, everyone gets a metal, is that what you'd like?" Black Hat growled, dripping with sarcasm.
"Is it a shiny one?" questioned Demencia, raising her hand.
"Yes, please," replied Flug quietly, internally desperately screaming for validation of any sort.
You felt like you were about to pass out, so you opted out of answering, instead only giving your boss a heavy nod of your head, which was most certainly not because you had momentarily lost consciousness.
"Get out of my office, you absolute dumbasses," Black Hat suddenly screeched, shadows curling menacingly around the room, his threat not in any way empty.
In unison, you all suddenly decided to adopt Flug's previous plan: a tactical retreat.
As soon as you exited (ran out of) the office, you decided to go straight to your room and do the most logical thing you could think of in this situation. You were headed right to sleep this all off.
That was a surefire cure for inhaling toxins, right?
Just as you were about to relay your plan to your fellow teammates, you very inconveniently collapsed to the ground.
Flug saw you fall first, kinda expecting this to happen but still considerably a bit shocked. He knelt at your side, propping your head up as you gazed lazily at him.
"Heya, didn't mention this, but uhh, I think that gas was from the blueprint device... thingie," you mumbled, your mouth feeling weird for some reason as you slurred out your words, "Ya know... the ligma?"
"The Lathargia," Flug corrected you, deadpan as he checked your pulse, worried that this was far worse than simple lethargy.
Somewhere far away, at least it sounded far away, you heard Demencia start babbling, probably only now finally realizing that you conked out.
"Should I get the shovels?" she asked, voice gloomy for once, a bit bummed out that you had died. You were kinda cool, after all.
"I'm not dead," you croaked out, giggling because for some reason this entire situation was funny.
In retrospect, it was probably not very funny at all, but the chemicals in your body convinced you otherwise at that specific moment.
"We need to get you to my lab, maybe even a real hospital. I'm going to inform the boss" Flug said in a rush, deciding that he needed to take control of this situation before they actually did need shovels.
"No," you stated firmly, reaching up to grab at Flug's paper bag in your delirium, which he promptly swatted you away from, "Ya can't go snitch'in on me, you school-lunch faced bastard!"
You giggled again.
"Please," you whispered to him, eyes rolling back before you shut them for good, body going limp, finally drifting off.
"Do we... do we need the shovels now?" asked Demencia hesitantly as she peered down at you, poking your shoulder like you were something she had found pancaked on the side of the road.
"No, Demencia," Flug responded gravely, "We need a cure."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black Hat was pacing in his office, hands behind his back, frown evident on his face. He hadn't heard from you in two days. Two. He was your superior, after all, so what right did you have to ignore him, avoid him, like this? You were neglecting your duties, as well. A large stack of documents had already piled themselves up on your desk, and you hadn't been busy cleaning, either. It was unusual, to say the least.
Black Hat stopped pacing for a moment, instead deciding to stare out of his window.
You were such a hard-worker, so devoted to your job, to him. This wasn't like you, not at all. You were (usually) respectful, and you were responsible, despite what your disposition might point toward. He hadn't heard you say something stupid in two whole days. It was preposterous, the very thought. He had grown accustomed to hearing you rant constantly, yet now, you totally blocked him off?
Black Hat scoffed, suddenly realizing that he could solve this problem very easily. He was goddamned Black Hat, for evil's sake! He owned your very soul, and if he wanted to hear your annoying little voice right now, he bloody would.
He stormed out of his office in the sourest of moods, teeth bared and menacing as he went off in search of you.
Flug, unfortunately, was walking down the same corridor as Black Hat, and when he looked up from the mess of papers in his hands, he almost shat himself as the Epitome of Evil and Disaster locked eyes with him, zoning in on him like a shark to a bucket of chum.
Oh God, why did he have to be the chum?
"Ah, the man of the hour, Dr. Flug," Black Hat chuckled cruelty, watching as the man in front of him already broke out in a sweat.
"I have a question for you, doctor," Black Hat hissed, smile dripping with green drool and danger.
"Where is our newest recruit?"
Flug, during his rather long time working for Black Hat, had learned, if not mastered, the art of knowing exactly when he was in deep shit and when he was not. Flug gulped, sadly knowing the answer to both Black Hat's question, and his own.
He was in deep, deep shit.
"Ah, um, Mr. Black Hat, sir! I'm not exactly, hmm, not quite sure actually," he stuttered out, unconsciously crumpling the papers he had handled with such care before.
Why had he decided not to tell Black Hat about you? Flug really wasn't very sure what possessed him to do it. He was a man of logic, of common sense, and, most importantly, of cowardice when it came to Black Hat. He wasn't afraid to push someone else into the crossfires if it meant saving his own hide. He knew you didn't want to disappoint the boss, though.
Maybe that was it; he related too closely with the sentiment.
"Oh, that's a pity Flug," Black Hat growled, picking up the hapless doctor by the collar and shaking him around like a limp noodle, "It's a pity that you've decided to lie to me."
"Sir, I-" Flug began, realizing that he was at a crossroads, his equally genius and clueless brain going into overdrive.
Would it be best, to tell Black Hat? Did he have much of a choice? The scientist had been trying for the past two days to wake you up, in any way he could. He had pricked, prodded, even shook you. When that hadn't worked, he had run tests, designed antidotes, and, in a moment of weakness, banged pots and pans right in front of your (unfortunately sleeping) face. He tried everything, and the only thing he didn't allow was Demencia's risky idea of pouring an energy drink down your nostrils, much to her protest that it would totally, totally work.
Could Black Hat maybe help? He was all-powerful, after all.
"Sir," he began again, brushing aside the twinge of guilt that pricked at his chest, "I've really tried, tried to fix this! It's not my fault- truly I would have stopped h-"
Black Hat felt a twinge of something dark, something painful in his ancient chest. He hadn't felt anything like it. It was like every nerve in his monstrous body was on fire, muscles taunt with the sensation.
Something was very, very wrong.
"Show me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Black Hat was pacing, again, but this time, in your bedroom. It turned out that he was an extremely good pacer, as he had been doing so for an uncomfortably large amount of time. He could probably pace all day, if need be.
He stopped, glanced at your pale face as you laid still as a corpse in your bed, the only hint of life in you the ever-so-slight rise and fall of the covers draping your chest.
He continued his pacing.
It had been three days since Flug had finally told him about you, since he had realized that you were like this. Altogether, five days of sleep. Flug had suggested hooking you up to a monitor and other such contraptions that Black Hat didn't really know much about. All he could determine was that you looked awfully pitiful, tubes dug into your soft skin, the only trace of your heartbeat being the quiet, thankfully steady, beep of the blasted machine.
What could he do? What could he really do to fix this? He had all the power in the world at his fingertips, bubbling beneath the surface of his body, waiting to be unleashed. He could easily destroy planets, invoke fear in the hearts of millions, and everyone knew it. It was absurd, ironic even, that he couldn't heal you, even if he wanted to.
It frustrated him to no end, this lapse in control he was facing. It made him want to obliterate a small country or set fire to a nation.
He settled on punching the wall of your room.
The plasterboard caved in immediately, like a sheet of paper being torn in half. It left a large, gaping hole, splinters of wood and ventilation falling to his feet, collecting on the floor. The monstrosity disguised as a businessman let out a long sigh, not feeling any better, realizing that you probably wouldn't be too happy when you saw the damage he had done to your room.
Not that he gave a damn, though. He was evil, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted to the walls of your room, to anything you owned, really. He was evil and vile and wicked and plain mean, and he shouldn't care at all whether you woke up or not. He knew full-well that you most probably wouldn't wake up, and he didn't care. This wasn't a fairy-tale, this wasn't some fantasy where he could be your Prince Charming, breaking the curse of eternal sleep with something as frivolous as a kiss.
No, he knew full-well that he was far from a knight in shining armor, far from any princely figure you could conjure up in your imagination. No, he was the most wicked thing any mortal could think up, and what made it worse was that he loved it that way.
Black Hat walked up to you, sitting down at the chair perched at the side of your bed, the one he had spent the majority of the last three days sitting on. All that being said, he couldn't help but admit that you looked awfully close to a sleeping beauty.
He cupped your chin, and for once, you didn't flinch, you didn't give him a weary look or avert your gaze. Had your lips become even paler? Not that it mattered; it was only an observation. There were strands of hair in your face, and it bothered him greatly. He gently brushed them away, not because he cared, but because he was a bit of a perfectionist, after all. Black Hat let his cold fingers linger on your equally cold face, going so far as to rub circles with his thumb on the cool skin of your cheek.
"Wake up, you bloody idiot. This is highly inconvenient for me, you know," he scolded you lightly, not quite able to bring himself to raise his voice at you, the throbbing in his chest, the one that had lingered there this entire time, suddenly budding to a crescendo.
"That's an order, understand? Do you really dare to so openly disobey me?" he continued, deciding to place his other hand in your hair, combing softly through the tangle of knots that were forming.
"You promised that you wouldn't get yourself killed, and then, then you come back and fall into a coma, you asshole? Found the loophole, didn't you. I hope you're happy, doing this to me, your superior. Whenever you wake up, I'm going to kick your stupid, insubordinate ass."
You, of course, didn't answer him.
Was this his fault?
The question suddenly bubbled to the surface of his mind, throwing him for a loop. No, of course not, he was Black Hat and he had no faults. You did this to yourself; you were too weak, too frail. It wasn't because of him that you were most likely going to die, he hadn't forced you to run into the gas, just as Flug told him you had done. It wasn't his fault that you were so eager to impress him, so foolish, that you had thrusted yourself straight into danger.
Black Hat leaned in close to you, inspecting your sleeping face, so peaceful, tranquil in your oblivion, ignorant to the amount of danger your life was in. He felt that same twinge, that twinge of something that was most definitely not guilt.
Had he pushed you too far?
"Wake up," he repeated, suddenly becoming very, very angry at nothing in particular, maybe, if he dared to say it, at himself.
He shook you lightly, which you didn't respond at all from. He shook you again, a bit less lightly, causing more wisps of hair to gather around your face, making him growl in annoyance.
He was breathing heavily now, wanting to tear something to pieces in his frustration. Instead, he once again brushed aside the strands of hair from your cheeks, trying desperately to calm himself.
What was he doing, getting so worked up over someone like you? Easily expendable, goofy, clumsy, naive, and far, far too trusting. He reached for your hand, being careful not to disturb or tug at the tubes, careful not to hurt you in your fragile state.
“Come now, you can’t give me the silent treatment forever. Where’s the stupid little quip you always say? Act like a fool, you know you’re good at it,” he prodded again, this time a bit more weakly, openly caressing your face at this point.
He could allow himself to pretend, he thought to himself. He could give in for a moment and pretend that he was some valiant dark knight, still evil, of course, but also noble. He wasn’t going to go so far as to kiss you, in a coma, on the lips, however.
That crossed far too deeply into creepiness than evil, for his tastes.
Instead, he leaned forward, pressing cold lips against your forehead in a gesture that went against everything he was.
It was sincere, it was chaste, and it was sickeningly soft.
He didn’t linger long, instead quickly pulling back, brushing down his long coat while clearing his throat, not quite sure what possessed him to do that. He placed his elbows on each leg, perched forward in his chair, hands splayed across his face.
The room was quite, save for the beep of the monitor.
The entity of mass destruction sitting in his chair, next to the only person in the world he had ever learned to care for, even if he didn’t realize it, was totally, infallibly, helpless.
You took this moment to shift to your side, facing him, still asleep as you let out a gurgled noise.
The entity of mass destruction whipped his head up to look at you.
You twitched a finger.
He placed a hand on your shoulder.
You mumbled again.
He promptly decided to yell in your face.
“Are you awake? Are you awake you damn moron? Awake?”
Your eyes lazily opened, unfocused and blurry as you tried to process what was happening with a brain that felt like sludge at the moment. You were in a room, in a bed, with someone yelling next to you, you concluded with your keen skills of observation.
After blinking a few times, you realized rather quickly that the man screaming, was in fact, Mr. Black Hat.
“I’m,” you croaked out, surprised at how hoarse your voice was, how difficult it was to speak, “I’m up.”
“... Good,” Black Hat replied simply, sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms, trying to hide the enormous amount of relief that suddenly coursed through him.
“I fell asleep,” you croaked again, stating the obvious with an air of matter-of-fact-ness that only a very disoriented person could achieve.
“Yes,” he answered, still staring at you in an extremely strange way.
“Cuz’ of the gas,” you continued, voice slurred.
Black Hat courteously nodded at your statement.
“Oh, oh gosh,” you murmured, voice raising in pitch, “Do you know what my last words were, before I fell asleep? I- I could have died from this, and my last words, they would have been ‘Ya can't go snitch'in on me, you school-lunch faced bastard.’”
You stared off into outer-space, contemplating this very disturbing fact.
Black Hat suddenly stood up, swooping down on you with a vengeance, making your heart drop. He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you close to him, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, flush against his cold chest.
“Wha-” you began, thoroughly confused.
He pulled back, straightening himself out in a matter of seconds as he stood next to you, as if nothing had happened at all.
“That was nothing. Never speak of it. It was a failed attempt at suffocating you, understood? Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed, but the goal was to murder you. That was the goal,” he repeat, voice curt and sharp as he began walking toward your door.
Your mind was reeling. Black Hat had just hugged you.
“That was a hu-”
“Don’t say it,” Black Hat warned, pointing a finger at you, “Say it and I’ll make you wish you had never woken up.”
“Where are you going?” you decided to ask, changing the subject, for both of your sakes.
“I’m getting that good-for-nothing doctor to come in here and check on you. Try not to induce another coma on yourself while I’m gone, would you?” he growled at you half-heartedly, not able to bring himself to threaten you like he normally did.
“Promise,” you answered back softly, a warm sensation prickling your cool skin.
Black Hat paused by the door, looking as if he was about to say something. He stopped himself, instead only giving you another one of those strange looks, then left.
You snuggled yourself deeper under the covers, still feeling a bit worse for wear. With him gone, it gave you plenty of time to mull over exactly what the look he gave you meant.
You thought it seemed awfully close to relief, to fondness.