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The plan was a go. Verlaine and Rimbaud were creeping down a hallway to find where the experiment the Japanese had was hidden. They knew it was a weapon of mass destruction, and that if released, nobody would survive. So, Rimbaud was supposed to grab it, and lock it in a hyperspace, so it could be used by the French government.
However, as they creeped through the laboratory, they saw nothing strange or powerful looking. Until suddenly, a scream ripped through the lab. It sounded like a child’s scream, and like whoever it was, was in pain. No longer concerned about stealth, they ran down the hallways, worried about the child.
There was a door near the end of the hallway where the screams were coming from, and Verlaine busted it open with a single kick. Inside, they saw a small boy with several large metal poles piercing his back. Up in a booth, above where the boy was, was a man, smiling down at what he was doing. Nodding at each other, Rimbaud went for the child, while Verlaine went to dispose of the man.
A single kick knocked the man down, and another sent him into unconsciousness. Then, a flip was switched, and the boy stopped screaming. Rimbaud ran over and carefully removed the metal poles, blood pouring out with each one removed. He had to use a hyperspace to keep the blood from draining from him.
Carrying the small boy, they walked down the halls, wanting to get out of there, so he could get medical treatment. When another child curiously peeked out of a room at them, identical to the bleeding child, minus the wounds. His eyes locked on the other boy, and he ran over, hugging Rimbaud’s leg.
Knowing their mission was screwed at this rate, Verlaine picked up the other child, sharing a look with Rimbaud. One child in a lab was sketchy, but two children was a sign that something very bad was going on there. So, with both children in their arms, the duo left the laboratory, certain that they’d be looked for, for a while, until the Japanese government gave up.
—
Returning to the house they were renting for the month, which they had only been planning to stay in for a week. The non-injured child was placed in Verlaine’s bed, while the injured one was held carefully, and Rimbaud kept the blood mostly in his body. Verlaine got the first aid kit, and handed over the needle and thread to stitch him back up.
Carefully, he laid the boy on the couch, and released the hyperspace, blood remaining in the small body since he was laid on his stomach. There was extreme internal damage, both men grimaced at the sight. Were it an adult, they wouldn’t have thought much of it, but this was a kid. He shouldn’t have been involved in any of this in their opinions.
Using his ability, Verlaine lowered the needle, and began to sew the internal injuries back together first, slowly working his way outwards. It took nearly an hour of precise sewing before the child was no longer in danger of bleeding to death. With the injuries as fixed up as they would be, Rimbaud left the room, and got one of his own shirts.
It wasn’t fair to leave the boy in the tattered hospital gown he was in. So, making sure the blood was all cleaned off his skin, they gently put the shirt on him. Looking at him with a soft gaze, wishing to make it so he and the other boy would never be in that situation ever again.
“We need to get the clothes, so I’m going to wait until the other boy wakes up, and I’m going to take him out shopping. They look to be the same size, so I’ll just pick up stuff for him too while we’re out,” Rimbaud informed Verlaine, resting a hand on top of the other’s.
“Alright, I’ll keep him stable, and hope he doesn’t die on us.” he gently brushed a few locks of hair out of his face, watching as pain crossed his features.
Giving a single nod, conveying the wish for the boy to be okay, he went to the room where the other boy was left. Opening the door, Rimbaud found that he was sitting up in bed, and tiredly rubbing his eyes. Smiling, he went over, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Hey, we’re going to go out and get you and your brother some clothes, alright?” he had finally decided to assume they were siblings, and maybe even twins with how similar they looked.
“Okay, but, who are you?” a soft finger pressed into Rimbaud’s cheek.
Chuckling lightly, he answered, “My name is Rimbaud, what’s yours?”
The boy scrunched up his face in thought. “I don’t know…”
“That’s alright, we can think of one later,” Rimbaud reassured him, getting a strong nod in return.
Seeing that things seemed fine, he scooped up the child, and headed out to the nearest store that would sell kids clothes. The boy excitedly babbled about how cool everything looked, or just made sounds at things, his vocabulary beyond weak. It was easy to imagine that he was neglected, and never taught to speak, beyond what he picked up on.
Knowing he couldn’t change the past, he sighed in frustration, and entered the small shop. Rimbaud set the child down, and told him to find clothes he liked, and then he could try them on to find his size. It took a lot of trying on to find the right size, and a material that he liked.
However, the happy smile once it was right melted his heart, and he wanted to see more of it. He wanted to raise the children himself, and not return to Europe, as the kids would just be turned over there once the government was informed they’d been experimented on. Then they’d go right back to being test subjects, and he wouldn’t allow it.
Breaking out of his thoughts, he paid for the clothes. Rimbaud didn’t want to let the kids be hurt ever again, so as he walked back to the house, he thought about ways to convince Verlaine. He wanted him to stay there with the kids and himself, but he didn’t want to force him to stay.
Reentering the house, there was an audible sound of struggle. Running into the living room, they saw the injured boy launching any item he could touch at Verlaine, who had to remove the antigravity from them. Most of the room was already trashed, and to keep it from getting worse, Rimbaud caught most of the boy in a hyperspace, so he couldn’t move.
“Calm down, we just want to help you. We patched up your injuries earlier, and have no intention of harming you.” Rimbaud walked into the room slowly, releasing the hyperspace, and watching the boy sit down.
“I don’t know who you are, but I have someone to protect. I can’t remember what from, but I’ll keep him safe,” he declared, sounding more weak and tired by the second.
Getting closer, he sat down by the couch. “I’m Rimbaud, and that’s Verlaine. We found someone hurting you, and got you and your brother out of there. May we know your name?”
Thinking for a moment, he decided to talk to them. “I’m Chuuya. Also, can you get me food and water, I’m hungry and thirsty.”
Nodding, Verlaine got up and left for the kitchen, spotting the other boy standing in the hallway. Walking over, he picked up the kid, and continued to the kitchen where he grabbed a glass of water, and some crackers. Heading back to the living room, he saw Chuuya and Rimbaud chatting.
“Here, this should make you feel a bit better,” he tried to sound as friendly as possible.
“Verlaine, can we talk later?” Rimbaud asked, seeming a bit nervous.
He agreed, placing the other little boy down on the floor, and hoping that he knew what to do with himself. It only took a moment for him to go over to Chuuya, and snuggle up against his leg. With the siblings busy with each other, the adults slipped into the kitchen.
“I really want to give them a good childhood, please help me do it,” Rimbaud confessed.
“Sure, I was going to ask you to stick with me and them, so it seems we both had the same idea upon seeing them,” he chuckled, glancing over at the kids.
In that moment, the darker haired male hugged the lighter one. “Seeing him like that hurt, I just want to protect them.”
Verlaine sighed, “I know, me too.”
Standing in the kitchen together, they made a silent promise to make their kids lives better than they’d been so far.