Masque: [Moira, Cain, Marius] Premeditated

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Day three of repairing the victims, and Marius' borrowed powers need renewal. Unfortunately, as Cain and Moira discover, he's not dealing with the stress quite as well as one would have hoped. And Masque has a talent for escalation.





Ceasing his half-hearted struggles as the school's enormous groundskeeper pushed him roughly into the room and sealed the door behind them, Masque looked from the doctor to the boy and sneered.

"Is it time for my sponge-bath?" he asked.

Moira smiled a bit, though it had no real warmth behind it nor did it reach her eyes. "If tha's wha' ye want ta think o' it as," she simply said, placing a hand on Marius' shoulder. "Might make this easier for all o' us."

Masque's single-eyed gaze slid from the petite doctor to the boy, as if the gesture dragged his attention along with it. Tall, athletic, curling black hair falling in his eyes. Darkly handsome, and with the knowledge of it screaming through every line in his body. Masque loathed him instantly.

"Introducing me to another one of your exemplary students?" the man spat, pointedly fixing his eye back on Moira. He raised his right hand, the plaster of the cast still bright and fresh. "What's this one going to do, break my other arm?"

"Do you want to be bounced off the ceiling again?" Cain said in a threatening tone. "Pretty sure you might not want to brag about getting your ass handed to you by the school wimp, though. Kinda makes you seem... well, pathetic."

Not bothering to react to that--it wouldn't have done any good on either side and no one was even remotely removed from this situation--Moira gestured towards Marius. "Not quite," she responded simply. "We're goin' ta fix th' mess ye've made, simple as tha'."

At those words the retort he'd been forming died on his lips. An image returned to him of jointed metal where there should have been seamless flesh, and suddenly the detached hatred he'd felt for the unknown boy took on an edge of very personal rage.

"It was you," Masque breathed, his face contorting around the realization. "You're the one who destroyed my work."

"Took you long enough," Marius said, peeling off his gloves with slow, measured movements. "Guess your mutant power isn't makin' connections, eh? Oh, wait," he amended as he placed the gloves in his pockets and flexed his fingers experimentally, "already knew that, didn't I?"

Moira shot Marius a warning glance and then returned her gaze back to Masque. He called it his work, like it was pieces of art carved from stone and not changes forced onto people. Insane. "Like I said, fixin' th' mess ye made." This was probably going to be harder than she hoped but, well, that's why Cain was here. They all knew that the possibility of everyone being returned to normal by the attacker was slim or else she'd never have allowed this level of contact with him.

Masque laughed bitterly. "So what -- you want me here to watch?"

"Actually," Marius grinned humorlessly as he raised one jagged-toothed hand in mute elaboration, "I just need a snack. Seems I'm runnin' through power before I'm runnin' out of vics. Quite the busy few months you've had here, eh?"

Gesturing towards the chair, Moira continued around the exchange, "We'll need ye ta take a seat an' try an' relax. Marius has a unique side benefit ta 'is already unique power in tha' it allows 'im ta take on another mutant's power." Fascinating on a scientific level and useful, very useful, in times such as this.

"Relax?" the man repeated in disbelief. The laughter took on a wilder edge. "Oh yes, I'll just relax while the parasite makes use of me to undo everything I've created." He returned the sneer to Marius. "Let me guess, he's the reason I had bloody chunks torn out of my arm when I woke up in the one place I've ever been to add to injuries they were supposedly treating. How about that, I thought I'd fallen down a flight of stairs while lying unconscious in that hospital bed."

Cain rolled his eyes, his hand squeezing a little tighter on Masque's collarbone. "You know, I'm not sure he has to be conscious for this part..."

"'Tis either tha' or ye return th' people ye attacked ta normal. Simple as tha'. I'd rather ye be awake for this, 'tis easier really, but, well." Flicking open a doctors' bag, she withdrew a needle and syringe. "We can 'ave ye asleep in jus' a few minutes. Yer choice." It was nothing remotely unethical about making him unconscious for a little bit and, in fact, much easier than having Cain do something.

"How generous." It was the same as with that little crippled shit who'd brutalized him. Their choices were no such thing. The same way it had been all his life.

But that was all right. Blackmail or not, he could make it cost them.

Masque allowed himself to be manhandled into the chair without comment. He didn't even bother to tense under the hands still resting securely on his shoulders, effectively pinning him to his seat.

"I'll do this one from the neck, shall I?" Marius said to Moira in a carefully controlled voice, his eyes never leaving the other man. Unworthy as this piece of trash was to even dignify with a response, the "parasite" barb still twisted. Pity I can't do anything about the numbing, but the analgesia wears off. And the neck is nice and sensitive.

Now that got him a bit of a look but Moira nodded after a second. The arm was, after all, still sore and tender and they did have to rotate locations. Standing close by in case something happened, though she gave them enough room, she shared a worried frown with Cain. This would be over soon, though.

"Right then," Marius said with brittle cheerfulness. He bent over to look Masque in his single eye, hands outstretched. "Just a suggestion: I don't recommend writhin' about. Be a shame if I didn't get the bitey bits in properly the first go. Or more."

Masque bared crooked teeth. "Consider me the soul of cooperation," he said.

And then, as the boy leaned in close to put his arms on his throat, Masque lashed out.

Cain's hands on his shoulders hampered the attack, but with his powers it took astonishingly little force to inflict serious damage. Marius saw the movement just in time to prevent the blow from taking him full on, but Masque's forehead still caught him across the side of the face. Bone connected with bone -- which yielded.

Cain lifted Masque out of the chair, hand tightening around the deformed mutant's neck. "Moira," he growled, "you tell me the fancy kid's gonna be okay, or needed or not, this son of a bitch is going to be a head shorter."

Hell.

Moira had lunged the second she'd seen movement but it'd still been too late to prevent contact. Grabbing Marius by the shoulders, she yanked him backwards and as far away as she could. They both tumbled down on the ground in a heap but she was scrambling to turn him over, trying to pry his hands away from his face.

"Marius, let me see wha' he's done." Goddammit, she thought furiously, another one of hers. Try as she might, she winced a little when she caught the damage. It was like a headbutt injury--nose splattered to hell and back, eye socket not quite the right shape--but far too much, far too smooth, for it to be as simple as all of that.

The words didn't even penetrate. Marius jerked away from her touch, every nerve-ending shrieking. There was a split-second of liquid agony through flesh gone sickening concave under his hands, and then it was Marius who was screaming as muscle and bone snapped back into place, his body's natural integrity reasserting itself. Violently.

"GodDAMN..." Cain whistled through his teeth, staring down at Marius. A gurgle from the end of his arm notified him that maybe he was squeezing Masque's neck a bit overzealously. With a thump, he pushed the flesh-manipulator against the wall, thumb and forefinger still pinning him there by his neck. "He gonna be okay, Mac?"

"Cain, keep him still for a few minutes," Moira said shortly over her shoulder, not really all that worried but it needed saying. Turning back, she gripped Marius' shoulders again but the touch was much more gentle this time. Everything looked back in place but, God, the pain it must have caused. "An' Marius'll be fine in a few minutes, everythin' looks, well, back in place."

Any possible attempt at a comment was interrupted by a retch. Marius bowed over and spent a few moments consumed by dry-heaving, hands clenched around the vicious spasms going on in his palms. "She'll be . . . right," he managed to gasp from somewhere near the vicinity of the floortiles. "Taken worse in . . . rugby. Give us a--" Another heave cut him off. He was distantly aware his mutation had just saved him from serious disfigurement, but all he could think was: Bloody hell but did that sodding hurt . . .

Masque, still coughing at the release of the near-terminal pressure on his throat, stared at him wide-eyed. This wasn't like the man restraining him -- it wasn't that the changes failed to hold, they actually skidded off. The feel of flesh remaining starkly unyielding was one thing. It was another to feel it give, then watch it flow back. For the first time since Masque had begun his long, harsh journey for control, he was completely without words.

"Dinnae push yerself," Moira said firmly, holding Marius' bangs away from his face and supporting him as much as he would allow her too. "He's nay goin' anywhere, Cain'll see ta tha'."

"Say the word and he's a stain on the wall and a bad memory," Cain asserted, staring daggers into Masque's good eye while cocking a fist back. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, brilliant," Marius said shakily, pushing himself away from Moira's touch and onto to his feet with painstaking determination. In spite of the clammy weakness beginning to grip him, he gave the doctor a smile. "Think I could do with the meal after that. Let's just have done with this."

Cain sat Masque back down in the chair roughly, one hand at the back of his neck, giving a threatening squeeze. "Do what you got to do," he said, "I don't think Ugly here is going to try something stupid like that again."

Moira nodded and then stood up, dusting herself off. "Now tha' we know wha' he might do," she said softly, "we'll be able ta get this done wit' faster. Let's get this done an' then get out o' 'ere, there's a lot o' work ta be done even after this bit."

"No worries," Marius said, his smile going slightly odd, "this won't take long."

Masque's lips twisted in a sneer, taking one last stab at injury in a vain attempt to conceal his growing sense of helplessness -- and alarm. "Maybe you can hide it," he hissed as the boy advanced, "but you're still like us. A freak."

"Sorry, I don't do the gutter," Marius replied levelly. "Unlike you, I'm far too pretty. Hair doesn't do well in the damp." Slowly, inexorably, he locked his hands around Masque's neck and gave the man a vicious smile as he felt the teeth sink in. "An' there's not one sodding thing you can do about it."

There was a whimper as the mouths convulsed, but Marius ignored it. He was beyond caring at this point. This was the man who had attacked and disfigured his suitemates, had mutilated countless others, many still being located by the professor and research team, and who had almost succeeded in doing the same to him. Marius had no energy for compassion.

Besides, the filthy toerag had made him hungry.

When the feeding was complete Marius wasted no time fully disengaging before removing his hands. He stood there for a moment, flexing and unflexing his hands in a thoughtful way.

"Right," he said after a moment, inspecting a clenched fist, "think it's set in." He cocked his head to regard Masque, as if considering.

Then, without warning, his fist darted out to strike the man in the face.

Hard.

The blow connected with a sickening schunk. The one Masque had dealt Marius hadn't been straight-on, but this was; nose, mouth, remaining eye -- all of it caved around the boy's hand, deforming already ravaged features into nothing more than a pallid mass of undifferentiated flesh. There was barely even the sensation of solid impact.

Good job I figured out how to push that field-effect, Marius thought vaguely as he stepped back, hand dropping to his side.

"Jesus!" This time it was the other boy's side that Moira reached, grabbed him under the chin despite the distinct want to touch him and the frantic wriggling. Whipping her head around, she stared. "Tha's crossin' a line tha' I cannae allow. Change him back."

When there was no response, she snapped, "Marius Sammar Cartier Laverne!"

Marius's gaze drifted away from the ruined visage and its muffled keening, following Moira's gloved hand back up her arm to her face.

"What?" he said dismissively. "It suits him." Then, when he saw her expression at that, rolled his eyes and muttered, "Right, fine."

Making no attempt at gentleness, he took Masque's face in both hands and closed his eyes, concentrating. He still lacked the skill to make alterations, like he could when he linked with Betsy, but after treating over three dozen victims resetting the proper physiology was almost instinctive. It was easy enough to smooth the distorted flesh back to its normal, hideous state.

Forge says people like you get off on control, he thought as features flowed like water under his touch, so you tell me, mate: who's got the control now?

"There," Marius said as he drew his hands away from the desperately coughing Masque, "all better."

Cain leaned forward to peer over Masque's shoulder, screwing up his face. "Ugh," he said with a frown. "That's 'better'? Boy, we need to get you some glasses."

She was personally going to kick both of their asses, she thought sullenly, gazing coldly at everyone in the room. There was a line that was simply not crossed, not when she was a doctor, and it had not only been crossed but danced upon with gleeful abandon.

Marius shrugged at the groundskeeper. "What can I say? He's not worth makin' any better." He met Masque's poisonous glare with a smile. "Which, by the way, I can an' have done for some of your less fortunate monstrosities. Just so you know."

Cain saw the look on Moira's face and hauled Masque up to his feet. "Back into lockup with you, sport," he chimed. "Don't you worry none, folks with the nice white jackets and the pretty gold badges will be along in a day or two, once we got all your mess fixed up."

As soon as Cain had frog marched the other boy out of the room, the door closing quietly behind them, Moira turned her attention fully on Marius. "There's plenty o' work ta be done elsewhere," she said, voice low. Two steps brought her right up to Marius and she didn't even slow as a hand snapped up to grab his ear, pulling him down to her level with a sharp yank. "Ye try tha' shit again an' yer ass is mine," Moira continued in the same tone as she kept going towards the door.

"Ow! Right, right!" There wasn't any other response to give when a woman almost a foot shorter than you was jerking you around by your earlobe. Not if you wanted to keep the ear, anyway.

But the pillock still got what was coming to him.