Post by Robb (Owner) on Nov 27, 2024 0:00:23 GMT -8
Having exchanged a few messages with Zxavier earlier that evening, Evelyn arrived at the hospital with the intention of helping the young man. Her version of helping, naturally.
For all of her boisterous personality, she came that evening in nothing but a hoodie and leggings. It was a low-key look, hair tied back and minimal makeup.
She made her way to the agreed meeting point, a cafeteria. The others there were worried-looking, tired sorts. Not Evelyn. Still, she ordered herself a drink and one for Zxavier. Though teammates, she hardly knew him really, and the drink order was a stab in the dark. She sat and awaited him.
Zxavier walked into the cafeteria with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense and his eyes showing the strain of the past few days. The attack on his dad had rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and being stuck in the hospital had done nothing to ease his frustration.
He spotted Evelyn sitting there, a drink already in front of her and another across the table. The sight was enough to tug a small, tired smile from him as he approached. “Malice,” he greeted, sliding into the seat across from her. He glanced at the drink and raised an eyebrow. “Took a gamble, huh? Let me guess—black coffee? Energy drink? Something to keep me awake?”
His attempt at humor was weak, but he appreciated the gesture. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting hers. “Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t have to.” He paused, then added, “And for offering to help. I’m not exactly sure what that looks like yet, but… I appreciate it.”
She gave a polite smile and playful shrug.
“Yeah, black coffee. Figured you could do with the hit. Adrenaline only lasts so long.”
She raised a single finger, waving it.
“Malice is for my rivals, opponents, and enemies. Here, now, Evelyn is fine. Or Evie, if we're to become friends.”
Pulling the finger away again, she sipped her own drink. Her eyes darted at times, not out of fear or distraction, but an ever-present observation of everything around her.
“Help, yeah, in good time. First, how are you? Rough night. How is he?”
Zxavier wrapped his hands around the coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he gave her a faint, grateful smile. “Evelyn it is, then. Or maybe Evie… we’ll see how much you’re gonna make me work for that.”
He took a sip of the coffee, letting the bitter kick wake him up a little before leaning back in his seat. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he admitted, his voice low. “Dad’s… stable, but it’s gonna be a while before he’s back to being himself. They’re saying he’s lucky it wasn’t worse, but that doesn’t really make it easier to sit here and wait.”
Zxavier’s eyes drifted to the side, his jaw tightening briefly before he looked back at her. “I’ve been trying to keep it together, y’know? Be the strong one. But… seeing him like that, it’s hard not to feel like I should’ve done more. Should’ve stopped it before it got to this.”
He let out a small sigh and met her gaze, his shoulders easing just slightly. “So, yeah… I guess I’m hanging in there. But it’s a lot.”
Sitting back in her seat, she listened to every word without any interruption.
“Family... is important.”
Or so she was told.
“And you obviously care for yours. It's a strength as well as a weakness. That's true for everyone who values anything.”
She looked down at her drink and gave it a slow shake, rotating it until the liquid spun and spun within.
“Tonight he is hurting. You are hurting. Pain is temporary though. His strength will shine through, yours will too.”
Now she took on a devious look, a smirk, eyebrows furrowed.
“But tomorrow you can do more than feel bad. Tomorrow we can look for who did this and we can do what should be done.”
She looked up at him again.
“You can't undo what happened, you can't stop it after the fact, but you can make sure it's understood that this can never happen again.”
Zxavier’s grip on the coffee cup tightened, and his jaw clenched as Evelyn’s words sank in. He nodded slowly, the anger that had been simmering under the surface threatening to boil over.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “I can’t undo what happened, but I can make sure they know they crossed a line.”
He leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers with a fiery determination. “And I know who it was. Julian Savell and The Division. He’s been pushing me since the moment I got here, trying to tempt me into joining them. But I’m not stupid—I know what he did to my dad eight years ago. I know what he’s capable of.”
Zxavier shook his head, his knuckles white around the cup. “I told him no. Told him I’d never forget what he did back then. And now? Now he’s proving he hasn’t changed, going after my dad again because I wouldn’t play his game.”
His voice dropped, lower but more resolute. “If this was him—and I’m almost sure it was—I want to make damn sure he knows I’m not going to roll over. He wants a response? He’s going to get one.”
She smirked menacingly as the rage was palpable from him. Her fist struck the table and a few people looked over, but her focus was only on him.
“Then let's cut them down! Choose a moment when they're most vulnerable and deliver a precision strike. Stab him right in that black heart, make him suffer.”
Her stakes in the situation were pretty dubious, but her passion for the retaliation was sincere.
“He can't walk over you or yours, he can't be allowed to bully you and get away with it. And guess what? You have a whole team here for you. We're the most unified and coherent faction, because we all know how to operate alone and don't need to rely on each other all the time.”
She thumped the table again.
“But that only means we're even more powerful when we band together!”
Zxavier’s jaw tightened as her words hit him like fuel to an already raging fire. His hands curled into fists on the table, trembling slightly as the tension coursed through him. The thought of retaliation—of striking back against the ones who dared to harm his father—was a tempting siren song, one he was dangerously close to answering.
His voice came out low, measured but laced with barely contained fury. “You’re right. He doesn’t get to walk away from this like nothing happened. He’s gotta pay for what he’s done.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, the fire in his eyes matching the intensity of her smirk. The raw emotion on his face betrayed just how deeply this had cut him, but there was something else too—a dangerous resolve beginning to take shape.
“I’m done playing nice,” he continued, his voice firm now. “I’ve spent too long trying to be the guy who doesn’t make waves, who keeps the peace. But not this time. This time, we fight.”
He leaned forward, his knuckles pressing into the table as he spoke, the edge in his tone sharper now. “And you’re right, we’re stronger together. So let’s remind them who they’re messing with. Legion doesn’t bow. We don’t crumble. We take what’s ours.”
Zxavier sat back, exhaling deeply, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was focused—channeled into something dangerous, something calculated. He looked at Evelyn, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s make them regret ever thinking they could touch us.”
This turnaround in him pleased her, the passion pleased her, the fire in him pleased her. She nodded emphatically as he grew from a simmer toward a boil.
“That's right, we are Legion and we do not bow.”
She liked how those words tasted when said. Her passion was never in question though, only her temper.
“Let's make them suffer. But let's be smart too. They're the ones who revel in sneak attacks. Me? I tell people exactly what I'll do and I let them think about it, I let them worry. Then I deliver.”
She pointed between him and her a few times.
“That's what we should do. Make them worry. They'll tell us they're not, but a part of their thoughts will inevitably linger on us and our promises. Not threats, promises.”
She leaned back toward him, elbows on the table.
“Julian thinks he runs everything. Let's remind him what doubt and fear are.”
Zxavier’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking through the heat of their conversation. His eyes flicked to the screen, and a faint smirk replaced some of the fury that had been etched into his expression. Chris Night’s name lit up the notification.
“Looks like Chris has something brewing,” he said, lifting the phone to glance at the message. “He’s got a plan to hit back, to make them feel even a fraction of what Julian did to my dad. He’ll loop me in soon.”
He set the phone back down, his attention returning to Evelyn, the intensity still burning behind his gaze. “When I find out what it is, you’ll be the first to know. If you want in—and I know you do—we’ll hit them together. But for now, this stays between us. No one else.”
He let his words linger for a moment before leaning in, his voice low but sharp with determination. “We’ll make them feel that shadow over their shoulders, that constant second-guessing. They think they’re untouchable, but we’re about to remind them exactly what fear feels like.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious, her pointed words feeding into the growing storm within him. He matched her nod, the hint of a smirk creeping across his lips again as he spoke.
“They want to act like they’re untouchable, but everyone breaks. Even Julian Savell. Let’s give him and the rest of Division a reason to remember not to fuck with people.”
“Everyone breaks.”
She agreed wholeheartedly. Nobody is indestructible, not even her, and she knew it to be true.
“Perhaps this is the advantage you need. Julian will be focused on Chris; you can use that against him. Let his hubris undo him.”
She laughed, a little menacingly.
“And bring a metal pipe just to make sure.”
Zxavier’s lips curled into a faint smile at her words, her menacing laugh breaking some of the tension he had been carrying. He nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning as he let her suggestion settle.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice calm but filled with a simmering determination. “Julian’s arrogance is his biggest weakness. He won’t see it coming if we play it smart and let him think he’s untouchable.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locking with hers. “And a metal pipe? Not a bad idea. Sometimes you’ve gotta make sure they feel it, you know?”
For a moment, the intensity lingered in his expression, but then it softened as he reached out and took her hand in his. His grip was firm, yet there was a gentleness in the way his fingers wrapped around hers. He looked down at their joined hands before lifting his eyes to meet hers again.
“Thank you, Evie,” he said, his voice carrying genuine gratitude. “For having my back. For reminding me I’m not in this alone.”
The smile that broke across his face was small but real, a rare moment of vulnerability shared in the quiet space between them.
For all of her boisterous personality, she came that evening in nothing but a hoodie and leggings. It was a low-key look, hair tied back and minimal makeup.
She made her way to the agreed meeting point, a cafeteria. The others there were worried-looking, tired sorts. Not Evelyn. Still, she ordered herself a drink and one for Zxavier. Though teammates, she hardly knew him really, and the drink order was a stab in the dark. She sat and awaited him.
Zxavier walked into the cafeteria with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his posture tense and his eyes showing the strain of the past few days. The attack on his dad had rattled him more than he wanted to admit, and being stuck in the hospital had done nothing to ease his frustration.
He spotted Evelyn sitting there, a drink already in front of her and another across the table. The sight was enough to tug a small, tired smile from him as he approached. “Malice,” he greeted, sliding into the seat across from her. He glanced at the drink and raised an eyebrow. “Took a gamble, huh? Let me guess—black coffee? Energy drink? Something to keep me awake?”
His attempt at humor was weak, but he appreciated the gesture. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting hers. “Thanks for coming. I know you didn’t have to.” He paused, then added, “And for offering to help. I’m not exactly sure what that looks like yet, but… I appreciate it.”
She gave a polite smile and playful shrug.
“Yeah, black coffee. Figured you could do with the hit. Adrenaline only lasts so long.”
She raised a single finger, waving it.
“Malice is for my rivals, opponents, and enemies. Here, now, Evelyn is fine. Or Evie, if we're to become friends.”
Pulling the finger away again, she sipped her own drink. Her eyes darted at times, not out of fear or distraction, but an ever-present observation of everything around her.
“Help, yeah, in good time. First, how are you? Rough night. How is he?”
Zxavier wrapped his hands around the coffee cup, letting the warmth seep into his fingers as he gave her a faint, grateful smile. “Evelyn it is, then. Or maybe Evie… we’ll see how much you’re gonna make me work for that.”
He took a sip of the coffee, letting the bitter kick wake him up a little before leaning back in his seat. “Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he admitted, his voice low. “Dad’s… stable, but it’s gonna be a while before he’s back to being himself. They’re saying he’s lucky it wasn’t worse, but that doesn’t really make it easier to sit here and wait.”
Zxavier’s eyes drifted to the side, his jaw tightening briefly before he looked back at her. “I’ve been trying to keep it together, y’know? Be the strong one. But… seeing him like that, it’s hard not to feel like I should’ve done more. Should’ve stopped it before it got to this.”
He let out a small sigh and met her gaze, his shoulders easing just slightly. “So, yeah… I guess I’m hanging in there. But it’s a lot.”
Sitting back in her seat, she listened to every word without any interruption.
“Family... is important.”
Or so she was told.
“And you obviously care for yours. It's a strength as well as a weakness. That's true for everyone who values anything.”
She looked down at her drink and gave it a slow shake, rotating it until the liquid spun and spun within.
“Tonight he is hurting. You are hurting. Pain is temporary though. His strength will shine through, yours will too.”
Now she took on a devious look, a smirk, eyebrows furrowed.
“But tomorrow you can do more than feel bad. Tomorrow we can look for who did this and we can do what should be done.”
She looked up at him again.
“You can't undo what happened, you can't stop it after the fact, but you can make sure it's understood that this can never happen again.”
Zxavier’s grip on the coffee cup tightened, and his jaw clenched as Evelyn’s words sank in. He nodded slowly, the anger that had been simmering under the surface threatening to boil over.
“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “I can’t undo what happened, but I can make sure they know they crossed a line.”
He leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers with a fiery determination. “And I know who it was. Julian Savell and The Division. He’s been pushing me since the moment I got here, trying to tempt me into joining them. But I’m not stupid—I know what he did to my dad eight years ago. I know what he’s capable of.”
Zxavier shook his head, his knuckles white around the cup. “I told him no. Told him I’d never forget what he did back then. And now? Now he’s proving he hasn’t changed, going after my dad again because I wouldn’t play his game.”
His voice dropped, lower but more resolute. “If this was him—and I’m almost sure it was—I want to make damn sure he knows I’m not going to roll over. He wants a response? He’s going to get one.”
She smirked menacingly as the rage was palpable from him. Her fist struck the table and a few people looked over, but her focus was only on him.
“Then let's cut them down! Choose a moment when they're most vulnerable and deliver a precision strike. Stab him right in that black heart, make him suffer.”
Her stakes in the situation were pretty dubious, but her passion for the retaliation was sincere.
“He can't walk over you or yours, he can't be allowed to bully you and get away with it. And guess what? You have a whole team here for you. We're the most unified and coherent faction, because we all know how to operate alone and don't need to rely on each other all the time.”
She thumped the table again.
“But that only means we're even more powerful when we band together!”
Zxavier’s jaw tightened as her words hit him like fuel to an already raging fire. His hands curled into fists on the table, trembling slightly as the tension coursed through him. The thought of retaliation—of striking back against the ones who dared to harm his father—was a tempting siren song, one he was dangerously close to answering.
His voice came out low, measured but laced with barely contained fury. “You’re right. He doesn’t get to walk away from this like nothing happened. He’s gotta pay for what he’s done.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, the fire in his eyes matching the intensity of her smirk. The raw emotion on his face betrayed just how deeply this had cut him, but there was something else too—a dangerous resolve beginning to take shape.
“I’m done playing nice,” he continued, his voice firm now. “I’ve spent too long trying to be the guy who doesn’t make waves, who keeps the peace. But not this time. This time, we fight.”
He leaned forward, his knuckles pressing into the table as he spoke, the edge in his tone sharper now. “And you’re right, we’re stronger together. So let’s remind them who they’re messing with. Legion doesn’t bow. We don’t crumble. We take what’s ours.”
Zxavier sat back, exhaling deeply, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was focused—channeled into something dangerous, something calculated. He looked at Evelyn, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Let’s make them regret ever thinking they could touch us.”
This turnaround in him pleased her, the passion pleased her, the fire in him pleased her. She nodded emphatically as he grew from a simmer toward a boil.
“That's right, we are Legion and we do not bow.”
She liked how those words tasted when said. Her passion was never in question though, only her temper.
“Let's make them suffer. But let's be smart too. They're the ones who revel in sneak attacks. Me? I tell people exactly what I'll do and I let them think about it, I let them worry. Then I deliver.”
She pointed between him and her a few times.
“That's what we should do. Make them worry. They'll tell us they're not, but a part of their thoughts will inevitably linger on us and our promises. Not threats, promises.”
She leaned back toward him, elbows on the table.
“Julian thinks he runs everything. Let's remind him what doubt and fear are.”
Zxavier’s phone buzzed on the table, breaking through the heat of their conversation. His eyes flicked to the screen, and a faint smirk replaced some of the fury that had been etched into his expression. Chris Night’s name lit up the notification.
“Looks like Chris has something brewing,” he said, lifting the phone to glance at the message. “He’s got a plan to hit back, to make them feel even a fraction of what Julian did to my dad. He’ll loop me in soon.”
He set the phone back down, his attention returning to Evelyn, the intensity still burning behind his gaze. “When I find out what it is, you’ll be the first to know. If you want in—and I know you do—we’ll hit them together. But for now, this stays between us. No one else.”
He let his words linger for a moment before leaning in, his voice low but sharp with determination. “We’ll make them feel that shadow over their shoulders, that constant second-guessing. They think they’re untouchable, but we’re about to remind them exactly what fear feels like.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious, her pointed words feeding into the growing storm within him. He matched her nod, the hint of a smirk creeping across his lips again as he spoke.
“They want to act like they’re untouchable, but everyone breaks. Even Julian Savell. Let’s give him and the rest of Division a reason to remember not to fuck with people.”
“Everyone breaks.”
She agreed wholeheartedly. Nobody is indestructible, not even her, and she knew it to be true.
“Perhaps this is the advantage you need. Julian will be focused on Chris; you can use that against him. Let his hubris undo him.”
She laughed, a little menacingly.
“And bring a metal pipe just to make sure.”
Zxavier’s lips curled into a faint smile at her words, her menacing laugh breaking some of the tension he had been carrying. He nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning as he let her suggestion settle.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice calm but filled with a simmering determination. “Julian’s arrogance is his biggest weakness. He won’t see it coming if we play it smart and let him think he’s untouchable.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locking with hers. “And a metal pipe? Not a bad idea. Sometimes you’ve gotta make sure they feel it, you know?”
For a moment, the intensity lingered in his expression, but then it softened as he reached out and took her hand in his. His grip was firm, yet there was a gentleness in the way his fingers wrapped around hers. He looked down at their joined hands before lifting his eyes to meet hers again.
“Thank you, Evie,” he said, his voice carrying genuine gratitude. “For having my back. For reminding me I’m not in this alone.”
The smile that broke across his face was small but real, a rare moment of vulnerability shared in the quiet space between them.