A Second Chance

Unfortunately, Firefly happened to have pretty damn good hearing, and he heard what Mist had to say. Had he not, maybe the whole thing would have blown over, but apparently that was not meant to be. Firefly aboutfaced, storming back into the room and going for the youngers throat, his eyes blazing with a rage and what could only be described as anguish. "I have given everything up to keep this city safe! How dare you even think that I belong with those scum." He had to take a deep breath, his voice was shaking. "Maybe I am a bastard, but don't you dare judge me. I have only ever acted for the needs of the many, and I've paid for it too." It was probably the most naked thing he had said in years, though perhaps the true meaning of the words were lost as Firefly relaxed his hand, allowing Mist freedom once again. Firefly didn't look at him any longer, he couldn't stand it.
 
Mist couldn't breathe as Firefly held onto his throat, cutting off the airflow to his lungs. The knife fell from his hands, which had come up to grab at Firefly's in an attempt to get him to let go. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time someone had tried to strangle Mist. And like the previous times, Mist didn't like it at all.

He took in gasps of breath once his neck had been freed, a hand coming up to his throat as he coughed. Firefly wasn't looking at him, and Mist couldn't look at the "hero," either. He just looked down at the floor, giving the occasional cough as he regained his breath.

"You've paid," he managed to say, "and I've had things stolen from me." They were in a similar boat there, but they had lost completely different things, Mist was sure.
 
With some reluctance, Firefly nodded. "Yes." He replied coldly, bending over to pick up the fallen knife. He walked stiffly over to the sink, deciding that he might as well give it a good clean. He washed it thoroughly, as if he'd been chopping rancid meat with it, but at least the action soothed him a little. As he did this he said nothing, and thankfully managed to avoid cutting himself. Lucky guy.

Once he had finished with this, he turned to Mist once again. He glanced at him sideways, not particularly feeling like making full eye contact. He felt somewhat drained by the last couple of days. It was the first time in years that he'd been in a position to face emotions, something that he had deliberately hidden from for a long time. "Truce." He muttered, stating it, rather than asking. On his part at least, no more shots would be fired.
 
Mist said nothing to Firefly while the man washed the knife, just staying in his corner of the kitchen. When Firefly approached him afterward, Mist was somewhat surprised at what the man said. He wanted a truce? That was doable, Mist supposed. Under one condition.

"Fine," he answered quietly. "Truce. So long as you don't make any mention of my...issues, or what caused them." He'd be a perfectly well-behaved house guest if Firefly kept that end of the deal. Another condition came to mind, and he added, "And you allow me the use of my illusions. I'm not stupid enough to attack you with them."
 
Seeing as he didn't really have the energy to fight over what were pretty petty points, Firefly did agree to the terms. "Alright. It's settled then." He responded, unsure of how long this ceasefire would last. He knew that he would revert to his usual, borderline psychotic ways in no time at all if he didn't try and keep this rational side up, and he had no idea how long it would last if he really worked at it. Probably no more than a few days, or even hours if he was unlucky.

He did at least manage to remain calm and relatively docile until the early hours of the next morning, at which point he was woken up by the distinct sound of the telephone ringing. He groped around for the receiver, barely managing a grunt into the phone, though it was apparently not necessary for him to speak. There was another callout. This time some random guy that was jumped up on so many steroids he was merrily throwing cars at passers by.
 
Mist hadn't slept that night. There was no way he'd risk having another horrible nightmare. He'd much rather be exhausted. Maybe if he stayed awake for long enough, he'd be able to sleep dreamlessly just because his body was so tired. That was something to strive for. Unhealthy, he knew, but he didn't care in the least. He really wanted to avoid the nightmares. Getting more unwanted attention from Firefly due to another nightmare wouldn't be good for Mist at all.

He spent the night just weaving illusions, since he was allowed to now. His ceiling was turned into a beautiful starry sky, with comets, falling stars, and even a nebula. It was a calming sight, and Mist felt oddly at peace while he stared up at it for hours, adding a few new stars here and there. The illusions vanished in his surprise as he heard the phone ringing, though. At this hour, it could only be a job for Firefly. And, by extension, a call for Mist.

With a sigh, he got off the bed and dressed in a presentable-enough outfit for dealing with a criminal. He then went to look for Firefly, just to make sure they really did need to go out somewhere.
 
It took Firefly a grand total of two minutes to get dressed. He pretty much threw on the first clothes that came to his hand. Although it probably wasn't great that he barely looked presentable, he reckoned that most of the people out there would be more concerned with getting the guy who was causing all this madness, rather than scrutinizing the fashion sense of their rescuer. So, the man simply thudded down the hallway, meeting Mist along the way and offering him a rather sparse explanation. "Nutso guy on some illegal steroids. Super strength and a loss of what little mind he had to start with."

He didn't wait for any reply, only headed downstairs, swiping his gloves and coat as he made his way out to the car. It wasn't far to the scene of the destruction, the odd bit of town that was the blur between a residential area that barely qualified as legal housing, and the lower end of the nightlife scene. It was this that made the situation so dangerous, as many slightly sozzled men and women were sstill ouut and about.

Upon their arrival, still feeling rather bleary eyed, Firefly offered some responsibility to Mist, though in truth this was born purely out of lazines. "You can lead this one. Might as well see what you're really made of." No doubt, he'd swoop in to take the glory at the last second, but what Mist didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
 
Mist wasn't entirely sure how to approach this. The berserking man was just that: berserk. With so many steroids in his system, was his mind entirely gone? Would he come down from this and have a chance at being himself again? He didn't know, but he knew Firefly would just torch him to death either way. That was the man's style, apparently. Though Mist was afraid of the consequences if he killed this man. Would that count as a parole violation, even though he'd be protecting these people?

When the man went to grab another car to throw, Mist quickly conjured a cage around him to get in his way. This was a bit of a trick, though. The cage itself was a mere illusion. He hadn't put the effort in to make it fully real, which the man discovered very quickly. He'd noticed Mist and Firefly, and now he was charging at them right through the cage.

Perfect.

Mist was quick to put up a wall between them, which the berserking man obviously thought was fake. The cage had been, after all. So he tried to run right through that...only to find out that it was actually solid. He recoiled backward, dazed from hitting his head that hard, and Mist quickly put another cage around him. A real one, this time.

"Are the cops coming?" he asked Firefly, his gaze remaining fixed on that cage. Any moment now, that guy could recover and start trying to break free.
 
Firefly waited in the wings while Mist did his thing, secretly impressed with the boys' ability to think on his feet. Granted, anyone stupid enough to load themselves full of that many weird and wonderful chemicals, would probably not be the most adept at seeing the difference between illusion and reality, but it was still a good show on the supposedly reformed criminals part.

As it turned out, Firefly found himself sitting redundantly, until Mist asked him a question that was answered by the vague whirr of sirens in the distance. It had taken them long enough, but the fuzz was finally on its way. "They're coming. Well done, by the way." He spoke stiffly, as if it caused him grave pain to be so kind, and it almost did.

Luckily, the arrival of the police - armed with heavy sedatives - broke any awkward silence that might have been building up. There was a sudden onslaught of movement as statements were taken, and the difficult task of getting the brute of a man into the van was carried out. It was during this time that Firefly became his most withdrawn, as he had never liked doing these things, even if they were an unfortunately necessary part of the job. Normally he became quite stand-offish, and potentially aggressive, but it seemed that today he was just being rather sullen.
 
Mist was a little surprised at the compliment from Firefly. He hadn't anticipated that, but he had to keep his focus on the berserker. The madman was trying very hard to break free from the cage now, and Mist was struggling to keep him inside. A bead of sweat slid down the side of his face from the strain, and it was with great relief that the police arrived and tranquilized the man.

The ex-convict's breathing was heavy after he released that illusion, content that the police could handle things from there. He could see that Firefly was keeping off to the side, and he asked, "Can we go home now?" It was a bit strange for him to refer to Firefly's home as his own, but that's what the place was right now. He had nowhere else to go. He wasn't even allowed to live anywhere else right now. So yes, home was the right term for it. For now.
 
When Mist spoke, the older man simply nodded. He wanted his bed, and he wanted it now. He put his oddly small mood down to his lack of sleep, and so he vowed to sleep until at least lunchtime. Of course, that would only make him feel worse, but that wasn't worth thinking about right now. Instead, he simply led the way back to the car, which he hopped into with clunky agility. Thankfully it was a nice and short drive, which was over in just minutes.

"Get some sleep, insomnia isn't good." He was apparently being perceptive tonight, which was more than a little disconcerting, though therewas little that could be done about it. Instead of thinking about this, Firefly only headed back up to bed, though it appeared that this time it was his turn to struggle to get off to sleep. He lay on his back, stiff as a board, feeling achingly tired, though for some reason he refused to relax enough to even lightly snooze.
 
Mist was surprised at the insomnia comment, though he still didn't intend to get any sleep. He just returned to his room, undressed, and got under the covers before starting to cast more illusions on the ceiling. More images of the night sky, since stars and the like really were his favorite things to make. They were beautiful, after all. Peaceful. They were what he needed right now.

He had a feeling that Firefly wasn't sleeping either, but he didn't bother to check. Why should he? The man didn't really care about him, so Mist saw no reason to express concern for Firefly. The guy would probably just shrug it off, anyway. Or berate Mist for it. Either way, Mist saw no benefit in it.
 
By dawn, Firefly was up and thinking about how the hell he was going to get through the day. He first set about showering himself, taking far longer than usual. Ordinarily he was all business, but today he was just thinking as he stood underneath water that was slowly growing colder. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but at least he was getting started on the day nice and early.

Later on, he trudged downstairs, shouting up as a second thought, "Are you coming down for breakfast?" If Mist was sleeping, he probably wasn't anymore, but Firefly hadn't really managed to think about that before yelling. The main thing was, he was showing some consideration for his fellow man, rather than just treating him as a terrible worm, barely worthy of eating soil.
 
Mist hadn't been sleeping. He hadn't slept all night. Again. That made him quite understandably exhausted, and when he came downstairs in just a pair of pants, he collapsed on the couch without a word to Firefly. The scars on his torso were in full view, but Mist didn't care so much at the moment. He was exhausted, but he was too scared to sleep. Those nightmares... He didn't want them.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked drowsily from the couch, his voice muffled by a pillow. It was for the best that the pillow was there. It hid his bloodshot eye--the fake one was obviously still white--and the dark circles from lack of sleep.
 
Someone had made himself comfortable, not that Firefly had expressly forbidden this. It was just slightly amusing, not to mention surprising, to see Mist acting as if he were speaking to his mother, rather than ann enforced guardian. None of this mattered, of course, as the guardian in question was in a relatively mild mood. "Bacon, eggs and other cholestrol filled items." If he was honest, he really needed to go shopping, but seeing as it was just another thing on his list of pet hates, it was unlikely that this would happen until the last slice of bread had been consumed. Men like Firefly just shouldn't live alone, they ievitably ended up with all sorts of dietary deficiencies, and usually wore their underwear at least four different ways before they finally got washed.
 
Mist gave a small grunt at that. Honestly, he'd never really liked traditional breakfast foods like bacon and sausage. He thought eggs were all right, but only when cooked thoroughly. He'd never eat a runny one. That just didn't appeal to him. Pancakes and french toast were loves of his, though. Especially if they had a bit of cinnamon in them.

He felt himself starting to doze off on the couch after not sleeping for over a day, but he was trying very hard to remain awake. The nightmares could come even if he slept during the day, and he really didn't want to deal with them. Or Firefly, should the man try to force him to talk about his abuse again.
 
Now that he was attempting to be civil, Firefly didn't pester Mist while he made the breakfast. Not knowing how much the boy was likely to want, he simply did him twoof everything. Bacon, sausage, egg and bread. It wasn't necessarily healthy, but it seemed to serve Firefly fairly well. He himself had three to four of each item - he had always been a bit of a pig, but thankfully he exercised enough to actually use all the protein he consumed, rather than have it all stored as fat.

"Here. If you're going to sleep, eat first." He was sorted of offering some good advice, and being relatively caring, though his manner could definitely do with some work. It was still a damn sight better than throwing the food at him and proceeding to yell at him to clear it all up.
 
"I don't want to sleep..." Mist said drowsily, moving to accept his breakfast. He did eat the bacon and sausage, even though he didn't really like them. He was just trying to avoid giving Firefly a reason to give him grief.

After eating everything on his plate, he set it aside and collapsed back on the couch. He looked completely exhausted and very much in need of sleep, but he refused to do so. The dread over having more nightmares was forcing him to keep himself awake. That was going to start getting very dangerous for his health if it kept up.
 
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