Kane hadn't noticed that anyone left the pool. In fact, he slept through at least half of the night outside in the cooling air. He didn't mind, either. It wasn't until about 3 am that he managed to wake up, pick himself up, and drag his ass to the lift and up to his penthouse. He just crashed, sans shower or any form of hygiene at all. He was so damn
tired. It didn't help that his body was also battered, and he could feel the strain of his musculature as he fought against all of the aches. Despite it all, he was easily lulled back to sleep.
* * *
He woke up with ten times more pain than last night. A groan fell from his lips, and he rolled over and ended up falling on the floor. His teeth gritted as his back hit the carpet, and he threw his head back and gripped his side. Everything felt bruised - not just on the outside, but inside as well. From being slammed to being hit, he was beaten pretty badly.
For a woman. He didn't even understand why he had to intervene. He's never interloped on another criminal's territory or job before, and it was clearly a mistake. Clearly. But then... was it,
really? As his conflicting thoughts moved through his head, he pulled himself up onto his feet and dragged his ass into the shower.
It was in the lights and mirrors of the bathroom that he got to see the bruises that made his dark skin black and purple. He tossed all of his clothes onto the floor, but the water on hot, and enjoyed the soothing feel of his muscles being able to fully relax.
JARVIS chimed while Kane was showering,
"Good Morning, Mr. Nyguyen. Report to Sub-level 20 for training."
Training? Why the hell would he bother with these people? He wasn't a hero. What if they figured out who he was or what he's done? How would he function in a
group when he's operated as an individual all of his life? People always got in the way, like Myla. Myla made him break one of his most sacred codes, now here he is - he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing anymore. It was like everything went from black and white to a nasty shade of grey that he felt thrust into.
This is what he should be doing, though. He was just thinking about this the other night. What if he could stop killing and focus on something else? But why does it feel so... weird? Why does the thought scare him more than delivering death to someone that he doesn't even know, whom might have not even deserved that kind of sentence? He tapped his forehead against the wall over and over again, teeth clenched again.
He didn't know what to do, but he was already here.
Luckily, he had managed to keep his "costume" with him, so he put all of that on with much strain. He pulled the mask over his face and pulled his black bamboo hat down low so that shadows would cover what his mask could not. He grabbed his sheathed blade and headed for the lift.
After he went through the elevator door and pressed the button for Sub-level 20, he was certain that it'd take him straight down. However, it seemed that someone else was pressing their own button at the same time, and the lift doors opened to another's penthouse.
Myla slept like the dead, which isn't hard to imagine after the day she had. She would have slept the day away if it wasn't for J.A.R.V.I.S. waking her up mid-R.E.M. cycle. Even then, it took a second call from the A.I. to wake her up. If she would have arisen at the first call she might have been able to relax in bed for a while, but at this point, she was running late. Her whole body was sore when she started to move. Her limbs were stiff and angry as she trudged over to the shower.
The hot water woke her up and helped soothe her aching bones. While naked in the cascading water, Myla let her hand wander to her stitches. She winced slightly. They were still sore, but the sutures were far better than anything she could have managed. She couldn't help but worry if she was in the right state to train. But whether or not she was physically able, she wasn't going to let anyone know otherwise. She made sure to be careful around the wound as she finished washing.
Once done, she quickly hopped out of the shower and popped the maximum dose of Advil she could get her hands. Myla still wasn't used to the layout of the penthouse and stubbed a couple of toes on her way back to her bag by the door. She was no stranger to shimming into her suit under a time constraint, but still being wet added its own difficulty. After a couple of wiggles and hops, she had the sleeves on and zipped up the front. She pressed the button for the elevator before stepping into her boots.
Myla assumed it would take a minute or two for it to reach her floor, but it arrived much earlier than she expected. The doors opened as she laced up her second boot. She could tell someone was there, but she was more focused on hurrying up rather than figuring out who it was.
"Sorry, one second."
With her boots fastened, she tucked her helmet under her arm and stepped inside. Once inside the quiet confines of the elevator, Myla exhaled softly. Her brows furrowed as her head slightly turned in the direction of the other person. They were familiar, had to be if they were in the academy. But it triggered vague memories of someone who did not stay. Subconsciously, before her brain could tell her it wasn't polite, she reached out and took his hand. Not in a romantic or friendly manner, but inquisitive. She rested the back of his hands in her left, while the fingertips of her right hand lightly ran across his palm.
His hand was large and heavy in her own. Myla's fingertips traced along coarse skin and calluses. It wasn't possible, but she rarely was wrong. The rough hand, comfortable silence, and familiar sent all triggered one person.
"Kane?" She stood there, silent and still, as she studied him.
Who else could it be? "What are you doing here?... I thought you left."
Kane, himself, hardly paid attention to the first two minutes of the lift stopping and the doors opening. Whoever was about to enter he couldn't care less about. After some time, though, he looked up just slightly to notice that the person entering the lift with him in it was none other than Myla. The lift doors and closed, and the descent - which was normally fast - turned into a perceptively slow drag.
Maybe she hadn't noticed yet.
He knew that she could sense something, as she wasn't a vigilante without a certain skillset. People missing certain sensory functions were often augmented in other things, even going so far as to develop a sixth sense of sorts. She approached him, but he couldn't possibly step back - his back was already pressed against the elevator wall. Then she took his hand.
His heart quickened. He became suddenly all-too conscious of everything, like an out-of-body experience. Could she hear his heart beating like that? When she brushed her fingers across the rough skin of his palms, his own fingers twitched a little. He tried to hold his breath. He tried to calm his breath. He tried to breathe normally - deep and long - anything and everything. The lift ride was excruciating.
"That's a good question." He retracted his hand just as the elevator was coming to a slow stop.
"I don't have an answer." Always one short for words, he didn't bother waiting around for her to get off. He stepped around her; a hand resting on her waist for just a half-a-heartbeat long, to gesture her off to the side a little bit so he could get out.
While Myla might not have said anything, she noticed every shift in Kane from his breathing to his heartbeat. But what confused her is how much it contrasted what he showed her. He seemed anxious or nervous... perhaps in a good way. Regardless, his words were short and evasive like always. While she thought the more she encountered him the more sense it'd all make, but if anything he left her more confused.
When Kane retracted his hand, Myla remained still, her hand stayed where she left it, but in the absence of his, her fingers gently curled into her palm. She didn't follow after him as he left her there. Her feet subconsciously sidestepped as the touch on her waist bade. And while she remained there, her face showed her confusion. She let a soft sigh escape her lips before she exited the elevator out onto the training floor.
Myla's feet started to carry her towards Kane, like some natural magnetism. She had to consciously tell herself to go the other way, even though, for some strange unexplainable reason, she felt safe with him. Instead, she went to the opposite side of the room, standing alone and several feet away from the nearest person. And while she might have looked to be focusing on putting on her helmet, all her senses were locked on Kane, like it might give some kind of answer. The only peak into what went on in her mind was her furrowed brows which quickly disappearing beneath her helmet.
Kane could feel the weight of her
metaphorical stare. Even without eyes, he felt like she bore into his soul. It was scary. He waited with the others as they began to fill the room. If he was short with Myla, he'd be even less verbose with others. If that was even possible.
