Fic: Self-Made Man (2/2)
Title: Self-Made Man
Author(s): lilac28
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Bullseye/Daken
Summary: Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).
Word Count: ~16k (Complete, four chapters across two posts. I wanted it all in one entry, but LJ slapped me with a "post too large"!)
Notes Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!
Chapter Three
Daken was on the verge of identifying the mystery smell coming from Osborn by the time the team had disembarked from the shuttle back to the main ship. It was spicy and a little sweet. Almost like….flavored coffee? A pumpkin spice latte?
"Do you know what I could really go for? A hazelnut latte. Anyone else?" Daken posed the question to the group as Victoria Hand approached them.
"A latte?" said Bullseye. "Why don't you have some perfume and a tutu with that? I can't believe you're thinking of girl drinks right now."
"It's how I decompress. Norman, what about you?"
Their leader still hadn't removed his helmet. "I prefer mine black, thank you. You can get something to drink after the debriefing."
Pumpkin. It was definitely pumpkin. Not good.
"What was it?" asked Hand. "What did you see down there? We heard your communications. It was some sort of mirror. Who looked in it?"
"Daken and the Sentry."
She turned to Daken. "What did you see?"
They were all staring at him now.
"Yeah, Daken. What did you see anyway?"
"Some sort of monster or alien or something. An evil presence. I couldn't quite make it out."
"You were pretty sure at first."
"At first I thought it was a Skrull, then I wasn't so sure." Daken inspected his fingernails while he answered, as if the line of questioning bored him.
Hand looked at them all one by one. "And no one else looked in it?"
"Nope."
"Nuh uh."
"No, sir. Uh, ma'am."
Lying. They were all lying. Daken could hear the skip of hearts beating faster, he could smell minute amounts of perspiration. Voices wavering just the slightest bit.
Even Ares.
Of course they all looked in it. They were all standing behind him. He had been too wrapped up in his own vision to notice or care. No wonder everyone was so freaked out after he attacked the mirror. But what did the others see?
"Sir?" Hand looked at Osborn. "Did you see anything?"
"No."
Liar, liar, Norman.
"Would you mind taking off the helmet while we're talking?"
"Yes."
"Oookay, well…."
She started in with mind-numbing information about the mission and strategy. Typical, reactionary stuff that would get them nowhere. Daken took a silent step back, and then another. Before anyone noticed he had slipped away, stealing around the corner to head to his room.
He needed to examine the gem alone, away from prying imbecilic eyes.
As Daken had suspected, there were two messages from Wolverine on the comm panel in his room. Two messages that, like all the others, didn't survive beyond the first few words.
"Daken, it's Logan. Listen.....I just wanna say....."
"Daken, sorry, it's me again. Someday you'll-"
His finger was on the delete button faster than Mac could eat a junkie.
Daken sat on his bed and tried to absorb every detail of the gem. It seemed to resonate, yet when he brought it to his ear he could feel no buzz. Hear no sound. It was smooth, like glass. Slippery yet dry, like ice and melting butter. Devoid of smell, but resplendent with the most rich and beautiful red he had ever seen. A synesthesia experience amounting to absolutely nothing.
He even tasted it. Certainly not the weirdest thing that ever graced his tongue.
A man of focus, a man of power. Was one supposed to smash the gem against the mirror? Stand there with perfect hair while they spoke some ancient riddle? Could you take it elsewhere and use it? How much power did this thing grant anyway?
He thought of the mirror. Everyone must have seen something else, it was the only scenario that made sense. It knew what shook you. The idea was disgusting, that he would be so rattled by Romulus. He was his own man now. A king. By far the most badass person on this pathetic outfit after the Sentry, who was really too fucked up to even count.
Hours passed while he rocked the gem from hand to hand, turning decades over in his mind. He ignored all sensory perception that didn't focus on the gem, until a noise in the background grew loud enough to grab his attention, footsteps echoing down the hall. They hesitated when they reached his door, as though the caller wasn't sure if they wanted to knock.
Like he didn't know it was Bullseye.
"Come in."
Bullseye entered his room, glowering. He was still in the Hawkeye costume, sans mask.
"We've gotta talk."
"About?"
"About that." He pointed to the gem sliding through Daken's fingers. "And about what the fuck we're gonna do here. I don't know about you, but this is not worth my life. Whatever that thing is down there is way beyond us. It caused fifty people to go insane and rip each other apart. Osborn isn't gonna order us out of here. And I don't know if you've noticed, but our most powerful member is also our craziest."
"I've noticed."
"What have you figured out about that thing?"
Daken turned the gem over in his hands. What had he figured out about it? Not very much, other than it was pleasing on some preternatural level.
Bullseye could tell. He gave a sharp bark of psychotic laughter. "Nothing!? What the fuck have you been doing in here since we got back?"
His eyes darted across the room like bullets as he spoke, taking in every tiny detail of Daken's quarters. As if he could carve a slice of desired information from the stark surroundings. Intrigue exploded out of his pores.
He was curious, curious to be in Daken's space. Doing a shit job of hiding it, too.
Daken allowed the visual inspection. One could glean little interesting information about him from his room. He held up the gem. "This thing didn't come with an instruction manual, and I agree that we're in some deep shit."
Bullseye paced around the room, stopping to peek in Daken's closet. "Yeah, so, what are we gonna do about it?"
Daken set the gem on his nightstand as he watched Bullseye paw through his things. "Can I help you find something in there, Lester?"
"Man, why did you bring all these clothes into fucking space?"
"It's my travel wardrobe." He rose from the bed. Time to try this again. Relax. Release. You can't control yourself around me.
"Your travel wardrobe? You mean this is only part of it? Why the hell do you have all this stuff?"
"I like looking good. Don't you think I look good?" It's getting harder to breathe, Lester.
His footsteps made no sound as he stole behind Bullseye like a tiger. The carnivore that was going to eat him alive.
Bullseye pulled a suit off of the hanger. "I think you look like a fucking…." He trailed off, at once aware that Daken was close to him.
Daken watched the other man struggle to swallow, managing to spit out "look like a fucking idiot" before Daken backed him into the wall.
"You don't sound very sincere. I think you like the way I look." He sauntered right into Bullseye's space, drinking in the assassin's manic energy while he leaned his lips just a little closer to Bullseye's ear. "I think you like it a lot."
Between them existed only the smallest sliver of air, Bullseye both pulling in and leaning away. Daken could almost taste the other man's heart beating. Eyes wild underneath drawn brows, he exuded caged fury and arousal.
And the smell of him, something animal and predatory unto itself. Meticulous madness. Bullseye was out of his fucking mind, not that Daken cared. To best someone so magnetic, to control that potency, a few loose screws wasn't going to turn him off.
"Now this," Daken continued, taking the all white, scrumptious cocaine dealer suit back from Bullseye and reaching over to hang it in his closet. "This I bought for a special occasion. To celebrate a successful mission that Osborn sent me on without the rest of you. Something really delicious."
He prepared to deliver the verbal coup de grâce that he knew would rope Bullseye in even further.
"I bought this suit…." He walked his fingers up Bullseye's chest, stopping to twist them into the top of his tunic. "….I bought this suit after I killed the Punisher."
You want me. You wanna fuck me. You'll do anything for me.
Bullseye trembled. "F-fuck you, Daken. You didn't kill the Punisher."
"Oh, but I did!" He pressed their hips together, relishing the gasp in the other man's throat. "I cut off his head and pulled his guts out."
With every hitching breath Bullseye took, he inhaled more pheromones. "Goddammit. That's awesome."
Daken settled his full weight against him, an aggressive spark igniting between them. Oh fuck, it was good. Every inch of his body was humming. He slid his fingers up to Bullseye's chin, gentle at first, and then sharply pulled his head. Forcing him to stare Daken right in the eyes.
"It was awesome. There was blood everywhere. It was all over me, Lester."
Bullseye groaned. The tiniest admonition of a noise as his eyes fluttered shut. "Oh God….."
Daken licked a lethal swath up his throat, feeling him gulp, feeling his pulse pound. Feeling the rock hard erection pressing into his leg. Tasting every ounce of ache and desire and repression. Bullseye just needed that last little push, that last little violent impulse to shut down the brain and let instinct take over.
Power wasn't about getting someone to do something they didn't want to do. Real power was getting someone to do something they did want to do, but would never admit to it.
So he slapped Bullseye in the face, grinning at the assassin's look of shocked fury. He then stood with his arms crossed, letting stray locks of hair fall perfectly into his eyes.
"As much as I enjoy foreplay, I am man of action. Shall we flirt all night or are we gonna fuck? This could be our last night alive, after all."
Bullseye's lip curled into something between rage and disgust. "Oh, we're gonna fuck, Princess." He shoved Daken towards the bed, cursing him with each push. “You think you’re so tough. Squirreling around this space ship like you own it. Always with that big, fat grin on your face. I hate that smile. I hate it."
"Then why don't you wipe it off my face?" Daken made a show of taking his shirt off, loving the way Bullseye practically started drooling over his bare chest. He unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants down over his hips to stand there naked, hard, on display and unashamed.
Bullseye looked like he was going to hyperventilate, like he was struggling to keep his heart pumping through sheer will. He fumbled with his costume.
And fumbled.
And fumbled until Daken grew impatient. "Here let me-"
"Fuck off, man. I can get it. You need to do that part first-"
"Really, Lester." Daken popped the shoulder button and yanked the top of the costume down, surprised when it didn't just fall away. "This is some complicated one piece? Who designed this? I swear Hawkeye has no taste."
"I know." Bullseye tried to shimmy out of the pants.
"It's too small for you too. And what is this material? Feels like rubber. No wonder you can't get it off." He ran his hand along Bullseye's exposed chest. The man was covered in a thin sheen of horny sweat. He was hairless, which Daken liked. He hated screwing hairy guys.
In fact, Daken discovered when Bullseye had his pants around his ankles, he was hairless everywhere. Hairless and muscular and giving off the most luscious hot smells.
"You shave?"
"I shave everything. Now shut the fuck up."
The world exploded when Bullseye grabbed him and kissed him, bringing every inch of their bodies together. The arcing pleasure of skin on skin, relief of a denied lust finally starting to play out.
Daken moaned, licking along the other man's lips. Fire engulfed everywhere they touched. He couldn't remember the last time he was excited over the prospect of fucking, rather than just what it was going to get him.
Bullseye shoved him back on the bed and opened the drawer on the nightstand. His eyes lit up at the veritable treasure chest of uninteresting personal effects.
"Let's see. Knives, knives, knives. I can respect that. Lube, watches. Who needs four watches? Books....hmmmm....DH Lawrence, Natsume Sōseki...who reads this shit?"
"I do."
"No condoms I see. You can't catch or give anyone anything, right? I swear, Daken, if I get some super mutant STD from you, I'm gonna cut your dick off."
Daken just grinned, eyeing Bullseye's swinging cock like dessert. "Of course not. You don't need them with me. And you don't need that either." He pointed to the lube.
"Oh no." Bullseye grabbed Daken's mohawk and shoved him face first into pillow, straddling him to whisper in his ear. "I'm gonna lube up good, and you wanna know why? I want you to fucking enjoy this, you little bitch. I want you to love having my cock in your ass. And the next time you're fuckin' someone else, you'll just be thinkin' of me."
Daken shuddered. He was used to being the most actively passive participant in sex, controlling the act from an emotional distance. He wasn't used to wanting it.
And did want it, wanted everything that Bullseye had to give. The other man was mistaken though, when it was all over it would be him lusting for Daken.
Hand still in his hair, Bullseye dragged Daken's head up to bring him to his knees on the bed, palms pressed against the wall for support. Behind him, Daken could hear lube being squirted everywhere.
"Gonna ruin you," Bullseye muttered, low enough to be talking to himself. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else."
Bullseye let go of his hair to steady them as he reached around to grip Daken with his other hand, jerking him hesitantly at first, and then rougher.
"You like that?"
Daken grunted, loving it. The pressure was good. Bullseye had big hands, he liked big hands.
"Yeah, fuck. Harder."
"Harder? Harder..fuck...." Bullseye tightened his grip.
Daken could feel the other man bringing them together, felt the first warm sting of Bullseye's intrusion. Working himself in, inch by fiery inch. Panting. Breathing in pheromones and dark lust.
A knot was beginning to form in Daken's stomach, a whisper of explosive pleasure. His hands clawed at the wall, his body awash in pain and delicious friction. It was so good to have Bullseye's big hand around him, knowing the assassin was breaking with every passing second.
"Yeah yeah yeah, fucking....Daken..."
"That's it." Daken closed his eyes, skating on the edge of a growing ecstasy. "That's it..that's it...say my name."
"Daken!" Bullseye slammed his hips, burying himself deep as he pulled Daken even closer.
And that was it. Daken screamed when he came, pulsing in Bullseye's hand while electric fire coursed through his body. It seemed to last a blissful eternity, wave after wave of deep, unrelenting pleasure. Leaving Daken with his face pressed into the wall, attempting to catch his breath, head swimming. He came first? He never came first.
A sinister chuckle behind him. "So," Bullseye said, the trembling of his voice belying how unraveled he was. "Just how long does it take you to recover, anyway?"
"Oh, sweetie," Daken sighed. "The hotter you are, the faster I recover."
The rest of the evening saw Daken recover faster than ever, pounded into the mattress by months of Bullseye's constrained desires. He always knew dear Lester was in denial about certain predilections, but he hadn't expected the man to be a furious sex machine as well.
It was more than pleasantly surprising.
Bullseye took him with the savage anger of a man consumed, staring right into his eyes as he tossed Daken's legs over his shoulders. He was strong, manhandling Daken like he weighed nothing, throwing him around while spewing the dirtiest, horniest filth out of his mouth.
The force of Bullseye was like being hit by a freight train, and Daken absorbed sensations far beyond the physical. He could smell every emotion, tasted twisted intentions. Desire. Anger. Jealousy.
Possession. Bullseye wanted to take him, mark him, break him down and make him his. What the assassin didn't realize, was that with every desperate, sweat-soaked thrust he just lost himself to Daken even further. Under the illusion that being on top made him the one in control.
And when Bullseye had them face to face on the bed, and tore the nightstand drawer out to reach for one of the blades he found earlier, Daken just laughed and said, "Oh yeah? Do it."
His second orgasm took even longer to build, and found him convulsing in delirious satisfaction, wailing in Japanese as he came all over both their chests. Sticky with sweat and come and dried blood and Bullseye's fervent brand of demented worship.
"Oh God, oh fuck....that is hot...Daken..." Watching Daken climax again proved to be too much, and Bullseye nearly sobbed in relief, making all kinds of satisfied noises as he came. Trembling as Daken crooned in his ear.
They remained wrapped up together afterwards, Daken stroking a clean-shaven head as he mused over the psychotic killer in his arms. It would be so easy. So easy to just tear out Bullseye's throat and leave him shocked and betrayed in those final seconds as his life force ran out.
Not that Daken even wanted to do that at this point. He had, and he was loath to admit it to himself but it was true, grown.....fond of Bullseye.
Or he thought he had. Until Bullseye disentangled them and grabbed Daken's discarded shirt to wipe the come off his chest.
"That's Versace."
"Oh yeah? Here." Bullseye tossed the shirt at him.
Daken pushed out with all his senses. Just soften, Bullseye. Unwind. Let go. The last thing he wanted was a post-coital "I'm not gay" freak out. Which seemed far from happening, as Bullseye lay back down on the bed and stretched out.
"What the hell does 'iku' mean anyway?"
"It means 'take me to Heaven with your big American cock'".
Bullseye placed his arms behind his head like a man victorious. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"You're a terribly competent fuck for someone who's not into guys."
"I really am gonna kill you someday, Daken."
"Mmm hmm. Of course you are."
"As long as you understand that. C'mere."
Daken accepted the invitation, molding into Bullseye's chest like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Bullseye held him tight, fingers curling in his hair. It was so comfortable. He could feel the tension in Bullseye drain away, sighing before took in a breath to speak.
"I saw my father," said Bullseye.
"What?"
"In the mirror. I saw my father."
"Whoa. Really? Is that why you were so edgy?"
"Yeah, it really freaked me out at first. More than I ever thought it would. Something….something about that mirror. It was more than just an image. It was….a feeling, you know?"
Daken knew. He knew very well.
"What did you see?"
"I told you all-"
"Bullshit, Daken. You wigged out almost as bad as the Sentry. You didn't see a fucking Skrull. C'mon, tell me. Was it your Dad?"
Their eyes met, and for the first time in his life, Daken Akihiro didn't lie in bed.
"No. I saw…I saw the man I wanted to be my father, but he didn't want me." It stung to even say it, much to his disappointment.
"Ouch. Not Wolverine?"
"No. Not Wolverine."
"Didja kill him?"
"No."
"No?!" Bullseye sat up on his elbows, aghast at the thought of someone not killing their father. "Why not?"
Daken pushed him back down and snuggled up to him again. "I tried. I almost had him, but fucking Wolverine took him away. Killed him or hid him or something. I have no idea what happened to him."
"So wait…wait…your bio Dad cockblocked you from killing your surrogate Dad, who you wanted to accept you as a son but never did?"
"Basically, yes."
"Wow. That's fucked." Bullseye shook his head. "That's really messed up. Your family scene is more dysfunctional than mine, man."
"How depressing."
"I mean, what the fuck, Wolverine? Killing the father that fucked with you is like a man's rite of passage. How dare he take that away from you?"
"Exactly! I tried to explain that to him!"
Bullseye understanding his life? By far the most disturbing event of the whole mission.
"Tell you what, because you got so ripped off, I'll lower my price for killing Wolverine to twenty five dollars."
"Oooo…romantic."
The conversation trailed off, and they drifted together in a semi-hypnotic state for what seemed like hours. Daken ran lazy fingers across Bullseye's chest, concentrating on relief and expansion. He synched up their heartbeats, their breathing. After the tension of the mission, it felt so good to just lie there. To let go.
Of course, sedation around Bullseye wasn't something that could continue forever. Eventually he bolted upright, shock in his voice.
"Holy fucking shit. It's you. How are you doing that?"
For a brief second, Daken feared that Bullseye could sense his pheromone manipulation. His heart stopped. Impossible.
But Bullseye wasn't talking about pheromones, instead he was pointing to the nightstand next to them.
"Seriously. How are you doing that?"
"Doing what? What the hell are you talking about?"
Daken looked at the nightstand where the gem was sitting, only it didn't look like the gem anymore at all. Instead it was a long, flat oval. Still brilliant red, still brimming with resonance.
"It was you. It was fucking hypnotizing. I just watched it flatten out and grow for at least an hour. Like it didn't even seem weird to me until I really thought about it."
Daken sat up too, both of them naked in bed, regarding the object with great suspicion. "I didn't-"
"Daken, " Bullseye interrupted him. "Every time you moved your hand, that thing changed a little. Every time you moved, it moved. Try it again."
"Well, hand it to me."
"Fuck no! I'm not touchin' that thing."
Daken rolled his eyes, and reached across Bullseye to grab the disc and set it on the bed.
Relax. Push out.
He pulled his hands apart, imagining soft flow and linear lines. The disc grew wider and thinner, responding to his movements and thoughts.
Bullseye was astonished. "How? You're not a fucking telekinetic, are you? I really hate those guys."
Daken stretched the oval wider, laughing with delight. "It's the same! It's the fucking same."
"What's the same?"
"It's just, letting go."
Intention. Separation and flow. Controlled strength. The best things he aspired to. His entire life training, down to this. He was the man of focus and power, after all.
Bullseye stared at him with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. "So then, you gotta make a weapon or something?"
"Right. Something deadly. But what will destroy the mirror?"
"Who fucking knows? See if you can make it into something that would destroy the image in the mirror. What did you always want to kill your surrogate father with?"
Daken grinned, exposing every last one of his predator teeth. "Something sharp. And pointy."
And there naked on his bed, matching every glint of murderous insanity, Bullseye grinned back.
Chapter Four
"No. Absolutely not."
"But-"
"I said no, Hawkeye."
Norman Osborn sat at the head of his meeting table like a futuristic King Arthur, flanked by Victoria Hand on one side and Moonstone on the other. He had been listening to Daken and Bullseye's suggestion that he let the two of them take the shuttle back to the planet for further recon. Or he did listen, for about ten seconds, before interrupting with a flat out rejection of idea.
"It's too dangerous," he continued. "I can't risk losing anybody else down there. We're waiting for reinforcements to arrive from earth, and Ms. Hand is researching all files on the planet to see if we can discover anything else."
"Anybody else?" Daken said. "Who else did we lose?"
"Nobody."
"It was the Sentry, wasn't it?" asked Bullseye. "Hey Vicky, maybe you should be researching what we can do to kill that guy when he finally detonates."
"The answer is no," growled Osborn. "Now I appreciate that you two wanted to help, but we're in the middle of an important meeting here."
Daken tried to sniff the air without being obvious. If yesterday Osborn had a slightly spicy scent, today it smelled like he had bathed in pumpkin cologne. Tendrils of a smoky, jack o' lantern aroma were oozing off of him, even through the full armor and mask. The mask that he still had on while speaking to them.
"It's okay." Daken put a hand on Bullseye's shoulder and started steering him out the door. "We just wanted to know if we could help. Let us know if you need anything."
He walked them out the door with a smile on the face like the whole thing was no big deal. They were both in full costume, and as Daken had predicted, the addition of a scabbard hanging from the belt of his outfit had gone unnoticed.
They had agreed to try to get down to the planet alone. Or Daken had agreed, and a combination of pheromones and blackmail had gotten Bullseye to go along with it.
"Well," said Bullseye. "That was a wash. What now?"
The thought of just trying to manipulate Osborn into saying yes was tempting, but without further planning it could lead to disaster. Too many people asking questions about orders, too many holes, and too much time. Without a genuine yes, it would be better to slip down there on their own. Osborn wouldn't be a problem later, Daken had ways of dealing with him.
"Hey guys, wait up. What's going on?" Moonstone was running down the hall after them.
"Nothin'."
"Don't give me that. I know you two are up to something. Why do you want to go down there?"
Moonstone. Moonstone was useful, and she could be in their corner with the right incentive.
Daken took her arm and nodded to both of them. "Not here."
Daken dragged them halfway down the ship and into a woman's bathroom, one created for the ship's crew to use during their shift. It was one of those hidden, single stall rooms that gave one false hope that it wouldn't be so bad, but a few deep breaths would say otherwise. He locked the door behind them and looked under the sink.
"What the hell, Daken," asked Moonstone, exasperated. "What are we doing in here? What are you looking for?"
"Cameras. Listening devices. I don't see any. Figured this would be a place that Osborn wouldn't dare put a camera."
"Why?"
"We're going down there," said Daken. "We're going to destroy that thing so we can get the hell out of here and back to civilization."
"How?"
"With this." Daken reached for the scabbard on his belt and pulled out a long, exquisitely formed sword. It blazed red, as though it had been fashioned from a giant ruby. The gem, bent to Daken's will. He had spent the rest of the night on his bed creating the sword with a calm flow while Bullseye had watched, naked and hypnotized.
"What the fuck is that?"
"It's the weapon you and Noh-Varr read about back on the planet."
Moonstone was shaking her head. "You found that? How did you get it back up here? You didn't tell Osborn about this?"
"Look," Daken put the glowing red sword back in its sheath. "We're on the verge of getting screwed out here. The Sentry's having a nervous breakdown, we're in the middle of nowhere, and Osborn is going out of his mind."
"Oh, not this space madness thing again, Daken."
"No, it's something else. Ever since we got back yesterday, he's starting to smell more and more like Halloween. And he have you seen him without the helmet on since we got back?"
Moonstone cringed. "No. Hand was trying to get him to take it off in our meeting just now, but he wouldn't. He smells like Halloween?"
"Like a night of trick or treating come alive."
"That is bad news."
"It's gonna be really bad news if we don't get out of here," said Bullseye. "That planet is fucking with everyone. What did you see in the mirror?"
"I didn't-"
"Bullshit. We all saw something. Me 'n Daken saw our fucked up fathers. What did you see?"
Faced with the inevitable truth, Moonstone caved fast. "I saw…..I saw my mother."
"Kill her?"
"That is none of your business, psycho."
"Hey, just askin'."
"So then," she said. "I mean, what are you going to do?"
"We're going to steal a shuttle, go down there, kill that thing, and get the fuck out of here," said Daken. You believe me, Karla. I'm your friend, remember?
"But…." Moonstone faltered. "You can't just steal a shuttle."
"Sure I can! That's the easy part."
"It is?" said Bullseye.
"It is when you have the launch codes. And when the night guards to the shuttle bay owe you a favor."
"What about Osborn?"
"Osborn will be no problem," said Daken. "He cares about two things. Results and appearances. He'll be way less pissed if we actually get rid of that thing, and with extra insurance he'll be beside himself with glee."
"Insurance?"
Daken pulled a small digital video camera from his belt. "It doesn't show up on scanners, but I’ll bet the mirror and those creatures down there can be recorded. If we can get footage of ourselves being heroic and destroying the thing that killed all those poor, innocent people, Osborn will be wetting himself. He'll let go any insubordination."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And do you know who would be perfect to do the recording?" He pressed the camera into Moonstone's hand. "Someone who can fly."
You trust me, Karla.
"Is it really just the two of you? In that meeting Hand estimated that there could be millions of those things down there this time after the Sentry looked in it."
"Well, with you it makes three."
"What about someone else?" she asked. "Who else can come with us? What about Ares?"
Daken frowned. "Screw Ares. He's in Osborn's pocket and he thinks he's doing the right thing. We can't trust him."
"Venom?"
"You're serious?"
"Actually, no. What about Noh-Varr?"
Noh-Varr could be useful, Daken thought. And he was gullible, easily tricked into doing something for them.
"Wait," said Bullseye. "Who the fuck is Nova?"
"Not Nova, you idiot. Noh-Varr."
"Which one is he?"
Moonstone threw up her hands. "Captain Marvel?! The alien? The guy with the great abs!?!"
"He does have great abs," Daken agreed, delighted at the brief flare of jealousy he sensed in Bullseye.
"Oh yeah. The guy with no personality. He's an okay fighter."
"He's not a bad choice," said Daken. "I can convince him."
"What about," said Moonstone. "someone from Luke Cage's ship?"
Bullseye sputtered. "Are you crazy? They're the enemy! We can't ask any of them."
"We could if it was someone who was used to operating on their own."
"I see where you're going with this," said Daken. "No. No way."
Moonstone continued. "A loner. Someone used to doing his own thing."
"No."
"Someone used to disobeying orders."
"Karla, no."
"Daken, do you want to die out here, or do you want to use every resource available to you?"
She was right of course. Daken hung his head. She was right, and he wasn't one to shoot himself in the foot by discarding a valuable asset. They would need all the independent fighters they could get.
"All right. All right. Fine. But we'll go talk to Noh-Varr, and YOU can contact Wolverine."
Convincing Noh-Varr to come along had been too easy. A wall of fast moving pheromones combined with an impassioned pep talk had done the trick.
"Blah blah save the day, something something.....the team needs you, oh and Norman who? It's all gonna be fine, you big hero you. Now breathe deep."
Noh-Varr had stood in his doorway in just a pair of sweatpants, listening intently while Daken ogled his chest. The vein in Bullseye's forehead became more and more prominent.
"Oh yes, of course, Daken. I'll be right there. Allow me to just get dressed."
"His abs are okay," said Bullseye as they waited in the hall for Noh-Varr.
"Okay? He's ripped! Cute too." You hate the thought of me with anyone else.
"Whatever. Maybe you two can start a club for dumb eighties hairstyles on non-human freaks."
"Why, Lester! Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"
"Fuck you, Daken. In your dreams."
Getting the shuttle had been even easier. After telling his teammates to wait outside, Daken had simply waltzed into the shuttle bay and had a little chat with the guards. There were two of them, two people whose best interests involved Daken not telling their families about certain....carnal activities that had taken place over the last few months.
Always fuck the people with mid-level authority and something to lose first.
"Yes, yes, Osborn ordered this. It's an important training exercise. Classified of course. No need to contact him. Important meeting and all. We'll be back soon, please and thank you. Now take a good look at how tight this costume is....."
Daken silenced the communications system as soon as they were clear of the ship, not wanting to hear any possible incoming messages from them. The guards wouldn't tell, but someone monitoring deep space could notice them out there and report it. He had to assume that Osborn would soon find out they had left.
Which meant that the mission had to be successful, or they were all in deep shit. Well, his teammates would be in deep shit, he could find a way out of it. Charm, threats, bargaining. He even considered the possibility of trying to defect to Luke Cage's ship, under the pretense of having information about Osborn. A double agent after all.
Yet he didn't want to have to do that. Or, to be honest with himself, he didn't want to have to leave Bullseye to explain himself alone. Only because the man was fun, and a great lay. And Daken had big plans for him.
Not because he cared about him.
"We're approaching the other shuttle," said Moonstone.
She had managed to hail the other ship and get ahold of Wolverine, who agreed to meet them in a shuttle alone at pre-determined coordinates. She had sent the message from the communications room itself, so no one would know about it unless they checked the logs later.
How she had managed to send the message without attracting attention from the people working in communications, Daken didn't know. He suspected Moonstone had her own powers of persuasion.
"Docking sequence initiated." Daken began the process of connecting with the other shuttle, the edgy excitement and disgust he always experienced when he knew he was going to see his father had started to settle in the pit of his stomach.
"How did you get him to agree to this anyway?" asked Bullseye.
"Simple. I just explained the situation and then told him that Daken needed his help, and he agreed to do it."
"Awww....isn't that sweet?"
"Shut up," muttered Daken.
"It is sweet, Daken." said Noh-Varr. "Your father cares about you. Why would this bother you?"
"Just drop it."
Fingers running over the scabbard on his belt, Daken focused on releasing his face and jaw, pushing out to cloak his own scent. His face a mask of disaffected boredom, his body a canvas of neutrality. It was obvious during his former encounters with his father that the man couldn't pick up on Daken's scent or emotions.
He wanted to keep it that way, Daken a mystery while Wolverine was an open book to his son. Fuck, I am so much better at all this than the old man. If only Romulus had given me the adamantium.....
Real or not, inheritance or not, sticking a sword into an image of Romulus was going to feel damn good.
A light on the control panel blinked, indicating that the shuttles had docked and pressure was equal. The wheel on the cabin door creaked in a lazy circle, and in stepped Wolverine.
He looked like he always did, semi-disheveled and under-dressed. Reeking of cheap beer and cheaper cigars. Like the shuttle didn't smell trashy enough.
"Hey," said Wolverine.
Daken barely inclined his head. "Hey."
"So..."
"Yeah."
"Moonstone called me."
"Obviously. We need more fighters."
"Count me in."
"Very good then."
"How've ya been?"
"Fine."
"You look good, Daken."
"Of course I do."
Bullseye, Moonstone, and Noh-Varr were looking on with the naked interest of an audience at a daytime talk show, hoping to see either some good drama or a joyous, tearful reunion. Or in the case of Daken's family, a screaming, rage-fueled, stabbing, dismemberment, sniktfest.
Daken wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. For now anyway.
"Well, let's get going." He sat back in his chair and concentrated on flying the shuttle.
The rest of the flight passed tense and quiet, with Daken pretending not to notice that Wolverine was pretending not to look at him. It was a relief when the planet came into view and they descended into the atmosphere. Risking life, limb, and sanity fighting the incarnations of their combined personified evil was a far nicer prospect than spending even ten minutes with his father.
Daken landed the shuttle. "I'm putting us down closer to the mirror than last time. It's about twenty meters? East, right near the research buildings."
As he spoke, a dark cloud descended over the windows. A skittering mass of black fur and gnashing teeth. The creatures. They covered the outside of the shuttle, enveloping it in darkness until the only visible light came from the control panel.
"Is this the welcomin' committee?" asked Wolverine.
"There were....less of them last time," said Noh-Varr.
*SNIKT*
Daken and Wolverine unleashed their claws at the same time, Moonstone took out the camera, and Bullseye notched an arrow. They all looked at each other with that "holy shit this is serious but I'm so badass I'm not nervous, really I'm not" expression.
Except for Wolverine, who looked like he was going to just another day at the office.
"Remember," said Daken. "They're quicker than they look. Clear a path for Moonstone to get into the air first, the rest of us will move as a tight unit. All right. Are we ready?"
"Wait! No. I mean...aren't you gonna say it?" asked Bullseye.
"Say what?"
"You know...assemble and all that."
"You're kidding me. You actually care about that?"
"Well, maybe a little."
"It's stupid. We're already assembled. I never understood that. It's like saying 'let's party' after the party has already started."
"Say it, Daken," said Noh-Varr. "It will be inspiring."
"Yeah," said Moonstone. "If we die out here, let's die as real Avengers."
"You should say it, Daken," said Wolverine. "It looks good on ya."
"It does? I don't know." Daken indicated to his costume. "I don't know how you get around in this thing. These ear wings are ridiculous and the colors are all wrong. I was thinking of something sexier and-"
Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Not the outfit, kid. I was talkin' about bein' a leader. It looks good on ya."
To his dying day, Daken would swear that hearing those words from Wolverine meant nothing to him.
He struck his most alluring pose. "All right. Fine. Avengers......ASSEMBLE!"
"Yes!" said Noh-Varr.
Wolverine nodded. "Not bad."
Daken looked at Bullseye. "Everything you hoped for?"
Bullseye shrugged. "I give it a six outta ten. Let's do this."
They opened the door to the surface of the planet.
Wolverine was out first, for which he was rewarded by several vicious bites to the face. Normally Daken would have thought this hilarious, if they hadn't been besieged on all sides by a storm of monsters. There were so many of them, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. They covered every visible surface, an ocean of fur and fangs.
Moonstone went intangible, flying out of the chaos and rising above them. She tried to blast a path for them while she started the camera.
"Guys! This way!"
They moved in tight formation, backs toward each other while they slashed, punched, and stabbed anything that got too close. Inching towards the mirror as they fought.
Daken never held the same stance for long. If the enemy was fast, you had to be faster. He spun and twisted, eviscerating one creature after another as they threw themselves at him.
He cast a glance at Bullseye. For the only human in the group, the man was certainly holding his own. He had slung the bow back over his shoulder and was throwing tiny blades from his tool belt with freakish speed and accuracy. Looking damn sexy while he was doing it, Daken noticed.
"Argh!" Daken yelped in surprise when a pair of teeth sank into his thigh.
"Hey," Wolverine yelled, ripping the creature off his leg. "Eyes on the fight!"
The ground was becoming wet with blood, littered with decapitated monster heads. The only sounds in the air were coming from the team, heavy breathing, blasts from Moonstone above, masculine grunts, and the whizzing of blades and claws. The creatures made little sound, just the light rustling of legs like an army of ants.
They were getting closer. Daken could see the mirror glinting in the daylight. Not far now.
A creature launched itself at Wolverine, who caught it and broke its neck in mid-air. He must have killed hundreds of them by now, completely oblivious to how they kept ripping chunks of his flesh off. Bringing him had been a good idea. Daken would have died sooner than admit that out loud, but a good idea nonetheless.
Moonstone had stopped blasting, and was now holding the little camera steady with both hands. "You're almost there!"
"There's a million of 'em," said Wolverine. "What the hell are these things?"
"They're generated by the mirror," yelled Noh-Varr as he leapt into the air to kick one in the throat. "It's powered by the darkness of those who look in it."
"Well, who looked in it?"
"All of us," answered Bullseye. He had ran out of projectiles and was now firing arrows with the speed of an archer on alien crack. "Including the Sentry."
"All of you AND Bob? Fuckin' great."
A blanket of deadly quiet settled over them as they approached the mirror. Daken faced it head on, while the others put their backs together and covered him.
Moonstone was screaming at him from above, but Daken didn't hear. The fight, the blood, the pain all fell away as he stared into the mirror. An icy cold seized him as a form took shape to stare back at him. But it wasn't his reflection.
Romulus.
"Daken, my son. Help me. Help me rise again and I'll give you everything you ever wanted.
It was so real. In his mind he had imagined it would be like ripping a picture from a magazine, yet it was him. Romulus. Right in front of him again. Promising him everything. Impossible.
Daken faltered, his fingers on the scabbard loosening.
The sounds of the fight faded away. It was just him and the mirror. Him and Romulus.
A hand reached out from the mirror towards him. Not just a reflection, but a real hand. Slithering towards him in slow motion, complete with those gorgeous talons. Those long fingernails that on rare occasions used to scratch his head with approval when he was a child.
"You...."
"Come to me, Daken.
"You're...you're not him."
Daken's heart was thundering, his entire body frozen. His very essence, every ounce of his prehensile attention, was tunneled into the scene in front of him. A hand stretching out for him, the tip of a boot. Wisps of hair.
"I am what you will become. I am everything and everywhere. I know you, Daken. I created you. Not the man next to you. Me! Your true father."
"It's not him, it's not him." Daken struggled to move. He had longed to hear those words from Romulus for so many years.
"I can give you everything. The power of an emperor. Take my hand, son!"
Daken raised a shaking finger. "You didn't....you didn't make me. You used me, and left me with nothing!"
So many years working for Romulus. A lifetime of never questioning who he was, or what he wanted. What was left when it had all collapsed? All the lies about his future, about his asshole father.
About his mother.
Without Romulus, who was he, really?
Daken's attention faded in and out. The air was freezing. Somewhere way off in the distance, he could hear Bullseye screaming. "Daken, if you're gonna make a move, fucking make it!"
The scabbard vibrated at his side.
Amidst the distant chaos of the battle, the screaming of his teammates, the whispering of the mirror, Daken closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His control had always stemmed from detachment. Relax, push out, just let go.
Romulus may have trained him, but he had never given him any true power. Daken was a self-made man.
Eyes shut, he anchored himself with breath, letting go of all the anger and madness and terror he felt towards Romulus. All his desires, all his lust. Untangling like a spool of knotted thread.
The sounds of the battle drifted back to him. He could feel the comforting warmth of Bullseye's back to his. He could feel his fingers again.
When he opened his eyes, Romulus appeared to be leaning halfway out of the mirror. A nightmare made flesh. Daken's whole world.
It had all been a fucking lie.
A taloned hand reached towards him, inches from his face now.
I am the answer, boy.
"Bullshit," he whispered, fingers reaching for the scabbard.
Daken, don't you want to avenge your mother?"
"Yes," Daken pulled the sword out the holster. "I do."
He drove the blade into the image of Romulus, shattering the mirror into a thousand screaming pieces. The sword broke too, all fragments melting into the ground and disappearing.
In an instant, the creatures vanished. Leaving the team standing there, bloody and sweating, staring at Daken in wide-eyed amazement.
Wolverine clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Nice work, Daken."
"Thanks, Logan."
And he meant it.
"What!?! A hundred? Fuck you, alien boy, I must have killed a thousand of those things!"
"I meant no offense, Hawkeye. You fought very well."
The mood on the shuttle ride back was one of jubilation. Bullseye and Noh-Varr were discussing how many creatures they had killed, Daken and Wolverine were sitting in the front of the shuttle, and Moonstone was inspecting the footage she had shot.
"How's it look?"
"Great." She hit the playback button. "This is great. You look awesome, Daken. Osborn really might let it all go when he sees this."
"Of course he will."
"What if he doesn't?" asked Wolverine, the concern for his son evident.
"Oh please," said Daken. "I can handle Norman."
"Can I ask ya somethin'?" Wolverine dropped his voice while the others chatted excitedly in the back of the shuttle. "Why Osborn's team? Why'd you join them?"
"You've asked me that before."
"Yeah, and ya never gave a straight answer. Why'd ya make a knucklehead move like workin' for Osborn? It seems....I dunno, beneath ya."
Daken didn't even try to lie. Fuck it. If he told a sliver of truth now, Wolverine might be compelled to tell a truth in return.
"Honestly. I just wanted to know what it felt like."
"What what felt like?"
He indicated to the costume. "This. I wanted to know what it felt like when the world sees you in this."
"Aha." His father nodded, the answer no doubt making complete sense to him.
"And I wanted to piss you off."
"Oh? Well, you succeeded there." Wolverine cocked one eyebrow in that infuriating way that women seemed to love, but Daken thought just made him look terminally clueless.
"My turn. What did you do with him?"
"With who?"
"You know who. Romulus. What did you do with Romulus?"
"Why are ya askin' me that now?"
"Because....he's....it was him. In the mirror. The mirror showed me Romulus."
Wolverine was shocked. "Really? You saw Romulus?"
"Yes. It was so....real. Could it....could it really have been him?"
Daken didn't even bother with pheromones, instead he flashed his best "please tell me, Daddy" face.
Wolverine hung his head. "I trapped 'im....in another dimension."
"Could it have been him then?"
"Honestly, Daken, I don't know. If you all looked in it, but only you saw Romulus, then I gotta say probably not."
"Didn't think so." Daken continued flying the shuttle, as if any answer his father gave would have been met with an equal amount of disinterest.
"Listen, Daken, I gotta-"
Daken held up a hand. "No. Don't. Whatever you're going to say, don't. No lectures about Osborn, no invitations to join your band of merry idiots, no more family bonding. Just don't."
"Easy, kid. It's nothin' that heavy. But I gotta say this. Look, I don't care that you're gay-"
"I'm not gay, Wolverine," spat Daken, a little too loudly as the conversation in the back stopped and three sets of curious ears perked up.
"Wait, he is not gay?" whispered Noh-Varr to Moonstone.
Daken dropped his voice. "I'm not gay, Daddy. So fuck off."
Wolverine shook his hands in defense, now whispering back. "Bi then. Whatever. Whatever ya are, I'm okay with it."
"You think that matters to me?"
"No. I don't. But what does matter, Daken, is yer choice of partners." He pointed a thumb to the back. "I mean, Bullseye?! I can smell 'im all over ya. Really, son, you can do better."
And that was it. Awkward mission bonding was one thing, but having his absentee, mattress surfing father criticize his sex life was something else. No one told him who to fuck.
Besides, Bullseye was his special.....whatever. He wasn't letting him go until he fucking felt like it.
So without another thought, Daken punched the big, luscious tempting red button on the control panel. The one that controlled the eject function on the passenger seat.
Wolverine's face didn't even have time to register anything before his seat dropped out from under him, and he was shot into space in the eject pod. Daken leaned back in his chair and put both arms behind his head.
That felt fucking good.
Bullseye and Moonstone were laughing.
"Nice one, Daken!"
Noh-Varr was puzzled. "Why did you just-"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? That's how he's leaving the ship. We agreed on it beforehand. It's more stealthy that way."
"I see."
Bullseye came to the front of the ship to put a hand on his shoulder, and then leaned against the control panel.
"Man," he grinned. "Fuckin' nice. How'd that feel? Two fathers in one day! I'm a little jealous."
Daken spread his legs in his usual carefree, haughty manner. "You like that, sweetie?" Relax. Push out.
"It wasn't bad. Coulda done with more blood but you did the job."
"For fifty bucks I'll kill yours." You want me, Bullseye. You can't take your eyes off me.
Bullseye laughed. "Stealing my lines now? I'll let it go this time, you little mutant.....mutant...."
He trailed off, staring between Daken's legs at the visible bulge on his very tight costume.
"Mutant what?" asked Daken.
"Uh...yeah...what?"
"Oh, nothing."
Daken could smell Bullseye start to sweat as the assassin stared unabashedly at his crotch. So focused was Bullseye on his body that he didn't notice Daken's left hand stealing across the keyboard, sending an encrypted message to Luke Cage's ship. Secretly telling them the location of Wolverine.
The End
Author(s): lilac28
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Bullseye/Daken
Summary: Daken Akihiro finds out what it really means to wear his father’s costume. Can he get the guy, battle alien threats, vanquish his past, and look damn good while doing so?
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Crack, camp, violence, fucking, psychological warfare, alien artifacts, family dysfunction, and maybe a liiiiiiittle dub-con (but hey, it’s Daken and Bullseye!).
Word Count: ~16k (Complete, four chapters across two posts. I wanted it all in one entry, but LJ slapped me with a "post too large"!)
Notes Slight AU. Set after the events of Wolverine Origins but assumes Siege never happened, and Noh-Varr never left the group. Instead Osborn takes his maladjusted team of Avengers across the stars to bring law and order to the galaxy. That’s right. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Dark Avengers….in spaaaace!
Chapter Three
Daken was on the verge of identifying the mystery smell coming from Osborn by the time the team had disembarked from the shuttle back to the main ship. It was spicy and a little sweet. Almost like….flavored coffee? A pumpkin spice latte?
"Do you know what I could really go for? A hazelnut latte. Anyone else?" Daken posed the question to the group as Victoria Hand approached them.
"A latte?" said Bullseye. "Why don't you have some perfume and a tutu with that? I can't believe you're thinking of girl drinks right now."
"It's how I decompress. Norman, what about you?"
Their leader still hadn't removed his helmet. "I prefer mine black, thank you. You can get something to drink after the debriefing."
Pumpkin. It was definitely pumpkin. Not good.
"What was it?" asked Hand. "What did you see down there? We heard your communications. It was some sort of mirror. Who looked in it?"
"Daken and the Sentry."
She turned to Daken. "What did you see?"
They were all staring at him now.
"Yeah, Daken. What did you see anyway?"
"Some sort of monster or alien or something. An evil presence. I couldn't quite make it out."
"You were pretty sure at first."
"At first I thought it was a Skrull, then I wasn't so sure." Daken inspected his fingernails while he answered, as if the line of questioning bored him.
Hand looked at them all one by one. "And no one else looked in it?"
"Nope."
"Nuh uh."
"No, sir. Uh, ma'am."
Lying. They were all lying. Daken could hear the skip of hearts beating faster, he could smell minute amounts of perspiration. Voices wavering just the slightest bit.
Even Ares.
Of course they all looked in it. They were all standing behind him. He had been too wrapped up in his own vision to notice or care. No wonder everyone was so freaked out after he attacked the mirror. But what did the others see?
"Sir?" Hand looked at Osborn. "Did you see anything?"
"No."
Liar, liar, Norman.
"Would you mind taking off the helmet while we're talking?"
"Yes."
"Oookay, well…."
She started in with mind-numbing information about the mission and strategy. Typical, reactionary stuff that would get them nowhere. Daken took a silent step back, and then another. Before anyone noticed he had slipped away, stealing around the corner to head to his room.
He needed to examine the gem alone, away from prying imbecilic eyes.
As Daken had suspected, there were two messages from Wolverine on the comm panel in his room. Two messages that, like all the others, didn't survive beyond the first few words.
"Daken, it's Logan. Listen.....I just wanna say....."
"Daken, sorry, it's me again. Someday you'll-"
His finger was on the delete button faster than Mac could eat a junkie.
Daken sat on his bed and tried to absorb every detail of the gem. It seemed to resonate, yet when he brought it to his ear he could feel no buzz. Hear no sound. It was smooth, like glass. Slippery yet dry, like ice and melting butter. Devoid of smell, but resplendent with the most rich and beautiful red he had ever seen. A synesthesia experience amounting to absolutely nothing.
He even tasted it. Certainly not the weirdest thing that ever graced his tongue.
A man of focus, a man of power. Was one supposed to smash the gem against the mirror? Stand there with perfect hair while they spoke some ancient riddle? Could you take it elsewhere and use it? How much power did this thing grant anyway?
He thought of the mirror. Everyone must have seen something else, it was the only scenario that made sense. It knew what shook you. The idea was disgusting, that he would be so rattled by Romulus. He was his own man now. A king. By far the most badass person on this pathetic outfit after the Sentry, who was really too fucked up to even count.
Hours passed while he rocked the gem from hand to hand, turning decades over in his mind. He ignored all sensory perception that didn't focus on the gem, until a noise in the background grew loud enough to grab his attention, footsteps echoing down the hall. They hesitated when they reached his door, as though the caller wasn't sure if they wanted to knock.
Like he didn't know it was Bullseye.
"Come in."
Bullseye entered his room, glowering. He was still in the Hawkeye costume, sans mask.
"We've gotta talk."
"About?"
"About that." He pointed to the gem sliding through Daken's fingers. "And about what the fuck we're gonna do here. I don't know about you, but this is not worth my life. Whatever that thing is down there is way beyond us. It caused fifty people to go insane and rip each other apart. Osborn isn't gonna order us out of here. And I don't know if you've noticed, but our most powerful member is also our craziest."
"I've noticed."
"What have you figured out about that thing?"
Daken turned the gem over in his hands. What had he figured out about it? Not very much, other than it was pleasing on some preternatural level.
Bullseye could tell. He gave a sharp bark of psychotic laughter. "Nothing!? What the fuck have you been doing in here since we got back?"
His eyes darted across the room like bullets as he spoke, taking in every tiny detail of Daken's quarters. As if he could carve a slice of desired information from the stark surroundings. Intrigue exploded out of his pores.
He was curious, curious to be in Daken's space. Doing a shit job of hiding it, too.
Daken allowed the visual inspection. One could glean little interesting information about him from his room. He held up the gem. "This thing didn't come with an instruction manual, and I agree that we're in some deep shit."
Bullseye paced around the room, stopping to peek in Daken's closet. "Yeah, so, what are we gonna do about it?"
Daken set the gem on his nightstand as he watched Bullseye paw through his things. "Can I help you find something in there, Lester?"
"Man, why did you bring all these clothes into fucking space?"
"It's my travel wardrobe." He rose from the bed. Time to try this again. Relax. Release. You can't control yourself around me.
"Your travel wardrobe? You mean this is only part of it? Why the hell do you have all this stuff?"
"I like looking good. Don't you think I look good?" It's getting harder to breathe, Lester.
His footsteps made no sound as he stole behind Bullseye like a tiger. The carnivore that was going to eat him alive.
Bullseye pulled a suit off of the hanger. "I think you look like a fucking…." He trailed off, at once aware that Daken was close to him.
Daken watched the other man struggle to swallow, managing to spit out "look like a fucking idiot" before Daken backed him into the wall.
"You don't sound very sincere. I think you like the way I look." He sauntered right into Bullseye's space, drinking in the assassin's manic energy while he leaned his lips just a little closer to Bullseye's ear. "I think you like it a lot."
Between them existed only the smallest sliver of air, Bullseye both pulling in and leaning away. Daken could almost taste the other man's heart beating. Eyes wild underneath drawn brows, he exuded caged fury and arousal.
And the smell of him, something animal and predatory unto itself. Meticulous madness. Bullseye was out of his fucking mind, not that Daken cared. To best someone so magnetic, to control that potency, a few loose screws wasn't going to turn him off.
"Now this," Daken continued, taking the all white, scrumptious cocaine dealer suit back from Bullseye and reaching over to hang it in his closet. "This I bought for a special occasion. To celebrate a successful mission that Osborn sent me on without the rest of you. Something really delicious."
He prepared to deliver the verbal coup de grâce that he knew would rope Bullseye in even further.
"I bought this suit…." He walked his fingers up Bullseye's chest, stopping to twist them into the top of his tunic. "….I bought this suit after I killed the Punisher."
You want me. You wanna fuck me. You'll do anything for me.
Bullseye trembled. "F-fuck you, Daken. You didn't kill the Punisher."
"Oh, but I did!" He pressed their hips together, relishing the gasp in the other man's throat. "I cut off his head and pulled his guts out."
With every hitching breath Bullseye took, he inhaled more pheromones. "Goddammit. That's awesome."
Daken settled his full weight against him, an aggressive spark igniting between them. Oh fuck, it was good. Every inch of his body was humming. He slid his fingers up to Bullseye's chin, gentle at first, and then sharply pulled his head. Forcing him to stare Daken right in the eyes.
"It was awesome. There was blood everywhere. It was all over me, Lester."
Bullseye groaned. The tiniest admonition of a noise as his eyes fluttered shut. "Oh God….."
Daken licked a lethal swath up his throat, feeling him gulp, feeling his pulse pound. Feeling the rock hard erection pressing into his leg. Tasting every ounce of ache and desire and repression. Bullseye just needed that last little push, that last little violent impulse to shut down the brain and let instinct take over.
Power wasn't about getting someone to do something they didn't want to do. Real power was getting someone to do something they did want to do, but would never admit to it.
So he slapped Bullseye in the face, grinning at the assassin's look of shocked fury. He then stood with his arms crossed, letting stray locks of hair fall perfectly into his eyes.
"As much as I enjoy foreplay, I am man of action. Shall we flirt all night or are we gonna fuck? This could be our last night alive, after all."
Bullseye's lip curled into something between rage and disgust. "Oh, we're gonna fuck, Princess." He shoved Daken towards the bed, cursing him with each push. “You think you’re so tough. Squirreling around this space ship like you own it. Always with that big, fat grin on your face. I hate that smile. I hate it."
"Then why don't you wipe it off my face?" Daken made a show of taking his shirt off, loving the way Bullseye practically started drooling over his bare chest. He unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants down over his hips to stand there naked, hard, on display and unashamed.
Bullseye looked like he was going to hyperventilate, like he was struggling to keep his heart pumping through sheer will. He fumbled with his costume.
And fumbled.
And fumbled until Daken grew impatient. "Here let me-"
"Fuck off, man. I can get it. You need to do that part first-"
"Really, Lester." Daken popped the shoulder button and yanked the top of the costume down, surprised when it didn't just fall away. "This is some complicated one piece? Who designed this? I swear Hawkeye has no taste."
"I know." Bullseye tried to shimmy out of the pants.
"It's too small for you too. And what is this material? Feels like rubber. No wonder you can't get it off." He ran his hand along Bullseye's exposed chest. The man was covered in a thin sheen of horny sweat. He was hairless, which Daken liked. He hated screwing hairy guys.
In fact, Daken discovered when Bullseye had his pants around his ankles, he was hairless everywhere. Hairless and muscular and giving off the most luscious hot smells.
"You shave?"
"I shave everything. Now shut the fuck up."
The world exploded when Bullseye grabbed him and kissed him, bringing every inch of their bodies together. The arcing pleasure of skin on skin, relief of a denied lust finally starting to play out.
Daken moaned, licking along the other man's lips. Fire engulfed everywhere they touched. He couldn't remember the last time he was excited over the prospect of fucking, rather than just what it was going to get him.
Bullseye shoved him back on the bed and opened the drawer on the nightstand. His eyes lit up at the veritable treasure chest of uninteresting personal effects.
"Let's see. Knives, knives, knives. I can respect that. Lube, watches. Who needs four watches? Books....hmmmm....DH Lawrence, Natsume Sōseki...who reads this shit?"
"I do."
"No condoms I see. You can't catch or give anyone anything, right? I swear, Daken, if I get some super mutant STD from you, I'm gonna cut your dick off."
Daken just grinned, eyeing Bullseye's swinging cock like dessert. "Of course not. You don't need them with me. And you don't need that either." He pointed to the lube.
"Oh no." Bullseye grabbed Daken's mohawk and shoved him face first into pillow, straddling him to whisper in his ear. "I'm gonna lube up good, and you wanna know why? I want you to fucking enjoy this, you little bitch. I want you to love having my cock in your ass. And the next time you're fuckin' someone else, you'll just be thinkin' of me."
Daken shuddered. He was used to being the most actively passive participant in sex, controlling the act from an emotional distance. He wasn't used to wanting it.
And did want it, wanted everything that Bullseye had to give. The other man was mistaken though, when it was all over it would be him lusting for Daken.
Hand still in his hair, Bullseye dragged Daken's head up to bring him to his knees on the bed, palms pressed against the wall for support. Behind him, Daken could hear lube being squirted everywhere.
"Gonna ruin you," Bullseye muttered, low enough to be talking to himself. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else."
Bullseye let go of his hair to steady them as he reached around to grip Daken with his other hand, jerking him hesitantly at first, and then rougher.
"You like that?"
Daken grunted, loving it. The pressure was good. Bullseye had big hands, he liked big hands.
"Yeah, fuck. Harder."
"Harder? Harder..fuck...." Bullseye tightened his grip.
Daken could feel the other man bringing them together, felt the first warm sting of Bullseye's intrusion. Working himself in, inch by fiery inch. Panting. Breathing in pheromones and dark lust.
A knot was beginning to form in Daken's stomach, a whisper of explosive pleasure. His hands clawed at the wall, his body awash in pain and delicious friction. It was so good to have Bullseye's big hand around him, knowing the assassin was breaking with every passing second.
"Yeah yeah yeah, fucking....Daken..."
"That's it." Daken closed his eyes, skating on the edge of a growing ecstasy. "That's it..that's it...say my name."
"Daken!" Bullseye slammed his hips, burying himself deep as he pulled Daken even closer.
And that was it. Daken screamed when he came, pulsing in Bullseye's hand while electric fire coursed through his body. It seemed to last a blissful eternity, wave after wave of deep, unrelenting pleasure. Leaving Daken with his face pressed into the wall, attempting to catch his breath, head swimming. He came first? He never came first.
A sinister chuckle behind him. "So," Bullseye said, the trembling of his voice belying how unraveled he was. "Just how long does it take you to recover, anyway?"
"Oh, sweetie," Daken sighed. "The hotter you are, the faster I recover."
The rest of the evening saw Daken recover faster than ever, pounded into the mattress by months of Bullseye's constrained desires. He always knew dear Lester was in denial about certain predilections, but he hadn't expected the man to be a furious sex machine as well.
It was more than pleasantly surprising.
Bullseye took him with the savage anger of a man consumed, staring right into his eyes as he tossed Daken's legs over his shoulders. He was strong, manhandling Daken like he weighed nothing, throwing him around while spewing the dirtiest, horniest filth out of his mouth.
The force of Bullseye was like being hit by a freight train, and Daken absorbed sensations far beyond the physical. He could smell every emotion, tasted twisted intentions. Desire. Anger. Jealousy.
Possession. Bullseye wanted to take him, mark him, break him down and make him his. What the assassin didn't realize, was that with every desperate, sweat-soaked thrust he just lost himself to Daken even further. Under the illusion that being on top made him the one in control.
And when Bullseye had them face to face on the bed, and tore the nightstand drawer out to reach for one of the blades he found earlier, Daken just laughed and said, "Oh yeah? Do it."
His second orgasm took even longer to build, and found him convulsing in delirious satisfaction, wailing in Japanese as he came all over both their chests. Sticky with sweat and come and dried blood and Bullseye's fervent brand of demented worship.
"Oh God, oh fuck....that is hot...Daken..." Watching Daken climax again proved to be too much, and Bullseye nearly sobbed in relief, making all kinds of satisfied noises as he came. Trembling as Daken crooned in his ear.
They remained wrapped up together afterwards, Daken stroking a clean-shaven head as he mused over the psychotic killer in his arms. It would be so easy. So easy to just tear out Bullseye's throat and leave him shocked and betrayed in those final seconds as his life force ran out.
Not that Daken even wanted to do that at this point. He had, and he was loath to admit it to himself but it was true, grown.....fond of Bullseye.
Or he thought he had. Until Bullseye disentangled them and grabbed Daken's discarded shirt to wipe the come off his chest.
"That's Versace."
"Oh yeah? Here." Bullseye tossed the shirt at him.
Daken pushed out with all his senses. Just soften, Bullseye. Unwind. Let go. The last thing he wanted was a post-coital "I'm not gay" freak out. Which seemed far from happening, as Bullseye lay back down on the bed and stretched out.
"What the hell does 'iku' mean anyway?"
"It means 'take me to Heaven with your big American cock'".
Bullseye placed his arms behind his head like a man victorious. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"You're a terribly competent fuck for someone who's not into guys."
"I really am gonna kill you someday, Daken."
"Mmm hmm. Of course you are."
"As long as you understand that. C'mere."
Daken accepted the invitation, molding into Bullseye's chest like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Bullseye held him tight, fingers curling in his hair. It was so comfortable. He could feel the tension in Bullseye drain away, sighing before took in a breath to speak.
"I saw my father," said Bullseye.
"What?"
"In the mirror. I saw my father."
"Whoa. Really? Is that why you were so edgy?"
"Yeah, it really freaked me out at first. More than I ever thought it would. Something….something about that mirror. It was more than just an image. It was….a feeling, you know?"
Daken knew. He knew very well.
"What did you see?"
"I told you all-"
"Bullshit, Daken. You wigged out almost as bad as the Sentry. You didn't see a fucking Skrull. C'mon, tell me. Was it your Dad?"
Their eyes met, and for the first time in his life, Daken Akihiro didn't lie in bed.
"No. I saw…I saw the man I wanted to be my father, but he didn't want me." It stung to even say it, much to his disappointment.
"Ouch. Not Wolverine?"
"No. Not Wolverine."
"Didja kill him?"
"No."
"No?!" Bullseye sat up on his elbows, aghast at the thought of someone not killing their father. "Why not?"
Daken pushed him back down and snuggled up to him again. "I tried. I almost had him, but fucking Wolverine took him away. Killed him or hid him or something. I have no idea what happened to him."
"So wait…wait…your bio Dad cockblocked you from killing your surrogate Dad, who you wanted to accept you as a son but never did?"
"Basically, yes."
"Wow. That's fucked." Bullseye shook his head. "That's really messed up. Your family scene is more dysfunctional than mine, man."
"How depressing."
"I mean, what the fuck, Wolverine? Killing the father that fucked with you is like a man's rite of passage. How dare he take that away from you?"
"Exactly! I tried to explain that to him!"
Bullseye understanding his life? By far the most disturbing event of the whole mission.
"Tell you what, because you got so ripped off, I'll lower my price for killing Wolverine to twenty five dollars."
"Oooo…romantic."
The conversation trailed off, and they drifted together in a semi-hypnotic state for what seemed like hours. Daken ran lazy fingers across Bullseye's chest, concentrating on relief and expansion. He synched up their heartbeats, their breathing. After the tension of the mission, it felt so good to just lie there. To let go.
Of course, sedation around Bullseye wasn't something that could continue forever. Eventually he bolted upright, shock in his voice.
"Holy fucking shit. It's you. How are you doing that?"
For a brief second, Daken feared that Bullseye could sense his pheromone manipulation. His heart stopped. Impossible.
But Bullseye wasn't talking about pheromones, instead he was pointing to the nightstand next to them.
"Seriously. How are you doing that?"
"Doing what? What the hell are you talking about?"
Daken looked at the nightstand where the gem was sitting, only it didn't look like the gem anymore at all. Instead it was a long, flat oval. Still brilliant red, still brimming with resonance.
"It was you. It was fucking hypnotizing. I just watched it flatten out and grow for at least an hour. Like it didn't even seem weird to me until I really thought about it."
Daken sat up too, both of them naked in bed, regarding the object with great suspicion. "I didn't-"
"Daken, " Bullseye interrupted him. "Every time you moved your hand, that thing changed a little. Every time you moved, it moved. Try it again."
"Well, hand it to me."
"Fuck no! I'm not touchin' that thing."
Daken rolled his eyes, and reached across Bullseye to grab the disc and set it on the bed.
Relax. Push out.
He pulled his hands apart, imagining soft flow and linear lines. The disc grew wider and thinner, responding to his movements and thoughts.
Bullseye was astonished. "How? You're not a fucking telekinetic, are you? I really hate those guys."
Daken stretched the oval wider, laughing with delight. "It's the same! It's the fucking same."
"What's the same?"
"It's just, letting go."
Intention. Separation and flow. Controlled strength. The best things he aspired to. His entire life training, down to this. He was the man of focus and power, after all.
Bullseye stared at him with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. "So then, you gotta make a weapon or something?"
"Right. Something deadly. But what will destroy the mirror?"
"Who fucking knows? See if you can make it into something that would destroy the image in the mirror. What did you always want to kill your surrogate father with?"
Daken grinned, exposing every last one of his predator teeth. "Something sharp. And pointy."
And there naked on his bed, matching every glint of murderous insanity, Bullseye grinned back.
Chapter Four
"No. Absolutely not."
"But-"
"I said no, Hawkeye."
Norman Osborn sat at the head of his meeting table like a futuristic King Arthur, flanked by Victoria Hand on one side and Moonstone on the other. He had been listening to Daken and Bullseye's suggestion that he let the two of them take the shuttle back to the planet for further recon. Or he did listen, for about ten seconds, before interrupting with a flat out rejection of idea.
"It's too dangerous," he continued. "I can't risk losing anybody else down there. We're waiting for reinforcements to arrive from earth, and Ms. Hand is researching all files on the planet to see if we can discover anything else."
"Anybody else?" Daken said. "Who else did we lose?"
"Nobody."
"It was the Sentry, wasn't it?" asked Bullseye. "Hey Vicky, maybe you should be researching what we can do to kill that guy when he finally detonates."
"The answer is no," growled Osborn. "Now I appreciate that you two wanted to help, but we're in the middle of an important meeting here."
Daken tried to sniff the air without being obvious. If yesterday Osborn had a slightly spicy scent, today it smelled like he had bathed in pumpkin cologne. Tendrils of a smoky, jack o' lantern aroma were oozing off of him, even through the full armor and mask. The mask that he still had on while speaking to them.
"It's okay." Daken put a hand on Bullseye's shoulder and started steering him out the door. "We just wanted to know if we could help. Let us know if you need anything."
He walked them out the door with a smile on the face like the whole thing was no big deal. They were both in full costume, and as Daken had predicted, the addition of a scabbard hanging from the belt of his outfit had gone unnoticed.
They had agreed to try to get down to the planet alone. Or Daken had agreed, and a combination of pheromones and blackmail had gotten Bullseye to go along with it.
"Well," said Bullseye. "That was a wash. What now?"
The thought of just trying to manipulate Osborn into saying yes was tempting, but without further planning it could lead to disaster. Too many people asking questions about orders, too many holes, and too much time. Without a genuine yes, it would be better to slip down there on their own. Osborn wouldn't be a problem later, Daken had ways of dealing with him.
"Hey guys, wait up. What's going on?" Moonstone was running down the hall after them.
"Nothin'."
"Don't give me that. I know you two are up to something. Why do you want to go down there?"
Moonstone. Moonstone was useful, and she could be in their corner with the right incentive.
Daken took her arm and nodded to both of them. "Not here."
Daken dragged them halfway down the ship and into a woman's bathroom, one created for the ship's crew to use during their shift. It was one of those hidden, single stall rooms that gave one false hope that it wouldn't be so bad, but a few deep breaths would say otherwise. He locked the door behind them and looked under the sink.
"What the hell, Daken," asked Moonstone, exasperated. "What are we doing in here? What are you looking for?"
"Cameras. Listening devices. I don't see any. Figured this would be a place that Osborn wouldn't dare put a camera."
"Why?"
"We're going down there," said Daken. "We're going to destroy that thing so we can get the hell out of here and back to civilization."
"How?"
"With this." Daken reached for the scabbard on his belt and pulled out a long, exquisitely formed sword. It blazed red, as though it had been fashioned from a giant ruby. The gem, bent to Daken's will. He had spent the rest of the night on his bed creating the sword with a calm flow while Bullseye had watched, naked and hypnotized.
"What the fuck is that?"
"It's the weapon you and Noh-Varr read about back on the planet."
Moonstone was shaking her head. "You found that? How did you get it back up here? You didn't tell Osborn about this?"
"Look," Daken put the glowing red sword back in its sheath. "We're on the verge of getting screwed out here. The Sentry's having a nervous breakdown, we're in the middle of nowhere, and Osborn is going out of his mind."
"Oh, not this space madness thing again, Daken."
"No, it's something else. Ever since we got back yesterday, he's starting to smell more and more like Halloween. And he have you seen him without the helmet on since we got back?"
Moonstone cringed. "No. Hand was trying to get him to take it off in our meeting just now, but he wouldn't. He smells like Halloween?"
"Like a night of trick or treating come alive."
"That is bad news."
"It's gonna be really bad news if we don't get out of here," said Bullseye. "That planet is fucking with everyone. What did you see in the mirror?"
"I didn't-"
"Bullshit. We all saw something. Me 'n Daken saw our fucked up fathers. What did you see?"
Faced with the inevitable truth, Moonstone caved fast. "I saw…..I saw my mother."
"Kill her?"
"That is none of your business, psycho."
"Hey, just askin'."
"So then," she said. "I mean, what are you going to do?"
"We're going to steal a shuttle, go down there, kill that thing, and get the fuck out of here," said Daken. You believe me, Karla. I'm your friend, remember?
"But…." Moonstone faltered. "You can't just steal a shuttle."
"Sure I can! That's the easy part."
"It is?" said Bullseye.
"It is when you have the launch codes. And when the night guards to the shuttle bay owe you a favor."
"What about Osborn?"
"Osborn will be no problem," said Daken. "He cares about two things. Results and appearances. He'll be way less pissed if we actually get rid of that thing, and with extra insurance he'll be beside himself with glee."
"Insurance?"
Daken pulled a small digital video camera from his belt. "It doesn't show up on scanners, but I’ll bet the mirror and those creatures down there can be recorded. If we can get footage of ourselves being heroic and destroying the thing that killed all those poor, innocent people, Osborn will be wetting himself. He'll let go any insubordination."
"You think so?"
"I know so. And do you know who would be perfect to do the recording?" He pressed the camera into Moonstone's hand. "Someone who can fly."
You trust me, Karla.
"Is it really just the two of you? In that meeting Hand estimated that there could be millions of those things down there this time after the Sentry looked in it."
"Well, with you it makes three."
"What about someone else?" she asked. "Who else can come with us? What about Ares?"
Daken frowned. "Screw Ares. He's in Osborn's pocket and he thinks he's doing the right thing. We can't trust him."
"Venom?"
"You're serious?"
"Actually, no. What about Noh-Varr?"
Noh-Varr could be useful, Daken thought. And he was gullible, easily tricked into doing something for them.
"Wait," said Bullseye. "Who the fuck is Nova?"
"Not Nova, you idiot. Noh-Varr."
"Which one is he?"
Moonstone threw up her hands. "Captain Marvel?! The alien? The guy with the great abs!?!"
"He does have great abs," Daken agreed, delighted at the brief flare of jealousy he sensed in Bullseye.
"Oh yeah. The guy with no personality. He's an okay fighter."
"He's not a bad choice," said Daken. "I can convince him."
"What about," said Moonstone. "someone from Luke Cage's ship?"
Bullseye sputtered. "Are you crazy? They're the enemy! We can't ask any of them."
"We could if it was someone who was used to operating on their own."
"I see where you're going with this," said Daken. "No. No way."
Moonstone continued. "A loner. Someone used to doing his own thing."
"No."
"Someone used to disobeying orders."
"Karla, no."
"Daken, do you want to die out here, or do you want to use every resource available to you?"
She was right of course. Daken hung his head. She was right, and he wasn't one to shoot himself in the foot by discarding a valuable asset. They would need all the independent fighters they could get.
"All right. All right. Fine. But we'll go talk to Noh-Varr, and YOU can contact Wolverine."
Convincing Noh-Varr to come along had been too easy. A wall of fast moving pheromones combined with an impassioned pep talk had done the trick.
"Blah blah save the day, something something.....the team needs you, oh and Norman who? It's all gonna be fine, you big hero you. Now breathe deep."
Noh-Varr had stood in his doorway in just a pair of sweatpants, listening intently while Daken ogled his chest. The vein in Bullseye's forehead became more and more prominent.
"Oh yes, of course, Daken. I'll be right there. Allow me to just get dressed."
"His abs are okay," said Bullseye as they waited in the hall for Noh-Varr.
"Okay? He's ripped! Cute too." You hate the thought of me with anyone else.
"Whatever. Maybe you two can start a club for dumb eighties hairstyles on non-human freaks."
"Why, Lester! Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?"
"Fuck you, Daken. In your dreams."
Getting the shuttle had been even easier. After telling his teammates to wait outside, Daken had simply waltzed into the shuttle bay and had a little chat with the guards. There were two of them, two people whose best interests involved Daken not telling their families about certain....carnal activities that had taken place over the last few months.
Always fuck the people with mid-level authority and something to lose first.
"Yes, yes, Osborn ordered this. It's an important training exercise. Classified of course. No need to contact him. Important meeting and all. We'll be back soon, please and thank you. Now take a good look at how tight this costume is....."
Daken silenced the communications system as soon as they were clear of the ship, not wanting to hear any possible incoming messages from them. The guards wouldn't tell, but someone monitoring deep space could notice them out there and report it. He had to assume that Osborn would soon find out they had left.
Which meant that the mission had to be successful, or they were all in deep shit. Well, his teammates would be in deep shit, he could find a way out of it. Charm, threats, bargaining. He even considered the possibility of trying to defect to Luke Cage's ship, under the pretense of having information about Osborn. A double agent after all.
Yet he didn't want to have to do that. Or, to be honest with himself, he didn't want to have to leave Bullseye to explain himself alone. Only because the man was fun, and a great lay. And Daken had big plans for him.
Not because he cared about him.
"We're approaching the other shuttle," said Moonstone.
She had managed to hail the other ship and get ahold of Wolverine, who agreed to meet them in a shuttle alone at pre-determined coordinates. She had sent the message from the communications room itself, so no one would know about it unless they checked the logs later.
How she had managed to send the message without attracting attention from the people working in communications, Daken didn't know. He suspected Moonstone had her own powers of persuasion.
"Docking sequence initiated." Daken began the process of connecting with the other shuttle, the edgy excitement and disgust he always experienced when he knew he was going to see his father had started to settle in the pit of his stomach.
"How did you get him to agree to this anyway?" asked Bullseye.
"Simple. I just explained the situation and then told him that Daken needed his help, and he agreed to do it."
"Awww....isn't that sweet?"
"Shut up," muttered Daken.
"It is sweet, Daken." said Noh-Varr. "Your father cares about you. Why would this bother you?"
"Just drop it."
Fingers running over the scabbard on his belt, Daken focused on releasing his face and jaw, pushing out to cloak his own scent. His face a mask of disaffected boredom, his body a canvas of neutrality. It was obvious during his former encounters with his father that the man couldn't pick up on Daken's scent or emotions.
He wanted to keep it that way, Daken a mystery while Wolverine was an open book to his son. Fuck, I am so much better at all this than the old man. If only Romulus had given me the adamantium.....
Real or not, inheritance or not, sticking a sword into an image of Romulus was going to feel damn good.
A light on the control panel blinked, indicating that the shuttles had docked and pressure was equal. The wheel on the cabin door creaked in a lazy circle, and in stepped Wolverine.
He looked like he always did, semi-disheveled and under-dressed. Reeking of cheap beer and cheaper cigars. Like the shuttle didn't smell trashy enough.
"Hey," said Wolverine.
Daken barely inclined his head. "Hey."
"So..."
"Yeah."
"Moonstone called me."
"Obviously. We need more fighters."
"Count me in."
"Very good then."
"How've ya been?"
"Fine."
"You look good, Daken."
"Of course I do."
Bullseye, Moonstone, and Noh-Varr were looking on with the naked interest of an audience at a daytime talk show, hoping to see either some good drama or a joyous, tearful reunion. Or in the case of Daken's family, a screaming, rage-fueled, stabbing, dismemberment, sniktfest.
Daken wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. For now anyway.
"Well, let's get going." He sat back in his chair and concentrated on flying the shuttle.
The rest of the flight passed tense and quiet, with Daken pretending not to notice that Wolverine was pretending not to look at him. It was a relief when the planet came into view and they descended into the atmosphere. Risking life, limb, and sanity fighting the incarnations of their combined personified evil was a far nicer prospect than spending even ten minutes with his father.
Daken landed the shuttle. "I'm putting us down closer to the mirror than last time. It's about twenty meters? East, right near the research buildings."
As he spoke, a dark cloud descended over the windows. A skittering mass of black fur and gnashing teeth. The creatures. They covered the outside of the shuttle, enveloping it in darkness until the only visible light came from the control panel.
"Is this the welcomin' committee?" asked Wolverine.
"There were....less of them last time," said Noh-Varr.
*SNIKT*
Daken and Wolverine unleashed their claws at the same time, Moonstone took out the camera, and Bullseye notched an arrow. They all looked at each other with that "holy shit this is serious but I'm so badass I'm not nervous, really I'm not" expression.
Except for Wolverine, who looked like he was going to just another day at the office.
"Remember," said Daken. "They're quicker than they look. Clear a path for Moonstone to get into the air first, the rest of us will move as a tight unit. All right. Are we ready?"
"Wait! No. I mean...aren't you gonna say it?" asked Bullseye.
"Say what?"
"You know...assemble and all that."
"You're kidding me. You actually care about that?"
"Well, maybe a little."
"It's stupid. We're already assembled. I never understood that. It's like saying 'let's party' after the party has already started."
"Say it, Daken," said Noh-Varr. "It will be inspiring."
"Yeah," said Moonstone. "If we die out here, let's die as real Avengers."
"You should say it, Daken," said Wolverine. "It looks good on ya."
"It does? I don't know." Daken indicated to his costume. "I don't know how you get around in this thing. These ear wings are ridiculous and the colors are all wrong. I was thinking of something sexier and-"
Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Not the outfit, kid. I was talkin' about bein' a leader. It looks good on ya."
To his dying day, Daken would swear that hearing those words from Wolverine meant nothing to him.
He struck his most alluring pose. "All right. Fine. Avengers......ASSEMBLE!"
"Yes!" said Noh-Varr.
Wolverine nodded. "Not bad."
Daken looked at Bullseye. "Everything you hoped for?"
Bullseye shrugged. "I give it a six outta ten. Let's do this."
They opened the door to the surface of the planet.
Wolverine was out first, for which he was rewarded by several vicious bites to the face. Normally Daken would have thought this hilarious, if they hadn't been besieged on all sides by a storm of monsters. There were so many of them, it was hard to tell where one ended and another began. They covered every visible surface, an ocean of fur and fangs.
Moonstone went intangible, flying out of the chaos and rising above them. She tried to blast a path for them while she started the camera.
"Guys! This way!"
They moved in tight formation, backs toward each other while they slashed, punched, and stabbed anything that got too close. Inching towards the mirror as they fought.
Daken never held the same stance for long. If the enemy was fast, you had to be faster. He spun and twisted, eviscerating one creature after another as they threw themselves at him.
He cast a glance at Bullseye. For the only human in the group, the man was certainly holding his own. He had slung the bow back over his shoulder and was throwing tiny blades from his tool belt with freakish speed and accuracy. Looking damn sexy while he was doing it, Daken noticed.
"Argh!" Daken yelped in surprise when a pair of teeth sank into his thigh.
"Hey," Wolverine yelled, ripping the creature off his leg. "Eyes on the fight!"
The ground was becoming wet with blood, littered with decapitated monster heads. The only sounds in the air were coming from the team, heavy breathing, blasts from Moonstone above, masculine grunts, and the whizzing of blades and claws. The creatures made little sound, just the light rustling of legs like an army of ants.
They were getting closer. Daken could see the mirror glinting in the daylight. Not far now.
A creature launched itself at Wolverine, who caught it and broke its neck in mid-air. He must have killed hundreds of them by now, completely oblivious to how they kept ripping chunks of his flesh off. Bringing him had been a good idea. Daken would have died sooner than admit that out loud, but a good idea nonetheless.
Moonstone had stopped blasting, and was now holding the little camera steady with both hands. "You're almost there!"
"There's a million of 'em," said Wolverine. "What the hell are these things?"
"They're generated by the mirror," yelled Noh-Varr as he leapt into the air to kick one in the throat. "It's powered by the darkness of those who look in it."
"Well, who looked in it?"
"All of us," answered Bullseye. He had ran out of projectiles and was now firing arrows with the speed of an archer on alien crack. "Including the Sentry."
"All of you AND Bob? Fuckin' great."
A blanket of deadly quiet settled over them as they approached the mirror. Daken faced it head on, while the others put their backs together and covered him.
Moonstone was screaming at him from above, but Daken didn't hear. The fight, the blood, the pain all fell away as he stared into the mirror. An icy cold seized him as a form took shape to stare back at him. But it wasn't his reflection.
Romulus.
"Daken, my son. Help me. Help me rise again and I'll give you everything you ever wanted.
It was so real. In his mind he had imagined it would be like ripping a picture from a magazine, yet it was him. Romulus. Right in front of him again. Promising him everything. Impossible.
Daken faltered, his fingers on the scabbard loosening.
The sounds of the fight faded away. It was just him and the mirror. Him and Romulus.
A hand reached out from the mirror towards him. Not just a reflection, but a real hand. Slithering towards him in slow motion, complete with those gorgeous talons. Those long fingernails that on rare occasions used to scratch his head with approval when he was a child.
"You...."
"Come to me, Daken.
"You're...you're not him."
Daken's heart was thundering, his entire body frozen. His very essence, every ounce of his prehensile attention, was tunneled into the scene in front of him. A hand stretching out for him, the tip of a boot. Wisps of hair.
"I am what you will become. I am everything and everywhere. I know you, Daken. I created you. Not the man next to you. Me! Your true father."
"It's not him, it's not him." Daken struggled to move. He had longed to hear those words from Romulus for so many years.
"I can give you everything. The power of an emperor. Take my hand, son!"
Daken raised a shaking finger. "You didn't....you didn't make me. You used me, and left me with nothing!"
So many years working for Romulus. A lifetime of never questioning who he was, or what he wanted. What was left when it had all collapsed? All the lies about his future, about his asshole father.
About his mother.
Without Romulus, who was he, really?
Daken's attention faded in and out. The air was freezing. Somewhere way off in the distance, he could hear Bullseye screaming. "Daken, if you're gonna make a move, fucking make it!"
The scabbard vibrated at his side.
Amidst the distant chaos of the battle, the screaming of his teammates, the whispering of the mirror, Daken closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His control had always stemmed from detachment. Relax, push out, just let go.
Romulus may have trained him, but he had never given him any true power. Daken was a self-made man.
Eyes shut, he anchored himself with breath, letting go of all the anger and madness and terror he felt towards Romulus. All his desires, all his lust. Untangling like a spool of knotted thread.
The sounds of the battle drifted back to him. He could feel the comforting warmth of Bullseye's back to his. He could feel his fingers again.
When he opened his eyes, Romulus appeared to be leaning halfway out of the mirror. A nightmare made flesh. Daken's whole world.
It had all been a fucking lie.
A taloned hand reached towards him, inches from his face now.
I am the answer, boy.
"Bullshit," he whispered, fingers reaching for the scabbard.
Daken, don't you want to avenge your mother?"
"Yes," Daken pulled the sword out the holster. "I do."
He drove the blade into the image of Romulus, shattering the mirror into a thousand screaming pieces. The sword broke too, all fragments melting into the ground and disappearing.
In an instant, the creatures vanished. Leaving the team standing there, bloody and sweating, staring at Daken in wide-eyed amazement.
Wolverine clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Nice work, Daken."
"Thanks, Logan."
And he meant it.
"What!?! A hundred? Fuck you, alien boy, I must have killed a thousand of those things!"
"I meant no offense, Hawkeye. You fought very well."
The mood on the shuttle ride back was one of jubilation. Bullseye and Noh-Varr were discussing how many creatures they had killed, Daken and Wolverine were sitting in the front of the shuttle, and Moonstone was inspecting the footage she had shot.
"How's it look?"
"Great." She hit the playback button. "This is great. You look awesome, Daken. Osborn really might let it all go when he sees this."
"Of course he will."
"What if he doesn't?" asked Wolverine, the concern for his son evident.
"Oh please," said Daken. "I can handle Norman."
"Can I ask ya somethin'?" Wolverine dropped his voice while the others chatted excitedly in the back of the shuttle. "Why Osborn's team? Why'd you join them?"
"You've asked me that before."
"Yeah, and ya never gave a straight answer. Why'd ya make a knucklehead move like workin' for Osborn? It seems....I dunno, beneath ya."
Daken didn't even try to lie. Fuck it. If he told a sliver of truth now, Wolverine might be compelled to tell a truth in return.
"Honestly. I just wanted to know what it felt like."
"What what felt like?"
He indicated to the costume. "This. I wanted to know what it felt like when the world sees you in this."
"Aha." His father nodded, the answer no doubt making complete sense to him.
"And I wanted to piss you off."
"Oh? Well, you succeeded there." Wolverine cocked one eyebrow in that infuriating way that women seemed to love, but Daken thought just made him look terminally clueless.
"My turn. What did you do with him?"
"With who?"
"You know who. Romulus. What did you do with Romulus?"
"Why are ya askin' me that now?"
"Because....he's....it was him. In the mirror. The mirror showed me Romulus."
Wolverine was shocked. "Really? You saw Romulus?"
"Yes. It was so....real. Could it....could it really have been him?"
Daken didn't even bother with pheromones, instead he flashed his best "please tell me, Daddy" face.
Wolverine hung his head. "I trapped 'im....in another dimension."
"Could it have been him then?"
"Honestly, Daken, I don't know. If you all looked in it, but only you saw Romulus, then I gotta say probably not."
"Didn't think so." Daken continued flying the shuttle, as if any answer his father gave would have been met with an equal amount of disinterest.
"Listen, Daken, I gotta-"
Daken held up a hand. "No. Don't. Whatever you're going to say, don't. No lectures about Osborn, no invitations to join your band of merry idiots, no more family bonding. Just don't."
"Easy, kid. It's nothin' that heavy. But I gotta say this. Look, I don't care that you're gay-"
"I'm not gay, Wolverine," spat Daken, a little too loudly as the conversation in the back stopped and three sets of curious ears perked up.
"Wait, he is not gay?" whispered Noh-Varr to Moonstone.
Daken dropped his voice. "I'm not gay, Daddy. So fuck off."
Wolverine shook his hands in defense, now whispering back. "Bi then. Whatever. Whatever ya are, I'm okay with it."
"You think that matters to me?"
"No. I don't. But what does matter, Daken, is yer choice of partners." He pointed a thumb to the back. "I mean, Bullseye?! I can smell 'im all over ya. Really, son, you can do better."
And that was it. Awkward mission bonding was one thing, but having his absentee, mattress surfing father criticize his sex life was something else. No one told him who to fuck.
Besides, Bullseye was his special.....whatever. He wasn't letting him go until he fucking felt like it.
So without another thought, Daken punched the big, luscious tempting red button on the control panel. The one that controlled the eject function on the passenger seat.
Wolverine's face didn't even have time to register anything before his seat dropped out from under him, and he was shot into space in the eject pod. Daken leaned back in his chair and put both arms behind his head.
That felt fucking good.
Bullseye and Moonstone were laughing.
"Nice one, Daken!"
Noh-Varr was puzzled. "Why did you just-"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? That's how he's leaving the ship. We agreed on it beforehand. It's more stealthy that way."
"I see."
Bullseye came to the front of the ship to put a hand on his shoulder, and then leaned against the control panel.
"Man," he grinned. "Fuckin' nice. How'd that feel? Two fathers in one day! I'm a little jealous."
Daken spread his legs in his usual carefree, haughty manner. "You like that, sweetie?" Relax. Push out.
"It wasn't bad. Coulda done with more blood but you did the job."
"For fifty bucks I'll kill yours." You want me, Bullseye. You can't take your eyes off me.
Bullseye laughed. "Stealing my lines now? I'll let it go this time, you little mutant.....mutant...."
He trailed off, staring between Daken's legs at the visible bulge on his very tight costume.
"Mutant what?" asked Daken.
"Uh...yeah...what?"
"Oh, nothing."
Daken could smell Bullseye start to sweat as the assassin stared unabashedly at his crotch. So focused was Bullseye on his body that he didn't notice Daken's left hand stealing across the keyboard, sending an encrypted message to Luke Cage's ship. Secretly telling them the location of Wolverine.
The End