Inkerz And Polo's Super Ultra Awesome Pokemon RP

Sitting safely in the official's box, Scott gazed proudly down at his boyfriend as he battled against Drake with all that he was, displaying the very same courage and wit that had made Scott fall for him right at the start. When they met eyes, even across the distance, Scott grinned, laying a hand over his heart in a secret gesture meant only for Alexsei. You've got this. He thought silently to himself, smiling fondly as he watched Alexsei get ready to take on the next battle.
But as it were, the next battle was never to come, for at that moment an ominous creak echoed throughout the stadium. For a single instant, frozen in time, the crowd became one single entity, drawing breath as one to freeze - dead silent - for the space of one heartbeat. Then, with a low boom like thunder, the first explosion came, followed by another, and another, and another. Creaking and snapping, the thick metal cords holding up the stadium gave out, whipping dangerously through the air as the whole building began falling toward the sea. Suddenly, pandemonium reigned.
People started screaming, and as the official's box burst into life - panicked spectators swarming like bees - Scott just froze to the spot, a stationary island in a sea of movement. He felt the world rush up to meet him as if he'd just fallen from some great height, and the sight of Alexsei running from the battlefield with the floor crumbling beneath him hit Scott harder than any ground ever could.
"Alexsei-" He gasped, choking on his own voice as he spun around, and bolted for the door. Behind him, he heard somebody shouting his name, telling him to wait, but Scott was already running. His heart throbbed in his throat, and his blood ran cold through his veins as he sprinted through the throngs of people, knocking them aside as he dashed toward the danger; nothing but Alexsei on his mind. He felt dread sinking its icy fingers into him, and though he ran like he had never run before, he still cursed his legs that they couldn't move any quicker. "Alexsei!" He screamed, his voice catching on the growing lump of panic in his throat, "ALEXSEI! Where are you?!"
At last, he heard the distant sound of a familiar voice, and with a gasp of hope, Scott flung himself out of the nearest door. As it flew open, Scott very nearly fell to his death. And he would have, if Gabe hadn't arrived behind him at that very minute, grabbing his arm to pull him back from the end of a crumbling cement staircase that had once led to the battlefield. Now it had been torn asunder, ad a chasm like the grand canyon was spreading steadily wider and wider between where Scott stood, and the edge of the battlefield down below. Scott's eyes fell upon Alexsei standing there, but though he saw his boyfriend's lips moving, Scott didn't hear a word over the rush of blood in his own ears. Overhead, the metal supports were bending and creaking, and Scott felt his entire world shrink to just him and Alexsei as the reality of the situation hit for the first time.
I'm going to lose you. I'm really going to lose you, and there's nothing I can do!
"Alexsei!" He screamed hoarsely, not even recognizing the desperate, sobbing voice as his own. "Look out!" His eyes darted to the cracking beams overhead, and with a bellow that nearly split his lungs, he screamed, "Alexsei, MOVE!"
But it was too late. Even as he spoke, the beam began to fall and, screaming, Scott leaped forward. He wasn't sure what he meant to do - it wasn't like he could catch it and hold it up - but when Alexsei was in danger, he didn't care what his flimsy body was capable of. He had to try. But, as he reached the edge, Gabe's arm held him back again. Before Scott could get away, the beams fell, and he held his breath as they groaned dangerously through the air to smash into the ground on either side of Alexsei, breaking the battlefield away from the stadium once and for all.
Scott tried to jump again, but Gabe heaved him back, shouting, "Are you crazy? You'll die!"
"He's falling!" Scott sobbed, pulling away and diving to the edge, "I have to go after him. I have to-"
"SH*t!..." Alexsei's voice rang out, "Get him out of here Falkner!! Take Scott! and Get Going!"
Scott didn't even hear Falkner's reply. His eyes had stretched wide, and he was staring at Alexsei in disbelief, feeling as betrayed as if he'd just been slapped in the face. How could Alexsei think that he would just let him fall to his death?
"I won't f*cking leave you!" He shouted, struggling more desperately than before as Gabe and Falkner both grabbed onto him, holding him back. "Damn you! If we die, we die together. I won't go on without you-" He froze, eyes darting up as an ominous crack sounded like gunfire above him. "Let me go!" He thrashed, pulling Gabe and Falkner toward the edge with inhuman strength as the last beam overhead began to fall. Behind him, Falkner cursed, and a sharp blow to the back of the head made Scott see stars. As his consciousness faded, the last thing he saw was the beam striking Alexsei between the shoulders, then he watched helplessly as his boyfriend slipped like a broken toy into the sea, and as the sound of his breaking heart deafened him to all else, the world faded to black.

***
Five Years Later.
***

"Get 'im! Don't let 'im get away!" The man shouted as he dashed down the alleyway, panting with each thump of his heavy feet on the ground. "Goddammit!" He gasped, slowly to a stop and doubling over with his hands braced against his stumpy legs, "I can't run any more." He panted, wiping the sweat from his wide forehead, "This is madness..."
"Did you get him?"
"Hm?" The short man looked up as a younger boy dashed around the corner, eyes wide and bright. He tsked to himself. While he was build rather like a fridge, this youngster was built like a gazelle. So why the hell am I running...?
"No." He grunted, pointing in the direction his quarry had vanished, "He ran off down there. You get him, and hurry it up, Delta! Hawk's gonna kill us if we let 'im get away!"
"I'm on it! Wait for me, Max." Delta nodded, then sprinted on, leaving the huffing, sweating Max to sit heavily on an upturned milk crate, smoking a cigarette with what little breath he had left.

It was a hard chase, but Delta's greatest virtue was his speed and athleticism. Even though he was a new recruit, he moved like a wild thing. This was why Hawk had recruited him in the first place, and he was soon to prove that his leader's decision had - as usual - been a good one.
"Hey!" He yelled as he rounded a corner, finally catching sight of the thief, who was now cornered against a tall wire fence. He spun around with eyes like a frightened rabbit, and for an instant, Delta hesitated - his inexperience finally showing. Using this, the thief spun around, and leaped at the fence, holding the stolen flash drive in his mouth as he clutched at the wire, scrabbling quickly upwards. "Stop, you damn Fallen!" Delta growled, racing forwards just as the thief dropped to the ground on the other side. But before he could even move, Delta had vaulted effortlessly over the massive, six foot fence, and landed lightly beside him.
"Drop it!" He snarled, slamming the man against the wall, and pointing the tip of a knife to his throat, "You think you can steal from us Vulcans and get away with it?" He snatched back the flash drive, shoving it into his pocket. "Man, Hawk's gonna have some fun with you." He smirked, then raised his head and shouted, "Hey, Max, I got him!"
"Great job! Knock him out so long, would you?" Came the replying echo, from nearly a block away. Delta rolled his eyes. Max hadn't moved a muscle since they'd parted. 
Shrugging, he produced a syringe full of some strange clear substance from his pocket, and jabbed it into the thief's neck. In an instant, the man had crumpled lifeless at his feet.
After waiting for Max to catch up, the pair sent notification of the capture to their leader, then began lugging the unconscious Fallen back toward their headquarters - an abandoned underground storage unit near the dock. They had only managed to walk a few meters, however, when a shadow suddenly fell across the faint light at the end of the alleyway. As one, the pair looked up, staring suspiciously at the figure silhouetted in the gloom. 
Delta swallowed anxiously, then whispered to Max, "Hey, isn't that-"
"Can't be." Max cut him off sharply, shaking his head. Delta felt a bead of cold sweat splash his cheek, and he shivered slightly. Max's reaction only increased his certainty. It's Apollo!
As the panic hit home, Delta uttered a soft, breathless laugh - only to earn himself a sharp elbow in the side.
"What's funny?!" Max snapped, but Delta's hysterics only increased. "We're screwed." He gasped through a whispered laugh, "We're so screwed..."
The two fell into scared silence, but just as the distant figure began to move toward them, a second shadow fell across them from behind. Max shivered as a chill raced up his spine, but Delta was the first to look behind him, and what he saw damn near brought him to tears.
"Hawk!" His face split into a watery grin, and as Max spun around, he too allowed a smile to cross his piggy face.
"Is he the one?" The man called Hawk snarled softly, nodding to the unconscious form of the thief.
"Yessir." Max grunted, "One of The Fallen - we got the intel back before he could get away."
"Good." Hawk looked up slowly, his hard brown eyes blazing like fire through two slits in the black half-mask that covered his face. His stubbled jaw was covered by the thick white scarf draped about his neck, and the trendy black Fedora on his head shadowed his face, covering his short, spiked hair. His gloved hands were shoved into the pockets of his long, black trenchcoat, and with his broad shoulders dangerously squared, Hawk was as intimidating as he was tall.
"Take him in for interrogation." He said, his quiet voice deep and gravelly in the silence.
"To headquarters, sir?"
"Don't be daft." He shot Delta a glare, "To the decoy. Hold him there." His eyes lifted back to the approaching figure, and narrowed dangerously. "I'll be right there."
His coat blew back as Max and Delta raced past, but Hawk stood his ground as he watched his rival move toward him.
"So you finally crawled out of your cave, did you, Apollo?" He muttered softly as the other man came within earshot, "I've been waiting to meet you."
That's right, I'm not afraid. I'm not like the other worthless peons who shake in their boots when they see you. He clenched his jaw, fists slowly tightening in his pockets. I feel no fear. I don't feel anything any more... That's exactly why, Apollo, you will meet your downfall by my hand. There's no such thing as invincibility.

The mission had been a simple one; Gather the Vulcan Intel and get out.
Unfortunately it seemed as though the latest addition to the Fallen, Mouse; hadn't been quite as up to it as he had thought.
The youngster was quick, quiet and light-in-build, gifting him with the nickname 'The Mouse'.
His stealth had been good, but inexperience and fear had knuckled him under at the last minute.
Despite making it so far into Vulcan turf, The boy had messed up badly and tripped the alarm.
In an instant, he had given away his presence, alerting the enemy gang of his intrusion and sending them chasing after him like a pack of hungry hounds.

Information comes at a high price...are you still willing to pay for it my, young fallen?

Observing the chase from above with cold indifference, sat the insidious dark figure of a man, barely human.
His hunched over position kept him perfectly hidden amongst his fellow gargoyles on the roof. Their hideously carved features reflecting expressions less beastly than his own...those of hatred and pain.
A sliver of lightening suddenly cut through the clouded sky, feigning the gift of life as it briefly lit up the statues ever lost in their eternal stone slumber.

A breath of misted air slipped from Apollo's masked lips, while a pair of ice-blue eyes flickered intelligently from behind tinted aviators. Mercy was not one of his strongest points, and neither was forgiveness for that matter. Mouse had dug his own grave this time round, and as far as Apollo was concerned, he would pay for his disgrace through a small test.

Learn your lesson my fledgling, but hold your tongue...Speak of the damned, and the fallen will not hesitate to cut out your voice. Our secrets die with us.

The faster of the two Vulcan had finally caught a hold of mouse; grabbing the boy by the arm and twisting him round into a lock hold.
The struggle between the two was a brief thing, and deafening silence followed quickly as the fallen boy crumbled limply to the damp cement ground.
His still body pulsed with the poisonous chemicals now running through his bloodstream. He was paralysed for the time being, a limp rag doll in Vulcan clutches.

A prickling of cold anger crept through Apollo at this sight. He had taken an odd liking to that kid. Perhaps it was the likeliness to...no, never mind.
Raising his head at last, he sighed and decided to step in.
It didn't take much to catch his enemies attention. He simply stared at them, ever hungry for violence and gore. They would eventually sense his ominous presence. They would know that somebody was watching them from the shadows...waiting to cut them down.
Yeah, that’s right...You're both f*cked now

With an agile leap, Apollo took to the dimly lit streets. His shredded leather coat bellowing behind him like some ghostly substance in the wind.
The Vulcan saw him now, their eyes locked onto his black masked jaws, the steel slits and the hooded face.
He smirked secretly at the mere stench of their fear.

Before they even had time to cower however, another voice chimed in with an equally dark edge.
”Take him in for interrogation”


On the opposite side of the shadows emerged the figure of the Vulcan leader, Hawk.
It was Apollo's first time bearing witness to him through his own blue eyes.
He was tall man, build, but not stocky. He donned a black fendora and while a dark trench coat hung loosely from his muscular shoulders.

A snarl of aggression left Apollo's lips as he took in his enemy's face for the first time.
The two had always been fighting against each other. The years had passed by slowly, and had they had become set enemies through opposite ambitions and goals.
Yet all along, everything had always been from behind the cover of the shadows...Until till today that is.

Hawk's masked face revealed nothing but perfectly chiseled lips, moving as he began to speak.
”So you finally crawled out of your cave did you Apollo?”
The Fallen leader said nothing in response, his eyes slowly shifting back towards the two Vulcan lackeys still holding mouse. They were clearly relieved to have their leader here to save them.
With orders to take away the captive fallen, they soon slipped into the alleyways.
Apollo left them to go, he would tend to his comrade after dealing with Hawk. He didn't have much of choice in that matter. The man held as many dangerous rumors as he did to his own name.
Looks like things are finally staring to get interesting...excellent. I've been longing for challenge

”I've been waiting to meet you...”, Hawk proceeded, stepping all the more closer without an ounce of hesitation.
“...”
"That's right, I'm not afraid. I'm not like the other worthless peons who shake in their boots when they see you."
The switch-blade hidden in Apollo's sleeve tensed for a moment as he too stepped forward.
He'd never back down from a challenge, not even at the risk of loosing his life.
They were closer now, too close. A mere breath apart, one move from either and they would slice the other to pieces.

“...You say that you hold no fear, but your mad obsession with the Codex is a far bigger flaw.”
The hidden blade, finally showed itself, reflecting beautifully against the lamplight as Apollo traced it along Hawk's pale throat.
There really is no fear those brown eyes...perhaps I should remedy that.

With a sharp thrust, Apollo growled and went for him. Had Hawk not deflected the blade with his own, it would have sliced at it's mark, ending it altogether.
Quickly stepping backwards to gain some ground, Apollo began to analyse his enemy’s movements. They were surprisingly difficult to read, The vulcan leader was quick as well as strong.

When the fist very nearly caught Apollo's mask, the Fallen leader dodged it quickly at the last moment, returning the gesture with nothing less than a well aimed kick. The fight only progressed from there on. And the two leaders held nothing back as they struck out at each other, merciless with both blades and fists. Neither man dared to relent even after the first blood had been drawn.

*******

A shrill cry finally stopped them in their tracks, alerting them to a far bigger problem now coming their way.
Panting heavily from where he stood, Apollo clutched briefly at his left arm, it bled heavily from a deep cut in his shoulder.
The stench of blood seems to be attracting Giovanni's beasts...That's defiantly not a good sigh. F*ck it
The blood glistened as it trickled down his arm, giving crimson color to the Celtic tattoo beneath the torn sleeve.

He had done enough of damage of his own to hawk, but now his attention drifted from his own wounds back to the creatures steadily approaching them.
Cocking his head to the side, Apollo growled, “Pity, And here I was planning on spending some quality time with you Valcan...guess it's going to have to wait for tonight”
A dark chuckle left his lips. Pulling up his furred hood an inch higher, he continued, “You really can't kill a ghost for sh*t, y'know... but lets see how well you do against the damnable creatures”
A stream of reflective yellow eyes shone out from the darkness, Giovanni's beasts were onto them.
The cold metal handgun in Apollo's belt soon slipped into his skillful fingers. The click echoed eerily as he cocked it.
I'm not dying here tonight, not with some Valcan Sh*thead. No F*cking way...

“...You say that you hold no fear, but your mad obsession with the Codex is a far bigger flaw.” Hawk's dark brown eyes met Apollo's cold blue ones as the man took a final step toward him, and the gap between them closed. He could taste Apollo's breath on the air between them, and his harsh jaw tightened into a snarl as a flash of silver darted between them, and he felt the edge of a knife press into his throat.
Expression unwavering, he stared Apollo down, muttering quietly, "If we're talking flaws, then your overconfidence trumps all, Fallen."
With a growl, Apollo slashed out with the blade, but Hawk was too quick - deflecting it suddenly with a blade of his own that emerged from somewhere within the depths of his coat.
From there, the fight began. With eyes clashing louder than blades, the two leaders blocked and slashed like a pair of feral beasts, each one as intent as the other to tear down his opposition where he stood.

The fight was fierce and deadly, but all too soon, it was brought to an abrupt end as Hawk and Apollo froze as one, ears straining to catch the beastly cry that wailed through the cold night air. Hawk shot Apollo a vicious scowl, his eyes quickly starting over the numerous cuts and bruises on the man's body. He was in no better shape himself, but even though the cut on his brow was dripping blood into his eye, he could tell that the fight was over. The creatures were coming, and he was sure Apollo knew as well as he did that battling on under such a threat would be suicide. Giovanni's beasts were a grave danger at the best of times, let alone when Apollo was clutching a bleeding arm, and he had a limp that kept him stepping false on every other strike.
The silence lasted a moment longer as both men strained their eyes to catch a glimpse of the approaching creatures, and just as the ominous yellow glint of their eyes became visible, Apollo's icy voice broke the spell.
“Pity," He commented snidely, "And here I was planning on spending some quality time with you, Vulcan... Guess it's going to have to wait for tonight.”
"Guess you're in luck." Hawk sneered in response, a cruel smirk lifting his hard mouth. 
Apollo laughed, a sound like smashed glass, and added darkly, “You really can't kill a ghost for sh*t, y'know... But lets see how well you do against the damnable creatures.”
He shuddered faintly at the sound of the word 'ghost', rolling his shoulders to shake off the shiver that it sent up his spine. He hated ghosts. Annoyed, he scowled at the nearest creature as it began approaching, and raised the knife in his hand.
"Just keep the f*ck out of my way, Fallen!" He spat, leaping to the side as the creature before them uttered an ungodly wail, and plunged toward them with fangs bared. It was a Houndoom - or at least, it had been once before. Now, however, an ugly metal contraption had been bolted to its powerful body, and wires crawled like maggots over its skin. These were Giovanni's Beats: Mindless Pokemon shells, turned to deadly killing machines by that putrid human's flawed ideals.

The beast lashed out at him with a heavy paw, and Hawk ducked in the nick of time, quickly whipping a pair of twin pistols from his pockets. He spun them once on his fingers, then wheeled around - his back to Apollo - and fired a shot straight through the Houndoom's skull. The wounded beast bellowed, shaking its metal-clad head back and forth as sparks erupted wildly in every direction. It charged again, and Hawk fired bullet after bullet in quick succession, then ducked quickly to the side when he realized he had to reload. In the same instant, Apollo took his place, and the relentless stream of bullets finally felled the Houndoom, just as an armoured Stantler bolted at them from behind. This time, to his disgust, Hawk had Apollo's back, and it was his bullets that stained the poor beast's golden fur and sent it sprawling at their feet, kicking and braying until another shot put it out of its misery.
The beasts were as tough as they were powerful, and in the heat of danger, Hawk and Apollo reached a silent understanding that, if they were to get out alive, they would have to take down their common enemy together. Neither of them acknowledged it, and yet suddenly, they were perfectly in sync. When a dark Persian leaped for Apollo's head, Hawk tackled it to the ground, and when a Venasaur's vinewhip was about to smash him against the wall, Apollo slashed the vines clean in half mid-strike with a powerful swing of his knife. They fought back to back, ducking and weaving, shooting and stabbing; surviving against the impossible odds as they battled like a well oiled machine, their every movement like some long-rehearsed dance.
When the final beasts scattered and fled, Hawk stopped where he stood, bloody and panting, and glared after them as they vanished into the distance. He could hear Apollo's heavy breath beside him, and something about it struck a chord of nostalgia in his heart. The way he spoke, the way he moved - even the way he kept his shoulders raised high as he caught his breath - all seemed somehow familiar to Hawk, although why it was, he could not say. This man was his nemesis, whom he had met mere minutes ago, and yet after they had joined forces in that battle, Hawk felt connected to him on some inexplicably profound level. It confused him. More than that, it angered him, and rather than falling away, his hatred for Apollo grew tenfold.
With a vicious growl he wheeled to face him, but then the distant sound of sirens caught his hears, and he jerked his head up - eyes on the alert - as shouting voices neared them, preceded by running footsteps. He stood a moment longer, then the beam of a flashlight appeared around the corner, and he sprung into action. 
"Shit." He snarled, "It's Giovanni's f*cking lapdogs. This way!"
He wasn't sure why he did it. Of course, he'd tell himself it was because he wanted to defeat Apollo by his own hand, but even he didn't really believe that. Whatever it was, Hawk surprised himself when he grabbed his enemy's arm, giving him a rough tug in the direction of a dark sidestreet. The Vulcans had a safehouse nearby - or rather, one they'd abandoned some time ago after they found their place by the docks. In any case, it was sure to come in handy now.
With Apollo in tow, he dashed down the sidestreet, finally skidding to a stop beside a boarded up old garage. Casting a brief glance at his enemy, he nodded around the side of the building, then slipped into the narrow gap between it and the next. He sidled carefully along, sucking in his stomach, until he found the small hole in the wall that served as his entrance. Ducking carefully through the crumbling concrete, he slipped inside, then came to a stop. The place was old and dirty, and there was dust in the air. He couldn't see a thing in the dark, but turning the light on in the middle of a game of hide and seek would be plain foolish. Besides, he knew the layout of the place. The broken shell of a car lay rusting in one corner, and there were some broken tools on a desk near the wall, but aside from that and a few spiders, the place was empty. Empty, except for himself and Apollo. Hawk tensed at the thought, shooting his narrow eyes back the way they'd come to see if his nemesis had followed. The more he replayed that fight in his mind, the deeper his sense of nostalgia grew, until he was driven near-mad by the power of it. He wanted to shout out loud, to demand Apollo's identity, and force him to admit if they'd met once before, but of course, he did not do it. He had recognized already - albeit grudgingly - that this man had power to match his own. It was not often that he found such opposition, and judging by the evidence, things for Apollo were much the same. A battle between them was one with no end, and such a battle was nothing but a waste of time to Hawk. No, he'd had his fight. What he wanted now, was answers.
"You actually fought okay back there." He admitted quietly into the gloom, scowling at the opposite wall, "For Fallen scum, that is."
Apollo... Just who are you? Why do I feel like we've met before, like there's this strange connection between us...?

With a bitter snarl, Apollo lifted his knife and cut down the last of Giovanni's remaining beasts. The ones that hadn't been ended through blade or bullet, had already begun to flee the scene, dragging back what little information they could to their masters at T.R headquarters.

Panting heavily through that eerie mask of his, Apollo took a longer moment to recover before raising his hooded head. Together, he and Hawk had put up an exceptional fight against the T.R, and considering their circumstances it wouldn't be overlooked, at least not by Giovanni's spies. No, he had a feeling that they would be back soon enough, even if it was only to feed that Psycho’s insatiable pride.

With a sigh, Apollo gazed up at last, his cold eyes instinctively shifting towards Hawk's with a magnetic kind of attraction. He hadn't meant to stare into those mahogany eyes, but when he did, he found it difficult to look away. It was almost as though he couldn’t, or didn't want to.
I don't like this...Those eyes, I feel like he's looking straight through me...but why? I've never met you before.
Feeling frustrated and increasingly more on edge, Apollo snarled and quickly looked away. The familiarity made him sick with anger, he wasn't even sure why, but something about this mysterious Valcan made his blood boil cold with hate.

A T.R siren finally broke the tension between them, as it began to wail loudly through the air like some maimed animal. The shouts and cries from Giovanni's lackeys soon added to the deathly chorus, warning Hawk and Apollo pre-hand of the danger heading their way.

Tightening his hand tensely around the handle of his knife, Apollo breathed in slowly, preparing himself for yet another battle. He knew well enough that both he and Hawk were in rough shape, clearly exhausted and both drained from their dripping wounds. They wouldn't hold out for long in yet another battle, but despite this Apollo made no move to run. He'd never admit to weakness, Never! It simply wasn't in his nature to back down from a fight.

"Shit. It's Giovanni's f*cking lapdogs... This way!?”
When Hawk made a sudden grab for his arm, Apollo lashed out threateningly with his blade. He didn't want to be touched, the feeling irritated him even more that the thought of running away.
A hard glare from Hawk soon struck him however, it like a cold slap in the face.
Yeah, F*ck you! I know it's suicide...
Biting back his pride Apollo growled and finally gave into the gesture, What else could he really do?
Following the Vulcan leader with as much trust he had towards his own father, he sprinted after the man, weaving down a labyrinth of darkened alleyways.
Why am I following him? Am I really this stupid?...F*ck I can't even see where I'm going. Guess the apocalypse really is getting to my head

Skidding to a stop just as Hawk did, Apollo nodded silently in response when his enemy gestured towards a narrow gap between the buildings. He didn't need words to communicate the obvious mistrust he felt, but after a threatening glance of his own, he begrudgingly followed after the Valcan.
I'm ready for you if you try anything Hawk...don't mistake my injury for weakness.

Once inside, Apollo found the place quiet enough, filled with nothing but rusting car parts, dust and the occasional spider.
Wordlessly he wandered about the darkness,his blue-eyes slowley adjusting the dark.
He finally set a few steps of wary distance between himself and Hawk, taking to a spot in the far corner of the room and slumping down slowly to the ground with his back perched up against the wall.
He kept to himself at first, And for a while it seemed as though they would pass the night with nothing but tense silence. However the Valcan leader was slightly less satisfied with just that.
Sitting on the opposite side of the room in very much the same position, Hawk finally spoke up, his tone ever dangerous,"You actually fought okay back there...For Fallen scum, that is."
A moment of silence passed over Apollo as he mulled over the voice uttering those words. It wasn't one he knew, but could he really be so sure of that?
Narrowing his own cold eyes, he snorted and replied irritably, “Do you make it habit to compliment your enemies?”
Shaking his head with sharp annoyance, Apollo reached for his pockets. A moment later he had procured a small box of cigarettes as well as a lighter.
The cries of mechanical beasts outside still hadn't stilled, they only echoed on through the night filling the streets with restless fear. There was nothing to do, but wait them out till dawn.
A silent curse left Apollo's lips at that thought, He would have to stay with Hawk till then.
“Looks like we're going to be here for a while...do you smoke?”
His hardened jaw and near Arabic words showed his clear distaste, but lighting up his own cigarette. Apollo took a deep puff from it as he slipped it between the steel slits in his mask.
He tossed the box and lighter towards Hawk. Then with another deep puff, he dropped his gaze and added with thoughtful indifferance, “Why did you bring me here with you?... I wouldn't have done the same for you. We're enemies.”
Even as Apollo said these words, his confidence in them wavered. He had to be cruel in this world, everyone did...But would he really have just left Hawk there to the mercy of the T.R? Surely he would have? He hated this man, he kept telling himself this, over and over again.
His eyes traced over Hawk's figure in the dark. The white scarf draped around the man's neck caught his eyes, striking a dark cord of nostalgia within Apollo.
“That ugly old rag your wearing...It doesn't suit you.”, he snarled moodily.

There was a moment of silence as Apollo considered what he'd said. Then, with a snide twist to his voice, he snarled, “Do you make it habit to compliment your enemies?”
"Do you make it a habit to be a smartarse?" He retorted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and leaning back against the wall, glaring at Apollo. Man, he hated that prick. He huffed irritably under his breath, then fell silent again as he heard the cry of a beast outside. As one, he and Apollo raised their heads to listen, and the animosity between them dissipated as the seriousness of the situation sunk in.
“Looks like we're going to be here for a while..." Apollo spoke Hawk's thoughts out loud, "Do you smoke?”
Without answering, he watched Apollo light up a cigarette, and narrowed his eyes curiously as the man lifted it to his lips. How did he intend to- Oh. Hawk nearly laughed when he saw Apollo slip the cigarette through a slit in his mask, but instead he just uttered a derisive snort, and muttered, "God, you look ridiculous."
But his words were apparently lost, for the next moment Apollo had tossed the cigarettes to him, and Hawk accepted them gratefully. What better time was there for a smoke?
With a sigh of relief, he shook one into his hands and lit it up, then lifted it to his lips, blowing out a smoky sigh. 
“Why did you bring me here with you?" Apollo asked from the gloom beside him, sounding less than interested, "I wouldn't have done the same for you. We're enemies.”
"Dunno." He grunted, blowing out another soft breath of smoke, "Don't get me wrong, you're still a f*cking prick, but you are against Giovanni, and he is lord of all pricks. The thought of him getting a win, even if it means getting you out of my hair, it makes my skin crawl." He shuddered dramatically at the thought, and took another draught of his cigarette. Of course, that answer was not entirely true. Truthfully, he was feeling curious about the strange connection he felt between Apollo and himself; but that thought was such a deep secret that he wasn't even ready to tell himself. Besides, it was just some whacked-up feeling. It didn't count for shit. 
“That ugly old rag your wearing...It doesn't suit you.”
"Yeah? Well that ugly old face you're wearing doesn't suit you." Hawk grumbled in response. Even though he couldn't see Apollo's face, he knew it was ugly. It had to be ugly. There was no such thing as a good-looking prick.
...Okay, maybe there was, but that didn't mean that Apollo was one. Not that it mattered to him, anyway. He didn't give a crap what the bastard looked like.
Tucking his scarf protectively into his coat, he glared at Apollo, and muttered under his breath, "This was given to me by somebody I cared for very deeply. But you wouldn't get that, would you?" Sighing, he leaned back against the wall, feeling more weary than angry. It was difficult to get worked up when he had nowhere to go, anyway. He was just tired. Tired of the responsibility, and tired of the fighting. Truth be told, he missed the life he had left behind... The life that the old Mareep wool scarf had belonged to. Frowning, he clutched a handful of the  soft wool, then suddenly shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall. Now was not the time for Nostalgia. For a moment there, he had almost imagined that he could still smell the subtle scent of Old Spice and peppermint on the scarf, even though it had actually worn away years ago... After Alexsei had died.
"F*ck, it's dark in here." He grumbled, flicking open Apollo's lighter, and squinting around, "There must be a light or something... Ah." He grunted in satisfaction when he noticed an old gas lantern sitting on the desk beside him, gathering dust. He picked it up, blowing off a thin layer of cobwebs, then quietly lit it, turned up the flame, and set it back on the desk. The room was now bathed in a faint yellow glow, and in it, Hawk caught sight of something that he had not noticed before... A rip on the sleeve halfway up Apollo's arm, suddenly visible now as he raised the cigarette to his lips. His ripped sleeve parted, and suddenly, Hawk's eyes fell upon a mark so familiar that it struck him like a punch to the gut.
"You-!" He crossed the room without any recollection of moving, and found Apollo's arm held fast in his vice grip. "This mark. What is this?" His fingers tightened further still beneath the intricate celtic cross detail on the man's upper arm, now covered slightly by a faint trickle of blood. The sight of it made Hawk's heart race, and as his mind filled with memories, he raised his voice and demanded, "Where the f*ck did you get this?!"
((At a tattoo parlour. Duh. XD ))

“Yeah? Well that ugly old face you're wearing doesn't suit you.”

Apollo's sudden laughter came like the splintering of fingernails against wood. It was a sound cruel and cringing.
This guy's a real laugh, he thought snidely. A bloody F*cking comedian in the mist of an apocalypse...Great that's really the last thing I need. As if things couldn’t get any worse.
Despite himself, The Fallen still smirked with blatant amusement, His orange aviator eyes glinting out from beneath the darkness as he sarcastically retorted, “No, guess it really doesn't.”
He held his silence after that, but keep his piercing gaze on his enemy. He could just barely see the Valcan leader still sitting in the opposite corner of the room. The white of the scarf was practically all that showed.
Good, so he hasn't moved yet...it be a damn pain if he did
Thoughtfully Apollo began to mulled once more over the woollen scarf. The familiarity of it bothered him. It brought back too many faded memories, all grey with passing age.
Hawk seemed to noticed the Fallen's hard gaze upon him, and tucking away the scarf protectively, he added,“This was given to me by somebody I cared for very deeply. But you wouldn't get that, would you?”
Gritting his teeth at the accusation in that comment, Apollo snorted curtly and shook his his head, “No...Why would I?”
The lie of his words burnt his tongue raw, But stubbornly he pressed on; clearly ever keen on fighting away the ache he secretly felt in his heart.
“I trust nobody, and care more about the dirt beneath my shoes...I don't expect anybody to trust me in return. People only get in my way.”
The challenge in the Fallen's voice died away with his last few words. He was tired now. Exhausted from the battle, and hurting all the more from his proud wounds.

A heavy sigh in the background echoed his feelings, and shuffling about quietly through the dark Hawk mumbled,“F*ck, it's dark in here...There must be a light or something...Ah”
The searching soon came to an end as the click of a lighter suddenly bathed the room in dim warm light. Hawk had clearly found what he was looking for, an old gas lantern.

The light blinded Apollo at first, and his eyes began to adjust, he became aware of one unsettling fact. Hawk was rapidly approaching him.
In a heartbeat the Valcan had crossed the room, latching a vice-like hold over Apollo's wounded arm.
“You-!”, he growled dangerously as he held him,“This mark, What is this?”
Apollo glared hotly into Hawks eyes as they drifted towards his tattoo. Why would that bother his enemy, much less interest him?
When Pain began to throb through his shoulder, Apollo left his reasonable thoughts behind. He was getting pissed off with this guy.
Growling dangerously he snapped back,“It's my mark... and it's none of your F*cking business!”
With a viper like hiss, he began to struggle against Hawk's hold. Striking out at the man with his free hand. He very nearly gifted his enemy with a blue-eye.
Growing steadily more impatient with Apollo's thrashing, Hawk tightened his grip and demanded,“Where the F*ck did you get this?!”
Apollo wasn't about to let up on any of his secrets, and with a cocky smirk he replied, “The Easter Bunny. Why the F*ck should I tell you?”
Clenching his teeth, Apollo growled, “I've had enough of you...I'm warning you, LET ME GO!”.
A lightening kick struck Hawk's leg next, this time hitting it's mark painfully and sending the man toppling over onto his back.
The expectation that Hawk would let Apollo go was there, but much to the Fallen's dismay, he didn't.
Instead Apollo was pulled down too, landing heavily over his enemy's muscular chest.
Groaning slightly from the daze of falling, Apollo shook his head and gazed down blankly at Hawk.
The man's face was nearly nose to nose with his own. He could even taste the hazelnut tang in his breath.
What is this feeling?, he thought silently.
His cold fingers moved eerily on their own, as through driven by some inner instinct he himself didn't understand.
They slipped gently over the stubbled chin, and up towards the leather mask. He wanted to know, a pat of him desperately needed to know.
At the final moment; just as his fingers had made contact with the leather, he pulled back as though burnt.
He cursed the coward within him. And wrinkling his nose as a snarling wolf would, he whispered bitterly, “This isn't over Valcan...Next time I'll take that mask of yours as my trophy.”
Slamming a fist threateningly against the wood opposite Hawk's head, Apollo then pulled himself loose and stood up.
Wordlessly he left the room, heading out into the dark streets. His coat blended into the shadows behind him, as he disappeared like a phantom into the night.

*********************************************************

A week had passed by since the first time he had met Hawk, and still Apollo had heard nothing from Mouse or the Valcan. He had hoped that Mouse would be smart enough to send out a help signal, but after six whole days his expectations had started to dwindle. Right now he pretty much preparing himself for a corpse to show up.

Distracting himself with the tedious task of shaping his weapons, Apollo's eyes kept tracing back over the small green-screened device on his watch. It was usually used to track down the members of the fallen crew. It simply honed in on the codes embedded into their the chips; Each member had one, and it echoed out the signal when danger or trouble was at hand.
Mouse’s chip hadn't shown even one since he had been taken, but Apollo had an idea that the Valcan were purposely blocking it.
Maybe when the time came for it to show, they would try and trap him. A smirked passed over his lips as that thought.I'll go, if only to show you what your messing with Hawk.
Wiping away the last of grime from his blade, Apollo inspected it briefly, before slipping it back into the shelf on his belt.
A beeping sound echoed his thoughts, and chuckling darkly he lifted the tiny tracker, “So your ready to meet again at last, Hawk...Your invitation won't be in vain. That much you can sure of”


((Um... not too sure were we're going from here on XD))

“The Easter Bunny." Apollo shot back snidely, "Why the F*ck should I tell you?”
"Why you-" Hawk tightened his grasp furiously, and suddenly Apollo's thin patience seemed to snap, and Hawk was caught cruelly by the backlash.
“I've had enough of you... I'm warning you, LET ME GO!” As the man's voice rose, his shoe dealt a shattering blow to Hawk's shin, and with a gasp of pain, his leg caved beneath him, sending him crashing back to the ground. But, stubborn as any mule, he just let his fingers bite deeper into Apollo's hand, pulling the Fallen leader down with him as he fell to the floor, head smashing against the cold concrete. His teeth clacked together, and he saw stars as his senses swam for a moment, bringing Apollo's masked face in and out of vision before his eyes.
For the briefest of moments, between blur and clarity, he saw another face entirely... A face that he had believed he'd never see again.
Even dulled by the acrid stench of smoke, the tangy hint of Old Spice still tickled his senses, and with his enemy looming threateningly over him, he fell suddenly silent, as though cast under a spell. He just there, still and submissive, even as Apollo's fingers reached for his mask. He felt the touch of them on his cheek, and when he did not slap Apollo's hand away, the other man pulled back on his own, as though his arm had been jerked by some invisible string.
A breath of cold air washed over Hawk as Apollo stood up, and the chill of it sobered him, pushing him to sit upright, then clutch his aching head as the world started to sway again.
“This isn't over Vulcan..." Apollo's voice echoed over the icy concrete, "Next time I'll take that mask of yours as my trophy.”
"I'd like to see you try, Fallen..." He wheezed under his breath, wincing as he clutched his aching temples, "That was a dirty trick..."
But Apollo was already gone, vanished into the night, leaving behind barely a memory in his wake.
Rattled and confused by his absence, Hawk sat up, breathing slowly, and tried to get a grip on the flipping of his stomach.

***

The week's interrogation had gone well. Hawk's cruelty was legendary, and it had served him well once again in questioning Mouse. The boy had been stubborn, desperately so, but it the end - with the help of some crafty drugs that Hawk's 'chemistry experts' - he had finally divulged a few gems of information that were not to be ignored.
The Codec, it seemed, was in the hands of the Fallen. The Codec that was not only the key to Giovanni's master plan, but also the key to overthrow him. The Codec that could change the outcome of this war once and for all, if it fell into the right hands. And yet, Hawk didn't even give a damn about that. No, the Codec meant far, far more than all that...
It was, after all, Alexsei's Codec.
I know you would never have given it up for anyone... Hawk thought furiously, clenching his fists as he watched the approaching blip on the radar stretching across the computer screen before him. That's why, for you, I'll get it back. I'll rest at nothing, until it's safely in my hands! Your memory won't be forgotten. He swallowed thickly, closing his eyes silently as the intruder alarm sounded in the distance. Not ever.
With that, he wheeled around, coat swishing behind him, and strode boldly forward to meet Apollo. He had activated Mouse's location chip for a reason, and he now held it, pressing into his bloody palm, as he approached his enemy.
"'People only get in my way', my ass." Hawk mocked as he pushed open the doors of the abandoned hotel that had become the Vulcan's 'Interrogation Center'. He stopped, and tossed the tiny chip at Apollo. "Then what the Hell are you doing here, if you don't give a damn about your subordinate, huh? 'Guess I've got some leverage, huh, Apollo?"
He folded his arms, and felt a smirk curve his lips - not just because he was pleased that his plan had worked. In all honesty, whether it was the challenge or simply the scent of him, Hawk was glad to see his nemesis.
"Tell you what," he began striding closer, "Your little friend is alive, for now. If you want him to say that way, there are a couple of things I want from you." His eyes narrowed, "I'm sure you're smart enough to understand that you can't take him back by force, as horrendously outnumbered as you are," He gestured toward the building, "I have men stationed at every post. So, then..." Again, he halted, smiling darkly, "How about we begin some, ah... 'Negotiations'."

The Setting Sun signified the ending of another day, Another moment survived and lived in a place only short of hell.
Apollo didn't waste time tonight, he moved quicker that usual, slipping out alone tonight to face his patiently waiting foe.
Hawk was the one behind the tracing beacon, Apollo already knew this, but he didn't know what to expect when accepting such an invitation.
It was a bold and rash to move to head out so openly into Valcan territory, but even so Apollo felt little move than slight excitement towards the meeting.
He had been patiently waiting for this opportunity. It was a rare chance to take back his 'Stolen' comrade and perhaps even deal a blow of revenge.

"Kinda like two birds with one stone if you ask me...Then again, what a Waste of rocks"
Tscking his tongue through those murmured words, he then cast an iron glance down towards the watch on his wrist.
The blinking dot on it's screen grew more vibrant with each step taken. He was almost where he needed to be.
Darting along the rooftops like a cat across a gutter pipe, he advanced with agile grace and speed.
He was a stranger to fear when it came to such things, and without a second thought he sweep over a fatal crevice jutted out between the two rooftops.
That final daring leap, followed by a skillful tuck and roll landing, finally brought him to his destination; an abandoned old hotel, more commonly known as the 'House Of Screams'
The place wasn't much to look at, but it certainly held a few ominous rumors to it that even Apollo wouldn't overlook.

Furrowing his heavy eyebrows, The man then took to the tedious task of breaking an entry.
In the end he chose to enter through a rusty skylight. The locks had crumbled away ages ago, all that stood in his way really were the two guards still lurking in the shadows below.
He entered the building soundlessly, then a moment later he had struck them down with barely any sign of effort. It was sure as the sky was blue, that they wouldn't wake up again this night or any other night.
The rest of the building unraveled easily after that, leaving Apollo to pick his way through the corridors and security.
Eventually he reached the billiard room, Hawk was there waiting for him, A tall dark figure cloaked in a billowing leather jacket.
Dulled irritation crept along Apollo's skin at the mere sight of the man.
A smirk lay painted in his wake as a those mysterious lips parted to greet him with a remark all too snide.
"People only get in my way', my ass..."
A disruptive snort echoed Apollo's general indifference and casually cold attitude towards the subject. Hawk proceeded to question however, "Then what the Hell are you doing here, if you don't give a damn about your subordinate, huh?...'Guess I've got some leverage, huh, Apollo?"
Their eyes met for a brief moment as Apollo carefully considered the situation he had landed up in.
"Leverage? Is that what you want to call it? I imagine then that you'll be wanting something in return for the boy?"
Examining his fingernails thoughtfully, he tsked his tongue and added, "Can't say I'm in a very generous mood today. You'll soon learn that I'm just not the giving type."
A dark chuckled slipped from his masked lips as he caught hold of the the bloody tracker chip that had once belonged to Mouse.
The thing itself was an unwelcome sight, but Apollo kept his emotions in check for the time being. He had to be smart about to this, any sign of submission and Hawk would take the opportunity to knock him down.

Unfazed as always,Hawk simply approached him. The man's long-legged strides brought him all the more closer to Apollo, and leaning close, he offered softly, "Tell you what...Your little friend is alive, for now. If you want him to say that way, there are a couple of things I want from you."
Apollo felt his teeth clench tightly within his jaw. "Oh Really? And what would be?"
Hawk's eyes narrowed in response, the dark gears in his head clearly churning,"I'm sure you're smart enough to understand that you can't take him back by force, as horrendously outnumbered as you are,I have men stationed at every post. So, then...How about we begin some, ah... 'Negotiations'."
The fuse to Apollo's temper had already been lit thanks to that threat, but keeping to a deadly silence he followed obediently after Hawk as the man lead him through to the next room.
The doors closed eerily behind him with a click, while the brief shuffling of lackey feet tapped against the floors outside it. He was surrounded, and acutely aware of the it at that.
He stared after Hawk with a near bored expression, his patience was wearing thing now.
"Go ahead and offer up your negotiations then", He paused suddenly seeming ever so slightly amused, "It wont make much of a difference though."
With a clawed hand, he scrapped a nail against the leather mask about his jaw, "You see there's a certain price we Fallen pay for crew admittance"
He met Hawk's eyes threatening, "A tongue for every secret shared...sad how it only takes one slip up to silence a man forever"
The conversation between the two men became tense and heavy as they battled against each psychological blow, each severing word.
It was clear that Apollo hadn't come to make deals or bargains, but Hawk ambitions were just as set. He was just as stubborn in trying to pry through Apollo's defenses.
At last it became clear that no solution could be made, and letting loose on that violent temper of his, Apollo threw the first punch.
A squabble broke out quickly after that, followed by thrashing limbs and curse words more foul than anything a sailor could conjure.
With a sharp shove and an iron grip, Apollo had Hawk by the collar of his shirt. He was demon when he was angry, but also blindly reckless.
Hawk was strong, and fighting back with all he had, the two crashed clumsily through the furniture and edged closer, dangerously close towards the window over looking the alleyway outside.
Who took the false step next could not seen, but the two leaders tangled limbs and crashed through the sheet of glass.
With widened eyes they fell down amongst a rain of crystal shards. It was pretty sight, nearly frozen in time as Apollo's glasses lifted briefly from his nose, revealing a pair of cruel unhidden eyes.
They gazed out instinctively towards Hawk, and by some instinct a pang of unfamiliar worry caught him in his gut. His heart-beat quickened. He felt his grip around Hawk tighten instinctively.
What is this?... I don't want to save my enemy. Why should I care what happens to this dangerous fool

Reality came back with a unflattering crash as the two men tumbled down into a dumpster below.
Dazed for a moment by what had happened, Apollo felt his world slowly shift back into place. The acrid scent of rotting food and putrid rubbish filled his nose.
Gazing down with a sense of dread, Apollo grimaced as he lifted his soiled hands and knees. He was absolutely repulsed by what they had landed in. Wrinkling his nose, he cursed irritably,"F*ck...I really hate you"
Adjusting his sunglasses glasses as through they had never moved from the spot on his nose. He then scrabbled clumsily over a slimy pile of old take-away noodles.
Frustrated about being stuck in a bin with a person he practically loathed, Apollo growled and tried to break loose from the tangled mess he and Hawk had become.
After a few awkward minutes of arguing,pointless shoving and swearing, their wish to be separated was granted.
A pair of huge hands suddenly dug cruelly into Apollo's shoulders, and wincing painfully, the man soon found himself dragged out of the dumpster. He was throw down harshly to the cement below, soon joined by Hawk.
"HEY!! DONT TOUCH ME! F*CKING DIRTY APE!", He swore furiously, fighting back instinctively as a group of uniformed foot-soldiers began to surround them.
It was pointless to struggle against so many members of the T.R, they were armed and ready to kill if needs be.

"Yeah? Well the feeling's mutual buddy." Hawk spat, shoving Apolllo away from him, then tripping over him as he tried to climb out of the dumpster where he'd landed. It reeked, he hurt from the fight and the fall, and he was infuriated to be trapped beside such a loathsome man in such a filthy setting. Apparently Apollo felt the same, because their squabbling continued right until a shadow fell over them, and Apollo was pulled - kicking and cursing - from the dumpster. Hawk lashed out in self defense, but trapped as he was, the cause was clearly a hopeless one, and he soon found himself tossed to the ground beside Apollo, surrounded by an army impossible to overcome. He suddenly wished that he hadn't been bluffing about the men surrounding his decoy headquarters. He cursed, and then he and Apollo began bickering all over again - throwing blame around like a hot potato, most often punctuated by punches - until their captors became bored of their antics, and knocked each out with a heavy blow to the head. 

When Hawk awoke, he found himself locked in a dank, dirty prison cell, with his wrists cuffed and bound behind his back. A furious glance across the room showed him that Apollo had been shut in with him, and within instants, the insults were flying again. They would probably have beaten each other to death were they not chained on opposite ends of the room. 
This lasted for several hours, but eventually the cruel combination of thirst, hunger, exhaustion and pain began to tire them, and the two men ceased their fighting by mutual consent, each brooding and planning silently, yet neither able to come up with any solution. 
Eventually, the inevitable came to pass, and Hawk watched with an odd twist of sympathy as his surly companion was dragged away into interrogation. He sat in waiting, jaw clenched, wondering if Apollo would crack. He had the Codex. If Apollo cracked then he, the Vulcan, the very fate of the world was doomed. 
"F*ck him!" He cursed under his breath, kicking savagely at a loose stone on the floor, and sending it clattering across the cell. "Don't give in, you Fallen bastard." He gritted his teeth, then sat tight as he awaited the man's return. It was strange... As much as Hawk hated him, he missed the feeling of human companionship. Even the most hardened of men were affected eventually by loneliness, or so it would seem. 

When at last Apollo was thrown back into the cell, it was Hawk's turn for interrogation, and he flashed the man a glare as he was dragged away, blaming him simply because it helped to have a direction for his anger. 
The torture was harsh and cruel, but Hawk bore it with an iron will, and no information was divulged. Every day, they would drag himself and Apollo out in turns, and every day, they would gain no new information for the pain they inflicted. This went on for several weeks. 

During that time, the animosity between Apollo and Hawk seemed to dull as the men reached some unspoken agreement to put their feud aside until such time as they had won back their freedom. They had reached a strange, unexpected state of mutual respect after neither had cracked despite weeks of torture, and with this respect came the grudging acceptance that, were they to win back their freedom, they had no choice but to work together on a plan. The alliance was weak and by all means temporary, but it was a necessity that both accepted, and it existed, even within their undying hatred. 
And yet, even when they spoke, it was from opposite ends of the room, each hidden in the shadows. They had long since lost their masks in the interrogation, and both were more taken with protecting their own identity than with discovering the other's, so neither tried. 
Before they knew it, a month had passed.

***

The full moon shone in slats onto the cement floor, beams of light breaking around the bars in the window. Hawk remained in the shadows, but his eyes lifted up towards it as it broke briefly through the thick covering of clouds. Yes, it was definitely full. That was the only way he could tell that it was a month that had passed, and not a week. Or a year.
He sighed heavily, and drew one knee up to his chest as static rippled through the cold air. He shivered despite himself, and rubbed absently at the scabs on his wrists. Their captors no longer bothered to cuff them, because they no longer bothered to resist. Apollo had put up a great fight when Hawk had first suggested this, but eventually they had both agreed that the only way to win in this situation was to play the game, no matter how harmful it might be to their precious pride. Hawk sighed at the thought, but in any case, he was glad to have use of his hands again. For the first three weeks he'd been there, he'd had an itch on his nose more frustrating than any kind of torture that Team Rocket could offer.
He rubbed his face at the thought, then flinched when a roll of thunder echoed overhead. His eyes darted to the sky, stretching wide. Since they'd been there, it hard hardly rained. It had never stormed. 
Please... Not now.
His eyes remained locked on the sky a good few moments, then he turned his head, looking over the scarf that covered half his face to see Apollo crouched in his corner, fiddling with a rock or something in his hands. If he had noticed the thunder, then he showed no indication of it. Although he hated himself for it, Hawk was glad that he was not alone. 
He took a deep breath, and leaned back against the wall behind him, trying to relax. Then the thunder roared again, closer this time. 
Hawk tensed, muscles grating against the rough rock under his back, and his eyes darted once more to the sky, just as a flash of lightning lit the sky. The sight drew a frightened yelp from his usually firm lips before he had the chance to bite his tongue, but luckily the next clash of thunder drowned it out, though it left him shaking in his boots. 
"Keep calm." He told himself quietly, whispering under his breath to still his trembling with the sound of his own voice, "You're a man now. You have responsibilities and a reputation to uphold. You are not scared of thunder."
It crashed again, closer, louder, echoing across the cell. 
"Keep calm!"
The harshness of his whisper burnt his throat, and as the fear rose up in him more powerfully than ever, Hawk drew his knees up to his chest and began muttering incoherently under his breath, telling himself a story that had somehow got him through every storm for the past five years, crouched under a desk, frightened and alone, as he sobbed and shook and whispered sweet nothings into the beast of the storm. Now, he had no safe desk to hide under. Now, he was not alone to cry and shake and whisper as he pleased. Now... He had to keep it together, for if he once showed his enemy his greatness weakness, then he risked everything that the Vulcan strove to fight for. 
"It's Raiko." He told himself quietly, "Just Raiko howling." 
Lightning flashed again. He flinched, and whispered hurried, "A-and Zapdos. Zapdos's lightning. Responding to his challenge... That's all it is, that's all."
But the storm raged on, louder and more frightening by the minute, and the scared little boy in Hawk was beginning to show. His fingers closed around the back of his head, pushing it to his knees, and then he clapped his hands hard over his ears as he began rocking back and forth, whispering to himself in a terrified, broken voice, Raikou was arrogant and incredibly strong willed. He fought every pokemon in the forest, testing his strength and skill to it's limits, until finally he had defeated all of them.” His tongue darted over his lips, and just as he was beginning to calm down, the lightning flashed again, speeding up his frantic whispers as he gasped to himself, “One day, out of sheer vanity, Raikou decided to climb up to the highest mountaintop, closest to the sky, to face his last known rival, Zapdos, the thunder Pheonix.
"When the two equally matched foes met, they clashed in a dangerous battle that tore the skies and moved the earth... It was the first storm the world had ever had.
The great Storm lasted for many days and many nights. Pokemon and people all over the land thought that it would bring the end of the world.
Raikou and Zapdos fought against each other with all their power and strength, until they had none left, and still neither one would give in. And then-"
Scott broke off suddenly, eyes wide with fright as a flash of panic hit him. 
"And then-"
Who won? I don't remember who won!
He drew in a terrified gasp of breath as thunder rolled over the land again, and clenched his eyes tighter shut, gritting his teeth as he pressed his back against the wall, and squeezed his hands so tightly against his ears that it made his head ache. 
"And..." His breath lodged in his throat. 
I've forgotten... It's no use, I've- I've forgotten!
All at once, the fear rose up around him like a tsunami, building and building, and he knew that it would break him when it finally crashed down. His desperation built, and he heard a soft moan of despair escape his lips. It was hopeless. This time, it was hopeless...

(Bump)

Thoughtful and as bitter as ever, Apollo sat in utter silence. His only comfort in that damp, filthy cell seemed to be the utter darkness ever present within, Well that, and perhaps the subtle breathing emanating from the only other life force residing near him; Hawk.
Apollo hated people in general, always had. There was just something about the human mind that could never be trusted, never be predicted. He didn't like that aspect of uncertainly, it was the very origin of the thing that worried him most… betrayal.

Over the past few agonizing weeks, He had found himself fighting profusely with the thought of simply ending Hawk were he lay. He swore to himself each and every day that he would do it. And yet as time crept by on at an hourly pace, and the torture grew worse, he found the thought less and less inviting. He blamed his lack of action on the mutual respect that seemed to grow between him and Hawk like some unwanted weed. Neither leader had spoken or given in to Team Rocket's antics yet. They simply bore the cruelty and pain till it bound them into an unspoken Truce. Both seemed to understand that they would need to join forces if they ever wanted to escape.
This understanding gave Apollo a new outlook on his cellmate. And despite the clear tension he still bore towards Hawk, he actually found himself feeling nearly lonely in the few hours that they were forced to separate. Often he would find himself waiting with wordless concern, till the moment when Hawk finally returned.
Human Contact?...I don’t want it. It’s just un necessary luxury in this case.
A flash of lightening seemed to break Apollo from his thoughts, and shifting uncomfortably, he sighed and pulled up his ragged hood a little further. He cursed silently under his breath, before rubbing his stinging eyes irritably. He had been locked away in the dark for too long, his eyes couldn’t handle the bright light.

The steady rumbling of thunder seemed to shake the earth beneath him. And before Apollo could even open his mouth to comment snidely on how much he so ‘LOVED’ the rain, Hawk’s trembling voice interrupted him.
At first Apollo thought that Hawk might be trying to talk to him. Unfortunately He could barely make out what was being said, and upon realizing this, he casually began to ignored the incoherent mumbling, brushing it off as nothing more than gradual madness.
Maybe he’s finally cracking up...it wouldn’t surprise me really, We’ve been in here for God knows how long.
Another burst of lightening suddenly illuminated the room, shining from the window and spilling briefly over Hawk’s neglected and quivering form.
A small stab of annoyance began to gnaw at Apollo as he took in the sight of his enemy. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like a display of such utter helplessness. Was his enemy in fact frightened? Or was it a ploy?... What was wrong with him? It was nothing more than a little storm; their day to day lives were a lot more frightening than this.
Tsking his tongue, Apollo stood up and began to pace silently. It usually did the trick in calming him, but no today.
”To give into your fears so easily is a weakness that should never be displayed before an enemy”…guess father’s words were all too true regarding that topic…F*ck….but this muttering is really starting to get to me
With a deep growl, Apollo silently cursed and found himself instinctively stepping closer and closer to where Hawk sat. The fallen’s patience ran only so thin today, and for some reason Hawk’s jumbled up tale irked him like an unreachable itch. It was just too familiar; strangely so.
Resisting the urge to silence Hawk with a cruel slap, Apollo silently found himself piecing together more words and phrases. His suspicion to what he was hearing was eventually confirmed by the final words ‘Zapdos and Raiko.
Shocked now, rather than frustrated, Apollo’s mind began to race with a million questions. How was it even possible? How could the leader of the Valcan know that story? The tale Hawk was babbling so fearfully; it was…it was one his own dear mother had chanted to him when he was nothing more than a child. Only two people had ever known of that tale, His brother, Kai and…
Another roar of thunder tore through the silence, this time louder and fiercer than ever. A terrified shout from Hawk was the final trigger, and it struck Apollo into action. He couldn’t control his instincts any more, and before he could even comprehend what he had done, he was down at Hawk’s side with his arms around the trembling man. It had only taken a few second to happen, but it happened all the same.
With his own face still hooded and shadowed, Apollo barely needed a moment to think. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, before gently leaning in and whispering the final few words to that unfinished tale, “Raiko had lost the battle that day, and the lightening phoenix; Zapdos had been the victor. The thunder lion however never took too kindly to being defeated, and out of seer pride and vanity, he sometimes still calls out to the sky with a mighty roar, hoping to see the lightening of Zapdos as she responds to his challenge.”
Apollo felt a deep silence slowly settle between himself and Hawk. He could hear his own heartbeat pulsing violently through his ears. He dared not say another word; the realization of what had happened was still too freshly forged.
Instead he let his actions speak for him. Slowly raising Hawk’s chin, he tenderly wiped away a tear from the man’s honey brown eyes. They were still wide with fear, but this time not because of the storm. The fear instead, had been induced through a pair of frightening eyes that glimmered like sapphires beneath Apollo’s ragged hood.
Searching Hawk’s features for a moment or two longer, Apollo then traced a hand almost hesitantly across the thin cheekbones of his enemy. A smirk of satisfaction finally seemed to settle upon his pale lips, as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’ve changed a lot over the years, but it is you…Scott ”

The despair rose up to crush him, and just as Hawk feared he was about to fall to pieces, another powerful roar of thunder brought with it an unexpected surprise. He didn't hear the strangled cry slip from his own lips, but it ended the moment the strong arms closed around him, silencing him with their warm embrace. He froze, eyes widening, but although he knew that he should pull away and defend himself, some deep-set instinct held him fast, leaving him trembling helplessly in the arms of his enemy. As the sky lit up again and he scrunched his frightened eyes shut, a deep voice began purring reassuringly into his ear, retelling the very same tale that it had told him all those years ago. 
He couldn't place it at first, but as he shrank - terrified and crying - into Apollo's arms, he felt his heart rate quicken and quicken, drumming frantically about some all-important realization that his body knew even before his frantic mind. But as the silence gradually spanned between them, reality began to sink in. Hawk's eyes opened, then slowly widened, so by the time Apollo's finger lifted his chin, they were wide as saucers. The eyes looking back at him were an icy shade of blue that he'd seen only once before in his entire life. And as lightning lit the room again, Hawk finally caught a glimpse of the man behind the mask. The lightning illuminated his handsome features even beneath the shadow of hid hood, and from the scar on his brow to the high cheekbones and the faint lines of age now forming around his mouth, there was no mistaking the identity of the man before him. 
A soft finger brushed over his cheek, and Scott's breath caught on the lump in his throat, leaving his lower lip trembling helplessly as he stared up into those blue eyes with absolute disbelief. The storm outside was long forgotten. 

The two men studied each other for a long moment, then his enemy hesitantly touched his cheek again, and the voice that spoke to him stabbed a thousand emotions into his aching heart.
“You’ve changed a lot over the years," He murmured, thin lips smirking slightly, "but it is you… Scott.”
A sharp breath left his lips, and he found himself frowning, shaking his head, not daring to believe. "Al-"
It can't be! He's dead - I saw him die with my own two eyes! "No, you- It- It can't be..." He swallowed, lifting his eyes again. With trembling fingers, he reached forward and carefully took hold of Apollo's hood. Then he pushed it back, and a gasp escaped his lips as the new light confirmed what he had already known. His hair was a pale platinum blonde, and his features showed the stress of the years, but his face was unmistakable. And when Scott took it between his palms, he knew irrevocably, unconditionally, that this was the to whom he had given his heart. This was Alexsei.

He was kissing him before he even had a chance to think. His papery lips were scratchy with sweat and dirt, and his mouth tasted of stale blood, but even as Scott's own parched lips cracked at the pressure, he knew that nothing in all the known universe could have felt more right. He heard his own disbelief in the back of his throat, a series of desperate little gasps and moans in between frantic kisses, but he was suddenly oblivious to everything except the salty taste of Alexsei's lips, the feeling of his skin yielding softly under clenched fingers, and the way his blonde hair tangled as Scott grasped it to pull him closer. He clasped Alexsei like a drowning rat scrabbling at a piece of driftwood, and kissed him as if his lips held the only oxygen left in the world; a fearsome, all-consuming desire that he just couldn't quite reach. 
Throughout it all, his heat whirled, and his feelings whipped by so fast that he could barely identify one before the next began. Disbelief, doubt, relief, jubilation, ecstasy, excitement, love, hurt, remorse, despair, guilt, fury; they flashed by, over and over again, changing each and every time. But when Scott finally forced himself to pull free from that kiss of life, there was one feeling within him that blazed more powerfully than any other. It consumed him, and without even a second's pause, he pulled back a fist and punched Alexsei in the face. Hard. 
The meaty thud that followed reverberated through the cell, and Scott yanked his bruised fist back to shake it as his ex-boyfriend was slammed to the ground by the force of the blow. His whole arm trembled with pins and needles; he didn't think he'd ever hit so hard in his life before, and he didn't regret it one bit!
"Do you have any idea what I went through?!" He demanded furiously, finding himself on his feet without any memory of getting there. Thunder crashed behind him, and as lightning cast his shadow over Alexsei's bruised face, it only served to fuel his anger. "Five years! For five f*cking years you let me think you were dead! You made me watch you die!" His lips pulled into a snarl as his voice raised to a roar that challenged the thunder. Were it not for the storm, the guards would certainly have heard him. 
"I've been through some shit these past years, but nothing compared to that. I've spent every second of my life loving you, hating you, missing you-" his eyes voice cracked, "and just wishing, more than anything, that I could see you one more time, so I might finally have some closure. So I can stop staying up nights; an insomniac with nightmares of you. So I can stop hearing your voice, and seeing your face every damn time I close my eyes!" He jerked his head away, catching his breath, and for a moment, he tried to compose himself. His fists shook at his sides, and he could feel the sting where his nails bit into his palms. Still, the anger did not ebb. He had to turn away, and when he spoke again, it was with eyes that glared unseeingly out at the lightning-split sky. 
"You knew damn well how I felt about you. You knew that that would totally destroy me, but you had to do it anyway. You had to stop me from following you." His lips twisted into a bitter sneer as he looked back over his shoulder at Alexsei, "I've never been able to believe that you could be so f*cking selfish. Did you ever even think that maybe I'd rather die than live on without you, knowing I might have been able to save you?" He spun around, facing Alexsei head-on again. His shaking fists were dripping blood now. "I've spent all these years trying to figure out if I hate you more, or if I love you. While you were dead, the latter was easy to believe, but now?" He shook his head, "F*ck." He spat, "I think I hated you less as my rival!"

The moment of truth had finally come, and as Scott's grip around Apollo's hood tightened, the Russian became dreadfully aware of what was about to happen. His own identity; the very essence of 'Apollo's persona', would fall to ruin. All his secrets would be revealed, all his lies would be told at last. It was an entirely inevitable situation, One that that should have perhaps occurred many years ago when they had first declared each other as enemies.

Tensing slightly, he narrowed his eyes and took a small breath. Guiding Scott's hands across his hooded face, he yielded, feeling the material slip from his skin.
At first he was a mere shadow in the darkness, but once the moonlight caught him, There was no mistaking it. He was Alexsei Ivanov; First, and last son of Giovanni Ivanov. He was as he always had been, Beautiful; a marvel cast from ice and snow. The only thing that had changed was the lack of youthfulness in his cheeks and face. Time and stress had hardened him, chiseling away the softness and replacing it with tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth.
He felt breathless beneath Scott's astonished gaze,vulnerable without the cover of his hood. Like a roach he wanted nothing more than to crawl back beneath the comfort of the dark.
The dread that had been building up however, barely even have time to settle. What caught him next was entirely Scott. He wasn't conscious of how it started, but he knew well enough how to react, his instincts simply gave over to the pleasure of that all too familiar kiss. Within a fragment of a second he cauld taste the hazelnut flavor of his lover's lips.
With it came the sweet memories of fonder times, Times so long ago, he thought they may have even been forgotten.He was slipping slowly back into an illusion of the past, and in his mind, things felt right. They were as they had once been five years ago.
He yielded obediently to Scott's kisses, clinging to the passion like an addict on ecstasy. When the moment to break apart finally arose, Alexsei fought with all his will and might to keep the spark burning longer. Not yet..., he pleaded silently. Don't leave me yet
The Surreal spiral was a mere dreamlike state, and as it always does, it came to an abrupt end.
A meaty crunch shattered the moment, and in an instant the Russian cauld taste blood upon his lips. He staggered backwards clumsily, A loose hand clasped over the bruised mark now branded cruelly into his cheek.
He shut his eyes, then opened them, then repeated the movement several times.
What had happened?
He raised his gaze questionably to Scott. The younger man's eyes threatened to burn him with something close to hatred. Instinctively the Russian began to snarled threateningly. He knew what was coming, his hackles were raised in anticipation.
Words...Oh painful letters all lined together in a pretty row.
Scott had began to now speak; his tongue sharp as a sword dripping in poisonous blame.
He uttered every possible pain and betray that had been there building up inside of him for the past five years. The sorrow and fear had been festering, while the the wound of loss remained raw and unhealed.
Alexsei felt disturbed by what he saw. The change in his friend even frightened him to some degree.
He held a surely pose in place, till Scott finally turned silent.
Once he had a chance to speak, he took it with a far too cocky smirk, " So You honestly think you were the only one here suffering here?...That you alone carried such an un bearable burden"
A click of his knuckles signaled the start. And on queue, ALexsei moved like a ghost; invisible. He was back on his feet within seconds and had Scott stunned and pinned up against the wall. Experience had pulled him through once more.

Tightening his grip around the man's soft neck, A bitter note of anger began to fill his voice. He leaned in close; a mere hare's breath away, and whispered, "I'd never regret saving you. I'm as selfish as they come and I'd gladly take up the chance to do it again, you F*cking Asshole."
Tension ran on high at this point, and despite the utter exhaustion both men felt, that factor did nothing in inhibiting the urge to literally maul each other to death.
The fight began, continued, and proceeded without relent.

This was not a time for apologies. Scott watched Alexsei find his feet, and admired the blood dripping from his split lip with vindictive pleasure. The bruising was already disfiguring his cheek, just as Scott's knuckles began turning a sickly shade of purple.
From the ground, Alexsei smirked at him - a sight that made Scott's skin crawl - and retorted, "So you honestly think you were the only one here suffering here? That you alone carried such an unbearable burden?"
"You have no IDEA what I went through!" He raged back, and before he could manage another word, Alexsei's hand crushed the throbbing vein in his throat, and he made a hoarse, choking sound as his vocal cords were squished uncomfortably together. A rattling gasp issued from his lips as he was slammed back against the wall by his throat, but his hands did not once move to defend himself. Instead, he stood his ground proudly and glared, just glared, at Alexsei with eyes smouldering in nothing short of absolute loathing.
Cold, hard fury stared right back at him from those blue eyes.
"I'd never regret saving you." The other man snarled, "I'm as selfish as they come and I'd gladly take up the chance to do it again, you F*cking Asshole."
Scott opened his mouth to speak, but his vocal chords ground together, and he uttered a rattly growl instead. Then, with a hateful snarl, he spat in Alexsei's face. All Hell broke loose.

He found himself on the floor without any memory of getting there, lunging and thrashing violently with all the sense of a blind man. Bone slammed against bone, flesh against flesh, and blood and bruises bloomed like red roses as the pair tangled around one another on the floor, locked in a deathly embrace of frightful, furious passion. Somebody was shouting, then grabbing at his shoulders, but Scott had eyes only for Alexsei. Like a rabid pitbull he snapped and snarled, fighting to break free and destroy his victim while Alexsei, opposite him, did just the same. Then, as one, their anger diverted. Spinning around, Scott slammed his fist into the soft face of the guard, blood spurting hotly over his wrist as he felt the man's nose break under his hand. A second punch had him floored, and a final kick to the stomach left him curled up and helpless on the floor. Across the room, Alexsei had kicked his unconscious victim aside. They met eyes, and in a flash, the yelling resumed. As one furious, bickering unit they raced through the open door, running in a haze of arguments and anger, bashing through guards and traversing traps without even realising. At last, they bolted through an open door and out into an alleyway. Still furiously yelling, Scott saw Alexsei try to turn left, and grabbed his wrist savagely, yanking him to the right. They bolted down the road, still fighting, until a dark alleyway appeared beside them that Scott recognized as one housing a Vulcan safehouse. He turned, knowing Alexsei was right beside him, and noisily kicked a rusted green dumpster aside. Rats spurted from beneath it like maggots from a festered wound, and Scott aimed an ill-tempered kick at one of them, too. He missed, and with an irritable huff, bent to open up the hidden entrance to the underground storage unit of the old warehouse beside them. The rusted hinges creaked stiffly, but he managed to force open the trap door, and then he and Alexsei dropped through into the dark, damp-smelling room below. He found a light switch on the wall, and a single ring of yellow light dropped into the centre of the room. He turned, and saw Alexsei standing there as though in a spotlight, hood blown back, and blonde hair showing its old blue at the tips. His heart constricted in a strange way that he could not quite explain, and then another thought occurred to him. He frowned, looking around the room, and slowly it occurred to him that they were, in fact, free. Just like that, months of torture and capture had come to an end, and... Damn it. He uttered a little laugh in disbelief. Damn it all, he didn't have a f*cking clue how they'd even got away!
Snorting, he looked back at Alexsei, this time with a faint smirk curving his lips as the echoes of their shouts faded into the lonely concrete floor. "Why the f*ck didn't we do that ages ago?" He demanded, shaking his head as amusement threatened to fall from his bleeding lips.

Leaving the backdoors cracked and hanging off on their hinges, was the absolute least of the damage done to Team Rocket's interrogation center.
Scott and Alexsei had gotten loose, and as far damaged was concerned, they had hit that place like a crazed tornado. All that remained in their wake was chaos... absolute Chaos and pure destruction.
The two men hadn't stuck around for a victory trophy of course; They had taken to the streets almost intermediately, Disappearing from sight as they sprinted blindly down the dark alleys of the city.
Their bickering and yelling followed after them in a tangle of mess and sounds. It was a simple wonder how Team Rocket hadn't found them. Thankfully as far as resources went, Team Rocket was running surprisingly short on capable members for that task. Most of Team Rocket's lackies were either injured or simply filled to the brim with fear by what they had seen the two leader's accomplish.
____________________________________________

Back in the alleyways, blood still boiled hotly between the two leaders as they rounded a final corner. With a heavy Pant, Alexsei suddenly halted.
He eyed Scott bitterly for a moment before following his rival over towards a dumpster lodged squarely in the corner of two walls.
A bored Russian curse seethed from his lips, and stalking begrudgingly after Scott, he watched as the man began to operate on his own. With a creaking heave moved in to help, and together they began shifting the metal dumpster. It groaned with metallic hesitance, before finally moving away from the wall.
Their prize was a tiny opening in the floor guarded by a small steal grid.
Alexsei stared at it for moment in simple disbelief, before snorting irritably and quickly catching onto Scott's plan. Lifting the grid with little effort, the two men slipped down into the basement of what the Russian assumed to be another Vulcan hiding hole.
Once they had reached the bottom of the 'hole', Scott stepped through the darkness and flicked a switch. A crackling buzz soon filled the air, followed by a sting of flickering lights. One by one they turn on, eventually illuminating the entire room.
Squinting through brightness, the Russian wrinkled his nose and gazed about the room uncertainly. His cold, thoughtful eyes traced slowly over his surroundings before settling finally upon Scott, who stood a only small distance away.
A coy smirk lay stretched slyly across the man's handsome lips, and for a moment Alexsei felt his hackles raise instinctively.
"Why the f*ck didn't we do that ages ago?"
Lowering his guard an inch, The Russian paused, then shrugged and rolled his eyes, "What? Try and maul each other to death?...Really now, who would have thought that that would work?"
There was a mild bitterness to his tone, but after sharing an apprehensive stare, the joke in his words became vaguely apparent.
A slightly stressed sigh left his lips, and Running a hand through his greasy blue hair, he smirked and added, "Don't look so tense, you'll look worse than what you already do with that scary face."
Briefly hinting at their filthy state and bearded faces, Alexsei tugged at his own ruined attire with simple disgust. It had long since gone grey with grime and stains.
"Ergh..."
He murmured a few more words in his native tongue, before turning silent and feeling slightly sick from the stench clinging to him. It hadn't been that apparent when they had been inside that Cell, but now that they were free, it was nothing less than cruel reminder.
"Does this place have a shower or a basin or something? I can still smell that F*cking Team Rocket odor on my skin."

There was a moment of silence following Alexsei's joke, and just as Scott vowed that he would not give him the satisfaction of showing any amusement, his lips twitched, and he snorted despite himself. Really, it was ironic how things had happened. As mortal enemies they had been as polite, loyal equals - two victims pitted together against the same evil. As estranged lovers, they had adopted a likeness to rabid wolverines and tried to rip one another to shreds. The feeling was fading now though, as he looked upon that familiar smirk, and felt the old gnawing depression in his chest override his shock and disbelief. A voice in the back of his mind told him that he should be glad, overjoyed even, to have found Alexsei alive after all these years. Perhaps in time he would be, but he just wasn't there yet. Then again, maybe it just hadn't hit yet. He was still having trouble believing that this had happened at all. 
"Don't look so tense, you'll look worse than what you already do with that scary face."
"Hm?" The voice startled Scott out of his thoughts, and he looked up with a raised eyebrow, absently running a hand over the overgrown vegetation on his jaw. His fingers dislodged what he feared was a piece of rat faeces, and he shuddered dramatically. Alexsei's comment of 'Ergh' exactly narrated his thoughts. 
"Does this place have a shower or a basin or something? I can still smell that F*cking Team Rocket odor on my skin."
"There used to be a Laundromat upstairs." Scott answered, gesturing to a rickety metal ladder in the corner of the basement, "If we're lucky there might be some employee showers, although at this point I'm not above shoving my head into a washing machine." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Now that Alexsei had brought it up, the ripe stench of dirt and stale sweat was becoming overwhelming. His own body odour overpowered him, and Alexsei's unfamiliar variety hit his nostrils even harder, offending his senses on a painful level.
With a little huff, he turned on his heel and strode proudly to the corner, testing the ladder with a sharp tug. Without even a second glance at Alexsei - for he wasn't even sure at this point how he ought to look at him - he shoved open the trapdoor in the ceiling with one powerful shoulder, and hauled himself through. A few minutes of cursing and fumbling around in the dark, and he found another light switch, which coaxed the long flourescent bulbs overhead into life, throwing light over the rows upon rows of dusty old washing machines. Scott prowled from one to the next, harvesting some clean, if motheaten abandoned clothes. Once he'd found enough to compose an outfit for himself, he managed to uncover an old hockey jersey and a pair of slightly-too-short tattered jeans as well, which he tossed to Alexsei without a word. It was the closest he came to showing any sign of kindness. Outside of that, he was still not entirely sure how to act, or what to do. He just didn't know where he stood, trapped between love and hatred, facing a stranger who had once been his entire world. 

He passed the fallen leader in silence, and some more investigation showed a staff bathroom which, as Scott had hoped, included a few shower cubicles. He had managed to score some soap from the Laundromat, and although it was harsh-smelling and intended for use on clothes, he was in no position to be in any way fussy. He just wanted to be clean.
Within the cubicle, he peeled off his clothes like a snake shedding its skin, then scrubbed off layer upon layer of grime to be reborn anew and clean shaven (thanks to the rusty blade of a pocket knife that he'd found in a drawer next to the cash register), and feeling a million times better than before. He dressed himself in the slightly baggy beige chinos he'd found, then buttoned a loose white suit-shirt over his gaunt torso, leaving the top two buttons undone and rolling up the sleeves to protect against the muggy heat. He left the steaming bathroom rubbing his chin absently, and padded in bare feet out into the next room, where Alexsei was waiting. He never did stay in a shower longer than a few minutes.
Unnoticed at first, Scott took the opportunity to watch the other man. His hazel eyes darted over this unfamiliar rendition of the familiar features, and within his mind there swirled a confusing haze of memory and emotion, product of a long-festering wound inside him that had never quite healed. A few watchful moments later, his eyes caught sight of a little blue-blonde braid hanging stylishly down Alexsei's cheek, visible now that his hair was clean and untangled, and despite himself, Scott felt his lips curve into a little smile.
"I told you the braid looked cool." He said smugly, making his presence known at last as he approached. It was the first time he had truly acknowledged the past relationship between them. Before the accident, that is.
Making an effort now to be a little friendlier, he limped over and hoisted himself gingerly onto the washing machine beside Alexsei, perching there with his long legs hanging off the edge. He rubbed his one hand uncomfortably over his scarred arm and looked down at the floor, then up to the lights overhead. He wasn't sure where to focus his gaze. "I um..." He tried at last, clearing his throat awkwardly, "I'm sorry about your face." Judging by the swelling on Alexsei's cheek, he'd have a nice black eye by tomorrow. "So... Apollo, huh?" He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, then finally forced himself to look at Alexsei, and raised an eyebrow. "Do I even want to ask what happened?"

As much as he absolutely loathed the water, Alexsei could think of nothing else other than the utter urge to be clean. With that in mind he stubbornly endured the icy pellets of water, leaving them to dance soothingly along his shoulder blades and down his spine. Filth that had been caked on for the past few months finally seemed to fall away, leaving behind nothing but dirty swirls against a tiled floor.
 
Once he had finished up, he turned off the tap and grabbed a towel.
For the most part his fowl mood had been abated. He hated to admit it, but showering had always done wonders in helping him to relax - Good thing too - he was going to need a level head when dealing with Scott.
A sickening feeling of dread suddenly began to settle inside his stomach.
"Scott..."
He knew all to well that the boy he had once known had changed. Time was cruel in carving people... Who was it that had once told him that again?
I wonder what has he seen in all these years?...How much pain has he endured?.
Sighing softly, the Russian bit his lip in silent resentment. He should've have found Scott earlier. He should have been there for him.
A bitter growl escape his lips, And turning his attention to the pile of clothes in the corner, he began to busy himself with dressing. The jeans fitted him like a glove; the Jersey on the other hand seemed to be at least two sizes too big; slipping down an inch to reveal the tattoo of a black feather with words inscribed below his collarbone.
 
When he was satisfied at last with his attire, he turned on his heel and caught sight of his reflection. His eye twitched at the very sight of his hair.
"F*cking hell...I look like something a Tangela brought in"
Quickly fiddling through a few old cabinets and drawers, he eventually managed to uncover what he was looking for - a razor.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
 
A little while later, Alexsei found himself back inside the front of the shop.
Taking to his usual pose, he stood leaning quietly against an old washing machine. Eyes closed and meditating. He didn't even notice when Scott entered the room.
"I told you the braid looked cool."
Opening his eyes at last, Alexsei raised his head and stared blankly towards the source of the voice. It was deeper from what he could remember, but he still recognized it. A faint smirk painted his lips. "In that case, I guess I'll have to take your fashion advice a little more seriously then", The Russian's tone was clearly mocking, but in a playful kind of way. He smiled for a moment, only a moment.
He hated the awkwardness, it clung to him like a bad stink. He had always imagined this moment to be warmer, more natural... It wasn't.
In the face of this strange new rendition of Scott, Alexsei had no words. It wasn't as though he didn't want to try, he just didn't know how to start.
Trying not to look too obvious about it, he silently began to examine Scott. It had been difficult to do in the darkness of that cell, but now - he could see the man in his entirety.
Scott had grown up from boy to man; His face held all the hardness of an adult, While his features grew sharper and more handsome in their angularity. His body; though still thin, held the muscular definition of a true soldier. He had grown up well.
 
Scott slowly approached him, hoisting himself up onto the washing machine beside Alexsei. The Russian merely stared out into the distance in response; indifferent on the outside, while Inwardly waging a wage between fear and love.
Much to his relief, Scott was the one to speak first.
"I um...I'm sorry about your face."
Shrugging it off casually, Alexsei felt his fingertips trace over the swollen skin "I've had worse.", he mumbled simply. (He's still bitter about that one XD)
Shaking his head in slight disbelief, Scott sighed softly and bravely met his gaze. "So... Apollo, huh?...Do I even want to ask what happened?"
Alexsei raised an eyebrow thoughtfully at that qeastion. How had it all happened?
Frowning, he replied through a thick accent, "Someone had to stand up against Giovanni. I guess for me it just turned out to be a matter of unfinished business..."
Reaching instinctively for the pocket of his jeans, he procured a small pack of cigarettes. (He found them somewhere okay, just go with it XD)
Offering up the pack to Scott, he then lit one up and he breathed in heavily on its filter, "I needed a new name." He explained casually.
" Alexsei was a dead failure. There were too few who would follow the son of Giovanni."
A stream of smoke left his lips, and gazing intently into Scott's eyes, he smirked away the hurt he felt, "You've seen what my grave looks like by now, haven’t you?...The messages etched into it's stone. The graffiti damning me to hell, praising my death..."
He paused for moment, his fingers tightening into white knuckles, "No- If I wanted to fight at all, I needed another name. A name that would gain allies, build armies and secure resources." Mulling over this truth had reminded the Russian of his fate. He felt more determined than ever to end Giovanni's reign.
 
Coming back to reality, Alexsei felt himself leaned in towards Scott. His ever cold eyes filled with serious question as well as a deep curiosity. He barely even noticed the space between them gradually close, "Of course, I suspect that you're all too familiar with juggling names...Right Hawk?"

Alexsei considered his question a moment, his face handsome in its thoughtfulness, and when he spoke, his rough accent rolled off his tongue in the same way Scott had always remembered it; that powerful gruffness, laced thinly with a delicate warmth put there specially for him. "Someone had to stand up against Giovanni. “ Alexsei told him grimly, ”I guess for me it just turned out to be a matter of unfinished business..."
If the warmth was there now, he did not hear it. He was sadly aware of how little the voice affected him now, compared to before. There had been a time that his knees would barely keep him upright just from hearing it. A pack of cigarettes appeared in front of him, and he glanced at Alexsei momentarily before taking one. He borrowed the other man’s lighter, and mumbled a grumpy ‘You shouldn’t smoke’, before popping his own cigarette between his looks. His hypocrisy was sweet with nicotine.
"I needed a new name." Alexsei - or was it Apollo - continued, ”Alexsei was a dead failure. There were too few who would follow the son of Giovanni."
‘I would have’, Scott thought, clenching his jaw, but he did not give voice to his thoughts. ’I would have. To the ends of the earth, if you’d found me.’[/i]
The bitterness stirred again, rousing the beast in his chest. It snarled its pain, and he felt his heart contract with the ache. He didn’t know where the love had gone. Even with Alexsei at his side, only grief was left there now.

"You've seen what my grave looks like by now, haven’t you? The messages etched into it's stone. The graffiti damning me to hell, praising my death..." Scott had. He had broken his fist on the face of some teenage punks passing with a bottle of spraypaint not long ago. He’d found out afterwards that they were students from a nearby art college, but he still did not regret it. Revenge was revenge, regardless of the recipent. Alexsei’s pause echoed his seething fury, and then the other man’s voice spoke up again, as bold and strong as Scott withed his own could be, and filled with passion. "No,” he said, ”If I wanted to fight at all, I needed another name. A name that would gain allies, build armies and secure resources."
“So you chose Apollo?” Scott asked, smirking. It was an inside joke. He’d done his research, and in his opinion ‘God of music’ was not something in which to stake one’s masculinity. It certainly was not a name worthy of the Alexsei he remembered. Luckily, the other man didn’t hear him, and when Scott glanced over to gauge his response he found that rugged, handsome face leaning close to his, and nearly started. He had become a stranger to male company. The intimacy he received was not what the word implied. It was a transaction: an exchange of services in order to satisfy his needs. To his surprise, he felt his cheeks heat slightly in shame as Alexsei’s intense eyes burned into his, and he challenged, "Of course, I suspect that you're all too familiar with juggling names... Right Hawk?"

The question was not direct, but it was not rhetorical, and Scott caught the implication. “Hmph.” He snorted bitterly, “I don’t have so elegant a reason as justice or revenge. I just woke up one day inside the shithole that my life had become, and I realized then that I had outgrown everything I once stood for. I didn’t feel like me any more, and I didn’t want to either, so I made a change. There was no version of Scott that could exist without you, I realized that.” As romantic as the words themselves might have sounded printed on a page, they rolled off Scott’s tongue like something criminal, as though he could barely stand the taste of them. “Hawk, I thought, might at least stand a chance. I had to find something to stand for, just to stop myself from f*cking falling” He shrugged, “That’s how all of this started, but when I finally opened my eyes to see the havoc that Giovanni had wrought on this world as well as my own, I became addicted to my cause. I dedicated myself to destroying him, but I don’t have to tell you that. It was the one thing we did agree on, after all.” He had transitioned now, speaking to Apollo, and it showed in the hardness of his eyes, smothering the underlying confusion that fueled his unquenchable fury. He could not come to grips with this; with the idea of Apollo and Alexsei as a singular being. Every time he thought about it, his head began to ache.

Sighing heavily, Scott lowered his head into his hands, closing his eyes and massaging his temples while the stress lines in his forehead creased into a frown. “I wonder how it is...” He murmured quietly, speaking more to himself and Alexsei, “That you can I could end up pursuing the same cause in such entirely different ways. I don’t remember us ever disagreeing before-” The word caught in his throat, and shoved his lips into silence, forcing them together as even duct tape could not. It was taboo, in his mind: ‘Before’. That was Scott’s life, Scott’s loss. Hawk did not like to think of that... And yet here it was before him, alive and breathing, looking him in the eye, speaking to him! Here he was, Alexsei, with the blue hair growing out at the roots and the fire in his eyes, with the fresh, spicy scent - even without his aftershave - that reminded Scott of pine needles crushed in the snow. It was what he’d smelled on the day they first met; his final thought before Alexsei had knocked him out. He had never forgotten that. Grief squeezed at his heart, and as he always did, Hawk launched into frustration in response, clueless on how else to deal. “F*ck!” He cursed, spitting at the ground, “You know what? I can’t do this! I can’t f*cking sit here and- and-” He was stammering, tripping over his words as he gestured furiously to Alexsei, his lips pulled back in the snarl of an abused fighting hound. “I can’t accept this. I watched you die. Before my very eyes!” He jabbed at his own eye so hard that it must have hurt, but this didn’t stop him, “I saw you knocked out, falling, drowning! How can you be here now? Just f*cking explain that to me!” He slammed a fist against the washing machine, and an angry metallic clang silenced the room, echoing ominously from wall to wall as Scott sat there, staring searchingly at Alexsei with an anger that clearly betrayed his bewilderment, and his chest rising and falling rapidly with heaving breaths. He had tried to keep it together, and he had failed.
“Five years.” He choked hoarsely, voice reduced to a whisper by the echoey silence, “It’s been half a decade, Alexsei.” The name tasted strange on his tongue; it had been so long since he’d spoken it. “It’s been half a decade. Nearly a quarter of my life. All this time, you’ve been dead. Dead! You can’t just sit here now talking to me like it’s the most normal thing in the world; I can’t take it! It’s like I’m talking to a ghost!” He clutched his head, shaking it woundedly, and the anguish was clear in every aspect of his body language. His mind was in shambles, torn apart by the presence of the very one whose absence had been its undoing. “The past was supposed to stay in the past.” He panted, “I just barely survived after I lost you; I nearly didn’t. Now I’ve found my way in a world without you in it, and you just reappear? I can’t do it!” The fist slammed down again, “I can’t even make any sense of this, so please, for God’s sake, just tell me how this happened. Give me some goddamn clarity before I lost what little sanity I have left!”

His hand was at Alexsei’s collar, but he wasn’t sure how it had happened. He blacked out like that sometimes, for seconds at a time, and now as he woke he was an inch from Alexsei’s nose, heavily breathing his air, searching his eyes. Chemistry sizzled between them like not a day had passed, and Scott shied away from it, pulling back and cursing savagely. The cigarette in his hand dripped ash onto the floor, and with the back of his head turned stubbornly to his companion, he jabbed it into his lips, shutting himself off once more from the world, a prisoner to his very own thoughts.

(I love these two. I’m going to try and keep the posts a little shorter…try is the word here XD)

“I can’t even make any sense of this, so please, for God’s sake, just tell me how this happened. Give me some goddamn clarity before I lose what little sanity I have left!”
Even after Scott’s hand had slackened its grip on his collar, Alexsei still felt the blaze of his companion's glare burn into the very pupils of his eyes. The fury, frustration and utter longing for an answer hung over his head like a guillotine.
It had been five long years since he had supposedly 'drown to death'. He had escaped death, disappeared off the face of the earth, come back, and even managed to rouse a small army. It was no surprise to him that Scott was angry. Hell, if he were in the man's shoes, he'd probably livid. His head was already in so much disarray as it was.


With a deep sigh, Alexsei still found himself hung up on one remaining truth. The damage was already done. Things were different now, feelings had changed. Alexsei knew this all too well, but still remained stubborn in his old ways.
He had already consigned himself to this fate, he had done so on that very day of choosing to die. Not once had he regretted his actions, and in his heart he knew that if he had to a make the choice again, he would have done it all over in a heartbeat. His loyalty to Scott had not left him. It had never once been forgotten, it had never once been lost. He would need all his strength to carry the loathing now, as well as all the hate.
It was the only price he could pay. Afterall, He; in his absence, had been the one who had put it all there. Through all his words of justice and honour, Alexsei knew that he had neglected his first duty - the one that had always meant the most to him; Protecting Scott. He had failed again, just like before with Lance.


Deciding at last to end the awkward silence, Alexsei tried to find his words. Not a single letter of consolation came to him.
Feeling a snarl of irritation threatened to escape his lips, he shook his head stubbornly, he whispered a decisive. 'No'
He would not stand for this any longer, he would not allow the person who had once meant heaven and earth to him, suffer any longer. The least Scott deserved was an answer, Some peace of mind.
Running a hand thoughtfully through his two-toned hair, The Russian's eyes narrowed uncertainly. "You want some clarity then?"
The silence had been broken at last, and casting down the bud of his cigarette, He killed carelessly it beneath his boot. "Fine. I'll agree to that... After everything I know that I owe you that much at least"
Taking a few steps forward, he turned his gaze away from Scott. He had tried for years to forget his fear of drowning, but that day had done him in. He utterly hated the ocean now. The very scent of it was enough to make him sick. The memory on the other hand...well, it still sent shivers down his spine each time. The nightmares every night since had never seemed to cease.


"The first thing that should be properly established, is the fact that I am indeed here and alive. I am not a ghost, and no apparition.", he chuckled bitterly at those last few words. He felt more like a ghost than anything else, He had certainly thought that when he had gone to visit his own grave.
"I never died that day...I should have, F*ck I even thought that I did... but I didn't."
His hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides, releasing then tightening, then repeating the process, "I remember you. I remember the excruciating pain of that beam hitting my shoulders, my legs going numb as the floor beneath my feet fell away-"
His eyes widened frightfully, "Falling, I'm falling into the ocean. There’s darkness and debris. I'm trapped. The blood keeps spilling out around me, like shinning ribbons."
HIs lips contracted in a sharp grimace, "There’s nothing after that. I might have seen a shadow, but I'm never quite sure."

He turned back towards his old friend, eyes ablaze with feelings from the past. They were rekindled and alive within the confines of his secret soul.
"I woke up two months later in hospital." he added on a more casual note. He smirked, "The bloody locals didn't speak a word of English of course.... That was just my luck"
Shaking his head, he couldn’t hold it back any longer. Bursting out into a fit of maddened laugher, he pressed "I thought that I'd never walk again. It was a horrible feeling...just lying there. Not being able to do a damn thing for myself. I hate it, every moment of it"
A deadly silence followed as the Russian tried to regain himself, and reigning in his emotions, he cleared his throat and shrugged, "It took up two good years before I could walk as I used to. From there on out, I left that place.... I tried to get back to the city... I came here to find you."

His intensive gaze clung to Scott's as though it were the one thing keeping him from his own hidden torment. "When I found out that Falkner had been shot down, that Gabe had fallen...Well, what the f*cking hell was I supposed to think happened to you, Scott"
His tone wasn't accusing, it was just sad, Sad and full of pained grief. He knew all too well the feeling loss. He had felt that emptiness far too many times already.

Why are these posts so loooooooooooong only after I post them XD I swear that it was shorter when I wrote it...

Scott puffed at his cigarette, glaring at the smoky tendrils rising around him like they were the breath of the Devil himself. Beside him, he heard Alexsei shift, and crush his own cigarette under his boot.
"You want some clarity then?" He asked, his voice loud in the silence, "Fine. I'll agree to that... After everything I know that I owe you that much at least."
"Damn straight." Scott sneered under his breath, but he did not raise his voice for Alexsei to hear. Instead, he took another vindictive puff of nicotine, and settled down to listen while Alexsei told his story.

Scott lived every moment with him. From the breaking beam, to the falling, and then the cold, dark water closing in around him. That was where his own senses left him, and he was forced to leave his own memories to journey back into Alexsei's; waking up hurt and frightened in a place he didn't know, with strangers on all sides. How terrifying that must have been for the loner of a man he'd once loved. How helpless he must have felt, a prisoner in his own body while people flocked around him - neither friend nor foe - and him unable to speak, unable to run... Scott shuddered on his behalf, then irritably shook off the empathy when he remembered his own indignation. Alexsei deserved to suffer for what he'd done! Still... No. No, he didn't mean that, not really. Deep down, he knew that. It was just easier, he found, to hate.

The silence stirred Scott's guilt, and with it, he felt the empathy creep back just a little, his eyes turning hesitantly back to the man beside him. He desperately wanted to reach out and comfort Alexsei, to wrap him in his arms, squeeze him tightly, and whisper in his ear that everything was going to be alright... That he was here now, and they'd get through it together. How he longed to brush those damp bangs away from his face and look into his cold eyes, to taste those lips once more... But he couldn't, he daren't. Slowly, Scott looked away again, and Alexsei took a deep breath before he continued.
"It took up two good years before I could walk as I used to. From there on out, I left that place.... I tried to get back to the city... I came here to find you."
Scott dropped his eyes to the ground.
"When I found out that Falkner had been shot down, that Gabe had fallen... Well, what the f*cking hell was I supposed to think happened to you, Scott?"
He didn't sound angry. If anything, he just sounded sad. He sounded defeated. Slowly, Scott began to give in to a small stirring of pity. With a deep intake of breath, he heaved a sigh and let his tense shoulders drop, allowing himself to lean a little closer in Alexsei's direction. He let the silence grow for a moment. Then, as he stared down at the smoking cigarette pinched between his fingers, his lips opened a crack, and he murmured, "Gabe died in my arms. We went after Giovanni - Gabe, Falkner and me - but in the end it was useless. We were useless." His gaze fell to the ground. "I was. I couldn't save them. We didn't realise how outnumbered we were until it was too late, and as soon as we turned to run, they shot him. Falkner." Scott uttered a humourless little snort of laughter, and with a grim snort, muttered, "I didn't even stop. Then they got Gabe, right in the back. Somehow I managed to get him out, but by the time I'd got him to safety it was too late. He bled out in my arms." Scott tapped some ash from his cigarette, sighed, and took another despondent puff. The silence stretched while he blew out the smoke, then he snuffed out his finished cigarette, and muttered, "I suppose we've both suffered. Everybody does. I guess I lost sight of that when I lost everything... Somehow, I thought it was just me." He uttered another derisive little chuckle. "It's a hard habit to break, isn't it: self pity? You would know." His tone was not unkind, and as he thought back to the surly boy he had met in the snow that day, he almost allowed himself a smile. Almost. He had loved that boy; loved him dearly. Was it really possible to believe that the same person was sitting beside him now? He was so close that Scott could reach out and touch him just by extending an arm, yet the space between them seemed impossible to breach. Alexsei might as well have been a world apart from him. Softly, Scott sighed into the quiet, stuffy air.
"It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?" He whispered. He didn't have to say what. "Do you think we'll ever get that back?" Here, at last, his eyes lifted, and he looked up at Alexsei through his overgrown fringe, cautious and disbelieving. He wanted to believe it, he really did, that their love could be rekindled. But he just didn't. No matter how long he looked at Alexsei, trying to feel that same love he had felt before, he just... Couldn't.

Conversing softy between rifts of tension and old familiarity; the two men slowly shared their memories and past experiences. They were like simple children, their hearts and hands filled with sticks and stones. Each scar; each experience, was something new and different. There were pages in their lives now that had been rewritten through the hands of fate, pages that should have had them both intertwined into a single story. If only fate had been so kind.

"It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?...Do you think we'll ever get that back?"
Scott's words were the very echo of Alexsei's own thoughts, and gazing up uncertainly, the Russian grimaced and turned away. What could he say to such words, he just didn't have the answer?
"I don't know...", he mumbled softly, the words creeping up over his turned shoulder like a filthy serpent. His deep blue bangs hanging before his eyes like a protective shield. They hid away his fear, the fear of the future.
It was strange, Alexsei had always been running away from the past, now in all honesty, he only wished that he could return to a time not so long ago, a time when things had been simpler between him and Scott.
Clearing his throat, the Russian shook off the tension with a hesitant shrug. He could barely stand it anymore.
"Let’s try not to think about things too much.", he added quietly. "It's been long and rough night...we should probably try and catch some shut eye."
With a tired sigh, The Russian slowly began to walk away, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets. He was utterly drained, exhausted both mentally and physically. His brain had overused what little energy it had had left.
As he was about to exit the room, he suddenly paused in midstride. His heartbeat in his throat.
Anxious, he suddenly turned his gaze back towards Scott. He stared hard into those dark brown eyes. There was something he wanted to say.
The Russian desperately wanted Scott to know how he felt. He wanted to tell him that even after everything they had gone through, his own feelings had never changed.
Opening his mouth to speak, Alexsei hesitated at the last moment. No, It's still too soon...
His words were left to curdle sourly inside his mouth. Frowning irritably at his own cowardice, he mumbled, "Sleep well..."

***********************************************

Considering their next to nothing accommodation, Alexsei slept like a dead man that night. It had been far too long since he or Scott had rested properly. The two of them sleep on well through the next day and even into the following morning.
When the first light of dawn rose on the second day, Alexsei felt his eyes finally open on instinct. His inner clocked had reset itself, forcing him to rise early as he always had.
Crawling up from his make shift bed of cardboard boxes and moth-eaten sheets, the Russian staggered to his feet with only one thought in mind- Food.
The craving came like an acidic burn inside his stomach, and he nearly fell over retching as his empty guts contracted painfully. How long had it been since he had eaten? He felt like death rolled over. The sensation was horrid and he snarled irritably as the pain gradually began to abate.
Getting back up onto his weakened knees, The Russian began his search immediately. He Raided through the Laundromat for any scrap of sustenance he could find, He was at the point where even the sight of soup looked inviting enough to eat.
An ancient vending machine in the corner of the room eventually caught his attention, and carelessly tossing aside the boxes that had been hiding it, he began to examine the metal box with ravenous eyes.
To him it may as well have been heaven’s blessing, for at moment he could have sworn that god’s came shining brightly out of the damn thing's ass. His hunger was clearly getting to him.
Wasting as little time as possible, the Russian set to work, beginning his tedious task of dismantling the object by any means possible. If coins were used once necessary, they certainly weren’t now.
Patience had never been one of Alexsei's strong points, and after getting past the fifth screw with actual tools, he swore loudly in his native tongue, and gave in to his hunger like an animal. It was much quicker to just beat the thing into submission. It eventually croaked up its contents...Eventually.

Scott dropped his gaze when Alexsei got up and left to find somewhere to sleep. He watched his own feet, kicking absently at the air where they dangled off the washing machine. His heart ached. It always did, but now it had gone from a dull, throbbing reminder to a lancing realization. He had found Alexsei... But their love, he had lost. Even Alexsei had said it. He didn’t know if they’d ever get it back.

A faint breeze - or perhaps he’d imagined it - sent a chill over Scott’s skin, and he looked up instinctively to see Alexsei stop in the doorway, hesitating with his hand on the frame. Turn around. He willed the man silently, Turn around! Fix this, fix me, like your always did. Give me hope.
For a long moment, Scott just watched the man’s back, and as he was about to give up and look away, Alexsei turned back to him. Their eyes met, and Scott’s heart leaped in a way that he’d forgotten it could. He looked into Alexsei’s eyes, saw the words balanced on the tip of his tongue, and willed silently, Say it! Tell me that it’s not all over. That there’s still hope for us!
But Alexsei hesitated, and all that left his mouth were the words, ”Sleep well.”
“Hm.” Scott grunted, a sigh of disappointment trailing out under his breath, “You too.”
He should have known better than to hope.

Morning dawned like a kick in the gut. Scott opened his eyes to the ugly, blazing light of day, then groaned and curled up into himself, aching all over. He didn’t remember how he’d ended up getting to sleep, but judging by the pain in every inch of his body, he presumed he must have fallen off the washing machine. Thank goodness nobody had been around to see that!
Embarrassed, he fixed his hair with a scratch of his fingers, then sat up and yawned, rubbing his eyes. A series of violent clangs echoed from the next room. Obviously, Alexsei was awake.
“What the f*ck is he doing this early in the morning?” Scott grumbled to himself, getting up and picking prissily at his hair again as he dragged himself back down to the basement. The hanging light cast an orange glow over the dark room, and in the corner his ex boyfriend was viciously assaulting an innocent vending machine. As Scott watched, Alexsei finally shattered the glass with a brick and retrieved his prize, tearing open the packet of crisps like an animal. The second the vinegary scent hit his nostrils, Scott’s mouth flooded with saliva, and he trotted briskly over to grab a bag for himself. They ate in silence, tearing ravenously through a mound of expired junk food before they’d finally each filled their bellies enough to think clearly again.

Resurfacing from his animalistic state, Scott wiped his mouth, and heaved a satisfied sigh. “I feel human again.” He declared, actually even smiling a little. His full stomach was making him feel giddy after so many days of starvation. It was like being drunk. “So, how exactly do you reckon we should go about getting out of here? They’ll be after us, no doubt.” He frowned, thinking it over, and picked up a coin from the big pile that the vending machine had belched out. He flipped it over in his fingers a few times, then stopped, a lightbulb expression crossing his face as he stared at the little shining disk. “There was a payphone just around the corner.” He said, “I saw it when we ran in here. We’ve got money now - if we can just get there unnoticed, I’ve got somebody I could call to get us away safely.”
‘Us’, he’d said. Scott frowned slightly at the realization. So, after everything, he honestly didn’t just want to part ways, and let Apollo slip back into his old role while Hawk slipped back into his. That was why he’d thought of Scarlet. Scarlet who, alone, knew of the man he’d been before, and of Alexsei. She wasn’t one of his crew - not a blindly following babboon or a child obsessed with a cause. She was loyal to him, and if he told her that he’d decided he wanted to keep his greatest rival safe, well... Scarlet would accept that. She’d accepted all kinds of crazy from him before. How would this be any different?
But... Did Alexsei - no, Apollo - even want to stay with him? He, too, had a cause, after all. An army to lead. It was time to stop this guessing game.
“What’s your plan, anyway?” He asked, turning back to Alexsei, “I mean, where are you going to go from here?What are you going to do? It’ll be difficult to go back to being enemies now.” He offered a humourless smirk, “But I certainly don’t want to be the one to explain a spontaneous alliance to my crew. They hate you.” He shrugged, “We’re supposed to hate each other. It won’t be easy getting around that.”

With his hunger abated, Alexsei could finally focus his energy on the next big problem they seemed to face; evading Team Rocket.
They were still within range of Team Rocket's Headquarters, and despite their 24 hour head start, The Russian knew that it was only a matter of time before they were found out.
Team Rocket had a pretty tight network of spies, all of which were neatly spread out through City. ALexsei had seen them, heard them, fought them. Word of their escape had no doubtably travelled by now. They weren't safe.
“So, how exactly do you reckon we should go about getting out of here? They’ll be after us, no doubt.”
Scott had clearly reached the same conclusion he had. Rubbing his chin in contemplative thought, the Russian murmured, "It'll be difficult to simply leave. They have eyes on every street...It would be easier if we could get hold of our members on the outside. Maybe create a distraction"
He wrinkled his brow, the thoughts inside his head were already knitting together a plan, He could see it all in the back of his mind. It could work.
If they had a distraction to keep Team Rocket occupied, escaping would be as easy as taking a walk through the park. One obstacle however, still stood boldly before them, irritating Alexsei to the point of yet another temper.
They had absolutely no means of communication. He hadn't seen a single phone, computer, radio...nothing. Seriously, What kind of safe house is this?
With a less than hopeful sigh, The Russian grumbled, "I don't suppose you have a cell phone or something hidden away here, do you?"
Processing those words, a copper coin danced up through the air. It glimmered for a moment as the light caught it, before falling back into the palm of Scott's hand.
“There was a payphone just around the corner... I saw it when we ran in here. We’ve got money now - if we can just get there unnoticed, I’ve got somebody I could call to get us away safely.”
Mulling over this carefully, the Russian's feature's softened a notch. He seemed satisfied, and nodding rare agreement, he smirked, "Okay, We'll go with that idea then."
Getting to his feet, he dusted himself off and collected a handful of coins. "If your accomplice can cause enough ruckus on the east side of the city, we should have enough chaos to slip through towards the west." With a mocking chuckle, he added" Team Rocket's always had a rather bad habit of flocking towards one spot. Draw them out, and the path is clear."
Making his way towards the ladder they had originally come from down, Alexsei began to inspect it. Will we head back out the way we came? Or perhaps out the back part of the shop...I'm starting to hate f*cking decisions.

“What’s your plan, anyway?"
"Hm?" Looking up, Alexsei glanced at Scott through an expression of clear confusion, "What do you mean? Haven't we already discussed the plan?" He sounded annoyed, but Scott shook it off, “I mean, where are you going to go from here? What are you going to do? It’ll be difficult to go back to being enemies now...But I certainly don’t want to be the one to explain a spontaneous alliance to my crew. They hate you.”
Scott had a point there, Alexsei hadn't actually thought about how the Valcan would react to seeing him; a fallen, in alliance with their leader. That was bound to cause a certain degree of conflict.
“We’re supposed to hate each other. It won’t be easy getting around that.”
With a rather indifferent shrug, The Russian suddenly realized something. He proceeded to fiddle with the ladder, clearly unfazed about the entire ordeal. "Who knows? You're the only one after all who knows the identity of Apollo...As for me, gang or not, I roam as freely as I please."
He smirked Scott's way, his old loyalty clear in the sly curve of those handsome lips. "Don't you remember? I'm a ghost. We are as you English call us, Invisible."

*******************************************************************


The hours crept by slowly, dragged back by the anticipation of the two men, as they silently filled the remainder of their time playing poker.
When the time to take action finally arose, they headed out into the streets on a wordless command. The Laundromat left behind without a second glance
Working as a unit, they padded skilfully through the dark, tracking each other's steps like two wolves on a hunt.