Sunlight crept in-between the curtains to hit my face; it was the was the first thing I felt that morning that could rouse me out of the best feverish dream I'd ever had. Warmth from the morning light immediately took me back to dreams of a domineering, insatiable partner, taking control I was happy to give. Something about "her" was darkly charming, flooding my head and body with weird pleasure. My morning stiffness strained even harder as I woke up feeling a drooling smile on my face. My vision cleared to appreciate being in a hotel, alone, remembering suffering from another "terrible" hallucination last night. Even the clarity that shot through me that I dreamt about Maelstrom, what she could and was doing to me, didn't rise to the level of me disliking it.
I groaned happily as I felt sore, exhausted, and erect. I walked naked into the shower, reveling in rare privacy I never thought I had at Epsilon. Living in proximity to a mind-reader kept me keenly reserved in lots of ways, not to mention I wouldn't put it past my room and the facilities being bugged with audio and video. For long minutes, I just let the hot, steamy water run over my body, letting more heat remind me of last night. The memories ramped up the sensations, and before any part of me could object to how hot things were getting, something close to me from somewhere was insisting I let go to it, letting these feelings freely happen without giving them a second thought. Under the shower head, I just tipped my head back and took the suggestions to heart, feeling everything that came.
I welcomed it all, even a specific heat that I gave somewhat a thought to, marveling how hot it felt, like flame trails across my skin. I might've minded how hot it was, if it didn't directly remind me of that mindless helplessness from the flame in Maelstrom's eyes; hot hallucination by other means, something inside me joked. I was half-aware of stroking myself in the shower, but all my awareness went there as a flame trail made its way southward, aiding in the stroking. I yelped, moaned loudly, and released as hard as the night before. Before my knees gave out too much, I luckily grasped at something to keep from collapsing in the shower, and quickly made myself stand up straight before my Hier-half would rip another shower bar off the wall accidentally.
After drying off, and letting my head clear, I had to slap myself a few times. Ignoring the afterglow and satisfaction, I kept telling reminding myself how strong Hierarch hallucinations can be. Stories about what psychics like Copula, and other mind-breakers out there were capable of scared the crap out of me; I got lucky that that mine didn't go past untapped fantasies of about goth girls with fire in their eyes. "Sounds like a song I hope I never hear on the radio," I laughed.
"Cause you wouldn't ever get it out of your head..."
another part of me joked, and I agreed.
Leaving my motel, I drove to the public library closest to the college town. Having been there a few times before, I knew exactly where to go, and thankfully I looked unassuming enough that no one gave me a second glance. I didn't even sense my escorts nearby or shadowing me at the library, so I found a new trashy horror novel to read in peace. It was mercifully short, though I got good, quiet laughs out of it, and silently enjoyed reading about others having it worse than me. Once I was done with it, I brought the book to the desk, asking the librarian if she had anything worth reading. With small smile, she took my novel and gave me some autobiography, which I took to a private room.
Between thick pages was a letter waiting for me, written by my cousin Mickey who was a sophomore of the college nearby, the only family I had left that dared communicate with me; me being a Hierarch actually improved his opinion of me, thinking I was some kind of superhero. The letter went on about how college life was, asking if I kicked any "bad-guy asses" lately, spoke diplomatically about the family, and added his usual words of encouragement and acceptance. On a blank sheet of paper, I wrote my reply of how proud I was of him, with how few of my family went to college, giving him sparse but honest details of stuff I was doing day-to-day, and gave him back encouragement and thanks for being someone to talk to, even in dollar store cloak-and-dagger style.
"Awwww,"
a heart-warming sensation nudged me inside for the sappy correspondence.
I gave the recommended book back to the librarian, called the book enlightening, as I left and hit the road back in the direction of the compound. A hospital halfway between the library and Epsilon was where Epsilon's team leader, Javier Marquez aka Radio, was recovering from a bad incursion not long ago. A former Navy Seal coupled with the Hierarch ability to intercept, decode, and decipher radio waves, Radio an invaluable leader, the glue that held the rest of the team, and its weakest part, together. "He definitely would've been invaluable for my first official mission," I thought as I found him in his room, thankfully still there instead of with doctors running tests.
"Hey man," he sounded weak, like he just woke up not too long ago.
"Hey Jav. How's it going today?"
"About the same, trying to push me being ready for physical therapy, doctors aren't having it. Same ol'. You?"
"I wish. My new gig...put me out in the field."
"They what?"
"Yeah."
"...Peters-your boss allowed that?"
"Guess so."
"Does that mean you've gotten the...hang of your job?"
"The research part, yeah. The rest...still no."
He facepalmed loudly, trying not to get upset, mimicking my feelings of the past two days. Quietly filling him in on the last day or so, a first-hand account compared to the brief briefing he'd eventually get later, I could see in his face how he wished I would sneak him out of the hospital and back to active duty. I wouldn't have, but told him I appreciate the sentiment.
"Can't believe I'm missing all the fun," he joked, the kind of humor that would land well with most.
"Yeah, 'fun.'"
"Hey, how fun is it to face down a threat like this Maelstrom and still be breathing?"
"Fun..."
a teasing notion goaded the rest of me. Out of the small number people I trusted in life at this point, Radio was one of the top, but even I held back every last detail.
"You call it fun, I call it luck."
"Not 'lucky'...?"
I quietly asked the notion within to shut up, but felt it smirk.
"It could be fun enough when you get the hang of things, especially the rest of the job. I don't even need to ask if you're keeping up with the meditation regimen, do I?
I rolled my eyes at him like a younger brother being chided by an older, responsible brother about chores.
"You do realize that no one documents me doing that of all things. So yeah, no need to ask because I'm doing it every day, after every workout, and right before bed, and your 'intuition' can't prove otherwise."
"Heh, gotta love when the newest recruit underestimates the oldest, forgetting he has sources everywhere."
