trans_9 | A Fatal Truth [Closed, bendy time like whoa]

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A Fatal Truth [Closed, bendy time like whoa]

[[OOC: Bendy time back to Lirath during this thread]]

Daimon did not volunteer for the front lines. He couldn't in his condition and it was against the advice of his doctor. But he knew that there would still be danger and he was right. The Catastrophists (if they were on Earth Daimon would have wondered if they chose their name at the same meeting as the Legion of Nihilists) had been brought on board alongside refugees and now was when they chose to strike.

Dealing with the Catastrophists didn't concern Daimon at first. He quickly reevaluated that judgment. His soulfire was fading and he found it more and more difficult to control it. If only those accursed refugees would run faster out of the way.

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Since being on the ship, Patsy Walker hadn't really had plenty of chances to get trussed up in full Hellcat gear - well, as full a gear as she could manage.

Suffice to say, despite the dire circumstances, the former teen model was more than happy to be wearing her bright blue cowl.

"So," she said as she used her limited telekinesis. "This is new."

Daimon didn't know why but it was comforting to see Patsy wearing her cowl, if not her full outfit (and, truth be told, he really missed the yellow spandex). If he had the time to think about it longer he might attribute it to meeting Patsy Walker first as Hellcat. Or perhaps it was simply the reminder of the days they fought alongside as Defenders, saving the world instead of trying to find a way to bring their destroyed universe back.

But he had much more to be concerned about. The cultist who was aiming a gun at his face, for instance. Daimon pointed his trident at the man and through a great deal of luck and good timing, Daimon's soulfire got to him before he could pull the trigger. The screams of pain no longer pulled at the son of Satan like it had when still harbored his darksoul. Now it only evoked sympathy and regret.

He kicked away the gun before the Catastrophist could recover.

"Funny," He said now that he had the time to respond to Patsy. "I was just thinking about how these 'Catastrophists' remind me of a group I once fought."

"They do seem to have the same sort of originality that the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, the Masters of Evil, and the Sinister Six have when it comes to giving themselves names," Patsy nods. She launches herself into the air and does a backspring off the shoulders of a cultist. She takes him with her, using her momentum to throw him as she lands on her feet. She grins and does a backflip back to her...Daimon.

"Isn't being a superhero fun?"

Daimon couldn't help but smile. Patsy was so exuberant, so full of life... so unlike what he was about to become.

His smile faded and he turned away to face another Catastrophist. "It has its appeal."

Though he dispatched his foe quickly he failed to notice another cultist had his gun aimed at him and this time he did not stop it. But as the Catastrophist fired Daimon stepped aside. The bullet grazed his arm. It stung and there was blood but it was superficial. It was also the least of his problems.

Whether it was from the surge of adrenaline and sudden demand on his body, the stress of the fighting, or simply fate mocking him, Daimon fell onto his knees.

His heart burned. It wasn't from the fires of love or any other romantic cliche he might use to describe his love for Patsy. It was pain. Pure, indescribable pain. It overwhelmed all his senses and reason. And it was only a taste of what was to come.

Patsy reacted as soon as she realized that the bullet had grazed Daimon. There was no savage yell of fury or anything quite so dramatic - which was amazing, really, given that Patsy could be given to an exuberantly dramatic moment or two - but she was airborne, heading straight for the cultist who'd shot her...Daimon.

She reached out with her left hand and clawed to the left, knocking the gun out of her opponent's hand with her telekinetic talent. She then turned in the air and wrapped her legs around the cultist, glaring at him from under her mask. She slashed at him, twice, and knocked him out. She released him and flipped back to Daimon.

She gasped as she got closer to him. The waves of pain that were coming off of him were insanely intense. She frowned as she crouched next to him.

"Daimon?"

"I'm-" Usually these 'attacks' were brief but they had been growing. The burning intensity subsided, for now at least. What pain he was experiencing now was... bearable. The physical pain, anyway.

"I'm sorry, Patsy."

"..." Patsy reached out with a gloved hand and cupped Daimon's chin. She angled his head up so that he was looking at her, and she frowned gently.

"Sorry about what, hon?"

He should tell her. He needed to tell her. She needed to know but...

This should not be happening. They were in the middle of battle. They were vulnerable. They needed to focus on staying alive and saving people. If anything happened it would be Daimon's fault. This was not the right time to tell her. It never was.

"Nothing." Daimon Hellstrom said. It was a horrible response and Patsy Walker would have seen through it immediately. But she didn't have to ask what he was hiding. The pain was distracting him too much, the wards he kept around his thoughts were done and Patsy could hear quite clearly the words I'm dying coming from him.

Patsy stared at Daimon. Of all the things she'd expected, getting I'm dying from his mind wasn't one of them.

And the dying thing, it wasn't due to the shallow wound he'd gotten, that much was obvious. It was something else. Something that Daimon hadn't thought was important enough to share with Patsy.

"What?" she asked, stunned.

Why was it Daimon couldn't look Patsy in the eyes when he lied to her? Why did he have to feel horrible every time he did? This was for her. This was all for her that was why he hadn't told her.

Or maybe, if he was being honest with himself, it was all for himself.

"This isn't the time."

He tried to stand but he was so tired. The pain in his chest was gone but every muscle ached. As much as he resisted his thoughts went back to his first meeting with Dr. Hussain.

"A few months. I don't have anything firmer than that. We might be able to stretch that out, but I'd wager it at less than six months even then."

"Fine. We don't have to talk about it," Patsy replied.

But we can think about it, she said, directing her thoughts at him. Because I'm not letting this go.

For a moment Daimon's jaw went slack.

"You- You heard me."

He didn't say it but Patsy could hear him swearing very loudly in his head.

"I have some telepathic ability," Patsy replied. Didn't you know that?

"...Yes, yes I do..." How could he be so foolish? The pain had distracted him and now... Dear, God.

"Patsy, I'm sorry. That's not- I never wanted you to find out that way... I never wanted to hurt you." Hearing his words he knew how empty they sounded. They were pitiful excuses and Patsy would treat them as such. She was angry with him, as well she should be. It was what he deserved.

"Never wanted me to find out that way...or were you just not going to tell me?" Patsy asked. She gently placed a hand over his shallow bullet wound and pressed down on it. "We need to get you some help for that," she added. "And for whatever issue you have where you don't share things with the people who care about you."

He wanted to tell her not to bother, that he was fine but that would have been a lie. And he was so weak.

"Of course I was going to tell you. How could I not? But you were so happy I thought- I didn't want to spend the last few months of my life seeing you in pain."

"Oh, sure," Patsy said drily. "I'll just have pain surprise after you die. How thoughtful." Her look softened behind her mask. "I'm sorry. That was...I'm sorry. You're in pain." She reached out and gently touched Daimon's cheek. "We'll figure this out."

Daimon genuinely felt horrible and not because of the pain in his chest or the fatigue.

There's nothing to figure out. He wanted to say then realized he might as well have.

"I'll go to the infirmary before I become even more of a liability to everyone."

"Not without me, you won't," Patsy said. She reached down and put herself under one of Daimon's arms. "Come along," she said. "I'll support you."

"Patsy..." They were in the middle of a battle this was not the time for it. And yet Daimon Hellstrom had once again made it all about him even when that was the last thing he wanted to do.

But if Patsy was helping him then she would be out of danger for the moment. And while Daimon knew she was more than capable of handling herself he also knew that these were not their typical foes. So he did not protest her help as he stood.

"I'm sorry."

"Damn straight you are," Patsy grumbled. "But words aren't enough this time, handsome. I'm thinking a Hellcat-mobile or a Hellcatacombs secret base or something," she added, trying to brighten the mood up at least a little.

It wasn't working all that well. Patsy was very upset with Daimon for keeping this to himself. "You don't do this to people you love."

"But I do love you. Please believe me. I was going to tell you but- it was never the right time and-" And all of his excuses were just that: excuses. "And I was selfish." For once he couldn't blame that on the darksoul, that was all him.

"You have to learn to be less of that, sweetie. Especially with me," she said gently. She lead him around a particularly bad patch of badness and hugged him a little closer. "Otherwise, I'll be the one getting hurt, and we both know you don't want that."

Daimon leaned into Patsy's touch for both emotional and physical support.

"I don't know how I can avoid hurting you this time." He confessed.

That was a lie. There was one way but everything that he was rebelled against the idea. He would not do it, not even for Patsy.

"We'll figure it out," Patsy replied. Did she know that one specific way? Probably not. But her answer was ominous enough for a telepath.

And this was one reason of many why Daimon hadn't told her. Not that he could blame her, if he were in her position he would have the same reaction.

"Patsy," He said gently. "We've faced many enemies and won but the one enemy that cannot be defeated is death."

"Please," Patsy scoffed. "We're from a world where a soldier from World War Two was stuck in ice for decades. And you're the Son of Satan. I think there are some things we can find a way to cheat." She certainly sounded more confident than she felt.

"This is different." He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. "This involves souls. Even I don't understand it all." And he was the unqualified expert on his own souls, first an overabundance and now a lack of one.

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A Fatal Truth [Closed, bendy time like whoa]

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