Non-Mutation (Book Four)

Chapter 15: Crushed Velvet

Crushed velvet is the result of when a velvet's pile is forced in a single direction, causing the velvet to lose its changeable, iridescent effect.

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Taylor stands beside Hun and Fong, watching the other Purple Dragons train and workout. Hun and Fong have their own conversation, muttering to one another with narrowed eyes and displeased looks. Hun turns around and motions to Taylor as he starts towards the stairs. She follows him, her walk stiff.

"How is the plan coming along?" Hun asks, casting a glance at the sixteen-year-old over his sunglasses.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "It's fine."

He arches an eyebrow. "I need to know more, Taylor."

She shrugs. "There isn't a whole lot to say. I'm distracting them, aren't I?"

She almost cowers as Hun growls, making her muscles tense up, one foot shifting into an easier position to defend herself if needed. He removes his sunglasses and cleans the lenses with the corner of his shirt.

"Plans change," he says tersely. "The distraction isn't enough anymore."

"I...I know, but—"

"Mutacorp wants mutants. The mutagen isn't enough anymore," he continues. "The new plan is simple; you befriend them, get them to trust you...and then we seal the deal."

She swallows hard, but nods. "Right, of course. Fake everything..." She flashes a sheepish smile. "But...uh...those scientists, what if they're—"

He snatches a fistful of her shirt in his fist and yanks her upwards so that she's forced to perch on the tips of her toes. "Do not question what they want," Hun hisses. She turns her face away from him and squeezes her eyes shut. "They were paying us to steal, now they're paying us to get our hands on a couple of mutants. Prove that you're useful, Fuentes."

He shoves her down and she hits the ground hard, a sharp pain rolling up her elbow. She grips it and forces another obedient nod. As Hun walks away, she stumbles back to her feet and blinks back tears of frustration.

"Hey."

She looks up. Fong lingers at the edge of the staircase, tossing a small bundle to himself. He tosses it to Taylor and she catches it with her free hand, only then noticing that they're bandages.

"Clean yourself up," he says, crossing his arms over his lean chest as he glances down at the training below them.

"Oh...okay," she mumbles.

He adjusts his vest. "Look, it's easier to not think about it," he says. She can't tell whether he's annoyed, concerned, or neither. "The money's good, so we take it. That's how it is."

Her eyes narrow. "Is there anything that isn't worth the money?"

Fong's expression is borderline deadpan. "Kid, when you live like we do, money is everything. The quicker you learn that, the better." He points at the bandages again. "Don't mention that I gave you those. They're from Chun's stash."

"Right. Thanks, Fong."

He nods again before tromping down the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets. Taylor peers over the edge of the railing to see him join Sid and Tsoi in a game of cards, although Taylor guesses it could easily be some sort of poker. Ever since the gang got bigger and more members starting keeping some loot as their own, gambling has gotten more popular.

Taylor's played against her fellow members only a few times, trying to get enough money for some new clothes and essentials, but she dropped it after a particularly good win ended with one too many fists coming at her. She'd rather earn more of the loot in the first place than try to win more.

She drags herself to her room, thoughts of the last few nights returning to her. Raphael knows her big secret and yet he's still chosen to see her. His words feel like punches to her gut, sharp and stunning. He cares. He cares. He cares.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," Taylor mutters as she flops on her bed and starts bandaging her bruised elbow. "It's all just lust. I don't blame him."

She pins the bandage in place and cranks her arm a few times, stretching the aching muscles despite the pain. Satisfied, she sinks on the mattress with a groan, hair in a mess on her pillow. Distraction was easy, harmless, a simple trick to get away with more. The new plan is increasingly underhanded and the idea makes her stomach curl.

She's flirted her way out of numerous scenarios, batted her eyelashes at whichever target Hun has told her to, and until recently she found fun in it. She felt mature to be able to get such attention from older guys while being so young. She liked feeling that much power over them just by being beautiful. With Raphael, she let herself go further and further because for the first time, she was toying with a boy closer to her own age and she could finally try some new tactics without fear.

Now, Raphael has said that he cares about her.

She rests her hands on her face and takes the longest breath she can manage, then exhales. She tries to focus on what's immediately around her, searching for clarity or for something that can help her come to terms with what she has to do. There's the soft crunch of Bindo eating lettuce, the grunts and shouts of the men outside, the creaking of the factory as it settles on its weary foundation.

"Those scientists just want knowledge," she whispers. "That's all. It's not like they're going to dissect them."

Bile rises in her throat at the thought of Raphael being sliced apart and she has to slap herself on the cheeks repeatedly to get the phoney image from her head.

"No, shut up. This is about the Kraang and the mutagen they brought to Earth," she mutters. "All they want is answers so they can understand how the mutagen works. Who better to ask than mutants, right?" Her arm drapes off the edge of the bed. "And...I can keep seeing him. I can keep being...me."

She imagines his face, his features softening, his voice sincere even if his tone is snappy at times. She thought he was lying the first time he said that he wanted to learn about all of her, but now he's just confirmed that he wasn't. Somehow, despite everything, he cares about her as a human being.

There's no way, she thinks. Angry tears spring to her eyes and no matter how hard she tries to will them back, they keep coming. She rolls onto her side and hugs her pillow to her chest, shoulders quivering as she buries her face in it.

"You're an idiot, Raphael. You're so stupid," she utters. She pulls back and stares at the pillow, picturing his face. "How could you care about someone like me? I'm not worth your time!" She punches the helpless object, once, twice, then three, four, and more. Hot tears roll down her face and her throat burns as she. "¡Idiota! ¡Eres estúpido! ¡Muy, muy estúpido! ¡Te odio tanto!"

She aims one last punch, her fire dying as she collapses onto the bed in a crying, angry mess. She squeezes her eyes shut and grips the pillow as tight as she can, sucking in shaky breath after shaky breath.

"Don't think about it too much," she sings to herself.