chapter twenty-eight:
Caelum sat there for another twenty minutes. The silence in the room encompassed him, as he waited for someone, anyone, to get him. Who was next? Sarah and Dorri? Matthew and Foggy? How many times was he going to keep pushing people who wanted to help him away? How long was he going to live like this?
The door opened and Foggy stepped in. He was smiling down at him. Caelum felt the sudden urge to scream at him, even though he hadn’t done anything. Was this how his father felt all the time? Just, angry? Just, wild?
“It took a bit of persuading, but they agreed,” Foggy announced. “With your background, and likely case of some kind of anxiety, it would be better for you to stay with us, as an alternative. Do you need to call your parents? Or any older siblings?”
Caelum was quiet for a bit, then he said, “What is going on with my brothers? Has someone tried to go to the address Principal Davis pointed out yet?”
“No,” Matthew said, and Caelum went stiff. “There’s no way to confirm the location of your brothers based on the information given by Mr. Davis, and between his injury, your arrest, and Mahoney’s suspension, no officers have been dispatched yet.”
“Why not?” Caelum snapped, glaring at the man. “He confessed! He said that they were being held there! Can’t they send someone to just check if it’s being inhabited!?”
“That’s not our place to say,” Foggy said, frowning. “You can talk to an officer, but I don’t think they’ll be changing their minds just yet, at least not until things calm a bit down. But, enough of that ― I’ll be back later this afternoon to pick you up, maybe around six or seven. Until then, hold tight, don’t talk about anything without us, alright?” He gave him a comforting smile, Caelum said nothing. He didn’t want this man’s smile, he wanted Peter’s.
Matthew was watching him closely with an obvious frown on his face. “Have they taken the handcuffs off, yet?” Matthew asked.
“No, sir,” Caelum said, moving his hands so they jingled against the metal of the table.
“Foggy, can you call an officer in here to take care of that?” Foggy rose an eyebrow, looking between the two of them, suspiciously. “Take your time, no rush,” Matthew added, and Foggy suddenly got the message.
“Oh! Yeah, sure, I’ll just. . .” He made a wide gesture towards the door, “Find a cop. . .” He grabbed his briefcase, and stepped out of the room.
“What’s wrong?” Matthew asked as soon as he left.
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Caelum replied simply. “I’m fine.”
“A young boy ran out of this cell earlier, Foggy said that he saw him come in here. Did something happen ― did you tell him something we may need to know?” Caelum frowned, not wanting to think about Peter storming out of the police station, teary-eyed and flustered.
“No, I. . . he and I just had a fight,” Caelum noted, softly. “Nothing to worry about.” If anything, Peter would finally find it in himself to leave him alone.
It was a strange thing, when he was first approached by Peter, he wanted nothing to do with the boy. He wanted him to be at least a state away from him at all times ― at least that way, he wouldn’t have to worry about him and his feelings. But, in the past year or so, he’s been more open to Peter than he has been with anyone in his life ― if you didn’t count the ghost. Peter was someone Caelum could trust, someone he relied on, and Caelum didn’t want him getting tainted and disturbed by his life and his way of living. He wanted Peter to fall asleep not worrying about him, he wanted Peter to be happy without him, so that if anything ever happened to him, like they did his mother, he would be unconcerned.
But, it didn’t turn out like that. His attempts to push Peter away merely drew him closer, his attempts to get the boy to hate him only made Caelum fall further in love with him. Peter was strong, resilient, and stayed with Caelum despite everything he said and did. He was loyal, and Caelum appreciated it. He didn’t deserve a friend like Peter, he didn’t deserve to be in love with Peter.
“Caelum?” Matthew prompted, and Caelum shook himself out of his thoughts and self-loathing. “Will you be alright for now?” He needed to get his act together, he needed to stop worrying about Peter and Principal David and start worrying about the important things ― his brothers.
“If I am released, do you think the police will allow me to investigate the area he said my brothers were being held at?” He asked Matthew, who raised an eyebrow at the sudden question.
“I wouldn’t know,” Matthew said, honestly. “Based on the video, Davis had already been shown in a disturbed mental state. Like I said, there’s no way to prove the information, but―”
“If the police believe him to be lying, then there would be no question for me to go see for myself?” He asked, and Matthew frowned, neither confirming nor denying anything. Caelum didn’t need him to.
“I don’t want you doing anything that would put you in danger,” Matthew advised. “And in any way, if the information is correct, it would be best to contact the police before trying to see if you could do it yourself ― this is real life, not Scooby Doo.”
“I never said it was, sir,” Caelum replied, sitting straight. “But, thank you for the advice.”
Matthew pressed his lips together. Then, he stepped forward and lightly set a hand on his shoulder. He tried not to tense under his hold. “We’re going to find you brothers, Caelum,” Matthew assured. “Don’t worry.” He slipped something in front of Caelum. A small business card. "Call us, if you need something, alright?"
“Thank you,” Caelum said monotonously. He waited for the man to leave the room before he began to scheme, thinking of a way to get out of this cell.
° · ° · ° · °
He waited a good hour after Foggy and Matthew left before trying anything. They would just get in the way of his escape, and he needed this to be as smooth as possible.
“Sir!” He called out the partially opened door. “Is anyone there?” He waited a few minutes before calling out again, “Hello!? Is anyone out there?”
A minute later, a man stepped in the cell. He was well-rounded, with a balding head, no facial hair, and a particularly tight uniform. His hand rested on his waist where his gun was, along with a set of keys. “I need to use the restroom, and I think I cut myself earlier with these cuffs ― I don’t want to get tetanus,” he forced a convincing chuckle. “Do you think I can get these off? It’s not like I’m going anywhere in a place full of cops.”
The man seemed to consider this before stepping forward, pulling his key ring off. He flipped through a few before bending over, pushing a key in the hole and twisting it. It clicked and Caelum stood, stepping away from the chair. He smiled at the man, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you.”
He was in the officer’s body. He moved down to the chair, and sat, then maneuvered his thick, calloused fingers to lock himself in. From there, he waited about five minutes until his neck started to burn, and he was forced out of the body.
He stepped back as the man slumped forward, unconscious. He turned and began to move for the door, twisting the knob and stepping out. He scanned the hallway, seeing a few officers milling around, talking, or hurrying from one place to another.
He breathed, and stepped into the hallway, catching the eye of an isolated female officer and blinking.
He moved swiftly towards her, dodging the men and women bustling from one place to another ― Matthew didn’t lie when he said things were ‘hectic’. He used the woman to grab his shoulders, ushering him out of the hall and to the front doors. It was hard, his legs were like jello and his eyes glazed over, distant and unseeing. He looked, for all intents and purposes, dead.
He pushed his head down and shuffled quickly, feeling the heat of the back of his neck beginning to prickle and burn. He stepped past the secretary, and hurried to the door. He just needed to get out, leave her in an alley or something, and run. Then, he could go to―
“Ma’am!” A voice cried out, and he kept walking. Someone grabbed his arm, tight, and put themselves in front of him. “Where are you taking him?” It was Peter. Caelum was going to scream.
He needed to think fast. “It’s classified, sorry kid.”
“That’s my friend, please,” Peter begged. His brown eyes begging and Caelum felt his face twitch. An odd heating rose up on his cheeks ― could he blush in this woman’s body? Oh, god, he didn’t want to do that.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to legally tell you―”
“Cael! Cael, where is she taking you?” Peter turned to him, looking him straight in the eyes. Caelum twitched, feeling the phantom tingling on the back of his neck.
He had to get out of the open. He didn’t have much time left in this body. He didn’t know if that man had woken up yet ― he closed the door, but was it soundproof? “Look, kid, I don’t have time for this. Move, or you’ll be arrested too.” Peter glared up at the woman defiantly.
Caelum pulled his body around Peter, “Wait!” He didn’t stop moving. He ran, practically dragging his body behind him. He moved down several blocks, getting strange looks from strangers as he passed ― and he wasn’t surprised. He was dragging a lifeless body behind him as he tore through large crowds.
He nearly collapsed as he turned the corner, the back of his neck was on fire. He forced himself out of view behind a dumpster, and looked back in his eyes, blinking.
The woman dropped immediately, and so did Caelum. He breathed heavily, the early May sun bearing down fiercely on him. He tried to catch his breath ― he didn’t have much time, Peter definitely made a scene back there. He had to get to his brothers before the police came after him.
He shakily got to his feet, huffing in the city’s smog-filled heat. He took one last glance at the considerably pale faced woman, hoping she would get better soon, and ran.
° · ° · ° · °
Caelum was very surprised at the building as he approached in. In bright, red lettering, it claimed to be an Irish Art Center. Shabby A/C units hung out the windows, and the gating on the front of the door looked rusted and dirty. He glanced around, seeing if he could get in at any other way, but was unable to. He sighed, climbing the few steps in front of the door, raising his hand to knock.
“I would probably wait,” Someone said over his shoulder. Caelum jumped, spinning around and stumbling into the door, knocking the screen against the wood. “Maybe, we should call the police first?” Spider-Man suggested.
“Why the hell would I call the police?” Caelum snarled, he could hear movement inside the building. Shit, shit, shit. “Why are you here?!”
“Peter―”
“What? Peter asked you to come? Does he have you on speed-dial?!” He snapped. “Get out of here, hurry!” Spider-Man moved to talk again, but Caelum shoved him, knocking him down the few steps before turning around himself.
The door opened and Caelum stood in the way of Spider-Man, hoping that they wouldn’t be able to see him. “Wha’ do ya want?” The man scowled. He was at least six-and-a-half feet ― minimum. He had a fiery reddish beard and cold green eyes. His head was bald, for the most part, and he had spots of age on his skin. His mouth was pulled tight, and his skin tanned from work. He looked annoyed and his cold eyes narrowed at Caelum.
Caelum worked fast, looking him in the eyes and blinking. In the man’s body, he quickly undid the lock on the door and opened it. Then, he grabbed Caelum’s arm, yanking him in. “No! Wait!” Spider-Man called, coming to his feet. Caelum didn’t close the door fast enough, Spider-Man slipped in.
“Brock! Who’s that?” Someone called from across the room.
“Uh, girl scouts,” he answered quickly.
“Oh! Git some thin mints!” Caelum looked back at his limp body and blinked.
“Get out of here!” Caelum whispered fiercely at Spider-Man when he was situated. Brock looked around dazed, and unfocused. Caelum was fast, grabbing the closest thing to him, which was an umbrella, and swatting him in the head. This, luckily, helped the dizzy man, and he fell, going on his knees, banging his head against the side of a bucket full of other umbrella, and sprawling out on the floor.
“Wha’ th’ ‘ell was tha’?!” Someone snapped. Caelum panicked, he grabbed Spider-Man’s hand, hurrying across the musty-smelling room. He pushed the boy behind the door and sliding underneath a nearby table.
Heavy footsteps stomped in and Caelum willed his heart to stop beating. He needed to get a decent look at the man, he needed to make sure Spider-Man didn’t give them away. “Wha’ th’ ‘ell!? Brock! Git up!” The man didn’t move. Caelum thanked God for it.
The man stood suspiciously, and Caelum poked his head out, he caught a glimpse of the man. “'Ey!” He snapped, going to his waist. Caelum blinked.
He was in the new man’s body, his hand rested firmly on a gun. He put it back, shivering a little ― he didn’t like them. “Wha's goin’ on down ‘ere?” Someone snapped from upstairs.
“Nothing,” He replied. “Don’t worry about it.” He bent down to where his body was, and tried to push him back underneath the table.
“Don’t touch him!” Spider-Man snapped, and Caelum looked around, but he wasn’t in the corner like he put him.
Someone jumped down from the ceiling, wrapping his legs around his neck and webbing his hands to his side. Caelum let out a yelp as they both fell to the ground. Spider-Man was webbing him up. Caelum managed to look back in his eyes before Spider-Man covered them up.
He struggled to get up, the irritating sticky-webbing leaving his skin itchy and strange. “Stop it!” He snapped and Spider-Man stopped. The man before him was wriggling and very confused. His thick, dark eyebrows drawn together in confusion, his mouth covered from the webs. “We have to hurry.”
He turned to run, looking for the staircase leading upstairs. He found it in the other room. He also found someone coming down the steps, gun in hand.
He fired, and Caelum jumped back. The bullet missing him and hitting the floor. “Git ‘gainst th’ wall! Now! Hands up where I can see ‘em!”
Caelum rose his hands, and so did Spider-Man beside him, “Can’t you do your. . . your thing?” Spider-Man whispered frantically to him, as the man moved to check the main lobby, where his two comrades laid on the floor, one incapacitated, the other tied up.
“Not when he’s armed ― I don’t want to get us shot!” He snapped back. He stepped back in the room, gun still pointed at them.
“Who th' 'ell are ya?”
“We―ah―”
“We’re looking for Castor and Pollux Forest,” Caelum said. No need to lie, how was he going to explained the masked idiot beside him, and the webbed man in the other room. “I know they’re being held here.”
“I don’t know who ya talkin’ about, but ya better give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot ya now.”
“I’m Caelum Forest ― Principal Davis’ pet.” It stung his tongue to say it. “Surely, he’s told you about me. I’m the reason why they’re being held. He said I was good. I wanted to come see them.”
“Where’s Davis? Why are ya 'ere by yaself? An', who’s th' idiot in th' red hoodie?”
“I’m not an idiot!” Spider-Man defended himself weakly. “I’m Spider-Man.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who ya are, kid,” he snarled. “I wanna know why ya 'ere, an' why my guys are on the ground.”
“I tried to explain my situation and they attacked me. We defend ourselves.”
“'Defended yaselves'?” The man scoffed gruffly.
“I don’t think Principal Davis is going to be very happy to see that this is how he treats his pet. You might be fired ― or worse.”
“Worse wha'?” He taunted. “Old man doesn’t have shit on me! He’s jus' some pervert usin' ya as his fuck-toy.”
Caelum examined him for a moment, noticing a gleam on his finger. “He knows you’re married,” Caelum said. “And that you’ll do anything to protect your family.”
The man’s face contorted, shocked and confused. “Wha' th' 'ell are ya on 'bout?”
“He picked me up off the street, I didn’t even know he was coming. He could do the same to your kids ― to you, if he tried hard enough. I mean, he hired the masked idiot here to make sure I didn’t run away. Do you think a man having the wealth to hire Enhanced people would find it hard to ruin you puny, miserable life?” Caelum gave a cold sneer, “Put the gun down ― you’re not doing yourself any favours. And you sure as hell won’t get paid for babysitting my brothers if you shoot me ― or the masked idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Spider-Man muttered. Caelum resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
The man watched them carefully, before finally putting the gun away and taking his hand off the trigger. Caelum moved fast, blinking, and taking control of the man’s body.
He grabbed the gun back out of his pocket and handed it to Spider-Man, handle facing him. “Hit me ― in the face.”
“What!?” Spider-Man moved from the gun immediately. “What are you talking about ― you were just about to shoot us a minute ago!”
“It’s me ― Caelum! Now, hit me with it! Hurry before the other guy wakes up!” Spider-Man stared at him, Caelum knew his jaw was dropped behind the mask.
“Caelum!?”
“Yes, you idiot! Hurry up! Take it!” Spider-Man was hesitant, but took the gun anyway. Caelum turned back to his body and blinked.
The man scrunched up his eyebrows, looking confused. Spider-Man was swift, smacking him in the temple with the gun. He fell immediately, crumpling pitifully against the floor. Spider-Man dropped the gun immediately, as if it were made of fire.
“Come on,” Caelum said, urging Spider-Man up the steps. The rooms upstairs smelled just as bad as the ones downstairs, with mould, rats dropping and mice skittering in the corners.
Caelum pushed the doors opened in each room, hoping not to find any more irish thugs ― and thankfully finding none. Instead, he found bottles of alcohol, both full and empty, cigarette butts, dust lines from what had to be the residue of drugs, and the faint smell of vomit still clinging to the walls and floors.
Caelum kept searching, going to the next floor. Spider-Man was oddly silent, probably listening for anyone who was coming their direction, or someone who had woken up. He was going to ask him what he was doing when he heard a sniffle.
He turned his head sharply, “Castor? Pollux?” He waited, and then a soft.
“Caelum?”
He ran down the hall, pushing all the doors open. He finally found them, both tied up on chairs facing each other on different sides of the room Caelum could have cried, going for Pollux immediately, who looked faint and half-alive. “Pollux? Poll, it’s me, Caelum! Wake up, Pollux!”
Pollux’s eyes were red and his gaze wavering. His pupils narrowed and his lips were cracked. His cheeks were hollowed, and he coughed desperately. “Pollux!?” He focused on the ropes on his arms, but they were tight and wouldn’t come off. “I need a knife!” He snapped, looking around for something sharp.
A glass alcohol bottle laid empty on the ground. Caelum grabbed it, smashing it against the floor, shielding his eyes. He grabbed a particularly big shard and began to saw through the ropes on his brother’s arms.
It took him a while, the glass wasn’t nearly as effective as a sharp knife would’ve been ― but he eventually got it. Pollux slumped forward, just barely breathing. “Don’t worry ― I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
“They did something to him,” Castor said. Caelum turned to look at him. He wasn’t in as bad of a condition as his twin, but the signs of malnutrition and thinly hidden abuse was there. Spider-Man was helping him, and had just got him out of the ropes. “They would ― They’d inject him with something, I–I don’t know what, but―he. . . I don't want him to die, Caelum!” Caelum picked Pollux up ― god, the boy was so light, it was scary.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He began to run away, cradling Pollux ― he had to take him to a hospital. He had to make sure he lived.
He didn’t want to lose anyone else.
They made it down the cricket steps and through the hall to get to the front. They were were stopped, however, by a man with a gun. The red-bearded Irish man. “Ya not goin’ anywhere!” He growled, his voice hoarse and a big knot on his forehead. His buddy was still on the ground, but closely listening to the situation. Caelum saw strands of webs on his fingers, obviously, he had tried to free him.
“Please,” Caelum begged, hugging Pollux close as he frantically thought of a way out. They boy needed help ― they needed to leave peacefully. Castor and Pollux were his paychecks, he still thought that Principal Davis was free. Castor and Pollux were his main priority ― Spider-Man could take them to the hospital. “Let them go, take me instead.”
“What?!” Spider-Man snapped, looking surprised and scared.
“I’m worth more to Principal Davis ― I’m his whore. He’s going to be happy if someone knows where I am, and brings me to him. He would probably be more than willing to pay a substantial sum for my return.”
“Cael, no,” Spider-Man argued, moving closer to him and Brock tensed angrily, shifting the gun between them. They didn’t have time for mistakes, not right now.
“Quiet!” Caelum snapped, angrily. “Take me ― leave my brothers, please. I–I’ll do anything, please.”
“Shut up!” He snapped, his gun shaking. He probably had a concussion. He stood there for a minute, his expression shifting between greed and anger. Caelum willed him to give in ― he prayed he would choose him over his brothers. “You!” He pointed the gun at Caelum, “Stand over 'ere,” he moved the gun across the room.
Caelum did so, handing Pollux to Spider-Man and moved silently. Spider-Man was watching him, his eyes covered, but he could see the tension and fear in his body. “You three!” He pointed the gun at Spider-Man, “Get out! An' if I even see ya faces on this street 'gain, I’ll put a bullet in ya skulls!” Spider-Man was reluctant, but he turned and left, holding Pollux’s body with one hand, and Castor’s hand with the other.
The door closed and Caelum watched the man sluggishly lock it. The gun still hung limply from his grip. Now, he just needed to get his attention. “Sir?” The man looked at him, anger and hatred in his eyes, he pointed the gun at Caelum and he put his hands up.
“Don’t fuckin’ speak!” He snapped, advancing on him. Caelum immediately saw Principal Davis in his stance, his father in his eyes. He cowered away, heart pounding as the man grabbed the back of his shirt.
His strength was extraordinary, as he flung him across the room, as if his 140 pounds mean nothing. He hit a wooden chair as he crashed against the floor with a bang. He heard pounding on the door and the distant voice of someone calling his name.
He looked the man in the eyes, but didn’t get to switch in time. The man punched him, square in the face with all of his strength. Caelum’s vision went white and then pain sparked and lit up. He moaned, bringing his hands to his eye, tearing up and shaking. “Tha’s wha' ya git for hittin' me, bastard!” He hit him again, but this time in the gut.
Caelum gasped, completely winded and coughed roughly. He had to get out of here ― he had to save his brothers. He hoped Spider-Man ran by now, he hoped he was calling the police.
Would these men treat him like Principal Davis? Would they treat him like his father?
The man reared back, ready to hit him again. Caelum looked up and finally blinked.
He was in the man’s body again ― missing teeth and all. He grabbed his body around the waist and moved with such an ease it terrified him. This man was all muscle and brute strength. A beating from him would kill Caelum.
He made it to the door and opened it. Of course, Spider-Man stood outside of it, and he stepped back when Caelum was presented in the man’s body. So did Castor, fear sparking in his eyes. Caelum wanted to kill this man for putting it there in the first place.
He opened the metal screen and put his body outside, then, he closed the screen and blinked.
Caelum got up as quickly as he could, the man behind him dazed again. He grabbed Castor and lifted him with ease ― he was just as light as Pollux. “Run! Now! Run!” He snapped, and the two booked it down the street, both his brothers in hand.