Chapter 1.1.22 — Trust / Lock 3

Emmett took the bus home Wednesday night.

Part of him wanted to run home across the rooftops of Belport, but his entire body was sore from training in Gray Room. Emmett sat down on an empty seat in the middle of the bus and tried to stretch his legs out without moving them too much—

Whatever muscles were in the back of his thighs were tight and felt like they would cramp up any second.

Between that and Emmett’s apprehension about running into an enemy super again… it really hadn’t taken much convincing.

So Emmett scrolled his phone, figuring out just what assignments he had to get done tonight for class. That way he could go to sleep that much quicker…

Emmett stared at the screen, eyes widening.

He’d missed a discussion and a quiz in his Product and Process class—Professor Quinn’s class.

For the briefest moment, Emmett considered asking her for mercy. He’d been in an accident and wound up in the hospital. Technically, it was the truth, except that there was no record of him at either place.

It wasn’t enough to flunk him, but Quinn was a hard enough professor already—Emmett wanted all the buffer he could get going into the final project.

“Shit,” Emmett muttered. Missing those assignments didn’t do him any favors.

Emmett kept going, adding to his to-do list and then started on the reading that he could do on the bus.

~

The apartment was empty when Emmett got home. Lock was out late again.

That was fine by Emmett. It saved him from answering anymore questions about Marianne—his girlfriend that didn’t exist.

Emmett sighed, rubbing his neck as he walked to his room and then tossing his keys and wallet on the side table.

He didn’t care for the sneaking around part of being a super. He didn’t even have a superhero name, and here Emmett was, already lamenting having a secret identity!

Emmett would have to keep his life secret from Lock, from his classmates, even from his family, and Emmett could already tell it wasn’t going to sit right with him.

It made complete sense to keep his identity a secret—any enemies he made wouldn’t be able to come after his family or friends…

But couldn’t he confide in someone? …Tell just one person?

Emmett chuckled at himself.

His younger brother Antony might be able to keep it a secret, but if his best friend Sherman ever got wind of it, he would probably blast it on the very same forums that Emmett frequented.

Emmett dismissed his older brother Darryl as quickly as he did Mom and Dad—all three of them would worry themselves sick.

Lock… Could he trust Lock?

Emmett shook his head.

Maybe.

But he didn’t know what circles Lock ran in, not anymore. If he was mixed up with the wrong crowd and let Emmett’s name slip… It wouldn’t be good. Emmett didn’t want his roommate getting hurt on account of knowing Emmett’s secret.

It was decided: Of course Emmett couldn’t tell Lock the truth.

Emmett sighed and settled in for hopefully a short night of homework and a good night’s rest.

~ ~

It was four in the morning when Lachlan got home to the apartment.

He glanced around for Emmett, but didn’t see him in the common area. A moment later, Lock heard his roommate snoring quietly from his room.

He shut the door behind him and locked it, taking care to do it quietly.

Then he pulled back his hood and walked to the sink to wash his hands.

Lock turned the faucet lukewarm and set to wiping his opponent’s blood from the creases of his hands. His fingertips were already scabbed over with normal flesh.

As the blood was washed away, it took the taste of copper with it—the taste of blood.

A few months ago, the sensation of tasting through his hands, especially blood, had disgusted him… Maybe it still should, but it didn’t. Lock had made peace with it. He couldn’t change what he was—not anymore.

Lock dried his hands off and walked to his room. His door was opposite of Emmett’s, and Lock paused with his doorknob in hand—staring at Emmett’s door.

Curiosity was getting the better of him. That or the mutagens were fucking with his head.

Something smelled off in the apartment.

Lock shut his door quietly, changed into shorts and a T-shirt. His stomach was completely healed, with only hints of scars remaining where Mr. Wendell had stabbed him with the screwdriver a half-an-hour ago. His shirt and hoodie had holes in them, but they were just that—just holes.

He tossed his black clothes aside and laid down, trying not to pay attention as his muscles writhed with a life of their own, like worms crawling beneath his skin. It made him feel like a walking corpse—like a deadman balloon.

He felt the urge to look at his body in the mirror, to see the changes, but he’d thrown away the mirror from his room weeks ago. The bathroom mirror was harder, and he had to purposefully keep from looking in it when he went to the bathroom or showered.

It was a long minute in the dark before the urge to see his reflection passed.

Lock cracked the window beside his bed and pulled out his box of pipes and Gnosis-grade narcotic. Then he set to smoking a blend made especially for him. Gnosis hadn’t even told him the name of it, but it was enough to knock out three people.

~

Lock slept until 10 o’clock Thursday morning—

Basically hopped up out of bed.

He had to admit, getting a restful night’s sleep every night was almost worth the horrors he endured getting to this point.

Lock stood in his room, waiting. Listening.

And when he didn’t hear any sign of Emmett or any noise at all, Lock walked out of his room and into Emmett’s.

The apartment smelled off.

And Lock already knew why.

He knew, but he had to be sure.

The smell wasn’t something that any normal human would be able to catch, but Lock wasn’t normal. Not anymore.

His sense of smell was closer to a hound dog than a human’s.

Lock walked around Emmett’s room to his laundry hamper and grabbed the shirt on top. Apprehensively, he pulled it to his nose and sniffed—already knowing what he was going to find.

He recoiled immediately.

Emmett’s shirt reeked of Gnosis’s mutagens. His pores were probably oozing it.

Lock smelled the shirt again. It was Mutagen-A; he was sure of it, and the smell was so potent because Emmett’s body was taking to the mutations extraordinarily well.

But there was something else… something that Lock couldn’t discern.

And it was stronger on the right arm of his shirt.

Lock stood in Emmett’s room, smelling his roommate’s dirty shirt for much longer than he would ever admit, but he figured out what was off about the smell:

The right arm of Emmett’s shirt didn’t smell normal. It barely smelled of Mutagen-A.

Lock’s mind raced as he thought of the possibilities.

Venture had saved Emmett that night on Champion street. Lock hadn’t seen exactly how, but he knew that the doctor specialized in robots. Now, Lock also knew that Venture had dosed Emmett with Mutagen-A—without the approval and guidance of Gnosis…

Maybe the Mutagen wasn’t taking as well as he originally thought. That was a very real and very dangerous possibility.

Gnosis didn’t like failures.

But that wasn’t the only thing wrong with Emmett’s shirt. The right arm didn’t even have the underlying smell of sweat. It smelled… fake.

Had Venture rebuilt Emmett’s arm?

Lock stared at the shirt. That would explain it. He sneered and chucked Emmett’s shirt back in the hamper.

So, Venture was turning Emmett into his own little pawn… Using Gnosis’s proprietary mutagens and his own technology. After all these years of being a fanboy, Emmett finally had a chance to play hero. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine Emmett running across the rooftops like a naïve brat.

One day that would probably put Lock and Emmett at odds, and, well… Heroes tended to retire early when they went against Gnosis.

Lock shook his head and went back to his own room to get changed for the day. He threw on another set of black pants, black shirt, and another black hoodie. His muscles rippled with anticipation, squirming beneath the fabric with barely contained strength.

Then he pulled up the encrypted window on his phone while he waited for Gnosis to send his next job.

And he contemplated telling his boss about Emmett...

Not yet, Lock thought.

Not yet.

~ ~ ~