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The blood dripped away as Arkady ran his hands underneath the bathroom faucet. Hot water flowed over them, deathly pale fingers which still carried traces of his actions on the mission touched by the first gentle caresses he had felt all night. He was tired, he could feel it in his very bones, but he felt some relief through getting clean, washing away all visible memory of the fight he had just been in just a few hours ago.
The remainder of his uniform came off not long after, hitting the tile of the bathroom floor with a weighted thud. That would have to be washed later, he inwardly noted, the material still good and mostly undamaged even after hours of hand-to-hand combat. Briefly, he glanced toward the mirror, seeing the wounds that remained on his body still healing, the bruising and deep cuts at long last fading and healing over with new flesh. The fatigue would follow, it already was. Arkady was more than ready to submit to his body’s more human demands. At least for tonight.
He stepped out of the bathroom, leaving the evidence of his work behind to enter the bedroom where sleep called to him. It was still something he was getting used to – sleeping in an actual bedroom again instead of the hard ground of a cave or the cold floor of a cell – but perhaps harder to adjust to than a soft environment was the company that came with it.
“You look exhausted,” said Sage, looking him up and down from where she lay on her side of the bed.
“I am tired,” he agreed, coming to sit at the edge of the bed, his back to her. “The wounds are still healing, and I smell like death. Are you certain you still want me here?”
Arkady was still trying to come to terms with Sage’s offer. A few weeks ago she had come to him about it, asking if he would consider sleeping in the new headquarters that Black Tom had finished constructing for the team now that Beast was out of the picture. He had decided to accept, but found that sleeping didn’t come any easier for him in the base than it did out in the wilderness. The nightmares would still come for him. And his restlessness and nightly distress had not gone ignored.
Which is why Arkady now found himself in Sage’s personal quarters. After overhearing his night terrors and movements around the base in the twilight hours during the past few nights, Sage had again approached him with an offer: let her help him figure out how to navigate and find ways to cope with his trauma. Arkady had not known what to really think of the offer, but at this point, he was desperate for any sort of solution that would allow him to rest. He had accepted. But not without carrying lingering doubts.
“I do,” Sage answered, sitting up from where she lay to place a hand on his bare shoulder. “I’m not afraid of you, and you don’t have to be afraid of me. It’s secure. It’s safe here. You don’t have to be alone to try to figure this out. Lay down. Relax. You need the rest.”
Convinced by her willingness to stick to her promise, Arkady lay down on the soft mattress, adjusting as he always had to in order to settle into this sort of comforting environment – one so very different from the world he once knew. Once he had laid down, Sage did the same, keeping the space open between them to respect Arkady’s boundaries. As tempting as it was to ask for more than this – the human side of Arkady inwardly crying out for affection – Arkady knew that wasn’t the purpose of Sage’s invitation. This would be enough.
For several long minutes he lay there, forgoing a blanket even after Sage asked him if he wanted one due to the general warmth of the room. It was always so easy for him to overheat in these temperatures, the one downside Arkady felt from living on Krakoa. But he would adjust. He always did. Survival was one of his greatest strengths. And in the grand scheme of things, it being hotter than his preference was more of what he would call an inconvenience than anything particularly bothersome. He would be alright.
Eyes blinked slowly in the growing dark, adjusting to the change even as his weariness grew stronger. It always took time for him to fall asleep, especially when there was someone nearby. Trust was not something that came easily for him, and his body had long been trained to listen and feel for changes in his immediate environment. For so long, sensing someone in the immediate vicinity when he was trying to sleep meant a lab, or an upcoming experiment. It was a very difficult sense to turn off, no matter how many teams and relationships he had managed to slowly accept into his life in the past few years.
At long last though, sleep claimed him, the entrance into the land of his dreams and nightmares feeling very much like falling into a bottomless pool. For a time, there was blessed darkness and silence, a void of oblivion that was timeless and without pain. But that all changed in an instant.
Viscous liquid surrounded him, leaving him floating, a sense of weightlessness settling into his body. Arkady could feel the effort it took to even move through the deceptively warm fluid, like syrup surrounding his limbs. But even as his body took in this sensation, it began to take in others, the dream shifting into someplace he subconsciously recognized, but couldn’t yet see for what it was.
He drew in a breath then, and found that he indeed could breathe, a helmet encasing his entire head, a breathing apparatus locked into his mouth and nostrils to provide him with much-needed air. He was unable to see, barely able to hear sounds as the only thing he could truly sense then besides the sensation of floating in warmth was the sharp pain that was in his skull. Where so much of the work had already been done by the Soviet bioengineers to prepare his body for the life he was expected to lead until the day they finally allowed him to die.
He was still floating, surrounded by the fluid, but now Arkady could feel something in the darkness that surrounded him. Sharpness plunged through his skin across his entire body and he thrashed wildly, bubbles of oxygen releasing into the tank as he struggled against the pain, against what he knew was being done to him. Against what he knew he had submitted himself to.
“<< Heart rate is increasing>>” a muffled voice said, coming through the glass faint and barely audible, let alone intelligible through the burning pain Arkady felt in his body.
“<< It is still within manageable levels. Up the drip and continue.>>”
If he could scream, he would have in that moment, as the heat flared in his veins. His body arched and contorted, muscles spasming as the injections began to take their effect. If he shed any tears from pain, it was something that would forever remain unknown as the mask kept his entire head sealed away. The pain was excruciating, yet another layer of agony on top of a long line of torture that had become his reality in the past few years his memory could recall in that moment. So wretched it was that Omega Red could barely remember any sort of life besides this one. All that remained of before were ghosts, dreams of a life that once was, but never would be again.
The needles in his body plunged yet deeper and his teeth snapped around the metal mouthguard in his mouth, keeping his precious flow of air intact despite the reactions of Omega Red’s body to the procedure. The noises from outside the tank began to grow fainter, and he began to see spots behind his eyelids, his strength waning.
Until a sudden sound hit his ears, shockwaves from what felt like an explosion sending his exhausted body against the far wall of the tank, the action pulling several of the needles in his body violently from his body in a swirl of red and sending a rush of force against his eardrums. Omega Red’s eyes snapped open when his body collided with the glass, but he could see nothing but blackness. Muffled sounds continued to pulse in short bursts through the liquid around him, the sounds just on the edge of memory, unable to be named. Just as he came close to recalling what the sounds reminded him of most, the world outside fell completely silent. He was all alone, left in the wake of whatever had happened as a silent victim.
But whatever semblance of peace his tormented self had would not be held for long. The glass shattered, and Omega Red felt himself pulled free, sucked away from the warmth of the tank and into the hard, harsh, cold and blinding reality which lay beyond this scientific rebirth chamber. Hands and knees were torn on the jagged glass, the mix of viscous fluid and blood making the floor slippery. Arkady tried to orient himself, to try to pull himself up on shaky limbs that burned in pure agony, desperate not to pass out. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he knew he needed to.
Something was incredibly, terribly, wrong.
Before he could make any sort of further movement to register his environment beyond what he already had, however, Omega Red felt a large hand around his neck. Unrecognizable. Heavy. Too large to be anyone he knew. He felt thick, tough nails dig into the flesh of his neck and shoulder – drawing blood – the piercing grip as sharp to his senses as the needles within the tank had been. Cruelly, he was pulled from the ground and to what would have been a standing position had his legs not failed him in that moment.
Still, he could not see, not until he felt similar long nails slowly scraping the underside of his jaw before gripping the helmet over his face. In one motion – which cared not for how the helmet had been secured to his face – the covering was torn free, flesh once again being torn as connection points were severed and Omega Red felt a fuzziness in his brain from several of his cranial implants being so violently disconnected from the helmet he had been sealed in.
Red eyes met helmet and visor, and despite the sharpness of the glaring introduction of light, Omega Red knew the importance of memorizing that face. The visible blonde sideburns and a wicked smile which revealed sharp fangs, those features being forever burned into his memory.
“Happy Birthday Ivan!” came the mocking voice of his captor, the man addressing him in English. English. It was then Omega Red realized what this was. A raid. Their enemies in the West had invaded what had been one of the most secure laboratories on the planet. They were trying to stop this. Trying to stop history from being made. After everything he had endured to reach this point – to become unbreakable – Arkady could not allow that to happen.
He felt a strength in his limbs then and he was able to at last set his feet against the floor, not caring in that moment about the glass which sliced into his feet. His hands – free from restraint – went towards the throat of this mystery attacker, his face contorting into a snarl of his own as his slime-covered hands slipped over the man’s armor. The man laughed then, and shoved him back – the force of the action and Omega Red’s weakness and lack of overall balance working against him to send him once again to the glass-covered floor.
“Now, ya ain’t gotta be rude about it, Ivan,” the man continued. “‘Specially not to the man who’s here to give ya a gift. Yer own birthday present.”
“I… need nothing from you,” snarled Omega Red from the floor, his own English spoken slowly, dripping with malice as thick as his Russian accent.
Pain. He felt it all over. Outside him. Inside him. The burning had not abated since he had entered that tank. He knew the importance of what this process had been – what it was leading to. But yet here he was, incomplete, left naked and bare in front of the enemy before he was ready to step onto the battlefield. Nothing in life ever came easy for him, and it seemed that this was no exception. Omega Red had not known this was coming, that this threat would stand between him and becoming the perfect soldier the Soviet Union demanded. He had shed every part of his humanity, every weakness from himself in order to reach this point. To have this happen at the end of this exhausting race?? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
“Ya sure about that?” asked the man. “Cause I didn’t come all this way to go home empty-handed. I’m here to make ya an offer yer not gonna wanna refuse.”
“I… have… no interest,” he replied.
“Sure ya do, Ivan,” said the man, his face a wicked grin. “Ya wanna live, doncha? Gonna make it real simple for ya. You come with me. Or ya ain’t leaving here alive.”
Omega Red’s head snapped up then, his red eyes boring holes into his assailant, one who looked at him as eagerly as a wolf looked at its next meal. He glared darkly, his own thoughts twisting in that moment. Survival had always been a driving force in his life, just as his love and loyalty to his country had been. To have someone – someone like this man – enter into this place and make demands of him, threatening his life, wasn't something Omega Red could stand.
His impulses then became quite murderous.
Omega Red felt his expression of silent rage unleashed like a torrent, his potent mutant powers taking effect. There wasn’t anyone left alive in the room that he could hurt by releasing his deathly abilities in this way, no one except for him. The one who was responsible for his current state. The one who threatened everything Omega Red was through this sabotage. Everything that he had sacrificed to become the world’s most deadly living weapon.
“That… is where you are wrong, comrade,” snarled Omega Red, a disturbing edge to his voice that made him sound far less like a man and more like something other. “If there is anyone…. here who will not leave alive, it will… be you. You made… a foolish mistake coming here. And it will be your last.”
The effects of his powers were immediate. Omega Red could feel his body gaining in strength even as the man before him stumbled, unsuspecting of his true abilities as he had been. Omega Red had no sympathy for the man, felt nothing besides anger and a righteous wrath as he wanted to do nothing more than to unleash on this presumptuous interloper who had a surprising well of strength from which to pull. Rejuvenated by taking from the man’s rich life force, Arkady finally had the strength to stand, rising to his feet, and forcing the implants in his skull to life, the computer-brain interface roaring with an unholy sound in his ears as at long last his carbonadium coils extended.
The coils were slow and heavy – forever burning the inside of his body with a cold fire that tormented him daily – but Omega Red knew full well the advantage they brought. He struck out towards the assailant, even as the man shot him, the bullets tearing through his torso and destroying tissue, smashing through rib bones and puncturing organs. Omega Red grit his teeth and took hold of the man in his grasp, the coils twisting around his limbs like snakes. Then, with stolen strength he drained away from the man, he threw him through the wall.
Just as he was prepared to follow, there came a voice behind him. “<<Omega Red!>>”
He turned, seeing one of the members of the doctor’s crew covered in blood, yet making his way into the lab. “<<What is it??>” he asked.
“<<The Carbonadium Sythesizer,>>” the doctor choked. “<<They stole it!>>”
It was only then that the unfeeling heart of Omega Red froze. He knew what the purpose of the Carbonadium Synthesizer was. The device had been made for him, to be able to at long last combat this terrible pain his body was in every waking moment of his life. Inwardly he cursed, realising just what his attacker had meant by death. Without that device, he was condemned to that fate. Unless he was able to get it back.
The next several minutes felt like a blur to Omega Red. Speed was a necessity, but so was reclaiming the C-Synthesizer. He was dressed quickly for combat, holes in his body quickly packed before he was sent after the team of Western infiltrators – a much larger group than just the one man he had initially encountered – who dared to try to steal from Russia’s finest. Up through several floors he chased them through that building, airing his demands to them as clearly as the demands they made towards him had been given:
“The Carbonadium Synthesizer,” he demanded, his voice seething and dripping with venom. “Where is it??? Tell me, and I may allow you to die quickly!”
The only answer he was given was by the one who had attacked him, the name “Creed” being etched into his memory as the man’s teammates screamed in protest against the thermite grenades thrown Omega Red’s way. Creed. North. Logan. He would remember those names until the end of time.
Only two seconds went by. Two seconds before the searing flames from the explosion scorched his flesh, licking his skin with its fierce and burning tongues. Nevertheless, Omega Red stood even through this assault. He would not die so easily.
But he would fail.
With his remaining strength, Omega Red staggered to the hole which now lay in the wall, the last remaining evidence of the team’s presence here. He looked down, seeing nothing. No one remained. And Omega Red roared in fury, in pain, as he realized then what his fate was now to be. The C-Synthesizer was gone. All that remained was suffering and agony. The only companions he would have in this hell he was forever trapped in.
Arkady woke up with a start. Gasping for air, his first thought was how his body was suddenly free of the blinding agony and fire in his veins that had felt so real in his dream. Where was it?? What happened to the pain??
His coils extended from his wrists with a mental command, the sight of the metal at last beginning to ground him back into his body which felt so unfamiliar to him right now. His chest heaved with sudden relief at the sight, but then he felt it. A weight in his chest that didn’t feel like it belonged.
Whirr-Click.
The sound in his chest pounded in his ears, racing in time with his heartbeat. It felt unfamiliar, it felt wrong, his mind unable to reconcile his past and his present in a way that allowed him to accept his current reality. Not thinking, Arkady turned his fingers to his chest, clawing uselessly at the flesh over his heart as his body was physically incapable of controlling both his hands and his coils in any effective way at the same time.
He suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
“Arkady.”
The voice spoke his name in a tone that cut through the mental static. It was feminine, but it was grounding, not at all like the sounds that had been present in his nightmare. His fingers stopped clawing at his chest.
“Arkady, breathe with me,” said the voice. “Slowly. In. Out. Follow the pattern. It’s alright. You are not there anymore. You are on Krakoa. You are with me. Just breathe.”
He began to follow the cadence, finding himself inwardly leaning on the comfort of the voice for support. His own heartbeat began to fade from his ears as his senses anchored themselves on the steady pulse of life energy he felt next to him. It didn’t change, it didn’t falter. It was simply there, simply alive. Her identity came to his mind just a moment later. Sage. She was with him. Slowly, his breathing began to match hers.
“<<The C-Syth…>>” he choked, English failing him completely. His fingers pulled weakly at his chest again.
“<<It’s where it belongs,>>” Sage replied, her tone never shifting from that anchoring cadence even as she switched to Russian. “<<It’s doing its job. It’s filtering the poison out of your blood. May I approach??>>”
He nodded. “<<Yes,>>” he gasped, his need for an anchor overriding everything else.
Sage slid closer. “<<I am going to place my hand over yours. Alright?>>”
Again, he nodded.
Her hand touched his a moment later. Interlacing her fingers with his hand, Sage held the position, even as Arkady found himself subconsciously leaning into her touch, his coils at long last retracting back into his wrists.
At this, Sage gently pushed his hand to rest over his heart, encouraging him to feel his heartbeat again, this time while feeling her own pulse through her hand – a pulse that was steady and calm.
“<<The C-Synthesizer is a part of you now,>>” she said gently, giving him the grounding he needed to reassure himself that his own body was his again. “<<You don’t have to fear it, and you don’t have to be afraid of it being taken away. It is yours.>>”
“<<I… I thought I had lost it again,>>” he said to her, his grip on her fingers tightening ever so slightly, subconsciously afraid of her letting go. “<<To wake up without pain…>>”
He faltered, struggling to find the words.
“<<You do not have to be afraid,>>” she said to him when he fell silent. “<<You are safe. You are on Krakoa. You are adjusting, and these responses to what’s going on inside your mind right now are normal. Your body just needs time. Give yourself that grace, Arkady. Breathe, and feel the environment around you. This is not being taken away.>>”
He shuddered, his breathing at long last starting to even out as his heart rate managed to slow to match hers. Arkady found himself turning towards Sage then, using his free arm to wrap around her and pull her close, leaning his head on her shoulder as he sought out comfort. She didn’t pull away, instead accepting his silent plea for what it was and wrapping her arm around him in turn, while keeping her one hand interlaced with his over his heart where the Carbonadium Synthesizer continued to beat with the pulse needed to keep him healthy and alive.
“<<I… wish my body didn’t feel so strange,>>” he admitted, mumbling into her neck. “<<I adjusted to the coils a long time ago, but… this… it’s hard to ignore when I feel like this.>>”
“<<You will adjust,>>” whispered Sage softly. “<<I promise, someday the lack of pain will feel normal. Having the C-Synthesizer will feel normal. It’s like any other medical implant. Your body’s internal map of itself just needs time to rewrite and adjust. But you will get there. And until then, I will be right here with you, helping you manage this.>>”
Time continued to pass. Arkady didn’t keep track of it, only on what he could feel and sense. Sage’s heartbeat. Her scent, with touches of lavender, filled his nostrils with every breath he took. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling. He wasn’t alone.
Slowly, the alien sensation in his body began to fade. Once again, he began to feel comfortable in his own skin, accepting the cure that kept the poison at bay. Sage was right. No longer would he have to fight tooth and nail just to live another day. No longer would he feel the agonizing pain that had defined his life for decades after Team X stole the C-Synthesizer away. He didn’t have to define his life solely by killing anymore. He could make choices, was finally free to truly live without the shackles that had been placed on him by the choices made by political powers of a century long-passed and enforced by teams serving those interests.
The Carbonadium Synthesizer was his. The nightmare was at long last, over.