Chapter Text
“How long has Chief been at it?” The door to the training hall swished close as Hella came to settle herself beside the other spectator.
Cinnabar, who was sitting upon one of the resting benches along the walls, turned to greet her. The shield woman was a frequent bystander to these Chief’s and Wendy’s late-night bashings. Anyone who came to check on Chief would always say that Cinnabar could be seen reading through some reports. Reports that she offered to look over to help relief some responsibilities from Chief since Cinnabar was still worried about Chief’s mental stability, but Hella knew better than to trust the old-guard dog’s official statement.
Hella choosing to stand by the edge of the bench, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. Cinnabar returning to her own work, but not before giving Chief a swift inspection.
“She’s been breaking things for about 3 hours,” Cinnabar answered. Her eyes returned to the reports in hand as she tried not to show the growing agitation from Chief’s unwavering destruction.
Chief hadn’t even noticed Hella had arrived. She was to hyper-focused on destroying whatever object was in front of her as she swung a light bat around. The older woman was just finishing off some cubic boxes when Wendy brought over an old radio stereo to continue their session of breaking, slashing, beating, and screaming within this make-shift rage room.
It was only fit that Wendy would be her companion of choice. Afterall, destruction was Wendy’s field of expertise as the teen girl brought plenty of sturdy things for Chief to wreck.
“I’m worried about her,” Cinnabar could no longer tolerate Chief’s crude attempts of repressing whatever demons were running in her mind. Finding some solace in confining onto the younger girl purely because she was technically closer to Chief than any other sinner, save for Hecate, “Do you think that sinner who kidnapped Chief… might have done something to her?” Her hands wrinkling the corners of the reports at the image of a defenseless Chief being tortured in unspeakable manners.
“She’d better not or else,” Hella’s eyes down casted with promised malice if that woman had dared to lay one finger on Chief.
Sighing deeply, Hella tried not to envision such an awful thing as the two watched Chief beat down upon the old radio. Wendy rooting for her to use her waist for more power as Chief screamed her bat into its metallic frame.
Why was Chief so upset?
No one could ever guest it, since Chief had no intentions of ever revealing her terrible secret to anyone. The pathetic reality that within those three weeks of co-living with Angell, she had stupidly fallen in love with her.
Her feelings, that refused to die no matter how much she told herself she hated Angell, leaked its sickening poison in everything she did. Angell ruined everything that made her the dependable Chief of the MBCC. So much that Chief did everything in her power to return to normal. But no matter how much she told herself that she despised that woman, all her efforts would be undone at the mention of that sinner.
There she was again, thinking about her for the one million time in their training session. Remembering the way Angell had stroked her cheeks, her eyes reflecting deep mystical understanding as her lips dared to convey their shared mutual attraction.
All for it to have been a lie.
Flashes of Angell’s perfect performance making Chief grip her bat even tighter as she hammered down ferociously. To think she had subjected herself to cleaning, cooking, and caring for her kidnapper, to have invested herself within that small apartment and dared to believe that somehow, they were meant to be. A hopeless delusion cut short at Angell’s merciless betrayal at the bitter end.
And damn her letter that explained everything!! Chief swatted the radio across the room, the device crashing into the wall with Wendy hooting her on, “That’s right Chief! Finish it off!! Make it hurt!!”
Chief’s breathing was erratic, wiping off the sweat from her forehead as she waved the bat alongside her. Approaching the little remains of the communication device to deliver its final kill: Swinging from above, Chief ended her feelings for the 8th night.
A calming silence bathing Chief with artificial release, it was over.
Meanwhile, Wendy destroyed a chair out of overwhelming glee. Regaining her awareness of the occupants in the room, Chief was surprised to discover Hella had joined them. Checking her wristwatch, Chief noted it was now 11 pm.
“What are you doing here?” Chief grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her neck. Pressing the ends against her temples as she strolled to the two sinners on standby.
Hella shrugged, “Got bored hanging out in my room. Decided to walk around and figured I’d come say hi.”
Chief gave her best smile that failed to reach her eyes, “You’re just in time, I was going to treat these two to some dinner.”
“A meal from Chief?” Hella placed a hand on her hips, debating whether to go along with it or start interrogating Chief’s masking. Ultimately pretending to have not noticed, since the timing didn’t feel right, “Now we’re talking! Hey, hey, should I call Hecate to come join us?”
Chief dropped her bat, letting it roll on the floor. She made a mental note to come back later to cover her tracks, “Why not,” Chief removed her protective gloves, placing them in her back pocket, “Have anything you want to eat?”
Cinnabar narrowed her eyes, finding courage with Hella present to at last get to the bottom of Chief’s obsession. But when she dared to open her mouth, when she caught Chief’s silent plea against it, Cinnabar lost all her confidence, “I appreciate the offer, though I have to ask: Is there a restaurant open at this time?”
Wendy huffed at Cinnabar’s sound reasoning, “Boo! I’m hungry now!! I want to eat steak!”
Chief was relief that Cinnabar and Hella respected her silence, “Then how about I cook?” and all eyes widen at the surprising new skill she revealed, “What? Am I not allowed to cook for you guys?”
Hella wordlessly wowed, growing a bit suspicious at the talent, “You sure you know how?”
“Do you want steak or not?”
“I want steak!” Wendy cheered.
“Hella why don’t you go ask if Hecate wants to join us?” Chief motioned for the others to follow her, “We’ll be at the cafeteria, I’m sure we can find some steaks for a dinner of 5.”
Hella agreed. Though as Chief led the way out, all three sinners shared a mutual exchange: Who was going to ask? Afterall, this couldn’t go on any longer. Splitting up, Hella left it to Cinnabar since Wendy was definitely not the best candidate to fish for answers. Taking no offense, Wendy also depended on Cinnabar since the older woman had more experience dealing with emotions.
Tonight, they would finally solve Chief’s destructive blues.
Chief didn’t notice their telepathic conspiracy as she talked about some random job. Cinnabar and Wendy, placing their input when needed, walked behind her as they ventured into the elevator and towards the dining hall.
When they had arrived, the cafeteria was empty. The crew having gone home with meals preps saved within the large fridges and freezers. Chief avoided grabbing those rations and instead took the ingredients needed for steak, a vegetable mix, and potatoes.
She had decided on a simple stake dinner. Filling her basket with ingredients, she gave a soft satisfying hum from her curving lips. Making dinner had filled her with calming nostalgia. It seemed cooking was the only good thing she had kept from her days of captivity.
Picking up the bundle of asperges, the first thing she imagined was Angell’s stoic face as she munched the veggie with a carnivore’s disinterest. Even though she claimed to not be a picky eater, Angell had her preferences. Just like a wiped husband, Angell sucked it up because Chief had made it. Angell, Chief violently chopped the bundled vegetables in half with her kitchen knife.
Unintentionally, making Cinnabar jump as the other woman was in charge of boiling and mashing up the potatoes. The poor sinner gazing at her with a raised brow, but Chief wasn’t paying any attention to her.
Chief sighed as her mind dragged her back to Angell. She didn’t want to think about her anymore and yet she forced herself to suffer this unyielding humiliation over and over again. She wanted to forget. To revert back to the Chief that hadn’t spent 3 weeks inside Angell’s apartment.
“Chief,” Cinnabar stood behind her. Her sturdy hand being placed right above Chief’s to stop her from abusing the asperges, “I… I know it’s not my place to ask, but I’m worried. We’re worried, are you truly alright?” The knife slipping out of her grasp with their hands resting on the cutting board. The prolonged contact being a show of commitment from Cinnabar as Chief turned her head to find Cinnabar standing right behind her.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” she returned her sight back to their hands. Unable to deny how much she had missed the physical touch of another.
“Then you should be resting. Not breaking objects for hours each day.”
And there it was, “I have a lot of pent-up energy,” Chief wishing the other would have just let her be.
Cinnabar scuffled at her lie, “First your tired and now you’re not? Chief, be honest with me,” and Chief felt her hands unintentionally tighten into fists, her back tensing as Cinnabar had the privacy to ask, “When you were being held hostage, did… did that woman do anything to you?”
Chief didn’t dare to speak.
From out in the dinning hall, Wendy was setting up for the five members. Her actions and humming told those around her that she was in her own little world, but her ears were listening. She wiped off the table with a rag, doing circles in the same spot as she waited for Chief’s answer. From the kitchen’s side door, Hecate and Hella hid to hear Chief’s answer having arrived just in time.
“I told you guys already. She didn’t do anything,” Chief’s voice coming out in an involuntary whisper, “Really. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Cinnabar pushed on. Lightly grabbing Chief’s shoulder to turn her around, so they could face each other properly. Her warmth gone just like Angell, “It’s just us right now. You can be honest, please tell me what she did to you.”
Staring into those clear violet eyes, Chief felt gagged to remained silent. Cinnabar looked at her with so much respect, love, and admiration that one could expect from their subordinate. Unlike Angell’s that looked upon her like a normal woman. It felt sinful to betray Cinnabar’s expectations. How was Chief supposed to admit that she had given herself completely to Angell? Even worse, that she had asked Angell to hide her away?
She felt like such an idiot now.
Taking a step back, Chief found herself pressing against the prepping counter’s edge, “She didn’t do anything. I… I just…” Her words caught in her throat, she couldn’t even come up with a good lie, “I wanted to bring her in. To give her a better life. So, when she betrayed me, I got mad.”
“Plenty of sinners have betrayed you before, why are you letting this one effect you so badly?”
Chief felt the stung of her brutal questioning, her face twisting in a mixture of complicated pain. And as if sensing she had overstepped, Cinnabar didn’t hesitate to make things right.
“Don’t,” Chief wouldn’t let Cinnabar apologize, “I’m sorry. I know you’re just worried,” Chief sighed, “Really… I don’t even know myself why I can’t let her go.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, I shouldn’t have forced you to say anything if you weren’t ready to talk,” Cinnabar leaned in unintentionally, “Chief… I really do care about you. I… I want you to depend on me.”
Those weren’t the words Chief needed to hear as she pushed Cinnabar away, “Come on, do you want to eat stake or do you just want to listen to my ramblings all night?” She tried to change the topic.
Their conversation was over, but Cinnabar didn’t want to yield to her yet. Luckily, Hella and Hecate entered the kitchen, “Chief, I brought our precious little artist,” she had her arm around Hecate’s shoulders as she came in overly brutish, “Now where’s your food? I want to see whether or not you really can cook.”
“Of course, Chief can cook,” Hecate defended her honor, “Chief isn’t a liar. If she says she can, then she can.”
“I’m glad someone believes in me,” Chief’s words were directed towards Hecate’s comment, yet Cinnabar misinterpreted them to refer to their previous discussion.
“Right,” Cinnabar gave Chief a defeated smile, “I should trust in Chief more.”
Sensing the self-crimination, Chief had no choice but to pinch her cheeks to stop her from jumping into unnecessary conclusions, “I thought you came in here to help me?” Chief reminded her, “You helped enough, now I need those potatoes mashed up.”
Cinnabar nodded, holding Chief’s hand against her cheeks, “Alright. I’m here to help you with anything you ask of me after all.”
It was a daring vow to protect her. A frightening thing for Chief since she could have sworn, she noticed an intense shimmer of a lover’s devotion in Cinnabar’s eyes. She snatched her hand back, turning around, and abusing the asperges again. Convincing herself that she had merely imagined it.
Believing that her loneliness was distorting her reality, “Good.”
Dinner finished with a surprisingly lighter tone as the astonished sinners bowed down to Chief’s cooking. Hella and Wendy gasping and jabbering on about how great Chief’s meal turned out, while Hecate proudly nodded along in agreement. Even Cinnabar couldn’t help compliment her talent as they all demanded seconds. Chief didn’t mind, she felt herself enjoying the commotion.
It reminded her of those days within that small kitchen when Angell would request another bowl.
Pushing that memory deep inside, Chief was happy to give her sinners as much extra servings that they demanded. Laughing as Wendy threatened to gloat to the rest of the yard in the morning about eating Chief’s homemade food. Hella adding to the chaos by saving some for later. She wanted to eat it in front of EMP to make the poor girl suffer, since Chief’s cooking would most definitely be a rare commodity around MBCC.
At such a remark, Chief made a mental note to dedicate one day within the month to cook for everyone. Afterall, she couldn’t have the rest of the sinners rioting just because Wendy and Hella wanted to show off their superiority.
Eventually this homely dinner came to an end. The five calling it a night as everyone returned to their rooms after wishing each other good dreams. Chief was grateful no one followed her back as she hummed with festive cheer left over from their dinner. It wasn’t until she reached her designated room in the MBCC, that she felt it all drain out of her.
She was alone again.
Of course, she’d be alone in her room. It would have been more concerning if someone was waiting for her.
Moving along her room with foreign belonging, Chief decided a shower would settle her nerves. Agitated with herself for feeling estrange in her own bedroom, Chief tried masking this muddling sternness with affirmations. Imploring to herself that this was her life and this was her room. She made sure the water raining down on her was extra hot to imprint this lesson into her limbs.
She was the Chief of MBCC, she had sinners to watch after, citizens to protect: She was an essential figurehead with grave responsibilities.
“You’re just a woman,” Angell’s imaginary voice cued.
Drying off, Chief placed on her pajamas that was a simple t-shirt and shorts. She stared at her large twin bed as though it’s plain sheets and pillows were composed of razor-sharp cotton. Compared to Angell’s cozy clutter that brimmed the space with personality, it made her own grey bed repulsive.
“This is ridiculous!” Chief grabbed her neatly made covers and tossed it aside. Messing up her bed to get rid of all professionalism imbedded in its folds, “This is my bed! This is my room!” she spoke as though it was a mantra that would awaken her from her distressing feelings, “Angell is a stranger!! She doesn’t care about me! I was only a job!! This is my home! Everyone here cares about me!! I don’t need your ugly face reminding me of useless things!!” She tossed her pillows and pushed the blanket toward the headboard.
Her bed ruined. Now the disheveled layers becoming a glimpse of its owners own heart.
She had made a mess for nothing, Chief sighed collapsing in the middle of her bed vertically. Closing her eyes, legs hanging off the edge, she covered her lids with her arm for extra measures. She was determined to sleep in such an awkward position since slumbering correctly would only make her feel more restless.
It took forever for Chief to find sleep. And when she finally did succumb to her dreams, Chief exposed herself to her truest desire.
Chief had landed where she desperately wished to returned: Her dream consciousness materializing her within the toasty fabrics of a bed she long to nest in. The soft recording of Angell’s record player playing in the distance with it’s co-partner, the humidifier, humming along in activation.
She kept her eyes shut, basking her face within the soft pair of breasts she’d long to touch. Shivers running down her spine as fingers combed through her hair, while another arm circled around her waist securing her close.
Chief didn’t dare to look at her partners face. Not even in a dream would she let herself unwind from the weight of their decisions.
“Good morning,” Dream Angell’s spoke with a smile in her tone. The assassin moving far enough to give Chief a kiss on her forehead, “Sleep well?”
No.
Chief bit back a wave of sadness that could have led her to tears. She hasn’t slept well since her return to MBCC, but there was no point in telling this delusion, “Yeah, did you?” Chief played along, undeniably being starved of her presence.
Forgive me, Chief thought as she let her hands drift along Angell’s back. Diving her face back into her chest with prayers that she’d become real if she just yearned hard enough.
“I did. I’ve been sleeping well since you arrived Chief,” Angell reciprocated her touch. Resting her head above Chief’s to snuggle and maybe go back to sleep.
Her dream feeding her wounded heart with a harmful reality, “I’m glad,” her voice croaking at the tenderness she would never feel again. A room, their bed, her radiating heat, all gone and never to be experienced again, “I’m really glad,” she could no longer fight it, her tears pricking the edge of her eyes as she desperately imprinted Angell’s body onto her own.
Angell allowed her to sob into her. Holding Chief tightly as she kissed the top of her head, “I won’t let anything hurt you,” she coddled.
“Liar,” Chief breathed.
Entangled within the sheets, Angell gave a soft scuffle, “How can I ever lie to you? I love you, Chief.”
Those words were enough to snap Chief awake. Back on her bed, she processed what had happened. It was a dream; she was indeed still in that awkward position she’d laid herself in the night before, still alone.
Chief couldn’t help but laugh. Finding it hilarious that Angell’s expression of love was frightening enough to wake her up. Her tears that continued to flow being the sole evidence of their owner’s punctured heart.