I woke up early in the morning. My body wasn't used to it, but my mind was stronger. I had only a few hours of sleep, but I promised myself I would take care of Skyds and wouldn't leave the Morlocks until she got better.
I inspected the kitchen supplies, found the freshest canned food and a bottle of mineral water, and went to feed the blonde.
"Shit, everything hurts," she groaned as soon as I managed to wake her. "What happened?"
"Exactly what I warned you about," I replied dryly, starting to feed the patient.
She barely had the strength to chew, but thankfully, canned beans didn't require much effort—they practically melted on the tongue, although that didn't make them taste any better.
"I can't feel my field," she said after swallowing the last spoonful. "Did you take it?"
"For a while," I decided not to give her false hope. "Once you recover enough, it should return."
"I'm still glad I tried," she said after a short pause, yawning. "Otherwise, I'd think about it for the rest of my life."
"Go back to sleep," I said, giving her some mineral water. "You need to rest well."
She resisted, but her body's needs won out, and soon Sally was breathing steadily, while I gently stroked her head.
Around noon, a worried Callisto stopped by, and I told her Skyds was sick. The one-eyed woman promised to get some vitamins and something tastier than canned food. By the end of the day, even Masquerade visited, briefly apologizing for yesterday's "hysteria" and inquiring about how his charge was doing.
I had to assure the freak that I could take care of the girl myself. I wanted to have a heart-to-heart talk with him, maybe ask a few pointed questions, but the time wasn't right for such conversations.
That day, I barely left the trailer. I spent most of it meditating and trying to enter my inner world. My progress was poor, but I didn't despair. Water wears down stone. The rest of the time, I cared for my patient—luckily, this wasn't my first time. I'd played the role of a nurse before, especially when our Irenin was injured.
The next day, Marrow—a girl with a bone crown on her head—visited us. She looked worried and tearful.
"Hey, what's wrong, little one?" I asked.
"Masquerade, he's hurting Sunder again! I thought... I thought Skyds was better; she usually helps…"
Sally was still asleep, and I didn't think enough time had passed to let her get back on her feet.
"What if I try to help?"
"You?" the girl said, surprised.
"Yeah."
"But you're… a guy," she muttered uncertainly, and I just rolled my eyes.
I kept forgetting the kind of world we lived in. Kneeling before the girl, I looked her in the eyes and said, "It doesn't matter what gender a person is. What matters is the desire to help. Remember that, kid."
The girl, staring at me in awe, nodded. As I stood up, I realized I had just been advocating for gender equality. It was amusing, though not very fun, to feel like I was in the shoes of the so-called "weaker" sex.
"Lead the way," I commanded.
We didn't have to go far. We found Masquerade and almost all the girls except Caliban in the far corner, right behind an overturned train car. Sunder was cowering in a pile of construction debris, quietly whimpering while the freak in the cloak sang a cheerful tune. One of his hands gripped the girl's shin. From the point of contact, a thin web of cuts spread up her leg, as if made by an invisible knife.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, standing behind Masquerade.
Honestly, I still couldn't believe that his mind was so completely messed up. I had seen many different psychos in my lives, but most of them had at least some, however twisted, reasons for their actions.
Here, though, Sunder was already disfigured beyond belief, so I saw no need to make her even more grotesque. I figured something else was at play.
"Rascal?" Masquerade looked surprised. Releasing the giantess, he stood up straight in front of me. "I didn't think you'd show up. I thought it would be hard to lure you out from under Skyds' wing, but this is even better. Samson, grab him!"
I barely had time to turn my head before the massive, fur-covered woman stepped toward me, grabbing me from both sides and pinning my arms to my body. Good thing I had spare clothes with long sleeves in my backpack.
"If you wanted to talk outside of Sally's sight, you could've just asked," I said calmly, as if I wasn't in a serious predicament.
"Funny, has she already told you her real name? Then again, what should I have expected? All women are the same—bitches with a black hole between their legs!"
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, frowning slightly. "Why are you tormenting them, insulting them, disfiguring them?"
"Ha, you're braver than you seem! She must have told you everything, right? All of this is to keep the Morlocks united, to stop any of us from feeding on false hopes of just returning to the surface and living like before! We're mutants, and human society will never accept us."
"No, that's only part of the truth. You're just using those words to justify your vile actions."
"Say whatever you want!" Masquerade looked furious, stepping half a step closer and scrutinizing my face. "But you won't escape this! I'll make you just like the rest of the Morlocks. Skyds' sudden illness was very convenient. Don't think anyone will save you!"
I could hear Samson behind me sniffling sadly, almost howling like a wolf. Callisto averted her gaze in shame. Sunder continued to whimper in her corner, the wounds on her leg still bleeding profusely.
"Uncle Masquerade!" Marrow cried out through her tears. "Please don't! Don't hurt him! He'll stay with us anyway, won't you?! Just make him promise to stay! Don't hurt him!"
"Shut up, brat!" the now enraged freak leapt toward the girl with the bone crown. "Skyds has been protecting you all this time, and I didn't touch your precious face only because you already stand out enough! But I guess it's time to teach you a lesson!"
His hook-like hand with long, uncut nails reached toward the girl. I thought I'd have to break free from Samson's grip, but the mutant woman let go of me herself. It seemed even she was against Masquerade touching the girl, though she hesitated too long to do anything. I was faster.
Grabbing Masquerade's shoulder with my left hand, I spun him around, and before the freak could understand what was happening, I pulled the glove off my right hand with my teeth and pressed my bare palm to his grotesque face.
To be honest, I almost panicked for a moment. It felt like my power had failed or something.
"You fool," he growled. "My ability works through touch!"
"So does mine," I replied, grinning bloodthirstily.
Our powers clearly had something in common—the same trigger. For the first few seconds, they fought each other, trying to determine who was stronger. To my relief, and Masquerade's dismay, luck was on my side!
I held my grip on his face for a good ten seconds before letting go. I was seething with rage, a mix of my own emotions and the echo of Masquerade's twisted personality. What separated us at that moment was the direction of our anger. I was furious only at this bastard, while he hated the entire world, me included. I didn't want to delve into his memories and thoughts, but I had to.
"Callisto," I said, looking at the one-eyed brunette, "take the girl away."
"What?" Marrow gasped. "But why? What are you going to do, Rascal?"
My head was pounding, and I could feel the start of a hellish migraine. I stepped toward the pink-haired girl, knelt down, and looked her straight in the eyes again.
"I know you all call each other by nicknames—another dumb rule of Masquerade's, right?" The girl sniffled, nodding. "How about we exchange real names? Call me Marius, okay?"
"I… I'm Sara," she stammered. Yeah, kids can sense everything perfectly.
"Good, Sara. Will you answer one more question for me? Is Uncle Masquerade a bad person?"
"He doesn't like being called that. Not a person, a mutant. B-but, yeah, he's bad…"
"Thanks," I nodded. "I think he's a jerk too, and it's important to know I'm not alone in thinking that."
"W-what are you going to do to him?" Surprisingly, Sara was trying to get to the truth, even though she was scared to hear it.
"First, I want to find out how bad he is. Maybe we're wrong, and he's actually a sweetheart, huh?"
"He's not… a sweetheart," she said darkly. "Not at all."
"Never judge people too quickly," I said, repeating a common truth.
"Are you going to punish him?"
"If he's really as bad as I think."
Sarah gave up. She didn't ask any more questions. She was about ten years old, not five, so the girl understood that something might happen here that she really shouldn't see. A reasonable child, I think she'll grow into a wonderful young lady.
Callisto took Marrow away, and I went to Sander. Her leg looked awful—shallow cuts were bleeding profusely. If there weren't so many, it wouldn't be a problem, but with this amount, I had every reason to be concerned.
When I touched her leg, I tried to think of nothing but the desire to help. I know I was treading on thin ice, but the thing is, my main abilities and the ones I borrowed from Masquerade worked through touch. I couldn't be entirely sure, but I really hoped I could separate them—make them work alternately, not simultaneously.
Sander's case wasn't fatal. Regular medicine—bandages, ointments, compresses, and pills—could have helped her just fine, but, again, I didn't want to think about that. So, I confidently placed my hand on the startled leg of the masculine-looking woman and tried not to feel too relieved when Masquerade's power kicked in and mine took a back seat.
Now it was time to heal Sander. And then... then I'd have to think things through carefully.