CHAPTER 43
Kennedy walked into her mother's office alongside Nick at 9 a.m. the following morning. They each took a seat across from her, and Director Swan looked at Kennedy quizzically.
"I think I know what you guys are meeting about. Honestly, I think we had to fight it together yesterday. I felt like I could shed a little light on things." Kennedy explained, drawing an even more curious expression from her mother.
She described the emotional partition constructed within Breastman, and the hunger contained within it. Reaching out, she linked to both of them, trying to give her mother some idea of what she was talking about. She found that now, with Breastman fully conscious and aware, she couldn't locate it.
"Huh," she said. "I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, to be honest."
"Nor I," agreed her mother.
UH
ME TOO, flashed across Breastman's hat.
"Can you not feel it either?" Kennedy asked him.
NOPE
NEVER FELT THAT
UNTIL YOU LEDME TO IT EARLIER
FEEL HUNGER
SOMETIMES
BLOODLUST OTHERS
NEVER THE WALL
NEVER THAT STRONG
"I repeat: huh." Kennedy said, bringing a hand to her chin. "Never seen something buried that deep before. It's like it's not even there now. But it sounds like it still bleeds through sometimes?"
Thumbs up.
"Fuckin' weird," Kennedy said rising to her feet with a sigh. "One more thing before I go. Breastman, I haven't told you this yet either. When I opened my eyes after healing you, something inside you looked at me."
Nick listened in horror as Kennedy described the void-filled eye that had glared at her from inside him.
If I'm gonna have a creepy eye inside me, it'd at least be nice to be able to fucking see with it.
He held his maw open for both of the women to peer inside, confirming there was no longer any eye-like growth inside of it. Director Swan, showing remarkable bravery, rolled up her sleeve and stuck her hand down him up to her shoulder. Notably, that was about two feet farther than it should have been possible to reach into him.
"Damn, that looks like a magic trick," Kennedy commented, viewing the scene from the side. "Do you feel anything mom?"
"No," Director Swan answered, removing her arm and standing up. "Not even a throat. It's like his mouth just keeps going."
"Heh," chuckled Kennedy. "Don't let your girlfriend find out about this or the bunker nerds are gonna have a field day. They love TARDIS bullshit."
At this point I might let them have that field day, on the off chance they can figure out what's going on.
"Actually, Gwynevere might be a good choice to help examine this. Despite your implication, daughter, she can keep a secret, and those nano drones of hers might present some answers." Director Swan said.
SAME BRAIN
The Director smiled, holding a hand out for a high five. It was almost uncanny, how she shifted her whole demeanor to interact with him in a way that made him feel comfortable and accepted. He didn't get that from anyone else but Cait, hell, hadn't felt it in a long time in his old life either.
I TRUST GWYN, scrolled across his hat.
He might not feel as comfortable with her as Cait, but from what he understood you weren't supposed to in the early stages of a physical relationship. Also, the geeky awkwardness was a big part of her charm.
Kennedy actually blushed, visibly embarrassed.
"It's not really my place to say, but, uh, you should trust her. She'd be excellent help. I don't know how much of what she did for you that you could actually feel, B-man, but it was a lot."
"Alright, I'll talk with her later then." Director Swan said, nodding her head decisively. "Kennedy, I appreciate you bringing all this to our attention, but this was originally meant to be an introductory psychiatric session for Mr. Breastman. If you would please excuse us?"
Kennedy rolled her eyes, walking towards the door.
"Don't be too rough with her Breastman, she might look like an old battle axe but she's not that tough," she called back over her shoulder as she left.
Kennedy was jarringly different around her mom than any other situation Nick had seen her in. It was like she reverted to sassy teenager rather than the sardonic adult she'd grown into. He'd seen some of the playful nature come out around Cait, too, but not to the same extent.
Is that who she really is? If so, why the act?
Director Swan rolled her eyes in return before fixing them on Nick.
"She's wrong, you know. I am that tough," she said with a wicked smile, before putting on a pair of small readers and picking up a notepad. "Now, shall we begin?"
She led him through a series of probing questions, and they quickly determined they should patch into the comm system to make the conversation easier.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed at his first response. "Why…?"
AM I BRITISH? BLAME GWYN
Swan frowned.
"Do you want to be British?"
JUST ANOTHER WAY TO DISARM PEOPLE, he answered. KINDA THE MAIN FOCUS OF MY EXISTENCE RIGHT NOW
WHEN YOU LOOK LIKE ME, PEOPLES FIRST RESPONSE IS ALWAYS FIGHT OR FLIGHT
"Fair enough, I suppose. This does seem to reinforce a complete disregard for your old identity, however."
HE WAS NOBODY
IM BREAST MAN
During one of their evening text chats over the course of the expedition, Gwyn had sent him a link. Clicking it had sent him to a thriving Guardian fan site, with him as the featured face. He'd braced himself for a storm of vitriol and fear, but instead…. Well, there were more people like Gwyn than he'd anticipated. Other than them, there were other people that just seemed to think he was cute, and, most importantly, people that he'd saved during that first night on Grand.
They were the second most vocal, after the horny folks, and one comment had stuck with him.
BREASTFAN69: I don't give a shit what he looks like, having something that badass on our side makes me feel a hell of a lot safer at night. Our things bump back.
He'd found he wasn't able to cry, but the human part of him had tried anyway. There were other things too, Director Swan had predicted BREAST MAN plushies on the shelves, and while that hadn't come true, it wasn't far off. Gwyn had sent a selfie of an adorable macramé version of him balanced on her breasts. It had been the only thing she was wearing, and he found he wasn't quite as immune to visual stimulus as he thought. It was in the name, after all.
Besides that last bit, he relayed all of this to Director Swan, who listened attentively. She repeated things back or asked clarifying questions, drawing more out of him than he'd realized he had to give. As he finished, she took a couple more notes before fixing him with her eyes and a smile.
"I'm very happy to hear about the pride you take in your role as a hero, Breastman. However, I'm a little concerned that everything positive you've said this far has been from an external source. What do you like about yourself?"
Well, fuck.
Nick hadn't liked anything about himself before the change. He'd had a decent job, but hadn't liked it. He'd been ugly, out of shape, and socially inept. Hell, he'd been a shit healer in his guild.
Now, he had superpowers, friends, an adorable girlfriend that was proud to have him, and was making a difference for the public everyday.
And he didn't feel like he deserved any of it.
Director Swan nodded along sympathetically as he expressed all of this.
"It seems like you take a lot of self worth from the friends you've made, particularly Cait. What is it they seem to like about you?" she asked.
It wasn't something Nick had thought about.
Cait was always earnest, but in the rare moments she was also serious, she'd talked about the times he'd 'saved' her. He hadn't known she was maybe the single person on earth least in need of saving, but neither had she at the time. As he pondered it, he had to admit there was a pattern of him hurting himself to help others. Maybe that was what they liked about him, self sacrifice.
"Really?" Director Swan asked when he said that. "Your friends seem like the kind of people that are happy you're hurting yourself to help them?"
Okay, put that way, no.
What was it then? If it wasn't the pain that was of value, what else?
"If we take the fact that you keep hurting yourself out of the equation, what's left?" Director Swan asked, leading him.
Hurting myself to help others minus hurting myself….
JUST HELPING?
"If I was going to say what I admire most about you, Breastman, I would choose that as well." Director Swan gave him a warm smile. "Although I'd give a close second to a remarkable personal resilience we haven't even touched upon."
It seemed wrong to Nick that helping, in and of itself, should have value. That had been pounded into his head, literally, very early in his previous life. His father hadn't appreciated him standing between him and his mother, and when the dust settled and they both lay battered on the ground, his mother had scolded him for making things worse. But the cuts and bruises, those she had tended to.
"What is it you appreciate about Cait?" Director Swan asked. He'd been silent for a good minute or two, not saying anything about his family. He didn't like to admit that time in his life was real to himself, much less others.
SHE TREATS ME LIKE ANYONE ELSE he answered quickly. IMMEDIATELY MADE ME FEEL LIKE I BELONGED BESIDE HER. SHE DOES THAT WITH EVERYONE.
"Do you feel like the same isn't true about yourself?" she asked.
That threw him for a loop. Despite his appearance, his team had rallied around him plenty, making him an integral part of their training, plans and strategies. Even Rodeo Squad had been friendly, and happy to work alongside him. He'd attributed that entirely to them, but maybe he had a role in that too.
"You might not be as proactive in that regard as Miss Smith, but, between you and me, Kennedy had a lot of nice things to say about you during our dinner before your expedition. My daughter is, generally, not quick to warm up to new people." She chuckled at that. "That may be news to you, as she's taken to your team like a fish to water. However I think that says more about the group you've convened than it does her."
All of this did have Nick feeling better about himself. To the point he wondered if he shouldn't have been talking to a counselor about his self-assessment a lot earlier. However, his mood fell when he remembered that this was not the reason he'd called this meeting. Best to get it out.
KILLING FEELS GOOD
Director Swan was almost-but-not-quite able to hide her shock at that. She did manage to keep her body language from closing off, but biology betrayed her, and Nick caught a whiff of stress and fear.
"Please, expand on that," she asked, keeping her voice steady.
IT'S MY BODY, I THINK
Christ this is embarrassing
GWYN AND I HAVE BEEN…. ACTIVE
IT FELT PRETTY MUCH THE SAME
ITS LIKE MY BODY IS REWARDING ME FOR VIOLENCE
Oddly, the Director seemed to relax at that.
"Well, I'm glad you didn't admit to a pathological need to kill, that would have been an issue. This, however, is like you said. Likely more of a biological issue than a psychological one. You would not be the first Altered to find themselves with instincts and thought patterns that put themselves at odds with polite society. I suppose, at that point, it does become a psychological issue." She tapped her pen on her notepad, thinking before continuing.
"Do you feel compelled to kill? Or just rewarded for it?" She asked.
Nick had to think about it. While he seemed built for it, there, thus far, hadn't been anything pushing him towards slaughter. Instead it was more like everything about him made it easier. He told her that, but added on before she could comment.
BUT WHAT ABOUT WHAT KENNEDY FOUND IN ME? He asked. He was no fool, it seemed unlikely there wasn't a link.
"Yes, I'm making the same connection." Director Swan nodded. "I admit it's strange. The Bulosi waves have earned their crude 'Bullshit' moniker for a reason, as their effects are nearly impossible to predict, but a case like yours is odd even in the world we find ourselves in. I can't think of anyone else who has something caged like you do. Although the caveat to that is without Kennedy, and without you being knocked out, we may never have known."
She had a point on that, Nick had to admit. But whether he was unique or not wasn't really relevant.
WHAT DO I DO ABOUT IT?
"Exactly what you are doing, Breastman.," Director Swan told him with a warm smile. "Talking about it, addressing it, and working on it. I understand your concern, but you are doing the right thing. It seems likely to me that this isn't 'you', but rather the influence of your Alteration. However, something that I feel you haven't quite grasped yet, is that your Alteration is a continuation of who you were and who you are. It is unlikely this will go away, but it can be dealt with, harnessed even. The few times I found myself fighting alongside the I-Cub, he displayed an absolutely terrifying level of savagery and violence, despite almost literally being a teddy bear off the field of battle. We live in a violent world, Breastman. An ability to meet that violence with our own is necessary, so long as it can be controlled."
Nick had seen old footage of those fights, and the carnage left in the big bear's wake was certainly similar to the flesh smoothies he'd left behind. Despite that, the I-Cub was the most beloved hero in the, admittedly short, history of DSM Guardians. Director Swan reached out to him, and he took it with a tentacle that she squeezed reassuringly.
"Remember that he paired that violence with the same thing you do, an unsurpassable instinct to help those in need. Make sure you keep that instinct ahead of the others, and I'm sure we'll see a lot more of those cute macrame Breastmen like Gwyn has around the city." She said, smiling brightly. Nick hoped she thought the blush that began to blacken his body when he thought of where he'd last seen one of those was just because of embarrassment.