Extension June 2022 Drabble #1 (Patreon)
Content
Part 1 (Patreon Link)
Part 2 (this part)
Cole&Jack&Hanzo – There is no coming back from this one... is there...
warnings: watersports/wetting; brief mention of hypothetical su*cide
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Jack is leaning against the wall behind Angela, just watching from the corner of his eyes as she clicks through report after report and picture after picture. He’s been the one to order her go through this, but he’s also been the one to first get up and ‘stretch his legs’ just because it’s been too upsetting.
He knows why that is. He knows it but he won’t admit it to anybody but himself: Cassidy has been the last thing left over from Gabriel; the last thing connecting him to what Gabriel had been once upon a time, and now he’s gone as well; eradicated by Talon. Like Gabriel.
Yes, he’s still there in body but… the thing that he’s become is not who he used to be.
Angela sighs and pushes back from the large computer, rubbing over her eyes and the bridge of her nose.
“Done?” Jack asks gruffly.
“Hmn. For now. I need a break.” She looks pale and grim but not worse for wear. She’s a lot stronger than he is, even though Cole has been her friend for so long. They all but grew up together. For a moment, Jack feels like absolute scum, making her go through this; watching picture after picture of Cole going through torture. Reading report after report of him slowly but surely being twisted into this… thing that they have locked up in the bowels of their base.
But they need to know-
“Any sign this is reversible?”
She levels a brief look at him, then stands and takes off her lab coat.
“I’m going to go and see what Fareeha is up to,” she murmurs, her fingers shaking the tiniest amount. “I just need to… I just need to not think for a moment.” She wipes a hand over her face. He only now sees how pale she is, her lips void of blood as she staggers out of the room.
He follows more slowly, but his feet don’t take him toward the rec rooms or the shooting range; instead, he moves deeper into the base.
He can hear Cassidy long before he actually opens the security doors leading into the hallway. Shimada is sitting at his usual spot across from the cell, not moving a muscle while Cole roars at the top of his lungs. Whether he is actually in pain or just pretending to try and make them come inside his cell… he’d need to ask Angela for that one. She’s monitoring his vitals, though, so… yeah.
Yeah.
Jack comes to a halt next to Shimada who barely turns his head to peer at him before looking back ahead. His expression is stony, not a muscle twitching in his cheek when Cassidy seamlessly switches gears and asks in a low crooning tone: “Hey there big fella… gonna let this li’l slut suck ya off, then? Want me t’ tell ya all the nasty shit he got up to for me?”
Jack turns and leans against the wall next to Shimada, watching Cole quietly. He figures not replying to him might really be the best course of action they have at the moment.
He’s wearing plain gray pants and a top that is by now stained with dark circles of sweat. The bruises underneath his eyes are a testament to how little he has been sleeping. He looks utterly exhausted but still bangs his fists against the thick security glass, hollering at them to start talking if they don’t want him to die of boredom.
“Come on, gimme a bit of a show! There’s nothin’ to do in here, ya know? Thought you bunch was the good guys! The Hell am I s’posed to do in here? Worst form of torture. Ya want me t’ die a wretched death, do ya? An’ here I thought y’all was my friends.”
Not even his speech pattern sounds like Cole anymore; just like a caricature. Like this is a man wearing a Cole costume and nothing more.
As Jack stares at him, there is a brief lull in the action. Cole exhales and it looks like someone is deflating a bouncy castle. For just a few brief, painful moments he looks simply exhausted to the bone and very much like the Cole they knew and laughed.
Jack gasps, his body going rigid, one foot pushing forward in a half-aborted step as he stares into Cole’s eyes and sees… him. The bastard kid that Gabriel had pulled out of Deadlock kicking and screaming and forced to become a Blackwatch member.
Tears fill Cole’s eyes in seconds, a trembling hand pressing against the glass as his cracked lips form the words: Help me.
Jack feels Hanzo’s hand clamp like a vice around his wrist to hold him back the moment that the metal device pressed into the side of Cole’s head sparks. Lines of electricity briefly jerk over Cassidy’s face that twists in agony, eyes rolling up into his skull and a line of drool slipping from the corner of his eyes.
His knees briefly give out but he catches himself before he can really fall onto the ground. By the time he straightens out and looks back at them, he is once again this other man, face stretched into a manic grin.
Jack exhales roughly. Hanzo pulls him back with the grip he has on him, his short nails digging into the soft inside of Jack’s wrist.
“It is not him,” he tells him in a low voice.
Jack nods quietly, his throat parched.
Only after another minute of probably making sure that Jack won’t lunge forward anyway, he slowly lets go of him.
“Ya two look mighty cute t’gether. Li’l bitch won’t let me mount, but I won’t complain if ya let ‘im suck ya off,” Cole drawls. He is bracing his forearms against the security pane, his face drenched in sweat like he’s been through an intense exercise right now. He looks like he is going to collapse but stays upright just out of pure spite.
“How’re you holding up?” Jack asks quietly, not taking his eyes off of Cole. He’s locked away and still it feels dangerous; like he could vanish into smoke just like Reaper and creep out of all the little nooks and crannies.
“I am well,” Shimada replies without inflection one way or the other. “Cole is dead.”
Jack looks away after all, staring down at Hanzo. He is looking ahead steadily, his face as blank as his voice.
“Ya know, this is really gettin’ boring already. Overwatch is a snooze fest; always has been. You like this body, don’t ya?”
Looking up again, Cole has put his hand on his chest and is slowly rubbing it in circles. “You’re so sad that I ain’t how I used t’ be, right? Are ya lookin’ t’ cure me? Hm? Are ya? Wanna try an’ pull me back?”
He’s leaning forward, pressing his forehead against the glass, eyes boring into Jack. He might have already figured out that he’s the weak link now. “Wanna try an’ bring me back an’ make that pathetic, weak excuse of a coward live with all the things that I’ve done? I’m more capable than ‘im. I am ‘im. Jus’ betta.”
The way he talks is scraping against Jack’s nerve endings. It is making him want to grab this man by the collar and punch until he finally lets go of Cole and gives him back to them.
This is not Cole. He can understand Shimada’s estimate better now… but he won’t admit that he’s dead until they tried every single venue possible.
Cole is still in there… he’s fighting the conditioning and the plate embedded in his skull. He is.
The man’s face changes again. Something diabolical slides over his exhausted features as he bares his yellowed teeth in a shark-like grin. He’s not saying anything but just a few moments there is a burst of wetness suddenly expanding over his crotch and down his legs as he pisses himself out of sheer spite, urine soaking his thin pants and pooling around his feet.
Jack pulls his head back in disgust.
The man with Cole’s face starts to cackle, head thrown back.
“You know what? I hope y’all can get this piece of trash back! Ya think he’ll be able t’ look y’all in the eyes? Ya think he won’t slit his wrists the second he’s alone? I am stronger than he’d ever be!”
Hanzo suddenly stands up from his perch and puts a hand on Jack’s bicep.
“You should go. You are agitating him,” he says, still without any inflection in his voice. “I will send out a message when I have to rest.”
Jack nods reluctantly. All of a sudden he can’t look at the man in the cell anymore.
He turns to walk away but is halted briefly by Hanzo’s voice a few seconds later. “...don’t come back. It’ll only be worse.”
He nods again.