The ongoing adventures of Blonsky/Chris: Part 4

[likeamonster]

The ride remained uneventful at normal speeds, the road stretched on too long, and he came as close to their limit as possible before a motel billboard appeared declaring it was just a few miles ahead, next right. As much as he wanted to drive on through the night he knew it simply was not possible. Gas shortage due to earlier activities for one thing; the need to ditch the stolen car being another.

He made a snap decision and turned in to the motel's lot. It was late evening, not yet eight according to the radio, and he figured they could get a few hours rest before leaving at dawn.

"You're going in." He stated flatly, without looking towards Chris, as he parked the furthest away from the office's main doors. "Just get a room, no frills, the cheapest. Don't draw attention to yourself." A pointed glare for this last statement. For someone like Chris he knew this was almost an impossibility.

With the car stopped, he reached behind Chris for the bag full of the genius's collected junk. In the side pocket was the one thing he knew they'd packed, as he had put it there himself: a wallet discovered in that broken down home they'd stayed in. Two neatly folded twenties were handed to Chris, with the rest of the wallet disappearing into Blonsky's back pocket. If he hadn't tracked Banner for so long, he might've been tempted to use the credit cards.

"Seems simple enough, right? Out you go."

Comments

[moralimperative]

Chris offered up his most demure who, me? expression in response to the insinuation that he was incapable of being inconspicuous, but didn't argue. Instead he slid out of the car with some vague words of assent and sauntered easily across the parking lot, hands in his pockets.

He was gone perhaps longer than was strictly necessary to procure a room in a cheap motel, but in actual fact it wasn't long at all before he returned with a key to a room around the corner of the building. After fetching his bag from the car, he led Blonsky to the room in question, opening the door with a flourish unbefitting the quality of the establishment as a whole; "The penthouse suite."

He gave a curtsy for good measure before following the soldier into the distinctly non-lavish room. It was cramped, dingy, and contained but a single bed. Some of Chris's usual blithesome mood seemed to leave him, almost visibly. That detail honestly hadn't occurred to him.

[likeamonster]

Blonsky found himself counting down the minutes Chris was gone, with each passing one doing nothing for his mood. But, it wasn't long enough to make him actually worry, so any mild irritation he had could easily be explained away as exhaustion. He followed him to the room, after a quick, thoroughly paranoid glance around for any onlookers. They were entirely unwatched; even the crusty manager had retreated away from the main desk.

The room itself was more than suitable for their needs. He'd stayed in worse with larger company before and had made due. This was paradise by comparison.

"Good job," he said with a wry hint of amusement, even going so far as to ruffle Chris's already mussed hair. Only then did he notice the slightly stunned expression towards the... oh.

"What, gone shy on me already?" He teased. "It's a place to sleep. Nothing more." Blonsky paused, then leaned in close to whisper, "Usually."

He just couldn't help himself.

[moralimperative]

Chris flinched, only slightly, before managing to collect himself. He wouldn't normally have been even remotely bothered by something as insignificant as a serious deficiency in available personal space, but then he wouldn't normally be sharing said personal space with someone who'd so thoroughly (not to mention unexpectedly) laid some physical claim to him not long before.

He smiled blandly, though the expression served mostly to prove that he was very talented--though not infallibly so--at faking complacency. "No, it's fine." He hoisted his bag to re-orient the strap more comfortably on his shoulder before putting it in the far corner of the room, digging through the assorted junk for the few spare clothes they'd acquired from that first house and tossing them aside for the following day, his momentary apprehension already forgotten by all appearances.

[likeamonster]

Blonsky watched him with sharp eyes and a set expression, missing nothing. The teasing immediately gave way to anger. He'd seen enough quick smiles to know when they were fake; he'd dealt with politicians and higher ups who believed themselves impermeable. Chris hadn't nearly enough training or social interaction to fake it as well as he thought.

It would be too easy and, really, far too tempting to pin Chris to the nearest wall and confront him that way. He knew well enough how Chris was without his shields, when his senses were so beyond overwhelmed he couldn't even think of a lie let alone give words to one.

It was neither willpower nor morals that made him resist the obvious tension, for now, but merely impatience. That did not leave his companion entirely in the clear, though.

"Want to try that lie again? Or better yet, don't, and just be goddamn honest." His tone was all the warning Chris would get, the one chance he had to speak freely before things became more involved.

[moralimperative]

That tone stripped all hope of pretence away, leaving Chris to stand and stare, left oddly vulnerable. He was practised enough in false smiles and forced non sequiturs to fool the ignorant masses who neither noticed nor cared if the façade happened to slip, but to the attentive he was as good as an open book. That Blonsky should happen to fall into the latter category was really no surprise.

Chris wet his lips nervously, glancing at the floor, before making eye contact again. "It's fine," he repeated, more quietly. There may still have been a twinge of something else, some doubt or fear or unease, but the words themselves held conviction.

[likeamonster]

Blonsky stared a few seconds longer than necessary, before finally nodding in acceptance.

"Good. Oh, and word of advice? Don't attempt a lie unless you're really good at it." Which, by implication alone, it was evident Chris was not in that category. There was a beat where it was clear he wanted to ask more, though at the last second decided not to. Leave well enough alone... for now. The matter dealt with, he moved on to more important things.

"We've got about six hours we can rest, but not a minute more. We're out before the sun can give us away. In the old car if necessary, a new one preferably." A small pause. How easy it was to fall back in the role of Captain addressing a rookie. He shook his head. Much as the scenario fit, they were partners more than anything. So, with some hesitation, he added, "Any questions?"

[moralimperative]

In response to Blonsky's advice, Chris merely smiled again, the expression simultaneously more genuine and infinitely more fragile than before. The effect was almost wryly self-depreciating, but if it should have come accompanied by some comment or another then he kept it to himself.

Instead he pulled off his shirt as Blonsky laid out their plan for the morning, balling it up in his hands and tossing it into the corner before taking a seat on the bed. When asked if he had questions, he paused in thought briefly before stripping down to his boxers and settling beneath the covers as he replied, "What's your favorite color?"

[likeamonster]

Once again Chris surprised him simply through doing the unexpected. First with the stripping which, to his own credit, he regarded with barely more than a glance; then the question itself.

"How and why is that the first thing you think of?" He responded with curiosity as he stripped off his shirt, or what remained of it. He half turned and the item joined the pile already started. There were a few seconds as he stood very still, and simply listened.

Pleased with the results, he soon after settled in beside Chris, lying on his stomach and facing towards him.

"I dunno. Colors are just colors anyway. What's yours?"

[moralimperative]

Chris watched the other in silence for a long moment, either still wary of whatever concern he'd had earlier or trying very hard to decide whether or not Blonsky's answer was acceptable. In that, at least, it was genuinely impossible to tell.

Finally he blinked, realizing that his question had been posed back to him.

"Chartreuse," he answered simply, reaching for the pillow on his side of the bed and pulling it down to curl against.

[likeamonster]

Blonsky scoffed a little at that, having half-expected some odd answer. He was not disappointed.

"Couldn't be something normal then? Like blue or red. No, it had to be some bizarre... whatever it is."

He groaned and pressed his forehead to the pillow. He shifted and flexed his shoulders beneath the thin covers, forcing them partway off his back. The room felt much too warm, and he had no idea if it was own blood at fault, or the drugs he'd taken earlier. Maybe some mix of both.

"Back to more important things," he said, turning back round to Chris, "Any questions related to our current agenda?"

[moralimperative]

Chris was silent for another long stretch of seconds, watching the unnatural protrusion of Blonsky's vertebrae beneath the smooth expanse of his back as he moved.

He glanced back up once the soldier had turned to him again, shaking his head slightly. Blonsky's instructions were clear enough, and he could understand why keeping to a single vehicle might prove problematic over time. Part of him had to wonder what the other man's long-term plan looked like, if he had one at all, but the rest of him didn't particularly mind one way or the other anyway, so to ask was mostly irrelevant. "Not really."

[likeamonster]

He wasn't usually one for planning, and now was no different. Only the next couple of steps were vaguely sketched out; the end goal was a blur at best. He only knew he had to keep moving, to stay just under the radar.

The irony of being what he himself had hunted only a handful of days ago was, once again, at the forefront of his mind. He shoved it back.

"Good. Then we should be able to sleep without a problem."

Now with everything momentarily clear and sorted out, he moved further down to rest, and turned away from his bedmate. The silence lingered for only a moment or two.

"Chris, I can feel you staring."

[moralimperative]

Caught, he didn't bother trying to deny it. Instead Chris reached out to run the tip of his finger down a few of the exposed ridges of Blonsky's spine, almost absently.

He'd been told about the Abomination, couldn't help but to have noticed the few physical deformities that lingered in Blonsky's normal form when they had first met, but he hadn't been given the opportunity to really look before.

[likeamonster]

Blonsky awoke with a start. Soldiers, he could hear five of them, perhaps more on the way. He held Chris closer to him, instantly protective, his arm tight around his shoulders.

They walked right past their room to the main office. Even around the corner, it was still only six doors down. He shook Chris, first lightly, then more insistently, to rouse him from sleep.

"Soldiers outside," he said, quiet and tense, once the other showed any semblance of being conscious.

[moralimperative]

Being something of a deep sleeper, it took several moments for Chris to process a thought much beyond that he'd been warm and comfortable and that burrowing more snugly against Blonsky's side was just about the best idea in the world. Blonsky's tone forced him to furrow his brows in unease before opening his eyes, blinking into wakefulness.

Soldiers--? Oh. Right.

He yawned, dragging a hand through his wild hair and attempting to force his sluggish thoughts back into some semblance of order. "Nobody's seen you," he stated, establishing a point from which to work from, though it would take a few extra seconds before he found his way over to 'how did they get here?'

[likeamonster]

"It won't matter if they check the rooms, will it?" He moved off the bed quickly, hand lingering on Chris's back as long as it could, then strode quickly to their heap of clothes.

His shirt was picked, considered, then stuffed it into the bag. Shoes and socks too. Chris's scattered items were tossed over to him.

"Got to get out of here." But, how was the question. Hotwire another car? That was the plan before, but now time wasn't in their favor. He peeked out between the blinds, but that didn't offer much assistance. "If you've got any ideas beyond the direct approach, I'd like to hear 'em."

[moralimperative]

Chris pulled on his shirt before moving off of the bed, pants tossed over one shoulder while he straightened his boxers, looking off into middle distance as his mind began to catch up.

"So I tell them I haven't seen anyth--" He paused in the motion of rubbing a sore spot where neck met shoulder, realizing abruptly that there were almost assuredly bruises beneath his fingertips. Whether they jumped immediately to the conclusion that he was harboring a fugitive or not, denying that he'd been with someone would definitely raise numerous unanswerable questions. He didn't just look like a morning after, he looked like the morning after a hurricane.

When he snapped out of his ruminations, it was apparent that Chris was finally running at 100% again. He pulled on his pants, stepping purposefully over to the window and giving the view through the blinds a cursory glance before pulling them out of the way and throwing the window open wide. "Can you keep them inside?" he asked, leaning out of the open window to survey the nearby parking lot. Without being seen came implied.

[likeamonster]

Emil shoved Chris away from the window immediately after he finished speaking. He gave him a look over his shoulder, 'Really? Are you that dense?' before he simply listened. They were still by the main office. Good.

"They see me, they won't see anything ever again." Said immediately, low and dangerously. He took a deep breath, flexed his shoulders and neck. PROTECTFIGHTDESTROYKILL repeated over and over in his head and he couldn't tell anymore if it was his voice or Abomination's.

Was there any difference?

"I can handle them just fine, Chris, don't worry." Much too calmly, with an eagerness beneath that, barely in check.

[moralimperative]

Chris blinked back at him, an undercurrent of worry clear to see in his expression before he reigned it in, back on task. "Okay," he conceded, glancing back at the window before quickly moving to grab their bag of supplies and putting it through to the ground outside.

"Make sure they stay out of the parking lot." He hoisted himself through the open window frame as well, glancing back and hesitating only momentarily before picking up the bag and heading off beyond where the side of the building obscured the view from inside the room, not saying anything more.

[likeamonster]

"Yes, sir," Blonsky said, grinning, as he closed the window after Chris. He moved back to the door, pressed himself to the wall.

How he wanted to simply punch the door, race after them, rip some heads off. He could do it before Chris even reached their car.

But he didn't. He resisted. They had a plan, a very good one, and he would follow it. Besides, it would be far more challenging this way. Limited cover, a single room, the whole group together...

Blonsky took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. They were checking rooms now like good little toy soldiers. He could wait.

[moralimperative]

Meanwhile, Chris hurried over to the edge of the parking lot in search of where they'd left the car. He found it, much to his dismay, boxed in by two large military vehicles.

He slung his bag more securely over his shoulder before taking a deep breath of his own and making his approach. Even as it became apparent that one of the Humvees wasn't as empty as he might have liked, he walked up alongside it with calm, purposeful strides. The soldier who'd remained behind got out to intercept him before he could speak, but Chris talked over him anyway: "Hey, that's a real nice car you've got there," he showed his empty hands in a placating gesture, continuing uninterrupted, "You're just a little bit in the way, though. You might want to move it just an inch..."

"This your car?" the soldier demanded, gesturing to the stolen vehicle.

Chris looked at it as though he was only just then noticing its presence. "No," he answered. "I don't have a car. But that guy--"

"What guy?"

"I don't know, this guy. He got all bent out of shape about my bike being in the way--" As he explained, Chris reached into his bag, pulling out the bike pedaling mechanism he'd taken with him from the wreckage in Harlem. The soldier's eyes widened in response to the implication of the dismantled bike piece in combination with the young man's disheveled appearance, not waiting to hear the rest of Chris's story before he dashed off after his comrades, already in the building.

Chris glanced from the direction the man had gone to the two-way radio mounted inside of the Humvee. Well then.

[likeamonster]

The smart soldiers split up, wanting to get the work done faster. Two per room, the last to stand guard. By the third room, they were starting to let their guard down, bored of the task.

And Blonsky waited. Tranquil and perfectly still. The door opened, and the first guy popped his head in. Emil watched him until after he saw his eyes widen, recognition on his features, then he pulled him inside.

Guy 1 flew into the opposite wall, went down, fumbled for his comm. Blonsky was faster, reached it before he could, broke it in his hands. Crouched above him, got him in a choke hold, permitted him to shout for help. In the furthest corner, his victim struggling beneath him, he held on until the rest of the units had him surrounded.

"You all they sent?" He asked them with a wide grin. "Bet you don't even know what you're up against, do ya?"

Assault rifles. Tranquilizers or had they switched to live ammo yet?

"You stole military secrets, you've betrayed-"

"Save it." Blonsky snapped Guy 1's neck as easily as one would bat a fruit fly and stood up. "Borin' me already."

A flood of bullets then - so it was live after all - from all of them. They tried to fan out in the limited space, but couldn't. He was everywhere at once. Grabbing the gun from one, swinging it at abdomen, before bearing it down like a club on another's shoulder. He broke it, tossed it aside, went back to using his fists.

Blood poured from every new wound, seemed to linger with the orgy of bullets and dust. Something about the blood, something important, but he didn't stop to think. He was too busy having fun with this pinball dance between the remaining four.

[moralimperative]

A direct link to intercepting the communications of their pursuers was far too good a lucky break for Chris to pass up so easily; he threw his bag between the seats, climbing into the light tactical vehicle and allowing himself the briefest of moments to drum his fingers against the steering wheel. ...Radio. Right, that was a thing he was doing.

At first glance it appeared to be mounted into a bracket that was in turn bolted securely to the frame of the vehicle itself. Chris dug into his bag for the utility knife he'd picked up shortly before they'd first hit the highway, trying to work the radio out of its bracket. It held fast though, and then abruptly the muted sound of gunfire from inside the building cut his already limited time limit short.

Keys, maybe they'd left the-- he turned his attention back to the dash, where a convenient 'start' switch was conspicuously located. You had to love the military.

[likeamonster]

Out of bullets and all of the well-trained soldiers fearfully begin to reload. An amusing sight and Blonsky just watches. Fingers are slipping, hands are shaking, sweat dripping from their brow. It was glorious. Rookies, the entire lot of them. Probably thought they had an important job with this assignment. That it might make them into something. They were just canon fodder and nothing more.

His heart is beating too fast, and he can feel everything kicking into overdrive. The change is there, and he's tense, so close like an orgasm, and it would be so easy to become his other form. Tear everyone from limb to limb. Paint the room red, crimson droplets draining down from every surface, unknown chunks on the walls... and there in the center, he'd take Chris from behind, set a brutal pace, like the kid needs. Stain the perfect skin with blood, fingers grasping at his hips, leaving bruises, grabbing that necklace of his like a leash...

Blonsky moans, deep and low in his throat, ignoring the worried looks surrounding him. He looks out the window after him, so far away, yet he could drag him in by his hair when he's done here... There's a pause, a mental refocusing from primal to logical. Even as the rapid firestorm of new bullets pierce his flesh, and new wounds open and splatter everything (it was significant, he had to remember, but why?), Blonsky still did not move. Just stared through the medium frame.

Then like a bomb going off, everything happened in rapid succession. No more playing around with broken bones, now it was time to finish this off. It was remarkably easy. Snapped necks, nose shoved into the brain, a punched out heart, and a disinterested headshot. All done within minutes.

He leaped through the window in a shower of glass, rolled and landed in a crouch on the concrete. A few shards caught his eye and he stared, his reflection out of focus, and picked up a larger piece. It was held in his palm, and he squeezed, soon watching the blood flow down his arm. Starting to remember now why he should be worried about it.

[moralimperative]

The Humvee's engine roared to life at Chris's behest, tearing out of park like an animal that wanted to run. He promptly backed into what had previously been their car, the behemoth of a vehicle wheeling into a 90 degree turn before he caught up with the position of the steering wheel. Chris didn't waste time worrying about it, though, simply wrenching the Humvee into drive and taking it off of the parking lot pavement, around the corner to the outside of the room they'd stayed in.

"Blonsky!" He called out over the idle of the engine, nearly tripping in his haste to get out of the driver's seat and reach his companion, quite understandably alarmed by the sight and state of him.