No stockholm syndrome here
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Summary
Being a published scientist always opened a person up to critics and backers alike. It wasn't every day, however, that one of them decides to kidnap you for your work.
An ill-fated research trip leads to your introduction to a strange village in Eastern Europe, and all the insanities it holds. Certainly not the least of which is Mother Miranda and her 'children'. After being foisted off on a gruff man with a frankly ridiculously proportioned hammer, you're determined to do what it takes to survive, and work on this mysterious mold only until you find the means to escape.
Lucky for you, you and Heisenberg may have a lot more in common than you think.
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Everyone knows that Pets are helpless. After being rebuilt by chemicals and nanobots in the process of Petification, as far as physical abilities go, most Pets might as well be children, with delicate builds and minimal muscle mass, on top of often being just generally smaller than the average person. Mentally, Pets fare even worse in a comparison to a normal, unaltered human.
However, among the criminal element, there’s another fact that is well known: Don’t try your luck at kidnapping a Pet, no matter how much you think you could make off of it.
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Sylvia Sloane-- also known as Voltage-- is dragged into a resurfacing Butterfly issue across the country and inevitably finds herself deeply entangled in the teams' lives and issues (one member in particular she was incredibly unprepared for) all just so she can get a file that may give her answers on the murder of her sister.
TLDR; Sylvia Sloane is collecting talking points for a massive 'Am I The Asshole' post.
v^
His eyes met hers through the lifted visor, and she fell silent. She couldn’t tell the color nor why his expression had simultaneously dropped, but she found them soft. Some contradiction of innocence and violence seeping out with every flutter of his lashes, so carnally confusing that it left her with her heart thumping aggressively and her cheeks warming.
She never cared to figure out who he was beneath that mask, nor why he was so protective over his identity. If that was how he wanted to be, then so be it. It didn’t matter to her. They were but acquaintances, definitely not friends and hardly ever cordial. Nothing further. So it didn’t make sense for her to care about the true face of the increasingly complex man.
Not once in the past three weeks.
Until now.
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