This time, the chokehold does not tighten.

Gavin's slow pacing comes to a stop in front of her, and the underboss looks down at a Rocket he'd taken under his wing.

Like a dog trained to bark on command, he repeats the words of THEO BECKETT.

"Orders are orders. You follow them obediently, blindly, even if it kills you — and if you don't?"

You will bend, and if you don't bend we will break you.

He has been broken. It shows in the scars, in the emptiness of his eyes.

"Rocket won't just kill you. They'll kill your family, your friends — anyone you care about. They will take until there's nothing left."

The words are not exact, not after it's been so long since he's last heard them. But their meaning rings the same.

"And sometimes, they'll leave you alive."

Marcel had never been the same, after.

"Do you understand?"

Lex only had one thing she cared about, and Cillian Quinn knew exactly who that was. He is her strength, but also her one vulnerability. That was what her mind focused on, flashes of a false memory seeded into her by Lulu Flint and Darkrai brought her dangerously close to the edge. The threat came through clear. Gavin was talking about Killian Decker.

She doesn’t answer his question, but she understands, “You wouldn’t dare,” she growls through clenched teeth. There’s threat in her eyes as a surge of protectiveness over what is hers stokes the flames. He is an admin now, just as loyal to Rocket as she is. Amber eyes trace Gavin’s scars. Was that the fate she can’t escape today? Or was there something more sinister he has yet to reveal?

Cillian Quinn

Gavin has been taught that conditioning takes forms beyond violence — he has learned, first hand, that there are tools more effective than brutality upon a select few. When she growls out a warning, he does not retaliate.

"You couldn't stop me."

There's no mockery in his tone, but neither is there remorse.

"If you are lying to me and I find out — and I will find out — I won't have a choice. Do you understand?"

For as high as he's climbed, Gavin is not the top of the chain.

Orders are orders. And like a dog, he will obey.

"If you're the mole and you confess, I will spare him. I can promise you that." There's a weight to the words that's genuine, but whether Alexandra Briarwood believes him is another thing entirely. "I will ask you only once."

He draws a deep, calculating breath, and doesn't look away.

"Did you sell us out to the League?"

You couldn’t stop me. He was right, there was no way she could. He is the avatar of a god and she has no inclination to feel the wrath of an angry deity again after Darkrai.

That is what breaks her, the helplessness she feels. She doesn’t have the strength to protect Killian Decker. Compliance is the only power she has. It stings, festering like the poison of a Beedrill. The taste of defeat is bitter. In the second it takes for the realization to click, she is immediately filled with regret. She left Killian to protect him, now she has led him back into clutches of another oppressive boss.

What has she done?

There’s a visible look of defeat as her shoulders slump, her eyes fixate on anything but Cillian Quinn. A fire still lingered in her gaze when she glanced back towards him, but there was more compliance than earlier, an acceptance of her fate, “I understand,” she hissed through her discomfort.

Lex squares up into a more confident posture, her eyes bearing into his so he could hopefully read the truth in them, “No,”

Cillian Quinn

Gavin sees it in her eyes, the way the fire flickers and dims.

He does not seek to douse it, as Rocket had once done to him. Theo had taught him to weaponize his anger. Use it. Channel it. A flame, rekindled, that has blazed through the organization to its peak.

Gavin stares into her eyes, and believes her.

"All right."

But though Dhelmise loosens its threatening grip, its hold on her does not abate. This was only the beginning.

"You would do anything to protect each other."

He looks away to a wall with a one-way window, nods. He circles around behind her, out of sight.

"Would you let the League take Killian?"

The name sounds strange on his lips, even still. A door opens.

"You will learn to fight, if not to protect yourself then to protect Rocket — and in turn, protect what matters to you most."

Gavin leaves the room, and another enters. Wild-eyed, scared, murderous. Dhelmise retracts its hold, and Gavin watches from behind the glass.

"Show no mercy," he commands then both. "Fight to kill."

The door locks.

TW: Violence, blood

Cillian Quinn says all right but Lex is hesitant to believe him. It seems too easy after going through the trouble of paralyzing her and bringing her all the way down here. She should hang on to the hope that he did. Perhaps this is all over, that’s all her needed.

Relief comes with the Dhelmise’s loosened grip. Lex closes her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady the subtle tremble in her bound hands. She looks at his curiously when he speaks again, “Anything” she confirms. Was this another test? She follows him until he disappears. Her head snaps to the side when he mentions Killian Decker’s name, “Never,” she growls. What was Gavin getting at?

“Fight?” she repeats out loud, sitting to attention in the chair while Gavin leaves the room. Surely, he meant pokemon, right?

Lex feels the SHADOW HOLD dissipate and she immediately stands up as another enters the room, “What the fuck is this?” she exhales, recognizing the murderous wildness in his eyes.

Fight to kill

“WHAT THE HELL?!” she screams as the man lunges towards her with hands looking to grab anything he could. Lex was too fast for him and easily stepped aside. Lex’s own eyes were wide with fear. Gavin was fucking serious.

Fight to kill

He understands more than she dose. He lunges again and Lex leaps over the table in one graceful movement, putting space between them. Lex is sure to move opposite of him around the desk, stoking the fire of frustration in his eyes as they continue this cat and mouse game. All the while Lex searches for a way out, a way to run.

Eyes fixate on the one-way window. Lex moves herself into a position where she can grab the chair she was sitting in. Taking it in two hands, she shuffled and swings it as hard as she can against the window. It smacks with a thunderous CRASH but the glass only shakes.

Fuck.

The move leaves her vulnerable. A set of fingers grab onto the end of her long hair and pull forcefully back. A yelp of surprise accompanies the sharp pain as an arm wraps around her throat. There’s a moment of panic before a survival instinct takes hold. Lex struggles, fighting against the oppressive grip. Her elbow jabs back as hard and as many times as is needed until he keels over and she can slip out from beneath his arm.

Lex still doesn’t fight, doesn’t lunge and take the opportunity. It leaves her vulnerable again. His fingers dig into her shoulders, hard, keeping her arms pinned to her side as she was forced back into the room’s wall. A quick right hook snaps her head to side, while his forearm presses against her neck. Another panic. So, she plays dirty.

A sharp kick drives the toe of her boots between his legs. He immediately keels over. This time, Lex doesn’t hesitate.

Survival.

Another kick to his side forces him to the ground and Lex pounces with murderous fury in her eyes. She takes what she can get, throwing one, two, three right hooks into his cheek. Inexperience and adrenaline are ingredients for mistakes. He recovers enough to grab her arm when she draws back for her fourth. In an instant, the positions are reversed.

Lex is on her back with his weight forcing her down. He demands submission, but that means death. She struggles, trying to squirm out from beneath him. He strikes her hard, knocking the sense right out of her. Both of his hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing so hard she felt like her head was going to pop right off.

Survival.

He has made a similar mistake, although the crushing force of his hands is outstanding, Lex’s hands are free. Her fingers claw at his face, leaving long red streaks in their wake. He resists the pain, focusing on the kill. Lex looks into his eyes, hoping to see some sort of mercy as her life starts to leave hers and her vision blurs. There is none.

Survival.

Her thumbs shoot up, driving into his eyes. He screams and releases her. A sharp gasp returns air to her lungs, she drives her fingers deeper, pushing him back so she can wiggle out from beneath him. A powerful kick drives him back once she’s free. He staggers back and falls. A loud CRACK makes Lex flinch when the temple of his head strikes the corner of the metallic desk. He falls limp to the floor.

Lex scrambles backwards until her back hits the wall. She looks like a wild pokemon backed into the corner by a predator. She draws her knees up to her chest as tears begin the stream down her bruised and swollen face.

Cillian Quinn

Gavin watches — but from beyond the two-way glass, he is far from impassive. He folds his arms, nails digging against flesh as he watches their struggle to survive. Just as he had been taught, so he would teach in return.

He has underestimated's Briarwood's disdain for violence. Rather than allow survival instinct to kick in immediately, the redhead tries to break the pane of glass behind which Gavin stands with the swing of a chair. It rattles but holds fast. The laboratories were built to withstand much worse.

Gavin's Dhelmise remains in the room, watching.

Waiting.

But the command for intervention never comes. Her victim stills, and Alexandra Briarwood scrambles back into the corner of the room.

The door opens, and Gavin enters.

"Don't shed tears on his account. Unlike you, he was a traitor." He wouldn't have survived either way. "You did well. You did what was necessary to protect yourself when no one else could."

The sound of Cillian Quinn entering the room doesn’t tear her eyes away from the man’s body crumpled on the floor. Gavin speaks, she doesn’t answer, barely processing his words.

Lex doesn’t cry for the man whose blood stains her hands. It stems from the something deeper than a stranger that just tried to kill her. It is the fact she is here, in this room, forced to fight for her life as some sort of sick way to train her. She had led herself and Killian Decker from one oppressive boss to another, perhaps worse than Kaito. She cries for Killian, and the threat Gavin made painfully clear. She cries not just for the physical pain that swells as the adrenaline wears off, but for darkness that creeps back in, snuffing out the light.

It’s after a considerable silence that her gaze finally snaps over to Gavin, peering between strands of wild red hair. It’s judgmental, cold, unforgiving. Did she really need to do that?

Fuck you, Gavin is what she really wants to say, but surprisingly common sense keeps her quiet.

She did well. It was praise she didn’t want to accept but obedience wills her to acknowledge it, “Thank you,” her voice is raspy, deep, broken, it hurts to speak against damage left by the man’s vice grip on her neck. The pressure still lingers.

Cillian Quinn

Gavin recognizes the look in her eyes, even if she's smart enough to keep her mouth shut. Resentment. Anger. They're emotions he knows well; emotions Rocket will use or smother in time. They had doused his fire long ago.

"Go to the med bay and get yourself checked out."

Unlike with peggie vela, he gives an order in place of a request.

"Best not to mention this to Decker; the two of you will get each other killed if you're not careful." His amber gaze is stern, but not threatening. The time for implicit threat has passed. Now, he is detached. "I know what it is to care for someone. I also know that Rocket will use that against you in the blink of an eye."

He tucks a hand into his blazer, and the Dhelmise vanishes in a swirl of shadow.

"I can train you further. Properly, not like this. This was a test." To see if she had the will to survive, as he had. "You need only say the word."

The back of her hands wipe the stream of tears from her cheeks as the shock subsides and she was left to stew in her bitterness. Her look turns from one of anger to surprise, “What am I supposed to tell him?” she asks genuinely, looking up at Cillian Quinn. She has a hunch Killian Decker would notice her swollen face, raspy voice, and the hand-shaped bruises wrapped around her neck. Everyone will. It’s not like she could hide them like a hickey. His answer didn't quite matter, she'd likely tell him the truth. No lies, no secrets.

A part of her doubts Gavin knows what it’s like to love someone as much as she loves Killian. Of course, she doesn’t know of his relationship with Emma Wolfe, but perhaps he did have an inkling of what it’s like somewhere in a hidden past. Is that what made him this way? Rocket’s abuse of his feelings towards another?

Lex pushes off the floor and slowly stands, gingerly touching her swollen throat with a wince. The offer to train her is tempting. She knows her victory here was based on pure luck, not skill. Her gaze falls cautiously on Gavin, “Fine,” she coughs, “When do we start?”

Cillian Quinn

"Whatever you think will keep him from trying to kill me."

There's grim humour in Gavin's tone, though he remains unsmiling. Though he understood the fury of a threatened loved one, he also understood the necessity for a level-headed approach. Decker and Briarwood were still getting there.

"If you think you can talk sense into him, by all means, be honest."

He meets her cautious stare with one that's level, sharp.

"Whenever you'd like; preferably after you've recovered."

“Hmph,” she stifled a laugh at the grim humor. He has a point. That would be Killian Decker’s first reaction. They were both dangerously protective of the other, “Well, we’ll see then I guess,” she’d . . . figure it out.

A part of her expects him to want to start sooner rather than later. ‘Fight through the pain’ and all that. She’s relieved to hear him say otherwise, “Alright, I’ll call you then.”

Her eyes flash to the door but she doesn’t move to leave until she asks, “Can I go?”

Cillian Quinn

Fortunately for Lex, Gavin's been injured enough times to know that 'fight through the pain' is often a recipe for furthering the recovery process.

She looks to the door, asks permission.

Good, he thinks.

"You can. Medical wing first, remember. That's an order."

He nods, a final dismissal.