“Still not sure whacher tryin' to accomplish, followin' me around,” said Francesca Pierce, known more commonly these days as the Penalty.
“I don't really know how much more clear I can make it,” replied Cutlass, another vigilante whose identity was a mystery to the Penalty and the rest of her teammates. The man wore a mask that covered all but the bottom of his nose and his mouth, but other than that, he wore casual clothes and gave the Cavalry no clues to the truth of who he really was. He just had a habit of tagging along whenever their work and his work lined up.
“No, no, no, I get that yer tryna help out cos you wanna solve this case too,” she said, reaching in the pocket of her leather jacket for a cigarette. “I really do. But if ya really wanted to get work done, ya shoulda stuck with Myrmidon. The lead he's followin' is way likelier'n mine.” She lit her cigarette and took a drag off of it before finishing with, “If ya ask me, I think he doesn't like it when I bust the bad guys on account a the fact that I don't like waitin' for the team ta show up. He doesn't really trust me anymore, I suppose.”
Cutlass shrugged, waving some smoke that blew towards him away. “He and I don't get along. You know that.”
“Yeah, but you an' Ataraxia are big buddies! And his lead's not bad neither, so why not him?” When Cutlass merely shrugged, she said, “Okay, there's gotta be somethin' yer not tellin' me.”
“I think Myrmidon might be confused on a few things, is all,” he said.
The Penalty couldn't stop a broad grin from forming as she took in what he said. So, he suspected that her lead might be the best one, huh? Well, she knew better than to doubt Cutlass after all these years, and she couldn't wait to see the look on Myrmidon's face when the two of them cracked the case and brought down whoever was behind it before he could even show up.
“So, what we gotta do is just wait things out here,” she said, gesturing to an alley behind an abandoned-looking building. “I'm not the biggest fan of sittin' around, but it don't look like no one's home just yet.”
“Well, when they do show up, we'll be ready,” the swordsman replied, preparing himself for their stakeout. He had done many in his time and was used to how boring they could get alone. He would never admit this to anyone, but having the Penalty around would definitely make it a bit more enjoyable for him.
Except there was the tiny matter of his bladder. He was not so stupid that he didn't go to the bathroom before leaving his home, but it had been a long night, and the Penalty had stopped at a convenience store as soon as she had figured out he was following her, insisting that they both have a soda (most likely because she knew how much unprofessionalism bugged him). That soda had finally started to hit him, and though he didn't want to acknowledge it, he knew that it was already causing him some small discomfort.
Not that that mattered, he reasoned. He was on the job, and that was that. He couldn't just run off for a bathroom break, especially not with the Penalty right there. Her main hobby seemed to be goading and taunting her associates, and he wasn't interested in hearing whatever she would have to say about it.
“How long d'ya think it'll be 'fore they show up?” she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“How the hell am I supposed to know that? Even Ataraxia can't tell the future,” he grumbled, hoping the conversation would distract him a bit. Thinking about the need only seemed to make it worse.
“But you're the one who thinks this is tha right place. Kinda figured ya'd know what was what.” She looked annoyed, but that might have been because her cigarette was mostly gone and she had to put it out. She reached for another as soon as she had done this.
“Do you ever think about how that impacts your lungs?” he asked, insulting her as revenge for her implying he didn't know what he was doing.
“D'ya ever think about how my boot could impact yer lungs, if ya don't shut the hell up?” she replied, flashing him a menacing smile as she blew smoke in his face.
“Do you ever think about the fact that you're a huge bitch?” he shot back, hoping she didn't notice his slight fidget as his bladder spasmed a bit.
“Every single day, baby,” she said, her menacing smile relaxing into a lazy grin as she took another drag on her cigarette. The two fell into another silence as she smoked and he tried to pretend that his need to piss wasn't steadily growing.
But it was, and as time went by with no sign of anyone, it got to the point that it was starting to hurt him. He had been pretty desperate for a piss in his time, but he had always known when his next chance would be, and it had never been a long wait. He had never been this uncertain. They could be here all night if he was wrong about this place, and he knew that he was not going to last all night.
It took all he had not to swear under his breath a few times and shuffle around rather noticeably. If the Penalty wasn't there, it wouldn't be a problem, but she was, and even if she acted like a dumbass most of the time, she was incredibly observant. Hell, if she wasn't there, he would have just pissed against the wall by now.
His bladder ached, and then that ache grew into a dull throb, and he bit down on his cheek, hard. He fidgeted again, his swollen bladder sloshing as he did. Too much movement would definitely earn a response from the Penalty, but he could not remain completely still. Whenever he tried to, he felt close to losing control.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists to stop the slight shaking that had started. He shifted his weight a few times, longing for this night to be over with. Even if the guys they were after showed up, he doubted he could give them a good fight. At any other point in his life, he would have scolded himself heavily for letting anything get in the way of doing his job and doing it well, but at that moment, his desperation outweighed his personal code.
And, god, did he ever need to piss. He could no longer stop himself from rocking back and forth to ease the burden, though this small action didn't really help much this late in the game. Her eyes were immediately on him, curious about his sudden movements, but he ignored her, trying to play it off as him being bored.
“Wha's goin' on?” she asked. No luck.
“Nothing,” he lied easily.
“If it's nothin', then why're ya so hyper alluva sudden? Yer usually still as a statue on these stakeouts.” She was even more observant than he gave her credit for. All the worst for him and his predicament.
He tried to stop his movements, but found that when he tried, he could barely stop himself from leaking. He grimaced, and he was sure she noticed by the way she was now staring intently at him and smirking every now and then.
“Ya gotta take a piss, huh?” she asked, her green eyes practically glowing with delight and her smile so big, he wondered if her cheeks got sore. He also wondered how she managed to keep the cigarette (she was on her fourth) from falling out.
But more than that, he wondered how she had picked up on it that easily, and how he would convince her otherwise. “The fuck are you going on about?” he asked flippantly, but her expression didn't falter.
“Yup, definitely gotta piss,” she confirmed. “But the question is begged, what exactly's stoppin' ya? Ain't no one around ta notice 'cept me.”
“They could show up at any time,” he said, the very response an admittance. He was not denying her accusations anymore. “I'm not going to risk this bust over such an insignificant problem. I can wait until later.”
“Suit yerself,” she said, chuckling. She could relate, after all; she didn't like letting anything get in the way of her jobs either, and she certainly wouldn't want to have to live with the knowledge that she had fucked up because she needed to pee.
Their silence returned, but this time, it was broken by an occasional groan from Cutlass. He didn't want to bring any more attention to the situation, but he was losing control of those reactions the more he fought for control of his bladder. He was so full at this point that he felt as though he could burst, and there was no sign of the situation getting any better for him.
In the back of his mind, he knew that he was going to be useless if he didn't go off and piss right away. It wouldn't matter if that made him miss anything, the Penalty was capable of handling things for the few minutes he might miss, and it would be better to miss something than to be worthless in the fight, but even with all of this in mind, he just couldn't. He could not allow himself to leave his position.
A pang shot through his lower abdomen that doubled him over, a dribble of urine escaping without his permission. The instant he recovered from that, he was overcome by humiliation. He could hear the Penalty snickering, and he couldn't even tear into her with some sort of snide remark because if he took his focus off holding it for even one second, he knew he would piss his pants.
“Shut up,” was all he managed, and it was in a barely audible mumble. He felt the urge to grab his crotch like a kid, to shameless squirm around, but if he did that, it would just makes things worse, and if he didn't, he was going to lose it, and that would also make things worse. It seemed like there just was no possible way to make his situation any better.
And then his hand was at his crotch without him ever changing his mind on doing such a thing, and he was grabbing himself and squirming, and her laughter was getting a little bit louder, and he was leaking more and more frequently and-
“Fuck!” he hissed, as he realized that one of the leaks was not stopping, and was growing instead. It gushed out of him, spilling around his hand and creating a dark patch on his jeans. He pulled his hands back just in time to see how it spread across his crotch and down one leg, groaning in a mixture of both relief and humiliation as he wet himself completely.
The alley was silent, save for his companion's obnoxious giggles that she probably thought she was doing a good job of hiding and the sound of his piss hitting the concrete beneath him, forming a puddle as it did so. It seemed to last an eternity, as if he would never be completely empty.
Eventually, though, it stopped, and he was left with an empty bladder, soaking wet jeans, and cheeks that were quite red beneath his mask. He let out another groan, in a state of complete disbelief that he had actually been so pathetic as to wet himself on the job like that.
And then the Penalty burst into loud, raucous laughter. “Oh my fuckin' God, you did not jus'- y-you did not jus'-! Son of a bitch, ya really pissed yerself, didn't ya? Oh, holy fuck, that's so fuckin' hilarious, I cannot believe-”
Before she could finish her statement, he had her up against a wall, one of his swords in hand. “Not another word about this, to me or anyone else,” he said, his voice dropping to a low and threatening tone. He brought the blade in front of her nose and said, “Got it, or do you need a little more convincing?”
Her smile this time was sordid, her eyelids lowering as she sneered at him. “Ooh, baby, don't tempt me now. Y'always did know how ta get me goin'.”
“Don't fucking play with me,” he snapped, pressing the blade against her throat, not quite hard enough to draw blood. “I'm not in the mood for your little jokes right now, bitch.”
“Alright, alright,” she said, sighing. “Ya got me, I won't tell a soul. Swear on my life, okay?”
Without another word, he let her go. She expected him to trudge off to wherever the hell he lived for a shower and a change of clothes, but he instead removed his jacket and tied it backwards around his waist. The effect was ridiculous, and did not cover the dark trail going down his leg, but Cutlass seemed satisfied, and settled in for the rest of the stakeout.