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The voice in his head is sweet and calm and persuasive. Talking leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. The world outside his head is hectic and loud and too many things are happening at once. None of that bothers Maine. He is grounded by the whispers.
"This is the only way to protect them", Sigma says and Maine knows he's right. "This is the only way to fix everything."
It is. It makes perfect sense, reverberates in his bones and guides his hands. His heart beats steady and strong, every beat an echo of his conviction.
This is the right thing to do, it's perfectly obvious.
So why is Wash looking at him so fearfully? Doesn't he understand?
"He doesn't, not yet, but don't worry. He will, in time."
Wash is scrambling away from him, terror in his eyes, and he's saying words, but they don't quite arrive in Maine's ears. Wash doesn't understand. Maine wants him to understand, but despite how clearly the words reverberate in his own being, they don't quite arrive on his tongue. He wants Wash to understand, but he doesn't quite know how to tell him.
"That's okay. Don't worry about it."
So he doesn't.
His hand plunges into Wash's chest and he feels his power seep into him. Wash kicks and screams? Maybe, he still can't hear properly, and something is very wrong with that picture. Wash isn't supposed to scream and be scared when Maine is near, he's not supposed to look terrified and gradually stop moving.
The tendrils of lightning die down and Maine can feel Wash's power in him, intensifying his own, and there's something almost intoxication about it.
Wash hangs limply in his grip. His eyes are duller and none of this is right. Wash is hurt and it's Maine's fault, and why did he ever think any of this made sense again?
"Don't think about it. This is exactly what we wanted." The voice is more insistent, now and for just a moment Maine can see everything for how it really is. He's being manipulated, the voice isn't friendly and isn't making sense at all, he's hurting his friends and this needs to stop immediately. He needs to give Wash back what he stole immediately, and he needs to find a way to get this voice out of his head.
"Everything is going smoothly, there's nothing to concern yourself with." It's like a record scratch inside his mind before the sickly sweet melody is taking over again, and his awareness is sinking, his limbs and senses betraying him.
The moment passes and his hands toss Wash's limp body aside. There's a sickening crack as he hits the wall but Maine does not hear it.
He turns to York, who looks terrified. But there is no reason for concern, the voice reassures him. He feels warm and safe and everyone else should, too. York is yelling something, but there is no reason to.
His arm pushed York against the wall. It's quick and forceful but it doesn't feel that way. He's moving as if in slow motion through a world made of jello. York's ribcage feels just like that as his hand pushed in. His energy feels different than Wash's. The healing power works immediately. Maine hadn't felt tired, or hurt, but as those feelings fall away from him, he realizes vaguely they must've been there, before.
A knife buries itself inside Maine's neck, and it's a shock he doesn't have much opportunity to process. A blur of aqua slams into him and his fist clenches involuntarily.
It's a mistake, but doesn't register as such to him. York's heart stops beating and he knows it won't resume. Feels a deep satisfaction inside of his bones that is not his own. Going along with it is easier than thinking, though, thinking has never been this hard before.
Carolina is punching him, so he discards the body before focussing on her. None of her hits hurt him, and they should, they did before, in training sessions that he can barely recall through the haze. He lunges for her and she weighs nothing to him.
He reaches for her chest because he needs her power, too.
"We need all of it, put if back together, fix what's broken, there's no price too high to pay, do it!"
A tendril of lightning connects, speeds him up, but she pulls herself away too quickly to complete the transfer. Her eyes flicker to York's body and Maine doesn't know what any of the emotions on her face mean. Or Sigma doesn't know. Maybe he does and doesn't want to tell him.
Whatever the case may be, in a blur of speed, Carolina is gone.
The feeling in his bones is urging him to follow her, to get all of that power, it's so enticing, but he knows that once Carolina runs, there is no catching her.
"We will find her." Sigma says, and Maines believes him. It's only a matter of time. Nothing is powerful enough to stand in their way for too long.
There's still a knife in his throat, but his new healing powers have already fixed most of the damage.
He turns back to Wash, sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall. It looks like he's about ready to keel over.
Maine almost feels like he's doing him a favor as he pulls back his fist to punch him. He drops like a sack of bricks and doesn't get up again.
"He's still alive, tie up loose ends."
He's still leaning over Wash, his hand outstretched. It would be easy to wrap his fingers around his neck, break it with a flick of a wrist, leave no survivors, no witnesses, no loose ends. The urging voice in his chest wants him to. Wash might become a danger in the future, an obstacle to avoid.
Maine thinks of his friend gesturing with a curly straw, trying and failing to demonstrate a skateboard trick, extolling the necessity of rubber ducks for proper bath enjoyment and a hundred other little things.
He pulls back his hand and lets him live.
It might be his last act of rebellion.