RE: MORITURI TE SALUTANT!! [S!4] ROUND 3- OPHIDIAN JADE!
07-19-2017, 02:09 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-19-2017, 06:17 PM by seedy.)
The notes of a pianist out of sync, misplaced. It was red behind Chad's eyelids and his red hair was wet in the gutter. He rolled onto his elbows and coughed.
It was a secluded street, lit low by gaslight. Disgusting. Corny. Pseudo-speakeasy bullshit.
This fucking city. His head pounded with fog.
He felt in his pockets. Still there. Ran a hand through hair that—could have been better.
Time to get all my ducks in a row. Time to put all the pieces on the board. Time to—ghhrg.
Fucking piano music was playing from somewhere.
Time to uneven the odds.
++==++=====
So far, being a plainclothes cop-by-force wasn't so bad. Walking in a good suit in an underground 1920s magic borough? It had a dreamlike quality to it. He tipped his hat at a passing lady. He was fitting in and standing out.
“Alright, let's stop at this bar. The Leviathan's Own have gone oddly quiet—you probably haven't seen them handing out weird pamphlets on street corners anymore, right? And there's been a drop in their terrorist activity, too...there's a guy here who works down in the deeper levels. Are you claustrophobic? I mean, no one who...” Teller trailed off. There was a crowd gathered down the street, all looking at something. “Hm.” They picked up their pace.
Chad followed them into the crowd, elbows first.
“Should we call the police?”
“What's the point, pretty obvious what's done it...”
“Such a young man, too...”
In the center was...a young man. Chad looked so young under that oversized greatcoat, back wet-black with blood. Someone had had the decency to cover him up.
His glasses were next to him, crushed. His eyes were already closed, but—
“All the resellable organs'll be gone. Wetworker signature. Alleyway ain't sanitary, but why just leave good product to rot?” Teller was pulling him back out of the crowd by the arm. “Do you have nice eyes, Chase?”
Chad didn't answer. Teller kept pulling, away from the people.
“He was wearing the white of that organization. Some kind of infiltration gone awry? Ah.” They shoved Chad hard onto the steps of a darkened apartment building.
He laid there.
“I-...don't know-”
“Whatever lie you're trying to construct, save it.”
“I don't know--” He rested his head in his hands. “I don't know what the plan is.” Some other me, out there—who's the bit player, and who's the leading role?
Is this what you wanted?
“I have doppelgangers.”
+====+===
Religion, religion, religion.
Carlie would have taken off the heavy, culty robes that had just appeared on her, but it was weirdly cold in the stone cell. Mercifully clean, but cold. There was the sound of distant chanting.
This is really bad. This is really bad.
This is fine, I actually wanted a lot of time to be alone with my thoughts and have no choice but to reflect on all the things that just happened to me. Carlie curled up in a ball on the cot. The robes were actually kinda comfy.
What the fuck. What the fuck What the fuck.
There was the sound of distant screaming.
Do I have some kind of subconscious issue with religion? I mean like this isn't—all in my head I don't think anymore ha ha. This is some kind of—Narnia bullshit—some kind of Looking Glass bullshit—I've probably just gotta learn some kind of lesson, right?
Ok. Symbolism. I passed English class, I can do this. Uhh. Ok, first off—bringing people back to life. That's uh. That's wanting to take back mistakes. Getting a redo. Obvious. Duh. O.K., next one.
The door silently swung open, even though it totally looked like it should creak.
There was a robed figure.
They stepped inside and pulled the hood back.
It was Chad,
“Fuck,” said Carlie, out loud.
“Hiiiiiiiii Carlie.” said Chad.
Carlie scrabbled back into the corner furthest away from him.
“Look, just—get out—if you think you can just, I mean, Chad, you killed people? Right? You can't just—whatever you DID to that place—and then? Come in like? Okay?”
Carlie hyperventilated.
Chad tilted his head.
“What I did to that place? I seem to recall certain ravenous hordes as a direct result of your actions.”
“I don't—hhh—I DON'T. GFUCKING. CONTROL IT.”
“Take deep breaths, Carlie.”
Carlie gripped her head.
“Look just, why are you even, PLEASE, just say whatever creepy thing you want to say about how cool this awful cell is and GO.”
“Why am I here? I'm glad you asked!” aaagghhfhhfhgh
Chad rummaged theatrically in one of his pockets and produced a button-shaped bronze pin.
“This is a communicator. Y'know, Carlie, this whole situation you're in-” He spun a finger around in the air. “Preeeetty bad. Now, I can get you out—but I need you to do a couple things for me first. Stay put for now, move when I give the order—you know how it is.”
“...You think you can just—order—you had a plan last time, right? Great plan! Fine where I am thanks!”
“So between me and a bunch of crazed mafioso monks, you're choosing the monks?”
“Y-yeah! Yeah, I think I am!”
“Oh, Carlie.” Chad sighed. “You know what these zealots did to you the first time around?“ He shook his head. “The things that faith can lead to.”
“Wh...wh what...”
But Chad's grin only got wider.
It was very cold in the room.
“...Yh. Hhh. I can. I can think about it, right? I'll take it, and-” I can always go back on it “-I'll. See.”
She held out her hand.
“...No harm in thinking. And you'll have plenty of time-” He tapped the stone wall, “-To mull things over.” He pressed the communicator into her palm, then gripped her hand into a forcible shake.
“Just make sure you don't run out.”
He turned to leave with a sweep of the robe.
“I'm not going to kill anyone for you, Chad.” The words bubbled out.
“...Carlie,” He chuckled slightly, “I'd never ask you to kill anyone.”
It was a secluded street, lit low by gaslight. Disgusting. Corny. Pseudo-speakeasy bullshit.
This fucking city. His head pounded with fog.
He felt in his pockets. Still there. Ran a hand through hair that—could have been better.
Time to get all my ducks in a row. Time to put all the pieces on the board. Time to—ghhrg.
Fucking piano music was playing from somewhere.
Time to uneven the odds.
++==++=====
So far, being a plainclothes cop-by-force wasn't so bad. Walking in a good suit in an underground 1920s magic borough? It had a dreamlike quality to it. He tipped his hat at a passing lady. He was fitting in and standing out.
“Alright, let's stop at this bar. The Leviathan's Own have gone oddly quiet—you probably haven't seen them handing out weird pamphlets on street corners anymore, right? And there's been a drop in their terrorist activity, too...there's a guy here who works down in the deeper levels. Are you claustrophobic? I mean, no one who...” Teller trailed off. There was a crowd gathered down the street, all looking at something. “Hm.” They picked up their pace.
Chad followed them into the crowd, elbows first.
“Should we call the police?”
“What's the point, pretty obvious what's done it...”
“Such a young man, too...”
In the center was...a young man. Chad looked so young under that oversized greatcoat, back wet-black with blood. Someone had had the decency to cover him up.
His glasses were next to him, crushed. His eyes were already closed, but—
“All the resellable organs'll be gone. Wetworker signature. Alleyway ain't sanitary, but why just leave good product to rot?” Teller was pulling him back out of the crowd by the arm. “Do you have nice eyes, Chase?”
Chad didn't answer. Teller kept pulling, away from the people.
“He was wearing the white of that organization. Some kind of infiltration gone awry? Ah.” They shoved Chad hard onto the steps of a darkened apartment building.
He laid there.
“I-...don't know-”
“Whatever lie you're trying to construct, save it.”
“I don't know--” He rested his head in his hands. “I don't know what the plan is.” Some other me, out there—who's the bit player, and who's the leading role?
Is this what you wanted?
“I have doppelgangers.”
+====+===
Religion, religion, religion.
Carlie would have taken off the heavy, culty robes that had just appeared on her, but it was weirdly cold in the stone cell. Mercifully clean, but cold. There was the sound of distant chanting.
This is really bad. This is really bad.
This is fine, I actually wanted a lot of time to be alone with my thoughts and have no choice but to reflect on all the things that just happened to me. Carlie curled up in a ball on the cot. The robes were actually kinda comfy.
What the fuck. What the fuck What the fuck.
There was the sound of distant screaming.
Do I have some kind of subconscious issue with religion? I mean like this isn't—all in my head I don't think anymore ha ha. This is some kind of—Narnia bullshit—some kind of Looking Glass bullshit—I've probably just gotta learn some kind of lesson, right?
Ok. Symbolism. I passed English class, I can do this. Uhh. Ok, first off—bringing people back to life. That's uh. That's wanting to take back mistakes. Getting a redo. Obvious. Duh. O.K., next one.
The door silently swung open, even though it totally looked like it should creak.
There was a robed figure.
They stepped inside and pulled the hood back.
It was Chad,
“Fuck,” said Carlie, out loud.
“Hiiiiiiiii Carlie.” said Chad.
Carlie scrabbled back into the corner furthest away from him.
“Look, just—get out—if you think you can just, I mean, Chad, you killed people? Right? You can't just—whatever you DID to that place—and then? Come in like? Okay?”
Carlie hyperventilated.
Chad tilted his head.
“What I did to that place? I seem to recall certain ravenous hordes as a direct result of your actions.”
“I don't—hhh—I DON'T. GFUCKING. CONTROL IT.”
“Take deep breaths, Carlie.”
Carlie gripped her head.
“Look just, why are you even, PLEASE, just say whatever creepy thing you want to say about how cool this awful cell is and GO.”
“Why am I here? I'm glad you asked!” aaagghhfhhfhgh
Chad rummaged theatrically in one of his pockets and produced a button-shaped bronze pin.
“This is a communicator. Y'know, Carlie, this whole situation you're in-” He spun a finger around in the air. “Preeeetty bad. Now, I can get you out—but I need you to do a couple things for me first. Stay put for now, move when I give the order—you know how it is.”
“...You think you can just—order—you had a plan last time, right? Great plan! Fine where I am thanks!”
“So between me and a bunch of crazed mafioso monks, you're choosing the monks?”
“Y-yeah! Yeah, I think I am!”
“Oh, Carlie.” Chad sighed. “You know what these zealots did to you the first time around?“ He shook his head. “The things that faith can lead to.”
“Wh...wh what...”
But Chad's grin only got wider.
It was very cold in the room.
“...Yh. Hhh. I can. I can think about it, right? I'll take it, and-” I can always go back on it “-I'll. See.”
She held out her hand.
“...No harm in thinking. And you'll have plenty of time-” He tapped the stone wall, “-To mull things over.” He pressed the communicator into her palm, then gripped her hand into a forcible shake.
“Just make sure you don't run out.”
He turned to leave with a sweep of the robe.
“I'm not going to kill anyone for you, Chad.” The words bubbled out.
“...Carlie,” He chuckled slightly, “I'd never ask you to kill anyone.”