Night 18: F20 Hallway
Greed might have been either appalled or smug to know he'd woken up in a girl's cell block, but unfortunately for him, there weren't any girls to see. Instead, as he kicked the weakened door open and marched into the hall, he found that he was the only one in it
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Still, it was weird that he'd be asking his name, especially in such a demanding tone. Envy usually tried to fool people, not drive them away.
Greed liked an obstacle better if it was the kind he could rub up against. He smirked, smugly. If he was going out, it was with no regrets. He'd been prepared to die before, kicking ass, and he was sure he could do it again.
"Name's Greed..." He paused, trying to focus on bringing his shield back upon his hands and finding it even harder to concentrate upon than it had been before. He settled on simply covering his fingers, since it was somehow difficult to speak and use his power at the same time. "So who're you? Some mercenary fuck Dante hired to take me down?"
His eyes narrowed and he took a step back, another possibility dawning upon him.
"Or are you here to help her seal me?"
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Silently Albedo listened to the words of this ‘Greed’, concocting a theory that Greed himself would give credit to. Dante, Greed.. oh the temptation! How was someone such as he meant to resist? In the end he broke, grinning at Greed in a condescending manner. It was an aura he always held about him - it must have been infuriating to be mocked by someone that could be considered barely stable at best - and it often caused his enemies to be rendered vulnerable. Greed would likely take more effort than just that, but Albedo was willing to wait.
“Lust,” he started, head tilting to the side as he flung his arm to the side, “Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride.” He began his laughter here, again with the steady pace before it flowed without reserve. He continued the maddening cackling, stopping only when he felt the need for commentary, “How Dante ever put up with a pitiful péché such as you eludes me, oh but the betrayal .. so very entertaining.” Short-lived chuckles, a tightening fist, and bared teeth were meant to enforce his words.
“To have provided me with amusement is far beyond what I had expected of you, I should commend you for your performance! But your usefulness has come to an end; she - and I - have outgrown you and your treachery. What will become of you, you ask? Then let me ask you: what does one do with a broken tool?”
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He'd already picked through quite a lot of information before even leaving his room, sorting through the detritus of thoughts to find things worth knowing; he'd picked up that he had somehow found himself in an asylum right off, for instance, because the word was everywhere in people's minds, but it had taken some sifting to uncover the fact that he was - for reasons he decided not to speculate on - located right in the middle of the female dormitories, given his location in relation to the minds of the women around him and their own recollections of the building's setup(which, he had discovered, were incredibly hazy in any case). Confusion and suspicion were so rampant that he could have glutted himself on the psychic sensations if he hadn't shown some atypical restraint; as tempting as it was, he didn't like this situation he'd inexplicably awoken in and wasn't about to allow himself to be lulled into complacency by the overabundancy of delicious, barely suppressed panic.
In any case, he'd managed to run into two other men in the women's dorm area, which spoke of either coincidence or bad luck on his part. But their minds were twisted enough that Schuldig couldn't possibly complain...although it was a lot more difficult than it should have been to tell which of them was thinking what.
Songs, fingers, acronyms, names that meant nothing...Kirschwasser was German brandy but that sure as hell wasn't what Albedo (no real trouble picking up the name, the hardest part was just picking out which name in all that seething confusion was connected to the man that the mind belonged to) was connecting the word to...Schuldig could have hung back and read their thoughts in the air all day if it weren't for the nagging headache. So, instead, he stepped forward and asked a question about the most interesting thing he'd picked up.
"So who's this Dante?"
Misleading, making people miserable. He'd heard THAT clearly enough. He liked the sound of it.
He considered revealing the fact that Albedo was playing a game he knew very well, bluffing and lying and pushing buttons just to see what would happen - the amusement from the man was so thick the German could all but taste it in the air - but decided to see how Greed (Schuldig thought he could have at least picked a more elegant language for such a blunt name) reacted first. After all, it wasn't often he got to watch the reactions of someone having their strings pulled from the sidelines, and he could almost smell the violence on the horizon.
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But of course that wasn't the way she worked. Of fucking course.
He berated himself a moment later, eyeing the white-haired bastard as he began to laugh the way Kimbley had done on some of the more memorably bloody occasions that he'd seen him do his work. Of course some idiot would know all about the seven sins. And mentioning Dante... he was just asking to get toyed with.
The homunculus was about to make a comment calling out the stranger on his stupid attempt to psych him out when the word 'betrayal' hit the air and caused his eyes to widen.
How the hell did he---
Greed had no fucking clue what a "pesh" was, but he got enough of the general gist of the statement to know that something was very fucking wrong. His eyes narrowed and he took another step back, hands covered in his shield as much as he could manage, which meant not that much at all. As the white-haired man continued speaking, the homunculus found himself more and more on edge by just how accurate he was.
Treachery... fuck. That sealed the deal.
Greed gave a wry but obstinate grin, lowering his face as he glared at the man. Was this some new alchemist that Dante had seduced and picked up by offering false hopes and dreams? From the sound of 'we,' the homunculus wouldn't be surprised about it.
"I don't know about what happens to a broken tool," he breathed, baring his sharp set of teeth, "but I know what's gonna happen to you if you don't get out of my fucking---"
"So, who's this Dante?"
Greed froze, not sure if he should risk taking his eyes off this certain risk or choose to ignore a new one. He finally decided he'd take a quick sweep, eyes darting in the direction of the sound and finding another figure--this one with orange hair.
What the hell was this, bleach central? His eyes narrowed. Or perhaps this was Envy, pretending to be some ignorant fuck for the sake of confusing Greed even more.
"And who the hell are you?" Greed demanded, figuring that if it was the son of a bitch, he'd might as well humor him. He turned back to the white-haired man, the new cohort of Dante to add to a long, long list. "And you know, you bastard, you never answered that question."
The grin grew.
"Though if you work for that bitch, maybe I should forget you as quick as I can."
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The question pertaining to Dante’s identity was ignored, perhaps if Albedo knew the reply himself he would make the attempt, but he never was in a telling mood. No, he only enjoyed appearing from time to time to generally scare the shit out of, confuse the hell out of, or do anything else to ruin his brother’s mood. Really now, was it his fault? Rubedo was the leader, he shouldn’t become irritable so easily. Still, he had known since childhood that the Red Dragon was a coward both towards himself and U-DO. .. maybe not the first since childhood, but he’d learned it during their reunion. The look of fear was wonderful, and the shaking..
Rubedo and the pêche had the best reactions, succumbing easily to his taunts. And when he’d been within her mind, such things he’d seen! Her shouts, her screams, simply perfect! Always begging for Rubedo, for her precious saviour. He’d been just before her and yet could do nothing but shoot blindly, grinding his teeth as he trembled and lamented over his inability to do anything. Truly that had been a grand moment, the highlight of his time aboard the Song of Nephilim.
He, however, had no time to reminisce with the two strangers were before him. When Greed concentrated on the newcomer, Albedo simply looked off into the distance. With this one busy, he could look around for his dearly loved Rubedo. The thought made him snicker, but surprisingly nothing more than that.
Seconds after beginning his search, Albedo came to realize there was something very wrong with his abilities. For one, he was getting a general area rather than a more detailed one, two he could no longer sense the lingering (and obvious) thoughts that always lined the ‘boy’s’ mind, and the third was that he appeared to be blocked from his brother’s mind. This was a rarity, during their separation their link had always remained open, but now it was.. shut, locked? Inaccessible was a more fitting word for there wasn’t truly a way for him to be completely blocked. As long as he could sense the other’s presence, it wasn’t too worrisome.
To make certain of the blockage, he’d have to try contacting the bastard he’d prefer never to become reacquainted with. Much like Rubedo’s, he was cut off. It was expected, but not welcomed. How could he probably tease the duo if they were out of reach?
It meant he would have to go to them.
Glancing at Greed, he raised an eyebrow. “Albedo,” he called shortly before turning, “I have more pressing matters to tend to now, continue on without me if you must.” Just like that, he was gone.
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Schuldig was already starting to get the impression - not the least from the man's spoken words - that Albedo was nuttier than a whole box of cashews, but that didn't mean his thoughts weren't worth following.
Rubedo...that word, no, NAME kept cropping up. Schuldig made a note of it. And -
"I think he was calling you a peach," he said aloud with some amusement to the dark-haired man he'd been left with - Greed. "In French. But then, I'm not exactly going out on a limb by saying that he's about half a dozen cans short of a six-pack. He's got a brother complex that'd make Cain blush.
"As for me," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I'm Schuldig. And I don't bleach."
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"What, were they in such a hurry to corral us all back into our cages that they forgot to put you on the right side of the complex?"
She kept her pace a touch slow, her steps falling with careful deliberation to try and minimize the fact that she was injured.
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"Hey! What the hell does that mean?!" The homunculus demanded, finding his words to be in vain as the man (and his hair) disappeared into the darkness. Greed stood, body still tensed as the processes in his mind went around in circles. Was Dante expecting him to follow the guy? Kill him? Stab him in the back? And what were those 'pressing matters' he was referring to? Was that bitch from hell simply trying to get her favorite little traitor back in her flock?
No. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't fucking let her---
Greed whirled around as the other man spoke, eyes narrowed and mind berating itself for having forgotten about the orange-haired newcomer. His body relaxed a little when it became apparent that the other man was carrying words rather than weapons. Still, Dante tended to work that way, too, so although he seemed a bit less of a little bitch than the 'Albedo' guy had been...
Greed's mouth twitched a little as he looked over the guy. Something was bugging the homunculus, and it wasn't just his surroundings. His senses seemed muffled. He couldn't hear as well, see as well, hell, even smell as well. He'd first attributed it to the general grogginess of awaking from a sealed state, but it was continuing on for far too long for comfort...
Shit. Had she done something to that, too? He'd figured the loss of his red stones would leave him in a pretty shitty state, but the weird thing was that he didn't feel like they were missing so much as he couldn't get them work...
"Schuldig, huh?" Greed smirked a little, wryly. He wasn't sure why a 'six-pack' would have anything to do with cans, but he got enough of the general gist of the statement to understand what he was saying. Did this Schuldig know Albedo, then? It sure sounded like it.
"So, how do you fit into her scheme?" Greed arched an eyebrow, though the act of his eyes widening subtly told of a far greater realization. Bleach.... bleach? He hadn't said that out loud, had he? Greed tended to indulge in so much smack-talk that it was hard to tell.
He didn't say anything about it, and luckily, he was saved from any further conversation when a more feminine voice broke into the conversation.
Greed whirled around, staring. How many fucking people had Dante fooled into following her, anyway?
This one had dark hair, at least. Could she be...?
"What complex?" Greed growled, tired of being thrown for loops and too frustrated too make use of the charm he usually saved for women.
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The hallway changed as soon as he walked into it. No metallic surfacing, no sign of the person who had just spoken to him, but there was an unknown light source. He could vaguely hear what the people were saying, just catching the beginning and ends of the words, but nothing that made any sense to him. Still, he continued to look the opposite way for some shape of the disappearing form, but all he stared at was the wall at the end of the hallway.
Perplexed, he turned towards the light. The figures were just as disproportioned as before; their faces morphed through an unseen liquid in the air. Like his room, the only thing that changed was the splashes of color now on them. He stared at those closest to him and hesitated. The voices were not the same as those that he used to hear - both comforting and otherwise - but their appearances were too similar.
Instinctively, his hand tightened around the flashlight. He wasn’t sure what he would do with it or why he even did such an action, but somehow it was comforting. His head dropped slightly as he started to head down the hallway. None of these people (?) was the one he was looking for. Perhaps, they had seen him, but he was distressed to ask them. Still, once he got close to the first group, he risked quickly asking if they had or not.
Garbled words spilled out as soon as he started speaking. Though, words would be too polite for what he was “saying.” The best comparison would be a baby carrying on a conversation and believing that those around him could understand everything perfectly. However, there was a pause and slowing of the vowels that indicated that Cloud was aware that he wasn’t making any sense outside of his own head.
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Schuldig closed his eyes, despite the possible risks of leaving himself open to the three unfamiliar people surrounding him(he'd hear the intention to attack him in their heads before they could move, in any case), just to help him concentrate on filtering everything he was hearing. Pain from the woman, he got that, although most of her thoughts were in a language he'd never heard the like of before and he could only catch general impressions from them, not actual words. Injury, confusion, uncertainty...nothing particularly telling, although there was a feeling of undefinable emptiness, as if something was gone that should have been, but it was far too vague to pin down. Her name eluded him, as much because of his inability to recognize it within the structure of her unfamiliar language as because she seemed not entirely sure of it herself. The blond was interesting; his thoughts were relatively coherent but he was about as audibly articulate as a man with a mouthful of Novacaine. His name was Cloud, and there were other important names there too - Zack and Sephiroth, first and foremost, although given his headache Schuldig chose not to pursue the thoughts to find out what they were connected to. But he was looking for one of them...which, the German wasn't quite sure and didn't particularly care.
As for Greed? He didn't even need telepathy to figure him out. Whoever this manipulative Dante was, he was convinced this was some plot of hers against him, and each new person turning up was making him jumpier, twitchier, more likely to rip someone's face off with those interesting hands of his. Body language alone told him that. But aside from during Albedo's earlier bluff, he didn't hear Dante's name in anyone's mind aside from Greed's own.
"You're the only one with anything to do with Dante," he observed aloud; it wouldn't serve anyone's purposes if Greed started mauling people. "Not that she doesn't sound like she'd be interesting to get to know. As for complexes, we're in an asylum - and somebody must have gotten their charts mixed up because we're on the women's side of the dormitories. Which means," he added, glancing over at Cloud, "that if you're looking for a man, you're probably looking in the wrong area."
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There it was again, something different skritching against her mind. Not painful, but a bit disconcerting, almost like someone was looking at her inside her thoughts. She shoved at it instinctively, trying to get it out.
"Dante? Not a name I know, but then I was only taken a few days ago. This place... grabs people, experiments on them. The technology is a joke, but it makes up for it in... magic." She said the last word a bit reluctantly, like a person who didn't quite believe it herself. Only she'd seen magic now. Not just the Force, or the alchemy that Ashi had shown her.
The blond man looked as if he'd been drugged. Well, that had been her last night, so she wasn't surprised. "Not only are you on the wrong side to be looking for a man... this place has changed again. It alters it's structure periodally, this hallway is different from this morning. But don't go alone."
This felt odd, her giving out advice.
"When the lights go out, the monsters come out. People go missing fast around here, get hurt. Lights, weapons," she brandished her own makeshift pole, "come in handy. There's also a portable reciever in your rooms. It sometimes spits out useful information."
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Greed whirled towards Schuldig as he began to explain things in a way that didn't seem to make any goddamn sense. An asylum? No one else had anything to do with Dante? The fuck? Was this mindfucker just some other guy the bitch had sent to get the homunculus disoriented and off his guard?
Greed glanced between the blond-haired weirdo and the orange-haired man. The former of the two hadn't asked anything remotely like that, further supporting Greed's idea that this Schuldig guy was--somehow--able to read minds. Whether it was through an inhuman power or alchemy, the homunculus wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt really fucking threatened. If Dante had someone like this on her side, Greed didn't even want to begin thinking of the consequences.
Then the woman started talking, and the homunculus listened, though warily.
....What the hell.
"Well, how the fuck did we all end up here in the first place?" Greed growled, too tired, too on edge to play games or be his normally nonchalant self. He was beginning to believe that perhaps Dante wasn't running the show here, but that didn't mean she wasn't responsible for his being here. The homunculus looked from the blond, to the chick, and then back to Schuldig.
"You can read minds, can't you?" Greed asked, bluntly, and figuring it was best if he put the other man's apparent cards on the table. He nodded at the woman. "Is she telling the truth?"
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The woman was, amusingly, affording some actual resistance. Sandbags against the tsunami, really; she obviously was reacting purely on instinct, whereas Schuldig was an instrument (and there was a thought not entirely untinged by bitterness) that had been tuned to perfection by practice and long use. But while her efforts were laughable, it was still somewhat intriguing that she had, on any level, registered what he was doing and reacted accordingly...Rosenkreuz would probably have hauled her off and locked her in a little white room and poked and prodded her and pumped her full of drugs for showing even that tiny glimmer of potential.
He paused, then, mentally. Actually, that was somewhat uncomfortably similar to the situation now, wasn't it? Certainly according to her thoughts. But that didn't make much sense. Still, something to keep in mind.
Aloud, he simply said, "She seems to be. But she's trying to push me out at the same time, so maybe she thinks she has something to hide..."
At least this place was starting to sound more interesting than just a cut-and-dry asylum where inconvenient non-crazy people were incarcerated. Monsters? He hadn't seen a real monster since Masafumi Takatori, and the man had always had something interesting going on. If it hadn't been for his high-pitched little harem, Schuldig might have quite liked the man. (And, of course, the fur and tentacles and shark teeth had added a certain je ne sais quoi at the end, although they would have made business meetings from that point on quite awkward.)
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Mind-reader, then. A rare talent outside of the Jedi Order, but the possibility was fascinating. What could he see inside of her? She stopped pushing him away and took a mental step back, so he could see the hollowed out core at the center of her mind.
To another telepath, the cause would be obvious. Not injury or drugs, but the result of many high-class telepaths working in concert to deliberately suppress her past.
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Disbelief was obvious as he stared at the man addressing him. He wondered if his words just didn’t make any sense to him. Somehow, that was much less encouraging than his first belief. This, too, he probably shouldn’t have been surprised about. He couldn’t quite remember what happened to him, but it was obvious something was wrong. The grip on the flashlight loosened some - no longer the death grip of before. A small nod of thanks was given to the man before he started forwards to continue his search.
Abruptly, he stopped advancing as the woman started to add-on to what the man had said. In a bemused fashion, he tilted his head to look around the people and down the hallway to the other group. He almost expected the hallway to change as soon as she mentioned it, but they seemed to want to remain stable for now. The warning to not go alone, however, kept him from leaving the small group.
Monsters?
“Our mission is to investigate an old Mako reactor. There have been reports of it malfunctioning, and producing brutal creatures. First, we will dispose of those creatures….”
His hand went to his mouth as he felt his motion sickness start to act up. He leaned against the side of the truck, focused on the metal floor. Cloud remembered well enough that if you focus on an unmoving object that eventually the feeling would go away. It wasn’t working as well as he hoped. At least, he knew that he was just there for crowd control. It wasn’t like the monsters were going to take him serious, anyway.
The rest of the conversation went as normal while he tried to hold back the dry heaving which may eventually lead to actual vomit.
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Didn't answer his questions about Albedo... but whatever. He'd deal with that later.
He arched an eyebrow at Schuldig, quite aware that the guy was probably listening in on the thoughts and figuring it was too much effort to obsess over hiding them. Greed was Greed, anyway, and he didn't like lying in the first place. Besides, someone like this was a good idea to grab for your side. Better to wear it all on your sleeve and not give a damn.
This woman, on the other hand... No memories? Three days ago? The hell was that shit? What was this, anyway, some Amestrian military joint? Greed wouldn't be surprised, what with the way the guys in blue suits had been so eager to trust an ex-con like Kimbley. Only criminals trusted criminals, though he guessed that went the same for him.
Heh, couldn't think too much on that last name. First thing Greed would do once he got out of here? Hunt down that fucker and tear him limb from limb.
That is if he didn't find the old hag first.
The younger guy--the blond--suddenly began to make weird noises, like he was really sick or something. Greed blinked at the guy, wondering what the hell this place had done to him to render him unable to talk and unable to breathe.
Real shame, that. Greed might've seen him as a potential member of his group had he not been so fucked up. Maybe later.
"Hey, kid," the homunculus went over to him, leaning down and placing a heavy hand--not unkindly--on his shoulder. "Maybe you should go back to your room, let us big guys do the real work."
He stood up again, glanced over at Schuldig, eyes narrowing in some form of approval mixed with amusement.
"You seem competent. Wanna check this place out, see what's really goin' on?"
If this chick was right... Well, a trip through hell was turning out to be more of a challenge than anything else, even with his powers woefully drained.
Greed grinned.
He liked challenges.
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