Day 50: Waiting Room / Lobby 1 (3rd Shift)
Prussia wouldn't admit it out loud, but it had been nice to see his brother this morning. West had obviously been doing well before he ended up here; he must have recovered from the war some time in the gap between Prussia's own time and his, and kept on surviving, no matter what rules and restrictions and laws the Control Council had put in place
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He'd see him later then.
She was still smiling, happy, the same as in the morning. Venom didn't like that. Something was wrong when this woman was pleased in his vicinity. The feeling of him staring metaphorical daggers into the side of her head must of have prompted her to finally spill the information she had, because once out of the cafeteria, she immediately began blabbing away. "Isn't this exciting? It's so good of your friends to drive all this way to see you."
...what? "I don't have any friends."
"I'm sure they'll reconsider coming back next week when they hear that." The woman abruptly halted mid-step, putting her hands in the air just inches away from his shoulders to stop him in his place. Tempted to push her over as he was, he obliged. "Hold on a second. They came to see you, not your hair. Pull it back, Vincent."
He could break her hands. She had to know this. He could snap her throat without any remorse or difficulty and never have to think of a justification. His mission was to return to the Guild. She was working for those keeping him away from it. Anyone working with or for Landel was an enemy. Enemies of the Guild were to be taken out.
The breath he let lose was exasperated, and he slowly raked his fingers through the thick strands in front of his face. Once it was pushed back, Nurse smiled to herself again and continued leading the way to a room he'd never been in before (not that it mattered. If he were looking at anything other than the floor at the moment, it would be a miracle).
"Just take a seat right here and they'll be in shortly."
Hmph... This was ridiculous. There was no one alive that would want to see him.
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...well, considering the Complication that he currently was leading by the hand. Alisa Carrie- someday to become Alisa Corbett, he hoped- had fought him every single step of the way, insisting that her presence would only cause problems, that she'd destabilize Vincent, and when all of that hadn't worked, had tried to convince him that she was too sick to go. Honestly... sometimes it felt like he was running a kindergarten instead of a respectable law firm. The simple fact of the matter was that he needed to know how his oldest friend was doing, and to do that, he needed Alisa by his side. This entire episode had thrown his life into chaos, and he wanted it sorted out as soon as possible. Even if that meant putting some of his cases on hold so he could arrive all the way here. "Just try to be hospitable," he murmured to the woman whose beauty he didn't need eyes to see, "I'm sure the change has helped him."
One of the nurses very kindly pointed him in the direction of Vincent, for which Eduardo was grateful. One hand held on tightly to Alisa's, while the other held on to his walking stick, of solid black instead of the usual white, as he felt his way forward. The thick sunglasses perched on his finely-sculpted nose betrayed his blindness, as though the cane did not, and yet he still navigated confidently, adroitly slipping through gaggles of idle nurses and making his way inexorably to the man in question. As he approached, he unconsciously shifted his weight, wishing he had a third hand to readjust his black suit- and the black turtleneck underneath, it was maddening not to know if there was any lint on the shoulders- and perhaps a fourth to brush his long blond hair out of his face. Alas, two was all he had, so he would have to hope Vincent would excuse even the slightest bit of dishevelment.
Speaking of... he tilted his head slightly to Alisa and murmured under his breath, "Where is he?"
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At the moment? She could have done without it.
"Change? How can a week help a man who has been mad his whole life?" she whispered back. "You said yourself that he has always been this way. The man is obsessed with you. Seeing me attached to your arm will only make things worse."
Alisa sighed and shook her hair from her shoulders, the lengthy blond ponytail swishing behind her as she led Eduardo in the direction the nurse had gestured in. It took a moment for her to recognize Vincent without that damnable shroud of hair in his eyes. Someone had forced him to tuck it behind his ears, leaving a sullen face for her to find when she was looking for what was essentially an upturned mop. But spot him she did, and she carefully guided Eduardo by the hand to their seats.
His shirt was absolutely delicious. The complete antithesis of everything about Vincent - a sunshine yellow smiley face. The sight tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She made certain her fiance was seated before smoothing down the sleek white dress (casual and short, but clearly of the best taste) and sinking gracefully into her chair. "To the right," she murmured back, voice too low for Vincent to catch and leaning close to Eduardo's ear. "And be sure to compliment his shirt. They've dressed him nicely for us today."
Alisa smiled. There was a difference between 'hospitable' and 'nice'.
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...alive...
It wasn't the same as last night. The confidence was there, the inherent strength and determination he had always expected alive and well flowing through each step, and yet it wasn't the same. It wasn't the same as the night before that either. But it was the same blond hair as both of those nights, the same one figure-- ...no. He wasn't alone this time. In with the image of his Lord, hands clutched together, was another familiar figure in white. He was with her.
Loathing wasn't enough to describe the stabbing heat that wormed its way into his chest. Hatred was too weak a word to properly convey the poison pounding into his mind with a shattering scream of sight-induced rage. It wasn't enough to say that the sight of her with him, sitting next to him, smiling patronizingly at the assassin was maddening. Her name sure as hell lived up to itself, because it was taking all of his self-control to not immediately push off the chair and beat her face in with it. She hadn't even said anything to him yet and it was mind-bogglingly difficult for him to not kill her this very second.
She was with him.
He was with her. It wasn't enough to taunt him at night. It wasn't enough to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, for the guilt of his death to never wash off his hands no matter what he did or gave in honor of the man's soul. They had to torment him while he was awake now, didn't they? They had to not only show him what he lost, but the woman who took it so cruelly and thoughtlessly. It was a comfort to know then that this asylum was incapable of reproducing the souls of others, because Millia Rage did not have one.
There were no tears this time. No bowing, kneeling, no moving from his spot. He didn't even open his mouth to greet the mirage in front of him. He couldn't trust it. He had to be an idiot to fall for this again.
Venom only stared at the two of them. It was a blessing that Master Zato were blind. The only thing currently speaking were his eyes, those of which only playing one message toward the two of these falsities: 'I don't like you.'
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It was infuriating at times, but the tall blond didn't let it show on his face as he sat down. For that matter, had they been alone, that whisper in his ear might have earned a much more pleased response, but for now, it was important to focus on Vincent. Somehow, in some way, they could figure this out. Surely the doctors had given Vincent at least some movement toward recovery?
The one thing he didn't do was follow his fiance's advice. Not because he had any idea of what the outfit looked like, but because he could just tell when those two were trying to nettle each other. Besides, he didn't like how she'd phrased it- 'dressed up for us,' as though he was a poodle to be paraded about!
...granted, a poodle would be much easier to train. And less likely to try killing Alisa. As it was, practically hearing the palpable silence and seething hatred, the man who wasn't Zato-1 ran a hand through his hair and casually leaned back in his chair as he offered a smile. "How's the hand? Still a bit stiff?"
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And wasn't it such a shame that Eduardo wasn't going to play along? He was too sharp for that, she had no doubt. Still. It would have been amusing had her little joke passed. All things considered, the uniform was an improvement.
Honestly, she could never understand why he bothered with Vincent in the first place. Surely there had to be more appeal in a friendship than simple flattery. The man fawned and fretted over him, like a sickly cross between a lovestruck schoolgirl and a mother hen: both of which were female forms at their most aggravating. Really, it was pitiable, the way he carried on around him. Yet Eduardo stood up for him every time, never listened to a word she said. A man stood by those who stood by him. She could respect that. For him, she would respect that.
Should their little 'incident' have a repeat, however? Vincent would have bigger problems than one measly broken finger. She could still feel the crushing wood of the cue against her neck. Traces of the bruises remained even now, dotting the curve of her throat.
You're never leaving here, she thought vehemently. You're beyond mad. There's no saving you now.
"I should hope not," Alisa interjected smoothly with a cross of her legs. "It would be terrible to miss out on all the activities because of a sore hand. What did that pamphlet say, dear? Football? Finger painting? Tetris?"
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This was disgusting. Was this it? Were these the faces in the photos, the lies he were supposed to trust? Were they expecting him to embrace the two in front of him, cry that he believed them, that he missed them, that this asylum had done its job and now he was cured and couldn't wait to be taken home?
Venom was many things that he wasn't proud of. He was petty when given half the chance, prone to jealousy and fits of anger, emotional when he should be empty, spotted with weakness when he should be stronger, plagued with self-doubt, self-hatred, and most of all constant guilt. But he wasn't desperate and he wasn't an idiot.
"You're dead." I know that. His eyes were glued to the floor, avoiding the smile he wanted to trust beyond anything and knew now that he couldn't. This wasn't real. Master Zato was dead, no matter what he wanted. He would have to live with that every day for the rest of his life, the reason for which was sitting arrogantly right in front of him. If the smile from his Master (no. It wasn't him. It isn't him) made him want to play along, at the very least for now, to not upset him, the fact that that woman was there, touching his hand for her damn stupid reasons, whispering things, sitting there for all the world like she was meant to be by his side when she was nothing but a traitor was sickening.
"This isn't real."
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Still... he felt torn. Vincent was his oldest friend, and perhaps Alisa had never seen Vincent back in the old days, back when he first took over the law firm, but the man before him had made it possible to run such an old, respectable, yet still in shambles organization. He had made it easier, better, and took all the tasks without complaints. But Alisa... for a moment after the attack, when he'd felt those livid bruises beneath his fingers, he'd nearly wanted to lock Vincent away as well. Only a moment to calm down had allowed his hot passion to die down, leaving him with this situation.
But Eduardo wasn't a man to feel helpless. He didn't let anything stop him. Becoming a lawyer feared even among such a vicious peership hadn't come easily, and it required a hard heart. He felt for both people, but he couldn't let that blind him. ...in a manner of speaking.
The Spaniard was quiet for a minute, then he finally spoke again. It stung, but he ignored it for now, just keeping his voice neutral. "If I'm dead and this isn't real, then what is?"
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Nevermind that it wasn't what Vincent had intended. Alisa's finger's threaded through Eduardo's and gave his palm a gentle squeeze as she glowered at their guest. For now she would stay quiet. Let Eduardo suss out what the man had meant. Considering what he had been screaming when he had tried to murder her, Alisa had an idea or two already.
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He didn't have an answer for that question. Why bother reasoning with something that wasn't there?
Be it as it may, the sight of that witch clutching onto the other man's hand was infuriating. She was a traitor. After everything Master Zato had given her, after he'd taken care of her, doted on her, given her all of his attention and praise and trust, she betrayed him. She betrayed the entire Guild, imprisoned their leader and left it in shambles and it still wasn't enough for her. She had to hunt him down when he escaped, hurt him, weakened him to the point of that damn parasite taking over and when he escaped, she fell back on Venom to help find him.
"It'd be easier with two people," she'd said. "You do want to find him, don't you?" "I know where he is - you have to help me." "You need me." "Trying to behave like an assassin, acting on your own? You're nothing but a little boy trying to hide."
So he gave in. He helped her find him.
And she killed him.
It didn't matter if she was an image. A fake, a hallucination brought on by some foreign chemical. She had no right to be touching him. She had no right to even be near him. Who did she think she was?!
Anger guided him as he stood from his seat, hand raised, his every intention being to ignore that question and rip off the mask that bitch was wearing--
"...perfectly tailored..., these visitors... graduates of the very program that you are surveying now..."
"Next-wave..." The words left his lips without thought, quiet as the memory drifted into the forefront of his mind. He'd heard about this before, days ago. Martin Landel went missing, prompting the asylum to run via Iris and...
His hand lowered, fingers uncurling from the fist it had turned into, the rest of him sinking back into his seat as he stared at the pair in front of him. This was real. It was them.
"You've both been brainwashed." That certainly explained the holding hands and unceasing anger the Guild Head felt looking at the woman. That could never be duplicated with a fake. "They're controlling you."
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While he couldn't see, he gently squeezed Alisa's hand, unconsciously relying on her for a moment as he tried to sort this out. Brainwashed? Controlled? Eduardo was never one to be controlled, never! How could Vincent even suggest such a thing? How could anyone who knew him ever even think that he was one to be controlled!? "...both of us controlled? By who?"
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And what, praytell, was this 'Next Wave'?
Alisa scoffed. She had had enough of Vincent's mad ramblings. This meeting was helping no one: not Eduardo, and certainly not Vincent. They would all have been much better off if they had never come at all. Shame that Eduardo refused to believe her when she had feigned ill this morning. Anything to avoid this. She had been right in the end about it being a wasted effort. It was only upsetting Eduardo, and that she could not tolerate.
Enough of this.
"Does it matter?" she scorned, fixing Vincent with a steely glare before turning to face her fiance. "Eduardo, the man is too far gone for rational conversation. Anything we say will simply be dismissed as part of this...brainwashing. He won't listen to you. Carrying on is pointless."
She moved her hand, gently stroking the back of his shoulder in a new effort to soothe him. "Let's just go. He's not ready for you. Perhaps later this year, when he's made some real progress."
Doubtful. But if it would convince him to leave now, then all the better for them both. It was silly to expect any improvement after a week, and that ache of being apart from Vincent would fade eventually. Eduardo would move on. She would wait as long as it took.
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But he wanted to believe it was him. That there was hope...
If it was him, Landel's had just made another dire mistake. The last straw, if you would. You could take Venom away from the Guild. You could take his Magic. You could test his patience, strain his pride, bruise his ego - he would fix the problem and get over it. It was tiring, but work as usual. He could move on.
But you left Master Zato out of it. No one was allowed to touch him. No one. And if this were him? If they had dared tarnish his memories and thoughts with these disgusting lies?
The boiling rage had cooled by now, leaving the usual freezing ice in its place, the chilled professionalism he felt he had lost somewhere between these days of stress returning to full force. Even in his seat, Venom bowed at the waist, the respect in his voice as tangible as the chairs underneath them. "Sir, please." No more room for whining like a child. He had to be serious. "I apologize for my behavior; any excuse I could give for it would be intolerable. But please, I ask you to stay.
"As for you," his eyes turned to Millia, never flinching away for a second. They were calm, but dark. He was sick of this, sick of her. "You've said enough. If you want to stay a part of this discussion, I suggest you shut your mouth. If you can't handle that, I'm sure the nurses would enjoy your company."
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Had Vincent done nothing, that was what Eduardo would have done. But... then he spoke in that tone of respect, apologizing for his actions, and the Spaniard froze in mid-step. That was... a very sudden shift in personality. Was it due to insanity? Or was it because the shock had shaken Vincent into behaving like a normal human being? Eduardo's raised foot traced a half-circle as he turned to look over his shoulder in his friend's general direction. However, most of his weight was on his other foot, tilting his hip toward and remaining close to Alisa. Still, he had stopped, and if Alisa wished to keep walking, she'd either have to release her hand or try to drag him along.
The comments to Alisa were promptly ignored, since the two were rabid toward each other and Eduardo didn't have the patience to deal with that. Instead, he asked, "Stay? For what reason?" Vincent had one last opportunity to convince Eduardo this hadn't been a complete waste of time.
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So close to being out the door, but Vincent just had to run off his mouth once again, didn't he? And now he was actually making sense. Wonderful timing, Vincent. Truly. Alisa scowled at the eternally-out-of-reach doorway ahead before turning back around, hand still tightly entwined with her fiance's. She was not leaving without Eduardo. Not when it would count as a triumph for him.
As manipulative and catty as a woman, that one. He really did strike her as a lovestruck school girl. They were all so petty about these matters. Look at him, moaning and whining and threatening to send her off to the nurses.
"I'm certain they would rather spend time with you, Vincent," she remarked, mouth drawn into a cool smile. "You must have all gotten very close in the time you've spent here. Fluffing your pillows, spoon-feeding you, medication morning and night. It must be nice to be so well taken care of. Always having someone around to come running when you have your little hissy fits - give you all the attention you could ever want. Much more than we can provide, I'm sure."
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He couldn't let it be. So long as Master Zato was being manipulated (if it were really him at all. He'd seen stranger here than bringing the dead back to life, but the possibility remained that he was just fooling himself with unnecessary desires), Venom couldn't become complacent. Everything was to be taken with a grain of salt and the knowledge that he couldn't completely trust this man for the first time in his life. He couldn't allow his Lord to lead when he wasn't fit to, as foreign as this concept was. Venom would have to be the one to take control, be the one to plan and act. He was going to save him this time, no matter what Master Zato wanted right now - he was deluded enough to be with Millia at the moment. His professional opinion was hereby void.
But he still knew something Venom didn't. "I need to speak with you. My memory is," he paused, searching for the correct term before settling on, "murky. The staff hasn't been helpful in this front." He could say this honestly enough, because it wasn't a lie. They've told him what he was supposed to be named and gave him a handful of pictures. He had no idea who these two thought they were, who they thought he was. He didn't know what was out there and, like with Callahan before, he if could get information on it, he would. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to understand what's happening." Then, as an afterthought, "How far from this place are you staying?"
Unfortunately, Millia didn't understand the concept of going away. He stared idly at the woman as she spoke, eyes occasionally flickering to the two's still entwined fingers and contemplating the current temptation to kick their hands apart. She never stopped enjoying the little things when it came to spiting him, didn't she? His attention went back to her when she finally shut up, still as calm as ever. Was she trying to make him upset? "I only thought you'd be more comfortable with the other gossipy hens than listening to us boring adults. We aren't going to sit for tea or insult your wonderful personality without you, I promise."
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