[open, narrative]
What the people in the Nexus did was ruin him. It's as simple as that.
Last year it was only mental. He'd wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, his body shaking, thinking about Crane and fire and bugs, and he blamed this place. He slept with the lights on. He was miserable, but he was okay, he was still kicking, and that was what mattered.
Now they're tearing him apart. His soul and mind are no longer his own. Jeff can slip into his mind, pull out languages and thoughts that don't even belong to him, and he, meanwhile dreams dreams of women he doesn't know and emotions he's never felt. It's all wrong, it's all not him, and he hates it. Kaa even used the connection to slip through Jeff's mind and into his (you fucking cheater) to place a wall in his brain, preventing him from killing. He isn't even able to defend himself anymore. He's weak. Helpless. Nothing.
In this place, he's losing himself.
It's a terrifying feeling. When you've been so sure of yourself for so long, to watch everything you've ever made slip through your fingers, it feels like you're dying. In his home world, people have probably already moved on. Keyser Soze is only a legend now, and how long before they forget that, too? How long before the people here forget what he's capable of? How long before that doesn't even matter?
This was how he defined himself, and he can never go back. He's stuck. Goodbye, goodbye.
He's been staying in a cheap apartment on the edge of the anti-violence field, as close as he can get. Coverage is spotty, but enough that he can maybe count on it. When he isn't in the sanctuary bar, he's reading the paper front-to-back or sleeping or thinking about actually getting a job. Today he has a crossword puzzle and a cheap chair to sit on, with coffee that he had picked up earlier from the sanctuary. He doesn't have a table. He's used to this at this point.
Last year it was only mental. He'd wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, his body shaking, thinking about Crane and fire and bugs, and he blamed this place. He slept with the lights on. He was miserable, but he was okay, he was still kicking, and that was what mattered.
Now they're tearing him apart. His soul and mind are no longer his own. Jeff can slip into his mind, pull out languages and thoughts that don't even belong to him, and he, meanwhile dreams dreams of women he doesn't know and emotions he's never felt. It's all wrong, it's all not him, and he hates it. Kaa even used the connection to slip through Jeff's mind and into his (you fucking cheater) to place a wall in his brain, preventing him from killing. He isn't even able to defend himself anymore. He's weak. Helpless. Nothing.
In this place, he's losing himself.
It's a terrifying feeling. When you've been so sure of yourself for so long, to watch everything you've ever made slip through your fingers, it feels like you're dying. In his home world, people have probably already moved on. Keyser Soze is only a legend now, and how long before they forget that, too? How long before the people here forget what he's capable of? How long before that doesn't even matter?
This was how he defined himself, and he can never go back. He's stuck. Goodbye, goodbye.
He's been staying in a cheap apartment on the edge of the anti-violence field, as close as he can get. Coverage is spotty, but enough that he can maybe count on it. When he isn't in the sanctuary bar, he's reading the paper front-to-back or sleeping or thinking about actually getting a job. Today he has a crossword puzzle and a cheap chair to sit on, with coffee that he had picked up earlier from the sanctuary. He doesn't have a table. He's used to this at this point.