Complete
Who: Schuldig (and his imaginary Schwarz)
When: Tonight
Where: An abandoned building
Rating: PG-13 for Schu's language
Warnings: Language
Summary: Schuldig works current events through his mind
Schuldig was pretty well drunk by this time, sitting alone in the abandoned building. If there was one thing Purgatorium wasn’t lacking, it was broken-down and abandoned buildings. Sitting on the floor with a lit candle as his light, Schuldig stared morosely at the half-empty whiskey bottle in front of him. He’d returned Tot earlier while Cissnei was out, putting the kitten back under the saucepan to keep it from escaping until she got home to let it out. The telepath watched the flame as he lifted the bottle back to his lips.
“What now, Mastermind?” asked Farfarello, the phantom of Berserker that only existed in his mind sitting on the floor as well against the opposite wall. “You fucked that away.”
Schuldig grinned nastily over his bottle at the Irishman. “How do you know it’s still not all going according to plan?”
Nagi snorted, the telekinetic sitting on the floor as well since the room lacked any sort of furniture. “You wanted that club. We all know it.”
The telepath shrugged carelessly, setting the bottle back beside him as he fumbled through his pockets for his cigarettes. It was a task made harder by intoxication. It took four tries with his stolen lighter to get it lit. Taking a deep draw off it, he shrugged again, blowing the smoke at the imaginary Nagi. “And?”
“Why didn’t you take it? What they offered?” Nagi asked.
Schuldig scowled, glaring at Nagi before leaning back against the wall sulkily. “What the fuck? Have strippers dancing on cardboard boxes? Are you shitting me, Naggles?”
It was Farfarello that answered him, golden eye glinting as he held up his knife to the candle’s flame. “Everyone else did.”
The telepath snarled, blue eyes blazing as he gripped his bottle tighter. “I’m not everyone!”
Farfarello’s scarred lips split in a ghastly grin. “No, you’re not. You’re greedier than everyone else. Sneakier, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, Farf. I’m sure I could find you a straitjacket if I had to,” Schuldig grumbled, taking another swig. The room tilted a little until gravity reasserted itself. Damned gravity had been giving out all night. Either that or he was drunker than he thought. That couldn’t be.
“Poor Mastermind. Lost his little project because he had too much ego,” Farfarello sniggered. “And now what will he do? Join forces with Hojo? You know he’s going down one way or the other? Go free Jenova so you can slave away under a different goddess?”
Schuldig snarled again, leaning his back against the wall again. “It was a great idea. Not my fucking fault I misunderstood. I was willing to serve her! Do whatever she wanted. And for what? A raw wood stage with goddamned kazoos as music? My soul or service is worth more than that.”
“Wounded pride is what it all comes down to,” Oracle said quietly, lost in the shadows so that only a glint of light reflecting off his glasses showed that the imaginary man was there.
“You can shut the fuck up too, Brad. I’ll think of something. I always do.”
Farfarello’s hand felt cold when it closed over Schuldig’s wrist despite the fact that he knew he was alone in the room, none of these people really here.
“We’re not here to help you if you fall, Mastermind. You piss off everyone, and you’re going to get caught in the crossfire,” the Irishman said quietly, his blazing single eye inches from Schuldig’s own. “This isn’t a game with the kitties. Shin-Ra will shoot you. Hojo will put your brain in a jar. These gods might very well fry you.”
Schuldig grinned, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Oh? I know one thing no one else does.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re not omnipotent. They couldn’t even get a geeky game right. They don’t see thoughts. If they did, then they would have got it, wouldn’t they?” Schuldig asked.
To that, the rest of Schwarz was silent, uneasy in their quiet.
“I’ve got it in hand. Fucking trust me,” Schuldig muttered, leaning his head back with his eyes closing as the room took another lazy spin.
The room was quiet after that, no one else there but the telepath. The flame burnt down to its death in a pool of wax after the telepath had passed out, darkness creeping in until day came.
When: Tonight
Where: An abandoned building
Rating: PG-13 for Schu's language
Warnings: Language
Summary: Schuldig works current events through his mind
Schuldig was pretty well drunk by this time, sitting alone in the abandoned building. If there was one thing Purgatorium wasn’t lacking, it was broken-down and abandoned buildings. Sitting on the floor with a lit candle as his light, Schuldig stared morosely at the half-empty whiskey bottle in front of him. He’d returned Tot earlier while Cissnei was out, putting the kitten back under the saucepan to keep it from escaping until she got home to let it out. The telepath watched the flame as he lifted the bottle back to his lips.
“What now, Mastermind?” asked Farfarello, the phantom of Berserker that only existed in his mind sitting on the floor as well against the opposite wall. “You fucked that away.”
Schuldig grinned nastily over his bottle at the Irishman. “How do you know it’s still not all going according to plan?”
Nagi snorted, the telekinetic sitting on the floor as well since the room lacked any sort of furniture. “You wanted that club. We all know it.”
The telepath shrugged carelessly, setting the bottle back beside him as he fumbled through his pockets for his cigarettes. It was a task made harder by intoxication. It took four tries with his stolen lighter to get it lit. Taking a deep draw off it, he shrugged again, blowing the smoke at the imaginary Nagi. “And?”
“Why didn’t you take it? What they offered?” Nagi asked.
Schuldig scowled, glaring at Nagi before leaning back against the wall sulkily. “What the fuck? Have strippers dancing on cardboard boxes? Are you shitting me, Naggles?”
It was Farfarello that answered him, golden eye glinting as he held up his knife to the candle’s flame. “Everyone else did.”
The telepath snarled, blue eyes blazing as he gripped his bottle tighter. “I’m not everyone!”
Farfarello’s scarred lips split in a ghastly grin. “No, you’re not. You’re greedier than everyone else. Sneakier, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, Farf. I’m sure I could find you a straitjacket if I had to,” Schuldig grumbled, taking another swig. The room tilted a little until gravity reasserted itself. Damned gravity had been giving out all night. Either that or he was drunker than he thought. That couldn’t be.
“Poor Mastermind. Lost his little project because he had too much ego,” Farfarello sniggered. “And now what will he do? Join forces with Hojo? You know he’s going down one way or the other? Go free Jenova so you can slave away under a different goddess?”
Schuldig snarled again, leaning his back against the wall again. “It was a great idea. Not my fucking fault I misunderstood. I was willing to serve her! Do whatever she wanted. And for what? A raw wood stage with goddamned kazoos as music? My soul or service is worth more than that.”
“Wounded pride is what it all comes down to,” Oracle said quietly, lost in the shadows so that only a glint of light reflecting off his glasses showed that the imaginary man was there.
“You can shut the fuck up too, Brad. I’ll think of something. I always do.”
Farfarello’s hand felt cold when it closed over Schuldig’s wrist despite the fact that he knew he was alone in the room, none of these people really here.
“We’re not here to help you if you fall, Mastermind. You piss off everyone, and you’re going to get caught in the crossfire,” the Irishman said quietly, his blazing single eye inches from Schuldig’s own. “This isn’t a game with the kitties. Shin-Ra will shoot you. Hojo will put your brain in a jar. These gods might very well fry you.”
Schuldig grinned, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Oh? I know one thing no one else does.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re not omnipotent. They couldn’t even get a geeky game right. They don’t see thoughts. If they did, then they would have got it, wouldn’t they?” Schuldig asked.
To that, the rest of Schwarz was silent, uneasy in their quiet.
“I’ve got it in hand. Fucking trust me,” Schuldig muttered, leaning his head back with his eyes closing as the room took another lazy spin.
The room was quiet after that, no one else there but the telepath. The flame burnt down to its death in a pool of wax after the telepath had passed out, darkness creeping in until day came.