Welcome Madness, Say Hello
Who: Darien Fawkes, Nash Latkje.
What: Since his little trip back home, Darien has gone mad. Nash does something about it.
Where: Southern District Forests.
When: A few days after this.
Warnings: Violence on both sides. And Darien’s a creeper with no concept of personal space.
Darien recalled quite a few things from his trip back home. He remembered his boss cutting him off from his regular counteragent if he didn’t hand over the five million dollars he stole to the Agency, like a good little puppet boy; and he remembered telling the fat man no. He remembered telling his Arnaud Deföhn, arch enemy and highest target on his personal hit list, to go screw himself when demanding his five million dollars back, even if it meant supplying Darien with his own recipe of counteragent without having to depend on the Agency. He remembered the agony rising to maddening degrees as he twisted and writhed in pain. And he remembered feeling nothing but the desire for revenge. He remembered his eyes going red. He remembered accosting a woman at a hospital for information, and punching a security guard. He remembered the FBI storming in; they didn’t want to capture Darien this time; they wanted to kill him. In his madness, he’d decided to defect from the Agency, and now they wanted him dead, every last one of them. Oh well, he figured people always seemed so much happier when they were crazy, anyway.
Then he dredged up other memories, too: His eyes. They had gone silver. He remembered being shot at in an alleyway, almost killing an FBI agent and leaving him in a burning building to die, throwing a man into a revolving door, and coming fairly close to having his way with Arnaud’s woman. He remembered his partner betraying him to the guy who murdered his brother, Kevin (or, at least, in his perspective he sure as hell saw it as betrayal). After parting ways with Bobby Hobbes, Darien remembered more things as well. The man on the bicycle who bumped into him; he flipped the break, causing him to spiral into traffic. And then there was a-
...there was a mime.
He beat the crap out of a mime.
When did he do that?
Either way, this was fun. He was having fun. Whoever thought that madness was a bad thing, they’d never experienced anything quite like this.
Strangely, however, he’d checked his own reflection lately. The effects of the Quicksilver Madness seemed to have a reverse effect here, as currently Darien saw his own face, staring red-eyed back at himself. No longer Stage Five Madness with the silver eyes-not yet, anyway. If he was back home, they’d probably see this as a sign of hope. Back in Darien’s little world, however, he couldn’t care less. So what if the Madness reversed in Nautilus? Quicksilver still flowed in his system; it would only be a matter of time before it built up, developing from Stage Four to Stage Five again. Didn’t make any damn bit of difference to him either way; he wasn’t going to let them change any of that.
Most people weren’t like him or Leslie, he knew. Most of them would try to change him, fix him. Darien didn’t want to be fixed this time. He liked it here. This place, this happy, carefree place was the most comfortable he’d ever been since he got this damned gland put into his brain. He couldn’t think of a time where he felt this overjoyed in his life. Like hell he was going to let anyone stand in the way between him and his own happiness again.
For now, the forest was sanctuary. He’d considered destroying the samples of counteragent he’d recovered from his world. That’d make his life hell of a lot easier, wouldn’t it? But, as though clinging to that sane part of him... he didn’t. And though it was getting dark, he didn’t remove the shades that would have otherwise exposed his inhuman, red eyes
Pacing contemplatively, he clutched the syringe, and found a rock to sit on to think. It’d only be a matter of time before he got bored with sitting and thinking and doing what crazy people do by talking to himself, until he’d find something else to do and try something different. Killing someone, now that sounded like fun. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
What: Since his little trip back home, Darien has gone mad. Nash does something about it.
Where: Southern District Forests.
When: A few days after this.
Warnings: Violence on both sides. And Darien’s a creeper with no concept of personal space.
Darien recalled quite a few things from his trip back home. He remembered his boss cutting him off from his regular counteragent if he didn’t hand over the five million dollars he stole to the Agency, like a good little puppet boy; and he remembered telling the fat man no. He remembered telling his Arnaud Deföhn, arch enemy and highest target on his personal hit list, to go screw himself when demanding his five million dollars back, even if it meant supplying Darien with his own recipe of counteragent without having to depend on the Agency. He remembered the agony rising to maddening degrees as he twisted and writhed in pain. And he remembered feeling nothing but the desire for revenge. He remembered his eyes going red. He remembered accosting a woman at a hospital for information, and punching a security guard. He remembered the FBI storming in; they didn’t want to capture Darien this time; they wanted to kill him. In his madness, he’d decided to defect from the Agency, and now they wanted him dead, every last one of them. Oh well, he figured people always seemed so much happier when they were crazy, anyway.
Then he dredged up other memories, too: His eyes. They had gone silver. He remembered being shot at in an alleyway, almost killing an FBI agent and leaving him in a burning building to die, throwing a man into a revolving door, and coming fairly close to having his way with Arnaud’s woman. He remembered his partner betraying him to the guy who murdered his brother, Kevin (or, at least, in his perspective he sure as hell saw it as betrayal). After parting ways with Bobby Hobbes, Darien remembered more things as well. The man on the bicycle who bumped into him; he flipped the break, causing him to spiral into traffic. And then there was a-
...there was a mime.
He beat the crap out of a mime.
When did he do that?
Either way, this was fun. He was having fun. Whoever thought that madness was a bad thing, they’d never experienced anything quite like this.
Strangely, however, he’d checked his own reflection lately. The effects of the Quicksilver Madness seemed to have a reverse effect here, as currently Darien saw his own face, staring red-eyed back at himself. No longer Stage Five Madness with the silver eyes-not yet, anyway. If he was back home, they’d probably see this as a sign of hope. Back in Darien’s little world, however, he couldn’t care less. So what if the Madness reversed in Nautilus? Quicksilver still flowed in his system; it would only be a matter of time before it built up, developing from Stage Four to Stage Five again. Didn’t make any damn bit of difference to him either way; he wasn’t going to let them change any of that.
Most people weren’t like him or Leslie, he knew. Most of them would try to change him, fix him. Darien didn’t want to be fixed this time. He liked it here. This place, this happy, carefree place was the most comfortable he’d ever been since he got this damned gland put into his brain. He couldn’t think of a time where he felt this overjoyed in his life. Like hell he was going to let anyone stand in the way between him and his own happiness again.
For now, the forest was sanctuary. He’d considered destroying the samples of counteragent he’d recovered from his world. That’d make his life hell of a lot easier, wouldn’t it? But, as though clinging to that sane part of him... he didn’t. And though it was getting dark, he didn’t remove the shades that would have otherwise exposed his inhuman, red eyes
Pacing contemplatively, he clutched the syringe, and found a rock to sit on to think. It’d only be a matter of time before he got bored with sitting and thinking and doing what crazy people do by talking to himself, until he’d find something else to do and try something different. Killing someone, now that sounded like fun. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?