Nano Update #8
I doubt I'll be able to reach 50k, but 25k should be doable. Or at least 12k, but let's keep going. Besides, I just finished Chapter Two!
Things turn decidedly violent this chapter, as the AU I started with returns to canon (well, my version of canon) with a bang. Also, the title finally explains itself somewhat.
Expect Chapter Three whenever it's ready. Ideally when I get another 4k done, as I like large chapters.
Mirror, Fear Of.
Chapter Two
||
(across the mirror)
Neddy swallowed as he tucked the briefcase into the toilets, and shuddered nervously. That was done, that was done, all he had to do now was leave the restaurant and not tell anyone about the bomb in the bathrooms.
He could do that, right? He nodded to himself nervously, thinking of Jack and his gloves and the look in his eye and -
He shook his head and scurried out of the bathroom. He sat at his table and dropped a large amount of money on the table and walked out, shaking.
He had done it, he had done it, he had blown up a building for Jack -
There was the sound of an explosion behind him, and then he was running as fast as he could, trying to get away from Maddox Street. He hoped no one saw him, but then again, if they did, well, Jack would take care of it.
A black car drove up next to him, and slowed when he did. The door opened, and he got in when he saw Jack.
By now he was shaking, by now he was a nervous wreck.
But he could still listen and nod at Jack and wring his hands, so he didn't miss it when Jack praised him genuinely for the first time ever.
"Very well done, Neddy."
Neddy grinned and shook and didn't whimper much at all when Jack began to tell him how he could have done a better job, and he paid attention when Jack told him to, as he would be doing this sort of thing again, when Jack wanted him to.
He'd do anything for Jack, he'd do anything to not be cut or -
Neddy finally, finally fainted from over-exertion.
(all Control saw in the mirror before he went to bed was a panicked man run away from a restaurant in flames)
||
When Control's double finally decided the time was right, Control received directions to Jack's rooms. A night had passed despite Control's protests, but when his double explained that he should meet Jack in the morning, Control stopped complaining. He still wasn't used to thinking of his double as his brother, or as 'Cee', as Mr. Murchison had called him, but he was trying to adjust.
There had also been the matter of the bed, but to Control's surprise his double was not shy about sleeping with him in the bed, and in fact he insisted that Control share the bed with him despite Control's protests.
So Control had woken up to a warm arm draped over him and sunlight creeping across the bed. This had prompted a momentary panic, as Control usually got up well before sunrise, but the warm arm had tightened around him and he remembered where he was.
"Good morning...nnngh, bright." His double or his brother said, mumbling, still half-asleep. Control carefully removed the arm and got up to get dressed and freshened up for the day.
The mirror in the bathroom showed a brief image of Mr. Murchison holding a cup of coffee and smiling innocently, but by now Control was becoming used to this. At least it was the mirror, and at least it wasn't real. Still, he stopped looking and finished washing up quickly, wondering why he was seeing Mr. Murchison now.
He left the apartment after breakfast and saying goodbye to his double and went to the elevator, setting it to go down to the second floor. Once there he went to the third door down and knocked, waiting, and hoping that Jack knew he was coming. A moment passed, and then the door opened.
"Good morning, Control. Come in." Control paused before entering, surprised at his greeter's appearance. He looked just like Control, but with his hair slicked back and it connected.
"Pardon me..." Control started, trying not to be too surprised. "Are you..."
"I am your relative, Control. I see that your brother did not warn you in advance." A dry chuckle, and then he introduced himself. "I am Jack Dalliard, and I am aware that we are to work together for the moment."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dalliard," Control said, politeness kicking in. "I would introduce myself, but you already know my name."
"I do." Jack smiled and went further into his apartment, leading Control to an office. "You may call me Jack." The office was neat and not cluttered at all, except for the two chess sets that were both in mid-game. Control couldn't help but notice the excellent quality of the chess-sets, as the material they were made out of looked like real marble and glass.
"You play chess?" He asked, examining the boards of the chess sets, and when he looked at Jack, Jack was moving a piece.
"Yes, I do. Do you?"
"I'm afraid not anymore, but I am familiar with the rules." Control had played several games with fellow students in his younger days, and he had not forgotten how to play. "I will need a refresher, I'm afraid."
"Then we must play some time." Jack said. "After you are settled in."
"Yes. Thank you."
Jack was smiling, and Control wondered why the only person in the building with a pleasant smile was his brother. Jack's smile was not kind, either, but before Control could wonder any more, Jack was leading him to another room.
"I have arranged a temporary working place for you, Control." Jack said, showing Control to a small room that Jack had turned into an office like his. "Mr. Murchison is expecting you to complete the same kind of research papers I do, so I have placed some of my work in the top drawer of your desk. A sample outline is in the drawer below that, as well as an assortment of writing utensils. When you are prepared to begin the research process, come to my office. I do not usually share my library, but Mr. Murchison is not yet ready for you to leave the building."
His speech finished, Jack looked at Control, waiting for questions.
"Excuse me...why does Mr. Murchison want us to write research papers?" Control asked, still puzzled by the entire concept. He had finished with college a while back, and had not expected to perform that sort of work again.
"He knows a publisher, and my work is often published for both academic and public consumption. If you have any skill at the task, you may be published as well. The royalties are the reason why, you see."
"I do. Thank you." Contract-holders taking the money in exchange for living space and other rewards? Control understood completely. Still, the chess sets Jack had were obviously expensive, so perhaps he had more of an income than Control thought.
"You are welcome." Jack smiled again, and it was still not kind. He waited a moment more, then nodded. "Come to me if you have any more questions. Now, I have work to finish..."
Jack left, leaving Control to puzzle over the sudden nagging in his memory. The name of Jack Dalliard and the phrase 'my work is often published' rang bells in his mind, and it took a minute before he realized that a book he had recently seen in the window of a bookstore had Jack as its author.
Control looked at the door, surprised. "An actual author...?" That at least explained the chess sets, and why he remembered the chess-board pattern on the cover of that book he had seen. A thought struck Control as he sat down at his new desk. "Maybe I shouldn't play chess with him..."
Control smiled and laughed at himself, berating himself for even thinking of refusing a chance to play chess with someone who understood the intricacies of the game. That was the best way to learn how to improve at it, after all!
With this in mind, Control finally relaxed and opened the top drawer, taking out the paper Jack had written.
"Oh goodness." Control murmured, putting the paper onto the desk. It was huge, and obviously well researched, and he was expected to write the same sort of paper. Perhaps this job would be more difficult than he had expected.
||
Jack Dalliard had other chess sets than the one Control had seen in his office. Control had not expected to be approached after several hours of reading and making notes and outlines, nor had he expected Jack to do all but demand a chess game.
"I must say, this is not the chess set I expected us to be playing on, Jack," Control commented after he had sat down in Jack's den. "It's very nice."
A chess set with raised white and black lines to mark the squares, and the squares themselves were one large mirror. The pieces themselves were a material that Control could not determine, and were black and white. The starkness of the set was refreshing, and the mirror in it was intriguing.
"It is more than nice, Control." Jack said, but Control could see that he was pleased by Control's reaction. "This is the chess set that you will remember, as it is the one we are using for this game - the first time we have played."
"That is true, Jack. Which color would you prefer?" Control asked, smiling.
"Black, please. I wish to see how you open the game."
Control nodded and settled himself, examining the board. He had little experience with chess, as he had told Jack, but he knew that white started and other basic rules. He looked at his pawns and wondered, successfully ignoring the brief flickers in the mirror that warned him that he would see something in the mirror.
He moved one of his knights instead, hoping for a chance to not look at the mirror.
"Hmmm..." Jack drew out the syllable and smiled, moving his Queen's pawn out as far as it could go, and Control only held back a sigh. He had hoped Jack would take longer to decide what to do, but he focused on the board and the pieces. The mirror continued to flicker but did not stabilize into an image, and Control threatened the pawn with his bishop's pawn.
"The Reti opening? You are returning to the early 1920s, Control...you are either lying to me when you claim you are a novice, or you are truly a lucky beginner."
"I'm afraid it's the latter, Jack." Control chuckled, a tad nervously. He was simply playing in the most effective manner, and his opening was surely nothing special. "Who was Reti?"
"Richard Reti, a master chess-player who assisted the development of the Hypermodernism school of chess thought. He was born Austrian-Hungarian, but became Czechoslovakian later in life. As I recall, he was the world record-holder for blindfolded chess. I will need to check these numbers, but I believe he played twenty-nine games simultaneously, won twenty-two of them, drew six, and lost one of them. Your move."
Control startled. Jack knew plenty about chess, and there was proof. Also, there was Jack's knight, drawn out to take his pawn if he took Jack's pawn. He studied the board, trying to figure out what to do. That was when the mirror it was resting on finally stopped warning him and showed an image.
Showed a man covered in blood, still being covered in more as the blood sprayed from the throat of his victim. He was holding a bloody knife and Control flinched when he realized that he could hear laughter.
He could hear laughter. That alone froze him in mid-flinch, eyes glued to the board. He could hear the splatter of the blood, the breathing between bursts of laughter, everything. "Wha...what..." He stammered, shaken to his core.
"Control. Come here. I want to see you." He heard, and it was Jack's voice.
He looked up at Jack, and found Jack to be silent, watching him, eyes dark and calculating.
He saw Jack with an eyepatch, which hadn't been there before. The mirror flashed and drew his attention once more, and he saw himself and Jack moving chess pieces.
He heard laughter and looked to his left and there was the crazy, laughing man with blood on his coat and suddenly he knew he wasn't there. Wasn't on the right side of the mirror.
"Welcome to reality, Control," Jack said, but it wasn't his Jack. It was the one with the eyepatch and the calculating look in his eyes that Control knew didn't mean well for him. "Thank you for coming."
Crazily, that was when Control remembered trivia. The first words spoken into a telephone... 'Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you.'
He stared at Jack and felt something wet on his cheek. His hand went up, brushed at it and came down. It was blood, and it was red, and he looked to his left. It was fresh.
Control fainted.
||
"It worked, Jack!" Morgan happily bounded over to the armchair, having moved Control to the couch himself. Oh, there were bloodstains on Control's clothing now, but Morgan hadn't had a chance to dry his coat yet. Besides, blood was one of the better decorations, and it looked lovely against those white marks on Control's face. He would clean up his work later, but here was Jack and Jack was pleased with him. Morgan knew he didn't need to be there, but Jack had wanted to see his work, and he had been testing something, so Morgan had been happy to oblige. "He's breathing and he's not the real Control!"
"I am aware of that, Morgan," Jack said, setting his wine down. He lit a cigarette, eyes on Control. "You may go. Inform my men that I am not to be disturbed for an hour."
"Yes, Jack!" Morgan happily bounded out, giving one last glance at the not!Control. The white markings were weird, and he knew Jack liked weird things, like Neddy. Oh, Neddy would be so jealous that Jack was giving something else more attention than him. It gave Morgan pleased shivers to know that jealousy could drive Neddy to do something unforgivable, and then he might get access to Neddy. Neddy's stutter meant that he needed to investigate the larynx and the trachea and the entire respiratory system, just in case there were anomalies there. Also, a neurological problem could be evident, so he'd need to look at the brain too, and the entire idea of dissecting Neddy gave Morgan happy shivers.
After giving the messages to Jack's men, Morgan went for Neddy, who was not one of Jack's men. He was one of Jack's own, one of his pets, just as Morgan was. "Neddy!" He cried, finding Neddy in the kitchen.
Neddy jumped a foot out of nerves, and Morgan laughed at the sight. He laughed freely and happily at everything that pleased him, these days.
"Jack got him! He's got a new Control!"
"O-oh? I-I didn't know..."
"He didn't tell you?" Morgan asked, innocently. He had known Jack hadn't told Neddy of his plans. Jack liked to keep Neddy in the dark for almost everything, as that kept Neddy dependent on him. "He's got a new Control, and he gets to play with him and everything!" Morgan hopped a little, just for emphasis.
Neddy didn't frown, didn't show any hint of disapproval, but Morgan could see the tensing and he laughed again.
"Don't bother him, he said not to be bothered for an hour." Morgan said, pleased, moving over to the kitchen knives. If Jack kept his Control, he would need to lock up the knives again. Didn't want an escape route open, after all!
"Y-yes..." Neddy said, and Morgan heard the grudging acceptance in it. Neddy was powerless and the weakest of Jack's pets, and he knew it. Morgan could and would do anything to Neddy, if only he had Jack's permission.
If only...
Morgan dreamed and idly examined and sharpened Jack's kitchen knives, anticipating and hoping.
Neddy scurried out of the kitchen, but Morgan didn't notice. He wasn't Jack and he wasn't attacking and he wasn't interesting anymore. Hence Morgan didn't care about him.
||
When Control stirred, he wasn't in a bed, and he wasn't even in an unfamiliar bed. He was somewhere else, and somewhere else smelled like it was on fire. He opened his eyes, automatically panicking, but the fire was just a lit cigarette, and he relaxed.
Then he noticed the blood on his sleeves, and he stood up in a flash, scared out of his mind, remembering. The mirrored chess set, the laughter...
Well, Jack had said he would remember their first chess game. He'd remember it, but not for the reasons he wanted to remember it for.
This not-Jack looked at him, and smirked.
"Control."
"...you're not Jack," Control said, before realizing that he was letting fear and shock control his mouth. He had to pretend he was still playing chess, and he had to pretend this was another puzzle. Once he solved it, he could go home. He closed his mouth and didn't ask anything yet.
"I am Jack, Control. I suggest you forget anything and everything you think you know." Jack's voice was smooth and calculating, and Control stopped himself from shivering.
"Why?" He asked, knowing Jack would tell him the worst and expect him to believe it blindly. Jack could and would lie to him, he knew. Every instinct he had screamed with warning, and whatever truths Jack held, Control knew he would twist them.
"You have been taken from the mirror, Control. You cannot return." Jack shrugged. "I suggest you get used to the idea."
Control nodded and absently began to compose thank-you notes to Mr. Murchison and his brother, as the shocks they had provided him helped here, with this shock that was infinitely more important than discovering that his contract-holder was free. He could remain calm and ask questions.
"The blood on your clothing will need to be dealt with. When you meet Morgan, he will show you how to dry it so it no longer flakes. I suggest you do not try to wash it out, as blood is difficult to remove without powerful chemicals, and when properly dried can be a dye."
"...you're just like an informational pamphlet," Control commented, surprised to hear similarities between his Jack and this dangerous one. Still, it made sense. This looked and sounded like Jack, and even if he was in some other place, Jack would be himself. Control did have to wonder, though. What sort of circumstances had led to Jack becoming so unpleasant? He didn't have a contract - the tell-tale marks were missing - so that hadn't influenced him. Still, what had led Jack to wear that expression naturally?
Jack was still silent, and Control finally realized the signifigance of Jack not having a contract.
"Goodness..." He murmured to himself, surprised. "Ah, pardon me, Jack?"
"Yes?" Jack was studying him now, cigarette in his hand.
"Do you...have a contract?" This was the most irritatingly rude question anyone could ask, and Control almost held his breath, suddenly nervous by asking this. He saw Jack's interest increase, however, and tried to calm himself.
"I cannot answer that question without context, Control," Jack said, placing his cigarette back in his mouth.
"Then you don't have one," Control said, feeling calmer. No contract would have let itself be denied like that. There were reasons why all contracted persons had marks.
"How can you tell?" Jack asked, and the open honesty further reassured Control.
"You didn't confirm it immediately, I'm afraid. No contract lets itself be denied like that."
"Fascinating." Jack stood and approached Control, examining Control's face. "Then you have a contract?"
"Yes." No hesitation, no flinching. "My contract-holder is Mr. M---." The customary fuzzing of the contract-holder's name to those he did not wish to hear it was evident.
"Hmmmm. And these markings?" Jack touched Control's neck, tracing the white whorls that were intricately patterned in Control's own signature. "What are they?"
"My contract's physical point." Control said, stepping back. "Please don't touch them."
"I will touch as I please, Control," Jack snapped, voice edging from open curiosity and back to irritation. "Do not try to flee."
"I won't." Control nodded, holding still as Jack touched them again. "They are my contract's physical point, as I said. I suggest you be careful?"
"Oh?" Jack looked Control in the eyes. "Of what?" He rested his palm on Control's neck, daring him to do anything.
"My contract," Control said softly, and the white marks that Jack was touching fell away from his skin and onto Jack's, going from tattoo-marks to sandpapered whips all in an instant. They wrapped around Jack's wrist and sawed themselves back and forth, squeezing tighter as they drew blood.
Jack shouted in pain and surprise, and Control watched impassively as white worked to remove Jack's hand from his body.
The door opened, and then there was a gun aimed directly at Control. Control looked at the gun's owner, not knowing him, and raised his hands.
"I can't stop it, I'm not doing it."
Jack glared at him and the gun was fired, and there was a hole in Control's head. But as Control's body fell down, the tattoo-marks stayed where they were, finishing their job before Jack had a chance to respond again.
Control was dead, and Jack was missing a hand when the marks returned to Control and covered his head in white. The marks would renew Control, and Control would live again.
His contract wasn't up yet.
||
Feedback is appreciated, but please remember that is is NaNo and therefore it's rough.