The Story - Chapter 11
Chapter 11 - You have your dreams, I have mine.
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A/N: Hey there. o/ I would type something large that could (probably) be explained in a few sentences, but I won't, except that there's more than enough extras in this chapter. My facebook note posts (where I tag my friends who have been most helpful--thank you so much guys, without you reading, I think I would have given up all hope sooner.) are drafts at best, and six hours, or a day or two I re-read my chapters and pad them with more 'meat' if they're too thin, or I leave them as they are if I can't think of anything to add.
If you're a new reader that stumbled across here somehow, thank you, and I hope you enjoy reading! :)
______________________
As a child, Nagant always figured that his Godfather knew best, even if he had been hard and ruthless. He believed in his Godfather, in some irrational and unexplainable way, and fully thought that Godfather had prepared him for anything life could throw at him. Obviously, interacting with women and saving them wasn't part of the plan. His whole body felt rigid and unnatural as he held a girl, especially one whom he deemed extremely annoying. He was used to dealing with corpses that had to be moved, bodies that struggled when tortured, bodies that fought. Being this close to her, he could see that her lashes were dark in contrast to the bright eyes that hid underneath, her breath coming slow and steady.
You piss me off, in more ways than one. But why...do you look so small from here?
Nagant could feel the sweat on his palms, and he gripped Elizabeth Browning's body tighter. "If I wasn't so tall...I would've tripped on your hair by now." He muttered as he finally made it to the clinic, pushing it open with his left arm.
"What's all this?" The head nurse, an elderly woman asked, confused.
"She inhaled chloroform, ma'am. I was walking with her and she fainted." Nagant carried her over to one of the medical beds and lay her down on it.
"How could she get chloroform..?"
"Accident in Chemistry class--my fault; I was being clumsy..." Nagant blew a small breath and tried to look apologetic, knowing that some people were easily fooled. "...I know I'm probably imposing, but could she stay here..?"
"O-oh, of course. Are you her classmate?"
"You could say that..." Nagant replied smoothly. "...will she be all right?" He noticed the female nurse staring at him and he offered her a small smile. "Well...?"
"She's a lucky girl. She only got a small amount, so she should wake up in a few hours, with a hangover. We'll get her jacket and wash the last traces of chloroform up. Otherwise she might've never woken up."
Well, that's somehow a pity... Nagant bowed slightly. "Thank you for being so accomodating." He turned on his heel and started to walk away, loosening his tie a little bit. As he was going to open the door, it opened and he bumped into Miguel Garand.
For once, he looked angry, his face pink. "What is the matter with you?!" He hissed. Surprised, Nagant bristled and replied as boldly as he dared, "If it's about Browning, she's fine, just tired."
Garand sighed. "That's great, but did you know that half the teachers and the batch is asking me if I keep an eye on you two? You could lose your position, and you could cost Browning to lose hers as well."
Adrian Nagant raised an eyebrow. "She fainted. What was I supposed to do, leave her there?"
"N-no, of course not! But did you have to carry her like a bride? The fireman pose would have been better."
"Her skirt is too short."
Miguel Garand looked strangely old as he walked out of the clinic, with Nagant following. The Spanish officer sat down on a wooden bench, and Nagant wondered just how much pressure was being applied.
"I can't keep covering for you like this, Nagant."
Adrian blinked. "A woman's dignity is far worth an officer's position."
"Are you serious? I can't waste time finding another officer, Adrian. I need you to behave."
"Sir, I can defend myself from the principal, and from everyone else who asks. I'd rather be demoted than force her to endure humiliation."
In a fit of unusual compassion, Nagant got up and pressed a hand towards Garand's shoulder. "Sir. It'll be okay. I'll just talk to them. And please--I don't think I could live with myself if anyone saw Elizabeth in a..compromising position."
"All right. I promised the head teacher that it was going to be the last "incident" involving public displays of--"
"Garand." Nagant's voice was hard. "it was an emergency. She fainted. I wasn't about to drag her anywhere with me, and I certainly couldn't carry her in the fireman's position, because her skirt is too short. If you need me to testify in front of the whole faculty, I'll do it."
The Wing Commander blinked and looked more relieved than he had been a few minutes ago. "All right. I trust you. I'll tell them that, but please, make sure that you're free, just in case."
"I understand. Now, let's go back."
As he walked along with his superior officer, Nagant felt strangely thankful that he hadn't been so exposed to people. Aside from the times he had to work or interact with his Godfather's underlings, he never really experienced any other emotion. It had always been a world of structure for him, where everyone and everything had their place, and they never forgot it.
He walked towards his own classroom and from the window he saw his teacher on his desk, his classmates' heads solemnly bent down, tips of pencils and pens in view. With a poised hand he knocked lightly, thrice before entering, the teacher meeting him at the door.
"How is Miss Browning?" The teacher asked quietly. "She's fine...a little bit tired, though."
"Okay. Get a piece of paper and a pen and you can begin the quiz."
It was a fairly simple identification quiz about the Spartans. He was just about to write down his final answer when a male voice boomed out of the PA system in the corner, making more than half of the students jump.
Adrian Nicholas Santiago Nagant, please report to the principal's office immediately. That is all.
"Mister Nagant, please hand in your paper before leaving."
"Yes, sir."
Adrian gently closed the door behind him and walked a flight of stairs down towards the basement, and went on until he saw the glass door labelled "faculty," where all the teachers came and went.
Inside he knocked on the door labelled "Principal's Office" thrice, with no answer. Shrugging, he went inside and closed the door. Apart from the glow of a computer, the principal was nowhere in sight.
"What the--? This is weird...he went towards the computer, as if drawn to it. There was a webcam open, and there in the flesh was his Godfather, in a formal suit and cravat, a glass of wine in one hand.
"Godfather?"
"Adrian," he said, aloof as ever, "I just bought your school."
"...why?" Adrian absentmindedly sat down on the plush leather chair.
"Yes. Apparently education's price is certainly below three or five million dollars, I don't remember." His godfather waved off money as if it was nothing before continuing. "there are ruins underneath the school. Investigate it."
"...why?" he repeated, still wondering if they really were related.
"Do you want your medication halted?"
"...I'll do it. Where's my starting point, Godfather?"
Another window immediately opened with blueprints of their school, and he could see a number of tunnels winding underneath the school, called 'secret passages.'
"You'll use this...passage." He pointed to the office where Nagant was seated. "There's a trap door under a rug there. It's the shortest and most reliable one we found yet."
"I accept your mission, Godfather." Nagant absently fingered the plastic bottle that once housed more than 100 pills in his pocket. Even without looking he knew he was down to less than half. The last thing he saw before he clicked the "x" button to close the webcam was his Godfather's smirk, and he felt an overwhelming desire to shoot the monitor.
It's a rather poor substitute, but the feeling is the same...ugh, if I didn't need these to stop the screaming....
He had the sinking feeling that he was going to be tethered to his Godfather forever, like a damned dog that no one else could feed.
Breathing in the scent of lemon in the principal's office, he got up and gently kicked the rug with his leather shoe.
"I spy, with my little eye...a trap door. Let's see where this goes...oh, crap. I'm talking to myself...grrgngh..." Adrian grabbed his bottle of pills and, biting on two of them, opened the trap door. It was dark and slightly damp, smelling of mildew.
An agent always has the essentials with him--including a torch, or, at the very least, a mini-flashlight. Just another little tenant that his Godfather drilled into his head. Hanging on his ID was a small flashlight on a keyring, which illuminated his surroundings faintly as he lowered himself down, and closed the trap door.
Using the tiny light, he climbed down a set of stairs, until he came to a long, winding tunnel.
Just how deep are these...? Ah, a...door. All right, let's see where--oh, shit. So he wasn't crazy, after all.
The door revealed broken-down, barely-held-together ruins of an old building. Ceilings and floors had crumbled into each other, so much that it was hard to understand where one ended and one began.
Grey filing cabinets, old vending machines, rows upon rows of scorched books on rotten shelves stretched in the chaos, with rusty, broken-down terminals peppered in between.
It felt like he stood upon the remnants of a world gone mad, and in the very depths of his psyche, Nagant felt an old feeling rise up to the surface, one he thought had disappeared a long time ago.
Fear.
Swallowing the bile that built up in his throat, he wandered through the building. After some time, he encountered a mostly intact desk, with a computer terminal that looked almost pristine in comparison to the rest of the building. As he approached, he saw something small stuck into one of the USB ports, and he recognized it immediately.
Mom and Dad's...w-why am I so scared?
With a trembling hand, he bent down and checked the terminal. There were pictures of him as a baby, ones that made his heart lurch and his stomach turn. His mother had held him so tenderly, and his father--was that pride in his eyes? Nagant hadn't thought about them ever since they died. And yet here they were, preserved forever.
He slowly stroked a picture of all three of them together, in an old hospital. "Mom...dad..." He was startled as his vision began to ebb and flow, as if there was liquid in his eyes. Adrian Nagant thought that some water had seeped into his eyes from above. Removing his hand from the monitor, he placed it against one green eye and felt wetness, tasted salt when he licked his lips.
What...? Soldiers...soldiers don't cry...
Wiping the tears away, he continued to look until he saw a folder. Clicking it brought him to a password prompt screen, with only one hint.
"The one thing all men die for."
_ _ _ _ [enter password.]
Without even thinking, Nagant entered the only four letter word that seemed so alien to him before, but for now, away from the prying eyes of his Godfather, away from Noahn, Browning and any other distraction, it somehow made sense.
"Love." he spat out the word as if it was dirty, soaked in grime and covered in mud. Inside were the blueprints of all five buildings, a MessagePad entitled "Journal.txt." and an mp3 file. "To Adrian. From Dad."
Adrian Nagant had always prided himself on not knowing how to cry. He had forgotten the days when he wept for his parents. His Godfather had ensured him that there was no need to cry. His father wouldn't have sat there and wept like a blubbering, sentimental fool. In the ruins of an old, abandoned building underneath a school in a backwater, third-world country, Adrian Nagant plugged in his own MP3 player to retrieve the file, and placed his headphones over his ears.
"Is this thing on?...ah, there we go. Thanks, honey. Hi there, Adrian. If you're...listening to this, then that means you've found our USB. Good going son! I knew you would find it. You're brilliant, just like your father. I know you must be confused and scared right now son, but don't worry." His dad's voice was there, clear as day. He had forgotten what it had sounded like, the day his father had gone, never to be seen again.
"Since you're hearing my voice now, you must have the blueprints. Son, we need you to take down the other branches. Your Godfather--what he's planning, it isn't good. He--oh, god, they're coming back...quickly Sierra, hide it! Goodbye for now, son. We--your mother and I--we love you so much."
Slumping over next to the desk, he started to cry.
Damn it...damn it, Dad...
As the recording ended with sounds of soldiers clomping, he immediately set it on a loop. After five more times of hearing it, the tears stopped as suddenly as they came, and Nagant breathed heavily.
"Godfather...you have to die." he whispered into the darkness. "This can't...this can't happen again...I'll end this. For mom and dad."
But you need him, a small, sadistic voice murmured. What about your pills? Continue...continue taking his orders...and you can kill when the time is right.
"hm...I suppose.." Nagant shot back in reply. "...either that or I find someone who can kill me. I just want to end this."
He laughed bitterly. He was the best. No one would possibly get close enough to kill him, not even his own Godfather.
The only time you stop fighting is when you're dead.
~~
Awww...xD A very rare emo Nagant moment. I hope it wasn't too over-the-top...heh. Even he needs a private time to release the emotion. I only hope I can remain consistent til the very end with his downward spiral...oh, the bombing incident happens after this. This should be fun...I suppose.
If you don't feel even a little bit sad for Nagant, then you either:
a) don't care about him very much
b) I've failed as a writer
c) your name is Anton and you live to annoy me IRL. And there is only ONE of you.
Read and review, as always? :)
_____________________
A/N: Hey there. o/ I would type something large that could (probably) be explained in a few sentences, but I won't, except that there's more than enough extras in this chapter. My facebook note posts (where I tag my friends who have been most helpful--thank you so much guys, without you reading, I think I would have given up all hope sooner.) are drafts at best, and six hours, or a day or two I re-read my chapters and pad them with more 'meat' if they're too thin, or I leave them as they are if I can't think of anything to add.
If you're a new reader that stumbled across here somehow, thank you, and I hope you enjoy reading! :)
______________________
As a child, Nagant always figured that his Godfather knew best, even if he had been hard and ruthless. He believed in his Godfather, in some irrational and unexplainable way, and fully thought that Godfather had prepared him for anything life could throw at him. Obviously, interacting with women and saving them wasn't part of the plan. His whole body felt rigid and unnatural as he held a girl, especially one whom he deemed extremely annoying. He was used to dealing with corpses that had to be moved, bodies that struggled when tortured, bodies that fought. Being this close to her, he could see that her lashes were dark in contrast to the bright eyes that hid underneath, her breath coming slow and steady.
You piss me off, in more ways than one. But why...do you look so small from here?
Nagant could feel the sweat on his palms, and he gripped Elizabeth Browning's body tighter. "If I wasn't so tall...I would've tripped on your hair by now." He muttered as he finally made it to the clinic, pushing it open with his left arm.
"What's all this?" The head nurse, an elderly woman asked, confused.
"She inhaled chloroform, ma'am. I was walking with her and she fainted." Nagant carried her over to one of the medical beds and lay her down on it.
"How could she get chloroform..?"
"Accident in Chemistry class--my fault; I was being clumsy..." Nagant blew a small breath and tried to look apologetic, knowing that some people were easily fooled. "...I know I'm probably imposing, but could she stay here..?"
"O-oh, of course. Are you her classmate?"
"You could say that..." Nagant replied smoothly. "...will she be all right?" He noticed the female nurse staring at him and he offered her a small smile. "Well...?"
"She's a lucky girl. She only got a small amount, so she should wake up in a few hours, with a hangover. We'll get her jacket and wash the last traces of chloroform up. Otherwise she might've never woken up."
Well, that's somehow a pity... Nagant bowed slightly. "Thank you for being so accomodating." He turned on his heel and started to walk away, loosening his tie a little bit. As he was going to open the door, it opened and he bumped into Miguel Garand.
For once, he looked angry, his face pink. "What is the matter with you?!" He hissed. Surprised, Nagant bristled and replied as boldly as he dared, "If it's about Browning, she's fine, just tired."
Garand sighed. "That's great, but did you know that half the teachers and the batch is asking me if I keep an eye on you two? You could lose your position, and you could cost Browning to lose hers as well."
Adrian Nagant raised an eyebrow. "She fainted. What was I supposed to do, leave her there?"
"N-no, of course not! But did you have to carry her like a bride? The fireman pose would have been better."
"Her skirt is too short."
Miguel Garand looked strangely old as he walked out of the clinic, with Nagant following. The Spanish officer sat down on a wooden bench, and Nagant wondered just how much pressure was being applied.
"I can't keep covering for you like this, Nagant."
Adrian blinked. "A woman's dignity is far worth an officer's position."
"Are you serious? I can't waste time finding another officer, Adrian. I need you to behave."
"Sir, I can defend myself from the principal, and from everyone else who asks. I'd rather be demoted than force her to endure humiliation."
In a fit of unusual compassion, Nagant got up and pressed a hand towards Garand's shoulder. "Sir. It'll be okay. I'll just talk to them. And please--I don't think I could live with myself if anyone saw Elizabeth in a..compromising position."
"All right. I promised the head teacher that it was going to be the last "incident" involving public displays of--"
"Garand." Nagant's voice was hard. "it was an emergency. She fainted. I wasn't about to drag her anywhere with me, and I certainly couldn't carry her in the fireman's position, because her skirt is too short. If you need me to testify in front of the whole faculty, I'll do it."
The Wing Commander blinked and looked more relieved than he had been a few minutes ago. "All right. I trust you. I'll tell them that, but please, make sure that you're free, just in case."
"I understand. Now, let's go back."
As he walked along with his superior officer, Nagant felt strangely thankful that he hadn't been so exposed to people. Aside from the times he had to work or interact with his Godfather's underlings, he never really experienced any other emotion. It had always been a world of structure for him, where everyone and everything had their place, and they never forgot it.
He walked towards his own classroom and from the window he saw his teacher on his desk, his classmates' heads solemnly bent down, tips of pencils and pens in view. With a poised hand he knocked lightly, thrice before entering, the teacher meeting him at the door.
"How is Miss Browning?" The teacher asked quietly. "She's fine...a little bit tired, though."
"Okay. Get a piece of paper and a pen and you can begin the quiz."
It was a fairly simple identification quiz about the Spartans. He was just about to write down his final answer when a male voice boomed out of the PA system in the corner, making more than half of the students jump.
Adrian Nicholas Santiago Nagant, please report to the principal's office immediately. That is all.
"Mister Nagant, please hand in your paper before leaving."
"Yes, sir."
Adrian gently closed the door behind him and walked a flight of stairs down towards the basement, and went on until he saw the glass door labelled "faculty," where all the teachers came and went.
Inside he knocked on the door labelled "Principal's Office" thrice, with no answer. Shrugging, he went inside and closed the door. Apart from the glow of a computer, the principal was nowhere in sight.
"What the--? This is weird...he went towards the computer, as if drawn to it. There was a webcam open, and there in the flesh was his Godfather, in a formal suit and cravat, a glass of wine in one hand.
"Godfather?"
"Adrian," he said, aloof as ever, "I just bought your school."
"...why?" Adrian absentmindedly sat down on the plush leather chair.
"Yes. Apparently education's price is certainly below three or five million dollars, I don't remember." His godfather waved off money as if it was nothing before continuing. "there are ruins underneath the school. Investigate it."
"...why?" he repeated, still wondering if they really were related.
"Do you want your medication halted?"
"...I'll do it. Where's my starting point, Godfather?"
Another window immediately opened with blueprints of their school, and he could see a number of tunnels winding underneath the school, called 'secret passages.'
"You'll use this...passage." He pointed to the office where Nagant was seated. "There's a trap door under a rug there. It's the shortest and most reliable one we found yet."
"I accept your mission, Godfather." Nagant absently fingered the plastic bottle that once housed more than 100 pills in his pocket. Even without looking he knew he was down to less than half. The last thing he saw before he clicked the "x" button to close the webcam was his Godfather's smirk, and he felt an overwhelming desire to shoot the monitor.
It's a rather poor substitute, but the feeling is the same...ugh, if I didn't need these to stop the screaming....
He had the sinking feeling that he was going to be tethered to his Godfather forever, like a damned dog that no one else could feed.
Breathing in the scent of lemon in the principal's office, he got up and gently kicked the rug with his leather shoe.
"I spy, with my little eye...a trap door. Let's see where this goes...oh, crap. I'm talking to myself...grrgngh..." Adrian grabbed his bottle of pills and, biting on two of them, opened the trap door. It was dark and slightly damp, smelling of mildew.
An agent always has the essentials with him--including a torch, or, at the very least, a mini-flashlight. Just another little tenant that his Godfather drilled into his head. Hanging on his ID was a small flashlight on a keyring, which illuminated his surroundings faintly as he lowered himself down, and closed the trap door.
Using the tiny light, he climbed down a set of stairs, until he came to a long, winding tunnel.
Just how deep are these...? Ah, a...door. All right, let's see where--oh, shit. So he wasn't crazy, after all.
The door revealed broken-down, barely-held-together ruins of an old building. Ceilings and floors had crumbled into each other, so much that it was hard to understand where one ended and one began.
Grey filing cabinets, old vending machines, rows upon rows of scorched books on rotten shelves stretched in the chaos, with rusty, broken-down terminals peppered in between.
It felt like he stood upon the remnants of a world gone mad, and in the very depths of his psyche, Nagant felt an old feeling rise up to the surface, one he thought had disappeared a long time ago.
Fear.
Swallowing the bile that built up in his throat, he wandered through the building. After some time, he encountered a mostly intact desk, with a computer terminal that looked almost pristine in comparison to the rest of the building. As he approached, he saw something small stuck into one of the USB ports, and he recognized it immediately.
Mom and Dad's...w-why am I so scared?
With a trembling hand, he bent down and checked the terminal. There were pictures of him as a baby, ones that made his heart lurch and his stomach turn. His mother had held him so tenderly, and his father--was that pride in his eyes? Nagant hadn't thought about them ever since they died. And yet here they were, preserved forever.
He slowly stroked a picture of all three of them together, in an old hospital. "Mom...dad..." He was startled as his vision began to ebb and flow, as if there was liquid in his eyes. Adrian Nagant thought that some water had seeped into his eyes from above. Removing his hand from the monitor, he placed it against one green eye and felt wetness, tasted salt when he licked his lips.
What...? Soldiers...soldiers don't cry...
Wiping the tears away, he continued to look until he saw a folder. Clicking it brought him to a password prompt screen, with only one hint.
"The one thing all men die for."
_ _ _ _ [enter password.]
Without even thinking, Nagant entered the only four letter word that seemed so alien to him before, but for now, away from the prying eyes of his Godfather, away from Noahn, Browning and any other distraction, it somehow made sense.
"Love." he spat out the word as if it was dirty, soaked in grime and covered in mud. Inside were the blueprints of all five buildings, a MessagePad entitled "Journal.txt." and an mp3 file. "To Adrian. From Dad."
Adrian Nagant had always prided himself on not knowing how to cry. He had forgotten the days when he wept for his parents. His Godfather had ensured him that there was no need to cry. His father wouldn't have sat there and wept like a blubbering, sentimental fool. In the ruins of an old, abandoned building underneath a school in a backwater, third-world country, Adrian Nagant plugged in his own MP3 player to retrieve the file, and placed his headphones over his ears.
"Is this thing on?...ah, there we go. Thanks, honey. Hi there, Adrian. If you're...listening to this, then that means you've found our USB. Good going son! I knew you would find it. You're brilliant, just like your father. I know you must be confused and scared right now son, but don't worry." His dad's voice was there, clear as day. He had forgotten what it had sounded like, the day his father had gone, never to be seen again.
"Since you're hearing my voice now, you must have the blueprints. Son, we need you to take down the other branches. Your Godfather--what he's planning, it isn't good. He--oh, god, they're coming back...quickly Sierra, hide it! Goodbye for now, son. We--your mother and I--we love you so much."
Slumping over next to the desk, he started to cry.
Damn it...damn it, Dad...
As the recording ended with sounds of soldiers clomping, he immediately set it on a loop. After five more times of hearing it, the tears stopped as suddenly as they came, and Nagant breathed heavily.
"Godfather...you have to die." he whispered into the darkness. "This can't...this can't happen again...I'll end this. For mom and dad."
But you need him, a small, sadistic voice murmured. What about your pills? Continue...continue taking his orders...and you can kill when the time is right.
"hm...I suppose.." Nagant shot back in reply. "...either that or I find someone who can kill me. I just want to end this."
He laughed bitterly. He was the best. No one would possibly get close enough to kill him, not even his own Godfather.
The only time you stop fighting is when you're dead.
~~
Awww...xD A very rare emo Nagant moment. I hope it wasn't too over-the-top...heh. Even he needs a private time to release the emotion. I only hope I can remain consistent til the very end with his downward spiral...oh, the bombing incident happens after this. This should be fun...I suppose.
If you don't feel even a little bit sad for Nagant, then you either:
a) don't care about him very much
b) I've failed as a writer
c) your name is Anton and you live to annoy me IRL. And there is only ONE of you.
Read and review, as always? :)