InsaneJournal

WHO: Peter Fleming, Bo Hess, & an old friend
WHAT: Eventually, someone's going to lose.
WHEN: February 19th; Afternoon
WHERE: Peter's flat
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: In Progress

"She could be a valuable asset," Peter tensed at the voice in the back of his head where his own internal narrative should be. His eyes had been closed, fighting against the headache that was threatening to overtake him because of the situation, and now he dared not open them for fear of what he might see in front of him. "You know how pliable children can be, and she trusts you already. Funny, I would have thought you'd lost that touch."

"Go away," Peter muttered, pushing himself from the couch and pacing the room, smacking into an unexpected table forcing him to open his eyes and come face to face with his own alter ego. Peter turned his back quickly even though, logically, he knew that there was nothing there to turn away from. A manifestation of his subconscious or some other psychobabble that made absolutely no sense to him and just made him feel increasingly self-conscious. All Peter knew was that they were happening far more frequently than they used to, more so the harder that he tried to block it all out.

"You're passing up an ideal opportunity, Peter. Imagine what her abilities could do for us. She's no Tracey, certainly, but precognition is a decent substitute for probability. She'd be so easy to use."

The growl of frustration that rose in his throat would seem odd to anyone that might have come across him at that moment. "Shut up," Demanding your own mind by quiet to an empty room was something that he did frequently in the privacy of his own office where he had the assurance that no one would enter and oversee the apparent insanity that had crept into his life. But here, he had no such assurances even as such facts didn't at all cross his mind. "I'm not going to do that. One was enough."

"Oh, as if there was just one," Laughter in his own mind, laughter at himself by himself, only sparked his temper even more. "Stop trying to keep up this masquerade. Sooner or later, you're going to have to admit that without me, you'd be nothing."

Rage overwhelmed his senses, but as Peter turned to finally face his accuser he found himself alone, glaring at the empty air. Which only made sense. Of course he'd retreat before Peter could form a proper rebuttal. Coward.