Vance Armstrong (boysilhouette) wrote in savingthegames, @ 2014-09-05 16:09:00 |
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11:27 pm It didn’t matter to Syndicate 9 if she’d been an unwilling participant of a monthlong dreamstate. It didn’t matter to Daddy Dearest that she tried to call twenty times every hour on the hour to explain the horrendous predicament and, “Daddy, would you believe they made me kiss babies? Babies, Daddy! And I thought it was cute!” What mattered was the work and it was work that had her sitting in the driver’s seat of her black Bentley, scoping Cronus Tower. She’d received the schematics earlier that day and spent the better part of the afternoon mapping out the inside of the building. There was no such thing as a difficult target, however, even if the obstacle course took a bit more of an assessment. Adiós muttered something under her breath. It was fair to say her mood was far from recovered from last month’s event, particularly that special little finale where she and precious Mink murdered each other. Not that she could blame her sweet little baby boy blue for embracing the bloodlust as wholly as he had, but it certainly left her reputation a might bit at stake. That would have to be remedied, wouldn’t it? It’d be such a waste to kill the boy, especially when he held such promise. And she did like him. Hopefully he might agree to very specific terms. Otherwise it wouldn’t matter if she liked him or not. But first: Ethan Redding. The head of operations for the CIA in New Waverly for the time being. A temporary set-up had been arranged just days earlier to investigate one Dominic Williams, the purported reason behind the alternate reality. Whatever had happened to Williams, whether he was alive or dead, was beyond her apparent clearance level. Curiosity abounded, but Adiós had come to begrudgingly accept that some things the Syndicate would never reveal. All she knew was that this assignment had more to do than to rid one man of his life. He was here under executive order, indicating that his involvement was greater than the CIA. This cover-up led all the way back to the heart of the country’s government. Would she get to assassinate the President one day? Wouldn’t that be fun! Redding was in his office, working late, the same old story. Located on the fifteenth story, she could have very easily set up her sniper rifle across the street and killed him through a window, but today she was just that mad at life. Which meant baby girl wasn’t going to be playing no killer in the night. She was going to play games with this man. Fifteen minutes later, Redding had his arms and legs tied to his desk chair, a gag in his mouth and a smack of duct tape across his lips. He was sweating, red-faced and eyes wide as saucers, murmuring frantically under the gag as he struggled against his confines. In retrospect, the hitwoman looked entirely bored, sitting on his desk with her legs crossed and her 9mm with silencer sitting on her lap. She checked her nails as he fought, her crossed leg bobbing lazily. “I’m so misunderstood.” She sighed, looking out the window to the scene of the city before her. “People don’t really get me. You know, I do all this work to make myself happy, and I am. I’m so happy. But then freaks come along and try to make me happier, like those faggots think they know me. Total crock.” Redding didn’t seem to care so much that she was babbling on. Adiós was a bit disappointed. For someone in such an esteemed position, she was hoping he’d keep it together a little better. “Look at me. I’m beautiful. I’m talented. I already have everything that I want. You’re just a fat old man with a boring desk job. I wonder what your month would’ve been like if you were here. Don’t you? So many questions.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a second gun, this one smaller and gold-plated. “You look so sad.” Her legs uncrossed, her feet placing themselves on either side of his legs. This allowed her to lean in some with the gun. “But how can we tell with your mouth covered up?” Adiós pulled the trigger of the gun, resulting in a wild squeal from the man, but to his pant-wetting surprise it only revealed a deep red lipstick. “From my fall collection.” She drew an upside down U on the duct tape, creating a broad sad mouth. When she finished she paused, a gloved hand brushing at his wet bangs. “You’re sweating so much. You’re like a pig.” Leaning back, the lipstick was clicked back into the gun barrel. Now she sat there with her elbows on her knees, her chin resting thoughtfully on her knuckles. “I can spare your life, if you’d like.” She finally said to Redding. “I want to know what happened to Dominic Williams. You tell me where he or his body are and I let you go. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” The man seemed to calm his breaths, but the continued wide eyes indicated that he either didn’t have an answer or was not yet frightened enough to concede. If that was the case, she needed to persuade him. Adiós dug around in her purse again, this time pulling out a stun gun. At the man’s expression, she shrugged. “It’s not mascara. Sometimes it’s the real deal.” To silently reiterate, she pressed the button of the stun gun, watching his eyes as the electricity volts burst across the electrodes. Redding whimpered again. “Yes or no questions, shall we? Were you in charge of removing Dominic Williams from New Waverly?” Redding began shaking, squirming and rocking his head back and forth in a resounding “no”. The pop princess sighed deeply. “You know, the first question’s supposed to be the easiest. It helps us establish a relationship. One of trust, if we can manage.” And with that, she tazed him in the leg. Redding’s entire body shook, sweat spitting from his face. When she stopped, his entire body was heaving and she could almost feel his racing heart from here. It lit a fire inside of her. “Now, again. Were you in charge?” A long pause followed. He was allowed time to think on whether he was going to lie again, but when it lapsed for too long, she pressed the button of her stun gun again to remind him she was waiting. At last the man nodded emphatically. “Good! We’re getting somewhere.” Adiós grinned, sitting a bit more upright. “Do you know where Dominic Williams was taken?” Redding again refused to answer immediately. The stun gun was not used again as a warning and was instead pressed to his thigh, forcing another jolt through his body. Redding screamed through his binds, nodding through his tears. “Even better! One last question for you, then we’ll remove your binds and you can tell me whatever you’d like.” She leaned in, a smile creeping up the corner of her lips while her eyes took hold of a gleeful malevolence. “Is Dominic Williams alive?” That seemed to be the question that Redding seized up on, entirely still and motionless, like all the noise in his mind suddenly went silent. It was a curious reaction, one that no discernible yes or no could be retrieved from, and the hitwoman tilted her head like a snake’s to watch every iota of his body, searching for any tells. “Answer my question, Redding.” But he sat with pale eyes and ruddy cheeks, shaking and shuddering. His breath appeared shorter and he looked rather nauseous, but that was most likely a result of the stress. “Redding. Darling. Yes or no? Is Williams alive?” The man tugged on his binds, struggling to speak under his gag. The woman tsk’d and shook her head. “Last time, Redding!” But his struggling only increased and the chair creaked under his weight. The sound only further annoyed Adiós, so she pressed the stun gun to his thigh once more, sending the volts through him for several seconds. The screams behind his taped mouth would have made any lesser human being feel guilty and ashamed, but she pressed the button again, subjecting him to another surge. When she was done, she tucked her hair behind her ear, clearing her throat. One had to maintain her professionalism after all. But the stun gun didn’t appear to be doing the trick. She had three bullets in her gun - she only needed one, her aim was that trained - but as long as he believed she had a full mag, he could take a round to the kneecap. As she returned her stun gun to her purse and retrieved her gun, she paid no mind to Redding, whose breathing only became more labored. He appeared entirely unwell and as her gaze slid back to his, Redding’s own eyes closed. His head slumped forward. “...Buddy? Gordo?” She frowned, leaning in to lift his head off of his chest by a handful of hair. He was unresponsive. “This isn’t naptime, Redding.” Adiós slapped his face. When he remained unresponsive, she rolled her eyes, deciding finally to check for a pulse. Only to find that Ethan Redding was dead. Adiós groaned loudly, slamming the pistol on the desk. The man had a fucking heart attack. 2:47 pm August had been unfair. That was the final decision. Eddie, like most, had come out the other side of it with conflicting feelings, many of which rocked her already chaotic life. But she was never given time to fully adjust or process what had happened, because real life picked up with full force. The group home had called her this morning, alerting her to the status of her mother. And it was not good. There were days her mouth tasted liquor and her veins flowed with opiates, but they were the ghosts of cravings, intensified because reality had done nothing to make her want to keep experiencing it. In some moments, out of her peripheral, she spotted ink on her arms. In certain light, it looked blood red. Long, fresh gashes with skin peeled open and liquid like a heavy river. Was there any doubt Eddie sometimes contemplated taking her life? Considering what she’d been through these twenty-four years, it was a miracle she hadn’t already made an effort. A miracle which came in the form of those few others she relied so heavily and selfishly upon. She drove her mother’s car to the group home. Everyone there seemed exceptionally disoriented, certainly having their own memories of the past month playing over and over in their minds. She wondered briefly what it was like for them. Had they been happier? Had things been worse? Were they looking at themselves in the unthankful market of healthcare, wondering what the hell they were doing with their miserable existences? A staff member explained to Eddie that her mother had not yet awoken from whatever it was that had taken hold of the city. The girl had heard on the news that a good number of people were still not awake, but it hadn’t been anyone she knew intimately. And yet she wasn’t all that surprised to find Rabah among those numbers. Disappointed, frightened, concerned, but not surprised. Eddie entered the room, closing the door behind her. The sight of Rabah in something like a coma was a far more commonplace vision than when she was awake, but she’d been doing so well in the home that it was hard to see that, despite all of her efforts to help her mother, nothing ever seemed to work for long. Opting for the bed instead of the chair, she sat by her mother’s knees. The room was deadly silent, littered with memories and tragedies in the form of porcelain dolls and old photos. Eddie rested her hand on her mother’s. “It’s time to wake up.” She began softly in Hebrew. Once or twice coaxing had helped stir Rabah in the past, or at least assisted in her eventual transition to wakefulness. “You’re worrying the staff here. You’re worrying me. Don’t you want to come back so we can talk?” This continued for a time before the girl fell silent. She couldn’t keep murmuring niceties to her mother, not with the stone in her throat. Her mind felt empty, but she felt the pinprick of emotion bubbling beneath her skin, channelling in her veins. And what she said next was thoughtless, borne of an unfiltered heart. “Is this what you’ve chosen? After everything? A fake world, a nonexistence, and I’m not even in it anymore, am I.” Eddie knew. She knew that Rabah had the power and the choice to break free if she really wanted it. “It’s a beautiful lie, but that’s exactly all it is. He’s not real. Stan isn’t real. Annabelle isn’t real. I don’t have a brother. I didn’t have a sister. But it was beautiful, wasn’t it?” She shifted to look at her mother directly. “You need to come back. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. After everything -” If she cried she’d never forgive herself. So she swallowed it back. “After everything I’ve tried to do for you. I need you. You can’t leave me here alone. I can’t do this. I can’t be alone anymore. I’m so tired, mama, and I’m so scared of everything all the time...” Trembling fingers pulled back her hair, mussing her bangs, running along the scar on her brow. “You were scared of him, too, but you had a responsibility to me. You had to make the choice and you didn’t. You left me with that man and I’m supposed to hate you - and oh, god I wish I could hate you - and you never came back. You never saved me. You never loved me enough to fight for me. So is that it?” Her throat hurt and her chest pulsed with previously untapped despair. So many times she’d yelled at Rabah’s unconscious form in the past, but it was never with this anguished sincerity. “My entire life fell apart and you didn’t do anything to stop it. You just let me fall apart. He was a terrible father, but sometimes I wonder who was the worse parent. And yet I just...I just needed you so - so much - and you knew I’d do anything for you. And I did, didn’t I? I broke laws for you. And I sold myself and my morals for you. A man is dead because of what I’ve done. I’ve been hunted and beaten and raped and tortured. I’ve dealt with his addictions in my veins and I’m still fighting those addictions every day. And all this time I needed you, but...you’ve made it obvious what you’ve chosen. I was never enough. I’ve never been enough.” And the truth cracked the dam that had encased her heart for years. Her eyes were wet, but she couldn’t cry. The pain was more in her chest, pushing frantic energy out into her lungs, her throat, her stomach, her fingers. “I wish you’d just die.” There. It was said. The first time in all her life she ever uttered the words that had circled her mind like an eternal drain. She loved her mother, but her inability to choose life had rendered both her existence and her daughter’s irreparably damaged. And if it was best for them both, why was she bothering to hold on? Eddie’s gaze shifted to the cushions of the chair. So unassumingly blue and simple. She imagined herself pressing the striped fabric to her mother’s face, pressing down until she no longer saw her chest rise and fall, struggling for air. She imagined how easy it might be to set Rabah free. The girl stood up, and walked to the chair... ...and grabbed her knapsack off the floor, furiously scrubbed her eyes, and exited the room. Outside the room, the same staff member who’d spoken with her earlier approached, explaining there wasn’t much they could do. Eddie told them to give her some time. If her condition didn’t change within the week, she’d have her moved to a hospital. The last of the sold house funds would have to go there. As she turned to leave, the woman called out to her one last time. “Miss Olson, you forgot to sign her visitor’s log.” Eddie took the pen, eyes skimming the page. Most of the names there were hers. Twice she saw Tristan’s name and she almost laughed. Of course he’d come. It reminded her for a moment of how much she worried about him, because there was the fear that if she left him alone, his fate wouldn’t be that much unlike Rabah’s. Frank’s name was also on the list, but that she knew about. And then...there was a name she didn’t recognize. Mostly because it was illegible. “Who’s this?” She pointed to the name which showed up three times in the end of July. The staff member peered over her shoulder, frowning. “A man. He didn’t really say too much, so I...I can’t remember what his name was, I’m sorry. He said he didn’t know your mother as well, but he knew you and he was just...I don’t know, keeping tabs?” Eddie felt every muscle in her body tense. “Do you remember anything about him? What he looked like?” “Not too much.” The young woman shrugged. “Intense face, intense eyes.” Eddie slammed the log shut, handing it back to her. Within the few facts given her, her heart had turned to steel and her eyes reflected it. She was angry, livid - petrified - and done with this shit. “New policies for Rabah Mendelssohn. No one is allowed to visit her without my permission. If anybody walks through those doors with the intention of signing in her log, you can tell them to call me. Otherwise, no visitors are allowed anywhere near that room at any time, do you understand me? If that man comes back, contact me immediately.” A brief consideration, and then: “Actually, I don’t want any male staff attending to her either. I know that’s a crazy request, but I’m asking you to do that for me. No males.” When that was finished, Eddie dashed to her mother’s car, climbed inside, and screamed into her hands. Two minutes later, the Coalition sent her a text message. A raw-throated Eddie read it, responded to it, and tossed her phone into the back seat. She was steel. Every fiber of her haunted being was steel. But there was a melting point, even for steel, and she was rapidly reaching those temperatures. 3:06 pm He didn’t know how everything went so wrong so fast. At first it was like some failed juggling act: he dropped a plate or two, but it could be swept up easily, cleaned up and repaired. Carry forward. But then the sky fell, too, and it wasn’t just his world which had been devastated. His closest friend and teammate disappeared home in shambles. His sister was forever altered. Their adoptive father, a hero in his own right, sat beside her bed for the time she was comatose with his head in his hands like there was no official report he could release that would make everything sound better. Vance fought. He didn’t have a choice. He went to work. He defended his loved ones. He visited his sister until she came into consciousness. He didn’t know how, didn’t take time to question it. And for a month, all seemed as close to well as it could get. When things collapsed again, it was in a way that only one man had seen coming. There was no time, there was no way Vance could have prevented it. He lost his sister for that month and gained his parents. A trade-off that sent him spiraling into a state of near-madness. He’d always been so controlled and able to work through challenges. This was something he couldn’t have, in all his life, prepared for. And it nearly devastated him. And now on the other side of it all, he was holding the hand of a sister who couldn’t remember the last ten years of her life. He watched as she grieved the loss of her parents all over again, how she had to cope with the fact that so much was gone. Jason was supportive in all the best ways, but it couldn’t be undone. There is a line in the sand that even the strongest are unable to cross. Dominic Williams, with all of his good intentions, shoved Vance across that line. He refused to remain long at Jason’s house. Couldn’t bear to see his sister in this state. Jason understood. As he drove down the highway, he passed the turn-off that would eventually lead to the cemetery. The words he told his mother and father were starkly played back in his mind in that moment. He had to pull the car over because he started crying too hard. How did it end up this way? |