PHQ-Nickname:
Syndel
Halfquake:
Mania
Level:
74
Total kills:
19,884,443
Birthday:
00th 0000
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| Mood: | neutral |
| Type: | Story |
| Added: | February 25th 2010, 03:24:15 |
| Visits: | 1233 |
| Series: | [ Victimisation 2 ] |
| Rating: | 4.5/5 (Votes: 2) |
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Description:
History, progression, experience and doubt. |
Ten years. Ten years was all it took to go from a man on top of the world to this, a man about to make the world his enemy. Vincent sighed as he looked over the complex. From the front it was as unassuming as any other building would be, apart from the fact it had been built in a desolate desert, miles away from civilisation, and even further from law and morality. The site was little more than rough wasteland. Beneath the sand which stretched from here to the far horizon was a rough layer of rock, tough but weathered and uneven. It was practically impossible to build this far from civilisation, and even harder to keep the tired, hot and bewildered work crew following the plans laid down those ten years ago.
Ten years, thought Vincent, ten years was a long time for any man to commit to a madness. There had been doubts weeks before that fateful night in New York, and those doubts had plagued him ever since. Even as the finishing touches were being put to the pitch black building there were doubts in his mind. What did Bale think as his underwater monstrosity was finaly constructed? What did he feel as the men finished hammering together a rough-and-ready masterpiece on the sea floor? How long had it taken him to realise his sadism? Did he feel as empty as Vincent felt now? For he did feel empty. There was no fear as he gazed over the Black as it would now be known. In a way it was already beautiful, a black blight hunched unmoving in the sand, gigantic and rotund, a blister on the face of the blindingly sandy desert which reflected the sun like a mirror. The only question that remained was whether it would be a cure or a cancer to this world. Had Bale wondered those same thoughts before his madness took him, or had the madness already done it's work? Was Vincent himself mad already? There were no words for the thoughts which moved through his mind as he envisaged the future of this place. Vincent didn't want to die, but it was already too late for him. The work had been done, and there was no way to back out now even if he wanted to. Somehow even now when he was facing his muse, his fascination, his obsession he felt nothing. No remorse. No pain. No guilt. No hate.
“They say just three more days and we can start moving them in.” Edward said, materialising at Vincent's side.
“'Them'?” replied Vincent, “You mean to say that they have worked out the purpose for such a place as this?”
“No, just that it will be ready. You will have your time Vincent, however long it shall be.”
“Yes... thank you. Thank you for all you have done for me in this Edward. It was not your duty to find one such as me and help me achieve this. It was not your calling to call this into being once more. It was not your job to call this blight into being, and after I am gone I want you to know I appreciate what you invested in our personal relationship.”
Edward merely floated reflectively. It was not unlike Vincent to talk in such mechanical ways about their relationship, after all it was a working relationship as much as anything else. Vincent had always been lost after the events of the institute, and it was easy to tell just from looking at him he did not feel or react in the same way as other human beings. In truth there was never a place for him after being rescued from the ocean floor, after seeing murder and experiencing things close to death. It had left him empty, and as a permanent spectre of the earth Edward was drawn to such feelings as they were a reflection of his own.
After Edward had left the underwater hillside surrounding the institute there had been little for him in the world. Despite his claim of interest in humans and the works of humanity it very soon became clear to him the nature of the world. Everything, it seemed, had depended on wealth and fame. Every person sought to better his peer, in an instinctive display of primeval savagery, cloaked in the trappings of society and etiquette. It was almost disgusting how base and fragile things were to most humans, and how they wove their own webs of ignorance around them like a cocoon, and let the strongest rule them in a true display of apathy. It was at this point Edward had realised the paradox. Every human was constantly battling others for influence and power, yet none had the will to challenge those who ruled them. Each human was so entangled in their own web of rivalry they could not even see the people who would sooner send them to death than look at them. Each human was a number, a part of something, a tool. These were no human “beings” these were simply human carcasses, living out their limited lifespan until their shattered frames gave up and collapsed and let whatever remained of them free. Freedom, the harshest punishment one could inflict on anyone. The infinite freedom – freedom of need, freedom of punishment, freedom of rules. For people brought up their entire lives to obey the freedom was soul destroying. Life was concentrated madness until you died and the madness welled up inside of you and exploded into the afterlife.
And so Edward had sought out Vincent, alone in some northern hole, shivering in a cold log cabin on the side of a mountain somewhere, and as he had entered the room he noticed Vincent had felt his presence. He had noticed this because an axe had been flung straight through where his neck would have been had he been alive. Edward was intrigued by Vincent. At the time they met he had had no name. It had been five years since the institute was buried under the wash, and after the initial celebrity of being the sole survivor of the barbaric and unnatural institute - where killing was simply entertainment – he had taken to seclusion, somehow unable or unwilling to adapt to society. It had taken weeks to get him to even recognise the existence of Edward, as to Vincent he was simply a ghost on the edge of perception. Technically Edward should not have been able to interact with anyone, but something about the institute had changed both of them, and even if Vincent couldn't see or hear him he could recognise his presence. It had taken a long time to make him react at all, but eventually Edward had made him talk, even if he himself thought he was talking to himself. The first thing he had said in Edwards presence was the single letter “V”.
The name “Vincent” was actually given to “V” by Edward, as somehow it just seemed to fit. Every night Edward would sit outside on the mountain, watching the starry night above and thinking deeply on the nature of things, and the nature of communication and whether it was possible. Every morning he would enter through the front door of the cabin to find the bestial stare of Vincent glaring straight at him, but knowing there was no way he could see him. Every day he would say the name to him. “Good morning, Vincent,” “Good evening, Vincent.” It carried on like this for months, until one day Vincent entered the cabin to find there was another seat at the primitive dining table. Vincent had taken the time out of his solitude to tie together an upturned bucket and a couple of sticks, but despite the basic design it was unmistakeably a chair. As Edward had entered, before he had even mentioned the ritualistic words he heard a grunt from the figure staring straight at him. “'vn'in” was the closest he could make out to the grunts.
Taken a back slightly, but so used to the routine Edward simply replied “Good evening, Vincent,”
“Name's not Vincent, whatever you are.” He had replied in perfectly good English, “I don't know who you are and why you keep coming back here, but you do and there 'aint nothing I can do about that.”
Edward tried to reply, but was cut off as Vincent could clearly not hear him directly.
“Now sit down and we're gonna have some dinner. I've got some spam and nothing else so you'll have to make do.”
Edward did as he was told, and moved his incorporeal essence towards the chair, phasing downwards slightly. It was almost eerie how Vincent's eyes had followed him from the door to the chair, especially as he was clearly not there to any outside observer.
Vincent sat down opposite Edward and opened up a tin of the most vile looking meat Edward had ever seen, and simply sat in silence devouring it. Edward was never offered any, for which Edward was slightly grateful, as he had no way to politely refuse. After a while Vincent appeared to forget about the presence opposite him, and as he finished his meal he simply leaned back in his chair and rested, eyes looking at the ceiling.
As Edward was sitting there the urge for his routine grew on him. Soon the first stars would become visible far into the horizon, and the simple habit called him to stand, but as he did Vincent stirred.
“My name was never Vincent, you see,” he said, as if suddenly remembering what was said before. “But... well, truth is I can't remember what my name is. You may call me Vincent if you wish, but know that I only allow it for the sakes of convenience in communication between the two of us. Now that at least one of us is on first name terms it seems a bit stupid to question your existence. You found me because of that place didn't you? I don't know how I know it but you were there as well weren't you?”
There was no way for Edward to reply so he simply shuffled around a bit in his chair.
“That's the reason I know I'm not mad and just speaking to myself here as well. I can feel it with you. You carry it like a dark storm cloud around you. There are dark things in our pasts, and I see it around you as you stare at the stars every night.
“Come! Let us go watch the stars!” said Vincent suddenly.
And so they had watched the stars, and from that point on their bond had grown. It was a dark bond, and there was a lot of blood and shared anxiety between them. The place had ironically drawn them closer as they had changed in the terror of mortal peril and death. Edward had started as a hired killer, meant simply to destroy human life he encountered in the most efficiently brutal way possible, and V had no history beyond being a victim in that insane labyrinth of death. They were contracted enemys, each opposed to the other and now that same bond had drawn them together. As their bond grew so did their ability to communicate. Whilst Edward could not directly effect anything physically in the world, and thus not produce any sound or movement there was something in his presence which allowed basic forms of communication. It started simply with Edward moving left and right in order to answer questions yes or no, but after a while this became insufficient. Soon Edward learned he could control his aura with his thoughts. It was like learning to walk again, as he controlled a part of himself he was initially completely unaware of apart from a small thought in the back of his mind. As he probed this thought it had ballooned over time, and it didn't take long for him to have a great deal of control over it, but even this was like playing a blind game of charades. More direct communication was required, and so Edward had come up with the idea to directly connect their auras.
Edward knew only as much as any other person would know in his circumstance, and it was only pure speculation that an aura of pure intelligence could interact with a physical mind, and in any case the experience would be immensely intrusive for both parties involved, but it was necessary in order for Edward to implement his plan. He did have a plan as well, a plan for Vincent and a plan for the future of humanity, but that would come much later and depended on this working. As a spectral form he had done many strange and ground-breaking things which no human would ever be able to do. He could phase straight through everything, and control his speed precisely. Once he had decided to see what absolute rest was, and promptly found himself many hundreds of miles from earth and rapidly moving to the edge of the galaxy as it spun away from him travelling at incredible speed. After that he had phased straight through the centre of the earth, which from the near perspective is far less impressive than it is in colourful cross-section diagrams. It's like pressing your face up close to a bowl of custard, except the custard is all around you and full of rocky chunks. After reading biology he had attempted to enter the body of a person to see the function of their body first hand, but even in hollow spaces there is little to be learned without some source of light.
Despite these various failed experiences, moving his aura was different to moving his perception, and he theorised it was probably possible to directly effect another aura of the same sort. Whilst Edward could not detect Vincent's aura in the same way Vincent appeared to be able to see his Edward decided this must be because Vincent's aura was trapped in his body, most likely tied to his brain, and so after their routine ritual of dinner he had lead Vincent outside of the house onto the rocky plateau where the stars were already appearing on the horizon.
“What is it Edward? You seem... anxious.”
Edward drifted slowly around, trying to work out the best way of attempting to interface with Vincent.
“Do you have an idea?”
Edward signalled yes.
“Is it... dangerous?”
Edward didn't know so didn't respond.
Vincent thought for a while, then sighed. “Okay, whatever it is let's do it.”
It was difficult for Edward, as this was either potentially very dangeous to both of them or would have no effect at all, but throwing caution to the wind he simply let out an ethereal sigh as he spread his aura as wide and as stretched as possible, splitting it into many individual strands of energy as if he had arms which split into further arms. Suddenly, he struck Vincent forcibly with his aura, causing Vincent to flinch as he felt the proximity, yet no physical effect as the strands contacted him. The brain was the target, and suddenly Vincent felt the aura inside his head, in his ears, in his eyes, in his mouth and nose. It was almost horrific, like being stabbed but in a non-physical way. The strands of the aura were like darts assaulting his extra-sensory perception, and it was only moments till Edward had reached the brain where he found what he was looking for. The aura was like a shining clear light in the head of the poor victim, and as Edward realised it's existence he knew exactly what to do. Edward gave the lightest, smallest, gentlest movement towards the frontal lobe of Vincent's brain, and managed to make direct contact for only a split second as the auras connected. Suddenly it was like both their heads had exploded. Each was suddenly filled with direct knowledge and a pain more intense than either of them had ever experienced. Each suddenly knew ever single experience the other had ever had, and each knew the emotion and thought of the other in total detail. Suddenly they recoiled and bounded back, separating from each other.
“You!” cried Edward.
“You!” howled Vincent.
“You were the man I almost killed so many years ago!” shouted Edward.
“And you almost killed me so long ago!”
“You survived! You made it through the institute!”
“You're dead?! You met death!”
“You... know my secrets.” said Edward realising what he had done.
“And you know my torment.” said Vincent, turning away.
“You're a murderer?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, you don't feel anything?”
“Nothing since that day.”
“Well... at least we can talk now.” Edward said.
In the present Edward turned away from Vincent as they overlooked the construction site. He often wondered in the privacy of his own mind whether he had influenced Vincent to this point. What would have happened if he had not sought him out, if he had not worked so hard on finding a way to communicate with him. The world might have gone on without this. It was a monster, that was undeniable. Edward saw those same thoughts even in Vincent's eyes as he looked over the Black. A thought struck him as he turned a way. A thought which gave him a mad, almost insane internal giggle at the craziness of it all. “Now we're all son's of bitches.” he said to himself. |
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