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People who need to post today (9/2):
No One! |
| Interlude [LymanAlpha]; Because where else does Valentine have to go? | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 4 2012, 01:50 AM (276 Views) | |
| Hexiva | Sep 4 2012, 01:50 AM Post #1 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Cuttlefish
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Valentine woke up to crushing pain in his shoulder and a deep headache. He whimpered in blind pain, and his first thought was that perhaps he was getting too old to be skittering around in air vents with terrorists if this was how his joints reacted. Then he opened his eyes and saw blurred blacktop. He wasn't in his bed - he was lying in an alleyway, his face pressed to the street. What in the - ? He gingerly sat up, wincing at the blinding pain scraping across his nerves. What in God's name happened to me?! He reached out to feel his shoulder, and his hand came away bloodied. Dear Lord. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing a shabby brown hoodie - very different from his usual suave grey suit - and that his hands were long and pale. He was wearing a different form than usual. Fisher. That was right, he had been impersonating Fisher. He had gone to SIN . . . spoken to Anya . . . returned to class . . . and then . . . He couldn't remember anything after that. It was as if he had blacked out suddenly after leaving SIN. He pulled himself to his feet, clutching the wall of the alleyway, and regretted it immediately as his eyes blurred and his nerves screamed. When his vision cleared, he pulled the hood over his head, hiding the drying blood in his hair, and made his way unsteadily out of the alley. He found himself standing under the flickering light of a lamppost, on the filthy streets of the Slums. How had he gotten from SIN to the Slums? And how long had he been unconscious? It had been afternoon, and now it was clearly night. Ohhh dear Lord, he was injured and wandering around the Slums in the middle of the night. He'd be lucky if he made it out alive. Valentine bit back a curse. This night just kept getting better and better. He glanced at the crooked signposts marking the end of the street and got his bearings. He was indeed in the Slums, but near enough to the Plaza. In fact, he was only a couple of streets away from Cafe Richard. For a moment he thought of going there for help - Antoinette had always seemed like a decent sort, the neverending drama of her personal relationships notwithstanding, and he would be able to get his bearings there. But something inside of him recoiled at the thought. No. He would be fine, he just needed to get out of the Slums. He headed up Moneta Street and was relieved to shortly find himself surrounded by the more prosperous businesses of Thea's Plaza. Across the street stood a line of newspaper vending machines, and Valentine, still fighting off nausea and disorientation, crossed the street to them. He fumbled in his pockets for some change and found them empty. He opted just to lean down and look at them through the plastic. His eyes, still mimicking Fisher's, went wide and pale when they landed on the date. It had been a week since he had left SIN. Oh God. Oh God. Valentine staggered back from the newspaper rack and smacked into the barred window of the shop behind him. The impact sent another wave of pain and nausea through him, and he grabbed onto one of the bars for support, leaned over, and was thoroughly sick. Once the waves of nausea had subsided, he stumbled away and sank to the ground, clutching himself. Little tremors of horror darted all over his skin, and he fumbled to discard the ratty brown hoodie, hating the touch of it. He could not remember ever in his life feeling worse. It was obvious that he had failed his mission, but that was hardly the worst of it. He was certain, in the blurred depths of his mind, that it wasn't the concussion that had caused his amnesia. It was the Messiah Complex. They had done something to his mind, and that thought made him want to be sick again. Someone else - and, god, he didn't even know who - had been in his brain, probing and touching and changing God knew what. After a long time, he got back to his feet again. He should go to the Elysian Citadel and report, he knew, but the thought of having to face his failure was too much. He wanted to go home, but when he thought of returning to his bare, impersonal apartment, an entirely different terror gripped him. What if he returned and found that it wasn't the way he remembered it? How much had they changed? In the end he didn't go anywhere. He just walked up Moneta Street and through Arcadia with no particular destination in mind. He wished it was daytime; the unfamiliar look of the streets at night only added to the overall impression of a nightmare. He wandered in a daze until he found himself in front of the Hesperides Gardens. His feet had taken him on the path to Gabriel's apartment building out of habit. It was ironic, that in his hour of need his subconscious had brought him to the doorstep of a man he so hated. He would have to have a talk with his subconscious later. If that was possible. He turned to go and then was gripped by a wave of vertigo. Right. Concussion. Maybe he should find somewhere to sit down. He turned back to the apartment building, wobbling on his feet as he did so. Surely Gabriel had to be better than no one, he thought. Glimpsing his reflection in the shiny gate, he realized he was still wearing Fisher's face. Briel wouldn't recognize him. He concentrated, and the face reflected up at him morphed into that of a college age girl with cold grey eyes and long dark hair. No, that wouldn't do, that wasn't his face anymore. He concentrated again, and finally saw the face Gabriel would associate with him form in his reflection. He reached out and hit the buzzer for Briel's apartment number, and then slumped down to the ground, cradling his head. God. What had they done to him? |
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| LymanAlpha | Sep 6 2012, 04:28 PM Post #2 |
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A man of wealth and taste
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Gabe was sitting in his living room reading Paradise Lost when he heard his buzzer go off. Hmm? Who could it be at this hour of the night? He put the book down and stood from his chair, dressed in a smoking jacket and casual slacks, he walked over to the call box and glanced at the little CCTV screen that flickered on. On it, he saw a face he would never thought he would have seen. "Val!?" He looked terrible. He had called earlier and needed some information before abruptly ending the call. It seems his mission had really put him in some danger...what if his cover was blown? But he was still alive....so that was implausible. "You look horrid, I'm coming down to get you." He slipped on a pair of slippers and grabbed his keys, rushing out of the door. He reached Val and helped the man up, letting him lean on Gabe's shoulders. "What happened Val?" He began to walk back towards the elevators, looking Val over...he looked disoriented. "Actually...nevermind, you need to get some rest first." They stepped into the elevator and he let Val slump against the wall...the muzak very out of place in this situation. |
| I am your savior, I am corruption, I am the angel of your destruction. I am perversion, secret desires, I am your future swallowed up in fire. I'm gonna burn this whole world down. | |
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| Hexiva | Sep 6 2012, 06:24 PM Post #3 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Cuttlefish
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Valentine leaned against the wall and tried to think. What could he tell Briel? He wasn't at all sure he wanted his rival to know that he had no idea what had happened to him over the last week. "I failed," he said eventually. "They . . . the Messiah Complex must have discovered me. And then they - " He heard his voice waver, and cut himself off abruptly. "They didn't kill me." |
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| LymanAlpha | Sep 6 2012, 06:42 PM Post #4 |
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A man of wealth and taste
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They arrived at his floor, and Gabe helped Val to his apartment, setting him down on the couch before pacing along the floor. "That's just the thing...they didn't kill you. Why? Do they have plans for you? Why would they let you go if they found out you were undercover?" He was getting frustrated...could Val be a traitor? That's usually the only reason moles were left alive, because they spilled their guts to the other side. But Val would never do that...but what if his life depended on it? No...Val couldn't do that...his beliefs were too strong. Gabe sat back in his chair and stared at Val for a while, thoughts running rapidly through his head. "What -do- you know Val?" His tone was almost suspicious. Edited by LymanAlpha, Sep 6 2012, 07:10 PM.
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| I am your savior, I am corruption, I am the angel of your destruction. I am perversion, secret desires, I am your future swallowed up in fire. I'm gonna burn this whole world down. | |
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| Hexiva | Sep 6 2012, 08:33 PM Post #5 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Cuttlefish
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Valentine met Gabriel's gaze evenly and recognized the suspicion in it. He reached out for the rote deflections, the lies and half-truths a life of deception had taught him would deflect suspicion better than honesty - and couldn't find the energy in himself to say them. He let out a breath, tiredly. "I don't know . . . anything. I remember going to SIN, impersonating Fisher, and then . . . " He shook his head. "I don't know. They must have gone into my mi - " He stopped suddenly, shuddering, and wrapped his arms around himself. "They must have made me forget somehow. It's too convenient to just be the concussion, isn't it? Or am I being paranoid?" Damnit, what had they done to him? This wasn't him. He was in control of his reactions. And here he was practically babbling. He tried to pull himself together. "I woke up in an alleyway in the Slums with a concussion and an injured shoulder." He unconsciously tightened his arms and pushed himself farther into the couch. He felt tired and vulnerable, and he didn't know whether he even wanted to be talking about this. He knew it was dangerous to be giving Gabriel such an unfiltered view of his vulnerability, but he didn't have the energy to lie right now. He snorted. Wouldn't his sister find that ironic. |
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| LymanAlpha | Nov 28 2012, 05:44 PM Post #6 |
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A man of wealth and taste
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A slow look of realization washed over Gabe and stopped in front of Val. That was the other reason why they would have left him alive: they erased his memories of the event. All that work, simply erased by a User...a very poignant reminder of the world they lived in. His eyes narrowed, not because he shared the same feelings as Val on the subject, but because that it almost seemed too easy. Val did seem pretty visibly shaken up, but the man was a magnificent actor. "It would seem likely that your mind was swiped Val...I wouldn't put something so morally bereft behind the MC. Still, why did you end up here instead of the Citadel? Even in your state, that should have been the first thing you did. Who knows what they might be doing now." He let out an exasperated sigh...he only to do some light reading and then go to sleep. Luckily, Bambi was asleep in the bedroom. Gabe walked into his kitchen and fixed a glass of water for Val before walking over to his phone and dialing the Citadel. Someone was always working there. "Good evening to you. I have some rather urgent news to report. Svarc is...in my apartment. I don't know, he just showed up...it doesn't matter. He's suffered a concussion and some sort of injury to the shoulder. Yes, he's been made...we believe him to be a victim of a User who erased his thoughts. He's too injured to say this himself...if you could just phone some Wisemen. I understand that it is late, but this is important! That is an order. Good night." He hung the phone back up and turned to Val. "I'd ask how they found you out, but you wouldn't know that." He sat in a chair near the couch. "We can't even learn from this! Except that we shouldn't do this again." |
| I am your savior, I am corruption, I am the angel of your destruction. I am perversion, secret desires, I am your future swallowed up in fire. I'm gonna burn this whole world down. | |
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| Hexiva | Nov 29 2012, 10:19 PM Post #7 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Cuttlefish
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Valentine tried to sort his disordered thoughts. Why was he here? "This was closer," he offered, "and I'm injured. I wasn't sure if I could make it all the way to the Citadel." It was okay to show physical weakness; Gabriel already knew Valentine couldn't fight worth a damn. But this was turning into an even greater mess. Gabriel telling the Citadel to 'just phone some Wiseman' was the political equivalent of Russian Roulette. Valentine prayed that 'some Wiseman' didn't prove to be Arco; God only knew what that madman would do with this information. "The theory was sound," he said after Gabriel got off the phone. "Any undercover mission has a risk of going wrong. I'm just lucky to have survived." Why had they let him live? Surely not out of kindness. Valentine didn't think even Carter was twisted enough to think this was kinder. To send a message, maybe. Or to make him doubt himself. If so, they were succeeding. |
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| LymanAlpha | Jan 7 2013, 09:18 AM Post #8 |
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A man of wealth and taste
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Gabe looked over to Val, looking a bit concerned. "You're a mess Val, we need to get you to a doctor. There's no way I'm letting you sleep here with a concussion." After a moment of silence, he added, "I'm glad you're still alive." And it was true too, who else would be Gabe's rival if Val was gone? The large Elite stood once again from his chair, seemingly unable to get some rest tonight. He walked over to Val and offered his hand. "Come on, wouldn't let a mere head wound kill you right?" He chuckled lightly. |
| I am your savior, I am corruption, I am the angel of your destruction. I am perversion, secret desires, I am your future swallowed up in fire. I'm gonna burn this whole world down. | |
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| Hexiva | Jan 7 2013, 10:17 PM Post #9 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Cuttlefish
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Valentine took Gabe's hand and struggled up from the couch, fighting a wave of nausea. "Thanks," he said - whether for the help or for Gabe's comment. "You're right. My shoulder's injured too." He tried to shift his arm slightly and bit back a cry of pain. "It feels broken. Can you give me a ride to the hospital? I don't think I can walk far." The world felt like it was spinning. He shook his head to clear it, and then immediately regretted this as bright colors flashed across his vision. His stomach roiled, and he wondered, distantly, if he was going to throw up. |
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7:23 PM Jul 10