Hearing the voice behind him, Dane twisted around to see the masked god there once again, holding out that strange vial. Some how, it made perfect sense to him, that the vial was the fix to this whole thing. He extended his hand, reaching for it, when he heard the other voice behind him. One that was far more familiar. He glanced over his own shoulder to see Schuldig there.
His gaze slipped from one to the other as the talked. And as they did, he began to doubt the validity of that small vial. He drew his hand back to himself slowly, his eyes fixed on the German behind him. Lies? Everyone in his life lied to him, why would this be any different?
But Schuldig seemed to not want him to take it. And the redhead had taken him in, apparently knowing what he was.
Dane’s fingers curled into a tight fist, until his knuckles turned white.
At last he fixed his gaze on Dimitri, unable to summon that false courage he relied upon for his smarmy arrogance. “What would you ask me to do?” he asked, hesitantly.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Nicholai
Nicholai watched everything go from mild to violent in a matter of moments. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was impressed. Had the man really destroyed his own people? How had he not given into more evil impulses after such massive genocide without going mad? Or was he mad already? He was watching himself at the console, wasn’t he? No. Not himself. Almost himself, but not quite.
He didn’t want to just rip the Doctor out of the illusion as that could cause permanent damage. Unraveling it would draw too much attention from Dmitri. And the last thing he wanted was to have the illusion strengthened.
Casting about he found the face one someone that would help the Doctor, someone he hadn’t had such a tearful or painful goodbye with. Someone here on the island, even.
It wasn’t so much that Jack appeared in front of the Doctor but simply that they other would become aware of him. As if one of the Doctor’s own perception filters had been removed. Jack knelt beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder.
“Doctor,” he said, in a perfect mimicry of Jack’s voice, “Listen to me. Don’t feed into it. It’s not real.”
He didn’t want to just rip the Doctor out of the illusion as that could cause permanent damage. Unraveling it would draw too much attention from Dmitri. And the last thing he wanted was to have the illusion strengthened.
Casting about he found the face one someone that would help the Doctor, someone he hadn’t had such a tearful or painful goodbye with. Someone here on the island, even.
It wasn’t so much that Jack appeared in front of the Doctor but simply that they other would become aware of him. As if one of the Doctor’s own perception filters had been removed. Jack knelt beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder.
“Doctor,” he said, in a perfect mimicry of Jack’s voice, “Listen to me. Don’t feed into it. It’s not real.”
Crawford
Crawford pressed back against that super-heated hand, not out of any need for comfort but because he wanted to get away from the balding man before him and couldn’t get his body to do anything other than move backwards. Sideways was out of the question as it took far too much coordination to move his feet that way. Even as the fire tried to relight, those words feeding it, his terror was so deep it provided no more heat than a single candle in the depth of a frigid cave.
The Senator ran his hand gently over Michael’s shoulder, smiling down at the angel. A well practiced look that conveyed emotions the man did not feel. Warm, caring feelings. His gaze turned toward Crawford and immediately hardened. Stepping around Michael, he came closer to the larger redhead, knife in hand.
“You’ll never stop me,” he said, his tone even and smooth. “Everything you care about, I will be there to destroy. And I will do to him just as I did to your precious little brother.”
“No…” Crawford managed, sounding pathetic and weak.
“Perhaps, this time…” The Senator brought up the knife, running the blade along Crawford’s cheek with enough pressure to draw out a thin line of blood. “…I’ll just kill you to get you out of my way once and for all. Or, better yet—“ he moved the knife to the tender part of Crawford’s shoulder, just beside the joint. “I’ll cut the tendons in your arms and legs. Leave you unable to fight. Unable to run. Slowly bleeding to death while you’re forced to watch me—“
Crawford moved before he thought about doing so. In that freezing cold terror, the man had offered up the fuel he needed. That tiny spark roared to an inferno in the blink of an eye. His fist came up, flames licking up to his elbow; striking the Senator across the jaw with every bit of strength he’d been given.
He stood up straight, looking down at the man where he lay sprawled across the hallway floor, his coat spread around him like a pool of rancid oil.
“You’re NEVER going to touch him!” He was struggling to hold on to the strength, his voice trembling slightly.
The Senator ran his hand gently over Michael’s shoulder, smiling down at the angel. A well practiced look that conveyed emotions the man did not feel. Warm, caring feelings. His gaze turned toward Crawford and immediately hardened. Stepping around Michael, he came closer to the larger redhead, knife in hand.
“You’ll never stop me,” he said, his tone even and smooth. “Everything you care about, I will be there to destroy. And I will do to him just as I did to your precious little brother.”
“No…” Crawford managed, sounding pathetic and weak.
“Perhaps, this time…” The Senator brought up the knife, running the blade along Crawford’s cheek with enough pressure to draw out a thin line of blood. “…I’ll just kill you to get you out of my way once and for all. Or, better yet—“ he moved the knife to the tender part of Crawford’s shoulder, just beside the joint. “I’ll cut the tendons in your arms and legs. Leave you unable to fight. Unable to run. Slowly bleeding to death while you’re forced to watch me—“
Crawford moved before he thought about doing so. In that freezing cold terror, the man had offered up the fuel he needed. That tiny spark roared to an inferno in the blink of an eye. His fist came up, flames licking up to his elbow; striking the Senator across the jaw with every bit of strength he’d been given.
He stood up straight, looking down at the man where he lay sprawled across the hallway floor, his coat spread around him like a pool of rancid oil.
“You’re NEVER going to touch him!” He was struggling to hold on to the strength, his voice trembling slightly.
Jack
Jack took a step back with each one that was pulled forward. He shook his head, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to deny each accusation. All of them were supposed to be alive. He’d just seen the Doctor not long before. The Doctor had shot him. He wanted so badly to just speak to him. That’s how he got himself out of trouble—he talked his way out of it. But now, he couldn’t utter a word.
His back hit something solid and cold, like frozen metal. There was nothing visually different, just more blackness behind him. He pressed back against it, slowly sinking down to the darkness that served as the floor for this place. His eyes welled up, not quite spilling onto his cheeks yet.
His faces was tense with torment, wanting to ask each of them why—why were they there when they should be alive. Wanted to explain to them that he only did what had to be done. His head began to ache as the buried memories fought to reach the surface. The 456. Everything he’d done to stop them. Remembering it after the gods had buried it for him cut him more deeply than he thought possible.
How could he explain to them? He’d tried to save Ianto, but he should never have brought him into that building. He hadn’t wanted to sacrifice his grandson, but it was the only option to save millions of children across the world. He couldn’t go back for Gray after the explosion, anything that deep in the Hub was unreachable.
And the Doctor. How could he save—
He pressed his hands harder to his head. He didn’t want to find what sort of memories had been buried there. He didn’t want anymore.
Slowly, he lifted his head, staring at them all, silently pleading. He’d done all he could do. But how could he make it right being trapped in this place forever?
His back hit something solid and cold, like frozen metal. There was nothing visually different, just more blackness behind him. He pressed back against it, slowly sinking down to the darkness that served as the floor for this place. His eyes welled up, not quite spilling onto his cheeks yet.
His faces was tense with torment, wanting to ask each of them why—why were they there when they should be alive. Wanted to explain to them that he only did what had to be done. His head began to ache as the buried memories fought to reach the surface. The 456. Everything he’d done to stop them. Remembering it after the gods had buried it for him cut him more deeply than he thought possible.
How could he explain to them? He’d tried to save Ianto, but he should never have brought him into that building. He hadn’t wanted to sacrifice his grandson, but it was the only option to save millions of children across the world. He couldn’t go back for Gray after the explosion, anything that deep in the Hub was unreachable.
And the Doctor. How could he save—
He pressed his hands harder to his head. He didn’t want to find what sort of memories had been buried there. He didn’t want anymore.
Slowly, he lifted his head, staring at them all, silently pleading. He’d done all he could do. But how could he make it right being trapped in this place forever?
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Dane
Dane turned around, hearing the voice. Seeing such a small, strangely dressed person spouting such nonsense, he would have normally brushed them off as another crazy hippy or weird street performer demanding money. But given the circumstances, he hesitated. Each passing word seemed to draw the color from his face. And as it did, he felt his stomach clench tight.
There was something terribly off here. An entire city vanishing because they didn’t want to be around him? He wasn’t important enough for ALL of them to leave like that. But why else would this guy be saying that? He tried to come up with some reasoning against it. But every time he tried, it slipped from his fingers like a wet, wiggling fish.
And then, just like that, the man was gone, his last words ringing louder than anything in Dane’s ears.
“WAIT!” He called out, taking a few steps toward where the man had been. “HOW?!” He yelled into the wind. “How can you change it?! COME BACK!”
There was something terribly off here. An entire city vanishing because they didn’t want to be around him? He wasn’t important enough for ALL of them to leave like that. But why else would this guy be saying that? He tried to come up with some reasoning against it. But every time he tried, it slipped from his fingers like a wet, wiggling fish.
And then, just like that, the man was gone, his last words ringing louder than anything in Dane’s ears.
“WAIT!” He called out, taking a few steps toward where the man had been. “HOW?!” He yelled into the wind. “How can you change it?! COME BACK!”
Friday, August 28, 2009
Jack
Jack lowered his arms, letting the gun fall to his side as he watched Ianto. He felt ill as the figure looked down in dismay. The words ‘wrong choice’ rang through his head as he expected to hear them once more from that disembodied voice. He expected the figure to look up and even as he bled out from his stomach, it would show it was nothing more than human. A very important human, to him.
But when it looked up with those oil-slick eyes all of that despair and panic hardened to ice and steel. An illusion, as he had assumed, but that didn’t make it any easier. Someone or something was toying with him, and he didn’t like it one bit. How many layers deep did this illusion go? He suspected the things didn’t even really look like Weevils, at all. Just another ploy to get inside his head.
Jack didn’t saying to the Doctor at first, as he fount that cold, hard place once again. He tugged his arm free of the time lord’s grasp and crossed the distance between him the creature in a few broad strides. He brought the gun up and pointed it at the head of the thing. There was no hesitation. He simply aimed and pulled the trigger before he could second guess even the partial illusion of Ianto still lying there.
He turned on his heel and shoved the gun back into his holster. “Now we’re leaving,” he said to the Doctor, heading down the path of multi-colored stones. It was an impressive stride, but lacked its usual dramatic flair as his long coat was stashed in their room, the heat not allowing for heavy wool.
But when it looked up with those oil-slick eyes all of that despair and panic hardened to ice and steel. An illusion, as he had assumed, but that didn’t make it any easier. Someone or something was toying with him, and he didn’t like it one bit. How many layers deep did this illusion go? He suspected the things didn’t even really look like Weevils, at all. Just another ploy to get inside his head.
Jack didn’t saying to the Doctor at first, as he fount that cold, hard place once again. He tugged his arm free of the time lord’s grasp and crossed the distance between him the creature in a few broad strides. He brought the gun up and pointed it at the head of the thing. There was no hesitation. He simply aimed and pulled the trigger before he could second guess even the partial illusion of Ianto still lying there.
He turned on his heel and shoved the gun back into his holster. “Now we’re leaving,” he said to the Doctor, heading down the path of multi-colored stones. It was an impressive stride, but lacked its usual dramatic flair as his long coat was stashed in their room, the heat not allowing for heavy wool.
Michael
"Crawford! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Michael shouted, holding onto the human's arm. Despite his small size, Michael was powerful in his own right. He was used to battling with demons, and he could hit like a horse kicked. For now, he was putting that power into holding onto Crawford and keep him from diving in for another round.
He glanced between the two of them, starting to snarl himself. If there were going to be fists thrown, damn it, he should be doing it! What the fuck was going on?
"What the fuck?!"
The lizard demon glanced upwards at Balthazar, a slow blink its answer at first. The crest folded back down against its head as it turned towards the battling human and angel. It wasn't particularly fast moving, but it was persistent. The creature's jaws opened, head darting forward with a speed most wouldn't have been thought possible with how pokey it seemed to be. The speed of it was much like a snake striking.
If Crawford didn't move, the lizard would jerk its head back, spitting what looked to be a mouthful of smoke towards Balthazar... life energy that was mean to energize the demon. Crawford wouldn't have felt the teeth sink into him, wouldn't have bled either. The only noticable thing would have been a wave of weakness or dizzinesss.
It looked eagerly up to Balthazar for whether it did good or bad.
He glanced between the two of them, starting to snarl himself. If there were going to be fists thrown, damn it, he should be doing it! What the fuck was going on?
"What the fuck?!"
The lizard demon glanced upwards at Balthazar, a slow blink its answer at first. The crest folded back down against its head as it turned towards the battling human and angel. It wasn't particularly fast moving, but it was persistent. The creature's jaws opened, head darting forward with a speed most wouldn't have been thought possible with how pokey it seemed to be. The speed of it was much like a snake striking.
If Crawford didn't move, the lizard would jerk its head back, spitting what looked to be a mouthful of smoke towards Balthazar... life energy that was mean to energize the demon. Crawford wouldn't have felt the teeth sink into him, wouldn't have bled either. The only noticable thing would have been a wave of weakness or dizzinesss.
It looked eagerly up to Balthazar for whether it did good or bad.
Doctor/Jack
Dimitri watched all of this with real interest. He had pulled the words and image from the telepath's mind, one they hadn't needed to or been able to erase. The would-be god told him it was the first, not the second. There was nothing beyond himself or the other, right? Especially not a foolish human telepath or his chaotic demon self. Such would be unimaginable.
It was better to not worry about that and concentrate on this. He wanted to tip this falling coin in his direction. Truth be told, he didn't know if he was succeeding or not. Hope ran high when the human-like thing drew its weapon. If it shot this Doctor companion of his, he might truly be broken once the illusions were ripped away.
Then the human shot.
The mind of the godling knew anger.
The Doctor had never doubted, or so he would tell himself, which of them Jack would shoot if he chose to do so. He would have preferred Jack not use a weapon at all, but that wouldn't have been very 'Jack Harkness', would it? It was an issue that he knew better than to pull up, especially now.
"Jack..."
His eyes told him it was an illusion, and all he could hope was that it was.
When the flat crack of the gun firing overtook the silence, Ianto froze. A sudden blossom of red bloomed across his stomache. His head dropped down some, staring at it in shock. When Ianto's head lifted, his lips were drawn back from savagely long teeth. Instead of the eyes of Ianto Jones, the pair were faced with black oilspot ones. Claws scrabbled on its shirt as the weevil fell backwards. Hatred was fresh in its eyes as it thrashed on the multicoloured paving stones beneath.
The Doctor's grasp on Jack tightened as he began to try to physically drag the Immortal away. Too many things were interrupting the flow, making it veer off in directions he didn't expect or like. This place was wrong much like Jack himself was, although he remained while it changed.
"We're leaving," he said, quiet as a whisper but firm as a shout. There was little doubt that it was a demand.
It was better to not worry about that and concentrate on this. He wanted to tip this falling coin in his direction. Truth be told, he didn't know if he was succeeding or not. Hope ran high when the human-like thing drew its weapon. If it shot this Doctor companion of his, he might truly be broken once the illusions were ripped away.
Then the human shot.
The mind of the godling knew anger.
The Doctor had never doubted, or so he would tell himself, which of them Jack would shoot if he chose to do so. He would have preferred Jack not use a weapon at all, but that wouldn't have been very 'Jack Harkness', would it? It was an issue that he knew better than to pull up, especially now.
"Jack..."
His eyes told him it was an illusion, and all he could hope was that it was.
When the flat crack of the gun firing overtook the silence, Ianto froze. A sudden blossom of red bloomed across his stomache. His head dropped down some, staring at it in shock. When Ianto's head lifted, his lips were drawn back from savagely long teeth. Instead of the eyes of Ianto Jones, the pair were faced with black oilspot ones. Claws scrabbled on its shirt as the weevil fell backwards. Hatred was fresh in its eyes as it thrashed on the multicoloured paving stones beneath.
The Doctor's grasp on Jack tightened as he began to try to physically drag the Immortal away. Too many things were interrupting the flow, making it veer off in directions he didn't expect or like. This place was wrong much like Jack himself was, although he remained while it changed.
"We're leaving," he said, quiet as a whisper but firm as a shout. There was little doubt that it was a demand.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Michael
Michael sped up a little to keep up with Balthazar, trudging through the sand as fast as he could. Sand was not one of his favourite things. The question didn't strike him as all that odd. Given that Balthazar didn't disbelieve him or go on guard, Michael took it for granted that the other somehow had contact with Heaven or the other.
That quiet suspicion was planted though. If Balthazar didn't watch his step, he would end up on the bad end of an angel's anger and fire.
Michael stood back some as Balthazar pulled out the tray and tie. The confusion on his face made clear that he had no idea to do with the two things that the demon offered him. Again there was that nose wriggle and sniff of the other. A frown made its way to his face finally. Balthazar might need to use that slick tongue of his in talking soon.
The change at the mention of losing his collar and cuffs was immediate and perhaps surprising. He backed a step away and glanced down at the sand, hands twisting over the cuff on the opposite wrist. A dark look came to his face as he slowly unsnapped the ones on each wrist, setting the reluctantly on the bartop. Instead each stop of leather was a profusion of angelic phrases that detailed restrain and peace. His collar he left on.
"I can't. Not that one. I can't."
Michael shook his head and refused still to meet Balthazar's eyes. Instead, he merely retreated another step. Whatever it was about that simple strap of leather, it was important to him.
That quiet suspicion was planted though. If Balthazar didn't watch his step, he would end up on the bad end of an angel's anger and fire.
Michael stood back some as Balthazar pulled out the tray and tie. The confusion on his face made clear that he had no idea to do with the two things that the demon offered him. Again there was that nose wriggle and sniff of the other. A frown made its way to his face finally. Balthazar might need to use that slick tongue of his in talking soon.
The change at the mention of losing his collar and cuffs was immediate and perhaps surprising. He backed a step away and glanced down at the sand, hands twisting over the cuff on the opposite wrist. A dark look came to his face as he slowly unsnapped the ones on each wrist, setting the reluctantly on the bartop. Instead each stop of leather was a profusion of angelic phrases that detailed restrain and peace. His collar he left on.
"I can't. Not that one. I can't."
Michael shook his head and refused still to meet Balthazar's eyes. Instead, he merely retreated another step. Whatever it was about that simple strap of leather, it was important to him.
Doctor/Dimitri
"Oh Jack," Gwen's voice sighed in his ear. "Jack. You are going mad. You realize that, don't you? Imagine you gone insane. What force in the universe could defeat you? What could stop you?"
Ianto didn't seem to be hearing the voice, his face grave and keeping any fear he may have felt under control as the weevil leaned in closer. His eyes moved to Jack's, trusting in him in this situation. The creature's clawed fingers moved over the Welshman's throat, threatening to pierce it and kill him if he moved.
"Jack?" Ianto asked, the word cut short as the weevil's hand tightened.
When the gun fired, the flat crack of it heard, the world twitched again.
"Jack."
It was the Doctor's voice in his ear.
"Jack. Look."
There was the phantom feeling of fingertips sliding over his face, touching his eyelashes lightly. The view before him changed in an instant. Instead of one world, there were tens, hundreds, thousands, or more overlaid with each other, multiple forms and versions of people moving through them. There were a million possibilities for each action or inaction. All of it was laid out. Still, there was a sense of most of it being hidden from him. He was denied the full scope of seeing the turn and spin of Time.
"Look, Jack."
The things before him were shown in shifting shades, faces beneath those of others. On the surface, it was Ianto Jones, but beneath it was the weevil. The other weevil was dead at his feet. A gauzy figure was behind him, an arm laid around his shoulder. It was if the entire person were made of smoke, drifting and hazy. A mask covered his or her face, a twin to the one Jack had. Its lips touched Jack's ear gently. If Jack looked down at his own hand or body, he blazed, brighter than any star or light there had ever been or would be.
Another was close, one that shone as he did and held a version of himself at the end of a sonic screwdriver no matter how he wanted him.
And then it was gone. Ianto's mouth was near his own and a stream of whitish smoke was flowing off Jack's skin to the lie masquerading as his lover's lips.
Ianto didn't seem to be hearing the voice, his face grave and keeping any fear he may have felt under control as the weevil leaned in closer. His eyes moved to Jack's, trusting in him in this situation. The creature's clawed fingers moved over the Welshman's throat, threatening to pierce it and kill him if he moved.
"Jack?" Ianto asked, the word cut short as the weevil's hand tightened.
When the gun fired, the flat crack of it heard, the world twitched again.
"Jack."
It was the Doctor's voice in his ear.
"Jack. Look."
There was the phantom feeling of fingertips sliding over his face, touching his eyelashes lightly. The view before him changed in an instant. Instead of one world, there were tens, hundreds, thousands, or more overlaid with each other, multiple forms and versions of people moving through them. There were a million possibilities for each action or inaction. All of it was laid out. Still, there was a sense of most of it being hidden from him. He was denied the full scope of seeing the turn and spin of Time.
"Look, Jack."
The things before him were shown in shifting shades, faces beneath those of others. On the surface, it was Ianto Jones, but beneath it was the weevil. The other weevil was dead at his feet. A gauzy figure was behind him, an arm laid around his shoulder. It was if the entire person were made of smoke, drifting and hazy. A mask covered his or her face, a twin to the one Jack had. Its lips touched Jack's ear gently. If Jack looked down at his own hand or body, he blazed, brighter than any star or light there had ever been or would be.
Another was close, one that shone as he did and held a version of himself at the end of a sonic screwdriver no matter how he wanted him.
And then it was gone. Ianto's mouth was near his own and a stream of whitish smoke was flowing off Jack's skin to the lie masquerading as his lover's lips.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Jack/Doctor/Dimitri
Jack searched the area, attention jumping to each flutter of breeze-swept leaves or bizarre creature. He made it almost a complete circle before turning back the other way to sweep the area again. That voice, always behind him. But how? In his head? A non-physical being of some sort? Was it even there, or was it his own subconscious finally turned cancerous from all the things it absorbed and started seeping into his waking mind? All those buried feelings, doubts and angers taking form of a voice only he could hear, a voice constantly behind him?
No. Admitting to that would mean he was losing his mind. Losing his mind here, on this island, after only a week? He made it through being buried for all those years with out breaking down to irreversible loss of sanity. Was it all just catching up to him, now? The very fact that he was questioning his sanity gave him some comfort. Wasn’t it said that thinking you’re crazy means you are sane, and when you assume yourself to be sane you are losing your mind? But turning on things that weren’t there was not a rational reaction. Pointing a gun at a voice was not something a sane person would do.
He slowly lowered the gun to his side.
All questions about his sanity eluded him when he saw Ianto again. This time it really looked like Ianto, not some twisted illusion over a creature that looked far too much like a weevil. His Ianto.
“…no…” he muttered, shaking his head. The last time had been a trick. But the Doctor was gone. The Doctor was dead. What choice was there? Save Ianto or do nothing? Run away? He tried to force that image of the Doctor to the front of his mind. Not the Doctor who had the life drawn out of him but the one holding off the monster with his sonic screwdriver.
But he couldn’t hold it there, not with Ianto reaching for him. Just moments passed from the voice behind him muttering “always choices” and him giving his choice. Gritting his teeth, he brought his gun up once again.
There was no warning this time. No more hesitation. He wanted this over. He brought his gun up, gripping it with both hands. Smooth as ever, he brought the creature clinging to Ianto’s arm into his sights, aiming right between the thing’s hideous black eyes, and pulled the trigger.
No. Admitting to that would mean he was losing his mind. Losing his mind here, on this island, after only a week? He made it through being buried for all those years with out breaking down to irreversible loss of sanity. Was it all just catching up to him, now? The very fact that he was questioning his sanity gave him some comfort. Wasn’t it said that thinking you’re crazy means you are sane, and when you assume yourself to be sane you are losing your mind? But turning on things that weren’t there was not a rational reaction. Pointing a gun at a voice was not something a sane person would do.
He slowly lowered the gun to his side.
All questions about his sanity eluded him when he saw Ianto again. This time it really looked like Ianto, not some twisted illusion over a creature that looked far too much like a weevil. His Ianto.
“…no…” he muttered, shaking his head. The last time had been a trick. But the Doctor was gone. The Doctor was dead. What choice was there? Save Ianto or do nothing? Run away? He tried to force that image of the Doctor to the front of his mind. Not the Doctor who had the life drawn out of him but the one holding off the monster with his sonic screwdriver.
But he couldn’t hold it there, not with Ianto reaching for him. Just moments passed from the voice behind him muttering “always choices” and him giving his choice. Gritting his teeth, he brought his gun up once again.
There was no warning this time. No more hesitation. He wanted this over. He brought his gun up, gripping it with both hands. Smooth as ever, he brought the creature clinging to Ianto’s arm into his sights, aiming right between the thing’s hideous black eyes, and pulled the trigger.
Wesker/Nicholai
At last Nicholai closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly as he conceded to the other’s questions. He hadn’t expected Wesker to just give in the moment he asked for a favor. As he looked up again, he gave the faintest hint of a shrug.
“Because I can do things for you,” he said in response to the final demand. “You may have already noticed that despite this lack of inhabitants on this island there was eatable food, fresh water and even electricity to be found.” A faint smile played over his lips. “All the answers to what you ask are tied together. Who am I and what I can do for you, that is. We have not met, you are correct in this. But I know who you are because I brought you here.”
He lifted his one arm to inspect his fingernails briefly, leaving the other resting against his torso. “You came here seeking supplies, did you not? Medical supplies, if I recall. Do this favor for me and I shall give you the supplies you require. And should you do this favor well, and continue to do as I ask, the reward will be greater. Shall we say…” he lifted his gaze to Wesker, seeming to be keener, more piercing than before, “…a secure laboratory?”
“Because I can do things for you,” he said in response to the final demand. “You may have already noticed that despite this lack of inhabitants on this island there was eatable food, fresh water and even electricity to be found.” A faint smile played over his lips. “All the answers to what you ask are tied together. Who am I and what I can do for you, that is. We have not met, you are correct in this. But I know who you are because I brought you here.”
He lifted his one arm to inspect his fingernails briefly, leaving the other resting against his torso. “You came here seeking supplies, did you not? Medical supplies, if I recall. Do this favor for me and I shall give you the supplies you require. And should you do this favor well, and continue to do as I ask, the reward will be greater. Shall we say…” he lifted his gaze to Wesker, seeming to be keener, more piercing than before, “…a secure laboratory?”
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