altimit | August Catch All

( Thought so.

He does like Sinclair. But guilt doesn't cross his heart for asking, nor does he feel pity. But he comprehends Sinclair is upset. He guesses he might be recalling the same memory Mithrun just saw, or thereabouts. )

... The mirror showed me what she did. It seemed like a piece of your memories.

( All that gore... And yet, he continues plainly: )

... You said you were busy with work, looking toward university. That's probably a safe future. A good future.

Do you want to leave what happened behind, knowing she's still out there?

[It's the first time anyone has asked him that.

Other people had told him to move on.

He was safe now.

She couldn't touch him.

But that wasn't the problem. The problem was, she was still alive, out there laughing.

And all he wanted to do was -----

If he found her, he'd wrap his hands around her throat and ----

But is he allowed to say that? He's sure he's not allowed think it. It's all just

It's a long moment before Sinclair can answer Mithrun's question. The mirrors around them twist their image and reflect them, countless unending copies.

And within all those copies, they've found themselves here.]

...of course not. [ His shoulders shake a little and he presses his hand to his mouth ]

I can't leave it behind. Right now, I still remember her laugh. That whistle.

There's nothing more I want than for her to be dead, the same way she--

[ If he had a choice, he could take Heathcliff's baseball bat and ---- until it was a bloody mess.
And maybe then he'd be free.

She wouldn't be able to have a hold over him anymore.]

( Mithrun is patient. He lets the feelings work their way through Sinclair, and he lets Sinclair decide, if he wants those feelings to gnarl his way through his body, like a strangling vine.

Sinclair's answer feels in some way akin to his own. Maybe there is a sense of dearness, in recognizing a private emotion of your own, take root in someone else. )

... Then, I can help you. ( In the same voice as ever, in the same, steady tone as ever. ) If you want to kill her, I might know a lead.

( But this is Sinclair's choice. Maybe it's catharsis enough to give voice to the worst of his thoughts. Maybe he would see himself at the edge of a yawning precipice, and skitter back. Mithrun wouldn't blame him, wouldn't judge him.

But, if he wants to take the leap, here is someone at his back. )

It might kill you trying. But there's a chance you may kill her, in the process. If you think that chance is worth the price.

( And you don't have to pay it up front. )

Edited 2023-08-18 06:45 (UTC)

[ It's like there's a hand around his throat, squeezing tight. The hate, deeply buried wrath, guilt and shame all entwine into something impossible to unravel.

But he looks into Mithrun's eye and thinks

Ah. Morgan understands.

He has stood at the edge of this cliff so many times before.

He's afraid of looking at himself.

But he's not afraid of the darkness spanning out before him.

It has been very dark for so long after all]

... how?

[His words are shaky, trembling. Hopeful. How could hope shine in a desire like this? He takes the next step]

( And so in the darkness there stands the two of them, in the darkness, their reflections distorted in an endless, fractured line.

As Mithrun speaks, his tone falls from calm to cold. )

... There's someone I want to kill.

( He holds Sinclair's gaze, tough he's trembling. His grip had trembled too, weak in his hospital bed, a year of laying empty.

You only need one want to steady your hand again. )

She works under him. She, and those others, as Hammer. Finding him will lead to her. Finding her will lead to him.

They're linked to the Sarabi. And I still know their routes, their numbers. They don't think I can use them, in my state.

( But they will kill him if they catch on, so he'll need to employ what he's got carefully, when he's ready.

His professor should have killed him when he had the chance. )

[ All this time, Sinclair had been living in fear and doubt.

In his darkest moments, he used to wonder what would happen if he just lay down and didn't wake up.

But he didn't. Every day, he woke up and moved towards a nebulous goal. What was that goal?

He didn't know. He still doesn't know.

But his shaky breathing goes steadier and he has to ask]

Mithrun...no. Morgan. Why do you know all of this?

( Will Sinclair feel revulsion by Mithrun's association, contractual cousins to Kromer, willing subordinate of some grand scheme of crime? It's possible. It doesn't scare Mithrun. He would understand, if Sinclair did.

But if Sinclair recoils from Mithrun, he will have to handle these feelings alone. Seek leads alone, if Kromer's death is really what he wants.

Mithrun knows what it's like to try to approach this impossible task by yourself. It's hard. )

... I was part of the Sarabi.

( This is not a thing he should speak in Fragment, legally. But he's protected by Fragment's NDA - for now. And by the time any developers might decide they want to use these logs against him, he's fairly sure he'll long be dead. )

The man I want to kill was one step above me in rank. Kromer was below. ( An entirely different department, granted, at whatever rank "disposable" is. ) I've met her before. He was very pleased with her function.

( Mithrun, however, always found her existence in bad taste - a chillingly mild remark, considering what she was for. She served a useful role in the Sarabi, but, in layman's terms, she seemed to just be around to meatmash folks, and dialogue with her did not seem sane. He disliked the idea of keeping hokey serial killers on retainer.

But his professor was quite pleased to fulfill this request, as it had been asked for by someone higher up. And if the professor was completing a desire, he could not be persuaded from it. )

Edited 2023-08-18 08:22 (UTC)

[ 'Sarabi'.

It takes Sinclair a moment to place the name and it sends a chill down his spine.

He stares at Mithrun for a long moment, a rush of emotions colliding through him.

It's not disgust he feels. But anger, blinding hot and furious. And underneath that, understanding.

The Morgan he had seen had been so young, so angry and bitter. It would not have taken much at all to pull him under one's wing - a single feather easily plucked and discarded.

But when he speaks, his voice is distant...strange to his own ears]

Her function...? [ Ah. The pieces come together]

My father was involved in something that got in Sarabi's way, didn't he? Or he made something the competition didn't want getting released. So that's why...

[ The basement . The odd obsessive interest. It's his fault still. But now, there's someone else to direct that sheer hatred towards.

He studies Mithrun, his own expression blank]

...do you regret it? Joining Sarabi?

I do.

( How fast the answer comes. He had spent the past two years in an empty state of languishing, hollowed out, the sediment of his vessel filled with seething and regret. )

... But I can't imagine my path going any other way.

( He was too angry, he was too bitter, he was too jealous. He was an easy target. His professor was an intelligent man. He wanted too much, more than he could have.

It took just one ravenous want to overwhelm his heart. )

I didn't think the Sarabi would care for my research. But I had made a breakthrough. On a molecular level only, but I proved the impossible was possible. Teleportation could exist. Ten years, twenty years. Commercialized and patented. I had kept my progress private.

I didn't want to do it for the money. I wanted one achievement to call my own.

( Something so great, so grand, that it offset his existence - something that said look, he is worth something, he's greater than all the things he lacks. Research he only became more fixed on, the more his professor needled him about how much more he had to want, and how much little he had. Strongarmed, he would eat until he was sick, and then his professor would offer him another platter.

But maybe there is the start of a pattern here. He had thought his accident felt staged, but now he's certain it must have been set up. Between Sinclair's father, and himself. Breakthroughs that would be inconvenient, and needed to be tamped down upon. Research built on blood. Where did Mithrun get the money for his research when investors pulled out, investing, instead, in virtual reality? It was the money he made with Sarabi. How many lives did he ruin, only for this? The Sarabi must have tracked his cash flow.

And in the shadow of all this discovery, there is, in Mithrun's expression - the suggestion of a festering wound. He's still hurting, too. )

Edited 2023-08-18 09:39 (UTC)

I see. They used you too.

[Sinclair draws in a shuddery breath - he's almost close to tears again, how strange - but this time he doesn't let them fall. He's so angry he could scream. Break things. He never had these feelings until that day, but now they fester at his heart all the time, barely kept at bay by his own fears and doubts and crushing guilt. It's ugly, too ugly to look at and perceive in the light.

He carried them all with him all this time.

But so had Mithrun]

I saw one of your memories. You were 14, with your brother. And you were so angry and hurt...

[He steps in a little closer. Deeper into that darkness that threatened to drown them both. He reaches out

Takes Mithrun's hand.

He's never been able to look away from anyone in pain, as twisted and broken and even deserving that pain was. Sinclair doesn't think he's a good person. He wants so badly to be good, to do the right thing by the world.

Is this right?

No.

But Mithrun had been used.

Just like him]

I understand.

[He thinks it would be even less right to walk away now, when Mithrun has bared his soul to him.

Another breath, as his fear and anger settle into something calmer, even as his hands shake]

...but I'm not strong. I'm not a genius. [What can he really do against the overwhelming might that was Sarabi's enforcers, really?]

( Softly, he sucks in a breath, at the mention of his brother. The exact memory doesn't come to him, because he was always so angry toward his brother then; and why? The reasons now, to Mithrun, felt so distant and inconsequential. He hadn't realized how much he took his brother for granted - as someone to hate, as expected company, as a measuring stick for himself - until his brother, for the first time, pulled away.

Sinclair takes his hand.

He's pulled from his thoughts, from the hospital bed and the EKG machine and his professor's genial smile, and he feels Sinclair, unsteady, but warm.

Sinclair isn't like him. He's a victim of a tragedy invited by his father. Mithrun was vulnerable, but he chose his mistakes. Sinclair would not be wrong to turn away.

His hand closes around Sinclair's in turn. )

... There are things you can do. If you don't let your heart waver, if you don't doubt your cause - I'll help you.

( He needs to clear his head. He's been working out plans, on his end. His recovery isn't as fast as he'd like. He has pieces, but pulling it together in a big plan when he lacks the desire to avoid preventable injury is difficult.

But, among the first things Sinclair can supply: )

... She likes you. Why?

Edited 2023-08-18 19:29 (UTC)

[She likes you. The knowledge sends a shudder of revulsion all down Sinclair's spine, turning his stomach over. He squeezes at Mithrun's hand, anchoring himself. There's no lashing out here, breaking things in a fit of rage that he can barely choke back]

...like? Is that what it is?

[Sinclair shakes his head. No. Mithrun is trying to help him. He needs to be honest. Kromer had spared him that night. He touches the scar of a gunshot wound in his abdomen with his free hand, trembling all over.]

...She...said she owed me a favour. Because I showed her something 'interesting'. It was my fault, after all. I let her into our home.

[There. A confession. Sinclair was not innocent, nor free of sin. He had been a stupid little boy, whose cowardice has cost his family everything.]

( He can see the rawness of the nerve he struck in Sinclair's expression. Still, he isn't deterred. He was serious when he said that finding Kromer may link to the professor. He was an important figure - he wasn't going to be quick or easy to track down. But Kromer was irrelevant - she could die in an accident tomorrow and the Sarabi weren't like to move if nothing on her linked back to them. They didn't offer her the same sort of protection.

He had set aside Hammer because they were wild and unpredictable. They weren't a useful lead - to him. But if Sinclair offered an in, then Mithrun would strike his nerves like a piano, without hesitation. It would be on Sinclair to tell him to stop. )

Why?

( He squeezes Sinclair's hand. This is important. The gesture is not manipulative in motive - not intentionally. But he needs to understand what went on between them to predict. That Sinclair let her into his home is - well, noteworthy. To a normal person, there'd be alarm. But, to Mithrun, it suggests there's something more there.

What is it, Sinclair? )

Edited (consistency) 2023-08-18 23:43 (UTC)

[This is Sinclair's problem, really. He carries the weight of his guilt and doubts, everywhere he goes. Frantically running towards a nebulous goal of something, without knowing where he's going, unable to shed the weights that threatened to crush him whole.

But he's not a coward. He wont pretend he's an innocent victim in all of this.

His mistakes. His failings.

Mithrun can strike at his nerves all he likes. Sinclair may very well welcome it]

...it was a school thing. She helped me avoid getting expelled over a project. It was stupid. I was naïve. And then she asked me for a favour in return. My father had struck a deal with Kayser's Corp. you see. She wanted to see what he was doing.

[And Sinclair had tried to resist, pull away. But inevitably, he felt like he did indeed owe her.

And so...]

( The Sinclairs, Kayser Corp., school, obligation. Logged. This is all familiar to him, but a lot is a blur since the accident. Mithrun's search history is about to look frenetic.

Still, there's no judgment in Mithrun's expression - even if Sinclair may want it - there's no derision, or suggestion that this should be atonement. Mithrun isn't under the illusion that his own desire for vengeance a worthy thing, draped by some façade of noble action.

Vengeance isn't atonement. Vengeance isn't fixing. Vengeance doesn't balance any scales.

Vengeance is terminal violence. And only that. )

... And that's where he caught the Sarabi's gaze.

( Could've been earlier. Could've been later. But, so long as there was a crack to work their way into, they would find hold.

Mithrun is quiet, for a moment, considering Sinclair's recollection. Whatever the Sarabi's motives for sending her in, Kromer had spared Sinclair for personal reason. That may be something they could use. )

... If she still holds interest in you, then she may not be efficient when she acts. ( When she acts doing what? Well... ) She could be smoked out. She may wander near you again.

( In other words - Sinclair could be worthwhile bait. )

That's not your only use. ( He's not suggesting a sacrifice, despite what it sounds. ) But if she can be caught, and information wrung out... She probably doesn't know much. But it would be enough. And you could do as you like, from there.

( His word punctuates with an unsaid but. )

... Killing her, ( baiting her, ) means seeing her again. My suggestion may be groundlessly unrealistic. It may end up better to kill her on the spot.

Can you? ( It's easy to want to kill someone. It's easy to feel like you really, really could. But actually killing someone... ) ... It's fine if you need time to think on that.

( She isn't worth the space she takes, in Mithrun's opinion. But a life is a life to most. )

[Sinclair is silent, thoughts dancing in his head.

He thinks about what he could do.

If I see her again, then she can ---

I could ---

Then --- --- ---

My family will ---

They wont come back.

They are all ---- and I see their corpses almost every night and I wake up and I am ---

That's okay. It's all ---- I am ----

He thinks about Oria's words, his comfort, the warmth of his arms, his steadying hands. There was refuge there and potentially freedom in what Oria wanted for him. A future where Kromer didn't haunt him.

But Oria hadn't seen--

Sinclair bites his lip, hard enough to make it bleed had this been anything but VR. It's lucky he can't really hurt himself here.]

...I can. [Sinclair's words are soft, distant] My family wasn't the first. They wont be the last, either, will they? She enjoyed it. Hurting them. I could tell. She'll keep on doing it, because that's the kind of person she is.

[And what kind of person is Sinclair?]

I don't...want to be what she wants me to be. [But it's so hard, when she had an iron grip over his heart, his mind. He can't think of any way to shake that off, but to kill her. End her. Remove her] But she wont leave me alone. My company...protects me in a way. People can't find me the way they used to. If I can kill her...then maybe...

[Will it be freedom? A burden lifted? He doesn't know. All he knows that he's stuck, mired in a past he wants to escape, drowning in a rancid pool of mud that follows his every step]

... You want to be free.

( From those feelings. From this pain. From this agony. Mithrun emphasizes this in the subtle intonation of his voice: vengeance is for you. It's not about saving people. It's not about doing good. There is no need to make an argument about whether killing a killer improves the world, in any way.

Sinclair wants to do this to make himself feel better. If it does any good after, it's only by chance. It's coincidental bonus. Murder is not worth the energy of philosophy. )

... I do, too.

( He's not being pursued in the same manner Kromer fixates on Sinclair. If anything, Mithrun's been forgotten - scraps on the dinner plate, the meal long done. And he doesn't have the will to live. And he doesn't have the will to die. This is all he's going to be, for the rest of his life.

Killing the professor won't fix anything. But it's all he has left in him to want. If he won't pursue it, surely there is nothing else. )

Don't forget how that feels. We can make plans. We can start somewhere. I'll send you my number later. But...

( A beat. He's not so good at this. He's task-oriented, not feelingsy. )

... talk to me, when you need to. I'll make sure you get your chance.

( To kill her. No matter what. )

...yes.

[That's the real reason he chose Vogel. His family had called him their little Vogel. Demian had likened him to a baby bird preparing to take flight. But all Sinclair wanted right now was freedom. If he can kill her, that woman wont haunt him anymore. She wont be able to drag him down with her.

He wants freedom badly enough to kill for it. He can't pretend it's anything good. Vengeance is what it is. But once she's gone...

Then, he can work out what he really wants.

He studies Mithrun a little more and almost asks - what will you do when you've taken your revenge?

But he doesn't. He'll just have to make sure he stays alive, he thinks, so he can make sure...something happens. Something better than whatever hell they've been trapped in. He squeezes Mithrun's hand and tugs him along]

Okay.

[Soft, but without the wavering:]

Thank you.

[And then he pulls Mithrun to the exit, looking for the light to guide them out]

...let's go. We should...look at the rest of the carnival.

August Catch All

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