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Entry tags:
August Catch All
Who • Vogel (Emil Sinclair) and YOU
What • Catch all for August - any dungeon runs, misc. stuff happens here. I'll toss up open TL from now and then that don't fit with event posts.
When •All Throughout August
Where • Mac Anu and Lumina Cloth.
Content Warnings • none, will add if any pop up later
What • Catch all for August - any dungeon runs, misc. stuff happens here. I'll toss up open TL from now and then that don't fit with event posts.
When •All Throughout August
Where • Mac Anu and Lumina Cloth.
Content Warnings • none, will add if any pop up later
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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?
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( 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. )
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[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?]
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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?
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...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.]
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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? )
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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 naĆÆve. 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...]
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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 faƧade 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. )
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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]
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( 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. )
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[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.