Wake. Wake, Killer! Chaos’ voice is screeching in my head. I open my eyes to find that it is staring
down at me, face contorted in anger. I
feel slightly better than I did when I passed out, but worse than I have in the
past few days. The dull echo of
emptiness has moved up to a near deafening roar. I pass a hand over my face, wipe away the
sweat.
“What is it?”
Silence!
I open my mouth to question him again, but shut it quickly when I hear
the steps outside the cell. Someone is
approaching. Chaos turns his head to
watch. I sit up, but do not move my feet
off the bed.
A young man and woman, both in lab coats, enter, followed by the
pin-stripe suited man of yesterday. The
two younger ones both bow slightly.
Chaos growls quietly, and flips down from its perch to land solidly
before them. They both start, but do not
back away. Clearly this is standard
operating procedure.
“Chaos, Mister Railand told us you brought back... someone. He wants us to inspect him.”
I eye them carefully, keeping a blank expression on my face. Until I act out of turn, I am the big, scary,
ex-Turk. That’s still worth something,
for now. I cannot afford to lose it by
allowing them to inspect me and discover the pathetic state I am in. Besides which, I have a deep-seated hatred of
people in lab coats.
Quiet, Human. “He is
miiiine. There will be no
examinaaaation.”
Is it protecting me? That seems
unlikely. It must, therefore, be against
its interests for me to be inspected.
Why?
“Chaos, there must be an-”
“Sileeeence! I say not! He is not daaaangerous. His weaaaaapons are gooone. I will waaaatch him.”
“But-” The younger man seems bent on objecting. However, his words are cut off by the man in
the suit, perhaps Mr. Railand?
“Very well. We will return later,
to give you your assignment for tonight.”
“Yeeees.” Chaos turns away,
making it clear the interview is over.
They back out of the cell, and leave.
“Why are you helping them?”
What has caused you to lose your wits?
“I have not-” I realise what it
means. Why betray oneself by speaking
aloud when not necessary? I have not
lost my wits.
It seemed not so in the clearing, Human.
You fought so pathetically, I thought you would throw your weapon at me
next.
My expression hardly changes, but my eyes narrow in what is, for me, an
all-out expression of anger. It stares
at me for a moment, and then strides closer to push its face right up against
mine, sniffs with the puzzled air of a dog.
For myself, its close presence and overwhelming scent throw my illness
into a frenzy again. I feel what little
colour there is in my face drain away and drop backwards onto the bed, roll
onto my side gasping heavily. Chaos
backs away and drops down onto his haunches.
What ails you, Human?
You. It is well I do not have to
speak; it is currently beyond me.
I am not a disease. You do not
fear me. The demon's logic is
concise. But I have never made the
mistake of equating not human with stupid.
No. But you were ripped away
violently, renting and shredding whatever it was inside me you were attached to
in the first place. At least Hojo, when
he tore me open and attached you, cauterized the wounds. Whoever withdrew you knew no niceties. I am all weeping, vicious wounds inside, and
you do nothing but aggravate them.
Even as I speak, I know that must be the truth of it. It is ironic for a man such as myself to
consider having a soul, and even more so to now believe that it is tatters, yet
it seems the most likely explanation.
Now that I have answered your question, I ask again, why are you helping
these people.
Chaos ignores the question, stands and flaps his wings in one great,
violent motion. It is angry, I
realise. It storms over to me, sharp
talons cutting shards out of the cement floor, and picks me up by the collar.
“You accuse meeeee of being respoooonsible for thisssss?”
I force myself to breath, force my shaking legs to support me, and force
anger into my own eyes. “No. You are the cause of this,” I hold up
my hand, which is shaking violently.
“And, if you do not release me, you will be responsible for my passing
out.”
It snarls and lets go, and I fall back onto the bed. After a moment I lean back, slowly, rest my
head on the cold wall behind me. The
coolness helps, and my head clears somewhat.
A tiny light through dark storm clouds.
I had no part in my... extraction.
I know. It couldn’t have, as I wasn’t
aware of it and it knows only what I know of the outside world. Why are you helping these people? I won’t ask again. I do not know what I will do if it does not
answer, but it will be something prompted by years of Turk training.
When I was removed, instead of being set free, I was bound again, this
time to the planet. Until that bond is
broken, I am trapped here, in this human world.
By whom?
I know not. In any case, the
foul-smelling human says he can break the bond, and will, if I complete some
tasks for him.
Foul smelling? I have no idea
what things smell like to Chaos, if it does not consider itself foul smelling.
The first one you met. The one in the foolish dark clothes, like those
you used to wear.
What tasks?
That, you know already. Chaos
smiles, all fangs, and turns. “I am
huuuungry. I will retuuurn with
foooood.” It is already sweeping out of
the cell. I watch it leave, then close
my eyes and savour the briefly unscented air.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of the day passes silently.
Chaos, accustomed to sleeping almost all the time inside me, returns to
its perch and sleeps once more. I
consider exploring but realise that, feeling as I do, I would not get far, and
would likely become lost. The suited
man, Railand, does not seem the type to push very far. I fall into a deep sleep.
Human, are you incapable of waking yourself now? I raise myself into a sitting position,
notice that the demon is already on the ground, again watching the passageway
outside his cell. As before, the three
visitors arrive. This time the young
woman carries a folder, which she offers to Chaos. It does not take it, and after a minute she
opens it and holds up a piece of paper with a photograph attached by a paper
clip. The picture is of a man in a suit
with short dark hair. More than that I
cannot see from my position.
“The target has not changed. He
can be found in the parking lot behind his office, as before. It would be good if you could, um, try to
leave less clues.” The young man takes
initiative, but stumbles over giving orders to the demon.
“Such aaaaas?”
“The, uh, media is really making a big deal about the claw marks and
things.”
How would they prefer I kill them?
Smother them with my wings?
Aloud, Chaos snarls. The young
man takes a step back, and shuts up. The
woman follows suit, giving him a sympathetic look.
Chaos turns to me. “You will
staaaay heeeere. Understooood?” In my mind, its thoughts echo more clearly, Do
as I say, Killer.
“Fine.” I try to be a man of my
word, but breaking a promise to a demon would certainly not be the greatest sin
of my life. Still, unless I undergo a
miraculous recovery, leaving would be foolish.
“I go now.” Chaos makes to leave,
and its employers scatter before him. It
gives a last snarl over his shoulder, and then is gone. The humans linger in the hallway behind him
for a moment, but then go as well, leaving me alone.
Demon?
Killer?
You can still hear me.
Of course. Its tone
implies this ought to be the most obvious thing in the world, and that I am
more foolish than a child for being uncertain of it. It can fit a surprising amount of substance
into few words. I pause for a few
moments, rebuked, before taking up the conversation again.
Who are you going to kill?
An acquaintance of yours. The
pilot of the Cat creature.
Cait Sith? Reeve? Chaos- you cannot kill him. It is not only sentimentality which causes me
to speak, although it is that in part.
Reeve was one of our companions, a member of AVALANCHE, although for a
long time we did not know it. But,
besides that, he is also the leader of the most important of the Neo-Shinra
departments, science and technology, and could easily have been president of
the entire company if he had had the drive, and could have stomached leaving
his beloved machines.
A human life means little to me, Killer.
He is between me and my goal. He
will be eliminated. You have used such a
mentality before.
I- My thoughts are distracted by movement in the cell. The young woman in the lab coat has returned,
this time sans folder. She smiles at me
and approaches warily. I leave off the
conversation in my head to turn my full attention to her.
“I came to see if there was anything I could get for you?” This is the first time I have heard her
speak. Her voice is soft and
delicate. It matches her small frame,
her wide eyes. Either this is a
pretence, or she is vastly unsuited for her job.
“No.” I stare at her, keeping my gaze firm and unyielding, a clear hint
that I wish her to leave. She does not
take it.
“Are you sure? The demon didn’t
bring you any food, did he?”
As a matter of fact, he had returned with a piece of bread and an apple,
both of which I had consumed, leaving not a trace. But I do not answer her question, merely keep
up the stare. This is something I can do
without effort. With Chaos gone, the
cell’s atmosphere seems lighter, and I feel stronger. Certainly well enough to deal with this
woman.
“Well, um, maybe I could get you something to read, or...”
“Please leave.” I have had enough
of this denseness. I have no desire for
her company, or for anyone’s.
Instead, she takes a step forwards.
“It’s just I, I, I feel so sorry for you!” She throws herself forwards onto me. I move to sidestep, but my reaction is not
fast enough and she tackles me about the waist, slamming me back into the
wall. Something pricks against the side
of my neck. She is watching me, sweet
face transformed into a calculating expression.
Ah, a pretence after all. “Don’t
worry, it will all be over soon.”
The oh-so familiar blackness at the edges of my thoughts shifts
alarmingly, and consumes me.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The world is shaking. Overhead,
the lights come and go, running towards me and then on past. It is cold.
People are speaking, their voices buzz like bees about my head. The streaming lights disappear, and the world
stops shuddering. Someone's cold hands
are under my shoulders. Where has my
shirt gone?
The ceiling is full of open mouths, all different shapes and sizes. Surely they must tire of holding themselves
open all the time? My back itches. Far away, I can hear a train. The bees are buzzing faster now. Perhaps the mouths are trying to eat
them. I would not eat a bee; it would be
very painful. I feel cold again, it is
suddenly windy now. Aren't we
inside? Perhaps the wind is bored of the
outdoors. The train has become a
tea-kettle, screaming on the stove. It
has been so long since I had tea, since I had a stove. Perhaps Tifa would make me some, if I asked.
A woman screams. Tifa? I turn my head. Something black is in my eyes. Surely there aren't crows here, too? I swat at it, and it falls away. Ouch.
Is my gauntlet really that hard?
Why am I here? Screaming,
right. It isn't Tifa, she has black
hair. Like mine. But longer.
It would be ridiculously hard to keep such long hair out of Death
Penalty's cocking mechanism. Everything
gets stuck in that gun; it has a mind of its own. A disturbing thought. The screaming woman stops, finally. She is hiding her face. Perhaps the mouths scare her. Her fingers are very red. A new fashion? I have never understood it.
Suddenly, Chaos is looming over me.
Shouldn't he be inside of me? Did
he chase away the bees? It's very quiet. I am cold.
The room is spinning oddly, like my stomach. Perhaps I ate the bees after all?
Human.
Chaos? How can it be in my head and
outside too? Maybe there are two of
them. Maybe he has a son. Wait, he?
Do you have a son?
Chaos tilts its- his- head to the side and blinks. Doesn't that burn his eyelids? My head burns. Why is the world spinning? The little mouths are laughing. Smug little things, they probably know
why.
Human, go to sleep. You are ill.
I don't feel like being sick.
Maybe I have pneumonia. Mother
always talked about that. Is she here
now? No, she's dead. Isn't she?
"Mother?" No answer.
I am shivering. Why is it so
cold?