Sins of the Father Isn't Just a Catchy Phrase (vs. Black)
Mar 20, 2019 12:46:45 GMT -5
The Anarchist likes this
Post by David Hunter on Mar 20, 2019 12:46:45 GMT -5
You know the time comes when a wise man knows the best thing that he can do is just look her in the eye, and…beg for mercy…and face the bitter truth.
Now, that’s not just a fairly decent Colin Raye song.
It’s also not just completely misgendered given the situation and used as an interesting opening because it sprung to David’s mind at the time.
It’s—almost—the exact situation David finds himself.
Too bad David doesn’t like country.
Sitting in a metal room (like seriously, everything’s metal, ceiling, floor, walls, everything) on a metal chair near a metal table with metal handcuffs around his wrists, David looks around. Only illuminated by the Feiss LED light bulb (still haven’t secured the official sponsorship rights) above him, David has just enough sense to glare a symbolic hole through the two-way mirror in front of him.
He knows who’s behind it.
He knows why he’s here.
He knows there’s a reason the Council brought him to this dimension, far away from the official Council headquarters. No, they brought him to the Others hideout as a form of peace.
Not peace for mankind or Earth. Peace so the Peacekeepers don’t string David up and kill him publicly. Not only because the Others aren’t really finished with him, but also because, you know…his dad is on the council and doesn’t really want his son dead…yet, anyway.
So, the compromise came to be that, upon capture, David would be brought to the far-away headquarters of the Others. In a dimension never labeled and often never described due to its unforeseen and often changing form, you’d probably be surprised to find the building layout is fairly similar to most police headquarters.
Such as the interrogation room David finds himself in. Not the first time he’s been there, as we’ve seen before, and probably not the last. What makes this trip different is that it’s not sponsored by the Others, nor will it contain an interrogator under the Others’ authority.
As the door opens, Hawaiian Hardhead walks in wearing a…fairly cheap black suit, honestly. Like, Wal Mart brand. Dude’s part of the Council and he didn’t even spring on Men’s Warehouse?
Disappointment is an understatement.
Hardhead approaches the table, throwing a manila folder on it. He then sits down a bottle of scotch and two shorter glasses. He pours one for himself and another for his son, pushing it towards his direction. Only afterwards does he finally take a seat.
David only cocks his neck, cracking his neck in the process.
“Oh, so I’m talking to you, huh? Does my son not deign me worthy of a conversation?” Hardhead asks.
With a smirk, David takes the glass offered. He takes a quick sip before placing it back on the table.
“That’s not exactly how he put it, but it’s certainly a nicer way,” he says.
Hardhead shakes his head, taking a sip of his own glass.
“First time I see my son face-to-face in over a year and he doesn’t even want to talk to me. How disappointing,” he says.
“Yeah, well, that seems to be a running theme with him. Stephanie was always the bright child, remember?”
Hardhead raises an eyebrow. Deciding to ignore the question, he flips open the envelope.
Consider that nerve touched, ey?
“Attempting to unseat the natural order is a pretty big charge. Anything you have to say to that?”
David just shrugs his shoulders.
“Not really. It’s kind of in the title. There’s a big bad going around and we’ve been working with him,” he says.
“Interdimensional conflict can be forgoed if you can prove you were doing it for the good of either dimension,” Hardhead.
“Technically we never really battled anybody beyond Max, and the rules of the shen-gong-wu and xiaolin showdowns also forgo any dimensional issues,” David.
“Crimes committed with somebody from another dimension could get you locked up. Anything on that?”
“That implies we’ve committed any of the crimes listed, let alone with the help of anybody else. And before you mention Mr. Branwen, I’ll have you know he has had no involvement in anything we’ve done the last few months. Consider him an…avian stalker.”
“Yeah, funny how he just kind of disappeared, huh? Hmmm…colluding with someone considered an S-Rank person of evil intent is pretty serious. You’ve already mentioned you’ve been ‘working with him.’ Defense?”
“Technically we haven’t taken any jobs for him yet. Beyond him giving us information and agreeing to future jobs, no actual contract has been signed, nor followed. We've had no exchanges of services, thus, no actual 'colluding with' involved.”
“Escaping capture from a temporarily hired source is…an easy charge to drop. Especially given the Peacekeepers’ independent involvement, as well as not informing us about it. Also, Revy kind of went rogue in an attempt to kill you. We’ve staved her off for now, but don’t be surprised if you run into her down the line and she's...less than welcoming.”
“Eh. One gets used to those kinds of things. So…now that we’ve established none of those charges will stick, I think we can both agree we’ll be out of here by the end of the day. The only one that you might be able to pin on us is the shit that went down in Augusta, but even then, you can’t prove we were even there. Much like you can’t prove we’ve done anything for the benefit of your ‘big bad.’”
Hardhead grabs the glass of scotch. He leans back, swallowing what remains of the still mostly-filled glass.
He slams it on the table, letting out a big contented sigh.
“You’ve seen him, right?” he asks.
“Yes. Not my type, but I’ve dated worse,” David says.
Hardhead pauses a bit, raising an eyebrow.
David only matches the look.
The father shakes his head.
“Right, still not David, sorry. Anyway, my point was this: now that you’ve seen him, do you really feel comfortable trading away lives to the guy who killed your uncles just to meet her again?” Hardhead asks.
“Me? No, not really. Unlike your son, I was taught the value of equals. Unfortunately, you humans tend to think drastically. For as smart as your son is, he’s still the emotional shit you’ve come to know. To answer your question though: yes. He’s gone on record—well…my record anyway—of saying he’s willing to kill you in a heartbeat if it means he gets to see her again. What he sees in her, let alone any female is a mystery to me, but I can’t deny the strong affection he has for her.
“Boy’s got it bad. Bad enough to risk anything for the slim chance of seeing her again. If that’s not love, than…I guess the concept doesn’t exist.”
Hardhead glances into David’s eyes. David only looks back, the neutral look on his face leading no credence to what the man thinks.
“He can still hear me, right?” Hardhead asks.
“Absolutely. I might be in control of his body for once—quite unfortunate really, especially for such a petulant and ridiculous reason—but his mind, and thus, his hearing, is perfectly sound. Get it? Sound?” David asks.
Hardhead actually manages to smile at that.
“Clever. Tell me then, while I have your attention, what exactly keeps you here? I’ve talked to Nathan a bit and Nio plenty, but the former’s too cocky and the latter doesn’t give a shit. Your kind is a dying breed, literally. Only four remain on this Earth, three in both body and soul. Why are you still going on despite losing a proper host?” he asks.
David just shrugs, a small smirk adorning his face.
“To be honest, it was almost like fate, how I met David. I know Fate itself can be a tricky bitch, but it still hands out surprises to us all. David somehow found himself present when Nio and Nathan finally killed my body. As one of my minions present, David just so happened to be the victim. It was only after I took presence in his body that I came to enjoy it. I have myself a body to call home. He loses nothing by having a second mind inside. Win-win, really. Although I might persuade him in certain aspects of his personality, his will is strong enough that I will never again have complete control of a body, unless, of course, he's being a pussy and refusing to speak to his father.”
Hardhead nods his head. He takes out a pen from his shirt pocket, writing down a few things on the file in front of him.
Once he is done, he clicks the pen, setting it on the table next to the folder.
“This has certainly been telling Thank you for allowing me this conversation. However, I would really appreciate it if you allowed me to have a talk with my son,” Hardhead says.
David’s eyes look up, staring up towards the Feiss LED light bulb.
After a few moments of mild irritation showing on his face, he speaks.
“Apologies for the wait. He’s being as stubborn as always. Worry not, I will be surrendering control back to him. I agree though, it was nice to have a conversation with you face-to-face, so to speak. Don’t be a stranger,” he says.
A few moments pass once more.
Not long after, David closes his eyes. He straights his head out before opening the eyes back up, staring at his father’s face.
“Hey Dad,” he says.
Hardhead actually reacts to this. He sits up in his chair, his face loosening up a bit. His smile becomes more sincere and his eyes crinkle under the sudden bout of sadness that washes over him.
“Hey…son,” he says through the water forming around his eyes.
David rolls his eyes at this. Hardhead takes a few more moments to wipe his eyes before continuing.
“What did you want to talk about?” David asks, ever impatient as always.
“Sorry, sorry. I just…wanted to talk to you about something I learned the other day. I…did some digging on your file. As I’m…sure you’re aware, your file with the Council starts when you were 14,” Hardhead says.
“When Wuya took me under her robe, yes, trust me, I am…way too familiar with it.”
Hardhead cringes, realizing the toes he metaphorically stepped on.
“Right, yeah, sorry. Anyway, I…did some digging and found another incident with your name on it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that it’s been over a decade, and I’ve…learned some unfortunate things about you since…”
David narrows his eyes, his hands gripping the glass of scotch to take another sip.
“…I started tying things together. The night…she died. Her murderers. How they got there. Why they knew where we were. It all made sense once I got enough information.”
David sets the glass down, swallowing the scotch he had administered to his mouth.
Afterwards, he stares at his father, eyes narrowed and scowl taking over his face.
“I know that you didn’t…really know what you were doing. I don’t blame you for picking the safe option, given what you were put in. It was my fault for not keeping an eye on you. If I hadn’t been so distracted that night, than you wouldn’t have wandered off, and—”
“One warning,” David mutters, the blood starting to fall from his palms from his nails engraving into the skin.
“Look, David, you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to her. You told them where we were because they were going to kill you if you didn’t. It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” Hardhead says.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Not like you didn’t move on. Only decided to hook up with the bitch that helped it happen. Real fuckin smooth there Dad,” David says.
“Lydia…she’s…not what you think, son. Hell, she’s a lot like that girl you used to like. Independent, hard-working, persevering, able to hold her own, and doesn’t take shit from anybody.”
David starts to grip the glass of scotch using his now bloodied hand.
“I guess we know where you got it from, huh?” Hardhead asks, oblivious to the anger emitting from his son. “I’m sorry that…I mean…she…never had you satisfi—”
The glass of scotch shatters under the pressure of David’s grip. As the scotch mixes with his wound, David throws the pieces that remain against the wall. That has the side effect of sending a bloody scotch mix at Hardhead's direction. It lands on both David's file inside the manila folder and Hardhead himself. Standing out of his chair, David looms over him. Hardhead can only wince.
“Sorry. Probably overstepped myself there,” he says.
“I want out of here as soon as I can. I hope for your sake you never see me again, because if you do, it’ll take God himself to stop me from cracking that hard head of yours open,” David exclaims.
“I’m sorry, David. That one’s on me. Look, let’s just—”
“I’m not fucking around, Jack. I’m clear to go once everything gets taken care of. So tell your crew to stop sitting on their ass, take these handcuffs off of me, and get me the fuck out of here before I decide to burn this fucking place and everybody in it to the ground.”
Hardhead sighs, standing to his feet. He shakes his head, closing the now wet manila folder. He puts the pen in his shirt pocket before heading towards the door.
He stops when his hand grips the metal handle.
“You know…the reason I went on all those adventures wasn’t just to save the world. It was so you and Stephanie could have a better life. So I didn’t have to worry about the two of you when I eventually died. It…it was my mistake. Caroline’s death…Wuya taking you…you getting sucked into The Game with Argit and Mercury…I’m such a fuck-up in everything I did that I guess I just decided to embrace the one thing I was good at. So I did. I left you to your own devices 9 times out of 10 because I thought you knew what was best. Stephanie hadn’t needed me long before then and Lydia knew what to expect when I took the job.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. And now with that…influencer inside your head, you don’t even need me to watch you anymore. So…yeah…there it is.”
David shakes his head, staring off at the wall to his right.
“Save your pity parties for somebody who gives a shit. You stopped being a caretaker when you left me with Stephanie. You stopped being a friend when you let Wuya get away with all the shit she did to me. You stopped being my father when you started caring more about everything else and left your family in the dust. So tell me, Jack…why now? Why the apologies now?” he asks.
Hardhead grips the metal handle harder.
“I wanted to warn you that there’s no more freebies. No more cover-ups. No more hand-holdings or favors or savings. This is it. After today, after this, after working with…with…him…I’m done. Rick’s done. We’re all done. As of this moment you’re an independent party with all the risks that go with it. One toe out of line, one shred of working with that…creature and it’s all over. You’re on the first ship to a lockdown, and I won’t be around to save your ass,” Hardhead says.
“If you really think I needed you to save it all this time, then you’re clearly more of a dumb-ass than people thought,” David says.
“All the bravado and arrogance won’t save you when literal space and time falls. I hope you enjoy standing over the dust of everything around you. Maybe then you’ll realize where you went wrong."
And with that, he opens the door, exiting the interrogation room with nay but a big fucking bombshell.
Unfortunately, David doesn’t take too kindly to nukes.
“I’ve gotten by just fine for this long. If anything was going to kill me, it would’ve happened by now. I’m not…helpless. God dammit…I’m not…”
The words fade away to the metal corners of the room, with the thoughts left only to a 23 year-old mind attempting to convince somebody.
Whether it be the ghosts of the past, the demons of the present, or the corpses of the future is unknown to everybody, including himself.
Now, that’s not just a fairly decent Colin Raye song.
It’s also not just completely misgendered given the situation and used as an interesting opening because it sprung to David’s mind at the time.
It’s—almost—the exact situation David finds himself.
Too bad David doesn’t like country.
Sitting in a metal room (like seriously, everything’s metal, ceiling, floor, walls, everything) on a metal chair near a metal table with metal handcuffs around his wrists, David looks around. Only illuminated by the Feiss LED light bulb (still haven’t secured the official sponsorship rights) above him, David has just enough sense to glare a symbolic hole through the two-way mirror in front of him.
He knows who’s behind it.
He knows why he’s here.
He knows there’s a reason the Council brought him to this dimension, far away from the official Council headquarters. No, they brought him to the Others hideout as a form of peace.
Not peace for mankind or Earth. Peace so the Peacekeepers don’t string David up and kill him publicly. Not only because the Others aren’t really finished with him, but also because, you know…his dad is on the council and doesn’t really want his son dead…yet, anyway.
So, the compromise came to be that, upon capture, David would be brought to the far-away headquarters of the Others. In a dimension never labeled and often never described due to its unforeseen and often changing form, you’d probably be surprised to find the building layout is fairly similar to most police headquarters.
Such as the interrogation room David finds himself in. Not the first time he’s been there, as we’ve seen before, and probably not the last. What makes this trip different is that it’s not sponsored by the Others, nor will it contain an interrogator under the Others’ authority.
As the door opens, Hawaiian Hardhead walks in wearing a…fairly cheap black suit, honestly. Like, Wal Mart brand. Dude’s part of the Council and he didn’t even spring on Men’s Warehouse?
Disappointment is an understatement.
Hardhead approaches the table, throwing a manila folder on it. He then sits down a bottle of scotch and two shorter glasses. He pours one for himself and another for his son, pushing it towards his direction. Only afterwards does he finally take a seat.
David only cocks his neck, cracking his neck in the process.
“Oh, so I’m talking to you, huh? Does my son not deign me worthy of a conversation?” Hardhead asks.
With a smirk, David takes the glass offered. He takes a quick sip before placing it back on the table.
“That’s not exactly how he put it, but it’s certainly a nicer way,” he says.
Hardhead shakes his head, taking a sip of his own glass.
“First time I see my son face-to-face in over a year and he doesn’t even want to talk to me. How disappointing,” he says.
“Yeah, well, that seems to be a running theme with him. Stephanie was always the bright child, remember?”
Hardhead raises an eyebrow. Deciding to ignore the question, he flips open the envelope.
Consider that nerve touched, ey?
“Attempting to unseat the natural order is a pretty big charge. Anything you have to say to that?”
David just shrugs his shoulders.
“Not really. It’s kind of in the title. There’s a big bad going around and we’ve been working with him,” he says.
“Interdimensional conflict can be forgoed if you can prove you were doing it for the good of either dimension,” Hardhead.
“Technically we never really battled anybody beyond Max, and the rules of the shen-gong-wu and xiaolin showdowns also forgo any dimensional issues,” David.
“Crimes committed with somebody from another dimension could get you locked up. Anything on that?”
“That implies we’ve committed any of the crimes listed, let alone with the help of anybody else. And before you mention Mr. Branwen, I’ll have you know he has had no involvement in anything we’ve done the last few months. Consider him an…avian stalker.”
“Yeah, funny how he just kind of disappeared, huh? Hmmm…colluding with someone considered an S-Rank person of evil intent is pretty serious. You’ve already mentioned you’ve been ‘working with him.’ Defense?”
“Technically we haven’t taken any jobs for him yet. Beyond him giving us information and agreeing to future jobs, no actual contract has been signed, nor followed. We've had no exchanges of services, thus, no actual 'colluding with' involved.”
“Escaping capture from a temporarily hired source is…an easy charge to drop. Especially given the Peacekeepers’ independent involvement, as well as not informing us about it. Also, Revy kind of went rogue in an attempt to kill you. We’ve staved her off for now, but don’t be surprised if you run into her down the line and she's...less than welcoming.”
“Eh. One gets used to those kinds of things. So…now that we’ve established none of those charges will stick, I think we can both agree we’ll be out of here by the end of the day. The only one that you might be able to pin on us is the shit that went down in Augusta, but even then, you can’t prove we were even there. Much like you can’t prove we’ve done anything for the benefit of your ‘big bad.’”
Hardhead grabs the glass of scotch. He leans back, swallowing what remains of the still mostly-filled glass.
He slams it on the table, letting out a big contented sigh.
“You’ve seen him, right?” he asks.
“Yes. Not my type, but I’ve dated worse,” David says.
Hardhead pauses a bit, raising an eyebrow.
David only matches the look.
The father shakes his head.
“Right, still not David, sorry. Anyway, my point was this: now that you’ve seen him, do you really feel comfortable trading away lives to the guy who killed your uncles just to meet her again?” Hardhead asks.
“Me? No, not really. Unlike your son, I was taught the value of equals. Unfortunately, you humans tend to think drastically. For as smart as your son is, he’s still the emotional shit you’ve come to know. To answer your question though: yes. He’s gone on record—well…my record anyway—of saying he’s willing to kill you in a heartbeat if it means he gets to see her again. What he sees in her, let alone any female is a mystery to me, but I can’t deny the strong affection he has for her.
“Boy’s got it bad. Bad enough to risk anything for the slim chance of seeing her again. If that’s not love, than…I guess the concept doesn’t exist.”
Hardhead glances into David’s eyes. David only looks back, the neutral look on his face leading no credence to what the man thinks.
“He can still hear me, right?” Hardhead asks.
“Absolutely. I might be in control of his body for once—quite unfortunate really, especially for such a petulant and ridiculous reason—but his mind, and thus, his hearing, is perfectly sound. Get it? Sound?” David asks.
Hardhead actually manages to smile at that.
“Clever. Tell me then, while I have your attention, what exactly keeps you here? I’ve talked to Nathan a bit and Nio plenty, but the former’s too cocky and the latter doesn’t give a shit. Your kind is a dying breed, literally. Only four remain on this Earth, three in both body and soul. Why are you still going on despite losing a proper host?” he asks.
David just shrugs, a small smirk adorning his face.
“To be honest, it was almost like fate, how I met David. I know Fate itself can be a tricky bitch, but it still hands out surprises to us all. David somehow found himself present when Nio and Nathan finally killed my body. As one of my minions present, David just so happened to be the victim. It was only after I took presence in his body that I came to enjoy it. I have myself a body to call home. He loses nothing by having a second mind inside. Win-win, really. Although I might persuade him in certain aspects of his personality, his will is strong enough that I will never again have complete control of a body, unless, of course, he's being a pussy and refusing to speak to his father.”
Hardhead nods his head. He takes out a pen from his shirt pocket, writing down a few things on the file in front of him.
Once he is done, he clicks the pen, setting it on the table next to the folder.
“This has certainly been telling Thank you for allowing me this conversation. However, I would really appreciate it if you allowed me to have a talk with my son,” Hardhead says.
David’s eyes look up, staring up towards the Feiss LED light bulb.
After a few moments of mild irritation showing on his face, he speaks.
“Apologies for the wait. He’s being as stubborn as always. Worry not, I will be surrendering control back to him. I agree though, it was nice to have a conversation with you face-to-face, so to speak. Don’t be a stranger,” he says.
A few moments pass once more.
Not long after, David closes his eyes. He straights his head out before opening the eyes back up, staring at his father’s face.
“Hey Dad,” he says.
Hardhead actually reacts to this. He sits up in his chair, his face loosening up a bit. His smile becomes more sincere and his eyes crinkle under the sudden bout of sadness that washes over him.
“Hey…son,” he says through the water forming around his eyes.
David rolls his eyes at this. Hardhead takes a few more moments to wipe his eyes before continuing.
“What did you want to talk about?” David asks, ever impatient as always.
“Sorry, sorry. I just…wanted to talk to you about something I learned the other day. I…did some digging on your file. As I’m…sure you’re aware, your file with the Council starts when you were 14,” Hardhead says.
“When Wuya took me under her robe, yes, trust me, I am…way too familiar with it.”
Hardhead cringes, realizing the toes he metaphorically stepped on.
“Right, yeah, sorry. Anyway, I…did some digging and found another incident with your name on it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that it’s been over a decade, and I’ve…learned some unfortunate things about you since…”
David narrows his eyes, his hands gripping the glass of scotch to take another sip.
“…I started tying things together. The night…she died. Her murderers. How they got there. Why they knew where we were. It all made sense once I got enough information.”
David sets the glass down, swallowing the scotch he had administered to his mouth.
Afterwards, he stares at his father, eyes narrowed and scowl taking over his face.
“I know that you didn’t…really know what you were doing. I don’t blame you for picking the safe option, given what you were put in. It was my fault for not keeping an eye on you. If I hadn’t been so distracted that night, than you wouldn’t have wandered off, and—”
“One warning,” David mutters, the blood starting to fall from his palms from his nails engraving into the skin.
“Look, David, you can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to her. You told them where we were because they were going to kill you if you didn’t. It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” Hardhead says.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Not like you didn’t move on. Only decided to hook up with the bitch that helped it happen. Real fuckin smooth there Dad,” David says.
“Lydia…she’s…not what you think, son. Hell, she’s a lot like that girl you used to like. Independent, hard-working, persevering, able to hold her own, and doesn’t take shit from anybody.”
David starts to grip the glass of scotch using his now bloodied hand.
“I guess we know where you got it from, huh?” Hardhead asks, oblivious to the anger emitting from his son. “I’m sorry that…I mean…she…never had you satisfi—”
The glass of scotch shatters under the pressure of David’s grip. As the scotch mixes with his wound, David throws the pieces that remain against the wall. That has the side effect of sending a bloody scotch mix at Hardhead's direction. It lands on both David's file inside the manila folder and Hardhead himself. Standing out of his chair, David looms over him. Hardhead can only wince.
“Sorry. Probably overstepped myself there,” he says.
“I want out of here as soon as I can. I hope for your sake you never see me again, because if you do, it’ll take God himself to stop me from cracking that hard head of yours open,” David exclaims.
“I’m sorry, David. That one’s on me. Look, let’s just—”
“I’m not fucking around, Jack. I’m clear to go once everything gets taken care of. So tell your crew to stop sitting on their ass, take these handcuffs off of me, and get me the fuck out of here before I decide to burn this fucking place and everybody in it to the ground.”
Hardhead sighs, standing to his feet. He shakes his head, closing the now wet manila folder. He puts the pen in his shirt pocket before heading towards the door.
He stops when his hand grips the metal handle.
“You know…the reason I went on all those adventures wasn’t just to save the world. It was so you and Stephanie could have a better life. So I didn’t have to worry about the two of you when I eventually died. It…it was my mistake. Caroline’s death…Wuya taking you…you getting sucked into The Game with Argit and Mercury…I’m such a fuck-up in everything I did that I guess I just decided to embrace the one thing I was good at. So I did. I left you to your own devices 9 times out of 10 because I thought you knew what was best. Stephanie hadn’t needed me long before then and Lydia knew what to expect when I took the job.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. And now with that…influencer inside your head, you don’t even need me to watch you anymore. So…yeah…there it is.”
David shakes his head, staring off at the wall to his right.
“Save your pity parties for somebody who gives a shit. You stopped being a caretaker when you left me with Stephanie. You stopped being a friend when you let Wuya get away with all the shit she did to me. You stopped being my father when you started caring more about everything else and left your family in the dust. So tell me, Jack…why now? Why the apologies now?” he asks.
Hardhead grips the metal handle harder.
“I wanted to warn you that there’s no more freebies. No more cover-ups. No more hand-holdings or favors or savings. This is it. After today, after this, after working with…with…him…I’m done. Rick’s done. We’re all done. As of this moment you’re an independent party with all the risks that go with it. One toe out of line, one shred of working with that…creature and it’s all over. You’re on the first ship to a lockdown, and I won’t be around to save your ass,” Hardhead says.
“If you really think I needed you to save it all this time, then you’re clearly more of a dumb-ass than people thought,” David says.
“All the bravado and arrogance won’t save you when literal space and time falls. I hope you enjoy standing over the dust of everything around you. Maybe then you’ll realize where you went wrong."
And with that, he opens the door, exiting the interrogation room with nay but a big fucking bombshell.
Unfortunately, David doesn’t take too kindly to nukes.
“I’ve gotten by just fine for this long. If anything was going to kill me, it would’ve happened by now. I’m not…helpless. God dammit…I’m not…”
The words fade away to the metal corners of the room, with the thoughts left only to a 23 year-old mind attempting to convince somebody.
Whether it be the ghosts of the past, the demons of the present, or the corpses of the future is unknown to everybody, including himself.
