Post by Non Compos Mentis on Sept 4, 2015 17:22:33 GMT -5
There was no woman to chase through the twilight-soaked North Carolina night this time. The route was unfamiliar, the silver-haired woman varying her path so regularly before to prevent exactly the kind of behaviour I was engaging in. The air was thick with humidity and heat even this late on in the day, making concentration tough.
Still, as I'd retreated two weeks before I'd been careful to keep track of my surroundings. Years on the streets, in the wilderness both civilised and savage, had taught me how to navigate by night and now it paid off. The stars guided my way, specular torches in the sky that may as well have been road signs.
Eira had been suspended for Trauma 177 by Foley, an event that I'd not foreseen and even so expected her to make an unannounced appearance. I would have cursed the name of the President if it wasn't for his actions that night, having sprung a shock on Billy Sadistic and the Black Hand by forcing him to defend the World Title and face Gem in a steel cage. While my dislike of the man was hard to ignore, I could put it to the side to appreciate his momentary return to kindness.
That and now I was being given what I had wanted, a chance to give the Black Hand their due in fair competition. Sadistic had fallen alongside his brethren Wryght even though Gem and I had been a less than efficient team. I'd hoped we could get along better, but I guess trust comes at a premium when you're used to the sharp end of the stick, I knew that more than more. I sensed that wouldn't be an issue at Trauma 178, though.
One of the most legendary teams in PCW history would be alongside me as we faced three members of The Black Hand once again. Wryght once more, licking his presidential-wannabe wounds, while my old friends Phinehas and Stormm backed him up. After the farcical events that Stormm had conjured up for the last couple of months I felt the unrealised urge to backfist the self-satisfied smile off of his smug face.
As for Grimm, I could have said that he deserved more from his partners than what he had, but the Grimm I would face in two weeks would not be the same I'd met years before. This Phinehas Grimm had lost his claws and become a caricature of his true self; ripping off beards and feeding them to his opponents, carrying a 'Hangtown Hardware' shovel... a novelty, not a monstrosity. There was no doubt he could still fight with the best of them, but Grimm as an entity was now becoming a watered down brand that, once feared by all, was now a figure of fun.
But my partners, back from the obscurity of real lives and the fights of normality, had rediscovered their will to fight. Loco and Willard were sure as hell no spring chickens but neither was I and all three of us wanted this match for our own reasons. I wanted to destroy the Black Hand with everything at my disposal to remove them from PCW, they wanted to rebuild their reputation and etch their legacy further still into PCW history. Either way our motivations were stronger than our rivals who could only claim ego and orders. I'd done it once with a partner that was more interested in attacking Sadistic than playing fair, now I had an efficient and experienced team by my side.
As much as I had to look forward to the next Trauma, tonight's meant that I made my way through the dark alone. No Eira to track and trail, only memory and stars.
Those solar beacons directed me once I reached the signs I could remember. Valdese, Icard, Hickory... all along this stretch of freeway that seemed to grow ahead of me like a never-ending asphalt tongue. It would end soon though, replaced by the uncomfortable claustrophobia of the backwoods roads, the pitch black oesophagus to the thick flesh of what I'd leave behind.
There was no guarantee she'd be there. No guarantee she wouldn't be with the Goliath that had forced my retreat last time. Eira and Murdoc could have been a thousand miles away for all I knew but if I didn't act soon then I'd be eaten alive by my soul with no answers to show for my pain. I felt agony with no wound... mourning with no corpse.
Soon I found myself tracing those derelict roads where few dared to travels. The trees that hemmed them in from either side had already begun to give up their leaves as if the cold of winter never truly left the ground here. Glancing to the sky to gauge my progress I saw the pure darkness overhead, and that darkness became the stage for the nightmares of late to play out once more; the hideous creatures I had seen, talon-sharp claws ripping at my arm, the fire. Behind it all the voice of Calder played as an ominous soundtrack, recounting his first lessons to me in his terse yet somehow courteous manner.
“You can't fight them like you would a human, Sean. We have people who can train you for what to expect but when the time comes you alone must confront what our enemies strike with.” He spoke, the angular mouth always with a slight smile as I conformed to his will in my few memories. I had been a Seeker, or so the Cleric had proclaimed, the most revered weapon among the arsenal of The Order. And yet the title would not be bestowed on me because of one man... Murdoc.
I remembered the slow curvature of the path now, the narrowing of the treeline that told me to stop the truck and go on by foot. My body tensed with fear as I made my way then through the foliage. I'd been here before, I'd backed out, but now I simply couldn't turn away from the task. Possibilities flew through my mind like a swarm of flies; they might not be home, Eira could turn me away at the door in an instant, Murdoc could tear my throat out where I stood before I'd even spoken a word. We'd never been on the best of terms.
Still I walked forward and through the dense brush I found at least part of an answer; the haunting outline of an Elizabethan window frame straight out of a centuries-old English country manor, lit from within by a flickering yellow light.
Someone was home. Eira or Murdoc, it didn't matter, what did was that I could possibly find some answers that night. I carried on through the wood until I found myself at another treeline, the border of the driveway that lead to the front door itself. There were no voices, no silhouetted figures in the window, but the glow from inside was all I needed to see.
The flicker of the light caught my eye though, delved inside it and brought forward the nightmares once more. Tortured shadows dancing on walls amidst the swelter, contorting in mock agony. As always the fire lasted only a moment and then I was back in a cold room of glass and metal, Calder's voice providing a constant soundtrack to the memory. “They're called the Black Hand, the greatest enemy we face. They seek to control people, manipulate the world to their own designs.”
“And you?” I heard myself ask. The Black Hand was in my past as surely as my future, be it the forces I'd faced back then or the few infantile ego's I'd be facing soon. Grimm, Showtime and Stormm or the darkness that had been spawned behind their public face.“What does The Order want?”
Calder sat across from me, his fingers concentrated into a steeple as he peered over them. He scanned my face, judged the seriousness of my inquiry and responded with the rhetoric of his cult-like organisation. “Unity, a world under one, wholly enlightened rule.”
“And those who don't conform to your enlightenment? The Black Hand, what of them?” It was easy to see from where I was sitting, the hypocrisy of what was to come. The condemnation of one person's violence while justifying their own, a situation I was more than used to. What choice did I have but to sit there and listen to the justification, though?
“We've watched over mankind for a very long time, Sean. We control the beings that would see this world fall into chaos if unchecked. Forces like the Black Hand would see that chaos spread across the globe.” The steelpled fingers finally dropped, now lodging a forceful fist into his palm. “They must be destroyed, and that is your job.”
Hunkering in the darkness and sweltering heat, I bided my time to try and find any other signs of life. There were none. Only the light dancing on the walls without a single shadow to break them. Time passed, too long and eventually I willed my legs into motion. I pushed myself out of the treeline, convinced I would be set upon by a pack of dogs or snared in some vicious trap. Yet I wasn't, and I approached the door with a pit in my stomach.
Hesitantly I lifted my hand and held it steady in front of the door. The feeling of paranoia hadn't left since the treeline, the notion that a pair of eyes was focused on me from somewhere in the darkness. I'd come to far now to leave for a second time. My hand slammed down on the door...
Knock Knock Knock
… and I waited there, hoping for a swift end to my agony.
Eira opened the door, her form a silhouette against the lighting within the foyer, blinking in surprise at the man on her doorstep. “...Mentis? The hell are you DOING here? How did you even find this place?” without giving me time to reply, she prodded a finger into the centre of my chest. “You're not selling cookies, are you?”
I backed away instinctively, caught off guard by Eira's words and the loss of my own train of thought. ”I... what? No. I know this is fucked up, Eira, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't desperate...”
Her body language remained guarded, though a faint hint of concern crossed her face. “Desperate? Alright look, come on in. The AC is on.” She stepped aside, holding the door open for me to come through.
Tentatively I stepped forward, guarding my own sense of anxiety and fear beneath a shamefully thin veneer. Out of the warm night, the cool inside was a shocking but pleasant surprise and I took a moment to acclimatize before the door shut behind me. Eira turned to her unexpected guest as I tried to explain. “I can't explain everything, I wish I could, but finding you here was my only option. It involves the Order...”
Eira's eyes hardened as I mentioned the Order, memories of Jackson's interference still too close for comfort. “What ABOUT the Order? Murdoc told me about what happened, but I was told they'd modified your memory...”
“Modified my memory?” I began to pace edgily within the close confines of the hall, uncharacteristically nervous by the words of the woman in front of me. Confirmation was there, as much as I could trust it, that my memories had been tampered with. “Eira, look, what Murdoc knows is nothing. After what happened last year they took me somewhere, they... recruited me?”
Eira stood with a wary expression, arms crossed, watching me pace like an agitated mountain lion. “Yes, modified your memory. A higher ranking Spellslinger and a Cleric both worked on you, for some reason they were hellbent on NOT damaging you.” She raised a hand to forestall any accusations of which there were plenty. She knew far more than even I had anticipated but I guess that wasn't a surprise with her closeness to Murdoc. “Which I approve of, but normally they're not so careful. What do you mean they recruited you?”
It was a lot to take in and I took my time to reply, trying to collate all my scattered memories into some kind of a solid thought. “The Cleric's name was Calder, he told me that I was a contingency. I was a standby in case Murdoc... in case Murdoc went rogue. They wanted me to replace him as their Seeker.”
Eira clenched her jaw, a dull, dark red flush spreading across her cheeks. “As his Guardian, that will literally be over my dead fucking body.” The words came out as a snarl, Eira taking a moment to compose herself. “There is only one Seeker every 1000 years. It's not a position they can just draft for. You are CHOSEN, and not by humans. It's -” she visibly struggled to articulate the idea “- it's akin to any other part of your soul, an intrinsic part of who you are. It cannot be trained nor taught. I don't...” Eira gazed at me, confused worry writ upon her face. “...I don't know what they're doing with you.”
“Then that makes two of us.” I muttered as I tried to make sense of everything. The breaking of rules among the secret Order and the breaking of parts of myself I couldn't even begin to fathom. “I don't know what happened, Eira. I don't know why they chose me for whatever the hell they were doing. Whoever fucked with my memories didn't do it right, I can remember pieces, too much and... and not enough. You have no reason to trust me, but I need to ask for your help. I need to know who did this to me.”
Tilting her head, Eira regarded me calmly. “What is it you expect me to do? I can hardly just stride in there and demand to see your file - they're probably already wary of me speaking with you. Though that may have been Veronica.” Shaking her head, she stared right at me. “You have to get out, Mentis. Get out if you can. The Order is corrupt, damaged - I refuse to say the Black Hand is any sort of right, but when it comes to the Order they're not exactly wrong.”
“There are pieces I remember, thoughts and feelings that are more painful than anything I've felt before. If I don't find out what happened while I was with the Order then the hole I feel inside it is going to eat me alive anyway. I need to find out what happened.” I struggled to find the words to explain the agony my soul was in, distraught at some loss I couldn't remember but knew had happened under the Order's stewardship. I couldn't find the words so I gave up and relied on Eira's good grace. “You don't have to get me a meeting with a goddamn Cleric, I just need a name or an address... something? You said they had a Spellslinger work on me, a high-ranking one, there can't be many of them, right?”
While the words were foreign to me, they stirred remembrance in Eira and she thought deeply on anything she could offer. “The Order only has six stationed on the Eastern seaboard, two of which are at the local compound. If you want, I can get their information and relay it to you as soon as possible.”
“That's all I ask...” I began to slow my pacing, hoping that a step in the right direction was not too far away. There was still a doubt in the back of my mind that Eira could be protecting herself, telling me what I wanted to hear, but at this point I had nowhere else to turn. “I know this isn't easy for you, I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to feed me to the wolves after everything I've put you and Murdoc though...”
She quirked an eyebrow, a wry smile on her face. “I AM the one that pulled you out of retirement, you know. You also didn't kill him. You nearly did, but you didn't. When I feel the need to kill you, you'll know - the split second before you drop dead.”
“Good to know.” Sensing my stay coming to an end, I moves closer to the door. For some reason I felt the need to provide a modicum of proof for my claims of being part of The Order. My hand clutched the arm of my jacket slowly. “For what it's worth, I'm not sure the crusher would have killed him anyway. I've seen what else he fights.” I lifted the arm of his jacket to reveal my left forearm and the scars left by the horrific enemy of my memories.
Eira barely blinked at the marks, but reached out, tracing them with a delicate touch. ”He told me about this. He never did tell me why he saved you.” She locked eyes with me, a depth to her gaze I had never seen before - in that moment I saw the ghost of things she had seen... and done. “I'll do what I can to help you. It looks like we're in the same boat whether we like it or not.”
Not sure what to make of her comments, and stunned by the gaze of Eira's eyes, I turned for the door and gripped the handle. As it swung open the stifling air rushed in and snapped me out of this trance. Before leaving I looked back at Eira, who could have turned me away but didn't. She could have said and done many things, but perhaps the most unlikely had happened. Once she'd brought me back from retirement and now she'd aided me once more, though I knew the list of favours I could call on would run out deathly fast. “Thank you, Eira, for everything.”
Silently she closed the door behind me as I wandered out into the heavy night once more. The darkness seemed just a little lighter than it had before, a tinge of hope hanging there in the gloom. She could still sell me out to The Order, throw me into the clandestine obscurity of their domain without warning. She should relinquish her help, after all she owed me nothing. But somehow I trusted her word that soon I'd have the information I needed, the identity of the mind-smith that had corrupted my memories.
The pickup loomed on the road ahead as I left the golden light of the manor behind. Climbing into the cab I turned over the engine and switched the AC on, puffing like an asthmatic on the dashboard. The relief would come later, when I had some word, now I'd just be glad to leave this state behind and head for Schenectady once more.
Still, as I'd retreated two weeks before I'd been careful to keep track of my surroundings. Years on the streets, in the wilderness both civilised and savage, had taught me how to navigate by night and now it paid off. The stars guided my way, specular torches in the sky that may as well have been road signs.
Eira had been suspended for Trauma 177 by Foley, an event that I'd not foreseen and even so expected her to make an unannounced appearance. I would have cursed the name of the President if it wasn't for his actions that night, having sprung a shock on Billy Sadistic and the Black Hand by forcing him to defend the World Title and face Gem in a steel cage. While my dislike of the man was hard to ignore, I could put it to the side to appreciate his momentary return to kindness.
That and now I was being given what I had wanted, a chance to give the Black Hand their due in fair competition. Sadistic had fallen alongside his brethren Wryght even though Gem and I had been a less than efficient team. I'd hoped we could get along better, but I guess trust comes at a premium when you're used to the sharp end of the stick, I knew that more than more. I sensed that wouldn't be an issue at Trauma 178, though.
One of the most legendary teams in PCW history would be alongside me as we faced three members of The Black Hand once again. Wryght once more, licking his presidential-wannabe wounds, while my old friends Phinehas and Stormm backed him up. After the farcical events that Stormm had conjured up for the last couple of months I felt the unrealised urge to backfist the self-satisfied smile off of his smug face.
As for Grimm, I could have said that he deserved more from his partners than what he had, but the Grimm I would face in two weeks would not be the same I'd met years before. This Phinehas Grimm had lost his claws and become a caricature of his true self; ripping off beards and feeding them to his opponents, carrying a 'Hangtown Hardware' shovel... a novelty, not a monstrosity. There was no doubt he could still fight with the best of them, but Grimm as an entity was now becoming a watered down brand that, once feared by all, was now a figure of fun.
But my partners, back from the obscurity of real lives and the fights of normality, had rediscovered their will to fight. Loco and Willard were sure as hell no spring chickens but neither was I and all three of us wanted this match for our own reasons. I wanted to destroy the Black Hand with everything at my disposal to remove them from PCW, they wanted to rebuild their reputation and etch their legacy further still into PCW history. Either way our motivations were stronger than our rivals who could only claim ego and orders. I'd done it once with a partner that was more interested in attacking Sadistic than playing fair, now I had an efficient and experienced team by my side.
As much as I had to look forward to the next Trauma, tonight's meant that I made my way through the dark alone. No Eira to track and trail, only memory and stars.
Those solar beacons directed me once I reached the signs I could remember. Valdese, Icard, Hickory... all along this stretch of freeway that seemed to grow ahead of me like a never-ending asphalt tongue. It would end soon though, replaced by the uncomfortable claustrophobia of the backwoods roads, the pitch black oesophagus to the thick flesh of what I'd leave behind.
There was no guarantee she'd be there. No guarantee she wouldn't be with the Goliath that had forced my retreat last time. Eira and Murdoc could have been a thousand miles away for all I knew but if I didn't act soon then I'd be eaten alive by my soul with no answers to show for my pain. I felt agony with no wound... mourning with no corpse.
Soon I found myself tracing those derelict roads where few dared to travels. The trees that hemmed them in from either side had already begun to give up their leaves as if the cold of winter never truly left the ground here. Glancing to the sky to gauge my progress I saw the pure darkness overhead, and that darkness became the stage for the nightmares of late to play out once more; the hideous creatures I had seen, talon-sharp claws ripping at my arm, the fire. Behind it all the voice of Calder played as an ominous soundtrack, recounting his first lessons to me in his terse yet somehow courteous manner.
“You can't fight them like you would a human, Sean. We have people who can train you for what to expect but when the time comes you alone must confront what our enemies strike with.” He spoke, the angular mouth always with a slight smile as I conformed to his will in my few memories. I had been a Seeker, or so the Cleric had proclaimed, the most revered weapon among the arsenal of The Order. And yet the title would not be bestowed on me because of one man... Murdoc.
I remembered the slow curvature of the path now, the narrowing of the treeline that told me to stop the truck and go on by foot. My body tensed with fear as I made my way then through the foliage. I'd been here before, I'd backed out, but now I simply couldn't turn away from the task. Possibilities flew through my mind like a swarm of flies; they might not be home, Eira could turn me away at the door in an instant, Murdoc could tear my throat out where I stood before I'd even spoken a word. We'd never been on the best of terms.
Still I walked forward and through the dense brush I found at least part of an answer; the haunting outline of an Elizabethan window frame straight out of a centuries-old English country manor, lit from within by a flickering yellow light.
Someone was home. Eira or Murdoc, it didn't matter, what did was that I could possibly find some answers that night. I carried on through the wood until I found myself at another treeline, the border of the driveway that lead to the front door itself. There were no voices, no silhouetted figures in the window, but the glow from inside was all I needed to see.
The flicker of the light caught my eye though, delved inside it and brought forward the nightmares once more. Tortured shadows dancing on walls amidst the swelter, contorting in mock agony. As always the fire lasted only a moment and then I was back in a cold room of glass and metal, Calder's voice providing a constant soundtrack to the memory. “They're called the Black Hand, the greatest enemy we face. They seek to control people, manipulate the world to their own designs.”
“And you?” I heard myself ask. The Black Hand was in my past as surely as my future, be it the forces I'd faced back then or the few infantile ego's I'd be facing soon. Grimm, Showtime and Stormm or the darkness that had been spawned behind their public face.“What does The Order want?”
Calder sat across from me, his fingers concentrated into a steeple as he peered over them. He scanned my face, judged the seriousness of my inquiry and responded with the rhetoric of his cult-like organisation. “Unity, a world under one, wholly enlightened rule.”
“And those who don't conform to your enlightenment? The Black Hand, what of them?” It was easy to see from where I was sitting, the hypocrisy of what was to come. The condemnation of one person's violence while justifying their own, a situation I was more than used to. What choice did I have but to sit there and listen to the justification, though?
“We've watched over mankind for a very long time, Sean. We control the beings that would see this world fall into chaos if unchecked. Forces like the Black Hand would see that chaos spread across the globe.” The steelpled fingers finally dropped, now lodging a forceful fist into his palm. “They must be destroyed, and that is your job.”
Hunkering in the darkness and sweltering heat, I bided my time to try and find any other signs of life. There were none. Only the light dancing on the walls without a single shadow to break them. Time passed, too long and eventually I willed my legs into motion. I pushed myself out of the treeline, convinced I would be set upon by a pack of dogs or snared in some vicious trap. Yet I wasn't, and I approached the door with a pit in my stomach.
Hesitantly I lifted my hand and held it steady in front of the door. The feeling of paranoia hadn't left since the treeline, the notion that a pair of eyes was focused on me from somewhere in the darkness. I'd come to far now to leave for a second time. My hand slammed down on the door...
Knock Knock Knock
… and I waited there, hoping for a swift end to my agony.
Eira opened the door, her form a silhouette against the lighting within the foyer, blinking in surprise at the man on her doorstep. “...Mentis? The hell are you DOING here? How did you even find this place?” without giving me time to reply, she prodded a finger into the centre of my chest. “You're not selling cookies, are you?”
I backed away instinctively, caught off guard by Eira's words and the loss of my own train of thought. ”I... what? No. I know this is fucked up, Eira, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't desperate...”
Her body language remained guarded, though a faint hint of concern crossed her face. “Desperate? Alright look, come on in. The AC is on.” She stepped aside, holding the door open for me to come through.
Tentatively I stepped forward, guarding my own sense of anxiety and fear beneath a shamefully thin veneer. Out of the warm night, the cool inside was a shocking but pleasant surprise and I took a moment to acclimatize before the door shut behind me. Eira turned to her unexpected guest as I tried to explain. “I can't explain everything, I wish I could, but finding you here was my only option. It involves the Order...”
Eira's eyes hardened as I mentioned the Order, memories of Jackson's interference still too close for comfort. “What ABOUT the Order? Murdoc told me about what happened, but I was told they'd modified your memory...”
“Modified my memory?” I began to pace edgily within the close confines of the hall, uncharacteristically nervous by the words of the woman in front of me. Confirmation was there, as much as I could trust it, that my memories had been tampered with. “Eira, look, what Murdoc knows is nothing. After what happened last year they took me somewhere, they... recruited me?”
Eira stood with a wary expression, arms crossed, watching me pace like an agitated mountain lion. “Yes, modified your memory. A higher ranking Spellslinger and a Cleric both worked on you, for some reason they were hellbent on NOT damaging you.” She raised a hand to forestall any accusations of which there were plenty. She knew far more than even I had anticipated but I guess that wasn't a surprise with her closeness to Murdoc. “Which I approve of, but normally they're not so careful. What do you mean they recruited you?”
It was a lot to take in and I took my time to reply, trying to collate all my scattered memories into some kind of a solid thought. “The Cleric's name was Calder, he told me that I was a contingency. I was a standby in case Murdoc... in case Murdoc went rogue. They wanted me to replace him as their Seeker.”
Eira clenched her jaw, a dull, dark red flush spreading across her cheeks. “As his Guardian, that will literally be over my dead fucking body.” The words came out as a snarl, Eira taking a moment to compose herself. “There is only one Seeker every 1000 years. It's not a position they can just draft for. You are CHOSEN, and not by humans. It's -” she visibly struggled to articulate the idea “- it's akin to any other part of your soul, an intrinsic part of who you are. It cannot be trained nor taught. I don't...” Eira gazed at me, confused worry writ upon her face. “...I don't know what they're doing with you.”
“Then that makes two of us.” I muttered as I tried to make sense of everything. The breaking of rules among the secret Order and the breaking of parts of myself I couldn't even begin to fathom. “I don't know what happened, Eira. I don't know why they chose me for whatever the hell they were doing. Whoever fucked with my memories didn't do it right, I can remember pieces, too much and... and not enough. You have no reason to trust me, but I need to ask for your help. I need to know who did this to me.”
Tilting her head, Eira regarded me calmly. “What is it you expect me to do? I can hardly just stride in there and demand to see your file - they're probably already wary of me speaking with you. Though that may have been Veronica.” Shaking her head, she stared right at me. “You have to get out, Mentis. Get out if you can. The Order is corrupt, damaged - I refuse to say the Black Hand is any sort of right, but when it comes to the Order they're not exactly wrong.”
“There are pieces I remember, thoughts and feelings that are more painful than anything I've felt before. If I don't find out what happened while I was with the Order then the hole I feel inside it is going to eat me alive anyway. I need to find out what happened.” I struggled to find the words to explain the agony my soul was in, distraught at some loss I couldn't remember but knew had happened under the Order's stewardship. I couldn't find the words so I gave up and relied on Eira's good grace. “You don't have to get me a meeting with a goddamn Cleric, I just need a name or an address... something? You said they had a Spellslinger work on me, a high-ranking one, there can't be many of them, right?”
While the words were foreign to me, they stirred remembrance in Eira and she thought deeply on anything she could offer. “The Order only has six stationed on the Eastern seaboard, two of which are at the local compound. If you want, I can get their information and relay it to you as soon as possible.”
“That's all I ask...” I began to slow my pacing, hoping that a step in the right direction was not too far away. There was still a doubt in the back of my mind that Eira could be protecting herself, telling me what I wanted to hear, but at this point I had nowhere else to turn. “I know this isn't easy for you, I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to feed me to the wolves after everything I've put you and Murdoc though...”
She quirked an eyebrow, a wry smile on her face. “I AM the one that pulled you out of retirement, you know. You also didn't kill him. You nearly did, but you didn't. When I feel the need to kill you, you'll know - the split second before you drop dead.”
“Good to know.” Sensing my stay coming to an end, I moves closer to the door. For some reason I felt the need to provide a modicum of proof for my claims of being part of The Order. My hand clutched the arm of my jacket slowly. “For what it's worth, I'm not sure the crusher would have killed him anyway. I've seen what else he fights.” I lifted the arm of his jacket to reveal my left forearm and the scars left by the horrific enemy of my memories.
Eira barely blinked at the marks, but reached out, tracing them with a delicate touch. ”He told me about this. He never did tell me why he saved you.” She locked eyes with me, a depth to her gaze I had never seen before - in that moment I saw the ghost of things she had seen... and done. “I'll do what I can to help you. It looks like we're in the same boat whether we like it or not.”
Not sure what to make of her comments, and stunned by the gaze of Eira's eyes, I turned for the door and gripped the handle. As it swung open the stifling air rushed in and snapped me out of this trance. Before leaving I looked back at Eira, who could have turned me away but didn't. She could have said and done many things, but perhaps the most unlikely had happened. Once she'd brought me back from retirement and now she'd aided me once more, though I knew the list of favours I could call on would run out deathly fast. “Thank you, Eira, for everything.”
Silently she closed the door behind me as I wandered out into the heavy night once more. The darkness seemed just a little lighter than it had before, a tinge of hope hanging there in the gloom. She could still sell me out to The Order, throw me into the clandestine obscurity of their domain without warning. She should relinquish her help, after all she owed me nothing. But somehow I trusted her word that soon I'd have the information I needed, the identity of the mind-smith that had corrupted my memories.
The pickup loomed on the road ahead as I left the golden light of the manor behind. Climbing into the cab I turned over the engine and switched the AC on, puffing like an asthmatic on the dashboard. The relief would come later, when I had some word, now I'd just be glad to leave this state behind and head for Schenectady once more.
