Trombone Geek
KNIFE
((ENJOY THIS LONG-AS-FUCK POST. FEEL PRIVILEGED TO READ IT; I SPENT PRECIOUS TIME WRITING IT. JK, I DON'T HAVE A LIFE. Have fun!))
"It's good to know you're finally cooperating."
There he stood, two scientists staring into each others eyes, challenging one to back down; one wore a smirk, the other a glare colder than the vast expanses of space.
"You're going to fucking regret this," was the response.
Calvin's glasses lay, broken, on a nearby counter; they were useless. With nothing to soften his normal eye color to a more gentle brown, his eyes were ablaze with acidic fire. The man before him simply grinned.
"I'm still surprised you aren't thanking us for bringing you back to protect your little girl," he added, although when he looked back up he drew away slightly. Calvin's posture--scratch that, everything about him--screamed that he did not fear death. Whether because he had died once, or because he knew he would only be brought back once more because of his skill in breaking people, could not be told.
"All of the tools you need are set out; if you need anything else, just let us know," Calvin's opponent said stiffly, before leaving the room. Calvin himself sighed, running a hand through his hair. It hung loose now, with nothing to keep it up, flowing to about his shoulders where it stopped. He had started growing it out mostly after he helped Naomi escape, in an attempt to forget those times. Now, they were back, more vivid than any night terror.
"Everything is just wheeling backwards," he murmured, picking up the remains of his glasses. Which really only included the frames, with bits of glass scattered about on the counter. He had been endlessly relieved to see that Matthew hadn't been included in those who had been captured, but seeing Derrick had worried him. Derrick was Vladimor's servant, and Calvin was well aware of how close Matthew and Vladimor had grown; after his 'death,' they had, most likely, only grown closer. And Derrick happened to be the 'clean slate' he was to be working with. Pissing Matthew off worried him more than pissing the noble off, however dangerous his shadows may have been.
His thoughts continued to stray, and dwell on the smidgen of jealousy Calvin couldn't help but admit he felt, but he shoved it away. A time like this wasn't a time to focus on himself. He steered his thoughts towards Naomi's safety, and quit stalling. He left the room, following the directions the scientist who'd challenged him and given.
Before long, he came to Derrick's cell. He recognized the servant, as beaten and haggard as he looked, and paused outside of his cell. He could feel himself distancing himself from the whole situation, whether he liked it or not; but when he looked up, his eyes were dark and haunted, and the strange glow that normally existed was dimmed to almost nonexistence. He was wearing a lab coat, as it was the only thing available. He could've been mistaken for a normal scientist, had Derrick never seen him before.
Sliding the key into the cell door's lock, Calvin twisted and pulled, opening the door. "Get up. We're going somewhere." The entire time, he was careful to keep his mind on Naomi, on her safety; on the fact that they had to keep her drugged to prevent her escape; on the fact that escape was improbable, and this was all he could do. He barely registered anything else, letting some sick version of muscle memory work things out for him. To Calvin, his own reactions were ridiculous; everyone he'd befriended had survived experimentation, and managed to stay strong; what Calvin was experiencing was nowhere near that. So why did his reaction have to be so damn weak?! He felt the temptation to scream until his throat was raw, but shoved it away as well. He had no excuse for what he was doing.
"It's good to know you're finally cooperating."
There he stood, two scientists staring into each others eyes, challenging one to back down; one wore a smirk, the other a glare colder than the vast expanses of space.
"You're going to fucking regret this," was the response.
Calvin's glasses lay, broken, on a nearby counter; they were useless. With nothing to soften his normal eye color to a more gentle brown, his eyes were ablaze with acidic fire. The man before him simply grinned.
"I'm still surprised you aren't thanking us for bringing you back to protect your little girl," he added, although when he looked back up he drew away slightly. Calvin's posture--scratch that, everything about him--screamed that he did not fear death. Whether because he had died once, or because he knew he would only be brought back once more because of his skill in breaking people, could not be told.
"All of the tools you need are set out; if you need anything else, just let us know," Calvin's opponent said stiffly, before leaving the room. Calvin himself sighed, running a hand through his hair. It hung loose now, with nothing to keep it up, flowing to about his shoulders where it stopped. He had started growing it out mostly after he helped Naomi escape, in an attempt to forget those times. Now, they were back, more vivid than any night terror.
"Everything is just wheeling backwards," he murmured, picking up the remains of his glasses. Which really only included the frames, with bits of glass scattered about on the counter. He had been endlessly relieved to see that Matthew hadn't been included in those who had been captured, but seeing Derrick had worried him. Derrick was Vladimor's servant, and Calvin was well aware of how close Matthew and Vladimor had grown; after his 'death,' they had, most likely, only grown closer. And Derrick happened to be the 'clean slate' he was to be working with. Pissing Matthew off worried him more than pissing the noble off, however dangerous his shadows may have been.
His thoughts continued to stray, and dwell on the smidgen of jealousy Calvin couldn't help but admit he felt, but he shoved it away. A time like this wasn't a time to focus on himself. He steered his thoughts towards Naomi's safety, and quit stalling. He left the room, following the directions the scientist who'd challenged him and given.
Before long, he came to Derrick's cell. He recognized the servant, as beaten and haggard as he looked, and paused outside of his cell. He could feel himself distancing himself from the whole situation, whether he liked it or not; but when he looked up, his eyes were dark and haunted, and the strange glow that normally existed was dimmed to almost nonexistence. He was wearing a lab coat, as it was the only thing available. He could've been mistaken for a normal scientist, had Derrick never seen him before.
Sliding the key into the cell door's lock, Calvin twisted and pulled, opening the door. "Get up. We're going somewhere." The entire time, he was careful to keep his mind on Naomi, on her safety; on the fact that they had to keep her drugged to prevent her escape; on the fact that escape was improbable, and this was all he could do. He barely registered anything else, letting some sick version of muscle memory work things out for him. To Calvin, his own reactions were ridiculous; everyone he'd befriended had survived experimentation, and managed to stay strong; what Calvin was experiencing was nowhere near that. So why did his reaction have to be so damn weak?! He felt the temptation to scream until his throat was raw, but shoved it away as well. He had no excuse for what he was doing.