What goes bump in the night

Samuel blinked; that was somewhat anti-climactic...however, that's not necessarily a bad thing in this instance. He relinquished the handshake casually, letting his arm fall to his side. His hair and eyes returned to their standard gray, and he grinned in the way someone would when they found out something very interesting. "Think nothing of it. I was merely doing a scientific experiment, and I am satisfied with the results." He calmly walked over to his bed and sat down, flexing his right hand and staring at it intently. "Oh," he said without looking up, "You should probably get that hand of yours looked after. It's severely burned, you see. If you'd like, I can mend it post-haste."
 
Muerte looked down at his hand, noting how red it was. There were also a few gashes in the skin from where it had been burned away by the strength of the force.


"I'll bandage it later. This won't stop me from doing what I need to."
 
Samuel glanced up and caught sight of Muerte's mangled hand; he felt a slight pang of guilt. He rose from the bed, donning his right glove and removing his left, and strode over to Muerte with surprising speed. "Please, allow me. I'm the one who caused the wound, so I insist," he said with a grin and a nod, and placed his hand on the wrist of the injured hand. His hair turned a shocking white, and his eyes shone gold as the injury seemed to rewind and vanish into thin air. However, Samuel underestimated how quickly his power worked (he'd never used it on someone so covered in injuries) and had to pull away, coughing harshly. He put his glove back on and steadied himself on the bed. He was breathing slightly heavily, and his legs wobbled as he regained his posture. He'd absorbed more trauma than he'd intended to. Muerte's hand was perfectly healed, and many of the injuries covering his body rewound to some degree. He coughed once more as he shakily climbed into bed. "I really wish I had a control group for something like this," he said, mostly to himself. "This kind of operation isn't something a doctor should do blind. Though, either way, it was a success." He grinned to himself and closed his eyes. "Rest well, my painless partner."
 
Muerte, for the first time since anyone had seen him, showed actual surprise on his face. He flexed his hand a few times, and then looked at some of his other gashes. Within a few minutes, there was a pile of bloody thread next to him, but most of the injuries that would have likely taken two weeks or so to heal. Even his arm, which he had sliced open to replace the bone, most of the damage was repaired. The skin still needed to close, but everything beneath was now fully healed.


"I see. You give hurt with one hand, and take it away with the other."
 
"Indeed. Unfortunately for me, the pain I absorb becomes my own if I take in too much," he said. "I acquired much more trauma from you than I intended, and I'd much like to get some rest." He lay in silence for almost a minute before rising into a sitting position on the edge of his bed, letting his legs hang off. "...Unfortunately, it's difficult to sleep while my body aches from absorbed maladies. I very much dislike that I am asking this of you, but would you allow me to, for lack of better term, 'vent' my pain?" He looked over to Muerte, his expression a mix of slight guilt and honest request.
 
"Do as you will, I care not. If you cause damage merely note I will return it."


Muerte returned his attention to the desert eagle in front of him. He peeked down the barrel, making sure that it held no abnormalities. So . . . the man could absorb injuries into himself as pain? Useful.
 
"You need not worry about that; as far as I am aware I am quite incapable of causing physical harm, outside of burning that which I touch when I focus intently on harming with this right hand of mine," he said as he calmly walked over and took off his right glove yet again. "In this case, all I will be doing is injecting 'pain', but seeing as you seem not to feel that, we should have no issue." he placed his right palm onto Muerte's left shoulder, and felt the absorbed trauma start to leave him. His hair and eyes remained gray, however. "My hair and eyes change color depending on my intent. I would rather not burn you again, so I am not focusing my will on my right hand. As a result, the process takes longer, but the result is the same in the end." He began stroking his chin with his left hand as his right did its work. "Hmm...theoretically, I believe that you are the only one here that I would be able to heal to prime condition at any state. If I absorb too much trauma it causes me pain, gradually getting worse the more I take in. If I take in entirely too much, it even starts to cause me physical harm. Thus, I need to vent the stored pain before I dare to take in more. Seeing as you do not experience pain, this would allow me to heal you while also venting the trauma into you, with no harm done. Fascinating." He chuckled softly. "Of course, I would rather not be needed to do that. I would rather no one be harmed in the first place, but that isn't always feasible, sadly."
 
"Interesting. That could certainly be useful."


Muerte stood up as Samuel finished his work, walking over to the gun rack before setting the desert eagle in its slot.


"Your name, it's Samuel correct? A question if you will, a favor for the 'venting'. You are not the first to be aggravated when speaking with me in regards to life. What raises such fury in you?"
 
Samuel deliberated while he put his glove back on. "...I have difficulty describing my reason, to be honest." He crossed his arms. "Allow me to answer your question with one of my own. Before we got on the plane to return here, I believe you asked me what purpose Maribelle's life had. What purpose does YOUR life hold?" He spoke calmly and conversationally. "What is your answer to that?"
 
"I have none."


Muerte sat back down on the bed and let himself lie down against the pillow.


"I have been searching for that answer since I understood my own origins."
 
"Ah, I see. Well allow me to rephrase slightly. You also asked me what made Maribelle different from a corpse. What makes you different from one?"
 
"I believe my answer to your question lies with my previous answer. Though in truth I may be know different from a corpse. I was surrounded by them when I was born, and have been ever since. Who's to say I actually am any different? Perhaps that is the answer."


Despite his talk, Muerte's voice never fluxed or seemed to hold any emotion.
 
Samuel grinned slightly. "I believe you are wrong there. I have yet to hear a corpse speak, as you can. No deceased person I've seen is capable of moving, as you can. I definitely haven't seen a dead body fire a pistol, let alone two at once. Based on my observations of you, I would argue that you are very much alive." He uncrossed his arms and sat on his own bed, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly. "Personally, I say that the reason being alive is so important is because we are able to do all of those actions I listed and more. In short, we are able to impact the world around us in ways a cold, dead shell is unable to." He looked over to Muerte. "Maribelle's deceased mother, may she rest in peace, did not save her from the gremlins. You, however, did." He lied down onto his bed, adjusting himself under the blankets for comfort.
 
"That was the woman's doing. Haiku. If I had been alone I would have left her there."


Muerte put his hands behind his head


"I simply did as I was ordered. That's all I did, that's all I do."
 
Samuel was a little shocked at the response but if he was honest with himself he really shouldn't have been. "I understand. Shall I infer that you were ordered to converse with me at length regarding the formalities and definitions of life and death?"
 
"No. I asked you a question, as it may lead me to my answer. It seems you wished to extrapolate on the subject."


Muerte pulled up his arm and looked at the stitches. The blood had stopped flowing, though he had not completely washed away the stains from earlier. The idea that he had lost most of his injuries in such a short time was something new to him. Perhaps this human could be a more useful asset than he had registered earlier.
 
"I concede that you have a fair point there." Samuel remained silent for a few seconds. "...What answer are you looking for, exactly?"
 
"Why am I alive? I kept my life when every force of nature should have declared otherwise. And yet I do not know why. It seems you do not hold any clues to the answer I seek."
 
"Perhaps not. I am looking for my own purpose, my own reason to live, so I doubt I can be much aid to you in that respect. I do hope we both are able to find the answers we are so desperate for, though." He glanced over at the wall-mounted clock. "It's rather late," he said with a yawn, "we should be turning in. I'm sure tomorrow will bring its own excitement..." He shifted slightly in his bed. "Pleasant slumber to you, Muerte." Without waiting for a reply, he quickly drifted into sleep. He was exhausted in both body and mind from the day's events.
 
Haiku looked through the dossier carefully; this new one might prove a hazard if he were let around the weapons center of the base. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she looked at his background in particular. The director was making a bold move allowing a Cursed One to come here. She put away the file and slumped down on her bed, swords already put up appropriately. Within her mind's eyes, Haiku could still see Maribelle. The child had had Minuet's eyes; was that why she had become so protective of her? As she mused about all of this, her eyes slowly fluttered shut and she peacefully entered sleep.


------


Neimi entered into her feral state after making sure everyone was inside; she needed to release the pent-up fighting instincts within her. The jungle surrounding was filled with the sounds of a wild cat on the prowl and the death screams of its prey for a few hours before peace finally fell.


------


In the darkness, a creature walked out of the ocean water onto the beach. In the darkness, all that one could tell was that it was humanoid-esque. It collapsed with its feet still partially in the ocean, seeming to be almost unconscious as the water lapped around it. This thing did not move the entire night and would still be there in the morning.
 
The next morning came VERY early for shepard. At 4:00, he was awake. By 4:30, he was ready and heading out to the hangar. The president was no doubt going to make him wait for several hours, as a ploy to test his nerves, so he might as well be early. Haiku may be slightly rebellious, but at least she was dependable when she needed to be. The organization would be fine in his absence.


"Sir, we're ready to take off."


Shepard let out a sigh and grabbed his cane. The plane took off at precisely 4:42.
 
Samuel awoke surprisingly early for him; he was roaming the beach by about 9 am. As he strolled he caught sight of a figure lying prone by the water's edge. He rushed over to it, noticing that it was quite the strikingly attractive woman. He cautiously cradled her head in the crook of his arm. "Hello? Are you alright?" he asked, concern etched on his face.


Adrian had fallen asleep training; when he awoke at 8, he resumed where he left off.
 
Green eyes stared up at Samuel innocently. She looked down at the side of her leg, where there were obvious shark teeth marks. "....no....." Her voice was soft and quiet, seemingly fearful. This person appeared to be non-threatening at the moment. The water was close enough to her just in case something bad happened, like if he tried to take her inside or something.


------


Neimi was asleep up in her tree, napping away. The peaceful lapping of the ocean tides was not disturbing her dreams for the moment.


------


Haiku awoke by 7 a.m. She walked out of her room, fully prepared for training. Morning training would commence now and then she'd deal with the rest of the new misfits. She was really not looking forward to this day.
 
Samuel shifted himself so that he cradled her with his right arm, while slipping off the glove to his left hand. "I...understand that this is odd to ask in this situation, when we have just barely met, but I need you to trust me." He gently placed his left hand onto her knee, sapping the damage she took. Her wound closed before her eyes, and he smiled gently down at her. His eyes and hair were gold and white, respectively, since he was focusing his power on healing. It was finished in seconds. "There we go. Do you feel better?"
 
The woman's body tensed, then relaxed. "....I guess I do. Where am I, exactly?" Her eyes flitted back and forth, studying her surroundings. Her body felt extremely dry and she realized that she had gone nine hours without water. Quickly, her hands reached out towards the water. The waves suddenly came rolling up, splashing into them both. "....that's better."
 
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