Episode: 6.11

--- Black ---

He barely held back a snarl, already feeling his eyes flash, as the Behemoth he’d summoned began to break apart into Malice, before fading back into the other side of the things.

(Damn it…)

That had been part of the plan, to an extent, to test Tempest without actually killing her, to see if she had any new tricks, or if she’d let these years of peace rust her skills, with the apparent results being an interesting mix of both.

(Malice fucking DAMN IT!!!)

What he hadn’t planned for however, was for the knight to come into play so early. Yes, he’d expected one of his butterfly’s other allies to show up, had been hoping for it really, but not her (Malice be damned traitor of a knight!)

(But of fucking course, the knight has to save his ‘princess’…)

He shook his head in derision, his teeth itching as they tried to sharpen themselves into fangs.

(You just can’t help yourself, can you?)

It was something he should have accounted for…

If Tempest didn’t have one of her ‘friends’ to save her, and she was put in even a modicum of danger, her knight would step in, no matter what. That was something he was fully aware of…

(This’ll complicate things more than I wanted…)

(ShOuLD jUSt EaT tHeM aLreAdY!!!)

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

He shook his head, forcing his other-self back, (no matter how tempting the idea.)

(If we do that, we’d only accomplish half our goal, and our butterfly would end up hating us for nothing…)

Ignoring the animalistic growls in the back of his head, he took a moment to re-center himself, undoing the minor changes his… aggravation, had caused.

In an exercise of self-control, he inhaled a lungful of air, held it for a count of four, before slowly exhaling a cloud of black Malice, letting the whispering, clawing, darkness at the back of his soul fade back into the shadows where they belonged.

(Right then.)

He rolled his shoulders, before running his hand back through his hair.

(This is a setback, but in the end this doesn’t really matter.) He finally concluded, as his mind began adjusting his timetable and deciding the best way to force his more… (distracting) pieces onto the field so much earlier than intended.

(Now then, how best to handle this…)

He began moving, already a number of new plans forming in an effort to take advantage of this setback.

(Let’s see…)

His mind ran through his father’s previous victims, before stopping on one he knew was particularly close to his butterfly, one who’d more than enjoy the chance to raise some (Anarchy) if allowed to see her old friends.

(Yes, a friend corrupted…)

That got him thinking, about the various players from the previous game. Namely one his butterfly would hold a grudge against, a particularly powerful Fractured-Malcontent, one who wanted to be a good person so badly despite her past.

(If I’m corrupting one of their friends then… perhaps I can redeem an old enemy?)

He had no issue helping a fellow Malcontent, especially one so in need of it. Of course, it didn’t hurt that, she’d provide a nice twist to the game once things really get going. One that’ll settle her issues, while pushing things in his favor.

Thinking it over, he couldn’t help but let loose a feral grin as a new plan began piecing itself over.

(Yes, all things considered, Sonnet and Anarchy should provide the necessary pushes to set things up.)

On the one hand he hated the idea of playing those cards so soon, but on the other if he wanted a proper chance to establish himself without his butterfly realizing just what he was up to, those two were the most ideal to keep the heroes off balance.

He’d prefer to keep things subtle but given how the hounds on his heels had already chased him back to the Baskerville of all places, subtlety wasn’t something he could afford for much longer.

Regardless, even if he had more work cut out for him, he was nothing if not adaptable, (that’s something Asylum made damn sure of…)