"Let me get this straight: Some madman broke into the apartment and smacked the crap out of all your sorry asses?"
I can't fucking believe this! WHAT THE FUCK DID I HIRE YOU FOR?!
"Ugh" I massaged my temples. I feel a headache coming. Another headache. You know why another? BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE A FUCKING HEADACHE!!!
"Relax, Jean. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale." I don't really see why people say this when they're stressed out. Hearing the same thing over and over again is just maddening, not relaxing. Nevertheless, it works. The second headache gets lost somewhere in between my head and the Land Where Pains Inhabit, if there really is such a place.
If there is, I'll buy myself an airport ticket and bring a couple of nukes with me. I could really get rid of these sledgehammering headaches.
Aaand here I am talking to myself again... Though I guess it's best than splitting a part of my consciousness and pretend that it's a separate personality which happens to share my brain and body.
... well, you know...
Dont. You. Fucking. DARE!!!
Ahem.
I look at my 'subordinate' sitting his grease worn jeans-clad ass in my spotless couch. That's it for the 'spotless' part, I fear. Why does he look like someone thought jelly should be cooked in ovens and added chickenpox into it? 'Subordinate' is too fancy for him, really. More like, 'sorry excuse for a human being whose mother should be ashamed for leaving this placental cancer grow and giving birth to it instead of eradicating when it was still possible.'
Yes. I am exaggerated. AND crazy. THAT'S WHAT MY FUCKING POWER DOES!!!
Although I do have to recognize, the 'guy' (see previous paragraph for the quotes explanation) is good at his job. Something I can't say about the other... sacks of excrement.
You mean shitbags.
Yes, that's very much~ I TOLD YOU NOT TO DARE!!!
Relax. I'm not a split part of your personality. I'm your power. Remember? 'Efficient bipolarity?' Rings any bells? 'A Root-powered assistant lives in your brain and duplicates your mental capacities?' Fills up all the blanks?
Why on damnablest tarnation did my power turn me crazy?
Bipolarity and Dementia are not the same thing. Though then again, if I were a hallucination of yours, I'd be closer to dissociative identity disorder.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Why does this feel copypasted from somewhere else?
Uh, because it is? Ever heard of the Jo~
Silence!!! We don't want our story reported, do we John?
Okay, okay. What about Elri~
Like I said, SILENCE!!!!!
I get it, jeesh! Talk about anger management issues.
Oh, but isn't that the lest of our problems, John?
My eyes go back to the scrutinizing of my... hired mercenary. Though I have to say, 'mercenary' is the last thing you'd think if you looked at this person. Seriously, why does he look so much like an overbaked potato? Oh sweetest Larry. Now that I realize, he does look like a potato! And he is in my couch! Is that where the term came from?
You're digressing.
That I am.
"Well then... Mecerio" it took efforts from both John and I not to fall to the floor and roll laughing my (our?) ass(es?) off. "Explain it to me in more detail."
The lad in question (because yes, me being twenty years old and him being eighteen still means I'm older than him) shrugs his shoulders, which sends a wave of jelliness running down his belly. "It's simple. Three people go in. Eleven people go out. Eight of them knocked out. Those are your people. I don't have a meta-ability, I can't know what happened inside that house."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. If I keep doing this it's going to stretch until it breaks... Wait, do nose bridges break? They are bridges, so maybe the correct word is collapse?
You are not turning this into a Ponte de Barcas-themed discussion, are you?
"Aaaalrighty-o. Let's ignore the fact that it's near impossible that three people take out eight in an open confrontation. Which it is. In fact, let's not ignore it. Let's assume at least two of these individuals have meta-abilities. Or one of them has a single, very dangerous one."
Oh my! I'm so clever!
Alright clever boy. How are you going to deal with two powered slash one superpowered person against you if you're out of your Legion of Evil?
Let's leave that for later. I'm clever, not a fucking lamp genius. And shut it with the smartass comments. i will not turn this into a battle of attrition with my own brain.
Like I said, It's a parallel mind, not DID.
I DON'T FUCKING CARE!!!
"If that's the case, where on damnablest earth did they take them? And how?" I focus back on the wriggling couch potato (I've grown used to the term. It suits him.)
I might not be the smartest guy around the block (which I probably am) but it just doesn't sit straight. The whole scenario, not the guy. Although he isn't the model of a correct sitting posture either. My point is someone must've noticed the committee of beautiful woman leaded by a mafia-looking man carrying eight unconscious beer pigs, right? Unless I am insane.
Which you are. But you do have a point.
"That's the thing. I think they went through the sewers. I looked at the building's original blueprints, and it looks like there's an entrance inside."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah."
"..."
"..."
"Well there's nothing to be done then, is there?"
"I don't ~"
"THERE WAS A FUCKING SEWER ENTRANCE IN OUR BARRACKS AND YOU DON'T DEEM IT RELEVANT ENOUGH TO TELL ME?????!!!!!"
The guy shrinks over himself in the couch, which makes him look like a... Uhh... I guess dipping a ragged cloth in water and then trying to pack it into a mint box would be the most accurate comparison.
Jean. You were trying to sound intimidating.
Oh, yes.
"Listen here you little shi~"
*Knock knock knock*
"WHO IS IT?!" I call out, a little bit more desperate than I'd like to. Then again, this miserably failed attempt of a support agent doesn't make it any easy for me.
"Pizza delivery service!"
"Oh, great! I love a great pizza~!"
...
Oh, fuck.