Gress was stirred awake by a dull pain knocking through his skull. He groaned, shutting his eyes firm against the feeling, wrapping himself tighter in the cloak. It didn’t stop the knocks, three more rhythmic hammer strikes to his mind.
“Gress?” Eleanor’s voice croaked through the thin door.
The woman.
The voice was strained with pained anger, dragging itself across Gress’ spine like sandpaper.
Let her in and I’ll take over. You’re too weak to stop me. I’ll kill her.
Callous promises that fell on uncaring ears. Gress only narrowed his eyes at the door, his chest twisting and aching with all the words he’d drummed up for the woman.
“Look, I know you saw the letter…” Eleanor trailed off again, followed by unclear murmuring behind the thin door. “I can explain, it was-”
“It was a long time ago, right?” Gress called back out. The soft facade he’d mastered over the years had peeled back, exposing a lower, fouler tone. “Or it was out of context? It wasn’t meant to be seen? I get it, Eleanor.” Behind the door, the old woman stiffened and held in a sob. Her proper name coming from Gress was so foreign, so wrong, so hateful.
“...I don’t blame you, and I forgive you, it just doesn’t matter anymore.” He finished.
Eleanor stepped back, steadied by Bedan. Soune was only half paying attention, scanning around the old book store.
Dilapidated was putting it nicely, it was clearly one of the oldest buildings in the town. Damp rot ate at the frames around dirty windows, a mishmash of materials doing their best to haphazardly reinforce the building.
Most notable to Soune was how little effort was put into its upkeep. Its neighbours had clean windows, swept porches, an effort put in to preserve and protect the history except for one blighted spot of neglect.
Bedan stepped up to the door next, producing a sheet of painkillers from his case before using it to knock at the door.
“Open up, boy, I need to check you over.”
Him too. Get rid of them before I do.
The voice was even more laden with spite towards the Doctor.
“Don’t think I won’t break this door down! Now!” Bedan snapped, there was no response. The three waited with bated breath for the clicking of locks, the scraping of handles, even just the shuffling against the floor. There was none.
“Doctor Bedan…” A voice eventually crackled out.
“I’m here, boy. Let me have a look at you.” A rare, pleading softness came from the Doctor.
“...The other two in the surgery, are they okay?”
“Why wouldn’t they be?” Bedan’s brow furrowed with the words.
“She attacked them first. The wounds were opened on Razgrith, and Antonio fell out of his bed…I didn’t get a chance to check them over.”
Bedan rushed curses out under his breath; Fractures, infection, haemorrhaging, all the potential life-threatening issues that could arise from those injuries.
“Are you just saying that to get rid of us!” He demanded through the door. The response was shaky at first.
“No…I’m fine, I’m always fine. Go help them.”
Bedan’s scowl turned sharp and unstable, he bashed his arm against the door in rage. He growled a foul obscenity before sliding the sheet of pills under the doorframe and storming away.
“Where are you going?” Eleanor tried to stop him and was shrugged off. “He needs help!”
“Do you think he’d lie about that?! Those two could be crashing as we speak! I’ll be back for him!” Bedan continued his furious stride away, and Eleanor cursed him under her breath.
“You two are terrible at this…” Soune remarked from the side, crouching to brush her fingers over loose stones in the ground.
“Well, you’ve seen and heard it. He’s not open to listening…Let’s go and formulate a plan.” Eleanor tried to force calmness, brushing down her uniform as she took shaky steps off the porch.
“No. You said I got to speak with him, I’m gonna speak with him.” Soune straightened up, rubbing her thumb along the edge of a decently sized stone. “One way or another.”
“What are you-” Eleanor had turned towards Soune just in time to see her whip the stone through the old, muddy window. The sound, the sharp, ringing, crystalline breaking of glass sent Eleanor into a small panic. She stood there aghast, watching the white-haired woman gather her coat sleeve over her fist, punching through the remains of the shattered window to reach in and open the door.
By the time the old woman had blinked sense back into herself, the door had closed and locked behind Soune. She mouthed a silent plea for Soune’s success, and shambled over to one of the neighbouring buildings to collapse against a wall.
----------------------------------------
Good, they’ve both left…
Gress sighed, he’d got what he wanted. They were away from him, they were safe, and yet he still remained there, pained and aching, resenting them for not trying harder, for not seeing between the lines he himself had snapped close.
It wasn’t a fair feeling, he knew that, he knew it wasn’t fair to hold that against them.
It didn’t stop that wanting, selfish pain from digging into him.
He was about to force his teary eyes shut when the window shattered.
Stop them!
When Gress tried to raise himself up, he just fell backwards against the wall, too exhausted to stand himself up. Unsteady eyes watched the arm reach in and twist the handle open.
“Get away!” He tried to roar, coming out instead as a hoarse hiss. The door swung open hard on the old hinges, Gress winced away from the stabbing noon-light, groaning from the spike of head pain.
“No light, huh?” The low voice remarked, then the dull thud of rotting wood shut away the piercing suns. He blinked back focus, glaring at the silhouette.
“Go away…” he groaned, wrapping himself tighter.
“No.” Soune responded flatly. “I need to talk with you.” Her stern tone faltered as her eyes adjusted to the gloomy halflight, stained brown and dull by the dirty windows and pulled curtains.
Soune wandered over to the counter against the closest wall, leaning against it and letting the sole beam of sunlight spear the air in front of her. On the opposite wall, huddled and hunched in shuddering shadow, two dull, golden eyes glared at her.
“...So, you gave Kirche a hell of a go-over, huh?” Soune started.
“And you’re here to finish the job?” Soune shuddered at hearing his tone more clearly, there was a low, rough sharpness to it, a dangerous edge.
“Nah, I just need to talk to you…” Soune let her curiosity peak up. “Gotta wonder though, who started it.”
“I did, she was hurting Raz so I stepped in. ” Gress dismissed, more concerned and focused on the markings along his skin. They were still, and there was no presence trying to force itself into his mind.
“What happened to killing them, huh?” He murmured to his arm, and received pricking pain in response.
“Oh?” Soune wondered if it was a lie, debating why Kirche would turn on Razgrith, it took her a moment to realise the connection. “Oh…shit.” Soune rolled her neck awkwardly. “Well, thanks for standing up for ‘em. Kirche doesn’t really have an off switch so I’m not sure if she’d have stopped herself.”
The Splinter half huffed, half groaned in response.
“No good deed goes unpunished…I helped them, I got hurt for it. That’s always the way…” He muttered, clutching the cloak over himself.
“Hurts, huh?” Soune stepped away from the desk, leaving her pack on the dusty surface. The silver backing of the painkillers peeked from under the door. Her lips tightened, realising getting him medicated might help sway the Splinter towards her idea. “So why’d you do it then? If you always end up hurt, why bother helping in the first place?”
He shrugged weakly. “I just don’t like seeing people get hurt-Nghn!” He clutched his arm across himself, wincing at the fresh waves of pain lashing through it.
“Could’ve fooled me…” Soune picked up the sheet, an opioid-based painkiller. Her eyes went wide at the dosage. “How many of these do you take?”
“Two or three.”
“A day?”
“At a time.”
“Fucken’ hell…” She remarked, returning to her pack to fish out her canteen. Below it. the plastic shell of the painkiller injector caught her eye.
“Why not use an injector? Would be a lot more effective than pills.” She prodded.
“Can’t. That protection of mine won’t even let needles in.” Soune tightened her lips in thought, and slipped the syringe into her sleeve.
“Just leave them there. I don’t need help.” Gress growled out. Soune looked over her shoulder at him, tracing his dull stare to the ground.
“That’s what most people huddling in a corner say. Look, I’m no bleeding heart, but I think you’re right -about good deeds and all that- so I make an effort to try and settle my scores. Even if that’s just helping you wallow a bit more comfortably.” She held up the sheet of pills. “You don’t look like you’re in a hurry to get up, anyway.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Lies.
“You’re lying…” Gress glared upwards at her. Soune stiffened, questioning his claim with her own stare. “You said you wanted to talk. You want something, this isn’t about a score.”
“Hm.” Soune shifted, turning fully towards the pile of pitiful shadows again. He was sharp, picking up on the subtlest twists of half-truths. “It can be both.” She offered with a pout.
“It isn’t though, isn’t it?” Even just from the slight downturn of his eyes, she could see him tensing, pulling back from the conversation. Soune sighed and stepped forward, still staring down at the spiteful man.
“Cutting to the chase then. No, it’s not. I need your help.” Gold eyes rolled, but steadied back on her, curious. “Your help, specifically. The short of it is I need to get past some big guns, and my options for bulletproof people are a bit thin.”
“The hell would I help you for?”
“It’s not for me, it’s for this shitty little town of yours. Past those guns is the one thing that could get you all out of this mess. Consider it a favour.”
“A favour for what? You want us to owe you? Praise our new saviour?” Hissed, sharp questions. Soune clicked her tongue, struggling to work around the man’s suspicion. A recurring question followed, one she was sick of hearing. “Why do you care?”
That pestering, infuriating question.
“I DON’T KNOW!” Soune snapped, her annoyance venting out in a shouted instant. She stepped forward into the broken beam of light, pouring out words in a spew of rationalisations. Her hands shook and twisted around to accentuate her points.
“I don’t know why I care so damned much! Maybe it’s because I’m sick of King getting his way! Maybe it’s because this muddy little shithole saved my only real friends from dying! Maybe it’s because I just feel like it! Or maybe just because for just one day here, for the first time in four years, I felt like a fucking human again! Not just a tool!” She paused, chest heaving with panicked breaths, shocked at herself pouring out that much emotion, no matter how much it’d been gnawing at her.
“...Well?” Gress muttered quietly to himself.
…
Lies.
Lies!
LIES LIES-
“Lies!” Gress finished, fangs in a parted snarl faintly visible. “You’re lying to me! Like the rest of them, I’m sick of it…” His rage settled quickly back into apathy. He retreated, coddling himself back into the cloak. “You and the rest of them…all just dancing around wanting me dead to save themselves…either do it or say it. Enough of the lies…”
“I wasn’t lying!” Soune barked, huffing out a sharp breath before settling into a crouch, lowering herself in the sunbeam to the demon's eye level. She mirrored his stare into the carpet. “Well, I wasn’t but…wasn’t really the whole truth either, I guess.” She scratched uncomfortably at her head and took a deep, steadying breath to place herself and focus.
The small space smelled odd, so starkly different from the dust and metal she was so accustomed to. Mildew mixed with the must of old papers, and a bizarre, acrid smokiness. She caught the curious gold eyes staring at her odd behaviour.
Curious.
There it was.
The word she was desperately clawing for.
“Truth is…That’s all justifications. I needed to give myself a reason to do this, to do something stupid, selfish, and short-sighted. If it benefits Ingram and screws over King, that gives me reason enough to indulge.” She moved from crouching into sitting, resting her chin in her hand and staring up at the sagging floarboards. “You want the truth, I'll give it to you…on the catch you keep it to yourself.”
“That won’t be much of a concern…” Gress murmured. Soune sighed and shrugged, ready to voice the ridiculous reality.
“...It’s a bunker entrance, or a quarry or-whatever. Doesn’t matter. It’s sealed shut, and protected heavily. I saw people getting taken in there and I doubt they come out. A friend of mine was killed trying to escape.”
“So it’s revenge?” The jagged voice cut in.
“Nah. That’d make too much sense…would be too noble.” Her eyes turned over to Gress. “I just want to know what’s inside.”
Slow-blinking, confused silence prompted her to continue. Soune sighed, holding her hands out to try and articulate her bizarre thought process.
“Let’s say you see a closed door, or a box, or just…something. Something closed and locked, and you know it’s locked - probably for a reason too - but you don’t know what’s behind it. Wouldn’t the question of ‘what is it?’ eat you away a little, day by day, just a little it nags at you each time, do you get it?” The Splinter shook his obscured head.
“Well, I do.” Soune continued. “Not just a little, either. Not knowing what’s behind that door’s been nagging me since I saw it. It’s like a…half solved puzzle, or something just barely out of place. It wasn’t so bad before but it’s been killing me since I saw how you work.”
“How I work?”
“Yeah, the portals, that’s my way past those turrets. With you I have a chance to get to that door, and it might be my only chance. So, Gress, that’s the deal. You help sate my curiosity, I give Ingram a way out of this shitshow… possibly.”
Contemplative silence followed for a while, neither of them breaking away from the stare of the other.
“You said you’ve been working under your King for four years…that you had one left. You’d really throw that all away for the sake of…curiosity?” Gress finally asked.
“In a heartbeat.” Soune answered with a subtle smirk.
More silence followed, blissful, uninterrupted silence. No voice. No lies.
The Splinter’s laugh started as a shallow, single huff. Then a sharp chuckle, before breaking into a wild, choking cackle. She heard the same faint snaps undercutting the bellows, shrill glassy sounds from deep within. It made her smile, such a bizarre, utterly different sound. The smile dropped not long after, fading with his laughs.
“Oi, it’s not that funny…” Soune pouted.
“Sorry, it’s not, it's just…” Gress steadied, stifling his cackle and rubbing the tears from his eyes. “It’s just so…simple. The idea of all these damned suits getting undone by you messing around with doors. It’s just-” He snorted back a fresh laugh.
Soune huffed out, but let her tentative smile creep up.
“So, you’ll do it?”
Heavy silence blanketed them again, drowning the moment of lightness.
“...Sorry but… No. I’ve already made my mind up on what I’m doing…” Gress said, dropping away from Soune’s gaze.
“And that’s…oh.” Soune remembered the card he’d shown her earlier. She couldn’t look at him, some odd pain and anger starting to chew at her with the realisation.
Coward.
The word sat at the edge of her tongue.
“...It’s the reliable choice. Whatever this door of yours has, it’s a long shot if it’d even change anything. At least this way I can guarantee them a chance…” Gress murmured the reasons more to himself than Soune.
“Don’t mince words.” Soune cut in with a snap, glaring at the Splinter. “You’re going to die for them?”
“...Yeah.”
“Do you think they’d do the same for you?”
He looked at her, the marks had receded from creeping across his face, enough to make a joyless smile visible in the half-light.
“Some of them already did…”
“And what would they think of you throwing that away?”
Another mirthless gasp of a laugh.
“Just paying it forward...”
Soune sighed and started to raise herself from the old carpet. Her hand brushed against something hard and sharp, a shard of the broken window, calloused fingers wrapped around it. She firmly shook her head, letting the disappointment, rage and glimpse of understanding shake out.
“Well. I’m sorry to hear that.” She strode towards the huddled man, keeping the shard obscured.
“You would be…I suppose I get what you mean though. About closed doors.” Gress brought his hand up to his face again, studying the glossy material. “I just think they’re better off closed. Or rather, things get locked up for a reason…” Stabs, pain, the same as always when he said something it didn’t like. He couldn’t even groan or hiss at it anymore. The weak rebels of a demon just made him loose a strained chuckle, undercut with a sob.
“Maybe, maybe not, but all the same. I want to know…It was nice to meet you, Gress.” Soune held her hand out, the shard hidden in her other.
Gress eyed the gesture suspiciously, then tentatively reached a clawed hand out. When Soune felt the electric shudder through her fingertips upon touching the anomaly, she lunged forward.
She gripped tight around his wrist, pins and needles spreading up from the contact. Her other hand started to wildly stab the shard towards him.
“Knew it!” He hissed, eyes staring at the shiv as it approached him.
She listened, waiting for the portals to crackle open, as soon as the sound started she released his wrist and twisted her wrist down. The autoinjector fell into her hand. In the other, the swing continued, and the point of the glass disappeared into the portal.
In one rapid movement Soune plunged both her hands forward. She was baring over the huddled man, looking down on him with a faint smirk, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“What did you-” He was cut off with warm numbness flowing through him. It had plunged through his cloak into his afflicted bicep. On the other side, the glass shard had mirrored back towards Soune, but found itself blocked against the breast of her coat. The portals snapped close, severing the shard in half. Soune fell back on her behind, releasing a shaky breath.
“That could’ve gone bad, huh?” She looked at her hand, thin cuts were visible in the halflight where she’d gripped the glass too hard. “That should work a bit better than those pills…” Gress was silent, still staring at the odd, smirking woman.
“...That was wasteful. I’m gone tomorrow anyway.” He offered.
“Maybe. Just call it my way of paying it forward.” She held up the spent syringe, twirling it in the air. “A present from Raz.” She flicked it forward into his lap. Gress picked it up, staring at the device with wet eyes. Odd, unplaceable emotions wracked him.
“You could’ve just passed it to me.”
“I could’ve, but I wanted to see what your portal trick would do, seems like it can get distracted…”
“You’re really just like this? Just…instantly acting on whatever makes you interested, no matter the risks?” He prodded, a smirk and wink answered him. Gress shook his head and started murmuring to himself again.
“...Hey.” Soune brought his attention back to her. She was studying his features as best she could in the gloomy light.
“What?” He grumbled.
“...This side of you. Where you’ve not got such a… softness. Is this the real Gress, or trying to front some strength before the end?”
He contemplated what she meant for a while, trying to mull over the differences.
“I don’t get what you’re playing at but…this is me.”
“That so…Why were you hiding it then?” She cocked her head, closely watching his response.
“...They don’t need more reason to doubt me - to be afraid of me. I start making a cutting comment here, I call out a lie there. I lash out just once, no matter the context and suddenly…the others were right, and I’m the monster they were promised I'm not.” His response was meek and quiet, as if he’d be punished just for speaking the words. He kept rubbing at his arm too, expecting pains that never came. His lips tensed and pursed, risking the words.
“...Twenty odd years of disgusted glares and worried whispers…you get good at disarming them…you have to. Over time it becomes easier, more natural. So that is the ‘real’ Gress. Because it has to be.”
“Hmm. I think I get it, to a point anyway.” Soune raised herself, patting away the dust on her cloak and sucking at the cuts on her hand. “Well, I prefer this one.” She murmured through the metal tang. “More interesting.”
Such a simple line, so simple she didn’t even think to look at the instant and dire expression shift it’d cause. Soune simply walked away, lazily waving over her shoulder and not showing the tight frown of disappointment to him. I’d say I'd fix the window but…you know.”
A chuckle brought her attention back to the man, a more full, genuine smile on his face.
“The funny thing is…the door was never locked.”
She offered him back a quick huff of a laugh before leaving. The door closed before her with a heavy sigh.
“Is he alright?” Eleanor asked after rushing up to her, she was taken aback by the glare Soune gave her. Even moreso when she didn’t answer, only releasing a tight breath in response.
“He’s fine, always is, right?... It’s been a long morning, do you have someplace I can rest a bit?” She tersely responded.
Eleanor looked past her into the broken window, saw nothing and returned to Soune.
“I don’t imagine you’re keen on a cellmate… you can use my couch, deal?”
Soune didn’t take the woman’s outstretched hand, didn’t meet her worried stare. A twinge of unplaceable anger towards Eleanor panged in her chest. She managed a curt, tight response.
“Lead the way.”