Andrei inhaled deeply, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs for the first time. He was free, and the scent of freedom was intoxicating. He would do anything to keep it.
His dark eyes adjusted to the blinding light of the sun, warming his skin with an unfamiliar heat. He felt alive again, ready to take on whatever fate had in store for him.
With a deep breath he glanced around, eyeing his targets. He could enjoy life once they were taken care of - or even better - while he did his job.
Andrei's lips curled into a sinister smirk as he spread his arms wide, letting his weapons tumble onto the ground. His eyes shifted from one cop to the other as they nervously studied him.
The cops looked at each other hesitantly, none of them expecting this to happen. Ginger was the first to react, his voice shaking as he spoke. "I am glad that you want to resolve this peacefully."
Andrei exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders, arms still wide open, face split by a smile, head tilted to the side, curiously watching the pair.
"Walk forward, slowly," Scarred Cheek commanded.
And so Andrei obeyed, walking towards his victims.
"Turn around," the cop barked out again and Andrei stopped, close enough for what he had in mind. Ginger began shifting nervously from one foot to the other, clearly anxious to put an end to this situation but not daring to act rashly.
Andrei no longer obeyed, beginning to speak in an eerie whisper. "Your friends are dead." This caused both cops to freeze and stiffen up, Scarred Cheek looking resigned while Ginger's face morphed through emotions until finally settling on rage.
He took a step forward but couldn't have predicted what happened next; Andrei threw back his head and cackled maniacally.
"I butchered them until they begged for death," he said with a smile that filled his face from ear to ear; proud of his, and Michael's, heinous actions.
Ginger didn't hesitate, swinging at him with all his might, aiming for his neck. Andrei casually stepped back and to the side, barely dodging the blow. He didn't stop there though; Instead of letting Ginger recover, Andrei grabbed hold of his wrist and contorted his body, sending him flying through the air towards the ground.
Andrei rolled forward before Ginger could even land, avoiding Scarred Cheek's overhand strike. He deftly came up standing by Ginger's feet and kicked one derisively.
"Stand up, I am not done with you." he commanded as he retreated backwards for several steps - arms now spread wide - a sinister grin playing on his lips.
Ginger scrambled to his feet searching for the cudgel that had flown away from his grasp. Scarred Cheek kept a wary eye on Andrei, studying his every move, while attempting to keep himself between the young man and the enemy.
"Let me guess, the ugly one spent his points into Intellect, right?" There was no response.
"I'll take that as a yes." Andrei said with a shrug.
He turned towards Ginger and continued in a mocking tone: "And shorty on Psyche."
For a moment Ginger froze, taken aback. "H-how do you know?"
Andrei shrugged his shoulders again. "You are far too useless for it to be anything else."
The young man was overcome by rage once again, yet somehow managed to stay close to his ally instead of rushing straight at their opponent.
Andrei simply smiled at them while spreading his arms again as if inviting them to attack him, challenging them openly.
They circled around Andrei, desperate to cut off his escape routes and overwhelm him with attacks from angles he could not anticipate.
Andrei let them.
Ginger made the first move, but before the young man could even finish his swing, Andrei had already blocked the path of his arm. Without pause he plunged forward, using his shoulder as a battering ram that drove Ginger back, then spun around and smashed his elbow into Ginger's nose with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed through the air, but didn't distract Andrei from his next target: Scarred Cheek.
He slammed his foot against the floor for momentum before unleashing a powerful leg sweep that would have been unstoppable had it not been anticipated by Scarred Cheek who nimbly stepped away from its reach.
His opponent seized the opportunity to press forward with a sideways overhand cut, every direction in which Andrei could physically dodge blocked off. But in that moment of desperation Andrei focused all of his strength and exploded sideways off the ground - too fast for Scarred Cheek to react- slamming hard into the ground as Scarred Cheek's attack brushed by him, avoiding certain death.
"What?!", exclaimed his opponent. He could see the utter disbelief on Scarred Cheek' face as his swing once again missed.
For once Andrei didn't waste time gloating, immediately rolling to the side and avoiding a crushing blow that would have shattered his leg. Scrambling to his legs as the young man rushed forward with an upward swing, he turned sideways at the last second. He didn't bother with a fancy twist this time, instead just slamming his elbow into the back of the kid's head as his momentum carried him past Andrei. The young man collapsed to the ground in a heap of blood, still conscious but clearly dazed.
Andrei jumped forward as an axe flew towards him, narrowly escaping a beheading by the hairs on his neck. He pirouetted away, leaping and side-stepping through a flurry of murderous blows delivered by Scar Cheek with two hands; power replacing precision in each vicious swing, intent of mowing down is foe.
He felt the metallic wall behind him before he saw it, and something glinted in his eyes; the axe-man was driving him straight into a trap! As if anticipating his realization, Scar Cheek's face contorted in triumph. They had reached the end of their dance - with no escape in sight, Andrei watched death come swinging towards him in the form of an axe as Scarred Cheek smiled in satisfaction.
Andrei's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he caught the axe haft with his bare hands, grinning at Scar's hate-filled face. He felt his senses scream again and pulled hard on the axe, dragging Scar along with a shout of surprise. And then it happened - a sickening thud as an axe collided with his human shield's back.
"ARRRGH!"
Andrei looked over his victim's shoulder at the man that ruined his fun.
"How anticlimactic."
Ginger's face was contorted in horror at what he had done, but Andrei only grew angrier for having his fun cut short. Grasping Scar Cheek's head in one hand, he slammed it repeatedly into the wall until the man fell to the ground, dead instantly.
Terror replaced shock and the man tried to run. But he couldn't, his fear addled mind incapable of putting one foot in front of another. He tripped, falling to the ground, laying there helplessly.
Stop.
It seemed his time was coming to an end. Andrei wondered if it would be more amusing to end the whelp himself or let Michael do it.
Enough.
As Andrei reached out to seize the kid, Michael yanked him back into his mind and slammed the cabinet door shut behind him. He was surprised by how quickly he regained control, but then again, they were the same person - he always expected nothing less than perfection from himself.
----------------------------------------
The cabinet was a cramped and dark place. Michael was keeping his arms close to his body simply to fit in. There was barely any room to move, much less to lay down. The only light streaming in was from the small thin hole in the doors, which allowed him to observe the world through his body's eyes.
While this was going through his head, Michael was banging on the doors of his prison cell as hard as he possibly could. But whatever he tried the door didn't even budge. A surge of panic filled him as he observed Andrei throw his weapons away through the gaps in the cabinet's doors, the psychopath was going to get them killed.
Looking around for anything he could use, Michael noticed a stack of papers he was standing on. Reaching them was an awkward endeavor, bending his knees as far as the walls would allow, then trying to grasp them, the tips of his fingers barely scraping the floor. He didn't envy Andrei's cell but it was the least that monster deserved.
Every now and then Michael checked through the peepholes at the state of the fight, but by whatever grace of god, Andrei was winning. Not only that, but he seemed to be toying with his enemies. Andrei always was a dangerous person, but Michael knew this was impossible, even for him.
Reading in the prison was rather tricky, using what little light the outside world could provide to illuminate page after a page scraped of the floor of the cabinet. Eventually the entire picture of what he had collected was revealed to him.
INTELLECT 3 PSYCHE 1 PHYSIQUE 8 MOTORICS 3 Logic 3 Volition 1 Endurance 8 Hand/Eye Coordination 4 Encyclopedia 3 Inland Empire 1 Pain Threshold 8 Perception 3 Rhetoric 3 Empathy 1 Physical Instrument 8 Reaction Speed 4 Drama 3 Authority 1 Electro-Chemistry 8 Savoir Faire 3 Conceptualization 3 Esprit De Corps 1 Shivers 8 Interfacing 3 Visual Calculus 3 Suggestion 1 Half Light 9 Composure 3
God almighty, Andrei had access to his own points to spend, and from what Michael could tell, his starting distribution must have been quite a bit different from his own. What struck him as odd was that Andrei's score of Volition, unlike Michael's, was in line with the rest of his Psyche stats. Or perhaps, it simply couldn't go any lower than that.
Other discrepancies included higher Half Light stat as well as increased Reaction Speed, where did these come from? Looking around he noticed still more papers on the ground. Wondering what those could be he scrambled to gather them. Lifting the last two papers off the ground, he let the remaining ones fall, already ingrained deep within his mind.
First one depicted a picture of two figures, men, fighting, one a mixture of blue and purple, another a mess of red and yellow. Below that read Inner Struggle, followed by a description in a flowing script:
In the depths of his soul, a fierce battle rages on between two opposing personalities. One, a raging inferno of violence and passion, burning a fiery hue of red blended with a splash of yellow. The other, a beacon of hope and serenity, flowing in calming tones of blue infused with a warm shade of purple.
With every passing moment, the two personas fight for dominance, each vying to take control of the man's thoughts and actions. Yellow and red clash like the flames of a wildfire, their conflict echoing through the chambers of his mind. Blue and purple blend together seamlessly, a soothing balm against the chaos.
The yellow personality snarls and roars, urging the man to give in to his baser instincts and lash out in anger. But the warm embrace of purple reminds him of the power of compassion and empathy.
The blue and purple personality, calm and steadfast, offers a glimmer of hope, reminding him of his inner strength and the power of forgiveness and repentance. And yet, the fiery yellow and red flicker and flare, tempting him to act out in ways he knows are wrong.
As the struggle continues, the man finds himself torn between these two worlds, each pulling him in opposite directions.
It wasn't hard to guess that the blue and purple man was him, while the red and yellow one was Andrei. It did surprise him that he had finally found a way these powers, whatever they may be, addressed their conflict. But this didn't seem helpful at all, as far as he was concerned this was nothing new.
Taking a quick peek through the bars, he saw Andrei dancing around the scarred man, dodging axe swings with contempt.
Returning back to work, he inspected the second page. It read Price Paid in Sanity, depicting the blue and purple man observing a cell of black bars which held the red and yellow man, his arm extended, claws trying to reach blue man's throat. Once again, it contained a description of their conflict:
Blue and purple has taken control, locking red and yellow in a jail of thoughts, and the man can feel their presence receding. It's as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he savors the moment, basking in the peace and serenity that he has been denied for so long.
But he knows that this moment of tranquility will not last forever. Every day, every struggle, every battle they fight, will take a toll on his sanity. Hope and serenity will falter, weakened by the constant onslaught of the other personality, until finally, it will break free.
The man tries to push these thoughts from his mind, focusing instead on the present moment, on the calmness that surrounds him. He takes deep breaths, inhaling the cool, fresh air, and exhaling the tension and anxiety that has plagued him for so long.
But even as he does so, he can feel the inferno of violence and passion stirring, like caged animal, ready to break free. He can hear its voice in the back of his mind, urging him to let it out, to unleash its fury on the world.
The man fights against it, struggling to maintain control, but he knows that it's only a matter of time until it breaks free. And when they do, he fears that he will be lost to them forever.
For now, though, he takes comfort in the peace that surrounds him, savoring every moment of tranquility, knowing that it's all too fleeting.
Every time your prisoner has to be wrested under control, incur a permanent stacking penalty to Volition.
Current penalty: -2
Additionally, this further empowers your prisoner.
Should your prisoner's Volition exceed your own, it will start the process of taking control over your body.
Cold sweat starting running down his back as he read the effects of the paper. Why were these things locked in here?! Shouldn't he get to know these before spending all his points? Everything was lost. Andrei would simply spend his points in Volition, and take over permanently. He couldn't believe it ended like this.
But then, why hasn't he done so already? Michael had foolish put only a single point towards Volition in a form of boosting his Psyche attribute. Did Andrei even know? How couldn't he if he was locked in here, with those papers, all this time?
Remembering Andrei's distribution of stats, he came to the conclusion that no, in fact, Andrei couldn't have known. He would never give up control for measly points in body power. How useless would that even be if he didn't get to take control in the first place?
How anticlimactic.
Brought out of his train of thoughts, Michael pressed his face to the peepholes showcasing the outside world. Through the eyes of his past, he witness as the man he shared a body with crushed the scarred man's head against a metal wall, and let it drop with contempt, walking over to his next victim.
He couldn't let this happen, he was no monster. "Stop!"
To his surprise the cabinet door crumpled, more akin to paper than metal. Then he remembered, war in his mind was waged by Volition rather than muscle.
"Enough!" he commanded.
The door exploded outwards, and there stood his nemesis, wearing his skin. In the same way that was done to him, he grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him in and getting out in a single stroke. He slammed the door shut and turned the key.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he couldn't help but think that it was surprisingly easier than he expected. Realizing there was still unfinished business outside, Michael opened his eyes.
Before him lay the soiled form of the young ginger man, his nose was broken and his eyes were unfocused. He was blabbering something and kept trying to climb to his feet. Michael pitied him, he just lost three comrades, and was left at the mercy of Andrei's attention.
You are just as capable of it as I am.
There was nothing he could do for the younger man, no words he could say, no actions he could carry out. But when he so much as thought about making sure words of his appearance didn't get back to the guards in the city, his stomach revolted, ready to throw up once again.
Do it, he is dangerous.
No, he couldn't kill another person that didn't need to die. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to follow the guards, see them use drugs or check on a hidden stash of supplies or... something, anything. No one was supposed to have died here.
You are still weak.
He couldn't face the consequences of his actions any longer and ran, just like he did when he couldn't face them back home.
Michael ran through the gate, into the woods and plains surrounding the weird structure. His feet pounded the terrain as he pushed himself to run faster and farther. He ran until his breath was coming out as nothing more but helpless wheezes. He ran until he reached the first signs of suburbs near the city. He ran until he couldn't run anymore.