God, at this point I should really change the genre of this story to 'horror/angst'.
Anyway, this chapter has a few interesting revelations. Please, some of it is a little dark. I warned you.
He lifts his hand up. He fills his dying lungs with smoke. He exhales and lowers his hand.
I'm waiting, professor.
"I've been waiting, too. I've been waiting a little while, now, to find out what exactly this whole little thing was about, and I must say. I'm disappointed."
Disappointed…?
"Petty revenge on the academy? What a boring motive." Stein drawls, each syllable punctuated by another dragging step through the Nevada wasteland. "Even Medusa was more interesting than you. Her modus operandi was chaos."
Stop talking about that bitch. She's dead and gone.
Stein chuckles, his boots kicking sand here, there and everywhere as he walks like a madman; talking to himself. He's not going in any particular direction, just walking around out in the boondocks. "What does Crona think of all this, I wonder? Is Crona even alive?" he asks, ever the hint of amusement. His insanity is slipping a little, now. He's not sane enough to have a plan, but he's sane enough to at least question his enemy.
What do you care, you crazy old man? You're nothing. You're a vessel for me.
"You can't fight on your own. Not well, at least. Not enough to kill the academy students, which is what you're planning. You're controlling people to do your bidding. That means Crona's dead, surely?" Stein theorizes, doing quick thinking in his mind.
He's weak. Too weak. Asura made sure of that, before he perished. That goddamned bitch Albarn and the rest of them, weak as ants. We'll destroy them.
"What do I get out of it?" he asks the voice in his head, clear as day. Ever the pragmatist.
Human experiments.
"That does sound fun." Stein's giggle is akin to that of an excited schoolgirl. He stares up at the beating sun without shielding his eyes and the sleeping, fiery ball scorches his eyelids. He doesn't seem to feel the pain, or at least, he doesn't seem to register it. His pupils shrink to pinpricks as he reminisces. "You and Crona were always the fascinating pair, weren't you. What I wouldn't give… to strap you down on the operating theatre and slice your skin open."
Save it for the academy twerps, sadist.
Stein snorts. "I think I'll start with Kid. Wouldn't it be so interesting to know the anatomy of a Shinigami? I wonder if it's the same as a human… oh, the tests I could run with just a drop of his blood. Maybe I could even clone-"
You're getting ahead of yourself. Besides, we want to spill all of his blood, not just a drop.
"And what will you do, afterwards?" Stein wonders, finally lifting his arms up to his face to shield his eyes, as if realising he's been looking at the sun for the past fifteen seconds. "Where will you go? You barely have a physical manifestation, and your meister's dead."
That's where you're wrong, clever guy. Crona's not dead. Didn't you hear me before? You should learn to listen better. He's weak as piss right now. But once we collect the souls of these kids, we'll become a kishin for sure.
Stein coughs out a derisive laugh. As if in response, the vague figure of Ragnorak forms in the dry desert air around Stein and gasps in a single breath of the atmosphere. "Goddamnit, it's too dry for this. Stein, you sociopath. You should be goddamn grateful for me. I'm helping you to do the experimenting you so crave."
Stein narrows his eyes at the vision in front of him, as if losing his mind is something that is only just coming new. He waves his hands in front of his face and the façade of Ragnorak's semblance dissipates and reforms where his hand moves through. It's almost as if he's a creature made entirely of a gas cloud. Stein stares at the troubling scene for a second before he erupts into cacophonous laughter.
"You- hah, you're! You're… gaseous? You turned your blood form into vapor! How interesting."
"What of it? After we defeated Asura, it was how I survived after Crona lost his mind. Most of me still exists inside Crona, so I'm weak, like this. But I can still transform into a weapon, if I need to." he snarls at Stein, who looks one part impressed, one part bemused. He pulls another cigarette out of his lab coat and lights it up.
"That's not your main strength, though." Stein raises an eyebrow, flicks ash and points at his desert companion. "Your madness wavelength. It looks like being locked in that battle with Asura for so long really had its effect on you. Being so close to him for so long must have driven the two of you completely past the point of sanity, yes?"
"You should quit smoking. You smell like shit." Ragnorak scoffs, not responding.
Stein shakes his head, blowing smoky air out his mouth and dispersing the collection of dark air particles which make up his current tormentor. The false image of Ragnorak's grimacing face disappears into the atmosphere. "You should quit being a cloud of smoke."
Vapor, idiot. And don't forget, I can still control you.
Stein shrugs, as if testing his captor. "Control isn't really the word. Remove my inhibitions, more like."
Is there a difference?
"I don't know, I've gotten quite good at keeping myself on lockdown, recently."
You just try, and I'll destroy Marie and that little brat of yours. And because I'll do it through you, you can watch them die.
Stein's body freezes and his legs buckle under him. Ragnorak's aura is smug; he's found Stein's breaking point. The sand breaks slightly under his knees but remains a hard barrier which sends a shock through him. He kneels there, broken for a minute or two. "I won't resist." He mutters, complying. "Use me, but don't touch them."
I don't care about them. It's those brat academy kids who forced Crona to send us to that god-forsaken fucking moon I want to kill. It's their fault we spent months enduring Asura's torture. I'm going to enjoy ripping their weakling bodies apart. And then I want to eat their delicious souls, and become kishin, finally. And Crona will be able to fight with me again.
"So… why are you waiting? Why aren't we there, now?" Stein grits out, still keeled over in despair on the desert floor. His cigarette has been dropped; forgotten as its glowing tip dwindles to an end.
I need that other one. That Soul brat. He's like you: mad. He's got black blood. I need him, then I can revive Crona.
"Soul?" Stein repeats, his voice hollow. He leans down and runs the coarse, hot sand through his callous fingers and staring at it dripping through the gaps with intrigue.
It's proving harder than I thought. But, I've almost got him. Be patient. Or don't. It doesn't matter what you do, does it?
Stein remains silent, mimicking a begging position on the floor. All he sees around him is a vast expanse of nothingness, stretching on until infinity. All he hears is Ragnorak's cackle like a drumbeat in his ears. All he feels is the swell and fall of his back as he inhales and exhales the dry desert air.
Until the madness wavelength intrudes upon his mind once again, and quickly stops him from feeling anything at all.