Title: Voices in the Dark
Author: The Dragoness (aka Cupcake/Regan)
Notes: And here come Devi and Nny! Yes, they will be a much bigger part of the story now. Also, all the act~i~on starts next chapter. Fun stuff. As always, thanks to my one and only (beta), Shia. Sorry it took so long to come out with this, but I actually forgot about it! See⦠this is why you people need to review and remind me to write! I love comments. ^_^
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Chapter three: King and Queen
House number 777. Welcome to heaven, boys and girls. And remember to just ignore the screaming; the devil's renting a room this week. Squee decided in the back of his mind that, now that things were going slightly his way, Shmee's constant sarcasm had most definitely returned. He rolled his eyes. Another thing he'd decided was give up on trying to think in action-less and intangible terms. Believing that we was really rolling his eyes or twiddling his thumbs wasn't going to hurt anyone. That and it was really starting to give him a headache.
Materializing in the central room on ground level, Squee could just make out the spidery hunched-over figure in the corner fixedly working on something or another. For the life of him (or lack thereof), he honestly couldn't tell whether it was the actual person or just a shadow. Nny was accustomed to wearing an awful lot of black. But the shadow suddenly turned, blinked, and with a loud crash from whatever it had been toying with, jumped sprawling through the air to land lightly on its toes facing them with one knife out and ready for some Voice-stabbing action.
Wow. Now that wasn't predictable. Honestly, I did not see that knife thing coming.
Will you shut up for once and actually work? We've got a job to do. An important one if your ego's left enough space in there for you to remember, Enny hissed in Shmee's direction. Just leave it to him to let a grudge ruin the whole plan.
Although he was able to hear every word exchanged between them, Nny didn't really take much notice of the conversation. He was too busy trying to evaluate what to do with the bear that had just suddenly appeared on the floor to his home. And the book. And the knife. And the lipgloss, ragdoll, watch, scuba flippers, sunglasses, and backdated issue of Vanity Fair. Like lightning, images of the doughboys flashed through his head, and Nny bent down into an alert crouch. "Are you-"
Out to steal your mind? Formulated from your thoughts? Mr. Eff's old college buddy? Don't even ask; the answer is no.
Ah, arrogance. Now that was familiar territory he could to deal with. "Hrm. Conceited, aren't you? Well then, my disembodied friend, I'm afraid I don't seem to like you very much. So with the utmost concern for your well-being, how about you casually poof out of my house since you obviously know what happens to most things that enter it?"
Because we want to talk to you, Johnny.
Nny raised an eyebrow from his position low to the floor. "Have we had the displeasure of meeting before?"
Unfortunately, yes. My name is Shmee.
"Shmee... oh, that's right. The asshole stuck in a teddy bear's body. Heartwarming story." He straightened his back, returning to his normal height. This thing was no threat. Incredibly annoying perhaps, but it was a defender, not a destroyer. "You're supposed to be protecting Squee, aren't you? I don't suppose you know where he is now? His birthday's rolling around soon."
A moment of shuffling passed before a familiar voice spoke up. I'm... right here.
Nny stiffened and glanced around the room several times before finally settling on the jet black knife lying on the floor in front of him. Still keeping his eyes on the knife, he raised his chin slightly and asked, "Where?"
Right here.
Suspicion confirmed. Gently picking up the weapon, he turned it over in his hands, noting the carefully painted glowing purple eyes on the edge of the handle. As if the kid didn't have enough to deal with without being an immobile object. "Squee? What did those bastards do to you?"
Look who's talking. 'Bastards' my-
Shmee! For the last time, shut up-
Um, Squee scratched his head. Well, I'm just sort of helping them fight the forces of evil and all that. You know how it goes. And they needed me as a voice... a sort of guardian, like Shmee was for me.
Glancing over the black knife one more time, he stooped down and replaced it on the floor. "Didn't do a very good job by the looks of it, did he?"
Hey! Shut the hell-
Shmee, I said-
Yeah, well, Squee interjected, wondering which would crack first: Shmee, Enny, or the steel knife Nny was still casually fingering. Basically Chaos, the thing that encourages Parasites and evil in the world... um... Enny said you'd remember it as the Wall Monster. Do you? The sudden glowering look that sprang to life on Nny's face was a definite indicator. Squee decided to quickly get off that subject. Yes, well, Chaos is appearing more and more, killing guardians, manifesting itself in people more so than usual, and... well... pretty much doing some really nasty things.
Squee is a powerful asset to us as a mental force, Enny picked up, and to complete our group we need a physical one as well to help us fight and save humanity.
Leaning casually against a wall, Nny picked idly at the dust under his fingernails with the knife. "So in short you've come crawling to me to enlist my much-needed help. Does that about cover it?"
Without giving Shmee time to come up with a reply, Enny continued. For all practical purposes, yes. But don't you see, Johnny? It will give you a chance to redeem yourself from everything you've done... all the murders... all the blood. You can repent.
Nny paused, dropping his eyes to the ground for a few moments, the only sound in the room that of one steel-toed boot grinding against the worn floor. "I do regret the murders. I do regret the blood. You're right about that. I was different back then... controlled. I realize now that a life isn't something that should be handled lightly." Without warning he suddenly grinned haughtily in precisely the way that unnerved and angered Shmee the most. "But repenting for the people themselves means that I must believe that I've done something wrong. Those people deserved their fate; they brought it upon themselves through their pittiless actions and selfishness. And if that my means wallowing in guilt and crime comes as a side effect, then so be it."
So you won't help us, is that it? Enny retorted cooly.
"Honestly, I don't see why I should. You're asking me to fight for a world that is not worth saving. Don't you see that that is the exact oposite of what I've become? You want to play heros for people who refuse to stand up to fight their own battles that they created out of this filth! They caused it and they don't care. What did they do to deserve such champions? Tell me that."
In the back of her mind, Enny decided that she was beginning to agree with Shmee on this note. Nny, without a doubt, was almost more trouble than he was worth. Of course, it didn't help things in the least that the damn mortal was completely and utterly right. The world as a whole was unworthy of such help. Not only would its inhabitants not help themselves, but gratefullness or a firm desire to change for the better was out of the question as well. It almost made one want to pull out a soapbox, stand up, and tell humanity to go royally screw itself.
They don't deserve them. That's why they need our help. Nny tilted his head slightly to one side. Squee. How could he have forgotten that Squee was there? He inwardly groaned. He knew Squee hated it when he talked about people that way in front of him. Such comments usually prompted a voice of reason to emerge. One which, unfortunately, made a lot of sense. People are like that because of Chaos. Well, not completely, but enough to affect their lives a good bit. And if we lessen its affect of them, maybe some will see the error of their ways. Which accomplishes the exact same thing you want, but without having to slaughter them first, right?
Nny snorted and with a flick of his wrist tossed one of the knives he was fingering straight into the arm of his raggedy gray sofa. He always did tend to get irritable when his arguments began to fail him or worse, backfire. "Right. Don't we wish?"
Yes Enny interjected, thanking Squee over and over again mentally. What an asset. And I know in the back of your mind, you want to get back at Chaos for what it did to you. For invading your mind? For creating the doughboys to ruin your life?
"Shut up! And I'm not talking to you." With a sudden burst of energy, Nny picked up the knife and sliced through the air to point at the large book that had moved and was now sitting on the table. "I'm talking to Squee."
Look, you know all you need to understand, mortal. What little patience Shmee had started with had failed him long ago. Specifically, about fifteen seconds after he had entered the house. Are you going to help save mankind, assist your friend, change the world, seek your revenge, blah blah blah blah? Yes or no?
"As you like to put it, blah blah blah blah, no."
The assembled voices in the room let out a mass sigh of frustration that would have been quite amusing to hear had the situation not been so tense. Mortals were so frustrating to deal with. Especially unbalanced, philosophical, murdering ones.
Nny?
"Yes, Squee?"
Please don't make your decision because we want you to. I remember that you told me about how you hated being controlled by the doughboys, and I guess this really isn't any different. If you're going to help or not, do it based on your own choices, and just think of all you have to gain from them. All right?
Squee had always been surprised how much Nny had listened to him over the years. Although he had always been dismissed as either "just a kid" or "mentally insane" by everyone else, he had actually paid attention to his reasoning, and maybe even cared. He'd never asked, but he wondered if it was because Squee was his only friend-like person, was just someone to talk to in this mad, mad world of insanity, or maybe... just maybe because he made a little bit of sense.
It didn't really matter at this point. Squee simply watched with the other voices as Nny, eyes closed and leaning against the wall, suddenly pounded his fist violently against it three times before stomping across the room to grab a frayed, brainfreezy-and-bloodstained backpack lying underneath a chair. "Look, here are the rules, Mr. Cheerful," he began, placing each of the Voices' forms into it. Pausing when he reached Squee, he placed the black knife inside his jacket, eyes facing out, before continuing. "You're not the boss of me, I'm not the boss of you, we stay away from each other, and if do anything remotely aggravating to Squee I will rip your head off faster than you can measure the IQ of a cheerleader. Got it?"
Couldn't have put it better myself.
*~*~*~*~*~
Twenty minutes later, Nny found himself walking down vaguely familiar downtown streets, past clubs and cafes, taking the occasional left or right when Enny told him to. The thing that really bothered him was that whenever he asked where they were actually going, the only responses he'd get were "to help oppose Chaos" or "to our destination." It was really starting to get on his nerves, and ignoring his own personal reasons for going up against evil incarnate, the only thing keeping him from telling them that they broke the rules and going home was Squee's reassurances that the others weren't purposefully trying to be annoying. Not completely.
Guardians just always talk like that... you've got to get used to it.
"Ah. You mean like poetic goths?"
Eh... well, sort of.
Nny could tell that the people he passed were giving him the odd stare over either his appearance or the fact that he appeared to be talking to the street post up ahead. No matter though; he honestly couldn't care less, and wasn't exactly in the mood for a philosophical rant.
Taking the next turn down a small, dark alley, Nny gave his backpack a sharp jab. "Okay, Shmee, enough is enough. Either you get a new mode of speaking and start actually answering questions for once, or I leave you here, go home, and just deal with not saving the world on my own time. "Where the hell are we going?"
Fine then, if you put it that way. We're going to put a small dent in Chaos's plans, and give us a boost while we're at it.
"Very good. And?"
And since you obviously don't like us, we thought you might need someone to share this responsibility with. To both talk to and physically help. Not to mention that we have doubts about your dedication. We actually have someone in mind that we learned about from you. She's rather strong. But then again, you already know that.
Nny pulled up in his walk, pausing as he squinted one eye before widening both in surprise. "NO!" Snatching the book roughly from his backpack, he feverishly tore at it, ripping out yellowing pages and bending its spine backwards as much as he could with a satisfying crackle, twisting his own back around a few times before wildly hurling it at a nearby brick wall. "No no no no no!!!" The dark red book hit the pealing wallpaper with a nasty-sounding smack and slid loudly to the floor where it lay in an unsightly heap of mangled lettering and paper. "Leave her out of this, you ma-"
Going to start in on the torrent of creative curses, now are we? Shmee sounded disgustingly amused. Why shouldn't she join us? She can take perfectly good care of herself. You of all people should know.
"Shut UP!" Nny turned a pair of wild eyes on the innocent-looking stuffed teddy bear and pointed one accusing finger at it. "I am not getting Devi involved in this! I promised that I would forget about her so she didn't have to end up in the middle of this kind of shit! You've got me working for you already, so just float off and do what ever it is you do. I don't want her having to do this! At all!" As a final touch, he threw the bear against the wall as well, sending it to join Enny on the slimy floor. He vaguely considered stabbing it with the black knife he now carried, but decided against it in favor of saving Squee the psychological torment.
Fine then, be that way. Shmee's ever-persistent voice wafted up from the floor. If she isn't taken in by our side, then I suppose you'll be happy with her under Chaos's desires. Or better yet, killed. And I really do mean that "better yet" part.
"What?" Nny hissed, narrowing his eyes slightly.
Don't 'what' me, idiot, you heard. We are telepathic, moron. Chaos is a powerful monster, but an arrogant one. Heaven forbid that one of the 'lowly guardians' tap in to what it says at its little board meetings with the Parasites. And what do you know, it feels left out of the fun and wants a human servant too. Whether to actually help or just piss us off is irrelevant.
"Devi," Nny muttered quietly to himself by way of collecting his thoughts. God damn it, he'd dragged her in anyway, hadn't he? Shit! She hadn't had any contact with Parasites or voices as far as he could tell. Where else could the damn monster had learned about her from except from his own thoughts? And he'd thought a hell of a lot about her back then. Still did occasionally, despite his efforts to fulfill his promise to eradicate her from his mind. She stuck out like a pinpoint of white light among the rest of the dark muck flying around his head.
"Did you say killed?"
Yes. He could practically feel Shmee grinning. Yes, I did. Killed, mutilated, and devoured. Isn't that just lovely?
Shmee's inner grin jumped and wavered for a moment as Nny let out a surprisingly ferocious snarl at nobody in particular. But immediately he spun around to snatch up Enny and Shmee slightly less - than - gently. "Fine then. You won. Can we go now?" That was two arguments he'd given into today. Not good for his mood at all. Shoving them into his backpack, he began to sprint down the road, moving as fast and agilely as his lean legs and clunky boots would allow.
"Shit. She is going to be so fucking mad at me."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was a normal day. Get up. Eat. Shower. Paint. Scream at painting and throw brushes. Take a break. Paint some more. Avoid Tenna. Give in and talk to Tenna. Eat. Torment Sickness. Listen to music. Paint one last time for good measure. Go to sleep.
Fuck, life was boring.
If it wasn't homicidal maniacs, possessed artwork, and voices, it was a dull life with nobody to talk to but a hyperactive neighbor and a doll whose eyes she carried around in her purse next to a box of tic tacs and a tube of Yellow Ochre no. 42. It was rare to find anyone to talk about real life with, but at this point she wasn't even sure she was living one anymore. Her job was steady and normal, she left the house on occasion now to go out to a normal club or a normal restraint, she always checked and cross-checked with a reference to make sure that her dates were normal executives or normal doctors. After seven years of coaxing herself out of her self-imposed prison, she'd finally achieved what she'd set as the end-all, be-all of her existence. It was nothing less than normal.
And nothing more.
"FUCK!" She shouted to the empty room at her usual ranting period at nine in the evening. What the fuck was wrong with her? How could she have been so stupid? Normal? She was an artist! An intellectual! Someone who actually gave a damn about life, not popularity and possessions! Who the hell did she think she was, trying to be just normal!?
Oh, she knew. She knew... she just didn't want to admit it that all those people who haunted her and earned her undying hatred had had that much of an affect on her life after all. Had blinded her broad scope of things and had convinced her of what she needed to get through life without being surprised and horrified at every turn. It was only after achieving such a state of "every-day life" that she'd realized that there was no way that someone with a personality as absurdly unique and creative as hers could stand being shuttled around in a mundane lifestyle. Full of fluff and plastic. Fake facades.
And of course, Sickness' mere presence was always there to remind her of what it used to be like. However horrific and unsettling it was, her past was the extreme version of a reality in which she could actually think outside the box and experience all of the world, not just the clean, "normal" part without the grime. As it turned out, the grime was what made it interesting.
Interesting, you say? Well then, perhaps you'd like to see more of it?
Taken completely by surprise, Devi froze, her only discernable movement that of her right hand gripping down on her paintbrush harder. Much, much harder to the point where the wood began to splinter and crack. After all, it wasn't very often when you suddenly hear smooth, suave, and painfully loud voices pop into your head.
She took a deep breath and said slowly and cautiously, "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?" She snapped her head around, a few stray purple locks falling across her eyes as they darted around the motionless room. A piece of blank drawing paper drifted slowly to the floor from its perch on the tabletop. When nothing responded, she began to get just a little edgy. "I said, who are you? Answer me, damn it!"
Master! Sickness's thin, ragged train of thought filtered in through Devi's head. Master, thank you! You finally came for me, to rid me of this ungrateful bitch!
Fuck. It's a party in my head. How nice. "Hey! This is not a free for all. This is my room and my mind, and I want to know who hell you think you f-"
Yes, you do seem to enjoy that word a lot, don't you? But as to who I am, all you had to do was ask. I'm not one to disappoint.
With just one massive jolting shake, a giant crack appeared down the length of the apartment's outer wall, widening slowly as winding tendrils and claw-tipped stalks of hands began to snake into the room, branching out like hideous, twisted roots One more jolt tossed Devi, her purse, and several half-finished paintings back to crash painfully against the opposite wall. Scrambling behind the dust-covered recliner that was looking a bit worse for wear, she watched as the still-protruding snake-like arms ripped through her wires and security systems like wet tissue paper and the centermost portion of the wall crumbled away, revealing and inky night sky behind where it once stood. That is, the portions she could see behind the writhing sleek mass of the monster curiously peering into her wreck of an apartment.
Through the entire process, she didn't make a sound. She simply gripped the back of the chair, her long nails ripping into the soft fabric, and stared back at its central head with unblinking green eyes. Her cross earrings shook slightly.
Hello, Devi. I am Chaos. Would you care to know who is more powerful than I am?
Its heads grinned.
