(Finally, Carl's POV. He's been rather resistant to me getting into his head. I think he read "Possessions" by ThePet. If you haven't done that, go do it now. Go ahead. I'll wait...)
"I learned every bit of knowledge the Order had, and was inventing or discovering a great deal more. And God forgive me, I knew it. Only now do I see...."
"See what?"
"The path of damnation. My first sin. Pride." Carl held up a finger, and saw comprehension in Van Helsing's face as the man nodded. Carl wondered if the hunter really was listening for friendship's sake, as he claimed, or as Cardinal Jinnette's ears. He didn't really care, Carl realized. "I began to see how much smarter than the others I was. So I became proud. Unfortunately, it had the effect of, well, it's not really an effect, more of a result. I just, I was..." It suddenly became hard to admit being alone.
"Everyone avoided you."
Carl was startled by Van Helsing's insight. "Yes! Yes, that's it. I was made a friar at thirteen. By seventeen I counted myself the most brilliant member of the order. I became eager for work, to prove that I could do it. I needed validation from somewhere, and praise of the Cardinals became my overweening goal. And so my second sin is Greed."
"Hang on. You were fishing for praise. That's not Greed. You were a child!"
Carl rolled his eyes. Perhaps Van Helsing wasn't going to get it after all. "I was never really a child, Van Helsing. I finished University at ten. I was assessing risk factors in fights against the spawn of Satan before I was thirteen. I probably have a better idea than you what evil this mortal world holds."
Van Helsing clearly didn't like that idea. His expression fell somewhere between insulted and annoyed.
Carl didn't give him time to think up a comeback. "Let me put it to you this way. Imagine that you're placed in a terrifying situation, and at the same time handed the one glorious thing you've always wanted. You're torn between reacting to your surroundings and becoming engrossed in that thing you've wanted. What do you do?"
The hunter seemed to mull the scenario over, chewing absently on his bread. Carl himself had yet to actually eat anything. He studied the hunter in front of him. Sometimes, he thought Van Helsing deliberately acted stupid. Carl found it frustrating. The monster hunter was clearly not a stupid man, but he didn't think things through. He was trying now, but Carl, in his newly developed cynicism, didn't expect much. He was morosely amused that Van Helsing suddenly considered them friends. Carl wondered if that conviction would hold out.
"I supposed, I'd be pretty messed up." The hunter finally announced. Carl smiled ironically.
"I was indeed." He sipped his water. "I guess I combined Greed and Gluttony. I wanted recognition. I wanted more knowledge. I was compensating, of course, for those things I couldn't have."
"Like what?"
"Oh, how about a LIFE?" Carl suddenly shouted. The word echoed around the large kitchen, sending small scuttling things rushing for safety. "And then, I met you," he went on in a normal voice, "and what an education YOU were."
Friar Carl had heard the whispers of the man the Order had taken in. Some said that he was a long-time Knight, a great servant of the Light. Others said that he was someone wholly new, and the Order rarely took in people without careful screening. More curious than he could articulate, Carl left his lab early that day and made his way to the hospitaler's wing of the Order headquarters. He spotted a young novice carrying a tray of food. "That for the guest?" he asked as if expecting it. When the novice said it was, Carl appropriated the tray, announcing he'd take it on. The novice took him at his word, for who lies in the very Vatican? Carl carried the tray up to the rooms, noting that only one door was closed. He tapped officiously and pushed his way into the room.
The man on the bed sat up swiftly as Friar Carl entered. "Who are you?"
"I'm Carl. How do you feel?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "That's not how the others talk. They say things like 'how are we feeling today?'" His voice took on the unctuous tones of the older Hospitalers.
Carl smirked. "What is your name? Where do you come from?"
The man shrugged. "They tell me my name is Van Helsing. I don't remember anything else."
"Really?" Carl asked eagerly. "Total amnesia! And yet, you can still talk, which means some parts of your brain must be unaffected." What a unique case! "Tell me, do you have any head wounds? If there are, I can compare the locations of your wounds against a standard phrenology model, and we can determine the extent of your impairment." He thought a moment, then went on, "If you had died, I might have gotten permission for an autopsy. Of course, if you'd died, we wouldn't know that you had amnesia."
The man on the bed stared at Carl. "You don't talk like any monk I've ever heard of."
"I'm not a monk, I'm a friar," Carl replied automatically. "Besides, how could you remember what monks talk like?"
The man began to laugh. "Good point." Carl frowned as the mystery man seemed to cheerfully shrug off the questions of his mental state and begin to eat. He seemed nonplussed by the loss of his memories. Carl felt something coil around his heart as he watched the man blithely consume the meal. What sort of life had he lived that he could let go so easily? Here was someone from the outside, ignoring every experience of his life. And Carl, who had no life, felt envious of this man who obviously had a life and could give it up so easily.
"You were envious of ME?" Van Helsing appeared startled by the very idea.
"Of course. And ever more envious as time went on. You know, you went everywhere, saw everything, and you never CARED. Yet, when they sent me to you in London, that was the first time in twenty years that I'd stepped foot outside the Vatican!"
"You did seem a bit stir-crazy in London."
"I was so happy to be out, I only complained because I felt you expected me to be hating every minute."
"What about all that 'I'm not a field man' whining?"
Carl felt his expression harden. "Well, I'm not. I told you, I hadn't left the Vatican since I was ten. There I was, thirty-three, in a dangerous situation, I'm wearing a dress, being bait for a murderer. I may have well died then and there with no experiences to regret, no older than our Savior, and did you even ASK me if I thought that was a good idea? No, of course not, because I'm Carl, your little whipping boy, am I not?" His tone cracked with anger.
Van Helsing leaned back, distancing himself from Carl's bitterness. "Hey, did I ever once treat you like that?"
Carl's lips curled in a vicious smile. "What does it matter whether you thought you did or not? Tell me, how does it feel when Cardinal Jinnette treats you like a mindless tool?" Carl shook his head at the man's obtuseness. Sighing, he held up five fingers. "So, now we've seen five. Pride. Greed. Gluttony. Envy. Wrath."
Van Helsing tried for a weak joke. "Well, no one can accuse you of Sloth, and you're a holy man, so Lust is right out."
Carl's vicious smile only widened. "Oh, that's what you think..."
(Whew, this got long! Don't worry, Carl isn't really insane, or possessed, or anything like that. AN The Hospitalers were a holy order dedicated to healing. I think they're still around.)
"I learned every bit of knowledge the Order had, and was inventing or discovering a great deal more. And God forgive me, I knew it. Only now do I see...."
"See what?"
"The path of damnation. My first sin. Pride." Carl held up a finger, and saw comprehension in Van Helsing's face as the man nodded. Carl wondered if the hunter really was listening for friendship's sake, as he claimed, or as Cardinal Jinnette's ears. He didn't really care, Carl realized. "I began to see how much smarter than the others I was. So I became proud. Unfortunately, it had the effect of, well, it's not really an effect, more of a result. I just, I was..." It suddenly became hard to admit being alone.
"Everyone avoided you."
Carl was startled by Van Helsing's insight. "Yes! Yes, that's it. I was made a friar at thirteen. By seventeen I counted myself the most brilliant member of the order. I became eager for work, to prove that I could do it. I needed validation from somewhere, and praise of the Cardinals became my overweening goal. And so my second sin is Greed."
"Hang on. You were fishing for praise. That's not Greed. You were a child!"
Carl rolled his eyes. Perhaps Van Helsing wasn't going to get it after all. "I was never really a child, Van Helsing. I finished University at ten. I was assessing risk factors in fights against the spawn of Satan before I was thirteen. I probably have a better idea than you what evil this mortal world holds."
Van Helsing clearly didn't like that idea. His expression fell somewhere between insulted and annoyed.
Carl didn't give him time to think up a comeback. "Let me put it to you this way. Imagine that you're placed in a terrifying situation, and at the same time handed the one glorious thing you've always wanted. You're torn between reacting to your surroundings and becoming engrossed in that thing you've wanted. What do you do?"
The hunter seemed to mull the scenario over, chewing absently on his bread. Carl himself had yet to actually eat anything. He studied the hunter in front of him. Sometimes, he thought Van Helsing deliberately acted stupid. Carl found it frustrating. The monster hunter was clearly not a stupid man, but he didn't think things through. He was trying now, but Carl, in his newly developed cynicism, didn't expect much. He was morosely amused that Van Helsing suddenly considered them friends. Carl wondered if that conviction would hold out.
"I supposed, I'd be pretty messed up." The hunter finally announced. Carl smiled ironically.
"I was indeed." He sipped his water. "I guess I combined Greed and Gluttony. I wanted recognition. I wanted more knowledge. I was compensating, of course, for those things I couldn't have."
"Like what?"
"Oh, how about a LIFE?" Carl suddenly shouted. The word echoed around the large kitchen, sending small scuttling things rushing for safety. "And then, I met you," he went on in a normal voice, "and what an education YOU were."
Friar Carl had heard the whispers of the man the Order had taken in. Some said that he was a long-time Knight, a great servant of the Light. Others said that he was someone wholly new, and the Order rarely took in people without careful screening. More curious than he could articulate, Carl left his lab early that day and made his way to the hospitaler's wing of the Order headquarters. He spotted a young novice carrying a tray of food. "That for the guest?" he asked as if expecting it. When the novice said it was, Carl appropriated the tray, announcing he'd take it on. The novice took him at his word, for who lies in the very Vatican? Carl carried the tray up to the rooms, noting that only one door was closed. He tapped officiously and pushed his way into the room.
The man on the bed sat up swiftly as Friar Carl entered. "Who are you?"
"I'm Carl. How do you feel?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "That's not how the others talk. They say things like 'how are we feeling today?'" His voice took on the unctuous tones of the older Hospitalers.
Carl smirked. "What is your name? Where do you come from?"
The man shrugged. "They tell me my name is Van Helsing. I don't remember anything else."
"Really?" Carl asked eagerly. "Total amnesia! And yet, you can still talk, which means some parts of your brain must be unaffected." What a unique case! "Tell me, do you have any head wounds? If there are, I can compare the locations of your wounds against a standard phrenology model, and we can determine the extent of your impairment." He thought a moment, then went on, "If you had died, I might have gotten permission for an autopsy. Of course, if you'd died, we wouldn't know that you had amnesia."
The man on the bed stared at Carl. "You don't talk like any monk I've ever heard of."
"I'm not a monk, I'm a friar," Carl replied automatically. "Besides, how could you remember what monks talk like?"
The man began to laugh. "Good point." Carl frowned as the mystery man seemed to cheerfully shrug off the questions of his mental state and begin to eat. He seemed nonplussed by the loss of his memories. Carl felt something coil around his heart as he watched the man blithely consume the meal. What sort of life had he lived that he could let go so easily? Here was someone from the outside, ignoring every experience of his life. And Carl, who had no life, felt envious of this man who obviously had a life and could give it up so easily.
"You were envious of ME?" Van Helsing appeared startled by the very idea.
"Of course. And ever more envious as time went on. You know, you went everywhere, saw everything, and you never CARED. Yet, when they sent me to you in London, that was the first time in twenty years that I'd stepped foot outside the Vatican!"
"You did seem a bit stir-crazy in London."
"I was so happy to be out, I only complained because I felt you expected me to be hating every minute."
"What about all that 'I'm not a field man' whining?"
Carl felt his expression harden. "Well, I'm not. I told you, I hadn't left the Vatican since I was ten. There I was, thirty-three, in a dangerous situation, I'm wearing a dress, being bait for a murderer. I may have well died then and there with no experiences to regret, no older than our Savior, and did you even ASK me if I thought that was a good idea? No, of course not, because I'm Carl, your little whipping boy, am I not?" His tone cracked with anger.
Van Helsing leaned back, distancing himself from Carl's bitterness. "Hey, did I ever once treat you like that?"
Carl's lips curled in a vicious smile. "What does it matter whether you thought you did or not? Tell me, how does it feel when Cardinal Jinnette treats you like a mindless tool?" Carl shook his head at the man's obtuseness. Sighing, he held up five fingers. "So, now we've seen five. Pride. Greed. Gluttony. Envy. Wrath."
Van Helsing tried for a weak joke. "Well, no one can accuse you of Sloth, and you're a holy man, so Lust is right out."
Carl's vicious smile only widened. "Oh, that's what you think..."
(Whew, this got long! Don't worry, Carl isn't really insane, or possessed, or anything like that. AN The Hospitalers were a holy order dedicated to healing. I think they're still around.)