Author's Notes: Hrm…I am going to try and make this chapter as long and interesting as I can manage (chuckles). I am trying, also, to try and reveal some of the main story line (which I am still trying to work on btw lol) so…Yano.…Since I have no idea what I am about to type, I really couldn't tell ya what's gonna happen. This chapter will be as much as a surprise to me as it is you. (snickers) Sorry! I may not be cut out for this! (cues inspirational music…you guessed it…'Eye of the Tiger') Ahhh, much better. I can do this thing! (strikes a Rocky pose) (starts crying) No I can't!
Disclaimer:
Sarah: Suzu, put the skull down…
Suzu: (cooing incoherently to the skull) Pretty sensei, niiiice sensei…
Sarah (shakes head) Yah, I don't own Wild ARMs 3. (picks up the disk and starts cooing to it) Pretty game, niiiiiice game.
Suzu: That's just freaky ya'll.
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Chapter 3: Ambivalence"Are you feeling well today, puppet?"
Adam opened his eyes. Beatrice was standing above him, smiling kindly as usual. He shrugged lamely, yawning. "Why d'you always call me that?" he asked, stretching his arms above his head, arching his back like a cat may. She giggled kneeling beside him.
"I have another job for you, puppet. Are you prepared?"
Adam shrugged. Glancing around the room. The floor he was perched upon was dark tile, chipped and worn at the edges from all the relics they were constantly dragging across the floor. There were no windows, and only one small door that seemed barely noticeable against the artifact covered walls. The ceiling was a bit green, tinted at the core from the constant moist temperature the room retained. It was moldy. Adam sighed again, flopping back on the floor. "Bring it on." He spat confidently "What is it this time, master? Another statue? More dragon bones?" Beatrice shook her head, sitting down beside him, fiddling with her black dress before sliding it under her knees.
"Just an interesting book." She admitted, looking down at him from the corner of her smoldering crimson eye. Adam sat up.
"That's it?" he asked, disappointment hinted in the edge of his voice. She clicked her tongue, running her hand over his apologetically.
"I am sorry puppet, but I assure you, this book is well worth the disappointment you feel now." She tucked her hair behind her ear.
"Is it now? What's so great about it?"
"It's a book of memories." She cooed. Adam scoffed.
"Doesn't sound so great to me, master."
Beatrice giggled sharply. "I believed you would say that."
Adam sighed, collapsing back onto the floor. "Where is it?" he asked blandly, his arms reaching for the ceiling, uncurling his fingers as if to reveal his palms to the heavens.
"It is in a ruin very near the town called Claiborne."
Adam sighed again, and she caught one of his hands in its descent back to him. "I know it is far…" she cooed, pursing her lips as he eased his eyelids over lilac orbs. "But it is necessary."
"To make the pain stop?"
"To heal a wound, you must first bleed it of its poison. With this, you will be cleansed."
Adam nodded, staring again at the ceiling. Beatrice squeezed his hand in hers.
"With this, Adam Kadmon, I will be able to…" she stopped as Adam leaned up, rising onto shaky knees that were not so accustomed to standing. Even standing tall beside the crouching Beatrice he appeared inferior. She clutched a fist into the side of his jeans. "I will be able to make the pain leave…"
The softness of her whisper almost made it seem that she was lying. "We will celebrate…" she said standing up beside him. She opened her arms to the room accepting all the relics and treasures with praise. "It shall be glorious." And she laughed.
Adam failed to see the humor. "Whatever." He sighed. She glared at him sideways, suddenly livid. She placed a fragile pale hand on his shoulder, nearly digging her nails into his flesh. He winced slightly.
"But you must be wary, puppet." She hissed, "You wouldn't want to end up hurting anyone again, would you?"
He shook his head.
The journey to the temple was shorter for Adam than he expected. Not very many creatures, and he had the pleasure of a nice view. Flowers were growing sporadically around the entryway of the ruin. It almost appeared to be an old sanctuary, or church, or library even. The entrance was caved in with stone, and the windows (though there were few) were boarded up. Fortunately, he was able to find a crawl space near the side. After some fancy maneuvering on his part, he was finally able to wiggle through. Inside was depressing. There weren't very many hallways, and it was very dark. He was cautious to light few candles as he proceeded, but there were not many traps. Virtually none, actually. Adam was slightly disappointed by this, but it did make his job much easier. He swiped the cobwebs away with a gloved hand.
'This is a small place…' He thought absent-mindedly to himself.
'I'm surprised it hasn't been looted yet.'
Finally he journeyed to the center of the temple, a large circular room with bookshelves around the walls. A pedestal was placed conspicuously in the center, with a small, ancient book perched on it. Adam smirked. Too easy…
He approached it with ease, skipping the stairs and merely hopping up to claim his prize. He picked it up gingerly. Adam glanced up suddenly, holding the decaying, decrepit book firmly in his hands, scanning the cover only slightly before he sensed another presence in the dungeon. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, eyeing the new Drifter that had just entered the room. The man gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth as if he wished dearly to speak something, but his voice forbade it. Adam merely shrugged it off, hastily shoving the book in his pack, taking care not to disturb its ancient pages. He glanced over his shoulder to the other Drifter once more. The man was very scholarly, possessing an almost intimidating air about him (proper posture, neat and tidy clothes). He had rather vibrant green hair that Adam suspected grew well past his broad shoulders, but was pulled back into an almost uncharacteristic spiky ponytail at the base of his neck. Behind thick glasses were bright blue eyes that formed into ovals of concern. The man stumbled forward slightly, the brim of his long red coat brushing the dusty stone floor.
"Jet?"
Adam stared at the man, his expression remaining unchanged as he shifted the bag protectively over his shoulder. "I think you have me confused." He spat blandly to the man, turning away, flicking his hand in a feeble wave of farewell.
"Jet!" Clive called again as the boy turned away. The younger drifter turned to catch his gaze again, rolling his lilac eyes annoyed as he patted the bag with a smirk.
"You're not getting the book." He sneered, his voice near monotone "So don't try any bullshit with me."
Clive stared at him flabbergasted.
He doesn't recognize me? Could I be possibly mistaken?
It was true that the silver haired boy was clothed completely different than what he last remembered; His layers of vests and shirts were gone, replaced with what appeared to be some heavy form of bandage that wrapped around his stomach presumably all the way up his torso as well. Across his chest was almost folklore looking armor, inscriptions carved carefully around all the edges, fastened over his shoulders with thick belts that made an 'x' over his breast. Even Clive, who had mastered many of the ancient writing and was fluent in quite a few, did not recognize the origin of these strange markings. White scarves were wrapped around his neck and draped down past his mid-back. Across his shoulders hung a tattered brown saddlebag. His jeans were looser than before, almost covering his feet, Belts of ammunition were still hanging from his waist, as well as Clive's official conformation that this young Drifter was indeed Jet; The Airghet-lamh was holstered at his side.
The boy scoffed, turning away again and leaping off of the pedestal, his feet hitting the ground with a 'thump'.
"Jet…" Clive called again "You…you don't recognize me?"
The thief instantly spun around, his brow furrowed into an angry glare.
"My name is Adam Kadmon." He spat viciously "Why would you dare make the mistake of knowing me?"
Clive blinked, stupefied, but forced confidence into his step as he neared the boy. It is Jet…He's got the Airghet-lamh…and he calls himself by the name the Council assigned him.
"Stop this nonsense!" ordered Clive, grabbing the younger Drifter by the arm "We have all been deeply concerned with your absence, Jet." Adam yanked away, seizing Clive by the forearm, gritting his teeth and slinging the man away from him. Clive's feet stumbled across the ancient concrete floor, making the dust dance in disapproval as the scraping of his shoes sang an almost haunting tune on the pavement when he slid to a halt. Clive gazed at him in awe, his hands instinctively reaching for his ARM , he stopped himself when he realized who he was defending against. But, before he had the chance to register any movement, Adam had swiftly taken hold of the Airghet-Lamh, and was aiming standing at an almost silhouette, directly at Clive. He could see the boy's finger twitching with anticipation at the trigger, as the rest of his body remained perfectly still, his chest did not even rise with the breath of air. He continued this stance, easing slowly away from the stunned Clive, until he finally lowered his guard and made an almost fearful sprint for an exit. He watched the boy stumble over his feet, glancing back at Clive for a split of an instant. He swore he saw confusion in the boy's vivid violet eyes. Clive dropped his rifle, and upon hearing it's clatter, collapsed to the floor as well. He removed his glasses, massaging his closed eyelids with his thumb and pointer finger.
"Jet." He finally managed to choke out "What happened to you?"
"He called me Jet."
Adam stumbled across the cracked tiled floor, still clutching his ARM desperately in his hand. He stood before his master, and she merely cocked her head to address his presence. He kneeled on the floor for absence of chairs. It was cold even to his naturally cool skin. "He pretended to know me…" He whispered, as if such a thought were utterly taboo. Adam slid the book out of his bag, restoring the Airghet-Lamh back to its proper place at his side, handing the book into the palms of the girl. She accepted it, caressing her hand over the top of his in appreciation.
"Silly puppet." She laughed, hugging the book to her chest with an arm "That Drifter merely wanted this text, not you."
Adam nodded. "But…" He stuttered, "He called me Jet…I know that name!"
Beatrice scoffed, glaring at the boy disgusted, "What you know is not the name, but the yearning for it." She smiled softly; the corners of her lips smirking as she gripped the book, lowering herself into his lap and tracing his cheek with a brittle nail "That man was only trying to take advantage of you and your confusion." Adam sighed at her words, leaning away from her touch.
"Such things will only bring you pain, as you do to them." She whispered sternly, capturing his averted gaze in hers "And you long for a lack of it, correct?" Adam nodded in his defining answer, and Beatrice smiled. "That is what I thought my dear puppet." She ran her hands gleefully through his silver hair, twisting it between her frail pale fingers. "Why does this name bring my puppet such anxiety, I wonder?" She sighed, scratching his head and sniggering lightly. Adam shrugged. "Perhaps…" she started, as her voice became a low threatening whisper "Perhaps you should berid yourself of such burdens. The next time you are called by that name, I want you to do everything in your very power to stop them from ever doing it again." Adam pulled away from her hands, sliding her out of his lap in an almost childlike tantrum of a gesture.
"Why would I do that?" he snapped. Beatrice glared at him, her crimson eyes slitting to form an angry stare.
"Because I told you to." She barked snatching his arm, almost growling as she dug her nails into him, hexing unknowns under her smoky breath. He cringed, nearly shrieking in pain yanking away as the metallic liquid seeped in a steady torrent down his wrist. "You may be a puppet." She smirked "But you can still feel the pain I inflict upon you." She sneered "And here, you so dearly wanted to escape it."
Adam twitched at her, clutching his arm as the wounds began to burn, sealing themselves in a crescent of bright green light. He covered where the gashes would be with his own hands, turning his head quickly away as if he felt guilty to have such an ability. She smiled seeing the process, sneering wildly and embracing the boy forcefully into her arms. "Dear puppet…you're not real, and it is abilities such as that has caused you to be abandoned. It is because you are inhuman." He leaned awkwardly against her chest, afraid of her reaction if he did much more. She hummed an eerie tune, clutching the book desperately between them.
Adam Kadmon truly does possess the power of the first angels…Beatrice smiled.
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Chapter Notes: So…I hope I made that long enough. Next chapter it will be back to Ginny and the gang. Hoorah! Clive made an appearance in this chapter! Does Beatrice seem touchy feely to you? Well, there is a perfectly logical reason for that. Let's see, it's 'cuz she wasn't really tangible before. Like, she couldn't interact with things. But now she can, so whatever she can touch, you're sure as hell she's going to! Wow, that sounds really perverted…But I can't think of any other way to explain it. (sighs) Sorry! What else…I was going to make the scene in the ruins longer, with battles and fights and what-not, but I got kinda bored. Heh heh. (scratches the back of her ehad sheepishly) So you got the condensed fast-paced version! Maybe I'll experiment with it more next chapter… Ah well.
Author's Notes: Phew…I made it though another chapter! Read, review, have faith! Think happy thoughts! Live long and prosper! Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum and all that jazz!