Gao had insisted that Bakuto be the one to check if Yaratık was still in the room, if any one of them had to be driven to madness please God let it be him.
But alas, he exited the room supporting the boy and looking entirely sane. Damn.
She wasn't usually this petty, but something about Bakuto just made her want to throttle him.
Focus, she needed to focus, the boy, (if he was sane) would then be extremely impressionable, this could be her chance to take control of the asset for herself- she stopped herself. No.
No, they needed to show a united front, this was her trying to slip into her old ways, like a well-trodden path that she had started walking down without even noticing. Gao resolved to take control from now, to not let herself be steered by how god damn annoying Bakuto had the tendency to be…
Just… things from their past still rankled, like that time she had tried to kill Bakuto, and he had insolently survived and then Bakuto had tried to kill her for absolutely no reason.
And that time he poached her protégé, not to mention the whole HYDRA debacle in where he had stunted relations with HYDRA at every turn because he felt that consorting with Nazis harmed their 'image'. If you went back in time far enough HYDRA was simply a branch of the hand, an olive branch to the fascist regimes of Europe in the 1940s.
But no, Bakuto always had to get high and mighty about it, he had ended up harming relations so much that Baron von Stucker had permanently severed ties with the Hand. Bakuto had seen this as a good thing citing that 'people would get hurt' if they continued to work with the Nazis and that they were 'morally lacking'. Well, now she was lacking in weapons and disposable operatives.
She surveyed the Black Sky, he seemed pale and dazed but, still very much present. That was a good sign. They made their way to a common area in the compound furnished with comfortable yet stylish sofa's. It had a more relaxed feeling to the place then the rest of the building. They sat.
"How was your meeting with Yaratık" asked Alexandra.
The Black Sky cocked his head to the side "He- they" he corrected himself "called me Petros".
Alexandra raised an amused eyebrow and Gao allowed herself a moment of indulgence. Petros was an ancient Greek name that meant stone- the English translation of the name Peter.
Yaratık had obviously developed a sense of humour since they last spoke. Petros suited the boy.
"It was… I was... He was amazing. I feel-… everything's different now. It was everything." Petros sounded awed, if not a little unhinged.
They discussed his meeting with Yaratık, and Alexandra seemed pleased.
Petros sat on the sofa, barely taking note of his surroundings. When he had been in the room with Yaratık he had felt as if he finally saw everything with perfect clarity. He felt fully content in that moment a kind of quiet ecstasy had settled over him and had not left since. He was at peace, and everything felt fluid and open. He felt as though anything was possible
A hand came to rest on his knee, he looked up to see Alexandra, her countenance motherly as usual "Come, we have much to do. Evil finds work for idle hands." She stood and led him to an empty sound proofed room.
"Now, the next part of the process is called 'accepting the word'. You will need to go through this process to get closer to us, to Yaratık" she handed him a pair of headphones and said, "put these on, they will reveal the truth, they will bring you closer to us, to Yaratık, to perfection." She gestured for him to sit then put the headphones on him and then the world went quiet.
She clicked a button on her phone and a recording started up. She left the room.
You are imperfect, the only perfection is Yaratık and those close to him, to follow us is to find salvation, to find us is to find perfection. You are blind and the hand will allow you to see. We must bring light where there is darkness and life where there is death. The hand is all you have and all you need. The outside is dangerous, the hand will protect you. Yaratık knows all and so does the hand.
He sat for a minute before time began to blur and the words washed over him.
Still in the thrall that Yaratık had put him in he could feel his mind shifting to accommodate the voices. His own thoughts began to meld with the voices. Sometimes, the same the same line was repeated over and over again till they were seared into his mind.
It went on like this for hours and he felt as though he was in a trance, he felt so at peace it almost hurt (but it didn't hurt because the voices spoke of Yaratık and Yaratık was perfection and perfection could never be bad) the repetitive nature of the recording numbing is mind and causing a dull ache at the back of his skull.
It was all too much, he needed to rest, he needed quiet. He wanted to scream, to yell, to tear his own skin off. The constant mantra had begun to feel like torture. He rocked back and forth before breaking down and sobbing; he just wanted it to stop.
He wanted it to stop.
But he couldn't stop because Alexandra had asked him to keep them on. Alexandra had done so much for him, she had saved him from the dark, (he shuddered as he remembered sulphur and cruel empty laughter) she had clothed him, she had treated him with kindness and here he was having a tantrum because he couldn't bear to carry out the simple task that she asked of him. There must be something wrong with him, he must be lazy or sick.
He curled up in a ball on the floor and shook.
A hand cupped his face and removed the headphones; he felt like he could cry in relief and shame in equal parts, he should not be so happy to disappoint the Hand.
A soft voice drifted towards him "Petros, my boy it's okay, it's alright." She hushed him and held him in her arms and combing through his hair with her fingers.
He sniffled and curled into her embrace "sorry"
"Don't apologise, you did as best as you could and that, is all I will ever ask of you" Alexandra crooned.
Petros relaxed into her arms and sobbed in anguish he didn't quite understand.
Days later, after around four hours a day spent sat in the soundproof room with the headphones on Alexandra declared he was allowed to learn the secrets of the Hand; she had called him worthy of the Hand's training and Petros felt a warm trickle of pride in his chest.
At first after the sessions he had felt a prickle of rage, he had been angry that they had been causing him pain by locking him up alone for a week, by forcing him to listen to the recordings for hours on end but he realised now that they only did this because they cared, if they didn't care they would throw him out into the street without teaching him the truth and about Yaratık. They were showing how much they trusted him, and he had to prove he was worthy of it.
Currently, Petros was sat crossed legged on the floor facing Bakuto.
Bakuto had a mischievous glint in his eye, "Now, today we're going to try something new. Be my mirror, copy what I do" Bakuto smiled and Petros stood his best to imitate. Bakuto scrunched up his whole face and Petros held back giggles and copied. Bakuto then preceded to make ridiculous hand gestures which Petros copied.
He felt himself relax and loosen up during the juvenile game. In the back of his mind, he also found himself much more responsive to Bakuto's reactions, he also felt that mirroring Bakuto he was closer to the man and if the leaders of the hand were perfect, the closer to this man he was the better. After about ten minutes of this game, they stopped.
Bakuto looked at him "How would you like to train with people your own age?"
Petros perked up, "There are people my own age here?" He asked hopefully.
Bakuto smiled indulgently "No, not here. We have training facilities all around the world. In London, Singapore, Tokyo, Prague, Beijing and my personal favourite, Manchester. We will be moving to a training facility soon."
Petros tried to supress the grin that had already spread across his face "really?" the look on Bakuto's face was answer enough, Petros moved from where he was sitting to dive at Bakuto and grip him in a tight hug, laughing all the while, "thank you, thank you!". Petros let him go after a second still grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Bakuto seemed to sober up "I must confess, I was not sure whether to trust you at first, I thought you could have been as disingenuous as the others. There have been instances where individuals have wormed their way into the ranks of the hand to take advantage of our resources, or where weak-willed members have been dragged down by the outside world. However, I am confident that, because of your experience since you have been with us any residual… weakness and manipulation left from your previous life has left you"
Petros felt the words sink to the bottom of his stomach and settle there. He had been weak, Manipulative even, at the time he hadn't felt either of those things, he must be stupid too, if he managed to miss such obvious things. It was a good thing he had Bakuto, other wise he might not be able to spot such things for himself. "sorry" Petros offered sounding pitiful.
Bakuto frowned, "why are you apologising? You learnt from us; you were able to cast off your earthly impulses with our help." Bakuto shot him a proud smile "That's better than most people manage and if you continue to listen to our teachings, you may be able to keep it that way."
"I will" Petros insisted
"Moving to a training facility will put you a step closer to the outside world, remember; the outside world is dangerous, people will try to tempt you and your peers. You must be vigilant" said Bakuto
Petros nodded
"now" Bakuto stood "we should really get going"
The drive to the facility was less tense than Petros' previous interactions with the leaders, probably, due to the fact that, this time it was just Bakuto gazing sagely out the window. Petros wasn't really sure what he could be gazing sagely at because the windows were so heavily tinted from the inside that, it was impossible to see out of them. Petros shrugged to himself, maybe the man just really liked to look sage. Who wouldn't?
The car stopped and Petros stood blinking in the sunlight. They stood in a compound of some kind with high walls and buildings circled around a large grass area where lines of people practiced martial arts in tandem, their movements graceful and fluid.
Bakuto beckoned to a girl with ebony skin and dark curls that were tied into intricate braids. She was around fifteen and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.
She jogged up to them and spoke in a strong London accent, that was most definitely not cockney, "Hi boss, what's up?"
Turning to Petros, Bakuto gestured to the girl, "This is Zwena, I trust her with my life. She is one of our most promising candidates and she will show you around, keep an eye on you" he turned to her "he'll need training, he's strong but lacks talent"
The girl, Zwena nodded, "alright" she looked Petros up and down "I can work with that" sticking out her hand she said "I'm Zwena and you are?"
Petros looked at her hand in confusion before Zwena took his hand and shook it. He said in a small voice "Petros"
Bakuto clapped Petros on the back before heading for one of the buildings "You'll do great, I have some business to attend to" and with that the man was gone.
Zwena was the first to speak in the silence that ensued "So, where are you from?"
Petros froze, not really sure how to answer, "I don't know… I died? And then woke up and that was all I can remember" he finished lamely.
Zwena raised an eyebrow "Wow, so you have no friends or family, no memories even? Kinda blown my tragic backstory out of the water with that one. Well… not entirely it could have been worse. So, was he serious, can you not fight, like, at all?"
Petros shook his head.
She let out a breath "Bloody hell then, we have some work to do."
Petros braved a look at her then asked, "Did you grow up here?"
Zwena shrugged, "Lived here since I was eleven, ran away from home to a branch in Hackney, (that's in London) and I was transferred here because I was excelling all the other kids."
Petros tilted his head, "Why?"
Zwena rolled her eyes "I've just met you, dipshit, you can't ask that."
Petros frowned "I can't?"
Zwena snorted "No, you can't. That's personal information" thankfully the girl just seemed amused at his lack of tact. "This is the communal garden area, there's the dojo, oh and my favourite part the food hall. They're serving salmon today, that is my absolute favourite!" she waved to a hoodie wearing young man with light brown skin and a sword in a sheath on his waist. "Hey! Darryl, check out the new kid"
The young man, 'Darryl' smiled serenely as he made his way towards them "This must be Petros, Bakuto said you'd arrive soon" he raised his hand into the air much to Petros' confusion. After an awkward pause Darryl spoke, amusement ringing in his voice "Okay we're definitely going to have to work on that in class, there are certain rules and etiquette that will help you blend in. Sorry guys, I've got things to be doing, I was supposed to be in a meeting with sensei ten minutes ago, bye" the man waved as he ran.
Zwena spent an hour attempting to teach Petros simple sequences of fight moves that she called patterns. The one they were learning right now one she called the 'flame tree' was frustratingly simple and yet seemingly impossible.
Zwena stopped him for what felt like the hundredth time, "footwork. Your left foot moves with your left hand".
Petros slumped his stomach rumbling and started the patten from the beginning.
Zwena stopped him, "How about we take a lunch break?".
Petros said, sheepishly "Yeah, that would be good"
"Thank god, I'm starving" said Zwena