III. CYANIDE FOR GUMDROPS
RATING M
(How can anything with Luigi not be?)
(I like how my last piece with Luigi turned out, and I like Luigi, so I've been looking do write something with him in it for a while. last night I got a jolt of insipiration [read: coffee]; this is the result ^^)
"I'm so happy I could kill you right now."
Luigi gets angry at (in no particular order) Rotti, Mag, Nathan, Pavi, a gentern, Amber, a Zydrate junkie, Pavi, his dead mother, the weather, his childhood aspirations, deadMarni, his knife, Pavi, and a dead Zydrate junkie.
& & &
It's raining outside, so everybody's stuck inside. It's hot. Luigi's tried to turn on the air conditioning, but he only ended up breaking it. Pavi had laughed. Pavi was now getting his face put back on.
At least Amber's keeping to herself. Some days she can be a pain, others not so much. This way he doesn't have to find out what today is.
The problem's that with his siblings occupied, nobody else is around.
Luigi isn't alone very often. In fact, Luigi is never alone. Right now, as he fidgets on the chair, he knows he has his knives. One hidden inside his vest, one small blade tucked in his boot. You're never alone with those types of friends.
That doesn't stop him from feeling lonely. Normally for Luigi it's not about feeling. Love, hate, fuck that. Luigi sees, Luigi does. It had got him through the past two decades, hadn't it?
Maybe that's it. He's twenty years old, and he already has everything he wants, has ever wanted. Cars, check. Sex, check. A butterfly knife, check. A little sister (he'll never let her know), check. What was it people used to say? Money can't buy happiness?
But Luigi's as happy as a pig in shit. Couldn't be happier. No, that's not the problem.
Standing up, he looks out the window. The GeneCo building has the best view in the city. Like sitting on the moon and looking down. The city sprawls every way, sprawls right into the sea.
When he was five, before Pavi and before Amber, Rotti had taken him down to the gritty tar-laden beaches to watch them tear down the bridges. Luigi had found a broken bone shaped like a knife, and played with it all day. Told Rotti he wanted to join a circus and throw knives. Funny how the little things stay with you.
The door behind him slides open. Quiet, but he's always had good hearing. Turning around, he sees Pavi stop and stare. Luigi's holding a knife in his hand, and he glances down at it, then at Pavi, and puts it away.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"They put-a my face back on-a," he says, doing some sort of showy hand-wave thing under his chin, like his face was some sort of game-show prize. Luigi's lip pulls back of its own accord, and he turns back to look out the window. Pavi won't be ignored, though.
"Papa said-a you have to watch-a me."
Luigi presses a hand against the glass. It's thick. Throwing Pavi at it won't make it break. Little fag's a lightweight.
"Pavi," he begins after a second, "do you think I give a shit?"
He can hear his brother walking over to the corner of the room. There's a mirror there, and Luigi's sure that Pavi will start striking poses any minute. At least he's not tattling to Rotti.
Leave it to their father to ruin Luigi's perfectly fun, happy, afternoon.
No, wait, that was wrong. He is having a shitty afternoon, and it has just been made twice as worse. At least Pavi has a physical presence (lightweight or otherwise), which is better than having to deal with things like loneliness. Can't stab loneliness.
Looking over his shoulder, he sees Pavi pretending he's Marilyn Monroe. Trying to press down an imaginary skirt. Or maybe he's just groping himself.
Can't rip its fake face off.
Yeah, this was better. Or maybe the heat was getting to him. He brushes a hand over his forehead.
"A-Luigi?"
Luigi grunts. Pavi seems to think he's interested in hearing what he has to say.
"Where is-a our be-loved sister?"
"Why the fuck you want to know, dipshit?" Luigi snaps, turning all the way around. Pavi glances over at him, looking skeptical. Or maybe it's just the mask. Pavi takes a step forward, and no, he's definitely got an eyebrow raised.
"Don't look at me like that," mutters Luigi, pulling the knife out again. The younger Largo pads over to what had previously been Luigi's chair. Pavi, still quiet, straddles one of the chair's padded arms.
Great, now he'd have to fucking burn it.
That had its benefits, though. Fire was fun. Glancing out the window, Luigi can dimly see the glow of the GeneCo power plant. Not even the rain could stop that fucker from blazing.
"I want to-a show her my doll." Pavi reaches into his sweater (Luigi's pretty sure he's not wearing anything underneath) and pulls out what might have once been an action figure.
Might have, until Pavi had pulled a red ribbon over its head. Pulled a Barbie ballerina skirt onto its one remaining leg. Taped its arms to its side.
"Pavi," Luigi is actually a little shocked. "What the hell are you doing with that?"
"He is-a Penny."
Luigi blinks. Pavi had given the thing a name. Luigi didn't even name his knives.
"Kid, you're thirteen."
Then, after a moment's thought, "Why the fuck would Amber want to look at that?"
Pavi shoots him a look that makes Luigi want to pull his face off again. Let's see you gape now.
Pavi rolls his eyes. Luigi has obviously missed something.
"What?"
"The-a wedding."
Luigi's still staring at Pavi. Where had the kid gone wrong? Sure, Rotti wasn't number one dad, but he wasn't that screwed up. Was he?
No, of course he wasn't. Him and Amber turned out alright. So far, at least. Pavi was just a throwback.
And right now, Pavi's waving his arms around like a fucking monkey. Luigi smirks, and then Pavi starts to hum that old wedding song. It takes Luigi a second to realize Pavi's hand-waving—he's imitating his doll walking down the aisle.
"Penny and-a Otis are getting-a married."
Luigi remembers Otis. He'd ripped off one of the rabbit's ears, both of its arms, and stabbed it various times in his childhood. He'd given it to Amber—or, rather, Amber had found it and kept it—when she was five. Luigi feels a little betrayed, but only for a minute. He shakes his head and looks back out the window.
"Fuck that. She's in her room. Now piss off."
& & &
It stops raining in the afternoon, but it's still dark. Luigi's still supposed to be watching Pavi, but he really feels like killing somebody. And if he kills Pavi, Rotti won't be happy. Neither will Amber. Two things Luigi can't let happen.
This is how he ends up in the alley between some buildings and the Sanitarian Square fence. It's half a year to the Genetic Opera, and right now there's only scum and rodents scurrying down the dimly lit narrows. The first junkie he finds is dead, but they're a dime a dozen: there's another just inside a doorway down the street. He's pulling out the knife from his boot, his throwing knife. Luigi starts to aim it when he gets a chill up his spine.
Besides Rotti, nobody can do that. So Luigi's confused and angry when he turns around to see not Rotti, but his little pet death-doctor. Not suited up, but he's got a carrying case in his hand. Luigi smiles at Nathan, sliding the knife up his sleeve.
"Hey!" he exclaims after a moment of silence. The man's creeping him out, so Luigi does his best to return the favour. His first thought, it's 'What would Pavi do?'
The resulting thought, it makes Luigi want to hurl.
Luigi nods his head at the carrying case. "Whatcha got?"
Nathan slowly looks down at the case, and then blinks. "GeneCo property," he replies after a minute.
Stepping forward, Luigi pats him on the shoulder, smiling widely. "Attaboy, Nate!" Nathan manages to look horrified and disgusted, even though his face barely moves. Luigi snorts a little. Score one for Largo. He steps past the doctor and gives him a hearty slap on the back. Nathan half-stumbles forward, but doesn't move after that.
"Dad says you're the best, you know." Nathan doesn't look at him.
That pisses Luigi off.
"He says you cut up that bitch Marni like a fish." Rotti hadn't said that, but Luigi can imagine him saying it. Nathan still doesn't say anything, but at least he's looking at Luigi now. And it's not a happy look. Luigi recognizes that look, and his smile fades a little.
"Rotti's probably waiting," prompts Luigi after a minute, losing confidence. Fucking Nathan with his goddamn crazy look. He nods at the carrying case again. Nathan's still staring at him. Glaring.
Right now, Luigi wonders if it would be too late to join Amber and Pavi and Otis and Penny.
"I know."
Luigi's not smiling at all now. Nathan—he's smiling a bit. Luigi takes a slow step back, nodding slowly. "Good," he murmurs. Nathan takes a half-step, so he's facing Luigi now.
Lower, under his breath, Luigi whispers, "Fucking lunatic." That—Rotti had said that. Then Luigi turns around and strides out of the alley. Strides because he knows if he runs, the animal will give chase.
& & &
"You missed the wedding."
"I know, Amb."
"Amber!" She says, a lot louder than she has to.
"Amber," he retorts, drawing out the second syllable for a good five seconds. She crosses her arms. She doesn't say anything for a long minute, and Luigi starts to get annoyed. "What?"
"Are you sorry?"
"What the—" and he just catches himself. He can swallow a bit of pride for Amber. "Yeah, I'm sorry I missed your rabbit's wedding." She brightens up a little, and uncrosses her arms. Always happy to get her way. True Largo right there. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.
On the wall, the clock is ticking. He glances up at it. Rotti would probably be back soon.
"You should go to bed."
"But Pavi's still up."
"Pavi's—" Damn, she had a point there. Luigi pauses. "Pavi and me need to have a talk."
Amber nods. "Okay," and she disappears around a corner. Luigi waits a few minutes, and then follows, only he keeps on walking down the hallway once he turns. Heads up to Rotti's office. All the way up. In the elevator, he pulls out the slim throwing knife again. Maybe he could name it.
When the door opens, he flings the blade at Rotti's door. It sinks into the wood with a satisfying sound, and he laughs.
Mag's standing off to the side of the elevator, staring at the knife. When he steps out, she turns her eyes to him. He glances at her before going to retrieve the knife. Only it doesn't come out. He tugs at it again.
"Fuck!" Rotti doesn't like other people's stuff in his things.
After a minute, Luigi stops trying to get his knife. He turns around. Mag's staring at him. What the fuck was up with Rotti's pets and their staring? Nathan had been bad enough, but Mag's got those unblinking mechanical eyes…
He opens his mouth to yell at her, but she suddenly looks away and he can't. He turns back to the door. "He'll be here soon," he says, turning the knob and opening the door. Mag doesn't respond, so he closes the door. Leaves the knife there.
Inside the office, Luigi immediately skips over to the desk. When he was a kid, Rotti had let him sit in the big swivel chair a few times. Luigi still liked the chair, but Rotti didn't let him touch it. When he sits down in it, he spins it around once. Twice for good measure.
There's a knock at the door, and suddenly he's leaning against the desk, straightening his ascot. He looks up as the door opens.
"Fuck, Pavi—" he's about to say 'knock first', but Pavi had knocked. "Fuck." Pavi glances at the chair, then at Luigi, a smile spreading across his face, the skin-mask dimpling a little. Luigi glances nervously at the chair. It's still spinning a little.
Pavi starts to laugh. Luigi feels the hair on his neck raise at the sound.
"You sound like a monkey screwing a rusty gate, Pavi."
"Your-a mother sound-a like a monkey."
Luigi feels like he should say something. For all he knows, though, she had sounded like a monkey. But he didn't know because she had gone off and killed herself when he was one or two. Killed herself or something like it. He didn't really care, still doesn't. She was probably a bitch.
"So?"
The indifference seems to surprise Pavi. His mouth's open, but nothing's coming out.
If only every day was like that.
But then Pavi ruins it, "A-shit, you're-a cold, brother."
"Don't you fucking swear, Pavi." His little brother snorts, and walks over to the couch in the room. He lifts one leg over the couch arm, and Luigi glares at him until he rolls his eyes and flops down on the couch.
"Or what?"
"Huh?"
"You always-a swear."
"That's different."
Pavi knows better than to keep poking. He looks away from Luigi, turns his eyes up to the ceiling.
"I wonder why-a there are no windows-a here."
Luigi looks around. He's been in the office a hundred, a thousand times, but had never really thought about it. There were barely any lights, no windows, no pictures.
And Pavi had called him cold.
Luigi doesn't say anything. A few minutes pass—but there's no clock in here either so he's not sure just how many—before the door opens again. He looks up, and Pavi pops his head over the edge of the couch.
At the door, the Gentern pauses. Only for a second, though. She walks over, placing a small glass of water and a little paper cup on the desk beside Luigi. He watches her closely, curious. There's a couple of pills in the paper cup. Looking up, he sees her standing by the couch. Pavi's leering at her, but she's looking straight ahead.
"What?"
He can't see her eyes, but she makes a tiny sound that makes him think she's surprised. She doesn't move, though.
When he pulls the knife out of his vest, Luigi's pretty sure she flinches. Pavi whispers something. She rushes off.
Seconds later, Pavi follows.
He's been cheated, again. He jerks his hand down, impaling the desk on the blade before twisting it out angrily. The pills in the cup rattle a little. Luigi stabs the desk again, and leaves the blade quivering in the wood. Why would Dad be taking pills?
It's easier not to think about it, not to worry, so Luigi concentrates on using the knife to drill a hole in the table. He has to stop when he hits the metal skeleton, and that's when he gets up and leaves.
& & &
Walking back towards the alleyway, he pulls out a cigarette. He sticks it in his mouth rather awkwardly. Luigi doesn't smoke, never has, but likes the feeling of it. Pavi had once said something about oral, and obsession or fixation, and now Luigi only took out the cigarette in private. And here, on the street, was about as private as he could get.
He fishes around in his coat pocket for a lighter while he walks. He finds a matchbook, with two matches left. He doesn't light the cigarette, but he keeps the matchbook in hand as he turns into the alley.
Dead bodies are nothing new to Luigi, but this still manages to surprise him.
He knows that when the body dies, a lot of fluids are released. Piss, vomit, shit. Messy stuff.
He's seen that before.
This, he hasn't seen before. The organs—they stayed in the body. Normally.
Luigi stands there for a good five minutes, the cigarette clinging to his dry lips. He's thinking back to his afternoon, back to the creepy fucking staring contest. He'd lost.
This—whoever this mess used to be—might have paid the price.
Luigi stands there for a good five minutes before he strikes a match and sets the body on fire. It starts to stink after a few minutes, and he stays as long as he can stand it.
& & &
& & &