A/N: Apologies for the extended wait; school and work are life-draining. Regular posts are now scheduled for Fridays. Keep spreading the word to every human you encounter.
"Things seem different, now." He said, sharpening a razor thin edge even thinner. "I, of course, haven't changed. No, me? I'm the same. But the world around seems to be... I don't know. Altered."
His victim screamed glass through a burlap gag.
"I know, I'll give you an example. At my old apartment, there were always things like rats, on-and-off power, pill-bottley floors, and other stuff of a dingy nature. Now, look where I am! This is the penthouse room of that rich hotel I wouldn't have been fit to crawl near before! And, I tell you, that's not the only thing that's changed."
Now he was crying through the gag, making a muffled noise that revealed a dire lack of oxygen.
"For one thing, I've got you. I never used to have company at my old apartment. But I'm ever thankful that God saw fit to bless me with such an extensive circle of friends and acquaintances."
Breathing had become easier since his panic had subsided into a more keeled-over sort of state that left hair and tears messy on the hardwood.
"I guess you're more in the circle of acquaintances than anything else. Yes, I understand that we might not be on the best terms, and due to the situation, you may even harbor some bad feelings towards me, but I never had anyone at all back at my apartment! Tied up or no, I suffered a major deficit of guests."
He cradled himself unthinkingly into fetal position, eyes blank and empty. Was he truly going to die this way?
"That's the difference between thinking positive and negative, after all. I could point out that you're an undesirable sort of guest, being such a criminal and a wrongdoer and opposed to the cause and unwillingly present; but it's more positive to step back and see that I have a guest in my home."
He hesitated to even consider the abhorrent thought that his mind conceived. It stopped his breath for a moment, so in opposition to himself the thought was. His soul, his id, the essence of his being, all his beliefs up to this point told him to be repelled.
"And when you examine it from a positive eye, it's clear that my situation now is far superior to how it was before. I can really feel the difference, you know, that's why I say that it isn't just me who's changed. I can feel a change coming on in all of Nevada, my guest. Maybe in all of the world. I'm a part of of it - and a big one, at that. I suppose that makes you part of it by association."
He steadied his breathing once again, steeling himself against the repulsion, the single abhorrent thought deciding his mind: Fighting any longer may be death. So he beat past the indignant barrier shouting that it was evil, that it was worse than death, and his will to survive pushed him through to what the barrier deemed the darkest corners of immorality. Trembling in apprehension, faltering in his step like a soul lost and forgone, he reached out to IT in his mind, silently begging for forgiveness.He repented for fighting ITS will. He swore that he would obey, promised that he had been wrong. And he waited for an answer.
"That's enough small talk, I think. How long has the gas been on? Ten minutes? Yeah, I think this is good enough. Well," Tricky said, opening a window and stepping onto the sill. "Time for me to go. I had a great time talking to you, I hope you know. I really just simply never get to meet people! I'm sure I'll see you soon, anyhow: The Auditor teaches through penance, but to IT, grudges are foreign. Well, good luck, my guest. Your next hours will demand it." A match sizzled to life in Tricky's hand.
"Wait!" The man tried to scream, but it came through the gag sounding the same as everything else. He released a final, frantic shout to the only hope he had left. Auditor! His mind formed as taut lips poured desperation through the gag. Save me!
Tricky the Clown dropped twelve stories and landed standing, breaking the ground instead of himself, fiery rubble raining into the crater he'd created. He walked unabashedly through fire towards his next objective. Men and women around him may have ducked or run in the face of the Inferno's weather, just as the man Tricky had abducted to a hotel room had panicked in the face of death, calling ineffectually for a savior. But Tricky had no fear of the burning hail, no fear of being unprotected by his savior, because he had long ago accepted his guide.
Flaming brick shied nervously from his person as it fell.
The unawakened crowd parted as he strode the center of the sidewalk.
Two trucks collided when a whim drove him to traverse the street.
For nothing could harm Tricky, and nothing could to him stand in impediment. This reality left little challenge in Tricky's work - the reward, visceral satisfaction, being a motivator plenty sufficient over mental stimulation. So he waited near an Agency warehouse (North Complex, notorious for experimental weaponry) and followed instructions to commandeer a departing truck. He drove it to a garage and parked it in Spot 7.
After that, he had some mysterious correspondence to carry out in code words. He bought a disposable phone and used the number and time he'd been given to call someone whose name he didn't know.
"Your colleagues must hate him." Said Tricky. "Funding must be cut. It is only then that you'll be able to displace him. I hear the job has great benefits." Tricky didn't know who his colleagues were, or even what the job was, nor of its benefits. But ITS voice came through Tricky's mouth so that he didn't have to speak.
"Don't worry about that, I'm a funny guy, I've got ideas for that, man. Won't be a problem." Said the person on the other end. It was unclear whether the voice was male or female: It had been applied to a modifier.
The voice inside of Tricky continued. "Correct. Now..."
The voice on the other end interrupted. "Really, the guy's easy enough to hate, man. He's the kind to stay distant and hang up without saying goodbye. He never tried to be my friend, man, I won't be his."
Tricky felt rage boil inside him, but not from himself - its source was the same as the voice that came from his mouth. IT was about to speak a harsh "SILENCE," but Tricky quelled the words. "That's good." Tricky said. "Beyond attacking his reputation, though, I'll need you to destroy his command. However you want to do this is up to you - I'll rely on your ingenuity. You'll need it, after all, after you have his position." Tricky's voice was smooth and dark. A perfect imitation of The Auditor. So much so that The Auditor complained inside him, upset that Tricky had taken an unplanned course. Tricky snuffed The Auditor's invective so that he could focus on the other end.
"I sure will, man. Thanks for this. I know I'm not supposed to ask your motives, man, but..."
Tricky cut him off. "You're correct. My motives are my own. Now: Begin." The conversation terminated only after both had said goodbye. Tricky wouldn't make the fatal mistake that the target had made.
The Auditor hissed evil words at Tricky when he allowed IT back. A shattered television showed him two dead realtors.
You were spared from imperfection
Somewhere, a girl in a black dress began to cry.
And yet you dare to resist
Tricky accepted his punishment. It was deafening, and it left him in a feeble heap. He decided, decided, decided to apologize until IT relented. In reward, Tricky woke up to his new friend, face burnt and melted until it lacked any feature.
"Hello, acquaintance." Tricky said quietly. "Do you see, yet? How things are changing?"
His friend did not respond. No mouth, after all.
The two of them entered a carrier's headquarters and coerced control of their telecommunications. It was easy enough to retrieve a few passwords and administer one device. For good measure, they leadened the facility to ensure that their work would not be undone.
Tricky noted with alien satisfaction that he and his acquaintance had perfect aim. Tricky fired through the throats of two men at once, broke every kneecap needed to make the humans kneel, and cut arteries so that they'd die on their knees. Die in service of Tricky. Or, The Auditor. Right. The Auditor.
He begins to think that he is the source of his perfection. The Auditor thought. Penance is ineffective. Perhaps human control will be sufficient. Amusing, of course, that he is just now creating his own master.
In ten days, Tricky would send a simple message from the phone they'd possessed: "Wait at my house. Key is under the doormat."
Aside from this, he had little else to do. The Auditor, gracious as IT was, had granted him and his acquaintance long days of free time. Tricky took his acquaintance for hot dogs. Most at the stand were wary of his strange appearance, green hair and white face, but a few had in mind a radio description of green hair and semen samples. Those few fled the stand to dial police. The police, however, had already been rendered temporarily ineffective due to the efforts of an anonymous officer who had cut police funding and then complained about it.
Tricky was unaware of any of this. He and his acquaintance sat on a bench with their hot dogs. One of them lacked an orifice to eat with, though, so he merely held his. Tricky tried to remember what hot dogs had tasted like before he was made perfect - his imperfections, the green hair and the white makeup, helped with that. "Acquaintance?" He asked. "Now that we've done things together, and gone for hot dogs, and known each other for a little while... do you suppose that we'd be friends, now?"
Tricky was hoping that his acquaintance would nod his head, but the man with the burnt face instead crushed his food in a shaking hand.
"I didn't think so." Tricky sighed. "I'm sorry anyways. I'm sorry for the fire. I know... I knew... I knew you didn't want to be burned. I knew that you were happier before."
His acquaintance remained silent.
Carefully, more carefully than ever before, Tricky hid his words from The Auditor, so that IT wouldn't know that Tricky was hiding them at all. IT would just think that Tricky was being quiet. "I think we might be trapped now." He whispered. "In a way, I was burned just like you. Only, I chose to be burned. I could have kept taking my pills, and they wouldn't have kept me imperfect forever, but I could have tried for a while, anyways. Yes, I would have done bad things if I had taken them. I would have hurt that girl, and I wouldn't have saved her. But now I can't choose. If I hurt a girl now, I wouldn't even know that it was bad. Of course it is, but I wouldn't know it. Wait..." For a moment, the thought occurred to Tricky that if he knew it was bad now, then he would know it was bad while he was doing it, and he could stop himself. But then he forgot that he had thought that thought, and he forgot what he had been telling his acquaintance, and his acquaintance forgot that he had heard it.
He almost hid his words. Thought The Auditor with great apprehension. Not quite well enough, but he was close. He will get better at fighting me. What will happen if he has my power, but he's not under my control? IT asked ITSELF. The Auditor didn't know the answer. If another human can't reign him in, he'll need to be killed. So be it.
SO BE IT.