Guess I should have updated this sooner than just now cause I was SUPPOSED to tell you about Banks, but... well. Shit happens. Especially in this line of work.
Especially when you could start a traveling sideshow with the kind of company you keep. But anyway. I shouldn't bitch. They're good people. Just fucked up, and really, aren't we all more than a bit fucked up? These people just let it overflow to the outside instead of letting it bubble up inside...
But right. David Banks then...
I knew he'd be one of the more... difficult obstacles in my way. Cypher and the others knew it just as much. After all, with how much, CYPHER hated the Dress-Up Plan, we could assume that Banks would be just as livid at someone else impersonating Nightscream. For a bit, I think I NEARLY convinced him... then I successfully ruined that during ONE BAD NIGHT after I had encountered that stupid NEST thing... crazy fuck still gives me nightmares...
Cypher was trying his best to stay involved and "between" any association and chats between Banks and I. Trying his best to work with whatever material I managed to give him. I won't lie and say I was GOOD at being Nightscream. In fact, I'd say I was damn horrible at it. Sure, I got the hang of the speech after a while and I'm learning how to type forever-posts... but it still wasn't right. Wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. And, eventually, Banks got sick of my attempts and tracked me down. I was stupid enough to be out for a WALK of all things (I like walks. Sue me.), but even with Tiger as my protection, I still got snatched. I really don't remember much about that. Just the taser hitting me. The current. And then I kinda drifted in and out. I remember being tied up at one point. Memory is a damn crap shoot, but I THINK I was in the trunk of a car.
When I finally DID come to, I wasn't tied anymore. And I wasn't in anything that was moving. I was just... left lying sprawled out on a floor. A cold, concrete, basement floor. Made my joints feel like CEMENT when I first tried to move. Pushing myself partly up as all my muscles complained at being forced back to their jobs again. Back cracking. Knees. Made me feel old as shit.
"Hello."
I jerked up. A mistake that I instantly regretted as all that ache in my muscles just burned more. Still, I didn't let myself be distracted. Trying to blink my vision into adjusting behind the mask I still wore, I eventually managed to locate my only company: A shadow sitting in the dark at the other side of the room. Even though the voice had sounded calm, there was still an edge to it. A warning of a very present danger. A cliff's edge.
I was 99% sure I knew who it belonged to.
And if I was right... there was going to be WAR.
Of course, my first demand was to know where the HELL I was. Which only spurred Banks to invite me to guess. Saying how he'd be interested to hear if I
could. Of course, I would have rathered be DEAD than play his game, so I just swapped my demand. Asking where Tiger was. What he'd DONE with him. After all, I did like the Samurai. He had honor, if nothing else. And he was one of the few that I was around all the time. Him and Mumbles. Like the mime and me, Tiger and I tended to talk a lot.... though Tiger was always more stand-off-ish. In any case, if BANKS had done something to Tiger, that just gave me another reason to put a hole into his head. As if I didn't have enough reasons already.
"Tiger's fine. You might not be up on everything,
but I'm cutting down on my unneeded murder count."
"Yet another box checked under the title of Thankless Saint, Banks?
How charitable of you.
Taking your jacket right off your back to give to a homeless man
and nursing broken birds back to health too, I expect?"
"...How did you... oh. Sarcasm."
"You know what, FUCK YOU!"
I'd crossed half the distance of the dark room before I even realized it. I could HEAR my blood pumping in my ears and I could FEEL my fists shaking at my sides. Yelling at him, in probably what wasn't my smartest moment. Telling him how I knew what he was. What he did. And that he wasn't fooling ANYONE with that goddamn ACT of his. The whole "I've changed and I want to be better" routine. That I sure as hell didn't believe it for one FUCKING SECOND so he could shove it all up his ass and tuck it around the corner.
That shadow of a man stood. Movements slow and controlled, but wound tight like a spring as he came closer. Nearly circling.
"I could say the same for you."
And, in one fluid motion he ripped off my hood and mask. I tried ducking low and sweeping to the side, but it came off all the same. Sam and I may have similar builds, but other than that, our hair and eyes... even the shape of our faces were different. Sam having auburn hair and silver eyes. Me with blonde and blue. As if he even HAD to rip the mask off though. I guess he'd just been making a point. Sick of staring at a bad joke of someone he once knew...
I just snarled at him.
"You're not ruining this, do you HEAR ME?
I will not LET you RUIN this!
It's the one thing I CAN do; since you let Sam DIE, it's the ONLY thing I can do!"
He finally stopped. Looking a bit more puzzled, but held tight behind a determined eye.
"...I should know you, shouldn't I?
This isn't an act of opportunity. Sam meant something to you.
Suppose I won't need the nipple clamps then."
All I could feel... was the heat. The boil. The SCREAMING ANGER that I was barely keeping hold on.
"I don't give a FUCK if you know me or not!
None of this has ANYTHING to do with you anymore.
You had your chance and you SCREWED IT UP...
unless, of course, you were just clearing out one used up pet so you could get another.
Then I guess the only screw up you did was showing your face to ME!"
And I let all that BOILING... out in one single, nasty hook to his jaw. Slicing across it with the blade I'd triggered above my knuckles. He hadn't bothered dodging it, which is why he had to sidestep to subtly catch his balance. I guess he hadn't thought I'd pack that much of a punch. But of course he retaliated. There was only a pause that the blood from the gash began running down his cheek and throat... and then he grew tired of being calm, I guess. Taking a swing at me. Fast and precise. My own anger had put me in FAR too close to him, but I still managed to mostly dodge the first punch. Barely getting clipped by it. The second, because of my messy retreat, dropped like a hammer. It would have sent me onto my back, if there hadn't been a shelving unit there. Digging into my back, catching me even as I cringed. Shaking my head clear.
There's a snarl in David's voice when I heard him next.
"Do I really need to mention that I'm being nice?
You know full well what I could do to you.
What I want to do to you.
But instead of being grateful for the fluke of events
that's lead to me not leaving your body on the side of the road,
you insult one of the few genuine things I have ever done.
I don't care who you are, no one does that.
So shut up. Or I'll stop talking."
"'Grateful'...?
"You rape the love of my life and then watch it commit suicide...
and you want me to be GRA----TEFUL?!
And don't give me ANY fucking BULLSHIT about goddamn CONSENT.
Sam was SHREDDED!
There WAS no FUCKING consent
so you can just GO TO FUCKING HELL!!"
For a brief moment... he just stared at me. Wide eyed. Stunned.
"...Alex..."
Then there was a blink, and his entire demeanor changed. Shifted. Looking at me with fresh eyes. Nearly hesitant. Unsure. As if he'd crossed a line somewhere and hadn't even realized it. Then, slowly, he took out his switchblade... and placed it down on the floor.
"I didn't rape him.
I barely touched him after that one time.
Obviously he was in no state to give consent, but I never slept with him. Not once.
You don't have to believe me. But I didn't. And I wouldn't.
Even monsters have standards, though most see them as arbitrary.
I imagine you know that.
That was a hell of a punch.
Law enforcement background? You have a stance like you do.
I don't know whether or not Sam mentioned that.
I... I had trouble getting through some of his posts."
"Heh. Sam never mentioned... much... about me, did it?
Special Agent Alex Prescott, FBI, Banks.
Least I was, back when SHIT made sense.
Luckily though... some of that is still useful.
Like profiling fuckers like you.
Like knowing... KNOWING the kind that stop.
And the kind that... don't. That never would.
That NEVER DO unless someone STOPS them.
Unless bullet or blade or CAGE stops them....
I knew about you LONG before Slender Man ever came around, Banks.
We had FILES on the bullshit - the slaughters and rapes - you left behind you.
I spent MANY years imagining what it would be like when we took you out.
What you'd really look like. Sound like.
Never figured I'd wind up just another play thing for you.
Another file to add to the stack.
That was why you brought me down here, right?
To torture me? SKIN me? Rape me?
You're a SICK FUCK, Banks.
And it churns my stomach to think of you even laying
ONE GODDAMN FINGER on Sam.
You had no right.
Sam was BETTER than you.
Better than MOST.
And you...
What did you tell Sam at the end?
When it was too broken to fight anymore and you took it in?
Did you... did you say it would FEEL BETTER from it?
Did you claim you were HELPING?
Whispering everything you FUCKERS do to make your victims
explain away all the pain and SICKNESS they feel inside?
How far did you push it, Banks?
How MUCH did you TAKE from MY SAM?!!
...I gotta admit, though...
You have good foresight, if nothing else.
Taking my weapon.
My Glock.
You'd look good with a hole between your eyes.
The only FIX for people like you."
Silence stretched for a very long minute as I watched the rage BOIL through David's system... and as he shifted, I straightened. Thinking that, if he wanted to level a punch or two further at me, then like HELL I was going to be knocked DOWN by them... but he pivoted instead. And cracked his fist against the wall. Then he punched it a second time, then a third. Then one more time after that. Until that boil came down to a simmer.
"I'll have to keep you a couple days. Figure out a way to keep you out of this."
"Like HELL.
I told you this has NOTHING to do with you, Banks.
You think just because you directed your punches at a damn wall instead of my jaw,
that you've PROVEN something? That you have ANY kind of power over anything here?
You don't get to CONTROL me like you controlled Sam.
Even as we STAND HERE death-glaring each other, Cypher is tracking me down.
And he's going to be even worse 'company' than ME when he gets here.
So do yourself a favor... and get lost."
"Why is Cypher helping you?!
He of all people has to know how Sam would feel about this."
Like a Hurricane meeting a Tornado. David was furious. I wasn't much better. It was taking everything IN ME not to turn the argument physical. My hands clenched so tight with the effort that I could FEEL them shaking.
"Of course he KNOWS!
And so do /I/.
But SAM isn't HERE anymore.
Sam was BARELY here at all after that Red-FUCK got done with it.
See. I may hate your guts, Banks.
I may be standing here HOPING I get a chance one day
to put you down like the rabid dog that you are.
But that Red BITCH is worse.
Ten million times WORSE.
Sam was BEYOND obliterated and I will. Not. Walk. Away. From. THAT.
Not all of us are willing to just sit on the sidelines and WATCH the world burn, BANKS.
Not all of us can FORGIVE AND FORGET what that FUCKER did to Sam.
And if I can use this little ACT
to flush that bastard out so Cypher can have the chance he needs to END this...
then I'm damn well going to DO IT.
I'm the bait.
Cypher's the trap.
End of story."
"Then he's just going to find some different bait isn't he?"
"Oh yeah? WHO?"
"...I could do it.
It's not quite as evocative as Sam, but it would do the trick."
"HA! That's rich.
All you've been doing for MONTHS is HIDE,
and NOW you want to actually get off your ass and do something? Why?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
I just crossed my arms. Flat-out telling him that he was deluding himself. That it would never work. Pointing out that even Sam had said that Red-Fuck was ruled by his own emotions, his own pride and RAGE. Explaining that THAT was what we were targeting with all this. THAT was the sweet spot - the one thing that could set off the asshole's fuse - and it was something that ONLY the image of 'Nightscream' would be able to get to this quickly. Ripping into that feeling of FAILURE and letting Red-Fuck work himself up into a frenzy. He had done EVERYTHING he could to destroy Sam in ways that I sure as Hell can't even begin to imagine...
and I intended to make him believe that HIS WORST just wasn't GOOD ENOUGH. That Sam CONQUERED it. Rose OVER it. And was coming back to KICK some arrogant ass. I intended to make him ENRAGED. To throw caution and reason away so that he could manifest... and it could all be over. Sam would have JUSTICE, which was a small token, really, at the end of so much suffering...
It's all I can do.
And I sure as HELL wasn't going to let BANKS get in my way.
Pointing out that all Redlight ever did to HIM was to abandon his loyalty. Not exactly something he could fail at.
But Banks, the arrogant ass, wasn't having any of it.
"Then find someone else to be Nightscream.
There are plenty of people with his build.
And it's not like they could impersonate him any worse."
"That's not an option."
"You doing it isn't an option either.
You're throwing away ALL of his sacrifices."
"...So I should throw some OTHER poor idiot into the line of fire instead, right?
This was my idea.
If shit goes wrong and Red-Fuck figures out he was coned
before Cypher can do his thing...
the BEST outcome is a quick death.
Rips out my heart or something.
But at worst...
...No. I'm not going to subject someone else to that.
My plan. My pain, if it happens that way.
Sam has already suffered WAY too much for my sake...
I'm not going to make someone else suffer for me too."
"...Sam will come back from the dead and kill me if I let you."
"...You're really just giving me more reasons to go through with this."
Surprisingly... he chuckled at that. Looking at me with an odd expression that I couldn't quite place before he looked down to his switchblade on the floor... and kicked it over to me with the toe of his boot. Posture nearly relaxed. Nearly. Carefully, I bent and picked it up. Never taking my eyes off of him. Expecting the trap. But I straightened with it, and he still hadn't moved. Just watching me.
"Not a glock, but it will do in a pinch.
If I have to die... I'd rather it be with that.
But you should know... that you're wrong about me. At least, partially.
Because something did stop me."
"And what was THAT?"
Really was NOT in the mood for his games anymore.
"Earlier, you said something around the lines of 'back when the world made sense'.
An understandable sentiment.
Most people would assume it was because of the death
and the otherworldly entities.
But for reasons that are probably more me than you, I don't think so.
Faceless men? Weird. Difficult. But you could deal with it.
But with him gone... the world loses all meaning.
Sometimes it feels like not even gravity works the same any more.
Tell me Alex, of the people you've profiled, how many were married?
Take that number and I imagine that you could find some good reasons why they did.
Power, a good cover, money.
Now tell me.
Why did I marry Ronan?"
"Legacy.
When a serial killer is as successful as you. As good as you.
They tend to do one of three things.
Start killing more often, and eventually trip up and get caught.
Perform a finale.
Something huge as, usually, a suicide mission.
While leaving enough proof behind to prove he was responsible for everything.
Or, in your case... pass down the baton. Make a chain.
Create a Legacy.
Hardest option to pull off.
Gotta give you credit for that.
Marriage is good for trust building.
After that, it's only time."
He nearly lost his composure at that. Expression contorting in rage for a brief second before he latched the reins back on. Taking a breath. Calming down again.
"Ronan's an unconventional choice, don't you think?
Hardly a serial killer type. Not saying he wasn't capable, because he was.
But... well his work ethic was off.
He'd hardly enjoy it, and to be perfectly honest
I'd never been able to convince him of something he didn't already want.
Plus, he was just as old as me. Weight's beginning to be an issue.
He was attempting to become sober,
but there were still nights where he couldn't see straight.
I have a lot of young things I have a decent control over.
Lots of potential. Lots of blank space.
Why Ronan?"
"So what's the alternative then?
You fell in love and saw the error in your ways,
so you decided to become a shining, smiling prince?
This isn't Beauty and the Fucking Beast.
Don't forget, Banks, I've seen your work up-close and personal.
I know your record like the back of my hand.
Least for the shit we managed to FIND OUT about.
People like you don't change.
They don't.
It's a snake pit.
You fall in. You get bit.
There's no climbing out..."
"You talk about me as if I'm not human.
As if I am not full of flaws and inconsistencies.
As if I am so wonderfully sure in my ways that I never have need of doubt.
And even if that were true.
Even if I was so unchangeable... I died with Ronan.
She might as well have shot me in the head too,
because the world was upended in that moment.
Do you understand that?
Because I think you're the only one who can."
I stared straight back at him. My glare feeling more like a frown as everything tossed and turned inside my head. My own logic wasn't adding up to a perfect picture in my head. Besides... I didn't really believe my own accusations. Oh, I wanted to. But I couldn't. Not deep down. Not without being the biggest hypocrite on the damn planet. I knew people changed. Most didn't WANT to... but they could. If they made the choice to. Sam, after all, changed from a Samaritan to being one of the most brutal, cruel, ruthless serial killers I'd ever known... going so far as to go one so poetically about the BEAUTY of killing... of murder...
And even me. I fought took and nail to get out of the Family Business back in Detroit. I actually had to take refuge with an uncle of mine out in New Jersey just to get AWAY from it. Which only brought Hell on his house, but my uncle was a honest to God GOOD MAN... and I was a kid. So he stood up for me. And was beaten to the last inches of his life. His eyes couldn't even OPEN anymore, they were so black and purple and swollen. They left him to die from internal bleeding - dragging me out the door by my hair. I can still kinda remembered what he sounded like... when he was trying to say my name amongst a mouthful of blood and teeth.
That was when I chose... to go against everything I'd been raised in.
There's always a choice...
"...Tell me the truth, Banks. I deserve the truth.
I loved Sam. And, despite everything it did... I still love it even now.
The fact I was TOO DAMN SLOW getting out. That if I had just... gotten to it.
Maybe things would have been...
I could HEAR Sam screaming with every word on that damn blog.
Nothing it wrote after Red-Fuck was ever without agony.
You had to have---
...I deserve to know what happened between you two.
I NEED to know the truth. Whatever it is.
If you..."
I clenched my jaw. Unwilling to say anymore.
"...You say you've seen my files."
David got... eerily calm at that point. Walking up to me before lifting a hand. Tilting my chin up. Voice barely a whisper. Almost sounding... sympathetic.
"Then you would know that I'm not a liar.
A year ago, not only would I have done it,
I would have stood here in front of you and bragged about it.
I would tell you every single detail, knowing that while it tore you apart inside,
you wouldn't be able to stop listening.
But that was a year ago.
Not even monsters can stay the same in the world, even if they try.
Things push and pull until everything is unrecognizable.
I did have thoughts.
I'll admit that to you.
Though they were far more based in sentimentality than you might expect.
But I never touched him. Never.
Sam's account was pretty accurate, minus some personal moments.
But again, nothing happened.
That's the truth."
I listened.
I listened until he was done... and, even as I swatted his hand away, I believed him. I didn't say it. I didn't apologize for accusing him. Or hitting him. I didn't WANT to believe him... but I did. My glare hitting the wall instead. The floor. The ceiling. Anywhere but at him. The minutes dragging out, but it wasn't really all that uncomfortable a silence. More as if... letting things settle.
Except... there was one other thing that I needed to know... even though it tore my heart apart to say it.
"...How did Sam do it?"
"...Slit his wrists in the bathtub.
Quick, painless, and thorough...
He made absolute certain he'd be dead before I could get there.
I burned the body."
I felt that BOIL begin around. That ITCH that gets going under my skin... so I started pacing. It was the only thing I could do to try to get rid of the tension - the desire to HIT something... only it didn't work this time. Though I settled for the wall as a target. Damn near shattered my knuckles, but I barely felt it. Already on a rant. Half yelling. Half grieving. I went on about how it was an oxy-damn-moron. Sam committing suicide. People like SAM don't commit suicide - they're the ones that go on rants for HOURS about how there's ALWAYS a rope if you're willing to grab it. That there's ALWAYS a light at the end of the tunnel. That things get BETTER if you give them the chance to. Sam used to act as a part-time guidance councilor at its school because the kids preferred talking to IT rather than someone who barely gave a damn behind a desk. I can't count the number of times it came home all worked up because this kid was cutting or that kid was withdrawing from everything...
Sam cared. Sam thought life was WORTH sticking through, through good and bad. Used to call it a roller coaster. Throwing the coaster off the track wasn't an option. You rode it out. Sometimes it was fun. Sometimes it was scary. But you're strapped in for the ride, so you might as well throw your arms into the air.
"...Sam wasn't that type. It never gave up.
Not with anything. Or on anybody...
That Red-Fuck needs to suffer. And Die.
No one does this to my family.
NO ONE."
"Well we're agreed on one thing.
If I let you out, if I help you on this, you better make him suffer.
For all of us."
"...If you help me sell this, I will.
Help me sell this, Banks.
And we'll take that son of a bitch DOWN."
"Then I suppose I was surprised to find Sam underneath that hood."
"...Yeah. I guess you were."
We talked for a while after that. Turned out he had me down in a basement in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. The very same building that Banks himself was taken to as a kid and held captive there for eight years. The very same building that the local authorities found the skinned remains of one "Mr. Dubois". It was abandoned and well off the beaten trail... but I knew Cypher would find it soon enough. Even if he had to call in to his 'Dad' for the info. And, once that maniac burst through the front door.... I knew he'd be more likely to eat Banks' kidneys than stop and listen for a moment. So I told Banks it would probably be better for him to leave completely and come back around later, least until Cypher found me in one piece. He's nearly creepily possessive, but that has to do with Sam, not me. I guess he figures I'm his responsibility or some bullshit like that. In any case, he would be more willing to listen first and shoot later if Banks himself wasn't in the line of sight, so that's what we did.
Banks left. And I waited.
And, of course, just like I figured... when the entire team burst through the front door AND windows AND walls... they were looking to shoot to kill. Half expected them to accidentally shoot ME, but we avoided that somehow. And, yeah, Cypher took a hell of a lot of convincing that nothing happened. And even more convincing to make him let Banks get involved with the whole scheme.
Cypher was DEFINITELY considering pulling back on the whole thing and just throwing me in a Labyrinth. I could see that little thought ricocheting around in his head. Made me want to pin something OFF of that skull of his to get him to focus. So I did. Probably the best use that mug had had in YEARS.
Eventually... we all got on the same page. First thing Banks did was help me write our "Fake Encounter".
And it all worked.
It goddamn WORKED...
It should be over by now. But it's not. So we just gotta keep moving forward. It's taken a while to get this shit up, but now you'd be pretty much caught up on how things really... came about, I guess. Things have been fucking NUTS here. Have a whole heap of... what would you call them? They're made of the same goop that Cypher is made from. We have a bunch here, all protecting Proxy Bob. Guess I'll let HIM explain that shit, cause I have no idea what the hell....
That's it for now. I really hope I can get more than an hours sleep tonight...
been having some weird ass dreams.
