Conversations
"Ah, you're here."
The man in the bloody vest raises a hand to wave the new arrival into the room before wearily retreating it back to the armrest of the chair. Bloodstains are everywhere in the decrepit room - splatters on the floor, on the walls, on the furniture, as well as on the man with the bloody vest although, strangely enough, not on his hands. As the new arrival makes her way into the room she notes all these details, and how the bloodstains on the vest are fresher than the rest.
"Where is she?"
"Straight to business? No time for smalltalk?"
"Where. Is. She."
Although he can't see it, her stare is cold, merciless. Nevertheless his body gives a slight, involuntary twitch of fear, as if the very marrow of his bones remembers...he shoves the memory aside.
Best not to dwell on it.
"Exactly where I promised she'd be. Unfortunately she might not be in the same condition I found her in, but I'm sure that friend of yours can fix her up just fine...oh, except that she's a little bit busy right at the moment, isn't she? Might not make it in time. Such a shame."
"Or I could get the one who put her in that state in the first place to fix her up instead. She's been surprisingly receptive towards the idea of making amends. Actually, I'm sure she's already gotten started. She did, after all, lead us right to her."
"You're lying!" His face contorts into a snarl of rage but it's weak. Half-hearted. It quickly subsides back to its original blank slate. "If you already knew, why ask? Why the pretense?
"Upset that you couldn't get the last laugh? Such a shame."
"I can't help it - it's my nature. Sill, I'm not sure I believe you."
"Believe me. Or don't. I don't particularly care either way."
The man in the bloody vest turns his head to look at her directly. His eyes are empty, hollow, except for a slight glimmer of pain as he evaluates his guest. She returns his gaze, clearly unimpressed.
"You know, this conversation isn't going quite the way I imagined it would."
"No, I imagine it isn't."
"I thought that you were just another one of the crazy ones. Hearing voices. On a mission from God or whatever to change the world. Not very interesting. Boring, even."
"Except?"
"Except that some people started taking you seriously. Some people actually believed that maybe you could change the world for the better. You gave them hope."
"And that was just something you couldn't abide."
"No. We have three vengeful Gods ravaging some unlucky city every couple of months. The idea that things could get better is a cruel joke."
"And so you made it your mission to enlighten everyone. Make sure nobody missed out on the punchline."
"Yeah."
"Not quite so funny now that the joke's on you?"
"No." A wet cough interrupts him as he takes a raspy breath. A new stain on his bloody vest. "No it isn't."
"So what changed?"
"I saw it. HIM. In all his majesty."
"You saw barely a glimmer."
"You're lying."
This time without emotion. Drained of energy.
"Again, whether you believe or not is up to you. I think you know the truth."
"..."
"..."
"You're going to do it, aren't you. You're actually going to do it."
"That's the plan."
"Ha!"
It's the first feeling of genuine amusement he's felt in months. Years, even.
"Hmm?"
"Just...it'd be so funny if you actually pulled it off. Brought him here despite..."
He tries to wave his arm. Fails. Can't muster the energy.
"Despite all this?"
"Yeah."
"And that's why I'll be able to do it."
"Huh?"
"Because, despite everything, all the terrible things the world kept throwing at me...I endured."
"..."
The man in the bloody vest stares down at his hands. When had they started shaking? He doesn't know. Hesitantly he pulls the small switchblade out of his pocket, holds it in trembling fingers. She stares at him with emotionless eyes, but does nothing.
One last time.
He cuts.