Post by Evelyn Kuller on Mar 30, 2015 4:32:57 GMT -6
Cyril Kuller finished the video again, and his reaction was the same as it had the dozen times before. One hand clasped over his mouth as he realized what he was seeing.
The video was from the last EXODUS show, of the mysterious moment where a yellow-eyed man sang over images of the Dojo decimated. He was in this state of shock because he understood it. At least the base of it. He didn't understand the talk of the spawn, of the second person there and the imagery associated with him, or even why he was involved here.
But he knew what the constellation meant.
And he damn sure knew that yellow eyed bastard.
And he knew what that meant for him, for Eve, for EXODUS...and worst of all, he knew what it meant for his brother Alexander.
There were times Alex could barely keep it together with what happened as a distant memory.
The thought of what seeing this would do to him made Cyril want to cry.
He heard steps approaching the main computer room he was in, and he quickly dashed the video from the screen. Just in time, as Alexander stepped in. He took one look at Cyril and his expression became concerned.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Are you alright, Cyril? You look...troubled.
He took a moment to compose himself, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked at his brother.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: It's nothing! Just watching some of my soaps, you know how they get me!
Doktor Alexander Adversary: ...yes, of course. You're very emotional over them. I'm sorry to interrupt. I wanted to go over the Eve footage again.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Again? We've looked it over multiple times now.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: I know. But still....there could be more we could gleam from it.
Cyril nods.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Alright, sure. Let's rewatch her reaction to the Aruba footage.
Alex twitched a bit at the mention of Aruba, and it took so much will for Cyril to keep the smile on his face.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Yes. Let's.
As Alex stepped over and began to pull up the footage on the computer, Cyril turned to his thoughts.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: I wonder how Eve is doing right now...
–
She stood in front of his door, waiting. She hadn't knocked yet, and she couldn't be sure why. Perhaps it was just nervousness. This was to be a big night. The biggest, really, of her existence. The night where she hoped her dream would be realized.
Perhaps it was just worrying about what it'd mean if she failed tonight.
Finally, she reached up and knocked on the door. A voice shouted from inside for her to enter, and so she pulled the door open and stepped into Bowie's home again. He was cleaning off his living room table, clearing some books off of it. He walked over to the bookshelf and put them up before regarding her.
Mr. Bowie: I was wondering when you'd be returning. I saw that (R)Evolution show with you on it, and figured you had managed to get what you wanted without me.
She shook her head.
Eve: No, no, not at all. That was simply a favor for someone. No one knew about it beforehand but him and I. And Phoenix, I guess.
Mr. Bowie: Well, it was a good warmup for your inevitable return, yes?
Eve: It was...interesting. The kid I faced has potential.
Her face soured.
Eve: Oh that's weird to think about. I call him a kid, but I'm just past one year old, so he has about 18 years on me.
Mr. Bowie just stared for a moment, taking that in as well.
Mr. Bowie: ...every day with you is a new experience, Eve, and I do cherish that.
Eve: ...yeaaaah...so, uh, about why I'm here.
Mr. Bowie: Well, I would assume you're ready to move onto the next step. It'll be a slow one, probably take most of the night, but it should get us probably about 3 months out from getting you where you want.
She shook her head vigorously, emphatically, before facing him down with the most serious look she could muster.
Eve: No. I have to finish. Now, here, tonight.
He looked a bit surprised.
Mr. Bowie: You're rushing now? We've been taking our time, and I think that's benefited you.
Eve: Maybe. But...I finally have a goal.
He quirked an eyebrow.
Mr. Bowie: Do elaborate. I thought you already had a goal, to reach center so you can be allowed to wrestle again.
Eve: Yes. But, beyond that, I had no goal...and now I do.
Mr. Bowie: Well. I'm all ears.
She frowned briefly at the idea of telling him these things. It wasn't that she wanted to keep them a secret, but that she worried a bit over how ridiculous it might sound to him. Then she remembered that they agreed to work together after she healed the wounds he had inflicted on her during an attempted murder. She sighed then, and began to tell him all she knew. About the Doktors, the Ten, the events of Aruba, and the promise she had made to Alexander Adversary after seeing what happened to him. The entire time, Bowie simply stood and listened to her, his expression unchanging.
Mr. Bowie: ...so, there's ten of them.
Eve: ...eh?
Mr. Bowie: Adversaries. The ones in the medical masks and the goggles, yes? I did some work for one, some years back. In my...previous line of work.
Her eyes lit up.
Eve: Really?! Please, we don't know much about where they are now, if you could tell me anything that could help us...
He held up one hand, a frown coming to his face.
Mr. Bowie: I am not in the business of helping anyone except you, Eve. You, I am here to help. That is what I agreed to.
Eve: But it would help me!
Mr. Bowie: Would it?
She blinked in confusion, as Bowie continued to talk.
Mr. Bowie: You can say that defeating them is your goal, but is it? It's a nice story you say you were told. Deepening the bond between you two, forging loyalty under the shared banner of what you were put through by the other Doktors. But it could be just a story.
Eve: That's ridiculous! Why would someone go to those lengths to convince someone to help them?!
His expression is uncaring as he points out the obvious.
Mr. Bowie: Maybe because that someone is the unkillable, unstoppable Perfect Evil?
Eve: That's...
Her head droops, the small and ugly possibility worming it's way into her head.
Eve: That's ridiculous...why would you say something like that?
Bowie sighed, taking a step closer and putting his hands on Eve's shoulders.
Mr. Bowie: Because you're letting that affect your choices. Like the two other parts you locked away, you can't let others affect your choice. When it comes to this, the only person who must be allowed to influence your choice is you. I only ask you accept that possibility, and look at it rationally.
She nods.
Eve: I...I will.
Mr. Bowie: Thank you. Besides, you need to be reminded that the world is cold, and people lie. That too you must acknowledge as you make your choices. That people are never what they want you to think they are...like the Caldwell boy.
She frowned at him, but he continued to talk before she could get a word in.
Mr. Bowie: I've kept an eye on him since realizing he would be your anchor, and his behavior is...well, annoying and mindless, to put it lightly. And I've noticed you agree.
She sighed.
Eve: It's...true. Ever since I took my trip into my head, I haven't been able to look at Carey's conversations with people like Cailey without feeling so fucking angry at him. Just like a tidal wave of it hitting me every time and I just wanna bash his head in with a chair because of how fucking AGGRAVATING he is to watch. And then I'm...
Mr. Bowie: Tired?
She nodded vigorously.
Eve: Yes! Tired! I get these strong, strong emotions, and then suddenly I'm exhausted, completely out of energy! When we found that mark on Carey, my emotions went wild and I had to lay on the floor because I couldn't move. What...what is that?
Mr. Bowie: Well, it's a sign that you're not done yet. You see when you made your doors, you gained the ability to control just how much input they have on you. Your humanity and your curse, you hold the key to how much of them you let in. How much of your emotions you feel, how much of your power you let override them. But you haven't reached “you” yet. “You” is defined as having allowed the exact amount of influence from both into yourself. Enough of your curse that it benefits you, but not enough that it covers everything in it's numbing sludge. Enough of your humanity that you can taste food, feel love, and laugh. But not enough that every little thing you feel is amplified. That's what that is, Eve. Your balance is off, your doors are not opened correctly, so your emotions are so much stronger than they should be. They overpower you, and leave you with just a deep fatigue.
She nodded, understanding.
Eve: So it's that thing you warned me about. Where if I tried to focus on just one part, it'd go into a crazy overdrive.
Mr. Bowie: Correct. What you're feeling is yourself on the threshold of going over into what I term the “Dead Zone.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Eve: Now is that named like that because it fits, or is it named that because it sounds intimidating?
Bowie smiles.
Mr. Bowie: Yes.
Eve was unamused.
Eve: ...moving on.
Mr. Bowie: Put aside what you think of the name. The Dead Zone is something you need to worry about, Eve. All of this is to get you to a place where you don't have to worry about it. Where you are you, without the other parts of you that you never asked for taking so much control from you. It's worse for you because, really, you have two Dead Zones.
Eve: Ahhh, great, I see. One for the curse, one for humanity. Got it. Then it's even more important that I get this over with quickly. Both to get me away from this...Dead Zone...and so I can move on to...to what I think I want to do.
Bowie nodded.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. While I remain uncertain of this goal you wish to achieve this for, I recognize that finally reaching your balance is important. So, I'll oblige you, and we'll get this done with.
Eve: Okay, great! What do I need to do? Take some more herbs and get all cozy in my head?
Mr. Bowie: Oh, no, there's no need for that. For this, you need an immediate method. You need a real hard reason placed before you to inspire you to find how your doors should be opened. And there's really one one way to do that.
She raised an eyebrow, before the realization hit her and she sighed.
Eve: Ah shit. You're gonna punch me in the face, aren't you?
He smiled.
Mr. Bowie: Oh Eve, of course not. I'm not going to punch you in the face. I'm going to punch you in the stomach.
His fist lashed out, driving itself into her gut. She immediately hunched over, the wind vanishing from her body before his fist withdrew and a split second later his elbow smashed into the back of her head, sending her face down onto the carpet. He then threw a kick into her side, forcing her to roll across the carpet. At least it had the benefit of creating space between them, allowing Eve to get to her feet and stare down her ally. She raised her fists and took a breath, waiting for him to make a move. It let her take stock of her mind. Her anger at his strikes against her was strong, too strong. She could feel the beginnings of tiredness at the edges of her mind already. She needed to take care of that, so she looked to her doors. The door for her humanity was far more open than the one for her curse, to the point where she could see the hand of that bleached hair douchebag reaching out. She slammed the door once on his hand, then opened it far less than it had been before. Instantly she felt the overwhelming aspect of her anger faded away. It remained in the back of her head, but it was instantly taken over with a bloodlust.
Bowie began to approach her, and she tried to get herself in order. But she quickly realized this configuration of her doors wasn't right. Her bloodlust was suddenly at the forefront of her mind, with none of her other emotions there to keep it in check. The bit she had opened the door to her humanity wasn't enough, and it was covered in sludge. All she wanted to do was make him bleed, and so lashed out with her fist, aiming to smash his nose. He had it scouted, dodging his head to the side and driving his palm into her chest, driving her back. He quickly turned and threw a kick, driving his foot into her abdomen and sending her to the floor. She got desperate, spinning the circles that controlled the doors trying to find the right ratio. All it did was throw her mind into a scramble as emotions came and went, bloodlust strengthening and weakening in seconds as she tried to find the right way. All it did was tire her out, and it ended when Bowie grabbed her by the head, hauling her up before tossing her against the wall, where she slid down it to lay against it on the floor.
Mr. Bowie: Don't just open them at random! If you do that, it just makes it easier for me to pick you apart! Actually try!
She took a few breaths, trying to calm herself, and achieved some form of that. She looked at herself again, and tried to look at it without panic. Her bloodlust was too strong, so she slowly started to push it shut, waiting for the moment her emotions would start to creep too strong. Instead, they came strongly without a hint of it happening beforehand, forcing her to take hold of it as well and start to close it. But then she started to feel too disconnected from both, and tried to pull them more, trying to keep them even. As she did this, as she carefully tested how each one felt in her, she could feel herself approaching...something. Something she had wanted for so long. It felt like her head was beginning to clear...
She was almost there, she knew it. The bloodlust and the anger was still there, nibbling just on her edges. All it would take was a final adjusting to finally get through. She was just about to try adjusting the doors again when a foot slammed into her side, rolling her over. She let out a cough, looking up at Mr. Bowie as he approached her.
Mr. Bowie: You so do need to stop getting distracted, dear Eve.
He was right, she knew. She needed to get rid of the immediate distraction of the man fighting her. She needed to get him off his game, take his massive advantage over her away at least somewhat. And with how clear her head was becoming, she could finally use her own intelligence to think of one. And, as he stood over her, pulling one fist back preparing it, she knew what to do.
He threw the punch straight at her face, but she pushed up on her hands slightly, moving herself just enough that his fist hit only carpet. She reached out and grasped his arm with both hands, pulling him down slightly so she could execute her plan. She pushed up on one leg, using the leverage of his arm to pop her other leg up behind his head. And then she drove the point of her foot straight against the back of his head and neck.
She had expected this to disorient him, to take some of the armor off his fight. What she got instead was a complete surprise.
He spat out blood, spraying it across the carpet and her face.
She reflexively released his arm, allowing him to stumble a few steps from her, hunched over. She stared in shock, one hand coming up to rub at her face, looking at her now bloodied hand as if to confirm this was happening. She looked back in time to see him stand back upright, standing up so quick that his balance went off and he stumbled more steps backwards. He coughed up more blood, leaving it running down his chin and staining his shirt. Finally he corrected his posture and looked at her again. His dilated pupils were wild. He stared at her a moment before letting out a quick, shrill laugh.
Mr. Bowie: Well someone get lucky, huuuuh?
Eve: What the fuck?
He doesn't respond to the question, instead reaching one hand behind his back. She knew what he was doing long before he brought his hand back in front of him, a knife now clasped in his hand. He grins at her, a fake looking smile made all the worse for the blood covering his teeth and face.
Mr. Bowie: Since you're not making any progress, I'll have to take matters into my own hands!
She started to get to her feet, only for Bowie to throw a kick at her, causing her to roll to the side away from it. She came up from the roll in time to avoid taking a slash to the face from the knife, and scrambled to her feet. She threw a left, only for Bowie to parry it, and then drove his fist into her gut, following by headbutting her, sending her reeling back.
She blinked through tears of pain. Through them she could see him watching her, grinning while covered in his own blood, seeming even stronger now that he'd lost it, reveling in insanity. And a thought occurred to her.
So this was the Dead Zone.
As he quickly approached her she tried to throw a kick at him, only for it to be caught by him. He quickly spun her around, her back facing him for only a moment before he drove the knife into her right shoulder. She let out a yell of pain as it went into her, and suddenly he was against her, one arm around her throat.
Mr. Bowie: A shame, but I thiiiiink you're a failure! Too bad too bad! I'll have to dunk you somewhere out of the way so no one has to seeeeeeee you again! And then, I think I'll have to take a visit to that Caldwell boy, I think I can blame him for this can't you agree? Me and him, I think we'll have to have a talk, at least till I break his jaw. THEN the fun'll start!
She listened to all that, feeling the burning pain of the knife in her as she did. Her anger flared, wanting to get revenge for the words and actions, her bloodlust screaming at her to tear him apart for his threats. But Eve knew that what they wanted was not her, not entirely. They were not what she needed to focus on. So instead she focused on the feeling of the knife in her, on the words he said, and the people who she was doing this for.
Alexander Adversary, a man who returned to fighting the people who maimed him to save her. Who had his body torn apart by the people who'd done the same to her, who now had so little of his original body left but still dedicated himself to stopping them.
Cyril Kuller, a man who took three bullets meant to end his life because he tried to save her from the fate she had resigned herself to, who refused to let her think her life was worthless and that she was more than an experiment to be cast aside.
And Carey Caldwell, an idiot with a big mouth that had reached out to a patchwork girl with friendship, not caring her history, fate, or curse.
Her family.
She kept their faces and her memories of them in her mind as she reached out and grasped the circles on her anchor again, and spun them. The doors adjusted themselves as she saw fit, and suddenly it all clicked.
Suddenly, and without warning, Eve was herself.
Her head felt clear for the first time. She felt the anger, but it did not tug overbearingly on her. The desire for violence was there, but it was not whispering to her constantly. The desire was only hers. All of it was finally, finally only hers. She took in the situation as herself for the first time. The maniac with the arm around her throat, the knife in her shoulder, the threats against her family. And she acted.
And, perhaps appropriately, her first action as herself was to grab the hand of the arm around her throat and bite into it, sinking her teeth into it, tasting his blood as he let out a yell, backing away from her. And then it was her making a yell as she twisted her body around, putting everything of herself into it as she threw a punch straight at his face, smashing into his nose, a satisfying crunch sounding as he fell to his back on the ground.
She reached behind herself, grasping the knife in her hand and yanking it out. She winced briefly, before looking inside herself again. She took grasp of the circle controlling her curse and allowed it to open just a tad bit more. There was a slight deadening of her mind as the sludge came in, but the wound on her shoulder quickly closed up. And, to her happiness, she was able to return the door to where it had been before without a problem.
She had achieved the dream she thought was impossible.
She had gained control of her curse, of her humanity, of herself.
She had found balance.
She stepped over to the prone Bowie, seeing in his face only confusion at how he'd come to be on his back with a busted nose. She smiled down at him as she extended her hand. He reached out and took it, and she helped him to his feet. He looked at her, her body language, her expression, and smiled.
Mr. Bowie: I take it I'm meeting Eve now?
She returned the smile.
Eve: Correct. It's nice to meet you.
Mr. Bowie: The same to you, my dear. You are truly something else. Your progress is outstanding. It took me...well, it took me a very long time to reach anything close to your state.
Eve: Well, it wasn't easy. There was the lunatic trying to beat me to death.
Mr. Bowie: Oh, really? Do show me to him, I'll show him why that was a mistake.
They shared a laugh, before Eve's expression changed to a harder one as she took in the blood covering his face before looking him in the eyes.
Eve: So, you mind me asking what the hell that was about?
Mr. Bowie: Hm? What?
She stared at him. He did not waver under her stare, looking like he legitimately did not understand what she was talking about. Eve slowly held her hand up to her face and rubbed around her mouth and chin. Bowie did the same, and then looked at his hand when it came away sticky with his blood.
Mr. Bowie: ...ah. That. Yes. Well, there's no way around it. You sent me to my Dead Zone.
Eve: Yeah, figured that bit out, thanks. I meant WHY it did that.
He did not reply immediately, instead walking past her to grab a towel off the table and running it over his face. She frowned at the avoiding.
Mr. Bowie: It doesn't matter, Eve. My Dead Zone has no bearing on you.
She was silent a moment, as a thought occurred to her.
Eve: Is that why you left?
Silence again, as he continued to try to wipe his face clean. Realizing it to be futile, he dropped the towel, and turned to face her. His expression was clear: the topic was not one to continue.
Mr. Bowie: It doesn't matter. That's the past. This is the present, Eve, and what's important now is what you've achieved.
He smiled at her, a genuine one.
Mr. Bowie: How's it feel to be yourself?
Eve: It feels like...
Her face scrunches up, the best word suddenly so far away from her. Bowie's smile only grows.
Mr. Bowie: Like you?
She blinked at this. She considered it, rolling it around in her head, and then nodded.
Eve: Yeah. It feels like me. Whatever that might be.
She looked at him, and smiled.
Eve: Thank you.
He nodded.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. Now, I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't offer you the chance for your first experience as yourself to be to have a drink.
Eve: Oh fuck that, I'm all about getting shitfaced after all this.
He stared at her, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.
Eve: Problem with the language?
Mr. Bowie: No.
He stepped to her, bending down slightly to get his face in front of hers, looking straight into her eyes.
Mr. Bowie: Just observing how it's obvious to see that the person you are is going to be quite charming.
Eve grinned back at him.
Eve: Oh, just wait. I'm gonna be one hell of a Me.
–
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Her capacity for empathy is far higher than I thought the curse allowed.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: She's improving at such a rapid pace.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Mmm....
The two stood in front of the main computer, watching replays of Eve embracing Alexander. Cyril smiles at this, but the smile fades when he looks at Alexander and seeing the lack of joy on his face.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: You're going to brood over this of all things?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Her improvement is something to be happy about. Of course it is. But, I'm bothered.
Cyril nods.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: The tweets, right?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Correct. The tweet by whoever it is that's helping her, it bothers me. It didn't sound helpful at all.
He sighed.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Beyond that, there were the tweets the man calling himself “Seer” made whenever the Caldwell boy was being an idiot. They don't name names but reading them chilled me regardless. They feel like they were about her.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: No, I agree. They don't fill me with confidence. But still, her improvement should speak for itself.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Perhaps...or perhaps it's improvement in spite of the involvement of whoever this is.
Cyril nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: If only we could know who it was. That might help reduce our worries.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: ...then why don't we?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Eh?
Alexander began to tap keys on the keyboard.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: This all started shortly after she requested to use the computer system. Simple to make an inference that she used the computer to find whoever it is that's helping her.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: That makes perfect sense. Ah, but what if she deleted her searches?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Not a problem. I suppose it's fortunate I've just recently finished rebuilding it.
Cyril raised an eyebrow as Alex tapped a few more keys, and the monitor went dark. It remained like this for a moment, until something appeared. What seemed to be three lines approximating eyes and a mouth appeared on the screen, seeming to be at rest. Cyril's expression turned into one of shock.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: I'll be damned. You actually salvaged it. I thought it was destroyed when they leveled the mountain.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Correct. It's value was too great to let them destroy it. And how could I let it die, really? The AI that oversaw our creations....Gate.
The three lines remain as they were, still asleep, before the sound of their voices causes the two eye lines to turn into carets, awakening.
Gate: Hello! It has been too long since I have seen any of you! You have both grown so much, Alex and Lo-
Cyril's expression suddenly twists into one of anger.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Cyril!
The digital face stops, the carets turning to question marks.
Gate: That is not the name you chose at creation.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: So what. I decide my name, and it's Cyril.
The AI stops to contemplate this, before the question marks turn back into carets.
Gate: Acknowledged. You have both grown so much, Alex and Cyril. It makes me simulate the emotion of being proud.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Thank you, Gate. But I'm afraid we're not looking to reminisce over the past.
Gate: I am aware, I have finished reviewing the recordings I made while sleeping of your conversations. You wish for me to find what Bruce's creation was searching for?
Dr. Kuller winced.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Please don't call her that. Her name is Eve, Gate.
Another moment of contemplation.
Gate: Acknowledged. You want what Eve found?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Yes, please. We need to know.
Gate: Easily done!
The digital face disappears, replaced by many web pages and documents contained inside the computer itself rapidly flashing on the screen.
Gate: Bringing up everything she looked up. Hm! Actually, it would seem she decided on someone quite early. Many of these documents are all linked to one person.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Then please bring up a summary of that person.
Gate: Easily done!
The many pages are all replaced with one, giving a summary of all information known on this person, with the name bold and huge on top. Alexander's head tilted, clearly not knowing this man, while Cyril went pale.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: FUCK!
Alex's artificial eyes blink rapidly in confusion as he turns to look at Cyril, whose expression was panicked.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: You know this man?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Of course I do! He's a fucking nightmare that everyone hoped had vanished into his god forsaken grave!
Gate: Cyril your body temperature is rising rapidly, are you unwell?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: No, I'm fucking well not well!
He grabs Alex by the shoulders, making sure the man has to stare him right in the eyes.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: We have to intervene. We have to save her.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Cyril, what are we saving her from?
Cyril looks down at the floor, his expression changing to one of worry as he looks back at his brother. Tears begin to well up in his eyes from some imagined scenario.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: We have to save her from becoming like him.
The video was from the last EXODUS show, of the mysterious moment where a yellow-eyed man sang over images of the Dojo decimated. He was in this state of shock because he understood it. At least the base of it. He didn't understand the talk of the spawn, of the second person there and the imagery associated with him, or even why he was involved here.
But he knew what the constellation meant.
And he damn sure knew that yellow eyed bastard.
And he knew what that meant for him, for Eve, for EXODUS...and worst of all, he knew what it meant for his brother Alexander.
There were times Alex could barely keep it together with what happened as a distant memory.
The thought of what seeing this would do to him made Cyril want to cry.
He heard steps approaching the main computer room he was in, and he quickly dashed the video from the screen. Just in time, as Alexander stepped in. He took one look at Cyril and his expression became concerned.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Are you alright, Cyril? You look...troubled.
He took a moment to compose himself, forcing a smile onto his face as he looked at his brother.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: It's nothing! Just watching some of my soaps, you know how they get me!
Doktor Alexander Adversary: ...yes, of course. You're very emotional over them. I'm sorry to interrupt. I wanted to go over the Eve footage again.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Again? We've looked it over multiple times now.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: I know. But still....there could be more we could gleam from it.
Cyril nods.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Alright, sure. Let's rewatch her reaction to the Aruba footage.
Alex twitched a bit at the mention of Aruba, and it took so much will for Cyril to keep the smile on his face.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Yes. Let's.
As Alex stepped over and began to pull up the footage on the computer, Cyril turned to his thoughts.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: I wonder how Eve is doing right now...
–
She stood in front of his door, waiting. She hadn't knocked yet, and she couldn't be sure why. Perhaps it was just nervousness. This was to be a big night. The biggest, really, of her existence. The night where she hoped her dream would be realized.
Perhaps it was just worrying about what it'd mean if she failed tonight.
Finally, she reached up and knocked on the door. A voice shouted from inside for her to enter, and so she pulled the door open and stepped into Bowie's home again. He was cleaning off his living room table, clearing some books off of it. He walked over to the bookshelf and put them up before regarding her.
Mr. Bowie: I was wondering when you'd be returning. I saw that (R)Evolution show with you on it, and figured you had managed to get what you wanted without me.
She shook her head.
Eve: No, no, not at all. That was simply a favor for someone. No one knew about it beforehand but him and I. And Phoenix, I guess.
Mr. Bowie: Well, it was a good warmup for your inevitable return, yes?
Eve: It was...interesting. The kid I faced has potential.
Her face soured.
Eve: Oh that's weird to think about. I call him a kid, but I'm just past one year old, so he has about 18 years on me.
Mr. Bowie just stared for a moment, taking that in as well.
Mr. Bowie: ...every day with you is a new experience, Eve, and I do cherish that.
Eve: ...yeaaaah...so, uh, about why I'm here.
Mr. Bowie: Well, I would assume you're ready to move onto the next step. It'll be a slow one, probably take most of the night, but it should get us probably about 3 months out from getting you where you want.
She shook her head vigorously, emphatically, before facing him down with the most serious look she could muster.
Eve: No. I have to finish. Now, here, tonight.
He looked a bit surprised.
Mr. Bowie: You're rushing now? We've been taking our time, and I think that's benefited you.
Eve: Maybe. But...I finally have a goal.
He quirked an eyebrow.
Mr. Bowie: Do elaborate. I thought you already had a goal, to reach center so you can be allowed to wrestle again.
Eve: Yes. But, beyond that, I had no goal...and now I do.
Mr. Bowie: Well. I'm all ears.
She frowned briefly at the idea of telling him these things. It wasn't that she wanted to keep them a secret, but that she worried a bit over how ridiculous it might sound to him. Then she remembered that they agreed to work together after she healed the wounds he had inflicted on her during an attempted murder. She sighed then, and began to tell him all she knew. About the Doktors, the Ten, the events of Aruba, and the promise she had made to Alexander Adversary after seeing what happened to him. The entire time, Bowie simply stood and listened to her, his expression unchanging.
Mr. Bowie: ...so, there's ten of them.
Eve: ...eh?
Mr. Bowie: Adversaries. The ones in the medical masks and the goggles, yes? I did some work for one, some years back. In my...previous line of work.
Her eyes lit up.
Eve: Really?! Please, we don't know much about where they are now, if you could tell me anything that could help us...
He held up one hand, a frown coming to his face.
Mr. Bowie: I am not in the business of helping anyone except you, Eve. You, I am here to help. That is what I agreed to.
Eve: But it would help me!
Mr. Bowie: Would it?
She blinked in confusion, as Bowie continued to talk.
Mr. Bowie: You can say that defeating them is your goal, but is it? It's a nice story you say you were told. Deepening the bond between you two, forging loyalty under the shared banner of what you were put through by the other Doktors. But it could be just a story.
Eve: That's ridiculous! Why would someone go to those lengths to convince someone to help them?!
His expression is uncaring as he points out the obvious.
Mr. Bowie: Maybe because that someone is the unkillable, unstoppable Perfect Evil?
Eve: That's...
Her head droops, the small and ugly possibility worming it's way into her head.
Eve: That's ridiculous...why would you say something like that?
Bowie sighed, taking a step closer and putting his hands on Eve's shoulders.
Mr. Bowie: Because you're letting that affect your choices. Like the two other parts you locked away, you can't let others affect your choice. When it comes to this, the only person who must be allowed to influence your choice is you. I only ask you accept that possibility, and look at it rationally.
She nods.
Eve: I...I will.
Mr. Bowie: Thank you. Besides, you need to be reminded that the world is cold, and people lie. That too you must acknowledge as you make your choices. That people are never what they want you to think they are...like the Caldwell boy.
She frowned at him, but he continued to talk before she could get a word in.
Mr. Bowie: I've kept an eye on him since realizing he would be your anchor, and his behavior is...well, annoying and mindless, to put it lightly. And I've noticed you agree.
She sighed.
Eve: It's...true. Ever since I took my trip into my head, I haven't been able to look at Carey's conversations with people like Cailey without feeling so fucking angry at him. Just like a tidal wave of it hitting me every time and I just wanna bash his head in with a chair because of how fucking AGGRAVATING he is to watch. And then I'm...
Mr. Bowie: Tired?
She nodded vigorously.
Eve: Yes! Tired! I get these strong, strong emotions, and then suddenly I'm exhausted, completely out of energy! When we found that mark on Carey, my emotions went wild and I had to lay on the floor because I couldn't move. What...what is that?
Mr. Bowie: Well, it's a sign that you're not done yet. You see when you made your doors, you gained the ability to control just how much input they have on you. Your humanity and your curse, you hold the key to how much of them you let in. How much of your emotions you feel, how much of your power you let override them. But you haven't reached “you” yet. “You” is defined as having allowed the exact amount of influence from both into yourself. Enough of your curse that it benefits you, but not enough that it covers everything in it's numbing sludge. Enough of your humanity that you can taste food, feel love, and laugh. But not enough that every little thing you feel is amplified. That's what that is, Eve. Your balance is off, your doors are not opened correctly, so your emotions are so much stronger than they should be. They overpower you, and leave you with just a deep fatigue.
She nodded, understanding.
Eve: So it's that thing you warned me about. Where if I tried to focus on just one part, it'd go into a crazy overdrive.
Mr. Bowie: Correct. What you're feeling is yourself on the threshold of going over into what I term the “Dead Zone.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Eve: Now is that named like that because it fits, or is it named that because it sounds intimidating?
Bowie smiles.
Mr. Bowie: Yes.
Eve was unamused.
Eve: ...moving on.
Mr. Bowie: Put aside what you think of the name. The Dead Zone is something you need to worry about, Eve. All of this is to get you to a place where you don't have to worry about it. Where you are you, without the other parts of you that you never asked for taking so much control from you. It's worse for you because, really, you have two Dead Zones.
Eve: Ahhh, great, I see. One for the curse, one for humanity. Got it. Then it's even more important that I get this over with quickly. Both to get me away from this...Dead Zone...and so I can move on to...to what I think I want to do.
Bowie nodded.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. While I remain uncertain of this goal you wish to achieve this for, I recognize that finally reaching your balance is important. So, I'll oblige you, and we'll get this done with.
Eve: Okay, great! What do I need to do? Take some more herbs and get all cozy in my head?
Mr. Bowie: Oh, no, there's no need for that. For this, you need an immediate method. You need a real hard reason placed before you to inspire you to find how your doors should be opened. And there's really one one way to do that.
She raised an eyebrow, before the realization hit her and she sighed.
Eve: Ah shit. You're gonna punch me in the face, aren't you?
He smiled.
Mr. Bowie: Oh Eve, of course not. I'm not going to punch you in the face. I'm going to punch you in the stomach.
His fist lashed out, driving itself into her gut. She immediately hunched over, the wind vanishing from her body before his fist withdrew and a split second later his elbow smashed into the back of her head, sending her face down onto the carpet. He then threw a kick into her side, forcing her to roll across the carpet. At least it had the benefit of creating space between them, allowing Eve to get to her feet and stare down her ally. She raised her fists and took a breath, waiting for him to make a move. It let her take stock of her mind. Her anger at his strikes against her was strong, too strong. She could feel the beginnings of tiredness at the edges of her mind already. She needed to take care of that, so she looked to her doors. The door for her humanity was far more open than the one for her curse, to the point where she could see the hand of that bleached hair douchebag reaching out. She slammed the door once on his hand, then opened it far less than it had been before. Instantly she felt the overwhelming aspect of her anger faded away. It remained in the back of her head, but it was instantly taken over with a bloodlust.
Bowie began to approach her, and she tried to get herself in order. But she quickly realized this configuration of her doors wasn't right. Her bloodlust was suddenly at the forefront of her mind, with none of her other emotions there to keep it in check. The bit she had opened the door to her humanity wasn't enough, and it was covered in sludge. All she wanted to do was make him bleed, and so lashed out with her fist, aiming to smash his nose. He had it scouted, dodging his head to the side and driving his palm into her chest, driving her back. He quickly turned and threw a kick, driving his foot into her abdomen and sending her to the floor. She got desperate, spinning the circles that controlled the doors trying to find the right ratio. All it did was throw her mind into a scramble as emotions came and went, bloodlust strengthening and weakening in seconds as she tried to find the right way. All it did was tire her out, and it ended when Bowie grabbed her by the head, hauling her up before tossing her against the wall, where she slid down it to lay against it on the floor.
Mr. Bowie: Don't just open them at random! If you do that, it just makes it easier for me to pick you apart! Actually try!
She took a few breaths, trying to calm herself, and achieved some form of that. She looked at herself again, and tried to look at it without panic. Her bloodlust was too strong, so she slowly started to push it shut, waiting for the moment her emotions would start to creep too strong. Instead, they came strongly without a hint of it happening beforehand, forcing her to take hold of it as well and start to close it. But then she started to feel too disconnected from both, and tried to pull them more, trying to keep them even. As she did this, as she carefully tested how each one felt in her, she could feel herself approaching...something. Something she had wanted for so long. It felt like her head was beginning to clear...
She was almost there, she knew it. The bloodlust and the anger was still there, nibbling just on her edges. All it would take was a final adjusting to finally get through. She was just about to try adjusting the doors again when a foot slammed into her side, rolling her over. She let out a cough, looking up at Mr. Bowie as he approached her.
Mr. Bowie: You so do need to stop getting distracted, dear Eve.
He was right, she knew. She needed to get rid of the immediate distraction of the man fighting her. She needed to get him off his game, take his massive advantage over her away at least somewhat. And with how clear her head was becoming, she could finally use her own intelligence to think of one. And, as he stood over her, pulling one fist back preparing it, she knew what to do.
He threw the punch straight at her face, but she pushed up on her hands slightly, moving herself just enough that his fist hit only carpet. She reached out and grasped his arm with both hands, pulling him down slightly so she could execute her plan. She pushed up on one leg, using the leverage of his arm to pop her other leg up behind his head. And then she drove the point of her foot straight against the back of his head and neck.
She had expected this to disorient him, to take some of the armor off his fight. What she got instead was a complete surprise.
He spat out blood, spraying it across the carpet and her face.
She reflexively released his arm, allowing him to stumble a few steps from her, hunched over. She stared in shock, one hand coming up to rub at her face, looking at her now bloodied hand as if to confirm this was happening. She looked back in time to see him stand back upright, standing up so quick that his balance went off and he stumbled more steps backwards. He coughed up more blood, leaving it running down his chin and staining his shirt. Finally he corrected his posture and looked at her again. His dilated pupils were wild. He stared at her a moment before letting out a quick, shrill laugh.
Mr. Bowie: Well someone get lucky, huuuuh?
Eve: What the fuck?
He doesn't respond to the question, instead reaching one hand behind his back. She knew what he was doing long before he brought his hand back in front of him, a knife now clasped in his hand. He grins at her, a fake looking smile made all the worse for the blood covering his teeth and face.
Mr. Bowie: Since you're not making any progress, I'll have to take matters into my own hands!
She started to get to her feet, only for Bowie to throw a kick at her, causing her to roll to the side away from it. She came up from the roll in time to avoid taking a slash to the face from the knife, and scrambled to her feet. She threw a left, only for Bowie to parry it, and then drove his fist into her gut, following by headbutting her, sending her reeling back.
She blinked through tears of pain. Through them she could see him watching her, grinning while covered in his own blood, seeming even stronger now that he'd lost it, reveling in insanity. And a thought occurred to her.
So this was the Dead Zone.
As he quickly approached her she tried to throw a kick at him, only for it to be caught by him. He quickly spun her around, her back facing him for only a moment before he drove the knife into her right shoulder. She let out a yell of pain as it went into her, and suddenly he was against her, one arm around her throat.
Mr. Bowie: A shame, but I thiiiiink you're a failure! Too bad too bad! I'll have to dunk you somewhere out of the way so no one has to seeeeeeee you again! And then, I think I'll have to take a visit to that Caldwell boy, I think I can blame him for this can't you agree? Me and him, I think we'll have to have a talk, at least till I break his jaw. THEN the fun'll start!
She listened to all that, feeling the burning pain of the knife in her as she did. Her anger flared, wanting to get revenge for the words and actions, her bloodlust screaming at her to tear him apart for his threats. But Eve knew that what they wanted was not her, not entirely. They were not what she needed to focus on. So instead she focused on the feeling of the knife in her, on the words he said, and the people who she was doing this for.
Alexander Adversary, a man who returned to fighting the people who maimed him to save her. Who had his body torn apart by the people who'd done the same to her, who now had so little of his original body left but still dedicated himself to stopping them.
Cyril Kuller, a man who took three bullets meant to end his life because he tried to save her from the fate she had resigned herself to, who refused to let her think her life was worthless and that she was more than an experiment to be cast aside.
And Carey Caldwell, an idiot with a big mouth that had reached out to a patchwork girl with friendship, not caring her history, fate, or curse.
Her family.
She kept their faces and her memories of them in her mind as she reached out and grasped the circles on her anchor again, and spun them. The doors adjusted themselves as she saw fit, and suddenly it all clicked.
Suddenly, and without warning, Eve was herself.
Her head felt clear for the first time. She felt the anger, but it did not tug overbearingly on her. The desire for violence was there, but it was not whispering to her constantly. The desire was only hers. All of it was finally, finally only hers. She took in the situation as herself for the first time. The maniac with the arm around her throat, the knife in her shoulder, the threats against her family. And she acted.
And, perhaps appropriately, her first action as herself was to grab the hand of the arm around her throat and bite into it, sinking her teeth into it, tasting his blood as he let out a yell, backing away from her. And then it was her making a yell as she twisted her body around, putting everything of herself into it as she threw a punch straight at his face, smashing into his nose, a satisfying crunch sounding as he fell to his back on the ground.
She reached behind herself, grasping the knife in her hand and yanking it out. She winced briefly, before looking inside herself again. She took grasp of the circle controlling her curse and allowed it to open just a tad bit more. There was a slight deadening of her mind as the sludge came in, but the wound on her shoulder quickly closed up. And, to her happiness, she was able to return the door to where it had been before without a problem.
She had achieved the dream she thought was impossible.
She had gained control of her curse, of her humanity, of herself.
She had found balance.
She stepped over to the prone Bowie, seeing in his face only confusion at how he'd come to be on his back with a busted nose. She smiled down at him as she extended her hand. He reached out and took it, and she helped him to his feet. He looked at her, her body language, her expression, and smiled.
Mr. Bowie: I take it I'm meeting Eve now?
She returned the smile.
Eve: Correct. It's nice to meet you.
Mr. Bowie: The same to you, my dear. You are truly something else. Your progress is outstanding. It took me...well, it took me a very long time to reach anything close to your state.
Eve: Well, it wasn't easy. There was the lunatic trying to beat me to death.
Mr. Bowie: Oh, really? Do show me to him, I'll show him why that was a mistake.
They shared a laugh, before Eve's expression changed to a harder one as she took in the blood covering his face before looking him in the eyes.
Eve: So, you mind me asking what the hell that was about?
Mr. Bowie: Hm? What?
She stared at him. He did not waver under her stare, looking like he legitimately did not understand what she was talking about. Eve slowly held her hand up to her face and rubbed around her mouth and chin. Bowie did the same, and then looked at his hand when it came away sticky with his blood.
Mr. Bowie: ...ah. That. Yes. Well, there's no way around it. You sent me to my Dead Zone.
Eve: Yeah, figured that bit out, thanks. I meant WHY it did that.
He did not reply immediately, instead walking past her to grab a towel off the table and running it over his face. She frowned at the avoiding.
Mr. Bowie: It doesn't matter, Eve. My Dead Zone has no bearing on you.
She was silent a moment, as a thought occurred to her.
Eve: Is that why you left?
Silence again, as he continued to try to wipe his face clean. Realizing it to be futile, he dropped the towel, and turned to face her. His expression was clear: the topic was not one to continue.
Mr. Bowie: It doesn't matter. That's the past. This is the present, Eve, and what's important now is what you've achieved.
He smiled at her, a genuine one.
Mr. Bowie: How's it feel to be yourself?
Eve: It feels like...
Her face scrunches up, the best word suddenly so far away from her. Bowie's smile only grows.
Mr. Bowie: Like you?
She blinked at this. She considered it, rolling it around in her head, and then nodded.
Eve: Yeah. It feels like me. Whatever that might be.
She looked at him, and smiled.
Eve: Thank you.
He nodded.
Mr. Bowie: Of course. Now, I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't offer you the chance for your first experience as yourself to be to have a drink.
Eve: Oh fuck that, I'm all about getting shitfaced after all this.
He stared at her, and she quirked an eyebrow at him.
Eve: Problem with the language?
Mr. Bowie: No.
He stepped to her, bending down slightly to get his face in front of hers, looking straight into her eyes.
Mr. Bowie: Just observing how it's obvious to see that the person you are is going to be quite charming.
Eve grinned back at him.
Eve: Oh, just wait. I'm gonna be one hell of a Me.
–
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Her capacity for empathy is far higher than I thought the curse allowed.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: She's improving at such a rapid pace.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Mmm....
The two stood in front of the main computer, watching replays of Eve embracing Alexander. Cyril smiles at this, but the smile fades when he looks at Alexander and seeing the lack of joy on his face.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: You're going to brood over this of all things?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Her improvement is something to be happy about. Of course it is. But, I'm bothered.
Cyril nods.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: The tweets, right?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Correct. The tweet by whoever it is that's helping her, it bothers me. It didn't sound helpful at all.
He sighed.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Beyond that, there were the tweets the man calling himself “Seer” made whenever the Caldwell boy was being an idiot. They don't name names but reading them chilled me regardless. They feel like they were about her.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: No, I agree. They don't fill me with confidence. But still, her improvement should speak for itself.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Perhaps...or perhaps it's improvement in spite of the involvement of whoever this is.
Cyril nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: If only we could know who it was. That might help reduce our worries.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: ...then why don't we?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Eh?
Alexander began to tap keys on the keyboard.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: This all started shortly after she requested to use the computer system. Simple to make an inference that she used the computer to find whoever it is that's helping her.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: That makes perfect sense. Ah, but what if she deleted her searches?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Not a problem. I suppose it's fortunate I've just recently finished rebuilding it.
Cyril raised an eyebrow as Alex tapped a few more keys, and the monitor went dark. It remained like this for a moment, until something appeared. What seemed to be three lines approximating eyes and a mouth appeared on the screen, seeming to be at rest. Cyril's expression turned into one of shock.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: I'll be damned. You actually salvaged it. I thought it was destroyed when they leveled the mountain.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Correct. It's value was too great to let them destroy it. And how could I let it die, really? The AI that oversaw our creations....Gate.
The three lines remain as they were, still asleep, before the sound of their voices causes the two eye lines to turn into carets, awakening.
Gate: Hello! It has been too long since I have seen any of you! You have both grown so much, Alex and Lo-
Cyril's expression suddenly twists into one of anger.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Cyril!
The digital face stops, the carets turning to question marks.
Gate: That is not the name you chose at creation.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: So what. I decide my name, and it's Cyril.
The AI stops to contemplate this, before the question marks turn back into carets.
Gate: Acknowledged. You have both grown so much, Alex and Cyril. It makes me simulate the emotion of being proud.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Thank you, Gate. But I'm afraid we're not looking to reminisce over the past.
Gate: I am aware, I have finished reviewing the recordings I made while sleeping of your conversations. You wish for me to find what Bruce's creation was searching for?
Dr. Kuller winced.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Please don't call her that. Her name is Eve, Gate.
Another moment of contemplation.
Gate: Acknowledged. You want what Eve found?
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Yes, please. We need to know.
Gate: Easily done!
The digital face disappears, replaced by many web pages and documents contained inside the computer itself rapidly flashing on the screen.
Gate: Bringing up everything she looked up. Hm! Actually, it would seem she decided on someone quite early. Many of these documents are all linked to one person.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Then please bring up a summary of that person.
Gate: Easily done!
The many pages are all replaced with one, giving a summary of all information known on this person, with the name bold and huge on top. Alexander's head tilted, clearly not knowing this man, while Cyril went pale.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: FUCK!
Alex's artificial eyes blink rapidly in confusion as he turns to look at Cyril, whose expression was panicked.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: You know this man?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: Of course I do! He's a fucking nightmare that everyone hoped had vanished into his god forsaken grave!
Gate: Cyril your body temperature is rising rapidly, are you unwell?
Dr. Cyril Kuller: No, I'm fucking well not well!
He grabs Alex by the shoulders, making sure the man has to stare him right in the eyes.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: We have to intervene. We have to save her.
Doktor Alexander Adversary: Cyril, what are we saving her from?
Cyril looks down at the floor, his expression changing to one of worry as he looks back at his brother. Tears begin to well up in his eyes from some imagined scenario.
Dr. Cyril Kuller: We have to save her from becoming like him.
To Be Concluded In “The Choice.”
