Shards of Chaos Chapter Twenty-Five
"The boy's just simply crazy/ suffering from delusions/ we honestly
think that maybe/ he might need an institution/ he lives in a world of
fiction/ he really could use some help/ we have just the place to fix
him.... To Save Him From Himself! Curled up in the darkness, searching for
the light. Smell of stale sweat and shit steaming through the night.
Random urine testing, pills red, pink, and blue. Counciling and
therapy.... finding not a clue.
Still they cage me between these hollow walls.... hoping to find in me
the answers to The Test That Stumped Them All."
-The Test That Stumped Them All, Dream Theatre'
Chapter Twenty-Six - Part One
Click here to see regular text version with Chapter Art
Talon was having another restless night.
With anyone else, this might have been construed as a sign of nervous
tension or stress. While it is true that Talon had many things on his
mind, (his plans for the future were as well constructed and
impenetrable as a spider's web, but as any spider will tell you, a spider's web
is only impervious to the antics of insects.... a single careless giant
can destroy countless hours of work in an instant) he was not one to
worry over things he could not change. Talon subscribed to the belief that
if one lets one's opponents get under one's skin, one is apt to lean
towards poor decision-making. Remaining calm in the face of adversity is
the hallmark of a true master of chess, and of
life. Hence, it was not stress that caused him to be restless.
No, Talon remained awake into the quiet hours of the night for a very
simple reason. Most of the Shards consisted of a mix of human and
Mazoku that was more human than Mazoku. Their subsequent mortal body was
therefore more fragile, and needful of certain human necessities that
even the weakest Mazoku could do without. In Talon's case however, the
small sliver of a human soul he possessed was so far outweighed by the
darkness of his astral body that pieces of it constantly intruded into
his everyday life (sort of like a Mazoku version of Halitosis.... SOUL
Halitosis. Fear it! MWAHAHAHAHA! Ahem. Sorry. -DT). Astral energy,
especially what essentially amounts to anti-life (or perhaps
anti-light) is not something meant to exist on the mortal plane. Nevertheless,
Talon had turned what would have been considered a danger not only to
his life but to existence itself into a danger only for the existence of
his enemies.
Who could essentially be defined as anyone he didn't particularly care
for much.
Which was basically everyone.
He wasn't choosy.
Talon was much like a mazoku in the fact that he did not need to eat
or sleep. Eating had always been something he considered to be more
trouble than it was worth (particularly when one considered the inevitable
byproducts) and he indulged in it only sparingly, preferring to rely on
his Astral Body to sustain him. Sleep, on the other hand, was
something whose absence he sometimes regretted. Many hours he had lain awake
in the small bed he had shared with Neela, watching her breath ease in
and out evenly, occasionally twitching a limb or an ear, smiling....
that alone had been enough to entertain him all night, but there were
times....
especially after....
Times.... when despite himself he wanted above all else the oblivion
that sleep could represent.
In front of his enemies and his followers, Talon made sure to appear
calm and completely above reproach, assured of the outcome of any
confrontation. He realized, however, that there were some beings out there,
despite his claims to Godhood, who could destroy him utterly if they
so chose. That was the reason for this whole idiotic fantasy....
Nothing more. He snorted. Lead a twisted, miserable barbarian horde back to
their "promised land"? How absurd. He needed to cover-up his true
intentions to, while he was too weak to defend himself against these
beings, present simply another mortal bent on conquest rather then a rival
for immortal power, hence the deception. Still, though not a man to
harbor doubts or regrets, and though he had such a small, wormridden
soul, he did, nonetheless, possess one....
Perhaps, he pondered, this weakness, this emotional, useless (and
certainly it must be useless, for what had acting on the yearnings of his
heart ever purchased for him but pain?) part of him was what drove him
to crave oblivion when he knew he could not receive it short of
death....
Or victory....
He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes for a moment, then
opened them again, the two empty pits narrowed into slits that might
have been pain or hate-filled....
It was hard to tell, without windows into his soul.
***
Arashi awoke suddenly to the summons of his God. It was impossible to
mistake it.... a throbbing pain in the claw mark tattoo that adorned
his cheek. He flapped his wings for a moment to steady himself on the
crenellation he had been perched upon in sleep, (Arashi preferred to sleep
in the manner of birds, as his legs and wings made sleeping in a bed an
uncomfortable proposition. In sleep he basically resembled a rather
Bishonen sort of gargoyle) then dropped off the side of the building and
slipped easily into his master's window, kneeling as was proper. Talon
stared into a dark corner of the room and frowned quietly, seemingly
unmindful of his servant's presence. Finally, after a long moment of
silence, he spoke.
"I want you to take the Striking Talons and travel fifty-three miles
northwest of here. There you will find a small group of travelers,
probably clustered in some forest clearing, jumble of rocks, or some other
defensible position. These travelers will include the Soul of Fury,
the Queen of Sailoon, that half-dragon mongrel I taught a lesson to, and
possibly.... Xellos. Kill them all, if you can, but in particular, the
Halfbreed and the Queen must die. Go now."
Arashi blinked for a moment, then stood and bowed. He was accustomed
to receiving odd orders from his Lord at equally odd hours of the night
but never this precise.... or requiring this much mobilization of
forces.
Or this utterly hopeless.
Talon smiled inwardly. He was fully aware of the impossiblity of even
the mighty Striking Talons destroying such a legendary company of
heroes in full. Still, despite their incompetence during the battle for
Sentinel, they should be capable of destroying one mortally injured
halfbreed and a simpering little white mage, and should the entire division
of Striking Talons meet destruction, then so be it.
You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs....
Nor take a worthy opponent's higher ranking pieces without sacrificing
a few pawns....
Seeing his Lord silent for a long period, Arashi was about to turn
away when Talon grinned mockingly at him. "I don't doubt you are
wondering why now, especially with my "promise" to the dearly departed Captain,
but rest assured that this is not an assault upon Sailoon by me,
personally. I agreed not to advance on Sailoon for a week. I said nothing
about portions of my army."
Arashi nodded shortly. He could see the logic of that. Particularly
when it was coming from someone who could obliterate him in an instant.
Talon's grin thinned somewhat. "I suggest you be on your way, Arashi.
Consider this your redemption for failing me during the battle for
Sentinel. If you fail me in this...." he sighed regrettably, still
smiling. "I hope for your sake that you are dead."
Arashi soared out into the night, and if he trembled slightly, it
might have been due to the cold.
Might have been.
To all outward appearances, Talon appeared to be coldly satisfied with
his current situation. The grin remained on his face even as his eyes
cast over the eight Bloodguard who remained after Xellos'......
puzzling attack.
His eyes however, remained as narrowed and impenetrably empty as ever.
When one considers the evidence, perhaps even in Talon's case, the
eyes ARE the window into the soul....
***
Dr. Filia Ul Copt followed Dr. Talon as he made his way down the
sterile halls of the Asylum. As he walked he paged through her paperwork
with the air of one dealing with a necessary but irritating and tedious
detail.
"I don't want you to think I find you unqualified for this position,
Filia. You came very highly recommended by Dr. Blueriver, and judging
from your list of credentials you are exactly what this facility has
needed for a long time."
He sighed, stopping in front of a large metal door with a small safety
glass window set into it at eye level. He turned to her easily and
pushed his sunglasses into a higher position on his nose with a finger
(apparently a nervous habit).
"Still, this IS your first assignment to an institution for....
violent individuals, and I want to lay down a few ground rules before you get
to work."
Filia gave him a momentarily confused look. He smiled.
"Looks like I broke my old record for being obtuse.... Go ahead,
Doctor. What's on your mind?"
She frowned. "I was led to believe I was hired for my experience with
catatonia patients. I hardly see...."
He frowned. "Yes.... dealing with catatonia will be your primary
duty, but we are.... dangerously understaffed, Ms. Copt. This facility
harbors fifty-seven of what the public considers 'criminally insane' and
'dangerous' individuals. With Dr. Blueriver's unfortunate.... accident,
you and I are the only fully trained professionals currently working in
this facility." He smiled at her momentary look of alarm. "Not to
worry, Doctor. There are more then enough assistant personnel to deal with
the day to day necessities of this place, in addition to any...
incidents. I didn't mean to alarm you. It's just that, in addition to your
normal caseload, you will be expected to help with some of the more....
interesting cases we have here. Even catatonic patients can
occasionally become violent. One can never predict what the human mind is
capable of. I give the same speech to all of my personnel. This is nothing
personal."
She frowned, but nodded quietly. "I understand Doctor.... sorry for
the interruption."
He grinned. "Not a problem. Now, rule number one. Under no
circumstances are you allowed to touch any of the patients. This may seem
harsh, but it is entirely for your safety. Second, all communications will
be recorded, again, for your safety. This might seem a breach of
doctor/patient confidentiality, but these ARE the criminally insane.
Certain steps must be taken to provide as safe a working environment as
possible.
"Finally, and this rule applies in particular to your specialty, in
the eventuality of a major change in patient behavior, I am to be
notified at once." He handed her a slip of paper. "This is my pager number.
It is extremely important for legal reasons that I be present during
such an incident. I'm sure you understand."
She stared at the paper for a moment, and he took her hesitation for
agreement and continued.
"I find it's much easier to understand why these precautions are
necessary with a.... practical demonstration. As you know, Dr. Blueriver,
Kane, received extensive facial injuries while working here, hence the
'no touching' and surveillance rules. What wasn't discussed in your
preliminary briefing is exactly how these injuries took place."
Dr. Talon frowned, pushing his glasses up again. He was starting to
remind her of someone.... probably a former professor, but she wasn't
sure who. "The individual responsible is being held in this room. You
might have heard of him before, and because of him we get reporters from
time to time. For security reasons, none of them are to be allowed to
interview him. He has a tendency to be.... upsetting." Dr. Talon
shrugged.
"Xellos Metallium." She breathed.
He smiled. "I see you are familiar with the patient in question.
Good." He flipped a few pages forward on the clipboard he had been
studying. "Xellos Metallium, AKA The Trickster. Age unknown, ethnicity...."
he frowned, "unknown. Convicted of 45 counts of 1st degree murder, 10
counts of aggravated assault, and 2 counts of mayhem-"
Filia blinked. "Mayhem? What is....?"
He frowned. "Forgive me, doctor. Mayhem is.... well, it is the
murder of an individual in which the cause of death involves the violent
removal of several limbs while the victim is still alive."
She shuddered. "Why are you telling me about this?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Because of your patient."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Xellos is catatonic? But I'd
heard..."
Talon lowered the clipboard and sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. If he
were, it might make our job a bit easier. Xellos is very much.... well
I suppose the term lucid doesn't exactly describe his state of being
but aware is certainly appropriate."
Filia frowned. "Why would Xellos be considered to fall under MY
specialty?"
Talon stared at her for a moment, and though his eyes were hidden by
those strange sunglasses Filia could almost swear he was glaring at her.
Finally, he turned toward the large metal door.
"Xellos does not fall under your specialty, Doctor. In fact, I don't
want you to have more contact with him than absolutely necessary. He
is a cunning, ruthless individual who has earned the nickname Trickster.
He will seem jovial, completely calm and rational, yet if you were to
release his bonds he would kill you without losing his pleasant
demeanor. Dr. Blueriver made that mistake once. Only once. That was all it
took." Dr. Talon's face hardened and he pushed the glasses up again.
"How familiar are you with the particulars of Xellos' capture?"
Filia shrugged. "Only what I've heard on the news. They caught him
red-handed with another victim, who survived.... that's about all I
know."
Dr. Talon turned to her quietly. "That much is true. However, there
are certain aspects of the case that were not publicized, for obvious
reasons. Xellos was captured with a person we believe MAY have been one
of his victims- this much is true. However...."
He started opening several locks on the door, his back to her.
"I don't normally expose new personnel to this level of....
unpleasantness on their first day, but THIS is the reason you were brought here.
Xellos was captured in the company of one of his victims, and in the
subsequent struggle with the authorities, earned his Mayhem charges, as
well as several of his charges of Assault. Xellos is a brutally evil
man, Dr. Copt. He deserves to be put to death, but legally at this point
in time we can't do a thing to the man but lock him away. We cannot
PROVE that he understands what he did was wrong. Every psycological
profile we build on this man is shattered, usually in the next therapy
session. As soon as we think we've categorized him, he changes completely.
He's PLAYING with us. There is only one key to his psyche, one hope
for understanding what makes a man capable of such.... insanity. You
see, his final victim is a John Doe. He's the catatonic, and most of the
usual methods we use with such patients are useless.... We have no
name, no records of his birth, no next of kin, friends.... nothing. The
man does NOT exist. Furthermore, he is the only person who remained in
Xellos' company for more than 24 hours without coming to bodily harm."
He held the door handle in the closed position, though all the locks
had been removed.
Dr. Talon frowned. "The John Doe case is most unusual, Doctor. John
cannot be moved from Xellos' presence. If he is, BOTH of them
react.... unfavorably."
Filia looked at him sideways. He appeared completely calm and in
control, but his knuckles were completely bloodless where they clenched the
door handle. She frowned. "Unfavorably?"
Dr. Talon cleared his throat. "Yes, John Doe reacts in a manner much
akin to an epilectic seizure. Only constant and heavy sedation can
prevent it, which is of course, unhealthy at best and potentially fatal at
worst. Xellos...." He sighed. "Let's just say the last time it was
attempted a good man lost his face."
"Dr. Blueriver...." Filia breathed.
Talon nodded. "That is what you were hired for. If we can somehow
shake this young man out of his uncommunicative state, we might get an
insight into the both of them. Heal the one, and provide enough evidence
to condemn the other." Dr. Talon smiled coldly.
Filia watched Talon for a moment more, then turned back to the room
quietly. Something in his voice made her uneasy. Well, even MORE
uneasy.
If that were at ALL possible.
He pushed the door and it swung open easily on well-oiled hinges. A
part of Filia was disappointed.... normally when one opened a dungeon
door it made more noise. Dungeon? Before she had an opportunity to
analyze this strange thought she caught sight of the contents of the room.
Her breath caught in her throat and she took an involuntary step back.
Talon glanced at her speculatively.
The room was, as the rest of building, sterile and clinical, though
the scent of disinfectant was slightly stronger here. The walls were
heavily padded, and the floor was completely bare save for a single bed,
the posts of which were also padded. Lying in the bed was the thin form
of a young man in his late adolescence, his long green hair fanned out
on the government issue pillow on which his head rested. He stared
blankly at the ceiling, his eyes completely devoid of luster. Scars
adorned his bare chest, though they were rather obviously old, well-healed
scars. Filia's reaction to the scene had been for two reasons. One was
that the young man on the bed was so achingly familiar that Filia could
have sworn she'd seen him before, perhaps even known him personally.
The other....
The other was the second occupant of the room.
Seated at the base of the bed, his legs cuffed together at the ankles,
rested a small man in a straight-jacket. His brilliant purple hair
washed over his face, but as the two Doctors entered the room, he looked
up. He grinned widely and observed them through his bangs. What
startled Filia were his eyes.
They were the most inhuman eyes she'd ever seen. For a split second
before his jovial mask had appeared, he'd let them catch a glimpse of a
soul as cold and calculating as that of the most deadly predator.
Then he winked at her.
"Why Doctor.... so GOOD of you to visit. Care for a bit of tea? A
cookie or two?"
His grin got wider. "DO introduce me to your friend...."
***
Zelgadis scanned his surroundings diligently, calmly wiping down his
blade. Once again, it seemed, he'd been caught up in something having
absolutely nothing to do with him, or his quest. It took a moment for
him to figure out exactly what HIS connection to all of this was, then it
came to him. Mina. Gaav. Right. It was probably only a matter of
time before he had to dress in drag.
He sighed miserably.
"What's wrong, Master?" Pix asked, fluttering near his head. He
glanced in her direction.
"I'm not very fond of the waiting game, I suppose. Not to mention,
this has nothing to do with getting my cure at all."
Pix frowned at him for a moment, then landed lightly on his shoulder.
She patted his cheek. "I'm sure Mister Gaav hasn't forgotten his
promise.... and it DID get you an opportunity to see all of your friends
again...."
He shrugged lightly. "I suppose so.... I just wish it could have been
under better circumstances."
He sighed again, then looked at the Princess, pardon, Queen, whom he'd
missed terribly for the last decade and a half. It surprised him
somewhat, to realize that he HAD missed her terribly. Zelgadis was, by
nature, a solitary creature. He had no love of company, particularly when
it had a habit of staring at him like he was going to try to eat small
children. Of course, she'd never thought THAT badly of him, even
though she HAD occasionally drove him crazy with her well-meaning,
good-hearted, but terribly naive and fanatical views about "justice". She
hadn't changed much.... aged well, he supposed. Still had the old white
mage of justice getup, the same, righteous expression. Perhaps a little
wiser, though the way she was acting at the moment wasn't a particularly
good indicator of THAT, he supposed.
She wasn't speaking to him at the moment, and he got the impression it
was something he had done, though what, exactly, that was, he had no
idea. He'd been honestly happy to see her again, but a life or death
situation (and anyone who thinks Lina meeting Gaav without a bit of
warning beforehand wouldn't have been a life or death situation is
underestimating the explosive tendency of two very strong-willed people who don't
like each other much and have a tendency to cause large amounts of
property damage when they.... I think you get the picture) was not the best
place to renew acquaintances. He'd THOUGHT she'd understood that, but
now there was this kicked puppy vibe coming from her that even HE was
aware of. She sneaked a glance in his direction, frowned slightly, then
turned pointedly away. His perplexed frown deepened.
Pix watched the silent exchange with growing trepidation. It was
obvious this unpleasant situation was going to continue, and neither of
them (one was simply oblivious to it, the other was too hurt to let it go,
and too proud to say anything) was going to make a move to repair it.
The situation cut a little too close for comfort to her own feelings.
Pix realized her situation was entirely hopeless. She was six (and a
half) inches tall. It was hard enough getting the man she loved not to
accidentally step on her, (Pix is, in her discomfort, exaggerating
slightly. Zelgadis has never gone so far as to almost step on her, though
he has occasionally set things down on top of her.... but give the man
a break.... she's smaller then a Barbie doll! Probably GI Joe size
would be more accurate. Don't tell me you've never stepped on a GI Joe
figure. You break that little rubber band in the center and poor ol'
Shipwreck has to spend the rest of his life as a paraplegic. It's not so
damn hard to do.... Wait, why am I defending this guy? Somehow I
think I got horribly off track. How long has it been since I typed outside
of parenth.... parentath.... Oh bugger it anyway.... -DT) let alone
realize she had feelings for him.
Still, she was not the sort of individual to simply allow this to turn
her into an emotional wreck. She remained bright and optimistic
despite her impossible situation. She'd always been aware of the problems
inherent to being a magical construct, ever since her creator had tossed
her away in disgust. It would have been very easy to let go during her
time trapped in a lightless, magic-less, cold, and miserable hell of a
cave. She'd come very close to death, but the true enemy hadn't been
the lack of sustaining magic.
It had been hopelessness.
Her struggle to survive in the gilded cage had been more a fight
against her own apathy, one she'd refused to lose. She felt deeply indebted
to the cool-headed, pragmatic "Mystical Swordsman" who'd released her
without a thought of receiving anything in return. She'd served him in
part to repay that debt, and in part, at first, for a simple place to
belong. Yes, that had been it. A simple need. A home. Where ever her
master went would be home, and what he needed would be her purpose.
Even though their strange arrangement produced a few hiccups from time to
time, she'd been.... comfortable in it. Then as time went by, she
realized her feelings for this quiet, reserved, but oddly fragile man (yes,
fragile. A lot of Zel's aloofness is his defense against allowing
someone to get too close to him. He has to maintain that distance, because
no one can love a freak, right? [cue the sarcasm]) ran considerably
deeper than simple gratitude. Therein lay the crux of her current
dilemma....
She was an artificial creature, one never intended to exist by nature,
and completely unique. Her romantic prospects were dismal. Really
dismal. Imagine if you will, a metal ball. Now imagine a butterfly
fluttering up to it and brushing its wings against it once every 100 years,
then fluttering off to wherever metaphor-assisting butterflies go. Now
imagine that you have to watch this until the ball is completely worn
away.
Now imagine that during all of this you are 50 pounds overweight, and
your sole human companion is Richard Simmons.
That dismal.
Her rival was a woman who'd shared many of his adventures, and he was
obviously very fond of, if not actually in love with, her (it was hard
to tell with Zel.... hey, that rhymed!).
Furthermore, while Zel was the perfect size for "Queenie" over there,
he was a bit, pardon the hentai expression, too much man for Pix.
It was enough to make one green with jealousy, not to mention wish
that she were large enough to ignore him and have it actually be noticed.
She was HAPPY being Zelgadis' "perky side-kick", damn it. She didn't
want to lose what little happiness she had garnered for herself in this
insane, entirely oversized world she was never intended for.
This woman was a threat to that happiness....
But Amelia was unhappy, and her unhappiness was making Master Zelgadis
unhappy....
Pix sighed. Bugger.
"You should talk to Miss Amelia, Master." Pix muttered quietly,
hovering in his face to get his full attention. "You hurt her feelings very
badly."
He looked up and blinked at this sudden intrusion into his private
thoughts. "I did? When did I-?"
She smiled sadly. "Knowing you like I do, it was probably in the way
you greeted her." She roughed up her hair into a passable impression
of his own and assumed an implacable, wise, and set visage which still
managed to somehow miss the point entirely. In her best Zelgadis voice
(which was a remarkably good Zelgadis impression IF he'd been kicked in
the nuts (stones?) a few times, or at least had a run in with a mad
helium balloon vender) "Hi, how's it going, nice to see you again,
Princess...." She grinned and dropped the entirely too accurate impression.
"Is that about right?"
He frowned, a bit miffed. "Well.... it wasn't THAT bad..."
She gave him a pointed look, then fluttered off of his shoulder.
"It WASN'T!"
She glanced over at Amelia, and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and
fluttered out of sight.
He sighed, ran a suddenly self-conscious hand through his hair, then
glanced at Amelia. Aside from her anger toward him (which he'd already
noticed, to his credit. Not too much credit though. A blind man would
have caught it.) She had a decidedly downcast look to her, when he
actually took the effort to notice such things.
Oh boy.
As though moving through mud, Zelgadis made his way towards Amelia,
who still refused to look at him. Lina took a moment from brooding over
the situation with her daughter to watch this with a wryly amused
expression on her face.
So did Xellos.
"This ought to be interesting." They both remarked at the same time,
then glared at each other. Well, Lina glared. Xellos just sort of
smirked.
"Huh?" Replied Gourry.
This was something of a pointless repetition of his mission statement.
***
"Do sit down, good Doctors. I admit I'm rather pressed for good
furniture at the moment, but I'm sure you'll manage." Xellos smiled evilly.
Talon ignored him in favor of checking a chart at the foot of
Valgaav's bed. He made a point not to get too close to Xellos, who regarded
him for a moment with a bemusedly bored expression, then turned to Filia
and smiled warmly.
Filia gave him a dubious expression. His grin widened.
"Come now, Doctor. No need for the worried expression. You can come
closer, I don't bite."
Dr. Talon never looked up from his chart. "Yes you do."
Xellos blinked. "Why, so I do. It must have slipped my mind.
Speaking of biting, how is Dr. Blueriver? I hope he didn't lose too much
face at this institution." He giggled at his pun.
Talon regarded him like a cockroach. "Dr. Blueriver is in stable
condition now, though he will require extensive plastic surgery to repair
your.... decorating attempt."
Xellos shrugged idly and turned to Filia once again. "Not much of a
talker are you? Strange considering your supposed profession. Still, I
don't suppose he's much of a talent scout is he?"
Filia reddened. "I'll have you know that I'm considered to be one of
the most brilliant minds in my field. I-" she stopped, infuriated.
Five minutes on the job and she was already making mistakes, and in front
of her employer no less.
Xellos opened his eyes and stared at her, his penetrating gaze raising
shivers on her skin. He became completely still, absorbed in studying
her, a statue, the only thing moving was his mouth.
"I'm sure you are. Rather, I'm sure that's what the experts told you.
Textbook perfect care for the human psyche, like a repair manual for
the soul," he smirked. "Nevermind the fact that human beings don't
always fit the mold, no matter how hard society tries to force them into it.
Perfect little gingerbread cookies, and when one of them gets an arm or
a leg bitten off by life, why.... we make nice little terms for them,
so we can feel good about how well we care for our fellow man, except
those terms make them somehow marked.... somehow, less human than the
rest of us don't they? How often do we talk to them, Doctor? God forbid
we come out missing an ingredient inside.... well then we get sent to
the rubbish bin, don't we? That's what this place is, Doctor. A
rubbish bin for people." He jerked his head at Doctor Talon, who was
regarding him with cold, open hatred on his face. "HE'D have you believe
you're here to heal people.... to save them. We both know that nothing
could be further from the truth, but-"
Dr. Talon brought the clipboard in his hands down hard on the padded
frame of the small hospital bed, making a sudden, muffled thwacking
sound that startled both him and Filia, then he smiled coldly. "That's
enough out of you, Xellos. One more word and it'll be medication time."
Xellos grinned. "Word."
Talon snapped his fingers and grinned. Filia was startled when two
large, white-uniformed individuals entered the room, followed by a small
man pushing a cart. The two burly orderlies secured Xellos with
perhaps a bit too much force, knocking his head brutally against the floor as
he was forced to lie prone and spread-eagled on the ground, and one
pulled up one of his pants legs. Xellos' eyes remained on Filia the whole
time. Dr. Talon personally prepared the shot, and stared coldly down
at the prostrate man before him.
"You know the drill, Xellos, there will be a little prick-"
"What, you mean another one besides the one standing in front of me?"
Xellos gibed.
Talon gritted his teeth. "Just relax, monster."
Filia watched as he administered the shot with a distant sense of
growing horror. This was nothing like the controlled classroom situations
she was used to.... nothing could have prepared her for this cold,
brutal reality. How could they expect Xellos to get well if they drugged
him out of his mind without trying to help him? Hadn't they said all
along that they were trying to understand him not to heal him, but to
simply destroy him? How was that medicine?
As the shot began to take effect, the awareness slowly faded from
Xellos' eyes, and his mouth eased from its terrible smirk. Just as he
began to go under, his lips jerked in an attempt at a smile, and he
slurred. "Simply the blind leading the.... blind..."
Then he said no more, lost in drug induced oblivion. Talon grinned
coldly and turned to her, his words clipped with anger.
"I'll leave you to your work, Dr. Copt. He shouldn't give you any
more problems. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."
He turned sharply on his heel and left, followed by the brutish
attendants and the smallish individual with his cart. His angry footsteps
rang down the hallway, retreating into the labyrinthine series of
corridors that made up the facility.
Filia stared at the man before her quietly, unwilling, or unable to
move. He lie without any dignity, prone and drooling mindlessly, his
eyes half-slitted, open but unseeing. This terrible monster, tamed and
made safe by modern medicine.
Why then, did she feel an inkling of sympathy for him?
On the bed, unnoticed, the adolescent boy stirred restlessly and
mouthed a word, lost by the quiet whirr of the air conditioning.
***
Mina watched her love with quiet vigilance, her hand resting
reassuringly on the pommel of the blade he'd given her. No hint of the worry
she felt could be seen on her face as she contemplated his unmoving form.
He stood, his giant hand resting over Filia's, in a semblance of
caring, fatherly concern that made her heart ache, though his eyes were
closed in concentration. She sighed. While she was concerned for Valgaav,
and sympathetic towards Aunt Filia, she was ashamed to admit that a
part of her had shrieked in protest when Gaav had accepted the
responsiblity for healing his shattered former minion. She had no real fondness
for the arrogant (to her) half-dragon, who'd always seemed like more of
a pain in the ass nuisance than a friend. The two of them hadn't
gotten along well, and incidents like the one with the couch and the
fireball had been all too common when they'd been together. Still, he was a
friend of sorts, and she should have been eager to see him well, but
when that effort involved the life of the man she loved....
She grinned sadly. "Guess I'm not quite the hero I thought I was."
A hand fell on her shoulder and she started, blinking at the visage of
her grinning father. He smiled. "I'm not sure what's happening here,
Mina, but I wouldn't worry too hard about that Gabe guy. The last time
we ran into him, your mother and I had to run away."
Mina blinked, startled. "You.... ran away? Mom never told me...."
Gourry sighed. "Your mother likes to think she's invincible.... I don't think she told you becuase it reminded her of how.... uh....
vincible she really is."
She giggled. "That's vulnerable, Dad."
He beamed. "You are SO smart." He turned to regard Lina, wincing
slightly in his old armor. Mina was suddenly shocked....
-He's getting old....- she marveled, and the revelation frightened
her.
"She really is proud of you, you know," he whispered, gazing fondly at
his wife, who glared around as though she'd been pleasantly napping and
was rudely awakened by a pail of water.
Mina looked at her mother, then nodded. "I know. It's just
sometimes...." she sighed. "Dad, why are you and mom doing this?"
Gourry looked back at her in surprise. "Doing what?"
Mina looked at him in shock. "You don't know? This whole thing! The
Shards! Gaav! Valgaav!"
"Oh, THAT!" He pounded his hand in his other fist, then fingered his
chin in thought. "Well, I guess because if we don't, who will? I'm not
too good about figuring out this sort of thing, but I do know that you
and Grob are in alot of trouble, and you could use all the help you can
get!" He beamed. This was a masterstroke of Gourry's unique sort of
wit. "That reminds me. I never got to talk to you about something
before you left, and with you and Gabby getting so close and all, I think
it's about time I did my fatherly duty."
She blinked...." Uh, what's that?"
He took on a very studious expression. "It's about time we had a talk
about the birds and the bees, young lady."
Mina's eyes became tiny dots and she sweat-dropped. "Um... Dad....
don't er... I mean, I...."
He spread his arms wide. "Well you see, there's this thing.... and-"
***
Zelgadis surveyed the group quietly as he stalled for time. He wasn't
entirely sure what he was going to say when he got to Amelia, and so
his trip to her side was taking an amount of time comparable to the
half-life of carbon. Lina glared at him in what was obviously a silent
attempt to get him to hurry the hell up already. Mina stood openmouthed
and growing paler by the minute as Gourry made what appeared to Zelgadis as
somewhat lewd motions with his hands and talked about a mile a minute.
Pix was giggling herself silly over his explanation of something, so
much so that she looked about ready to fall out of the sky. Xellos....
Xellos was....
Nowhere to be seen? He stopped dead and looked about wildly, his hand
on the hilt of his sword. He listened intently, his supernatural
hearing picked up something....
Something like....
The fluttering of wings? He looked skyward, where a large cloud of
birds was slowly growing on the horizon.
Except these birds had spears....
He drew his sword, the ringing scrape of steel drawing everyone's
attention. He kept his attention calmly on the advancing force, and never
mind the impossibility of an army of gargoyles armed to the teeth
finding them out here.
"Someone wake up the Sleeping Beauties," he said calmly, gesturing
towards the comatose Knight of Zomelgustar and his large busted attendant,
who slumbered peacefully with Langdelin's head in her lap (this was
about to become a problem, because a line of drool had almost made the
necessary travel arrangements to start its grand journey into the
Knight's slightly open mouth) snoring gently. "We're about to have company,
and from the look of it we're going to need all the help we can get."
The Striking Talons circled slowly overhead, preparing for their
attack.
***
Back to the "Shards of Chaos" Main Page / E-mail Us
Disclaimer: The Slayers is the property of Software Sculptors and Hajime Kanzaka / Rui Araizumi / Shouko Yoshinaka /
Hujimishobou / Kadokawashoten / TV Tokyo / King Records / SOFTX
All original, creative-type stuff on this website is copyright to Chris Cuellar and Teresa Dietzinger, 2002