[Well, see, that's the thing. That's the thing. The kid said they hadn't killed a single thing - well, not in so many words, 'cause the kid never uses two words when one will suffice. Laconic, that one. Ain't so surprisin'. But the way they described his phone call (always a phone call, always a set of instructions, and he might as well have the list of variables burned into his skull, the way he can rattle 'em all off like they're nothin'. Set a SAVE in place, check. Took off the bandage, check. Ate monster food, check. Killed x, spared y, check and check. He knows the script. He knows how it goes. Can't not.) he knows that just not up and killin' everybody don't cut it.
Reports ain't detailed enough. Yeah, he knows that much. The joke gets a wry laugh outta him, but it's as worn out as he is. LOADs of times. Yeah, great, real hilarious. He killed 'em so many times, so many goddamn times, and it was never once the slightest bit funny until they killed him right back. Then he splits open like a melon, and the look on their face -
Heh. Priceless.
He shakes his skull slowly.]
Doesn't add up. The kid told me straight, they didn't kill anyone - [that time, they said with a cold look and an eye slitted open like the threat it was] - not that go around. Wasn't enough. Or if it was, they didn't get to see it play out.
[They didn't get to see anything play out at all. He can see a familiar folded paper in his double's hand, the darkened spots where the paper's been creased over dozens of times over, uncreased, recreased, ad nauseum. He knows it 'cause he's got one too. But, nah. That ain't what he's talkin' about.]
Maybe you know the one. Seems there was a mix-up in the mailroom, 'cause that's the one I get. And the kid, a2, [it's so goddamn easy to slip back into that clinical language, ain't it?] they end up with the one you got right now.
But I ain't talkin' about a drawing, nah. In fact, I'd say there was only one person in that photo who was smiling.
no subject
Reports ain't detailed enough. Yeah, he knows that much. The joke gets a wry laugh outta him, but it's as worn out as he is. LOADs of times. Yeah, great, real hilarious. He killed 'em so many times, so many goddamn times, and it was never once the slightest bit funny until they killed him right back. Then he splits open like a melon, and the look on their face -
Heh. Priceless.
He shakes his skull slowly.]
Doesn't add up. The kid told me straight, they didn't kill anyone - [that time, they said with a cold look and an eye slitted open like the threat it was] - not that go around. Wasn't enough. Or if it was, they didn't get to see it play out.
[They didn't get to see anything play out at all. He can see a familiar folded paper in his double's hand, the darkened spots where the paper's been creased over dozens of times over, uncreased, recreased, ad nauseum. He knows it 'cause he's got one too. But, nah. That ain't what he's talkin' about.]
Maybe you know the one. Seems there was a mix-up in the mailroom, 'cause that's the one I get. And the kid, a2, [it's so goddamn easy to slip back into that clinical language, ain't it?] they end up with the one you got right now.
But I ain't talkin' about a drawing, nah. In fact, I'd say there was only one person in that photo who was smiling.
[And the rest...
Well, you know the rest.]