Schuldig (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
have_your_lives) wrote2011-04-13 02:17 am
have_your_lives) wrote2011-04-13 02:17 am
There's nothing certain left to know
[Mayfield has been seeing less and less of Schuldig over the past two months. With Crawford and Joshua having been droned, and now Nagi's following them, the Mastermind has been essentially abandoned - no partners, no support, nothing.
Forget about merely being separated from Crawford; to be cast adrift from Schwarz entirely is something that hasn't happened in over a decade. To say that he's not coping well would be an understatement, as whatever it is he's doing...it's not 'coping' at all.
Akira has managed to duck Schuldig entirely so far, and the only other inhabitant of Schuldig's house is Ema - who avoids the place as much as possible. In their absence, he's taken to prowling through the halls like a wild animal, becoming increasingly unstable. How much Ema (or Akira, whenever she happens to be around) has noticed in her infrequent home visits is debatable, but some of the walls have bullet holes in them. Target practice or random violence? Who knows. When there are no gunshots, there is an almost constant blaring of classical music throughout the house - something that Schuldig usually uses to clear his head, or at least drown out everything else in it. That he's gone beyond the point where this calms him in the slightest is a dangerous sign.
Schuldig's isolation is the only thing preventing him from going out and taking out his frustrations on the general populace. He hates pain, he hates dying, and he especially hates droning - all of which and more can happen to him if he goes on any kind of mindfuck murder sprees without the backup he's accustomed to from Schwarz. He has no allies now, no one watching his back, and the feeling of being so alone is accomplishing what only Crawford's strictest orders ever have. Schuldig is restraining himself.
But where Crawford gave him leeway, let him indulge himself at times even if he demanded obedience at others, there's no reprieve from his current situation. With no outlets for his frustrations, combined with the stress of being simultaneously alone and having the voices of dozens of people he loathes in his head...something inside him is splintering, something that was never far from snapping to begin with.
With Nagi's droning as the final straw, he's beginning to lose what little sense of self-preservation he possesses. Something is going to suffer with him, and very soon.]
[A]
[Schuldig is prowling the house, in a volatile mood and probably armed. Ema, Akira, if you dare...]
[B]
[Schuldig is walking the streets, scanning his fellow Mayfield residents both visually and telepathically. Whether he's looking for a conversational partner or a victim is difficult to say, but he'd probably be happy with either. And there's no saying whether he won't just combine the two, judging from the look of him.]
[C]
[Mayfield does offer Schuldig one small consideration. In the mail today, he receives a small box...in which lies a familiar car key. He stares at it for a long moment before ducking outside, to find his beautiful red sports car in the driveway. Anyone can feel free to approach him while he's staring at it - compliments to his car are one of the few ways in which someone could get on his good side right now - or spot him while he's driving it through Mayfield later. But eventually he'll be taking it speeding down the highway, the pedal all the way to the floor...and he'll be driving it back and forth down the highway pretty much until he runs out of gas.
He is not in a good place right now.]
[OOC note: Please make sure you've responded to Schuldig's permissions posts(forward dated at the top of his journal)! Also, he's a very dangerous man in a very dangerous mood, so be aware of that if you want to toss your characters at him. :|a ]
Forget about merely being separated from Crawford; to be cast adrift from Schwarz entirely is something that hasn't happened in over a decade. To say that he's not coping well would be an understatement, as whatever it is he's doing...it's not 'coping' at all.
Akira has managed to duck Schuldig entirely so far, and the only other inhabitant of Schuldig's house is Ema - who avoids the place as much as possible. In their absence, he's taken to prowling through the halls like a wild animal, becoming increasingly unstable. How much Ema (or Akira, whenever she happens to be around) has noticed in her infrequent home visits is debatable, but some of the walls have bullet holes in them. Target practice or random violence? Who knows. When there are no gunshots, there is an almost constant blaring of classical music throughout the house - something that Schuldig usually uses to clear his head, or at least drown out everything else in it. That he's gone beyond the point where this calms him in the slightest is a dangerous sign.
Schuldig's isolation is the only thing preventing him from going out and taking out his frustrations on the general populace. He hates pain, he hates dying, and he especially hates droning - all of which and more can happen to him if he goes on any kind of mindfuck murder sprees without the backup he's accustomed to from Schwarz. He has no allies now, no one watching his back, and the feeling of being so alone is accomplishing what only Crawford's strictest orders ever have. Schuldig is restraining himself.
But where Crawford gave him leeway, let him indulge himself at times even if he demanded obedience at others, there's no reprieve from his current situation. With no outlets for his frustrations, combined with the stress of being simultaneously alone and having the voices of dozens of people he loathes in his head...something inside him is splintering, something that was never far from snapping to begin with.
With Nagi's droning as the final straw, he's beginning to lose what little sense of self-preservation he possesses. Something is going to suffer with him, and very soon.]
[A]
[Schuldig is prowling the house, in a volatile mood and probably armed. Ema, Akira, if you dare...]
[B]
[Schuldig is walking the streets, scanning his fellow Mayfield residents both visually and telepathically. Whether he's looking for a conversational partner or a victim is difficult to say, but he'd probably be happy with either. And there's no saying whether he won't just combine the two, judging from the look of him.]
[C]
[Mayfield does offer Schuldig one small consideration. In the mail today, he receives a small box...in which lies a familiar car key. He stares at it for a long moment before ducking outside, to find his beautiful red sports car in the driveway. Anyone can feel free to approach him while he's staring at it - compliments to his car are one of the few ways in which someone could get on his good side right now - or spot him while he's driving it through Mayfield later. But eventually he'll be taking it speeding down the highway, the pedal all the way to the floor...and he'll be driving it back and forth down the highway pretty much until he runs out of gas.
He is not in a good place right now.]
[OOC note: Please make sure you've responded to Schuldig's permissions posts(forward dated at the top of his journal)! Also, he's a very dangerous man in a very dangerous mood, so be aware of that if you want to toss your characters at him. :|a ]
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[So Schuldig can hear everything, whether he wants to or not. Every scheme, every question, every single thought running through Edward's mind. He can hardly imagine living with such a terrifying ability... or living with someone with that kind of power.
How much torture had Schuldig put Ema through up to this point with his unending mental invasions? Why would she keep this sort of information from him?]
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And she's right, isn't she...? Even if you had an inkling of how to fight me, you can't be relied on. You can't be trusted. I play my cards face up, but you - you cheat. [The last word he gives a telepathic echo inside Edward's head, giving it more weight, more power.]
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Sh-shut up. I don't cheat. I'm not---
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And now this, with Ema - it couldn't be clearer proof that you've gone your entire life without learning anything...or at least anything important. Every time you've really wanted love and respect, you've personally ensured you don't deserve it. You whine for what you've never earned.
But you can't lie to me, even less than you can lie to yourself. And since every trick in your arsenal involves cleverly concealing the truth...you're useless against me.
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Useless...?
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And if you're wondering just what I could do to you? I'll find a way. I'll always find a way. There's no riddle that I can't solve.
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But I'm not worried at all. You can't even manage your own life. Why should I expect you to be able to affect mine?
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...that sounds almost like a challenge.
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In due time, you'll come to respect---and fear---what a true mastermind is capable of.
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You're familiar with the concept of...let's call them code names just to preserve your dignity, shall we? You were the Riddler. I suggest you stick to that.
I am the Mastermind. And, unlike you, my schemes have actually succeeded enough for the title to be appropriate.
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I've already bested you, more than once, in several ways. I can keep besting you. Even if you somehow manage to kill me, which is the best you could hope to do, I'll be back the next day and you'll have accomplished nothing but to piss me off. I'll still be a telepath; I'll still be more cunning than you've ever shown the capability to be; I'll still be married to Ema, and the fact that I'm frequently within arm's reach of a woman you fancy is really something you should think harder on. I'll still be the Mastermind.
There's no cheating on this, Nigma, and it won't get you anywhere even if you manage to get away with it. Why bother...? Except we both already know why you'll do it, don't we. [Schuldig grins.] So you can try to prove to yourself, for the hundredth time, that for every other failure in your life...at least you're smart. That makes up for everything, doesn't it?
But the fact is that a truly smart man wouldn't even be trying. They'd know their ego isn't worth the risk. So even if you win, you'll be losing.
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Keep it together, Edward. Don't let him get to you.]
Even if I win, you'll still be a telepath. But you know something, Schuldig? You won't be the Mastermind. Because you aren't a mastermind. Not truly.
A real mastermind relies on genuine genius, cunning and skill. They can't just take whatever answers they want without even trying. They shouldn't just be handed to you on a silver platter. They aren't just yours for the taking, and by all means, they shouldn't be. A telepath like you is hardly the master of any minds.
You're just a coward and a cheat. Nothing more.
no subject
He doesn't actually bother with clouding Edward's ability to see him move here, if only because they're so close it's not really necessary. So the speed with which he darts forward, a hand painfully gripping Edward's throat, is entirely without 'cheating'. But it's still damn fast, and with no warning.
His thumb is digging into the hollow of Edward's throat all too pointedly. He's not cutting off air entirely, but it's a close thing.]
I think we've discovered a point of misunderstanding between us, Nigma. [His voice has shifted completely. The mocking tone is entirely gone; what's left is low, and dark, and dangerous. If his previous tone was the hiss of a snake, then this is the rattle.] You think, somehow, that telepathy is easy. That something I was born with, that I am actually incapable of shutting off, is somehow cheating because I choose to make some use of it. That I have no right. That by enduring your thoughts, I am taking from you.
Fine. Take them back.
[And he promptly pours everything he's hearing into Edward's own mind. Every thought around them within perhaps a mile and a half, simultaneously, every one as loud and pressing - if not more so - as Edward's own, talking over him, drowning him out.]
no subject
But before he can even ponder that new question, something happens. All of the thoughts running through Edward's head, all the burning questions he desires to answer, are intertwined with a multitude of voices. He winces in pain, both from Schuldig's grasp and from each and every single loud voice shrieking shrilly in his mind. He's drowning in thought---this is an overload, a complete and total overload. This much power, this much access to the minds of others... it's insane. It's absolutely insane.
His panicked eyes dart down to Schuldig. He can't even reach up to try and wrench Schuldig's arm away, he can't even struggle against this. He only barely manages to open his mouth, gurgling out pathetically---]
S-stop. That's---that's enough.
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Your mind inflicts itself on mine every day. Yours and a thousand others, since the day I was born. Until I was trained, I couldn't even go near a city without screaming. They had to kill most of the telepaths I trained with when they went insane, or forgot which thoughts were theirs. And you have the balls to tell me that I'm cheating? That I'm a coward for having your thoughts forced on me? [His grip tightens.] That I've just been handed this, that I haven't mastered anything.
I could wipe your mind clean. Or I could just rip your throat out, if that would be too much like cheating. But you're honestly not worth the time. [And Schuldig uses the hand on Edward's throat to shove him backwards a few steps, roughly, releasing his hold on the man's legs and arms.] You're no less ignorant than anyone else, and I long ago stopped bothering to correct you one at a time.
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This power... it's overwhelming. Schuldig had to endure this sort of mental barrage since birth. Nobody should have this much access to another mind, let alone the minds of hundreds of others. Thousands.]
I... I never realized. [He swallows, not as confident as much as he is jittery.]
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[Abruptly, Schuldig's dangerous smirk is back. However, the shift will allow Edward to observe something - the expression in Schuldig's eyes doesn't change. His eyes are as ice-cold and bitter when he smiles as when he's choking someone by the throat.
It's rather disturbing.]
And you really think you can do anything to me? That you can throw anything at me I can't handle? You can barely comprehend what I deal with already. There's nothing you can do to me.
[And with that, he strides past Edward, paying him no further mind.]