Men And Monsters: The Silent Killer

For Blake, life had become dreadfully boring.

How long had it been since he got suspended like a misbehaving child in high school? Too long, far too long. His arm was in a cast, he could at least be grateful that it was a clean break. Whether Pinkamena did that intentionally or not was one of the many things he’d been left to ponder.

He’d been unable to stop thinking about her ever since, so many things about her were different than any of the rest, better than any of the rest. She lasted longer, could adapt better, her body and mind like silly putty to mold however he liked. Blake had an image of her in mind, and yet she turned out better than he could have ever imagined, truly a one in a million.

In the span of a few hours, he lost her. Just. Like. That.

He followed orders, he ‘gathered’ information about The Silent Killer, which was basically confirming what they already knew. Afterwards he was told to ‘stand by’, which was a fancy way of saying fuck off. He’d spent his time sulking in bars, unable to do much else. If he tried to go back, he was sure he’d get much worse than a broken arm. Sure, he could sleep with random broads and he had more than enough money to keep drinking for months on end, but despite this freedom, he felt empty.

He missed torturing people. He missed being able to do whatever he wanted. Most of all, he missed Pinkamena.

At first, he had pretended to be infatuated with her, all a part of the act. It became more than that, his feelings for her turned into a reality, and now it was hard for him to think of anyone else. She was just so...perfect! There was no other adjective that fit her but that. It had become a near obsession, the fact that she was being far more resilient than any of his other toys only made it worse. He wanted to be with her, to be inside her again, to feel her shrieks of pain please his ears.

Sadly, he’d have to be patient. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t come to her. However, she would come to him, they always do. It doesn’t matter how much she hated him right now, it would turn into want, and then she’ll desire him as much as he wanted her. That’s how it always is. Pinkamena Diane Pie may be one of the most unique people he’d ever met, but she remained human where it mattered, and that’s what he hoped for.

Until that day came, Blake would surf from bar to bar. Drinking until he either got into a fight with some poor fool, or had sex with some stranger pretending it was her. It wasn’t what he wanted, but he was content with it.

“You’re Blake, right?”

Some asshole decided to bother him, despite the fact that he had placed himself in the farthest corner of this shitty bar specifically not to be bothered. To make things worse, he sat down opposite of him, making it obvious he wanted to talk to him about something.

“Fuck you want?” Blake slurred out as he took a swig out of the half-empty bottle, trying to make it clear how much he didn’t want to talk.

He could tell it was a guy from the voice, but that was the only thing about him that stuck out. This guy was like the stereotype stanger that parents told their kids not to talk to without an adult. Dark clothing covering every inch of his body, gloves that covered his hands, a black hoodie with his hood covering his head. Even a face mask that covered most of his face, with the exception of his eyes.

Something about his eyes bugged Blake, they didn’t seem natural. They are blue but were...too bright and didn’t move quite like they should, he knew he’d seen something like this before, he just couldn’t remember where.

“I’m looking for someone. I’ve heard you’re the person to ask to find them.”

“‘Eard from who?”

He expectedly clammed up, smart or afraid enough to not reveal his sources, not that Blake thought he would. This wasn’t the first time someone had approached him asking for information, he doesn’t go advertising that he’s a part of The Syndicate but he doesn’t go out of his way to not tell people either. He didn’t bother asking how they learned, there’s always someone who knows.

Blake watched him patiently for a few moments, he could tell that despite trying not to show it, this guy is nervous. His fingers are laced together to try to hide the fact they were shaking, his body rigid and his foot rapidly tapping against the ground. The question is why?

“...Whaddya want?” Blake asked as he took another swig, the cold liquid burning his throat.

He reached his hand into a pocket on his hoodie, pulling out a folded piece of paper. The stranger placed it on the table and slid it across to Blake. “I need to know where she is.”

The ‘she’ got him a bit interested. He let go of the bottle, unfolding it and realizing it was a photo halfway through. Once he could tell who it was, his hand clenched it tightly, causing most of it to audibly crinkle.

It was Pinkamena, though her appearance had changed from when he’d last seen her. She’d dyed her hair and it was now black and pink, she was also wearing a contact on one of her eyes making it red. He was disappointed to see she was hiding her beautiful body under a hoodie, a cigarette sticking out of the corner of her life telling him she had picked up smoking again.

He placed his hand on the photo like he could actually touch her. She looked even prettier than he remembered, only making him miss her more. “Why do you want to find her?”

He stared at Blake tensely, his gaze then dropping to the photo. “Doesn’t matter. I’m willing to pay you if you just tell me the general area. I ju-”

“It does matter!” Blake shouted as he slammed his fist against the table, it came out as much more of a drunken ramble than actual words. It wasn’t loud enough to draw attention from anyone around them, but the stranger in the hoodie jumped at the sudden action and noise. “If...you want me to tell you, I need ta know why.”

Blake got a bit more coherent as he tried to concentrate, but considering he never ate before drinking, he was well and thoroughly hammered. He was trying to ignore how numbingly warm his entire body felt and how hard it was to just think.

“She….” He paused as he grabbed the edges of the table, gripping it tightly and crushing the wood. He scowled as his jaw clenched. “Killed my brother.”

Blake had misread this guy. He hadn’t been shaking because was nervous, but because he was angry. He didn’t know if Pinkamena truly killed this guy's brother or not, but he was clearly convinced that it was her.

This was good, this was an opportunity! He could use this to get close to her again, as an excuse to disobey orders! If he gives this person her location, he can say that he had heard rumors that someone was trying to kill her, and that he had gone to warn her. But first, there must be a reason this guy thinks he’s capable of doing it. He needs to learn that first.

“If yer trying to kill her…” Blake murmured as he rubbed his face, trying to sober himself up. “You should know she isn’t entirely human.”

He paused, relaxing a bit as his face lifted in something like a smirk. “That’s ok,” He let go of the table, raising his right hand and taking off his glove. His hand looked normal at first, before skin dulled into a cold gray resembling steel. It perfectly resembled a hand, but one made out of some kind of metal. He picked up a shot glass with his hand, crushing it with ease to nothing but small shards, not even the slightest of it getting into his hand.

“I’m not either.”

____

“I’m waiting for you to make your move.”

“And I’m waiting for you to actually tell me who you are. Other than ‘Gypsy’, that is.”

Discord’s day was relatively good so far. Vincent was almost completely adjusted and would be able to get sent on his first task, and he received news that Wyett would be brought back with little issue. Everything was going better than expected, ahead of schedule, even! No unplanned variables, nothing he didn’t at least somewhat expect.

That is, until someone who apparently didn’t exist showed up calling themselves Gypsy. It was impossible for him to tell their age or any distinguishing features, their height somewhere around five feet and entire body covered in a thick layer of bandages and gauze, a dark, red rose gown-like piece of clothing that was much larger than them. Bottomless holes where their eyes were supposed to be and their mouth visible whenever they talked or smiled, there were no other holes so Discord questioned how they were even breathing.

He had been in his office at The Syndicate, enjoying his free time that he rarely gets. Right in the middle of him scrolling through his to watch list when they opened his door and wandered right in without making a single noise, until they were hovering right over him. Asking him one question.

“Wanna play some Janggi?”

Discord completely jumped out of his chair, causing them to let out a girlish chuckle. He was almost positive they were a girl judging from the voice and some of their mannerisms, such as the carefree way they spoke and the elegant way they moved like a ballerina. They refused to answer any questions, only staring at him until he got the Janggi board. She wouldn’t tell him how she got to him without being stopped, how she knew where this place was, or anything. She just hummed some unknown tune to herself as she watched him patiently.

Now, they sat on either side of the board on the ground from each other, having just started the game. They never stopped humming, nor did they even hesitate in making a move. She stated her name and her circumstances, that people only know she’s there if she wants them too, and they don’t remember ever talking to her afterwards. She referred to it as her being ‘cursed to not exist’, whether it was something she was born with or someone put it onto her wasn’t something she was willing to elaborate on.

“So…” Discord mumbled, his eyes not leaving her as he moved a piece. “You basically work like The Silence?”

“Essentially. Minus the part where you forget I’m here once you lose line of sight, it works more like within a radius.”

“Hm.”

He found her very interesting so far. She acted similarly to a child, yet there was an air of maturity about her, like she’d seen and knew more than most people. “Can I assume this isn’t our first time speaking then?”

He could see Gypsy smirk beneath her full-body mask, moving a piece without even having to look. “Of course not, Adam. We’ve talked many times before. It was in fact your suggestion that I come by once a month and play a board game with you while discussing recent events. I’m not sure why, but I truly have all the time in the world and enjoy talking with you more than most.”

Discord’s entire body froze at her words, his fingers tightly clenching around one of the tile pieces as he went to move it. His heart began to palpate and it suddenly got harder to breathe. “How….do you know my name?”

She responded with a brief chuckle. “You always react the same way. Because I was there when it was given to you.” He took in a sharp breath, but was interrupted by her. “Don’t bother asking questions about it, can’t tell ya. Part of the curse, we’ve been through this part of the script.”

He grit his teeth as he swallowed his frustration, this ‘curse’ seemed as much of a hindrance to everyone around her as it was to herself. Discord counted intervals of seven in his mind to calm himself down. “Alright, what did we talk about last?”

“The all time person of interest Pinkamena Diane Pie.” She responded in a sing-song voice, leaning over and tracing her fingers on the edges of one of the tiles. “I’ve met her twice. Once before, once after. She has the potential, and if your plans come to fruition, she could be The Prophetic Child.”

“You know about my plans and the prophecy? I must really trust you.”

“You could say that, yes.”

The room remained incredibly silent, her words heavy with implication. “Would I be correct in guessing that Gypsy isn’t your real name? In fact, If I was a betting man, which I am, it's a serious problem, I’d say you’ve gone by many names.”

She let out a fruity giggle, not even glancing as he moved one of his pieces. “Many, many names indeed. So many that I could never remember them all, ‘Gypsy’ is simply the one I find most fitting. And no, I cannot tell you my real name. You wouldn’t recognize it, and you wouldn’t remember it anyway.”

Discord’s normally complacent face etched into a scowl, everything about this person frustrated him to no end. They knew more than he’d tell almost anyone, their ‘curse’ made it to where he couldn’t learn the things he wanted to, and he apparently wouldn’t remember them after. Which made him wonder what the point was? Why did he tell her to come here once a month, play a board game, and talk about stuff if he wouldn’t even remember? Did he just hate himself that much, or was there a point?

“What exactly do you get out of this? Do you enjoy seeing me ask all the same questions and do the same things?” Discord asked with a blot of hostility.

“Not at all. You’re actually one of the few people who I can’t entirely predict. Your questions and irritation always constants, but little things I don’t expect change. Such as your board game strategies: You always play them in counter to the strategy I used the last time we played that game, despite the fact that you shouldn’t remember it. You have no idea how astonishing that is.”

He didn’t quite understand what he meant until he examined the board, realizing she was right. He hadn’t played Janggi in quite a while, he barely even remembered the rules. Now he wasn’t paying attention to the game at all, dozens of questions running through his mind as he almost mindlessly placed the pieces, or at least what he thought was mindless. Looking down at it, he is clearly placing them in a way that countered hers.

Which drew another question: How many times had they done this?

“As for what I’m getting out of this…” The enthusiasm from her voiced, leaving it empty and something Discord could describe as melancholic. “I’ve walked this earth since before the dawn of man. I’ve seen miracles, met pseudo gods, been there for some of the worst sins humanity has committed. I’ve witnessed things even you would be baffled by, but her?” Her haunting, blank expression was replaced as her lips curved upward. “She’s hope. The only one I’ve seen in a long time, the only chance of this curse being lifted. A shining light in this darkness is more than enough for me.”

He wasn’t sure if inspiring was quite the word to describe the tone in her voice, but it was one he felt familiar with. Many would consider his situation a blessing, having sought it out their entire lives. They were mistaken, it is a burden even the strongest man could not bear. The only reason he kept going is because he had no other choice, truly nothing more than a shell of a man going through the motions with no other truth.

It reminded him of the last words one of his many long dead friends said before he died, having taken his own life after experiencing war. ‘Once you’ve lost your hope and faith, when there’s nothing left but despair, you’re already living in hell.”

However, for him too, Pinkamena is hope. She checks off enough boxes and has pulled through enough to where there’s a chance. It’s a long shot, and will require likely everything he has, but there’s a chance.

“And…” He found himself a bit nervous, he couldn’t explain why. “What do you think will happen with her next?”

“Soon. Very, very soon, she will reach a turning point. There will be many in her life, but this will be the biggest. One simple decision will change everything, and if she makes the wrong one…” As she picked up a piece, her arm began to shake violently, like the room sharply dropped in temperature just around that part of her body. She drew a breath and grabbed that arm by the wrist with her other hand, whispering something to herself before the shaking stopped and she placed the tile. “It's a worse case scenario.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Discord asked curiously, moving his piece as he debated asking for more details. Not like it’d make much of a difference since he wouldn’t remember.

“No….telling you would risk it not happening at all. Continue what you are doing with Vincent and Wyett, an allegiance with the skinwalkers for what’s to come is necessary. Chrysalis is-”

She abruptly stopped, a tremble rocking her entire body like a seizure. Before he had a chance to do anything, it stopped along with all of her movements, not even her chest rising and falling to signal breathing. Now that that came to mind, he wasn’t sure if she’d been breathing at all since she came in.

Just as spontaneously, she smiled. Not a content grin or smirk, a genuine smile that stretched from where he guessed her ears were. Her teeth would have been visible if the bandages weren’t there. Frustratingly, she didn’t say anything, humming a song he didn’t recognize to herself, which already spoke volumes. Discord waited for her to say something or at least make a move, two minutes passed without her doing anything as he stared into the gaping eyeholes on her face.

“It’s your turn.” He mumbled somewhat curtly.

“I know. But it’d be rude to play while you’re in the middle of a call.”

He didn’t understand what she meant, straightening his back as he raised his eyebrows in confusion. “What are yo-”

Then the Seinfeld theme played.

He swiftly pulled out his phone, recognizing the number as Pinkamena’s. He slowly and hesitantly raised his head, his mouth agape in raw bafflement. Did she just predict that? He’d seen much in his long time on this floating rock, but clairvoyance wasn’t one of them.

“Can yo-”

“You better answer that call. It is your emergency number after all.”

With a bit of sass in her voice, she began to walk out of the room, not giving him or the board a second glance. “Sorry to cut things short. Eve is expecting me.”

That name made his heart freeze and blood run cold. He hadn’t thought of her in a long time, perhaps for the better. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d have to get in contact with her sooner or later. He needed her help, as disgusting as what that entails.

He held the phone up to his ear, about to ask her where Eve was, when he noticed she wasn’t there. A moment later, he wondered why that vile woman came to mind. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing that he had left his game of Janggi in the middle of it, playing against himself to practice so he didn’t get out of shape.

He answered the call.

“Pinkamena, I’m very busy right now. If this isn’t a life or death situation, I will be very perturbed. w-”