station72 | [DAY :043]

[Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Late in the evening, the pervasive thrum of Nirad's mental presence returns to Bearings. It winds higher - unwrapping, lengthening, widening: small flashes of silver, memories like the scales of so many fish glimpsed through the lapping water of some distance, unfamiliar water. A wet street reflects the glow of neon signs above it; a doorway, rain drizzling off the landing above it; a stream of traffic glittering through the half light--]

( Hi. We're back from following that Ahtaliah Ven guy. Aoba's head is hurting him so he's going to take a break I think but I guess I can tell you what we saw? )

[He doesn't sound hesitant so much as he does distracted.]

( Honestly I didn't see anything very interesting, but maybe it was a bad day for him? Maybe you can't be a bad guy every day of the week, right? Anyway, he worked pretty late then me and Aoba followed his car to a place where he got dinner. It's a nice car. He met with someone there. A lady. A friend, I think, but I don't really know. Maybe we should have followed her instead though because after they had dinner, Ven went home. So we have his address and how to get access to his building and I know which apartment he lives in and if we wanted to get in it seems like it might be pretty easy because he spends so much time at work, you know? I'm sure he's got some super high tech security at home but it's not like he owns the building so it's probably just inside his penthouse or whatever. Uh. Yeah. )

[BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ.]

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I don't need a messenger. I don't want your help, either.

I don't want your help ȩ̀v̸e͜r̡̕ ̛̕a̶̕g̢ai̸͡n̡.͜

[ Well that's... different. Really different, in a way that sets Sam just a little bit on edge. Between that and the fact that he's pretty sure he hadn't actually done anything between the last time he and Aoba talked and now to piss him off this much, Sam's a little at a loss here. ]

What happened, man, what's wrong?

Nothing's wrong.

[ Quite different. His voice is the same, but with a sinister edge that wasn't there before. And while his head still throbs with the headache Nirad describe, there's a distinctly pleasurable feeling underlying the pain. ]

I am feeling entirely myself. You should be happy for me.

You, who tried to push me back down, just like him.

[ Yeah, Aoba might be saying that nothing's wrong, but everything about this is setting off Sam's something is actually very wrong sensors so damn hard. It feels like his idea of what conversation he's having is very different from whatever Aoba is talking about. ]

( Might be happy for you if you were making a little more sense. Who tried to push you down? )

YOU DID.

[ Whatever pleasure he was feeling from the pain is quick to switch. All his emotions turn to anger and bear down at a sharp point. How dare Sam not know how he's hurt him. ]

YOU TOOK AWAY THE PAIN I CREATED. IT IS MY WAY OUT, THE ONLY WAY I CAN BE FREE. YOU ARE WORSE THAN THE PILLS SAM WILSON.

[ His voice rises, but his presence remains steady. There's a desire to lash out more than he already has, but he's holding back. ]

I should destroy you.

[ Or he wants Sam to think he's holding back. ]

[ Sam'd already been working to shield himself from the headache, but the spike of anger is completely unexpected. Confusion surges in response until Sam pulls in a breath and strengthens his shields again.

It's easy enough to figure out that he's talking about the headaches that Sam's been helping with when the pills weren't working, and he's already expanding off that to make a dozen or so other assumptions.

The most prevailing one being that whatever this is has something to do with Aoba's powers, is responsible for Aoba's headaches, is real fucking pissed that Sam's messing around with them, and is not quite Aoba. Sam's not sure if this is symbiote related or magical whatever related or something like DID - although that would be way the fuck above his pay grade - but he does know that it's not going to make him back off. ]

I don't think anyone's ever told me I was worse than the pills as an insult, so points for creativity. [ There's an undercurrent of something not quite protectiveness and not quite determination in response to that desire to lash out. ] If you keep trying to hurt him, I'll keep trying to stop you.

Him... trying to hurt him?

[ That sets something off. A quick buildup of ugly jealously coupled with bottled self pity. As if to test Sam, he finally lashes out, but... on himself. Raises the tempo of the pounding in his own mind as if willing it, his voice rising to near unbearable levels in his own aching head. ]

I AM HIM.

HE IS ME.

WE ARE ONE.

[ Someone better get Sam Wilson a raise right now. ]

Edited 2016-10-20 08:42 (UTC)

[ Goddamn it, he really does need a raise.

His shields are strong enough that though he can tell the intensity of what Aoba - or not quite Aoba - is throwing out is increasing, he still only gets some of the pain filtered through. But that's not the point, not when not quite Aoba is hurting himself to get at Sam. And he has a feeling that Aoba is going to be the one hurting from it. ]

( I'm just going with the pronoun you used first, don't throw a tantrum because of me. )

[ He doesn't make another threat. As far as Sam's concerned, one is enough. Either not quite Aoba will back down or he won't - and if he doesn't, action'll be worth more than words. ]

[ Sam is right, and Aoba hates him for it. As much as they are one, they are different now. He is Aoba, and so is the one who's worn his skin for the last three years. If he could just make himself known, make him remember, make him accept what happened...

For a second he almost feels sad, that self pity rising and threatening to wash him back under. Instead he latches into his hatred and twists it into his own mind. The pain keeps him grounded, in control, and in a way it's good. He's growing weaker from it, already tired from using Scrap, but it feels so good. ]

We are separate and we are one. I am not going away, Sam Wilson. I am Aoba.

[ He wants to cut off their connection there, but the pain is making it difficult. As much pleasure as he takes from it, a mind can only handle so much. He's withdrawing, but it's slow going, agonizing. Like pulling out a knife. ]

[ He can feel the connection weakening, even if it's painfully sluggish, and Sam's not going to chase it. Keeping up the fight isn't worth it, not if it's causing Aoba more pain, and not when Sam's not even sure exactly what's happening here. ]

( And I'm not going to stop helping take away the pain. )

[ All right, he can't resist one more reminder that he's not going away either. But still, the faint hint of something like sadness and self pity gets to him, and he follows it up with something a little softer. ]

( Look, I'm not gonna pretend like I understand any of this, and I wouldn't wanna be pushed down, either. If we talk again, I'll ask you to help me understand. )

[ No. Sam is a hypocrite. Claims he won't stop taking his pain away, but that he also doesn't want to be pushed down. That he doesn't right now, but he'll try to understand. He could never sympathize, and Aoba firmly roots himself in that belief. No one could know what it's like, being locked in the confines of your own mind for as long as he has.

Aoba - no - Sly Blue says nothing. He watches Sam quietly over faint connection.

A pair of bright yellow eyes against a familiar face, disappearing behind a slow-closing door. ]

[DAY :043]

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