Leave It Broken

This morning... What was he doing this morning? He couldn't quite recall, between the blurred lines and replaying the same events over and over again like a broken record unwilling to stop itself or get rid of the rusty old scratch that was screeching uncontrollably. It wasn't that he was necessarily guilty - no -, it was months ago and he was over it. It was more that he couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if he had chosen a different time to approach or turned down this mission in favor of something else. These weren't his only choices back then after all. This was one of many paths and if he had taken something else, perhaps he wouldn't be wondering a few more things compared to others. After all, taking advantage of an amnesiac girl and manipulating her to join Argona's ragtag gang of people to take over the world was the most tortuous option at the time. Being able to imagine her loved one's face when it's contorted and twisted by pain and utter shock, the idea of having to hurt her... It was irresistible. But even he had his standards.

Those standards were what had been holding him back from following through with this plan. Ryry's words back then kept ringing through his head and he had been lying between his teeth with his answer. You wouldn't understand what it's like to actually care for someone, now would you? Heh, did he really know? He wasn't sure. After all, what would a caring person be doing in a terrorist organization? Cold, calculating, cruel, and manipulative. Apathetic, strong-willed, indifferent, and possessive. There was no room for someone with hesitation with Argona at the front, keeping them all in line. It was all or nothing. Disobeying orders wasn't much of a choice. All of them had different reasons for fighting with her - some out of their own sadistic nature, others because they believed it would be the right thing, and even more because they were fighting for someone else. A few melded here and there and some had a more outlandish mindset than others that were too peculiar to bother generalizing and putting them all in

As for him...? He had his own secrets to keep.

Spending all of this time, sitting around in his jail-like dormitory at the laboratory was only making him gloomy and reflecting on issues that were already done. What was done was done and there was no turning back the clock now. Violet eyes zoomed in on the staff lying in the corner and the electric violin lying on the mattress a little bit away. A few of his sweaters and clothes were hung up on the side, from the lack of a closet, right above his desktop; all of them were black. The whole "black is evil" theme was rather boring, from the lack of variety in their clothes, but at least, he could wear whatever he chose to back at this home. Leader of the territory or not, he stuck with the subordinate's dormitory.

His hands reached over to a teal tank top and black slacks, pulling over a gray fur-lined jacket before he tied a white bandanna over his mouth. Rays of light cracked through the only opening in the ceiling, the only exit he had, and Gray took a quick glance at it as he slung his bag over his shoulders. His staff shrunk itself before he slipped it into his pocket and he climbed up the steel-barred ladder to the exit. With a strong push, the entrance opened and he slipped onto the surface world, greeted by a blur of white-coated scientists prancing about the place in a hurry. One was staring at him straight in the eyes behind her bespectacled eyes, and immediately smacked his head with a book.

Gray only rolled his eyes. "You're so late! Aren't you supposed to be getting that objective done today?" Right, of course. That was due today. How could he forget after being reminded constantly on a daily basis? Running his hands through his hair once, he gave only a curt nod. He didn't want to deal with this researcher today. If they wanted him to get the job done, he might as well get it over with now. Cute or not, you're annoying and get on my nerves. Like he'd ever tell that to her face, though.

He had a task to finish already.

The walk down the sterile, white and plaintive hallways, the lack of real emotion and energy from the people... it was almost like he was going through the apocalypse and was walking around a lab of zombies. That would make him the leader of this sector, wouldn't it? King of the zombies? What an appealing way to think of it. One door automatically opened, leading him to a much darker room, with only green lights here and there to show him the way.

An empty capsule, just about large enough for a human girl, was off to the side of the room. Holding glass jars between his fingers, he inspected the glittering diamond shards within them. They said that leaving them altogether would bring her back to life without the need for him to use any glue to piece it all back - that would've been too troublesome. With a small sigh, Gray inputted a few buttons as a password and the capsule's lid opened, with smoke rising, as though it were a scene from a science fiction movie. He swiftly dumped the gems inside and snapped the top back to a close. He had to wait inside the room to make sure this worked, didn't he?

Patience is a virtue was the old adage. Those who wait are the ones who are best rewarded. That's what they all said.

Slumping against the capsule's side, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, softly exhaling. The lid would open on its own if it sensed that the girl had revived herself.

Cassandra. That was her name, wasn't it? The plan was underway months ago, he may have forgotten. Perhaps she kept some parts of her memories.

Maybe he should have left her broken for a little longer. The treatment awaiting her was less than pleasant.

He wasn't sure if it was some sort of sixth sense or he could sniff this sort of thing out like a blood hound tracking its prey by the trail of red oozing liquid it left or the lingering odor they left behind, the sense of fear that carried itself within the wind as though it had always been part of the air itself, but he couldn't help but find that he slipped into others' realm of imagination, the realm of unconscious, when he fell asleep. A portion of his gift that he could never control all because both parties were in a deep slumber. Perhaps it was his own consciousness wanting to go through with it or maybe his own curiosity dragging him in, the desire to know the world that others experienced that nobody else should be able to trespass into. Dreams they said, were supposed to be a representation of one's problems and their inner desires. It was fitting that he would want to know - those were the easiest flaws that anyone could exploit.

One moment, his eyes were registering the room with green lights, black splotches obscuring his vision at the edges until it faded away into nothingness. The open door where a small ray of white beamed was the last thing he remembered seeing. Within a few seconds, there he was, walking the bleak blank canvas of the dream world. His rendition of it, at least. A large gate was in front of him, towering over in a manner that seemed to shadow any person. The size was comparable to the Eiffel Tower, much bigger than the normal entrances he had to walk through. If anything about his dream logic said anything, it was that the bigger the door, the more important the current dream was and generally, it held a lot of content within it.

A heart-shaped door where veins whirled around like branches, lining the inside and outer borders. The heart was broken in half, and one could see the visible jagged edges that made it seem like it was shattered by something or someone. A long portion of the overgrown stems hung limply right through the middle, piercing dangerously right through the middle with prickly offshoots that mimicked thorns. It was pure pink, almost bloody red, inside. A cave, a lion's den that he would be walking into. Mulberry trees, most likely. Don't do it his mind told him. Interfering anymore than he already would be doing was ridiculous. There was no need to keep going in the slightest. Let it play out on its own.

Unlike the other people in this terrorist group, Gray considered himself a person of standards. So why was he inching closer into the door?

Something seemed to knock the wind out of his lungs, ripples forming where his figure entered, and his knees buckled. Excruciating, burning pain. It was burning on fire, like a flame that wanted to keep charring the surface of the Earth until it turned utterly black. His fingers reached for a staff to aid him in standing, but there was none. Material objects like that couldn't make it through the barrier between physical and dream world. How could be forget? Using the wall as support, he foraged onward, on towards the memories and scenes that his violet eyes were forbidden from seeing.

A little girl with a cute bed of pink hair, wailing and crying, crumpled up in her bed as her mother scolded her for being ridiculous about the unseen injuries she claimed to have. The mother walked away without much of a second thought. Nobody was there to help the girl. A boy with brown hair and bright green eyes formed, almost slightly red as the heat crept up his ears with the words he uttered. His figure dissipated without much of a trace. And now, he was alone with this girl. The girl he helped kill and kidnap and will now be manipulating to join the forces of... Evil. Was that what they should call it?

Gifted extremists, perhaps. He didn't know much about this bunch in the first place. Information was rarely disclosed. Simply do this, this, this, and that. No questions asked. Why he still listened and followed orders like a puppy, he wasn't sure. Liar. A small frown weaved its way around his lips before he passed it off.

One wave of the hand changed the scenery. A flowery meadow with bright blue skies and open air. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, rabbits-a-hopping. He was alone with Cassandra. No interference.

"Sssh, it's alright. It'll be over soon, my dear." His index finger was planted on his lips. He felt like he was talking to a child... In a sense, he figured he was. "Just a little longer, I promise. You're doing great." Gray extended his other hand out, a gesture of assistance.

However this was supposed to go, he really didn't expect it to be that easy, the way she so carelessly wrapped her fingers around his hand and accepted his gesture of assistance. Anyone with common sense should know the rule that their parents taught them at a young age: don't talk to strangers, don't open the door to anyone you don't know, don't follow anyone who offers you candy and opens the car door for you to get in. He was startled, really, that she had been as dumb as one of the rabbits skipping about on the fields. Those adorable white and brown balls of fur were some of the easiest to catch in a trap with the right bait. A tiny little insect crawling on the outskirts of its usual territory, caught up in curiosity or sniffing the pleasant aroma that drifted with the wind, and finding the source of interest before snap! The Venus flytrap clamps down and ends its life within a mere twenty seconds. She was stupider, walking right in without a care in the world.

For a few moments, he felt sorry for her, that he was the one that she would have to deal with. Her innocent and childlike demeanor threw him off. But he knew better than that - this was a dream, a reality he could play with at the tips of his fingers. She wasn't a little kid. In hindsight, perhaps it was better that it was him compared to the other eccentric members within their group, but he liked to believe he was one of the best - if not the best - at giving hope and watching his victim's faces brighten and believe they still had a chance, only to snatch it away at the very last moment to see that light twist to despair. Truly, it was an amusing game to play that never got boring, with how some people tried to clutch onto their optimism with their dying breath and fighting to the very end while others resigned right away. They were rather boring to toy with, but he had his fun while it lasted.

Many of the more lunatic members had unclean and poor methods of murder, Cadence being the prime example he could think of off the top of his head; there were many more that could be crueler than her, he was sure. As though it were a competition to see who could come up with the most brutal and excruciating ways to end lives. At least value human dignity a tiny bit more.

Their lives did matter to their friends and family, after all. Leave a body that they could bury, so a proper ceremony could take place - whether it be tossed into the graveyard or blazed until they become ashes of what remained. And with fires, comes the birth of something new, whether it be good or bad. In this case, the flames that were lit had to be what his accomplice had committed back in the cool depths of the pyramid, in the yawning abyss they were in. It was a literal revival. Not the most poetic verse his mind could conjure up at the current moment, but it would do for the time being.

If he thought about it for awhile, Gray realized that it was his first time actually seeing what his prisoner looked like. Sure, there were pictures and photos that were provided in the mission briefings and in the files regarding the entire situation, but now that he actually saw her in person, he knew that the still images captured by the fisheye lens of the camera did not do her any justice. The white dress wrapped around her figure perfectly, caressing her matured body that seemed to keep its touch of purity. Her hair was a rich shade of pink, almost much more than strawberry blonde that it seemed surreal in its dreamy quality, flowing in waves to adorn her glowing, pallid skin soaked in moonshine. Brilliant blue eyes adorned her features, framed by long lashes, bright and shining like diamonds. A straight nose and full lips - the picture of perfection. An angel.

She had a sweet smile and a honey-sweet voice that seemed to sing of the heavens in their delicate volume. Ryry was a very fortunate boy to have struck the jackpot, wasn't he? Such a shame that she was swept off her feet and entered another prince's carriage while he was left with his smashed pumpkin and mice, only to never find out that she was a doll placed in the hands of someone who didn't like to play nice.

He allowed a patronizing smile to grace his own features. For this to work, he would have to indulge in some self-deprecation. Hold a civil tongue and tell people what they wanted to hear. Gray dropped to one knee, arm balanced on it while his other hand kept its soft, gentle clasp on her fingers, bowing his head. "I am but a simple servant passing by." He spoke in a mellifluous manner, sophisticated with false kindness lacing in and out. At a leisurely pace, he raised her hand and placed his lips carefully on its surface. "And I am now yours to command."

From the descriptions he received of Cassandra Grayson, she was often considered a peoples pleaser. Quick to appeal to the needs of others while keeping to a polite nature. Fast at growing uncomfortable when many peers tell her to do something that she seemed to disagree with and naive, too easy to trick and fool. She was trusting, very trusting, of the slightest of strangers, but seemed to indulge in self-hatred here and there. Giving her some slight power and authority of another would put enough of this to the test. So long as he followed traditions and kept the secrets that he should, this should be an easy task.

Taking advantage of those who wanted to be the compassionate hero and let their morals get the better of them was truly the most fun. It wasn't something that he would ever get tired with for awhile.

Evil yes, but he had his standards. Before being the bad guy, he was a gentleman. And playing scullion would allow him to quench those desires as he got what he - they - wanted.

Gray found himself taken aback when she lowered herself to his level, wrapped her own hand around his, and spoke those words. His mind had formulated many kinds of reactions that he could've gotten out of her when he decided to play the part of a servant boy, a butler, and how he would correspond to it. She'd be surprised about discovering that she had that level of power and influence over someone and retort that there was no way that she could sit around while being waited on by hand and foot. Or that she would be uncomfortably and try to insist that that wasn't the case or even try to retract her hand from his and pull back. Too many different scenarios had recorded themselves in his sea of thoughts, after taking the time to study people and getting to know how the mechanisms of their brain worked, how people came to the conclusions that they did, and this wasn't one of the things that he had put into consideration? Seriously?

He was renowned for being able to play with emotions, twist girls and boys alike and wrap them around his fingers. This wasn't the first time he had sat around and tricked amnesiac, unfortunate souls into slaughtering their beloved; most, after realizing his deception, often committed suicide or tried to challenge him for vengeance - the result was obvious from the fact that he was still breathing, his heart beating in his chest. It was suicide either way. Many a time, it was clear that everyone was the same and that it was getting boring playing through the same scenarios, but the reward at the end had made it worth it. Like playing a game that you had repeated over and over again, knew the story and lines by heart, but the satisfaction of it overall made it worth the effort and time to cycle through.

Cassandra was different.

She didn't follow the script, and that bothered him to no end. She wasn't a special snowflake in the slightest. Her situation paralleled multiple others that he had dealt with the past. He succeeded each time. But she was either intuitive or blatantly stupid compared to those people. Nonetheless, that didn't matter too much. The corners of his lips twisted into a smile as he stood up, his fingers still latched onto hers, and swept her off her feet, pressing her close to him as he supported her with his other arm. "Oh? And who would that be?" It was a light jab, a gentle tease. That's all it should've been, really. But now that he rewound the words and let them replay over and over again in his head like a broken record, he found that he couldn't get rid of them. Not in the way that it had hit a nerve or anything, no, or even the possibility of an existential crisis. It was just that... they were too familiar, almost the exact same of someone else that he had found interest in.

"You don't need to pretend since I already know who you are!"

No, this girl here wasn't the first one to catch him off-guard in the slightest.

He hated to admit that it made him queasy, as much as he tried to deny it, but he couldn't keep lying to himself all the time. Now that he thought about it, she mirrored that brat more than he originally anticipated. If he had known it would come to this, he wouldn't have agreed to this mission in the first place. One little kid latching onto him and refusing to let go was enough as is; he didn't need another person to hand hold-like a mother would for their treasured, precious children. He never was very cut out for that sort of thing in the slightest.

Before Cassandra could realize that something was possibly wrong or anything along those lines, Gray carefully let go of her, taking a step back. Maybe, just this once, he could make an exception and deviate from the story line too. Besides, they didn't have to get everything in order right away. They had a long time before any of that happened. Illusions engraved deep into one's mind began to become reality. The more time he took his sweet time with this, the more Cassandra would become attached to him and become more comfortable with him; she would have difficulty discerning that Ryry was actually her knight in shining armor instead of him. At least, that's what he reasoned with himself. I know what I'm doing. This wasn't some act of softness or anything... He knew better than to have those sort of sentimental feelings take control of him and cloud his thoughts with stupidity. Those were emotions he had cast away long ago. Being a part of a terrorist group twice-over never allowed them to exist for long. Anyone who was stupid enough to join these groups and allow themselves to rank upward knew that. That was basic knowledge. Getting attached to partners or teammates was begging for God to play with their emotions.

The sound of someone else's voice broke him out of his stupor, snapping his attention away from his thoughts and straight back into reality - or as close to being considered a part of the physical realm as the dream world could get. It was all a quick flutter, a dainty but heavy touch being placed on his heart, eyes clenching shut as he let go of a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. That's right. He wasn't alone right now; he shouldn't have let something like that distract him from the more significant task at hand. As Cassandra spoke, a fond way of speaking that seemed to only lace around her sugar-sweet voice in an aria worthy of being called a masterpiece, Gray graced her words with a charming closed smile of his own to reflect hers. His shoulders came up in a subtle shrug as he softly laughed off the rest of it. This was almost too cliche that it hurt to think about; wasn't this a scene that would come up in a cheesy romance novel where the couple was finally professing their love for each other after so many hardships and trials they had to endure just to be together? There was bound to be a story out there with an almost identical plot line to his current mission, to any of his past assignments. If only it wasn't destined to end in the same tragic fate as Romeo and Juliet.

"It's not too much trouble that you've forgotten my name," he answered as his fingers carefully pulled at his collar, readjusting it from the slight discomfort they had been causing. "You may call me Gray." Violet eyes met blue, the bashfulness they held only telling him that this was her attempt to try something out of her comfort zone, something that wasn't quite characteristic for her. Her flustered face, tinged with the faintest of roses, and slightly curved lips with a certain quality to them that he couldn't quite comprehend. Affectionate, perhaps? There wasn't any other word he could throw at the target for it. No, that was incorrect. Numerous synonyms existed that could fulfill the same purpose, all with scarcely modified definitions with connotations of their own that made the tone of an entire sentence transform with an entirely new meaning. He could come up with another way to describe it next time he saw this expression; there was no doubt in his mind that this would be the last moment he would witness a look like that blossom across her features.

A small bead of cold sweat trickled down his forehead as a pain shot through his head, rivaling the strength of bullets ripping through flesh and bones to draw out the marbles of red that seemed to fascinate so many in all sorts of ways - some for more questionable reasons than others. Gray suppressed a grimace, turning his gaze back towards the sky line in the distance, the mixtures of pinks and oranges becoming more and more evident in their iridescent hues. Sunset already. Dreams didn't operate on the same time alignment as reality. He had been in here for far too long, and as a foreign object, as an intruder, it was only natural that he would eventually be forced to leave. Refusal would only result in aggression. Wrapping it up here and speaking with Cassandra when she was awake was far more efficient. All this was, all of this trespassing into her private and personal affairs, was because he had to make sure that he was getting as much detail about her to properly assess the sort of person she was. First impressions weren't everything. He needed more, more than what the People in Black had provided him. Absorbing every fabrication, every small quirk or gesture of hers or her mannerisms in body language and speaking until he could read her as though she were an open book.

One arm came across his stomach, the other using it as a support to bring a hand up to give the appearance of someone contemplating in deep thought. "It's a shame I have to cut the conversation now, but I'm sure you know now this is mostly a figment of your imagination." His body turned to face her fully as he gently stroked her cheek. "You won't forget me again now, will you?"

As the ethereal, picturesque utopia around them began to fade and dissolve, the colors draining away as they were negated of their striking and kaleidoscopic touches, becoming neutral and bland in essence before nothing but a blank canvas lie around them - everything was empty, white, a tabula rasa state. His own figure had grown to be oddly transparent, like a phantom trapped between the spiritual and physical realm without a way of escaping to either side fully. With the silence between them, Gray had opted to think that he should leave as soon as possible; he never stuck around in someone else's dream as they were waking up - the first and last time it occurred, it was enough to teach him a valuable lesson. Fading away while he still could, while it was on a good and ominous note - much like how old Hamlet's ghost kept showing himself to Hamlet, coming with the witching hour and fading with the break of dawn - would be the most ideal situation. So he withdrew, widening their once close proximity.

But Cassandra's mouth opened, and he found himself blinking in a scarce surprise after her lack of movement earlier, his eyes catching her trembling fingers at their corners.

She answered so earnestly, so genuinely about it. That wasn't meant as anything else besides a tease, something to joke about, mocking her ignorance to the truth and the boy who had truly captured her heart. His arms crossed, fingers strumming in a discordant and soft rhythm, another smile. It was too soon to call the mission a success, but the chances of failing seemed zero to none unless he severely messed up somewhere along the line, which he would know to prevent. He couldn't mess up.

The final words were said. If it were to Ryry instead, he was sure that a heart would've fluttered into space, racing at the speed of light, and butterflies would storm away without any hesitation. Strings would be tugged, their would be an embrace, and maybe a kiss, some words about how they would never leave each other and would always stick close no matter what, and the curtains would close in the sappy, cliche setting. Wasn't that how most romance novels worked? Or did many opt for the Titanic ending? It wasn't a particular favorite of his, and thus, he didn't know how cheesy and cringeworthy it could get. Still, it couldn't get worse than the love story they called Twilight.

So he laughed softly, departing from fantasia before Cassandra had, his exit swift and steady without looking back to the setting and scene he just played, the acting prince of any girl's wishes.

Violet eyes jolted open, a deep inhale and exhale following suit. Tweeting little birds heralded the morning chorus from afar, flowers blooming with a new air of spring, and the next day had already come. He was behind schedule, and there was something he should've done yesterday but couldn't. Wonderful. Time to speed everything up. Groggily getting up, pain stabbing into his temples from overexertion, Gray inserted a few buttons into the mechanism, the capsule opening to the formerly-sleeping patient inside. He leaned over slightly, hands on hips, dainty words passing.

"Rise and shine, sweetie."

"Oh, was I? What was your dream about then?"

Gray just kept smiling, his gaze carefully observing each of her features. Very malnourished and emaciated with barely enough flesh to cling to her bones, the very smallest bits left desperately staying where they could as they stayed hollow. Her skin had a cerulean tint overlayed across the sickly yellow, and it made her seem all the more unhealthy in that aspect. That was a given, of course, seeing how long she was technically dead. Nothing a few days' worth of decent meals couldn't fix, though perhaps it wasn't enough to get her back into top condition. Oh well. It was a shame that her hair really was blonde and not naturally the strawberry pink in the dream world. He never did like blonde girls, but that was a minor issue.

She certainly got straight to the point. No time for idle talk, either way. This made things easier if Cassandra was the one leading the conversation. Though, Gray couldn't help but be faintly surprised at how bold and upfront she was, especially considering her almost timid nature within the dreams. All the more to thicken the thin line between reality and self-manifested fantasies. He simply laughed again, quietly responding, "One thing at a time, please." A small breath. "There's a lot that needs to be discussed. May we talk over tea?" His hand offered itself to her, his violet eyes staring straight into hers.

People said that those who lied couldn't look at their victims up front. Cassandra was scrutinizing his features, and he certainly didn't consider himself the best at creating poker faces - there were many many others in the organization that who did much better in that respect -, but he could do well enough so that she shouldn't be able to distinguish any difference. He could only bet on the fact that the dim lights didn't do well for her vision.

"However," Gray started. "I can explain now if you so wish."