empathicfault | IC Inbox

I need a bus! [Called to… does he have backup here? Does he have a phone? Things he should check before the start of the next one. But the woman won’t live and a scream means the other potential victim may be alive. He looks down at the jerking, gurgling woman under his hands. His words are earnest.] I’m sorry.

[He gets up and draws the gun, kicking the half open door to let himself in, gun swinging this way and that in a rudimentary but less than careful scan of the room before striding with determination to the next, until he comes to the kitchen, lunging into it with the same mix of determination and singlemindedness.]

[ There's no backup, not even the fake people that are able to dot an Enclosure space. There's just a sedan- likely what was used to arrive here.

Pushing his way into the kitchen yields another shriek. Will tugs the body of a young woman close up against him, a large butcher knife in one hand. His manner is entirely different- he looks desperate and terrified. The woman he's holding is trying to fight him off, but he's got a good grip around her side.

He locks eyes with Malcolm and his own widen, only the barest hint of recognition in them. ]

Back! Stay- stay back.

[ He is demanding time and space to kill her, not (as it might seem) trying to request his safety in exchange for hers. The knife presses far too heavily against her throat. She squeaks but doesn't dare breathe, at this point. ]

Sure. Sure thing.

[He angles the gun down and away a little bit, not all the way to the ground, but not at the...perpetrators face anymore. He's intentionally trying not to see it as Will's face. He stays where he is just inside the door, taking in the desperation, the intentionality of the grip on the knife and the way it's held on the girl.]

You're killing your family. You know what you've done. Are you trying to spare them or yourself? [His tone is measured. Confident without being cocky. Soft enough to not be jarring.] Do they know too much or is it to prevent them knowing? Knowing what you've done? Knowing... what you are?

[ Will is breathing hard, eyes darting from the gun to Malcolm's face. His muscles relax slightly, his breathing slows. It's what violent people usually do in situations that are starting to de-escalate. ]

You don't understand. I love them. I'll show you.

[ There's a small twitch in Will's arm that increases as he speaks. Suddenly, his grip on the knife strengthens and he starts dragging it across his daughter's neck. This man- he has to see it. ]

I know you do. [Said quickly; meant to slow him.] But wait. Let's talk about it. I want to understand. [He points the gun at the floor now and holds up his other hand, taking a cautious step forward.] It's an art form, right? A tribute to them. Wait. Tell me about it first. Let's share this moment. [He takes another careful step.] It's important. It's the culmination of everything you've done. Don't rush it. It needs a proper introduction. It needs presentation. How often are you going to meet someone who can truly appreciate what you do? [He's earnest. There's no guile in his voice, in his eyes, large and watchful. He meets the other man's gaze.] Tell me about it first.

[ If Will wasn't so immersed in Hobbs, he probably would've followed through with the slice. He's supposed to be giving Malcolm an unremorseful killer and an unwinnable situation. As it is, the Abigail stand-in has a small trail of blood dripping down her neck as she whimpers.

But at the moment, he's as much Garret Jacob Hobbs as the man was the day Will killed him. And the words appeal. 'tribute', 'share', 'important'. So instead Will stares at Malcolm, eyes narrowed in suspicion. ]

She's perfect. [ He says, voice wobbling. ] You can see she's perfect. She needs to be honoured. I should've done it sooner. The other girls, they were never quite right. I'm sorry.

[ The girl under his arms tries to kick him. He wraps a leg around her to trap her further against his weight, and speaks directly to her. Tears are in his eyes and his voice breaks as he continues. ]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you wait.

The others, they were just stand-ins for her, weren’t they? [He slips the gun into his pocket, holding up his other hand in front of him, too. Unarmed. Curious. Interested. Encouraging. And he creeps closer.] When did you realize that you could make them be perfect forever? Was the first one a beautiful accident? Tell me everything about your art. It will mean more if we can both share an appreciation for how profoundly important it is in that moment.

[ Some nearly-drowned part of Will kicks himself for expecting to be unaffected by Abigail's plight right off the bat, just because they're using proxies here. He swallows it and will examine it later. I'm sorry rings through his head for a moment before he realizes Malcolm's coming closer. It snaps his mind back into place. ]

No... [ He says it through gritted teeth. ] You don't get it.
You don't know--

[ And he slices her throat, turning her with his body to try and make it one smooth arc. A mercy-kill, as much as it could be, at this point. The blood spurts from her neck in a cascade, and he's frozen by the sight of it, briefly spilling upwards as she starts to slide down. ]

[As the knife completes its arc, the killer is looking at the victim and Malcolm grabs the knife hand, twisting it sharply so the knife drops, then pulls him to the ground, his face on the floor next to his daughter’s, Malcolm’s knee in his back, his arm twisted behind him in Malcolm’s grasp.]

[ Will is taken down immediately, and he hits the ground nearly the same time as his daughter. He lets out an oof, but she's still scrambling for purchase, gasping for breath. She's bleeding heavily, but she's still alive.

Not that Will is paying attention to that. He's doing his best to scramble out from under Malcolm, not that he's making much headway there. ]

Did you see it? Did you--

[ Air has become a problem. He coughs, his lungs trying to find what they can. ]

[Grimly, to him.] I saw it. [He looks at the girl.] Listen to my voice. I’ve got him. I need you to do two things. Grab one of those tea towels and put pressure on the wound, then call 911. You don’t have to speak. As long as you connect, they’ll come.

[ Will slows in his struggle at the confirmation. Whether he's tiring out or actually believes Malcolm is hard to say.

The young woman, meanwhile, is in dire shape. Her wide eyes look at Malcolm and seem to take in his words, but she's on the floor right now and mostly trying to breathe. She can't reach much, just a towel on the floor that she grasps weakly. She gets lucky and uses her off-side to drop it onto her neck and press. It's not doing a lot but it's better than nothing.

Her old cell phone slips out of her pocket as she moves. She doesn't notice it, too occupied with her neck. ]

[Malcolm sees it. Without taking the pressure off the killer's back, he fumbles with his free hand on the nearby counter and comes up with a spatula that he uses to awkwardly fish the cell phone over to him. He dials 911 and asks for police and an ambulance. One victim suspected deceased, one victim critical, on suspect restrained. He looks at the girl.]

They're coming. Hold on.

[He looks at the man under his knee.]

You're right. She's perfect. I hope she lives.

[ There's some possible logistics over whether the daughter will need more help and how Malcolm would handle that, but- the meat of this scene is over. Malcolm will feel Will under him relax entirely and taking deep breaths. When he speaks, it's soft and quiet. And it's undeniably Will. ]

Okay, Malcolm. You can let me up now, I think you did it.

[ His face is a mess, tear-stained and blood splattered. As soon as pressure lets up, he starts shaking some. He'll sit on the ground for a moment to help collect himself. ]

[Malcolm looks down at him in confusion for a split second before being almost startled back to reality.]

Oh! Sorry!

[He eases off of him, moves to help him up, but Will needs to sit, so he sits next to him.]

Did I do it right?

Mmmhmmm.

[ It's all Will says before he turns and hugs Malcolm tightly, eyes flicking to the not-Abigail on the floor (she's mostly gone quiet, not having any new stimuli to react to). And then he's burying his face on Malcolm's chest. ]

Sorry. Sorry, just give me a minute.

[ He still shakes, but it's doing down. ]

[Malcolm holds on to him tightly from the moment Will hugs him and doesn't let go, burying his face in Will's hair when Will presses his face to Malcolm's chest. He's usually the one doing that. He likes hearing the sound of Will's heart.]

It's okay. Take your time.

[When Will mentioned being the killer in scenarios, Malcolm hadn't been expecting something quite so immersive.]

Are you okay, though?

I will be.

[ It's muffled as he says it into his chest. ]

Just- you saved them. Both. Thank you. And...I wish I'd done that.

[ He hadn't been ready for any of it, at the time. He knows that. He sniffles a bit, then presses his face into the crook of Malcolm's neck and inhales. He presses a kiss there before pulling back. ]

I think...that was really informative. Let's- let's bring up my woods and we can talk about it in my house?

[ It's a frequent program of theirs, woods for running around in, and a house for changing and resting afterwards. ]

I’d like that. [He gets up and offers Will his hand.] I should have brought tea. I’ll bring a thermos next time.

[Once settled in Will’s home, Malcolm reaches for Will’s hand. Squeezes it gently. Brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of his fingers.] Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be the killer when we do this? It seems like it takes a lot out of you. Did I hurt you?

[ Will seems far more settled once they're in his house, although he still takes the occasional deep, slow breath. The question gets a small smile from him. ]

No, not at all. If I'd been...myself, it would've been a real turn-on.

[ He smirks a bit, but he can feel the semi-joke fall flat. He squeezes Malcolm's hand back and leans against him on the couch. ]

It's all right. I realize you haven't seen what it is I do, not really. But that's common, even the shakes afterward. This Hobbs persona, it was already in me. It might even be good for me to have...aired it out a bit, so to speak. There were some parts that my conscious mind had forgotten.

How was it for you? What sort of feelings would you attach to the whole experience?

I don’t… know. It… felt like a case. Once… once I got into it. I think that part will get easier. Part of me thought that it might be prudent to shoot him in that moment that I had him distracted, but not… enjoying lethal force wasn’t really the motivating factor. I was thinking about her. The girl. I just… didn’t think she would want that. I didn’t. I didn’t want him to be free, but I didn’t want him to be dead, either.

Your priority was saving her.

[ He smiles, but there's a sadness to it. ] That was mine, too. But I still shot him in the shoulder. Maybe that's the police training, I don't know. Maybe it was the fact that I knew I couldn't talk him down.

I got lucky that I didn't shoot her accidentally. I was a terrible- terrible shot. Had to practice after.

But you managed to de-escalate- and I know, it was technically me, but I'd been...if I'd been less immersed, I wouldn't have listened. But Garret would. You hit on some of the things he cared about, very quickly. Things that would make him pause.

I'm always thinking about the victims. Understanding how killers think... sometimes I empathize with them. Sometimes I understand why they do what they do. What made them. How they broke. Sometimes I think I can help them, too. Maybe that's why this place appealed to me, when the Admiral asked. But it's just... always been important to save people from them. For all the ones I failed to save from him. What Hobbs wanted - to preserve something he thought was beautiful like a trophy - I get it. I get how... transitory things can feel and how nice it would be to never give them up and how lonely it is when they're gone. And that loneliness being a driving force... someone being willing to engage with the thing that's important to you. To share it with you. To explore it with you. It's the one thing you want more than anything when you feel like that.

[ Will listens but he watches Malcolm's face closely through the latter half of that. His smile is small but genuine, and he squeezes Malcolm's hand. ]

It is. We both know that feeling. Intimately.

[ He sits with that for a moment, in his quiet house. He thinks he knows the answer to his next question, but he knows he should ask it, anyway: ]

If you hadn't been able to save Abigail, what would you have done? What would you have wanted to do?

[He can usually save them. He frowns faintly.]

I still would have arrested him. …I might have been a little… less kind about it.

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