[ Because yeah, they don't want people to come in for this one. He makes his way into the Enclosure and looks, then heads back out and steals a chair from the Lounge next door. He sets it against the door and smiles at Malcolm. ]
Just in case.
All right- [ He steps up to the console at the entrance, then pauses. ] This is a no-judgment zone, as of now. We're only exploring and experimenting. Before we start- do you have anything you want to try, or anything in particular you're looking forward to testing today?
[ Might as well set it up for Malcolm if he has any ideas on how he wants to do this. That could guide them. But Will has a plan if Malcolm's more open (or cautious). ]
I... don't actually have any idea where or how to start. If you know, you can set it up. Maybe I'll get ideas for later ones once I get the hang of what we're... doing.
[He trusts Will and he's open to the idea of understanding his own darkness to, essentially, bring it out of the dark. But he's avoided it so strenuously, he's not at all sure how to look at it. He's never tried to. He never foresaw ever trying to.]
[ Yeah, Will thought that might be the case. He nods. ]
Then I have a couple of questions. First- would you be averse to me setting the scene with some of my past situations, or would you prefer I come up with wholly original ones?
Second- would you be averse to me pretending to be various imminent threats, since we can't make believable people in the simulations? We might not be playing out every scenario to its conclusion...but we also might need to, in order to get a proper read of how you feel.
I… don’t mind you portraying imminent threats as long as the conclusion doesn’t involve me hurting you. I mean. Hurting you more than we… do recreationally.
[He means the rough sex games. That’s another thing he doesn’t really know how to talk about, despite enjoying engaging in it.]
Okay. Expect this to feel different- I'll be embodying different people, after all.
I'm going to set up the scene at the Hobbs' house, first of all. That'll be the easiest start for the both of us, I think. Unless you want me to do something unfamiliar to you.
[ To both of them, really, but Will thinks a known setup would be easier to start on and ponder over. Besides, he's played this out in his head plenty of times. It doesn't torture him anymore. ]
[ Will smiles a bit, a brief window of shyness before he pulls himself together again. Then only a slight undercurrent of excitement remains. ]
Sure. All right, give me a couple minutes. It won't be exact, but I just want similar, anyway.
[ He begins typing at the console and continues on for a few minutes. Once he gets confirmation, he hits enter, and the room beyond shows a wooded, suburban area. He reaches for a holster and gun that has appeared on a nearby rack. He holds it out for Malcolm. ]
They didn't let me get away without wearing it. Put it on, at least. And remember that Enclosure weapons can't harm real people.
Give me two minutes? You're here to ask for information leading to a particular name. You'll see.
[ He asks the Enclosure to count down two minutes and show it on a timer for Malcolm. ]
All right, see you in a bit.
[ He pecks Malcolm on the lips and heads out, through the solid door and into the simulation. At about 30 seconds left, there's movement as a middle-aged woman bursts through the door and falls onto the porch, bleeding liberally from the neck. ]
[ The blood spurts like a fire hose out of the carotid artery, which is entirely opened up. The woman gurgles, but seems incapable of making any other noise. Malcolm's hands are covered with blood almost immediately as the woman goes into convulsions under him. There's nothing that could be called a pulse- instead it's all getting pumped out of her neck.
There's screaming coming from inside, a couple of rooms away. High-pitched- another woman. This one's probably younger. ]
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. ]
[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. ]
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.]
[ 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. ]
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[ Because yeah, they don't want people to come in for this one. He makes his way into the Enclosure and looks, then heads back out and steals a chair from the Lounge next door. He sets it against the door and smiles at Malcolm. ]
Just in case.
All right- [ He steps up to the console at the entrance, then pauses. ] This is a no-judgment zone, as of now. We're only exploring and experimenting. Before we start- do you have anything you want to try, or anything in particular you're looking forward to testing today?
[ Might as well set it up for Malcolm if he has any ideas on how he wants to do this. That could guide them. But Will has a plan if Malcolm's more open (or cautious). ]
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[He trusts Will and he's open to the idea of understanding his own darkness to, essentially, bring it out of the dark. But he's avoided it so strenuously, he's not at all sure how to look at it. He's never tried to. He never foresaw ever trying to.]
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Then I have a couple of questions. First- would you be averse to me setting the scene with some of my past situations, or would you prefer I come up with wholly original ones?
Second- would you be averse to me pretending to be various imminent threats, since we can't make believable people in the simulations? We might not be playing out every scenario to its conclusion...but we also might need to, in order to get a proper read of how you feel.
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[He means the rough sex games. That’s another thing he doesn’t really know how to talk about, despite enjoying engaging in it.]
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Okay. Expect this to feel different- I'll be embodying different people, after all.
I'm going to set up the scene at the Hobbs' house, first of all. That'll be the easiest start for the both of us, I think. Unless you want me to do something unfamiliar to you.
[ To both of them, really, but Will thinks a known setup would be easier to start on and ponder over. Besides, he's played this out in his head plenty of times. It doesn't torture him anymore. ]
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Sure. All right, give me a couple minutes. It won't be exact, but I just want similar, anyway.
[ He begins typing at the console and continues on for a few minutes. Once he gets confirmation, he hits enter, and the room beyond shows a wooded, suburban area. He reaches for a holster and gun that has appeared on a nearby rack. He holds it out for Malcolm. ]
They didn't let me get away without wearing it. Put it on, at least. And remember that Enclosure weapons can't harm real people.
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Okay. Do… I go in the house?
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[ He asks the Enclosure to count down two minutes and show it on a timer for Malcolm. ]
All right, see you in a bit.
[ He pecks Malcolm on the lips and heads out, through the solid door and into the simulation. At about 30 seconds left, there's movement as a middle-aged woman bursts through the door and falls onto the porch, bleeding liberally from the neck. ]
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[That escalated quickly. He runs over and crouches to put pressure on the wound with one hand and check pulse with the other.]
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There's screaming coming from inside, a couple of rooms away. High-pitched- another woman. This one's probably younger. ]
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[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.]
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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. ]
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[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?
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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. ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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They're coming. Hold on.
[He looks at the man under his knee.]
You're right. She's perfect. I hope she lives.
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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. ]
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