0530-1400
The Other was enjoying himself. It was always enjoyable wielding power. Still, the night was not without frustrations. Shalee hadn't been able to answer his questions regarding Red, the little holographic projection of some subset of Shalee's subconscious that Ryven had met on several occasions. She said she didn't know how Red was able to exist. The Other believed her, largely because her explanation made sense. Shalee was not the sort of person who would want a part of her running amok without her control or even awareness. That sort of thing, however, was exactly what the Other wanted. Freedom. Better yet, freedom coupled with absolute immunity from harm.
These thoughts were eating at him, and it had distracted him from enjoying his other task for the night. He looked down at the floor and the two bodies sprawled out in unnatural poses, the twin pools of blood having merged into one large crimson puddle. Already their skin had lost its rosy vitality and the pallor of death had set in. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of memory. He didn't even know their names, but he imagined that gods often did not know the names of their sacrifices. These two had died to serve a purpose, to sustain him. Urges like his could not be suppressed forever, and the release had been bordering on ecstatic. It felt good to be himself again, not just relegated to a dusty cage at the back of Ryven's mind. He had followed these two, a man and wife, he imagined anyway, back from dinner. They hadn't struggled much, really. Just enough to make it enjoyable. He sighed to himself, realizing it was time to head back.
On the long shuttle flight back to Cerra Manor, he began to formulate a new plan to achieve his first goal of the evening. Clearly, Shalee had been a forlorn hope. The task would've been much simpler if she had been able to help him, but it was by no means impossible now. He would simply have to find the answers himself, or perhaps with the help of an old friend--or even ex-wife. Yes, Leela might be able to help, and he hadn't spoken to her in some time, after all. Yes. Shalee was unnecessary to the overall plan. He smiled to himself. She might still be useful for other pursuits, though. His hatred of Ryven was another force driving him, stronger even than his need to kill. Ryven would have to pay, pay for his colossal arrogance in thinking he could imprison him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ryven awoke and knew. He knew that the Other had been in control. He didn't know what he had done, but he could tell. He was lying on the floor, still dressed in the all black outfit that the Other seemed to prefer. His muscles were sore from what he could only assume had been an intense physical exertion. Ryven picked himself up off the floor and walked into the bathroom of his and Kat's suite. He stared at himself in the mirror, haunted by his own reflection. He knew now that this was what his life had become. He was the lycanthrope, the mythical werewolf, afraid of what he would become when the moon rose and the beast within would take control. Strange that such a silly myth would so closely mimic the reality he was now forced to face.
Ryven closed his eyes and desperately tried to calm his mind. He couldn't let this be his future. Whatever the Other was after, it couldn't be as simple as some random murders. No. There had to be something more sinister, and yet something more grand as well. His past self was clearly a violent and deranged one, but he was also an intelligent and scheming one. So, what could it be? What was the Other planning? And did he dare try to stop him? What would happen to Kat if he did? What about Shalee, even? They weren't on great terms at the moment, but some part of him still considered her a friend, even if he couldn't pinpoint why anymore. Ryven slammed his fist down on the counter. "Damnit! How can I fight someone who knows my every thought, memory, and fear?" The simplest way would be to also know their every thought, memory, and fear. He thought to himself. Why don't I? How is he blocking me out? Goddamnit! We share the same damn brain. How is he locking me out? Ryven lashed out at the wall, his fist striking hard against the solid material, and he thought he felt a bone break. Patience. Patience has never been one of my virtues, and I've always been short on virtues besides that. But, I can't act without knowing something, anything, about what it is I'm trying to fight. I need more information, intel on which to act. With that thought, Ryven turned and walked out of the bathroom, steeling himself for whatever consequences the Other's nocturnal activities might have brought him.
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