Elliot Bennett

The stranger was tall, almost imposing in his confidence, the way his words split the silence around them. His hair was dark, his clothing nothing special, really. ‘Cept who the hell wore a mask in a place like this? Couldn’t hide particularly well, not when you had tattoos and PDDs on everyone. Probably some sort of Deluded-type chap, since most people who covered facial injuries that Mouse knew of, did so in order to look more normal. Not much was normal about tying a bright red strip of cloth over your face.

But Mouse’s hard-line policy was not to judge too harshly, or too fast. It had happened too often to him, so he tried not to do it to others. In general, he didn’t actually like to have to judge people at all. As long as they went on their way without causing trouble to anyone, it really didn’t bother him if they were important or powerful, someone like a marquess—he’d looked it up, eventually—or just someone who happened to be a little mad.

His voice was softer than Mouse would’ve anticipated, his laughter light but tinged with an odd sort of warmth. He also wasn’t getting volatile emotions off the older man, which would have a serious impact on how Mouse behaved towards him. He relaxed his stance a little. It was a bit amusing, the reassurance that he wouldn’t be turned in by this guy, but he altered his smile from being entertained by it, to something closer to grateful. “I’d ‘preciate that, mate.”

It was later than he should’ve been out, that was true. But if he was just out looking at instruments, no one would bat an eye at why he was there, they’d just confront him about being out. Seemed like a logical place to go, if you wanted to be caught innocently enough. A two birds, one stone, sort of situation—check out a place he’d never been, an interest that’d been recently peaked, and have an honest answer at the ready for when he was confronted, rather than relying on a lie. It was a decent move, in a place dotted with mind-readers and other obnoxious lie-detector types like himself.

He glanced back at the instruments. “But t’answer your question, nah, I don’t. Was considering maybe tryin’ to learn, but that’s probably somethin’ best saved for the daytime.” His mouth tilted good-naturedly in a not-quite smile, and he gave the guy an inquisitive look. “D’you? Play, I mean.”

To be honest, the stranger’s appearance could complicate things, if he stuck around Mouse too long. And he didn’t want to drag a bystander along with him on this plan. He should consider ways to get rid of him, without making it obvious what he was doing. “What’s got you wanderin’, if you don’t mind me askin’?” He could always try this out another time, maybe he should just drop it for the time being. He didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble.

  He usually headed this way when he snuck out due to the fact that it was typically deserted. It was a nice place to be alone and to think. Every once in a while, he’d open the door and find someone fiddling around with one of the dilapidated instruments or sitting and reading a book. He always kept his distance however, not wanting to bother the other person. This time seemed different. Bandit couldn’t help but find a little bit of amusement out the way the young man startled but he wasn’t going to be rude either.

The young man looked at Bandit and it was expected that he be met with a little bit of confusion and perhaps curiosity. Wasn’t a common thing to see someone running around in a mask like a child would. For a moment Bandit contemplated just taking it off but what was the fun in that? He’d be giving up his secret identity. Sort of. Wasn’t like Elliot was so much a secret as he was someone to be forgotten. Bandit took a step into the room, his dark eyes leaving those of the young man for only a moment to glance around and take in his surroundings. Yes, just as he had suspected: they were alone. Bandit could relax a bit more.

Over the course of the last month or so Elliot had begun to develop odd symptoms. Fevers, chills, almost as though he was coming down with the flu. Yet, it never really came to fruition but just as he thought he was getting better, the headaches started. He’d experienced headaches before but these were much more intense, sometimes it felt as though his head would explode. Slowly, he started to feel better but then odd things started happening. There was no real way to explain them. Elliot swore he could feel people… There was a part of him that thought he was going crazy so he didn’t dare tell anyone about it. Maybe he was developing a new infection but that didn’t seem plausible at the time. Those who were infected would have known by now, right? At least that’s what he thought.

A coy smile toyed at the corners of his lips when the young man asked if he could play. Allowing a moment’s pause before answering the question, Bandit shrugged. It wasn’t a shrug to insinuate that he didn’t know. More like he wasn’t sure how to answer -or that he was going to answer. “Mm…well, that depends on what your opinion of playing is, I suppose. If I can plink out a simple lullaby on a piano when you can’t, does that mean I can play? To a classically trained pianist, Mary Had a Little Lamb isn’t anything to be proud of. Get what I mean?” Bandit’s tone was extremely light and playful while he spoke, moving a few steps closer.

[She couldn’t help but let a tiny laugh bubble up when he used phases like “fraidy cat.” Judgment was seldom a virus that ran through her blood. But, when it did, like a virus, it worked its way out on its own and in time. This was a time not burdened by that virus – in fact, she was pleased someone was openly coming to her about asking for help and guidance. It made her feel like her work in CISM was worth something.

Andee shook her head at his gratitude.] No reason not to be nice. Going through the end of the world doesn’t suddenly wipe us of all fear. We’re not that evolved. [She passed him a smirk, bumping elbows and letting her hands fall neatly into her pockets.] Rest assured that nine out of ten people are here to help you. People have more good in them than we often think.

[Nodding once, curt and understanding, she looked him square in the eye, confidence woven into her expression.] Then I will be there. No worries. We have a certain way of being very detached from things that aren’t explicitly happening to us. Like cancer or loss or birth. You kind of have to truly, immersively experience those things to understand what they feel like.

[A small smile crept across his face when he heard her laugh. Laughter usually made things better, didn’t it? Elliot could relax even more.] Good to know that not everyone wants to do harm but, thank you. Feels nice to have people actively wanting to help others. Not saying, as you mentioned, that everyone’s not gonna be helpful, but nice to know that it’s always a little more civilized than whats outside these walls. [He was babbling again and he snapped his mouth shut and listened as she spoke and nodded in understanding.] Used to be you could add death to that short list but I think the end of the world has almost guaranteed that we all eventually experience it at one point or another. [He smiled gently and then coughed to clear his throat.]

Anyway, it’s about time for me to head back but I wanted to thank you for your help and advice even if I did sort of spring this all on you at once.

There hadn’t been much in the way of musical education growing up in at Sandy’s—St. Andrew’s Home for Boys, but the loss of the ’t’ from the peeling sign by the door had offered inspiration, and it was always Sandy’s to the boys. But no, Mouse hadn’t really given music a thought growing up. He liked it well enough, sure, but he’d never imagined really playing it himself. His interest in instruments hadn’t extended beyond attempting to sneak into the nearby church and take a few hearty thwacks at the organ without getting caught. Hymns held no charm, he sang by reflex and made up his own words to keep his mind occupied during Sunday services.

Recorded music was entertaining when played loudly by someone else, usually with imaginary instruments and over-the-top expressions. Mouse had always been less about performing, more about watching the show from over the heads of younger kids, enjoying a few minutes when no one was badgering him for anything—fun or otherwise, he was usually occupied with something. Homework, reading, helping, cleaning, playing. When someone took the stage, he could do nothing, and that was a rare pleasure.

So he’d never imagined himself in the spotlight, trying to entertain other people. And what other reason was there to learn a musical instrument?

It was only when he ran a former musician a few days ago, who talked with him about playing the flute. He didn’t have his own anymore, the musician had said wistfully, but even when he played with the rental instruments in the music room, he could ‘escape anything and everything that bound him to earth’. And to Mouse, that sounded grand.

The music room wasn’t hard to locate, but it was oddly difficult for him to enter. He called out once, to see if anyone was around, but no one answered, and he stepped in. For a place full of instruments, it was incredibly silent, as if everything had been wrapped in a huge wool scarf, and had then dozed off. Mouse tentatively went to the ancient piano, but he only ran his fingers over the keys lightly, so as to not disturb anything.

He ventured into the area where cases he figured would fit the instruments like flutes were heaped against one another in an ungainly tower—the musician’s talk of the flute reminded him of the Pied Piper, and even though it was creepy as hell, that story had always inexplicably appealed to him. Opening cases felt intrusive, but he figured he could always put them back neater than he found them to assuage his guilt.

No matter, this was Bandit’s time. The red mask fastened securely on his face meant that no harm would come to him. The last time he had gotten out he felt drawn to this particular corridor as well. He knew where it led to but it felt like a lifetime ago now since he’d been there last. It felt nice to stretch his legs and not have to sit abiding his time.

The soles of his sneakers made no sound at all as he stepped lightly on the cold tile floor. It was a bit surprising that he hadn’t run into anyone else but then again, it was late at night and everyone was supposed to be asleep, including him. As he strolled along, he glanced into the windows of the deserted rooms. He wasn’t sure the purpose of them all but he remembered one in particular where he’d met a very kind man who happened to be the resident therapist at the time of Elliot’s arrival. That, too, felt so long ago. He made Elliot comfortable enough to think that joining a colony wasn’t such a bad deal after all. Bandit had unknowingly paused outside the darkened window and was staring into the room. With the lights out, there wasn’t much he could see aside from his own reflection in the glass. Any “normal” person would think a grown man wandering around in red mask had completely lost his marbles. Bandit didn’t care. He shook his head, reached up to pull the fabric tighter and then moved on.

If he remembered correctly, the room he was headed for should have been empty just like the others he had come across but as Bandit stood just outside the door, he found that this was not the case. In one corner of the room there was a young man. Bandit watched as he made his way through the room, touching the piano but not taking the opportunity to make any noise at all. Such a strange thing. Why come to a room filled with musical instruments and not at least play something? Either way, he continued to watch the young man as he started flicking open the latch on a few instrument cases.

[During her training, she’d had to become familiar with the symptoms of oncoming infections - the cold-like symptoms, any indication of feeling ill or generally unwell, and the unusual things to boot like hallucinatory factors or nightmares. She wasn’t sure what could be causing infections to appear in long-standing colonists with no history of being infected. Perhaps it was a mutation, and they were all going to transition at some point. The best thing they could do was learn and keep an eye out, prepare.

Nodding her head in understanding of his worries, she kept her hand at his arm, rubbing slowly along its length to try to keep his emotions at ease. There was no need to panic, of course, and his concerns were reasonable and logical. There was too little research done on the infections to be sure of any answers - with the end of the world taking priority, it was hard to find scientists who could dedicate that kind of time.]

Of course I’ll be there. It can even be just us for the first session. I promise, we’ll keep you out of the infirmary as long as possible. No tests until you’re ready.

[She moved her hand down into his and gave it a squeeze.] One thing I do believe very firmly is that the infections are not dangerous. Whether you’re developing one or not, you will be just fine.

[Being a full grown man, he knew he shouldn’t let things bother him as much as they did but Elliot never bought into the idea of a man being strong for the sake of being strong. As much as his father despised Elliot’s softness, there wasn’t much Mr. Bennett could do to change it. Elliot had been a sensitive boy and that had carried over into his adulthood.

Andee’s kindness was much more than he could have asked for and more than he deserved. She barely knew him aside from that odd conversation they’d had when he could have sworn he’d seen strange little monsters out in the moonlight. He shuddered at the memory of them.]

Thank you for being so nice to me. Sometimes I wonder what people think of me. Here I am, this big tall guy and I’m just a ‘fraidy-cat. You’d think that after what this world puts people though, a few medical tests and questioning would be no big deal, hm?

[She was more comforting to him than he realized. Or maybe she did. Realizing his train of thought had gotten away from him, he cleared his throat.] Yes, I think having you there would be nice. Won’t be that bad, I know it. I’m just, [ahem] not used to things happening to me, that’s all.

She nodded as he explained what had been going through his mind, knowing what it felt like to try to adopt an “ism” or a label without fear. But fear was part of the deal when the entire world wasn’t of a singular mind. And it never would be. Fear was a natural reaction to danger, and the infected were certainly being put in danger anymore. “Coming out” was never easy. She respected him immensely for doing it now, in front of her, even if he didn’t realize it.

She touched his arm tenderly, offering an anchor.] Of course. And we won’t let it come to that. There are rational ways of figuring this out, and we’ll do it with you. [She smiled, kindly, knowing it might not be the thing he needed, but it’s what she could give right now.] We have a preliminary examination in CISM, if that sounds like a better alternative first step. No poking or prodding, just some questions.

[His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. He was nervous and worried for good reason. There was no telling what could happen now that the new chancellor had come to Colony 22.

Andee’s touch on his arm was comforting and gentle. His gaze darted down to were her fingers rested lightly on his sleeve and he nodded. As much as he wanted to believe her and that nothing bad would happen, sometimes his imagination got the best of him. Too many times he’d picture himself tied to a cold steel table, an assortment of scary medical instruments all around him. It always made him shiver with fright.

Elliot never liked doctors. Therapists, on the other hand, were another story.]

Probably wouldn’t have hurt to try and look up information about these infections, hm? [it was a rhetorical question.] Just, sometimes, I wonder what will happen to all these people who are infected. One day will everyone be infected or is it all just an early death sentence? Do these things shorten our life span? Sometimes it’s a lot to think about... [He looked away from her face to think about what she had just told him, how the process went and wondered if it was something he could endure.] I s-suppose what’s the worst that could happen? Questions are that bad, I certainly ask enough for two people. Could you be there with me? 

What he described sounded like Empathy–that rare and sometimes overwhelming gift that certain Infected had. She knew some (had seen them in CISM, watching them flourish and crumble) had better reactions and coping mechanism with the power than others. But she didn’t know what it was like when it first started appearing with symptoms. Was it like puberty, with aches and pains and mood swings, a gradual, terrifying drop? Was it like watching a flower open, delicate and nursing its way into bloom? Was it a thunderclap, where it all came down at once?

The first thing that flagged in Andreya’s mind was: there were children here? Grief, fury blossomed like a firecracker in her stomach–she would have to investigate. If there were children, there should have been no reason her Danny was turned away. But that was for later. The second and more important thing that flared for her was the idea that he was suspicious of beginning to exhibit symptoms like an Empath. That could potentially be dangerous, especially if said too loudly.]

So, let me make sure I’m understanding you correctly. [She said in hushed tones, taking a slight step closer to him.] You think you might be developing one of the Infections?

[Elliot expected to be laughed at. He figured that his claim of possibly developing a new infection was something that couldn’t happen to anyone anymore at this point. He was mostly ignorant to the ways that symptoms came about simply due to the fact that he wasn’t particularly close to anyone who was infected and therefore couldn’t ask questions of them.

At first he looked at the infected and how they developed these abilities as something along the lines of how superheroes came about their powers. He might have envied the newly infected for a short period of time, wondering what made them so special and not him. Why couldn’t he be special for once? With the arrival of their new chancellor, he realized that being special like this wasn’t as cracked up as he first thought it was. Elliot did nothing to draw attention to himself before D-Day and honestly wanted to keep it that way after.

The way she turned her full attention to him, looking him square in the face, it was difficult for Elliot to gauge her reaction. However, the gentle, worrying tone of her voice and how she questioned him made his otherwise tense body relax. He nodded his head.] Yes...and I’m not going to lie when I say that all this has me a little bit frightened. I haven’t told anyone, not even an Elite. I don’t want to be taken away to be poked and prodded like some lab rat.

She nodded in agreement with him, keeping her eyes on the bow and arrow. She did not feel regret or surprise as she found herself imagining one of the sharp, whittled ends thumping through the chancellor’s chest. Or, even, watching them be used on the colonists, if things became so extreme. She did not feel badly about picturing herself standing over him and throwing away the bow and using her bare hands. She knew there was a degree of normalcy linked to homicidal thoughts - the kind that were just daydreaming, passing “what ifs,” not premeditated actions. She had to wonder. Otherwise the anger would have nowhere else to go.]

We all have. [She nodded again, looking to meet Elliot’s eyes.] We’ll all have to work together to get through this. We may have to do a lot of fighting - I don’t think we can rule out the possibility of a future overhaul. Might not be a peaceful transition. [She shuddered, not wanting to entertain the thought of more lives lost. Not even in the name of justice. Too many were already gone.] Hopefully it won’t come to that.

[It was nice to know he wasn’t alone in his fear- that someone else felt the same as him. The idea of fighting, of having to knowingly hurt another didn’t sit well with Elliot. He mulled over the prospect of what Andreya was proposing and maybe, just maybe, he could gather enough courage to stand up for what was right.] Yes...hopefully it won’t come to that. [was all he could say with a little nod of his head. Then that nagging “something” tugged a little harder at his mind. His hand went out, fingers tracing the metal wires that made up the weapon rack.]

Say...um, do you- think, [sigh] do you maybe think it’s possible for people to change? I don’t mean like...[Elliot struggled with how to word his worrying thoughts.] You know how lots of people have these -abilities? Do you think that new people can possibly develop them? [he threw a cautious glance over his shoulder before moving a fraction of an inch closer to her.]

I’ve been, I dunno, feeling a little different lately. I mean, more than what’s normal for even me... The other morning at breakfast, this little girl got upset with her mother and wouldn’t eat her food. [he wondered if Andreya would understand what he was trying to explain.] The girl started screaming at her mother and it was almost as if I could feel her anger. Of course I was a little frustrated because I just wanted some peace and quiet but this was...much, different, than just annoyance. [he said this next part in a hushed whisper:] I’m beginning to worry that something very strange might be going on with me and I’m worried that someone might find out and I’ll be held for questioning or some such thing. [Elliot had changed the subject of their conversation without meaning to. His mouth snapped shut and he glanced away from her face. He waited for her to tell him how silly he was being.]

She gave his questions some thought. She couldn’t blame him, and she couldn’t answer to him. Those must have been moments of terror, uncertainty, stress. How frequently did they occur, and what was their cause, that he was so open about sharing those times? She met his eyes; she was not afraid of him. Whatever state he sometimes slipped into, he was certainly coherent about it. She wasn’t scared of seeing it in front of her.]

No. [She shook her head this time.] I think conscious effort makes a monster. I think intention and purpose and goals make people good or bad. [Her voice dropped, saying it to feel good, not really for him to hear:] I think our chancellor is a monster.

[Elliot’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He’d been so tense lately and though his natural state was like a taut rubber band, something had been eating away at his mind.

His head throbbed to the point where he could no longer eat. The hunger had taken place of the pain but now, there was nothing but emptiness. He’d never honestly felt anything like it before. Such an odd sensation to feel like one’s own body was not their own. As much as Elliot would like to ignore it, you can’t really get away from your own subconsciousness now, can you?

Even Bandit was like a distant memory to him now. It was sad in a way. They had always been inseparable, one in the same, but as hard as Elliot had tried to bring him back, he was now slipping further and further away. It was like the loss of another human...the closest Elliot ever had to a sibling-if you could call a break in your psyche a sibling.

Elliot had to laugh at himself for his silly, childish way of thinking. Stupid Elliot...

His heavy brow lifted when Andee mentioned the new chancellor. Elliot had yet to meet him but he’d caught a glimpse of the man here and there. His eyes always reminded Elliot of cold dark water and he wasn’t sure if the man knew how to smile. The chancellor’s new rules did not win him over either. Even Elliot, who knew nothing of how to lead a colony, understood that you could not win people over by changing their way of life.]

I don’t like him. [he stated bluntly.] Ruling with an iron fist is not going to get him very far...at least that’s what I’m hoping for. [Elliot kept his voice extremely low as he confessed this as he wasn’t sure just how many ears their new chancellor had wandering about.] I’ve been on edge ever since...well, ever since the sky started falling the second time. [The uncertainty he felt was expressed clearly across his face. Elliot was scared of what was to come and he was very ill equipped to deal with it.]

Elliot’s question brought her eyebrows together in a deep furrow. Had she ever. She didn’t need him to even breathe out the last part of that sentence. But he did it anyway, loud and clear, though she could sense the tightness of his throat and nervous quivering of his lip. In her life, Andee had done all she could to prevent hurting others. There had been a few exceptions, when her temper was pushed too far and the offense was too great to ignore, but she’d never - not once - done anything more than put someone in their place, and never with an instrument outside of her own hands.]

No. [She answered simply, not bothering to so much as shake her head or shrug a shoulder. The answer was clear-cut and immovable.] Unless you count the training dummies. They’ve seen better days. [Her eyes scanned toward the lineup of fake people, whose constitution better resembled that of actual bodies. She expected to see them littered, speckled, dotted with holes from when she’d practiced shooting arrows, hand-to-hand combat with arrows, getting the feel of what it would be like to hear, see, feel an arrow be sunk into a person’s skin. But they were immaculate. The Elites must have been diligent about hiding the evidence of violence. Cowards.

She turned to Elliot.] Have you?

[Elliot was more than pleased to know that she had never hurt another. That wasn’t to say that it couldn’t still be in her future. He had no control over the actions of others. People get scared and desperate when backed into corners. The rules of life didn’t really carry over to this one, you weren’t always punished for wrong doing.

She turned the tables, asking the same of him and he couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that sounded in his throat. Would she really want to know the answer? Elliot never really had control over what the other man did. There were instances when he had gotten so frightened that Bandit had to help him through those times. He’d come to hours, sometimes days later with dried blood on his clothes and hands. This Elliot though, the tall one with the over active imagination could likely never cause bodily harm, even if pushed and believe him when if he tells you that he has been pushed before.]

What if I told you that I don’t really know if I’ve ever hurt someone before? [his eyes finally looked away from Andee’s face, now watching as her fingers touched the weapons.] Sometimes I’m not really myself. There were times, before I came here, that I would just black out. If I have hurt someone, even without knowing, would that make me a monster? [why was he suddenly overcome with guilt?]