A Mad Man's Clause

14|The Mad Man

Events from the night before...

His long fingers flexed. They moved accordingly as he willed them. Eddie laughed cynically as he pulled himself from the ground. A deep breath then a loud exhale. He looked around the study belonging to the idiot that shared his consciousness. Typical Henry-themed— far too many unnecessary literature and not enough booze.

Speaking of which, he craved a glass of rum. He exhaled once more, making his way out the door. Gnawingly creepy silence greeted his exit. Eddie scowled. His counterpart was truly a bore. A slight turn brought the view at the end of the hall to his attention. He smirked. The object of the idiot's obsession was within reach. Although Eddie knew of her existence, he was vaguely aware of what she looked like.

Contrary to what most might think, he was not privy to Henry's doings when he was in a state of stasis. The bloody suppression serum made certain of that. However there were, albeit rare, windows of opportunity where they existed on the same wavelength. Like now, though he was main piloting, he could distinctly register the second presence in his head and feel its mounting displeasure.

Feeling extra mischievous, Eddie thought up an idea and began his trek down the hall.

"Don't" The warning ran clear in his head.

Eddie had to laugh. "You're so predictable, mate." he exclaimed, taking a detour down the flight of stairs.

"Now where is the booze?" he sang, making light of his steps. Soft glowing sconces aided his expedition to the liquor cellar. Half expecting to find it empty, he paused at the threshold. Excitement, all of which belonged to him, bubbled at the sight of the fully stacked shelves.

Amazing. "You kept all these for me." He clapped his hands, marching further into the room. "And here I thought you hated me." The last words earned him a low grunt. Eddie ignored it, far too engrossed in the grog oasis he'd found. A quick search exposed his favourite rum, Bay Pirates sitting alone on a bottom shelf. He giggled, kissing and caressing the dusty bottle like a newborn.

"I can't believe you're still here. My dear old love. Oh, how I have missed you so." Eddie, theatrically, scurried out of the cellar cradling the 30-year-old bottle.

Now Eddie fancied himself a man of simplicity. Justice and good booze. Those were principles he lived his life by. He punished those who wronged him and had a glass of rum to keep him in good spirits. He shared, often, that glass of rum with the wrongdoers— before setting them alight. Didn't that mean he was a good man also? He liked to think so. Those sentiments, however, were not shared by others, his other half included.

The Mad Man

That was the ominous moniker the underground world bestowed upon him. Relishing in the memories of his hey days as he did with the half full glass he cradled, he sank into the sofa, his muscles loose, mind silent.

"It's too quiet in here." he mused, pulling himself upright. Lazily, he surveyed the room. It contained nothing of notable value. "You live a boring life, my friend. With such a beautiful wife, you'd think your life would get spicier but no, the prude you are is letting it all go to waste."

"Shut up!" the quip was clear and concise. Eddie laughed, downing the rest of his drink. He winced at the sharp sting it left in its wake.

"Time for a guys' night out."

Eddie had long since concluded that Henry was an uncultured prick. The fool had not a single decent article of clothing. A survey of his closet revealed rows of plain corduroys and arid shirts. Annoyed, he dragged each piece aside in hope that he would find something remotely appealing. The task was quickly becoming daunting and he didn't have enough time to go shopping. Almost at his wits end, he stumbled upon a suit cover. A grin split his lips in half. He pulled it out. That gnawing displeasure was back. He ignored it. The cover fell to a heap on the ground. This would have to do, he bemused.