Farisia Rising

Alliance

Reggie was dragged outside by the assistants and urged to cool down.

They led him to a little alcove resting area, in the hall. He practically collapsed onto a wooden bench. A vending machine buzzed next to him.

His mind was a void, as he tried and tried and tried to think. The gears were stuck. At least his heartbeat was less cluttered now. And he could feel his fist again.

When given the option to go back in and sit with everyone, he chose to return to his sleeping quarters instead. The last thing he felt like was being silently judged from every direction.

He hoped that Eva would fare well with her fight; but he was acutely aware there was nothing he could do to help her. Moral support was nice in theory.

Except after this she might not want my moral support. She might not want anything.

He sighed, heavily.

I think our alliance is over.

Through the squared mouth of his window, he watched the sky fade from red to black.

He sat on his bed listlessly, transfixed by the foreignness of his reflection. He engaged Maxwell Donovan in a staring contest. Off and on, for four hours, they competed.

Until a knock came at his door.

"It's unlocked," he called, voice flat and hollow.

He was surprised to see Eva, as the door slowly, carefully eased back.

She looked conflicted, like she didn't really want to be there, but felt obligated.

"I won my fight," she spoke, in a timid, powdery-soft way. "I just dodged a bunch. The guy was really big and clumsy. He ended up tripping and hitting his head. I felt kinda...bad."

"They pitted you against a guy?" Reggie asked.

She was quiet.

The elephant in the room was almost bigger than the room itself.

"What happened with Stewart?" he swallowed his apprehension, and made the first move. "I didn't get to see..."

"He died," she said, unable to make eye contact.

"Oh."

They stood for maybe a minute, staring at everything but each other.

"You're scared of me now?" he guessed.

"N-no," she reddened, uncomfortably. "It's just...that was really, um, easy for you. Too easy." A pause. "Am I correct to assume you lied to me?"

"I think you're smart enough to know the answer."

She stepped all the way inside then, and shut the door behind her. "How many?" she demanded, her tone unconvincing.

He saw no point in lying anymore. "Thirty-seven, definite."

She looked like she was about to pass out. It was as though his words had jerked the ground from beneath her feet.

"With our dear friend out there, it makes thirty-eight."

"Oh, wonderful," she tried and failed to gather herself. "Such a rapport I've built with Jack the Ripper."

"Twice he's come up now," Reggie noted curiously, before actually pulling his head out of the clouds and addressing the topic at hand. "One, that comparison isn't even valid. Jack the Ripper only targeted women. I think like one of mine was a girl, and I only killed her because she was a bluecoat. She guarded a prison camp, so you tell me if she deserved it." He fell back, flat on his cot. "Oh, wait. No. Several were girls, actually."