Madness: DxD

Only Me

I'm perched on the edge of a dresser, cleaning my revolver because it beats acknowledging my own thoughts. Phobos is gone. Ophis is gone. AALN is stumbling around headless. For the first time in a long while, the world's not actively trying to body-check me into an early grave.

Feels suspicious.

I allow myself a second. Just one. To pretend the job's done.

Then the air shifts.

Of course it does.

You look like someone trying to flirt with the idea of retirement. Adorable.

I'm allowed to sit still.

You? Absolutely not. You sit still, things start catching up. Guilt, boredom, surviving... all that messy stuff.

She approaches me in total silence with that overly satisfied smile she reserves for moments when she's about to ruin my evening.

Phobos is dead. AALN's basically mulch. I think I've earned five minutes.

Mulch grows back if you water it. And the Agency's the kind of weed that thrives no matter how much gasoline you pour on it.

She circles me, slow and uncomfortably graceful, tapping her fingers on my shoulders as she passes. Cold touches that feel a little too affectionate for someone who doesn't technically exist.

You remember what Thomas told you? The Alaska base. Backup nest full of uniformed morons who still think they can unfail all their previous failures.

I stop polishing for a moment. Alaska. Right. I shoved that memory into a dark drawer labeled later. Later apparently expires tonight.

Doesn't matter. They're scattered. Pointless to waste time chasing scraps.

She laughs, soft and venom-sweet.

You don't believe that. If you did, you wouldn't be cleaning your revolver like you're about to invite it to prom.

I look down at my hands. Annoyingly, she's got a point.

You leave them half-alive, they'll crawl back. They always crawl back. Then you get another Phobos wannabe, another horde of red-suited fashion disasters trying to shoot your already questionable haircut.

You're very loud for a hallucination.

She smirks and taps a finger against my forehead.

I live here rent-free. Might as well redecorate your priorities while I'm at it.

She wanders to the window.

You finish the job in Alaska, and maybe we'll talk about our future.

Our?

I'm only pushing because I care. And because if someone else kills you after all the trouble I've invested, I will be furious.

I let out the kind of sigh that feels like it escapes from the bones more than the lungs. She knows exactly where to stick the persuasive knife. Subtlety's never been her problem.

I grab my coat, and haul my gear over my shoulder.

Fine. Alaska. I'll finish it.

She lights up like she just won a custody battle she started with herself.

Knew you'd come around. You always do.

She drifts behind me, looping her arms around my shoulders like a shadow that got too clingy.

I shove the door open and step out with my coat slung over my shoulder, ready to make a straight line toward the nearest vehicle that still has four wheels and a working battery.