The Devil In Disguise

CHAPTER 57: The Humorous Side

"This can't be happening," Simon whined.

His voice resonated around the small but empty room, and once more he pulled on the chains that held him back. It was futile, and soon he got bored of their clanking, so he sat still.

"Well, since I've got no one to talk to, I'll just talk to myself," Simon decided, nodding to himself. He disliked silence and isolation; here, he was subject to both.

"Okay, Simon. Tell me what you remember."

"I remember pretty much everything, Simon. I remember talking to Xander, Corina and Grace about Karissa — I mean, Lorelei, fuck, I gotta remember that — and Xander and I started, y'know, throwing hands, and I was winning, obviously, and — yeah. Anyway. Some little chemical bomb things flew towards us and exploded and a ton of smoke came out of them and we tried not to breathe it in. But there's only so long you can go without breathing before you die, so naturally, we took a great, massive gulp of air at some point. Then we fainted."

"And then what happened, Simon? Your story is so captivating, you're such a great story teller, I'd love to be you — oh wait."

Simon laughed at himself — or rather, with himself.

"Thanks, Simon," he smiled in appreciation. "Anyway, next thing I knew is I woke up here. My wrists are tied behind me and so are my ankles, and let me tell you: this position hurts like a bitch, Simon, you don't wanna be in my shoes right now."

"You're right about that, Simon. But sadly, you can't do shit about that because some psychopathic son of a bitch —"

"Sociopathic, actually," a smooth voice corrected.

Simon's head jerked up, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't noticed the door unlock and open, and he cursed himself for it — mentally, this time — warily glancing at the man's face.

Simon, himself, thought that this man was handsome — with those cheekbones and those eyes, and the regality with which he carried himself, Simon was fairly shocked. Lorelei was right; he really was the most contradictory being on this planet.

"R-Right. Sociopath. How did I get that wrong?" Simon babbled.

The man smiled. "You seem like a good kid, Simon."

Kid. Simon hated being called a kid. However, he didn't want to cross this man's line. He was a killer, for God's sake — and Simon really wasn't in the mood to be killed.

Simon wondered for a moment how this man knew his name — but he then remembered Lorelei saying that he knew just about everything.

"Right..." Simon replied, looking away uneasily.

"Look at me while I'm talking to you," he suddenly ordered, and Simon — though shocked at the sudden mood swing — instead of getting scared, started getting infuriated. Meeting the man's cutting gaze, he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not scared of you. I don't even know who you are," Simon spat, mustering up all his courage, pushing down his fear and burying his inner voice which told him to 'shut the fuck up!'.

The man merely smiled. An unnerving smile, the type of smile that a murderer would wear right before they killed you.

Simon gulped. Maybe he should have shut the fuck up.

"Let me tell you what I told your naive friends, Simon," the man said in a deadly calm tone, straightening his perfectly ironed tie. "First of all: you will refer to me as Lazarus, and I'm fairly certain you know exactly who I am. Second of all: you are held captive by me. So I'd advise against giving me any attitude. Third of all: I can kill you off any time I like — quite like a character in a book — and I'm leaning towards doing it right now, since your friends haven't exactly been the most grateful for my gracious hospitality. So I suggest that you keep your mouth —" he made a gesture across his lips as if he was zipping it closed, "— firmly shut."

The point was crystal clear to Simon.

However, to his own surprise as well as Lazarus', he burst out laughing.

Honestly, he didn't know why at first. He was telling himself to shut up internally, and also hitting himself in his head because that's the worst possible reaction anyone could have ever had. Maybe it was the hysteria?

Simon laughed until he had tears in his eyes. Finally, after thirty seconds of clutching his stomach in laughter, Lazarus lost his patience.

"Care to tell me the joke?" he smiled a deadly calm smile, his hand on his revolver.

Simon looked up at him, tears of laughter streaming down his face. He calmed down enough to say,

"What kind of a fucking name is Lazarus?!"

And then he roared in laughter again, wheezing. If his hands were free, he'd be banging them on the floor, maybe even rolling around.

He didn't notice Lazarus' face twist, morph into that of a monster's. He didn't notice Lazarus take out his revolver, flip it so that the handle was pointed at Simon, then smash Simon across the head with it.

Simon fell unconscious, the ghost of a smile still imprinted on his face, and Lazarus exited Simon's room, straightening his tie.

A/N
VOTE, VOTE, VOTE!

Simon. I love him. And the way he talks to himself .

REMEMBER TO VOTE! ENJOY! I'll be back with the next part soon!

—deainlustris