Guten Abend, gute Nacht
'I see shadows under the dark sky. I hear voices in my mind'
Wolf couldn't remember how long he had laid there in a pool of ice-cold water. He thought about a delicate tune from somewhere before, when he was safely at home. The words crept inside and nestled smugly, pulling away with them even more to follow. Desperation overtook his mind but could not silence the sounds only he heard, those voices invading his thoughts and forcing themselves on him. He forgot how he became a broken man, but he would not answer the question. He knew it would hurt beyond telling, but he couldn't remember what it was. A fleeting warmth was there to protect him against harm. 'Do you know why you don't want to remember, do you, do you?'. They came back slowly, growing stronger and louder, but that was a lie - they were always there with him, lurking, creeping in the shadows and the dark corners of his mind. They all knew his deepest desires, his greatest fears, his toxic memories-'You must get away, away from here, out of the cold...'
"Scan Him", came the sound from above, "Is that him?", they followed suite. "He's shivering like a leaf in the wind", there were more sounds, inhuman voices of greed and servitude sent to deprive him of his freedom. A burning sensation seared his temple, but Wolf was too weak to recoil away. He should have responded with a scream, a cry for help, a heroic last stand - but all he could muster was a muffled moan. "He's stone cold", the sensation assaulted his throat, "There's still a pulse".
'They're going to take us away, to a bad place, a bad place, Run Away, Run Away!'
mit Rosen bedacht
The music soothed the frightened Wolf, who was finding it hard to open his eyes and see the sky for the last time. A glass and another, a place to drown your sorrows and a hole to hide in for when comes the morrow - He was back again at the pub, he was back again in his homeland, speaking his mother's tongue and drinking his rum...'You were always a drunk, a disappointment and a failure'...Something had happened, a terrible event, which made him go look for a place to hide away from the world. 'But you can't hide from CyCorp, no you can't, they come to grab you, and they know where you've been and what you've said...They will take you away, but to where?'
Wolf felt the ground shake and transform into metal, his body getting warmer and his head covered with a bag. 'Do you remember why this all started?', the fog of his memories thinned enough for him to see it clearly - he could see the senseless war. He could see the deaths that followed, the hatred that took root in men's hearts and the need for vengeance which burned in their hollow eyes. The seed of his modus operandi was planted then, looking for the hole in her heart, nervously prodding to find the undetectable shrapnel inside...'You killed her, you killed her, you killed her!!'
mit Näglein besteckt,
Her sweet voice, from a time of innocence and simplicity, when the days were as long as you wished them to be and milk was the sweetest. She would sing to him a sweet little song her grandmother taught her when she was a child while her fingers gently brushed his hair. He fell, and he was lifted - he wasn't even sure if what he felt was real anymore. Everything felt warm, but the world outside turned stark black.
He studied her and looked for a way out. He thought of stitching her back together and letting a lightning strike bring her back. He fantasized he was Faust and dreamed of deals with the devil at night. He turned the university upside-down and abandoned his duty, and his post, during the bloodiest month of the war. It was a time they needed him most, and all he could think about is bringing back the dead. He was obsessed with the notion, which any sane medical doctor would say was preposterous - but even then Wolf was slightly unhinged. All it took was a gentle push to take him over the edge.
schlupf unter die Deck
'I'm so sorry'
He was floating in the air. He was sent to drift in the wind. There was nothing he could do but watch, but there was nothing to see. There were no images flashing before his eyes. There was no tearful reunion with his loved ones. He couldn't spot any tunnel with a light at the end. He didn't believe any of those, but there was still disappointment at the mundane nature of his death. He had some time before the lights will go out for the last time. He had some time, and it was with himself, and none of his dark companions in his mind.
'I'm so sorry mother'.
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,
wirst du wieder geweckt
[hr]2[/hr]
CyCorp Ward, Royal London Hospital
There was an annoying buzz in the room. Something kept on dripping nearby. Outside heavy rain prated against the closed window. Heavy breaths came from the other side. Wolf recognized the familiar smells of hand sensitizers and death. He was in a hospital somewhere, and apparently not very dead.
'Here comes the doctor, here comes the doctor, all the way from Jamaica, here to see you Bernard, just for you, I wonder, if just for you?'
"Bernard...", a familiar voice spoke his name. The last time it happened was four years ago when he officially retired to doing nothing productive and basking in the Jamaican sun. Doctor Noam Petrosky was much older than he led others to believe, and have been born long before the new millennium. Live specimens carrying your most expensive products was a liability and a giant middle finger to any other firm in the business, which was why Dr. Petrosky never traveled alone. Sampling his product was the least he could do before stepping down from the company he founded and reluctantly passed on to the next generation.
"Good to see you were alive", Noam lied through his teeth, "I was worried about you", he added rather truthfully. It wasn't Wolf he was very concerned about - it was the CyCorp patents in his body he was anxious about. "How long was I asleep?", Wolf tried to ask but he only mumbled a series of incomprehensible vowels. "What happened was quite...unfortunate, for all parties involved. CyCorp is here to help you-", the sound of metal banging against another pierced Wolf's ear. He turned his head to his right and saw a pair of handcuffs restraining him to the bed. 'As a Prisoner', Wolf added in his mind.
"You're...far away from home", Wolf said with difficulty.
"I had to come visit you", he lied again, "I took the first flight out of Kingston. I do miss the weather".
"I can't remember what happened last night", was Wolf's confession. It was easier to forget than to face reality. Then again, he rarely did have to face it in his condition.
"You were distressed...on the verge of death...and not medicated-", he pointed his hand at the drip-feed into Wolf's vein, "We remedied it for you".
'Then they're gone, those voices are gone, but so are my memories', Wolf was relieved at the thought of peace and quite for once.
"This event does, of course, changes certain things which we need to discuss", Noam leaned forward on his cane. The old man was sitting on a comfortable leather couch, counting every breath as if it was his last.
'Kill...Traitor...' it whispered. Wolf stared wide-eyed at his old associate, scared stiff as if he had just seen a ghost.
