08-18-2013, 11:36 AM
Tony watched as the kid - Jackson or whatever - came down and prepared a nice meal of vodka and lime. Whatever else could be said about him, he had good taste in vodka; and the cash to go with it.
Tony sat watching him as he put the drinks on the table - Michael silent on the left. He poured himself a drink and sat back.
"I hear I'm going to die a horrible death?"
Tony was silent a moment longer. What was he going to do? The cases of the 'Sickness' were growing more frequent, and was surprised to learn he could not dismiss the bruised man and drown himself in his expensive vodka. Did he still care? Why?
Putting aside questions for later, he focused on the kid at hand. He knew the type. He was in denial. Probably had everything going for him in life, he didn't want anything to change. Just like Tony himself.
Well, it was too bad. Things would change, whether he liked it or not.
Tony embraced the power and opened the cupboard and fridge, grabbing another vodka bottle and two glasses. He let them hover over the top of the table while he used the power to open the bottle and pour. It took considerable effort, more than it would just to get up and do it himself, but the kid needed to see.
A display - something real, irrefutable would get the kid's mind working.
"You may die. Most do. Only a handful survive the 'Sickness' stage, less than those who die."
He downed the glass of amber liquid - shit was it good! - before he continued. "Of course, it's only a trick, right?"
he asked in rhetoric. "You haven't suddenly done something which seemed impossible while under pressure, right? A rush of adrenaline - like you could do anything in the world! - has never hit you and you find yourself doing something incredibly stupid, right? Of course, that means you have never become violently ill for no reason a few days after these things happen, then recover like nothing has happened? Of course not. Stupid question."
He locked eyes with the kid as he continued. "But let's take a hypothetical example, shall we? Each time that happens, you inch a little closer to actually touching the power - I don't know what the fuck it's called, call it magic if you want, you'll understand once you feel it. Each time, the reactions get worse."
He poured himself another glass of vodka, this time using his hands. "Finally, it gets to the point where you make full contact. Some survive it, sure, but most don't. It starts off like the other times, violent sickness. Except, this time, it doesn't go away. You start to convulse, every muscle in your body aches."
Tony hated recalling his memories of the ones who didn't survive. He had seen just over a dozen, but it never got any easier. He downed the second glass. "I'm not sure what actually causes the death. The 'Sickness' itself, or exhaustion from the screams that do not stop until the end."
Edited by Tony Soloyov, Aug 18 2013, 11:38 AM.
Tony sat watching him as he put the drinks on the table - Michael silent on the left. He poured himself a drink and sat back.
"I hear I'm going to die a horrible death?"
Tony was silent a moment longer. What was he going to do? The cases of the 'Sickness' were growing more frequent, and was surprised to learn he could not dismiss the bruised man and drown himself in his expensive vodka. Did he still care? Why?
Putting aside questions for later, he focused on the kid at hand. He knew the type. He was in denial. Probably had everything going for him in life, he didn't want anything to change. Just like Tony himself.
Well, it was too bad. Things would change, whether he liked it or not.
Tony embraced the power and opened the cupboard and fridge, grabbing another vodka bottle and two glasses. He let them hover over the top of the table while he used the power to open the bottle and pour. It took considerable effort, more than it would just to get up and do it himself, but the kid needed to see.
A display - something real, irrefutable would get the kid's mind working.
"You may die. Most do. Only a handful survive the 'Sickness' stage, less than those who die."
He downed the glass of amber liquid - shit was it good! - before he continued. "Of course, it's only a trick, right?"
he asked in rhetoric. "You haven't suddenly done something which seemed impossible while under pressure, right? A rush of adrenaline - like you could do anything in the world! - has never hit you and you find yourself doing something incredibly stupid, right? Of course, that means you have never become violently ill for no reason a few days after these things happen, then recover like nothing has happened? Of course not. Stupid question."
He locked eyes with the kid as he continued. "But let's take a hypothetical example, shall we? Each time that happens, you inch a little closer to actually touching the power - I don't know what the fuck it's called, call it magic if you want, you'll understand once you feel it. Each time, the reactions get worse."
He poured himself another glass of vodka, this time using his hands. "Finally, it gets to the point where you make full contact. Some survive it, sure, but most don't. It starts off like the other times, violent sickness. Except, this time, it doesn't go away. You start to convulse, every muscle in your body aches."
Tony hated recalling his memories of the ones who didn't survive. He had seen just over a dozen, but it never got any easier. He downed the second glass. "I'm not sure what actually causes the death. The 'Sickness' itself, or exhaustion from the screams that do not stop until the end."
Edited by Tony Soloyov, Aug 18 2013, 11:38 AM.