tampered | Log; Ongoing

Current Mood: indescribable
Current Location: the fountain

Log; Ongoing

When; February 26th; evening (slightly backdated)
Rating; PG for likely conversation topics and probable slight language
Characters; Enrico Maxwell (

holycrusader) & Yumie Takagi (

sister_samurai)
Summary; One Iscariot retrieves another; confusion and paradox accompany them.
Log;

Yumie had unconsciously developed something of a standard procedure when it came to the arrival of Iscariots to the City: speak to them over the network for a while, find out where they were, then collect them. The desire to see those familiar faces and hear those nearly forgotten voices never faltered. Enrico Maxwell had been the first to recieve this treatment, and it was with no small sense of déjà vu that Yumie found herself, almost cyclically, headed to fetch him once again.

There were, however, marked differences between this reunion and the last: first, Enrico had been completely aware of his death upon his original entrance ot the City, and second, the emotions Yumie associated with the man had evolved into a new creature from what they had once been. She had no idea just how much he might have known this before he had left, nor how much, if any, had been mutual. For people like them, such feelings would be wrong; this had not, however, prevented the small glimmer of hope that had formed within her.

That same old glimmer made itself known among a varied abundance of other things as she made her through the square. Her communications with Enrico since his return indicated he remembered nothing of his time here, but she had taken heart when he had taken no umbrage when she addressed him by first name, and he had yet to address her as "Sister." The lack of formality encouraged a smile, bittersweet, across her face as he came into view beside the currently ill-looking fountain, still dressed in the cassock and stole he had died in.

She smoothed her skirt, immediately feeling silly at the self-conscious gesture as their eyes met. Yumie would have much to tell him if he truly remembered nothing, but her greeting was short.

"Hello, Enrico."

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Enrico had been waiting by the fountain since his communication with Yumie. He had been very glad to see a familiar face even if she and he were the only members of Iscariot present. For some reason that he could not explain his thoughts toward Yumie since they first talked over the network had been less than professional and that somewhat disturbed him.

After all they had taken vows even if they were sinners for other reasons. It was unlike him to have impure thoughts over any of the Sisters that worked in his Section. Perhaps it had something to do with the City; since some had mentioned he had been there before of course they also thought he was dead. How ridiculous! He did not have to be a Doctor to see that he was indeed alive. He was breathing, his heart was beating...what further proof did he need to know that he was living?

The moment he heard Yumie's voice, Enrico turned to fully face her. "Hello, Yumie," he replied back with a tight smile. A strange feeling came over him one that could not really place...was he genuinely happy to see her?

He looked exactly the same, but of course he would. The dead would never age, and it had only (only?) been two months since his departure.

For all she had to say, Yumie was herself unable to respond for a moment save her lips pulling into a (nervous?) grin. "Quite the place, isn't it?" She finally asked, then added, "There's a lot to take in."

Enrico's claims of life ran through her head as she found herself reevaluating her first assessment of his state. Did he look... healthier?

"Yes, quite a bit to take in. So strange to find myself here when I thought for certain I was going to die," Enrico admitted. "I can already see that the place is populated with heathens, heretics and all other manner of lunatics. Some even claming to be 'God' which is absolutely absurd."

His army may have been lost to him but he still had plans to launch his Crusade and Inquisition. The sheer volume of heathens populating the City was reason enough to go forth with God's will. The question here was would Yumie be willing to help him? He hoped that she would but after Anderson had turned against him, he was unsure if Yumie really would follow him.

Her grin was replaced by a troubled expression. He had died; she had born witness to it.

"This is a disgustingly heathen land," she agreed, voice colored by repugnance. Almost three quarters of a year spent there had softened her intolerance, tempered it enough to function, but what was instilled by her upbringing had never completely dissipated. "There are several who like to call themselves "gods." The whore defending the heathen on your journal is one of many."

"Enrico... I'm not really sure how to tell you this, but..." Yumie trailed off, biting her lip as she tried to decide her wording. There was no good way to explain what had happened in Midian, and others had already been rather blunt. "Enrico, as you've already seen, this city is unnatural. There are things here that should not be." She paused briefly, swallowed dryly, and continued: "The first thing you must know about the City is that it plays with death, time, and memory. People from various points in history mingle here, as well as the living and the dead."

She glanced down with a sigh. "I know how hard to swallow that all is."

Enrico sighed heavily. He could already see where this was going. "You too Yumie? Are you going to tell me I am dead?" Enrico asked stepping closer to her. "I would not normally do such a thing but it seems I need to prove I am alive," he added, taking ahold of Yumie's hand and placing it on the beating pulse of his neck.

The contact of her warm hand on his warm skin sent a slight chill down his spine but he stilled it. Though he could not seem stop his heart from quickening. He did his best to maintain a professional facade even if his mind was beginning to waver a bit. He was very confused as why he was reacting in such a way.

Perhaps the City was infecting him with its hedonism and debauchery. That thought made his resolve for a Crusade against the heathens strengthened further.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, still holding her hand to his pulse.

Shock. Wonder. Fear. Joy. Sorrow.

There was no name for what she felt as his pulse thumped beneath her palm, its increased rate lost to her mind by virtue of the existence of any movement where should have been none, by warmth where there should have been none.

Mouth open, eyes large and bright until she blinked away the unwanted moisture while her gaze drifted to his chest to watch the swell and contraction of his breathing, the sound of her own heartbeat suddenly quite loud in her ears. That chest had been still when he had been here last; even under the touch of mouth and hands it had been motionless until a sound was made.

She hoped he wouldn't notice the flush as she quickly shoved aside memories of the curse day triggered by odd intimacy of their contact, the first she had with him in months, even before his departure. A slight brush of thumb to his jaw was by no complete accident as she drew her hand away.

"...y-Yes." Her voice was very small. "I think I need to sit down."

Unable to look him in the eye, she walked to one of the square's benches and was seated. Hands and face met with a deep exhale as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. She was not crying, only overwhelmed and requiring a few minutes to process and recollect herself.

Enrico stood quite stunned by her reaction of his being alive. Had he really been in the City before? And had he really died? It all seemed so absurd but then Yumie looked genuinely thrown. He fought off the urge to physically comfort her unwilling to give in to whatever spell the City was trying to cast on him.

Settling down beside Yumie, Enrico sighed again. "You mentioned this place plays with death, time and memory. I live inspite of all the proclamations that I am dead. It seems likely that time is being played with in this instance," Enrico admitted. "Though I really do not like the idea that Alucard kills me. And if there is a way to change such a future I shall."

He would find a way to defeat that unholy creature if it was the last thing he did.

Though she would not say it, Yumie was pleased he sat with her; she had hoped he might.

Embarrassed at her display, she straightened herself as she looked at Enrico. "I guess maybe... I shouldn't be so surprised. You coming as you are isn't the first time oddity of our world." Fingers ran through her long bangs to comb them back from her face, then let them fall as they may. "There may even be more than one future for it, but the most vocal one alledging a change in events is prone to madness, so I'm skeptical."

She folded her hands and continued, hesitant, "I don't know if anything can be changed. Only that... if there is a future where you did not die, I'm not from it. I saw your death. I don't know if-- I just don't know."

Yumie sighed, this was becoming a theme. "What I do know is that you were in the City before, and I need you to believe that."

Enrico frowned at Yumie's proclamation of seeing his death with her own eyes. Perhaps it would be best not to dwell on it since obviously he was not dead yet.

"I know you well enough to know you would not lie to me about something like this," Enrico conceded. "So would you like to tell me what happened during the time that apparently my dead self spent here?" he asked.

He had been ready to accept death when Anderson turned on him. So if death was still his calling he would have to accept that...but not right this moment. Right now...at this moment he was alive and he would not squander the gift that God had given him. He intended to make the most of his opportunity to do God's work and help cleanse the heathen City.

"Hrm, where to begin?" she replied, leaning back against the bench.

"Let's see... to start, you arrived in early September, by the City's calender. You were the first Iscariot I'd seen since coming here at the end of June. It was so good to have the company of one of us again, I can't even tell you how much. I invited you to stay at my apartment with me, and we became roommates. We lived together until you vanished just before Christmas.

We spent a lot of time together, so if... I'm acting more familiar with you than before, that's why." And that was true, in the larger sense. Her hands mirrored the wrestling in her mind as she debated when or if she would ever tell him about the night they had broken vow. She assumed it would make him uncomfortable at best, and at worst grow completely disgusted, possibly disbelieving her entirely.

"It's not bothering you, is it?"

It should have bothered him...it should have bothered him quite a lot but for whatever reason. The familiarity between them did not really bother him. Maybe he was a little disturbed but not bothered. Though he was hesitate to admit that fact to Yumie.

"It does feel a bit strange but considering our circumstances, I can not really say that I mind," he finally replied.

He was beginning to wonder just how familiar they actually had been with each other. It was rather unorthodox for a Sister and Priest to live in an apartment together. It was one thing to reside in a church or mission where there were wings to separate the men and the women. But living in close quarters just a man and woman...well that was just asking for trouble. It also might explain these feelings he had been having toward his fellow Iscariot member. Trying to push those thoughts and feelings aside Enrico opted to move the conversation along.

"What else happened? I take it I must have had some run-ins with that heathen Vincent. Especially since he speaks to and about me with such familiarity."

That was a relief. She supposed she could force herself to return to calling him Chief or Chief Maxwell again; she just didn't want to.

Yumie's face could not choose a smirk or a scowl at the new conversation topic. The incident between Enrico and the cultist had ended up with their mission blown apart and the Red God privy to entirely too much information about them. Yet, at the same time, Vincent's ability to engender her scorn left her able to obtain some satisfaction from the event.

If the heathen ever laid his hands on Enrico this time, Yumie would remove them, unless Enrico claimed the honor first.

"You did." Smirk won. "You killed him. Shot him multiple times during an interrogation."

A smirk instantly found Enrico's face at Yumie's words and dark thoughts of slowly killing the heathen Vincent crossed his mind. Somehow just shooting the heathen 'priest' did not feel like it would be enough. The harlot's threats be damned if Vincent dared come near him he would make good on his threat to rip out the other man's tongue. And there would not be a thing the whore 'god' could do about it.

"Hmm, considering his overly friendly attitude toward me, can I presume that he received some sort of retribution?" Enrico asked. Vincent had been far too familiar and smug for Enrico's taste. Death must have made his counterpart soft because truly Enrico could not envision himself bowing to Vincent and his so-called shepherd's 'powers'.

Now it was the scowl's turn. "Yes."

Shifting position to better face him as they spoke, she elaborated: "Usually it takes about twenty-four hours for the City to revive someone when they die here. So, a day or so after you killed the pagan, his god put up a post on the network demanding you hand yourself over and threatening the other Iscariots -- myself and Father Anderson -- if you did not. And you, uh, did it."

The frown deepened. "You were in the cult's dungeon for four days. Originally it was supposed to be five, but the angel Rosiel made a deal with Xulchilbara to get you out early. Xulchilbara is other god from the world of Silent Hill. He is, or was, Vincent's patron god, not Lobsel Vith. The demon has been silent for some time now, though his handmaiden insists he remains in the City."

Yumie looked away for a moment, glowering into space. "I'm not sure of everything that happened while the cult had you. You didn't want to talk about it. The two things I knew about for sure was that your back was lashed by something sharp, and Vincent carved a word into your torso."

Oh now that truly was ridiculous. The mere idea of willingly turning himself over for torture was ludcrious and threatening the lives of his subordinates certainly was not a way to get him to cooperate. His counterpart must have suffered some kind of trauma or brain damage during death to agree to those terms. He couldn't fathom a reasonable explanation otherwise.

"How absurd! I actually agreed to such terms?" Enrico asked incredulously. "How utterly ridiculous...me giving in to a bunch of pagans!" he added, standing up clearly upset.

His mind only thinking of finding that taunting pagan and ripping him limb from limb. He would show them...he would show them all that he was not to be underestimated. Hellsing underestimated him and Millennuim underestimated him, he was not about to allow some foreign pagans and heathens to underestimate him as well. He would see that divine punishment found them all.

"I'm not lying," Yumie said, uncertain how else to respond. His choice had never sat well with her, but she did not know if agreeing was the best action. "I could show you the post on the creatures's journal and the comments where the conversation took place."

She stood, hands twitching indecisively at her sides. She didn't know how to calm. She didn't know how to comfort. She tried to think of something reasonable to say, though this was no great strong suit.

"It happened. You don't remember it. There's nothing to be done for it, unless they try something again."

That sounded like something a reasonable person might say, Yumie thought.

Enrico turned to face Yumie a deadly look in his eyes. "Should any of them try anything again, you can trust that I shall not turn the other cheek. Nor will I hand myself over to anyone who is not Our Lord, God," Enrico replied, his tone firm and hard.

"We are outnumbered, this I know but handing ourselves over to any enemy without a fight will never be an option. I do not know what motivated the other me but his motivations are not my motivations," he added, clearly speaking as a superior rather than friend in this respect.

"Are we agreed, Yumie?" he asked, his expression slightly relaxing.

"Of course," she answered tightly.

The statements echoed much of her own thoughts on the matter and it was satisfying to hear them spoken aloud, but the line regarding motivation had left her cold. She may not have agreed with Enrico's choice, but in a way, she had understood: he had wanted to protect her. In his way, he had cared, though she would never know the exact nature or extent of it.

The man who stood before her now did not share his counterpart's feelings, and perhaps never would; she was a subordinate: that was all. Simply because he might tolerate more casual, personal interaction from her did not mean it would be reciprocated; it meant nothing, and she should expect no more. That was how it was supposed to be, was it not?

It still stung, however irrationally, for it was a reminder of what had been lost.

Enrico merely nodded as the wheels in his mind kept turning. They were in a foreign place, clearly outnumbered by enemies and surrounded by all manner of heathens and heretics. Not a favorable situation in the least for either of them.

"Hmm, thus far things seem to look rather bleak for our mission. Is there anyone in this place who may be incline to see our perspective?"

Allying himself with heathens was not something he wanted to do but leaving themselves open to attack out of pride would be foolhardy. Even he was known to see reason he had not become Section XIII leader by being short-sighted and dimwitted.

After a long-seeming moment of consideration, Yumie replied: "In the past -- the first time you were here -- you had something of a buisness relationship with Rosiel, but he's not reliable: his goals are shady and he's insane."

She continued to mull it over, running through the huge list of names and personalities to use the network. "I guess it depends on what it is we want to do. It is bleak here for our usual job. We're assassins, and people almost never stay dead. And many of these people have powers we do not."

If she sounded daunted, it was because she was. She had been in the City a long time with too much of it to think.

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Log; Ongoing

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