For the Future

Atticus Davidson || Human Deceased "It's our responsibility to protect future generations. We're the only ones that can do it, and it does come with a price. It would be ludicrous to sacrifice the lives of many for the selfishness of a few."

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

[insanerthanthou]

“The beautiful thing—” He breathed out, “Is that this pain is all mental. It’s in your head. Which means—-it’s not real….Or is it? Real or not, I might not even be here. I can make you think things you never thought to think, and because of that you see what I want you to see…” He giggled, insanely. Like there was nothing but him and the game. He reached forward with one hand, keeping the other firmly in place as he slowly stroked the other’s face. 

“I see so many little stones.” He murmured, strangely thoughtful. “So many, and I know one thing. I know how I’m going to leave love notes on all of them, to all of them, so I forget none of them. That’d be cruel…to forget. To forget is to ignore, and I won’t do that.” He suddenly growled, twisting his hold viciously, “I. WON’T.” 

He suddenly went into the man’s head again, delving, ever delving. Deep. Tying things off and connecting other things, like a tailor at work with a tangled thread. Expertly and with precision, but he did nothing to make it any less painful than it was. He didn’t care. “Ask.” He suddenly said, in a singsong voice. “Ask. Ask. Ask. Or paint it black, I don’t care right now.” He smiled, nodding towards a bag on the floor. “Don’t you feel the need to open that bag now? Just think of the lost one, the one you looked for….” 

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“Everything mental... it real... just because its in your head,” Atticus panted. “What do you mean by stones?” Atticus asked. Stones as in memories, stones as in thoughts, as in breaking bones?

Atticus nodded, pointing to the bag, then he tried to slump towards it, “did you do something? What did you do?” Atticus asked frantically, worry almost taking the forefront to the pain in his head.

“What did you bring, what did you do?” Atticus demanded hoarsely, feeling an intense desire for water as well. So many emotions felt heightened, as opposed to their typical repressed state, which made him want to scream even more.

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

“You see—” He breathed out, in a soothing voice, almost in a strange way trying to comfort his victim. “This pain you feel is a passing thing—-and only mental—-there won’t be any passing out from it.” He grinned. “I’m in your head, or have you forgotten? I feel your thoughts, as if they were nearly my own. Save for ONE little difference,” He giggled, “I control them.” 

“And there’s no sleep for you, no rest, no blessed relief from this. Unless—-” A long pause as he leaned into the man’s ear. 

“I. SAY. SO.” 

Hesitant breath, like a dog finding a bone came out, a breathy laugh following. “And I want to hear you scream and you aren’t screaming by far nearly enough. NOR HAVE YOU ASKED ABOUT WHAT I BROUGHT YOU. Rude what?” He twisted his grip on the man’s mind, suddenly making him re-experience a buried nightmare. 

Atticus raised his eyebrows for a moment, then muttered, “sadistic bastard,” because that’s what he was thinking. Why hide it when there was no point to. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

Turning his face as much as he could away from the yelling in his ear, Atticus decided to at least humor the man. Not that it would turn out well for him anyway. “Right then-”

And suddenly, he was sat stark still at the dinner table, hands flat on the surface, hearing his father’s steps around him just outside his peripherals. It was a game- I don’t move unless you do. And of course, one small movement the wrong way and- crack goes the ruler right across his knuckles. That was even on a good night.

Atticus continued to scream as he felt his body slump after having tensed up in pain. “What’d you bring? What’d you bring?” He begged the man. “That’s what you want, yeah?”

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

He grinned, leaning close into Atticus’s face before whispering. “Oh I see where you keep your valuables—-” He chuckled, a strange light glinting in his eyes as he prodded at the memories none too gently. “You know I could pull them out. Pull them right out of your head. There’s a lot of ways to do it, but basically two…The gentle way…or the painful way.” He smiled small, brushing his fingers gently over the man’s cheek and seeming to enjoy his discomfort. “But to give you an example, let’s see what you had for breakfast yesterday…” 

With that he tore viciously through, he wanted to hear Atticus scream. Had been craving it. Needed it. He gripped it, like a little grub worm, pulling it, no ripping it out. He licked his lips, waiting until the man’s screaming had subsided into hyperventilated breaths. 

“How delicious.” 

“Have them-” Atticus said, not sure which memories the man was talking about, but he was sure it wasn’t anything like the day he earned his doctorate or married his wife. Surely the pain of having his childhood memories removed wouldn’t compare to actually living them.

Atticus took a few moments to register the sudden increase in activity: his screaming, the removal of memories. He tried to calm his breathing as soon as possible, waiting for the pain to subside. Maybe he’d pass out? Maybe this would end soon.

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

“No of course you wouldn’t.” He shook his head, sighing. Almost disappointed. “And if all the bees in the hive do buzz no one hears them, how can you hear them? How indeed? Doesn’t this pose a problem?” He frowned, looking perplexed over his statement a moment before he stood up sharply. He didn’t give Atticus time to react, grabbing his face roughly with one hand. 

One hand was all that was needed, and Albert knew as well as Atticus, his hold expertly tightening on the man’s thoughts and dreams and memories. Touching them with little care, like flipping through a magazine. “You have such an interesting head—” He mused softly, “And you haven’t yet bothered to ask what I’ve brought you…”

Atticus’s look of confusion was cut short; before he could even ask Albert what he was going on about, his face was held roughly in Albert’s grip. He had an idea of what was about to happen, and it was almost like he could feel Albert wandering among his thoughts.

He nodded, as best as the death grip would allow him. “And ruin the surprise? That’d make me a monster.” Atticus said cooly. Were he the honest sort in a situation like this, he didn’t want to know, as he highly doubted it was something that ended well for him.

After all, he was on the Continuance hitlist, and the big boss had his hand wrapped around his face. No, the surprise was not going to be a good one.

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

He smiled. “A lot of people think I’m American. It’s funny—-before now I was the chameleon. But now I’m changing, into what I don’t know. And it is exhilarating.” 

He smiled, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Perhaps now it is finally my turn to be the lion.” He mused, suddenly tilting his head. Watching Atticus, unblinking. “It’s alright.” He suddenly said softly, “If you don’t understand. You’re not meant to. But I am. And I do.” He licked his lips. 

“Ch-ch-ch-ch!” He suddenly exclaimed, motioning as if for silence. “Do you hear that?” 

Atticus raised an eyebrow at Albert, all of the animal metaphors going straight over his head- the symbolism was clear, but their relationship to Albert? Not as so. 

He glanced around the room, looking for possibly a bomb or something else attached to a timer, but heard nothing. “No,” he mouthed, shaking his head.

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Four Letter Words || Shay and Atticus || V7 W4 || Tuesday Evening

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shaysloan:

Shay raised her eyebrows at him, not having expected any answers at all, let alone the ones he was giving her. “Molecukinesis? Genokinesis? What does that even mean?” She sort of had an idea, especially after what happened with Katherine, but…it was a lot more information than anticipated. But at his answer, Shay made a mental note to ask one of the Fortis Scientists what the ability meant and what it could do.

When Atticus mentioned the nanogenes and all of her trauma within Continuance having to do with the baby’s powers awakening, Shay ground her teeth together in frustration. She knew they were to blame, but a part of her still sort of blamed herself up until this point. After all, she was carrying the baby. It was her child. But now with this new information, Shay kind of wanted to punch Atticus in the face. 

“What do you think I plan to do? Just hand my baby over?” she snarled, her face contorted in anger. “How stupid do you think I am, Atticus? I plan to protect my child for as long as I can. That’s what good mother’s do.” She growled slightly at his comments and obvious stupidity.

After a moment and a few calming breaths, she quirked an eyebrow at him. For Atticus to actually give her a file on everything? Well that was completely astounding. It just took her by surprise. And then for him to tell her where everything else was should he die? All of this almost made her feel like Shay shouldn’t have trusted him, but there was a little voice in the back of her head that said to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Reaching out, Shay took the folder and tucked it safely away in her bag. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do, but make no promises. For all I know, I’m be preoccupied, probably by Albert.” Though honestly, Shay really did want the hard drive. She could hack into it and see all of his research, which was a huge bonus for her. “Anything else I should know about?”

“In short the ability to either manipulate matter at a molecular level, or manipulate genes. Unfortunately, that’s all I know. Probably all the little thing knows as well. You’ve got a few months yet to worry about that,” Atticus mused. “But I’d poke around, were I you, to get a general scope.”

Atticus raised his brows, “Of course that’s what good mothers do, Ms. Sloan.” Not that he would be an expert on the subject, but that seemed to be their general course of action.

“I wish you the best of luck with him. I don’t believe there’s anything else you should know about that I would have accurate information on. Do tell me, is all of that satisfactory to you? Does our deal still apply, this late in the game?”

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

“Heh—” Albert mused, in what one might assume was a slightly amused laugh. Not amused enough of course to be a full one, but enough so that it might come into existence. “Heh. Heh.” He smiled, pleasantly. His eyes unblinking and unwavering where they gazed as he tilted his head, almost like a bird. “You’re good…Very good. Bit like a—-CANARY. That’s it, a little canary bird, stringing pretty little words together and trying to please me in it’s own adorable fashion.” 

He licked his lips, leaning forward. “They say—-” He started, “A man is never his own—-until AFTER, not before, but AFTER his father is passed…” He paused slightly, “What do you think of that? Atty? Anything pretty or interesting to say about that? Or are you going to bore me?” 

“Most American’s think the way I speak is adorable. Thus far it’s worked, hopefully it works for you too.” Atticus toyed with fire. There was something in Albert’s eyes, and the knowledge of his disfavor in Continuance that told him he wasn’t getting out of this hotel room.

Atticus rolled his eyes up to Albert, “My father, for the purpose of this conversation, is dead. Sorry, mate.” Albert didn’t honestly care. Who cared for a boy who didn’t get along with his father? Certainly not his maniac.

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Since he looks pretty much the same in Main as he does in the PU, I figured I’d just put up one edit.

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Portal Opening

Unfortunately for Atticus, I believe he will be unable to see or participate in the opening of the portal. He will be otherwise preoccupied with other things in his, uh, life.

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Headcanon

Atticus is going to protect the information on Shay’s baby as best as he can. Though this initially sounds benevolent, and to some degree it is as he doesn’t want Continuance to do something that may actually harm the world, a larger part of it is that he wants any scientific breakthrough for himself, and he figures he won’t see it, so no one should be able to.

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Headcanon

Atticus realizes that his end is imminent, and now he's attempting to make amends for the wrongs in his life. Not for the sake of his victims, but mostly to soothe his own conscious and delude himself into "dying as a good person".

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Four Letter Words || Shay and Atticus || V7 W4 || Tuesday Evening

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shaysloan:

Shay was never really pleased by Atticus’ attitude, but even she had to admit that she being a bitch, not that Shay didn’t have a right to be. Still, the brunette was pissed off. He hadn’t contacted her about anything and that made her wonder whether Atticus was telling the truth about them possibly killing him.

“Doctor.” She raised her eyebrows at him, almost disdainfully, and took a seat at the opposite end of the bench. “I want all the information you have on my baby. Experiments. Test results. Conclusions. Embryo samples. Everything. I don’t care how you get it, just do it. And…I want to know Godfrey and Albert’s interest in it.”

“Oh,” Atticus hummed, surprised that the information she wanted was more specific this time, not so much about the key to dominating Continuance. “Well, that I can actually answer for you, mostly, questions about the baby. You’ll have to understand, some things are... still variable, as we haven’t seen an ability like this, at this caliber before, especially at the fetal stage. Or I haven’t well enough to fully enlighten you.”

“As may have been mentioned, at some point or another,” Atticus sighed, folding the paper up under his arm, glancing quickly across the landscape. “We determined the baby to have some form of molecukinesis and/or genokinesis, we couldn’t determine for sure, as the baby is still in the fetal stages. Don’t ask me how it works or how far it can go. That’s something more for a physicist, I’d believe. There’s prevailing opinion that the nano-genes had influence on the child’s ability, as well as the early onset. Trauma and nano-genes, made for a hell of an ability awakening.”

Atticus turned to Shay, “protect him. I understand... my faults. In endangering you- I know that doesn’t make it right, but it had to be said. And I want to apologize, Ms. Sloan. Continuance wants the baby for his abilities, as they’re... almighty. Or have the potential of being so.” Atticus pulled out a decently hefty manilla folder from his bag. “These are my case notes on you and the baby. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to get back into CC in order to get the samples and such. I’d wager they’ve put a block on my pass and I wouldn’t make it past the doors.”

Sighing, he zipped up the bag. “I’m more use to you alive. The case is, and forgive me for the flippancy, as a geneticist, amazing, fascinating. Something I’d probably think on for a very long time. If a term eludes you, don’t be afraid to message me. Now, in yours and the baby’s best interests, if I find myself dead, you’ll need to visit my home, in Boston, destroy the hard drive in the back office. Also find my laptop at my hotel if you can manage.” Atticus said, sighing and resting back against the bench. He found himself doing that a lot, as of late.

“The reason I request this after my death, as I mentioned, I’m more use alive. I can’t get to the hard stuff, but I have notes and hypotheses to go off of. May take a while, yet.”

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

“Poor, poor, poor Atticus. Hasn’t got his wits about him. Doesn’t know what this is all about.” He shrugged, making a face. “Still. I can’t stop things that must be in motion just because YOU don’t know. When you SHOULD, but DON’T. Just be glad I’m not ignoring you!” He giggled, “Just think. For one minute of this world rotating and groaning and screaming, you have your little moment of importance. IMPORTANT importance that is important, to you. A lot, to me a little. But you’re a beggar so you can’t choose. That’s not how the game is played.”  

He tilted his head to one side, then to another. Quickly, as if nodding to the tune of a song. “I’ll kill half a million people, and leave love notes on all their stones. Their headstones. Their gravestones. They’re all going to remember. But don’t worry Atticus, I’ll remember you.” He smiled, chuckling. “Heh. Heh. All these truths are being stripped away. Stripped away because…Oh, well because everyone’s been betrayed.” 

“As I keep reminding many people, I signed on as research, never meant to see the light of day lest it ended up personified on my laboratory table.” Atticus said, without inflection.

Per usual, Atticus had no idea what the man was on about, but nodded anyways. “Yes sir, I’m grateful for being remembered. Though, I’m still at a bit of a loss as to what the nature of this meeting is? Are you sending me out on a mission, sir?”

He honestly doubted that, but he remained optimistic. Possibly, Robert’s insanity would actually work to his benefit, for once.

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

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insanerthanthou:

“Fucking good evening—-” Albert pushed past him, repeating what he had said, almost mulling over it. “Well no.” He said quietly. “It’s not a good evening. For you at least. And there’s certainly nothing you can do for me.” He turned around to eye the other man, “I THINK—” He started, flexing a muscle in his shoulder casually. “It’s a question of WILL I do anything for YOU.” 

He gestured to a seat. “Sit.” He ordered. 

Atticus sat down, dipping his head for only a moment before looking back up at Albert. “Sir?” Atticus asked, not entirely sure what this meeting was about, but if the other man’s demeanor was anything to go off of, it was not going to be in his favor.

“I must ask, what is this about?”

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Heirlooms|| Henry and Atticus || V7 W2 || Tuesday Afternoon

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liveandliveagainforever:

“A noble profession.” Henry answered, his words to all appearances being courteous and putting up with the fellow. Innerwardly, he was highly irritated. “Weekdays, Nine AM to Five PM.” He said bluntly, “I take off on the weekends.” Of course, this wasn’t completely true, but he was about ready to order the stranger to leave his shop. He didn’t like him, Atticus put out a bad vibe that even Henry picked up on. 

“Relaxing?” Henry scoffed slightly. “The antique business, is a cutthroat one.” He smirked. “I have to do a lot of traveling to keep my store stocked, as there are in fact no major retailers of these items. But of course, you already knew that.” He smiled angelically. 

“If this is anything like retirement? I promise you, I’ll never retire.” He all but glared at the other man. 

“Oh, really? I suppose so. People can be... vicious, over relics. Mostly art, but I suppose furniture too. Kind of, bohemian?” Atticus mused, shrugging, looking at the shop again.

Atticus noted the glare and tried to smile at the other man, “workaholic then?” He prodded.

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Tune of Death || Albert and Atticus || V7 W4 || Friday Night

insanerthanthou

Atticus knew better than to open the door so late at night, especially since outside, anyone could be there, and he had asked for nothing in regards to room service, but nonetheless, he opened the damn door. “Oh, just fucking-good evening, Albert, sir.”

Pushing the door open a little more, and turning off the television- he wouldn’t need the white noise for much longer, he supposed, he waved Albert in. “What can I do for you, tonight?”

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Research Subject: Intangibility

Subject:  362610-5

Ability: Intangibility

SUBJECT appears to be able to pass through matter without any harm to them, and without teleportation. It seems that the ability is limited to matter that is directly in front of or behind them, as the subject has demonstrated an inability to go through the floor unless lying down.

Further Research required.