Post by Gabriel Baal on Jan 4, 2016 21:51:43 GMT -5
“Tell me about your dreams, Alan.”
Gabriel Baal’s piercing eyes seemed to burrow through the skin and bone of Alan Myer’s skull, penetrating deep into his mind. His stillness was eerie – the way he held himself akin to an assassin, readying himself for a shot. Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I don’t really know where to begin.”
Alan’s reply was honest, but there was something hidden within the words, something secret. Dr. Baal’s lips morphed into a knowing smile. He didn’t interrupt – he allowed the silence to build between them; he allowed Alan to consider what he would say next.
Alan Myer’s past was chequered. Arrested four years ago for assaulting his brother, he’d served almost half of his sentence when, at his first parole hearing, he’d been referred to Dr. Gabriel Baal for a psychiatric evaluation. This was the third meeting between the two men, and as of yet, Baal had made no decision on what the future held for his newest patient.
“I don’t remember my dreams, mainly. I’ve woken up a few times, and I can remember feeling frightened, but I can never remember what happened.”
Gabriel was unmoved, sat calmly with his chin resting across his middle finger, his index against his cheek. He said nothing, allowing the silence to build between them, not wanting to break his patient’s building tension. He did nothing, but allow his cold eyes bore into Alan, snapping at him – daring him.
“Look, doc, I know I’ve been ordered to be here, but if you could just sign me off then that would be a big help. You get your pay off and I can go back to my life.”
Alan shifted again. He tried to look nonchalant, but his unnatural posture and inability to remain still betrayed him. He was a man with a secret, a man who wanted this session to be over. Baal remained silent, surveying the man sat across from him. Eventually, he broke the silent wall that had started to build.
“I’m not an impatient man, Alan. I have as much time as we need – I can clear my schedule and we can continue until I’m certain I’ve got the measure of you. The last thing I intend to do is sign off on our visits without being satisfied that you’re not a danger.”
It was Alan’s turn to curve his mouth into a smile – but not one of knowing. Alan’s face had curled into a sneer.
“Fucking quack. You’re just like the rest – you want your pay off and you want to make me squirm in the process. You think you’re a god. You think because it’s your word that frees me that you’re in control. Well fuck you. This is my world and you’re just a fucking pawn living in it.”
“Alan - I’m not your enemy. I’m here to help you. Your aggression shows you have clear anger management issues – there is a potential that you’ll be a danger to the public.”
Baal climbed to his feet and walked towards his desk. Alan’s restlessness became more pronounced as Baal turned his back. He pulled a black cigar box towards himself and slowly began to manipulate the contents. Climbing to his feet, Alan picked up a large phrenology model from the desk and began to walk towards Baal, his back still turned. As Alan lifted the statue, Baal spoke.
“Would you like to hear how I came by my name?”
The question seemed to take Alan by surprise, and his momentary hesitation allowed Gabriel to spin with a speed and fluidity that were terrifying to behold. Those cold eyes were finally alight with malice, his mouth twisted into a sneer of his own. With his left hand he deflected the arm holding the statue which fell to the floor with an unforgiving thud. With his right, he sunk a needled syringe into the neck of his would-be attacker. Alan’s eyes widened in shock, Baal quickly shifting position and catching Alan’s sudden dead weight, with a strength betraying his smaller size, before resting him back into the chair.
Myer’s eyes widened in shock as he slowly began to sink into the seat. His eyes were wide now, terrified, his lips moving but no sound came forth.
Gabriel pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the syringe inside. He dropped the wrapping into the waste paper basket at the side of his desk, and turned his gaze back onto Alan.
Baal slowly but assuredly retook his seat. He slowly crossed his right leg over the left. Alan’s still conscious figure was staring into the Doctor’s eyes, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t react.
“My father was a cruel man, or so my mother tells it. I wouldn't know as I’ve never met him. His name was Lucius Baal. Lucius - a demonic name if ever there was one. His brand of evil, however, was his ability to manipulate. He seduced my mother, leaving her with child before disappearing from whence he came.”
Baal retook his previous position. Arm bent at the elbow and his chin resting upon his middle finger.
“Many have said that such a man could only be the devil in human form. I’m not sure I believe that. I think he was a mortal, named for the devil and his favourite demon. An unfortunate combination, and one my mother refused to pass down to me. Of course, the name Baal would be with me for the remainder of my life – proud that she was, she spun a story that my father had died, tragically just weeks before my birth. She chose a name that would, in her opinion, allow balance within my life. Gabriel. The Angel sent from the heavens to herald the birth of the son of her god. In my name she would use the angel to offset demon within.”
Baal smiled, before shifting to sit on the couch next to Alan. He leaned close, his voice lowered, as if avoiding being overheard by whatever malevolence that could be potentially present.
“I’m not sure the balance is quite right, Alan. Sometimes I feel the demon, sometimes the angel. They’re both with me, always. Pushing me, guiding me. So here I am presented with that most common of problems. Do I listen to the angel or the demon?”
With that water-like movement, Baal is upon his feet once more. He strides to his desk and presses the intercom.
“Vanessa – could you please send two orderlies to my office. I’ve had to subdue Mr. Myer.”
“Are you alright, sir? Do you need any medical attention?”
“No, my dear, I appreciate your concern but I’m unharmed. If you can just send for the orderlies. That will be all.”
Lifting his finger from the intercom, Baal scratched across his brow. The battle within his mind continuing to rage on. Finally, he smiled.
“Alas – as happens all too often, Alan. One side shouts that little bit louder than the other.”
The door to the office opens as the two men in white uniforms enter the room.
“Gentlemen, thank you. Mr. Myer has suffered a paranoid delusion – I feel the time is right for him to move to our facility. Could you please take him to the Maximum Security wing? I wouldn’t want for anyone else to be placed in danger. I’ll smooth things over with the warden at Oakwell.”
Without word, Alan Myer is lifted between the two large looking men. They exchange no pleasantries as the newest patient is escorted from the room. Despite his motionless face, his eyes show a pleading that borders on begging. Baal offers no sense that he’s noticed. As the door closes behind him, Gabriel turns to his desk once more and looks to the black and white picture upon his desk.
“Another for the army my dear. It’s almost enough to break my heart.”
He added, his voice sounding momentarily wistful, but that disappeared only to be replaced by the look upon his face. A strange kind of glee. His cold eyes were burning again – another victory.
Running his finger over the image of a beautiful young woman, he turns his back to the desk, reaching back and pressing the intercom one more time.
“Vanessa, my dear. Who’s next?”
Lilith hadn’t always been named Lilith – this was the only thing she and Gabriel Baal had in common, and she wasn’t even sure if it was true. This life, this world, this relationship had changed almost everything about her. She wasn’t unhappy about this, on the contrary, in fact. Her old life was boring, mundane – normal. Having met Gabriel she’d seen and done things that she never thought she ever would, but sometimes, when she stared at him reading his books, or writing papers, Lilith felt alone.
“How was your day?”
He asked, in that matter of fact tone that he’d always used. He never seemed interested really – and why would he be? His work was so important, what could she have done with her day that could ever register on his scale? She was a former student of his – three years ago she had graduated from University and walked straight into a job at Angelfields. She was a therapist, dealing mainly with couples who had marital issues.
“Fine – I met with an interesting couple. She fantasized about having sex with her boss, and he kept staring at my feet.”
“I’m not surprised – they’re exquisite.”
He knew just what to say – just how to make her blush. Blush she did, of course, as she always did. Yet he’d not seen his effect, his nose still buried into one of his books. Always trying to learn.
“How about you? Good day?”
She expected his usual response – that he couldn’t discuss it. The work was too important to jeopardise. Yet she asked anyway – she’d not changed so much that she’d forgotten the manors her mom had taught her. His response, however, was less cold than normal.
“Today was a good day – I managed to prevent what could have been a serious incident and… Well, you know I can’t go much further, but yes. Today was a good day.”
She loved his accent – despite having grown up in London, his education had been of a high standard. Not that he talked about it much – not that he talked about anything much. Still, that wonderfully formal British accent that, at times, slipped to show hints of the Londoner beneath still gave her shivers.
“I’m glad to hear it. Did you pick up your mail?”
“I did.”
His answer was short, as always revealing little. Lilith allowed herself a moment of hope, that he would volunteer more without having to be cajoled but suffice to say that was never going to happen.
“And? Did you hear anything?”
“The contract has arrived – I’ve sent it to Waylon to check over, but should everything be in order I’ll likely debut on the eleventh.”
He said, briefly lifting his head and smiling in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat – those eyes, those beautiful eyes. She could feel her knees weakening a little, and a warmth started to spread within her.
“That sounds wonderful. You’ll be wonderful.”
If she hadn’t said the words herself, she’d couldn’t have been sure she’d said them. Her voice was breathier than usual, quieter. Gabriel noticed himself as he looked up again and met her gaze. The right side of his mouth slowly twitched into a smile. Closing the book, he climbed to his feet and walked around the table. He looked her in the eyes and spoke.
“Pareo.”
His voice was firm, and she knew what to do. She instantly dropped to her knees in front of him, her head bowed, her hands on her lap. She closed her eyes, as she’d been instructed all those years ago. She felt his fingers on her shoulders, and then her neck. Finally, she felt them entwine into her hair. His fingers pulled tight and she could feel some of the strands break free from their roots. She made no sound, even as he wrenched her head back to look into his eyes.
“Quiritatio.”
And she heard her own wail, she felt the tears suddenly run from her eyes like melting ice. She felt the wonderful emotion of letting go. She was his, and she was complete.
Gabriel left the bedroom, naked and disinterested. Lilith lay on the bed cradling her knees, the welts on her back slowly becoming bruises. It was in this moments he despised her – the weakness. He looked down to his chest, bleeding from the deep scratches that come from their coupling. He reached down and collected a single droplet of blood from the deepest scratch and placed it on his tongue. The spoils of war.
“I expect you to be out within the hour.”
He shouted back. She didn’t move – she didn’t answer. He couldn’t look at her when she was like this. Months it had been, months since she’d had this kind of reaction. He thought she’d learnt. He thought she’d grown. He’d been wrong. Deep down she was still the girl masquerading as a woman. She still clung to the pathetic notion of love. It wasn’t so much the fact that she couldn’t take the pain. He expected those moments where the pleasure just wasn’t enough to bloke out the agony. It was her reaction.
“And don’t come back until you’ve learnt your lesson – girl.”
She moved now – part of him hoped she would fight, that she would show him that she was more than just this empty, wearying vessel that had asked him to hold her. Hold her.
“I’m sorry Gabriel. I will do better – please, don’t make me go.”
Begging – even weaker than he’d thought. She was revolting to him right now. She made him sick to his stomach – how could he have given her all that he had. How could he have been so wrong about her? How could he have been so mistaken?
“Get out you worthless harlot. I believed in you – I trusted in you to have the strength and you show me... This?”
He gestured with his hand, palm faced up from her head to her toes. He naked, damaged form now shielded by the lack of will. Her failure repulsed him. Right on cue, she further proved his point by yet again bursting into tears and running back to the bedroom.
Baal walked to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and started to drink. He looked down at his contract and saw a second sheet underneath – a rundown of the card for his debut event. He briefly looked it over, taking in his opponent for his first match. Colton Cutter – yet another debuting superstar.
He picked up his cell and flicked to a browser. A few seconds later and he’d found Cutter’s profile, along with the links to his social media sites. Baal forwarded this links to a predetermined inbox and would wait for the results – social media was so telling these days, especially if you could access the accounts directly.
Still, the profile was telling enough. Confident, brash – his biography was a clichéd mix of superlatives and overcompensation. Baal had seen enough of this from the sociopaths in his High Security wing to know just what kind of response this man would require. Words like “hatred of humanity” and “parasite”. Words often used by men who want to make themselves appear more important than they really are.
After a few more clicks, Baal had found himself watching a number of long monologues. Of course, they were self-aggrandizing pieces of propaganda meant to strike fear into the hearts of opponents and viewers alike. Beneath it all, however, Baal could almost taste the insecurity. It was a definitive cliché that there would be “nothing he won’t do attain what he wants.” – by definition, anyone would do whatever it takes to win – if you’re not in it to win, then why show up at all?
After a while, it became more and more clear that this was yet another insecure child with delusions of grandeur. It would be a pleasure and a privilege to put Colton Cutter back in his place – with the rest of the dysfunctional family that UGWC has to offer. He mused that this may well be more fun than he could have ever imagined.
He lowered his phone as Lilith re-emerged, fully dressed with her head bowed. She walked towards the door, her bag hung over her shoulder before Gabriel spoke again.
“Lilith.”
His voice was tender, calm, even loving in some ways. She turned to face him, her big brown eyes filled with longing, hope – pleading.
“Use this as an experience to learn from and when you feel you’re strong enough to prevent a disappointment like this again, give me a call. We may be able to salvage something from this yet, savvy?”
She made no sound, but her tears were telling. They rolled down her cheeks as she stood and stared at him.
“But for now – Dimisit.”
The words seemed to hit her like a truck – her knees buckled slightly, her hands reached out to the wall and she failed to stifle the wail. Baal turned his back, lifting the bottle of water to his lips again. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as she continued to ball.
“Pathetic.”
He muttered under his breath, before walking away one more time, leaving her alone with her grief.
Gabriel Baal’s piercing eyes seemed to burrow through the skin and bone of Alan Myer’s skull, penetrating deep into his mind. His stillness was eerie – the way he held himself akin to an assassin, readying himself for a shot. Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“I don’t really know where to begin.”
Alan’s reply was honest, but there was something hidden within the words, something secret. Dr. Baal’s lips morphed into a knowing smile. He didn’t interrupt – he allowed the silence to build between them; he allowed Alan to consider what he would say next.
Alan Myer’s past was chequered. Arrested four years ago for assaulting his brother, he’d served almost half of his sentence when, at his first parole hearing, he’d been referred to Dr. Gabriel Baal for a psychiatric evaluation. This was the third meeting between the two men, and as of yet, Baal had made no decision on what the future held for his newest patient.
“I don’t remember my dreams, mainly. I’ve woken up a few times, and I can remember feeling frightened, but I can never remember what happened.”
Gabriel was unmoved, sat calmly with his chin resting across his middle finger, his index against his cheek. He said nothing, allowing the silence to build between them, not wanting to break his patient’s building tension. He did nothing, but allow his cold eyes bore into Alan, snapping at him – daring him.
“Look, doc, I know I’ve been ordered to be here, but if you could just sign me off then that would be a big help. You get your pay off and I can go back to my life.”
Alan shifted again. He tried to look nonchalant, but his unnatural posture and inability to remain still betrayed him. He was a man with a secret, a man who wanted this session to be over. Baal remained silent, surveying the man sat across from him. Eventually, he broke the silent wall that had started to build.
“I’m not an impatient man, Alan. I have as much time as we need – I can clear my schedule and we can continue until I’m certain I’ve got the measure of you. The last thing I intend to do is sign off on our visits without being satisfied that you’re not a danger.”
It was Alan’s turn to curve his mouth into a smile – but not one of knowing. Alan’s face had curled into a sneer.
“Fucking quack. You’re just like the rest – you want your pay off and you want to make me squirm in the process. You think you’re a god. You think because it’s your word that frees me that you’re in control. Well fuck you. This is my world and you’re just a fucking pawn living in it.”
“Alan - I’m not your enemy. I’m here to help you. Your aggression shows you have clear anger management issues – there is a potential that you’ll be a danger to the public.”
Baal climbed to his feet and walked towards his desk. Alan’s restlessness became more pronounced as Baal turned his back. He pulled a black cigar box towards himself and slowly began to manipulate the contents. Climbing to his feet, Alan picked up a large phrenology model from the desk and began to walk towards Baal, his back still turned. As Alan lifted the statue, Baal spoke.
“Would you like to hear how I came by my name?”
The question seemed to take Alan by surprise, and his momentary hesitation allowed Gabriel to spin with a speed and fluidity that were terrifying to behold. Those cold eyes were finally alight with malice, his mouth twisted into a sneer of his own. With his left hand he deflected the arm holding the statue which fell to the floor with an unforgiving thud. With his right, he sunk a needled syringe into the neck of his would-be attacker. Alan’s eyes widened in shock, Baal quickly shifting position and catching Alan’s sudden dead weight, with a strength betraying his smaller size, before resting him back into the chair.
Myer’s eyes widened in shock as he slowly began to sink into the seat. His eyes were wide now, terrified, his lips moving but no sound came forth.
Gabriel pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped the syringe inside. He dropped the wrapping into the waste paper basket at the side of his desk, and turned his gaze back onto Alan.
Baal slowly but assuredly retook his seat. He slowly crossed his right leg over the left. Alan’s still conscious figure was staring into the Doctor’s eyes, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t react.
“My father was a cruel man, or so my mother tells it. I wouldn't know as I’ve never met him. His name was Lucius Baal. Lucius - a demonic name if ever there was one. His brand of evil, however, was his ability to manipulate. He seduced my mother, leaving her with child before disappearing from whence he came.”
Baal retook his previous position. Arm bent at the elbow and his chin resting upon his middle finger.
“Many have said that such a man could only be the devil in human form. I’m not sure I believe that. I think he was a mortal, named for the devil and his favourite demon. An unfortunate combination, and one my mother refused to pass down to me. Of course, the name Baal would be with me for the remainder of my life – proud that she was, she spun a story that my father had died, tragically just weeks before my birth. She chose a name that would, in her opinion, allow balance within my life. Gabriel. The Angel sent from the heavens to herald the birth of the son of her god. In my name she would use the angel to offset demon within.”
Baal smiled, before shifting to sit on the couch next to Alan. He leaned close, his voice lowered, as if avoiding being overheard by whatever malevolence that could be potentially present.
“I’m not sure the balance is quite right, Alan. Sometimes I feel the demon, sometimes the angel. They’re both with me, always. Pushing me, guiding me. So here I am presented with that most common of problems. Do I listen to the angel or the demon?”
With that water-like movement, Baal is upon his feet once more. He strides to his desk and presses the intercom.
“Vanessa – could you please send two orderlies to my office. I’ve had to subdue Mr. Myer.”
“Are you alright, sir? Do you need any medical attention?”
“No, my dear, I appreciate your concern but I’m unharmed. If you can just send for the orderlies. That will be all.”
Lifting his finger from the intercom, Baal scratched across his brow. The battle within his mind continuing to rage on. Finally, he smiled.
“Alas – as happens all too often, Alan. One side shouts that little bit louder than the other.”
The door to the office opens as the two men in white uniforms enter the room.
“Gentlemen, thank you. Mr. Myer has suffered a paranoid delusion – I feel the time is right for him to move to our facility. Could you please take him to the Maximum Security wing? I wouldn’t want for anyone else to be placed in danger. I’ll smooth things over with the warden at Oakwell.”
Without word, Alan Myer is lifted between the two large looking men. They exchange no pleasantries as the newest patient is escorted from the room. Despite his motionless face, his eyes show a pleading that borders on begging. Baal offers no sense that he’s noticed. As the door closes behind him, Gabriel turns to his desk once more and looks to the black and white picture upon his desk.
“Another for the army my dear. It’s almost enough to break my heart.”
He added, his voice sounding momentarily wistful, but that disappeared only to be replaced by the look upon his face. A strange kind of glee. His cold eyes were burning again – another victory.
Running his finger over the image of a beautiful young woman, he turns his back to the desk, reaching back and pressing the intercom one more time.
“Vanessa, my dear. Who’s next?”
Lilith hadn’t always been named Lilith – this was the only thing she and Gabriel Baal had in common, and she wasn’t even sure if it was true. This life, this world, this relationship had changed almost everything about her. She wasn’t unhappy about this, on the contrary, in fact. Her old life was boring, mundane – normal. Having met Gabriel she’d seen and done things that she never thought she ever would, but sometimes, when she stared at him reading his books, or writing papers, Lilith felt alone.
“How was your day?”
He asked, in that matter of fact tone that he’d always used. He never seemed interested really – and why would he be? His work was so important, what could she have done with her day that could ever register on his scale? She was a former student of his – three years ago she had graduated from University and walked straight into a job at Angelfields. She was a therapist, dealing mainly with couples who had marital issues.
“Fine – I met with an interesting couple. She fantasized about having sex with her boss, and he kept staring at my feet.”
“I’m not surprised – they’re exquisite.”
He knew just what to say – just how to make her blush. Blush she did, of course, as she always did. Yet he’d not seen his effect, his nose still buried into one of his books. Always trying to learn.
“How about you? Good day?”
She expected his usual response – that he couldn’t discuss it. The work was too important to jeopardise. Yet she asked anyway – she’d not changed so much that she’d forgotten the manors her mom had taught her. His response, however, was less cold than normal.
“Today was a good day – I managed to prevent what could have been a serious incident and… Well, you know I can’t go much further, but yes. Today was a good day.”
She loved his accent – despite having grown up in London, his education had been of a high standard. Not that he talked about it much – not that he talked about anything much. Still, that wonderfully formal British accent that, at times, slipped to show hints of the Londoner beneath still gave her shivers.
“I’m glad to hear it. Did you pick up your mail?”
“I did.”
His answer was short, as always revealing little. Lilith allowed herself a moment of hope, that he would volunteer more without having to be cajoled but suffice to say that was never going to happen.
“And? Did you hear anything?”
“The contract has arrived – I’ve sent it to Waylon to check over, but should everything be in order I’ll likely debut on the eleventh.”
He said, briefly lifting his head and smiling in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat – those eyes, those beautiful eyes. She could feel her knees weakening a little, and a warmth started to spread within her.
“That sounds wonderful. You’ll be wonderful.”
If she hadn’t said the words herself, she’d couldn’t have been sure she’d said them. Her voice was breathier than usual, quieter. Gabriel noticed himself as he looked up again and met her gaze. The right side of his mouth slowly twitched into a smile. Closing the book, he climbed to his feet and walked around the table. He looked her in the eyes and spoke.
“Pareo.”
His voice was firm, and she knew what to do. She instantly dropped to her knees in front of him, her head bowed, her hands on her lap. She closed her eyes, as she’d been instructed all those years ago. She felt his fingers on her shoulders, and then her neck. Finally, she felt them entwine into her hair. His fingers pulled tight and she could feel some of the strands break free from their roots. She made no sound, even as he wrenched her head back to look into his eyes.
“Quiritatio.”
And she heard her own wail, she felt the tears suddenly run from her eyes like melting ice. She felt the wonderful emotion of letting go. She was his, and she was complete.
Gabriel left the bedroom, naked and disinterested. Lilith lay on the bed cradling her knees, the welts on her back slowly becoming bruises. It was in this moments he despised her – the weakness. He looked down to his chest, bleeding from the deep scratches that come from their coupling. He reached down and collected a single droplet of blood from the deepest scratch and placed it on his tongue. The spoils of war.
“I expect you to be out within the hour.”
He shouted back. She didn’t move – she didn’t answer. He couldn’t look at her when she was like this. Months it had been, months since she’d had this kind of reaction. He thought she’d learnt. He thought she’d grown. He’d been wrong. Deep down she was still the girl masquerading as a woman. She still clung to the pathetic notion of love. It wasn’t so much the fact that she couldn’t take the pain. He expected those moments where the pleasure just wasn’t enough to bloke out the agony. It was her reaction.
“And don’t come back until you’ve learnt your lesson – girl.”
She moved now – part of him hoped she would fight, that she would show him that she was more than just this empty, wearying vessel that had asked him to hold her. Hold her.
“I’m sorry Gabriel. I will do better – please, don’t make me go.”
Begging – even weaker than he’d thought. She was revolting to him right now. She made him sick to his stomach – how could he have given her all that he had. How could he have been so wrong about her? How could he have been so mistaken?
“Get out you worthless harlot. I believed in you – I trusted in you to have the strength and you show me... This?”
He gestured with his hand, palm faced up from her head to her toes. He naked, damaged form now shielded by the lack of will. Her failure repulsed him. Right on cue, she further proved his point by yet again bursting into tears and running back to the bedroom.
Baal walked to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. He pulled out a bottle of water and started to drink. He looked down at his contract and saw a second sheet underneath – a rundown of the card for his debut event. He briefly looked it over, taking in his opponent for his first match. Colton Cutter – yet another debuting superstar.
He picked up his cell and flicked to a browser. A few seconds later and he’d found Cutter’s profile, along with the links to his social media sites. Baal forwarded this links to a predetermined inbox and would wait for the results – social media was so telling these days, especially if you could access the accounts directly.
Still, the profile was telling enough. Confident, brash – his biography was a clichéd mix of superlatives and overcompensation. Baal had seen enough of this from the sociopaths in his High Security wing to know just what kind of response this man would require. Words like “hatred of humanity” and “parasite”. Words often used by men who want to make themselves appear more important than they really are.
After a few more clicks, Baal had found himself watching a number of long monologues. Of course, they were self-aggrandizing pieces of propaganda meant to strike fear into the hearts of opponents and viewers alike. Beneath it all, however, Baal could almost taste the insecurity. It was a definitive cliché that there would be “nothing he won’t do attain what he wants.” – by definition, anyone would do whatever it takes to win – if you’re not in it to win, then why show up at all?
After a while, it became more and more clear that this was yet another insecure child with delusions of grandeur. It would be a pleasure and a privilege to put Colton Cutter back in his place – with the rest of the dysfunctional family that UGWC has to offer. He mused that this may well be more fun than he could have ever imagined.
He lowered his phone as Lilith re-emerged, fully dressed with her head bowed. She walked towards the door, her bag hung over her shoulder before Gabriel spoke again.
“Lilith.”
His voice was tender, calm, even loving in some ways. She turned to face him, her big brown eyes filled with longing, hope – pleading.
“Use this as an experience to learn from and when you feel you’re strong enough to prevent a disappointment like this again, give me a call. We may be able to salvage something from this yet, savvy?”
She made no sound, but her tears were telling. They rolled down her cheeks as she stood and stared at him.
“But for now – Dimisit.”
The words seemed to hit her like a truck – her knees buckled slightly, her hands reached out to the wall and she failed to stifle the wail. Baal turned his back, lifting the bottle of water to his lips again. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as she continued to ball.
“Pathetic.”
He muttered under his breath, before walking away one more time, leaving her alone with her grief.
