[ Being nuked was a damn nasty way to go out. It took Flagg who knows how many years to pull himself together; all he knows is by the time he finally makes it back to the Vegas-that-was the dust and debris had all settled down. Buried deep within the part of him that was still human, there was an ache in his heart that came from standing on the bones of his old kingdom. If you weren't there you'd never know it was a city at all, it had been so thoroughly leveled.
It wasn't the former city that called out to him now, but rather a small fragment of something else he'd lost. He crouches down where the feeling hits him hardest, his fingers rifling through the sand and debris until he pulled out a small black stone with a red flaw.
Lloyd's. No doubt, all that was left of him.
Reviving someone without so much as a single bone to work with would be a difficult task, but it was worth a try. The stone contained something that bound them both together, so it could be done.
He stands still and squeezes the stone with both hands, whispering words he'd read in some forbidden tome centuries back. Words that'd drive most ordinary men to madness if they were around to hear them. A small pulse emanates from the stone. He squeezes harder, inhuman language rolling off his tongue smooth as silk. A strange liquid starts to drip from his clenched hands, mostly black but with some bright swirls of red as the rock melts away and begins to reform. It moves and shifts of its own free will, growing larger and larger until there's nothing left of the stone in Flagg's hands.
A great dark portal yawns out in front of him. He plunges a hand in, feeling around for any sign of life. It occurs to him, briefly, that trying to summon Lloyd in the same way he'd summon up some fellow creature from Todash space might have some strange effects on the boy, but it was that or nothing. Being revived as he'd revive a regular human required a partial body and Lloyd didn't have any remains.
His hand finds another in the darkness, limp and cold. He grasps it, his warmth spreading throughout the other body until it started to stir with life that wasn't quite right - a little too warm to be a completely human, just like him - but was life all the same.
He starts to pull away from the portal, Lloyd's hand clasped in his own. Then came the rest of him, naked and drenched in what could only be described as liquid shadow. Flagg'd conjure up some clothes for him. Maybe one of those tacky colorful shirts he liked so much.
(He'll be angry, Flagg thinks. Patience isn't his strong suit, compassion even less so, but he's trying to prepare himself for an adverse reaction.)
The portal closes up into nothingness, leaving Flagg and Lloyd alone in the desolated New Vegas. He cups Lloyd's face in one hand, looking him in the eyes as they go from glassy and vacant to bright and aware. Good, there's a soul in there after all. ]
Howdy, Lloyd.
[ If Lloyd was gonna freak out, he was gonna freak out whether or not Flagg started rambling off some long explanation, so may as well leave it at 'howdy' for now and give the real juicy details when he's calmed the fuck down. ]
[ His death had been instantaneous, that much was certain. Anything that happened after wasn't his problem. Their empire had kind of been fucked out from under their feet. He doesn't know where the hell he went after.. there wasn't really anything. Just non-existence. Certainly no damn afterlife.
And then there's awareness. It starts off with the feeling of being present, but not where. Like being on the edge of sleep and trying to chase it down again. Vast darkness is next, and it feels both hot and cold. He feels it down to his core, alighting his veins like the sweetest addictive poison.
Everything happens all at once, like staring at a pinprick of light at the end of a tunnel and coming out the other side, half-blinded. His chest shudders with a gasp and he can feel his limbs trembling, his skin feeling too hot and wet. He can only describe it in his head like being covered in jelly. Vision coming into focus, Flagg commands all of his attention as he always does. Did. No. No no, fuck this. Fuck him. He was dead and he never fucking asked him-- ]
Asshole! [ He doesn't really think about it before he does it, shoving at Flagg's chest with both hands in protest. He shuffles back a few feet, not really trusting his legs to take him further, hands clenching into fists and expression full of fury. ]
I-- how-- what the fuck did you do t' me?! [ Lloyd points an accusatory finger at the man who always seems to loom over everything. His savior and his undoing. His eyes dart around, only now noticing the total destruction surrounding them, the wind of anger leaving him in a bluster of confusion. What the fuck? ]
[ It stings more than he expects when Lloyd gets angry at him. His lips curl into a snarl when he's shoved back, but he manages to keep himself from snapping. The last thing he needs to do is scare Lloyd off.
He stares down at the wet handprints on his shirt, and regards Lloyd with some curiosity. There's a warmth to his touch that would suggest, in most humans, a fever so high that it's fatal, but Lloyd doesn't seem to be in pain. ]
Hm. [ He steps forward and touches Lloyd's cheek, leaving his hand there for as long as he would let him without recoiling. Still warm. And there was something else that shouldn't be there, too. Something both familiar (in that he carries it with him all the time) and alien (in that he's never felt it in anybody else).
Could it be -
Some weirdness was to be expected when someone was so thoroughly obliterated that an entirely new body had to be created for them. And, come to think of it, as much as the stone had a little bit of Lloyd inside of it, it had a little bit of Flagg, too. It was funny, really, that if Lloyd had to come back a little less human he'd be a little less human in this specific way. Lloyd might not find it so funny. Flagg would leave the subject alone until Lloyd realized something was off and brought it up himself. ] I brought you back from the dead, my friend, and if you don't have a 'thank you' in ya right now, that's alright.
[ He's trying, god is he trying, to muster up some patience for someone else for what might be the first time in centuries. His grin is tense and carries some malice with it (how dare you speak to me that way) but fuck, he's trying. ]
D'you want some help getting cleaned up or do you fancy walking around the wasteland covered in muck?
[ There's a swell of different emotions passing through him fast enough that his head hurts from it. He's still angry because it's hard to forget being left in the dark, that Flagg hadn't given him any sort of reassurance or sign that he had still been doing right by him. There'd been questions and doubts and everything happened all at once and it was just so fucked up.. Hell, he knows he'd been wrong in the end, but if Flagg had just said fucking something..
The expression on Flagg's face scares him, he's seen that expression leveled at someone else before and it was never good, but not enough to apologize for it yet. Lloyd feels.. different. Certainly not like himself. Maybe that was just a side effect of dying. Like a film making his skin feel just a little too tight. His hands drop to his sides and lets that hand stay on his face as he really looks at the destruction as Flagg talks.
Brought back.. There's a heavy implication there he can't really look at right now, and he knows he's already toeing a line being obstinate in front of the man that brought him back from the dead. Funny, he doesn't feel dead. Though he doesn't know how dead's supposed to feel either. ]
You.. why? [ He knows before he died the line he'd crossed, so why would Flagg bring him back when he'd broken the rule. Why not just find someone else, because he looks untouched by it all. Lloyd shifts, suddenly aware of his nakedness and the grime covering his body, and wrinkles his nose in distaste. He doesn't give a shit about the nakedness, but that ichor that clings to his skin feels... dark as anything. ]
Because you're my right-hand man, Lloyd, and if you didn't exactly deliver on your promise I didn't deliver on mine, either.
[ Flagg doesn't like admitting fault but in the time he's had to reflect he knows that he let his people down. He was consumed by his need to destroy anything that opposes him and in doing so he took everything and everyone who was close to him down with it. Just as he's done time and time again.
He could always feel that destructive compulsion taking over but he could never do anything to stop it. It's my nature, said the scorpion to the frog as they both drowned.
In any case, admitting he'd messed up was easier than admitting that some part of him he usually tried to ignore genuinely missed Lloyd Henreid. How dare you make me feel that way, he thought, I ought to kill you again.
But he didn't. And he wouldn't.
He waved his hand and Lloyd was clean again, the dark ichor banished back to where it came from (though it might disappoint Lloyd to realize that only some of that lingering darkness vanished with it). Then, from behind his back he pulls out a folded bundle of clothes and offers them to Lloyd: one of those tacky, loud shirts, pants what were too tight, a belt with a ridiculous buckle, and bright red shoes. A peace offering, see? He'd even conjured up that awful ruby ring of his. ]
Feel better? [ Kind of a ridiculous thing to ask someone who just got unwillingly necromanced and hadn't even realized that not all of his humanity came back with him, but Flagg's smile suggests the question is sincere. Emotional care isn't something he's used to providing. ]
[ He contemplates the words, brow furrowed in apprehension. It's a sound enough reason, Lloyd had told him as much before everything went to hell, but there's still a part of him that's unsure. That feels spurned. It's nothing that he'll put voice to, but if Flagg really wanted to know, it wouldn't be hard. Lloyd has always been easy for him to figure out.
Shoulders slumping in relief, Lloyd takes the clothes with a muttered thanks. He does feel better once he's dressed, more like himself, though that skin-tight feeling doesn't disappear. He smooths his fingers through his hair to give it some kind of order though he doesn't much care. The nervous energy builds and he'd do pretty much fucking anything for a damn cigarette or some coke. Something to give him a short burst of focus or a fix. ]
Yeah. [ More put together, at least. He spins the ring around his finger with the opposite index finger and thumb to try and channel some of the jitters. His head feels a bit tight, though he's not sure if it's from whatever the fuck just happened to him or something else. He's got no appetite, which is unusual. Probably some sort of death-defying trauma side effect or whatever.
Lloyd casts another hard look over the rubble before turning his focus back to Flagg. ]
[ He senses the hesitation, but doesn't say anything about it for now. If it persists it'll become a problem. If it's temporary, well, he'll be annoyed but he can't say he doesn't deserve it. ]
I don't think there's anything left for us in this world. [ No more Vegas. Most of the people left are lone wanderers or people who've already fallen to Boulder's sway. Flagg's done with it all. Damn the old witch and her cohorts, they can toil onwards in a dead world for all he cares.
This world's moved on, as an old friend of his might say. Trying to bring it back's a futile endeavor. ]
But there are other worlds. Lots of 'em. Some like Earth, some not. We could go to a different decade, or to a world where Kennedy wasn't assassinated, or one where the superflu never hit. We could even go to mine, though it's not much to look at these days. [ He takes a few steps away from Lloyd, hands on his hips as he surveys the horizon like open frontier. ] The universe is our oyster.
[ Bribing Lloyd with the promises of alternate universes and time travel will, he hopes, interest him enough to stick by his side for a while.
Or he could stay here, alone. If he really wants to. But who wants to be alone in an apocalypse? ]
[ Flagg went through the effort of bringing him back, so he's at least confident in the fact that he's wanted around. He even brought him an outfit with a little flair and his favorite ring.. so he's trying to make peace in the way that he can. Lloyd's not making it easy for him, but he's not going to apologize. He thinks his feelings are justified, given the circumstances.
He's confused by this world, but thankfully doesn't have to wait long for an explanation. With someone like Flagg, it shouldn't come as a surprise that there's more than one possibility. That man's not of any sort of earth Lloyd knows about, so it's not out of the question. Something like this is probably easy peasy for someone like him. Not for someone like Lloyd, who feels a bit dumbfounded and hooked once again on those velvety sweet words promising a different life- things he couldn't imagine.
He's had enough of being alone, and he'd promised to worship the ground the dark man walked upon. He'll still do it, but his whole heart's not in it yet. ]
You want to come with me. [ He chuckles. Just like 'follow me or die in prison', 'come with me or stay here' isn't much of a choice. Nonetheless, Lloyd's decision pleases him. ]
Any requests?
[ Like he's a rock star who wants to play Lloyd's favorite song. Pick a time, pick a place, baby. ]
[ Where would he even go if he didn't follow Flagg? He couldn't go to Boulder after everything that happened, and he certainly wouldn't make it there on his own.
Left with endless possibilities of where to go, Lloyd doesn't know where to even begin and he shakes his head. ]
[ It is a lot, for someone who's been stuck in one world their entire life, to take their pick of them now. If they don't like the one they end up in, they can always leave, anyway.
He reaches out like he's twisting an invisible doorknob, and the fabric of reality itself seems to tear when he pulls it back, leaving a doorway-sized portal to another world. It's night time, in a big city full of lights (if Flagg had to guess he'd say New York) and perhaps most surprisingly to Lloyd, full of people. Far from the desolation of this world. ] Bid farewell to your home-world; you'll probably never see it again.
[ But before Lloyd has time to get a word in, Flagg's arm is wrapped around his shoulders and he's being dragged through the door. It was somewhat sarcastic, anyway, leaving your home-world for good can be sad but Lloyd was never treated like anything but garbage in his until Flagg came along. What was there to miss?
Going through the door is kind of like that sensation of falling you get sometimes when you're half-asleep. A quick rush that knocks the wind out of you, then you realize you're still on solid ground. There's the ambiance of people chatting as they walk by, the air is cold (Flagg guesses by the way his breath comes out like steam, he doesn't really feel cold anymore), and no one seems to take active notice of the two new arrivals although some people seem briefly unsettled and then cross the street to avoid them.
Darkness folds around the two travelers like a comforting blanket. At night and in the shadows they'll be seen only when they want to be seen. See? That's a perk! Flagg looks around at the lighted billboards for any sign of the date, and though he can't make out an exact day he finds one advertising an upcoming concert on October 20th, 1981. ]
Ha. Will ya look at that? [ He stares up at the billboard. ] I'll bet you weren't even a twinkle in your mama's eye in 1981.
[ Which is to say: yes, they're in another world. Yes, they're in another time. Take it all in! ]
[ Lloyd watches Flagg, transfixed at this new display of power he's displaying. It's like he sliced a hole in the world and they're looking out the other side of a mirror. He doesn't understand it, but that's just one of the things about Flagg- who can understand all of it? Trying would likely end up with a case of insanity and a padded room.
He casts the ruins of Vegas another brief glance before Flagg ushers him through the door. Ain't nothin' to fucking miss, is there? Anybody he'd have lamented is as dead and gone as he was and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if he feels a hint of sadness about it. It'd been fun, shit went wayside. ]
Good riddance is what I say.
[ It feels like his stomach drops and he can feel himself jolt, like catching himself from starting awake, but his feet never leave the ground that he's aware of. The chilly air sends a shiver up his spine and he crosses his arms in front of himself, hunching a bit closer to Flagg. He lets out a surprised huff of air when his attention is drawn to the billboard. 1981... how about that.
For once, he's at a loss for words, just drinking in the sights and letting it sink in that this is real. ]
This means Bowie and Freddie Mercury are still alive and kickin'. [ Because that's what he's supposed to take away from this experience. ]
[ Flagg blinks slowly, watching Lloyd take it all in. He's here in a new world with the embodiment of all things evil at his side and yet his face lights up at the thought of his favorite rock stars being alive and well.
Humans were absorbed with such trifles. He's angry at himself for finding it endearing, leaning down to plant a kiss on Lloyd's forehead. ]
I can get us a real good spot at Live Aid, you know. [ He's not joking; he's been to plenty of legendary concerts in his time. When there isn't a world to destroy he just kind of strolls around causing minor chaos and doing as he pleases. ]
[ There were so many great things about the eighties that he'd only experienced through movies or watching MTV reruns in shitty motels. For a brief moment, he forgets that he's supposed to be mad at Flagg, chest swelling with warmth. He looks up at him like he hung the stars in the sky just for Lloyd.
He's done it once before, maybe he'll work up to it again.. ]
Really?! [ He clears his throat, containing himself. ] That'd be cool as hell.. if we're not supposed to be here for somethin' else.
The people who're doing what they're supposed to do are back in Boulder.
[ Okay, it's not quite that simple. He's got a purpose like everyone else and when the grand forces of fate call out to him again he'll have no choice but to answer, like he always does.
Until then, he can give destiny the finger. As aware as he is of his place on the cosmic scale he can find his own ways to be defiant. No one could say Randall Flagg didn't put up a damn good fight. ]
I'm not called upon for some great purpose too often. [ If he could cause an apocalypse every day he would, but no. They're rare. ] We can do whatever we want in the meantime. And if you fuck up, there are other worlds than this.
[ So go ahead and do all the wild shit you've always dreamed of, basically. If Flagg can nudge Lloyd over towards some darker pursuits, he'll happily do so, but that's a process. He'll take it slow. ]
[ The only difference this time is that Flagg won't have to answer the calls of fate alone. Not that Lloyd will offer much in the grand scheme of things aside from his adoration. Humans are minuscule beings in the wake of something like Flagg. The prospect of unlimited worlds, unlimited tries, and the ability to do whatever they want is intense. Even in Vegas, the options weren't limitless. There was still some semblance of order, he had a job to do, after all, but there was always time to live in excess.
Lloyd casts him a skeptical look, eyebrows raised as he huffs indignantly. ]
What makes you say I'm gonna fuck up? [ Look at your life, look at your choices, Lloyd. That's how. ]
You can do anything, and you're never going to take the opportunity to be a little reckless? [ He raises an eyebrow at Lloyd, accusatory. Yeah right. ] Don't tell me I'm traveling with a law-abiding citizen.
[ Flagg's laws are good and need to be obeyed. Everyone else's laws can suck a dick. ]
'Course I'll be reckless, but I know a little better about navigatin' it now, don't I?
[ He hadn't had a damn clue before, had he? Yeah, he'd wanted a bit of discretion when he and Poke were doing their crime spree, but that didn't really work out the best. Well.. It ended up being the best thing for Lloyd right until it bit him in the ass and killed him. ]
We'll see. [ He claps Lloyd on the back, still fully expecting him to piss off a mob boss or something eventually.
There's a bar nearby that looks shady as hell; the type of place you'd go to if you want to buy coke or get in a knife fight or both. Perfect. ] You fancy a drink?
[ For the time being, his anger toward Flagg is all but gone, forgotten in the midst of their change of scenery. He's still a bit giddy thinking about all the prospects this new world will hold. The bar is just as seedy on the inside as it is on the outside, which means Lloyd loves it for what it is. Shithole bars are the best ones to start at.
Leave it to him to say the wrong thing to somebody without even realizing who he's talking to. ]
[ At a better bar, baby-faced Lloyd would have been ID'd at the door. Flagg can't tell if it's his own unsettling presence that prevented the bouncer from asking or if he just didn't give a damn. ]
What do you want? It's on me.
[ It better be, because Lloyd didn't have any money in those tight pockets of his. Flagg takes a seat at the bar and anyone sitting too close to him looks as if a cold chill has just washed over them, and they get up and slink away like dogs with their tails between their legs. ]
[ One of the many grand perks of traveling with Flagg is that people don't ask too many questions. Granted, there weren't many people around to ask questions the first time Lloyd joined up with him. ]
How 'bout a long island.
[ Something strong and sweet.
Lloyd joins him at the bar in one of the newly vacated seats and has a look around. It's a run of the mill dive bar with a sticky floor, split bar stools repaired with duct tape, and a bathroom probably rife with hepatitis, blow jobs in broken stalls, and drug deals. ]
[ The bartender turns to face them silently, as if in a daze ]. A long island for my friend, and a white russian for me. Keep 'em coming, too.
[ And the bartender obeys, mixing up the two drinks and depositing them in front of Flagg and Lloyd before returning to conversation with other customers like nothing happened. Flagg giggles, taking a sip of his drink. People are so fun to toy with.
Speaking of: ] You want some entertainment?
[ He glances over his shoulder. A few middle aged guys playing pool. Tensions seem to be running a little high, he could easily start something. ]
[ Lloyd takes up his drink with a grin, looking up and down the bar at the other patrons. It's always fun to see Flagg mess with people, though there is that small part that doesn't like the idea of it being done to himself.
His attention turns to Flagg and he looks over toward the pool table, half turned in his seat. ]
How entertainin' could two old fucks playing pool be?
[ One of them steps away to go to the washroom, and Flagg takes notice. Now's his time. ]
You just sit back and watch. [ He stands up, making his way to the washroom where he leans against the doorframe and waits outside. He's not a schoolgirl, he has no use for gabbin' in some shit-stained public washroom.
As soon as the man gets out of the washroom, Flagg swings an arm around his shoulder like an old friend, grins wide and vicious, whispers something in his ear, and returns to the bar to take another sip of his drink. ] Any second now.
[ Like clockwork, the guy Flagg spoke to throws a punch at one of his competitors, yelling something about being a cheating bastard trying to swindle him out of his rent. There's a special kind of rage in him, one that Flagg almost certainly instilled, one that passes through his white knuckles and into the other guy's jawbone like a disease until soon all four of 'em are fighting like rabid dogs.
Flagg watches like a kid at the circus. He's even conjured up a little red-and-white striped bag of popcorn to enjoy the show with. ]
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It wasn't the former city that called out to him now, but rather a small fragment of something else he'd lost. He crouches down where the feeling hits him hardest, his fingers rifling through the sand and debris until he pulled out a small black stone with a red flaw.
Lloyd's. No doubt, all that was left of him.
Reviving someone without so much as a single bone to work with would be a difficult task, but it was worth a try. The stone contained something that bound them both together, so it could be done.
He stands still and squeezes the stone with both hands, whispering words he'd read in some forbidden tome centuries back. Words that'd drive most ordinary men to madness if they were around to hear them. A small pulse emanates from the stone. He squeezes harder, inhuman language rolling off his tongue smooth as silk. A strange liquid starts to drip from his clenched hands, mostly black but with some bright swirls of red as the rock melts away and begins to reform. It moves and shifts of its own free will, growing larger and larger until there's nothing left of the stone in Flagg's hands.
A great dark portal yawns out in front of him. He plunges a hand in, feeling around for any sign of life. It occurs to him, briefly, that trying to summon Lloyd in the same way he'd summon up some fellow creature from Todash space might have some strange effects on the boy, but it was that or nothing. Being revived as he'd revive a regular human required a partial body and Lloyd didn't have any remains.
His hand finds another in the darkness, limp and cold. He grasps it, his warmth spreading throughout the other body until it started to stir with life that wasn't quite right - a little too warm to be a completely human, just like him - but was life all the same.
He starts to pull away from the portal, Lloyd's hand clasped in his own. Then came the rest of him, naked and drenched in what could only be described as liquid shadow. Flagg'd conjure up some clothes for him. Maybe one of those tacky colorful shirts he liked so much.
(He'll be angry, Flagg thinks. Patience isn't his strong suit, compassion even less so, but he's trying to prepare himself for an adverse reaction.)
The portal closes up into nothingness, leaving Flagg and Lloyd alone in the desolated New Vegas. He cups Lloyd's face in one hand, looking him in the eyes as they go from glassy and vacant to bright and aware. Good, there's a soul in there after all. ]
Howdy, Lloyd.
[ If Lloyd was gonna freak out, he was gonna freak out whether or not Flagg started rambling off some long explanation, so may as well leave it at 'howdy' for now and give the real juicy details when he's calmed the fuck down. ]
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And then there's awareness. It starts off with the feeling of being present, but not where. Like being on the edge of sleep and trying to chase it down again. Vast darkness is next, and it feels both hot and cold. He feels it down to his core, alighting his veins like the sweetest addictive poison.
Everything happens all at once, like staring at a pinprick of light at the end of a tunnel and coming out the other side, half-blinded. His chest shudders with a gasp and he can feel his limbs trembling, his skin feeling too hot and wet. He can only describe it in his head like being covered in jelly. Vision coming into focus, Flagg commands all of his attention as he always does. Did. No. No no, fuck this. Fuck him. He was dead and he never fucking asked him-- ]
Asshole! [ He doesn't really think about it before he does it, shoving at Flagg's chest with both hands in protest. He shuffles back a few feet, not really trusting his legs to take him further, hands clenching into fists and expression full of fury. ]
I-- how-- what the fuck did you do t' me?! [ Lloyd points an accusatory finger at the man who always seems to loom over everything. His savior and his undoing. His eyes dart around, only now noticing the total destruction surrounding them, the wind of anger leaving him in a bluster of confusion. What the fuck? ]
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He stares down at the wet handprints on his shirt, and regards Lloyd with some curiosity. There's a warmth to his touch that would suggest, in most humans, a fever so high that it's fatal, but Lloyd doesn't seem to be in pain. ]
Hm. [ He steps forward and touches Lloyd's cheek, leaving his hand there for as long as he would let him without recoiling. Still warm. And there was something else that shouldn't be there, too. Something both familiar (in that he carries it with him all the time) and alien (in that he's never felt it in anybody else).
Could it be -
Some weirdness was to be expected when someone was so thoroughly obliterated that an entirely new body had to be created for them. And, come to think of it, as much as the stone had a little bit of Lloyd inside of it, it had a little bit of Flagg, too. It was funny, really, that if Lloyd had to come back a little less human he'd be a little less human in this specific way. Lloyd might not find it so funny. Flagg would leave the subject alone until Lloyd realized something was off and brought it up himself. ] I brought you back from the dead, my friend, and if you don't have a 'thank you' in ya right now, that's alright.
[ He's trying, god is he trying, to muster up some patience for someone else for what might be the first time in centuries. His grin is tense and carries some malice with it (how dare you speak to me that way) but fuck, he's trying. ]
D'you want some help getting cleaned up or do you fancy walking around the wasteland covered in muck?
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The expression on Flagg's face scares him, he's seen that expression leveled at someone else before and it was never good, but not enough to apologize for it yet. Lloyd feels.. different. Certainly not like himself. Maybe that was just a side effect of dying. Like a film making his skin feel just a little too tight. His hands drop to his sides and lets that hand stay on his face as he really looks at the destruction as Flagg talks.
Brought back.. There's a heavy implication there he can't really look at right now, and he knows he's already toeing a line being obstinate in front of the man that brought him back from the dead. Funny, he doesn't feel dead. Though he doesn't know how dead's supposed to feel either. ]
You.. why? [ He knows before he died the line he'd crossed, so why would Flagg bring him back when he'd broken the rule. Why not just find someone else, because he looks untouched by it all. Lloyd shifts, suddenly aware of his nakedness and the grime covering his body, and wrinkles his nose in distaste. He doesn't give a shit about the nakedness, but that ichor that clings to his skin feels... dark as anything. ]
Yeah, I reckon so.
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[ Flagg doesn't like admitting fault but in the time he's had to reflect he knows that he let his people down. He was consumed by his need to destroy anything that opposes him and in doing so he took everything and everyone who was close to him down with it. Just as he's done time and time again.
He could always feel that destructive compulsion taking over but he could never do anything to stop it. It's my nature, said the scorpion to the frog as they both drowned.
In any case, admitting he'd messed up was easier than admitting that some part of him he usually tried to ignore genuinely missed Lloyd Henreid. How dare you make me feel that way, he thought, I ought to kill you again.
But he didn't. And he wouldn't.
He waved his hand and Lloyd was clean again, the dark ichor banished back to where it came from (though it might disappoint Lloyd to realize that only some of that lingering darkness vanished with it). Then, from behind his back he pulls out a folded bundle of clothes and offers them to Lloyd: one of those tacky, loud shirts, pants what were too tight, a belt with a ridiculous buckle, and bright red shoes. A peace offering, see? He'd even conjured up that awful ruby ring of his. ]
Feel better? [ Kind of a ridiculous thing to ask someone who just got unwillingly necromanced and hadn't even realized that not all of his humanity came back with him, but Flagg's smile suggests the question is sincere. Emotional care isn't something he's used to providing. ]
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Shoulders slumping in relief, Lloyd takes the clothes with a muttered thanks. He does feel better once he's dressed, more like himself, though that skin-tight feeling doesn't disappear. He smooths his fingers through his hair to give it some kind of order though he doesn't much care. The nervous energy builds and he'd do pretty much fucking anything for a damn cigarette or some coke. Something to give him a short burst of focus or a fix. ]
Yeah. [ More put together, at least. He spins the ring around his finger with the opposite index finger and thumb to try and channel some of the jitters. His head feels a bit tight, though he's not sure if it's from whatever the fuck just happened to him or something else. He's got no appetite, which is unusual. Probably some sort of death-defying trauma side effect or whatever.
Lloyd casts another hard look over the rubble before turning his focus back to Flagg. ]
What now?
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I don't think there's anything left for us in this world. [ No more Vegas. Most of the people left are lone wanderers or people who've already fallen to Boulder's sway. Flagg's done with it all. Damn the old witch and her cohorts, they can toil onwards in a dead world for all he cares.
This world's moved on, as an old friend of his might say. Trying to bring it back's a futile endeavor. ]
But there are other worlds. Lots of 'em. Some like Earth, some not. We could go to a different decade, or to a world where Kennedy wasn't assassinated, or one where the superflu never hit. We could even go to mine, though it's not much to look at these days. [ He takes a few steps away from Lloyd, hands on his hips as he surveys the horizon like open frontier. ] The universe is our oyster.
[ Bribing Lloyd with the promises of alternate universes and time travel will, he hopes, interest him enough to stick by his side for a while.
Or he could stay here, alone. If he really wants to. But who wants to be alone in an apocalypse? ]
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He's confused by this world, but thankfully doesn't have to wait long for an explanation. With someone like Flagg, it shouldn't come as a surprise that there's more than one possibility. That man's not of any sort of earth Lloyd knows about, so it's not out of the question. Something like this is probably easy peasy for someone like him. Not for someone like Lloyd, who feels a bit dumbfounded and hooked once again on those velvety sweet words promising a different life- things he couldn't imagine.
He's had enough of being alone, and he'd promised to worship the ground the dark man walked upon. He'll still do it, but his whole heart's not in it yet. ]
So long as you don't leave me behind.
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Any requests?
[ Like he's a rock star who wants to play Lloyd's favorite song. Pick a time, pick a place, baby. ]
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Left with endless possibilities of where to go, Lloyd doesn't know where to even begin and he shakes his head. ]
Anywhere but here.
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[ It is a lot, for someone who's been stuck in one world their entire life, to take their pick of them now. If they don't like the one they end up in, they can always leave, anyway.
He reaches out like he's twisting an invisible doorknob, and the fabric of reality itself seems to tear when he pulls it back, leaving a doorway-sized portal to another world. It's night time, in a big city full of lights (if Flagg had to guess he'd say New York) and perhaps most surprisingly to Lloyd, full of people. Far from the desolation of this world. ] Bid farewell to your home-world; you'll probably never see it again.
[ But before Lloyd has time to get a word in, Flagg's arm is wrapped around his shoulders and he's being dragged through the door. It was somewhat sarcastic, anyway, leaving your home-world for good can be sad but Lloyd was never treated like anything but garbage in his until Flagg came along. What was there to miss?
Going through the door is kind of like that sensation of falling you get sometimes when you're half-asleep. A quick rush that knocks the wind out of you, then you realize you're still on solid ground. There's the ambiance of people chatting as they walk by, the air is cold (Flagg guesses by the way his breath comes out like steam, he doesn't really feel cold anymore), and no one seems to take active notice of the two new arrivals although some people seem briefly unsettled and then cross the street to avoid them.
Darkness folds around the two travelers like a comforting blanket. At night and in the shadows they'll be seen only when they want to be seen. See? That's a perk! Flagg looks around at the lighted billboards for any sign of the date, and though he can't make out an exact day he finds one advertising an upcoming concert on October 20th, 1981. ]
Ha. Will ya look at that? [ He stares up at the billboard. ] I'll bet you weren't even a twinkle in your mama's eye in 1981.
[ Which is to say: yes, they're in another world. Yes, they're in another time. Take it all in! ]
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He casts the ruins of Vegas another brief glance before Flagg ushers him through the door. Ain't nothin' to fucking miss, is there? Anybody he'd have lamented is as dead and gone as he was and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference if he feels a hint of sadness about it. It'd been fun, shit went wayside. ]
Good riddance is what I say.
[ It feels like his stomach drops and he can feel himself jolt, like catching himself from starting awake, but his feet never leave the ground that he's aware of. The chilly air sends a shiver up his spine and he crosses his arms in front of himself, hunching a bit closer to Flagg. He lets out a surprised huff of air when his attention is drawn to the billboard. 1981... how about that.
For once, he's at a loss for words, just drinking in the sights and letting it sink in that this is real. ]
This means Bowie and Freddie Mercury are still alive and kickin'. [ Because that's what he's supposed to take away from this experience. ]
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Humans were absorbed with such trifles. He's angry at himself for finding it endearing, leaning down to plant a kiss on Lloyd's forehead. ]
I can get us a real good spot at Live Aid, you know. [ He's not joking; he's been to plenty of legendary concerts in his time. When there isn't a world to destroy he just kind of strolls around causing minor chaos and doing as he pleases. ]
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He's done it once before, maybe he'll work up to it again.. ]
Really?! [ He clears his throat, containing himself. ] That'd be cool as hell.. if we're not supposed to be here for somethin' else.
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[ Okay, it's not quite that simple. He's got a purpose like everyone else and when the grand forces of fate call out to him again he'll have no choice but to answer, like he always does.
Until then, he can give destiny the finger. As aware as he is of his place on the cosmic scale he can find his own ways to be defiant. No one could say Randall Flagg didn't put up a damn good fight. ]
I'm not called upon for some great purpose too often. [ If he could cause an apocalypse every day he would, but no. They're rare. ] We can do whatever we want in the meantime. And if you fuck up, there are other worlds than this.
[ So go ahead and do all the wild shit you've always dreamed of, basically. If Flagg can nudge Lloyd over towards some darker pursuits, he'll happily do so, but that's a process. He'll take it slow. ]
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Lloyd casts him a skeptical look, eyebrows raised as he huffs indignantly. ]
What makes you say I'm gonna fuck up? [ Look at your life, look at your choices, Lloyd. That's how. ]
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[ Flagg's laws are good and need to be obeyed. Everyone else's laws can suck a dick. ]
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[ He hadn't had a damn clue before, had he? Yeah, he'd wanted a bit of discretion when he and Poke were doing their crime spree, but that didn't really work out the best. Well.. It ended up being the best thing for Lloyd right until it bit him in the ass and killed him. ]
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There's a bar nearby that looks shady as hell; the type of place you'd go to if you want to buy coke or get in a knife fight or both. Perfect. ] You fancy a drink?
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[ For the time being, his anger toward Flagg is all but gone, forgotten in the midst of their change of scenery. He's still a bit giddy thinking about all the prospects this new world will hold. The bar is just as seedy on the inside as it is on the outside, which means Lloyd loves it for what it is. Shithole bars are the best ones to start at.
Leave it to him to say the wrong thing to somebody without even realizing who he's talking to. ]
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What do you want? It's on me.
[ It better be, because Lloyd didn't have any money in those tight pockets of his. Flagg takes a seat at the bar and anyone sitting too close to him looks as if a cold chill has just washed over them, and they get up and slink away like dogs with their tails between their legs. ]
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How 'bout a long island.
[ Something strong and sweet.
Lloyd joins him at the bar in one of the newly vacated seats and has a look around. It's a run of the mill dive bar with a sticky floor, split bar stools repaired with duct tape, and a bathroom probably rife with hepatitis, blow jobs in broken stalls, and drug deals. ]
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[ The bartender turns to face them silently, as if in a daze ]. A long island for my friend, and a white russian for me. Keep 'em coming, too.
[ And the bartender obeys, mixing up the two drinks and depositing them in front of Flagg and Lloyd before returning to conversation with other customers like nothing happened. Flagg giggles, taking a sip of his drink. People are so fun to toy with.
Speaking of: ] You want some entertainment?
[ He glances over his shoulder. A few middle aged guys playing pool. Tensions seem to be running a little high, he could easily start something. ]
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His attention turns to Flagg and he looks over toward the pool table, half turned in his seat. ]
How entertainin' could two old fucks playing pool be?
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You just sit back and watch. [ He stands up, making his way to the washroom where he leans against the doorframe and waits outside. He's not a schoolgirl, he has no use for gabbin' in some shit-stained public washroom.
As soon as the man gets out of the washroom, Flagg swings an arm around his shoulder like an old friend, grins wide and vicious, whispers something in his ear, and returns to the bar to take another sip of his drink. ] Any second now.
[ Like clockwork, the guy Flagg spoke to throws a punch at one of his competitors, yelling something about being a cheating bastard trying to swindle him out of his rent. There's a special kind of rage in him, one that Flagg almost certainly instilled, one that passes through his white knuckles and into the other guy's jawbone like a disease until soon all four of 'em are fighting like rabid dogs.
Flagg watches like a kid at the circus. He's even conjured up a little red-and-white striped bag of popcorn to enjoy the show with. ]
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