interstellar5555 | "Il bugiardo deve avere buona memoria."

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"Il bugiardo deve avere buona memoria."

Who: Squalo and YOU!
What: Squalo returns from surprise trip to Scary Lab Dungeon
When: evening of April 2nd (and later)
Where: Pride HQ, maybe the city later
Warnings: ~~squalo~~ language, drugs, craziness, will update if needed

-- A

[ Turns out trying (and (temporarily) succeeding) to trick Lesedi is a bad idea. He spends about thirty hours with the delightful brain probing team down in the labs, and then he's extensively warned and set free. Or, rather, just shoved out after making sure he got the message. ]

[ So, there he is, sort of staggering into Pride's lobby because he can still feel those unpleasant tingly things in his brain which might be aftereffects of the machine or cocaine withdrawal or an unholy mix of both. He takes a few shaky steps, rests a hand on the wall while leaning forward -- and throws up right there on the floor. ]

[ He stands there for a moment, and then starts laughing. It's loud, sharp, and frankly, somewhat unsettling. ]

[ There's probably a lot of people around and everything. The tabloids will sure love destroying his image further if anyone from the media is there to see him empty his stomach in a public area and have a manic hyena laughter fit over it. The famous alcoholic, cokehead and sex criminal of metal finally gone off his rocker etc etc. Does he care? Not right now, no. ]

-- B

[ Once he's done with that, he'll head "home". Which might be either MANTICORE's or Junkyard Carnival's suite at this rate. For what it's worth, he seems unharmed, but that weird aura of amusement and being close to a psychotic murder fit is still lingering. Did you even notice he was gone? ]

[ If you're anyone who has some reason to see him naked -- a bandmate, a bae, someone who helps him in the bathroom or just loves peeping on people in there -- you'll discover that pretty much his whole back seems to be bruised, as if he'd been thrown against something with incredible force. He doesn't seem bothered unless you ask, though. ]

-- C

[ The next day, he can be found doing the usual stuff. Recording, going outside to play with his bike, heading out into the city, most likely to drink. ~~Possibly to meet Luce too, at some point.~~ He might seem a little calmer than usual, though, as if the whole world around is somehow beneath him. The trademark smirk on his face almost looks knowing at times, but depending on who you are, he might just shrug if asked about it. ]

-- D

[ Wild card! Hit me up via PM or at

jigglyballs and we'll make something else up! ]

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[Because you're an idiot with weird ideas of pride and honor thinks Mammon. "Yamamoto" says, instead...]

Because you liked me, I guess! You're a funny guy~.

[ THE BLANKEST LOOK. ]

No, I really don't think that's it.

Ha ha, if you say so! But you don't remember, right? So maybe that is the reason.

[Standing upright again, "Yamamoto" tilts his head to the side.]

Trust your student already! I came aaall this way to help you out, after all.

[ He eyes him suspiciously for a moment longer, then sighs. It's not like things could get any fucking worse at this rate. ]

Fine. I remember killing the Sword Emperor. Cutting off my hand. I remember dying, shielding Xanxus. What I swore to him, and how I failed him. I called you because I tricked our CEO into meeting me, and she put me in a fucking dungeon. I'm not gonna be anyone's hostage.

[That’s the spirit, Squalo, you stubborn asshole. Mammon takes in everything quickly, committing it to memory, although they inwardly raise up an eyebrow at the dying part.]

[...Although, really, that could refer to any point in time for him, so they’ll save puzzling that out for a later date. ]

Well, you’ve remembered Xanxus, so that’s the important part done with, ha ha! Do you remember anything about Flames?

A bit. He's got real beautiful ones. [ He says it with a ~~gay~~ expression of adoration, which quickly shifts into a frown as he looks down at his hands. ] Mine was supposed to be blue, but I can't make them.

[Squalo, can you stop being a useless gay shark for like five minutes here? Jesus.]

[And emphasis on ‘useless’ here… Neither flames or sword abilities. If things don’t change, when the time comes to rescue him, they’ll have to take extra care in defending him…]

[Internally they sigh. Always causing trouble for them.]

[Externally, another Yamamoto laugh.]

Wow, then I could definitely beat you! But anyway- that’s all the important stuff. You’re an assassin, and I’m your favorite~ student~. Any other questions?

[ NO. IT'S WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE DOES. ]

[ Though, he does actually have the sword abilities back. He's just... unaware of it. He could really use someone attacking him or at least sparring with him, but good luck with that while he's under watch of those who insist he's supposed to be a musician. ]

[ Squalo gives "Yamamoto" the finger again. ]

If you can only beat me through magic tricks, it doesn't count. [ He scowls. Alright, so he's an assassin. Apparently. He supposes it explains how he didn't kill himself when taking his new bike out for a ride. Also you know, a bunch of other things including bloody memories. It'll still take some time to really sink in, though. It's one thing to hear it, another to understand it. ]

...how did I end up here, then?

It counts~.

[But it’s good that he’s thinking a bit more. That’s an easy question to answer, although who knows if he’ll believe it.]

You were kidnapped, obviously!

No it doesn't!

[ He's getting irritated. That's... good? ]

Why the fuck -- no, more importantly, how? Wasn't I supposed to be good?

[ He clearly doesn't think much of kidnapping ability. ]

That’s what I said!

[Don’t be fooled- the illusionary voice might sound cheerful and playful, but Mammon is highly annoyed. SWORD EMPEROR THEIR ASS, GETTING KIDNAPPED BY LOSERS IN GASMASKS AND SHIT. FOR FUCKS SAKE, SQUALO.]

But I guess swords aren’t much good against gas or drugs or whatever, huh?

[ ...he might be starting to pick up on it a little. After all, he used to be able to see through those things. It's just some kind of weird dissonance now, though, and he scowls. ]

Tools of cowards! They should've fought me! [ ...pause. Okay where the fuck did that come from. ] Uh, I mean...

[Honestly, at this rate, Mammon won’t even be annoyed if he starts seeing through illusions again. It’ll be a sign of about TIME progress.]

Ha, fight you how? You’ve been saying for ages that you won’t fight me.

[ He doesn't respond to that, just crouches down, gripping his head with his hands. The moment he tries to think about this little dissonance, it hurts, but that's never stopped him before. So here he is, thinking about it, while the safety measures installed by the kidnappers try to rip his head apart. At least it feels that way. Anyone else would stop trying after getting that does not compute message, but anyone else probably wasn't cutting off their hands to show resolve. ]

...shit...

[Well, that only took a little bit of metaphorical kicking.]

[Mammon leans over him, hoping he doesn’t straighten up suddenly and smash into their jaw.]

Are you alright?

No... I'm...

[ I'm fine, he wants to say and straighten up. This is a misunderstanding. I've only ever played music. His hands twitch, ready to help him push up. But he forcefully holds back. No. No, that's not right -- ]

[ That hurts, and his fingers are probably leaving angry red marks on his temples at this point, probably pulling out some hair, too. He just needs to let go of that little piece and it'll stop. ]

[ He doesn't, and it results in a similar ugly manner as in the elevator after he's gotten released; a series of fast, barely strung together rambles, of the "I'm not", "You can't make me", "Make it stop", "I'm not this" variety with an addition of several short facts of his life, like his birth year, his first word, the city he grew up in, all garbled in expressive Italian, then switching to Russian, then German, then Italian again. ]

[ To an outside person, this probably looks and sounds like something in immediate need for an exorcism. ]

[The bad news: Mammon isn’t a priest.]

[The good news: They’re better than that.]

[They wait for around a minute for him to get a hold of himself, subtly drawing up an illusion so that no one else whether through the security cameras or in person sees this breakdown. When a minute passes and he’s still having an apparent breakdown, Mammon grabs him and starts to tug him along.]

Come on- just keep walking, Squalo.

[ He doesn't even notice the illusion at first, sort of getting to his feet and following along the tugging without protest, though he doesn't really seem to see where he's putting his feet either, and he's still holding on his hair. ]

...that was in Palermo. She was real, though. I know she was. That bitch's got them. Everyone who went missing, I know she's still got them. If they let themselves get caught, they're not worth help. I won -- it wasn't a fucking playoff, I beat up my school didn't I? She said she's gonna kill me, or put me with the rest.

Yeah, she does.

[An idle mindless agreement as they glance through each of the rooms they pass. There has to be a bathroom or a locker room or something nearby, right? It’s just a matter of keeping Squalo moving. Still, they take some time to listen to what he’s saying.]

And don’t worry, we’re not going to let her do anything to you. You just have to stop being stupid for a while, got it?

[ Dunking him in water might work, tbh. He doesn't stop, but there's almost a spark of anger in his expression, his voice shifting into a growl. ]

I don't need your protection.

[For fucks sake, Squalo, is now really the time? Mammon resists the urge to kick him behind the knees, if only because they’re only now slipping into a restroom.]

It’s not protecting. It’s working together, right?

I'm not a very good team player.

[ He doesn't even notice how his surroundings turn tiled and a door closes behind them. ]

Tell me about it!

[Goddamn showboating jackass swordsman, they outta- Mammon lets him go now that they’re inside.]

But you’ll get used to the idea when you get some more of your real memories back.

Tch. [ Slowly relaxing, he leans against one of the sinks. A moment later, he looks up enough to stare at the mirror, and for a second, he looks almost surprised at what he sees there. ] Is there a lot to remember?

Well, it is a whole lifetime! But if you’re already remembering this much in so little time, then that’s a good sign, probably.

[And if not, well, there’s a chance to look into things and see if reversing the process is a viable option.]

Doing things that seem familiar will probably help.

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