Difference Between Us [Ambrose & Audi]

Six legs scratched repetitively against the cardboard. The movement was so hopeless and mechanic as if the cockroach itself knew there would be no getting away. The head of a pin that pierced through it, fixing it in place, stuck out above the chitin back of the insect, unmoved by the attempts at escape.

Audi let out a hum and scribbled something down in her notebook, then reached for another pin from the small box laying nearby on the round rug. Flames in the fireplace were bathing the area in front of it in a warm glow, casting the ratgirl's elongated shadow across the floor. She was laying down on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, legs swinging casually as she watched the creature caught on the cardboard in front of her, its now-dead cousins staked down next to it.

The sitting room was desolate, save from her, most people sleeping at the late hour it was. Audi didn't sleep for long periods of time, just napped several times a day, so she often found herself alone when night fell. Which suited her just fine. It was time to experiment.

She had discovered that cockroaches, despite being fairly simple creatures, were amazingly stubborn when it came to clinging to life. The robin she had caught earlier hadn't lasted long, while the insects could withstand almost everything and still move and try to run. What was it that made them so sturdy? If only she could find out, that could... Well, she still had several more in a jar, and the whole night to try and pinpoint, quite literally, where their life essence was hid.

Audi smiled to herself then pressed down the pin on the cockroach, closer to its head this time.

His eyes drooped. Coffee. He needed more of it.
Candidate, that would be your--
The boy raised up to the ceiling his empty coffee cup, gifted by Laughter and refilled by the collective Them. While the mug's printed message of "I <3 Them" was untrue, the coffee was sound. True, and needed.

Ambrose lowered the mug, immediately taking a swig. Bitter life jolted back into him-- good. He inhaled the aroma deeply, taking it all in for its full worth. Another few hours of being awake. Another few hours of being in control. The boy let his legs wander the empty hallways as he tried to form clear thoughts. It was difficult, but the coffee helped. Another sip, another brevity of clarity . . . And then, gone.
You're becoming dependent.
Shut up, was the immediate response. They weren't lying, though.

He eventually made it to one of the study rooms, expecting no one there but proved wrong. Somehow, They had planned this. Another sip of coffee, a slow walk towards the person in question . . . Was it a person, though? A rat. A giant rat in the strangest clothing. Had they met before? He might have seen her once or twice . . . Their jeers made it hard to remember.

Ooo! Hit it again, hit it again! (HARDer, HARDer!)
Watch it squirm--
What do you THINK I'm doing? Don't interrupt!

Interrupt what? The boy tried to get a good look, his curiosity peeked. That, and there was nothing admittingly to do in the dead of night except listen to Them.

Audi's hand stilled and her head swiveled in the direction of the door at the sound of it opening, ears perking up slightly and hackles rising in wariness. She watched the boy who entered, then finally inclined her head, both in greeting and in acceptance of the fact that they would be sharing this particular territory for a period of time. She glanced down to the cockroach, then back to the newcomer, who seemed to be approaching. What did he want? He wasn't terribly familiar, and didn't seem much the friendly type, either. Perhaps he was simply bored.

Deciding to be comfortable with the company, Audi returned her attention to the experiment and aligned the pin with the insect's centre again. Then pressed down, sharp end breaking through the chitin easily, going through the creature's insides, its belly, then into the cardboard. Audi then blinked, taking her hand back and continuing the observation. The bug's movements seemed slightly less energetic, if that was at all possible. Too bad she couldn't measure that accurately... She tutted, then noted something down again.

Recorded torture. They had underestimated the little rat. All watched as the pin sank in once more, the lead dancing on a nearby pad of paper. Not all watched in joy, however. Ambrose could only manage neutrality.

Ambrose could kill, yes-- could, had, would do so again. Those deaths were necessary, though, for both practical and emotional reasons. The rat woman's deaths, however-- the torture, rather-- was something he could not fathom as 'necessary,' unless she bore a personal grudge against such a kind. The pencil proved that wrong; a 'murder of passion' would allow no such logic. And, yet, she had control over something. Ambrose longed for such a thing, ached for it when coffee rained out the sky on a deity's whim. He wanted to hold something in his hand and claim it for himself, the object his alone to control. The pain produced was a concentrated pointlessness, but at the same time, he had to respect such a thing. She had control. How fortunate.

The boy hovered over the rat girl's shoulder, watching with sickened horror yet mounting admiration. He could do that, couldn't he? Why didn't he?
She tutted.
"Problem?" The word slipped out before he could stop himself, The Powers wanting such conversation to occur. Control. They had it when he did not.

Audi found herself bristling slightly as the boy invaded her experiment and watched from over her shoulder, and discreetly she shifted the notebook so that it would be obscured from his view. It was none of his business. However, for some reason she was determined not to show her displeasure. When he broke the concentrated silence, though, it was impossible to ignore him anymore. She blinked, then tilted her head and glanced up at him questioningly, not sure what exactly was his inquiry about, then gave a careless half-shrug.

"Not really." She paused, looking down to the bug again. "Just little progress."

Immediately, she scolded herself for saying that. Did she want to keep it secret in the end or not? She should make a decision and stick to it. Well... really, against it was only the part of her that whined 'it's mine, my research, my stuff' as if sharing information about it would make it less valuable. But that was silly. Maybe what others knew could help. As she let out a quiet chuckle, Audi's tail swished a bit along the floor. "They sure are sturdy."

Progress . . . Just how long had she been at such experimentation? The rat knew what to do, did it with such precision that her practice was unquestionable. She knew exactly what to do with her control.
It was admirable. It was twisted.
He was compelled beyond reason to watch.

Her words dug at the back of his brain. It wasn't a clearing of Their persistent fog but an etching, an absence more of the endless words and less of giving back the longed-for clarity. It burned, and yet it was nothing. A blank. Why? He pressed further in--

he sure is sturdy

--a flash, but nothing. Nothing to grab onto except the continued sight of Audi's experimentation. His face fell from disgust to mixed confusion to, finally, nothing. If he couldn't decide anything properly, then he should remain blank. That was the best defense.

Since when is the candidate on the defensive? one questioned. The Others had no good answer, shrugging through their continued cheering of the spectacle.

Audi watched the cockroach's pointless struggles as she waited for a reply, but it had not come, and the silence that dragged on seemed to grow strained. Finally, she turned her head to look at the redhead again, noting with curiosity how entirely expressionless he was. Her nose twitched in confusion. Never before her honest attempts at making conversation had been so blatantly ignored, so she wasn't really sure how to react. Did he suddenly consider her unworthy...?

Tip of her tail flicked irritably as her eyes fell to half-mast. "Problem?" she asked, piercing him with her gaze. She wanted an answer, and an answer she would get, even if it was just in the form of him leaving.

The entertainment was gone; finally, things went back to normal in Ambrose's head, the nothingness being filled with the proper emotions and the like. Their thoughts, as well, returned, but that was something never desired. His face remained blank, though. The boy was still confused by what he should feel.

"None," was his eventual reply. It was true, in a sense: he had no good answer. The rat woman's practice was barbaric at best but at the same time was so appealing. He peered farther over her shoulder, searching for the word needed-- "Why?" As in, why was she doing this? They allowed few other words, but Ambrose still saw no purpose in such operations.

Audi's nose scrunched up, and she stared for a moment longer. Finally, she shrugged lightly, deciding to let it slide. He appeared unhealthy. Maybe he just was prone to drifting off like that; she'd seen that before. Relaxing again, her legs were back to swinging idly through the air.

And then, again, came the question of how much she wanted - could tell others. Audi really just needed to decide, then stick to it... make up a rule in the absence of one set up by somebody wiser. A barely audible whine escaped her. This was hard. But perhaps... perhaps she couldn't really tell if it was the right thing to do until she actually tried it. Perhaps this boy should be the experiment... Yes.

She pushed herself up to sit cross-legged and face him more directly, looking at him with interest. "Well," she began, "I want to know why are they so sturdy." A pause, a moment of hesitation and a sidelong glance at the bugs. "And if it can be reproduced."

Giving another casual shrug as if it was no big matter at all, Audi reached for one of the dead cockroaches and pulled the pins out of it, then popped it into her mouth. It was crushed with a satisfying 'crunch', and then the gooey goodness inside flooded her tongue. Mmm.

A direct answer-- good. The words themselves were disturbing. She spoke so logically about such a practice, so clearly of her intentions--

can we reproduce the results

--and, a jolt of pain echoed through his head, so sudden and sharp that Ambrose nearly lost balance. They laughed at such an action, never pegging Ambrose the type to physically react to-- but then again, what was it? The Powers did a bit of role-call as Their candidate attempted to figure out things for himself. Who had said such words?

The pain lingered, echoing in and out, in and out . . . This was humiliating and without cause. The boy gritted his teeth as he took in a shallow breath, continuing conversation and, ultimately, having to know for himself: "How?" Because, despite everything else, even the consuming of the test subject, what the rat-girl was doing was fascinating. So very, very fascinating.

Watching him closely as she was, the swaying couldn't escape her attention, and her eyes widened with concern. Absent-mindedness, she could get, but the boy - Ambrose, she recalled - seemed to be close to fainting. She jumped to her feet, ready to catch him, should he fall - even though it was probably more likely for her attempt to end up with them both falling over.

Audi searched his face for a moment before answering. "I'm... not certain." she said hesitantly. "That is why I need to know how they are so." She glanced back to her experiment, then to the boy's face, her desperate need for an answer showing in her eyes. "What do you think? How are they so sturdy?" She gulped. "So... superior?"

The jump to help was only rewarded by Their snickers-- how adorable! It seems Ambrose was making friends by the dozens here, all trying in their own little ways to help. Start the chorus in one, two, three: aww!

"Stop," Ambrose ordered bitterly, the words out before he could stop himself (not that the original command was any more obeyed). The space in his mind was closing, though; the possibility of fainting was decreasing with every moment of continued conversation. He paused for the tedious gathering of thought before responding to the rat woman's own questions.

". . . Altered?" was his best guess. He hated guessing; the boy wanted to know once the question was poised to him. The torture no longer appeared pointless but necessary.

The command made her freeze up reflexively. The instinct to obey was quicker than conscious thought. It took her a second to relax again, giving Ambrose a suspicious look. What was that all about? He was so strange.

She shook her head impatiently. "No. They all are like this." Humans like him likely didn't have as much to do with cockroaches as her back in her dumpster-diving times, so he had a right to not know that; the disappointing part was that it likely meant he would be unable to help her.
Bending down, she grabbed the jar of the floor and tipped it over her palm to get one of the live insects. She held it up, pinched between the claws of her thumb and forefinger, as she gave Ambrose a 'watch this' look, then with a quick snap of her sharp incisors guillotined the cockroach. The legs of the now headless insect continued to move. "See? They don't even notice."

Audi sighed, then ate the remaining part of the cockroach, chewing slowly, letting her gaze wander a little. Right, so that failed... The library might hold the answer, she supposed. But now that the boy was there, maybe there was something else to be gained from him. Something that she needed opinions on. She scratched her ear, then her eyes locked with his again.

"What do you think is the strongest being on Earth?"

At least one creature obeyed him; too bad Ambrose was too preoccupied with Them to notice such freezing on the rat woman's part. They mustn't let him see, if current events showed the truth well enough . . .

He hadn't meant the singular bug being altered but rather its entire kind; the single word failed to convey everything. He couldn't say any more than that, though, as Their voices got LOUDER and LOUDER with every syllable Audi spoke, every action she took. Look at those little legs squirm! The headaches threatened to return with such exercise of control, along with the longing to have such power, but Ambrose managed to push such things back, attempting to come up with a proper response.

"Something above the earth," he replied, his eyes meeting hers.
Four words, but it was as concise as he could fathom with Their pounding-- and, Their laughter! Oh, this was precious. They were the strongest things he could fathom? How wonderful!
But, it was the truth. And Ambrose was a horrible liar.

Audi blinked, then shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving his. "On Earth." she repeated. Boy. Perhaps she had chosen the wrong person for a first collaborator-of-sorts; this human seemed somewhat slow, like he'd sniffed a bit too much fumes for way too long. Obviously, whatever was above Earth, be it angels, devils, Gods, celestial bodies or other such things, was above what was on Earth. Simple.

Yet still, she felt like he deserved another chance, not sure herself why she felt that way, but steadfast in her conviction, regardless. Instinct, perhaps. There was something about Ambrose that made him seem like there was something more to him than just lunacy. So, unflinchingly, she stared, waiting for the answer.

He waited out Their cheers, Their whoops and hollers. Five seconds. Ten seconds. When They allowed any clarity of thought and vision once more, there were the rat woman's eyes. She was still waiting for his answer. A different answer.

The Powers were not on the Earth, it was true-- most of Them, anyways. If she really wanted specifics, then he would be. Again, the name was the first thing from his mind, unable to clearly deliberate over his new answer but never doubting it:

"Reality."
The force that would destroy mankind everywhere once they woke up from their dreams and passions alike. Her force.

As she stared at his face, taking in his absent expression, she was almost afraid to hope for an answer worth the wait. Unfortunately, she was right, and she had to swallow the bitter disappointment. Her eyes fell to half-mast. "Being." she corrected with resignation. Okay. Maybe putting faith in him was a mistake in the end.

She started to turn away, but hesitation made her stop midway with a sidelong glance thrown at Ambrose. No, she would not await a third version of the answer; surely he would find something else to misunderstand in the simple question... perhaps the definition of 'strongest'. Audi let out a sigh then plopped down beside her experiment, starting to shuffle around the notes needlessly to take her mind off the let-down.

Perhaps this was something she had to do alone.

"She exists," was his immediate reply, Audi's face turned away but his eyes still staring. Glaring, now.

After being with Their voices for so long-- being immersed in Their logic, Their titles-- the boy simply did not understand her not understanding. 'Reality': he was being clear in the pronouncing, leaving no room for error. Why did the rat doubt? He didn't understand it. They had narrowed his mind too much.

With Audi's sigh, Ambrose inched closer, his head hovering near hers, following her eyes . . . Notes. Illegible notes, but notes all the same. They attempted to read, as well, not able to make any headway, either. Frustration bubbled up in both parties.

"What questions?" the boy managed to ask after several moments, his own question folded two ways: why the doubt with Reality? And, what questions did the papers hold? He was still mad, of course, but not believing in Reality was unfortunately common. Many of Them still denied her existence. Never his; only her's.

Who ever would question the existence of reality? Only somebody whose sanity had slipped, and Audi felt slightly indignant that Ambrose apparently considered her as such. Audi patted the carpet she was sitting on. Of course reality was real, but it was not a being. Or a she.

The open pages hardly held secrets, being filled with the results of methodical killing of cockroaches and a few sketches of the process, so she resisted the urge to slam the notebook closed when he peered over her shoulder. Despite the fact that moments ago, she herself decided to share with him a bit of her research, now that he showed interest she couldn't help mistrust bubbling up. Pretending not to care, she wrote down a few sentences, underlining several words. Just as she was beginning to wonder if he was just going to stand there and stare indefinitely, he broke the silence, and Audi turned her head to give him a puzzled look. While she really appreciated his economy of talking, he was pushing it a little; it took her a moment to comprehend what was he asking about. And it was perhaps a bit because of that that she decided to answer, even though her questions were not for him.

Audi took a deep breath, a dark gleam in her eye. "I need to know what makes us strong," she said lowly. "I need to know what makes some capable of surviving being crushed and beheaded, how come some can solve a Rubik's cube the first time they pick it up, why some can measure the orbits of planets by looking at them from the ground and the rest are stuck dallying in said dirt." Her fingers curled, claws digging into the carpet beneath. "The world has its rules. I need to know... how."

She stared at him, a bit out of breath, watching his reaction closely. Those were the questions, and it wasn't a problem to name them; but what she needed the answers for was something she would not share.

Ambrose continued to peer over the rat woman's shoulder, watching her pen strokes carefully despite not being able to decifer them. And, the turn . . . She understood him-- good. The boy was thus an attentive audience, something They always craved but never got. She had earned it; They had not. It was a different few of Them would ever understand.

While the rat woman caught her breath, Ambrose rolled over the questions as best as possible with Their ever-present conversation. They were good ones, worthy of notes and underlines. People were born with talents or had inclinations towards abilities-- Laughter could craft a tale, Disaster could lie ever-easily, Metis knew the right words to say, and he could make a pocket lighter in mere seconds. Some of those abilities took practice but not too much; they were good at what they did because of what Audi was looking for, that source of inclination. The idea of those abilities being from a set of rules, though, irked him. Rules were whims of higher people, higher forms. Rules were his entire life; he didn't want it a part of his existence, too.

"Will has . . . a part," he managed after a minute, his eyes aimed just above the paper, not the paper nor Audi herself. He composed each word carefully, attempting to form his own answer. "Environment . . ." Pain shot up his head at the four-tempered word, but he pressed forward. What was the third part--? It was gone; Ambrose could only shake his head. His answer was a guess at best and only half-formed, at that. He loathed guesses.

Ambrose seemed rather enraptured. It was reassuring, at the very least, to not be scoffed at when she shared the inquiries; the fact that she'd probably bite him in the face if he did laugh nonwithstanding. With her head slightly tilted, she patiently waited for his answer - again - in the meantime using the opportunity to really take in his appearance. Bright hair, messy clothes, a cup of indeterminate drinking liquid, and he looked so tired. Shouldn't humans be sleeping at this hour? The dark circles underneath his eyes made him seem like he hadn't done that for weeks. Audi bit her lip with concern, almost breaking the skin as she flinched when he broke the silence.

She felt like mouthing the words as he strained them out as if that could help the effort.

What he had said was of little help, really, said the part of her mind that insisted on not wasting a single moment, but the rest of her was all too elated about having a listener to care. She nodded fervently. "Yes. Nurture." She paused. "Fate. But, nature!" She flailed her hands in a desperate word-beckoning gesture. "How is it determined? Why am I me and you are you, and the roaches are roaches? Who crowns the kings and who... who makes gods gods?"

Questions, questions, questions, the longer one looked, the more there were to be found; and despite thousands of years of research, answers were still elusive. Modern humans had mostly given up, contented with their shallow, mundane sciences, deciding that because the deeper spiritual cogs that moved the world were incomprehensible, they didn't exist. Those who still dared question were pushed out of society, ridiculed and pegged down as insane. Like her master.

And now, he was dead, and the duty to keep asking was hers.

The mouthing helped, but the staring before and the confirmation afterwards did not. Fate suggested a predetermining, which was right to a point, but . . . Talents, maybe, but not events. That was as bad as rules or worse-- but, it did no good to think so much about the topic; They didn't like it. They protested at the discussion, calling it too technical for their tastes. Fight! Make out! Anything but the analysis of the logic of the world. It just was, all right? It just was.

They all knew what happened when someone messed with the gears; Entropy was the perfect example of that.

More questions, a rising headache . . . Again, he had no definitive answers. Still, what did make 'him' him? His penchant for thievery, yes, his love for coins, and . . . stubbornness, he was once told-- by whom, he had long forgotten. How those traits in themselves came to exist, he could only fathom. There had to be a beginning point, a time before Them and before his steals. He furrowed his brow in concentration, attempting to push away Their voices and reach back to whatever was back there--

accept it all
give none of it back

--His vision rapidly faded to black. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he knew nothing of the outside. Just a darkness and a searing pain from his head. His face contorted with anguish. He kept trying to open his eyes. He tried to get down on his knees and grasp the floor. And, while he did succeed in those actions, nothing was gained.

Worse than the blindness was Their voices being gone. He had forgotten how to think.

The questions she had asked weren't ones she expected Ambrose to answer, so she just stared on at him as hopeless as ever. He seemed to be deep in thought, as if the answers could be pulled from his mind instead of from years of meticulous research. Still, if she made him question, then she supposed it was a good thing.

But then suddenly, he was collapsing. Audi's eyes widened to almost roundness as she jumped to her feet, bouncing from one to the other in panic. "Ambrose?!" she squeaked, then glanced around as if for help. The room was as empty and quiet as it had been. Gulping, she quickly knelt down beside him and put a hand on his back. Oh, please, don't let him die here just with her. He'd obviously been ill for a while, but she really didn't want to be the only one there if he was to pass away. She wasn't even really sure why.

"Ambrose." she said, voice cracking. "Come back."

The squeaks were barely audible in the blank dark; Audi's voice was consumed by nothingness, barely reaching the boy's ears . . . but, he heard it. It was enough to grasp onto, at the very least.

He continued to feel around. There had to be something physical to grab onto; a table, a chair . . . If he could grab onto anything, then he could physically pull himself up and out of this madness. He could work on the mental side of the problem later--

like a stone
let it pass

Through the darkness, there was a patch of white. A small, pale boy wearing nothing and being nothing but an absence of color. An absence of everything.

let it pass

What was that thing? It lacked the emotion to be human, although it looked the part well. The face looked familiar, too: the sharp angles, the messy part, the . . . wisps of hair over the ears . . . drooping, but wavy--

let them record results

He looked straight into the glazed eyes-- back into those glazed eyes-- and made a decision. He would deny it like everything else in his damned existence. He would deny the white, this boy. He would deny the black, looming Entropy. He would deny them all, and no fucks would be given.

Candidate. A whisper through the black scape. They were already coming back. The white would only hold them back for so long.

It was time to act.
Ambrose physically reached out-- and felt something furry underneath his palm. It was thin, but it was something physical, regardless. He attempted to grasp the physical and pull on it. Hard.

(( Yes, he is trying to pull Audi's tail. > >; ))

Audi just didn't know what to do. Was there even anything she could do? Nothing really came to mind, at least, so she stuck to watching Ambrose anxiously as he appeared to fell deeper into whatever it was that was ailing him.

Maybe there actually was nothing that she could do. People fell ill and died all of the time, and it wasn't her fault for being unable to help. It was not her job. She couldn't even go and get somebody whose job it, indeed, was, because nobody really came to mind... The ratgirl sighed tensely and started to get up just as her tail was grabbed. She flinched, sparse hairs bristling slightly over the rough skin of her tail. Just what now...? Her tail being long and coiled, it was a moment between Ambrose yanking on it and her actually feeling it at the base; and before that happened, she grabbed it too, above where he was holding on to it, as if they were playing tug-o-war. She didn't pull back, though. She just stared on blankly.

"Ambrose...?"