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Simon Says - Chapter 4: The Great Revival
Diego sniffed his mug, savoring the aroma of decaffeinated coffee and sadism. Simon contemplated the most honorable method of attacking a blind man. But Athena lit up like an atom bomb.
"Simon has a boyfriend?"
"I most certainly do not," he growled.
"Ex-boyfriend," came Diego's smug correction.
"I have to hear about this!" blurted Widget.
"There is nothing to hear about."
But whatever was in his voice only made Athena more excited. "Now I really need to hear it!"
"It's one hell of a tale. Those two were a true terror in the jailhouse."
Simon rubbed his nose. "It was nothing so exciting as that. You know very well I've barely spoken two words to him in the past four years…"
"So there was a 'him'! C'mon, Simon, you have to tell me! I'll tell you about all the people I dated back in Europe!"
"A schoolgirl's tales are hardly—wait. What do you mean, 'all' of them!?"
"You first! I wanna hear about your prison boyfriend!"
"…Hmph. 'Boyfriend' is a very liberal word…"
CHAPTER FOUR: THE GREAT REVIVAL
Things became more difficult after Debeste lost interest in protecting Blackquill. In the days that he waited for Keyes to come through with those files, he was subjected to a number of threats, and though none of them had resulted in anything physical, he knew it was only a matter of time. By that point he'd started properly cultivating his prison persona, keeping in mind the training of Dr. Cykes and the advice of Armando-dono. He suspected that was the only reason no one had planted a knife in his back.
But if all he had to do was become someone else, he could live with that. The battlefield of the clink was not unlike that of the courtroom, on a grander and deadlier scale. He'd simply work harder to make himself dark and terrifying; vicious and unknowable. Conversely, he would learn everything there was to know about the animals around him and mimic what he saw, using their scent to mask his own.
Once he overheard one prisoner saying to another, "Watch out for Simon," and felt a brief moment he felt a twinge of satisfaction before the sentence was finished with, "Keyes."
He'd finally remembered where he heard the name; it was from a trial that Edgeworth-sempai had prosecuted, and there had been a great deal of buzz in the office. At that time, Blackquill had just begun investigating the phantom and his attention was elsewhere, but he recalled that there had been talk of multiple murders, only to result in a final verdict that Keyes could not be convicted for any of them; even one that had been proven went down as justified self-defense. Instead, he was imprisoned on two counts of kidnapping. In other words, Simon Keyes would be paroled in a handful of years, whereas Simon Blackquill would never see the sun again.
It was amazing, he thought, that he'd ever had faith in the law to begin with.
But despite his disdain, a sort of curiosity began to grow within him. Much in the way of learning a new word and then seeing it everywhere, so too did Blackquill begin to notice Keyes all over the prison. He performed in the monthly circus show; he played with other inmates' pets (a taboo amongst the animal therapy crowd); he frolicked around the yard as if he owned the place. Who the devil was he?
Of course, his connection with the Supplier was obvious. But Blackquill had seen the treatment of those who exchanged sexual favors for security, and the other inmates did not treat Keyes in any such way. The respect that he garnered — or rather the fear — was genuine.
Six days after his meeting with the Supplier, Blackquill was lifting weights and pondering the nature of fear when a guard called out for him: "Blackquill, you have a visitor."
This was enough to earn a sigh. Despite his stubborn refusal to see Aura, she stubbornly kept returning. "Surely you know the drill by now. Send her away."
"It's not your sister this time. It's Prosecutor Edgeworth."
"What?" He cringed. If there was anybody he wanted to see even less than his sister… "Then send him away."
"He said to tell you he had some files for you."
Blackquill's jaw dropped. "You— is this some sort of jest?!"
"How should I know?" The guard shrugged. "So are you coming or aren't you?"
"I… y-yes, I shall meet with him."
He wasn't sure what to expect on the other side of the visiting center glass, but deep in his gut, he never actually thought Miles Edgeworth would be sitting there. Not only that, but a thick folder sat in front of his cross-looking sempai. Blackquill took a seat in silence.
"So," said Edgeworth, crossing his arms, "now you want to prove your innocence."
Really, he could have fainted on the spot. "Excuse me?"
"Imagine my surprise when I receive a call from Simon Keyes, of all people, telling me that he'd met a prosecutor in prison — one who confessed to a crime he did not commit, and now wished to investigate it on the sly."
"That lying—I told him no such thing!" Blackquill barked, trying to cover up his embarrassment with raw volume.
"He said you'd deny it as well." Edgeworth's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you ask me for help? You were such a promising prosecutor. Why were you so adamant on hiding the truth? I could have flown back into the country and—"
"This meeting is over." Simon stood up, slamming his palms against the desk. "Jailer—"
"Do you still want these files?" Edgeworth interrupted. "Because you're hardly in a position to turn them down now."
Blackquill's stomach was twisting into knots. "I shall not sit here and discuss this— this poppycock with you! My— my obvious and confessed guilt has nothing to do with my investigation!"
"Sit down. I went to some trouble to authorize the use of these files. Even if you won't tell me the truth, I expect you to act respectfully."
They locked eyes. Edgeworth's stare was as steely as ever, and Blackquill sat back down. It was a long, awkward moment before he said, "I apologize. But I cannot understand why you are here or why you brought my records."
"Because I've had my doubts about your case from the beginning, but due to your reckless confession, my hands are tied."
Once again, Edgeworth wanted to take the conversation somewhere where Blackquill could not allow it to go. He asked a more pertinent question: "And why would Interpol deign to humor me? Surely not out of the kindness of their hearts."
"I'm not the person to ask about that, as it was ultimately not my decision." Edgeworth pushed the files across the divide.
Now it was Edgeworth dodging topics, but Blackquill supposed he could guess the answer. Interpol wanted to see what he would do with the information; or rather, they wanted to use the fact that he was already closely-monitored in prison to catch him doing something illegal with it. It would be a clever tactic, he supposed, if he were actually committing crimes.
Yes, he was certain that had to be Interpol's motives. But Edgeworth… he believed in Edgeworth. And Edgeworth apparently believed in him. In any other situation, it would be touching.
"I appreciate the trouble you've gone through," he said, unable to say anything more.
"That's not the only reason I came here today," said Edgeworth. "I wanted to give you a warning as well."
"Oh?"
He was expecting something about Interpol or the case, but instead Edgeworth said this: "I don't know what sort of bargain you've struck up with Keyes, but he's a dangerous man; one of the most dangerous that I have ever put behind bars. He may seem harmless, but he will seek weaknesses in you to exploit. Don't give him that chance."
"Funny. Was psychological manipulation not my trademark as a prosecutor?" Blackquill put up an insulted front, but on the inside he writhed with humiliation. It was too late for Edgeworth's warning, after all; he had already been bested once.
And Edgeworth, as though he could see right through him, was completely unimpressed. "That was not intended as a challenge. I've included a copy of the public record of the State v Keyes in those files. You may wish to give it a read."
"Perhaps I shall," he replied with the sort of shrug meant to apply he had no real interest in it whatsoever.
He would read it the very instant he had returned to his cell.
Now, he'd still fully intended to heed Edgeworth's warnings. He had a great deal of respect and trust for his sempai's opinion, and no need to become further entwined in the other Simon's affairs now that he'd gotten what he needed. But he was curious and the clink was boring, and having a new and interesting case to peruse was a more than welcome diversion. At most, he thought to make a psychiatric profile of someone who had been so much more successful in the clink than he himself.
Knowing what little he did about the man, Blackquill would have guessed that Keyes was a textbook psychopath; a con artist, perhaps, someone motivated by greed and power. But he could not have been more off base. Keyes was a monster molded by tragedy and desperation, like an animal backed into a corner until it could do nothing but snap at anyone that came too close. Blackquill had no sympathy for his cruelty, but he knew all too well the feeling of drowning in misery caused by forces outside of his own control.
But even more than the dramatic narrative, Blackquill found himself engrossed in the psychological techniques that Keyes used to get his way. And so his fascination, far from being smothered by Edgeworth's warning, only grew. If there were anyone from whom he could further his studies into manipulation, it would be Simon Keyes.
Still, he'd meant to keep a distance. And he did so successfully for several months before the fight broke out.
———
By that time, Blackquill had learned several of Keyes' patterns. He would often leave the yard during rec time - the guard on duty would disable the sensor and let him out, and Keyes would take off, presumably to visit Dogen in his cell. So it was not out of the norm when on that fateful day, Keyes had done exactly that. But it struck Blackquill as unusual nonetheless, because for the first time he'd ever seen, others had followed after him — Redd White and two other men that he didn't know by name; a large one with a faux tan and a small one with bi-colored hair. They spoke to the guard briefly and were let into the building.
Now that was interesting. Were they making a business deal, perhaps? Though by all accounts, White detested the Supplier and his right hand alike, word had it he was already losing what little influence he gained from the power vacuum created when the new warden came into office. Perhaps they were going to discuss terms of surrender? Surely White wouldn't be stupid enough to try to outright murder Keyes… would he?
Whatever they were up to, it was nothing good, and curiosity got the better of Blackquill. He simply couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. With Taka on his shoulder, he headed toward the door and, making sure to loom, asked the guard, "Did they leave without me?"
"Huh?" the guard practically jumped out of his suit; a satisfying reaction. "Er— wh-which one were you, ah…?"
"Should that not be obvious?" Blackquill growled. "Shall I tell him you've been holding me back?"
"No! Ah— g-go ahead," the guard said, and shut off the sensor for him, too.
Blackquill left the yard. Immediately inside was a wide room on the first floor used for animal training, and in the center of that sat a massive climbing rock with a tire affixed to it by a chain. This, he hid behind and watched.
Keyes, predictably, had been heading to the special cell. It was separated off with a heavy hatch that required the turning of a wheel to open, and he hadn't had the chance to open it before the trio approached him.
"Salutritions," White greeted. "I'd like to have a pontiferation with you."
Keyes rolled his eyes. "You always bring along your goons when you're 'pontiferating' people, White?"
"Yo, who you's callin' a goon, clown?" snapped the man that Blackquill would later learn to be Furio Tigre.
"Some goon who thinks naming chosen professions is an insult," Keyes replied with a laugh and a shrug. "So what do you want, White? I'm guessing not speech therapy for you and Spray-Tan over here."
The third man, whom Blackquill would later know as Richard Wellington, snickered until Tigre made an obviously threatening hand motion.
"I want you to stop profitizing in my territory!" White snapped.
"Funny! Not you, I mean — though take a professional clown's opinion when he states that you are, in fact, a joke — but the idea that you think you have any territory to speak of."
This time it was Tigre who laughed. "He's gotcha there."
"Quietude!"
"But I'm wondering," said Keyes, who had taken advantage of the distraction to pull out a butterfly knife and hide it behind his back, "if maybe you don't know who's on the other side of this door? I wouldn't want you to upset anyone with your loud, scary voices."
"It's obvious that door is antisonorific. He won't hear a thing."
Now they, too, were getting out their shivs; a razor blade on a pencil for Tigre, and a whittled-down toothbrush and comb for White and Wellington respectively. Keyes brought up his own actual knife defensively, backing up against the door.
Things had escalated ridiculously. Blackquill knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone would be injured or killed before his very eyes. But what could he do about it? If he ran for a guard, Keyes would likely be dead by the time he got back, and that was assuming he could find one that hadn't been paid off to stay away. And while he was more than capable of fighting, he had no weapon of his own…
But then, hadn't his mentor trained him for that very thing? "There will be times on the battlefield when you may not have access to your weapon," she would say, and she was right. A true samurai is at one with his surroundings. A true samurai is not afraid to improvise.
And so he yanked the tire from the climbing rock, pulling so hard that the chain snapped. Grasping it by that chain, he swung it around and flung it directly into the Wellington's back, flattening him. Truthfully, he'd been aiming for Tigre, but he'd achieved the desired effect, as everyone stopped waving blades around and stopped to stare at him. Perhaps he'd even have been able to talk them down had Taka not swooped into action.
The hawk went for the target his master had missed, screeching and clawing at Tigre's face. Fearing for the bird's safety, Blackquill rushed in, snatching up the tire and slamming it over Wellington's head, trapping his arms. He then spun around to disarm Tigre, gripping his wrist and twisting it until his shiv clattered to the floor before knocking him out with a swift chop to the back of the head.
This left White and Keyes to continue their fight unabated. White slashed at Keyes relentlessly while Keyes ducked and weaved out of the way. Around the same time that Blackquill was dropping Tigre to the ground, Keyes finally counterattacked, planting his blade directly into White's side and then yanking it out. White collapsed and Keyes, slipping the bloodied knife back into his sleeve, ran for it.
Blackquill did not move to stop him. Instead, he stooped down to help White, who sat in a slumped heap, staring at his own blood on his hands. "I… I'm desanguinating."
"Silence," Blackquill growled, peeling off his own shirt in order to put pressure on the wound.
When the guards found him, he was covered with blood and hunched over three unconscious bodies.
————
"Um…" Athena fiddled with her earring. "I gotta be honest, Simon, you're not exactly selling me on this guy."
"That's the point. I don't want you to romanticizing my… companionship with a ruthless murderer."
"But you liked him, right? What did you see in him?"
"He was…" Brilliant. Beautiful. Educational. Absolutely alive in a way that Simon himself suspected he still was not. "…an invaluable ally."
"And wasn't he with the Supplier?"
"No. Many made that assumption, and it was convenient for Keyes not to correct it, but they were true family to one another; a father and son in spirit, if not in blood."
"So when he was in Dogen's bed before, that was to trick you?"
"That's what I believed at the time. Much later I learned the truth. Keyes, much like myself, had severe insomnia, and would often end up napping in Dogen's cell. I think it's the only place he ever truly felt safe." Keyes had certainly never slept in his cell, he recalled with only the tiniest twinge of old bitterness.
"He didn't feel safe, huh… um. That wasn't because of people following him around, was it?"
Simon did not like the tone of her voice. "What are you implying?"
"Er… I mean, he did know that you were his boyfriend, right?"
"Yes," Simon growled.
"Then I want to hear about that! All you're talking about is how much you were stalking the guy !"
"Have you no sense of narrative? I was establishing what sort of person he is and why referring to him as my 'boyfriend' is a sorry misjudgment—"
"You're stalling!" Widget chirped.
"Never hold out on a lady," Diego chimed in. "That's one of my rules."
"What incorrigible fools I find myself surrounded with," Blackquill grumbled, seething with embarrassment. "But very well…"
"Simon has a boyfriend?"
"I most certainly do not," he growled.
"Ex-boyfriend," came Diego's smug correction.
"I have to hear about this!" blurted Widget.
"There is nothing to hear about."
But whatever was in his voice only made Athena more excited. "Now I really need to hear it!"
"It's one hell of a tale. Those two were a true terror in the jailhouse."
Simon rubbed his nose. "It was nothing so exciting as that. You know very well I've barely spoken two words to him in the past four years…"
"So there was a 'him'! C'mon, Simon, you have to tell me! I'll tell you about all the people I dated back in Europe!"
"A schoolgirl's tales are hardly—wait. What do you mean, 'all' of them!?"
"You first! I wanna hear about your prison boyfriend!"
"…Hmph. 'Boyfriend' is a very liberal word…"
Things became more difficult after Debeste lost interest in protecting Blackquill. In the days that he waited for Keyes to come through with those files, he was subjected to a number of threats, and though none of them had resulted in anything physical, he knew it was only a matter of time. By that point he'd started properly cultivating his prison persona, keeping in mind the training of Dr. Cykes and the advice of Armando-dono. He suspected that was the only reason no one had planted a knife in his back.
But if all he had to do was become someone else, he could live with that. The battlefield of the clink was not unlike that of the courtroom, on a grander and deadlier scale. He'd simply work harder to make himself dark and terrifying; vicious and unknowable. Conversely, he would learn everything there was to know about the animals around him and mimic what he saw, using their scent to mask his own.
Once he overheard one prisoner saying to another, "Watch out for Simon," and felt a brief moment he felt a twinge of satisfaction before the sentence was finished with, "Keyes."
He'd finally remembered where he heard the name; it was from a trial that Edgeworth-sempai had prosecuted, and there had been a great deal of buzz in the office. At that time, Blackquill had just begun investigating the phantom and his attention was elsewhere, but he recalled that there had been talk of multiple murders, only to result in a final verdict that Keyes could not be convicted for any of them; even one that had been proven went down as justified self-defense. Instead, he was imprisoned on two counts of kidnapping. In other words, Simon Keyes would be paroled in a handful of years, whereas Simon Blackquill would never see the sun again.
It was amazing, he thought, that he'd ever had faith in the law to begin with.
But despite his disdain, a sort of curiosity began to grow within him. Much in the way of learning a new word and then seeing it everywhere, so too did Blackquill begin to notice Keyes all over the prison. He performed in the monthly circus show; he played with other inmates' pets (a taboo amongst the animal therapy crowd); he frolicked around the yard as if he owned the place. Who the devil was he?
Of course, his connection with the Supplier was obvious. But Blackquill had seen the treatment of those who exchanged sexual favors for security, and the other inmates did not treat Keyes in any such way. The respect that he garnered — or rather the fear — was genuine.
Six days after his meeting with the Supplier, Blackquill was lifting weights and pondering the nature of fear when a guard called out for him: "Blackquill, you have a visitor."
This was enough to earn a sigh. Despite his stubborn refusal to see Aura, she stubbornly kept returning. "Surely you know the drill by now. Send her away."
"It's not your sister this time. It's Prosecutor Edgeworth."
"What?" He cringed. If there was anybody he wanted to see even less than his sister… "Then send him away."
"He said to tell you he had some files for you."
Blackquill's jaw dropped. "You— is this some sort of jest?!"
"How should I know?" The guard shrugged. "So are you coming or aren't you?"
"I… y-yes, I shall meet with him."
He wasn't sure what to expect on the other side of the visiting center glass, but deep in his gut, he never actually thought Miles Edgeworth would be sitting there. Not only that, but a thick folder sat in front of his cross-looking sempai. Blackquill took a seat in silence.
"So," said Edgeworth, crossing his arms, "now you want to prove your innocence."
Really, he could have fainted on the spot. "Excuse me?"
"Imagine my surprise when I receive a call from Simon Keyes, of all people, telling me that he'd met a prosecutor in prison — one who confessed to a crime he did not commit, and now wished to investigate it on the sly."
"That lying—I told him no such thing!" Blackquill barked, trying to cover up his embarrassment with raw volume.
"He said you'd deny it as well." Edgeworth's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you ask me for help? You were such a promising prosecutor. Why were you so adamant on hiding the truth? I could have flown back into the country and—"
"This meeting is over." Simon stood up, slamming his palms against the desk. "Jailer—"
"Do you still want these files?" Edgeworth interrupted. "Because you're hardly in a position to turn them down now."
Blackquill's stomach was twisting into knots. "I shall not sit here and discuss this— this poppycock with you! My— my obvious and confessed guilt has nothing to do with my investigation!"
"Sit down. I went to some trouble to authorize the use of these files. Even if you won't tell me the truth, I expect you to act respectfully."
They locked eyes. Edgeworth's stare was as steely as ever, and Blackquill sat back down. It was a long, awkward moment before he said, "I apologize. But I cannot understand why you are here or why you brought my records."
"Because I've had my doubts about your case from the beginning, but due to your reckless confession, my hands are tied."
Once again, Edgeworth wanted to take the conversation somewhere where Blackquill could not allow it to go. He asked a more pertinent question: "And why would Interpol deign to humor me? Surely not out of the kindness of their hearts."
"I'm not the person to ask about that, as it was ultimately not my decision." Edgeworth pushed the files across the divide.
Now it was Edgeworth dodging topics, but Blackquill supposed he could guess the answer. Interpol wanted to see what he would do with the information; or rather, they wanted to use the fact that he was already closely-monitored in prison to catch him doing something illegal with it. It would be a clever tactic, he supposed, if he were actually committing crimes.
Yes, he was certain that had to be Interpol's motives. But Edgeworth… he believed in Edgeworth. And Edgeworth apparently believed in him. In any other situation, it would be touching.
"I appreciate the trouble you've gone through," he said, unable to say anything more.
"That's not the only reason I came here today," said Edgeworth. "I wanted to give you a warning as well."
"Oh?"
He was expecting something about Interpol or the case, but instead Edgeworth said this: "I don't know what sort of bargain you've struck up with Keyes, but he's a dangerous man; one of the most dangerous that I have ever put behind bars. He may seem harmless, but he will seek weaknesses in you to exploit. Don't give him that chance."
"Funny. Was psychological manipulation not my trademark as a prosecutor?" Blackquill put up an insulted front, but on the inside he writhed with humiliation. It was too late for Edgeworth's warning, after all; he had already been bested once.
And Edgeworth, as though he could see right through him, was completely unimpressed. "That was not intended as a challenge. I've included a copy of the public record of the State v Keyes in those files. You may wish to give it a read."
"Perhaps I shall," he replied with the sort of shrug meant to apply he had no real interest in it whatsoever.
He would read it the very instant he had returned to his cell.
Now, he'd still fully intended to heed Edgeworth's warnings. He had a great deal of respect and trust for his sempai's opinion, and no need to become further entwined in the other Simon's affairs now that he'd gotten what he needed. But he was curious and the clink was boring, and having a new and interesting case to peruse was a more than welcome diversion. At most, he thought to make a psychiatric profile of someone who had been so much more successful in the clink than he himself.
Knowing what little he did about the man, Blackquill would have guessed that Keyes was a textbook psychopath; a con artist, perhaps, someone motivated by greed and power. But he could not have been more off base. Keyes was a monster molded by tragedy and desperation, like an animal backed into a corner until it could do nothing but snap at anyone that came too close. Blackquill had no sympathy for his cruelty, but he knew all too well the feeling of drowning in misery caused by forces outside of his own control.
But even more than the dramatic narrative, Blackquill found himself engrossed in the psychological techniques that Keyes used to get his way. And so his fascination, far from being smothered by Edgeworth's warning, only grew. If there were anyone from whom he could further his studies into manipulation, it would be Simon Keyes.
Still, he'd meant to keep a distance. And he did so successfully for several months before the fight broke out.
By that time, Blackquill had learned several of Keyes' patterns. He would often leave the yard during rec time - the guard on duty would disable the sensor and let him out, and Keyes would take off, presumably to visit Dogen in his cell. So it was not out of the norm when on that fateful day, Keyes had done exactly that. But it struck Blackquill as unusual nonetheless, because for the first time he'd ever seen, others had followed after him — Redd White and two other men that he didn't know by name; a large one with a faux tan and a small one with bi-colored hair. They spoke to the guard briefly and were let into the building.
Now that was interesting. Were they making a business deal, perhaps? Though by all accounts, White detested the Supplier and his right hand alike, word had it he was already losing what little influence he gained from the power vacuum created when the new warden came into office. Perhaps they were going to discuss terms of surrender? Surely White wouldn't be stupid enough to try to outright murder Keyes… would he?
Whatever they were up to, it was nothing good, and curiosity got the better of Blackquill. He simply couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. With Taka on his shoulder, he headed toward the door and, making sure to loom, asked the guard, "Did they leave without me?"
"Huh?" the guard practically jumped out of his suit; a satisfying reaction. "Er— wh-which one were you, ah…?"
"Should that not be obvious?" Blackquill growled. "Shall I tell him you've been holding me back?"
"No! Ah— g-go ahead," the guard said, and shut off the sensor for him, too.
Blackquill left the yard. Immediately inside was a wide room on the first floor used for animal training, and in the center of that sat a massive climbing rock with a tire affixed to it by a chain. This, he hid behind and watched.
Keyes, predictably, had been heading to the special cell. It was separated off with a heavy hatch that required the turning of a wheel to open, and he hadn't had the chance to open it before the trio approached him.
"Salutritions," White greeted. "I'd like to have a pontiferation with you."
Keyes rolled his eyes. "You always bring along your goons when you're 'pontiferating' people, White?"
"Yo, who you's callin' a goon, clown?" snapped the man that Blackquill would later learn to be Furio Tigre.
"Some goon who thinks naming chosen professions is an insult," Keyes replied with a laugh and a shrug. "So what do you want, White? I'm guessing not speech therapy for you and Spray-Tan over here."
The third man, whom Blackquill would later know as Richard Wellington, snickered until Tigre made an obviously threatening hand motion.
"I want you to stop profitizing in my territory!" White snapped.
"Funny! Not you, I mean — though take a professional clown's opinion when he states that you are, in fact, a joke — but the idea that you think you have any territory to speak of."
This time it was Tigre who laughed. "He's gotcha there."
"Quietude!"
"But I'm wondering," said Keyes, who had taken advantage of the distraction to pull out a butterfly knife and hide it behind his back, "if maybe you don't know who's on the other side of this door? I wouldn't want you to upset anyone with your loud, scary voices."
"It's obvious that door is antisonorific. He won't hear a thing."
Now they, too, were getting out their shivs; a razor blade on a pencil for Tigre, and a whittled-down toothbrush and comb for White and Wellington respectively. Keyes brought up his own actual knife defensively, backing up against the door.
Things had escalated ridiculously. Blackquill knew that it would only be a matter of time before someone would be injured or killed before his very eyes. But what could he do about it? If he ran for a guard, Keyes would likely be dead by the time he got back, and that was assuming he could find one that hadn't been paid off to stay away. And while he was more than capable of fighting, he had no weapon of his own…
But then, hadn't his mentor trained him for that very thing? "There will be times on the battlefield when you may not have access to your weapon," she would say, and she was right. A true samurai is at one with his surroundings. A true samurai is not afraid to improvise.
And so he yanked the tire from the climbing rock, pulling so hard that the chain snapped. Grasping it by that chain, he swung it around and flung it directly into the Wellington's back, flattening him. Truthfully, he'd been aiming for Tigre, but he'd achieved the desired effect, as everyone stopped waving blades around and stopped to stare at him. Perhaps he'd even have been able to talk them down had Taka not swooped into action.
The hawk went for the target his master had missed, screeching and clawing at Tigre's face. Fearing for the bird's safety, Blackquill rushed in, snatching up the tire and slamming it over Wellington's head, trapping his arms. He then spun around to disarm Tigre, gripping his wrist and twisting it until his shiv clattered to the floor before knocking him out with a swift chop to the back of the head.
This left White and Keyes to continue their fight unabated. White slashed at Keyes relentlessly while Keyes ducked and weaved out of the way. Around the same time that Blackquill was dropping Tigre to the ground, Keyes finally counterattacked, planting his blade directly into White's side and then yanking it out. White collapsed and Keyes, slipping the bloodied knife back into his sleeve, ran for it.
Blackquill did not move to stop him. Instead, he stooped down to help White, who sat in a slumped heap, staring at his own blood on his hands. "I… I'm desanguinating."
"Silence," Blackquill growled, peeling off his own shirt in order to put pressure on the wound.
When the guards found him, he was covered with blood and hunched over three unconscious bodies.
"Um…" Athena fiddled with her earring. "I gotta be honest, Simon, you're not exactly selling me on this guy."
"That's the point. I don't want you to romanticizing my… companionship with a ruthless murderer."
"But you liked him, right? What did you see in him?"
"He was…" Brilliant. Beautiful. Educational. Absolutely alive in a way that Simon himself suspected he still was not. "…an invaluable ally."
"And wasn't he with the Supplier?"
"No. Many made that assumption, and it was convenient for Keyes not to correct it, but they were true family to one another; a father and son in spirit, if not in blood."
"So when he was in Dogen's bed before, that was to trick you?"
"That's what I believed at the time. Much later I learned the truth. Keyes, much like myself, had severe insomnia, and would often end up napping in Dogen's cell. I think it's the only place he ever truly felt safe." Keyes had certainly never slept in his cell, he recalled with only the tiniest twinge of old bitterness.
"He didn't feel safe, huh… um. That wasn't because of people following him around, was it?"
Simon did not like the tone of her voice. "What are you implying?"
"Er… I mean, he did know that you were his boyfriend, right?"
"Yes," Simon growled.
"Then I want to hear about that! All you're talking about is how much you were stalking the guy !"
"Have you no sense of narrative? I was establishing what sort of person he is and why referring to him as my 'boyfriend' is a sorry misjudgment—"
"You're stalling!" Widget chirped.
"Never hold out on a lady," Diego chimed in. "That's one of my rules."
"What incorrigible fools I find myself surrounded with," Blackquill grumbled, seething with embarrassment. "But very well…"