(A)BORT, (R)ETRY, (F)AIL?
PART ONE: RECONFIGURATION
A/N: Here is the second chap. .-. Please review, reviews make me happy. Please take the time to drop a review if you like/tolerate it XD; Just a forewarning, next chap is going to be very gory. .-.
Character is made by many acts; it may be lost by a single one.
Anonymous
Chapter Two – Intimidation
Forte relaxed slowly as those eyes left him, chewing his lip as Wily inspected his bedroom. This was somehow almost as unnerving as the scientist's arrival at his door, and in a sense, a lot worse. This was his room, his private haven from Wily and his dangerous mood swings. He wasn't supposed to be here, it was like and unspoken promise. And worse yet, the old man was touching his things, going through them, studying them. He felt a rather frank sense of violation at that. Forte had a lot of things he kept private from Wily – he thought of the magazines stuffed under the mass of clothing that he visited on lonely nights and grimaced at the thought of Wily finding them. These things represented parts of Forte that he himself didn't quite understand sometimes, and now the man was casually phishing through them. It wasn't fair, and he wasn't prepared for any of this. He watched as Wily picked up some of the new, experimental weapons Forte had taken to field test, not giving his creation so much as a glance over his shoulder. At least the little pea brain did some of what he asked him in his spare time, not just read books and silly little poems, and likely daydream about his creator's impending and eventual death. It was good to see some elements of his hard coded personality had not failed him – Forte still liked to fight, that much he was certain of. He'd had a hell of a time getting him to keep a low profile over the past few months. “I trust these work.” he stated, not a question. “They work.” Forte affirmed, watching restlessly. What was Wily getting at, anyway? He was giving him the creeps, invading his room and giving him a good, hard mind fuck. Everything about this screamed wrong. The dark edges on his vision were ever closing in, he could run himself ragged a little longer, but not much. He wanted to scream at the giant wrinkle violating his personal belongings to just hurry up and get it over with, but he didn't and never would dare. That was like committing suicide, something you could think about and talk big about, over and over, but once you actually did it, that was the end of everything. He still wasn’t that far gone yet. He felt another wave of inertia and steadied his body, waiting and ignoring the system warnings. He seriously hoped he didn't just out and out faint before Wily left – wouldn't that piss the man off, not to mention embarrass the hell out of him. He didn’t want to show that kind of weakness in front of this man. Wily continued to ignore him, further invading his creation’s personal space. “All of them?” the scientist pressed on with, noting the slightly glazed, distant look in his creation’s eyes. To anyone else, it would be easy to mistake Forte for stoned – maybe he even was, in a way. The glassy-eyed stare he wore was so close, Wily almost mistook it himself. But he knew what it really was, Forte's wounds had left him burned out in a different sense. He was running out of energy. How many times had he seen Forte in this state coming out of battle? When he fought, Forte pushed himself, almost to the point of forced shutdown. He had warned the violet haired boy countless times, but he knew Forte, and when he was fighting Rock he only thought of one thing. He stared at Forte's half closed eyes with no pity. Too bad, Forte could sleep on his own time. Right now, his time was Wily's time, and Wily didn't like sleeping on the job. He snapped his fingers, and Forte all but came out of a trance, focusing again. “I asked you a question, stop daydreaming.” Forte stiffened. Good, it was wise for a creation to fear its god. And he was definitely fearing a godly wrath right now. It was obvious he hadn't heard a word Wily had said, though he was looking rather attentive right now. “All of them?” he repeated. Forte pinched his arm a little, behind his back. He had almost shut down on his feet while his mind drifted a few moments ago, he was so far gone. His knees felt weak, though whether that was more with exhaustion or fear, he wasn't sure. He dreaded to think how much that would have pissed off Wily, essentially falling asleep in the middle of a lecture. He had better work harder at focusing. Still, he couldn't do this much longer, so he compromised, and allowed himself to slouch a little, shoulders slumping slightly, half closing his eyes. It made focusing a lot easier that way, and he thought he could push it along for awhile longer. Not for too long, however. He was exhausted, and he wasn’t sure if he could fight the urge to keep closing his eyes much longer. “Yes.” he muttered. Wily turned suddenly, face anything but pleasant, and he turned on his creation furiously. “Of course they do. They all work. And do you know why? Do you?” He didn't give Forte a chance to respond, slamming his fist on the table. No, he was really on a roll now. He could see the fear and panic rising up in Forte's eyes, and he was positively delighted. Good, let him fear him for awhile, it would do him good. He shouted his next statement so loudly his voice almost went up a decibel. “Because I don't make mistakes!” he shouted, face twisted back in a snarl. “I am a genius, and I don't make mistakes! I'm too smart for that!” He rounded on Forte, face red and blotchy with rage. “So why are you such a fuckup?” Forte practically jumped, heart racing. This was the side of Wily he truly despised and feared, above all else, and after all his years around Wily, he'd never truly adjusted to his wild and sometimes crazy mood swings. How could he? It was like preparing for the cannon fodder ten years before war was even being declared. And that's just what Wily was, a loose cannon. Still, he had to try, or he'd never survive in a place like this. Acting on his first instinct, he tried to explain himself. “It wasn't my fault! I~gyaaaah!!” He cried out loudly as Wily took one of the instruments on the table and jabbed it roughly into the bleeding, pulsating wound on Forte's side, t-shirt long since abandoned. He spent a fleeting second or two wondering what had happened to it, and then found he had a more pressing issue to deal with. Whatever blood had been coagulating was now set free, and it chose to take its march of freedom right down Forte's hip, leg, and before he even thought of reaction it was pooling over the top of his foot, tickling the spaces between his toes. He collapsed to his knees, groaning and shouting at Gospel as he sprang to his feet to protect his master. “No! Down!” He wasn't sure what Gospel might do, he didn't think he could harm Wily, but he wasn't about to take any chances. He didn't want Gospel hurt because of him. Gospel growled throatily but relented, sinking back down on his haunches with a whine. Forte sighed, relieved. If this was it for him, then fine, but please not Gospel too.... not Gospel. The wolf was far more loyal to him than anyone else he had ever met. He risked sparing a glance at Wily to see what he was doing, blood flowing more freely now. He seemed to have temporarily forgotten Forte, giving Gospel a rather disapproving look. Wily frowned at the mechanical wolf, agitated. The damned thing never would have attacked him, couldn't. He'd made very sure of that with a few programmed commands. He’d known how dangerous and stupid an animal like that was, and Gospel was a threat to everyone but him, much like Forte. Still, the fact that it had even defied him so much as to try and shield Forte from him angered him. Insubordination was one thing he did not tolerate, something Forte in fact had been fence-walking for awhile now. “Control your support unit better.” he ordered hotly. He was annoyed that Forte's influence had moved Gospel that much. Forte simply nodded, cowed. That had been close. Wily wouldn't have given killing Gospel a second thought. The old doctor took a step toward him and he felt himself shrink back against the wall despite himself, cursing himself inwardly for it. He wasn't a coward, but he wasn't stupid either. Wily was weak and feeble, but he had a rather nasty disposition, one that made up for as old and flawed as he could ever be. Not to mention he could build things to do what he physically didn't. His mind also made up for how elderly he was. Forte wasn't a fool, this couldn't be good, not at all. He couldn't help but feel as though he were caught in the middle of a tornado, caught between flying debris and the funnel itself, and trying to decide which death would be quicker and less painful. The older man grinned at Forte's composure and manner, pleased with himself for the way the usually belligerent boy practically trembled before him at but a look. He grabbed Forte's chin and thrust it up, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Look at me when I'm addressing you.” His hand slipped away from his chin – Forte remained with his head cocked slightly upward, eyes still lowered enough that they didn't quite meet his, staring hard past him at the far end of the room. He let Forte sweat it out for awhile, not forcing his chin the rest of the way up. He didn't need Forte to make eye contact with him for what he had prepared, though it would be a nice added bonus. Instead, he traced a finger up the streak on his cheek, then cupped it, pushing his hair back out of his face in the process. “Forte, Forte, Forte...” he chided mockingly, voice deceivingly soothing. “What am I going to do with you, Forte? You've been nothing but a failure to me.” Forte stared at him, eyes narrowed as he tried to not look intimidated and failing miserably. He didn't like all this sudden touching, it was very uncharacteristic of the doctor who normally hated physical contact of any kind, however unintentional.. “... I know you're here to kill me.” he muttered lowly, before he could silence the thought. He tried to pry his face away from Wily's steely gaze, finding himself stuck in place as though the man was still holding his chin in that tight grip. Wily frowned at that, not wanting to lose the powerful hold he had on Forte, wanting to keep him in the dark. He struck him hard on the cheek – the skin hardly reddened, though Forte seemed very much shaken by it. “I'll do what I want with you, I built you.” He shifted his hand slowly, tracing over his creation's chest, then slid down slowly to his injured side, fingers feathering delicately over his reopened wound idly, growing wet with blood. Forte had only a fraction of a second to prepare himself for the pain before Wily gripped onto him tightly, digging his nails into his side and quickly bringing his tormentee to his knees with a sharp cry of pain. The pain was swift, taking the breath right out of him and cutting his cry short. He chuckled lowly, as if they were sharing a private joke between friends. “Forte, I'm not going to kill you. I wouldn't come all the way up here for that, I would have done that in my lab, it's less of a mess that way.” He reached up, snatching a handful of purple unkempt hair, and gripped it painfully tight, pulling at the roots a little. “Oh, you'll live awhile longer, rest assured. At least until I grow bored of you, and I may even keep you past that on principle. However, I'm going to punish you severely. When I'm done with you, you'll wish I had killed you. You'll want nothing more than to be dead, then you'll never think of failing me again.” He drew Forte forward, who offered little resistance and fell further to his knees. Forte stared at the smooth, reflective surface of the floor, and the old man, incensed, grabbed his bangs. He gave them a sharp tug and jerked his head up to finally meet his eyes. Forte made a sharp noise, looking bewildered, and realized just where he was situated, on his knees before the man. His eyes widened in recognition at the look on his face. The pervert. The damned old pervert. He had time enough to wonder briefly if this was how people felt when a volcano long since thought dead suddenly erupted and turned them to charcoal as Wily's intentions became clearer to him, and was tugged forward just as he got his bearings. He made a muffled gag, choking down the old man, and fought a strong urge to cry. This was the most humiliating moment of his life, and he only hoped that no one was watching, Gospel included. He didn’t want his only companion to see him like this. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he let the old bastard do as he pleased, just wanting him to get it over with, wondering if death really would have been a better way out.
