A mournful promotion.

Zack's grin twitched in one corner as he approached Liev's door. He hated going anywhere near the man's room, but for this he had little choice. He still couldn't get over Evan's death. He had lost companions in combat before, but something about Evan's fall was differant. He had been responsible for him. When he had accepted the position of team leader, Zack had accepted responsibility of the lives of his team. Thanks to his growing madness of late, he had avoided his team more and more, for fear of losing himself and becoming a danger to them. In addition to becoming increasingly antisocial, Zack's growing madness had led to an increased obsession with his personal quest: find L.A.W. and burn it to the ground, to destroy every last piece of the horrors happening there and ensure they never happens again. It was this obsession that had seen him away when his team was attacked, and he had not been there to help defend the tower when it was attacked, and he had not been there to fight by Evan's side when he fell. Zack felt he had let his second in command down but was caught between a rock and a hard place. Did he uphold his commitment to his team but become a potential danger to them and allow L.A.W. to run rampant? Or did he go after L.A.W. and let his team down again and again untill he was the only survivor? Either way, Mod's passing had left a gap that needed to be filled, and so it was with a heavy heart that Zack raised his fist to knock on Liev's door.

ooc: Sorry for the neglected reply, mate. :U I’ve had a lot of roleplays to keep track of, as you can see. This place is way to addictive to not be enthralled with. Oh, and I wrote this at two in the morning. So if it doesn’t make sense or is downright weird, it’s pretty normal for me. At two in the morning. XD

bic:
Silence. Prickly anticipation. Now a guttural, forced gasp of air. A distinct ripping of cloth. A groan, a sigh, and a hurried noise of a drawer being shoved into place. “GRAHHHH!” an exerted creature flamed. Now fists slamming onto a fine wooden desk, pencils trembling in their can.

“Who’s there? I want to be alone. I need more time!” a gravely, wheezing voice growled from behind Liev A. Ehrlichmann’s bedroom door. It sounded like a strangled dog barking a warning to its intruder––it was nothing like the bubbly, fresh, and sing-song voice of the flamboyant actor upon whose door Zack Wylder was knocking.

Evan’s death had made a rope to snap in the actor’s artistic domain. It was a sturdy, long, key support, hardly ever visited unless repairs were needed. It was the foreground of the performance’s script. This rope and pulley had dropped the wrong set in the middle of an extensive, prosperous performance in which Honest played all the parts: sadness, enigma, glee, conspicuousness, euphoria, despair, anguish, pain, but never anger, never rage. The actor didn’t dare put on the face of anger. It was the one role Honest feared and loathed with the intensity of one thousand blinding spotlights. Oh, no, no, no; rage was his brother’s act and his alone. Never would Honest lie about genuinely, truly faking rage. Not even he would play that part, because he knew the part would play him. But now, as the curtain fell, the man behind the mask realized the futility off trying to keep the rigging in tact, to try to keep that stage rope that held anger constrained. His smile faltered. The audience questioned, And now, the manager had approached him with looming dread. It was over. Honest was sure there wouldn’t be an encore this time... not today, not with his best friend dead.

Liev stared grimly at his door, tenderly ran his fingers across the stitches he had ripped out of his neck, then grabbed a blood stained handkerchief that had been wrapped around a fairly sized object and clenched the thing with his pale, cracked fingers. Suddenly, he raced forward, flung his door open, thrust the object into his leader’s chest, and turned his head and clamped his eyes shut as if he was scared the object would blow up at any moment. In all actuality, Liev had surrendered the only weapon he had ever owned, the killing device that had only been fired once, and had now become the enemy whose once sinister presence had rapidly conformed into a promising friend.

“Take this from me, Zack, but promise me you won’t ask any questions. Don’t tell anyone either, and never bring this up again––EVER, even to me. Honest’s frantic eyes darted from Zack’s exhausted ones, to his eternal grin, back to his eyes, then back to his grin. “God, Zack, stop staring at me with that grin. Just let it go AT LEAST when you’re around me. It’s never fooled me before. I know what pain you try to hide behind it and what kind of insanity you try to seam inside. Just please, Zack, for my sake. You’ll just end up like me: a face without a mind to call my own... a faulty façade that’s lost its charm,” Liev spewed, rapidly darting from subjects, hoping that he, himself, could ignore and forget the pistol in Zack’s hands. “And what are you doing here? You never come near me room––I digress, rightfully so––and for once I don’t want you here. If it’s really important, I’d rather we take it somewhere else. I need to get out of my stage anyway. It’s... it’s become my prison. What did you say you want? You did say, didn’t you? I must have been practicing so hard that I didn’t hear you knock. You knocked, right? Wait... why are you here again?

Liev stared blankly at Zack as if he didn’t know his team leader or who he, himself, was either. Involuntarily, his hand rose and touched it’s master neck, the raised and bloody flesh, but this time without retrieving any conscious reaction.

Silence. Prickly anticipation.

OOC: Double post yuck, of course, but... are you still going to reply?

ooc: yes, sorry, I'm working on it... Lots of stuff going on here and I've hardly had time to rp lately... Should be up soon. At work at the moment, though I've somehow found a way to get online, though that won't last long.

Zack's grin twitched at Liev's outburst, and, knowing what it was without having to unrwap it, he placed the pistol on the back of his belt, next to his own as Liev continued. When the actor had finished. Zack's grin seemed strained. It was all to much, and he had had it with everything. With a sudden movement, Zack grabbed the front of Liev's shirt and lifted him off of his feet, turning around and carrying the actor down the stairs without a word. Entering the living room, Zack launched Liev back into the couch. "Do you really think I smile by choice?" Zack's voice had lost it's usual tinge of hysteria. In it's place was fury. The fury of a man who had finally snapped after years of pressure. Zack paced back and forth as he talked, his pent up hatred spewing forth in a torrential deluge. "I'm sick of it Liev! Sick of it! You think you can save me? Is that it? I'm beyond salvation! You don't know what I've done, I'm already a mask, already a shell, already a monster! And it's getting worse... Every day, I have to fight it. Every day it gets worse. Every day I can feel it boiling inside me, ready to get out! It never used to be a problem, I only ever lost to it in combat, and I always came back... I always came back. Now, it gnaws at my will every second! Every second, Liev! Every second of every day! I've fought it for so long Liev... And I'm so tired... I don't know how long I can fight it. I don't know how long I can keep from killing anymore... The last time I fell.... The last time I allowed it to take over..." Zack shuddered, suddenly looking nauseous. "Liev, you don't know what I'm capable of... Even Jak couldnt stop me from... And all I can think of is How long? How long until I fall? How long until it's someone I care about that pays the price? How long until it's you or Jak pinned to that wall like some insect? How long until someone I love is at the mercy of Amy? How long before Jay..." Zack couldn't bring himself to finish the sentance. He looked pale and shaky, as if about to vomit. "I... I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to hear that... I am here to offer you Mod's position. We need a new second in command and... And you're the most senior member barring Jay, who technically is newer than you because she left for an extended period." Zack was slowly regaining his composition, but still looked pale.

Ooc: Oi, sorry it's been so long... Do you still want to continue?

OOC: Meh, more or less, but I'd say less because so much has already happened that pertains to after this. I'd say that we leave it as this, but just assume that Liev finally accepts the position of co-captain; that makes more sense with the team training roleplay.

Whee.

Righto. O.o Sorry I killed it...

OOC: Dude, don't even worry about it! Good ol' Zack and Liev will have another chance (if not a few) to continue their coalition *cough escapade* cough. It's all cool.