this didn't go as well as Eastwood's escape

[longlived]

A back alley in London. Body parts fall to the streets. Two hands. The forearms. Feet, legs, a hollowed torso in several pieces, internal organs. A human head. Each of the parts is light enough that a falcon could conceivably transport it from one place to another in its claws, and the blood is all clinging. Altogether, these parts would make a full human being--short one eye.

Huey has only done this once before, so it takes some time before his body reassembles. Like cells of an organism, like a well-coordinated swarm of ants, his flesh and bones and organs pull themselves back together, joints locking in and blood flowing once more. He is now as whole in body as he was that day he was made immortal, minus an eye and a ponytail. Huey Laforet looks around him, and in a calm, quiet voice, calls for his youngest daughter.

"Leeza? ...Hilton?"

But there is no answer, and the streets beyond don't sound like 1930s Chicago. Nor did this place seem to have any connection to Alcatraz. So. Something didn't go to plan. (Again.)

"Ah."

But at least he has the clothes he had asked the Poet to fetch. He may as well dress and go looking for answers. He places a hand over his empty eye socket and wishes Renee the best.

[blah blah spam or prose, I don't care which, apologies for his lack of social, you know the drill]

Comments

[intellectualrapist]

A man of many words, that Huey. "It's possible a human could reach this level. But it's extremely unlikely."

[longlived]

"No." The denial was clear but also calculated and utterly devoid of ardour. "If it is possible for a human to reach that level, then it is not even likely. It is certain."

[intellectualrapist]

"Thanks." Even if it didn't sound impressed, Erika takes it was a compliment. A fact is still a fact. "Are you satisfied?"

[longlived]

"For the moment. Are you?

[intellectualrapist]

"For now. I might play with your riddle later." She doubts it matters to him. If he was interested in her, she knows he wouldn't care what she thought about it.

[longlived]

"Oh? Am I truly a riddle?" He doesn't see himself as such. A demon gave him immortality. It isn't an especially interesting mystery.

[intellectualrapist]

"All people are riddles. Some are more interesting than others. Those are the mysteries I solve now."

[longlived]

"I can see the connection to the work of a detective... Yet the purpose of it would appear to be different. So let me ask you, why do you solve human mysteries instead of criminal ones?"

[intellectualrapist]

'Why not?' probably isn't an acceptable answer. Though, it's basically what she decides on, albeit in better words. "Because I enjoy it. I like searching for the answer and being right. It's an intellectual pleasure to solve someone correctly. I like trying to predict their reactions, too."

[longlived]

He understands. He isn't very interested in people generally, nor does he like them at all, but that isn't really what Erika cares about, is it? It seems she desires the satisfaction of superiority. "Humans can be more complex than closed room mysteries," he agrees.

[intellectualrapist]

"Yes!" Whether he meant to or not, Huey triggers Erika's favourite topic of discussion. She hops closer and her eyes seem to dance with the same energy as her body. "A closed room is beautiful because it is by definition 'possible to solve' and yet, looking at one, it seems impossible. In the history of crime, there exists closed rooms that have yet to be solved. Those probably never will be, either. They are 'perfect closed rooms' forever. Any closed room is perfect until someone solves it. That fragile beauty is a work of art that exists only so long as a detective doesn't unravel it."

Which makes Erika an enemy of art. She grins and spins around. "People are the same. Fragile and easy to understand at a glance, so that many people are written off. But there are still mysteries tucked away inside of them. Why does this person hate coffee so much? Why does this one fear rats? The answers might be mundane or fantastic. You won't know until you open the room."

[longlived]

"However... By gutting a human or murder of its mysteries, you are destroying the artistry in the deception." Huey says it with no commitment, but then corrects himself. "No, that isn't necessarily true. A dissection presented skillfully can also be a work of art. Ugliness in the discovery of truth is the provenance of the inexperienced and untalented."

[intellectualrapist]

She snorts and folds her arms. "I don't tear out guts anymore."

[longlived]

From behind a wall in his mind, Huey observes her. And his attention shifts. "Are you free of the witch who made you?"

[intellectualrapist]

"Yes." At least Erika shifts back to her more pleasant disposition. "What I do now is my own choice." Which is not the whole truth all things considered but even Erika doesn't divulge that part.

[longlived]

Huey smiles his faint doll-smile and thinks of Rail and Christopher and Chane and what they might do next. "Congratulations."

[intellectualrapist]

"...Ah." Erika blinks, not expecting that. What do you even say to that? "Thank you."

[longlived]

"Do you feel worthless without her? Or perhaps have you found new worth? Is it in another person or do you have worth on your own and of yourself?"

[intellectualrapist]

"I..." Way too personal. But she was boasting just a moment ago of how she accepts truths now, right? That doesn't mean she has to give up information so easily, though. Not that information. "Why do you want to know?"

[longlived]

He answers freely and with a smile. "Two of my homunculi have recently found freedom--one, accidentally, the other, deliberately. I don't believe either will return to my service. My daughter has also for the first time in her life found a reason to live outside of me. I had intended to watch the results, but I may miss the opportunity."

[intellectualrapist]

"So I'm a convenient person." She doesn't sound annoyed, because isn't. He seems to lack emotion and probably would be honest if he intended to do anything weird. Of course, telling him doesn't mean trusting him. It means only that she doesn't feel threatened by this.

"...I do serve someone but willingly. He's a friend. Actually, I've made a few friends. Weird..." That part is more to herself, but she shakes her head and continues. "It was...hard at first. But at this point, there's someone I care about enough that I want to have a future with him. So I guess that answers it."

[longlived]

He doesn't respond, as she is correct. "Yes, that seems to be the common factor." Christopher has found that Russo, and Chane has Vino and, it appears, a small gang of delinquents. "Perhaps Christopher will be able to save Rail," he considers aloud. Rail took such extreme efforts not to trust any humans, and the Lamia are a delicate support network.

[intellectualrapist]

"Most people need someone. Bad or good, after relying on another, it's hard to break away from that." Erika sighs and shrugs. "Humans are social creatures."

[longlived]

"Yes, humans most commonly pursue the company of other humans. Homunculi are orphans, lacking real family, only half able to connect to humankind. Yet their actions continue to be so human-like, even as they are tormented by their inhumanity. Would it be the same for the living dead? I don't know. I have never accomplished resurrection."

[intellectualrapist]

Though she raises an eyebrow - most people don't break out philosophy suddenly - she doesn't mind it. "For me it has been. I would say... the dead act just the same as the living. Those are my observations."