One thing Anthony has always observed about Adrian is that the more information he gives, the less control he has over the situation.
Knowing more has an opposite effect - one cannot do anything with the information they have other than follow through with what he wants. He is extremely cunning in this regard - knowledge, when it comes to him, is rarely considered power.
"So, what am I going to do...?" Anthony huffed, displeased with the situation.
"Sit around while everyone around me is in jeopardy?"
"Yes..." Adrian simply said.
"You have to stay with Mia."
"Not an option."
His voice takes on an unfamiliar edge. It falters for a brief moment - like a timed stutter, and it resumes again in mounting crescendo.
"I volunteered for this mission for a reason. I've proven time and time again that I can handle myself. If someone's ought to keep out of harm's way, then it should be you. You're the one who was dead for thirteen hours, President Millicent."
A sharp glint crosses Adrian's half-lidded gaze then - like steel ready to cut down on an offender. Anthony keeps quiet, studying his expression.
"I may not be strong enough to stand, but I will not sit out of the fight. Not while Asher is being threatened - and definitely not while Cassidy and Damien are still in danger..." Adrian continued, not changing his mind any time soon.
"You're not a life I'm willing to put at risk, Anthony. I've already endangered enough."
---
Seeing the passing sunset, Adrian, admittedly curious, leans over to the car window and takes in the cityscape.
The first thing he notices is that the colors of the sky are pale. There are no trademark strokes of red and gold. Only a dusty pink strayed over a washed-out blue. There isn't even a sun settling down into the horizon - just miles and miles of buildings. Their silhouettes stretch over the firmament like dormant shadows.
It looks like what a painting would have been once with only the barest hints of foundation. It could also just be a remnant of something that once was.
Disturbed, Adrian settles back into his corner of the car - where the window was plastered over so the heat of the late afternoon sun doesn't worsen his already deteriorating condition. He glances at his fingers - at the dark blue veins popping over his translucent skin, and he stretches them, turning them over and looking at all the red streaks curling around the evident veins.
'I wonder when I'd gotten so weak. It couldn't have been at the hospital, could it?'
Logically, it should be.
The hospital was where Adrian had faked his death. He knew Dylan would not rest until they could see his corpse, and it just happened that Gilmore was more than capable of making him appear like one.
So, he allowed himself to die - allowed his heart to be stopped, if only momentarily, just to make sure that no one in his family dies.
'That's because they can't die. Not while I'm alive to take their place.'
Adrian curls his fingers, tapping his nails into the concave of his palm.
He realizes then that he's lost the feeling, so he digs his fingers in - deeper. It's like dying. This small act of digging the blade of his nails harshly through his skin, sinking into his flesh, his blood - and yet, no feeling at all registers. He's simply a rag doll at this point. The needle sinks in to sew through his bones.
Adrian might just fall apart.
Adrian is already a dead man.
He likes to think he sees a flash of red then - a small burst, small enough to remain out of sight, yet there nonetheless. But he knows there's nothing there. Just his imagination against the muted sunset.
"I love you, Adrian."
He sinks into his seat, trying to drown out Cassidy's sweet, angelic voice.
Then, there's a sudden crackle in the air, an abrupt burst of static, and for a moment, he panics, his eyes widening in smoke and fire. But then, Seven's frantic voice cuts through the air, permeated by Bryan's raspy one.
"Ready to go in. I couldn't confirm if Ma'am Cassidy was in the building or not-"
"She should be..." Irish cut in, her voice somewhat strained.
"There's nowhere else she can be."
"She could be at the port..." Bryan pointed out.
"She's one of the most valuable. Dylan would want her there to be shipped first thing."
"Let's hope she's in either location..." Adrian muttered under his breath, nearly missing his elder sister's glance from the front seat.
"If she's not-"
"Either one of us will find big sis!"
Aira's voice suddenly comes through the line. Adrian sits up straight, his hands curling.
"Don't worry, Ms. Irish! Sir Adrian's support group won't fail you!"
"Wait, Aira-"
"Oh, look at the time, we have to go blow up a building now!"
"Aira-"
"See you later, Ms. Irish!"
That causes her name to die on Adrian's lips. Aira didn't realize that he's the one talking. Irish turns to look at him, the vaguest semblance of caution on her face, before she clears her throat and says through their communication device, "Is the safe house secure, Seven?"
"Yes. I have oriented Ma'am Cassidy's pseudo-sister. Don't worry, Ma'am. We won't put her in any more danger than strictly necessary..." he explained before a distinct, petulant wail punctuated the speakers.
"Are you en route to the pier, Ma'am?"
"Yes. Let's hope this all goes as smoothly as possible."
"Hope against hope."
It was Bryan who stated that proudly. Some form of a smile crosses over Irish's face.
With that, the line cuts.
"You've got to be more careful, Adrian..." she said, turning slightly to her younger brother in reprimand.
"I can't believe I have to tell you this."
"I couldn't help it..." he replied reluctantly - like a child.
"I couldn't help anything these days, Irish."
"I know you've been pretty wound up these past couple of days, but I'm sure that you're trained enough to understand that you have to maintain the fact that you're dead until Dylan is detained. This was your idea, you know."
"It was a last minute resort."
He corrected her, uselessly, and then, he turned, unwilling to speak about the topic any longer. Still, he goes on to say, "We'll have to deal with Grisham Donovan's international connections after tonight. I made a mistake when I thought he was completely destroyed after I put him behind the bars. I won't let that happen again."
Adrian catches her gaze through the rearview mirror. Distantly, he wonders what Irish might think of him now.
The conversation dies there, and the drive to the pier remains as silent as it had been before.
One thing Anthony has always observed about Adrian is that the more information he gives, the less control he has over the situation.
Knowing more has an opposite effect - one cannot do anything with the information they have other than follow through with what he wants. He is extremely cunning in this regard - knowledge, when it comes to him, is rarely considered power.
"So, what am I going to do...?" Anthony huffed, displeased with the situation.
"Sit around while everyone around me is in jeopardy?"
"Yes..." Adrian simply said.
"You have to stay with Mia."
"Not an option."
His voice takes on an unfamiliar edge. It falters for a brief moment - like a timed stutter, and it resumes again in mounting crescendo.
"I volunteered for this mission for a reason. I've proven time and time again that I can handle myself. If someone's ought to keep out of harm's way, then it should be you. You're the one who was dead for thirteen hours, President Millicent."
A sharp glint crosses Adrian's half-lidded gaze then - like steel ready to cut down on an offender. Anthony keeps quiet, studying his expression.
"I may not be strong enough to stand, but I will not sit out of the fight. Not while Asher is being threatened - and definitely not while Cassidy and Damien are still in danger..." Adrian continued, not changing his mind any time soon.
"You're not a life I'm willing to put at risk, Anthony. I've already endangered enough."
---
Seeing the passing sunset, Adrian, admittedly curious, leans over to the car window and takes in the cityscape.
The first thing he notices is that the colors of the sky are pale. There are no trademark strokes of red and gold. Only a dusty pink strayed over a washed-out blue. There isn't even a sun settling down into the horizon - just miles and miles of buildings. Their silhouettes stretch over the firmament like dormant shadows.
It looks like what a painting would have been once with only the barest hints of foundation. It could also just be a remnant of something that once was.
Disturbed, Adrian settles back into his corner of the car - where the window was plastered over so the heat of the late afternoon sun doesn't worsen his already deteriorating condition. He glances at his fingers - at the dark blue veins popping over his translucent skin, and he stretches them, turning them over and looking at all the red streaks curling around the evident veins.
'I wonder when I'd gotten so weak. It couldn't have been at the hospital, could it?'
Logically, it should be.
The hospital was where Adrian had faked his death. He knew Dylan would not rest until they could see his corpse, and it just happened that Gilmore was more than capable of making him appear like one.
So, he allowed himself to die - allowed his heart to be stopped, if only momentarily, just to make sure that no one in his family dies.
'That's because they can't die. Not while I'm alive to take their place.'
Adrian curls his fingers, tapping his nails into the concave of his palm.
He realizes then that he's lost the feeling, so he digs his fingers in - deeper. It's like dying. This small act of digging the blade of his nails harshly through his skin, sinking into his flesh, his blood - and yet, no feeling at all registers. He's simply a rag doll at this point. The needle sinks in to sew through his bones.
Adrian might just fall apart.
Adrian is already a dead man.
He likes to think he sees a flash of red then - a small burst, small enough to remain out of sight, yet there nonetheless. But he knows there's nothing there. Just his imagination against the muted sunset.
"I love you, Adrian."
He sinks into his seat, trying to drown out Cassidy's sweet, angelic voice.
Then, there's a sudden crackle in the air, an abrupt burst of static, and for a moment, he panics, his eyes widening in smoke and fire. But then, Seven's frantic voice cuts through the air, permeated by Bryan's raspy one.
"Ready to go in. I couldn't confirm if Ma'am Cassidy was in the building or not-"
"She should be..." Irish cut in, her voice somewhat strained.
"There's nowhere else she can be."
"She could be at the port..." Bryan pointed out.
"She's one of the most valuable. Dylan would want her there to be shipped first thing."
"Let's hope she's in either location..." Adrian muttered under his breath, nearly missing his elder sister's glance from the front seat.
"If she's not-"
"Either one of us will find big sis!"
Aira's voice suddenly comes through the line. Adrian sits up straight, his hands curling.
"Don't worry, Ms. Irish! Sir Adrian's support group won't fail you!"
"Wait, Aira-"
"Oh, look at the time, we have to go blow up a building now!"
"Aira-"
"See you later, Ms. Irish!"
That causes her name to die on Adrian's lips. Aira didn't realize that he's the one talking. Irish turns to look at him, the vaguest semblance of caution on her face, before she clears her throat and says through their communication device, "Is the safe house secure, Seven?"
"Yes. I have oriented Ma'am Cassidy's pseudo-sister. Don't worry, Ma'am. We won't put her in any more danger than strictly necessary..." he explained before a distinct, petulant wail punctuated the speakers.
"Are you en route to the pier, Ma'am?"
"Yes. Let's hope this all goes as smoothly as possible."
"Hope against hope."
It was Bryan who stated that proudly. Some form of a smile crosses over Irish's face.
With that, the line cuts.
"You've got to be more careful, Adrian..." she said, turning slightly to her younger brother in reprimand.
"I can't believe I have to tell you this."
"I couldn't help it..." he replied reluctantly - like a child.
"I couldn't help anything these days, Irish."
"I know you've been pretty wound up these past couple of days, but I'm sure that you're trained enough to understand that you have to maintain the fact that you're dead until Dylan is detained. This was your idea, you know."
"It was a last minute resort."
He corrected her, uselessly, and then, he turned, unwilling to speak about the topic any longer. Still, he goes on to say, "We'll have to deal with Grisham Donovan's international connections after tonight. I made a mistake when I thought he was completely destroyed after I put him behind the bars. I won't let that happen again."
Adrian catches her gaze through the rearview mirror. Distantly, he wonders what Irish might think of him now.
The conversation dies there, and the drive to the pier remains as silent as it had been before.
