maskormenace | Video; forward dated to the 6th

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Video; forward dated to the 6th

[ Okay, he's bored. Where are the tumbling heroics? Where's the challenge? Lucifer is here - back - whatever, taking time out from recording his show to hang out on the network with you fascinating examples of God's greatest mistakes. He sets up his camera, which shows off the back of a chair that reads 'Lucifer' in broad black writing. The background is a handsome looking church, with stained glass windows, long red carpets, and hanging red drapes that tumble down the broad pillars. Huge bouquets of summer flowers decorate the altars and tumble out of the planters beside the pews, and light pours in through the round feature window. For once, Lucifer - when he takes his seat - is groomed, dressed in a neat black on black suit, and finished with silver fish shaped cufflinks and everything. He looked the part of the villain, the businessman; the schemer. A charismatic cult leader. Or well...like a guy in a sharp suit. He counted off on his fingers: ]

Pestilence. War. Famine. [ And he touched his fourth finger, then looked puzzled at the camera. ] Well, would you look at that. Four horsemen, not three. No prizes to anyone who guesses the last one.

[ He reaches into his breast pocket, removing a simple silver ring very carefully, propped it on his thumbnail and then flicked it. Flicked Death's ring clean into the air, then snatched his hand up and caught it. ] One left.

[ He leaned very slightly forward, speaking as though he were sharing a secret. ] Don't worry your head about it, my darling. I wouldn't dream of giving this thing to just anyone, but its multiversal owner really will have to come fetch it back before I'm tempted. To do what? Who knows? I'm mercurial like that. Sammmmy, come on out to play. It's been forever.

[ Lucifer's attention was broken by his accepting a clipboard and signing off on something on it. ] Chicken soup again? [ A nod from the assistant. ] Good. It's wonderful for the soul.

[ And then he's left to continue with his video, and he rolls his eyes pointedly. ] The fault really lies with you, kiddos. All that anger and repression, it'll mess you right up. But for the sake of argument, I think it's fair to say 'I predict a riot'. Accurate? Why don't we talk it out, hm?

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[A beat. And then -- video.]

My Raina. [The emphasis crawls from his mouth; it isn't easy to project invective when Lucifer issues his commands. But Chilton, nevertheless, remains possessive.] After all her hesitance about you, all her caution, then you simply seize her.

[ He doesn't even pause to be victorious. It's a matter of fact that Chilton will obey, not assumption. ]

Your Raina. [ So she hadn't told him the truth, that she'd taken the ring willingly. Not unexpected, but he'd thought that of anyone, she might have trusted Chilton. Obviously he'd been mistaken. ] Her will is her own, but her sin makes her mine, just like yours does.

Don't worry, Frederick. She, at least, can see the value of the gift I gave her.

[There's a hollow concern that rubs his ribcage, that this is his fault -- somehow. That what happened to Raina is his fault. Hasn't she warned him against courting Lucifer's attention? And hadn't he done the exact opposite? From Chilton's perspective, she was a (relatively) innocent casualty. And he could only imagine how upset that would make her.

Something approximating guilt nearly had the chance to slither through Chilton's veins -- and then Lucifer said that.]

Hold on, see the value? Raina is not one to take kindly to manipulation -- believe me. [Romance was not without its battles.] I find it difficult to believe she'd be as accommodating, were her eyes truly opened to the context.

[ He purses his lips into a 'doo' shape, whistling through his teeth, then gives his head a little shake. ]

I'm not sure it's Raina's eyes that need opening, Frederick. Look at these people, acting out their basest desires, the things they've held themselves back from doing for so long. She did that, and it is a glorious thing, greater still than any act of God.

Just because your fumbling manipulations fell short of achieving your ends, doesn't mean I lack the tools and skill. You underestimate me and you insult her, to think otherwise.

Excuse you, fumbling? I got what I wanted, I got back her affection.

[Oh, wait a moment. Maybe falling into a doctor-patient relationship with the devil was inadvisable when Chilton was thus assuming the latter role. He bristled momentarily, before turning his head, a nonverbal signal of his adapting tactics -- better to address the explicit argument, rather than the implication of triumph that Lucifer might coax.]

I do not insult her. [No protest against that other accusation; why lie to Lucifer?] If anyone is going to remain steadfast to their convictions, it is undoubtedly Raina. Unfortunate as it is that she was tricked by you, it is... Not unforgivable.

[But if she couldn't be blamed, then someone ought to. Who better than arguably religion's greatest scapegoat?]

That man who had engaged me? The one who knew about the ring? What's to stop me from submitting her to him?

[Chilton managed a vaguely polite threat.]

[ Amusement in his narrowed eyes, and he relaxes immediately at Chilton's response. And then ignores him as his assistant comes back, showing him two outfits. Lucifer chooses one - takes his sweet time about it too - and then he settles back into his chair, looking back at the video. ]

Has it occurred to you that she may be deceiving you Frederick? Using you? I do love her--I mean, you have to, really, don't you? She reminds me of a praying mantis, or perhaps a bull shark, something sleek and lovely and lethal.

[ He framed his hands together in his lap, like a cathedral roof. ]

Do you want to send her tumbling into a stranger's arms? Dean Winchester has been known to kill for less.

If it would relinquish your claim to her?

[He said it so glibly, so smoothly, without a hint of hesitance. Perhaps it was how Lucifer made him wait in that moment, perhaps it was because of what the devil suggested about Chilton's mutual honesty with Raina and calling that into question. Perhaps it was because Chilton was precisely the type of man to destroy something rather than have it taken from him. Maybe Dean Winchester was the perfect scythe, and Chilton could take advantage of a dire circumstance.

Jackals were known for their opportunistic natures.]

But she is lovely. [Or, perhaps he was only querying the hypothetical. The psychiatrist would keep his options open until otherwise necessary.] She is worthy of the adoration. And whatever you might think of us, she trusts me more than any other human being. She is honest with me more than any other man. Or woman. [But a relation spectrum was not absolute, and Chilton would admit to that greyscale. More reason to up the ante:] But I won't deny that Raina is reluctant to give all of herself. I will not claim total possession of her -- and yet, I still cherish what I do have. I'll still seek to entice her. She has a power over me, Lucifer.

[Love wasn't a word he would employ. But power? Oh, yes.]

Can you claim the same?

[ And this is where he stops his act. He reaches up, loosens his tie, and then he laughs, and shakes his head, and even slaps his knee. ]

Please. Oh please, stop, I can't take any more.

[ It drops like someone has paralyzed his face. Snaps down dead, and serious, and absolutely ice cold. ]

You struggle in your bonds like a man fights with the electric chair. It's already over, Frederick. You're possessed, owned, and you have no idea that no part of yourself yet belongs to you. So she withholds a side of herself from you, but there is nothing left of you for you to give. What she doesn't own, I do, and that which belongs to neither of us belongs to the wolf that prowls within your subconscious; He owns you too.

But me? You surely don't think I care? The whole host of you could drop dead tomorrow and I'd only find it entertaining. Your lives are short and your value is fleeting, and I suggest you take a great deal more care with yours, before it's too late.

[As Lucifer speaks -- as he mocks and provokes and describes -- the blood drains from Chilton's face. His eyebrows raise, his lips part in silent protest, and he knows there is no cajoling the Morningstar. The man veers a palpable inch away from his communicator and that ice (surely born from Dante's ninth circle) all but slapped across his face. It was a frostbitten display that Lucifer conveyed, a rigorous and visceral dissection. It was a verbal brutality.

Chilton borrowed a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly, before responding. One thought burned into his mind, boiling through his cautionary tales.]

What do I have to do.

[That voice summoned is just barely above a whisper.]

To get back my power?

[Liberation, he means, but to Chilton those two concepts are conjoined at the hip.]

[ Much better. It's deeply satisfying to watch Frederick finally fall still and ask for instruction, for direction. He doesn't attack him again, and the sternness of his expression subsides. Not entirely. Chilton sees any hint of lightness or humanity as something he can hone in on and rip apart, as weakness.

But Lucifer doesn't have human weakness. ]

Now you're asking the right questions, Frederick. I can help you, if that's what you want.

What is it that you'd be willing to do? [Willing was the active verb, because Chilton did not want to insinuate any slight against capability. There was no greater scheme inherent in underestimating Lucifer twice now. He suspected that Lucifer already knew what he wanted, what he craved. He needed his control back, and his control of others to flourish; playing the puppet, the manipulated party, the possession was more for the likes of Will Graham or Alana Bloom. Not him.] For me? For -- helping me. [Another pause follows.] As I'd like you to.

[For those were the essential words, weren't they?]

And at what cost.

Edited 2015-06-06 12:48 (UTC)

[ I'd like you to.

That was what it came down to. It was about permission. People didn't simply close their eyes and become a demon without their say so, it took an act of willful acceptance, wide eyed and understanding. When Cain, for instance, had accepted the mark, he had accepted it knowing the consequences of his actions, that he was corrupted, and his death would mean eternal service to Lucifer. And with it had come an act, send Abel to Heaven himself; an act of conscious evil.

Eve had passed the apple to her husband.

Now Chilton had asked, it was one step toward the thorough corruption of his soul that Lucifer desired. Far better than trading it; sinful, corrupted, half baked thing as it was, its power didn't lay in virtue, or divinity, or love. But blackened? Blackened it was useful.

Lucifer took a slow, careful breath, the kind of breath a man took while he considered a passage in a book, giving his thought process some real gravitas. ]

It would take careful treatment. A targeted syllabus. Work. Reestablishing your center, raising your profile. After all you're playing second fiddle to a man with a burlap sack for a disguise, Frederick. It just won't do.

But you know that I can help you, and you know too that I find great interest in helping people achieve their full potential. It's not about the price for me, it's about the journey.

If you pay any price at all, it'll only be as steep as you make it, and buyer's guilt is fool's guilt, really--it really doesn't formally exist if you know what you want from the beginning.

[Second fiddle to a man in a burlap sack.

It was perhaps ironic that Frederick Chilton's grace would come from insults to his ego, his foremost defense; while he wasn't as cunning as Hannibal, nor was he as corrupted. While he wasn't the toast of International academia, nor was he so morally gutted that all human life meant so very little to him. That wasn't to say he had a functional moral compass, it was but a rusted and bent thing, its copper tarnished and radium dial paint faded. But it was there -- which is more than a select few could claim. Chilton's own cruelty and destruction was a storm brewing; he had condemned himself to this battle the moment he decided to psychological abuse Abel Gideon for his personal gain, for his relief of envy, his own glory. His Cain moment. But he hadn't been the one to kill Abel -- not intentionally. Not. Willingly.

But had killed other people willingly, through the damage done to Abel. Humanity was not equal in his eyes, yet he would not injure those who maintained a status equal to his; a parallel he shadowed to Hannibal.

And so this was the nuance of his dilemma: Chilton's soul was a distorted, disgusting thing, its humanity corroded by motivations that could not be justified. But it wasn't beyond repair, it wasn't yet damned. And Lucifer had pinpointed him at the exact precipice where redemption was about to expire as a possibility. Chilton could be so easily blinded by his own reflection, he could be so unwilling to step into the burning light when the silk of shadows proved so much more welcoming.

Second fiddle to a man with a burlap sack for a disguise.

Chilton wasn't in a professional sense. That claim couldn't be made with his public work, his extensive patients and selective projects, his elevated prestige. His social influence, which afforded Chilton more than he had at BSHCI. If Lucifer thought that, then he he hadn't been paying attention. And that was the point of impact, that's what made the mirror fracture: Lucifer couldn't have been speaking in a professional context. Those lovely, gilded promises, that grand vision -- Chilton took a gentle, quiet breath. Extraordinary doubletalk, wasn't it? Lucifer was an extraordinary mind, even among these glorious individuals that Chilton had at his disposal. That had almost hooked the man whose very blood measured out manipulation in quarts.

Second fiddle to Crane as a lackey, perhaps. As a useful tool to Lucifer. As a disruptive disciple. Crane was a man already wearing Lucifer's collar, and that cautionary tale was what frightened Chilton so much.

The psychiatrist smiled, softly, into camera. He knew better than to betray his startling logic, and the implicit intentions behind that. Lucifer spoke with the calculating pose of a doctor to a patient, and Chilton would be willing to experiment in turn. Questioning every step of the way, watching Crane as a reminder of what he wants to avoid. Learning, adapting. Eluding.

It was a matter of survival, and Chilton was Darwinian.]

I've never really been prone to guilt. [Which was true.] Perhaps we should meet. In person. Despite how much the camera flatters you, this really isn't an ideal medium for such profound discussion.

Edited 2015-06-06 16:56 (UTC)

[ His misstep was comparing Chilton to something that had already shed its humanity. That had always been his fault, his flaw. He saw the worst in the entire species, and the concept of someone grasping morality by its threads was nothing to him, just the same way as he had thoroughly dismissed Sam's experiences and the bond of family until it had become his undoing. Perhaps he might lose Chilton on his descent to darkness at this time, but that thread was still loose, and all it would take was a pull, or a push, and it would snap.

For now, though, he was oblivious of his mistake, and yet at the same time, should he be asked, he was content to watch the struggle. Animals in their snares always struggled, and Chilton had wound the rope about his foot long before Lucifer had ever come into his life. ]

Yes, I think you're probably right. But I have things to oversee here, Frederick. I think, perhaps this time, you can come to me.

[ Give him time to think it over, to consider it. And if he rejected the idea on deeper thought--well then, it would take physical action to instill that darkness in place. And oh, if anyone deserved it, it was Chilton. Cowtowing to greater evil, reveling in the scraps thrown his way, never acting for himself... ]

You know where the church is, I hope?

Your church, I presume. I've heard whispers. [He couldn't help but cringe at its location -- Miami. Another brutal joke. Chilton rolled his shoulders, glancing away from the screen only momentarily, captivated by thought. While Chilton hadn't grown up atheist, he had soon become one. There was a volcanic pulse of power, in declaring yourself untethered and unquenchable, and here was Lucifer tempting to challenge Chilton's self-selected manifest destiny.]

Unless you wanted a different denomination. Tolerance is a virtue, I'm told.

[He looked back at the camera, smiling again. Damned if he wasn't going to have a little humor about this.]

[ And yet it was what all the cool kids were doing now, wasn't it? Atheism didn't make anyone unique any more--now saying that you could believe in something. That was powerful. And if that powerful thing happened to be able to drop in and shake down your drug dealer landlord...well, the world became a fairer place.

For Lucifer's followers.

He smiled, all teeth, and inclined his head. ]

My church. I'm considering renaming it-Church of the Antichrist has a real 1970's horror feel to it. Church of the Morningstar sounds so much more inviting.

I'll see that you're treated well when you arrive.

Oh yes. I'll put that right down on my schedule.

[While Chilton's use of irony escaped many people's notice, this quip was handed down heavier. His invitation for a meeting was meant for neutral ground -- that was the calculation born into the risk. But into Lucifer's own church? That was asking for a Judas Cradle (metaphorically speaking). No, no, any endeavor to such a dark cathedral would require a battle plan.

Chilton believed in his own instinct, his own strategy. He understood this, and he anticipated that Lucifer did, as well -- which implied that if Lucifer wanted to forge Chilton anew (heretical as that would be), then he would first need to break down the psychiatrist. It would require retraining, recalibrating. Recontextualizing.

That's what frightened the psychiatrist; after all, it is what Chilton would do. Has done. To others. ]

Until then.

Edited 2015-06-07 00:11 (UTC)

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