"No. No. No."
The softly murmured repetition of those same words spoken so often in the past hour had worn on ever since Synn and Despayre had first set foot inside of the terminal of the Vancouver International Airport. Located on Sea Island in Richmond, British Columbia, a tough estimate of just seven miles from the origin of this enigma himself that had trailed after the larger man. Synn watched him faithfully as his eyes gazed over everything that was available to look upon. He was young, yes, but even then had experienced very little in what we might refer to as 'life'. As he had spent so little time out of the asylum, this was quite obviously the first trek he had taken in an airport and he was already in an agitated frame of mind.
From the moment their cab pulled up outside of the terminal, Despayre had begun to make it clear to Synn that the idea of traveling by plane was not only foreign to him, but also unthinkable. A roadblock that 'the Dark Priest' would soon need to find a way to pass over or else these past few weeks of planning would all be for naught.
He watched Despayre, and to him seemed a child. The same fears, the same hopes. Despite his apathy towards flying, the planes themselves appeared to fascinate him all the same. He appeared somewhat confused through the security check, which if you'll pardon the saying, turned into a bit of chaos when they wanted to inspect Despayre's luggage. The chains and studs of his gothic decor continuously set off the alarm and by his reaction, he believed that he had done some wrong. Synn quickly assured him, however, that they just needed to have a look and then they would be done with the nonsense.
"No. No. No."
For the longest of time, Synn had waited for the proper opportunity to locate those worthy of becoming the living embodiments to the capital sins, known to religious zealots as the Seven Deadly Sins. He had always taken great pride in his work, and had more patience than most men. Gabriel had been discovered as a performer/con artist and was also a natural in the ring. The living embodiment of the sin of Greed. The man that Synn now watched over was a different story.
The footfalls against the tiled floor of the Broodmoore Mental Institution resounded with a perfect echo what with so very few people around at is particular level. With only a small team of nurses and doctors making their rounds, and the equal number of heavily muscled security guards to watch over them, it was for the most part, a deserted level.
Two floors below the ground level floor, Doctor Erik Lords walked alongside the statuesque figure of a man, who strode forward with a purpose. A full head plus shorter than the 'dark priest' Synn, the doctor could not help but steal a number of glances over his shoulder and up. He was a quiet, curious man. His very eyes had seemed to bore into the doctor's soul when they had their initial meeting about this patient.
The head of administration, a Doctor Oswald Silkworth, had contacted him the previous day, telling him to expect this visitation, as the patient would most likely be leaving the care of the facility. This startled Doctor Lords, as the patient in question was prone to violent outbursts at the least provocation, which had led him to remain in their care for as long as he could remember with only the smallest of 'breaks' in between stays. He was dangerous, and seemed to get more so the longer he remained. He argued this fact but Silkworth was adamant about his decision and there was little else he could do but allow the visit, and hopefully the guest would realize the folly.
Doctor Lords coughed lightly into his fist and turned to look at Synn, saying in a soft voice, but one that bore the signs of his aged wisdom, "You are aware of this patient's history?"
"Quite so, actually." Synn answered. He had been told in express detailing from the head of the hospital everything possible about the patient that could be spoken of. He knew his history, his tendencies, everything there was that could better prepare him for what would come. Some have even gone so far as to claim Synn himself was a tad 'touched' in the brain, something he does not deny. To him, this was something fragile and unique. A 'gift' he had sought for some time.
A man born unto 'sin'.
"I have to be certain, you understand." Doctor Lords stated. "When patients such as Joshua are to be released into the care of another..."
Synn held a hand up, warding off any further doctrines of this man. He had heard enough over the past number of days negotiating this deal. "You need not explain sir." He gave him a smile, and the tense lines in the doctor's face seemed to smooth themselves over. Synn was a man of such charm he could melt the polar ice caps with one of those pearly smiles. "Doctor Silkworth has taken very good care of me in regards to the warnings and lessons in care for...Joshua."
No, that name would not do. Not at all.
"Very good sir." Doctor Lords nodded but Synn was apt enough at reading people that the doctor was not comfortable with this arrangement. No small care really. So long as he did what he was told by his superiors there would be little need to delve further into the machinations that brought him here.
They came to a stop at the end of the dank corridor, and right before a single door. Synn ran his hand lovingly over the reinforced metal and it sent a brief shiver down his spine.
He asked, "Is this his room?"
Doctor Lords shook his head in the negative. "No." he answered. "A visitation room for the more...disturbed of patients. Like the others but he'll be restrained to the table that will separate you. A guard will be at the door should you need him."
Synn smiled, "Highly unnecessary but...very well." No sense in breaching too many protocols whilst he was there.
Satisfied (somewhat), Doctor Lords nodded and slid the key card down the reader and heard the soft 'beep' to alert him the door was now unlocked. He pressed down on the silver handle and pulled the door open and set foot inside first, and Synn came close behind.
The figure was seated across the large, red oak table. His patient uniform was a drab gray, but otherwise he seemed to be in good care. Appearances, however, could be grossly deceiving. He had his knees drawn up on the chair and against his chest, and he was slowly rocking his body back and forth.
"Joshua?" Doctor Lords spoke up, and immediately those gray eyes of the patient lit up. "You have a visitor."
"No. No."
Dressed comfortably in a loose t-shirt bearing the emblem of 'Calvin and Hobbes' and jeans that seemed a size too large for his frame, Despayre stood at the large frame at their respective terminal with his hands and face pressed against the glass. His eyes darted to and fro as he drank in the sight of the jet that would be taking us to Fort Wayne in the United States. He seemed almost as mesmerized by the men and women who were working right at the jet, making sure it would be prepared for take off.
Shaking his head slightly in the negative, Synn could tell that Despayre too felt the eyes that were upon him and his discomfort level increased slightly. He did not like crowds. He did not like strangers. They watched him and judged him, thinking him to be something strange to be gawked at. His flesh was pale, and his long, silken black hair reached down to his waist. Shaved back along the temple, that same hair was tied into a ponytail to better keep it from his eyes and allow him to see his surroundings.
His appearances sort of reminded one of Luna Vachon who only recently had passed away. Pardon the expression, but God rest her soul.
Despite his vaunted reputation, Synn could not help but feel a swell of pity towards this young man. Here was a life that started out quite like his own. Normal, if you can call being the son of religious nutcases normal in Synn's case. Then somehow, in an act of fate, it was all taken away. The only difference is Synn's was taken rather quickly by his own decisions. Despayre's was taken over by an act of fate, and it rotted what life he once had slowly.
It was as if the Fates themselves had directed him. A man emotionally destined to become the 'Horseman' of Sloth.
Taking a swallow of the Coke that was bought for him, and shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth, Synn had come to understand that he had been left out of the simplest of pleasures. What man could say he had never tasted hot, buttered popcorn? Apparently, Despayre, as he was gorging himself on this while he watched the jet being made ready.
Despayre shook his head again, murmuring those repeated words, more so now to himself than for anyone else to hear. His eyelids were drooping as the sedative he was prescribed began to take an effect so as not to cause a scene when it came time to board. Another reason he had been booked in first class. Fewer people to antagonize him. There was also had the portable dvd player Synn had brought along to distract him, as he wanted him to watch a few videos that were obtained of the men he would be competing against with Gabriel at his side.
They were no small rookies, these two 'gentlemen', but Synn had no worries in mind. Both Gabriel and Despayre were trained well and reacted even better to matters of circumstance. And what training could not accomplish, setting loose a wild animal most certainly could. Synn had learned that quite by accident in Despayre's 'first' match on an independent show here in Canada. A test run if you will, but one that ended in chaos.
Hank Henry III was by far the largest man in the ring, so if he found himself against either Gabriel or Despayre, he would be isolated and worn down. Both had already been made aware of this previous back injury of his, and what was hurt once, could swiftly be brought about again.
The same could be said for Fang. No matter how well the surgery goes on a damaged knee, it will never heal properly at one hundred percent. He was more the same size as both Gabriel and Despayre so the wisest tactic would be to get him in the ring, and tear away at that knee until the man could no longer stand. A man that couldn't stand couldn't fight. He had a glorious past in the ring. He was even a Hall of Famer which spoke volumes, but past accomplishments be damned. This would be the night of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Finally, Synn approached the man at the glass from the side, careful not to approach him directly from the rear and possibly set him off. He stood alongside Despayre and looked out the window to watch as a jet sped its way down the lane and took off into the air. Despayre's eyes widened considerably as the jet rose higher and higher. He slowly turned his head and his eyes flashed in recognized fear.
"I am not getting on that." he said, his voice wavering slightly.
Synn said in a soothing manner. "You are aware that there are far more car accidents than plane?"
"Mm." Despayre considered this before he answered back with, "When was the last time a car plummeted thousands of miles from the air?"
Synn chuckled. He turned his head slowly to the side to peer at the man beside him and couldn't refrain from the laughter. For a man with such an arterial flow problem above the neck, he could be a sharp tack when he chose.
"Well," Synn began. "You don't hear him complaining, do you?"
With a slight gesture of his hand, Synn directed Despayre's attention to the mall chair beside him where rested a caramel colored teddy bear wearing a mini suit and tie, with shades over its eyes. Despayre glanced downward as if a small sense of shame washed over him and he shook his head in answer.
Synn tilted his head forward, looking at Despayre through the tips of his lush eyebrows. "So, make him proud of you."
A few moments passed as Despayre contemplated this. He finally exhaled deeply and shrugged his shoulders, plopping down onto the chair next to the bear. Synn smiled, and took the seat next to him.
One hurdle hopefully passed.
