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The cold reflective surface of the mirror mocked him. Prospero pinched and pulled at the sagging lines of his skin, to little avail. As if it’d be any good, or smooth the lines tallying his slowing functionality. Anger swarmed in his chest, and his hand tightened into a fist, exploding outward and connecting sharply with the mirror. Instantly he felt a sharp pain run across the knuckles of his hand as the shards cut open his thinned skin. He’d just earned another damned thing to fix as if repairing the mirror last week hadn’t been a pain. Though the punch served its purpose. Prospero felt the swarm of fury in his chest calm; he could still push through even with his Fear. It hardly mattered to him that this act of defiance left him injured.
Prospero swung the now damaged mirror open, a few shards sprinkling off into the sink below. He palmed various amounts of medication from the mirror’s cabinet, swallowing them in a smoothly practiced manner. The meticulous manner of his routine kept him from leaving out any details when the confusion clung to his brain like cheap cellophane. Something he could at least be grateful for, all things considered.
The soft echo of guitar chords rang from inside his bedroom. Prospero didn’t even need to check to know it’d be his little bro- cousin, Mari was his cousin. His hand stuttered at this error, as he tried to efficiently finish slicking and restraining his long but thinning hair in tight uniform knots. Finally grabbing the phone, he clicked it on, as the joints of his fingers moaned in protest. It was hard to tell exactly how long he’d made Mari wait. The thought slipped from his head, as his little cousin naturally launched into conversation the moment he heard his agitated wheezing sigh.
“Big Bro, you’re still taking your meds, right? And those ones are actually working? The ones that help wi-” Prospero pinched his brow, exhaling in a rasped tone “Of course I am Mari. My memory isn’t that soft or fragile. Still twenty six, even if I sure as hell don’t sound it, don’t go forgetting that alright?”
He shifted the phone to the cradle of his neck, trying to make the most of a smooth pace to override any fightback from his fingers while running through the motions of tying his tie. It was hard to get the tie just so, but beyond worth simply not wearing one.
At Prospero’s rhetorical question the pitch of Mari’s voice slid up, taking on a mouseish quality. “It’s twenty-seven, Bro” he corrected, quickly clearing his throat afterward. “Think you’ll need help today? I would ask Patri, but…” His cousin trailed off. It didn’t take a genius to bridge the gap between what Mari was saying and thinking. Especially, because Prospero had some experience with that sub-zero attitude Patri could take.
He shook his head, and did his best to maneuver his arms into his jacket; of course, this caused a series of obnoxious popping noises throughout joints. “It’s fine. Nothing that can’t be dealt with. That aside, I know it’s been tough working with Patri, but you’ve got it in you to handle this, Mari. All you need is to have more confidence in that strong instinct of yours. Have things been better?” Prospero could practically feel an expression that one might call “fatherly” cross his face nearly immediately.
The silence from Mari was answer enough, although it was punctuated by the faint icy yells of Patri on the warpath off in the distance. “Things are..uh, going alright Big Bro. Definitely, nothing to do with idioms or..”Venice” happening in the skating department.” The speed of Mari’s voice picked up, and it almost sounded as if he was running. “Well...if you’re doing well Big Bro, I’ve got to go handle…” A loud crashing sound could be heard from the background. “absolutely nothing.”
Prospero began to speak up as he finally finished the last step of his morning routine, however, the state of his vocal cords chose this exact moment to protest solidly “Right, right go ahead and just don’t keep calling me-” The sound of the phone’s dial tone rang sharply in his ear, as he picked up his keys finally “-Big Bro”.
On the way out, locking and bolting the door cost him precious time. He heard the obnoxious laugh even before he saw its owner. The man in question had positioned himself in the door knob’s reflection and was currently leering up at Prospero.
“Hey Senior Citizen, what's the hurry? Didn't want to see little ‘ol me?” Icarus’s grin bordered on maliciousness, but Prospero could tell that he was only aiming for a light jab. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but cross his arms at this unfortunate display.
“I’ve better things to do than getting caught up in your petty little games or catfights. Why don’t you just bother that roommate of yours?” Prospero questioned with a slight roll of his eyes, leaning against his door. As much as he wanted to leave immediately he had a feeling it’d take longer than his joints unassisted would be pleased by.
Seemed he hit the mark, as Icarus’s face quickly turned sour “As if that’s even a task. It’s well within my range of control. I say one little comment and the manlet folds like a stack of cards. Literally, if I play my hand right.” He tossed a pigtail over his shoulder, grumbling under his breath a little “Tiny can barely handle anything without becoming ‘fun sized’.”
Just at that moment, as if things couldn’t get more ‘delightful’ the door swung open with the vigor only short kings and Firenzo Pico could properly muster. Which had the dual effect of not just startling Prospero from his position, but stunning Icarus to the point that he jumped reflections reflexively.
“Ayyy what’s up old man? This Playboy Wannabe bothering you? Gee man, don’t you know it’s “bad manners to harass someone in the hallway”.” Firo dropped his voice to a pathetic replica of Prospero’s towards the end. He swept his hand over his short shaved hair, proceeding to actually laugh at his own shitty joke.
“If the two of you are going to toss petty insults at each other like a couple of bitches, could you at least have the decency to not drag me into it?” It was far too early in the day to deal with getting roped into their ‘lover’s quarrel’. “Just because the two of you clearly don’t have anything better to do, doesn’t mean I don’t.” He narrowed his eyes at the two of them, readjusting himself against the door.
Icarus placed a hand against his chest, childishly overacting a pain in his chest. “You wound me truly. Your ways of corporate business and buzzkill have pierced my very soul. Whatever shall I do?” His smirk broadened enough to rival the Cheshire Cat, and placed a hand against his forehead as if to wordlessly say “oh the inhumanity”.
“Go rob a convenience store, comb your hair, in short anything that requires your presence elsewhere.” Prospero gave the performative busy body a cold pointed look in reply. And, he slid the key out of the lock, well satisfied with its security. At least he didn’t have to worry about the meddlesome ‘borrowers’ now. He was obviously smart enough to keep reflective surfaces out of sight range, and he highly doubted the old-fashioned way was even worth it to them. Sure, his suspicion about the two’s income was hardly concrete, but it still wasn’t technically unwarranted.
“Pshhh please Prospero, we’re two “upstanding citizens” we'd neeever steal. It’d be unlawful to score” Firo wound his leg back, and kicked an imaginary football into an imaginary goal. “Goods like that, Pops.” He checked his watch, a grin filling his overeager face. “Ayy! Come on Caro! Get ready to lose those 20 Lira to the real champs!” Firo retrieved a cheap compact mirror from his pocket for Icarus to jump to. A glint of light passed from the glass of the mirror to it, and soon it held his smug face. A little after that, Firo gave a cheesy wave then slid back into their apartment, practically shaking the foundation with the force used to close the door.
Prospero would’ve missed the man entirely if he hadn’t caught the door for him. His stature dwarfed Prospero significantly, something that was no insignificant task. If he had to guess he’d place the man at least 190cms tall if not 195. The man’s presence was rather magnetic, and he couldn’t help but be somewhat drawn to his odd nearly red eyes. It was clear to him that with the eye color, and essentially silver hair; this man had to have some form of special genetic trait, albinism perhaps?
It was hard not to swallow hard despite himself, as his passing through was delayed by fumbling for keys. Each time he thought he had the damn things in his pocket, they’d evade him again. Definitely the fabrics fault, obviously.
The man wasn’t exactly dressed subtly either; possessing an outfit composed nearly entirely of black, except for the gold bell earrings, and white stripes of his pants. The style worked well to cover his Fear, but with Prospero’s own well-trained eye (and some convenient lighting) it was quite apparent that, well, the man wasn’t exactly entirely there. The general rule regarding appearance Fears was, “don’t stare, what if it was you?”. However, something held Prospero’s gaze unnaturally long, before his fingers finally found his way to the keys, and he finally found his way into the building.
Just as he was about to slip on his lab coat as per usual, he heard the cool inflection of his colleague's voice perk up from behind him.
“Won’t be needing that today Prospero. No, in fact, you’ve got something special~ scheduled for today. Did you see the rather imposing goth in the hall?”
Mela pushed his rolling chair from station to station, kicking off once he’d either retrieved or placed materials down. The sound of rolling wheels against linoleum backtracked the quirky cadence of his voice
“Well, you know my track record with employee management plus the other two are off somewhere preoccupied. Sooo I figured you’d make the perfect respectable man for the job.”
Mela often gave the type of smile that made you wonder if he was eyeing you up for an illegal experiment of questionable morals. As usual, in between switching stations, he was typing away at his laptop in the most horrendous pose and had barely looked up from it to spare him that grin.
Naturally, the little...creature that typically haunted his every movement was clung to his leg, magically being able to keep up with his insane pace. Every once in a while, Mela would pause from his movement, reach down and pat the top of its head. It, however, was entirely too occupied with chewing a new hole in Mela’s trousers. Otherwise, Prospero suspected the creature probably would’ve bitten him, adding onto the litany of scars Mela had earned from the beast. Which could become beasts plural, as Prospero had unfortunately learned. Obviously, it wasn’t fair to judge anyone’s Fear, though it sure didn’t help that Mela acted like the next up-and-coming Victor Frankenstein. Genius certainly, but nuts in all the wrong ways.
“I’ve already got a caseload to go thro-” Mela cut Prospero off quickly leaving him still with his mouth open, and personal belongings unstored. Of course, he was irritatingly smart enough to shut him down quickly.
“Nuh-uh, already got that covered. With little Amori here” Mela rubbed the top of the creature's head affectionately, this time actually getting bitten by it- Something that caused Prospero to wince, but Mela had zero reaction (he’d be hardly surprised if there was no nerve ending left there). “I’ve been running some trials to see if I can make the most of my little children. So far it’s been a very very excellent success” An almost crazed expression came over his face proving his similarities to the infamous doctor, before he paused, coughed a bit, and returned to his version of normal. “Regardless, this development means You. Don’t. Have. Any. Excuses, Dear Prospero.”
Mela naturally ended each and every one of the words with an over-exaggerated keyboard clack, as if to auditorily punctuate each one further.
“Fine, but I’m doing this by strict protocol, and not by whatever back alley-natured interview you gave me. Meaning, I’m using the office.”
Mela paused in his rapid typing, his arched wrists and fingertips hovering above the keyboard. “...Well, you see the thing about that is… First, can I tell you that you’re really working the blond and gray look?”
This received a rather pointed look from Prospero and a silent promise that’d be carried through no matter how much his vocal cords would protest.
“Promise you won’t get mad? Sure, it’s rather hot in my opinion, but it’ll make working less than peak if my ears are ringing.”
Prospero took a deep breath. He could tell whatever Mela had done wasn’t going to be...easy to deal with. “I’ll withhold judgment until you actually tell me what you did.”
“So, there’s a significant chance that little Amori, may or may not have gotten a little bored with Papa’s trials. And decided that the best usage of their time was taking a crash course in computers, by figuring things out as they went. ” Mela tilted his head “Not that it’s unsolvable. Don’t worry about it, that would put strain on your heart and lungs. However, it would be a lie to say solvable within time. Guess you’ll have to take the avant-garde approach to it after all.” He adjusted his cheap purple-dyed hair, which shifted under his laboratory-style glasses.
“... In that case, we’ll be going to the coffee place.” Prospero gave Mela a well-practiced and strong look of disapproval, before finally readjusting the lab coat on the rack.
By the time the two of them had reached the cafe, neither of them had really spoken a word. Prospero couldn’t even say he knew the man’s name. He couldn’t be sure if he’d said it or not, but had the distinct impression it had gone unsaid. The cafe was barely occupied, and ordering beverages was no long task. Prospero had ordered his usual espresso looking for a kick of energy, while the man ordered a normal black coffee for himself.
“Let’s get this started. Certainly don’t have all day to do this interview.” Prospero took a sip from his cup, readying himself. “If you’re to work at our company, then it’d be good to know who you’re working with. There’s Mela, who I’m sure you’ve already had the ...charming experience of meeting, Sorello and Giardo who I doubt you’ll run across much, and finally Prospero, that’s me.”
The man tilted his head, a gesture that might’ve been a nod of acknowledgment. He rested the edge of his chin on the crest of his knuckles. When he finally did speak up, his voice was a cool, even tone. “Name’s Ombra Nero.” It was easy to note that Ombra seemed much more opaque than their earlier encounter. “Met your coworkers, both today and from prior.” The slightest flicker of fondness crossed his tone at the end.
Prospero caught the mention of prior quickly. His mind was feeling fresher than it had earlier, much less cloudy. It was hardly even a task to pick a memory of the two entangled members of management chatting about their goth roommate from back at university. Though that brought up the question of why the hell they couldn’t interview their old friend, or even skip the process if they knew his qualifications already. “Good to hear you at least have experience with them, even if I don’t have access to any of your paperwork. Mela should really keep a better handle on that, creature.”
The edges of Ombra’s hand’s flickered, and it practically looked as if nothing were lifting the cup as he placed it against his lips and drank. If Prospero squinted his eyes enough he could make out the detail work of the wall behind Ombra, as he once again placed down the cup. “Attitude self-applied to your Fear?”
Prospero felt as if Ombra’s was searching for something as he spoke up. He was the interviewer, and yet he couldn’t help but feel more observed. “Not exactly, at least not with Mela. His control might be questionable, but it’s his expense of time over it that bothers me.” This wasn’t quite the angle he thought this conversation would go.
Ombra gestured in the typical fashion, with his hand, or at least that was what Prospero guessed he was doing. “Point being, should take less or...?”
Prospero waved his hand dismissively, wasn’t as if to swat the guess out of the air. “Point being I’d rather his little experiments stay separate from work. I can adapt to the problems they throw at me- hence, meeting here. If it’s not for reigning it, do it on your own damn time.” His hand twitched a bit, and he felt his skin crawl with age.
“Meaning you would push through, situation aside. Looks as if your own Fear revolves around that.” The transparency of his body faded back into focus as he spoke with a rather intense sort of voice as if he could read Prospero as well as any novel you’d purchase from a store.
A flash of irritation jolted through him, it wasn’t Ombra’s business what his Fear involved. Pressing himself to the fullest capacity within those damnable weaknesses was a normal method. Prospero clenched the tiny cup of espresso with a severe look. “And if it is, then so what. Work has to get finished, and it’s the job of a professional to see it through to the very end. Got a job, you stick to it, got a partner, and you follow through.”
Ombra tapped the rim of his coffee cup with the tip of his finger, at the word partner. Prospero could’ve sworn that for a fraction of a moment that the man had completely flashed in and out of existence. “I see. Don’t you think that burden's better shared?”
At this, Prospero had to genuinely pause a moment. The aching of his hands waned and grew like the gently lapping of waves against the shore. The man had himself a point, even if Prospero won’t jump to admit it. Without those around him would he still be himself? The daily interactions with the neighbors were annoying, but they sparked him to keep going. Mela sure was an unusual one, but his methods sure kept him on his feet. And Mari, who always tried his best for him, for his...Big Bro. “...I suppose that you have a point. Well, as coworkers we’ll be sharing this burden from now on.”
An interested expression cast across Ombra’s face, and he rose from his chair with the silent grace of a whisper. “It was hard to tell why I had to repeat this process. But, now I can see why those two requested it.” He tucked the chair neatly into the table. “See you around, Prospero.” And with that he was gone, slowly fading from sight as he departed.
Repeat this process… the words caught in his head and he couldn’t help but just sit there. If he was already employed, then for what reason had he been told to interv- well, someone would be in for a very long ‘chat’. He caught a glimpse of himself within the cafe’s decorated mirror, as he looked up. For a fading moment he contemplated pinching and examining the little wrinkles that clung to his visage, but let the deep-seeded feeling pass. As the soft chords of Mari’s favorite song gently floated his phone, Prospero couldn’t help but smile; ready to receive the call from his Little Bro.