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"You already know how this will go," Nico told him, his head tilted as he looked down at Tyler, his expression contemplative.
Tyler was already shaking his head, his mouth already curving to form the lie that no, he didn't know what the Bishop meant—
Nico didn't give him the chance to even try and deny it. "I do not understand why you are not fulfilled by all we have given you. The truth we've imparted to you," the old man sounded somber, but Tyler heard an edge of cold, merciless steel in his voice.
He shouldn't expected mercy from the Bishop, because he definitely wasn't gonna get it, regardless of what Nico's words might suggest. Good thing he'd learned long ago not to trust anything they said.
"We've taught you in our ways, raised you to follow Vialism, given you all there is to give in this world, child. Why is it never enough?" Nico's dark, hooded eyes almost seemed... sad?
Tyler didn't trust it. He knew this creature didn't feel sad, he didn't think it was capable of feeling anything except contempt. He just stared the monster dead in its cold eyes, not bothering to answer. He knew it'd only twist his words, anyway.
Nico shook his head slowly, the nearly transparent veil over his face rustling. "I have done all I can for you, Tyler. And I will continue to do so, for as long as you exist."
"Ominous," Tyler couldn't help himself, the flippant comment just slipped out.
He knew what that veiled threat really meant— he'd seen the fields around Dema. He knew exactly what was under those glowing neon gravestones. And he knew how those poor, lost souls had gotten there. He'd been close to it before, could still remember how hollow and inhuman he'd felt…
But that wasn't him, not right now. Right now? He felt anything but close to that. He felt alive, blazingly, wildly alive in a city of ghosts.
Sure enough, something twisted in Nico's expression at his comment, and a flash of some visceral, vindictive anger showed in his eyes.
Tyler didn't have time to even process it fully before the Bishop reached out, his gnarled hand clamping onto Tyler's shoulder, his yellowed, claw-like nails digging into his flesh.
"You've done this before. Shall we count how many times you've run?" Nico's tone hadn't shifted at all and that realization sent a trickle of fear down Tyler's spine. "You awaken from the stupor the others are in, seem to come to life, realize there's something outside the city, you flee. And yet, it's never enough out there, is it?"
Tyler couldn't meet Nico's eyes, so he looked away, needing something else to stare at other than those awful, empty eyes and that pale, almost rotting face.
This one time, the Bishop was right. Just this once, Tyler didn't expect it'd happen again. But this one time… it mattered kinda a lot.
Because he was right. No matter how many times Tyler left, how many times he found the Banditos, found what he thought was hope, it never fixed him. He never got better, the voices in his head never went away, not really. Maybe he was just broken somehow. Unfixable.
He'd seen other Banditos return, sure. But most of them didn't. They didn't seem like they'd ever even considered it, when the city was all he could think of. It consumed his thoughts, it called to him. It… it was home, even if he knew it was killing him slowly. But maybe it was better to die by the devil he knew than the one he didn’t.
And maybe that’s why he came back, every single time. Because he just wasn't strong enough. Something inside him didn't work right, something no one knew how to fix. Something no one else seemed to understand.
No one except for Nico, that was. Tyler could tell somehow that the BIshop, this ancient, inhuman, decaying monster in front of him, he… he understood the brokenness in Tyler. He understood it. Something no one else, either in city or free, did.
He squeezed his eyes shut, almost unconciously holding his breath, dreading whatever Nico would say next.
"Do you know why it's never enough, Tyler?" Nico's tone had shifted, it wasn't angry anymore. Instead, he sounded almost calm, fatherly. Like he… cared?
Tyler knew he didn't. But that didn't stop that ache inside of him that longed for someone who cared, from flaring.
"It's because you're not like them. You have a gift that very few others do," Nico's voice dipped almost to a whisper, his hand loosening on Tyler's shoulder. "Bishops are set apart, because death does not apply to us in the same way it does others. We can reach those who have gone beyond the veil, we can call them back, for a short time… it is not an easy gift to carry, Tyler."
Tyler only barely kept himself from laughing hysterically in Nico's face. That definitely wouldn't go over well. But also—
"So like, you're saying I'm a—" he couldn't stop a strangled half-laugh from escaping "A necromancer, or something, and that's why I keep coming back? That's messed up on a lotta levels. Might even be a new record for you, actually,"
Some part of him knew that this was heresy, maybe even blasphemy. And he definitely deserved some sort of consequences for his misbehavior. He didn't really care though, because genuinely. What the hell?
But Nico… Nico didn't get upset. Rather, he let out a heavy sigh and stepped away, bowing his head. "I understand it does not sound reasonable, Tyler. It isn't, according to most laws of nature. But we have been bestowed with a gift and we must use it to take care of our people."
"We," Tyler repeated, still slightly hysterical.
We, like he was one of those pale, robed monsters whose honeyed words lured people to their graves.
Nico nodded, inclining his head slowly. "You and I share a gift. As do the other Bishops."
"Oh, so I'm one of your bastard children?" Tyler rolled his eyes. "So glad to meet you, dad,"
Yeah, definitely more heresy. He didn't know what else to do, though. All of this sounded insane. He honestly would've preferred it if Nico had chosen to hurt him for daring to think of running, instead of… whatever this was.
But again, Nico didn't get angry. "Do you see, Tyler? The city, these people, they need our gift to protect against those who would ruin everything we have. We cannot allow that to happen. Some part of you, the part that knows what you are capable of, knows that. Why do you think you always return? Dema is your home, you need it and it needs you."
"Let me out again and we'll see about that," Tyler mumbled, feeling fidgety. He didn't want to trust what Nico said. He hated it, hated the idea that he might be able to— to reanimate the corpses of those who had passed.
A horrible idea occured to him and he stopped breathing.
What— what if that's why the Bishops taught Vialism? Ultimately, Vialism centered on self sacrifice, right? Giving things up for the greater good, culminating in the final act of devotion: suicide. But, if the Bishops could control the bodies of those who died…
He felt sick, his stomach twisting in a way-too-familiar way. Tyler stared at Nico, too horrified to really register what the Bishop was saying.
"Tyler." His name finally broke through the whirl of thoughts.
He flinched, blinking and looking up at the Bishop.
"We need you, Tyler. The city needs you." Nico said and he'd never seemed this sincere before.
Didn't mean Tyler trusted it.
"You can run, but there is a contract with your name on it, waiting for you, Tyler. Your very flesh and bone knows this, you will always be drawn home, no matter how far or fast you run." Nico met Tyler's eyes and he was unnerved by their sudden change to a vivid, glowing orange. "You will come home, Tyler. You will take your rightful place as one of us and finally become whole."
Nico's words echoed around the otherwise empty chapel, with an air of finality.
Tyler stared at the Bishop.
Finally become whole… he really, really didn't want to admit it, but he wanted that. Even if he already knew that this 'wholeness' the Bishop spoke of wouldn't fix him. How could it, when it required him to puppet corpses and preach a religion that worshiped death by one's own hand? Tyler knew that wouldn't fix him.
But... he wouldn't be alone, not if he— he became one of the Bishops. And wouldn't that be close enough?
Anything was better than being alone, he knew that way too well.
Tyler swallowed, hard. "And if I say no, if I don't come back?" He hated that his voice cracked.
Nico smiled, slow and self-assured. "You will."
Part of Tyler wanted to bolt, just get out, as fast as he could.
Part of him… the other part, the part he didn't want to acknowledge, wanted this. He didn't want to be alone anymore, he wanted to belong. Wanted to be better.
Even if he knew the wholeness Nico promised would be a twisted mockery of what 'better' really meant.
"I'm getting out of here," Tyler shook his head, backing up, and bumping into pews as he stumbled out. "I— I'm out. You can't stop me, Blurryface."
More heresy. Nico definitely wouldn't take kindly to Tyler using his nickname. No one was supposed to use it, but supposed to didn't stop stupid kids from laughing and tempting fate.
Nico only smiled. "I'll be waiting for you, Nova." He called after Tyler, not moving to follow him.
Tyler shivered, the calm assurance in Nico's voice haunting him.
That, and the last word he'd said: Nova. Why did it feel oddly familiar, like it fit some part of him?
"Whatever, whatever, whatever," Tyler chanted as he shoved his hands in his pockets, hurrying through the streets of Dema. He didn't need to think about anything the Bishop had said, he was leaving all of this behind. He was gonna be free. For good, this time.