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It was another night, clouds hiding the bright stars, a depressing sight for the scientist who had just left the laboratory. His lab coat smelled of chemicals and despair.Walking with slow, tired steps, dragging his body to the nearest balcony, he opened the red curtains of a blood-like shade, to pass through and open the glass doors and close them behind you.
“What do you think happened to my little love?” — Dementia spoke while constantly gesturing with her hands as if she were trying to teach a child about the alphabet or equations. “It’s so strange! He didn’t even leave the office aaaaaa—” she whined.
Dr. Flug sighed; lately the boss had been more absent, and not like usual. He simply disappeared and returned at late and bizarre hours — as bizarre as a demon could manage. The scientist still vividly remembered getting up for water in the middle of the night and finding his boss staring at the wall as if it were some sort of portal, or perhaps Black Hat was seeing something he couldn’t.
“What do you think?” — the voice sounded behind you, a husky voice. The classic reaction would be the scientist jumping, screaming, but he remained still. The voice sounded again — “Heheheh. No fear, Doctor?”
“Is your body malfunctioning?” — Flug questioned.
“Malfunctioning…” — the man in the top hat repeated, as if it were a distant echo. His eyebrows furrowed and his gaze sharp as a dagger. “Do you really want to repeat that? YOU THINK I’M MALFUNCTIONING!?”
Hands brutally grabbed the doctor’s neck, squeezing and shaking him. That triggered the usual reaction — fear — because every person, whether a genius or completely stupid intellectually, had the instinct for survival and fear of death. “No, ah, wait! Aah, I didn’t say you were, just let me talk, aah!”
The hands stopped shaking him, reducing the pressure around his neck just enough to let air enter his lungs. The hands quickly released the doctor’s neck. Flug placed a hand on his neck, supporting his body on the balcony while he inhaled as much air as he could in a short time.
Black Hat had this constant habit of choking him; it was as if he were a stress toy for his boss. That reminded him of the only way to make him stop choking him — a humiliating method, but one that worked.
The fight wasn’t something with a purpose, the man in the top hat was simply furious; by that moment he probably didn’t even know the reason anymore. And in his first attack to show his displeasure, his gloved hands went for the doctor’s neck.
Hands grabbing all around the neck, both hands, with force. Flug didn’t know if it was the lack of air, the panic, or Black Hat’s voice yelling at him. But the only cell in his brain that seemed to be working to keep him awake and rational while he lost oxygen was about to stop functioning.
“THAT WAS A FAILURE!” — the man in the top hat complained. Flug no longer even knew what had been a failure, but he placed his hands on his boss’s wrists, and in that moment, that single mental cell was used up — its death could be considered the victory of an army.
“Choke harder, aaah.” — the scientist said between gasps, his eyes half-closed. When he felt himself fainting, he felt his lungs fill with air. He coughed onto his own shoulder while trying not to fall.
There was nothing else around his neck, no one invading his personal space anymore. While trying to control his breathing, he lifted his head to face none other than his boss. Wide-eyed, hands slightly raised. That almost made Flug laugh if not for the lack of air — he looked like he had been stopped by the police, and judging by his expression he was completely unprepared, not expecting an inspection.
After that, Black Hat didn’t touch his neck again. Only his shoulders, to shake him, and that lasted about seven months — which was a lot, compared to what the scientist had in mind.
There was always the possibility of him being fired, but no certainty; after all, he was quite necessary. And, well, it’s not like he’d use that “card” all the time. Since usually they were surrounded by people or cameras — in the mansion’s case, several cameras recording 24 hours a day — using that method was only for extreme situations.
Neither of them talked about it, the scientist out of fear and the boss out of mystery. But probably because it had been something unexpected, both pretended it hadn’t happened. There was even a moment during those seven months when Black Hat stayed one meter close to him, no more than that.
Before Flug could start a conversation, the husky voice spoke: “That thing got into my room again.” — said the man in the top hat.
It seems he doesn’t want to talk about the real issue. Okay, I can talk about this instead.
“I already installed traps in the vents, it’s impossible for her to still get into your room alive.” “Well, she got in and started stealing my clothes, that lunatic!”
Oh, Flug remembered that.
“Oh! Oh hey Nerd! Look what I have!” — Dementia said while striking poses wearing the black and red-toned garments. “Me and my little love had the best night of our lives!” — she laughed proudly.
“The boss is going to kill you for stealing his clothes.”
“AH!? I didn’t steal them! I already told you, he loves me and let me keep them.”
“No he didn’t.”
“YES HE DID!”
He did not, and he never would — much to your misfortune.
“I will improve the vents and set the hatrobots on alert in case they sense her presence in the vents near your room.” — the Doctor said, while staring at the horizon, at stacked houses bathed in fog.
“Isn’t there just a way for you to make her stop?” — that question made the scientist’s body jump, unexpected.
“Sir, I would stop her if I could, but it’s impossible, I don’t control her.” — he said with nervousness in his voice. “You created her.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, I created 5.0.5 and that doesn’t mean I can tell him to stop watching cartoons and drawing.” — he sighed — “I already tried, but he likes it too much.” — the doctor gestured.
“So she’s like that just because?”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I thought she was crazy about me because of you.”
“What…why would I have anything to do with her obsession with you?”
“Well, she has your DNA, at least part of it from that time, which makes her not a complete idiot. She can do equations as fast as you.”
“And you think my DNA would make her obsessed with you? Hehehe.” — the doctor placed his hand on his paper bag, completely forgetting he was wearing it. “Sorry, but I don’t think I’m obsessed with you, boss.”
Black Hat made a face, turning his gaze back to the scientist. “Do you want me to talk about how obsessed with me you were in the past?”
“Sir, I wasn’t obsesse—”
“You wanted to study every inch of my body — your words, not mine — you called me your muse and made a shrine for me.”
A moment of silence lingered, only the sound of quiet while small droplets fell from the sky. Was I really like that?
“Oh, you came back!” — the young man said, with a friendly, nervous, and anxious smile. A mix of all three, if possible. He wore airplane pilot clothes. It had already been a year since he crashed into the mansion, and after apologizing constantly, he was now face to face with him.
“Well, I thought it was appropriate, especially now that you want to play student with doubts.” — Black Hat replied, carrying two empty crystal glasses and a bottle with a reddish liquid, an artificial shade.
“R-really? I can… I can ask anything?” — his excitement skyrocketed, his face lit up, his brown eyes with a golden tint had extremely large black pupils.
They walked through the room to the black sofas, sitting and drinking some of the alcohol. For Kenning the wine tasted strange — not like normal alcohol, more childish, like an extremely addictive strawberry juice. The glasses kept filling at the same speed the liquid disappeared. With the empty glass in hand, Kenning moved his finger along the rim. “I can ask everything and ask for anything…” — he murmured, maybe only to himself, maybe to the man in the bowler hat who kept drinking as if it were his divine mission.
“You can.” — the other answered his murmur.
“Heheh.” — his flushed cheeks contrasted with the scar on the pilot’s face — “I want to study you.”
“What?” — the glass near the other man’s lips stopped. He set the glass down and stared at him. “Study me?”
“Yes, please. My muse.” — the pilot placed his glass on the table and put his hands on the man’s shoulders, while the latter still held his own glass. “I want to study every inch of your body, I want to see what’s inside, organs, blood… hmm let me see, let me know what you are.”
The alcohol had truly been his enemy, because now that supernatural, demonic, eldritch being was exactly what he most wanted to touch. He had really sunk deep into alcohol, to the point of sitting on his future boss’s lap and begging to see every little piece of him, to study him.
“Please… I even made a shrine for you. Let me worship you like a… God.” — the pilot’s head rested on Black Hat’s shoulder, his glasses now pushed up above his head while he murmured nonsense, asking for nonsensical things — “I want to…”
Everything went black.
I don’t believe it, was I really like that? The scientist’s face turned slightly red. It had been years — it was hard to remember his old self. Especially when alcohol had shown the worst of him.