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By all accounts, The Black Parade’s return tour was going quite well. Draag was pleased with how the performances went, even with the chaos during the finales. They’d had it under control despite all of that. It was early, but they were hopeful that it would continue to go well. In a way, that was good for Mairanne, because it meant the guards were getting careless. Easier to get lost. Marianne quite enjoyed getting lost now, since every once and a while, she had company.
Tonight was one such night. Marianne had wandered into some corridor or other, and wasn’t worried when she heard the sound of footsteps. They were even and calm, not the frantic steps of a guard on the hunt.
“I was told I’d find you somewhere around.” A voice to the person walking up to her. Marianne had caught the recognizable accent the members of the Black Parade had, but waited until the bassist introduced himself.
Marianne smiled. “So you’re looking for me now?” She asked.
The bassist chuckled a bit. “Sounds more like you’re waiting for us. I’d expect you to be a bit more worried based on what I’d heard.”
“I know I’m not being looked for just yet, at least not by anyone in charge of me,” Marianne said. “I could tell you weren’t someone I needed to worry about because you weren’t immediately dramatic. Also, all the busybodies here have that military school accent. You and your group, you all still sound like people from the street.”
“People from the street?”
“I don’t mean that to imply you all were guttersnipes or something. You just actually sound like real people,” Marianne explained. “Everyone here is from the government or in show business for life. Myself included, of course.”
The bassist laughed again. Marianne was surprised by his particularly good nature. All of The Black Parade were nice people, especially in comparison to the company she usually kept, but Marianne couldn’t help but notice his nature was especially striking. “I’m surprised the guards haven’t rubbed off on us after all this time, but I guess we’re around each other enough to still sound like ourselves. The band, you know, all we have is each other.” He stopped himself after that, returning to the subject of accents. “Why do you think the way you talk is fake?”
Marianne paused for a moment. “Before all of this, I came from a little town north of the Capital. Just a foundry and the workers' families. When I was recruited, they knew they wanted to bill me as a classical singer, because I was so talented, so young. They wanted someone incredibly impressive, and I have always been well suited for that sort of performance. There was a sort of image they’d planned for me, and the way I talked was unacceptable. I had an elocution tutor they hired to refine my speech. Besides that, they usually make anyone who faces the public on a national scale train in neutral ways of speaking. A generic accent works best for mass appeal. Since everyone in the Music Program talks like that, or at least is from the Capital, I couldn’t help but lose my accent, really. I knew no one from my hometown in the Capital besides my own parents, and it seems like sometimes I saw less of them than the Program workers.”
“That’s too bad. Must be lonely,” the bassist mused. “There’s something about you know, having someone who’s lived the same life as you, in some way. People want to be understood. I think that’s what has kept all of us in the band as close to sane as we can be. We can’t always get along, god, no one is perfect like that. But we know each other, and what we’ve been through, together. But the bond of being from the same place, sharing lives, it’s important.”
That was the most Marianne had ever heard out of him in this time on the tour. Granted, they had never spoken much outside of official meetings, but here and there, he had always just seemed like he was happy to be there. In a way, that definitely seemed true. Maybe he was clinging to whatever positivity to be found. “It is important,” Marianne agreed. “I’ve learned how to get by. It’s not as if I had many people in my life before, anyways. I’m an only child, and I never had many friends at school.”
The bassist cracked a smile. “I guess I’ve just not been alone much, at least on my own. Before I was a bassist in a band, I was a little brother, a friend, a son, lots of things. If your world is smaller, it is probably different.”
“Right. I was used to it. Even when I was small, I didn’t even wish for a younger sibling, like I suppose a lot of children do. Sometimes, people would ask me, but it just wasn’t ever on my mind. After they learned I was blind, the doctors told my mother it wouldn’t be wise to have more children, so it was just never a possibility. They were plenty happy with just one daughter, anyways, or at least, they’d never seemed otherwise. I shouldn’t put words in their mouths,” Marianne said. “But, I know my mother never acted disappointed, and never let the backhanded compliments from the neighbors bother her.”
“Our neighbors were the same way. Were yours superstitious, too?”
Marianned chuckled. “It’s the only reason they were ever so nosy. They all seemed to know exactly what it meant to have so many sons or daughters, or what order they were in. I think it drove them all crazy because eldest daughters are supposed to be good luck if you have two or three children, something like that. I didn’t listen much. Superstitions like that are pointless.”
“That’s the exact superstition I was thinking about,” the bassist said. “All the ladies that would come over for tea or cards always knew those sorts of things. I don’t even recall the specifics, but they always said a family’s fortune is better when a daughter’s born. There was some old saying or other. They used to put it on greeting cards.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Me either. It slipped my mind completely. Besides, if I can remember it from when I was young, it probably went out of style, the way a lot of things did after the war. The old ladies are probably the only ones who still know it.”
“I suppose that might be a good thing about superstition, then. Old ladies and their superstitions, not much else of the old culture survived the war,” Marianne said. The “old culture” was something she had only ever heard of. It was the way of life, traditions and such before the war. Certainly, some things could remain, holidays stuck around, some celebrations, or traditions too integral be removed, but there was something different about them. Warped and neutralized. Meanings changed, or hidden away. Traditions invented to honor the new way of living. You weren’t supposed to look back in Draag. It hindered progress. The old culture was never talked about by teachers or anyone important, except to say it was backwards and deserved to be forgotten. In the comfort of most people's homes, things lingered, though. The things that lingered, however, were minute traditions and superstitions that could be secreted away, kept only by old ladies who remembered them, and many in the younger generation ignored these things, either because they believed what they were told, or out of simple generational differences. Marianne was among the first born after the war, and many of her old classmates were going to be old enough to have young families of their own. The old culture would not survive past that.
The bassist looked at Marianne, quizzical and surprised. He’d known by now, that she was certainly not the person you’d expect her to be based on her age and occupation. Still, he did not realize that even the little societal norms were below her. About the only thing he’d been warned about was that she did tend to bristle when talking about her work. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about the old culture.”
“You’re not supposed to talk about the war, either, and you brought that up first,” said Marianne. “I’ve never taken to believing in anything made up. It’s a made-up thing to pretend something never existed.”
“Must be hard, when we’re in such a made up place.” The bassist remembered what Marianne had said about how the band talked, and why she liked it. “Is that why our band’s become such a fascination for you?”
Marianne nodded. “I don’t normally enjoy music like what your band makes, but you’re speaking about something. You have a story to tell, and I can appreciate that. You took a great risk to tell that story, even if it is a fictional tale, it is more real than this world they’ve made for us here.”
The bassist cracked another smile. She got it. Or at least, she got what was important. Sometimes, the band had some skepticism about Marianne, and her reasoning for being so interested, despite being Draag’s darling performer. They understood well that she wasn’t going to be exactly forthcoming if it wasn’t wise for her to be, but it was hard not to be suspicious of someone so guarded. He was certain she was genuine, though, or at least very nearly certain. She was more at ease here. Clearly, if she was comfortable, she’d talk. Keeping the subject away from her and her life seemed to be the best way to do that. “I still sometimes am amazed that we remained so popular. Or ever got popular. We lucked out, you know? We were just too big to suppress. Even then, they still did after a while.”
“It surprises me that you are really here,” Marianne said. “All of you, the band. That’s the other thing I am curious about. If they wanted you gone… Why did they make such an effort to just fake your death and hide all of you away? Why not actually kill you?”
“Even imprisoned, they must’ve had some use for us,” the bassist explained. “MOAT is not just a prison, really. Not that I can remember much.”
Humming in thought, Marianne nodded. “Of course. Draag will keep around anyone they can use, at any cost.” She knew that plenty well from her own life. She remained useful to Draag herself, at arguably much higher cost. Marianne figured that it must be something of that sort with The Black Parade, but certainly far more severe. “I wonder if they’ve made you forget,” she mused.
“Maybe,” the bassist said, stopping to think. “I know something is happening. I dunno what you’d think about it, though… you’re so un-superstitious.”
Marianne shrugged. “I may be, but at the same time, I’m not closed-minded. I dislike the pretend games they make with reality. However, I know myself that what is possible, it is not always the same as what is known. Try me.”
The bassist struggled to begin. “I know I’m missing some of my own memories, but there's something stranger. I think I have memories that aren’t mine.”
“Memories that aren’t yours?”
“Let me explain something real quick. We’ve got our uniforms for the show, you know? On mine, I’ve got this medal. It’s a real medal, too. The higher ups hate it, but I’ve been able to keep it for now, I’ve got rights enough to own it. It’s a real family heirloom from the war. It belonged to the man I was named after. He died before I was born, way early in the war, when it was still real. I never knew him, or how he died, nothing at all. No one ever explained anything. Anyone who would know, they’re gone now. But I know. I’ve seen him die, I watched it happen through his eyes. I can see it, like a dream.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a dream?”
“The first time I saw it, I was still awake. It’s strange, I can almost remember having the memory for the first time, like I could just know it was new, that I had never had it before. It was before the show we did last week. I was wide awake, ready to go.”
Marianne had no reason to not believe him, but it was a strange story. Then again, the way Draag was with The Black Parade was strange. They kept them as apart from everyone as possible, supposedly because they were prisoners, and not to be trusted, and where they went when the show was over, only those with the highest clearances knew that. What they were capable of doing could clearly enter the realm of the bizarre. Marianne’s own involvement in the paranormal proved that enough for her. She had no means of knowing what exactly Draag had access to, but it would be incredibly extraordinary if her clairvoyance was the only fantastical thing they’d gotten their hands on. If this was something caused by Draag, it might not be the best to talk about so freely. Marianne had learned on this tour that while she could get away with these little meetings, and could talk about a good bit, it was still safer to keep things vague. Even so, she couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Why tell all of this to me?”
“They say you’re pretty smart,” the bassist said. “I know you can’t always talk about what you know, but I thought it was worth telling you, maybe you can figure something out.”
“I worry sometimes you all are putting too much stock into me, and what I can do,” said Marianne. There was still that desire for allyship in some way between the two, and it did seem to come through in some ways, simply by being together and having these talks. Maybe, somehow, they could make some sort of united front, but Marianne still doubted it. As much as she thought it would be nice if they could fight back, but she wasn’t optimistic about how anything like that would go. Something bigger would have to happen, and that did not seem like it was happening any time soon. Marianne had only ever thought of possibly using the tour as a means to leave, but the problems with that were numerous. Still, it seemed like the Black Parade were trying something, and, as much as Marianne very much was supposed to, she wasn’t going to go out of her way to stop them. That was the greatest extent she could help, and even then, she still had to be incredibly careful about that.
The bassist chuckled a bit. “I just think you ought to know. We all know you’ve got some knowledge, and we have our ideas about it, but I think you can figure it out, or close to it. Something is happening to us.”
“I understand,” said Marianne. “I just hope you realize, the reason I am knowledgeable comes from certain responsibilities I have. I can push the envelope so far with what I’m not supposed to do, but I cannot go against what I have to do. What happens here, I can keep to myself, but anything else I know, you’re not the only people I’m sharing that with.”
“Yeah. We’ve wondered about that. I’m glad you still come and have these talks, but you can always just stop if you think it’s not safe.”
“I’m fine. I think we are going to be fairly alright with this, as long as we’re vigilant. I’m always listening, and I’m sure you’re watching, too. I’ve learned, since we’ve started doing this, that we’re a bit lucky. Doing this international tour, it means these venues are privately owned, and have not always been so cooperative with Draag. They won’t let them access the cameras, or anything recorded by them unless a crime is committed back here. They’re trying to garner some goodwill, so none of the officers want to push it. That’s another reason they’re trying to guard us so much.”
“See, you do know things we don’t,” said the bassist. “That’s useful. We might figure something out with that, you never know.”
Marianne smiled. “Well, if you think so. You all seem to have something that’s keeping you optimistic. I’m glad you do.”
“Part of it is, at least for me, I’m just really happy to be on a stage and playing with everyone again. It’s a good thing to come back to after everything. The rest, well, I don’t even think we have anything concrete to hope for, just that we can try, you know?”
“There is something about performing, isn’t there?” Marianne agreed.
Before they could continue the conversation, something caught the bassist’s eye. He looked a little closer, and it was a guard, who’d just ran past the corridor they were in. “I think your guys are looking for you. I should go,” he said, already on his way opposite from the guard.
“I hear it. They’re close,” Marianne whispered. “Just get yourself far away from here.”
The bassist had left, having rounded a corner. He stopped, though, curious and maybe even a little concerned about Marianne. He just wanted to be sure she wasn’t playing anything off when she said she’d be fine, and the smallest part of him also wanted some proof to bring back that she was really on their side. Or at least, as with them as she could be.
It wasn’t long until the guard he’d seen noticed Marianne. His voice carried easily down the corridor. “Do you know where you are?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Marianne, in a tone the bassist had never heard from her. It was softer, simpler. Even in the supervised meetings, Marianne always carried herself with a certain level of confidence and poise. Alone, Marianne did appear more troubled than her public persona, but still, it was clear that she did not feign her confidence. If anything, she was the most put together when she had no one watching her. She was playing into their hands here, then, the bassist realized.
The guard scoffed. “I don’t know why you still do this, Marianne.”
“I just want some time away,” Marianne said, uncharacteristically contrite.
“We are not in a time or place where we can submit to your every whim. You have protocol you are supposed to follow and behaviors that are expected of you. I know you are not so stupid that you don’t understand this.”
The bassist listened on as the guard continued to scold and berate Marianne. Even if she was playing a part here, it was one that was too well-practiced. She’d said once before that Draag could never do anything to her that mattered anymore, and it was clear she’d steeled herself against their words some time ago. He knew, though, that she’d been working here a long time, and that there must have been a time when she wasn’t so confident and impassable.That was how he knew that the band could trust her. Marianne always talked as if she was caught between a rock and a hard place, and seeing her alone with the guard, he could tell that was true. She was playing the servile role because they wanted that of her. The bassist sat with the conversation before he decided to leave down the corridor. The theory most of them had seemed to be true, in that Marianne wasn’t working for Draag, but Draag was using Marianne.
What that meant for them, remained to be seen.