[ On some distant level where Krouse is always tangentially aware of tactical details, he could probably guess Tim might record this. Krouse did the same thing to someone else once, and he didn't even have a reason at the time. You just never know when footage could come in handy.
He just doesn't care anymore. It's done. Cover blown. He's not getting out of this with anything left under the table. What's another set of eyes? What's all of them.
Tim backing up, making the concession, it takes one fractional ounce of pressure off. It's the different of going up a foot at the bottom of the ocean. But a little relief is still a relief, however crushed Krouse stays. ]
I'm not going to shoot you.
[ Or try. Krouse doesn't know if he could. Whatever Tim is holding looks like it's meant to be thrown. But he still makes the call, in the moment, and that's another ounce off. One less thing. ]
And it doesn't matter if I shoot him. He's dead. He's been dead for years.
Are you certain about that? [ The mastermind asks. ] Did you see a body?
I saw your fucking brain smeared on the fucking concrete. [ His voice is a tense tremor, vibrating at the fringe of shattered self-control. ] And that didn't work last time, either.
No. [ The fingers of one hand tap the knuckles of the other, idly. ] Not yet. But you're slipping. Even our guest can see that. Doubt creeps in, doesn't it? After all... [ The fingers rise, then settle. ] We're both aware that death is a less final concept than you believed.
I'm not fucking - [ Krouse's shoulders heave, his throat working in a hard swallow. ] Not this time. I'm asking you a question.
But you haven't, yet. [ The thing that is Coil observes, mildly. ] But very well. Don't leave us in suspense.
[ Krouse's finger almost tightens on the trigger. The barely visible skin between his glove and his jacket twitches with it. He swallows again. ]
Did I ever say no?
[ He asks. It hangs in the air like the tang of propellants would have, if he pulled the trigger. Like the aftermath of the shockwave. ]
Did I ever say no? In any of your timelines? Because you'd know, right? If you're you? That's how it works. You do your fucking projection of the future, and you collapse it, and no one else knows how it would have played out. But you did. You remembered them. And I want - [ His voice nearly cracks, shuddering at the edge of it. ] I want to fucking know.
Did you ever ask me to do anything, and I said no? Did I ever, fucking once, tell you no? Not about my team. Not about her. [ Her; three letters, a black pit of grief. ] Was there any fucking thing - any fucking goddamn miserable thing - that you asked me to do, and I wouldn't do it?
Because I don't remember ever saying no. Not for one goddamn thing. However fucked up, whatever I had to do to anyone else, I fucking did it. I did every fucking thing you asked me to do. And I looked away, and I kept my mouth shut, and I did -
[ Things that kill him, even now. Things he thinks about every day. Things he sees when he sleeps. He doesn't have to say it. It's all there in the tremble of his hand, finger tugging on the first degree of give on the trigger. ]
I just want to know.
[ He needs to know. He needs to know if he ever found a line, anywhere, in any of the futures he never saw. He needs to know if there was ever any part of him left that hesitated. If there was ever anything in him that was good. ]
Remarkable. You're finally asking something of value.
[ The mastermind's face remains invisible. The shift in his focus to Tim is palpable all the same. It's an intent, inevitable sort of focus. Incisive. Weighted. ]
Before I answer, I'd like to bring in a consultation. From our new associate. You seem like a young man with a decent head on your shoulders. Tell me, based on your experience. Do you think Trickster ever found a line he was unwilling to cross? Does he strike you as an individual who would find himself incapable of doing anything in his power to help someone he loves?
Fuck you. [ Krouse breathes, anguished. ] Fuck you. Fuck you, don't fucking talk about her -
That's the only thing we've ever spoken about, Krouse. I see no reason to interrupt the continuity now. And neither of you will be leaving this room without the answer you've requested. So, once again, I encourage you to refrain from further interruptions. [ The focus stays on Tim, heavy as an open grave. ] My apologies. Now, if you would, render your judgment. Did he ever say no, to anything I asked?
cw: gun violence (referenced)
He just doesn't care anymore. It's done. Cover blown. He's not getting out of this with anything left under the table. What's another set of eyes? What's all of them.
Tim backing up, making the concession, it takes one fractional ounce of pressure off. It's the different of going up a foot at the bottom of the ocean. But a little relief is still a relief, however crushed Krouse stays. ]
I'm not going to shoot you.
[ Or try. Krouse doesn't know if he could. Whatever Tim is holding looks like it's meant to be thrown. But he still makes the call, in the moment, and that's another ounce off. One less thing. ]
And it doesn't matter if I shoot him. He's dead. He's been dead for years.
Are you certain about that? [ The mastermind asks. ] Did you see a body?
I saw your fucking brain smeared on the fucking concrete. [ His voice is a tense tremor, vibrating at the fringe of shattered self-control. ] And that didn't work last time, either.
No. [ The fingers of one hand tap the knuckles of the other, idly. ] Not yet. But you're slipping. Even our guest can see that. Doubt creeps in, doesn't it? After all... [ The fingers rise, then settle. ] We're both aware that death is a less final concept than you believed.
I'm not fucking - [ Krouse's shoulders heave, his throat working in a hard swallow. ] Not this time. I'm asking you a question.
But you haven't, yet. [ The thing that is Coil observes, mildly. ] But very well. Don't leave us in suspense.
[ Krouse's finger almost tightens on the trigger. The barely visible skin between his glove and his jacket twitches with it. He swallows again. ]
Did I ever say no?
[ He asks. It hangs in the air like the tang of propellants would have, if he pulled the trigger. Like the aftermath of the shockwave. ]
Did I ever say no? In any of your timelines? Because you'd know, right? If you're you? That's how it works. You do your fucking projection of the future, and you collapse it, and no one else knows how it would have played out. But you did. You remembered them. And I want - [ His voice nearly cracks, shuddering at the edge of it. ] I want to fucking know.
Did you ever ask me to do anything, and I said no? Did I ever, fucking once, tell you no? Not about my team. Not about her. [ Her; three letters, a black pit of grief. ] Was there any fucking thing - any fucking goddamn miserable thing - that you asked me to do, and I wouldn't do it?
Because I don't remember ever saying no. Not for one goddamn thing. However fucked up, whatever I had to do to anyone else, I fucking did it. I did every fucking thing you asked me to do. And I looked away, and I kept my mouth shut, and I did -
[ Things that kill him, even now. Things he thinks about every day. Things he sees when he sleeps. He doesn't have to say it. It's all there in the tremble of his hand, finger tugging on the first degree of give on the trigger. ]
I just want to know.
[ He needs to know. He needs to know if he ever found a line, anywhere, in any of the futures he never saw. He needs to know if there was ever any part of him left that hesitated. If there was ever anything in him that was good. ]
Remarkable. You're finally asking something of value.
[ The mastermind's face remains invisible. The shift in his focus to Tim is palpable all the same. It's an intent, inevitable sort of focus. Incisive. Weighted. ]
Before I answer, I'd like to bring in a consultation. From our new associate. You seem like a young man with a decent head on your shoulders. Tell me, based on your experience. Do you think Trickster ever found a line he was unwilling to cross? Does he strike you as an individual who would find himself incapable of doing anything in his power to help someone he loves?
Fuck you. [ Krouse breathes, anguished. ] Fuck you. Fuck you, don't fucking talk about her -
That's the only thing we've ever spoken about, Krouse. I see no reason to interrupt the continuity now. And neither of you will be leaving this room without the answer you've requested. So, once again, I encourage you to refrain from further interruptions. [ The focus stays on Tim, heavy as an open grave. ] My apologies. Now, if you would, render your judgment. Did he ever say no, to anything I asked?