Glass Breaks Too Easily. (Eyeless Jack x Reader Book 2)

Chapter Seven.

*WARNING: Wordplay on calling The Operator's associates 'children'. None of them are actually children, it is JUST wordplay. However, there may be some chapters discussing Laughing Jack's past and what he had done to get where he is. I will include warnings above any chapter that describes violence. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.*

I paced around the room, unable to be still under his looming, ominous presence. Though his presence shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did; after all, I was nearly just as strong as him, if not a bit stronger at times. He only had a single hand raised above me, raised out of my reach, but there was only so long his hand could remain raised before it eventually fell. And that was the moment I was waiting for; the moment I was preying on. 

It was the moment I had been created for.

Well, in technicality, I suppose I had been created for the exact opposite of causing chaos and carrying out callous murders, but was it to be deemed that I had been an angel fallen, or was it that I had been an angel always capable?

Goodness had no reason to exist without misfortune, and in that same sense, it only made sense that the two co-existed; there was always a choice. And I had made mine. And so had he.

"What would you have had me do, Operator? Isn't that what they, hmm~...what they call you? Their Operator?"

I knew he hadn't wanted me to make my appearance known so soon and in such a threatening manner; however, what he wanted was irrelevant when the results would regardless of circumstance. 

It wasn't that he no longer cared for the sorrowful group of misfits and murderers, no. It couldn't have been that easy.

It was that his time was running out. Not that he could really die, of course. But his energy needed to be returned to whence it came; he was not a bodily being, and so maintaining the form he had grown so fond of had taken much more effort than he had originally expected. He would return to whatever cesspool of 'mystic' energy he originally belonged to only to resurface once again, like a pestilence that could never be predicted nor cured.

Anything other than what you did. We had an agreement, clown.

I had no choice but to give a laugh at his choice of nickname; however redundant, it was true. Perhaps I was a clown for more reasons than simply my appearance; why had I ever agreed to an arrangement with the steadily dying being rather than just overtake his throne forcefully was a mere form of entertainment for me. I hadn't been approached in years on the premise of making a deal, and the thought intrigued me. 

It also infuriated me. I remembered all too well what happened the last time I had made a deal... my monochrome skin and clothing along with a rather nasty fall from grace was all I had left from that particular arrangement...Isaac...

"I no longer wish to play games, being. As I said in that little, hehe, video, I will be carrying out my plans as I see fit. I'm sure...I'm sure you wouldn't want to try going against me in this saddened state of yours..."

No longer did I allow myself to feel disturbed by his presence; it wasn't his power that seeped from him, it was, more or less, his desperation. The final cling to his claim was a mere string he had managed to hide for all these years, and finally, the smallest piece of it was visible. If his life's work could be seen, it could be taken. Altered.