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Being a mayor was as exhausting as predicted.
Diego has learnt his lesson about underestimating his opponents, quite the cruel way. And even though it was not his font to do it often, he did in fact not consider the mental turmoil his position would give him.
He placed his cup delicately on its accompanied plate, fearing the doctor's vexation over his precious, expensive set. He hasn't given himself the chance to recall when he had felt resentful towards Doctor Ferdinand, the harbouring grudge that sat with Diego ever since he was infected with Scary Monsters (discarding how useful it ended up being in the long run.. perhaps). The younger man, facing his now “mentor” in deep thought and almost complete silence, has been very strict about his goal of achieving independence and a sense of freedom that would only cease once it threatened another. Ferdinand is very aware of the fact that Diego did not like being used as a puppet some long time ago. Depriving him of his own consciousness was a nightmare he never spoke about to anyone, an inner fear only himself would know. Needless to say, after a race which they lived through hand to mouth, the two slowly bonded in ways they haven't forecasted. From giving each other wounded glares during conferences and meetings, now that they're both involved with politics much more than needed, to spending time with each other, such as old ladies gossiping (the gossip is about the insufferable Valentine, and sometimes work. Ferdinand is still passionate about his experiments.)
They appreciate each other's silence as much as their conversations now. Diego could never admit it, nor will Ferdinand.
Except that now, the silence was necessarily interrupted. After an omitted start that Diego attempted to initiate without sounding like a complete lunatic to the doctor.
“Are you certain?”
“I have faith.”
Ferdinand grimaced subtly.
“You're risking.”
“I know. I want to.”
Diego's eyes swept the room.
“Valentine knows his priorities. Yet he acknowledges his sadistic needs, he will enjoy me pestering him about it.”
Ferdinand quirked up an eyebrow, he agrees.
“I just need a pass from you.”
“You want to hide behind me.”
Diego gritted his teeth, the wording was too generous- per se, degrading. But not so false, knowing his own motives.
“Not like that.”
“You want me to coin a story for you to be less humiliated. For you know you're being foolish.” Ferdinand challenged. As much as anyone else, he was fond of testing Diego's reactions, whether it be by undressing the man with his bare eye or fold his ears according to each word (and used tone) uttered by the young mayor.
Diego remained silent.
Ferdinand took a sip of his coffee.
“Could you explain why you cannot seem to get that man off your mind? You've been a mess, I've seen.”
Diego did not know. He did not know what to reply nor what to think. He's just here, asking for help to convince the president, requesting access to one of the most guarded zones within the hall (he did not know whether to be surprised or not by prison not being an option) to reach the man who buried himself within his cranium. No one could preoccupy Diego's thoughts as much but his own self.
Ever since the corpse sealing, which was done by the one whom very few people know of. Diego and Ferdinand included, both couldn't lie about their almost complete ignorance about him.
Diego knows he's locked up, and he knows the “cell” the man is kept in is not like the others. Surely, a stand user as powerful as his parallel self could not be isolated so easily. Taken down? He could not tell either.
“I have no relevant information about him, Diego. He's not one of my samples, even less a testee.” Broke out the doctor once again.
“I mostly specialize in wildlife, and in some occasions, human stand users.” The emphasis was a reference to how both of the two are not quite fond of humans to begin with.
Diego looked back, he swallowed a lump. Ferdinand observed. His falcon-like eyes could not miss a hint of dust. Diego has not asked him how he managed to survive the wild mountain pumas’ attack, his scars were great testimonies of an experience not many could recover from. The long haired man shall acknowledge the doctor's genius, in a situation like that- strength could have been a stiff ally, nothing else.
“All I am aware of is that he's kept in awful shape, enough for him to not die but remain an insignificant threat.”
He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled through his nose. He watched Diego took his last sip of coffee.
And with that information, Diego's gut stirred. He didn't understand, he did expect that. He knew Valentine would inflict pain on anything that breathed, on anyone. And as much as he still flinches when he walks by the train station, when he hears the sound of the rails embracing the trains’ pride. Or when the very same man walks and sits in the same room as him.. He couldn't get used to that.
Diego was not scared, oh no he wasn't. He would gut him out with great pleasure if necessary. He knew he was doing it all on purpose, ever since he was dragged to that cold, humid hallway, and watched it all without blinking once. How he saw himself, heard himself in so much agony, faces he never knew he could make nor see. He thought the president was only putting on a show, to scare him, to put him back in place, to remind him of what he could've been, where he could've been if it wasn't for his generosity.
There was no difference between Diego and a nameless lamb.
He hated being held back by his spine, threatened to have it crushed into miserable and decaying bones at any time.
“Is that so?” He uttered. The interrogative tone is pretty much lacking.
Diego was running out of options. Was he considering anything rebellious? No, not really. He knew he could mess up at any time. Whatever he did to gain the place he's still fighting for, fighting to prove himself worthy of, his second chance at life.. All gone because of that anomaly. No, he did not care about him.
He doesn't, he shouldn't, he can't.
Why.
Then why has he been thinking of it for almost five months now. He knew he wasn't stupid, emotions were barely his weakness.
Ferdinand scratched his eyebrows, a cigarette obviously in between his pointer and middle fingers. He watched Diego part his lips, probably to say something unconvincing, surprisingly.
“I cannot guarantee you anything.”
Diego's pupils dilated, due to his stand slowly stamping itself across his body, and even demeanor. It wasn't too difficult to notice.
“I'll remember that.”
“Keep your tongue to yourself.”
“Yes.”
“He's unpredictable.”
“Yes.”
“What time is it?”
“Half past five.”
Ferdinand took one last drag before putting the cigarette out on the edge of his plate. Diego was thankful, not only for his comprehension but very much also for him smoking. He had forgotten his pack in his office, and he knows that he would've appeared more nervous if the doctor did not “suffocate” him with the smoke.
“Excuse yourself, I have work to do- You have work to do.” Ferdinand dragged his chair to a nearby desk, clearly studying a sheet that has been sitting there since the morning, probably.
“I count on you.” Diego stood up, taking his coat off the chair, it had gotten warmer than earlier, even in the middle of the evening.
No response, the man definitely heard him, but he did not look up.
“Doctor.”
“Get out of my face, Brando.” sighed Ferdinand as a father would do for being nagged over a toy of interest.
Diego exhaled through his nostrils, that was the closest mimic he could do so far to a laugh. Walking away from the doctor, he balled his right hand into a fist and bit his inner lip.
“Good evening, doctor.” Was the last thing Ferdinand heard behind his back before hearing the sound of the door shut. His eyebrows (that are quite expressive, as one could guess) quirked up, scribbling a few notes on the paper before walking to a much greater “closet”, a place where he stored his documents. Ferdinand was not the kind of person to take papers lightly, every single folder has a copy in case the original gets discarded or damaged.
He rummaged through a drawer, then the one under it. Everything was organized alphabetically, some other folders according to a classifying template he only knew of. And that is when he found it.
“S u b j e c t N° 973:
“ ‘Diego Brando’ - Alternative’ “ .
Two days later, the mayor was convened at the white house- The president's office, precisely.
The mayor walked with a fierce pace before almost collapsing under the air of the office. Thankfully, his face remained the same you'd see on his government files. Now all he had to do is keep eye contact with the man ahead of him, who's currently staring back with amusement and coquettish curiosity, all without a single smile line expanding on his face. He has to remain calculated, even if Diego's presence now could mean that he has almost nothing to worry about, president Funny Valentine was dirty, and cheap.
“Brando, Brando, Brando..” He began, much to Diego's disliking. He knows he can only get out of here without punching a wall if he matches his energy. But not as much. He wants to bite his chair.
“Pleasant afternoon, sir.”
“You must know why you're here.”
“Most likely.”
“What's this all about?”
“As the doctor informed you.” Diego said instead of “What the fuck do you want me to add?”
Valentine clicked his pen, using his other hand to rub his chin.
“Unless you haven't received all the needed information.”
“No, I have.”
Diego nodded.
“Well y-”
“How does this “study” require documented interaction between the two of you?”
Diego swallowed thickly. He was aware that he already knew everything, he's tiptoeing on his nerves, like always.”
“I ignore.”
“Mhm.”
“The doctor needed my contribution. That is all I know.”
Valentine stared at him as if he was interested in whatever Diego was going to make up.
“Are you excited?”
Diego almost frowned.
“I've been more excited.”
“Oh you've been.”
Valentine once again pretended to care about this conversation. Diego never understood how the president felt about him. From all the unsettling exchanges that have occurred between the two to the way he treats him outside of the office. Diego's priority was to not crumble, and take every chance to get on Valentine's good (enough) side.
“As you've most likely heard, the saint's corpse has handed me the blessing of a goddess as my companion, my soul.”
“Here he goes,” said Diego to himself.
“And those who are the same shall collide no more and exist in harmony wherever I would like.”
Diego gave him an acknowledgement stare.
“Unless I decide to send one of them back to their ground.”
The mayor was getting impatient, slightly.
“Unless I choose to not, let it happen. Which is your case.” Valentine tapped his cheek with his index.
Diego ignored what that meant, does that mean that he could not see his other self? Would that meeting turn into a bloodbath?
“He's under my care, he's doing well.”
“Right.” Diego's inner thoughts are getting louder. By the wording of it, Valentine is not getting rid of him anytime soon, and somehow that's a problem too.
“You do understand, do you, Diego?”
“Yes.”
Valentine stood up from his seat, slowly walking to the man who's now in front of him. Brushing the falling strands off his shoulder. Diego did not know if he should've done his hair better or just curse Valentine anyway.
“Blackmore will lead.” The president's fingers began to glide on the man's shoulder.
“You have twenty minutes.”
Diego did not tilt, but he wanted to protest. Too little time.. Was he even certain that the other would talk?
“Come back to me when you're done.”
“I am in a tight schedule gap.” He did not want to see him again.
Valentine's hand stopped its motion as it was heading to Diego's neck. He retracts it to himself smoothly.
“Huhu.. Busy, aren't we?”
“..”
“You've gotten confident. Rejecting me like this.”
“I-
“I don't think I should remind you where you are, correct?”
“.. No, sir.”
Valentine was enjoying this.
“Have fun.”
And with that, Diego stood up and left, taking his time. He was not intimidated.
He needed to smoke before going, but to his misfortune the named Blackmore was already in the hallway.
Diego knew the white house was vast enough to bury as much deceit as his mind could process. He sensed that it carried as many secrets as the hidden paths and corridors.
He only followed in silence, revising a script he has not even written, a speech that will help him look less stupid. He had no clue of how this would go, what to expect from himself- He knew that if he was in the other's position, he would've been writing on walls with his own blood. And in the alternate’s scenario, it is very likely that he will be ten times worse.
“Tragic, isn't it? The rebellious one got his freedom, and the dog was kept in a cage. Rightfully where it belongs.”
Diego did not care for the other Diego, but Valentine will pay.
“Twenty minutes.” Stopped the man ahead of him, snapping the mayor out of his inner monologue.
“There is a stool, in case you'd like to sit. Don't get close to the glass.”
So it's made of “glass”.. Logically, not the typical window glass Diego would find anywhere. He watches the man walk back and keep a modest distance between him and the entrance.
Is there really nothing to fear? Was the other him that little of a menace? If so, was the last instruction just for dramatic effect?
Whatever.
Diego's footsteps were steady as earlier, perhaps they were less attention demanding. But heard, Diego wanted to announce himself, not only as an act of pride but maybe also an act of respect towards the other, hence why he's now facing the cell with a little distance. The lighting was adequate for him to see in his human form.
And he saw a glimpse of him, finally.
He looked like him, but not quite. Just like some of the drawings he had plastered on the walls. Some of churches, some of uncanny symbolism, and then, drawings of himself, that looked different enough for Diego to imagine that he was either failing to remember his own face or, another unknown reason.
The silence was so thick it could choke one of them easily, Diego felt suffocated. He wished it was from smoke, or perhaps a pair of bare, calloused hands.
“I'm not here for the reasons you're thinking of.” Began Diego, stupidly.
He was not certain of how to start anyway, a “hello” or “good evening” would've sounded as ridiculous as this situation. But now he can't walk back.
No reply. He looked like he was expecting the mayor, but was still surprised that it was indeed the mayor.
The man was staring, his eyes piercing straight into Diego's. He has noticed, they looked quite huge even from a distance, his were greener than Diego's.
“I'm not your enemy.”
Diego was speaking to him as if he were an animal.
Not good.
The other Diego tilted his head. How was he supposed to interpret this? Perhaps he felt mocked.
“Do you mind if I, take a seat?”
No reply. He won't give up yet, he'll take it as a yes.
Yet, before he dragged the stool (which might be hard to sit on) he was caught off guard by the man approaching the glass barrier, calmly.
He did look horrible, there was no denial. Diego was not planning on mentioning it. After all, if he's pretty sensitive about his appearance, this Diego must be too.
Pale, sleepless, weak.
Diego did not know if he was experiencing dread or empathy. Or both.
“What. Aren't you going to sit?”
The other man spoke. Voice slightly deeper, heaven knows if it is from not talking at all for so long or just his natural one.
Diego didn't realize that he froze.
“Sit.”
He sounded murderously inviting.
But he spoke, at least.
Diego sat, keeping a straight posture as he kept eye contact with the very pair of eyes that seemed to have bewitched him.
“I was sent to talk.”
“Really.”
“Really.”
“Is being a mayor that boring.”
“Often, yes.”
The parallel Diego nodded, he stared. Almost like he was acting like a human.
Practicing.
Diego could imagine why. But he would never be a hundred percent certain.
“How about Manhattan.”
“What about Manhattan?”
“What you took from me. Was it worth it?”
Diego clenched his jaw. He expected this to be brought up. He supposedly knew what to answer with.
It was unfair. But this is what they get. Diego can't change anything about that.
“I want it to be.”
The green eyed man walked to the other side, his hair looked overgrown, but not as long as Diego's.
“When will it be.”
“... When I consider it to be.”
The Diego on the other side stared at the mayor, eyeing him perhaps way too carefully.”
“Leave.”
Diego tensed up.
“I have time.”
“And you think I do.” The man's voice finally gained some emotion, but Diego began to take in consideration the threatening tone wrapping it.
“You came to see me, mock me? You came to mock me, for the time you have left. Making the most of what you have left. Do you feel like you're not lasting in this position?”
“...”
“Neither do I. You'll never be better.”
“I do not think that.”
“I do not need you to say it.”
“I don't.”
“Useless! Useless!” The man has shown some emotion, and by some- Diego would say suddenly a lot, the other Diego seemed like he was on the verge of screaming.
He did not.
Another moment of silence has fogged through the two.
“Not long ago, a clock was brought to me. A calendar, the next week.”
Diego's head had its turn to tilt now.
“I’ve forgotten what fresh air felt like. I have just remembered what I look like.”
The man glanced at his “self portraits”. The rosary on his bed looked damaged.
“I don't need you here. You'll never understand how this feels.” He said as he weakly attempted to grasp the wall next to him.
“You're right.”
Diego replied calmly, earning a slow glance from the other.
“I'm here to just repeat, that I'm not your enemy.”
The blue eyed man stared. He had noticed that the other had long bottom lashes.
“And you will soon know why, Diego.”
“Do not.” Replied the other almost immediately.
“The name is no longer mine.”
“... Dio.”
They both froze, yet one seemed more relaxed than the other.
“Get lost.”
“I should.” The man stood up, hesitantly walking away.
“Don't come back.”
“I don't make promises.”
And before they knew, they were both standing next to each other, the boundary between them being the last resort to not risk any further tension.
Dio, snickered. Diego did not know what that meant either. That did not please him.
“Useless.” They both said in one breath, voices blending with one another through the glass.
Diego now walked away, replaying this first time act of recklessness with immersion. His heels tapped against the hard floor louder than before.
Right, he will have to file a report to doctor Ferdinand later.
He doesn't know where this is going. He has gotten used to taking risks since forever. But what just happened right now was different.
He hadn't felt this pleasing anxiety before.
Or was it even anywhere near that?