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FABIAN MADE
Trewstone Made scratched at the puss filled boils and sores beneath the itchy bandages that covered his body; not from injury, but because it reminded him of who and what he was. He was, as his surname suggested, made. A Lab-Born, as they were known. There were a handful still around, out there in the Droke. Most were driven insane by circumstance, but Trewstone found religion. He found Mayhew, just before he became Venerable. Trewstone wore the bandages as a reminder of his origins. The Frankenstein Effect, many called it. No one said it to his face, though. Not if they still wanted a face after speaking to him.
But there was something about Trewstone. Only two people knew what, and one of them was Trewstone.
The Venerable Mayhew certainly didn't know, and he knew everything. He knew everything, mainly because he had the people to extort it from other people, through torture or drugs. But even this he had to take with a pinch of salt. People could just be saying what they thought he wanted to hear, saving themselves from retribution. But they misunderstood Mayhew. He was a - no, actually he was a horrible, evil despot, who used drugs to control the population. Call a spade a spade.
And that was where he had come this day - The Pharmacologia; the district of Godenheim that created, tested and distributed the drugs that the people so relied on. He was guarded by his Banner Man, but it was obvious Mayhew needed no one to guard him or protect him. Mayhew was a product of the drugs himself, being a powerhouse of instant aggression and strength. Trewstone Made was really there for show, something for the people to respect and fear. Mayhew encouraged him with the bandage thing. It created an air of mystery that confounded the casual onlooker. He was quite mad, but then who wouldn't be, after the life he had suffered? That said, though, he was Mayhew's madman. And that was good.
"Trewstone," whispered Mayhew, as they pressed the flesh, blessing those who came for benevolence, genuflecting to those who desired it, picking their way through The Pharmacologia, "Stop the scratching. It looks disgusting."
"I cannot help it, Master. The crows do scratch at my skin." answered Trewstone. Mayhew ignored the crow reference.
"Then keep it to a minimum. I don't want bits of you flaking into the vats."
"As you wish, Master."
They reached the Assayer's Office eventually. Afternoon Devotion was nearing, and Mayhew liked to be finished with business by then. Following the Devotion to the Old Ones, he would relax with the Whores and the Smoking Urns, until he was lost in the memories of the Time Before. They soothed him, made him remember who he was, how far he had come, and the unnecessary cruelty it had taken to get there.
That was his meditation; the suffering of others, in his name. Such was the power of those controlling powders - the pure faith in a religious belief system based on nothing but an idea by Mayhew, when he needed the power to control. It was amazing how gullible people became when they believed that there was something higher than them, something that guided them and made things happen, which allowed these fools to feel things happened for a reason, that people died for a reason. Oh, he didn't need to control all of them. Just some of them. Then the power of faith would do the rest.
People like Trewstone Made had been easy to control. Mayhew touched the part of him that spoke to his soul, if he had one. Do it so you might please your Father. Simple, but effective. The maxim of a megalomaniac.
Trewstone stood guard by the door as Mayhew approached the Assayer, "Fropitella. How goes business?"
The Assayer cleared his throat, "Venerable Mayhew. It is as expected, though there is a chemist in the Bromine Lane area that is coming up short on powders. Family problems, so I am led to believe."
Mayhew looked to Trewstone, "See to it." Trewstone nodded. He left the Office then, even as Mayhew continued to speak, "Now, Fropitella, show me the new batch of powders. What are their effects?"
"Ah well, here we have a Comblefortuhide derivative, which -" But Trewstone Made heard no more of it. He was already many strides towards Bromine Lane. He didn't make it all the way, however, because something stopped him before he reached his destination.
#
Trewstone Made was not two streets away before he was arrested by a voice from his long distant past. It was enough to halt him in his tracks, to draw his attention to the alleyway the voice came from.
"How many years has it been?" The man whose voice had so halted Trewstone was very much like him; of the same height, same weight, same bulk, eyes, and mouth. In fact the only difference between the two was Trewstone wore the bandages, covering his body and head.
Trewstone looked to the man, "Fabian. You shouldn't be here."
Fabian strode from the shadows of the alley, arms spread wide to welcome Trewstone, "Why not? Are we not twins?"
It was true. From the same batch, it seemed, "Yes, but no one knows that. I want it to remain thus."
"You would deny your own Brother?" Fabian feigned a hurt look, but a wickedness behind his visage stood proud.
Trewstone tried to continue his walk, "What is it you want?"
Fabian kept pace with Trewstone, "To be by my Brother's side. What else?"
Trewstone shook his head. A piece of the bandage around his head came a little loose and waved in accompaniment to his worry, "It can't be just that. Not with you. Never with you, Fabian."
"I have a plan."
Trewstone halted again, turning to face his Brother, "No. Absolutely not."
"You haven't heard it yet, Brother!” smiled Fabian, a mock raising of his eyebrows. Of course, Trewstone had none.
"No. You are dangerous -" began Trewstone, ineffectually.
"Trust me, Brother. Remember, you owe me."
"You bring that up now?"
"Do you, or do you not owe me your life?" shrugged Fabian, grasping his Brother by the shoulders.
Trewstone knew it was a futile venture, arguing with him, "Fine. What is the plan?"
The grin returned to Fabian's face, but the eyes were still dark, "Simple. We take control of the House. Brother with Brother - together - ruling Godenheim!"
"You're insane." stated Trewstone.
"So are you." countered Fabian.
"Whatever. You can't make me do it."
But Fabian wasn't paying attention to Trewstone's protests, "First, we sneak into Mayhew's private quarters."
"No, Fabian. No." pleaded Trewstone. Yet Fabian continued.
"Then, while he's doped up, you slit his throat from ear to rotten ear, and - hurray! We rule!"
"Fabian, please -"
"You owe me, Trewstone."
"But -" He was powerless, and he knew it.
Fabian was relentless, "You owe me."
"Please -"
"You - owe - me."
"Damn you, Fabian." tried Trewstone.
"Damn you first, Brother." replied Fabian.
#
The time must have been nearing early evening. The prostitutes were spent and slept in a huddle, like a litter of kittens grouped for warmth and security. The Venerable Mayhew was himself reclined on a series of plush pillows. The light was muted, allowing for light enough to see a hand before the eyes. Mayhew's private quarters; a subtlety of relaxed violence being the signature of the decorations upon wall and floor throughout.
"There he is Brother. Take your shot." whispered Fabian, hidden in the shadows behind Trewstone.
Trewstone himself was frozen to the spot. He held a curved knife in his hand - one of his own - just staring at the scene before him, "Fabian, it's not too late -"
It felt as though Fabian stood directly behind him, spewing the words into his ear, controlling, unrelenting, "Do it, Trewstone! Do it to him, before I do it to you!" Still Trewstone couldn't move. Conflictive thoughts were evident, and scrawled all over Trewstone's face. Loyalty, trust and family. They all asked him the same question.
Fabian was still there, right in his ear, "Do it! I compel you -"
Trewstone Made did all that he could. He turned, grasped his Brother by the shoulder, and thrust the knife deep into his twin's guts, twisting, turning, rolling the knife as it cut through the flesh, scraping the bone, "Sorry, Brother. I owe him much, much more than I owe you." said Trewstone as Fabian slipped from life, dropping to his knees, gurgling his disapproval.
"Trewstone?" came the voice of Mayhew, within the darkness behind Trewstone, "Why are you in my chambers at this time?"
Trewstone Made looked to the ground where his Brother, his twin, his family should be, but Fabian was gone. Gone, as though he had never been there.
"I - don't know, Master?" said Trewstone, looking to Mayhew, back to the spot on the floor, back to his Master. Trewstone, in this moment, was dumbfounded.
"Well, get out, will you?" shouted Mayhew, impatiently, "Before I have you flogged again. Remember what happened last time?"
Trewstone Made cast his eyes downwards in supplication, "Yes. Sorry, Master." he said, quickly leaving the chamber.
As Trewstone left, Mayhew muttered the word, "Madman." taking another toke from the Smoking Urn.
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