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Etho
It was just a simple phrase. So ordinary, so joyful. It was just the word, “Dance!” chanted by the collection of hermits at the party. Etho was already tired, his control slipping. It had been months since he had properly lost it, but as the words, the command, spun around in his head, echoing over and over, he felt his limbs start to move against his will.
He needed to leave. He needed to leave right now if he even wanted a chance to keep control. He pushed through the dancing crowd, moving towards the door. Etho made it outside and to the side of the building, but he was not quite fast enough. The command ‘dance’ still pulsing through his mind.
His limbs moved against his will, pulling him into the all too familiar starting position of the ballet. He began to dance, moving along gracefully, not missing a single motion. All of the steps were just as perfect as when he first learned. He could practically feel the phantom strings pulling on his hooks.
Etho could not stop now, he knew that, and so he gave in to the dance, forfeiting what little control he had.
Joel
Joel noticed Etho leave the room as soon as the dance music had started. He seemed unusually anxious, like he was running from a ghost. Joel figured he must have been grabbing some fresh air quickly. However, a minute or two passed and he still hadn't come back in, so he decided to go check in on him.
He stepped outside into the cool night air of the shopping district, seeing no sign of the ninja.
“Etho? Eeeethoooooo‽” he asked out into the night. No response. He checked around the side of the building.
In front of him he beheld an odd sight, to say the least. Etho was ballet dancing in the middle of a patch of grass to music only he could hear.
“Etho?” said Joel once more, tilting his head to the side. Etho did not appear to even notice him. “Etho, what the heck are you doing?” Once again, Etho did not cease his performance, not even turning to look at Joel.
All obsession jokes aside, Joel was genuinely starting to worry for his friend.
“Etho? Etho, can you hear me? Can you stop dancing, or whatever this is?” Joel queried, gesturing vaguely. He stepped forward, trying to tap Etho to get his attention, before stepping back when he was nearly slapped in the face. Realizing there was likely nothing he could do, Joel just stood back and watched as his friend continued this strange, creepily perfect dance.
Finally, a minute or so later, Etho stopped dancing and bowed gracefully. He stood up, still for just a moment, then stumbled, all eerie coordination vanished.
Joel rushed forward, catching Etho before he fell. Etho was stunned for a moment, limp like a puppet cut from its strings in Joel’s arms, before standing up straighter and hugging Joel like he was his only anchor from oblivion.
“Etho, what on Earth…” Joel asked. He noticed Etho had started to cry. It was quiet, but he could feel tears soaking into his shirt and Etho’s quick, shallow breaths.
“Hey, it's ok. It's ok. You're safe,” Joel tried to comfort. Come to think of it, he had never seen Etho cry. Unsure of conversational footing, he asked, “What happened? Are you ok?”
Etho responded quietly, between sobs, “Joel, I don't, I d-don’t want to dance again. Please, I don't w-want to lose control.”
“No one’s going to make you do anything. You're safe,” Joel continued, working off what little information he had. He tried to stay calm and be the anchor Etho needed.
“Joel, oh god, Joel, I c-can still feel the strings,” Etho cried, sobbing harder and holding him tighter, “Please, J-joel, don't let them string me up a-again.”
“Etho, I won't let them do anything to you,” Joel assured, still confused.
Etho continued to stutter out his anxieties, “B-but what if they find me? What if they t-take me back? Devs, J-Joel, I can't go back there. I can't g-go through that again. I can't lose everything again.”
“Etho, Etho listen to me. You're not going to lose anything. Or anyone. You aren't going to be taken. I won't let them do anything to you. None of the hermits will.”
Etho continued to sob quietly into Joel's shoulder for another minute, whispering, “Joel, do you m-mean what you said? About making sure th-they can't hurt m-me? And no one making me d-dance? Please, J-joel, oh god, I don't want to lose control again.”
“Yes, I promise on my life. I won't let them hurt you or take anything from you or string you up or make you do anything,” Joel swore. It was a promise he intended to keep. He had no clue what Etho had been through, but Joel was sure as hell was not going to let it happen again.
Etho stepped back from Joel, releasing his death grip and wiping his eyes. His breathing pattern was much more stable now.
“Are you ready to go back inside?” asked Joel.
Etho shook his head furiously, “No, no, I can't. That's what made me dance in the first place. Everyone chanting ‘dance’ was too much and it triggered my training.” Etho started to hyperventilate again, saying, “Oh god, Joel, what if I go in there and they start chanting again and I have to dance-”
Joel cut him off, attempting to stop Etho from spiraling again, “-Hey, breathe, ok? If you don't want to go back in I won't make you.”
Etho took deep breaths, relaxing his shoulders. He looked back up at Joel and said, “Ok.”
“Do you want to go back to my base? Maybe play Scrabble?”
Etho nodded. The two flew over to Joel's base and entered one of the buildings which Joel stayed in most of the time.
Etho
Etho watched as Joel searched for the scrabble board in the mess that was his board game collection. He finally found it and began setting up.
“Hey, Etho?”
“Yeah?”
“What did you mean when you said, ‘don’t let them string me up again?’” Joel asked.
Etho sucked in a breath. The question caught him off guard.
Joel rapidly added, “It's fine if you don't want to answer, I was just curious, sorry.”
He decided to answer, “They made me their puppet, a human marionette. They attached me to a mechanical puppeteer of some sort, a process they called ‘stringing up,’ and sent me through motions almost constantly. They only took me down a few times. The rest of the time was constant pain. They trained me almost 24/7 until I perfected the movements, then showed me off like a fucking science fair project. Those were the worst weeks of my life. That’s why I don't want to be strung up again.”
“Bloomin’ hell,” Joel responded, “I'm sorry you had to go through that,” he paused for a moment, then asked, “How did they attach you to the mechanism, if you don't mind me asking? Did they tie the string on to you?”
Etho let out a sad laugh, “No, though I wish they had. They embedded hooks all over my body from which they fastened the strings. It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt.” Etho rolled up his sleeve, showing Joel the hook in his forearm. “With the help of various hermits, I was able to remove the more intrusive ones, like the ones on my hands and feet, but removing a hook is a several hour long painful process, so the others just aren't worth it. I still have hooks on my arms, legs, chest, and shoulders. Anything else?” Etho rolled his sleeve back down.
“How did the thing everyone was saying trigger that training?” Joel inquired, avoiding saying dance, which Etho was grateful for.
“They had a set of phrases they would say before they ran the training motions; walk, run, jump and land, dodge, punches, kicks, use of a bow, use of sherekins, use of sword, defensive maneuvers, still, set, halt, and dance. I learned that the more I moved myself, the less pain I was in. So, whenever they said one of those phrases, I would immediately start doing the motions. At this point it's hardwired into my brain.
“Everytime time someone says one of those words, I have to resist the compulsion to do whatever I was trained to do. I've gotten better at it, though sometimes I can't. Normally, I only go through part of the motions, though. That was the first time in months where I’ve had to do the whole thing. It's terrifying to suddenly not have control over your body just because someone mentioned dodging or dancing.”
“That's awful,” Joel said, reaching over the board to give Etho a hug, “If there's any way I can help, let me know.”
“I will, thank you. You're a good friend,” Etho paused, releasing the hug, then continued, “even if you are a bit obsessed. Now, let's get playing. We're using Canadian English.”
Joel groaned, “You're insufferable!”