Waiting in the Wings

Chapter 3: Inside Room 354

Before he knew it, Griffin found himself pushed down hard onto a bed, forced into a sitting position. Groggy, and feeling a headache coming on, he took in his surroundings with slightly blurry eyes: the moonlight that filtered through the window lightened up the room somewhat, though it was still fairly dark. Room 354 was like any other in the hotel, though every available flat surface was strewn with strange instruments and equipment that the Invisible Man recognised to be advanced and dangerous-looking. If Frank and Eunice's descriptions were anything to go by, he knew them to be tools used by scientists.

Particularly by scientists who were up to no good.

The Invisible Man's blurry eyes wandered to a dressing table, where a tall figure in black stood with his back to him, fiddling with a tumbler and other scientific tools that lay on the table's surface. Even in his inebriated state, Griffin's common sense awakened, telling him to get out of there before he did something that he would regret. However, his body was so sore, and as he willed himself to get up, his body cried out in pain, his legs wobbling, and he fell back onto the bed with a groan.

The figure stiffened at the sound, and slowly he turned in Griffin's direction. When he saw his face, the Invisible Man felt a violent shiver run down his spine.

The stranger's face was grotesque, even more so in the moonlight. Those horrific black eyes with its white pupils stared down hard at Griffin, emotionless, cold. The skin around the black scars were still wet, and that mouth was set in a thin line. In his leather-gloved hands, he held the tumbler, filled with fizzing green liquid.

Griffin gulped in fear. What's he gonna do with that? Is he gonna poison me?

The stranger walked towards him, and the Invisible Man wanted to push himself back against the wall, but his body was immobile with pain. So he gulped once more, a breath away from whimpering …

Wordlessly, the stranger pushed the tumbler against Griffin's transparent chest. Catching the glass in his grip before it could spill over, the Invisible Man looked up at the other's repulsive face, in both surprise and bemusement.

"Drink," said the stranger suddenly.

"What?" Griffin squeaked, shrinking back at the sudden outburst.

"Drink," the tall figure repeated, his emotionless face as hard as stone. He gestured to the tumbler. "It will help you with your pains and it will clear your head, especially in your state."

His voice was unusually low and elegant, his accent laced with inbred quality. There was something sophisticated, polished and refined about that voice, and that definitely stunned the Invisible Man: how could such a cultured voice issue forth from the mouth of a monstrous creature like him?

Griffin stared up at the stranger, still as a statue, then he looked at the tumbler in his translucent hands. The fizzy liquid bubbled away in the glass. If the Invisible Man was not mistaken, steam emanated from the green solution, fogging the glass.

Inwardly cursing himself for what he was about to do, Griffin clumsily tipped the tumbler back and drank.

When he finished the tasteless contents of the glass, a sudden warmth emanated from his core, spreading over his body. It was not an uncomfortable warmth – in fact, it felt good. His sore pains melted away; the throbbing headache disappeared in the face of the heat; the blur in his eyes vanished, and he was left with a startlingly clear vision; his heavy tipsiness was all burned up, leaving him light, and, surprisingly, stone-cold sober. His senses returned to him, and the Invisible Man inwardly welcomed them back.

Then, as quickly as it came, the warmth vanished.

Griffin sat up higher on the bed, stronger and clear-headed, and, placing the tumbler beside him, he looked up at the tall figure in awe. "Thanks a lot for the drink. It was good."

"You needed it," came the genteel reply, without so much as a "you're welcome" or "my pleasure". The black eyes narrowed in what looked like … amusement? "Hearing you make a din outside and making a perfect fool of yourself – in front of a door-knocker, no less – warranted a quick-fix, wouldn't you agree?"

The Invisible Man was glad that the other monster could not see the furious blush rising to his crystal-clear cheeks. "That shrunken head provoked me," he said pathetically, adjusting his spectacles. "It called me a drunken ditz."

"I'm inclined to agree with the head," the stranger promptly replied, his face still emotionless. "You were acting like a 'drunken ditz', as it so crudely called you."

Griffin was miffed when he heard these words. Why the hell am I wasting my time having a conversation with this guy? Time to make tracks, Grif.

"Look," the Invisible Man growled furiously, "I appreciated the drink, but I didn't expect to be insulted two seconds later, and if that's the way you're gonna talk to me, then I see no reason why I should stick around any longer. Good night!"

The Invisible Man immediately stood up from the bed, only for a leather-clad hand to shoot out, clamp down hard on his left shoulder and push him down back onto the bed with a surprised and audible "Oof!".

Recovering from his initial surprise, Griffin glared up at the stranger, who regarded the Invisible Man with an amused expression that graced his repugnant features. Hatred welled up in him once more as he spat, with venom in his tone, "What did you do that for? Are you gonna keep me here against my will or something, or was that push just for kicks?"

"If I said I wanted to apologise, you'd have walked out that door," said the stranger, his lips curling into a smile, though the effect was scary: the skin of his cheeks looked ready to split even more, and his lips looked ready to disappear. "Hence the force. I do so apologise for my atrocious behaviour. As you can see, I haven't had the pleasure of company for a long while."

"I can believe that."

"Yes, I suppose you would," the figure sighed, dropping into a chair next to the bed. The "smile" was gone. "I'd imagine that you think me quite detestable, abominable – why, abhorrent, even! Not only in looks, but in personality, too. All I can do is inspire hatred in the hearts of those who lay their eyes on me. Who would want to engage such a person in conversation? Who would be stupid enough to seek companionship with the likes of me?"

Staring at the tall stranger, suddenly looking pathetic and small in his chair as he uttered those words, Griffin stiffened, feeling a flood of guilt overcome him. The Invisible Man shifted in his place on the bed, not at all enjoying the awkwardness of the situation.

"Seriously, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself," he finally offered, sounding apologetic. "I didn't mean to sound harsh. I've had a long day, I've had my fair share of invisibility jokes, and that shrunken head got to me. I guess I needed to take it out on someone – and it just happened to be you."

He paused, looking down at his lap. "You know you're right, by the way: I was being a drunken ditz. You could say I am a ditz, though just not drunk," he added with a chuckle.

Griffin looked up at the other person, who stared back with that "smile". Trying to grin himself, the Invisible Man said, "Thanks for helping me out. I bet I would've been lying in that corridor 'til morning if you hadn't come along."

The stranger raised his hand, waving away the thanks. "It's the least I can do, Mr …?"

"Griffin. My name is Griffin. I'm the Invisible Man, in case you didn't notice."

The stranger chuckled softly at the joke. "I see that now, Griffin – no pun intended."

"Of course," Griffin replied, smiling genuinely now. "What's your name?"

The stranger stared straight into the Invisible Man's eyes, and Griffin forced himself not to shiver in fear.

"My name," the other monster intoned, as if he was saying something that he learned off by heart, "is Edward Hyde, though almost everyone calls me 'Mr Hyde'."

A/N: Edward Hyde LIVES! *Dramatic music* I realise that there is a charrie by that name in the movie, but for the purposes of this story, I decided to amp him up a bit. Of course, I have my reasons for making him different from his book counterpart (who's small like a dwarf), but I'll explain them later and you'll understand why. So, why does he really have Griffin in his hotel room? The next chapter shall reveal all, heh heh. ;P

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* ;)