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[For Dean] Amnesia Plot
Dec. 15th, 2011 05:42 amI was a creature of the city. Not a native, not even most of my life spent in them, but the fact remained: There was just something about the endless stretch of buildings and pavement that was comforting, and a guy like me doesn't have many comforts in life.
This city was not my city, though. This one wasn't even close, plucked from the wrong country and the wrong century, but it was filled with the dirt and smog that was like mother's milk to me. I would have been more comfortable in that little piece of London than I'd been my entire time on the island.
Would have been, if the place hadn't been so fucking creepy.
There were these people, see. Like some kind of ghost or wraith, always on my periphery and never quite there when I turned my head. If you needed something, they became tangible, but as I tended to keep my needs to myself and didn't trust anything that impermanent, that part hardly mattered. A guy like me likes having a solid handle on what's going on around him. I'd been jumpy as hell all month.
As a result, I'd leaped into one of my weekly sparring matches with Dean with a bit more enthusiasm than normal. There was no jungle left, but there were empty buildings to spare, and we'd found an abandoned warehouse near the north end of the perimeter. Aside from some empty wooden barrels and a shitload of dust, there was nothing there but us.
I know this because I checked. I always check. Compulsively, as a matter of self-preservation, and yes, probably a healthy does of paranoia, too.
There was no fucking way that spider had been in there when we'd walked in.
Dean was improving. He was a tenacious mother, refused to stay down. Some people would call that foolhardy; I called it smart. If he'd had the benefit of training with Niko, there's no telling how far he could have gone. I was deadly, but I made a shit teacher. That day I must have made a shit fighter, too, because I'd let Dean knock me back a step, my black boots kicking up dust as they slid across the concrete floor.
That was when I saw it.
Crouched in the rafters was one of the ugliest monsters I'd ever seen, and that's really saying something. It looked like a massive spider, but had a face that could only be described as ape-like. Lots of eyes, eight legs, flat skull, a toothless mouth, but the toothless part didn't matter, because beneath it were two sets of sharp manibles, upper and lower. And did I mention that it was big? We're talking run, Frodo, it wants the One Ring kind of big. There was literally an ugly-ass spider the size of a Clydesdale just hanging out in the rafters. Chillin'. Watching us. And I'd left the Eagle (or what used to be the Eagle) halfway across the room.
Fuck.
"Dean," I slowly began, frozen in place with my eyes fixed on the thing on the ceiling. "I think you're about to get a practical test of your skills."
This city was not my city, though. This one wasn't even close, plucked from the wrong country and the wrong century, but it was filled with the dirt and smog that was like mother's milk to me. I would have been more comfortable in that little piece of London than I'd been my entire time on the island.
Would have been, if the place hadn't been so fucking creepy.
There were these people, see. Like some kind of ghost or wraith, always on my periphery and never quite there when I turned my head. If you needed something, they became tangible, but as I tended to keep my needs to myself and didn't trust anything that impermanent, that part hardly mattered. A guy like me likes having a solid handle on what's going on around him. I'd been jumpy as hell all month.
As a result, I'd leaped into one of my weekly sparring matches with Dean with a bit more enthusiasm than normal. There was no jungle left, but there were empty buildings to spare, and we'd found an abandoned warehouse near the north end of the perimeter. Aside from some empty wooden barrels and a shitload of dust, there was nothing there but us.
I know this because I checked. I always check. Compulsively, as a matter of self-preservation, and yes, probably a healthy does of paranoia, too.
There was no fucking way that spider had been in there when we'd walked in.
Dean was improving. He was a tenacious mother, refused to stay down. Some people would call that foolhardy; I called it smart. If he'd had the benefit of training with Niko, there's no telling how far he could have gone. I was deadly, but I made a shit teacher. That day I must have made a shit fighter, too, because I'd let Dean knock me back a step, my black boots kicking up dust as they slid across the concrete floor.
That was when I saw it.
Crouched in the rafters was one of the ugliest monsters I'd ever seen, and that's really saying something. It looked like a massive spider, but had a face that could only be described as ape-like. Lots of eyes, eight legs, flat skull, a toothless mouth, but the toothless part didn't matter, because beneath it were two sets of sharp manibles, upper and lower. And did I mention that it was big? We're talking run, Frodo, it wants the One Ring kind of big. There was literally an ugly-ass spider the size of a Clydesdale just hanging out in the rafters. Chillin'. Watching us. And I'd left the Eagle (or what used to be the Eagle) halfway across the room.
Fuck.
"Dean," I slowly began, frozen in place with my eyes fixed on the thing on the ceiling. "I think you're about to get a practical test of your skills."
[For Dean]
Feb. 23rd, 2011 06:55 pmI'll be the first to admit: I bitched about the island a lot. Fundamentally, it just was not where I wanted to be, and even after nearly a year surrounded by its sunshine paradise bullshit, I was still resentful about that. I'm a glass half empty guy by nature and nurture, what can I say? You spend 21 years in my shoes and tell me if you do any better.
The thing was, though, the place definitely had its perks. The TV in the rec center, for example, where I spent way too much time surrounded by faded shag carpet and Seventies reruns. Cyrano and I had always been more worried about saving our own skins than money, but it was nice that just about everything was free, too. Shit, the biggest benefit of being on that rock was knowing that my brother didn't have to worry anymore—Not about money, not about saving my Auphe ass from the latest disaster to float down the river. He might have continued to be a hard ass, but I don't think I'd ever seen him so relaxed.
Of course, if you'd asked me what I liked best about the place, I'd have said the food. There was a severe lack of chili dogs and greasy New York pizza, but everything was free, and most of it was pretty fucking good. The latest development was an entirely separate bakery where I could just walk in, take whatever the fuck I wanted, and walk right back out. It almost made me feel a little bad for not contributing more to the free love hippie economy. Almost.
The thing was, though, the place definitely had its perks. The TV in the rec center, for example, where I spent way too much time surrounded by faded shag carpet and Seventies reruns. Cyrano and I had always been more worried about saving our own skins than money, but it was nice that just about everything was free, too. Shit, the biggest benefit of being on that rock was knowing that my brother didn't have to worry anymore—Not about money, not about saving my Auphe ass from the latest disaster to float down the river. He might have continued to be a hard ass, but I don't think I'd ever seen him so relaxed.
Of course, if you'd asked me what I liked best about the place, I'd have said the food. There was a severe lack of chili dogs and greasy New York pizza, but everything was free, and most of it was pretty fucking good. The latest development was an entirely separate bakery where I could just walk in, take whatever the fuck I wanted, and walk right back out. It almost made me feel a little bad for not contributing more to the free love hippie economy. Almost.
Boom.
Attempts at maintaining my already dubious humanity not withstanding, I don't know why I'd never thought of it before. You could argue that it was only my oh-so-sinister Auphe side coming to the fore that inclined me to think it would be awesome to blow someone up from the inside out like they'd swallowed a bottle rocket, but you'd be full of shit. Blowing shit up was like highly-explosive mother's milk to me, and I had a feeling that even if Rafferty really had been able to turn me all human, that wouldn't have changed. Plus, it was practical. Even Niko couldn't argue with the logic in giving Suyolak the ol' gremlin in the microwave treatment. I was actually kind of annoyed at myself for not doing it straight out of the gate, pun not intended.
Or, I would have been if it hadn't been so fun.
Fortunately for me, Rafferty didn't seem too put out that I'd saved the fireworks until after he'd had to fight off TB and leprosy and the clap. Of course, he wasn't exactly himself either, still leaned over me with unmistakable, shadowy eyes, Suyolak lurking just behind the normal amber.
"It's good, isn't it?" I knowingly asked him. "Being bad. Ironic, huh?"
Before he could answer I pushed myself up, hacking to clear my protesting lungs of the last of the blood that had a moment ago been threatening to drown me. Except it didn't quite go as planned. You'd think that something like sitting up and coughing would be relatively straight-forward, but apparently not.
All I could think in those first dizzying seconds was that I'd somehow opened a gate without intending to. What other explanation was there? One second I was spraying bloody saliva all over my lap, the next I was tumbling out of the sky, spraying bloody saliva fuck knew where.
Jesus, wasn't I past that amateur shit?
Attempts at maintaining my already dubious humanity not withstanding, I don't know why I'd never thought of it before. You could argue that it was only my oh-so-sinister Auphe side coming to the fore that inclined me to think it would be awesome to blow someone up from the inside out like they'd swallowed a bottle rocket, but you'd be full of shit. Blowing shit up was like highly-explosive mother's milk to me, and I had a feeling that even if Rafferty really had been able to turn me all human, that wouldn't have changed. Plus, it was practical. Even Niko couldn't argue with the logic in giving Suyolak the ol' gremlin in the microwave treatment. I was actually kind of annoyed at myself for not doing it straight out of the gate, pun not intended.
Or, I would have been if it hadn't been so fun.
Fortunately for me, Rafferty didn't seem too put out that I'd saved the fireworks until after he'd had to fight off TB and leprosy and the clap. Of course, he wasn't exactly himself either, still leaned over me with unmistakable, shadowy eyes, Suyolak lurking just behind the normal amber.
"It's good, isn't it?" I knowingly asked him. "Being bad. Ironic, huh?"
Before he could answer I pushed myself up, hacking to clear my protesting lungs of the last of the blood that had a moment ago been threatening to drown me. Except it didn't quite go as planned. You'd think that something like sitting up and coughing would be relatively straight-forward, but apparently not.
All I could think in those first dizzying seconds was that I'd somehow opened a gate without intending to. What other explanation was there? One second I was spraying bloody saliva all over my lap, the next I was tumbling out of the sky, spraying bloody saliva fuck knew where.
Jesus, wasn't I past that amateur shit?
