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 Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 9:07 pm
Decision
Twitter was by its nature utterly ******** hit and miss. Some days he felt ******** fantastic after using it, other times he felt as if he’d been emotionally dragged through broken glass, raw and sore from the comments there. On the whole he was able to endure most hassle by reflexively ignoring snide comments from people he didn’t respect and most of the others didn’t have either the perceptive range or the viciousness to really make anything stick. Dwight was the exception to all his rules. The smug p***k sidestepped his standards of respect by giving an undeniable vibe that he was in fact morally superior and therefore a better person than him. It meant he couldn’t ignore what he said, no matter how hard he tried, giving his statements consideration not afforded to most. It leant his words credibility and earnestness which rendered them weapons, deep down he wanted the other man's approval. All of this was only compounded by the fact the man was very very good about sniffing out his weaknesses and fears and relentlessly pursuing them like an attack dog over months and years and even in a single conversation he could tug out the tenuous supports that held him up.
This time the victim of the argument had been his pride by proxy of the only thing he was really proud about lately. The missions were tough and unrelenting, texts arriving sometimes in the small hours of the morning and other unsociable times during the day. There was no rhyme or reason to when they arrived and he never knew at the outset if he’d be dealing with a single individual or a huge outbreak like the ******** mall. It was taxing both physically and mentally but he’d told himself that it was fine, that it was all worth it because he was doing something good, something to rebalance the karma of his life. It didn’t matter that sometimes it involved making hard choices and killing people who were unsalvageable for the good of every other person on the planet because at the end of the day he was helping to save the race as a whole. It had made him proud and let him wake up ready and raring to go even at the most unwholesome hours or when he was already sleep deprived to near madness.
Now though it just seemed like it had been some kind of ploy to run off his energy. Of course Mark and Cael hadn’t told him that, but neither of them were really known for being forthcoming with information but even the insinuation from Dwight had been enough to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. He hadn’t felt like he’d been making much of a difference and maybe in the end he wasn’t, maybe it was just pointless busy work to keep him out of the way of the people actually doing their jobs, like a kid not invited to the grown ups table. It hurt.
He’d been barely coping as it was and it hit him harder than he’d expected, leaving him winded and dreading the next text rather than looking forward to it, reeling and panicked from the loss of stability in his mind. It made him want to ******** avoid everything, to run away and never look back, but he knew better than that, knew that he was chained here by both love and obligation, that he’d die out there alone and take Harrison with him by doing so.
In the end he decided he needed a break, some immediate time off where he could try and readjust himself by pretending to be a normal human being for the short time they were permitted to do so and maybe, just maybe ******** remind himself that not all the world saw him for what he was and denounced it at every single opportunity. They could be oblivious and even just for a night he could be someone good.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 9:14 pm
Departure
Rep leaned in to plant a kiss on Harrison’s lips and left behind the lingering smell of expensive aftershave. Thanks to the other man's efforts he was impeccably groomed, no longer looking like he'd just crawled off a mountain but with his beard neatly trimmed and his hair styled and tamed. He felt attractive and it showed in the way he held himself, looking to have lost half a decade simply via a little bit of man grooming and some tidy civilian clothing. “I’ll be back tomorrow first thing.” he said tenderly, trailing a hand up along the other man’s throat to cup his jaw. “Don’t worry about me, Tracey’s got me covered and I won’t do anything stupid.” It always felt so good to be able to explain where he was going and what he planned to do to someone who honestly cared about the destination and details. It made him feel more stable to be able to say it was just a night of partying in the city, unwinding and feeling human again - at least that was the plan. Either way it was some time off from the island and some time to unwind a little away from the usual faces, a break for a day for everyone really.
The desire to take Harrison with him was high, but he resisted primarily on the basis that he needed to be able to lapse back into the mindset from before it all and when he was with Harrison he was absolutely in the present moment. That didn’t even take into account the way he was concerned he might react if anyone hit on the other man or even so much as made favourable comments about his appearance.
It was better that he stayed here.
“Love you.” he said with a grin and turned to pick up his overnight bag he brought with him just in case - he would leave it in the hotel. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
And with a final look back over his shoulder and a wave, he headed out.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 9:35 pm
Dimensions
He recognised the guy on the portal, he was sure he'd seen him on the zombie mission at one of the camps helping to mend the people who had been ******** up by the final assaults. He'd rolled his eyes when he specified his location and gestured. "You know the vacation leave rules."
Just as he entered the portal he heard the guy's parting comment. "Do try not to get in trouble again."
The sarcasm in his voice made Rep flush with suppressed anger.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 10:24 pm
Diving In
Dropping off his bag hadn't taken long, the hotel was a pretty nice one - he could afford a little bit of indulgence with his wages these days. The concierge at the desk had called him sir. An actual ******** sir, as if he was people. There had been a television running next to it, just a news station talking about how David Cameron (was that smug c**t even still in charge?) was going to meet some EU wanker to talk about Europe. The old him would have wanted to throw up at how depressing and boring it was, but the him now couldn't help but look on in wonder at the way the world just kept ******** trundling on even while they dealt with s**t that would blow all their ******** minds and would get the front page of every newspaper.
The guy had caught him staring and mistook it for interest in the subject. "There will be another referendum if he tries to break up the EU." he said staunchly. Rep nodded. "Aye." he said in a vague sort of way, another referendum? Had there been one already? The world was so ******** different in a hundred tiny ways and he felt as if for him time had been standing still.
"Thanks mate." he said as he finally decided to leave, waving the guy off, he got a smile in return and it felt good. It felt good to be smiled at as just another guy, treated like he was home again and welcome to be there.
Outside Spring was in full flourish, the birds ******** tweeting (BIRDS. They didn't even ******** have those on the island!) and cars whooshing by (and the sound they made! Like a river, a river of steel and movement, he'd always taken it for granted as background noise but now he HEARD it). Around him people walked up and down the pavements, coming back from work, heading to the shops, living their lives.
He got some strange looks for his hair and for the wild looking earring, but they were not the looks of people who thought "monster" but who thought "youngster" or "yob", and it felt good. He smiled at them and he ******** meant it.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 10:30 pm
Decrepit
A polite and wizened old woman thought he was waiting on a bus and asked him if he'd seen her number of bus come by yet. He shook his head and checked the schedule for her when she asked. She said he was looking handsome and asked if he was going out somewhere nice. He said he was just visiting from abroad, back home again and she told him he sounded a little bit American. It made him smile just a little wistfully.
Her name was Agnes and she was just going to the shops to get some sausages for her breakfast. He stood and chatted with her till her bus came. She called him son in that friendly way old ladies often did, told him she hoped he'd have a good night and that he was a nice boy for helping her out and left, bus card in hand.
The bus drove off and he didn't understand why he felt on the brink of tears.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 10:48 pm
Driving
He had time to kill before it got late enough to go out for something to eat and to the clubs, so he decided to get a rental car. He hadn't driven since the day his motor had been ******** crushed by whatever the hell it was Cael and his redheaded buddy Ben (what had happened to him?) had been dealing with that day. That was years ago and he wondered if he could even still do it. At the very least his fake ID checked out and before long he was driving off in a Volkswagen out into the Edinburgh traffic.
Turning on the radio he had never been more ******** delighted to hear the radio announcer drivel and even the ads for local furniture stores weren't enough to kill his mood. He remembered how to drive in an instinctual way, Tracey paying close attention to the whole process, asking why gear changes were necessary and generally enthralled by the concept of a machine which moved and growled.
Rep decided to take a bit of a risk and struck out from Edinburgh in the direction of Glasgow, following roads which had been massively refurbished since last he'd been there. He didn't give a ******** when people cut in front of him, invincible in the face of their hostility and poor road etiquette, aware that if it came to a crash he would be the one walking away and they might not. Still, his driving had never been ideal and he still hovered around the speed limit at the best of times, even on the motorway and he was fortunate it went without incident. Within the bounds of Glasgow, he found his hands shook and every person he saw made him panic in case it was someone he'd known.
He couldn't do it, he couldn't risk it, he couldn't risk finding someone he met or someone who remembered him. It wasn't even the punishment that scared him, it was the thought that maybe they'd all been glad to be rid of him, maybe they'd be annoyed at his spontaneous resurrection.
Turning around he headed back out towards Edinburgh, talking aloud to Tracey about how much he ******** hated the song on the radio.
"I'm no ******** happy so whits this smug c**t even going on about rubbing my ******** nose in it?"
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 11:23 pm
Destitute
He stopped in a run down, shitty looking part of the city, far outside the usual tourist traps with their little tartan shops and shortbread tins. There wasn't any ******** piped in ceilidh music here or pipe bands, just the distant sound of someone playing some very shite music loud enough that it was reduced to its component bass sounds. He was in front of a place where a house had used to be but which was presently in that really ******** endearing intermediary stage of being full of ******** dandelions (tell the times they'd called them when they erupted into fluff, saying you could tell when someone'd get married from them) and old ******** shopping trolleys. It looked unfriendly and probably full of junkie needles, but to him it brought him back to when he was small in a neighbourhood not so ******** different from this one (gone now, with offices in its place)
The houses were half boarded up with the big steel doors which said the council meant to raze the shithole to the ground once they'd evicted and relocated the schemies, broke apart what tenuous community they had and shipped them off to custom made ******** new schemes where they could dress up poverty and call it progress. Same problems, different location. And all of this, all of seemed so far away from the problems they faced back on the island. He didn't need to worry about where his next meal was coming from or if he'd be punted from his scabby little house into another scabbier and littler house. These people did.
A woman passed him carrying too many bags and coughed roughly and wetly, she had a little boy in tow, dressed in a hibs shirt and dragging a big stick along with him like a dog. "Put that doon." she'd grouse now and then "It'll be all pish." But he didn't pay her any attention at all, engrossed in the marks the stick was making on the ragged and patched concrete. He wanted to offer to help carry the bags but he knew she'd recoil and probably get angry at him for his presumption, he was a strange man and therefore he was by default a threat, but especially here where they bred people just like him from the ground up, teaching them to be wild and cruel, to learn to ride bikes to get away from the police and to fight to defend yourself.
His problems weren't these ones any longer, but he still felt them, like an ache deep in his stomach, a ******** ulcer from his past that never went away and meant he couldn't stomach orders, couldn't stomach people talking down to him. The council talked down to these people, smiled and told them everything would be better. Look we've installed a new swing park for the children! We repainted the graffiti! Aren't you so happy? Why aren't you happy urban people? Pricks in their English offices who had never had to choose between heating and eating in their life. How could they understand? And it was the same on the island, how could they understand why it bothered him when they spoke like that? When they addressed him with that ******** patronising English ******** attitude. Perhaps you should try being nice for a change?
It made him so so angry and yet there was nothing he could do about it, he was off fighting ******** zombies so that these people might ******** live a life without more pain and suffering. Because if s**t hit the fan they would be the first sacrificed and abandoned, left to the encroaching destruction clutching their ******** grubby weans to their helpless chests and asking why, just ******** why they were born in a place like this to the people they were.
Unable to stomach it any longer, caught in a rising tide of memories and things he normally kept firmly locked up, he got in the car and drove away, watching the woman and her boy in his rear-veiw mirror until he turned and they were out of sight.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 10:09 am
Disconnected
Next up, he stopped at an internet cafe and logged onto one of the PCs there, checking the internet. Out of all things, the internet changed the most rapidly, a lot of the sites he used to frequent were long gone, forgotten even by search engines, his own mind the only proof they ever ******** existed. He logged into his accounts that he used for checking things - new ones, he knew better than to log into his pre-island anything, the old him was dead and gone. Without him, the world still turned, even online and as always he had to look in new places to catch up on s**t. By the time he'd caught up on reddit - and even checked out tumblr, it was time to go and get something to eat.
He wasn't sure if people's opinions had changed on their own in the intervening years between him heading to the island or if the rest of the world's opinions had started to bleed into the secluded safety he had formerly inhabited. Gay marriage was legalised now, a fact which blew his ******** mind and yet somehow it seemed wrong, as if the world should have stayed in the static place he remembered it. The more it moved, the further it moved out of reach and started to leave him behind. He assured himself it was just the internet that was completely pervaded by Americans and that they were to blame for the shift. Sane people would still hold the correct opinions right?
He stopped by a shop next to the cafe and bought himself a couple of DVDs and a few games (the Witcher 3 was out already?) intending to drop them off at the hotel which was on his way - something to ******** do when he got back to the island prison that was also his home.
While he was waiting at the checkout he spotted a very fancy looking bookmark shaped like a maze, that when you slipped a page into it, revealed an elaborate looking dragon. It reminded him of Jordan, so he bought it without thinking, putting it into the bag with everything else.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 10:28 am
Dessert
The matter of dinner was a tough ******** choice, when you lived on the island and had no real access to fast food for much of the month, making the decision on where to go was a weighty ******** problem. He wished he had enough stomach to try something from everywhere, but he was just one ******** guy.
In the end he settled on Indian food and headed to one of the better known Indian places from before that was still open to this day (the other had closed and had an italian place instead). He was seated at a table and though in the past he'd sooner have ******** died than gone out to eat on his own without someone or many someones with him, these days he didn't give a ********, no one dared say anything about it to him either as dangerous as he looked.
The food was even better than he remembered, absence having made the belly grow fonder and the popadoms and sauce that made up the appetisers, along with some chicken pakora really ******** revved him up for when the tandoori chicken - succulent and charred perfectly - arrived sizzling before him. He was in his element as he drank (at ******** last) Irn Bru and generally revelled in the taste of real food that wasn't either a nightmare casserole of love or cheap shitty store brand ration food. He even had a dessert, all rich and fudgy and ice creamy and took his sweet ******** time with that too.
The only downside to the meal was the memories that kept bubbling to the surface even here, banter and chatter, going out for a meal with the lads after the fitba, people scrounging on the ******** bill, but everyone just being generally content in each other's company. Things were just different and it was all slipping out from between his fingers.
Outside, he finished off his complementary mint and patted his stomach approvingly, basking in the glow of satiety from a damn ******** good meal before heading back to the hotel to drop off the car, get a piss and get himself tidied up again. He'd need to walk on foot to the clubs because he intended to get utterly ******** smashed and there was no way he'd be driving home in the state he was aiming for. Already the energy from the meal was kicking in and mentally he felt similar to how he did on the cusp of a very dangerous mission.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 10:58 am
Dance
At first it had been awkward, paranoia wracking him as he moved through the press of bodies, expecting any minute someone to recognise him and find it hilarious that he presumed to ******** go out anywhere socially. But of course, no one did, in fact in the dark he drew more positive attention thanks to his body, his earring, his scars, his hair, any number of things. People looked but they didn't scorn and those that did simply didn't appreciate his ******** aesthetic. It wasn't loathing, it wasn't anything serious or judgemental, it was just strangers doing what strangers did.
"Where'd you get the earring?" the woman serving him at the bar asked.
"Er. Etsy." he hazarded, having heard the excuse bandied around in the cafeteria one day. "Some lassie who does like custom glowing s**t. Thought it'd be fancy, you know?"
"Looks ******** great!" she said with a grin. "Need to look into getting something like that for myself eh? Maybe an eyes up here sign."
He hurriedly returned his attention to her face, flushing embarrassed. "Sorry." he said. "You've got really great tits by the way." She rolled her eyes and briskly handed over his drink. "Go'on away with you, you urnae nearly drunk enough." He took it and still grinning, slunk off into the crowd. It still felt so ******** good to just make casual conversation, to pretend it wasn't all ******** insane.
After a few drinks, he was up dancing with the others, mingling with the crowds as if he belonged there, even getting a few ******** really close dances from a few really hot birds. Still, it wasn't enough to shake the paranoia that hung over him and after another drink, he hung out at the bar. He knew this place, he knew it's reputation and he knew what he was after. It didn't take long, just a bit of banter with some seedy looking bastards hanging around to point him in the direction of some c**t with an English accent who offered him some white, saying he could get him some vallies and lou reed aswell if he wanted them.
He took the lot, especially the coke. A lot of coke. It cost a ******** mint but he couldn't be too careful, he didn't know what the weapon bond would mitigate and for just ******** once he wanted to be flying.
Tracey said it would be pleasant to fly. Rep corrected him on how literal he wasn't.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 11:06 am
Depravity
The only flat surface was the ******** toilet seat. This was more like the s**t he'd stoop to in the past.
The earring provided an edge.
The snort was followed up by a fit of suppressed coughing.
The next one was so much easier.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 11:10 am
Dissolve
Why had he ever been upset? Why did he care? He was better than everyone here, but no in that arrogant way, he just was. His gift was the ******** love he could bring to them, he could show them how to love and they would love him in return. He was great. ******** ******** ******** great.
That guy was amazing, so was his pal, that woman was ******** glorious, everyone was with him, they understood, they knew how it felt, they had to. He was flying on wings of DEEP and significant love. The music ran in him, it ran on his veins and in his veins. He couldn't sit still, he couldn't stop, he was energy and power and glory like a ******** lightning bolt arching through the crowd. He was more alive than any of them would ever be and he could not ******** stop laughing.
He was ******** free.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 11:15 am
Disorientation
"You do what?!?"
"I kill monsters. I'm ********' serious man. I like, kill them for a living. I've seen a ******** dragon! They can talk they can all ******** talk and they have like schools and s**t I'm serious."
"Bullshit you daft c**t, you've had too much of ******** something. You been dropping ******** acid?"
"Naw naw." he said at a hundred miles an hour. He wasn't angry. He wasn't angry he just wanted them to know, to understand. "I've saved you, all of you from s**t you'd never know s**t you can't even see!"
The guy shook his head. "You are ******** mental mate."
"It's awright." he said, smiling knowingly before sniffing again (was he sniffing too much? He needed to ******** watch that). "I'll just take your gratitude as a given. I'll be right back, gonnae go get another drink and hit the bogs."
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 11:29 am
Declivity
At the bar. At the bar. He wasn't sure if it was the same club. He wasn't sure of lots of s**t. But he felt good, he felt good. Where had an hour gone? What time was it?
The guys he was with were laughing and joking over some ******** phone. They were great.
He didn't know their names.
Somehow the conversation turned to women and he knew it was his chance to shine.
They laughed and agreed. One guy's girlfriend looked uncomfortable as they addressed her outfit and declared her a top bit of fanny.
He felt uncomfortable himself and it made him ******** angry. He needed to do something else.
"Mair drinks!" he said with a grin. They'd taken to calling him yank. He was fine with it. He was fine with everything as long as the high lasted.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 11:46 am
Dispute
"Except, you're no from around here are you?"
The alcohol had made everyone more foolish and brave and somehow he'd gotten into an argument with one of the cocky ********.
"I'm from ******** Glesga." Rep argued sharply, the high was waning and in its place discomfort and sharp acute paranoia were taking its place, he needed to ******** top up but he didn't want to walk away from this arsehole and lose the fight.
"Yer ******** no. Just ******** look at you, you look like a ******** weirdo, that ******** hair for a ******** start." he gestured. "Nae c**t could walk around Glesga looking like that and no get dog's abuse. And what the ******** are you so ******** buff for?" His friend took his arm, trying to mitigate what looked like a monumentally terrible decision. "Maybe he was in the jail." he said quietly but pointedly. The man would not be deterred.
"Naw man, naw. Nae c**t could have that kind of look in the ******** jail and walk out intact without being every other c**t's b***h. Are you a buftie?" he asked, lip curling in disgust. "I bet you are a ******** buftie, I cannae even go to the gym anymore without risking getting ******** AIDs from one of you pricks."
The high wasn't high enough and Rep's smile had dropped completely. He was staring at the man's throat, envisioning how easily the jugular and carotid arteries would come free, like paper in his ******** hands, severing that ******** toxic brain from the source of its sustenance. He fought off the zombies but this was a ******** toxic thing in itself. He felt the bile rise in his throat at how vivid the recollections were from recent s**t and the colour drained from his features.
"Look! He's no every ******** arguing." the guy said triumphantly, waving a hand in the direction of his supposedly defeated opponent. His friend was already apologising on his behalf saying naw, naw, he didn't mean it, he was just like this when he had too much to drink.
He stood up, the world seeming to narrow in the way it did when he was hunting, adrenaline roaring in his ears. He was probably ******** red now, red all the way to his ears in that unflattering way he got when he was embarrassed. He didn't just want to kill the man, there was more, so much more he wanted to do to him first.
"I'm from around here." he said quietly, softly, not taking his eyes off the man. "And I've also been in jail. In fact I'm on probation right now." he looked to the guy's friend. "Get him the ******** out of here if you know what's ******** good for him, for both of you. You don't know what you are ******** dealing with."
The guy was dragged off, still yelling about cowardly bufties and rep rolled his shoulders with a click of muscle and sinew, it would have been so ******** easy. So so ******** easy.
He headed back to the bathroom to sort his head out.
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