Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

Buddingtonite knew that time was running out.

The clock kept going, swinging back and forth in a mesmorizing pattern, threatening to hypnotize the Negaverse captain with its swishing motions, from left to right, left to right... or was it right to left? He wasn't there when the old fashion clock was wound up, so there was no way to be sure, and if he tried to stop its tic-toc-ticking motions, there was no guarantee that he'd ever get it back to its original form. His guess was just as good as any other, except maybe a watchmaker.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

It wouldn't be long before he was forced into action. It wouldn't be long before Ilmenite and others expected him to fulfill his promise, just like it wouldn't be long before the clock's minute hand struck the twelve at the top and forced the hour hand forward. Soon, they would expect results, results that Buddingtonite was beginning to fear. Would he be able to do it? What if he messed up? What if he killed her? What if it put him in danger? Was the Negaverse worth his life?

The fact that the question ever sprung in his head told him all he needed to know.

No, it wasn't.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

But then again, what was worth his life? He continued to stare at the clock, thankful that it was not a digital clock so that he would see the physical numbers counting down, to see the literal manifestation of time slipping through his fingertips. His mind was preoccupied with the thought of what could have possibly have been worth the cost of his life, and if he would be willing to pay such a price. He didn’t need to question this for too long, as he already knew the answer.

He wouldn’t be willing to pay the price if it came down to it. The Negaverse was not worth his life, but to be fair, not many things were to him. It wasn’t as depressing as a thought as it probably should have been.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc.

Before enlisting himself into the services of General-King Zinkenite and the Negaverse, when he was nothing more than fun-going alcohol with a untamed sex drive Richard Moreau, there was maybe one thing he thought he’d be willing to risk his life for, and that was Baldwin. But even he knew that Baldwin’s time was limited. He was a young dog, well in his prime and still some time left, but a dog his size… did not have much time. There’d be a point where his time would run out, and maybe it’d be time for another dog. But Richard… no, Buddingtonite did not see that far ahead. Not anymore. Maybe he could, once this miasma lifted, once this unsavory task was done.

Maybe once he finished his task, he would see a glimpse of his future. But was it worth investigating? Was it worth his time to think about it? Should he worry, or simply go with the flow? Should he remain firm against the currents, or ride along with it, let it shape and mold him?

Tic. Toc. Tic.

“WHY DO I EVEN HAVE THIS CLOCK?!” Buddingtonite summoned his boomerang and hurled it at the old clock, striking the glass panel and causing it to shatter into pieces. Now he could see dollar signs slipping down the drain, but what did he care now? In time, he’d get it fixed, or even replaced, just like everything else. He straightened his jacket and took to the streets, to start his patrol. He needed more energy, more strength… a little more time to put off this public draining. Just a little more time.

((Word Count: 62 cool )