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 Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 5:28 pm
 Warning: swear words! Weird night, huh? Yeah. Real weird. Real weird and real unpleasant. About half an hour after everyone else had gone to bed, someone had started handing out hot drinks. Bath had gotten a cup of coffee. He wanted to stay awake tonight. Hopefully, the caffeine would keep him going.
It wasn’t quite enough, though. An odd feeling was growing, and sadly, it wasn’t an unfamiliar one.
For the first time in about a year and a half, Bath would kill for a smoke. He didn’t dare. Especially not with kids around. Considering how short Shera’s hair was, and the slow way she moved, he suspected that she was recovering from cancer. Shoving a carcinogen in his lungs near her was not going to be a road to happy conversations (even if she was asleep).
None of that mattered, of course. He felt himself on edge, unable to shake off the feeling that if he just had one more cig, he’d feel better about the whole situation. He’d feel less muddled, and less worried, and he’d feel able to face the situation again. Bath took another gulp of coffee. The hot liquid in his stomach felt good, but not as good as hot air in his lungs would feel.
He closed his eyes and pinched the skin on the back of his hand. No. He was not going to go back to that. Smoking was bad for him (they’d said that in health class and science). It was not something you wanted to do to yourself. It was bad, and people who were addicted to it were sad and doomed. At least, that’s what other people said.
That wasn’t why he was going to stay clean, though. He was going to stay smoke-free because smoking had been a habit of his younger self. He wasn’t his younger self anymore. He was different. He’d changed.
The night was cold and wet. Rain fell from the sky in an almost solid sheet, turning concrete and brick into slick marble and clothes into a skin-tight web of cold. Dream Eyes was enveloped in a camo sweatshirt that did nothing to hold out the cold and the wet. He could have gotten a raincoat, but he hadn’t had the time. It had been easier to shoplift a sweatshirt than a jacket. He huddled under the overhang from someone’s rusting and derelict fire escape and stared out into the rain. The light from the street lamp was distorted and flickering, as if it was being viewed through a piece of rippled glass. The overhang was just about the only dry place outdoors, so far as Dream Eyes could tell. It was the only place to get a quick fix without the water putting out the embers.
He took a deep inhale, felt that hot air fill his lungs, stretch them out to his ribs. Taking such a deep breath was calming. It kept him focused, and the heat of the smoke kept him warm even in this weather. Sure, his shoulders and his arms and his toes and his legs were soaking, but at least his core was warm. If his core was warm, he could keep the rest of himself warm.
A flicker of movement at the other end of the alley caught Dream Eyes’s attention. He didn’t make a move, merely kept the cigarette in front of his face and kept inhaling until the embers on the end glowed as bright as the streetlight. He shouldn’t be attracting attention to himself, but that was exactly the point. If he was attracting attention to himself, no one would know that it was him. In theory, anyway. The movement turned into a figure in a long raincoat, lime green even in this shitty light. It was no one Dream recognized. It looked like a Baphomet, actually, except that their coat was filled out—wings, either a Chimera’s or a Fallen’s. Ah. A hybrid, then. Dream dropped the cig into a puddle and crushed it under his bootheel. The figure was coming closer. No one he knew.
“Alley?” the figure murmured. Their voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain.
Ah, just as Dream had been hoping. “That’s me,” he said quietly. “Dunno about this place. Maybe we should find somewhere else.”
Lime Coat nodded and held out their arm to Dream.
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 5:29 pm
The stadium was full of strangers, people from all over the city. Not all over Asphodel, though—it wasn’t that big an arena. It was for the local soccer players to play big games, or sometimes to be used for concerts or other big events. There had been some charity fairs here a few time. Not that any of that mattered, of course. Bath had seen members of his former gang in Asphodel Garden before on Haunted Hallows—nowhere was safe, especially not on a night like that.
There were superstitions that on nights like this, fiends, devils, and ghosts came out of the woodworks, that the barrier between the real world and the immaterial one was at its thinnest on Haunted Hallows. Supposedly that was why it was called Haunted Hallows—it was a sacred night for ghouls and beasties to haunt the living. Bath didn’t know if he believed that. Personally, it sounded like bullshit to him, a bunch of hocus pocus made up by modern cultists who wanted to feel special about being religiously irregular. Then again, maybe there was a seed of truth in it. Above’s bioweapon had failed—Nightmares could still breed. Instead, the curse had made one time of the year difficult to breed in.
Would the curse have struck everyone infertile if it had happened any other time of the year? Would the spell have worked, would Nightmares now be on the brink of destruction? Was there, in fact, a barrier in the world that opened up and saved the Nightmares from destruction because of the October Curse?
Not really his business. He was a scientist, or nearly so. He wasn’t a mage, or a priest, and he wasn’t a historian, either. This was a question for one of them, or maybe a medical professional, not some jumped-up alley brat with delusions of grandeur.
Damn, he’d kill for a cig right now.
Dream stared at the arm and growled. All of the calm the cigarette had given him was gone in an instant when he saw that arm. It was a weapon. A threat. He wouldn’t touch that if it were saving him from drowning. No one offered an arm like that out of innocence. It was a sign of intimacy. If he grabbed it, he was going to be—
“No thanks,” he snapped. “I don’t do that stuff.”
Lime Coat sighed. “That’s not—listen, Alley, you want to hide? Hide in plain sight. Do things you wouldn’t do. If you wouldn’t take my arm, no one will think it’s you taking my arm.”
“No s**t, genius, I already knew that.” But Dream took the arm anyway, reluctantly wrapping his arm around Lime Coat’s. His soaking sweatshirt clung to his skin, making him almost feel naked against the lime green coat. His skin crawled, and with his calm gone, so too was whatever was left of his bravery. He was really doing this. Really, actually doing this. Betraying the people who’d raised him and educated him, and for what? A little safety? Because he was afraid of doing stuff like this? No way. This was a stupid, selfish, evil thing he was doing. At the very least, he was going to get hurt, either by Lime Coat or by his friends for what he was about to do, and y’know what? He was going to deserve it.
But he didn’t have a choice. His skin was crawling. He couldn’t keep living like this anymore. He had to stop this. He had to stop this before he became a useless wreck, even if he could get killed if he was caught doing this. I don’t want to live like this anymore, Dream thought. “Lead the way,” he muttered.
Lime Coat nodded and pulled him along. “We’ll walk,” they said. “Walk and talk. How’s that sound?”
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 5:31 pm
Long-a** time ago that was. Batholith finished off his coffee and looked up at the sky. He’d been, what, fifteen? Something like that. So really, it was only three years ago, but it had been a lifetime so far as Batholith was concerned. What had he learned since then?
Well, he’d learned that being a criminal meant making other people’s lives terrible. It meant making them miserable, putting them into danger, taking away what little they had of themselves from them. He’d met the victims at the trials—or rather, he’d heard their testimony. Some of them had been threatened and no longer felt safe; they carried themselves and acted in whatever way made them as small and unnoticeable as possible. Some of them had been robbed. They were paralyzed in fear, afraid to leave their houses, afraid to try new things, afraid that everything they did was for nothing and that they’d have nothing to show for their hard work and determination. Life had become meaningless, it had become frustrating, a vicious cycle of anxiety and loss. But the worst ones, the worst ones, were the families. They came because the victim couldn’t. Generally speaking, this was not because they were in the hospital.
It had been two years now since the trials (give or take a few months), and years since the acts themselves, but Bath knew that some of those people would be alive today if it wasn’t for him. He’d…well…Bath had murdered people. Or had them murdered. But yes, sometimes it had been his hand on the knife or against their backs. Extend the arms, and…
“It’s fine,” Dream said shortly. He wasn’t in the mood to chat. Ironic, then, since he was only here to talk. He didn’t say anything for a while, though, not until they were at least a block away from that alley. The rain was not letting up. It was coming down, if anything, harder. Damn, he needed a smoke. The last one hadn’t lasted long enough for this. “So,” Dream said. “What shall we talk about?” It sounded like an innocent question, but they both knew that it was anything but. Lime Coat had been sent to him when he’d sent them the note. He hadn’t said who he really was, just gave them a name to call him by. Heh. He wondered if they were surprised to find out that it was him? How had Lime Coat felt? Heck, had Lime Coat even figured out who he was yet?
It shouldn’t be that hard, honestly. Dream had a reputation in this town, and he was just about the shortest thug most people could imagine. He blamed that on the fluffy freak who had imbued him with his pain-in-the-a** ears. You couldn’t hide Imp ears. You could hide an Imp tail if you were willing to work at it, but hiding a pair of enormous Imp ears? Forget about it. You might as well give up. Dream had, anyway.
“What would I like to talk about?” Lime Coat said. “Hm… Well, I’d like to talk about…real estate, Alley. Places, addresses, that sort of thing. Maybe add them to my rolodex with a couple of names. Funny things go on in this town, Alley—you said that you were knowledgeable on the subject. Care to help out?”
Yeah. This was it. No backing out now. Dream stuck his free hand into his pocket (also soaked) and looked out ahead. They wanted names. They wanted places. They wanted confirmation that those crimes had taken place. So—where to start?
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 6:43 pm
Bath looked up at the silent diamond screen. Someone had turned it off. Thank the Nine for that. Yeah. The trials was when it hit Bath what a shitheel he’d been all his life, all the lives he’d ruined. Why had he done it? It was the only way I could survive, he’d told himself. Not that he’d ever tried any other way. He’d never tried to get a job or education or…anything else. If he’d been part of some minority, he might have been able to claim that he’d done it because there were no other opportunities. Two-tailed Kumiho had that excuse; Bakeneko-Naga hybrids had that excuse. What excuse did he have? Imps weren’t rare, and neither were Demons, and Imp-Demon hybrids were no worse off than the purebred of either kind in a metropolis like Asphodel. Okay, maybe they weren’t as well-off as Demons were, but there was no serious prejudice. He’d had opportunities.
Sort of, anyway. Bath had been raised by his gang. They’d taken him in before he was even potty-trained, they’d nursed him when he was sick, and they’d fed him when he was hungry. They’d made sure that he had clothes and clean water and a shelter over his head. Crime had come later, first as a way to repay their kindnesses, then as a way to fit in with the others. It was as if they’d never thought that hey, maybe there was some legal way to live? So yeah, maybe he had committed crimes because he’d been raised wrong by people who were criminals. Maybe it was a nurture more than a nature. Maybe he’d had bad examples.
Haha, no. That would explain why he’d stolen, but not why he’d murdered. He’d turned to the worst crimes to get to the top. And why had he wanted it? Why had he wanted that power? So that people would stop hurting me.
s**t. This was way more complicated than Bath had ever anticipated. Way too much. Ugh, he was getting tired, it wasn’t even midnight yet, and he’d had two cups of coffee already. “Time for another one,” he muttered. He got to his feet and got another cup of coffee from the vendor. Anything to ward off the worry.
Where to start?
“I know lots of places, lots of names, and lots of funny stories,” Dream said. “I even know a first-hand eyewitness to some of ‘em. Thing is, Lime—” he hesitated. “Thing is, Lime,” he said, quieter this time (Lime was leaning in close enough to hear him now), “that eyewitness is me.”
Lime Coat nodded. “You’re worried about some of the other eyewitnesses not agreeing with your story.”
Dream shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, yeah, I am,” he said, “but I’m also kind of worried about the people who won’t find those funny stories very funny. People who maybe also want to update their rolodexes.”
“Ah,” Lime said. They walked on in silence for a long time after that. Block after block passed. They walked through puddles more than ankle-deep and past rain spouts that poured seas of water across the pavement, complete with waves. It was a miserable night. The only movement besides the water were the cars that zoomed past and splashed gallons of water onto the two lone figures in the night. Gutters overflowed, making a sound like gunshots when huge drops of rain splatted across the pavement and onto Dream’s head. Water collected on the tips of his horns and dripped into his eyes. He struggled to pull his hood over his head, but it was so wet that the only purpose it could serve was to hide the bright crimson of his hair. It was distinctive. Almost as distinctive as his eyes, but more visible across large distances. There might not have ben anyone walking outside tonight besides them, but there could still be people looking out the windows at them. Every light in a window made Dream’s heart hammer in his ears and his chest, while every darkened one seemed to hide hidden watches in the shadows of the rooms beyond. Even blinds in the windows did nothing to still his fear.
“How old are you?” Lime asked suddenly, after being silent for five blocks. They were going in circles around town. Someone was going to notice them.
The question took Dream by surprise. People didn’t ask him that question much. “Old enough,” he said. Why would someone want to ask him that question? Was Lime Coat someone who took…interest in people’s ages? Nine, he hoped not…
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Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 6:45 pm
Yeah. Life changed your perspective. Batholith had his third cup of coffee in hand and was warming his fingers around it as he made his way back to Shera and Verity’s encampment. He looked over them and smiled. The Grey-Crescent family was still asleep, heads pillowed on their arms, with their free arms wrapped around each other. Batholith stretched. Yeah, he wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. He rolled up the spare sleeping bag they’d set out for him and put it at his side.
The thought of X was bothering him. It was worrying at him in the same way that his old nicotine habit was sawing away at his brain like it was a stubborn piece of wood. Like Bath, X had lived a shitty life. He’d been raised by people who hated him and didn’t respect him. They’d hurt him—hell, they’d tried to kill him and his friends when they were babies, and see how that had turned out?
No, not friends. X and Her weren’t just friends. Bath knew enough about that life to know that. Sure, he hadn’t grown up in a laboratory, but their childhoods couldn’t have been much different than his own in a gang. They’d grown up without parents, their only guardians being selfish and abusive, wanting to use them for their own gains and glory. In this environment, they’d had to scramble for a living. They’d had to do things that people didn’t like to do, generally speaking, and there’d been no punishment for it. Quite the contrary. Every scientist they bit, every time they fought back, every time they barreled into another shitheel’s knees (yeah, okay, he was just imagining all of this, he had no idea how these kids had actually lived) to protect someone else like them—every time they’d picked a lock from their cage, or, hell, every time they’d tasted food they could actually eat, they’d survived just a little bit longer. And what’s more, they would have seen the others fight back and taken strength from that struggle. They’d grown close to each other, forged a loyalty that could not be broken.
Just like Bath, they’d started out doing it to survive, or to fulfill a debt, or to follow their instincts. But now they were doing it because everyone else was—and because everyone who did these terrible things, who killed and ate other Nightmares and Daydreams, was a part of their family. That’s what this was al about—X and Her and all of the rest (there had to be more than just two) were a family, and they believed that something was owed to them, and owed to them big.
“Yeah, okay, personal question,” Lime Coat chuckled. Dream frowned. Chuckling did not put him at ease in this situation. “I ask because some people I know might care about your age—”
Before they could say anything else, Dream stopped. He yanked his arm out of Lime Coat’s grip and turned to face him. “What’s this all about?” he snapped. His legs were tensed, ready to leap at Lime in an instant. He had five knives hidden on his person, and he knew how to use them. He hoped Lime didn’t have a gun—that would make the knives less…effective. At that point, he’d have to run. He could see three different places he could make a clean getaway to from here, all of them with enough cover to avoid a trigger-happy cop with a gun.
Lime Coat didn’t reach for a gun, though. Instead, they waved their arms. “Hey, hey,” they said quickly. “That’s not what—look, Alley. What I mean to say is…” They leaned in close. Dream leaned away. Lime sighed and took a step forward. Dream took a step back.
“Stop that,” the half-Chimera growled, their tail lashing back and forth. “Alley. Depending on how old you are, some folks I know might be forgiving of how you obtained these eyewitness accounts. If they’re good,” they added.
“Define ‘forgiving,’” Dream said.
“They might be willing to release you from certain debts you may hold,” Lime said. “Debts to society, Alley. I hope I don’t have to paint you a picture.”
Dream shook his head. He knew what Lime meant now. “If I give you some really detailed eyewitness accounts.”
“If your eyewitness accounts give us the power to stop these funny happenings from happening, yes,” Lime Coat said. “We don’t like these events. We don’t want more of them. You help us out, and we’ll figure out some way that we can help you out—and others can’t stop us from doing so.” Lime Coat leaned in again. “So, Alley, what do you say?” he said, then whispered, “or should I call you Dream-Eyes?”
Dream flinched at the mention of his real name. Ah. Okay. So Lime Coat knew. That was a question unfortunately answered. “I’ve got some names,” he said softly. “And I’ve seen ‘em do it.” He fidgeted. “I did it myself, sometimes, even, Lime. That’s the truth.” He took a deep breath. “But I want it to stop. And if this is how I do it—then yeah. I’m ready to help.”
Bath was looking up at the black diamond screen again. “You’ll learn someday,” Bath murmured. “Nine, I hope they give you the same chances I do. You’ll learn. It hurts, kid. It ain’t pleasant. But I hope you learn to see things our way.”
A commotion was starting up near the door. Bath put the mug down on the ground underneath a seat where no one would trip on it. Time to wake up the others. It looked like the storm had broken.
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