Words that I try hard to make sound dirty.

Perloined.

Gut.

Whistle.

Drain.

Underbrush.

Underbelly.

Planetoid.

Vinegar.

Slip.

Freeze.

Gardener.

Ham.

Fidget.

Wick.

Wax.

Wobble.

Park.

Error.

Vasectomy.

The Letter.

Ink runs thin.

Ink runs dry.

A permenant smear. The golden word.

For all of time to see.

Unless lost.

At the back of the closet. Or to the fire.

I never intend to see it again.

It's for their eyes only.

Whoever they may be.

Dragon's Sweat.

The sky spins around me.

I can't stand up. I'm flying.

The room around me spins.

The past is cold, the present is painful, and the future burns on my back.

I drank from the water in the cave... It was sour. Then sweet. Then nothing at all.

The walls shudder with warmth and cold together, meeting of the mediums.

I feel death on my chest. I cry out and grab for her.

She's with me. Feeling everything and the opposite of what I feel. And I her.

Plus and Minus making Zero. The light and shadow comes.

We fall back to earth, tied to each other.

We talk but nothing is said.

All we can do is think. Remember. Relive the trip.

I cry without feeling sad.

She crawls into me and begins to sleep.

I crawl into her, and we become the dragon.

We slumber and fly again once more before the sun ends the dark, thick night.

The fog of war pours across us. A battle won and lost.

Our wax becoming hard.

We try to fly again. We fail to capture the night before between us.

We slumber again.

We sleep like the dead.

And the cycle begins once more.

Fight Night.

THE MAIN EVENT OF THE DECADE... LITERALLY.

The Hannukah Dragon VS. The Spirit of Christmas

UNDERCARD.

Kwanza VS. TBA (Nobody is as lame as Kwanza.)

Ol' Saint Nick VS. A Saint Bernard

Silent Night VS. Holy Night.

MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Childish.

You ever think-

I try not to.

...You ever think that there's more out there than this?

Of course there is, I've seen it.

You have?

Sure. I've been across the oceans and under the earth.

What about the sky?

Of course. You can't go under and across without going up at some points.

What's it like out there?

Eh. Not too different to how it is here. Just a bit less colourful and a lot more dangerous.

Dangerous? How?

There were monsters, giants, and all sorts out there. That was ages ago though... I, uh, can't say if they're there now.

Like what?

The Goroblatt. That's what I called it. It was a huge bat, with a hundred horns, and instead of legs, it had a blob.

Wow... Then how did it fly?

Oh... It took a bit to get off the ground... But when it got up there, the blob sort of went stiff and turned into a spike.

Huh. Sounds... weird.

It was. I was lucky it missed me.

What else? What about the ocean?

Millions of fish. All sorts of different colours. Even some I'd never seen before.

What else?

I discovered an island, and a whole tribe of green and black people. I taught them how to read, speak our language, and I gave them Faith in each other.

And what did they give you?

They helped me build a ship, and they gave me food, shelter, cause, y'know - I was their god for a while and all that...

Hm. And the sky?

Outside of the horizon, there are men who fly in huge iron birds - Giant condors, Massive crows, and one even had a loud hummingbird that ran on garbage.

Wow...

Yup. It's a wild and wonderful world out there, Sammo. We just have to get away from it all occasionally.

How did you get out in the first place?

Uh... It was long ago... I don't fully remember.

Oh... And why did you come back?

I... I don't know...

Because, well... This isn't a nice place, Demma. You know it, I know it. This is...

Yes, well. Even a prison can be home to people like us...

An observation.

If a movie or series is hugely successful, documentaries are made around it explaining the science or philosophy behind it.

E.g. - The Dark Knight, Avatar, Jaws

Why does this happen?

1 - Cashcow. The makers hope to chime in on the success.

2 - Curiosity. People want to know about the reality of the situation.

Reason 1 is as old as the printed work or the birth of the moving picture.

To reason 2, I say this...

FUCK. THAT.

I don't watch a movie to think "Oh? How did these people make up the language on Pandora?" or "I wonder what motivates The Joker..."

It's fantasy. Fiction. You don't have to dissect something to enjoy it.

That's why reality T.V. is strong, and why people don't really enjoy T.V. drama and comedy anymore - They've been overexposed to reality.

T.V. is a way of escaping reality! Like books and radio. Reality T.V. was fine and dandy for a while, but it just becomes a background to civilisation and a show of how utterly awful life truly is! You'll never be famous, or experience things such as this!

You. Are. Dead.

Dead from the neck up! You switch on and tune out. whatever happened to imagination?! It's all cookie cutters and plastic fantastic. People don't give a shit anymore.

Radio plays... Sci-fi... All dying - because the people in charge of the studios want easy money!

WORK FOR IT! Scratch! Climb! Fight!

All you'll have to go to the grave is a legacy built off of the misery and suffering of others, cast in gold.

Wake up! People of the world! Think! Imagine! Dream!

Once More Into the Shadows, We Find a Young Man Crying.

Haah... Huh...

Fucking... God!

I can't take this... It's too much.

Too soon.

...

Whatever happened to me? To my life?

Fuck my life!

Urrgh.

All it was... It was that girl... And the guy.

They did this to me...

...

I was... I was happy.

...

Adrian?

Hm? Excuse me?

You're Adrian?

Yes. Who are you?

I'm Mallory. I'm sorry, I've only heard about you from Kendra.

Oh! You're one of her friends?

Yes.

Pleasure to meet you then... But I've got to ask...

Yes?

If you've only heard about me, how did you know who I was?

...A fair point. I've seen some pictures.

Ah. So how do you know her?

Mind if I sit down?

Oh, god, yes. Of course, sorry.

Nah, it doesn't matter. I did kind of startle you. And to answer your question, we're friends through work.

Ah...

Do you know much about what she does?

No actually... I asked her a few times before and she glazed over the question.

I see. Would you like to know?

...Yes.

She's in personel relations.

...Which is?

A manager, basically.

Ah. Sorry, again... But why are you telling me all this?

Well... In her line of work... Our line. There are some... Risks.

Like?

Well... Getting shot at. A lot.

...Am I being punked?

No. I'm sorry. She's missing and we wondered if you knew where she was. Last I saw of her personally was her taking a bullet to the chest.

...You what?

Did she say anything to you? Has she been in contact with you?

I think I have to go...

[I wouldn't do that, sir.]

Max, stand down.

Who the hell are-

[I am Max. Do not be alarmed. I currently have a silenced pistol aimed at the lower portion of your spine]

...What?

You heard him. All we want to know is if Kenda Jerode has been in contact with you in the past week.

Jerode? Her name was Hall!

To you, maybe.

And no as a matter of fact, she hasn't.

Oh...

[We must go]

You realise as soon as you go... I'm calling the police.

[And you will be arrested for wasting police time. Mallory]

Right. Goodbye Adrian. You won't see us again.

...

...

Those two...

My life...

I'm going to get to the bottom of this. Just you wait.

Harmonics.

*PHROREEN! VREE-VREE!*

Good God! What are you doing, Joyce?

Nothing... Just me and my harmonica.

Well... Stop it... It's scaring the birds...

We don't have any birds...

I mean the pidgeons on the roof... When they get scared, things turn white and yellow.

Oh. Well, I have to practice. I have a concert on Friday.

A concert?! Where?!

Leonard's coffee place. He's doing an open music and poetry night.

But you can't play a damn thing!

Playing something doesn't make it music, Don. You can make noise and it could be a song of the soul.

Eddie... Have you been sniffing glue again?

No! I've just been out with some people that Leonard knows from University...

Students... that frequent a coffee shop...

Yeah. What's wrong with that?

HIPSTERS.

For god's sake...

They. Are. Hipsters! You're too easily swayed by the wrong people!

They're a good bunch of people!

What are their names?!

...Cody, Zach, Miriam and Cassie.

Which one do you like?

...Miriam.

She hot?

I like her for her mind...

Give me your phone.

No!

Fine, I'm going to check your facebook!

Wait!

...

Yes... She's smoking hot. But smart too.

I get it.

They're going to help me practice, and we're going to put together a group. Cassie plays bass, and Zach can drum pretty well.

Uh-huh...

And we'll make records out of Cody's studio. It's in his van... But it's all good.

Get in your box, Edward Joyce.

...No...

Get. In. Your. Box.

...Can I take the harmonica?

100.

What have I learnt from 100 posts?

I can't write prose text on the fly.

I have real trouble producing coheasive stories if I haven't really thought it out. If it comes from a pre-existing idea, I'm fine though.

I like to haiku. It's really ridiculous. How much I like it.

I can produce some awesome fantasy stories. Especially for the right people...

And I can't stick a full week now. It's odd - daily became frequesntly quickly. I will endeavour to do a full week now and again, more often than not.

I just plain enjoy writing.

Entry 16. Cardinal, TX. "Skipper".

22/03

I talked to Candice Starr (Real name: Candice Staroski) about the "Incident" In '87.

She looked tired. Worn down and out. We sat in the back room of "The Free Letter Word", the club that promises "The cheapest action in Cardinal, TX!".

CS: As soon as you said about the diner... I knew what you wanted. Plus, you don't look like the type of guy who normally comes in here.

FV: I try. Now, for the record, how old were you back then?

CS: It's rude to ask a lady her age... But since this is for the "You know who", I was 28.

FV: You don't look a day over 35.

CS: Flatterer...

FV: No, I'm serious. You really don't.

CS: Oh. Hm. You're right of course. We all changed that night.

FV: You're still in contact with the others?

CS: Oh yeah... I talk with Joanie and Kal a lot, by phone. Sometimes Jerry pays a visit...

FV: Jerry Holland? The changing man?

CS: Is that what you call him? ...I call him slime. Always comes in here, oozing with sweat, asking to spend some "Quality time" with me. He has to pay like every other guy, I always tell him... Poor schmoe never has any money though.

FV: And what about Joan and Kaleb?

CS: They live in Maine. Quiet little place. If I ever get out of this town, I'm going there.

FV: What's stopping you?

CS: I'm good at what I do. Harry, my boss hasn't realised yet that I've been here for 32 years. Not the type of guy to look over records too often... Or file his taxes correctly. Can we... Uh... "Strike that from the record"? I don't want him to get in trouble...

FV: We have no relation to the IRS, Candice. He's not going to be in any trouble.

CS: Good. That's a relief.

FV: Did the other two... Develop, as you and Jerry did?

CS: You mean did weird shit come out of them too? Yeah... They went through it, we all did, so they said. 

FV: I meant the after effects of exposure.

CS: Oh, right. Sorry Hon'. You didn't ask them yourself?

FV: They weren't... Open with the information. They just said "Yes." and left it at that.

CS: Hell, If I'd have known that, I'd have been more careful.

FV: It's noticeable on you. I'd be an idiot not to see it.

CS: Hmph. Well, yes they did get... aftereffects. Joanie can read minds if she touches you. Kaleb... Well, I'm not sure about him.

FV: I see. 

CS: I've got a theory though.

FV: Go on.

CS: It's... Personal. I can't think of the word. Like depending on who you were at the time and all that shit... 

FV: Subjective?

CS: Yes! That's it. Subjective. Like Jerry was a con-man, still is from what I can see. Always pretending to be someone he wasn't.

FV: I see.

CS: And Joanie? Well, before she was trying to see why her boyfrie-

FV: What about you?

CS: ...Me?

FV: Sorry to interrupt. I need to keep this about you.

CS: Nobody ever cared enough to hear my story...

FV: Just the particulars, please.

CS: ...I wanted to live forever. Be worshipped. Be loved. I wanted to be an actress, I stopped at the diner to call my "Agent" and tell him I was on the way down to California for an audition.

FV: And it happened.

CS: Yeah... Of course, that isn't when it happened.

FV: Sorry?

CS: The sleezeball agent? He told me the audition was in "Silicon Valley".

FV: ...

CS: Oh boy. It's the name for the then small porn company. Now it's a huge place, hence the name.

FV: I see...

CS: I didn't want to be that kind of actress. I wanted to be in movies. I went out to my car and cried... And there he was...

FV: Who?

CS: Sam.

FV: Sam?

CS: Sam... Sam Albright. Slip of a boy. Just 18, so he said. He asked what was wrong and... We talked and... You know...

FV: I can guess.

CS: He was wonderful... Not a virgin by any stretch of the word. He knew how to treat a lady...

FV: Did it happen after that?

CS: During... 

FV: ...

CS: All we saw were the bright lights and the smell of burning rubber and wood. When I woke up... I was in the hospital, and Sam was gone. 

FV: He isn't on my list.

CS: But you know about us... What we can do and how we know each other.

FV: Yes. A dozen minds pushed together for god knows what reason and put back.

CS: I can feel him... Just now and then. He blinks onto the map and gone again before I can figure out where to turn.

FV: I see... 

CS: But he'd never find me again. I'm too old now... No matter how I look. And he wasn't the type of guy to come here either...

FV: Then why stay?

CS: It's all I know. And I'm useful to Harry. I can't get pregnant.

FV: We got reports of sterility from the others, some of them at least. It's not normal but... I'm sorry.

CS: No... I can't be pregnant... I have been for years now. Must be around... 3 months, if I've worked it out right.

FV: ...That's... That's incredible.

CS: Mhm... That's our child in here... Mine and Sam's. We made a miracle... When it felt like the end of the world.

I left after that. Candice is good at what she does. But for how much longer?

And this "Sam" - skipping all over the world... I'll have to remember him.

And I'll have to look after his baby. The baby AND Candice of course. Requesting a welfare check to come out of the Marrow Fund. God knows she needs all the help she can get.

End Log.

My Pledge to You.

I swear to always be true.

I swear to be there for you when you need me.

I swear to put aside my work and listen to you talk about your day.

I swear to help you wherever I can with all of my body and soul.

I swear to satisfy your every need, whim and desire.

I swear to never complain in the face of bad times and punishments.

I swear to defend and honour you.

I swear to provide for you at all times.

I swear I will never keep a secret from you.

And I swear, should you ask me to, to break any of those rules.

I love you.

Following the River...

The Rat and Mole was nice...

Yes...

Nothing changes... Every year we go in there and it's the same old faces behind and at the bar.

True... But that isn't a bad thing is it?

No! Not at all...

Hm.

And now, this. This was a good idea, babe.

I do try, love. I love boating, and I'm surprised we've never done this before...

And what a day to do it. Perfect. Sunny blue skies...

Yeah...

Shame Angus could join us... Wonder what was wrong...

Yes... He sounded quite far gone.

How do you mean?

Just sounded off, that's all.

Ah. Don't think it's *The* flu, do you?

Nah... He's too careful.

You think?

I've known him all my life... He's a stickler for hospital corners and the like...

Ah. Strange.

What is?

Why is he going out with Gerogie then?

Cause she's the opposite - you know how that is. Magnetic.

True... Though we're not like that...

That IS true...

Hm...

Where has the time gone?

Is it late?

No... I meant between us. It seems like yesterday when we met...

Heh. I remember it too.

We've just... flown along.

Flown? As in flying?

Yeah...

What makes you say that?

I know, Tom.

...About what?

I saw you.

...I'm not going to be able to get out of this one, am I?

Not unless you fly.

Keep your voice down.

Or what?

...Alright, yes. I can fly, what of it?

Nothing... Just you kept such a HUGE FUCKING SECRET from me!

I'm not proud of it...

Why not? Isn't it wonderful?

No! It's a means to an end! I get sick from the rush of adrenalin and oxygen! I get bugs in my eyes! I-

Goggles.

Huh?

Get some goggles, silly.

Ones that DON'T crack for atmospheric pressure? Those are expensive...

Then don't fly so high!

And risk being seen? Do you know what people would do to me?

Well... No.

Exactly. I'm sorry I kept it from you but it was for both of our sakes.

Hm...

And I suppose you've been honest with me?

Yes!

Fully?

...Yes.

Ah?! I sense hesitation.

Well... We have to have some secrets, and being able to fly isn't even on the level of what I keep from you.

Quid pro quo.

I don't have anything even like-

Anything.

...I like being spanked.

I know that one...

Fine! ...I once gave a blowjob to a 32 year old man.

That's not so... How old were you?

14.

Ah... Alright, we're even.

Aren't you-

Nope. I'm not even going to ask. Asking questions leads to answers I don't need to hear.

...

...

Here comes the dock.

Hm. We should-

Yeah.

What Will It Take?

Imagine if someone showed up at your door. All this person, always female, has with them is a suitcase and a smile. It's a man's world. Women aren't stupid enough for this type of situation.

"Hi!" they say. "You once asked for a girlfriend, a lover, a wife?"

Now, every guy at some point has been in this position. They hit rock bottom and the only way up is carnal. Some try to say it's "Emotional companionship", but really... They need to get laid.

Anyway, You can't shut the door on this person, and if you try, they're either already inside or they stick their foot in the door. They're your guest.

They come on strong. They seem perfect, or caustic enough to make you hot and bothered. Either way, you're reacting - the blood boils, the pulse quickens, pupils dilate, and in a good few cases, you get wood.

They ask to stick around for a while, offer to pay rent, help out, clean up - and if you still refuse, they skip ahead of their gameplans.

If you're "Happy" with them being a part of your world, it starts.

You get along. You start to know each other inside and out. You have fun.

You don't get on. Tensions rise, inconveniant misunderstandings, walk-ins. You're getting warmer, hotter.

They don't leave. They go out, sure - out to work, out to get groceries, out to get... other things. But they never leave fully. Even after they said they'd be gone after 2 weeks, 3 weeks. But they DO go out for hours at a time.

You like her. You worry she's being fucked in some alley, or being piledriven by multiple suitors who she met at some bar. Hell, you just worry she's been hit by a car.

You don't like her. You start to hate the silence. You miss them. You miss the conversation, as well as the arguements. You worry just as much as the last guy.

But she always comes back. Alone. Tired, or even strangely refreshed.

You grow together. She sells you some sob story about being fucked by Uncle Charlie, or being a drifter, going from town to town. She stopped drifting, or running, because she likes you. She's fallen for you.

You cry. You both cry. You hug. For hours. And then you kiss.

You feel pity. Sorrow. Maybe something bad happened to you as well. A kindred spirit. In need of comfort. You kiss.

No matter how you felt before, you don't feel anything.

You're in too deep. You're in the embrace. Bodies fused. Fluids mix. Cries in tune. You feel everything and nothing but each other. It goes for hours, even days. You change positions in scale and grandeur. You become the other. And then back to Earth.

Too deep.

After that, nothing changes, but so many things do.

She goes out for longer. You worry more. She comes home looking ruffled or disheveled. Blood under her fingernails as you suck on them. Dirt in her hair as you smell it. A growl in her voice as you bite her, and she bites you.

She changes the house. Whole rooms move in a night. She has so much energy at night, or after carnal affairs. You can't help but like the change. But whole rooms are left empty, nothing but the carpet and something you've never seen before in the centre of the room. Some kind of statue.

the embrace becomes dangerous. She likes to tie you up. Cut you. Her screams become... primal. Yours do too. She chains you to the wall, milking you dry. It's... Incredible. There's nothing like it. On Earth. You often black out, later waking to bitemarks and fingernail marks all over your body. You're drained.

So tired. You start to resent her. You try to ask her to slow down. But she either doesn't listen or just flat out scares you. She smiles all the time. You never noticed until now, when you're looking for fault. She just agrees with you... and nothing changes.

She starts staring at the moon, from the garden. Just stood there looking at it like some sort of mirror.

A dark reflection.

And nothing changes. You wait for anything to happen. You don't need to work, she brings in the money, you just wait. Wait for the boom to drop. Nothing changes. You just wait.

Always waiting. You know she isn't human. You piece it together. Succubus. Siren. Demon. Anything you know gets thrown in. But it's the smile... the moon... the screams... the tormented and twisted statue she ritualisticly cleans. It's almost phallic, and worshipped. Like you.

You wait for her to snap. For her to go full evil and tell you what she is. But she never does. You live. It's the worst torture. Death is better. You just wait, and eat, and sleep, and fuck. You never leave, you're in too deep. Too damn deep for anyone to save you.

You never know when it'll happen, and that's just as bad as waiting and living.

It just smiles. And loves you. And the moon. And the statue.

I... Love her. I think.

Like she loves the moon.

Always staring.

Waiting.

Were you expecting a post?

God no... Just be happy like this big fella. Maybe I'm having an off week for poor writing. See ya!

The Crapsack Was Taken!

Hey, Joey?

Yeah.

I've got a load of, like, vegetable waste and that to toss out, is there anywhere special I should put it?

Oh, yeah, just sling it in the cornhole.

Right.

...

...

What?

What's wrong?

What's the cornhole?

Oh, right. That white china thing in the kitchen, we use it for organic waste.

Okay... But why is it called the cornhole?

First thing we put into it was a shit load of corn. We brought a sack of the stuff, don't remember why, maybe popcorn? Anyway, we had it all left over and there was a huge mess. So we got the cornhole for future emergencies, and to make our own compost.

We live in the city... Why do you need compost?

You never know when you'll need compost.

Right. Fine. Whatever. Is there anything else camply named I should know about?

Uh... Oh! There's the poopchute.

And what's that?

My ass. You got your half of the rent yet?

This is my face when I want to blog today.

Not in the mood. Come back tomorrow.

Casual racism.

Native americans, I can only assume, are exempt from saying the pledge of allegiance.

"One nation under God."

Isn't one of their Gods a wendigo?

...

Racism aside, that would have worked better if I were in character.

I feel ashamed.

NEXT POST!

Ninnyhammer.

He came like a bolt from the blue!

NINNYHAMMER.

Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. Some oddball women wanted to be him, and some rather fruity men wanted him.

NINNYHAMMER.

Armed with nothing beyond his mighty "Helftling" hammer, a badger loincloth, a tri-horn helmet and leather armour made from the skin of men who wanted to be him.

NINNYHAMMER.

His adventures are legendary, though no-one really knows how they came to know the stories of his adventures.

NINNYHAMMER.

Like the story of his battle with the Darkling lord of Ghosnonine - 2 out of 3 in dorf throwing... AND CATCHING.

NINNYHAMMER.

And the legend of his heated conversation and subsequent lawsuit against the dragon, Kash-hacrah, over the property boundries between their homes.

NINNYHAMMER.

And who can forget the trial of the weaponmasters of Cradgrand, who disarmed the mighty NINNYHAMMER and forced him to fight a slew of monsters, before fighting one of them to get his own weapon back?

NINNYHAMMER.

...Okay, that last one didn't happen.

NINNYHAMMER.

To be honest, he kind of sucks as a barbarian hero.

NINNYHAMMER.

Bit of a twat actually... Went out with my sister.

NINNYHAMMER.

He made her do anal.

NINNYHAMMER.

He broke her pelvis! She's stuck in a wheelchair!

NINNYHAMMER.

Whatever happened to Conan? He was a real hero.

NINNYHAMMER.

His hammer is an anvil tied to a tree! What's so mystical about that?!

NINNYHAMMER.

He's a homophobic mysogynist!

NINNYHAMMER.

YOU CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I HATE HIM!

...

...

...

NINNYHAMMER.

Rhymers, Two-timers, Schemers and Dreamers.

Agent Maxley, sir?

Yes, Franjen?

Are we in any huge danger today?

I notice you didn't just say danger. You're learning.

I mean, I realise these people are high priority targets, but-

Not all of high priority, and some higher than others. But I know what you mean, and what you're asking. Read me the list again.

Sir?

And let me know what you think of them.

Alright. Herge Croire.

L'Homme Magique. Magic Man.

Telepath. Telekinetic. Has gadgets provided by unknown sources.

He doesn't usually step outside of Europe. Western europe anyway. What does that say?

He has a damn good reason to come stateside.

What else?

...He... May have other connections?

And?

Uh...

Those connections need his powers. He was able to knock out an entire bank with a click of his fingers. That's another thing.

What?

He's only been small time up until now. None of his monitored accounts show him buying a ticket to L.A. He was BROUGHT out here.

Okay. Next is Felim Sondras - Count Sondras. Out of Romania.

The lord of darkness himself. Can control shadows and fly unaided at night.

Why at night?

No idea. Something about air pressure being lower. So he'd be useless in a storm.

They need him for the power. There are shadows everywhere.

Not just that, though it's the deciding factor. The count is sat on a huge fortune, more than enough to fund any kind of operation.

Right. Andreas Colon, inbound on Flight 38981 from Colombia.

Skymaster.

The guy was a doctor, professor even in aerospace AND chemistry.

He still is. Made all of his cloud capsules himself. All dense enough to support him and anyTHING he makes them able to support. Good weapons too, he can control them.

Air support, and the science know-how?

Bingo.

Lastly, Farrah Vendil-Andrews. The Redcap.

Super strong, super agile, and utterly insane.

The muscle?

Yeah, but she's unpredictable. Alternate personality obsessed with fairytales. Thinks she's some blood demon or something. That's why her hair is red.

...Ew.

Yep.

Whoever's bringing them in knows how to control her... It. As well as get them all to work together.

As well as having a plan. He's been working on it for some time. Everyone has a job, but they can multi-task. Only he has any real devotion or dedication to one job.

He's the controller?

The one sending them updates and orders. One man come to mind for me...

Who?

The Inside Man.

...He's dead, isn't he?

He'd like you...Us, the agency, the world, to think that. He was a smooth operator. Spending years building up a position with white collar companies, only to sell them out to other supervillains. Only thing that made them fail was the ineptitude of most villains who paid his fees. He was a mastermind for schedule and planning.

Why would he come out of hiding now?

The game is good again. Sure, at cut fees due to the basic economy, but it still works. People aren't expecting these kinds of crimes now on such a huge scale.

So they're all coming to bid on a bank job?

Maybe...

So what did you think?

He's bored. After one final score.

And he's finally stepping up?

Could be anything. Hostages, kidnapping, blackmail. When a guy like him steps out of his comfort zone, everything goes into high priority.

There's still one thing, sir.

And that is?

We have no idea who The Inside Man is.

No. We don't. Suit up, First flight from Romania is incoming.

An Ode.

Twist. In my body there's a twist.

More than one, but it's all connected.

Strands, almost unseen strands, running over me. Within and without.

Plumbing. More than one set of pipes.

The sewer, the songbird and the sanguine.

The pressure of this prehistoric element keeps me going.

It both hurts and is a pleasure to behold, the joy of inward reflection.

A reflection of you, of him and her.

It's relative, all the way back to that prehistoric element.

Hunger. Pain. Satisfaction.

Eat away at the unseen out of the being.

Eat at the strands that tie us all to the world itself.

The world that is older than even the prehistoric, the jurassic or terassic.

Only a tear to the strands would end the within and without.

All of it.

Nothing left to you or me in the will of the world.

The will of man and beast rules.

Law of the jungle.

Lay of the land.

All connected.

Related.

Symmetry.

We were made in the earth's image.

We are the earth.

Within and without.

A Very Weird Dream.

It's unusual for me to remember dreams like these. Here we go:

In a school assembly hall, people on all sides - adults, all of them - on bleachers and raised seating. I'm at the front.

My friend Avery (www.averyedison.com) is scheduled to perform some comedy. A huge cage is shadowed on the stage. A monologue about the history and future of man begins. about 10 minutes into it, someone stands up and says something to the tune of "We haven't got a lot of time, lets skip to the end.". Avery isn't even in the giant hamster cage and just stands at the side apathetically with a prison number written on a piece of chewed up cardboard.

A lack-luster applause. I'm horrified.

Lenny Henry comes out after Avery has left, looking pissed. He says:

"A harsh wind blow and blister ye all o'er! ...I'm done with comedy, never again."

The rest of his speech is drowned out by my father in the middle of the audience snoring. Lenny sees him and lingers over him, smiling like a devil.

I leave, and catch Avery coming out of the back, we sit and talk. The conversation fades and I wake up.

...

Really fucking weird, eh?

Haurin.

Long ago, when the world was young, Haurin rose to power.

He was a mighty warrior, and armies fell in his wave of destruction.

Some say his power came from the Gods, some said he was the earth given flesh, and some said he was the next step for mankind, the next king of all men.

But not even Haurin knew where his power came from. All he knew was how to use it.

And use it he did. In the space of a night, he toppled the eastern kingdom of Garewed, known for it's harsh weather and even harsher warriors. The next night, he braved the wastes until he hit the walls of Ingris - the molten city. His hands burnt, but still the conquered their king.

This chain of war grew mightier and more fearsome with each link that was added. Tybal, Veminas, Cherngard, Jarrion, Lassit, Konfra, and many more cities of renown.

After he reached the central kingdoms, he suffered his first defeat.

In the City of Hawker, the ancient root of civilisation, He came upon a young woman, an old man, and a young man, all stood in his path.

"Who stands in my way?!"

"We three" Said the woman, "The warriors of the trivumerate."

"Askoyt, Cannavart, and Phain." Said the young man, Phain.

"We stand for the truths of man" Added Old Man Cannavart, "Truths you will never understand."

"Tell me! So that I may attempt to..." Said the conqueror with bile and amusement.

"No" Askoyt quickly responded. "You will have to find them for yourself. And on the path you take now, you never will find them."

With that, the three disappeared, leaving the Conqueror alone at the gates of the capital.

And he walked away.

The story of his trials?

Another time, children.

The Cat and the Fiddle.

Gary?

Yeah.

I don't like the idea of this...

I realise there's a lot to say about this idea, but please leave any fears at the door.

Which door, there are five!

The green one!

They're all metallic!

Oh... Right... I forgot, I meant to paint them BEFORE I tested it out.

How do I get up there?

Climb?

It's too smooth! And it's 40 feet!

Correction: 42 feet.

Whatever!

It's the optimum height for destructive testing.

Why didn't you just throw it off of the roof?

Amy, think about what you just said, in regards to ideas 23 through 47.

...Couldn't you have hired a climbing wall?!

I thought of that - nothing above 25 feet and they weren't willing to stack them.

What if this goes horribly wrong?!

It won't! I've taken-

Ideas 4, 9, 12/13, 31, 32, 33, 45, 47 and 68.

...It's guaranteed to work!

Gary?!

Audio!

*VREEP!*

CAMERA!

*PON!*

Gary Madialane, Inventor - Idea 89! MOON BOOTS! With enough momentum-

Gary!

-The boots I've made will be able to repel the force at which I hit the ground-

Don't do this!

-at DOUBLE the force and height! 3!

I'm leaving you!

2!

The cat's eaten the dogs! BOTH OF THEM!

1!!

GARY!!!

...

...

...

Gary was later found hanging out of the left engine of a 747. His moon boots and other inventions were left to military science. They sold them to their enemies through proxies. Since then, the British army has never been defeated, and nobody knows why.

Pulp. Part 5.

AUDIO LOG OF RUSSELL JAMES. Lt. 33981.

Just dropped them off, base. Not that you can respond... Or will, is the better word.

This place looks damn swanky. Just the sort of place I'd go if I wanted to set up a cult.

Retiring to a safe distance. While they light the touch paper. I need a vacation...

...

I'm a good way away... I still don't get the need for silence. I'm far enough away from anything...

Wait. Control, please respond.

"Control. What's the situation?"

I heard something. Something... big.

"Could just be an animal, keep it together."

Expect the unexpected. Halloran said that himself in the briefing. You're most likely right, but I'm gonna take a look.

"Stay sharp."

I will.

*KACHUNG*

Alright. Just a perimeter sweep.

Look at me. Jumping at twigs breaking and shadows... Fine state of mind to be in...

Ha! ...A rat. Great. Big old sucker, too.

Hey, Mickey... You making all that noise?

...

Hm. This is getting ridiculous. That briefing was fucked. It's put me right on edge.

Control, respond.

"We heard it, Russ. 'Mickey'?"

Had to call it something.

"You alright?"

Should be fine, just needed some fresh a-

*HUUUUUUUUUUUUUORRRRRR...*

...Control, did you get that?

"We got static. just a low hum."

It was an animal...

"Moose?"

No. Moose, here? Wrong country.

"Then a wolf, or a bear?"

That's what I heard, and more. It was a cry alright, not just a bear or wolf.

"What did it sound like, we can get the-"

Nothing. It was just ...howling.

"Sit tight. The second group are enroute to the location."

How long?

"...2 hours."

Shit.

"Just be prepared."

Yeah. Right.

Prepared. Sure. I've got a pump action and a crap ton of shells. If all else fails, I can... Fuck.

This is insane.

...

*HUUUUUUROH...*

Okay! Done! I'm getting out of here.

...

Control!

"Russell? Where are you going?!"

Away, I heard it again, from behind me! Right fucking there!

"Meet with the second team."

Fuck that! Get the second team out of there!

"WE can deal with it."

No! It was huge!

"You saw it?"

In my rear view. Just for a second. It was a giant!

"What?!"

I swear it had 4 arms! Just from the shape!

"Calm down, Russ. You're talking crap."

This isn't some fish tale! Fuck this shit!

"Russ?! Russell!-"

TRANSMISSION ENDS.

After report: Company car later found 34 miles from last known location. Ammunition gone, ordinance gone, radio destroyed. James, Russell missing, presumed AWOL/Dead.

Pulp. Part 4.

FROM THE AUDIO LOG OF: FRANK WHITELY, Sgt. 507862.

I'm gonna keep it shut. Just listen in, I'm boosting the audio intake. I want you to hear what we've gotten into. This is beyond fucked up.

I'm taking the room towards the back of the foyer.

Not much in here. We haven't seen many people in this place. Yet. That's all I'm saying.

Just looks like a bedroom. Lots of little bunks. Must be for the rabble.

Searched through the footlockers. Nothing. Just the cult leaflet and a few personal posessions.

Interesting. On the desk at the end is a clock. It's not working, missing a main gear by the looks of it. No room to take it with me, I'll just have to remember it.

Next room is a hallway. Odd picture at the end. Of a set of crows pecking at a man in front of a waterfall. Makes you think.

2 rooms. Going left first.

Another dining room. But it has a large amount of tables... and no kitchen link. could just be a conference room. There's a podium at the end. a couple of files in it... look to be case studies from what I can see... They talk about mutagens and other shit...

Also a box. It has a dent in the top... meant for something to go in? What is it with these people and broken items of-

Huh. There's something else here. A floppy disk? I thought these went out with the telegraph...

Trying the right door.

Locked. Just my luck. But it feels flimsy. Maybe if I-

*KRACK!*

I've still got it.

Just a little study. Lots of chemicals. Shit, did I just blow my cover?! If this is someone's private room, They'll notice the door hanging from the hinges...

Just put it back, Franky... Walk away.

Door at the end.

Shi-

Full of people, listening to a guy in green.

I don't think they saw me... I'm headed back to the bunks, see what I can find...

Oh!

"Hello..."

Isn't everyone list-

"I'm NOT one of you..."

What?

"I don't even know what I'm doing here anymore..."

Ma'am, look I-

"Just don't tell them I'm here... If you have a braincell left in your body, please..."

Alright.

"...Really?"

Yeah. I've got no beef with you. What are you doing here?

"I'm..."

I won't tell.

"I'm a reporter. These kooks are... more than kooks. They're legitimate terrorists!"

God.

"I know. I need to get out of here."

Sure you do.

"Will you help me?"

What?! ...I don't know.

"Please. I'm sorry to ask so much of you... But you're the only person I've met here who doesn't want to fuck me or kill me..."

Look... I can't get you out. But... There are some who will. I'll do as much as I can, but you may have to lay low for a while until they come here.

"That sounds like... Do you know something I don't?"

Doesn't everyone always know something more than you do?

"I'll take that as an enigmatic statement, not an insult."

Just try to stay out of trouble. And if you find anything that'd fit in this, or a big gear, come find me.

"A big gear? Like this?"

That's awfully convenient.

"It was lying in the ballroom, where everyone was. No-one saw me pick it up."

But did they see you leave?

"...I don't know."

Thanks for the gear.

Now to see how it-

*CLICK!*

"What was-"

The clock. 2 keys... and a red gem? ...Nope, doesn't fit the box.

"Where did you find that?!"

Why?

"Only the bigwigs have those! They'll be looking for it!"

Shit!

"Give it here!"

Where did you-

"Pin it on another guy. Just forget which locker I put it in. I'll keep moving. My name is Chelsea by the way."

Frank.

"See you later, Frank."

...

Did I just... No. I don't know where to go next...

Back to the meeting place.

...

No-one here. They must have found better things to do.

Guess I'll just wander around until...

"You there! Why aren't you in the ballroom?!"

Uh...

"Come with me!"

Yeah... Sure.

Great...

ALL OTHER SOUND LOST. DAMP/JAM.

The Story of the Little Princess.

Once upon a time, there was a little princess. Her name was Emby.

Her parents, the King and Queen, ruled over a vast nation of people. Farmers, warriors, magicians and all sorts of other kin lived within the kingdom.

Emby was well known and loved in the town - and not because she was a princess. She was kind, honest, and sweet. She often walked around the town - always the same way each time. She went out of the palace, into the marketplace, through the fields of the farmers, into the magical woods, past the mage towers, back into town through the barracks and home in time for tea. She loved her walks, and the people loved to see her walk.

One day, while sleeping, the princess had a bad dream. She was under a dark sky, on a high cliff. All she could see was the abyss over the side. A ship sailed down from the sky, glowing like starlight. As she went to climb aboard, she awoke to silence.

In the kingdom, silence was NOT nornal.

She went for a walk.

In the marketplace, the people were stony and silent. They had been turned to marble! As they stood there, something moved in the darkness. Emby moved to see what it was. As she looked under a table, a small, feline shape looked back at her with big green eyes.

"Princess!" It said, and Emby was taken aback. She had never heard a cat speak before. "My name is Harman, I'm the fisherman's son, surely you know me?". And she did - She knew Harman, son of Franklyn the fisherman. He often walked with her to the river by the forest, in search of magical fish to catch.

"Harman! How did you end up in this manner?" She asked the cat. "I do not know! I went to sleep last night and... Now I'm this!" He replied. "Well." She said, "We must do something about that! Come with me!".

And the little black cat walked alongside her.

They walked into the fields of barley and rye. They were dark. As they walked up to a crossroads, a man stood looking at a huge set of signposts. He looked confused and kept going on way along the road, only to return to the signposts again.

"Hello?" Said the little princess. Surprised, the man turn to them. "How did you get here?" He barked at them, "I've been here for hours now!". "My name is Dum, I'm a farmer.".

"Calm down, Gentle Dum." The princess said, "I know of you. Always getting lost. Which way did you come in?". "I came in from here." Dum said, walking down the road, and appearing in the opposite road. "See?".

Emby stood a while and then said; "Then maybe there's a way you haven't considered." and she took Dum by the hand, and Harman under the other. And they walked up the huge signpost. Straight up it. Into the dark sky.

And they emerged in the magical woods. Outside of a stone temple.

Seeing no way out of the clearing, due to a huge wall of thorns around them, they went inside. Chained to a huge stone altar was a Centaur. He was bleeding and breathing heavily. The group quickly unchained him, and attended to his injuries. After a while, he awoke.

"Princess? I am Alos, one of the hidden-kin of the forest. I got caught here by... A dark cloud. It felt like razorweed and then... Nothing."

Dum stood up. "It must be at the mage towers. That sounds like magick to me!". He was right, it was Magick - Dark Magick. Emby still didn't know why anyone would do this to the kingdom. But she knew she had to undo their work.

She stood up and walked out of the temple, and stood in front of the thornwall. She walked into the wall. It hurt, but she heard the others follow. As she went through the thorns, she felt them dig into her skin. She felt them touch her and draw blood. She stifled her tears and pushed on through.

Her skin stopped hurting. She stood in front of a tower. One of the mage towers. They, as she looked back, were free and unharmed. Odd, she thought.

As they looked at the towers, she knew something was wrong. One of the towers was missing. The stones of it's foundations stood broken in it's place. Though in the middle of the circle, as a crystal ball. Red like blood.

As Emby picked it up, words appeared in it's mists, stark white like bone. "DORRIN IS MY NAME". She knew Dorrin, the high mage. He was smart enough to contain his power, evidently. "TAKE ME WITH YOU, I SHALL ASSIST YOU HOW I CAN.". "Do you know who is behind this?" Emby asked the ball. "I DO. IT IS VIOTOLA, THE WITCH WOMAN.". Emby did not know of her, and that made her angry. For someone to come into the kingdom and do all of this for no reason was just all wrong!

In a huff, she threw the mage to Dum, who almost dropped him. She walked to the barracks, the group in tow.

The warriors, like the marchants, were frozen in stone. As stone. The stood at arms. And in the middle of them was a beautiful woman. She was tall, shaped like a goddess and had eyes to match that lofty appearance. Her skin was pale and her smile was chilling.

"I have been waiting for you, little girl." The witch, Viotola said. "Yours is a great heart and mind for one so young.". "I want them. Both of them."

"Well! As powerful as you are..." The princess said, with bile. "...I WON'T let you have them!".

As she walked towards the witch woman, she got further away. As she thought to walk away, she got no closer. The witch laughed at her attempts.

Emby didn't know what to do. she looked to Alos, who said; "Believe in yourself!"

She looked to Harman, who said; "Face it head on! Face your fears!"

She looked to Dorrin, in the hands of Dum; "THINK!"

And Dum said; "There's another way!"

And then she knew.

She pinched herself.

And she awoke in a dark tower. The witch woman, now old and ugly, stood screaming at her; "HOW?! How did you escape?!!".

And Emby, without thinking, threw herself out into the only light in the darkness - the window.

She fell, for what seemed like forever. Into the arms of Dum and Harman. They, along with the rest of the villagers, the high mages and the king himself.

The villagers stormed the tower, and the witch herself jumped out of the window.

But no-one caught her.

And now, hand in hand with her friends. Queen Emby walks the roads of the kingdom every day. Hand in hand with Dum the unlucky, explorer of lost worlds - for he never knew how he found them. And hand in hand with her king, Harman - Proved worthy by the kings past for catching the glowtrout of the razorback river.

And she tells her children her dreams.

And sometimes they go with her.

Pulp. Part 3.

FROM THE AUDIO LOG OF: MIKE ANGELLINI, Sgt. 221098.

We just split up. I've got to keep these short, not that any of these junkie fucks would notice. It's the overseers I worry about. They're higher profile, just by looking at them. Big grey and red bands on the arms of their robes...

We all took a door on the top side of the house... I'm taking the one right next to this one...

Empty. It's just a bedroom. Odd though. There are 2 four poster beds in here, one with a green and gold sheet, the other with black and white. This is someone's chosen quarters. Or more than just one...

Just checked a trunk in between the beds. Found an old... Assessment? That's what it sounds like anyway... Talks about someone called "Forrester". He was talking to one of the bigwigs, a Mr. "Green". Green... Forrester... Sound like somebody was trying to open a nature society... Forrester passed whatever it was they were testing him on with flying colours apparently, instant admission to... Something. It's blacked out. A lot of words are. Sensitive material, eh?

Moving on to the next room...

Bathroom. Great.

The next room then... Hang on.

On the post of the green bed - there's a green keycard hung up from a nail. I'll be taking that for later...

In the next room. No-one here either. Just a load of garbage. Pamphlets, empty boxes and... Oh God! What the hell is that... Smell?! ...Urrgh... Severed head. There's a fucking severed head in a waste bag full of pamphlets... These people are fucked! If one of them even goes for me... I'm gonna open fire, I swear to God... Nothing else of use here... 2 doors.

Going left. Must be the one behind the dining room.

Yeah, the kitchen. I can see through the serving hatch of the dining room, no-one's here. I hope you guys are all right...

Back in the garbage room, checking right.

Just a study. This place looks clean enough. Must be used more often than the rest of this place... There's a book in the chair. "'Yddragsil' - Advanced botany studies" by someone called F.G.D. No other names on the cover, just the initials. The rest of the books don't look too interesting...

This place is cold... There must be a window open. Or not. There are no windows in this room, it's central... Then where?

The draft is coming from... Behind the fireplace?! I knew these rich types were eccentric, but I never thought I'd find a secret passage here! Just need to find how it opens... 

No switch that I can see... Just a painting above it of some big tree, with a guy hanging from it. Nice choice... If you're Gomez Addams. It looks pretty good though, no signs of smoke damage or even age... A part of it looks... Metallic.

Nope, not the switch - it won't push in. There has to be something in this room that'll open it... 

No room on the bookcase for anything that looks like a key... Or anything else... So where did...

Ah! Stupid ass! The book!

There! it was a magnetic lock! As soon as I lifted it up, it opened, it must have been built into the cover... Clever... But that's the creepy part - magnetic locks aren't old tech, this was new, recent. Who needs a government tech in a funny farm?!

No other ways out... I'm going in.

Tunnel - not too well lit. Not a natural one, it must bypass a load of rooms, I can hear people on the other side of the walls... Gotta keep quiet.

Eyeholes in the wall. Spy-ports.

Empty room, but it looks clinical. Applications room?

There's blood on the table... Moving on.

Another set. Looking in.

...I'm at the end of the corridor... That last room... It had something in it. It was too dark, but I could see it moving. It wasn't natural. Could be dying... Poor sap.

No sound in the next room. The door is the same as the fireplace on in size. There's a switch.

Empty. It's a huge hall. I'm in another fireplace. For somewhere that's meant to have a lot of people... This is a dead zone. Maybe I just lucked out and...

..."I understand, but...can be chalked...contain it and..."...

..."Just do as I...The...Will not...failure...stand?"...

...

2 overseers. they were talking about containment and they looked pretty worried. I don't blame them either, I'm close to bugging out...

One left from under me... There's a set of doors there. The other went to the right of me, so left... No door there... More secrets, I guess. But If they're going there, I have no need to. The scientist's aren't in such an open part of the building... And this keycard has to open something...

...

...

...

I just went through the double doors, past a group of people and into another set of rooms. One was empty, save for garbage and a statue... The other is... well, I don't know. I'm stood in a science lab... Or meth lab by the looks of it. Guess we know how they get their stuff. I'm stood in front of a metal door, leading back into the house. Punchline? Blue keycard, not green. Fuck. But at least I know what too look for now...

...

Statue room. It had a medal around it's neck in the shape of an eye. May come in handy.

...

...

...

...

I've found my way into the central garden. There's a greenhouse, needs a green keycard. Bingo. How's that for convenient? Going in.

"You there, stop!"

"*Shit...* Anything wrong?"

"Have you been assigned this duty?"

"Yes... But I still don't fully understand..."

"You will in time. Just assist the overseer, do what they need you to do."

"Ah. thank you."

...

I thought that was it... Goose cooked!

"Young man, are you my new assistant?"

"Yes, doctor..."

"Dryd"

"Doctor Dryd, crtainly. I'm still pretty new at this..."

"No worries, child. I just need to perform a physical and we can get started with your duties"

"*Physical...*"

"Here. take this."

"What is it?"

"Just a sugar tablet."

"Why?"

"I need to compare you to the other saplings"

"*Cute nickname...*"

"Sorry?"

"Nothing, Doc."

"Hm... Now, just check your heart rate... There, nothing bad. Take these."

"A blue and red card?"

"It'll give you access to the underground and the overground supply areas."

"Right. Dual access?"

"Right. I need you to go to the under-lab, get me some HCF2296 and some BM-6."

"Uh... It's all labelled, right?"

"Yes..."

"Right."

"Just take the exit there..."

"I'll be back soon, Doc... ARRGH!"

"Got you you sneak... Not knowing BM-6. Basic training for lab assistants to the cause. Who sent you?"

"Ffff... Fffffff..."

"Hm. The Choronall has really accelerated the transformation... Mouth full of splinters? Or Bark tongue?"

"Haar...Guoooh..."

"It's different each time... Like making a hybrid plant... But no need to even tell you this... You'll feel the glory soon enough, sapling..."

"AUUUOUGHN!"

"Play here, little guard. The board will need to know of your incursion..."

"GURRRRRRAAAAAAGHN!"

"No!"

*THUNK! THWACK!*

"Urrgh... You little fuck..."

*TUMPH...*

"Huuuuuuuurhn?"

"Hughack! Haaaaa..."

"Haaaaaa..."

RECOVERED RECORDING ENDS.

TO BE CONTINUED. 

Pulp. Part 2.

The pressure pads worked! We we're in...

And almost immediately met our first obstacle. Casey Janetty - remember him? The man-girl popstar? The one who did coke off out of the bellybuttons of prostitutes? "I'm ready for fun"?

Yeah. I'm not surprised you've never heard of him. Number 12 hit, followed by a number 8, then nothing. He dropped off of the map. In and out of rehab and the Betty Ford clinic. 

Now, stood in front of us - he looked just like... Nothing. Neither male, nor female or...

I'm getting ahead of myself, in my head.

He was right there. Like he was waiting for us.

"New recruits?" He said. We'd gotten off lucky. It was admissions season. They had plenty of new faces. "That area is for deliveries and maintenance staff only.". 

"Uh... Sorry." I said. It smiled and gestured to the room we were stood in. "I'm sure there's enough here without exploring too far away from the grounds... Or in places you shouldn't be.". That last part curled up like a question - a fair warning. "Sure, It'll never happen again.".

As for the room. It was huge, and a garish purple covered the walls. In the foyer, we're more drunks, fuckers and "blowpipers". The celebration of life - The baccae, if ever I saw it. An orgy of sin. The stairs were just as bad. I swear I saw a former child actor, all grown up and choking on someone else's... It doesn't matter.

After Janetty had sauntered away, Frank whispered to me. "This doesn't seem like the type of crowd who need scientists.". He was right. This just seemed like your run of the mill celebrity party... Just going on all the time. But they were there. We knew they were.

We headed across the way, to the next upstairs room, opposite the exit to the serving station, as Janetty had called it. It was a dining room. We decided to use it as a meeting point. 

All of the information in the next part comes from the audio logs of my team members.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Pulp. Part 1.

It's been 8 years since the events that took place on the Rentram Estate.

10.6 acres. Rentram Manor and the surrounding lands, including a forest and a brook.

All of it bathed in fire and lightning.

It was like any other mission. 5 man squad, search, rescue, pacify if necessary. We were looking for a group of scientists who had been captured by a group calling themselves the "Horus Progeny". Nutjobs. Cultists and zealots parading under the banner of an "Organisation" for celebrities and the obscenely rich.

All of them went to the Rentham estate and were never seen again.

I was the leader of the squad - my first big mission. Russell James was our driver. He managed to escape but never reported in after the drop off. I think he must have been smart enough to get out while the getting was good. With how much we all got paid for any mission, I think he could be in the Bahamas right now, on a private island. With Hula girls. A man can dream.

Leia was our "Foreign exchange", from the Norwegian branch of the company. Good medic. Pretty good with a pistol too. I guess that's basic training for their medics, I know ours don't get to even touch weaponry until a mission. But she was good. She hit everything she shot at. 

Mike was my right hand man. Always had been through the academy. He and "Maylene", his personal piece of ordinance. She kicked like a mule but got the job done with 110% effort. I miss him, even now.

Frank was a bruiser. Former marine boxer, trained in a handful of martial arts, mostly defensive. He was a good man, had a kind heart, and even grandchildren - something about a shotgun wedding back home for his daughter, I didn't want to ask. He did all the heavy lifting.

And me? I specialised in explosives. Usage and disarming. I remember every inch of the spec diagrams they provided me with in training, even now, so long after...

I should go from the beginning.

We got dropped off - 4 hour window. that should have been the first sign of worry. Why such a huge frame? I realised then that we'd be in stealth mode for a while, due to the cultists... But that would have been 2... maybe 2 and a half hours at most. The bigwigs knew something we didn't.

We had a huge amount of ground to cover. We couldn't stroll up the gravel driveway, so we cut to the edge of the woods and made our way around to the back of the compound. All the while, we saw things in the windows of the house. At speed, you don't put a lot of things together, but upon reflection, this is what I saw:

One set of huge windows had a couple of people fucking on it. On, literally, they were pressed up on it, humping like dogs. And at the end of the hedge was another person, just looking at them. Nothing sexual, he, or she, was just observing.

Another had a pair of people staring out. I like to think we escaped their notice. But I don't even know any more...

We turned past the side of the house, and looked across the huge back area. Like a giant patio, I can't remember the term. The pool at the end was empty, full of leaves and mulch from seasons past. There were people in it, doing whatever they liked. Mike pointed him out to me. Cameron Dooley, the action star - joined in '07 and quietly stepped out of the limelight. But that wasn't uncommon, isn't uncommon, even now. He was naked. He was drunk. He was singing. 

Back from the pool was a huge set of archways - some mock Greek design. Against the pillars were... bodies. At the time, I assumed they were just drunkards, like Dooley. But now... they were uniformly placed, all sat at the bottom of the pillars, arms reaching behind, but not tied up. It doesn't matter now.

The last parts of the back were just flat stone areas. On the left side, a couple making out. On the right, People were sat in a circle, playing some sort of game. We moved on before they saw us.

Attached to the side of the manor were the servants quarters. Smaller in comparison, but the size of a large house. To think what this place must have been like in the glory days, back up until the 20's. I read "The Great Gatsby" once. I'd like to think hearts and minds were woven and broken in a place like that. Back in purer times.

Inside, it was dank and dark. The once refined house was now a storage facility. On the ground floor, the floor was disjointed in places, and discoloured. Upstairs, it was fairly normal. Save for the interconnected door to the main house. It was newer than the rest of the place, save for the discoloured floor and hundreds of boxes. It had the eye on it. The cult symbol - the eye or Horus. We couldn't get the damn thing open, so we investigated the boxes.

Guns. Circuitry. Uniforms. Ammunition. They had enough of it to build a small fucking army! We decided, or rather, I decided, that we should try to "Blend in". We donned the uniforms and hid our own guns underneath. Now all we had to worry about was the Door.

Nothing would budge it. Frank pointed out that there must have been a switch somewhere. And we found it. The floor sections were pressure pads! The door juddered open and, after placing a box on each one, we entered the asylum.

PART 2 TO FOLLOW!

All in an Attempt to Eat a Hamburger.

*DING...*

Need to get that doorbell fixed.

Good evening. Daddy's burger shack?

Great! I'm fucking hungry, it feel like an age since I called.

Only 27 minutes, sir - if it were 30, you'd eat for free.

I'm not tight enough to stiff you on that. How much?

$12.65.

For a burger and fries?!

That, small coke and delivery.

I thought delivery was free. It's in the flyers for god's sake!

Yeah, part of Daddy's great scheme... Most people are so hungry they don't even question it. They don't even compare it to the in-store prices.

That's ...morally corrupt.

It's business. $12.65.

...Fine. But I hope you don't enjoy this.

You think I want to deliver other peoples food and clean up after them? It's easy, that's my motivation, not the management training program. I push a mop around for 5 hours, or deliver for the same amount of time, I can just breeze through it.

Don't you want to make something out of your life?

Sure, I just need money. See my problem?

Yeah. But there are other ways.

Not for me. I'll deal with it when it gets too bad.

Good luck, kid.

...

Fuck. Cold. Never talk to the help.

Fixation.

I have this friend...

Let's call him... Jim.

He has a problem. Whenever he... Sees a broken machine, he has to... You know. "Give it the once over".

He's a repair-man by trade... So this little problem could have just developed over time. I'd hate to think he was born with it.

What I mean, by "giving it the once over", is that he inspects it, and if he can't repair it, or isn't allowed to... Well, you can guess what happens next.

It's gotten him into some... Tight spots, and bad situations. Vending machines are like hookers to him. No lights, a sign, it doesn't take any kind of coins... He even did it once to a machine that was fine, apart from the fact one of the "OUT" bulbs was... out.

Then there are the doors. We just don't let him whenever we're nearby a broken door. But sometimes they're easily repaired, which solves the problem.

A rubbish dump is like a candy store, and a building site is a strip club - God knows 8 out of 10 machines on a site work - so a fifth of them are just ripe and waiting...

I... He doesn't know what to do... He almost lost his... well, the other day, we passed a car crash, nothing bad, but the cars involved were't moving. We stopped and lent a hand. They were waiting for Triple A, they were at a loose end... And so were we. We took our eyes off of him for a second, he started to... have sex with the car. We fixed the car, it started... and there was an almighty scream, followed by intense pain.

We just don't want it to become a problem on his wedding night. So many gifts, so little time...

And don't get me started on those slutty ice machines...

An Open Letter to Karma.

Dear Sir or Madam,

I represent a single party, interested in the interests of fairness, which you, in singularity, represent.

You, as the singularity, have fucked me over too often.

I don't try to do bad things, they just happen to me. This, I feel, I could attribute to you as well. I'm given opportunities to do wrong, and it's too easy. May I suggest you make it incredibly obvious or blunt to the focused party that what they are doing is VERY VERY BAD.

Also, I would like a clear definition of how good acts are, as well the bad. Some kind of chart would help. And labels.

Also... As an act of penance, I would like to apologise to all of those people I've done bad things to. That's partly why I'm in here, and writing this letter. I just feel shitty about the whole deal.

I just want to let them know I'm sorry.

Signed.

Larry Sullivan, P.N. 5563802.

Meanwhile... At the Legion of Evil Body Parts.

I feel like shit.

I feel like absolute shit.

Both in mind and body.

In body. I know I've eaten a lot of different food in my life, but I should have known the taste of "off shrimp". It was slimy, the whole dish. All I got from it was the taste hidden behind the rot, my tongue wanted me to suffer. Not just me, my intestines, my bowels and my anus. My tongue is in league with the legion of evil body parts - Along with the part of my brain that makes me say stupid shit to women, my left nut, and my sinuses.

One more part and there'll be a revolution.

Anyway, I now feel like a cannon. One of those old civil war era cannons, the ones with the sound and thunder, as well as the boom. My stomach won't stop rumbling. My farts stink like a dead chicken, a long dead chicken. The pain is unfathomable. It's given me a headache.

The irony? I can't "Get rid of the problem", if you see what I mean. Nothing comes out. I think the LoEP has blackmailed my bowels... They must be punished.

As for mind? I'm not talking about the poop-headache. I did something stupid. Call it the throes of pain, or just my own personal human nature. Man, the gender, does a lot of stupid things. I've now telegraphed the problem, I guess. Love is the key.

I SAID something stupid, I'll just clarify that. I said something stupid to a person I love very much. She just didn't know that.

In fact, I said SEVERAL stupid things. Mostly to her, but one to my boss. It was a nightmare.

Okay, so first, my boss. Everyone HATES their boss. Deep down, past any kind of awkward attraction, be it male or female. Past the things you have in common with them. Even past the odd little in-jokes you, and most likely all of your co-workers, share with the boss. Deep down, you hate them, HATE THEM RAW.

My hate just... Came out. He was riding me about a report I forgot to file the night before - It wasn't urgent, and I remembered and did it the next day. But that wasn't enough for him, the ass. He started yelling at me, cussing too. He even breached company policy and outright called me a "Dumb Motherfucker". That was the last straw, really.

So I punched him out.

Well, not just that. I took him out of his chair, and THEN punched him out. Multiple times. In the face. And groin. It felt good.

I was fired, but damn if it wasn't liberating. I'm now awaiting an assault charge. That's what sucks.

And now, as for "Her.".

She's perfect. She laughs at all my jokes. She's into what I'm into. And she's smoking hot.

So, if we're so perfect together, what could I have possibly done to fuck it up?

3 simple words.

I love you.

Now she won't even talk to me.

That's the real kicker. Not even a no. Just dead air.

That's worse than the bowel pain.

Almost.

The Legend of Halo Peak.

Now, Child. Come closer. And I'll tell you a story.

This is the story of the tallest of the first mountains. The Halo Peak.

I am close to this story, Child, as it was the story of my Great-Grandfather, Jerold, the explorer.

Now Jerold was a daring man. Not careless, or reckless, just daring. He dared to see what most men shy from.

He decided one summer's day to climb the Halo Peak, so see what makes the halo inside of the clouds around it. We cannot see it from here, but close to it, there is a pale golden light that comes from around the mountain, this is what he wanted to see.

So he set off.

As he climbed, the air was thinning with every inch. In an alcove, he made a prayer to Ilna, goddess of storms, mighty and beautiful, for air to reach him in such a lofty place. He gave unto the wind a portion of his food, from the bag he and my Great-Grandmother, Ninrab, prepared together. And then he slept. 

In his dreams, he saw the heavens themselves open above him, crashing lightning down onto the land below. It broke the mountain below him, stopping him from making his way back, as if to say "Jerod! You commit yourself to a great task, we expect to see you succeed or die trying!"

When he awoke, he felt strong, and rich. The air was thick with mist, a good sign, and an omen from Ilna herself. 

And he began to climb once more.

After a day or so of climbing, he rested in a cave that went deep into the mountain. Upon awakening, he found himself hanging upside down from iron shackles! It was a Trollen den. Trollen are not in the habit of eating humans, unless they are stupid enough to sleep in the mouth of one of their dens. He was alone, in the darkness... Or so he thought.

From in the darkness, two dish-like green eyes shone from the shadows. It was a Trollencub, a mere child. Jerod asked:

"Child, how many of your people are there in this den?"

"Dozen.", it said back.

Jerod was in deep trouble. He had not packed any weapons, not expecting a battle. He talked once more to the cub.

"Child, am I to be eaten?"

"Yes."

"I do not wish to be eaten."

"And I do not wish to eat you. Your kind are bloody, and wet."

"Then, will you let me go?"

"No, my papa would be angry. He is the boss."

The child left. Jerod was once again in darkness. He closed his eyes and began to pray.

"Salk. My lord, Salk. I am not a man of battle, I am a scholar. But I am in trouble. If there is anything I can give you, anything in my power, It is yours. Please, I beg of you, help me."

And the ground shook. The walls rumbled. Then, there was silence.

Jerod fell from the wall, and crawled in the heavy manacles, towards the light of the next room.

In the light of the fire, Jerod was witness to a dozen or so slain Trollen, in a manner of ways, but it seemed they had gone down fighting. By the fire, stood the Trollen Cub, and a man in bronze armour. Jerod knew him, and bowed his head.

The bronze man, walked to him and tore off the iron manacles. He stood Jerod up and said:

"Jerod. You owe me a debt. Since it is in your power, I shall take your first born child, yet unborn. When the child is then born, I shall come to you."

And with that, the bronze man walked away, along with the Trollen cub. Out into the darkness of the night.

And with that, Jerod began to climb again.

A day and night passed hence until he stopped again. The sun was beating down upon him, fierce like the lion. Jerod was too hot to continue.

He slept.

In his dream, the sun grew and grew, turning him to ashes. Then, the night came, clothing him in starlight and darkness. He was cool once more, reborn from fire.

Jerod awoke to sunset. He was cool still. And, leaving a portion of his food under the shade of a rock for the brothers of night and day, he began to climb again.

Now, he was without food, and his water was gone.

For 4 days, he climbed the mountain, before collapsing on a plateau.

He began to weep. He was close to death. One last prayer went out in his tears:

"Mighty Gods! I, your servant have done as you commanded, I have climbed the mountain. Why must you see fit to take me when I have not reached the summit? I beg for mercy!"

And he collapsed, dead.

But mercy came.

In a dream, or at least he thought it to be a dream, he stood before the shadows, in the light. Beside him was a trail of blossom petals, from the trees in his homeland. He followed them.

They lead him to a huge tree, a gargantuan tree! A young girl sat on the lowest branch. Jored, the scholar, the explorer, the blessed, knew her. He bowed to her, and she smiled. She jumped down from the tree, and kissed Jored upon his cheek, then pulling him to the tree. He ate from the tree, it's fruit tender and juicy and refreshing. When he had eaten his fill, the young girl pulled him to the trunk of the tree, showing him a crack in the bark. She ripped at it with unlikely strength, making the hole within bigger and bigger. When it was man sized, she smiled and walked inside. He followed.

Jored awoke on the plateau, sated from hunger and thirst. The once barren rocks were now covered in moss and wild flowers.

With this blessing, he climbed for the last time.

Through and through the blanket clouds he went, not knowing where the top could be, until...

He could climb no more. He stood upon a vast plain of grass, the first grass, grass from the first rain. Above him was the clear sky, hidden by the clouds, the sun bright and vast in front of him.

A wind almost threw him from the top. Above him, flying low, was a dragon. A long, huge, golden dragon. It flew around the top of the mountain, in a circle.

The dragon came down, and spoke to Jerod.

"I knew you would come, Jerod."

"Who are you, dragon?"

"I am one of the Godqueen's children. The first dragon. I am Draise."

At the end of the dragon's tail was a huge gemstone, a dark royal blue in hue.

"Dragons hoard treasure. As I was the first, my task was to seek it out. I am bound to the sky, the only treasure here is the stone in my tail."

"A cruel joke."

"Perhaps, or the answer to your question."

Jerod was overcome with joy. 

"Thank you, Draise."

The dragon took to the air, grabbing Jerod in its talons. It flew down the mountain, at a breakneck pace. As it reached the bottom, it was seemingly pulled back up by some unseen force. It threw Jerod down into Lake Donnby below, the water breaking his fall.

When he arrived back in town, he told his story to the people, happy to see him return alive.

To all but his family, he kept the secret of the halo.

As I now expect you to do.

Promise?

How we Came to Know the World.

In the beginning, the land was barren.

Nothing could have come out of the land.

Then one day, the clouds above the land parted and clumped together, shining the light of the sun onto the wasteland.

This sunlight warmed the ground, broke the soil and made it fertile.

Then, from the clouds, the first rain fell. And it fell for 30 days, making the ground into mud, cutting at it to form the lakes and rivers, pushing the hard land up into the sky to make the mountains.

The 3 highest mountains - Now known as Godpeak, Spire, and Halo - Reached up into the sky, past the clouds. As they pushed through the clouds, the clouds broke against the rugged rock, and ran down the side of the mountains, making the first snowfall.

The muddy land dried. Some became even more fertile, growing the wondrous plants of the jungle and forest. Some dried out, making the deserts. As for the rest, they formed the fields, meadows and hills we see today.

Somewhere, in this new fertile land, there was a lagoon. It was deep and clear. Hidden by a rocky peak, shaded from the beating sun and rain. In the centre of the lagoon was a tree. A huge tree, a tree of life. This tree bore many fruit of all shapes and sizes. The heaviest of the fruits fell into the lagoon, and the lightest were picked off of the tree by the wind. The sunken fruit became the fish of the rivers and the seas, finding their way through the exits under the land. The flying fruit became the birds, moving all across the continent. Other fruits, ones which did not sink or fly, floated across the lagoon. These became the animals of the land, working their way across the world.

There was still fruit on the tree - large fruit. These fruits fell from the tree and became Man and Woman. They lived around the tree, eating the fruit. They soon became tired of the lagoon, and decided to see what was on the other side of the water.

They swam through the water. And when they emerged, they had been transformed.

Through this, we came to know the Gods themselves.

First to test his power was Kanastus, the God of sleep and the night. He darkened the earth, and allowed the world to slumber, if only for a while. This was the first night.

Second was Fareh, God of the Sun. He pulled the sun up from it's hiding place, as it feared the darkness of night. He brought the morning to the world.

Third was Xine, Goddess of death. Her touch brought eternal slumber to the mortal animals. She feared being amongst the mortal world, so resigned herself to stay with the tree that could not die, and care for the souls that would be reborn from the tree. This is how Xine also became the Goddess of Rebirth, judging the souls or mortals.

Forth was Ilna, Goddess of the weather. She brought about the summer and the winter, as well as the storms and the tempest. Hers is a power great and terrible, and we must show respect to her always.

Fifth was Giloc, God of the hunt. He hunted the great animals of the land to sate the appetite of the gods. He later gave the mortal man the power to hunt.

Sixth was Dorsam, God of every ocean. He made the waves, and his steeds within the foam.

Seventh was Salk, God of battle and war. His gift, or curse, was strength to the mortal man. His is a great and terrible story.

Eighth was Yedrill, Goddess of the hidden lands. She made the giants, the dwarves, the elfen and the mundane creatures of the woods. She also made the types of plant and tree we see today. The flowers on the peak of the cactus are her eyes, I have been told.

Ninth was Undron, God of work and the harvest. He made tools for the gods and mortals to work on the land. He made the harvested crop into bread, he made the fish edible, and the bird also. We give thanks to him for his gifts.

Tenth was the cursed son. We must never speak his name, for he corrupts the flesh and blood of man, making them his vessels on earth. He made the Bane, the Hate, and the Nemesis - the three powers of darkness. Through his power, the monsters came to be upon the earth. None know were he went in place of Godpeak. Some say the Cape of eternity, though only one has dared to scale it's peaks. The cursed son made the dark magicks.

Eleventh was Hohaen, Goddess of Art and Ingenuity. She thought of the things mankind dared not to. She made the mysteries of the world, the legendary beasts and monsters, and allowed mankind to use magicks. She is our Queen of the Gods.

Last was the Godking, Edronai. He brought power of the heavenes themselves, and the power to change fate itself. He made the heroes, made the Scriers, and he made the gods immortal. Praise was great to the first Godking, now fallen.

More gods followed, but are now long forgotten or seldom talked about. And even some of the first pantheon have now passed from this world. 

The first pantheon passed into the halls of Godpeak, out of mortal eyes.

The gods, like the mortals that followed in their image, had children as well - Long have we worshipped Kaexen, Godprince of Night and Disasters, in both his father and mother's image and profession. Though all know Xine cannot truly die.

Likewise, we worship Godprince Hadarim, Born of hope and cunning, the god of luck and chance. 

There are other stories of our land, of Magekin and Witches, of Giants and Dwarves, and of Heroes.

But those are for another time.

This, was the first story.

This is Halloween.

I hate this time of year.

For one, it's americanised bullshit. Trick or treat and the like.

Secondly, my name doesn't lend itself to the season. Samuel Haine. Samhain. Never used to be a problem, now with the internet people just fucking know.

I carve a pumpkin or two. Just for fun. My brother always makes the same old "Sweeney Todd" joke - "At last, my arm is complete again!" - Lucky it hasn't always been like that. Johnny fucking Depp. Tim fucking Burton.

That's another thing. "Nightmare before christmas". Why it's never shown on Halloween I'll never know. Usually on at about 2am on ITV at new years! Neither Halloween or Christmas!

Anyway, pumpkins. I love making these artsy-fartsy style pumpkins. I did one with roman columns all around it one year. Won a prize for it - book voucher, but still. It's either that or really fucked up stuff. The bro usually ends up attempting to carve a vagina on his ones but either chickens out or fucks it up.

Thing I like about Halloween is the fact you can scare people and they won't care, or try to attack you. Not like any other time of the year.

I can go out in bloody overalls and brandish a hatchet - and people won't give a shit. No matter what I've done or intend to do.

Be a smashing night for a murder.

Cliched. But smashing nonetheless.

Sometimes I just sit in the road and act like a psychopath. If anyone comes close, I jump up and scream like a madman, waving a weapon around before moving on to the next road.

That can go wrong of course. Like the time the car didn't stop. Nothing serious, just a bitch of a bruise on my side for about 2 weeks.

Something I'd like to do is just go and sit in a graveyard. On Hallow's eve of course. See how many little gothy chicks I can see and subsequentially scare. Last year, I went into one, just passed through. There were a group of goths, none over the age of 14. Lot of girls, about 60/40 in the group. They were stood around chanting and laughing, trying to raise the dead or summon a demon.

I had to interject.

Just set them straight. The spell the lead boy had printed off of the net - See what I said about the internet? - was bogus. Just theatrics. I told them of the Baccae, the Hecate and of the Pandem. The latter are a small spanish sect of satanists, they think the rock of Gibratar is the entrance to Pandemonium, the capital city of hell.

I told them to try the Baccae. Dismemberment, rape and the sheer release of restraint. Just get fucking filthy. The lead guy tryed to shoo me away. Seriously. Waving his hands and everything. So I pushed him down the hill. He got knocked out. So I took control.

Those kids were energetic. Loved the process of the Baccae... But couldn't take the mess. Vomiting is good for the worship though. I'll always remember those girls...

The results were... Unexpected.

They all later died of massive wounds... Hm.

That's why I want to go all night.

And the night is young.

Making up for lost time. Sinner 66 heads for home.

This place never changes.

Been here all my life. Nothing has ever changed.

No new shops, banks, cafes or even new machines in the arcade.

And nothing has ever shut either.

Everyone just seems to get along fine.

I can't deny that they might be going through the motions.

But then, I wouldn't know if they'd ever haven't, if you see what I mean.

I need to get out of here.

"Harman", I say to myself, "You need to get out of this hole before the walls fall in and you're running the Texmax station.".

...

Then again. Weird things happen here. And I'm the only one who notices.

Rats stand upright and talk in the alleyways. They talk like we do, about inconsequential things, to them at least. Pleasentries and small talk. "How's the wife, Stephen?", "Fine, Morris. How's Hattie and the kids?". I think I must be going insane.

No other animals do this, Just the rats.

The cats just stare. Or sleep. When they stare, they look at your soul. They don't judge, I think. Feel. They just look. Some walk away, some nuzzle your leg, some hiss and spit. There's no colour or breed to it. Everyone's an individual.

The dogs are too dumb to do anything it seems. But at night... They act like wolves. Maybe that's just animal instinct magnified by 10 or... just the release from civility.

I could go on and on but... I met a man the other day.

Average height, build and features. Black and white barred shirt. Black trousers.

Wicked smile.

I'll always remember that smile. Like a shark, or... No, just a shark. only on half of his face. Sign of a guy who can't let his guard down, always prepared to do something.

I was in "Clifftop Cafe" - ironic for a place in the centre of town. It was moved at somepoint they say, but there are no records for any of it. Unsurprisingly.

He came and sat in the booth with me. My personal booth in the corner.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sitting here."

"I know, but you're not here, you're there. Don't be greedy, that'll kill ya."

He talked like a sleazebag. That's the only way I could describe it. A sleazebag. Grifter. Con-man.

"Well, do you mind finding somewhere else to sit?"

"Yes. I do mind. I'm looking for conversation as well as a meal, and frankly, you're the most interesting looking person in here."

Ballsy. And I can't exactly say "No, I'm boring.".

"Fine..."

"Thank you."

The waitress comes over. Kelly. I've had a crush on her since... I think since I was about 12. As puberty went into overdrive, I can't deny she'd become a focus for my lust. I remember having to eat a rotten apple for Max Derreckson, cause he had "Pictures" of her when she was about 15, like we were - She was in one of these slutty phases all girls go through. The stomach pump was worth it.

"Hey Harm."

"Kel', Hi."

"Usual?"

"Sure."

"Who's your friend?"

Million dollar question.

"I'm Jerry."

"Nice to meet you, Jerry. Any friend of Harmans is a friend of mine."

"The pleasure is ALL mine".

Sleaze. I'd been doing the whole slow and steady approach for years. Like I was going to let this nutbag get into her pants.

"He'll have a green tea."

"Okay, be right back!"

...

"Well, that was smooth, Harman."

"Is your name really Jerry?"

"God no. I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet."

"Then who are you?"

"An everyman."

"I doubt that."

"You're right. I'm nobody."

"...I want to doubt that."

"But you can't. You A) Don't know me. Literal nobody. And B) I'm not a local. I don't know what it is with you Brits and territory. If it isn't local, it isn't safe."

He was right. He wasn't local. I hadn't noticed his American accent. Could have been Canadian, I'm not one for voices.

"So what can I call you?"

"In front of her? Jerry. But call me Jay."

"Fine."

"What kind of name is 'Harman'?"

"My parents were vindictive, I think."

"Does it flow?"

"Flow?"

"With your second name?"

"Harman Croire."

"...That's... Wow."

"Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else did."

"I'm sure she didn't."

"Yep. For a little while."

"Speaking of."

Kel came over with a green tea and a black coffee for me.

"There we are guys, let me know of you want anything."

"Thanks, Kel'."

"Much obliged."

...

"So, you crushing on her as much as she is on you?"

"...What?"

"It's obvious, a blind man could see it. He could even hear the awkward silence between you."

"..."

He was right. About the awkward silence, the dead air. I didn't know she had a crush on me though. At the time.

"Want a couple of pointers?"

"What? For talking to her?"

"For scoring, genius. No need to be subtle around me."

"I don't need your help. I don't even know who the hell you are and why you're in a hole like this."

"Straight to the point. I like it."

He lay across the seat, putting his feet up.

"Look, Harmy-"

"Harman. Or Harm, if you really need to."

"Harman. The point is this. How long have you been waiting for her to fall into your arms?"

"Uh..."

"Right. See how this has never worked?"

"I guess."

"I want you to go over there and ask her to go to the movies with you."

"What?!"

"It never... Well, it does hurt to try, but you'll never get anything if you don't try."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained?"

"If you like."

"So you just want me to go over there and risk losing a great friend?"

"You didn't listen to me earlier. I said she's crushing on you too."

"How do you know?"

"I'm good with people. I just know. Call it body language or whatever, I just have the knack."

The knack. A word which inspires confidence in people. If someone says they have the knack for something, you trust them in that area. If they're a specialist, instead of a savant, you can trust them. One of the many things I learnt from "Jay".

"So, you go over there and ask her out. Don't stretch it out or you'll chicken out."

"You say this like I'm actually gonna do it."

"You are. You can't wait forever, and neither will she."

"...Alright. Say I do. What happens then?"

"That's all I can tell you. I'm not a mind reader."

"Then what are you?"

"A sin reader."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I can see sins on a person."

"Is that how you saw that she liked me?"

"No. I told you, I know people. Two different things."

"Oh."

...

"What do you see on me?"

"Knew that was coming."

"If you tell me, I'll go ask her out."

"Damn. That's shrewd. Alright."

"..."

"Sloth, lust, pride, greed. In that order."

"How am I-"

"You really can't argue this one."

"I'd say my lust is lower than my pride though."

"Well now it is, Mr. Humble."

"No wrath or envy?"

"You ever kill anyone?"

"No!"

"There we go then."

"Why can you see sins?"

"That's a whole different kettle of fish, my friend. You have a deal to fufill."

"...Fine."

He smiled as I got up. Big shiteating grin. Fucker. I was shitting butterflies. This was my holy grail. I was at the edge of the abyss of eternity. She turned to face me as I got up there.

"Hey, you done with the coffee?"

"Not yet. I have something I want to ask you."

"Shoot."

"..Uh..."

"What's wrong?"

"Bit of an upset stomach. It'll pass."

"Alright... If you're sure."

"Yeah... Hm... This'll seem odd, but-"

I looked back at Jay. He looked to be on the edge of his seat.

"Look. Do you... Maybe... Wanna go out with me some time?"

My heart stopped for a second, waiting for the reply.

"..Sure. When?"

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Just bits. I said "Really?!" at one point. Jay clapped all the while. Kelly blushed a lot, and smiled.

I was happy.

Then came the realisation.

I had nothing else in my life apart from her.

It's sad. My holy grail was nothing more than an eggcup.

I went back to the booth, and downed the coffee in one long gulp.

"So, was it everything you dreamt of?"

"Yeah..."

"And no, right?"

"You found me for a reason, didn't you?"

"Yep. On behalf of my employer. You're perfectly suited to the job he wants me to offer you."

"And what's that? A sin reader?"

"No, though you'd be with one - Me, most likely."

"Then what would I be?"

"A consultant."

"In what field?"

"This one."

He pointed out of the window.

"The town?"

"Bingo."

"Why?"

"You can see things, right?"

He threw me a curveball. How did he know? I later found out. But at the time, I was like "What the fuck?!".

"Kinda."

"Good enough. Finish your coffe and we'll head to your place. The kit should have been delivered by now."

"What?"

"Drink up and say goodbye to your girlfriend."

I did and I did. The date went well. But we agreed we weren't ready for a relationship.

Told you this town never changes.

It doesn't. I have.

I work at the edge of insanity. At the edge of the Locus.

It may never change, but it's always never changing.

Order and chaos in balance.

But even then, it never changes.