Atrophy

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

@JulienJadenI can second this recommendation.

VIGILANCE: Sanctuary

Hopefully we can get the ball moving and get the convoy on the road now.

@Lord Wraith

A little inspiration for ya'll.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

@FlaggOh man, I am adding that Lake Monsters book to my to-read list. Which is now around...30-something books. Great! That second book seems like it's something I'd love to hear someone talk about, but would instantly glaze over if I ever tried to read it. What were you thinking about in terms of a second character?

@KingfisherComplete disregard for the timeline. A quick Google search tells me that you read the third book first, not the second. But it looks like it's a crime fantasy novel, right? Huh! Never thought you'd be interested in that sort of thing. ;D

@JulienJadenBill Bryson is my dude! I tried reading that book but it was during a time where I was so busy that reading anything cut into my very awful World of Warcraft relapse. You're listening to it again? Okay, I'm going to pick it back up. You should see if you can find an audio version of "A Walk in the Woods" by him.

How about yourself?

Right, me. Okay.

1)If @RedDusk gives me a shout, I might have Valorie do a collab with Sander. Otherwise, I'm probably going to cool my heels for a minute before doing another solo post. I am very excited to see when our wonderful GM decides to surprise me and send that Irish monster-demon-alien lady after ol' Val.

2)I'm currently reading The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which is a fun little story about the Devil visiting an atheistic, communist Moscow in the 1920s and pretty much just screwing people over. It's my first classic Russian novel I ever read so some of it is a little dense or mentions things I never heard of, but there is a nice little note section in the back to help explain what certain things meant. Plus, the concept and the story beats are just too cool.

I just finished Here Are The Young Men by Rob Doyle, which is an Irish novel about a bunch of recent high school graduates being terrible teenagers and doing drugs. I'm mixed on it. The characters were a little static. There were some points where I felt like the author was trying too hard to be controversial. I can't tell if the point was to make the main narrator completely unlikable and the author did an incredible job, or if he was trying to make him relatable and completely blew it. Still, it was fun to read, had a neat ending, and kept me entertained, although in that kind of terrible way where you watch a reality show on TV because you hate everybody on it.

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

Don't mind me, I'm just here to shake the dust offa this OOC with some questions for my best super pals. That's you guys. You guys are my pals; sorry you had to find out like this.

Question 1!

How are the posts going? Anyone in need of some inspiration, motivation, collaboration, or further aggravation? Because I am good at all of the above.

Question 2!

Since it has already been established that we are now super pals, I feel like I kinda sorta need to know things about you so I can quietly judge you from behind the safety of my computer screen become closer buds with ya. So, since this is a website about writing shit, let's talk about reading shit.

What books ya been reading? How are they? If you aren't reading something, why?

VIGILANCE: Sanctuary

@NemaisareMan, I love stuff like that. Thanks for pointing it out.

_{Might steal the impressions idea now that I think about it...}

VIGILANCE: Sanctuary

@Stein@HillanThere, just for you guys.

VIGILANCE: Sanctuary

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The Convoy, Outside Pointe Bordeaux | Grace Kennison

March 18, 2016 - 2 Missed Calls, 2 New Voicemails, 1 Unread Message from Joseph

---

Grace felt a heat wave of anger and embarrassment flood over her body as the man she had dragged to the convoy called her an idiot for the second time that day. She now certainly felt like she had been an idiot for helping him out in the first place as the man continued to shove his own foot further and further into his mouth. She had thought she lacked tact, but at this rate the man would be noshing on his entire leg in no time. Part of her felt like it would be for the greater good if she picked him up by the ankles, spun him around like she was an olympian, and hammer threw his ungrateful rear back into the swamp she had found him in. The seasonable part of her knew that would be terrible for at least a hundred thousand reasons with the top one being that it would actually prove his allegations about her intelligence to be accurate. Grace also imagined the insanely crippling amount of guilt and the stigmata that comes with being a murderer would be pretty big bummers, too.

Still, the man was truly pissing her off. Disgusting her. Lucas (she believed that military man had called mister search-and-seizure Lucas) had discovered some nugget of information on the man the same way he had discovered that her varsity jacket was really Joseph’s. However, his secret was much, much worse judging by the implications. She glowered at the man as he tried to use broken logic to convince the others to take him in. She wanted to yell at him, to drop him with the Golden Rule straight from the Sermon on the Mount, to bring him to justice, to punch him, to go old testament on his—crrrrrrrrrrrrack!

Wide-eyed, Grace looked down at the helmet in her hand. A low, quiet groan escaped from her mouth as she was greeted by the splintered mask. The upsetting man had made her forget about it completely, and in her annoyance she had forgotten to hold her strength back. The mouthguard was totally ruined, and there was a web of cracks over the tinted eye protectors. She walked a few yards away from the men, shaking her head in frustration. She couldn’t listen to them anymore. She turned the mask over in her hand. It wasn’t completely ruined, right? Man, Joseph is going to freaking kill me, she thought. She sighed with relief as the mask fit over the top of her head. She carefully took it back off and put it in her bag for safe keeping.

Unzipping the bag, she was greeted by the blinking light on her silenced phone. A message, call, email, update, tweet, notification? It likely wasn’t anything important, but she couldn’t refuse the temptation to find out check it. It gave her an excuse to bury her face into a tiny screen instead of, gulp, having an actual conversation. She pushed the button on the side. Her first thought wasn’t one of fear or concern, but annoyance. If she missed a call, it meant she was busy and didn’t have her phone. Calling her a million times would never change this. She was about to read the message when the phone lit up again. It was Joseph.

“Finally!” her brother yelled over the line before she could say anything. “Are you safe? Can you hear me? Grace?” She could hear the fear in his voice. “Grace? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, laughing nervously. “Are you—”

“Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone! Jesus, I thought you were doing something stupid. Listen, Grace, I know you think this would be a good time to get some publicity, but you can’t do anything in this situation, okay? Take the day off. Hell, the week,” said Joseph. He was rambling, not letting her get a word in edgewise. “We got to make sure this things aren’t legit, or make sure they can’t hurt you. You’re out of costume, right? Think you can grab one so we can do some tests later?”

“Joseph, I literally do not know what you are talking about,” she said. Today, she felt like she didn’t understand anything that anyone was talking about.

“How do you not know what I’m talking about? The, the, the, the thing, grab one of those things, and then get the hell out of there,” he said.

“Oh yeah, those things, no, I totally got you now,” she said dryly. “Listen, it’s not my spot to tell you whether or not to get high in the middle of the day, but please tell me you didn’t do it inside. You know I hate the smell, so…”

“Grace, you are a real idiot sometimes!” he said. She grimaced. “The taser-gun-whatever-thing. That thing. Grab one and then get out, okay?” There was a pause. “You did go to that rally, right?”

“The…” Oh, right. “Yeah, about that. Well, I, um, got a little distracted.”

“Seriously?” said Joseph. She couldn’t tell if he was relieved or angry. “Fine, okay, no that’s good. Probably best that you aren’t in that crowd of maniacs. Yeah, this is good. So where are you?” She told him that she was at the old plantation. “Why the hell are you out there?” She gave him a truncated version of what happened. When she mentioned the convoy, the speaker next to her ear almost exploded. “What the fuck are you doing with the convoy? Get the fuck out of there, okay?”

“Look, I’m fine, they aren’t going to do anything weird to me, okay?” she said. That had already happened. “I just want to walk around for a bit, talk to some people, and then I’ll come home for dinner. Okay?”

“Oh my god, Grace, how do you not know what’s going on?” he said. “Look, I can’t really explain all of this craziness. It’s bad. Like, real bad, okay? Just get on Twitter.”

Although skeptical, Grace obliged her brother. Clicking on bird icon, her personal account pulled up. Scrolling through a feed of strangers talking about their personal lives, bands advertising for concerts she would never be able to attend, and an ungodly amount of pictures of animals, her eyes widen with horror as it settled upon a new string of messages, each one ending in the same hashtag. She clicked on the hashtag, delving deeper into a cesspool of anger and hate. She felt her stomach twist as she thumbed through the feed, gathering the whole picture one hundred and forty characters at a time. There was a video. She clicked on it, her teeth gritting as she watched some corporate prick knocked out some poor wage slave while the crowd went wild like animals. Her eyes fell on one of the top comments.

Oh God.

Her feet were already moving, kicking up mud as she ran through the convoy back towards the group of men. She ran by the oddity of a miniature sun, her head not even turning to look as the unusual sight as her mind raced in pace with her beating heart. She didn’t slow as she came upon the group still arguing over the loathsome man. Grace tucked around a girl and caught sight of the black beret. She slowed her pace as she got closer to the man, out of fear of causing a panic and losing her footing and knocking him out with her body. Halting right in front of him, the girl shoved her phone right into his face so that he could clearly read the message:

Freak show Convoy at Old Foster's Plantation. If we don't protect ourselves, who will? No Hypes in our Home. #StoptheHypes

“You guys have to get out of here. It’s not safe,” said Grace, trying to keep her voice low as she scrolled through a list of similar comments. “The cops aren’t doing anything about this. It’s like a mass hysteria or something,” she said, dropping the phone into her bag and pulling out her cracked mask. She gave Tarvos a look completely devoid of confidence and then slid the mask over her face, her spiderwebbed visor blocking out the uncertainty in her eyes.

“I’m want to help you guys, okay? I might not look it, but I can really pull some weight,” she said, realizing as the words came out of her mouth how stupid they really were. “What I mean...oh, nevermind. We got to warn the others, right?”

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@The Darklight ProjectGood to go!

Although the implication that you'll dismember us if we do not speak up is kind of morbid, boss...

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

The sun was beginning to peek down at Valorie as she watched the cab drive off, the silhouette of—My what? Guardian? Mentor? Or..—disappearing behind a corner. The book he had given her was pressed close against her chest, his card serving as a bookmark for the parts she had already devoured while in the cab. His parting gift, a cigarette, burned slowly in her mouth as she backed up beneath an awning. A quick scan of the streets revealed to her that she was in a safe enough part of town, all things considered. Violent crimes still happened in the nice parts of Santa Somabra, but they always happened quietly behind closed doors and came only after astronomical exchanges of currency. She doubted she’d run into one of the Fifth Street Rats seeking retribution, assuming that masked monster from the night before had let any of them slip away. Somehow she doubted it, but she still felt uncomfortable. Anxious. Watched.

She looked at the reddish runes on her right hand. At a quick glance or to the untrained eye they looked like little more than overzealous scribblings of an aspiring art student working part-time as a bouncer who had, once again, failed to catch her fake ID. Valorie knew the markings would fade away, and she wouldn’t say that she was completely upset with having Francis be able to know where she was. Considering how she had almost become another statistic last night, she could even convince herself that it was a good thing.

The discomfort came from somewhere else then. She did feel out of place in this part of town. True, she was safe from any wandering Rats, because they knew not to shove their coked-up little noses into these more civilized parts of town—if the cartels and mafias didn’t beat them back into the sewers and slums, then the cops did. She knew she wasn’t safe from them. Valorie had seen her face in the rearview mirror of the cab. She didn’t know what made her uglier: her new busted lip or her bruised cheek that was plum purple. Valorie had ignored the questioning glances the cabbie threw between his two passengers—Who gave a fuck what a cab driver thought? But, as she slowly smoked her only cigarette, she could only think that the only way to make her stick out more as a Rat to cops and thugs would have been to throw on some Mickey Mouse ears, paint some whiskers around her nose, and stand on the corner of the street while shooting junk into her veins. It was only a matter of time before she would be hassled.

The feeling was made worse by the knowledge that she would still end up in a car with a goddamn cop regardless of what happened while she waited. Her phone had gone missing (as well as the rest of her stuff) but she knew it would be insane to try and find him at the station, so she had Francis text Rich to come pick her up in front of this fancy restaurant. And there the devil was, pulling up to the sidewalk in a stylish sports car that was well beyond the paygrade of a typical cop. Valorie walked up to the passenger door of the car. Instead of getting in immediately, she leaned forward as far as she could while resting her elbows on the frame of the rolled-down window.

“You seem so used to this,” she said, blowing smoke into the leather interior. “You used to picking up girls off the street corner?”

“Just get in,” said Rich, his expression unreadable behind his reflective sunglasses. Ray-bans, of fucking course, thought Valorie, as she added sunglasses to the increasing list of her personal possessions that were now missing. Maybe Rich would have them in a handy little bag of evidence for her. She straightened up and pulled at the handle. It caught on the lock and did not open. “No smoking.”

Sighing, she took one last giant drag and put her hands on her hips, cocking her head as if to ask if he was happy. She watched herself in the reflection of her glasses as the breath she was holding made the rest of her face match her bruise and then exhaled loudly, coughing as a cloud of smoke erupted from her mouth. Say what you will about Rich, but Valorie had to commend him on being able to avoid most of her bullshit. She jumped in the car. It was comfortable, roomy, light years nicer than the POS she had sold when she had first come to this city. After another staring match with her reflection, she buckled her seatbelt.

“You know how to suck all the cool out of a Lamborghini,” said Valorie, putting her feet on the dash.

“It’s a Ferrari.”

“It’s a Ferrari,” she echoed, mockingly. “The point remains. You still suck.”

“It’s good to see you too, Valorie.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my night?”

“What is there to ask?” said Rich, casting her a sideways glance as he put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street.

“Oh, I don’t fucking know man, maybe ask about how I almost died? Or how my cover is now probably fucking blown because you sent a goddamn cop after me? How about if I’m just okay? I did just see a bunch of my friends die, so yeah, why should we talk about that? Fuck!” While she had friends in the Rats, she didn’t really consider the Fifth Street Rats her friends. Still, she felt saying that drove home her point better. Which was this: “At least apologize to me. This was all your fucking fault!”

There was a stretch of silence as they drove, the expensive car tearing loudly through the mostly empty streets. She didn’t know where the hell they were going, but the silence was driving her mad as the car took a left, and then a right, and then another right. It bumped against the curb as Rich steered it into a parking garage, circling the floors until they were on the top level. Valorie looked out through the tinted windows; there were no cars up here at all despite the rest of the garage having been packed from the office crowd. It was eerie. She felt the car rock as Rich put it into park. Then Valorie heard something she hadn’t been expecting: a chuckle. Rich smirked at her from behind his glasses as he turned his body to hers. A small, scared little girl way in over her head stared back at her in the reflection of his glasses. She saw the girl jump as the thunk of the locks sliding into place hammered in her ears.

“All my fault?” he said, shaking his head while chuckling even more. “Little girl, do you ever think before you speak, or have the drugs completely rotted away whatever tiny amount of gray matter that was there in the first place?”

“You were the one who gave me the drugs,” she said, bitterly.

“Of course you forgot our little blood test on day one,” said Rich, a coy smile on his face. “I don’t send straight-edge squares to roll around in needle dens, just like I don’t send tainted gutter trash to be sucked on by the Nyctari or their clientele. It’s my job to put people in their place. And I am I good at my job.”

“You’re a—” He pulled a gun on her.

“Valorie, I’m sorry, but will you shut your fucking whore mouth for one goddamn second? I can’t stand the fucking sound of your voice,” he said. She did. He smiled. “That’s better. Thank you. It’s so annoying the way you always have to interrupt me.”

She saw her reflection in his glasses biting her lip, reopening the small cut. Rich continued:

“You broke procedure. You disobeyed my orders. You don’t involve yourself in any activities with the Rats unless you get my permission beforehand, not while it’s happening. And you do not ignore any messages I send you. If you had waited for Cain like I told you to, then you would not have been targeted by that woman, and you would not having almost killed yourself. The only reason you’re alive,” he pointed a finger at her and repeated, “the only goddamn reason you’re alive is because I sent someone to help you. So don’t blame me because you’re an idiot who doesn’t know to do what they are told. If anything, you should apologize to me.”

“Go f—”

“I told you,” said Rich, clicking off the safety. “Stop interrupting.”

“Whatever man,” said Valorie, finding her courage. “You wouldn’t go through all of the trouble of sending someone to protect me if you were just going to kill me.”

“You think I wouldn’t enjoy shooting another Rat?” said Rich.

“Not at all. I think pigs like you get their rocks off by gunning down stupid needle freaks that nobody will protest about,” she said. “But you wouldn’t have driven such a nice car if you had planned to blow my brains out all over the upholstery.”

“I can’t tell if you’re smarter or dumber than you look,” he said, revealing the missing magazine and the empty chamber on the gun. Valorie shrugged.

“So was this your attempt at scaring me straight or something?” said Valorie. “Because you blew it.”

Rich smiled. “I wasn’t finished.”

“And I’m the one who doesn’t know how to shut up,” she muttered under her breath.

“You got lucky, Valorie. You don’t really get how good it is that I’m the one handling you. The other guys? They would have dumped your body in the sewers the first time you fucked up, but me, I’m different. I take care of my girls, and I can see that you actually have some potential. I’m not going to let one bump in the road sour our friendship.” The word sounded artificial coming from his mouth. He ignored her eyeroll. “Fortunately there was no evidence that you were involved in that botch job.” So he didn’t have her stuff. Had Sander grabbed it? “Which is good, because my superiors have a need for someone in the Rats for something major they have been planning. Consider this job to be your apology. Do good enough on it and I’ll forget this little screw up ever happened.”

“What is it?” asked Valorie.

“I’ll let you know soon enough. Until then I need you to lay low. Keep your nose clean,” said Rich. “Seriously. Layoff the drugs. You’ll need a clear mind for this job.”

“Easy enough,” said Valorie. Rich shot her a look and then laughed again. She frowned.

“If you say so, Valorie. Now get the fuck out of my car,” he said, unlocking the door. “You smell like a meth lab.”

She was about to protest that it hadn’t been her fault that she had not been able to shower in several days, but realized that Rich would just turn it around on her again. She stepped out of the car, double checking to make sure that Cain’s book was still securely hidden under her shirt. The engine roared to life, the Ferrari whipping out of its parking spot and circling around the empty rooftop lot before he stopped once again alongside Valorie. She briefly hoped that perhaps he was going to actually drive her to where she needed to go, or at least to the bottom of the damn parking garage. The window rolled down, revealing Rich’s face. He had taken off his sunglasses; an intense stare locked her eyes on his. The hope she had dashed from her skull, streaked across the rooftop, leapt from the ledge, and splattered messily onto the pavement below.

“Remember Valorie, I am here to help you. I take care of my girls, okay?” he said, smirking. “So if you fuck up again, I’ll pick you up in a plastic-lined Pinto. Am I clear?”

“As day,” she said as the man drove off.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@drummer-dan@Raijinslayer Here ya go:

Perhaps if he did not immediately pass out once they made camp he’d have the opportunity to get to properly know the man. Assuming of course he didn’t distract himself with a little bit of innocent flirting--his eyes glanced between Diana and Lyrena. He heard Joy scoff next to him. How did she!?

He had overheard from someone that Calypso and Etsuko would not be joining them on their trek North. He was disappointed by that bit of news. Having a fortune teller would certainly have been advantageous, and the two were certainly more pleasant to look at than the smoldering villages and dirt road.

Still, Raijin is right. Ennis is looking just to look; he has no real desire for anyone other than his wife. That said, Arvis sure as hell wouldn't know that Ennis was married or meant little actual harm, so...