He who sees, but is not seen

He wasn’t there again today… I wish I wish he’d go away.

This is the hard part. I’ve hit that point. Invariably, there is always about a few weeks of really really trying times and bad thoughts… if I can make it through this, I know it’s as it should be. If I can make it through, I know that I can be everything she likes. I just have to hope that she doesn’t get tired of me until then.

So excited to be fucking moving out, finally. It’ll be great. I hope everything works out with the place, no unforseen circumstances, nothing. I will be so happy.

I patted the packets of my coat repeatedly, my unlit cigarette dangling half-forgotten between my lips. My last cigarette, and me without a lighter. With dejection, I stuck my fists in my pockets and stood in sullen silence, surveying the scene before me.
I stood on a ridge surrounded by trees, a sheer rock wall dropping away before me and a single path leading away to town. The town in question was the town of Soul, and from where I stood I might as well have been staring at a postcard.
The sky was dark and grey above, yet somehow Soul appeared to be in constant sunlight, even in a downpour like the one I found myself in. The chapel, by far the most prominent building in the village, stood out stark white, the cross seeming to catch the light in a way one wouldn’t expect. I was not a spiritual man in any sense of the word, but it was an interesting sight.
I let my gaze list lazily over Soul. It was small, quaint. From the fact sheets balled up in my breast pocket, it had a population of almost six hundred. Six hundred people, and the one I sought was hiding among them.
There were very few buildings taller than one story. One of them was the post office. The other church. There was no prison in Soul. I assumed it was because it’s population was full of good, honest, hard-working, God-fearing Americans, nestled deep in the mountains in the midwest. All of them but one.
There was a gentle shuffling of feet behind me. I cleared my throat, easing my voice of the dust of disuse.
‘Ted.’ I rasped, clearing my throat again.
‘I’m sorry, were you monologing?’ His voice was warm and deep, layered with the rasp of a heavy smoker.
‘You know me.’ I rolled my cigarette around between my lips, staring at the town unblinking. Ted cleared his voice.
‘How’s the uh…’ he began. I sighed internally.
‘How’s the what, Ted?’
‘You know… the syphillis.’ This time I sighed externally.
‘I don’t have syphillis, Ted…’ How many times have I said those words to him?
‘Oh, right, yeah… how’s Peggy?’ How often had he asked me that forsaken question?
‘Still banging the poolboy back in Orlando.’ My usual response was no longer laced with contempt and ice. Now, it was just a basic fact.
‘Oh… right. So, that’s Soul down there?’ He stood next to me, now, gazing down at the picturesque town.
‘That it would be, yes.’ I reached into my left breast pocket and pulled out the factsheet. Unballing it and smoothing it out, I handed it to him. He let his eyes play over it, then let out a low whistle.
‘Six hundred people…’
‘Yup.’
‘… that’s going to be a lot of bodies.’
‘Yup.’ We stood in silence for a moment, probably both gazing at the chapel. ‘Do you have a light?’ He shook his head dumbly, and I sighed. Removing my cigarette from my lips, I flicked it out over the ledge.
‘Good. I quit anyway.’

‘… attempted to extinguish the massive blaze, but to no effect. The entire mountain town of Soul was lost to the fire, and 586 of it’s 600 inhabitants lost their lives.‘ I sat grim-faced, half-empty bottle of bourbon clutched tight between my hands. My eyes were fixated on the television screen, where footage of the blaze was being shown. ‘The origins of the fire are unknown, although investigators are suspecting lightning.‘ I took another draft of my bottle. I felt a heavy hand settle on my shoulder and Ted’s familiar voice split my stoicness.
‘He would have killed them all anyway, Joseph. Every last motherfucker in that town.’ He sat down on the stool next to me and ordered a whiskey. ‘At least we got him, right?’
I said nothing.
‘You know what they say…’ His voice trailed off as accepted he accepted whiskey with a nod of his head. I waited for him to finish, but he didn’t.
‘… what? What do they say?’ I asked impatiently.
‘You know. The banality of evil and somesuch.’ He said, swirling his whiskey around in it’s glass.
‘I hope you realise that that phrase doesn’t mean what you think it means.’ I took another draw from my bourbon.
‘Sure it does. Evil is ruthless.’ I couldn’t tell if he was being serious, so I just shook my head. There was a moment of silence, then Ted started.
‘Son of a bitch, almost fucking forgot.’ He removed a manila envelope from his coat and slid it along the bar to me. ‘We got another one.’ I stared at the envelope as though it were my ex-wife. I made no move to take it, so Ted took it back and opened it up, sliding the dossier across to me.
A simple factsheet, and a portrait photograph paperclipped to the top, as always. I let my eyes drift across it, not really taking anything in.
Ted seemed insistent on keeping me focused. He tapped the photo with one finger the size of a summer sausage. ‘He calls himself Vincent. Sources say in life he was called Frank Miller… a real sleazy motherfucker. Owned an amateur college-girl porn website called Magna Cum Louder.’ He chuckled. ‘Might have to remember that one.’
I gazed at the grainy photograph silently. He did look rather greasy. He had a long face, like a rat, and his hair was slicked back behind his obtrusive ears. I was a little surprised he didn’t have whiskers, to be honest. His eyes captivated me, though. While his exterior screamed used-car salesman, his eyes insisted ’shark’. He looked cold, calculating, but above all, emotionless. These were eyes I’d seen before, the same kind of gaze. I pulled my arms in tight around my chest and hunched my shoulders up. The bar was getting colder. Something tugged at the back of my mind with insistent fingers, running it’s nails up and down my spine. My eyes started to water; I couldn’t bring myself to blink. Someone was talking somewhere, perhaps in some distant sewer drain. Were they shouting? Was that my name? I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. Vincent’s photo seemed to be leering at something off frame… I leaned in closer, slowly, and when my nose was touching the photo, his face suddenly twisted towards mine and bared it’s teeth.
With a choked shout and a sudden movement, I threw myself backwards and away, falling off my stool in the process. I clambered to my feet and dusted myself off. I could feel my face getting hot as I sat back down. Ted looked at me sideways, one eyebrow half raised.
‘Right… you ok there, Joe?’ He asked. I nodded.
‘Yeah. And don’t call me Joe, we’ve covered that.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Where is he?’ I flipped open the factsheet. Last sighting was in…
‘Fuck.’ I barked. ‘Fuck me, Ted. Fuck, Ted. Orlando?’ I jabbed an accusing finger at him. ‘Peggy thinks I’m fucking dead, Theodore. Everyone does! I can’t go back there!’ I slammed my hand down on the table to emphasize my profanity.
‘Whoa, Joseph. Take it easy. We’ll just lay low, y’know? I’m sure you’ve still got some fake IDs lying around. You can be Jack Carpenter this trip. You always liked that name.’ He shook his head. ‘This one’s a real dick, Joseph. Sources say he’s got a posse with him. That’s enough power to tear that town apart. We’re just going to let him do that?’ He took all the papers back and slid them into the envelope, sealing it.
‘What? How are we going to stop them, Ted? By destroying Orlando just like we did Soul? And Terrence before that? And Washer and Trey?’ Ted was silent. ‘If we were ever arrested, do you know how many consecutive life sentences we’d serve for the number of people we’ve killed, Ted? I did the math last night. Take a guess.’
Ted was getting down on himself, I could see it. His eyes sunk. ‘… twelve?’
‘2,300, Ted. 2,300 people killed on our watch. In the name of taking out these… these monsters, we have slaughtered over two thousand people.’ I jabbed my finger hard into his chest. ‘We have wiped entire cities off the map. We are beasts, and no better than those we hunt.’ Ted’s grabbed my finger forcefully, with the speed that made him the best. He twisted my arm upwards, back around my shoulder, forcing me off the stool down onto my knees. He torqued my arm in on itself, leaning down and hissing in my ear.
‘Never… never compare us to them.’ He cranked on my arm again. ‘They are bloodthirsty, mindless beasts who kill for fun. The collateral damage we cause is justifiable in destroying these things.’ I ground my teeth together hard as his lips came closer to my ear and his voice dropped an octave.
‘I would destroy Orlando in a heartbeat. I would destroy the city and everyone in it to get to Mr. Frank Miller. Everyone, Joseph.’ He released the pressure on my arm and stood up, straightening his jacket. ‘I’ll call you in the morning with details. Have a goodnight.’ He paid the bartender silently and left through the side door. I stayed on the ground, staring at the grains in the floor.

Downloading nVidia drivers and eating spaghetti-os cold out of the can.

A whole new level of nerd.

10
9
8
and I’m breaking away,
all dressed up and ready to play

Life is funny sometimes. Just… the way it seems to play with you. Situations arise that test your character often.

And then… and then situations arise that force you to test yourself and how far you’re willing to go, how hard you’re willing to push yourself.

7
6
5
4
and I’m all over you

I’ve been fucked over in the past. A lot. It’s the story of my high school years. Decisions. Do I let it slip away? Do I say ‘fuck the circumstances, this is what feels right’? Or do I Big Picture this bitch?

3
2
1
and I’m having fun!

No. My happiness has been ripped from me too often. This time, I’m going to hold onto it until the end. Whatever that may be.

Convicted,
IAN

MANFEST ‘08!