Kid Lantern
08-12-2006, 10:29 PM
He took a long drag and leaned back in his chair, he rubbed a furrowed brow in frustration, chugged the last of his beer and stood slightly uncertainly. The final tally was larger than he had expected, he drew it in thick, black, permanent marker in the middle of the wall, amongst the police reports. Amongst the military and aid budget estimates. Amongst the death and slaughter…
1,238.
In the name of truth, in the name of justice, of Khandaq’s freedom, in the name of the damn Martian, for money, for his weaknesses. Murder. The tally of slaughter he had rent by his own hands… by the hands of others that he bent to his will. The will of The Brainwave, Henry King, Jr!
He laughed, and bit the lid of another bottle of liquor. Piles of papers and books sat around him, stolen, appropriated and public domain documents. It had taken him hundreds of hours, his fathers stolen fortune and the bottom three basements of his father’s labyrinthine home. Damn, I am one hell of a hard case, he thought. 1,238 lost souls, he imagined them as a cloud of vaporous claws yelling and screaming with ghostly impotence. He chugged down the beer and lit his last smoke, laughing and climbing the stairs to the new dawn up above.
Sand and palms and the gentle roar of the ocean. Malibu in autumn. Eyes shut he stretched out his arms and greeted the new day with joy in his heart. Now he knew. He knew the damage, the toll. It was a weight off of his heart.
He drew an automatic pistol and stuck it under his chin, the hammer pulled back and the round slid into position…. Fuck. The paperboy was looking at him. It was distracting in the worst way.
“Do you mind? I’m having an epiphany here” he shooed the kid away to no avail
“…Don’t you have work this morning?” the little brat uncomprehendingly stammered.
“Yeah, yeah your right… I got medical practice this morning… work that needs to be done, this isn’t something I can get out of, huh?” He shook his head tucking the gun into his waistband. Returning to the house he pulled his greasy hair back and shaved, tucked in his shirt and fetched his white coat. He paid the paperboy and affixed his name badge.
It read: My name is Dr Hank King. Medical Student. 4th year.
Just the opening thoughts. question gives jericho the information he needs to find lost souls, Galatea, jericho, inertia and others.... to give them a second chance, and then? its up to them.....
Everyone deserves a second chance, but in DC they rarely get it.
1,238.
In the name of truth, in the name of justice, of Khandaq’s freedom, in the name of the damn Martian, for money, for his weaknesses. Murder. The tally of slaughter he had rent by his own hands… by the hands of others that he bent to his will. The will of The Brainwave, Henry King, Jr!
He laughed, and bit the lid of another bottle of liquor. Piles of papers and books sat around him, stolen, appropriated and public domain documents. It had taken him hundreds of hours, his fathers stolen fortune and the bottom three basements of his father’s labyrinthine home. Damn, I am one hell of a hard case, he thought. 1,238 lost souls, he imagined them as a cloud of vaporous claws yelling and screaming with ghostly impotence. He chugged down the beer and lit his last smoke, laughing and climbing the stairs to the new dawn up above.
Sand and palms and the gentle roar of the ocean. Malibu in autumn. Eyes shut he stretched out his arms and greeted the new day with joy in his heart. Now he knew. He knew the damage, the toll. It was a weight off of his heart.
He drew an automatic pistol and stuck it under his chin, the hammer pulled back and the round slid into position…. Fuck. The paperboy was looking at him. It was distracting in the worst way.
“Do you mind? I’m having an epiphany here” he shooed the kid away to no avail
“…Don’t you have work this morning?” the little brat uncomprehendingly stammered.
“Yeah, yeah your right… I got medical practice this morning… work that needs to be done, this isn’t something I can get out of, huh?” He shook his head tucking the gun into his waistband. Returning to the house he pulled his greasy hair back and shaved, tucked in his shirt and fetched his white coat. He paid the paperboy and affixed his name badge.
It read: My name is Dr Hank King. Medical Student. 4th year.
Just the opening thoughts. question gives jericho the information he needs to find lost souls, Galatea, jericho, inertia and others.... to give them a second chance, and then? its up to them.....
Everyone deserves a second chance, but in DC they rarely get it.