•76• [VIDEO]
[hello, early risers. Jaime's using his actual comm device for once, live here in the dimly lit casa de blue beetle. things are not looking too peachy, Jaime-wise. puffy eyes, mussy bed hair, kinda need to manage the beard situation...he's got his legs, plain ol' standard-issue college freebie pajama pants, crossed up on the couch, one arm reaching out to settle the device on the coffee table, another scratching between his shoulderblades under his undershirt. morninnnngs...
a slow exhale, bringing his arm back, looking aside. at the open cereal box wedged in the corner of the sofa. then elsewhere.]
I've been leasing this place for three years...[a kind of scratchy note, like mornings before teeth brushing and a drink of water. and grumbly, because morning.] Non-stop. For three years...
[looking down, his scratching-hand dropping into his lap, too.] And...it's gonna be four, soon. Just being in this dimension, or whatever you want to call it. Four years, non-stop. And everyone else just...[shaking his head, letting it go with a heavy breath. he sucks in a new one, looking up with his mouth pursed with a kind of raised-eyebrow 'welp' he can't hold. he loses it to a grim half-smirk.]
I'm gonna be the hairy old guy who remembers stuff about people they don't remember. Because all my friends are going to...[a hapless shrug, shaking his head] Just...keep zapping in and out, in and out...getting older and younger...forgetting things. I'll have all these pictures and things that will do nothing but make them feel weird. And guilty. Because I'm going to be the only one who remembers anything.
[breath, propping his chin up with a hand; his pinky scratches at a bit of beard as he mutters:] Like...The iron suit, or Godzilla. Or the HIVE. Or those centipede monsters. Or the robot worms. Or the zombies. Or getting turned into cats and robots and other weird crap...Or Master Chief. [an empty 'heh'.] And it's going to be a bunch of weird photos of birthday parties for...birthdays some people are going to have again and again, because they come back the same or...they've already grown up and. And done stuff back home. With their people. N'fam'lies. N'stuff. [tapering into a thick mumble. a loud sniff, a loud exhale, shaking his head again and looking up, blinking a lot.]
But there's not really anything anyone can do about it. I tried a few times. I, [shaky 'heh'] I hacked into the Porter's systems before. Tried to play tough guy with the Iron Suit. For all the good it did. So maybe that's why...[nnnh...he brings his head down, dragging the heel of his hand against his face, digging into an eye. his head remains down, hand curling fingers around messes of hair.]
I'm going to grow old here. Finish college. Do things. I. Probably have a life back home? I don't know. I don't really...believe I'm going back to it anymore. That's some other kid. He hasn't even finished high school. [a crack in the voice at the forced laughing sound. he looks up, drawing in a fast, shaking breath, letting it out. taking in a deeper, steadier breath. letting it out.
a slow blink at the camera, bringing his hand down, settling it in his lap.]
I need to...Well, I should be doing a little more, here. I can. All this...[a dismissive gesture to all this emotional hooey.] Whatever. I can still do the superhero thing. I've gotten pretty good at it. And I got the tech to help, Scarab and me. So. This whole killing and crazy people thing? I want to do my part. If I can. My team...[grimace.] Teams? Or whatever's going on. I don't know. But, if someone's got something going on, needs my help. I'll do it. The cops, or...whoever...
[trailing off into a half-minute of silence, staring down at the edge of the table, mouth pressed in a thin line. he looks up at the screen, dubious, then just kind of miserably dry to match his defeated tone:] Or...the people who know me can just. Check in and tell me what a retard I'm being right now. And that they still remember I'm not always this dumb. Or am. I don't really know.
I think I just...woke up too early.
a slow exhale, bringing his arm back, looking aside. at the open cereal box wedged in the corner of the sofa. then elsewhere.]
I've been leasing this place for three years...[a kind of scratchy note, like mornings before teeth brushing and a drink of water. and grumbly, because morning.] Non-stop. For three years...
[looking down, his scratching-hand dropping into his lap, too.] And...it's gonna be four, soon. Just being in this dimension, or whatever you want to call it. Four years, non-stop. And everyone else just...[shaking his head, letting it go with a heavy breath. he sucks in a new one, looking up with his mouth pursed with a kind of raised-eyebrow 'welp' he can't hold. he loses it to a grim half-smirk.]
I'm gonna be the hairy old guy who remembers stuff about people they don't remember. Because all my friends are going to...[a hapless shrug, shaking his head] Just...keep zapping in and out, in and out...getting older and younger...forgetting things. I'll have all these pictures and things that will do nothing but make them feel weird. And guilty. Because I'm going to be the only one who remembers anything.
[breath, propping his chin up with a hand; his pinky scratches at a bit of beard as he mutters:] Like...The iron suit, or Godzilla. Or the HIVE. Or those centipede monsters. Or the robot worms. Or the zombies. Or getting turned into cats and robots and other weird crap...Or Master Chief. [an empty 'heh'.] And it's going to be a bunch of weird photos of birthday parties for...birthdays some people are going to have again and again, because they come back the same or...they've already grown up and. And done stuff back home. With their people. N'fam'lies. N'stuff. [tapering into a thick mumble. a loud sniff, a loud exhale, shaking his head again and looking up, blinking a lot.]
But there's not really anything anyone can do about it. I tried a few times. I, [shaky 'heh'] I hacked into the Porter's systems before. Tried to play tough guy with the Iron Suit. For all the good it did. So maybe that's why...[nnnh...he brings his head down, dragging the heel of his hand against his face, digging into an eye. his head remains down, hand curling fingers around messes of hair.]
I'm going to grow old here. Finish college. Do things. I. Probably have a life back home? I don't know. I don't really...believe I'm going back to it anymore. That's some other kid. He hasn't even finished high school. [a crack in the voice at the forced laughing sound. he looks up, drawing in a fast, shaking breath, letting it out. taking in a deeper, steadier breath. letting it out.
a slow blink at the camera, bringing his hand down, settling it in his lap.]
I need to...Well, I should be doing a little more, here. I can. All this...[a dismissive gesture to all this emotional hooey.] Whatever. I can still do the superhero thing. I've gotten pretty good at it. And I got the tech to help, Scarab and me. So. This whole killing and crazy people thing? I want to do my part. If I can. My team...[grimace.] Teams? Or whatever's going on. I don't know. But, if someone's got something going on, needs my help. I'll do it. The cops, or...whoever...
[trailing off into a half-minute of silence, staring down at the edge of the table, mouth pressed in a thin line. he looks up at the screen, dubious, then just kind of miserably dry to match his defeated tone:] Or...the people who know me can just. Check in and tell me what a retard I'm being right now. And that they still remember I'm not always this dumb. Or am. I don't really know.
I think I just...woke up too early.