whatever happened to drinking and driving / and doing the decent thing?
WHO: Katurian Katurian (afeatherpillow) and Takaya Sakaki (messiah_maybe)
WHERE: In a forgotten, underground bomb shelter in the countryside outside the City
WHEN: Shortly before this post.
WARNINGS: Mild violence.
SUMMARY: Katurian returns from the failed Porter mission to the place where he's been holding Takaya captive for the last two weeks. Takaya has escaped from his bonds.
FORMAT: Prose
The first thing Katurian wanted to be was a writer.
The second was a hero.
It wasn't always this way. After all, there were no heroes; there were crooks and murderers and ordinary folks who wanted no more than to watch others squirm. There were unhappy accidents and untimely deaths. And what else? Maybe there was someone who thought they were a hero, but they were a failure, they were delusional, and how could they save someone anyway in a world this fucked up?
When the Porter swept him out of death eight months ago, though, it was the only thing he could hold onto, the 'welcome to the city, hero.' He paged through his own life. He saw himself rescuing his brother a million times, saw himself bringing his parents to justice for the horrible things they had done. His brother died under him, spared from the real pain, the real danger. As the months went on, Katurian turned every death under his fingertips into a victory. He thought, yes. Yes. I could be a hero. I am a hero.
And then he helped a little girl kill herself, Desire robbed him of his hands and sanity, there was death (the best thing that happened to him, death), and then there was the return of his powers and the frightening heroic destiny he somehow convinced himself he was supposed to have. There was terror. Hopelessness.
Kidnapping a known mass murderer was the one thing he had going for him.
Even that was miserable. That made him feel awful. A part of him longed to live normally again, to throw away the cynical altruism and bury himself in his work and his work alone. That was why, when the Porter promised a change in powers, he jumped on the mission, the chance to give up being a hero. But it was all a joke. All a game. In the Porter's taunts and betrayals, he heard his mother, and he wondered, why was he still alive? Why had this place given him life twice over?
Who could he save anyway?
Katurian could have returned to Takaya sooner, but his head was still pounding from the blow he received to his head late Saturday. His brain was still coping with the rejection and disillusionment. He knew Takaya would see this and pick him apart; if there were anything that could bring him any lower, it was a twenty minute speech about life and its meaninglessness. He arrived Tuesday night, three days later. The door handle felt warm under his hands.
WHERE: In a forgotten, underground bomb shelter in the countryside outside the City
WHEN: Shortly before this post.
WARNINGS: Mild violence.
SUMMARY: Katurian returns from the failed Porter mission to the place where he's been holding Takaya captive for the last two weeks. Takaya has escaped from his bonds.
FORMAT: Prose
The first thing Katurian wanted to be was a writer.
The second was a hero.
It wasn't always this way. After all, there were no heroes; there were crooks and murderers and ordinary folks who wanted no more than to watch others squirm. There were unhappy accidents and untimely deaths. And what else? Maybe there was someone who thought they were a hero, but they were a failure, they were delusional, and how could they save someone anyway in a world this fucked up?
When the Porter swept him out of death eight months ago, though, it was the only thing he could hold onto, the 'welcome to the city, hero.' He paged through his own life. He saw himself rescuing his brother a million times, saw himself bringing his parents to justice for the horrible things they had done. His brother died under him, spared from the real pain, the real danger. As the months went on, Katurian turned every death under his fingertips into a victory. He thought, yes. Yes. I could be a hero. I am a hero.
And then he helped a little girl kill herself, Desire robbed him of his hands and sanity, there was death (the best thing that happened to him, death), and then there was the return of his powers and the frightening heroic destiny he somehow convinced himself he was supposed to have. There was terror. Hopelessness.
Kidnapping a known mass murderer was the one thing he had going for him.
Even that was miserable. That made him feel awful. A part of him longed to live normally again, to throw away the cynical altruism and bury himself in his work and his work alone. That was why, when the Porter promised a change in powers, he jumped on the mission, the chance to give up being a hero. But it was all a joke. All a game. In the Porter's taunts and betrayals, he heard his mother, and he wondered, why was he still alive? Why had this place given him life twice over?
Who could he save anyway?
Katurian could have returned to Takaya sooner, but his head was still pounding from the blow he received to his head late Saturday. His brain was still coping with the rejection and disillusionment. He knew Takaya would see this and pick him apart; if there were anything that could bring him any lower, it was a twenty minute speech about life and its meaninglessness. He arrived Tuesday night, three days later. The door handle felt warm under his hands.