Kalli
Forum Replies Created
-
Jet hadn’t known where 48 would land, or if he’d get the idea of what Jet was doing. Too late he remembered that 48 might be able to hear his thoughts because, by the time he turned around in a full circle, the creature had appeared out of the blue. Letting out a yelp, Jet leaped back in surprise, then held his chest and started to laugh breathlessly.
“Damn, I can’t ever get used to that…Maybe you should be called Stealth-Bomber or something.” Jet was just joking, of course, but he had been pondering the name problem since the night before, and nothing seemed to fit. Later was the time to worry about it.
The boy motioned him toward the wall, pointing over it. “We’ll climb over this way. I didn’t see anyone in the area, but you can tell better than me, so…. how does that work, exactly? It’s sound stuff again, right?”
-
Jet navigated the streets and back alleys with caution, though he could have done so blindfolded. He knew the grid of the city like the back of his hand, and even many of the movable things, like humans, didn’t tend to vary from day to day in where they were. The same drunks or drug-addicts, passed out behind dumpsters; the same prostitutes working their beats; the same beggars glaring balefully at him as he passed them by. Jet had nothing to give, they should know that by now….anyway, he’d been attacked before years ago after trying to give money to a couple of kids. If children were capable of robbing you at knife-point, adults sure as hell were. Better to act like you had nothing and weren’t worth the trouble of robbing.
The city streets, for all its numbers of poor, were relatively empty. Since the battles, mots people stayed indoors, or in their cellars. Only a few like Jet ventured out for food or supplies. That was when the beggars and thieves descended- when you came back from scrounging. For now, Jet was allowed to pass, mostly unhindered, to the outskirts of the city, and The Mound.
It stood in the early morning sunlight, a huge collection of detritus in a pile at least a hundred feet high and twenty times that around. Several smaller ‘foothills’ dotted the area around it, and among the heaps roamed people and cats and dogs and rats and birds. The area used to be controlled by gangs, and there were still a few members left, but no intact groups large enough to control the whole area, and they hated one another too much to join forces against the rest. Most people were too weary of fighting to continue, and too hungry, so even the gang members were rather listless. Jet wasn’t that concerned about them, especially since he’d show in the past he wasn’t worth the trouble. He actually had combat training- almost none of the gang members could even hold a gun straight.
No, Jet’s problem wasn’t a potential threat from them, or anyone else. Not to himself. He halted near the last buildings, trying to figure out the best way for 48 to get to the mounds and not be seen. There weren’t too many people out today- probably because of the recent bombings- so that was a plus. Still, Jet wanted to make sure 48 wasn’t seen. He skirted the length of the building, then the next, heading for the high boundary wall that divided the Mound from a wooded ditch on that side. There were just ten feet from the building to the trees, and assuming no one was in the wooded area, 48 could slip over the wall unnoticed. Jet headed into the woods himself so 48 would follow, then stayed there, waiting for him.
-
Jet watched the creature slide through the small window, surprised that 48’s large body could possibly fit. Then again, he’d seen cats and mice and rats slide into openings they never should have been able to manage. 48 was an unknown quantity- who knew what he was capable of? Jet was just glad the creature seemed to be on his side, and forgiving of asshole behavior.
The boy decided to leave that window open, as there was no reason to suppose any other street-dwellers could get in that way. Twelve floors up and a flat wall to scale. Anyway, he had nothing worth stealing that wasn’t on him, and could be gotten down to the ground. 48 would use that window from now on if he chose… if he stuck around, anyway.
After securing everything else, and making sure he had his weapons, and a new bag to replace the one he’d lost last night, Jet made his way down the dark, narrow stairwell and out onto the streets. As usual, there weren’t too many people up, and those who had made it out of doors were scrounging around in the debris, or sitting on doorsteps, smoking.
A few shabbily-dressed children, too young to be in gangs, stuck to the shadows and played quiet games. They were afraid to draw too much attention to themselves. Jet knew the feeling; he preferred to go unnoticed, even if he stopped to check on the kids. They were hungry, of course, and the morning air was cold. One of the little girls, starved for attention, clung to his leg, clutching a doll made of a rag. Jet told the children where there was a spot of sunlight away from the street, and to warm their bodies that way. In his mind, he was thinking of how to get them something out of his day’s pickings, but at the same time wondering if their starving to death wouldn’t be kinder. In spite of his calm demeanor among them, at least Jet still bothered, unlike the other conscious adults on that part of teh filthy street. Maybe he was just sentimental.
Walking on, nodding in farewell to the children, Jet made his way down the street, making sure to keep his eyes and ears open for trouble. There was always something going on, even if things were pretty quiet for now. Jet wondered if 48 was right overhead, but didn’t dare look up to see, in case he drew someone’s attention. Hopefully, anyone who did see 48 would chalk it up to substance abuse. They probably wouldn’t be believed anyway.
-
“Maybe that’s the best way.” Jet knew shortcuts and such that would be difficult for 48 to go through, and he was not eager to fly again if he didn’t have to. The one thing he could have used 48 for was to fend off gang members and others, but Jet preferred to fight his own battles…when they weren’t against science lab monsters, anyway.
Turning back to the shelf by the fridge, he shifted it to reveal a cut out panel in the drywall, inside which was a small arsenal. From this he took a small allotment of bullets for his gun and loaded it, checking to make sure everything was in working order. His mind wasn’t really on this, however, as it was a routine thing he didn’t have to think about. Jet was thinking of last night, the nightmares, and how he’d treated 48. Even if he wasn’t sure how the creature’s feelings worked, Jet felt the need to make things right.
“Listen, 48…” he said quietly, placing his loaded gun in the holster. “I’m sorry about last night, about how I acted. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk.”
-
“That could work…maybe if we stuck to the junkyard or something.” the boy muttered. Not too many people went near the South side of “the Mound” as it was called, because there was something there that kept killing people. At least, those were the rumors. There must be something to them because even hardened street dwellers kept out of that area.
“Too bad you can’t turn invisible, but we’ll just have to risk it. Unless you wanna stay here all day.” Jet doubted it, but he was being serious. Turning to 48, he looked at him with a softened expression. “I don’t want you to get shot down on my behalf. We can wait until night to go out if that’s easier.”
-
The boy snorted but offered no further reply to this. Standing up, he arched backward, trying to stretch his spine, then tottered over to the shelves of food. For a moment, Jet counted what he had, calculating, and sighing at the end. He’d have to go without breakfast today…
Jet turned to 48, looking him over. “You need more water? We might be able to get you out of here if we’re real careful. I gotta look for something to sell for food anyway…could find some bottles down by the water plant.” Why hadn’t he thought of that the night before? Oh yeah- strange creatures, underground labs…
-
Jet woke a few hours after the sun had risen, feeling a little headache-y, but otherwise better in spirit than the night before. Things always seemed to press down on him less when the sun was shining. It was a wan kind of sunlight, though, shining weakly through clouds of smog and debris which hung over the city. Dust motes swirled lazily in the single beam of sunlight that came through the cracked blinds. They settled on Jet’s face, along with the sunlight, waking him slowly. He covered his eyes for a moment, then groaned and sat up, stretching and cracking his joints. A few choice expletives escape his lips- quite apart from the headache, his body was screaming loudly about its ill-usage the day before.
Letting out another groan, he rubbed at his face. Jet’s memory was piecing itself back together again, and he’d seen 48 out of the corner of his eye. So far, the creature had done nothing to harm him while he slept, and it had saved him before. Yet, he recalled quite clearly being an asshole the night before. Not good, Jet…
“Hey.” he called out softly to 48. “Did you get some sleep?” Those shining golden eyes were on him, watching.
-
“Request denied.”
That phrase made Jet’s teeth clench and his eyes burn, though no tears came. He shouldn’t have been so worked up about it, except he didn’t know what he’d said, and showing weakness on the streets, even emotional weakness, could mean the difference between life and death.
On the other hand, how likely was 48 to use whatever he heard against Jet? Probably not intentionally, but the creature was socially unaware enough to say something off-hand. Jet didn’t want to think about what would happen then. Anyway, it wasn’t like he could fight with 48 and force him to forget.
“Whatever.” he growled, laying down and turning his back to 48. Anger, shame and sorrow burned in his chest. Even with a creature who didn’t understand emotion, he hated to be vulnerable. Jet shut his eyes tightly, grabbing the ragged blanket at his feet and curling into it. But for a long while he couldn’t find sleep. Memories of the nightmare rose constantly before his closed eyelids, only slowly dulling with the help of alcohol. That was all the self-medication he would allow, but even with his relatively low tolerance it was never quite enough. Even if he couldn’t forget, Jet’s last thought, as he finally drifted off again, was that 48 would truly not remember what he’d heard.
(Cut to morning? Does 48 have more musings? Jet will be very apologetic!)
-
Jet’s eyes, which were turned down toward the mattress, went wide at this. Just what had 48 heard? Part of him wanted to know, but mostly Jet didn’t want to think about it at all.
“What do you mean, ‘with your own eyes’? Did the freak jobs who made you show you videos of people sleeping? Because I’m pretty damn sure I’m not the only one who talks in their sleep.” Jet was rather surprised at himself for continuing to snarl. Maybe he would have been like this if he’d ever had anyone else catch him in a nightmare, so it was probably a good thing they hadn’t.
“Just forget whatever you heard, got it?” he muttered, standing up and going to the fridge- he needed something to drink and steady his nerves. Pulling out a beer, he opened it and gulped down half the contents in one swig, wiping his mouth on his bare arm. There were goose-pimples on it, which surprised him. He’d been too upset to notice the cold. Going back to the mattress and grabbing his jacket, he slipped it on again, taking another long draught of beer. Honestly, he hated the taste, but it numbed him somewhat. Anything stronger was a big no-no; he couldn’t afford to be wasted if he was trying to survive. Jet had seen too many other people killed or starve to death because they were addicts. He could understand why they became that way, though.
“If sleep is optimal, why don’t you sleep, then? Or is this place not special enough for you?” He took one more swig, crumpled the can with one hand, then tossed it toward the trash can. He missed. Jet sighed. “Listen…better not to talk to me right now while I’m in jerk-ass mode. You’ll end up thinking you did something to set me off. It’s all just me.”
-
Jet’s eyes snapped in his direction, and for a moment, he seemed to have forgotten bringing 48 there at all. With a startled look, and quick movements for someone so tired, he scrambled into a crouch, fingers going immediately for his gun. It was out and pointing at 48 before the boy recognized him, and all tension seemed to release from his body. His gun hand dropped, and he let out a ragged breath and a violent curse, simultaneously.
“Don’t DO that!” Didn’t 48 know not to just lurk there like some creepy stalker? Jet knew he was being unreasonable, but it was better to hide behind anger than to face fear. The nightmare hung over him like a shroud, and he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he was still not awake yet.
“Yeah, just you and me…I know that.” He shoved his gun away and rubbed his face rather violently. Then, sitting back on the mattress, his blue eyes turned to 48 in the near dark. “I didn’t know watching me sleep was so interesting.” His voice had taken on a rather nasty tone, which might have hurt 48’s feelings if he had the ability to be hurt.
Even if he didn’t, Jet knew he was wrong to lash out, and he looked away. “Don’t you sleep at all?”
-
Jet’s sleep-patterns became more broken, his muttering more urgent. Reaching out with his hand, he seemed to be grabbing for something which wasn’t there, and not finding, it, began to curse. Still, he continued to sleep and to wade further into an apparent nightmare. Sweat beaded on his brow, even in the cold room, making dark hair stick to his forehead.
“No….nononono…NO!” Suddenly, his cries became louder and clearer, and he rolled over onto his stomach, then back to his side, trying to escape something or someone. “Don’t hurt him! Don’t! Leave him alone!!”
Almost as soon as he said this, Jet’s startling blue eyes snapped open, and he jerked into a sitting position, one hand covering his mouth. He was sucking air into his lungs at an alarming rate, as though afraid there wouldn’t be any left if he didn’t hurry. Both eyes closed tightly; his body shook with the effort of trying to calm down.
“It’s not real….just the same damn nightmare again…” he rasped to himself, not very convincingly. For the moment, Jet forgot there was someone else in the room with him.
-
(Oh, I’m fine with them! I like to focus on only a few characters, but NPCs are definitely necessary to flesh out a story! Did you have an NPC you wanted to post about? Or should I write my reply now?)
-
Jet hadn’t meant to fall asleep, as was clear by the fact that he hadn’t bothered to remove his shoes, or cover himself with his one ragged blanket. This only became a problem later in the night when his room became very cold, and the boy started to shiver in his sleep. However, he was too exhausted to wake fully and cover himself.
Once in awhile, as he slept, the boy’s face would twitch, and he would mumble something, but he didn’t wake. Mostly, he slept through the night without interruption, until early in the morning, close to sunrise. His dreams had started to turn bad, and his relaxed expression puckered into a frown. After awhile, he started to mutter in his sleep, like he was talking to someone. The words were jumbled, unclear; it sounded as though he was giving out a verbal warning that went unheeded. Jet rolled over, accidentally lying on his gun, which wasn’t going to discharge but would probably leave a bruise in the morning. He’d forgotten to remove his gun belt…
(Giving 48 a chance to observe a human sleeping. He doesn’t have to do anything.)
-
Jet had been up for more than 24 hours by now, and was starting to fade fast. He ought to have been terrified of falling asleep with such a thing as 48 in the same room, but honestly the boy didn’t feel like his companion was any kind of threat. That, and he was far too tired to care much. He just closed his eyes, still talking but not very coherently.
“Sometime you oughta learn about fun…bet the people who made you never let you have any. They must have been creating you to fight in the war….” He yawned, rolling over onto his side. “I’m glad you’re out of there… you can live your own life now….”
Before jet was aware, sleep had overtaken him, and the many more questions he had about 48 faded into the back of his mind for later.
-
“I think ‘fun’ is something you have to learn, anyway. Plenty of regular humans know jack about it.” He rolled his eyes a bit, gulping down the last of the beans and tossing the can into a trash bin by the fridge.
When asked to define ‘fun’, however, he found himself as much at a loss as those ‘regular humans’ who wouldn’t know fun if it danced on their heads. Jet was feeling exhaustion catching up with him as it was, and his brain started to fill with cotton, making it difficult to think clearly.
“Define fun….define fun…” he muttered to himself, wandering over to the old mattress in the corner and lying down on it, arms behind his head. “Fun is…uh…hell, I don’t know how to describe it. Uh…it’s doing something that makes you happy or excited just for the hell of doing it. That kinda leads to some dickheads doing bad stuff because they think it’s ‘fun’, but we’ll stick to stuff that doesn’t hurt anyone. Basketball is fun, because it gets your blood pumping, and your whole body is working together, but it’s not dangerous or harmful. You just do it because you get enjoyment out of making a basket.”