#new chapters.

[oldhector]

@brumatifl

He just wanted a paper. Quick speed-walk to the store round the corner, grab The Times, get back, cup of coffee, do a crossword. Hell, it was colder than he thought it would be so, under-dressed in his jumper, Hector made the most of his long legs with a look of determination in his eyes. Ever the cautious mercenary at heart, he noticed that someone seemed interested in him. It was a girl, albino or something, and she was there when he looked over his shoulder as he left his apartment, then in the shop, and when he left. Alright. So he took a longer route. He crossed roads, turned corners. Still there. So he picked up his pace to run, making an effort to look as though he was running from her, and turned a corner.

Then he stopped running and waited for her to catch up to him, tucked against the cold bricks. As soon as her little, pale frame was in sight again, he cleared his throat loudly. “Looking for someone?”

[oldhector]

@ripered

Had a month and a half already passed since Greece? It felt impossible that, two months ago, Hector wouldn’t have minded all that much if Adam stopped talking to him. They met up regularly enough before the trip, but they were absolutely inseparable back home (his home, of course). It was dangerous. Hector didn’t trust himself not to fall in love with the poor man -- the charming individual who had a bad habit of making Hector laugh. When they spoke, that is. They just hadn’t since returning, and while partly his own design, it was draining. He wasn’t able to mope around his everyday life for long, because he was tasked with a trip to the country. With the perfect excuse to see if another form of communication might bring better results, Hector decided to write Adam a letter, following a cheeky postcard he’d sent (semi-anonymously) a week ago.

Adam,

I hope the postcard found its way to you swiftly, and that you’re in good health.

It doesn’t matter how many times I go to Greece, I always come back wanting more. This time was a little different. I went along and enjoyed myself, and I thought I’d had my fill -- soaked up every last detail before I left so that I wouldn’t have to visit again -- but if I had, I wouldn’t be writing to you now. There’s always something new to see and experience, isn’t there?  

I’m in the country, house-sitting for a friend currently. I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I know that the internet speed is piss and the service is poor, so I figured it might be fun to swap a few letters. Return to the good old days of stamps and sitting by the door, waiting for the postman! Or not, depending on whether you got sick of me after the trip. Totally understandable, by the way. A little too late to back out now though, unfortunately. I’ll probably be sending another few your way when I get a little lonely, but no hard feelings if you return to the address attached. I suppose, if that’s the case, I might ask for the rent you didn’t pay while we were abroad? If you don’t mind the letters, just ignore all of that.

Take care.

Hector Jones x

[oldhector]

@99centspells

Pimped up rides (that’s the terminology, right?) weren’t THAT strange to see. Young guys with too much time on their hands and a heart fuelled by gasoline often displayed their works of art as loudly as possible. But this car was a little different, softer somehow. Hand-painted stars littered all around it and honestly, the car looked pretty cute. With a cigarette in one hand, and a blue slushie in the other, he sips on the straw as he walks down the street. A woman leaves the car and beelines for a trashcan. Then she just... reaches inside and grabs a half-finished bottle of cola.

“Interesting choice,” he said casually as he approached, “I would’a gone into the store and bought a fresh one myself, but to each their own.”

[oldhector]

@ripered

Public transport? Disgusting. Always disgusting, during every time period, ever. It always smelt like b.o., nothing was ever clean, and someone was always annoying. But who was he to complain? He’d only been standing for a few minutes before a seat opened up, and as he sat down, he noticed the guy next to him was reading a familiar fable. The Iliad! Ah, a classic. Absolutely timeless. It wasn’t long before he clicked his tongue. 

“Good story. I always liked Achilleus,” his Southern accent dropped to be replaced with perfect Greek pronunciation. “What you think of him? Everyone’s got an opinion, right?”

[oldhector]

@travelledtime

Oh you have got to be shitting him? He’s heard stories of the blue box -- of the man of many lifetimes, but Hector has never been there in time. Once, he was in London, and THE DOCTOR ran straight into him! Then, as quickly as he entered his life, the man darted into his vanishing phone box and was gone. Hector had to see that vanishing trick with his own eyes to believe it, and ever since then, he’d had a self assigned MISSION to track him down. And after, what, sixty years? The telephone box fucking sirens into the street in-front of him and now he has to act on a plan he hadn’t entirely thought-out yet.

There’s no running away this time! Hector is standing at the very hearth of the box so that when the doors open, there he fucking well is. “It’s you,” he says immediately. “You’re the Doctor. But-- I don’t care about that. You look different. I’ve heard about that. I-- well, you ran into me in England sixty years ago.”

[oldhector]

@painmade

“Anyone would think you’re here for the people, and not the paintings,” Hector says amicably, hands folded behind his back. He’d wandered closer to the only man in jeans out of curiosity more than anything, but when he realised that he wasn’t even looking at any of the art, that caught his interest. Art shows are usually high brow, but Hector’s only really wearing his slim-fit suit because he knows he looks dashing. He actually is here for the art, though. He’s taken a keen interest in abstract recently.

[oldhector]

@cellobowsandarrows

Goddamn, this had better be the right fucking trailer park. He’d been hunting this girl for two months now. 63 days, actually. Put it like that and it sounds like the blink of an eye, but for once, two months really dragged. His current job was some big time boss desperately wanted the bitch responsible for burning his cash to burn in hell. Sure. That would’ve been fine, if he hadn’t heard from a reliable source that the girl was young. And also his daughter. Now that was crazy. Hector didn’t usually form attachments to cases, but it didn’t usually take this long to find is target. He’d had plenty of time to think about it. (He was still going to shoot her, but he really wanted to know more because curiosity was just eating him alive!)

Los Angeles. He’d listened to rumours saying his target was staying in a little trailer, so he’d spent five days driving ‘round every one that matched the description. Hector had his own trailer, blended right in. He took the space next to his target’s and parked up. Deep breaths, and a prayer to whoever was listening. 

He made a show of pottering around, establishing himself as an easy-going traveller. He whistled as he pulled an umbrella and deck chair out of the trunk, dressed in cargo shorts and a tshirt. Hector sat down, then made an ah! sound as he popped back inside to grab a newspaper. What a beautiful day! He hoped his target would eventually find a need to come outside so he could cheerily greet her, but he had a backup plan if she stayed inside all day. So there he waited, the picture of laziness.