#running from the queue

[thecdcredubancwski]

Theodore Pelletier-Dubanowski + Task 004

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"We already have the means to travel among the stars, but these technologies are locked up in black projects and it would take an Act of God to ever get them out to benefit humanity... Anything you can imagine, we already know how to do." 

Ben Rich, 1993

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Sony presents contacts that record and playback memories

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There's a story in my veins, with scars at every page It's written on my face, I'm a proud survivor

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Good Night

He didn’t clean up this time. His body ached and he dust he tread on the already battered floor wasn’t a high priority on his mind. William collapsed into the sagging sofa, dusty jacket and muddy boots leaving their mark on the faded upholstery. Sleep washed over him immediately. Deep. It felt nice. Not a feeling he remembered.

He saw her come home. How, he wasn’t quite sure. She looked at him, first with a smile that quickly turned into a worried frown as she, undoubtedly, noticed the blood caked on his sleeves. He couldn’t bring himself to care, much less to get up. She moved on to the bedroom, changing out of her work clothes. He saw it all. Some sort of out of body experience. They must have taught him that at some point back at the compound. Some Stargate or CREST bullshit. His spectral self floated a few steps behind her, enjoying the long stares that his invisibility afforded him. He didn’t wake until her lips were pressed against his forehead, then his lips. “Hey.” She purred. William smiled meekly. That was his Yumi. He could look like total shit, but she wouldn’t ask. Not until he was ready. She tugged his arms to pull him to stand, then to follow her into their closet of a bedroom. On to the bed and he was out again, but not before Yumi managed to throw off the jacket and boots. Their sheets could only take so much.

An alarm blared in his ears. “Babe,” he murmured in the sleek black hair, “your phone is fucking loud.” But the weight on his chest was gone. The bedroom walls replaced with white padded walls. Glaringly white. But the alarm didn’t fade. No. His stomach heaved. Boots were now audible over the frantic pitched sirens.

Nightwatch.

There wasn’t enough time. William curled into a fetal ball. The baton cracked the base of his skull and its electricity raced down the length of his body. He moaned, forgetting that this show of pain only encouraged the brutality of the offense. It was like he was thirteen again. Despite their opaque masks, the grins of utter delight were obvious in their eager beatings.

It was ridiculous. William groaned; a disadvantage had never set him back before. He opened his mouth, ready to bite his way out of this mess. The first thing he tasted was the blood, gurgling from his nose. The second thing was a foot. This Nightguard was experienced.

“Not today you prat. I have enough scars from you.”

He was left an hour later, cuddling his knees to his chest. Not of his own accord, it was simply the only position he could physically be in. Desperately he wished to be in the tiny apartment with the most perfect woman in his arms, dream or not. But it wouldn’t come. 

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I used to be one of the good guys. Heh. That’s what they told me and I was enough of a sucker to believe them. Now I’m just… alive, I guess? If you can call it that at all. I’ll do what it takes burn their world… I’m a survivor. That’s what they made me.

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I will hide myself below. I'll be what you wanted. Kept inside, I won't let go 'till I burn beyond control.

Who are you to change this world? Silly Boy! No one needs to hear your words. Let it go.