#s8:0101

[minervamagicka]

"C'mon, you big drunk bastard."

"Ey, I didn't start shit, man... Why're you kicking me out?"

"Because you tried to fight someone. Get an Uber."

[minervamagicka]

Paren grunted noncommittally, shrugging as he set his glass down on the coaster, feeling a chill go through him momentarily, "I was at Danny’s down the street for New Years. Thought I saw a man in a hospital gown through the kitchen windows.”

While he might have looked rather collected on the outside, on the inside, he was splintering over it. Memories that the situation brought up truly hurt to think about, and Fergus was giving him that look that everyone had given him before. That his CO had given him, that his father had given him, when he tried to explain that the people he saw were real and not just in his head.

"I ain’t gonna care if it’s still happening, man. I just need to know so I can hel--"

"I'm not seeing people again, Fergus. Army shrink said I was good the last time I saw him."

"And how long ago was that?"

"A month. Interrogation over?"

Paren stood up, shaking his head a little as he grabbed his coat from the bar. He felt the concerned glances from Fergus following him out the door.

It wasn't happening again. He just saw one of the busboys, probably.

[minervamagicka]

[x]

“...”

[minervamagicka]

"New job panning out?"

"About as well as you'd expect."

Fergus cracked a sideways smile, giving a mildly pointed look to Paren as he took a drink of his pint. Paren drank too, huffing afterwards with a roll of his shoulders. It was a little weird they did this - Technically, he was Paren's boss, even though his older brother Thomas owned the permits and the building. It was only by the grace of probably God and Fergus that he had a job since he was the brother did all the actual managing work. Meygrove's Tavern wouldn't run itself, and since it’s owner was a black sheep whoremonger, it fell to the little brother. And the little brother had hired him.

Sometimes he thought the only reason for the hire was pity. Or maybe he just really wanted a drinking partner.

A few minutes of silent sipping had passed in the empty bar before Fergus spoke up again, giving Paren a bit more of a serious side-eye now.

“Ey. We’re friends, right?”

“I suppose.”

“...You still seeing them, then? The, uh, people.”

[minervamagicka]

[x]

“Ha, you think a simple punch will take me out?”

[minervamagicka]

[x]

“Is that a tiny man? On the inlet?”

[minervamagicka]

“They can’t give me blockers during the birth. You have to stop visiting. Or they will do something about it.”

That rebellious streak she maintained always managed to piss him off. How she ignored inhibitions, rules, walked right past them if it got what she wanted. Her expression remained the same, full of sorrow as though this was a tragedy. Her gaze never left his as he shook harder, his head in a vice, “Go!” He finally hissed, the veins in his neck strained now.

“They’re strong, Harlock. The pain is–”

“I said go, Melissa. Visit someone else. Anybody... But me.”

He shut his eyes. When he opened them, she was gone. The wholly intimate experience had left him for the weaker, but he still felt her presence beside him, clinging like perfume on skin. Truthfully, he felt the other 5 in his cluster in the same way, but she held on as always, determined, her unconditional love weathering time itself.

A violent spasm tsent his frail form to the floor, nails clawing at the metal riveting as blood filled his mouth. The resulting red splatter added to the gory history, brighter than the others, but not any less horrifying. He fought off a wave of nausea as sweat poured down his face, tears in his eyes. The connection was like taunt ropes, no slack, and it felt like it was pulling his insides out.

In that moment the birth reached its climax; Pure euphoria. And that instant, he was no longer in the cell, within the confine of his own body, even.

He felt his own presence in 4 different places across the globe.

[minervamagicka]

The acutely painful sensation of his nails raking through his scalp did little to relieve the pain that was arcing across his skull. His brain throbbed, and his heart hummed in rhythm, the connections he felt growing exceedingly stronger by the second.

Then again, it was not like he could tell the time. Protocol dictated he remains in the cell until the birthing had been completed, under observation. It usually lasted an hour or two. Drugs could dull the pain, but the births would last far longer as a result; He wasn’t a stranger to pain. More like old, bitter lovers.

The thin linen hospital gown didn’t do anything to help with the cold of the underground cell. Lowering his hands from his head felt forced, as though something was controlling the limbs and digits for him. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The voice of another made him nearly jump out of his own skin, forcing him to gaze past his boney fingers to the person who had manifested.

“I can feel them too, you know.“

She stared back with large, green pits for eyes. Her classic white shirt and jean shorts hugging her form as she knelt on the riveted floor, bare legs against the dried blood looking un-natural, ethereal. An angel.

There was only one problem. She wasn’t there. Well, not technically, but technicality never bothered his kind much. The Humans watching beyond the two-way mirror, through the cameras, couldn’t see her. She had no physical presence in the cell. No, this encounter was all in their heads, he could touch her, but he wouldn’t be… touching her.

“Melissa.” He croaked, his hands shaking as he looked past them at her haunted expression. What they could do was likened to astral projection but it was so much more intimate. He could hear her thoughts, feel her emotions, understand her at a level so deep no secrets could be kept. He looked at her and could almost strip away the layers, it was like looking at himself.

And at that moment he knew what she was thinking too; Unimaginable sadness towards him and the ones to come. It was so in character with her; She always mourned at the births. Always, eternally, the one who was the most against their operation, who wished to save all she regarded- and rightfully so -as her children. If he was evil, she was good.

“It won’t get any easier, Harlock. This is karma.” She murmured softly, her words sending a hard shiver down his spine.