More Uwen Story, this time, not in word ;)

[UwensBack]

((here is the first part if you haven't seen it- My Story))

The eyes… those baby blue eyes…those beautiful eyes… hr fire was still in them, but it was faint and fading…fading…gone… Replaced by his fearful eyes. Then those prideful eyes. The angry eyes, the hate filled eyes, the pleading eyes… they surrounded him, closing in… closer… closer…

Chris sat bolt upright. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He realized he was sweating. Randa was next to him, but she was still asleep. He glanced at his clock. Three a.m. He blinked hard and rubbed his face. He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes…. They weren’t his…. They were terrified. They were angry. They were his victims. He seized up and flipped on the light switch, closing the door so it wouldn’t wake Randa. He looked back at the mirror and saw himself staring back. He splashed his face with cold water and shook his head to wake himself up. He was still slightly drowsy, but there was no way he could go back to sleep. He’d been getting less and less sleep after that conversation with Emiliy. He told that girl too much, despite their agreement. She was, what? 19? And he was telling her his most…. Dark. Yes. Dark was the word for it. Dark secrets. Dark problems. Disturbing stuff. Bah! He kept telling himself she was just a kid and wouldn’t understand or that it would be too much! She wasn’t “just a kid”. She understood things. She grew up fast. Hell, she was probably smarter than he was. Probably my arse, she is far smarter than me. But telling her about the incident with his brother? There I go with the euphemisms…”incident”… bah. He started to replay the “incident” in his mind again, but stopped himself. NO! No, what’s done is done. He looked surprised at himself. What’s done is done… And I can’t do anything to change it… how… depressing.

((EDIT: Sorry for the bad spelling in the OOC, wasn't, er, at full mental capacity last night If there are any problems, give me a PM or an email and I'll fix 'em ))

[UwensBack]

He pulled on some pants and a shirt and walked into the kitchen. The food was all bland, tasteless. Nothing good. He didn’t eat anything. He went to sit down at his desk in the living room. His constitution was there, untouched for about a week. He hadn’t talked to Rachel…. Er no, he needed to be professional. He hadn’t talked to Ms. Schuemann in two weeks at least. Betji had approached him about giving her some motivation, but he couldn’t do anything until Emiliy got those damn files from Malcom’s apartment. He hadn’t bothered her about it, but he was beginning to get impatient. He rarely got impatient. Emmi had even teased him about being a pushover. He pushed the constitution aside and pulled up a gridfeed. He visited Whisper’s Edge’s gridsite and browsed around. He began to feel depressed as the realization that he cannot change the past set in, even as he read through some cheery, lighthearted gridposts. He entered the Poetry and Prose Section and began a poem. It reflected his demeanor to be sure. He titled it Eyes and Retribution:
Over endless plains
The screaming rage
Of a hollow man in a hollow land

Fearful eyes
Though filled with pride
Telling a story in which I write The End

Staring into the eyes
Of so many lives
Their final chapter I have written

Remorse and regret
Either have yet
To bring back one soul I have taken

I have no soul
What is left is a hole
I have dug with so much death

Misery and pain
Like tears in rain
All too common these days

When I close my eyes
They ask me "Why?"
Their eyes pleading "Please, God"

Begging for life
Eye filled with fright
Wondering what they did wrong

So many have I laid
Into their eternal grave
Never to see light again

Seeing eyes in the night
Returning their fright
Endless punishment for unspeakable deeds

I took that which I cannot return
Forever in Hell my soul will burn
As angry retribution for boundless pain

It wasn’t very good, but it reflected his mood. He posted it and went to back to the kitchen. He pulled a Scotch out of the fridge and went outside. He was about to take a drink, but he stopped. He brought the bottle down from his lips and looked at it. He snarled and threw it out into the backyard, watching it shatter against a wall. He walked out of the backyard and into The Cup. It was empty as he expected it to be. The two Atrox “brothers” he worked with, Jim and Jack, wouldn’t be up for another two hours or so and Coco wouldn’t wander for over four hours. He tried to get some work done, inventory stuff. He’d been putting it off even though he wasn’t busy. He found a pack of Nano-Deths and pulled them out and looked at them. He remembered telling Emmi he was quitting. Ah what the hell, one pack isn’t gonna ruin me. He put them in his pocket and shut the cooler. No more inventory. Boring and dry. He looked around the same place he’d been working at for a month or two now. The same boring place. He walked out under the West Athen sky. Lights were on in Athen, but not in West Athen. No late night businesses here. It was much cleaner and calmer than Athen, as are all richer suburbs. He got lucky by working at The Cup. They paid for his apartment and all his furnishings, which was well enough considering that was all the pay they gave him. He wouldn’t have been able to afford the upscale West Athen place without The Cup. He’d be living in some slum in Tir or Athen. Bleh. Thank god I’m not there. Poor sods. He wasn’t rich, despite some impressions some people got. His Yalmaha plane was a gift from a friend, his expensive Miiir clothes outfits and bonuses from OmniTek. His expensive glasses from Zoftig were the only expensive thing he’d bought in a while. His armour was cheap and his guns were gifts. He pulled out a Nano-Deth and popped it in his mouth, although he left it unlighted. He hopped in his Yalm and entered the West Athen grid, going to the exit point he used the most- Borealis. He couldn’t tell someone the way from the West Athen grid entrance to the Borealis grid exit, but he could go the route himself with his eyes closed. Ah the benefits of partying every night…

[UwensBack]

When he got to Borealis, he flew past the whompas, his normal destination, and to the Azure Lake. He climbed out of his Yalm and absent-mindedly spit out his Nano-Deth. He looked at the moon over the lake. The air was crisp and cool… It reminded him of…. Home. The ground was even green, like home. He glanced at his watch. 4:30… should be more than enough time. He pulled off his shirt and pants, kicked off his boots, and dived into the cool water. He swam laps around the largest portion of the lake for the greater part of an hour. At about 5:20ish, he got out, executed a drying nano, and pulled his clothes back on. The first rays of the twin suns were peaking out over the mountains. It should have been a beautiful sight to behold, but it was bland. Like everything else.
As he walked into Borealis, it began to rain. The rain triggered the thoughts. He had been relaxing, in a way, and had left his guard down. They rushed him. He saw a thousand scenes, a thousand souls rushing past him. His mind’s eye appeared to traveling, speeding towards something. The speeding stopped abruptly. This scene was a familiar one. It was a woman. A rebel woman. The 1st Rangers were marching into a rebel village on the outskirts looking for ringleaders. They had met an organized resistance and besieged the little town. Property Reclamation was the company’s name, no, the company’s euphemism for it. She was on her knees, bent over a body. She looked up, straight into his eyes. His was taken aback. Her bloodshot eyes had tears streaming out of them. He could see her pain, her grief, her despair. Her…. Helplessness? No…. it wasn’t really helplessness in that she wasn’t helpless. The emotion was more that she could do nothing to stop the violence. His eyes moved from hers down to the body. A child. He wasn’t surprised at first, many children served in militias on both sides. But this was different… this child… he was far too young. Only four, perhaps five at the most. He was too young for militia service even by rebel standards. He must have been killed in the bombardment. If he hadn’t been stunned, he would have kept walking, but he just stood there. He looked back up into the woman’s eyes. She begged only one word, “Why?”

((um... gotta type up the rest instead of copy/paste it, so it'll be a little ))

[Ashval]

((Keep it coming! ))

[UwensBack]

(( Couldn't finish it last night, would have neded up typing sexx0rz and mumbling about babyfaces... Ok... here we go. If you some ambience, I was listening to Eminem's "Stan" when I wrote most of this (a song that really gets me depressed [So why do I listen to it?!?! *sigh*]) ))

He snapped out of the flashback. He was on his knees. The city had woken up and he had drawn a crowd of citizens. He took no notice of them. He arched his back, looking up at the sky. The rain fell on his face and, for the first time in 13 years, he broke down crying. She had asked the question and he, for the first time he could remember, didn't have an answer. Why? ... I don't know.... I don't know... He doubled over, crying. He didn't know. He didn't have all the answers. Why? That question, that single word, plagued him his entire life. He was a 13 year old with a rifle marching into a city, being asked by a woman twice his age why he and his people killed her son with artillery. What the hell was I supposed to say? He had only stuttered out "I don't know", before the woman was arrested for rebellious activities. He stood up and glared at the crowd. He walked off into the Stret Whompa and climbed into his Yalm.

He went to the spire on top of Reet's Retreat. He thought to himself. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm supposed to help people. I'm supposed to be moderate and calm. I'm not supposed to bomb five year olds. I'm not supposed to shoot prisoners. I'm not supposed to murder my brother. I'm supposed to be a nice guy. I'm supposed to be strong, have the answers. This isn't supposed to be this way.

He looked down at his feet.

Who says?

[UwensBack]

He looked around briefly before realising that he was the one asking. Well, not quite. Emmi had asked roughly the same thing. But he was asking now. He had ignored it when she asked, changing the subject, but he couldn't change the subject now. He'd tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. He'd thought about the answer for some time. He'd decided at first that heritage and family had said so, but that wasn't the real answer. The real answer was that he said so. Yes. He set those standards and everyone had seen and accepted them, or, at least, he thought they did.

The rain was beginning to clear up and he looked around. The sunrise was just finishing up. He looked up at the sky once more. There are no excuses. There are no reasons. There is no answer to "Why?". No real answer. Politics will tell you something else, but its lies or half truths, as politics often-times is. He laughed to himself. Hell, I've even said I haven't killed, although I worded it in some way that, if held up, it would be true. Damn lawyering. Wonder how many people believed that tripe....

[UwensBack]

Thursday Evening, almost one week since the nightmares began anew.

The night had been eventful, but after most of the crowd had gone and the events with Aeydan calmed down, it had slowed down. There were only a couple people left. Chris had left to tend to business and upon returning found Sezmra had returned. He sparkled the remaining partiers and nonchalantly began asking "innocent" questions and commenting about the evening's events. It wasn't working and he didn't think it would. She was the secret agent. She knew what he was doing. He laughed to himself as he pulled out a bottle of Scotch, his first in almost a week. If he wanted to find anything important out, he'd have to ask her directly.

20 minutes later....

Somehow, they had gotten onto the subject of women. He'd had a little to drink and had a loose tongue. He admitted he had no idea what he was doing when he came to women, it was all luck. She didn't seem to believe it, at least at first. They talked for some time about that when the conversation took another seemingly random turn. He said something along the lines of "If people think I'm cute, guess they don't know me." What he meant was they don't know his past, but she said something that put what he decided Emiliy had been trying to get at in a blunt light. "I call 'em how I see 'em." Everything made sense then. Everything Emiliy had said about pasts and presents. "...how I see 'em." Its how he is now that matters. Thats what Emmi was saying. The past can't be changed. His actions couldn't be excused. But, at the present, he wasn't the same person he used to be. He was... how did she put it.... "cute". "Fun". Not a killer. He was a healer now. Sure, the nightmares and the remorse would still come, but he would be worried if it didn't. They would stay with him until the end of his days reminding him why he was a healer. Hopefully tempering any future action he took. He wasn't a grief stricken teenager. He wasn't a militia soldier. He wasn't furious-beyond-words with his brothers. He was "cute" with a past that he hoped he learned a lesson from.

He was surprised that he had said so much. She was fun, but he didn't know her like others did. He decided he needed to get to bed and she said she was tired as well.

"Glad we had this chat"

He looked up, surprised.

"Likewise."

She smiled and walked off and he turned and began walking to his apartment. He didn't quite get her and didn't think he ever would. He remembered to his first day back, he went straight to Rompa's and had exactly two people on world he knew personally. She'd been sitting there in a booth with that fixer, Demenzia. He thought about going back to his old waiter duties, but he decided they could wait and had gone to other things. He mumbled something about coincedences as he entered the apartment.

Wonder if I shoulda said all that... For all he knew, she had recorded it for a SPARTA profile.
Nah, he thought, ,
A) yer not that important,
B) She wouldn't do it.

What makes you so sure?

Like she said, I call 'em how I see 'em. I'm not a secret agent, but I think I can trust my gut about people.

He grumbled about his discussions with himself and climbed into bed.

[vallikat]

((Great stuff Uwen!))