Finality

My small room's space had become filled as I made a few calls and some... items... were delivered in the dead of night.

Now I just had to make it final. No more guesswork, no more foolishness. I was done with that. Sometimes you just have to up the ante - and that's what I did. I ate a cold bowl of cereal and trekked down to the basement. The boxes were rather heavy, and it took me a few trips. Once I thought I saw someone up the staircase as I climbed.

The door had been camoflaged in the past, and I now had to destroy the careful concealment of the old door to the hidden basement. The papers were there, but I had no clue where they were exactly, and a search group would have raised too many questions with that many old locks - too many loud noises from under the earth as each would have had to be cut through. Our resources were already lessened. These secrets COULD NOT get out.

I brought in the boxes and began to wire enough material to destroy the room completely, chucking at what Mamet was think of his lot after I was through.

But there was a noise. I had only wired a few of the pieces - the rest were still sitting in the basement next door. But it was enough. Enough to end it at least, if not to destory the harder stone I knew were in the room. This all had been rediculous, but now control was mine. And NO ONE would take it.

I hid myself in the shadows as the bumbling Italian picked through the dust as if it was going to consume his immortal soul. He walked in and stared around the room, forgetting the filth around him, for how filthy rich he thought he was.

Thought.

I stepped forwards in eager trepetation. He turned, startled, and asked for my name. I chose to allow him a moment of clarity before his death, but he didn't understand. He didn't, COULDN'T know why I had to do what he did. Fool he was, and he would die a fool. I would never trust him. You can't really trust anyone. The only person you can rely on is yourself, and I could do that no longer. Not with my own error. My own imperfection.

I hit the button.

Failure

I have failed again. My will is broken.

I don't understand. When I came here, everything was simple. The mission was simple, people were simple, and the world was simple. It all fundamentally made sense.

Now though, I cannot make sense of anything - or of myself. I've lost my ability to control my surroundings. I am being judged by some absurd belief that I do not know the root of, I've heard words that I cannot explain, I got hit by a car! And for what point? What is the intention here?

I am floundering, lost in a sea of humanity that I've become a part of in a way that I did not choose.

NO! I reject this future. I must keep to what I know: and that is I need Mamet to retain control of that lot. That idiot Dandelo has been seeking it - he must be seeking the safe, and I must not let him get those papers. They would be the ruin of my entire family.

Sadly, it seems Mamet is a romantic idiot. I can only hope Dandelo's ridiculous womanizing hasn't yet gotten to her. Not that she would fall for it (no no, don't go down that road now!).

Later....

I "bumped" into Mamet on the street and asked what he thought about the lot (or didn't know...). The man was clearly annoyed: "Christ, people keep on asking me about the damn thing." He huffed off, and I didn't pursue (and unwise move I deemed that, might need his help later)

I decided eventually to watch Dandelo. Perhaps with proof I could get help in my mission to keep the past in the past. I trailed him for the entire day, (he's rather obvious about what he does, isn't he now!) but there was a catch. (Yes indeed..)

He's onto me. He was going into the theatre (to see a movie maybe?) with some woman when he turned about and saw me. We even made eye contact (hehe) and he looked almost panicked. (Hah!)

I know now what I'm going to do. Its easy. It's simple. And it has a, er, finality. ring to it.

It will all be safe now. I just need the correct materials...

Silent Vigil

Must... Stay... Awake...

I MUST! There was too much on this! Again, the buzz of the street lamp infiltrated my mental core, and I found myself drawn by the hidden beats within that noise. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.................

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

.................................

(Earlier that day)

I strode down the street, avoiding eye contact and moving against the foot traffic. People careless bumped into me a few times - I ignored it and soldiered on, head bent over. The fellow at the root shop hadn't been helpful in the slightest - it was all "Good day!" to him, and he suspected the man didn't know even know how to talk properly. His act certainly didn't gain him any favor with Saul.

Lately, the other occupants of the building had been looking at him oddly, and crossing to the other side of the street when they saw him approach. They walked the other direction, and hurried into their apartment if they saw him coming down the hall. Saul was sure that Aretha hadn't just forgotten a canvas, but she quickly announced it to the air when she spied him coming down the hall, want back into her apartment, and he even thought he had heard the deadbolt turn as he walked past the shut door.

These petty items did not really concern me - but the reasons for them did. I wanted to be viewed with disgust. That was the reason for my manufactured rotten scent, the uniform I wore, and the way I conducted himself. But now, these people seemed to fear me. I do enjoy the new sentiments on a strictly personal level. Fear is a great motivating factor - but if feelings toward me continue down this road, it might be threatening to my mission to -

(At this point, I found myself to be rather close to a certain car who driver I couldn't see. The breaks screeched and squealed, and it seemed that I had escaped harm from my carelessness.)

But not quite. My legs suffered contact, and the vehicle was still at a sufficient rate of speed that I found my face in rather close quarters with the front hood. I jumped off as soon as I could, and the car sped off without me getting a chance to see the driver. Pokey came out of his stooping booth and asked me if I was alright, but I was fine. He apologized for the other car and said he'd talk to the driver about safety around the deck, but I persuaded him against that course of action. People were already spooked and it was my fault, after all.

Ms. Verdioso was standing across the street, rubbernecking at my minor calamity. I crossed and she didn't move away, but rather stood her ground as if bracing herself. Fair enough. "What in all Hell do you think that makes you a party to that little event, Ma'am!" I shouted. Let them stare. But no, she was staring, and not backing down. This wasn't going to work, and I knew it, so I walked away, almost feeling shameful, but not quite. She still shouldn't have been watching like that.

I knocked the doors of the Flats aside I strode into the hall. Van Vraken was at the mailboxes. He turned, and I SAW him. What eyes could communicate so much? Vraken pulled at his threadbare coat; the stitches were tested but held, and I knew it was time for me to let him be. I did not desire pain in one already hurt.

And then here came that fool Eros, making a smart stride as if the winds of fortune were at his back. I turned toward him and wanted to anchor that ship. But not now, not after being physically hit by a car and mentally walloped by the pain in those tormented eyes. I was weak.

He also made eye contact, and I saw the hint of a sneer, but there was no fear there. Only a haughty condescension and an arrogant gleam in his eyes. Oh no. Those were my winds, and that was my stride. What foolishness had he put upon my name?

Or was it not foolishness at all? I still had the strength for a vigil.