Two-Faced

[mead1]

Two-Faced

Every man and woman on earth is two-faced. This is not an exaggeration. We put on visages to get our way. We talk differently to our friends then we do to our mothers. Every one of us has a side they show, and many they don’t. What people fail to realize is that the sides we do not show are people too. They speak, think, and live, even when we do not want them to. The faces we hide cannot merely be turned off at the flick of a switch. We must live with them always.

Marty was a quiet loser.

Sam was a pretentious artist.

Aden was a loud prankster.

Kaine was a maniac with a lust for blood.

Steve was a fairly normal guy. And it is with him the story begins.

Steve was working quietly in his cubicle. His boss needed those TPS reports on his desk in two hours. He typed furiously. The text in front of him grew like a living thing. It branched through diagrams, and jumped from page to page. Steve was a genius at his job. He was an efficiency consultant. Not a very interesting job by any stretch, but he had a passion for it. He essentially told other people how to better do their jobs, and he netted a cool 200,000 a year. As the text flew, his thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, they were at a table. A table that did not exist outside of his mind. A table with five seats.

A loud dispute had broken out amongst the five. They always made decisions by majority agreement. The boss had offended Sam’s artwork in the cubicle. He wanted revenge. Marty just wanted to post about it on myspace. Sam wanted to steal the boss’ wife. Aden wanted to super-glue the boss’ chair while he went out. Kaine wanted to dismember the boss, and use his entrails to decorate the door of the nearby orphanage. Steve wanted to forget the whole thing and get back to work. Aden and Sam eventually agreed it would be best to make it look like the boss was sleeping with the secretary to the rest of the office, then steal his wife when she heard about it. Steve had bullied Marty into siding with him on continuing the work. Kaine was still steadfast in wanting disembowelment. Normally, Kaine could be persuaded one way or the other, but he was determined today to see what the boss was made of.

Steve finally gave in. He proposed they let him finish the work, then he would leave a forged love note from the boss on the secretary’s desk, and if the opportunity arose, make a move on the wife. That satisfied Aden and Sam. 4/5 was plenty. Steve woke up from the daze. He finished his reports in a hurry.

So Steve set to work appeasing the masses. He opened up a new document, and went about acting like his boss in writing. He put in as many “mhm”s as possible, and made the whole thing rather boring. He proposed the secretary meet him at a bar the following night. He then pulled up an internet Thesaurus and replaced every monosyllabic word possible with larger synonyms. Now it looked right. He printed it, folded it, then forged his boss’ signature. This wasn’t too hard, as he had it on every document he had ever received. He got up, dropped it carefully on the floor near the secretary’s desk, where some curious co-worker was sure to find it, then delivered his reports to the boss.

Steve walked home a few hours later. He lived about a block away, and he didn’t feel the need to drive that short a distance. He checked his watch: 6:34. Twenty-six minutes until Marty time. It was generally agreed upon that Steve should have control most of the time. The other four saw him as the one best fitted to keep food on the table. This control came with the stipulation that the others could call a meeting whenever they saw fit, and he would obey the decision. The other four also got their own hour and a half to do with what they saw fit. If Steve was not home in time, due to work, Marty had to settle with whatever time was left. Everyone except Marty had seen this as totally logical.

So Steve got home to his apartment, locked the door behind him, hung up his nice clothes, and stood naked in the clothing room. He needed a full room to accommodate for five styles, each with clothes to suit them. At seven, Steve was no longer there, and Marty went hunting for some clothes. He pulled out a white T-Shirt and sweat-pants that were a brilliant shade of red. Marty never left the house on his time. He had an internet connection, and that was all he needed.

He hopped into the seat and logged on. He hopped onto Myspace to check his messages. He had lots of friends and they all loved talking to him. He never posted any pictures, of course, that could lead to trouble. On the internet Marty pretended he was his own man. He pretended he was a college student who was currently buffing up in preparation of the football season. He pretended he had a lovely girlfriend named Susan. He pretended to drive a beat-up Mercury Tracer LS. He chatted over AIM with people he would never meet. He played some internet games. Before long, his time was coming to a close. He came out of his fantasy land and stood naked in the clothing room at 8:29.

When Sam woke up, he was excited. He had spent the whole day planning for his time. He threw on some old raggedy clothing bought from goodwill and pulled out his pencils and canvas. Sam only did pencil works. Never in color. He believed he could leave the viewer to interpret the piece more themselves this way. He drew today a portrait. It was a picture of Steve’s boss. The picture was fantastically detailed. Every bit of the pudgy man was created in spectacular likeness. The boss was seated at a tall desk. He was twiddling his thumbs. On his desk lay a stack of papers and a coffee mug. The office looked exactly as it did in real life. Then Sam began work on a figure behind the boss. He labored over this figure. Little more then a shadow, but visible. Poised, with a knife, about a foot behind the boss. The man was Kaine. Sam took offenses to his work very seriously. The picture completed, he placed it in the only free spot in the main hall. The walls of the hall were covered in sketches of all things. Sam didn’t often draw death, but he had a special loathing for the boss. After it was fitted perfectly in the hall, he realized he had only about twenty minutes left. He made himself some coffee and relaxed for about fifteen. He admired his work. Someday, the rest of the world would see it. At 9:59 he stood naked in the clothing room.

Aden awoke and threw on a Hawaiian shirt and some jeans. Tonight he was going to have some fun at the expense of others. He left the apartment, locked it behind him, and went to the bar. The five had agreed that everyone would answer to “Steve” while conscious and in public to avoid complications. Well, Kaine always went by Kaine, but that was his business. Aden pulled one of his favorite props from his pocket: a twenty-dollar bill. Aden took out a pen, scribbled something, then carefully glued it to the floor behind one of the larger men, not terribly well, but glued so it would stick until someone really tried. After doing this, he ordered a drink, and sat down a table away to watch. Some man about his height was the first to see it. The man bent over to pick it up, careful not to disturb the larger man. When it wouldn’t come up, he repositioned himself so he could put more force behind his pull. The man accidently bumped into the large man, who turned around and bellowed “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” The large man had had just a bit too much to drink that night, all the more fortuitous for Aden. The smaller man smiled and said he was picking up the twenty to return to the large man, who had obviously dropped it, and apologized for bumping into him. The large man looked quizzically at the twenty, pulled it up, and read what was scribbled on the back.

“Hey big fella, I like the way you look, let’s meet tonight at the ridin’ dirty.
-Love Chester”

It should be noted at this point that the “ridin’ dirty” was the city’s largest gay bar. The large man looked at the bill, then at the foolish grinning smaller man. He looked between the two, wondering what would cause the man to think such things about him. Aden left as the first bone-crunching blow landed. He would have stayed to watch more, but his time was running low. He went back to the apartment, locked the door behind him, and stood naked in the clothing room at 11:29.

What Kaine did is Kaine’s business, and his alone.

The Five slept one in the morning. They had to get up at eight the next day to be at work by nine. Seven hours was plenty.
--

Ok, so that's the first bit. At this point, the next section will be outlining the birth of one of the personalities. I will leave it up to you guys who it is.

Obviously, Steve is the original, and I'm saving Kaine for last.

Would you like to hear about the creation of Marty, Sam, or Aden?

[Tibs]

lol dat was gud maek sure you finish this one lmao

p.s. aden

[JurseyRider734]

Aden

[Omeganitros]

That was so rad.

[mead1]

lol dat was gud maek sure you finish this one lmao

I probably won't but I'll write atleast a little moar.

[Pumble]

Aden for more clever reference placement and possibly a light-hearted romp

[Omeganitros]

Marty, because I want to see how someone goes from being a regular joe to a loser.

[MagicCarpetRide]

I can't believe i got myself to read the whole thing! You made me read ALL that you should be some kind of author like...

[iggymatrixcounter]

Is it a coinsidence that his alternate personality names spell Mask? (marty, aden, sam, kaine)

Definitely want to learn about aden as the story should go from humorous to serious (since kaine is last).

[mead1]

Is it a coinsidence that his alternate personality names spell Mask? (marty, aden, sam, kaine)

YOU CRACKED THE SECRET CODE

Yeah, that was intentional.

EDIT: Also

I'm writing the birth of Aden right now. Because I feel like writing and he's currently winning.

[Tokzic]

AND HE WOKE UP AND IT WAS ALL A METAPHOR

Intriguing. Do go on.

[jadez03]

Very good. I liked the TPS reports reference, made me smile.

Can't wait till Aden and Kaine are introduced.

[mead1]

Aden: Part 1

15 years prior

Steve had just enrolled in St. Margot’s High School. He was a sophomore this year. His first year had been spent at L. Tyler James, and that had been a good year. He hadn’t been the most popular kid ever, but he had a few good friends. That was before. He had moved 1600 miles, and hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to most of them. His family, now in witness protection, could make no contact with those they had left behind. The man his father had testified against had connections. The last thing they wanted was anyone knowing where they had gone. So here was Steve. More accurately, here was Steve, Marty, and Sam. He had two “friends” that would be with him always.

None of them were very outgoing people. The people he had known before had come to him, through forced groups on projects, friends of friends, etc. Now he had to start over. It was quite a daunting task. He was a member of the art club, but there was like one other person in it, and she wasn’t any more talkative then he was. He knew it was time for a change. One Monday, he dressed different. He dressed more colorful then his normal black shirts, opting instead for a bright red pullover. Most people would consider this insignificant, but it is huge to someone who wears nearly the same thing every day. As he put it on, he resolved today to be louder and more interesting, to make people like him, or atleast to be known. That day he would be someone other then himself. He knew this was exactly the way he had ended up with Marty and Sam, but he didn’t care. He figured it would help round out his personality. As he looked in the mirror before school, he felt a new presence. He left himself, and went to the conference table in his mind.

Marty was dressed in black, as always, and was slouching forward in his chair, half asleep. Sam was wearing a brown woolen sweater. Pretentious artists were rarely seen outside of sweaters. Sam was watching the new guy, who was currently sneaking up behind Marty with a large bucket of water. Steve walked in quickly, and held the new guy back. He woke up Marty, and had everyone take a seat around the table. He gave the new guy the floor to speak. Aden introduced himself as the man to take Steve into the popular scene. He was going to get him all the girls, and make all the boys want him at their parties. He had quite an ego.

It should be noted at this point that this was before Steve was established as having control most of the day. At this point, the three (now four) simply took control when they thought they had something to add to the situation that the current one in control could not deliver. They still voted on the important things, and because of this, Sam was excited. Up to this point, Steve pretty much got his way. Marty was easily bullied if Steve went all “I made you” on him. Sam would have liked to have had a few decisions go his way, but for the most part they didn’t. Now, however, there was another. Sam thought this guy probably had a bit more spine. They could be allies. He had the feeling that between them, they could make this life a bit more interesting.

Steve had already addressed the issue of the voting. He said if ever there should be a tie, a coin would be flipped to determine the winner. Sam thought to himself that ties would come up far more often then Steve was currently predicting. The meeting ended a few minutes later. Aden surveyed himself in the mirror. The three others had laid out the ground rules for him, and he understood them, but he considered them more of guidelines. What would they do, vote him off the island?

Aden walked to school that morning. His house was close enough to school that it only took him about five minutes. He entered the school, cracking his knuckles in preparation for a busy day. Steve wasn’t a bad guy, just not one with much social experience. What he needed was to pull something big. Something that would get him noticed. Get the name “Steve Plexy” out there.

Aden made his way to first period. It was math. The teacher was Mr. Benson. This did not look like the time to make his move. However, he got his first chance, and he took it. They were put in groups for the first time all year. He could feel Steve getting excited at the prospect of having new people who were forced to meet him. Steve was in the backseat this time, however. Aden introduced himself, and immediately set to the task of establishing who he was. They were given about ten minutes to get to know their group members. The other members of his group were a bored fat guy named Drew and a girl named Jessica who was wearing cat ears and insisted that she was Japanese.

They got along alright, and finished the work well within the time. The conversation drifted to Aden himself, and what he did outside of school. This was a tough one for Aden, as his body spent most of it’s time either painting or posting on obscure forums about finger-dance games. He decided it would be best to say he was a writer. Aden decided he had a passion for writing, and pitched himself as such. He talked of ideas he had for future works, and how difficult the writing process was. Drew had fallen asleep and was drooling and snoring at the same time, but Jessica was captivated. Aden evaluated the situation, he decided for Sam’s sake that this was not the girl for them. When she showed him some of her “artwork” (Badly drawn ninjas with headbands), he could hear Sam screaming in anguish. Even Aden had to admit it was pretty bad. Aden decided if given the opportunity, these two would be tossed to the curb.

They presented their work. They were the last group up. The other two had nominated Aden to be the one to present, due to his speaking ability. Aden walked to the front of class, and explained how his group had graphed the equation, and taught the concept to the class. He walked as he spoke, using his hands for frequent gesticulations. The class watched, as interested as students can be in math. When he was done, they clapped. He took a cheesy bow. The teacher walked to the front, and told him that though his presentation was excellent, the math was almost entirely wrong. Aden took this as an opportunity.

“Sorry sir, but this project was the work of three men, not one man, god’s bowling ball, and a recording of a woman yelling “KAWAIIIIIIIII”

The class laughed. That was what he wanted. People remembered you if you made them laugh. Drew looked hurt. Jessica was smiling and staring at him in an unbelievably creepy fashion. Aden wasn’t sure how he was going to get rid of her, but the presentation was over, as was class. That was tomorrow’s problem. The bell rang and he left class. Jessica caught up to him. She asked for his AIM. Marty probably had one, but Aden sure didn’t. He told her that and hurried off.

The next period was PE. A terrible time to meet people. Aden was by no means in good shape, so they would associate him with his terrible physical abilities if they met him this period. So he kept to himself. Or, he tried to, anyway. The coach had decided that it would be a good day to run laps for an entire period. That’s always instant fun. He ran, quietly, not disturbing anyone, falling far behind the group. Some large kid eventually lapped him. He turned, and spoke tauntingly. The kid was an utter moron. But he was also much larger, so Aden asked his name. The kid’s name was Chester Coverpound. Aden made a mental note. He disliked Chester Coverpound. He disliked him intensely. Still, there was no point in retaliating, as there was nobody close by to hear his witty remarks, and there was a high likelihood of Aden getting the crap beaten out of him. He ran quietly until Chester got bored and left.

The next period was independent study. Steve had taken it because it was essentially a free period. He had one period a day, all year, to turn out a novel. He would be graded on effort. It gave Sam extra time to draw, Marty time to do internet things, and Steve to study for other classes, or some other responsible thing. Steve was working on the novel every few days. It was called “The Best Policy”. Nobody expected him to actually finish it. Being that he was alone in the class, Aden found no reason to retain control of the body for this period. He surrendered control to Sam, since he seemed a more interesting person then the other two. Sam immediately took to drawing pictures of the girl from art class. Aden was amused.

The period ended, and Sam gave the reins back to Aden. Aden walked to the final period of the day (Block Scheduling is rad). It was English. Aden was ready. He had hardly sat down, however, when over the speakers the principal, Mr. Dimes, announced there was a pep rally that day, and that they all must report to the gym at that point. All the students shuffled out of class. Aden felt cheated. He walked to the gym and took a seat on the bleachers. Jessica sat promptly down next to him and started rambling about a full of metal biologist or something similar. He tuned it out and watched the “show”.

There was one of the teachers in a cape made of a quilt. He looked quite ridiculous. The man walked around, and picked people from the crowd for something that was about to take place. Aden thought this might be an opportunity as well. He pulled off the red pullover, and waved it around his head, yelling like someone who actually had spirit. The man called him down, so he stepped up to the group of those already chosen. As it turned out, they were chosen to play a 10 minute game of flag football against the football team of the school. Aden introduced himself, and volunteered to be quarterback. He noticed his buddy Chester. Chester was QB for the opposing side. Aden didn’t expect to win, but he wanted to be visible.
As would be expected, the football team won. The seniors cheered like crazy, and the rest of the school gave a half-hearted round of applause. The teacher was talking to Chester about what a great season they would have. He then walked to Aden, introduced the crowd to him, thanked him for being such a good sport about the whole thing, and asked him if he had anything to say. He said:

“Well, I’d just like to say that High school sports are serious business. They matter a lot. I am sure Chester over there will look at this day as the crowning moment of his life when he’s a twenty year-old married to a cheerleader he knocked up after a game and is working sixteen hour days at Chili’s to make ends meet.”

That got a lot of laughs. From the gangster corner, someone started “ohhhhhhh”, soon, every person in the auditorium joined in the “ohhhhhhhhh”-ing. Aden was proud. Perhaps this hadn’t been a total waste of his time afterall. They would all remember him now. People remembered you if you made them laugh.

He went home that night, told Steve’s mom he was tired and was going to bed early. When he was safely in bed, he went to the table, and to the other three.

Steve was furious. Marty was scared. Sam was amused. Steve went on to cite thirty separate instances that day where he had objected. He went on about how Aden had made a fool of him, and how he would never live it down. Marty went on and on about how Chester would find him sometime after school and beat him down with a passion. Sam just watched. Aden suggested they call a vote as to whether he should be allowed to have reign over the body tomorrow, and then give it back to Steve for the majority of the time. He said he had matters to finish up, and he promised not to make a fool of himself.

Steve voted no. Marty voted no. Sam voted yes. Unsurprisingly, Aden also voted yes.

They flipped a coin, and Aden won. He had tomorrow. He promised Steve he would listen to him when he called meetings, and would honor their decisions, and that ultimately, he would not get the crap beaten out of him.
--

So, part one is done. What do the people want to see Aden do with his second day?

[Tokzic]

completely blow it

This is a wicked-awesome concept, by the way.

[Labeight]

I don't know but this is freaking awesome... read 'em both in one sitting and I'm hoping for more :D

[Jamaican Jew]

Jessica should actually be Chester's girlfriend. (Or Chester should have some sort of crush on her.) If Chester liked her and Aden found out, he could go out with Jessica just to anger Chester, and thwart both the annoying otaku girl and the obnoxious bully with one blow.

[mead1]

Well, the problem being that neither of them are going to be fully realized characters. They only exist for the short section that is "Aden's chronicles of highschool lol"

[Jamaican Jew]

The scenario could easily be summed up in a chapter or less, and would lead to Aden completely blowing it like Tokzic wants.

However, it is all up to you.

[mead1]

Well, the second part of Aden's story isn't coming for awhile. I did end up making her into a real character though.

--

Back in the present

Steve woke up rather tired the next morning. Kaine had gotten home a little late, but none of the other four really wanted to take it up with him. So, time for the first decision of the day, breakfast. The five sat at the conference table.

Steve spoke first. He proposed they eat a light breakfast of eggs. Marty, speaking up on one of the three issues he actually cared about, wanted something bigger. Marty suggested they go to somewhere nice, since there was no work today, and get something gigantic. Sam wanted to go out and get a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Starbucks was always bustling with artsy-types. Aden went along with Sam, as he normally did on these matters. Kaine thought they should find a bum on the street, rip him open, and feast, gaining his soul and wisdom. Weekends were difficult when there were five people to be pleased. Ultimately, since Marty was very stubborn about food, Steve gave Sam control. Sam walked to Starbucks, and bought a six-dollar cup of coffee. It was good though. He sat quietly at the table reading a paper. Stock market was down. The president had done something stupid. Another school shooting. A rash murder a few miles away. The last one caught his attention. Upon further inspection, he discovered the man who had been killed last night was none other then their boss. He heard Kaine laugh. This was more then slightly unsettling to the whole group. Sam set down his coffee and paper. It appeared as though he was staring out the window, but he wasn’t there at all.

Marty was crying. Sam was drumming his fingers nervously. Aden looked a pale shade of green. Steve was twirling a pen. Kaine was sitting quietly on the floor. Steve called him over. This was what they had all been worried about for years. Kaine’s time was not something they liked to talk about or bear witness to. It usually resulted in some poor cat being flayed open in an alley, or something similar. He had never actually killed someone. They didn’t want to think he had this time, but there had been something about that laugh. Something that told them he knew a bit more then he should. Steve kept a semi-level head, and tried to question Kaine. The problem with this was at the core of Kaine’s being. He was pure unbridled violent aggression, with a large helping of cunning. If he knew something, it was unlikely he’d say. Kaine vehemently denied it. He said he had not killed anyone the night before, and that he was aghast that Steve would even suggest such a thing. He gave a spectacular show of shock and dismay at the whole group, and suggested Sam go finish his coffee so they could get out of the stuffy Starbucks. Steve saw there was little he could do. He had regretted bringing Kaine into existence many times. But never so much as this.

Steve made a motion to suspend Kaine’s nightly romps. This was met with great apprehension by the others. They agreed he shouldn’t be allowed to roam the streets, but if his time could be taken away, who was to say their’s was not next? It was a heated discussion. It was interrupted by a voice speaking outside the room. It was calling Steve. Steve got up, and took control.

Steve awoke from his apparent daze to see a tall black-haired woman sitting opposite of him, holding a Chihuahua in her arms. She called him again. He snapped up. He apologized for his inattention, saying he had gotten not nearly enough sleep the previous night. The woman made sweeping gestures with her hands. She said “Well Steve, don’t you recognize me? It’s only been fifteen years.” Steve contorted his face trying to remember. Aden yelled “OH HELL NOT HER”

The woman stood up, and started pacing. “Steve, I’ve never forgotten you. I had to move, and we never got a chance to say goodbye. I yelled at you in the hallway that day, but you didn’t turn around. I guess you didn’t hear me or something. We fell in love that first day we met, Steve. We both know it. It took me a long time to find you again, but I have at last. Now we can be together.”

Steve stood up. He quickly gave Aden control. This was definitely his problem to solve.

“Well, it’s great to see you Jessica. Just great. Actually, at the moment I have to go. I think I left my house on fire. We’ll have to catch up some other time. See you later.”

Aden bolted. He flat out ran out of the shop, leaving half a cup of coffee. Jessica yelled “OK THEN I’LL SEE YOU WHEN I SEE YOU THEN!” He didn’t turn, he just ran. He got in, and locked the door behind him. He sank down on the couch. He heard the others calling for a meeting. He obliged and sat down at the table in his mind.

For possibly the first time ever, the other four were doing the same thing. All four men raised one eyebrow and stared at Aden. Marty spoke.

“Double-You-Tee-Eff man! We could have hit that!”

Sam had similar sentiments. Steve sort of wanted to know what he had missed back in highschool. He thought Aden had made it pretty clear that day he wasn’t interested in Jessica. Apparently there had been some mixed signals. Kaine wanted to know why he couldn’t have eaten the little dog she was holding. The other four then raised their eyebrows at Kaine, then went back to the discussion. They all generally agreed it would be wrong to take advantage of someone so obviously out of her mind. At the same time, there was also the mutual consensus that she looked much better then she had fifteen years ago, and that maybe she wasn’t crazy, they did consider themselves devilishly handsome. Aden didn’t agree on any points except that he was devilishly handsome. He spoke with passion. He said she was exactly the same creepy childish person he had shunned years ago, and that spending time around her would almost definitely result in all of their immediate deaths.

Marty promised Kaine if they got with Jessica, Kaine could find some way to make the dog disappear. With two people for his side, Marty called a vote on “hitting that”. Aden knew this had to be shot down. He eventually won over Sam. Steve was already apprehensive, so Aden knew any votes relating to the “hitting” of “that” would sway in his favor. 3/2 in favor of leaving her alone. Aden breathed a sigh of relief. The meeting then turned to more serious matters. Kaine was still an issue. They mutually agreed (Kaine not withstanding) to limit him to the house during his time. Nobody liked the idea. It just had to be done. None of them was sure if he had anything to do with the boss’ recent departure from the world, but until the mystery surrounding that subsided, it wouldn’t hurt to be safe. Kaine was silent.

Sam had asked to go to an art show that night. Since the group had nothing else planned for the evening, it was agreed he could go. The others would just have their time before that. Marty was first. His time began at Noon. The time was extended to two hours on weekends.

Marty decided today he would make a rare trip out of the house. He dressed in black and wore chains. He thought it was outstandingly trendy and cool. He walked to the local Borders. He sorted through the CDs there. Marty took music very seriously. His taste was a little eclectic. Today he picked up the new “Black Rose for my Broken Soul” album. He took it home, posted on myspace, and whined about the day’s missed opportunity. He did other things, but they’ll come up later, and I can’t just reveal what will be a future plot device. To make a long story short, he finished before two, and gave control to Aden.

Aden took this opportunity to relax. He didn’t have anything in particular planned, so he turned on the television. Nothing good is ever on at two, so he flipped on the TiVo and watched some game show he had taped a while back. Before he could really get into it though, the phone rang. They didn’t often get phone calls, but Aden did like screwing with telemarketers, so he picked up. The voice on the other end was all too familiar.”

“Heeeey Steeeeve! It’s Jess. I found your number on the internet, and decided to call you up. Did your house make it?”

Aden did not want to talk to this woman. He opened up to the others to let someone else take control. Nobody wanted to talk to her, except Marty, and Aden held him down. Kaine took this opportunity to jump into control.

“Hello. I believe what I have been entirely incapable of saying is that I in no way want to associate with you. I do not wish to ever see you again. I certainly did not fall in love with you. This being said, if you knock the dog out and leave him in a bag in a pre-determined place, we may have a deal.”

There was stunned silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, and then:

“STEVE! YOU TWO FACED SNAKE! I KNOW YOU LOVE ME!”

Kaine laughed. He had a creepy laugh. It sent shivers down the other four, and across the phone line, Jess felt much less like stabbing Steve and much more like not pursuing this conversation. But her love drove her to stay on the phone. Kaine spoke once more after his fit of laughter subsided.

“Ma’am, you know not the complement you pay me by calling me twofaced. I see no need to continue this conversation any further.”

Kaine quietly hung up the phone, and returned control to Aden. The other four stared at him. Meanwhile, a few miles away, Jessica decided Steve had simply had a bit too much to drink. He still loved her.

--

So, time for another Flashback. Marty or Sam?

[Tibs]

Marty!

[TheRaiRaiEatsBalloons]

martymartymartymarty

[Tokzic]

going to have to bandwagon here

what no i'm not a wolf

[Jamaican Jew]

Linwood.

[TheRaiRaiEatsBalloons]

Linwood.

true story

[Jamaican Jew]

true story
I don't think he had a Myspace, though.

[qualy]

going to have to bandwagon here

what no i'm not a wolf

Tokzic


ok ok ok seriously, I just found this thread. This is an awesome piece you've got going here mead, keep it up.

ps marty

[mead1]

Important Background Information in Flashback Format

15.5 years in the past

The night had been fairly normal for Art Steinbrunner. He was an architect by trade, and he had worked late that night. The huge merger was in a few days, and he had to finish some paperwork. He’d worked there a long time, and was now Vice President of the company. He no longer designed anything so much as manage people who designed things. This was fine with him. He was paid more for less work, and he practically set his own hours. It was perfect. Now, when an author says something is perfect, something terrible occurs, right?

Art looked at the ledger in front of him. Something stuck out at him he had never noticed before. The costs for timber were several million more then they should be. He double-checked it against the records for the past three months, and this number was way out of the ballpark. He checked to see if they were building more this month then normal, they weren’t. With his executive status, he had access to all company records. He saw no reason for this sharp increase in costs. He put it out of his mind, it probably didn’t matter. See how I used “probably” to seed doubt in your mind? It’s called foreshadowing. All the trendy authors do it.

He went home, forgot about it, and slept well. Two months passed. One morning, he went to work, and gave a presentation about the floor plan for a marine biology lab to investors. The crowd applauded, he bowed and left the podium. He always gave a cheesy bow, it was his signature move. He returned to his office and his coffee. He was interrupted shortly thereafter by the president of the company, Mr. Neuemahn. “Hello, Neuemahn.” He said with contempt. Mr. Neuemahn was a slimy fellow, and Art disliked him intensely. Mr. Neuemahn announced he was leaving the company, and was handing the reins over to Art, and that this was happening immediately. Mr. Neuemahn handed him the keys to the new office, the deed to the property, and a stack of other papers signed to make Art the legal head of the company, and said he had to leave. Art was just coming to terms with what had just happened. He left his old office, and moved into the President’s Office. It was bigger, and it had a window. He was filled in by his new secretary the schedule for the rest of his day. Art spent the next few weeks reorganizing the company, and making changes he had always wanted to see. It was business as usual on a Tuesday morning, when there was a knock on the door.

The men explained that there had been a large discrepancy in the company’s records, and that they were here to get some answers. They pointed to the same record Art had seen two months earlier, and procured other documents showing how the spare cash had been transferred and eventually ended up as a large bonus for the President of the company, which appeared to be him.

Everything was cleared up about six hours later. Art had been a Patsy. Neuemahn had left the country, but had been tracked down and picked up in Sweden. The company would bankrupt at the end of the quarter due to the missing funds. Art volunteered to testify against Neuemahn. In his heart, he knew it was the right thing to do. Art was a real Boyscout. Everything would be fine, other then Art losing his excellent job, or so it seemed.

The man in charge of the case called up a few days after the case had been resolved. New information had arisen, showing Neuemahn was actually using the funds to support a ring of Gangster-Nazi-KKK-Pedophiles known as “The Whole Shebang”. These were not good people. They were currently responsible for well over 300 counts of violent crime in the last year. And now their boss had been sent to prison, due much in part to the testimony of Art Steinbrunner. The man asked if Art would like to leave with his family to be relocated, and put into witness protection. Art accepted. As hard as it would be to leave all those he knew behind, he cared more for his family. He needed a new job anyway.

He broke the news to his family. His wife and son took it hard, but they eventually came to terms with it. It was really the only option. I mean, Gangster-Nazi-KKK-Pedophiles. They can’t really be more offensive then that. They moved about 1600 miles, and were given a large house, new cars, and the last name “Plexy”

Steve thought it was a stupid last name, but at least he got out of the last few weeks of school. Summer was ahead of him, in a new state, near enough to a new world.

--

Believe it or not, the second part of this will loop around to the creation of Marty. This was an important story part I had to get out of the way.

[T0rajir0u]

lmao sweden

[Tokzic]

so wait a minute

art dies and then steve absorbs him like SHOOP WHOOP and then boom there's sam

there i saved you the hassle of writing that arc

[Tibs]

I WILL READ THIS AT COLLEGE

[mead1]

so wait a minute

art dies and then steve absorbs him like SHOOP WHOOP and then boom there's sam

there i saved you the hassle of writing that arc

nope srry

[mead1]

This isn't over. I'm just lazy. Expect to see more soon.

[Tokzic]

THE WITHDRAWAL IS PAINFUL

[mead1]

I KNOW, BUT YOU MUST STAY STRONG

[mead1]

Hunt: Prologue

It was Steve’s third year in college. He was living in Chicago now, going to school at James Phillip’s College. He was currently perusing a business degree. Steve wasn’t exactly sure what it was he wanted to do, but he knew what he would probably end up doing. In all likelihood, he would end up working a boring desk job, just like his father.

His father.

That was an unpleasant memory.

He could see it as though it were yesterday. Sam had been out getting some canvas for a new project he was working on. A comic of some sort. When he had arrived home, it was immediately apparent something was wrong. The first clue was the open door, the second was the papers everywhere, and the final was the grotesque gasping form of his father on the floor, with three shots in his chest. I bet nobody was expecting that. The ambulance arrived about six minutes later. He was long past help. In one final dramatic, and totally unexpected, effort, Art whispered in his son’s ear the word “Neuemahn”

At that point, Steve was unsure what to do, so he did the obvious thing. He looked up from his father, lifted his hands to the air, and shouted, in a very dramatic fashion “NEUEMAAAAAAAN!!!” He swore revenge, like a million generic teenagers before him. Aden, while nearly as broken up, took the opportunity to point out that he had seen this movie before, and that the killer was the butler. Sam sat quietly, tears running down his face. Marty was petrified. He was too shocked and frightened to move, and could barely breathe.

An unpleasant memory indeed.

--

Slightly Later in our Hero’s life

As distraught as Steve was, the loss was much worse on his mother. She had never been a very strong woman, but this was almost more then she could bear. For Steve’s sake, she held it together. She picked up a second job. Art had left them a fair amount of money in savings, but she was determined to use this to put Steve through college.

Steve had finished off his junior year of Highschool with excellent grades. Since the loss of his father, the most important thing to him and the voices in his head were not to disappoint his mother. She was on anti-depressants already, and had fits of paranoia. She had dropped the second job when Steve had picked up a part-time job at a chicken place across the street. He hadn’t wanted a job, but she simply couldn’t work double shifts every day anymore, and he understood that. Besides, the job wasn’t that bad, he liked working with people. Steve looked up, and awoke from his third-person thought sequence. It was time for work. He dressed quickly. The uniform for ChiKAAAAAAAAHN!!!! was pretty degrading. It consisted of a green-striped uniform and a hat with a dancing chicken on top. Marty remarked that the chicken on the hat looked like it was performing a “jutsu.” The other three told him to watch less anime, and to get a life. “Get a life” was a common quip in Steve’s head. Steve rode his bicycle to work, and walked in right as the clock read 4:00.

The first customer was obviously a businessman. He wore a grey suit, a novelty tie with puppies on it, and a look of perpetual hurry. He wanted a signature spicy chicken sandwich with mayo. Steve sighed, and pointed to the mayo sitting on the counter right beside the man. Once he was finished, he rang up the next customer. Then the next. Then the next.

About three hours later, his manager moved him to the drive-through window. Aden volunteered to take the reins if Steve was getting bored. Steve accepted, Aden was better at the whole drive-through thing then he was. Steve decided to play a game of cards with Sam while Aden worked. Sometimes, there was an advantage to having the other three around, he thought.

Aden was on his 34th order of the night. He always counted things like that. A lady in a red minivan rolled up. She wore a purple hat, and an expression of malice.

“Young man, you need to make sure my fries are hot. I came here last night and you said my fries were hot, but when I got home, they weren’t. Don’t lie about these things. Next time I’ll have to talk to your manager.”

Aden grimaced. This lady didn’t quit. It was always something. From the condiments, to the meat, to the fries, she was never satisfied with her meal, and she always complained about it the next time. Aden was about to bag her order, when he was struck with a thought. He told her “Hold on a minute, I’ll have them make the fries fresh for you.” The lady smiled an obnoxious toothy smile. Aden stuck his head through the door to the back, where he saw his friend Marcus.

“Marcus buddy. I need you to do me a favor.” He said. Marcus looked up from the fry station, and came over. “I’ve only got a minute Steve, Lazyness is a sin.” Marcus was a rather religious guy. “Well, a lady out front wants hot fries. I want you to give a batch of fries double time in an overheated oil cart. Be sure to box them up well when they’re done.” He explained. Marcus looked back “The fires of hell in a green and white-striped box, coming right up.” Religious or not, he and Aden got along well. Steve walked up front, and informed the lady she’d have to wait for a minute, and that the fries were cooking. Aden passed the minute making her drinks, and retrieving the condiments the woman needed. The fries were ready. Aden carefully placed them at the bottom of the bag, then handed the order out the window. It was an hour before she came back.

When the woman returned, it was through the front door. She was in a rage. She yelled for a manager, and demanded they fire Steve immediately because he had tried to kill her. The manager came over to Aden, and said he would have to apologize to the lady immediately. Aden quickly put Marty in control. When it came to sucking up or making someone feel sorry for them, Marty was their man.

Marty walked over, already whimpering slightly. This was what he contributed to the group. This is what he was good at. He walked in a hunched way that made him look a few inches shorter, his face contorted in mock horror.

“Oh my god, Ma’am! I’m so sorry. You have no idea. Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe this happened. I should have noticed the fries were a little hot. Oh my god. Are you alright? I am so sorry. Jesus.”

He spoke this all without stopping once. He was a seasoned veteran at getting the guys out of trouble. The woman seemed to calm down a little. Marty talked some more, apologizing every few words. Marty loved this. He just had a way with people. Left to his own devices, he would never get into these sort of situations, but those other people he lived with were pretty good at getting people angry. It amused Marty at how easily manipulated people were. When he wasn’t in control, he was always watching the people the other’s interacted with. The others never paid any attention to what was going on when they were off-duty, but he knew everyone had a weakness. Everyone had a tell. Marty would never be able to run a mile without stopping, but he had his talents. Once he had talked the woman down, he returned control to Aden, and went back to watching.

Steve’s shift went otherwise without a hitch, and he rode home at ten. His mother was waiting for him inside. She normally went to bed an hour before. This didn’t bode well for Steve.

“So mom, what are you still doing up? The doctor said you needed to be getting some more sleep these days.” He said, putting in as much concern as he could muster after a hard day at work. His mother ****ed her head, and spoke “Steve, how can you try to sound concerned? I know you weren’t at work. You were out somewhere buying drugs, weren’t you? You left the tinfoil out on the counter. I know that’s what you kids use to smoke these days. I know that isn’t something your father and I raised you for. We thought we had raised a decent child, a respectful child.” She was getting hysterical. Steve had left out the tinfoil after using it to wrap some cookies earlier that day. He didn’t want to deal with this. He gave control to Marty. Marty was good at this. He could make her calm down.

It took Marty a good hour of talking, hugging, and reassuring to convince his mother that he was not, in fact, on drugs. She went to bed, and Marty hopped on the computer for awhile. He posted about his day on his Xanga. He was incredibly shy by choice, but the people on the internet didn’t judge him. They all applauded his efforts with the lady and his mother. He was their hero. A hero of the internet. He went to bed shortly before midnight feeling accomplished.

--

I'll get around to the creation of Marty someday

[Tokzic]

Wait - what was wrong with the fries, again?

[whiteflame]

He overheated them... "I want you to give a batch of fries double time in an overheated oil cart. Be sure to box them up well when they’re done.” He explained. Marcus looked back “The fires of hell in a green and white-striped box"

[mead1]

Hunt: This time for serious

They had an address. They had waited a long time for this address. After completing college, they had started a mediocre job as a code monkey for a local business. It paid alright, but a good amount of the check went to Mr. Forrest. Steve had paid Forrest for the last few months to find where Neuemahn had run off to. Neuemahn had spent time in prison, been a model prisoner, and had been released a month or so before Steve’s Father’s death. The despicable man had been cleared of any suspicion relating to Art Plexy’s murder the previous year, and had left the country almost immediately. Steve had paid attention to the case. Neuemahn had a great lawyer, and these days that was what determined one’s guilt or innocence. Steve had been there that day, while the other three watched. With the pounding of a gavel, the man who had undoubtedly murdered his father walked free. Steve stared at Neuemahn with the cold rage of four men as he cradled his crying mother.. He knew Neuemahn had seen him that day. He knew the man could see his hatred. This pleased all four of them. They wanted him to be afraid. The police had told Steve they would keep him informed, but he knew they would never find any further leads.

Steve’s mother had died a few months later. She had been on Anti-Depressants for the day, and sedatives at night. For Steve’s mother, there was no sleep by natural means, only tears. It was a terrible way to be living, Steve thought, and apparently his mother had thought so too. One morning, she had simply not awakened. An empty pill bottle lay on her bedside table. The funeral had not really even taken place. Since her breakdown after being fired from her retail job, she never really left the house. There had been no friends to invite, and Steve was her only living relative. She had been put in the ground without a show, not even a minister. During her last months, she had lost even her faith in God. Steve personally had shared this sentiment for as long as he could remember. The only real mourning of his mother had taken place within his head, where nobody could see. Nobody, anyway, who wasn’t also destroyed by loss.

Steve knew the only four people who could dispense justice in this matter were all inside of his head. Art was the father of all of them. So, there had been a consensus amongst all four. This was quite a rare occurrence. They would find him. This was where Mr. Forrest came in. He was a seedy looking man, with an old-fashioned hat and trench coat. He looked like something that walked out of an old black-and-white detective film. He would meet Steve once a month, and they would exchange envelopes. Steve handed over money, Forrest handed over information. Neuemahn was moving around, never staying in one place long enough to be caught up with. Steve looked over the receipts, the pictures, the signatures. This was clearly a man on the run from something. Probably Steve himself. He had hopped the pond to England, and had been moving from country to country. This month however was different. Neuemahn had stopped. He had purchased a house in Germany, and appeared to have settled down. This was their chance. Preparations had to be made quickly for them to leave. This man could not be allowed to enjoy life after what he had done to them. He had a small amount of money put away for this purpose. He had had a long time to plan for this day.

Marty

Steve was a pretty normal eighth grader. At Kingston Middle he was an example of moderation in all aspects. He had a few friends, he had a few “enemies” (because middle school enemies are serious business), he got fair grades, and played tag at recess. One fateful day, however, he came into contact with something that would change his life forever. The period started innocently enough, with him and his friends filing in a line into the computer lab to work on their English stories. Steve was writing a story about a girl who was suffocated by her own hair. He thought it was a pretty funny idea. As he was finishing off the third page, his friend Byran called him over. The teacher had just left, and Byran had something awesome to show him.

Byran had something up called “mycorner”. It sort of looked like a ridiculous way for people with low self-esteem to complement each other. He really didn’t see the attraction to something like that. Byran, however, was crazy about it. Since they were good friends, Steve agreed to make one for Byran’s sake when he got home. He returned to his seat, and wrote for the rest of the period. He wanted to finish the story so he wouldn’t have to work on it at home. The bell rang twenty minutes later, and he was done. Steve had English seventh period, so it was time to go home.

Bus rides were Steve’s least favorite part of the day. Nobody he knew rode his bus, and everyone was always so loud. Steve wished he had somebody to talk to. This was the last time he would ever wish this. His bus ride took about ten minutes. He got off the bus, and went inside. Steve hopped on to the computer, and made himself a mycorner. He didn’t put up a photo, but he made a page fairly honestly, and it looked pretty nice. This done, he started to wonder what the point was. Steve was a little bored, so he decided to make one that wasn’t really about him. He named it “Marty”.

Marty was many things Steve was not. Steve made him to be a totally different person, character flaws and all. Steve had always enjoyed writing for the characters. To him, creating a character was akin to creating life. You weren’t making something that was, but you were making something that could be, or might have been. Steve made Marty a coward. He left subtle hints at that on the page. Steve made him eloquent. He pulled up a thesaurus and made his document fairly wordy. More then anything else, Steve made Marty a loser. Losers were always good characters. They always garnered pity, and tended to come out on top in the end. Marty was an internet person. He wasn’t a big social scene guy, but he was a brilliant orator when need be. Marty was submissive, but he was sly. He would always act a little bit dumber then he was. Steve liked this character.

Once he had finished the page, Steve wrote a about Marty on his computer. He wasn’t sure why he did it. They were little stories, more about who Marty was then what he did. Most less then a page long. Steve wrote five, and decided that was plenty. He left the computer to join his parents for dinner, who had been calling him for the last half an hour.

The next day was pretty much average until the final period. The class sat down, and the teacher asked for the stories they had written. Try as he might, Steve could not find his. He remembered vaguely that he had printed it out, but he really wasn’t sure where it had gone from there. He didn’t have time to dwell on this though, the teacher was coming around, grading book in hand. This was not a good situation. He thought to himself “What would Marty do?” He had the oddest sensation just then. As though someone had tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head. He didn’t see the other side of the classroom, however, he saw a conference table. There were two seats, in the one on the opposite side there was someone who looked almost exactly like him. There were slight differences, darker hair, a little shorter, a little chubbier, but it was definitely Steve.

Steve was understandably confused by this. The other him stood up, and extended a hand. “Hi, I’m Marty.” He said. Steve raised his eyebrow significantly. “I made you. You aren’t real.” He said, trying hard to believe it. Marty looked at him, and replied “Yeah, you did make me. Thanks for that. I’m pretty sure I’m real though.” Steve was further confused when he turned around to look at the room he was standing in. Behind him, he saw a gigantic screen. On the screen, he could see the classroom, frozen like a picture. Underneath was what looked like a set of binoculars. He imagined he had been looking through those before he had turned around. Steve was dazed and confused. He sat down and tried to piece together what was going on. Marty looked at him, and asked “Mind if I have a go?” Steve wasn’t really sure what he meant, but he nodded. Marty got up, and looked through the binoculars. Suddenly, the world moved once more on the screen.

He saw the teacher approach, and ask for his paper. He saw the view shift, and a pair of hands that looked exactly like his own begin to rifle through his backpack. The view shifted back up and shook from side to side. “Sorry ma’am, it looks like I left it at home. I’m really intensely sorry about that. I worked for two hours combing out the errors. It’s really top notch. When you see it tomorrow, it will blow your socks off, I guarantee it.” His teacher looked back for a moment, and then nodded curtly, moving on to the next student. Steve was amazed. His teacher never took late work.

Steve tapped Marty on the shoulder. Marty turned around and stood up, the world behind him freezing again. “Well,” Steve said, “I guess I’m sharing this body now. It’s a little weird to think of, and I’m not entirely sure that I’m not crazy, but I may as well assume I’m not. I guess we should split time evenly or something?” Marty looked at the screen for a moment, then replied. “Are you crazy? Just let you know when you need me. I don’t want to be out there any more then necessary. Those people are pretty scary.”

--

So there's the birth of Marty. I'm thinking I'll get to Sam after we hop back to present day, and I go a bit farther with "Hunt"

[TheRaiRaiEatsBalloons]

You left the tinfoil out on the counter.

HAHAHAHA

[mead1]

In-Joke get.

[iggymatrixcounter]

Keep it up mead.

One bit of petty word use I've noticed; Complement is like two things completing something else. Compliment is "you're hair looks nice today."

I think you used it wrong twice XD. But then I thought it was just a symbolic "error" to denote how these personalities complement each other.

Great story.

[mead1]

rofl, that's a typo

Good catch man

Anyway, here is today's writings. I pretty much have everything planned out to the end now, except the birth of Sam. I think I'll have to do that next just to get it out of the way.

--

BACK TO THE FUTURE (I mean present)


A knock on Steve’s door interrupted his lazy-Sunday lie-in. It was late afternoon. He rose and threw on some clothes. He peered through the peep-hole in his door. It was a short, timid man, probably in his late 20s early 30s. Steve had never seen him before. Steve decided to not answer the door. His life was plenty complicated, and this man didn’t look all that important. He began to walk away.

The man shouted. He said “Steve! Open up! It’s Charles from the office! You told me to contact you two nights ago!”

The five reflected on that night’s events. Aden, Marty, and Sam all denied meeting him. Steve had never noticed this man at work. They all figured it must have been Kaine. They turned to him, and he just nodded. They agreed whoever this man was, it was probably a good idea to let him in. Steve opened the door, and the man walked inside. He sat down on Steve’s couch in the main room. Steve offered to make some tea, but the man refused. He looked like he hadn’t slept in several days. His clothes were wrinkled, and his face had a look of permanent fatigue.

“Steve, this is just too much. I know they are after me. I can’t take it. I have to turn myself in.”

Steve was quite confused. He still wasn’t sure exactly what Kaine had done that night. He figured this was Kaine’s situation, let him deal with it. He let Kaine take control, and sat down to watch the events unfold.

“Charlie my boy, why would you turn yourself in? You’ve gotten away with it. I’ve watched the news. The police haven’t the slightest idea who did the deed. You should be not guilt-ridden. The boss was an irritating gnat. He was a person to be crushed. I was there that night with the same intentions as you. Had you not beaten me to the act, his blood would be on my hands. Have you disposed of the corpse as I instructed?”

Charles looked back steadily. He seemed to calm as Kaine spoke. When he spoke again, his voice quavered noticeably less. “Of course I have. It was a perfect plot. He rests in a cooler at the bottom of a lake at this moment. The boat sank with him. There are no prints anywhere. Even so, I cannot take this on my conscience. Pam left me when I confronted her about the note I found near her desk in the office. I have no reason to go on.”

Steve remembered Pam was the name of the office Secretary. Things were beginning to fall into place in his mind. Kaine had gone to the boss’ house that night to kill him. He must have found Charles there, already having killed him in a fit of passion, and told him how to clean up. While he was glad Kaine hadn’t killed the boss, the fact that they had destroyed this man’s life with that note on Friday was almost equally unsettling. His train of thought was interrupted by Kaine speaking once more.
“Now then, the reason I asked you here is that I have some information you want. I am going to write on this slip of paper something you have always wanted to know. I feel the information is your right. I am if nothing else a fair man.”

Kaine turned his head as he wrote, denying the other four the sight of what he was writing. It was little more then a paragraph. He signed it, folded it, and then deposited it into an envelope beside him.

“I present this to you, your natural right. Upon it’s reading you may feel the need for poetic justice, but I would advise against it. In fact, do not read this until you are seated in your own home, with a tumbler of strong drink. Do not contact me ever again, or I cannot guarantee your own safety. We are no longer comrades.”

Kaine passed the envelope to Charlie, then opened the door, motioning for him to leave. The man looked at him quizzically, then stood up and left. Kaine closed the door, then surrendered control of the body. Nobody immediately stood up to take charge. The other four crowded Kaine, asking him what he wrote down. Kaine’s only answer was “I set in motion the finish a business left far too long unfinished.” Eventually they gave up. Arguing with Kaine was like doing the same with a computer. Tonight was important anyway. A local gallery was having a show tonight, showcasing some of Sam’s finer work. If a few of them sold, they could afford some nicer things. The maintaining of five lifestyles was quite hard on the budget, and many things in the house could be replaced.

Sam took control, and dressed for success. He wore a green turtleneck and black pants. He combed his hair firmly, and selected the proper shoes for the occasion. If these paintings were sold, he would try to talk Steve into starting a fund for opening up a gallery of their own for all of Sam’s works. That was his ambition. Those on display tonight were not anything near his best. He saved his best for the day he could own the building they would reside in. Satisfied with how he looked, he exited the building, and walked the two blocks to the gallery. They were serving some fine coffee there. It was the city’s largest gathering of pretentious artsy types.

Sam quickly joined a group of people talking near his paintings. They were talking about the French Renaissance Painters. These were his sort of people. After a brief discussion, they asked who he was. He answered “Steve Plexy.” The group swooned over his work. Not only was this a gathering of pretentious artsy types, it was also a gathering of rich and easily impressed types. Sam talked a bit about his work, then began asking about to see if anyone in the group was interested in purchasing some of the work. He sold four paintings that night, and made a fair amount of money. Altogether quite a good night. He went home with some strange good-looking female artist, and left her place a few hours later. When he returned to the house, Steve took control back, and went to bed.

Hunt: LET THEM MOVE

Steve purchased his ticket the next day. The flight for Germany would leave that night. From there he would rent a car. He could drive from the airport to a hotel walking distance from Neuemahn’s house. He had a fair amount of vacation time accrued at work. He could be gone for up to two weeks. This would be plenty of time to do what must be done and to return. With proper planning, he could be long gone from the area before anyone could link him with the corpse that would be found. Steve was ready. Aden was ready. Sam was ready. Marty was as ready as he’d ever be.

So they drove to the airport that night. Driving fell to Aden. He found it calming, and with his nerves the way they were, he jumped at the opportunity. He turned up the volume on the radio, and drove for the two hours it took to get to the airport. He parked the car in the extended stay parking lot. He paid out for a full two weeks, none of them was sure when they’d be back, so it would be best to play it safe. Aden left the car, removed his luggage and entered the airport. He checked through security, and was on his flight within the next hour. All four were anxious. This had been a day they never thought would actually come. Now that it was here, they were determined.

The movie was “Biodome.” Sam almost puked, but he realized without control of his physical manifestation, that would be impossible. The four were forced to sit between two large Albanians, and their smell was none too pleasant. The four were taking twenty minute shifts of consciousness. When not in direct control, one couldn’t smell their surroundings.

After quite a few shifts, the plane landed, and the four walked into the land of the frankfurter and Oktoberfest. Aden drove to the hotel. Sam put away all of their belongings. Steve used a local map to plot a course to Neuemahn’s abode. They would go the next day to scope out the place, and begin plotting out exactly how this was to be accomplished.

The envelope from Mr. Forrest had contained a few photographs of the area. Neuemahn lived in a rather large house. It had it’s own gardens, a swimming pool, and a large garage. There were plenty of places for an unfortunate accident. The four didn’t want it to look like an accident though. The thought in all of their minds was that this man needed to suffer.

[TheRaiRaiEatsBalloons]

Did the flight attendants run out of Dr Pepper and salted peanuts?

[iggymatrixcounter]

I feel the birth of kaine coming soon. XD

[mead1]

I feel the birth of kaine coming soon. XD

OH DAMN I DID NOT THINK IT SO OBVIOUS

[mead1]

Sam

Steve awoke that morning with a jump. His dreams had been dark last night. Normally when a character has dark dreams, it means something terrible is about to happen. This time, however, Steve’s dreams foreshadow nothing, and serve only as a way to open this paragraph. Regardless, today was a Red Letter day. He had only twenty-four hours to create his entry for the town Art Festival. Steve was only entering because most of his friends were as well. This being said, he did want to win. Steve didn’t win many things; and Marty won none at all, so they were always looking for a potential victory. He had had two months, and nothing had yet come. The Festival was on the last weekend before school started, and he hadn’t wanted to waste any of his summer.

Upon reflection, there was nothing about his summer that really wasn’t a waste. Quite a sad realization on his part. He’d had a failed relationship, been turned down for two jobs, broken his leg playing football, and Marty had done trivial things on the computer. Looking back, Steve realized this was his last chance to make this summer worth remembering. He had to make something great. When it came to art, Marty was not the one to talk to. Marty specialized in text, and was less then willing to come out of his area of comfort. Steve wanted to paint. He wanted to be able to express things words could not communicate through a vibrant mix of colors. Up until now, he had no real experience. He took out the canvas and colors he had purchased the week after school had ended. It was time for him to show the world what was on his mind.

Two hours later, he was done trying. There was simply nothing he could paint that mirrored what he wanted. When it all came down to it, he supposed, he just wasn’t a painter. The work looked terrible. He had made three attempts, and all three were now in his trash can. There was just nothing to be done about it. Marty had thought the last one was good, but his opinion wasn’t worth much in these matters. He turned around in his mind to talk it over.

“Marty, I’m not sure what to do. I’d really like to make something good here, but I just don’t have the talent, or the ideas, or the determination.” He said, dejectedly. “Well, I don’t know why you’d ask me. I told you the last one of the haggard old man was good, and you threw it away.” Marty responded. “It was a self-portrait, and it was terrible.” Steve said, in a distant voice. Marty thought for awhile, then said “Well, you want to show the world what you see, right? Why not draw this place? The table, the screen, us, it could be good. You know this place better then the back of your hand.” Steve looked up. It was true. He and Marty lived in this room all the time. Maybe through paint he could express what it was like to never be truly alone.

He decided to give it a try. He decided that last thought had been a tad dramatic, but he could probably paint the room more clearly then anything else. He took out his last canvas, and prepared to paint. In a final feat of epic cheesiness, he donned a painter’s hat he had sitting in his room for one reason or another. He began to paint.

An hour later, he was sprawled on his couch, gasping for breath. He had painted like a man possessed, and it looked brilliant. It was a little odd; looking at the table in his mind on canvas gave him a sensation like trying to open a box with a crowbar that was inside the box. While considering the impossibility of this, he realized something. He saw himself, he saw Marty, but there was a third seat. He didn’t remember why he painted it. He turned around in his mind to get Marty’s opinion. He noticed there was a third.

The third was a little taller then Steve. He looked almost exactly the same, but with slightly more pronounced features, as though someone had expertly drawn a caricature of Steve. He wore that stupid hat Steve had put on before painting, and his mouth was drawn in a thin line, as though it was in a permanent state of mild displeasure. He raised an eyebrow as he surveyed Steve, and spoke with a slight air of haughtiness.

“I’m Sam. Don’t look so surprised to see me. You needed me, and so here I am.” Steve looked back at him quizzically and spoke, “I don’t need you. Look at that painting. It’s gorgeous.” Sam laughed at this. He had an odd way of laughing. It was either extremely well controlled or it was sarcastic. It was like hearing someone whisper “Hat Hat Hat.” When he had collected himself, Sam responded in a voice that was obviously holding back laughter. “Wait, you think you painted that? Well, let me try to explain this without sounding totally ridiculous. Putting this lovely hat on was the final ingredient. Every moment after that was, in essence, my birth. I emerged from the unpainted canvas into your mind, enabling your body to paint that masterpiece.” Steve was fairly sure Sam meant that figuratively. Steve wasn’t sure if he liked this guy as much as he did Marty. He figured Sam was many times more strong willed. You could tell simply from how he talked that this was one who was accustomed to getting his way. Steve figured it would be best not to argue with him right now. “Ok then Sam, I guess I owe you my thanks on this one. I guess you’ve already met Marty. Welcome to my mind.” “Our mind, buddy. I don’t know what Marty has going for him, but things are going to need to change a bit around here to accommodate for me. I hate to sound so demanding, but I do sort of live here now, and I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.” Sam was definitely going to be a little bit harder to deal with then Marty, Steve decided. There was an edge to Sam Steve just wasn’t sure if he liked. “We’ll have to talk about that more extensively later. I think now would be the time to go out and get this framed for the art thing tomorrow.” Sam put a single finger on his chin, then spoke “Oh, about that. I’m definitely in control for that event. It is my work and all. I just know a little more about the whole process. It’s better for everyone that way.” Steve didn’t know what to do here, or how Sam could know more, since he was basically just a sub-division of Steve himself, but he just nodded.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. The first step was to get the picture framed. This took about half an hour of arguing within Steve’s mind. He had limited funds and wanted to spring only for a cheaper frame. This of course was contradicted with Sam’s views of how they needed a high-end frame to make the work look its best. Eventually, they decided it was time for a vote. Marty couldn’t make up his mind. Steve got angry at Marty for the first time ever. He went on about how Marty wouldn’t exist if it were not for him, and how he should be thankful Steve was even asking his opinion, and he closed with how this shouldn’t even be a debate since he was the original anyway.” Well, Marty didn’t want to fight. More then that, he just wanted Steve to calm down. He went for Steve’s frame. Sam shook his head and sat down. He was thoroughly displeased with the result of the vote.

Framed Canvas in hand, Steve walked home. Arriving home, he had an uneventful dinner with his parents. Once this was over, he opted to go to bed early with the show being the next morning. The other two agreed easily. His parents asked to see his painting before he went to bed. Steve pulled it out, and they were shocked. His parents were not half as shocked as he was, however, because where he had thought there was a third empty seat before, there was now Sam. He wore a slightly devious smile. Steve put it out of his mind as a momentary fit of insanity and went to bed.

He woke up the next morning around Nine. Sam claimed rights over the time from rise to the end of the show, and Steve was in no real mood to argue, so he handed over control. Sam picked out a black turtleneck Steve hadn’t worn in years. Steve wore contacts, but Sam pulled out Steve’s old black rimmed glasses. He said they looked “artistic.” Steve disagreed, but he went along with it. This was Sam’s day, let him do what he wanted. Sam combed Steve’s hair straight down, as opposed to Steve’s normal part, and declared he was ready to leave. Marty pointed out they had a good two hours before the show. Sam retorted they had to get coffee first, and they had to be there early to find a good spot anyway. He walked out of the house and went to Starbucks. He carried the framed and veiled canvas with him.

Sam ordered a large hot chai and sat down, propping the canvas up beside him. As expected, it took about four seconds for a girl dressed very similar to him sat down across the table. Sam laughed at how easy that was. “Hey, are you going to the Art Show after this?” She asked. “Yeah, I’m going to win the Art Show after this, if that’s what you mean.” She laughed, and offered her hand. “I’m Liz. I’m helping judge. What’s your name?” “Steve Plexy. Keep an eye open for my painting. I won’t ruin it by showing you now, but it will blow your mind.” They sat discussing the latest hot topics for pseudo-intellectuals for the next thirty minutes, then walked to the show together, where Liz had to go off to find the other judges. If nothing else, Sam thought, I’ve got her vote without even showing the painting.

A few artists had already set up. Sam scoped out the competition. He wanted to find the perfect piece to be next to. The paintings were supposed to be judged individually, sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t accentuate his talents by having them displayed right next to some utter crap. He found what he was looking for two stalls in. It was a grotesque farce of art. Truly repulsive to the senses. Someone had taken concept of “modern art” a bit too far. It looked like a pile of tin cans with an American flag on top. Sam thought maybe it was just too deep for him. He threw out this thought after a minute. No artsy concept was too deep for him. He set up his canvas nearby, pulled off the cover, and left it be. It was time to see what he was up against. People were arriving now, and it was time for him to enjoy himself.

Two hours later, he was standing in the crowd waiting for the judging announcement. It had been a good time. He had received four phone numbers, one from someone good looking, and three invitations to various parties. He probably wouldn’t call any of the girls, that wasn’t the artsy thing to do. He probably wouldn’t go to any of the parties either. Actually, he mentally noted, he’d go to one, but be fashionably an hour late, and leave early. It was high time for Steve Plexy to break into the art world.

His deep thoughts of the future were interrupted by someone coming on the loudspeaker. It was the girl from earlier. He knew he had at least one of the five judges in his pocket. She had found him earlier and handed him home and cell numbers, and had said his painting was amongst the greatest works she had ever seen. He smiled. Maybe he’d actually call her. Every master needed a biggest fan. He listened to what she was saying.

“After much deliberation amongst the five judges, we have reached a unanimous decision. The third place prize goes to Micheal Von Heidalberg with his painting “Stalin”. There was polite clapping all around. Nobody really cared about third place. The man walked to the front to receive the thirty dollar third prize. He shook the judges hands, and left the stage. “Next on the list, in second place, my personal favorite, is “Threefaced” by Steve Plexy.” Sam was enraged. Second? There was nothing here that could beat his, unless it was in the last row he had never got around to seeing. He kept his cool, walked to the front, received his sixty dollar prize, shook the judges hands, then left the stage. He wanted to see what had won. Liz spoke for the final time “And finally, our winner tonight is Susan Door with her sculpture “Mom and Dad.” Everyone give her a hand!” The winning sculpture was brought up. It was two figures made of junk sitting at a table. It was certainly not in the league of his painting. What a farce this whole thing was. He turned around and left. As he got home, he gave Steve control, and decided to stew for awhile before making his next move on the art world.

[TheRaiRaiEatsBalloons]

ooh

[Tokzic]

dammit i am falling behind

brb catching up

[iggymatrixcounter]

Get it? He came in second because he came into Steve's mind second. Gotta love symbolism. Love the appearing Sam in the painting too.

Will await the next series.

[mead1]

I'm going on a trip to Binghamton NY this weekend. Seven hours both ways. I'll have a laptop, so I'll probably finish this by Monday or so.

[mead1]

Hunt: The Reckoning

Steve found out a few things by asking around town the next day. He was a well known man in the Berlin social scene. He frequented many of the bars and clubs in the area. Most everyone knew him at least by face. Disposing of him would be tricky outside of his home, since he was always with people. The other thing he had learned had been a little more disturbing. Neuemahn had a wife and a child. This complicated things. As much as they all wanted him to die a painful death, they knew what it was like to have a murdered father. Eventually they decided it was none of their concern. One good turn deserved another. An eye for an eye. It was that or let him get away with it. The Neuemahn’s were having a large costume ball in a days time. This would be the best time to get inside the house. With everyone disguised, it would be far easier to get away without being clearly identified. It was perfect. They couldn’t have devised a better opportunity. To appeal to Sam’s sense of Drama, they would go dressed as a corpse. He said it would be homage to the great one. Sometimes Sam was a little odd.

So they spent the next day planning. The best, most painful yet concealable item of pain would be a knife. They purchased a rather frightening carving implement at a show weapons shop. It had an ornate carving of a Djin holding a Trombone on the hilt. Quite a ridiculous carving, but quite an intimidating looking knife. It came to a triangular point. The salesman said something about triangular knives inflicting wounds that took longer to heal. He wouldn’t have had to work to sell this to Steve. Something about it just called to Steve. Something stirred inside of him at the sight. Unlike his dark dreams, that last sentence was foreshadowing. He probably could have haggled the man down, but Steve figured he wouldn’t want the man remembering his face in the coming days.

He purchased the makeup for the party at a costume shop, and as an afterthought, decided to go as a stylish corpse and purchase also a black cape and a wide black hat. This killing was to be stylish. Back at the hotel, Steve put on the costume. He looked quite the specter. He had to be careful not to leave any trace of who he was behind. He had used a fake name for the hotel. He had worn gloves at all time in the room. He hadn’t slept in the bed, favoring instead a sleeping bag and a pillow from home. There would be no trace of hair, saliva, or other of the man who stayed in this room. Doing what he did best, Sam created the one thing they would leave behind. A large white canvas. On it, there was a single word in large red letters. It read “Justice.” The party was just an hour away and everything was in place. None of the four was sure exactly how it would go down, but Neuemahn would not live to see the next day. This was certain. And yet, even with this fantastic resolve, there was uncertainty. All four wanted him dead, but none wanted the blood to be spilled by his own hand. They decided this was something best worked out later. There was a party to attend.
So an hour later, our gallant and righteous hero made his way to the Neuemahn house. It truly was a mansion. An intimidating building about three stories high, painted a faded white the whole way down. Steve made his way to the door. There was a woman of about thirty at the door, dressed as some sort of a monster. She greeted Steve in German, gawking slightly at his grotesque costumed form. When Steve did not respond, she tried English. “One of Brad’s friends from the states then? What’s your name sir?” Steve looked up, he should respond so as not to arouse suspicion. “Edmond Dantes.” He said. He extended a friendly hand, shook with the woman, then went inside. As he left, he spoke once more to her, “Fall not apart in times of despair.” He wasn’t sure why he had said that. It didn’t matter. Steve didn’t think on it. He was intent on the mission at hand. Once inside, he found himself in a large room filled with several hundred people. Neuemahn was quite popular around here, Steve saw. He surveyed the area. There were six doors to be seen, seven counting the entrance he had just come through. Undoubtedly, there was some secluded corner in which he could wait for his moment behind one of them.
The first door lead to a lounge area. When Steve entered, he saw there were at least ten people in various corners, sipping their drinks and socializing. This was not the place for him to hide. He quickly left, and entered the second. Behind this door, there was a bathroom. This was certainly not the place. People would be in and out of there all night. Steve left this room, and before he could enter another, he saw a commotion in the main hall. There was a raised platform near the front, and the host was about to speak.
There he was. The four saw as one. It was the man who had wrecked their life. The scum who had killed their father, and may as well have killed their mother by his own hand. It was him. Seeing him in person made the blood within the body boil. Adrenaline pulsed through their veins. It took great control to not do something foolish right then. Neuemahn was speaking now. There was a young boy standing next to him. The boy looked to be about sixteen. Neuemahn was smiling proudly, and speaking with his hands. He made wide sweeping gestures as he talked. Finally, the whole crowd sang with one voice. None of the four spoke the language, but they all knew the tune. It was “Happy Birthday”
This was not how things should be. Steve was making connections. Neuemahn shouldn’t have a son, shouldn’t have a wife, shouldn’t be a popular person in this strange land. Here, Neuemahn wasn’t a sleazeball, here he was a real man. No longer could Steve see him as a flat character in a three dimensional world. This was unsettling. Now more then ever, he was not sure he wanted to do this. It was wrong. No matter what this man had done to him, he did not deserve to die. Steve turned around, his determination gone, part of him still wanted vengeance, but there had to be a better way. The other three had lost their resolve as well. They were unsure where they would go from here, but this was not the way for any of them.
It was at this point where the part of him that wanted vengeance took over.



Kaine
Steve felt a bit woozy when he awoke. Looking around, he could see he was lying in one of the rooms in his mind. He jumped up and ran into the conference room. Marty and Sam were at the table, Aden was leaning against a wall, clutching his side. All three were looking at the screen, and the stranger in control. On the screen, there was an overhead view of the party. The stranger in control was looking in through a skylight. It looked like the party was winding down. Steve looked at the figure himself. His face was hidden, but he was dressed in a cloak of black. It was trimmed with scarlet. Aden turned to Steve and spoke. “Steve, as you were making to leave, you passed out. We carried you to the other room, and when we returned, this man was in control. I tried to remove him so as to find out who he was. As I came near, he turned his head, drew a knife, and told me I was not to die tonight, but that it could be arranged. I tried anyway, when he returned to control. Well, you can see for yourself how successful that was.” He removed his hand from his side, showing a shallow triangular wound. Aden spoke again “I’m alright. Thanks for asking. I’m pretty sure I can’t die here anyway. I think he’s going to kill Neuemahn, Steve.” Steve thought this was probably true. Steve approached the stranger, meaning to throw him out of control. It was ironic, he thought, that he was now facing imminent danger to save a man he had intended to kill that night. As he approached, the sranger turned. The screen froze, and the face was revealed. The face was an unnatural white, and it was gaunt and hollow. The eyes that stared at Steve through the face that might have been a mask were sky blue and bloodshot. It was as though the man had not slept in weeks, though his birth had been only a few hours before.
The stranger spoke in a ghostly voice. “Ah, so it is the first at last. I apologize for forcing your hand in this matter, but what must be done must be done. Justice above all else. Oh I am so rude, my deepest apologies. You may call me Kaine.” Kaine extended his hand and shook with Steve. Once more, Kaine spoke in his ghostly voice. “The deed you intended this night will not go undone, Steve. This man shall suffer. It is what you wanted. It is what you all wanted. Yet, upon seeing this man as a man, you wished to back down. In this, you all disgust me. Never lose sight of your goals. Situations change, goals will not. The boy will be taken care of. His Father is wealthy, his Mother shall survive this night. Someday, he may even have his chance. You knew this, yet you still reconsidered your attempt at justice. This matters not, however, now that I am here. I will take care of all of this. I will enact your deepest, darkest want for revenge. Nobody will be the wiser this night of my act. All that you must do, is sit down and watch my work. If you seek to interfere with my goal, look only to that fool leaning on the wall. Unlike him, however, firstborn, you can die here.”
With these words, Kaine turned back to control. The screen unfroze, and the world moved again. Steve sat down. There was something about Kaine’s voice. This was a man far gone from logic. There was no way he could prevent this from happening. He stared up at the screen.
Kaine continued to stare intently through the skylight. The final guest had just left. Now was the time to make a move. He walked a few feet to the left, to the skylight over the now empty lounge. Silently, it opened on it’s hinges. Kaine jumped through it, landing gracefully. He walked into the main room. He had seen Neuemahn make a move through the far door. Kaine assumed this was probably the way to the sleeping quarters. The boy and his mother were out in the foyer, seeing the final guests off. This was his chance.
Kaine darted like a shadow through the main room to the door. He opened it silently, and closed it in the same fashion. There was a corridor. The door at the end of the hallway was ajar. Kaine walked silently towards it. The sounds of a television were emitted into the hallway. Some late-night game show was on. About three feet from the door, Kaine stopped walking, and got on his knees. First, he prayed a silent prayer. It was not a prayer asking forgiveness, but a prayer asking for a blessing. This finished, he crawled on all fours to the door, peering inside. Neuemahn was in the master bathroom, brushing his teeth, from the sound of it. Kaine scuttled into the room, never letting his head rise above the cover of the bed. He considered for a moment, then crawled underneath the bed. This would be the best place to wait for his perfect moment. Neuemahn came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He made a move to turn off the television. His back was turned to the bed.
In half of a shadow of an instant, Kaine emerged from the bed, and had Neuemahn in his grasp. He held the man’s mouth shut with one hand, and brandished his knife to Neuemahn’s throat with the other. Kaine considered doing away with the man right there, but it would be too impersonal. Kaine wanted Neuemahn to know who had ended him. So Kaine dragged him to the lounge, and told the man to climb, but not to speak. Neuemahn obeyed. The large man made it up the ladder to the roof, and was going to make a break for it. As he attempted to run, he immediately felt his feet being kicked out from under him. His attacker must have flown up that ladder. Kaine looked down at the man at his feet, and smiled. This was the reason he lived.
Neuemahn looked up at the specter of Kaine. He put his hands together and pleaded for mercy. Kaine’s smile widened. Kaine spoke “Hello, Neuemahn.” Neuemahn took this as permission to speak. “Look, please, anything you want you can have. There is a million dollars in gold bullion in the safe in my room. It’s yours. Anything. Please. Let me go back to my family.” Kaine’s smile got even larger, revealing a row of pearly white teeth. “This is the reason I exist. Seeing you like this in my minds eye, pleading for your life, it has been my one fantasy. There is nothing you can say or do that will allow you to walk back inside tonight. Mine is the last face you shall ever see. Your family is safe. You have my word I will not harm them, as long as you do not call out. If they are alerted to presence, they will not live out the night.” Neuemahn spoke no more. There was an element of insanity to this man’s voice. Somehow, Neuemahn knew the man spoke the truth. He lowered his head and looked at the floor, hoping his end would be quick and painless. Kaine spoke once more. “Neuemahn, you ruined my life. The fate I shall act upon you is nothing more then you deserve for your sins. I offer you one chance to make your death easy. I have in my hand a bottle of sedatives. It is a death like you offered my mother. I have under my cloak a gun. A weapon without honor. It is a death like the one you offered my father. I will allow you to take the sedatives, a slow acting death, then give you the gun, a fast acting death, with which you may end me, all if you can answer me one question. If you are extremely lucky, you may be ale to fight the sedatives long enough to bid your family farewell. Right now, they are directly below us in the lounge, wondering where you are.” Neuemahn thought this far better then any other option. Perhaps if he fought hard, he could fight the sedatives long enough to get to a hospital. He answered “So, what happens if I cannot answer your question?” At this point, Kaine’s smile widened farther. His face looked as though it would burst with an insane glee. “If you cannot answer my question, well, let me offer you a question that will help you piece it together. Have you ever wondered what it would look like to have your vocal cords ripped from your neck, and forced down your throat?” Neuemahn looked calmly at the man. “You mean I’d see this tonight if I answer incorrectly?” Kaine’s smile did not widen, for that would e totally impossible at this point, but he did give a short laugh before answering. “No, you would not ever get to see that. By the time I did that, I will have long past eaten your eyes.” Neuemahn cringed. “All right. Ask me the question.” Kaine looked at him, and stepped for the first time into the nearby light, so he could be seen clearly. “Tell me my name” Neuemahn felt everything fall into place. He saw the similarity this man had to Art, and remembered the name at once. Art had told him once that he had a son. “You are none other then Steve Steinbrunner.” Kaine’s smile somehow widened as he approached with his knife drawn. “Wrong you are sir, my name is Kaine.”
The deed was done an hour later. It would take the police hours to identify the corpse. One couldn’t really call it a corpse anymore. It was as though a bomb of gore had exploded on that rooftop. Kaine made his exit. He jumped from the rooftop to the ground in a great feat of acrobatics. He ran the two miles to where the car had been hidden. He drove back to the hotel, and returned to the room. Only then did he give up control.
The other four were waiting for him, wide eyed in terror at seeing his artful murder. Kaine did not look at them. He fell to the ground and cried. Kaine wept furiously. While he had been making daisy chains with internal organs an hour ago, a thought had crept into his mind. When this act was over, what was he to do? This was his purpose. After this was over, there was no reason for him to be. He had calmly returned to the hotel, but as he gave up control, the pointlessness of his existence hit him like a ton of bricks. He decided as he wept that the only thing left to do now was to make sure justice came full circle. It was then his plan for conspiracy began, and his last shred of sanity left him.
Kaine regained his composure, excused himself, and went back into a room that had come into existence when he had. All five had rooms of their own, that only they cold enter within the mind. The room was a blood red. There was a mat on the floor he would sleep on that night. Sleep was for later, however, because now was the time for planning.

--

Ok, so these next three segments should have been placed throughout the story, but I just got around to writing them. Imagine they were placed properly.

Enjoy the rest of the story

--
From the Diary of Marty
Well, today was quite a day. It was Kaine’s first day among us. We all sat him down to explain the rules. He seems like a normal guy, when he isn’t making blood-angels on the roof of his enemies. Steve was in control most of the day getting us home. I would love to tell someone about what I witnessed last night, but nobody would believe it. People like to think some things simply are impossible. Anyway. I played cards with Aden today. He can still beat me every time at gin rummy. He must be cheating somehow. So today we were playing Poker.
Kaine came to us and asked how to play. He may be a freak, but we’re stuck with him one way or another, so I said we should teach him. Aden was against it. I can sort of see why, with that nasty wound Kaine gave him. But majority rules, and so we tried to teach him. It was really weird seeing him play. The guy can’t hide his cards at all. Every time he gets a decent hand he smiles. Makes for an easy game of poker, but a creepy experience overall. His smile makes my blood freeze. We played for awhile, but soon Kaine got up and excused himself, very politely. His formality is possibly the scariest thing about him. I mean, I watched him grind up a lung and smoke it. I don’t expect him to be polite.
Kaine has the weirdest habits when he isn’t doing anything. Today it was more interesting to watch him then it was to play cards. He drums his fingers, as though waiting for something. But he drums them amazingly fast. It sounds like someone was softly shooting a machine gun. While he does this, he mutters to himself. I can’t really make out what he’s saying, but occasionally I’ll hear my name. He mutters like an auctioneer. It’s creepy. Then he’ll get up and do something odd. He’ll dance in the corner, or do yoga, or sing show tunes. Maybe he really is crazy. I don’t know, but I hope he isn’t. Having a crazy person to live with would be really terrible.
So later today, he pulled me aside. He started questioning me like crazy. He wanted to know all about me. What do I do? How familiar am I with a computer? What can you find on the internet? Poor guy must not be very net-savvy. He let me go after a while. He said he might need my help with doing something on the computer sometime. I should have him make a myspace. He’d probably like that. He’d get to talk to a million people all as crazy as he is. Oh, did I tell you diary? I dropped myspace. To many fake people for me. Nobody is ever what they say they are. I’m a Xanga exclusive now. I left an update for a week letting my readers know about the change, I hope they all saw it before I cancelled the account. Anyway, this entry is getting kind of lengthy, so until tomorrow.
Marty


From the Diary of Marty
Two months after the first entry
Mostly today was uneventful. I worked on my writing some. I’m writing a story about the holocaust. It’s really dramatic. I doubt I’ll ever finish it though. I tend to start these projects and never really finish them. With my time tonight I bought this really clever shirt online. On the front it says <BODY> and on the back it says </BODY>. It’s so cool. I might actually have to go out to a web café one of these nights to show it off. I cold show off my Starcraft skills too. It could be a good time. That’s actually a really good idea. I’ll have to remember it.
My web-based psychic service is going really well. I’m making like 200 dollars a week by giving obvious observations to people. They send me their pictures asking for their fortunes to be told, I look up their names on the web, and find out about them. I see they lost a loved one, and I go “So and So is watching you from heaven. They wish you well.” It’s great. I gives people hope, and it gives me money, so it’s a perfect job. Since Steve earns so much more, I get to keep it all to myself too. That’s where I got the money for that shirt. Tomorrow I’ll probably buy myself a new video card. I need it to run this super cool game I picked up yesterday.
So today Kaine had me help him with the computer. I felt really special since he never lets anyone watch his personal time during the night. He said tonight he had some special things to do on the computer and that I was the only one that could help him out. Him and I are becoming fast friends. We play cards all the time. Sometimes I let him win because he would stop playing if I won all the time. He still can’t keep a straight face when he gets a hand. I just pretend not to notice. I’m such a good guy. Anyway. So I showed him all the basics of the internet. I showed him how to google things, and how to play games, it was good times. He was really interested in public records you could access from the net. I’ve never been interested in things like that. All those names and dates with no pictures or real information just bores me. I like to play music games on the internet, as I’ve said before. I love tapping out crazy spastic beats. It’s great fun. But now I’m rambling, and you already know all that. So I showed him how to use a database. He picked up on all this really quick. I was impressed. So I showed him all this, then I left him to whatever business he had. Well, that’s all there is for today.
Marty




From the Diary of Marty
Several Years after the first entry
I know my entries over the last few days have been a bit short and boring, but today I’ve really got a whopper. The five of us living here has allowed us to solve everything with simple majority rules. We’ve always had a formal public vote around the conference table. Kaine came to me today and said this was not necessary. He said if three of us agreed secretly on something, it would be just the same. He said he had something of grave importance to tell me, but he had to know he could trust me. Very cloak and dagger, that guy. So, I wasn’t really sure what to do, but then it came to me. I showed him you! He read through it, and said he was certain I could be trusted with the secret. He took me into one of the back rooms of the mind, and told me the secret. It’s crazy. He said he believed that justice always had to come full circle. He said those who are wronged should always be given the opportunity to wrong back. He went on and on about some crazy philosophical tangent that I really didn’t understand too fully. When he had finished rambling, he asked if I understood. I said I didn’t. So he explained it clearly.
He said the night he had killed Neuemahn he had realized there was a debt to be paid. In doing this, he had created an injustice that was similar to the one that had spurred us to find Neuemahn in the first place. He said that by leaving him an heir, we had signed our death warrant. He showed me how easy it would be for someone to find us using the internet. He said Neuemahn’s son deserved a chance to kill us, and that he would have it. He said we had two choices. We could either wait for him to find us, or help him along, so when the time came for him to try to kill us, it would be on our terms, and we would be ready.
He said he had already talked to Sam, and that he had agreed. With my approval, we could go about finding this guy, and luring him near. Eventually, we would tip him off to our identity. If he died in trying to kill us, there would be no heir to whom we would owe a debt of justice. If he succeeded in killing us, then our debt would be repaid. Now, I agree with Kaine in that what he did was wrong, but I really think we shouldn’t be inviting this guy to kill us. How do we even know he wants to kill us? He could be a really nice guy. Maybe if we explained to him what his father had done to our father, he would understand and leave us be. I thought about all this, but I didn’t mention it to Kaine. He’s a very convincing person sometimes.
So I agreed. Kaine said this was good, because he had already found Neuemahn’s son. His name is Charles, and he works in the same building as we do! Life is crazy sometimes in it’s coincidences. Kaine gave me his word that when Charles makes his move, he will fail. I believe him.
Marty

Kaine’s Note to Charles
Dearest Charles,
Before I address the main point of this note, I would like to caution you again to sit down before reading it. Are you? Good. Now for the clincher. I killed your father. I killed him in cold blood, as he pleaded for his life. I did terrible things to him. I put him through greater agony then any one man should ever endure. I sliced off his fingers one by one, and each of these severed fingers I fed to him through a hole in his throat. I could go on, but I am nearly causing myself to shiver as it is.
The point I’ve come to realize is that you already knew this. You are qite the sly devil. You tracked me down, You got a job where I worked, You even knew exactly when I was going to make a move to kill off our Boss. You know me almost as well as I do. That night you weren’t going there to kill the Boss, you were there to kill me. You knew I’d be alone and far away from my home. You knew this was your chance. You probably also figured, from what was found of your father, that I enjoyed killing. You knew if I had tasted blood that night, you would be unable to best me. So you killed him yourself. The story about the secretary was a good cover, it fooled about 4/5s of me. Yet I knew it was a lie. I knew you were a man with only one passion in life, to seek and destroy me.
This being said, I am going to give you the chance. I am going to make it easy. Enclosed in this envelope is my daily routine. Where I will probably be at every hour every day, for the rest of the week. You will have every opportunity for my destruction you had ever wished. Be aware, however, I will be ready. I will carry the knife that carved Tic-Tac-Toe boards in your father’s heart. If you do not manage to kill me, I will do something similar to you. You have one week. If I am not dead by the end of it, you most certainly shall be.


My debt repaid,
Kaine



Hunted: Day One
Steve awoke on Monday feeling refreshed. For a change, there had been enough sleep last night. He was up early; the other four were still dozing. He got a shower, drank some coffee, and watched the television. It would soon be time to leave for work. He was dressed and nearly out the door when Kaine called a meeting. Kaine never called meetings. This was probably important.
Steve was in the conference room at once. The other four were still asleep. They normally slept late on week days. Kaine was at the head of the table, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Steve sat down, and readied to hear the speech. Kaine stood, and spoke in a commanding tone.
“My brother, I have information of the gravest importance for you. There is a man who lives near us who wishes us dead. I have it in confidence he knows where we will be at all times, and is watching us always. You may remember the man, Charles, the other day. That was he. At this very moment, he is likely plotting our end. I would recommend you take care as you go through life this week. Follow the normal routine, but keep your eyes open. Carry the knife we keep above the mantle. If we see him first, I can certainly end him. That is all.”
Steve lost it. He went nuts.
“Have you lost your mind? Oh, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment. You had a man who wanted to kill us into our house? What were you thinking? What possessed you to think you had the right to put all of us in that danger? We should go to the police. We should get some protection. We should do something.”
Steve was nearly hyperventilating. This was too much. Life had finally started to slow down, be normal. He had a good job, and a decent life. It was great. It was the best thing he could have hoped for, with four others living in his mind. He started yelling again.
“How could you have possibly let him in? Do you want us to die? Is that it? And how can he know our routine? We never get to know anyone so that nobody will ever know us. We’ve taken so many precautions. There’s no way anyone should know where we’ll be.”
Kaine looked calmly at him. “I gave him our schedule.”
Steve fainted.
He woke up an hour later still within his mind. Kaine spoke again. “Calm yourself Steve, I have only done what needed doing. Trust me when I say I care also for the welfare of the whole. Go to work now. Carry my knife. Everything will be fine. No man can best me. Just watch your step, keep calm, everything will be just fine.”
Steve looked at him coldly. “Kaine, you are not my mother. Don’t tell me everything will be fine. I’ll go to work. I’ll play your game. It’s not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyway. He already knows where we’ll be. I tell you now Kaine, after this week, I am going to find a way to expel you from my mind forever. I cannot have you putting my life in Jeopardy like this ever again.”
Kaine smiled. “I would like nothing better then to cease to exist. My purpose was fulfilled years ago. Expel me if you can, but this week, you need me.”
Steve grunted in affirmation, and then took control again.
The day was filled with shadows for Steve. Behind every corner was a crazed killer. Behind every door was a loaded gun pointed in his direction. Every bite of food tasted of a slow poison, and every camera was the eye of his foe. Steve was truly frightened. The worst thing for Steve was seeing Charles at work. He thought for sure that when he walked into work, Charles would rush him, killing him instantly. But, when seeing him, Charles said “Hello. Thanks for yesterday.” and went on with his work. It was creepy. Steve couldn’t take much of this. His phone rang. He nearly jumped twenty feet into the air. He picked it up. Jessica.
“Hey Stevie. I found out where you worked, and the secretary patched me right though to you. How are you Honey?”
This was the absolute last thing Steve needed. He was about to scream at her. He was going to get his point across. At that moment, however, he had a realization. This would be one way to throw off Charles. If he had Jessica following at his heels every moment, it would be far harder for him to be cornered. This could yet work to his advantage.
“I’m just great Jess, thanks. I’m glad you found my work number, I couldn’t find yours yesterday when I was looking for it. Say, how would you like to go out for dinner tonight? I know of a lovely restaurant just around the corner from work. I get off around seven.”
“That would be great, Steve, Just great. I knew you’d come to your senses sooner of later. I’ll pick you up from your house at seven-thirty. See you then. Bye.”
Aden screamed in protest. Kaine was against doing anything out of routine this week. Sam and Marty were all for it though, so Steve didn’t need to justify his actions to Kaine and Aden. It would be a terror being around Jessica that afternoon, but it would be better then dying. By a tiny bit.
The rest of the day at work went by quickly. He spent it mostly avoiding Charles, who was if anything friendlier then normal. He got his work done, gave it to the newly appointed Boss, and clocked out for the night. He walked home, put on some halfway decent clothes, and waited for his doorbell to ring. Marty had surrendered his time to Steve for that night, on the basis that he wasn’t very good with interacting with people. At the very stroke of Seven-thirty, the doorbell rang. He opened the door, and as expected, Jessica was there. She escorted him to her car in a hurry, talking frantically about her day and how terrible it was. She had a rather sad existence. Steve wasn’t sure what he’d do with her once this week was over.
Dinner was terrible. The food was good, but Steve did not want to talk to her. Jessica did enough talking for both of them, fortunately, and apparently didn’t notice his silence. He nodded every few seconds. Every minute or so he gave an “Uh Huh”, but he wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes were on the door. Charles could come in any minute. What would he do if he did? Charles could have followed the car here. He might be in this very restaurant right now. Suddenly, Steve wanted to leave. But there was no polite way to excuse yourself from the table half-finished with your meal, and with someone talking about the puppy they had named “Steve” that waited for them at home. He managed to finish his meal. She finished hers soon after. They got up to leave, with her still talking.
The car ride home was silent. Somehow, she had ran out of things to say. Steve noticed suddenly they were past his street. “Hey Jess, you know I live about two streets back.” She glanced back and smiled “I know that silly. I figured since things went so well tonight you’d want to come back to my place.” Steve almost nodded. She was good-looking, and it was the last place Charles would expect to find him. This being said, Steve considered himself a semi-decent person. If he took advantage of her offer, he knew he would never be able to look himself in the mirror again. “Maybe another night, Jess. I’m deathly tired now, and I wouldn’t want you to catch my cold.” It was a pathetic excuse, but he was sure it would work. She stopped the car. “Fine then. If you think you are too good for me, walk home. I don’t ever want to hear from you again, Steve Plexy.”
Steve was in quite a bind. He looked out the car window. It was dark outside. There was nobody out there to hear him scream if a certain someone was out there waiting for him. On the other hand, how much were his morals really worth to him? What were morals, really? Just some rules cooked up by self-righteous snobs to keep people from doing what they wanted. He justified all this in his mind, but he still couldn’t ever look himself in the mirror again.


Hunted: Day Two
Steve had Jessica drop him off at his house the next day. He had only a few moments to change before he had to leave for work. He quickly showered and bolted out the door. When he arrived at work, he was exactly on time. Almost to the second. He sat down and began his work. Charles walked up to Steve’s cube at lunch time and asked him to take a walk with him on the roof. Steve was wary, but ready. At Kaine’s suggestion, he had the knife with him. He would hand over control to Kaine if Charles tried to make a move.
They walked in silence for awhile, the air was a frigid cold on top of the building. Charles spoke first: “Steve. You are a true nut job. I just don’t get you. I knew you killed my father, I did find you, this is all true, but I never wanted to kill you. I just wanted to know why. I called the police before I asked you to walk with me. When we get back, they will be there waiting for you. If you kill me, they will certainly find you. I gave them your name and address. The note is sitting open on my desk. They will catch you, and in all likelihood, you will live out the rest of your life in jail. I know my father wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve to die. Neither do you. Please just come back to the office with me and turn yourself in.”
Steve looked at him, wide-eyed. He guessed even Kaine cold be wrong. “But, if you had me in the office, why did you bring me out here, with the chance to escape, or the chance to kill you?”
“Because, Steve, I want to know why. I want you to tell me why you killed my father. I can defend myself against you, and I have full confidence in the city police. There is no escape for you. I just wanted you to have an opportunity to tell me why. Do you even know yourself?”
Steve tried to speak, but no words could express the story. He remembered how sure he had been in his goal. He remembered coming to the party with a knife. He remembered faltering at the sight of Neuemahn’s family. He remembered all of this with clarity, as though it had been yesterday. Finally, he spoke.
“I did not kill your father. Kaine killed your father.”
He saw tears begin to swell in Charles’ eyes. “Even after all these years, you can’t just once be honest? I don’t know why I ever thought you would. I saw the remains of my father. I should have known such a monster could not bring himself to confess.”
At this, Charles pulled a gun from his pocket. “I hadn’t intended on ever using this. Especially not on someone as worthless as you.” Charles steadied himself and aimed the gun. Steve wanted to bolt down into the office. Life in jail was better then death on top of a building. He was about to make a move when he felt Kaine take control. Strangely, he didn’t go back to the conference room. It was like he was no longer in control of his limbs. He heard himself say “I would not allow you to throw your life away as such”, and he felt himself step backwards off the building. As he fell, he realized Kaine hadn’t been in control. He had done it himself. He tried to go back to that place in his mind, to say good bye to the four people who truly understood. He could not. He could not see the conference room. He could not see any of them. It was as though they had never been. He yelled as he fell.
“Marty?”
“Aden?”
“Sam?”
“Kaine?”
There was no answer.
As Steve Plexy fell, he was alone.

--

Fin

[Jamaican Jew]

My eyes are tired from reading, my brain hurts a little from staring at the screen so long, and I'm a bit unfocused, but DAMN that was a great story.
Good job, Josh.
"Have you ever wondered what it would look like to have your vocal cords ripped from your neck, and forced down your throat?” ... “By the time I did that, I will have long past eaten your eyes.”
The best part about these quotes is that I've heard you say them in real life.

[whiteflame]

Nice ending to a good story.

[iggymatrixcounter]

Sweet, not bad at all.

Needed a flash to another person who wanted revenge and have the 4 personalities appear in that person's mind for the clincher XD.

[mead1]

This has officially entered the revision phase. There will be:

MORE WITTY BANTER
MORE CHAPTERS
MORE LACK OF SHARP DISCONTINUITIES REGARDING ATTITUDES OF THE PERSONALITIES
MORE ACCURACY INVOLVING SETTING

GET READY FOR TWOFACED 2.0

COMING TO AN FFR NEAR YOU SOMETIME IN THE DISTANT FUTURE

If you have ideas for improvement to suggest, feel free to mention them, but I know nobody cares about this now that it's done.