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Re: Two-Faced
This isn't over. I'm just lazy. Expect to see more soon.Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
THE WITHDRAWAL IS PAINFULComment
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Re: Two-Faced
I KNOW, BUT YOU MUST STAY STRONGComment
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Re: Two-Faced
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.
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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.
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I'll get around to the creation of Marty somedayComment
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Re: Two-Faced
Wait - what was wrong with the fries, again?Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
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"Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
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.”
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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"Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
In-Joke get.Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
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.Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
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.
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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.Comment
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Re: Two-Faced
Did the flight attendants run out of Dr Pepper and salted peanuts?Comment
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