Summary: [The road to improvement is a long, bumpy one. Sometimes you will have the feeling that all this pain is not worth it. That it is easier to just LET yourself be dragged down by your vices and regrets. But do not let the agony fool you. Stay the course. You can make it. And if you are ever in doubt, remember, you are not alone. Your past, your present and your many futures will always be your companions. And if you cannot see them and feel abandoned… I am with you here as well. I am on your side. THEY are on your side. Do not give up. The light at the end of the tunnel is ever so near.] - Man-in-the-catwalks, the one that operates the projectors. You stand in a dark room, surrounded by deafening silence, the one that sucks all the frequencies and returns them all to zero. It is almost like a vacuum here, but you can breathe, your skin doesn't boil. You should feel calm, tranquil, but something about this place brings you uneasiness. About three feet away in front of you there is a chair, on which sits a human male, who seems to you very familiar. He has the face of the same person that you saw in the mirror. In his hands, he holds a small piece of fabric. It is red like wine and looks like silk. After some time the man stops observing the fabric and looks at you. "Here we are again. In the place where it all began. Tell me, do you remember an old art studio on Caves Street?" What? "Do you remember the fun, the dreams… the promises?" I… I can recall all this. But… Suddenly, a beam of light illuminated a lounge sofa in the corner of the room. On that sofa sits a man. He wears a tank top and simple brown shorts… something wrong about that person though. His upper body is covered with a dark viscous substance that leaks out from the hole where the head is supposed to be. In his hand, he holds a high-caliber revolver "He can't recall shit! He doesn't want to! After all, he always wanted a "Normal" life. Away from his brethren, away from his home. Away from his family." The headless man's voice is filled with spite and anger. Each word he pronounces has the impact of a gunshot. Suddenly, you feel ill. Why does looking at this person make you want to vomit? "Say, Rando… Where are your friends? Your comrades? Your brothers? Your sisters?" T-they… "I'll tell you where they are. They are everywhere! In the ground, in the garbage cans, in the bay. Forgotten by everyone, even you. Rotting, dissolving, disappearing." I am tired… I want to rest. "Rest? What rest do you deserve? There is no rest for the wicked. Only work, work, work… well, that and a little pet project of yours." These words had an evil smile in them. The type people give you when they wish death upon you. "You really think two dumb young idiots will save you, turn your life around? Be real, all you do is delay the inevitable. So grant all a favor and just-" Before the headless man could finish that sentence, the spotlight above him went dark. [Do not listen to him. He is lost. He has to blame someone to make sense. Forgive him for his rudeness and let him go.] You look up to see where the voice comes from. Up there, in the catwalks! There is a shadow of a man. He moves the projectors, moving them all back to the man in the middle of everything. "W-where am I?" "Nowhere, just in your bed, trying to fall asleep, but your mind fails you. Sleep will never come, you'll wake up tired. And you will forget everything that happened here." "... I am tired, I want to stay…" "Stay? You lost the ticket, friend. It snapped in two. You can't stay here, not yet. There will be a moment when you'll stay here for good, but it is not now, not today. Return to ruins, walk them, one day you will find your way here." The room dissolves into darkness… and then into a mold spot on the ceiling. *** You lie horizontally on your back, observing the ceiling above you. On it, you see a singular spot of mold, no bigger than a fist. How long was it there? Long enough to feel homely. It just wants to live… who are you to decide what its fate is going to be? [It's a hazard to your health, go to the local general store, buy some bleach and get rid of it!] TOTAL. FUNGAL. GENOCIDE. … What time is it? You look at the clock on a small table near the bed. Exactly 6:30 in the morning. Ah, you are on the dot. You raise your upper body from a wet, cold mattress, and hang your legs from the side of the bed. Shit, your head hurts. [You only needed a couple of drinks, not an entire bottle!] Nonsense, you needed it. Today is going to be a long day at work. Relax, assess your surroundings, keep your mind busy. You won't even notice how hangover lets you go. …You sit on your bed, in your bedroom. The room is no bigger than a closet, with barely any room to move around. In the room, there is only your bed, a small table with a clock on it, and a fan. On the wall above your bed, there is a window. You look outside. Still dark, but far away you see the beams of the sun slowly rise over the horizon… Or maybe it is the richer part of the city, which never truly falls asleep. Alright, time to stand up. You lift yourself off your bed and unto your feet. You are still dressed in your yesterday's clothes. It reeks of booze and… Blood? NO, NOT BLOOD. IT IS THE IRON, YES… BUT THE SMELL IS TOO WEAK. IT IS ANGER. Anger? Anger at whom? YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW. Fuck, your head is killing you. You need to get to the kitchen. You exit the bedroom and into a small living room. It isn't much bigger than your bedroom, but in comparison, this is much more open, you feel almost uneasy. You go to the kitchen, which occupies the same space as the living room, not separated by any walls. In there, you open your shitty fridge which looks archaic. Inside you find a bottle of milk and some cold pizza. Good, food and milk, that will at least make you feel less queasy. Taking pizza out, you don't even bother heating it up. You just munch on it, like an animal, washing it down with milk. This feels good! How about you follow it up with a coffee? Right, coffee, how could you forget?.. Wait, you don't drink coffee. It makes you irrational, sick, unstable. Why did you have that thought just now? Long ago, in a house on the edge of Skin Row, you were waking up every morning at 6:30 am, going downstairs from your bedroom and into the kitchen. There you will always take a glass of cold water and then start preparing breakfast. Along with it, you were preparing a cup of coffee for… [Discard that thought this instant, you are not ready. Maybe on a better day, but today is not that day. Concentrate on the here and now.] Finishing a bottle of milk, you go into your living room and fall into your crappy, but trusty sofa. On a coffee table in front of it, there is a pack of cigarettes. You pick it up. On the pack, you can see a minimalistic drawing of an ape-like creature in a green mask. The pack says "Caveman Anonymous". Somehow, this image brings you to anger. FUCKING METEOR DODGERS. You take all the cigarettes out of the pack and place them neatly inside the special cigarette box that you carry around in your pocket inside your jacket. You also make sure that there is at least one cig inside your front chest pocket for easy access. Oh, and another one in your fingers to use now. You discard the empty pack into the corner of the room and light the cigarette with your lighter. A gift from your old friend… He will visit you today, you know. You observe the lighter. It is a small metallic rectangle, custom-made. It was given to you on your 25th birthday. Rips did not approve of your smoking habits at first… but you guess he realized that you needed it to get through the day. When he gave that lighter to you, he only asked you not to smoke more than three a day. There are funny-looking initials on that lighter. R.P.E. Your initials. A smug smirk creeps onto your face. One year before you betrayed his trust… and he still cares for you. You really are a messed up guy. Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. HERE HE COMES! THE GRIMM RIPLEY! You sigh. You can feel a lecture coming a mile away. You quickly finish your cigarette and go to your front door. You look through the eyehole. A GUN!!! No, stop thinking nonsense. You slowly twist the key until you hear a click. You open the door. In front of you stands a beast of a dino, a brown pterodactyl with massive wings. A FAT, OVERSIZED DELTAPLANE. Relax. Just greet him as usual. "Hey, Rips, what ya doin' this early in the morning in the shittiest part of town?" Comedy? Won't work on that one, Sire. "Hello, Rando. We need to talk." A smile creeps onto his face. The kind that will give serial killers a run for their money. And yet you don't feel fear. THIS IS HIS FAMOUS "TOUGH COP" PERSONA! I FEEL NO DANGER FROM THAT BROVADIOUS PLAY. Still, you need to act polite and submissive. Not because of that "Persona" thing, but because he is your superior, your commander on the field of battle. Do not disrespect your betters! "Right… Come on in, make yourself at home." Ripley enters your home. He has been here a couple of times, but you can see by his expression that he hates it here. [He worries for you. He looks around to see if any empty bottles are lying around. He feels relieved to see that your apartment is mostly clean.] But then he smells something awful. "God, Rando, you reek like a forensic lab back at the station. Were you drinking again? On a work night?" "Did I ever stop?" Good job, Sire. Downplay your issue like a champ. Ripley rubs his eyes in annoyance. He says something to himself. Something along the lines of "You gonna get yourself killed at this rate". He notices a cigarette butt in an ashtray on your table. "The first today, Rips." He rolls his eyes. Good. he is a bit more relaxed than you expected. But there is still anger that brews in him. He goes to the kitchen and brings a chair from there. The chair is flimsy, but it is the only piece of furniture in your apartment that won't break down under your comrade's weight. He puts the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table so that it would face your sofa. He sits down and nods towards your "Spring Throne" This is a silent order. "Sit the fuck down". You are not a titan of will. And his will rules over yours. Follow the orders… but do not fear. You sit down on your sofa, Ripley leans back on the chair and crosses his arms. This is an interrogation. "So, Rando… Where do I even begin? Let's talk about what you told me yesterday." About the cynical souls, brilliant minds and second chances. "Yeah, what about it?" "I believe you that you said something very interesting to me… Something about a man named Anon." Man in his early 20s. You've learned much about him in the past month. Lay out the basics. "Ah yes, Anon Mous, a young man who recently returned from his service in the big blue. Lives on Skin Row, the street shall not be named to protect his livelihood from a very pissed off pterodactyl the size of an elephant." Ripley did not like the last remark, but he withholds his annoyance. He got used to your antics. "Studied in Volcano High, arrived in the second semester of the senior year. Dropped out a few weeks before graduation. Served in the Navy for 3 years before receiving physical trauma from an unfortunate accident involving stairs. Currently unemployed and lives on a military pension." That's enough information for now, chief. Observe Ripley's reaction. His eyes are tense, you can see him clenching his right hand into a fist. "That damn bastard…" Then BAM! He brings his fist down unto your coffee table. The force was enough to dent it slightly. This display of anger is not only genuine, sire, it is also forced. A mix between real feelings and dramatics. "It is because of him, Lucy…" [Ask him about what happened that cursed day. He needs to tell you this, otherwise, you won't be able to help him]. "Rips… what exactly caused Lucy to leave your house?" "Your house" wording brings an unpleasant feeling to your friend. He remembers the past. He thinks about the times Lucy ever felt at home at "his" house. He rubs his eyes, composes himself and begins to recite the events. "Lucy… was difficult in her last year of school. I don't know, she became even more distant from us. She was constantly shutting her door to her room, never letting anyone in without screaming at them. She never ate with us. She had these moments when… I don't know how to describe them." He remembers one particular night. He was called by his son, who was worried about Lucy. 1 am. Someone in the kitchen near the microwave. The screamings followed. "It is like she did everything on purpose to piss me off. To piss everyone off. And it worked. I constantly lost it near her, I was trying to direct her, control her. We did nothing but scream at each other. Until I just… I don't know…" Gave up… [No, not "gave up". He was lost. He didn't know what to do. So he gave space… It backfired.] "Then, one day she brought that boy, Anon. She claimed he was simply there to help her with her music hobby. But I know my daughter, she fancied that boy. I don't know why, because all I saw was a…" He looks at you before stopping. SKINNIE BASTARD… YOU DON'T FEEL ANGER FROM KNOWING WHAT HE WAS GOING TO SAY. Only sadness. "Fuck, I am sorry, Rando." This is a genuine apology. But it does little to help. "It's… fine… Continue please." He nods. Better not acknowledge this for now. "What I wanted to say… I knew he was up to no good. He looked like a simpleton. Something within me was telling me that he was just using my daughter for his own interest. Not only that, he was a dumb teenager with the decision-making capabilities of one. I couldn't leave my daughter alone with him. I don't know when, but at one point they became a couple." The last word was filled with venom. He did not like that part. "On the prom night, Lucy disappeared from the house. I knew she was not attending prom. Wanna know why she left the house? To see that boy. I knew that I should have gone out to search for her the moment I realized that she was missing, but I just did not want to... An important night for her." He did not like Anon, but he acknowledged that Lucy was in love with him. He thought that only this time he wouldn't interfere with her life. "What happened next is… Lucy returned home later that night. Her expression was… painful. Shocked. Like everything she believed in was just ripped away from her. She said nothing, went upstairs into her room and just… locked herself in." Not just her heart was broken… The foundation of her reality was torn away and reduced to dust. The feeling is ever so familiar to you. The town is singing the song of doom… It sings through her… "She didn't leave her room for several days. I knew that something happened between her and Anon. At first, I was glad. I thought that this boy was finally out of our lives and Lucy could concentrate on improving herself… But she never did. She just shut herself from the world." "I am more than them. I am more than him… I am more than me". Mantra of a broken young soul. "One day, she went out but… she didn't say anything to me, Samantha or Naser. She just… continued to live as she did before. She went to school, she studied in her room, and she was practicing the guitar. Hell, she managed to pass all the exams with flying colors. I didn't even know that she was this good in science class." But for her, that mark was a reminder. She hated the fact she scored so high. "It was also the time I found out that Anon had disappeared from the school. I just assumed that he finally revealed his true colors and stopped trying to impress Lucy… I was fine with it, but Naser went berserk. He left the house one day and was missing for an entire day. He came back late in the evening. He hasn't said a word to me since. He only talked to Samantha." You wonder what is with a sudden change? Maybe, while alone with his anger, chasing some illusive ghost, he rediscovered himself. Found a new target for his anger. His father. "When the graduation came, both Lucy and Naser seemed fed up with everything. I tried to fix everything. After they received their high school diplomas, I decided that we must celebrate. I booked a day off and everything seemed fine… Until the day of the celebration came. Lucy refused to go. She wasn't throwing a tantrum, she was not screaming, she just ignored me. I… I made a mistake…" He never told this to anyone, even his wife. The pain and shame that cannot be shared with others. "I just decided that we must leave her there, in her room. Samantha was against it and said that we shouldn't leave her alone. But I ignored her plea. I was so dead set on fixing our family, that I never noticed the tears." In his voice, you can sense the trails of guilt, remorse and self-loathing. He reaching the culmination of his agony. "We went off to dinner without Lucy. It was supposed to fix everything, but it didn't. Naser was visibly worried and Samantha barely smiled. We decided to leave early and go home… And when we got there…" "She wasn't there". He cannot bring himself to say this. "... Her room was empty. Somewhere before the day we left the house for dinner she must've packed all her stuff. She planned for it. To escape us. And I never noticed it. I chose to ignore it because I thought everything was under control." CONTROL! REMEMBER THAT WORD. IT IS POWER, BUT IT IS ALSO HOLLOW. "It was all his fault, Rando. His fault. If he never appeared, if never fed into Lucy's delusion, then maybe… maybe…" SAY IT. "Then maybe she would have been worse." These words rang like artillery. It immediately grabbed Ripley's attention who, until recently, was deep inside his own thoughts. You must tell him the truth that he doesn't want to hear. "Rips… You are an asshole sometimes, you know that?" PRECISE. REMEMBER THE WORD. "You know why? Because you believe that everything is supposed to be under your control. That way of thinking is what puts your family on the brink of ruin… And what pushed Lucy over the edge." Sire, emphasize anger in your voice, but a tranquil one, the silent one. "You think Anon is the only reason why Lucy is out there? Bullshit. From what I heard, it seems that Anon only played a part in it." Ripley looks at you with a shocked expression. You never were this angry with him before… Not since you two met. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think Anon is blameless. Whatever happened between them definitely played a part… But man, you are her father, not her prison warden!" [He needs to hear this. To understand the situation that he himself created.] "You loved her, that is certain, but you never gave her what she truly wanted. Support and freedom. She wanted to make her own decisions in life, she wanted to improve herself, but it never happened. She believed that everyone held her back, only trying to make her into something they wanted. You never tried to understand that, because that would have meant to release the control." Ripley just takes your verbal abuse without even trying to interfere. He actually leans forward and takes in your every word. "Ripley. Your family is not your subordinates. They are people who you should cherish, but more importantly, you must respect them. To treat them as equals. Not as some idiots who cannot make their own decisions." "Then… then what should I do?" "Let go. You did enough damage trying to fix everything. So do 180. Don't do anything… just support. Like you support your wife. I am sure Lucy will come home eventually." He looks at you, but there is doubt in his eyes. He believes that you are just trying to comfort him. You need to provide evidence. "... You know why I think it is good that Lucy and Anon are trying to reconnect?" "Why?" "Because forgiving each other and trying to rekindle their friendship is one of many steps to improvement. Their own and each other's. Yesterday Lucy made a big progress, Rips. She even smiled and laughed." You look at his face. His tough cop persona is still present. But underneath it all, you can sense a smile. He is glad that his daughter is not as sad as she is usually in your reports. "And you know what that means? That she is already grown. She forgave a person who wronged her in the past. Someone who was important to her but also betrayed her trust. She could've held onto her hate and anger and remained unchanged, sorry for the lack of a better word, bitch." You can sense Ripley's stern gaze on you. YOU ALMOST DUG YOUR OWN GRAVE THERE, PAL. "What I am trying to say is… she managed to forgive Anon. She gave him a second chance. Give her a bit more time. I am sure she will give a second chance to the family as well." Finally, Ripley's tough cop act disintegrated into a warm smile on his face. A rarity for sure, you almost forgot that he can smile like it. He looks at the ground, assessing every word you've said. Finally, he relaxes and leans back. "Heh, you are right. She is an adult now, she can make her own decisions. She doesn't need me to hold her hands. That behavior almost ruined everything. She must come to us first. I just… I just really want to see her, to apologize, to make it right by her." [There will be a chance. She already remembers her home, and her family in warmer colors than she did a few days ago] "I believe that chance will come soon, Rips. Just don't fuck it up." "Hehe, cannot believe that I am given family advice by a fucking alcoholic lunatic." FUCKING OUCH. But he isn't lying. You were expecting to be lectured, not giving a lecture yourself. For a moment both of you share silence before you decide to stand up. You approach Ripley and place your hand on his shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Rips. If I know anything, it is how hard family can be at times." Long ago, you were in some abandoned house. You were surrounded by many kids your age. Surviving, fighting, and helping each other. You were all different. Dinos, humans. But you were a family. You had each other's backs. Until… An image of a headless man, slumped backwards on a couch, revolver in hand with smoke coming out of its barrel. You had to grow up. Ripley looks at you. You realized that you were standing there for an entire minute, looking somewhere far away. A look of concern appears on his face. "Again with those episodes?" "... Yeah…" "They have become worse recently, haven't they?" [They did. They have been becoming worse ever since you encouraged Fang in that pizzeria a year ago.] "I am managing. Besides, I have the prescription." "But it did not improve anything, just stall off the worst." That thing, chief, makes you dull. It makes you forget basic things about being a detective. You stop hearing the city and start to hear the song of nothingness. It scares you. NOTHING. THE MOST TERRIFYING THOUGHT. "I take one in the morning each day, sir." "Sir?" "Yes, sir." A small chuckle. You did good, Sire. A good moment is interrupted by a ringing noise, almost melodic-like. Ripley notices it immediately and reaches out to one of his pockets. He takes out a more modern mobile phone (still with buttons though) and answers it. "Commissioner Aaron Ripley speaking. What is the situation?" You cannot hear the voice on the other side of the line, chief, but you can sense polite professionalism. This call is work-related. "Yes. Hmh… I am in the area, give an address. I'll pick up Detective Rando on the way there… Yes. Thank you, Detective Bernt." Oh no, not that guy. He still owes you a pair of scissors and at least 200 bucks in pizza money. Ripley hangs his phone and turns your way. "Hey, I know it's Saturday, and you still suffer from a hangover but guess what, a body was found here on Skin Row. Bernt says that it is highly unusual. And he wasn't talking about some conspiracy theories this time, so it must be serious." That's… a correct assumption. "So, clean yourself up and go outside, my car is there, I'll be driving you to the scene." "Clean up? I am already shaved." "Yeah, yeah, and it suits you better than the hobo look, but I won't let you anywhere near my car smelling like this. And for god's sake, change your clothes. Your jacket looks abysmal." "But I like it…" "Just do what I said. I know you have a standard police coat somewhere around here." Yes, the dark blue coat with a popped collar, with big yellow VBPD letters on the back. You wear it only when you work with Rips and only when you are on the crime scene… Everything fits, Sire. "Fine, as long as I work with you, Rips. Give me 15." "... 30. Clean yourself well! Also, brush your teeth. I swear your breath smells like your organs BECAME a brewery that distils your blood into alcohol." With those words, Ripley stands up from the chair. He puts it back behind the kitchen table and exits your apartment… Well, I guess you have time for a good cold shower… And the prescription. You look at the clock. It is almost 8 a.m. You are late. *** Saturday morning. Usually, I don't have to wake up this early today, but I was not in the mood to lie around. I was standing in my bathroom in front of the mirror. Raptor Jesus, is this how I look? I mean, I know I tried to go for the more hardcore look, but damn do I look repulsive. But hey, at least this look made sure that none of the Skin Row trash would try to hit on me. Well, none but one idiot. You know what? I am glad with how yesterday turned out. I finally confronted my past failures and didn't even flip out. I guess I have grown as a person. Anyway, I have to get everything in order… My hair? Still shaved clean, maybe I should grow them a bit, but then again, I do save a lot of money on shampoo. My arms? Covered in tattoos that I got on impulse. Thought they would improve my mood or allow me to express my inner torment, or whatever rock stars of the past thought when they got all those tattoos. There are VERY visible bags under my eyes. No amount of makeup will be able to hide those. If I want to get rid of them, I need to fucking restore my sleep schedule instead of sleeping for like 3 hours and running on coffee and nicotine for the rest of the day. Man, my wings are messed up. I mostly managed to deal with my peering problem, I just SOMETIMES tear my feathers off with my hands. It is hard to control, sometimes it happens while I am not aware, but most of the time I get off with a couple of torn feathers… No, most of them fell off on their own. A long time ago I read somewhere that humans experience baldness at an early age due to stress, so maybe pteros operate on the same level, but instead of balding we lose feathers. Haha, bald people, maybe Anon had a very stressful life before Volcano High… Ah yes, Anon. Never thought that I would think about him in such a casual way. I used to despise him, but also… I used to despise myself. When he dropped out, I thought he did so because I said something awful to him. I-I knew that life before Volcano High was hard for him, and even here he experienced humiliation on the level of "two bass concert"... Actually no, he suffered more than I. While I had a family that loved me, friends that cared for me and a skill of which I was certain, he had none of that. And when he finally thought that he made some good friends and started something new… Fucking Trish, even now I cannot completely forgive her. Why did she do that? Well, it doesn't matter now. What matters is now. At this moment in time. I need to concentrate on the things that I can fix. Anon… I wonder what he is up to. Probably still sleeping, I mean, he looked like shit when I met him. Tired, his eyes dim like he hadn't had fun in years. His voice was shaky which made me wonder… When was the last time he spoke to someone? I had Stepan and Dude to keep me company for the last 3 years, he probably had not. Knowing him, he probably found the darkest corner of the ship where he served and, in his free time, just sat there doing nothing. Doesn't help that he is probably still unemployed, if what he wrote in the journal can be considered true. Alright, Fang, time to be someone you haven't been in quite a while - a good friend. The next moment I will have a chance, I will push Anon to find actual work or, at least, go out more often. He thinks himself to be an asocial loser, but I know when he wants to do something right, he is more stubborn than me. Speaking of the devil, I just heard my phone going off. I leave the bathroom and go to the living room where my phone rests on a couch. I pick it up and check the messages. ANON : Hey, Fang, 'sup. FANG : Nothing much, dweeb. How are you? ANON : Man, not so good. My head hurts and my body feels like I ran a marathon. FANG : I mean, what did you expect to feel after what happened tonight… you are probably just mentally tired. ANON : Probably… FANG : Actually no, to be mentally tired you actually need a brain. ANON : Yeah, yeah, fuck you. FANG : Sorry, I am not that easy. … ANON : Well, I guess I should have aimed at the heart if I have no brain then. "Fucking dumbass…" FANG : Never joke about that again! You hear me? ANON : Sry… just tried to, I dunno. FANG : Anon, everything will be alright… wanna talk? I have some time. I hold my phone, expecting that dweeb to write something along the lines of "Nah, I'm fine, just gonna play some games to relax" or something. But instead, in a short moment, my phone starts to ring. I give it a second before picking it up. "Hey, dweeb, good morning." "Good morning, Fang." When he said that I felt pain. He sounds bad. His voice is raspy, and he lacks any enthusiasm. God, I hope he didn't do anything stupid after tonight. "Are you alright, you sound like in one night you've smoked an entire carton." "No, but got really close to it…" He laughs, but it is followed by immediate silence. "I dunno, I just feel like shit for no reason this morning. Never expected to make it to morning." "Hey, stop talking about that nonsense. Everything will be fine… You didn't get sick, did you?" "Nah, no fever or sore throat. Just a headache… Also a small panic attack, but it got better." He probably finally realized everything that went down yesterday and his body finally gave way to fatigue. I shouldn't keep him for too long on the line. "Hey, if you are tired, just rest alright, if you want we can talk later." "No!" Oh, my ear. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scream. Just… let's talk about something, anything?" … Why does it hurt so much hearing him like that? He never was this vulnerable, even when we used to date. Even on the day when his secret was exposed he was just mostly pissed. No, he sounds like someone died… I should not think like that at the moment. "... Alright, Anon, let's talk. What are you planning to do today?" "Just lying around, I guess. Don't have much to do on weekends. Maybe take a walk before it is too late. Maybe do a bit of research on the local venues for your band to play at." God damn dweeb, he should rest. "Hey, don't overexert yourself, if you don't feel well just rest." "I can't do nothing, Fang… Even now when I do nothing, my head returns to that mindset I had yesterday. I am just…" He takes a second to come up with the right word. "I am scared…" Damn it, what can I do? I never used to think this much about others. Think, Fang, think. While looking around the room to come up with a solution I see the small clock that hangs above my TV set. Right, today is the band's last practice before Sunday… wait, maybe… "Hey, Anon, I have an idea, how about you come today to our band's practice?" "Huh?" "I mean, you want to help me, right? You probably need to know how good we are, or what we are playing before you can start searching for a place for us to play! Besides, you also need to meet my bandmates." Silence, but I can hear him mumbling something. Ah, he says something along the lines "I don't know, wouldn't I be a bother?" "You won't, dweeb." "Did I mumble out loud again?" "Yup, and I am glad that you still do that, it makes you easy to read." I can hear a small chuckle on the other side of the phone. Good job Fang for not fucking this one up. "Alright, I'll come by to check it out. Where and when should I be there?" I look at the clock. It is 8:00 a.m. The practice starts around 9:30… "9:45. On Steed Penny Street. There is a set of garages behind an abandoned arcade hall. I will meet you there." I need an extra 15 minutes to tell the guys about Anon. I don't want Stepan to play the red guardian and kick Anon out. "Alright, got it, I'll be there." His voice became more lively. It feels nice to actually help someone. But I need to prepare, I need to have a serious talk with Anon. He needs to get his life together, and I will help him. I don't know why he is so adamant about helping me when he himself needs all the support he can get. I turned on my phone to check the message history again. I need to think over what we will talk about, how do I approach him, what not to say. Funny, why am I so worried about this? Maybe, just maybe, some lingering feelings for him are still inside my heart, but I cannot let them resurface, not right now. Maybe… When I deserve him more, and he isn't such a mess, then we can talk about it. Exiting the messages I go into my contacts. There are currently 5 numbers there. Stepan, Dude, Pizza Time's manager, Anon and… Naser, I still have his number in my contacts. Funny, how effortlessly I managed to delete all my other contacts once I got the new number. But never got to delete his. I just, I dunno, thought of it as a last thread. Just in case something bad happens and I can no longer follow this path, or if something happens to me… Just a few days before graduation Naser found out about my plan to leave the house but never tried to stop me. "I won't stop you if you want it. Just… call me if you ever need help." That was what he said to me back then. It was a week after he and Naomi broke up. I never understood why, but maybe he is more like me than I would like to admit. "Maybe I should call him…" No, not before I book at least one good show. I want him to know that I am doing fine, that I am succeeding… When it is time, I promise, I will call him, hell, even invite him. But for now. I look at the clock. 8:30. Alright, I don't want to walk today, my legs are still tired from running like crazy yesterday, so I will order a taxi. I wonder if that shifty taxi driver is available today. I'll check. I turn my phone on and dial the number from my memory. After just two rings, I hear the click. "Taxi service, how can I help you?" "Ah, hi, I need…" "Ha, I recognize that voice! A moment, I will be there in 5!" Huh? I didn't even tell him my address. In just a short moment, I hear the screeching of tires and then the honking. That wasn't 5 minutes, more like 5 seconds! I pick up my guitar and head out. There is a car… Is it fancier than before? And why is it blue? Doesn't matter. I open the door and get inside. I see a familiar grin. "Hey, if it isn't my most favorite rock star on all of Skin Row! It is good to see you." "Yeah yeah, same." "No, this time I am serious. Before you called me, Gray, the other taxi driver I work with, was eating my ear out with nonsensical facts about Galaxy Conflicts movies and how the laser sword effects were made. Don't get me wrong, the guy is a treasure, but once he talks about geek stuff, nothing in the world can stop him." Heh, he is more talkative than usual. "Like the new car." "Thanks, it was passed down to me by my late father" "Passed down? Oh…" Well, now I feel like a bitch. "Sorry for your loss." "Thanks, but it is alright. He died quite a long time ago, a plane accident. I just recently found out that I inherited some of his stuff and… this car is l slick. Gave my old one to Gray." Hm, never knew he had such an interesting past… or taste in cars. "Anyway, where to?" "Steed Penny Street" "Ah, the one where the good old Penny Arcade hall was located. Know that place. Quite a long way before we get there even with my skills, I have to avoid a lot of streets here so… we will be there in 20 minutes or so." "It's fine. How much." I just realized that I don't have much cash on me at the moment. "For you? On the house, as thanks for giving me an excuse to get out of "Ukas made a terrible decision during the production of the prequels, but his addition of lore has improved the extended universe quite a bit" conversation." He turned forward, buckled his seatbelt and… pressed the gas pedal. … I hope the whiplash won't kill me. *** You are standing outside your apartment building. The air is cold and the wind is threatening to tear flesh off your bones. You wish that it was snowing, but instead, the streets of Skin Row are as clean (at least from snow) as they can be. You look around until you notice a gray car standing two meters away from you. Someone exists it "Are you done loitering about? Hurry it up, we have work to do." Rips does not sound annoyed, more like… reassuring. You check out the time on your phone. 8:30. On the dot. Good, you held your end of the bargain. Now you get to ride the good olde "RipMobile". Just don't say it to Rips, he hates that name. Before going there, brother, you must taste… THE UNIVERSE! What your brain is trying to tell you, you need to take the medicine. You take out a small pill bottle out of your pocket. In it, you see an assortment of green-looking uneven tablets of different sizes. Not that expensive big pharma shit, but the real one, Skin Row made. It was made by a friend down the road, away from busy streets and unto the docks. He knows the herbs, the chemistry, the world. And more importantly, he understands your condition. This "medicine" is your only anchor to "NORMALITY" You are pretty sure that on any other side of this town, this crap would've been illegal. But here on Skin Row, it is a viable medicine for those who can't afford better. You can, but you chose the city over faceless pharmaceutical corporations. [Which is a bad thing. You don't know what the long-term effects of this medicine are. It helps you a lot, yes, but what if you are currently poisoning yourself?] If that is the case then… It has been a RELATIVELY good life. After taking one small tablet into your mouth and washing it down with "water" from your trusty flask you… [Is it me, or has everything become a bit more quiet?] It isn't an illusion. The town also became a bit more gray. You cannot hear distant talk and laughter. Your mood immediately goes down but you don't become sad. Chief, this "medicine" is a stimulus suppressor. It makes it so the reality is a bit more calm. One tablet is fine for now, don't overdo it or there will be consequences. You turn to Ripley, who is still waiting for you by his car. He looks at you with concern but says nothing. After you nod to him, he gets inside the car, behind the wheel. You follow his example and get into the front passenger seat. He starts the engine. Brother, the ride is quiet. Blow this place up with amazing beats. "Rips, I main the radio." "No, you don't" "Then I drive…" Ripley gives you a stink eye, but then he sighs. "Fine, just don't turn the Undercave station, I still have tinnitus from that shit." "Nice." Brother, station 144.45 FM. It invites you in. * Look at all those knobs and buttons on your boss's car. You just want to… twist, turn and press everything. Calm down, brother, relax, let the good old pleasure receptors take control, enjoy the ride, place your head on the cold glass and observe the streets. Revel in freedom from all of… this. You do exactly that, after playing around with Ripley's radio, you finally get on the 144.45 FM. At first, you hear the static but then… "Good morning, Volcadera Bluffs, thank you for tuning in to our station - "Crazy Town!". My name is Rottie Robben and I am welcoming you all!" Somewhere, in the Skin Row there stands a small radio station. Inside it is small, with only one recording room and one transmission room. In the DJ room, there is a man, a human, who is dressed in purple and blue colors. He has an evil grin and eyes, but he has not an ounce of malice in his voice. He knows how he looks, so he plays the part for comedic purposes. "I am the number one villain of the whole Volcadera Bluffs!" He often would joke at the end of each day when the radio transmission goes silent for the night. While his station is small, people all around the area appreciate his presence on the waves. "Ah, I would have much preferred if today I slept in, I mean come on, it is Saturday! But the evil never sleeps! Well, unless it feels lazy because remember - laziness is also evil!" You let out a small laugh. "Anyway, today, as usual, I will start the day by reading a random letter sent to me by the listeners. Remember, while I don't check the mail myself, Sparta Flop makes sure that none of that rude nonsense would get in the waves, especially this early in the morning when the children can listen to it!" You hear the sound of tearing paper. Then something unfolds. Ah, you miss the days when you were receiving letters. "And the letter of the day is by… Mister Martin. Let us read!" "Dear Mister Robben, The other day I encountered a certain person, who was my friend 15 years ago. Back then nobody was able to separate us. We were like siblings and never once mistreated each other… until one day. One day we found out that we liked the same girl, but made an agreement not to go after her. I broke that promise. Not intentionally, but… this girl and I hit it off quite well. It was a matter of time before my friend found out about it. He was furious, I had never seen him like this. He said that I betrayed him and that I threw away our friendship for the sake of some spontaneous love. After that, he broke off with me and went his way. I haven't seen him since then, until a few days ago. Me and the girl got married, by the way. I really do love her even to this day, but I wonder… I want to set things right with my friend, but I don't know what to do. So I am writing to you to ask this question. What should I do? Will my friend ever forgive me? Or should I not even try to rebuild that bridge? Your's truly, Mr. Martin, your loyal listener." This letter seems a bit ironic at the moment. You see Ripley raising an eyebrow in your direction. "Is this a bit?" he wonders. Before any of you can raise a question, the DJ's voice is heard on the radio. "Mr Martin, thank you for your letter. An interesting situation it is! Usually, I don't like playing the role model type, it is usually Sparta Flop's specialization… But why not? Mr Martin, you overthinking it too much! You so hold on to the past that you cannot see the present. Sure, you hurt your friend by accident, that happens a lot! We hurt the people most dearest to us quite often. I mean, Sparta Flop once tried to sneak vegetables into my lunch and I was mad at him for quite a while. And you know what he did? He just apologized, not expecting any forgiveness. And you know what I did? I forgave them. Because that is normal. Your apology may come in late, but it is never too late to apologize. And it is never too late to forgive. So I say go apologize to them, and if they are willing to forgive you, let them forgive you. It is as simple as that. And who knows, maybe it will be a second chance for both of you to start over as friends! And it is never too late to get your second chance!" Never too late for second chances? You wonder… "Anyway, I hope that I managed to help you with that, and I hope you and your friend will rebuild that bridge. It is good to have friends here in Volcadera Bluffs! And now it is time for the music, we are open to suggestions, but the first melody of the day is on me! Please, enjoy the "Railway To The Mars" by Plasma Dark Orchestra. And remember, at 11 a.m. today Sparta Flop will share his healthy recipes during his segment "Healthy Diets and Exercise". Thank you, and enjoy your day." A second of silence is followed by some somber, yet calming music with lyrics you don't pay attention to. You do as your brain told you before and lean in on the glass of the car window. It is cold. Your smile disappears and you just observe the streets. For a while, you and Ripley say nothing, as he drives the car to your destination. The silence is interrupted by him first. "Never too late for second chances eh… The funny thing is, you said something like that to me back in your apartment. I guess there is some truth to the "town voice" nonsense you believe in." "Yeah, or maybe I am just extremely lucky…" Sire, your voice is quiet. This joke did not work out as you thought it would. "Rando… Are you alright?" "Yes, Rips, I am-" "No, Rando, you are not. I can see it by the way you act. I will not force you to open up, you are an adult man, but…" HE TRESPASSES THE FORBIDDEN TERRITORY! TRESPASS WARRANTS AN ARREST! [He talks about personal matters. You are on the work hours. Tell him to deliver you to the fucking crime scene already. He will like it.] But he will be hurt knowing you don't trust him with your problems. There is nothing to be ashamed of in telling how you feel. Hear hear, brother! He is your future drinking buddy! No need to fear telling him a FEW of your problems. … Why does it feel like a choice that may affect your future? … Good choice. "I… I dunno, Rips. It just feels so tiresome as of late. No matter how I try to clean this district, no matter how many arrests I perform, no matter how many people I help… It feels like none of this matters." Rips looking at the road, is he… giving you a moment? "Every time I go to the streets I want… Something to happen. I don't know. Sometimes my brain just shuts down and I see these pictures from my past that I don't want to see." "When it became worse, Rando?" "... When I saw your daughter…" Why is Fang so important to you? What does she remind you of? "My daughter?" "When I saw her a year ago… I saw a younger reflection of myself from five years ago." The "five years ago" got the reaction out of Ripley. He grips the wheel tighter. "I feared that she would meet the same problems as me, and would become me… I don't want that… Why…" "Rando?" [Get your shit together, this is nearing the complete meltdown…] TOO LATE. "Why does SHE keep appearing in my mind, Ripley…" It isn't about Fang. It is about someone else. Someone from your past, someone important. Remember the fingers, the head on your shoulder, the screen in front of both of you. It is late evening. SHE tells you that the movie was bad and laughs. You apologize for it but… HER smile tells you that everything is okay and she still enjoyed the evening. You laugh and both of you start to talk about all the dumb cliches and plot holes in that movie… This memory is as important as it is painful. This memory is a bottle opener. Time to take another swing, brother. Your hand instinctively reaches out to your pocket from which you take out your flask. With "water". Before you can take a swing, Ripley takes it away. "No, Rando, I will not allow you to do that." 'But…" "No buts. It is bad alone that you wash down the medicine, of dubious origin might I add, with alcohol. You also try to get wasted before getting to the crime scene? What is wrong with you." "I…" WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT APOLOGIZE! APOLOGY IS WEAKNESS. "I just needed a boost-me-up." Ripley stops the car on the sideway. He rubs his eyes before turning to you. "Listen, Rando… You know that you are a hypocrite?" "Wha?" WHAT? [Excuse me?] Not cool, brother. "You are a hypocrite of the worst kind. The one that helps others but doesn't want to help himself. You helped me before and you expect me to just sit there and watch you waste yourself away?" [He won't. He cannot allow himself to ignore it] "Rando. I know… the last few years were bad for you. Even when you smiled I could see that that smile was an expression of pain. Of someone who just gave up and tries to fake it until he makes it. Rando, you are killing yourself." You want to run away. Jump out of the car, and run. North, then west, then north again, until you reach the edge. The furthest you can go. IT ISN'T ME WHO DOES THIS. THIS FEAR IS MUCH MORE PRIMORDIAL. "Rando, I am not angry. I am glad that you told me everything that plagues your mind, but… I cannot support you if you refuse all the help you are given." You only thought he was screaming. His voice is soft, he did not even use his Tough Cop act on you. This is his true self. "Rando… You should call her." NO! "No, no I won't. She hates me…" "She doesn't. She is worried. I met her the other day." He… what? "She asked about you, how you are doing. I did not know what to answer." RIPLEY, IF YOU SAID ANYTHING TO HER, YOU ARE A DEAD DINO! "Rando, you should call her. I do not promise she will forgive you, but… maybe you will be able to finally put all of this behind you." "But why? Why should I do that? To fail her again?" "Take a gamble, Rando. Take a gamble that you deserve a second chance and do what is necessary to get it. That is all I can advise you for now." [... I was wrong. It is a good thing you told him what you were thinking. This advice, it brings you peace. The peace no amount of booze or medicine can give you. Your mood is still down as it was before but you can sense a new emotion. Something you only felt when you were watching Anon and Fang.] Hope. "Thanks, Ripley. I… I will think about it." "Good. I know you well, Rando, since you were just a fucking shitkid on the streets." 20 years ago. Skin Row streets. A still in the blue Ripley patrols the streets with his partner. He is one of the few brave officers who do not fear the darkness of this district. One day he encounters a human child. The child was scared, distrustful of the police, thinking that they do nothing but hurt and take. The child takes out a small pocket knife and points it at Ripley, but he does not flinch. Instead, he reassures the child that everything will be okay. He recently became a father himself and it awoke him. He was pained to see a child, even if it was human, on the streets, alone in nothing but tattered clothes, who was overcome with fear and uncertainty. After the child dropped the knife, Ripley did the only thing that changed everything about the child's world. The child never experienced anything like this before. Kindness, acceptance. Not from a dino. At that moment, a dream was born, a dream that this child carried with him all the way into adulthood. A simple dream. [I want to be like him] "Rando… Are you alright? You've been silent for quite a while, we are almost there." You notice that the car is moving again. Huh, another episode? How did you not notice? "What were you thinking about." ABOUT THE DAY BEFORE I WAS BORN. And before I was twisted, brother. Before your sense of duty was developed, chief. Before your ego took form, Sire. [Before all the lights were snuffed and before the color was washed away]. A smell of blood and viscera assaults your nose. "Before me" you hear the whisper of a distant headless corpse. "I was thinking about the day we met, Rips… A good memory." [Your will renewed, your heart once again beats with the city. You can hear the whisper that guides you. Come on, surprise our pterodactyl friend.] "Skip two turns, third turn left. The crowd there grows thin, I can hear the mumble and the rumors. This is where we must be." Rips looks at you with an expression that is worth at least a million dollars. His eyes bulged, mouth shut manually to avoid showing the surprise and his beak shook a bit. "50 bucks I am right." You give him the good old traditional "bite me" smile. "Alright, you fucking bastard. Bet. And if I am right, you give me this flask for a week." "And if I win, 50 bucks, exclusive radio rights and you get on my team during the next bowling friday. I am tired of playing on the same side as Bert and Rafas." "Deal! Skip two turns and then turn left. Let's fucking go." On Steed Penny Street, between a shotty laundromat and an abandoned bookstore, there is an alleyway, leading to the ruckus. Five police officers walk around, searching for something. Amongst them stands a tall, pale brown Dilophosaurus in a trenchcoat. His face shows his absentmindedness, as he thinks about a book that read the other day which describes all the famous alien sightings. The thought is interrupted as he sees a blue car rushing through, not caring about pedestrians or property damage. For a second Dilophosaurus thinks about giving an order for two of his officers to chase the car… but deducting that it has nothing to do with the case he decides to let it go. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small grain pile of salt, as he throws it on the road with the words "I hope your car battery gives out". Then, his attention is yet again taken away by another car, this time a familiar one. He waves his hand at them. "Detective Bert, they are here?" says one of the officers. "Yes, they are. The Grimm Ripley and Wicked 13. Arriving at the scene at last". The car stops. The investigation is now a go.