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17 August 2010 @ 04:49 pm
"You can't just leave me out here." Yelling at Skinner through his sliding glass door seemed to have no effect on either himself or his neighbors. He only spared me half a glance over his cup of coffee and paper, acting as if there wasn't a man handcuffed to his balcony.

"Can you at least let me come in and take a piss?" My protesting bladder pleaded and begged for release. And the hell I was going to piss myself just because of Skinner's injured pride.

It caught enough of his attention for him to come to the door, releasing a gust of warm air that felt good against the chill outside. "There's a potted plant in the corner, use that."

"Oh Jesus, you aren't serious." He couldn't be. But he closed the door again, despite my screaming, and left the room.

Raging, fucking dick....
Current Mood: enragedenraged
17 August 2010 @ 04:41 pm
"Drink this." I pass Spender a beer, not caring if he drinks or not. He barely notices, cracking open the top and chugging it like a Coke.

They always look that way when they realize its all the truth. Breathless he stops, staring at me wide-eyed.

"All of that...all of the craziness Mulder ever talked about is true?"

"That and more," I reply, lazily pulling from mine. "Mulder only knows part of it...enough that he'll figure out the truth sooner rather than latter." Not fast enough. "But he was never insane and he was never a liar."

Spender stared blankly at his beer can, as if I just told him that the moon was made of green cheese. Jesus I wasn't so sure the kid wouldn't piss himself. "It's just not possible."

Now came the denial. That was usually what happened next. Sighing I reached for another beer and set it in front of him. "Another one of these and you'll see how possible it is."
Current Mood: boredbored
17 August 2010 @ 04:31 pm
She wasn't particularly attractive as far as ruthless women went. But a case full of cash went a long way in making any woman look hot.

"So, Alex, have we made a deal?" Her name was Geraldine, Gerry for short, and she told everyone she salvaged wrecks. She didn't mention the sideline she had in selling off the rare and valuable treasure she found there.

I slide the disk over, one plain, black floppy disk containing all the information she could want on the location of one downed, US submarine. "You have my payment?"

Her fingers crawled across the table to the disk, but my hand clamped down on it, pinning her fingertips to the sticky surface. "Show the valuables first, baby, and we'll get what we all want."

Anger flickered mean and ugly for a moment. But then she shrugged and pulled back, unlatching the plain, black bag, holding up a stack of green bills. "US, unmarked, untraceable, all yours. Now give."

"Of course, Gerry." I flick the disk at her as she passes me the bag. "I'm glad we have such a good, business relationship.
Current Mood: pleasedpleased
17 August 2010 @ 04:23 pm
Mulder couldn't hold his liquor for shit.

"Look, let me take you home." It was the fifth time I'd tried to pry him away from the bar, but he wouldn't budge.

"At least get something to eat." Jesus, I sounded like a mother hen. I suppose that's how all good partners are supposed to sound, the ones who are supposed to care at least. I didn't really, but I was supposed to. I was supposed to feel sympathy for the guy whose friend was kidnapped and taken into the night. Never mind that i was the cause.

"Hey, I'll get you some fries, something to sop up all the shit you've been drinking." There was a small mountain of shot glasses in front of him.

"No food," he growled woozily, holding up another shot of clear, cold liquid. "This is the only potato I'm eating tonight."

I hoped he passed out soon.
Current Mood: drunkdrunk
17 August 2010 @ 01:56 pm
"Will no one worry about him in America, comrade?" My new friend, the prison commandant, eyed Mulder lazily through the fence as he shuffled wearily through the line.

"Yes." It was an honest answer. I expected the minute Scully suspected something was wrong she would pull out everything to get him home, if she could find him. "But that hasn't stopped you from hiding people before."

"What you're doing is dangerous, you know, playing between these two fires." He chuckled, a low, gravely smokers rumble. "They are only being nice to you because you told them what the American plans."

"And I'm being nice to them because you Russians have something I want." I shrug, smiling lazily as I glance back towards Mulder's miserable slouch. "Besides, I think you'll find that one interesting. I think you'll find there's something about him that makes him special."

He shrugged. "He hasn't died yet, I suppose that makes him special."
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
17 August 2010 @ 01:48 pm
I held my breath as the door knob turned.

He entered oblivious. Strange you would think a guy who prided himself on his paranoia would take more care entering his own apartment. Before he could sense me I was on him, grappling, fist connecting with his face in a way so satisfying I don't think I have words to describe it. He groaned as he clattered to the floor, looking up at me blearily. My gun was in his face before he could formulate a response...that was a surprise, usually he was quick to shoot off his mouth.

Hello, Mulder, have you missed me?
Current Mood: busybusy
17 August 2010 @ 01:39 pm
I fingered the peeling paint chip, crumbling it between my forefinger and thumb. I studied the boy, Demetry, tall, blonde, handsome kid, or he would be if his eyes and mouth were sewn shut. Inside of him I knew swirled the darkness...their essence.

"I'm sorry it has to come to this," I sigh heavily in Russian, the ancient rust on the heavy iron door to the hold screeching as I pulled on it. "You don't deserve this, but then again, none of us do."

I ignore his tortured moans and sobs as I shut the door tight, spinning its hatch till it locks. I've already had that filth inside of me once, never again. Besides, he is more valuable to me this way. I can get what I wanted, finally...revenge is oh so sweet.
Current Mood: predatorypredatory
17 August 2010 @ 01:24 pm
My head cracked pavement with the sickening noise of a whiffle ball, bouncing once, twice, rattling my senses till I wanted to puke. But I couldn't think of that now. I had to scramble up, had to pull myself out of there and run, keep running, don't stop.

The flames billowed and mushroomed behind me as my feet slapped the pavement, each step jarring my skull painfully. I didn't know if they could see me running away, and I didn't care. Let the bastards know they had failed, that I was still out there. Cause I planned on taking down every one of those fuckers if it was the last thing I did.
Current Mood: soresore
24 July 2010 @ 01:11 am
The little boy was all bright, dark almond eyes in a round, brown little face. I was the exotic one to him, the white skinned foreigner with light eyes. I fascinated him, though he couldn't understand a single word I said. He was a street urchin, a forgotten child in Hong Kong, unloved by everyone. For whatever reason he took to me, a lost puppy, following the white man about.

He showed up one day, a grin on his face as he held up the conch shell, perfectly formed, a curl of rose and cream. I don't know where he got it, I didn't ask. It was just pretty, and he wanted to give it to me.

"Do you want to hear the ocean?" I don't know if he understood me. I held the fragile shell to my ear, hearing the roar inside. He laughed at the silliness of what I was doing, until I held it up to his own small ear. His bright, dark eyes widened in astonishment, his mouth forming an 'o'.

Clearly I had made someone's day.
Current Location: Hong Kong
Current Mood: nostalgicnostalgic
24 July 2010 @ 01:05 am
I don't know if I could ever really love anyone in the life I lead. Marita was probably the closest I would get.

"Do you ever think of a life less complicated Alex?" She lay beside me, her warm skin pressed against mine, her fingers trailing patterns down what was left of my left arm. I shiver at the touch and holder her closer.

"Perhaps...building castles in the air."

"The white picket fence and all that?" She laughed at me, and I can't blame her. Who could see that for me?

"No...maybe...." Did those sorts of dreams apply to the likes of Marita and I?

"I think it's normal. Dreaming for those things we can't have."

"Sandcastles in the air," I mutter as the warmth leeches out of my body, out of my soul. "Washed away with the rising of the tide."
Current Mood: hopefulhopeful