[identity profile] flamma-lupus.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] zg_shadows

After a brief stop at the bar, he took up his usual seat, someone had left chewing gum on it, which really was the height of rudeness, it definitely wasn't there the last time he was here... whenever that was, he'd given up trying to keep track of his unfortunate absences, stopping to look back just means you lose momentum.

With every movement he made he could feel the gum strengthen its hold on his trousers, and he knew it'd leave a sticky mess when he stood. He could almost feel Firinnes uppity dissaproving glare from across the city, hear Jade make some cutting commentary about it, sense Natasha desperately trying to scrape together enough backbone to whisper behind her hand about it.

If they made it that is...

Quietly he drinks his pint, contemplating his options, watching the comings and goings, letting the sparse life around him wash over him until his glass is empty and his choice is made. He was right, as he stands half the gum follows, leaving a long trail connecting him to his chair, tying him to what was, but as he steps further away, as with all things, the tie breaks. He places his package on the table, turns, and leaves for the last time.

The confident urbanite pushes his way out the door and starts on his journey, forever moving forward, over or through everything that gets in his way. It's a long walk, and not entirely safe, but the brash bastard strides uncaringly along his path, sure that everything will move aside.The defender, the reluctant hero knows that right now he should be standing against all foes, doing the right thing, defending the city and it's people. The bitter cynic knows that the second he shows his face, those he would stand with to fight would turn on him, be so distracted trying to kill him that they'd achieve nothing, and they'd sure as hell make it difficult for him to achieve anything. He'd given them more chances than they gave him, and they'd made quite clear they'd stop at nothing to bring about his destruction, and nobody wants to die.....

Not again!

So instead, he chooses a different path, as the street rat finally skulks up the neat steps, to the disturbingly pristene house, the assassin contemplates all the points of entry, and exit, the coward wonders if he's making the right choice, the artist admires the wrought iron fencing, as the warrior contemplates it's combat effectiveness and the politician bitterly resents the fulfillment of prophecy.... sometimes, no matter what you should be doing, however much it may seem a poor choice, you just have to go with what you know.

Miles away, a barmaid confusedly picks up a used glass from a table nobody's used all day as she complains to her friend that people don't care about making her tidy up after them, how she's not their bloody mother, especially for minimum wage, and isn't it a bit early for halloween as she picks up the porcelein mask, spattered with mud, filth and god knows what else with a distasteful look.
He knocks on the door, sending it crashing down the hallway, at least now he has a vague idea what he is this time, back on common ground...the impeccable butler, in his impeccable suit, manages to look almost impeccably unphased...

He licks his lips, bare for the first time since he remembers.as he says the words that he's been aching to say for years...and unsheaths his axe.

"Tell Benedict the monster's come calling!"
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