It’s been a long time. But I did have all of this stuff done, so I’ve been thinking that I should at least post all of what I did. Maybe it’ll get me to continue. The biggest reason I stopped was because I didn’t want to go back and rewrite the transcripts…
howd yu do taht?
People did not generally ask Travis for help with anything. If he’d had any time or mental acuity for self-analysis, he might have thought something about it, or drawn some conclusions. Instead, he looked on the rare times when his help was requested as ‘annoying’.
Carlos was not the kind of person who asked anyone for help. Unlike others, who typically did not ask Travis for help specifically. Although Travis would not have formed a queue to vouch for the guy as a remarkable anything–other than remarkably relaxed–he found himself intrigued.
Mouse pointer hovering over the newly downloaded file, Travis fought a half-hearted struggle between curiosity and contrary laziness. It did not occur to him that the file could be anything illicit or harmful. Nothing about Carlos was either of those things. Besides that, it was a word document.
At last, Travis just double-clicked the file and waited for his word processor to load it. It wasn’t very large, at least in filesize. But the first sentence of the document was huge.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN MONSTERS?
Travis scoffed and answered the question aloud. “Pff. No. How was I supposed to help with this?” But he went on scrolling down. Maybe it was a short story. He knew that Button was into that writing junk, but Carlos didn’t seem the type. He didn’t bother to spell three-letter words correctly, most of the time.
The first actual paragraph was bizarrely comprehensive. There was a picture just above it, nearly photographic in detail and rendering. And then, “The sight of such things is enough to terrify, bewitch, and even obfuscate the memory and sense of those unlucky enough to come across it.”
He shook his head. “So he wants me to try to remember if I’ve seen this weird crap? Okay, whatever.”
Some mens’ work was never through. Not that Carlos minded. If he stopped getting work, he’d stop getting paid. And what self-respecting motherfucker needed that noise?
He pulled his belt and holster off of the coat rack and went through the process of what his more traditional colleagues called ‘suiting up’. He called it ‘getting his crap together’.
First testing the blade of his broadsword, then checking the state of his pistol, he deemed himself ready to go. To do this thing.
His neighbours had long ago gotten used to his late comings and goings. As far as he’d been able to tell from their cartoonish whispers, the common opinion involved anime.
Carlos did not know what that was. He’d looked it up and found a lot of rather distressing porn. He was glad he didn’t usually get a chance to talk to his neighbours. He was too busy doing important things. Like this one.
A nearly empty night sky greeted him as he left the apartment building. Too clear for clouds, too early for stars. He held up a hand, thumb extended to cover the moon. Then he shot off into a run that would have shocked all of his friends.
But not as much as the subsequent thing he did.