20 May 2000
Now your future's got me told
stopped breathing on my own.
I curl to break consent
to print the facts in stone.
Suppose for seconds you forget your past
neglect to turn in
think straight
stand out last.
And I curl now to help find you out
Sneaker Pimps: Curl
The ex-engineer sighed deeply, and stared blankly at the totaled MS, mind racing trying to predict the curly hell fire's next move. Setting the pneumatic drill down, he raised work-scarred hands to his blood shot eyes and rubbed them tiredly.
"Who is she Howard," Sinigami’s voice was low and even as he stalked over to the old man. Over the rim of his sunglasses Howard studied the man that he had watched grow and change for so many years. The ex-scientist sighed and motioned for Duo to sit, god knew his answer might not go over that well. The braided man compromised and leaned against the deformed machine, crossing his arms in front of himself, his normal air of nonchalant jovialness completely lost.
"Blair was," Howard paused changing his mind, "is the original pilot of Deathscythe."
Duo’s violet eyes widened as the words slammed into him. "Nani?" the word came out as a shout as he unconsciously leaned forward. The thought had been drifting in the back of his mind but he had refused to let it take shape, convinced that life would not be that twisted.
I should have known better.
Howard nodded more than a little amused by the braided man's outburst. "During one of the first test runs of Dethscythe she ran into some trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" he asked, straining to put together a mildly coherent sentence.
"Four space mines slamming into the gundam, kind of trouble. It stressed her body too much and among a number of other things, bruised her heart and threw her into cardiac arrest."
Duo blinked, mind screaming to process what he was being told.
First Quatre’s sister, and now, Deathscythe’s first?
Hell had to be freezing.
"So do I start singing "It's a small world" now or later?" Duo snapped cynically pushing away from the ruined MS, throwing his hands up in the air. "You know you could have just come out and told me. What the hell was the point of all the mysterious crap? So tell me, how many damn hoops am I going to have to jump through before you tell me what happened after the heart attack?"
"She snapped," the old man stated bluntly.
Duo froze and blinked. "Come again."
"Her body may have lived, but whatever was left of her in here died," Howard raised a hand to his chest and tapped two fingers over his heart, "So, she left. This is the first time I've seen her in years."
"Why the hell didn't you stop her?" Shinigami was losing his temper and he knew it. Something inside of him twisted and silently threatened to rip loose for reasons unknown.
"Let me put it this way kid, when I tried, I ended up looking down the barrel of a gun. She could have pulled the trigger, step over my corpse and be on the other side of the universe before the phrase "cold-blooded murder" would even register in her brain. She was gone, over the edge. " Howard waved a hand in the air to emphasize his point.
The braided man sighed deeply and ran both hands through his chestnut bangs, over the top of his head, and rested on the back of his neck, fingers intertwining. "When she wakes up what do you think she'll do?"
Leaning foreword the ex-engineer rested his elbows on his thighs, mind returning to the question he had been asking himself for the last few hours. "No clue. Might walk again, might stick around. Either way it might be best if I tell her who you are."
Duo tilted his head to one side, eyebrows drawing together "What do you mean, who I am?"
The old man sighed deeply and brought his gaze up to violet eyes. "Piloting Deathscythe meant everything to her, Duo. You are her replacement, think of what that might do to the girl."
Groaning, the gundam pilot dropped his hands to his side and tilted his head back. "Great, that’s just perfect. So she most likely hates me already. Wonderful."
Howard sat up fully, eyes curiously studying the man before him "Why do you care?"
Duo paused, running the words through his mind, failing to produce an answer he was willing accept or give the ex-engineer. Ignoring the question he turned and started to walk away from Howard. "I'm going back to the apartment. I let you know when she wakes up."
Help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I've got no soul to sell
Help me get away from myself
NIN:
Blair crumpled the EKG readout in one bandaged hand, eyes devoid of all emotion leave one: pain. Harsh, biting, intense, pain. A flood of memories ripped though her already throbbing brain, blinding her momentarily. Whatever she had been drugged with the previous night was not letting go easily. As the stars cleared from her vision she let out a low breath, trying to subdue the nausea that had decided to violently take hold of her body.
"Kuso," she swore bitterly, gripping the back of the sofa so tightly her knuckles whitened.
She would not pass out again.
She would not let herself pass out again.
Abruptly her legs buckled as she raised her hands to her ears, desperately trying to keep out the voices and sounds that were building into a roar of static.
The harsh scream of gundainum ripping apart bled into the annoying rapid beep of a heart monitor just before going silent as the bitter voice of her father echoed off the inside of her skull.
‘How could something like you be a daughter of mine?’
Blair opened her mouth in a silent scream until red lights blossomed behind her eyelids and tortured whimpers spilled from her lips. Against her will, her body curled in on itself and pressed her forehead into the sculptured carpet till the fibers bit against flushed skin. The moment of stomach knotting nerve-frying panic was brief yet rocked the ex-pilot to her core. Blair sucked in a ragged breath and shuddered as the emptiness where a part of her soul should be pulsed like a parasitic demon. Trembling she raised herself up so that she was kneeling, one hand gripping an arm of the over stuffed piece of furniture. On instinct she raised her free bandaged hand to brush away tears and cursed bitterly when her callused fingertips traced against dry skin.
Crying was an ability she had lost many years ago and that fact was knowledge her heart and soul had refused to accept. Inhaling deeply, the ex-gundam pilot forced herself to stand on unsteady legs and move slowly to the bedroom she had awakened in. She wasn’t sure how long she had laid in the bed drifting between conciseness and sleep. Her first semi coherent memory was that of a distant voice and warm touch, neither of which she could explain.
Reaching a bandaged hand into the opened closet, Blair grabbed a tee-shirt and one-piece black jump suit. Tossing the garments carelessly onto the room’s only bed, she sighed and closed her burning eyes. She needed to get out but something inside of her wouldn’t just let her walk away. Not this time.
Murmuring a curse, she crossed her arms in front of her body, gripped the edge of the heavy material and ripped the sweater over her head. Picking up the one-piece garment she jerked the zipper down, not caring as the little metal teeth scraped against her gauze covered fingers.
I’ve been walking since I was nine. What the hell is stopping me now?
The question echoed through her mind as she stepped into the pants part of the suit and tugged the garment up to her hips, not caring that a good inch and a half of material pooled on the floor.
Because somebody knows who you are.
The ex-pilot’s eyes narrowed as she snatched up the charcoal gray shirt and slipped it on.
"So?" she asked the still air, as she shrugged into the top part of the jump suit and pulled the zipper up just above her navel.
Wouldn’t it be nice to stop hiding?
Blair clenched her teeth till her jaw ached, desperately trying to ignore the direction her thoughts were taking as she put on a pair of heavy steel toed black boots she had found lying next to the bed.
Wouldn’t it be nice to stop running away?
After ripping open the Velcro closed cuffs Blair rolled the sleeves up past her elbows, old habits refusing to die. Only then did she see the name patch on her shoulder and pause: Maxwell.
Duo.
Braid.
Violet Eyes.
The fight.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone know you?
Blair shook her head trying to silence her mind. As soon as her head began to move an unexpected wave of dizziness grabbed a hold of the world and spun it viciously. Quickly the curly haired woman closed her eyes and lowered her head between her knees concentrating solely on her breathing.
In, 1, 2.
Out, 1, 2.
In, 1, 2.
Out, 1, 2.
When the world ceased to mimic a carnival ride Blair righted herself only to have every muscle in her body rebel and freeze.
Blair could barely recognize her own reflection.
Slowly, the ex-pilot walked through the open bathroom door, not taking her eyes off of the medicine cabinet’s mirror. The dark jumpsuit made her naturally tanned skin seam oddly pale in the unforgiving light and dark eyes appear to be made of onyx and ivory. Slowly she ran two bandaged hands over her hair and sighed in defeat as the brown frizzy mess defiantly sprang back up again.
She needed a drink.
Blair laughed bitterly.
She had never been one to drink that much and she had never smoked, but always when things were at their worst she craved one or the other.
Sometimes both.
"You’re a fucking sociopath" the words cracked harshly, falling from dry lips as she turned her back on the mirror and returned to the bedroom. Messy was the only word to describe the sleeping quarters. Clothing and technical manuals were scattered at random along with some personal effects and a dozen or so reports. A whisper of a smile crossed her lips as a laptop caught her eye.
With expert fingers Blair disconnected the computer and tucked it under an arm, not caring what kind of security system was installed on it. In an afterthought she jotted down a note on some official looking document and folded the paper in half, setting it so that one could hardly miss it upon entering the room. If Duo, or anyone else for that matter, truly wanted to find her, they could.
With some work and a bit of luck of course.
Erin Johnson
Please send comments to: johnsoel@purdue.edu