Breakdown of Reality

               The seven made their way across the city, as quickly, silently, and cautiously as they could. Michael took the point and Sarah brought up the rear. Both of them carried AK-47s, wore utilitarian khaki pants, hiking boots, and grey t-shirts. Michael had the muscles of a body builder with short cropped brown hair. Sarah had the body of a martial artist, lean and muscled. Her shoulder length blonde hair was tied in a ponytail behind her. George and Sophie were older, in their late fifties, wearing casual business clothes and nice looking shoes. Edgar and Eleanor were in their mid-twenties, Edgar wore fashionable clothes and Eleanor was in a hospital gown. Wrapped in a bundle in her arms, tied around her body in a makeshift sling was the youngest member of their party, young Elizabeth, barely old enough to leave the hospital.

               Planes roared overhead and explosions could be heard around them. The enemy was conducting heavy, sustained, bombing raids. The high pitched wailing siren had been playing for days now, as the enemy managed to sustain a near constant attack. Eleanor jumped a little as one of the bombs hit the street on the other side of the block. Michael and Sarah kept running, eyes scanning the road, looking for trouble.

               Michael and Sarah were fighters; trained and able to handle the situation. They’d found the family of five in the hospital. It wasn’t safe there anymore, so they started moving the family out. Everyone else had already left days earlier, but Eleanor wouldn’t leave without Elizabeth. She couldn’t leave without Elizabeth.

               The family found themselves alone in a desperate situation very quickly. Sarah had some paramedic training before the attacks, so she was able to reassure Eleanor that the little girl was now old enough to be moved. She also assured Eleanor that nothing would happen to little Elizabeth. Michael and she were there to make sure of it.

               So the family left the hospital, and the small group started making their way across the city to the nearest resistance location. Vehicular transportation was out of the question, not only were the streets littered with debris but the pilots would be able to spot them easier, making them that much more of a viable target.

               The enemy didn’t care who they attacked. Which they proved shortly after the small group left the hospital. They were barely a block away when bombs dropped on the hospital, blowing it to kingdom come. George and Sophie eyed each other, haunted looks of relief on their face. Eleanor let loose a single, horrified sob. Edgar did his best to reassure her.

               All in all the situation looked somewhat hopeless. They had four miles to travel in a war torn city under near constant bombing. They had two elderly business class people, two young fashionable members of society, two fighters, and a small baby. Michael and Sarah were determined to get these people to safety though, if they weren’t fighting for this, what were they fighting for?

               They were a mile from the safe house when a bomb hit a building they were moving past. Michael, George, and Sophie were already clear of the building. Edgar let out a strangled shout, pushed Eleanor back. She stumbled back, keeping hold of the Elizabeth, thanks in no small part to the sling. Sophie grabbed her and pulled her back. The building collapsed, debris falling on Edgar. As the rubble settled nothing could be heard from him.

               Sophie screamed and rushed to the debris. She cried for him but nothing responded. Sophie walked up to her and put her hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, pulling her away. Reluctantly she acquiesced, standing and continuing on their journey, tears streaming down her path. Edgar had sacrificed himself to save his wife and daughter. Eleanor meant to see the sacrifice mean something.

               They continued on for a few more blocks when a small contingent of forces attacked them on the ground. Michael and Sarah got the family safely into cover and took care of the small group. But not before Michael had been hit in the gut. He wasn’t going to make it. He knew it. He sent the group on while he covered their rear. Tears formed in Sarah’s eyes but she refused to cry. She’d been fighting with Michael since the invasion. They continued on.

               They were a two blocks away from the safe house when the real force hit them; armor and infantry. A round from the armor hit George and Sophie. Sarah pushed Eleanor on, firing behind her the whole way. As they reached the compounds outer wall, as the friendly forces opened the gate, she was cut down by enemy fire.

               Eleanor made her way into the compound, tears flowing freely from her face; terrified sobs escaping from her throat. It took her a few minutes and the calm reassurance from friendly troops that she was finally safe. As they lead her to the infirmary for the local doctor to look over both her and Elizabeth, a small feeling came over Eleanor, a feeling she had thought long forgotten. She looked down at her small daughter and saw her father and her grandparents in her face. She saw a future fierceness like that of her temporary protectors.

               She looked at her daughter and she saw hope.

               “Sir, we have a situation,” the defense minister said, worry in his voice.

               The Prime Minister looked up from the reports on his desk, looking at his defense minister. The man was solid, sturdy, smart, and cautious. The Prime Minister had no doubt that whatever worried his defense minister should worry him as well.

               “What’s happening?” the Prime Minister asked, simply.

               “The support they’re receiving has increased their confidence,” the defense minister said, “They believe they’ve got a necessary alliance together, enough to make another push.”

               “Is that so?” the Prime Minister asked, “And where are we hearing this from?”

               “Sources inside,” the defense minister said.

               The Prime Minister nodded, it was always sources inside. Still, he trusted this man; he had to trust this man.

               “Nuclear capabilities?” the Prime Minister asked, that was everyone’s fear.

               “Adequate,” the defense minister responded, simply.

               “Our countermeasure?” the Prime Minister asked.

               “In place,” the defense minister responded.

               The Prime Minister sat as his desk for a few seconds, pondering. He then turned to the window behind the desk, looking out across his country. He sighed a heavy sigh before turning back around to face the defense minister.

               “How sure are we?” the Prime Minister asked.

               “As sure as we’ve ever been,” the defense minister answered.

               “You do realize what happens if I authorize this?” the Prime Minister asked.

               “War,” the defense minister answered.

               “War on a scale we’ve rarely seen before,” the Prime Minister said.

               “Yes sir,” the defense minister said, “But do we have an option?”

               The Prime Ministers’ mind flashed to the view from his window, to his country, to his children. He thought of the past, the horrors, the fighting, the lost men, his lost brother. Slowly he nodded.

               “Do it,” he said, searching in his desk for the document. He pulled it out and signed it, handing the signed authorization form to the defense minister.

               “Yes sir,” the defense minister said, accepting the document, “You will not regret this.”

               With that he turned and walked out of the room, setting into motion the countermeasures that would inevitable spark war with their rivals, drawing the rest of the world into turmoil and conflict.

               The Prime Minister watched him leave with a heavy heart. He would have regrets. There would be regrets with either choice. But he couldn’t sacrifice the safety of his people a calm piece of mind. He would not be the one to do so.

               His people had been attacked before. They would be attacked again. They had survived before. They would survive again. His people would fight to the last man, the last woman, the last child. They would struggle and wrestle with God himself should the need arise.

               In the end, throughout it all, they would prevail.

               “You sure?”

               “Yup.”

               “I don’t understand why you would want to, why you would need this.”

               “Not sure I would myself, just figure I should know.”

               “I don’t know if I want you to know.”

               “That’s part of it.”

               “Part of it?”

               “The part that you don’t want me to know, I want to know.”

               “But what if it turns you off, turns you away. What if you decide you never want to see me again?”

               “Doubt that will happen.”

               “But it might.”

               “Look, it’s been two years now. I’ve seen many sides of you.”

               “But you haven’t seen this side.”

               “I know.”

               “Why are you so insistent on this?”

               “I need to know everything about you. Your ups, your downs, your good, your bad, everything.”

               “Everything?”

               “Everything.”

               “Why?”

               “I don’t know if I can explain it. It doesn’t necessarily even make sense to me.”

               “Try.”

               “Well, you fascinate me. You amaze me, every time we’re around each other.”

               “I do?”

               “Yeah, you do. Each time I get to know more about you, I want to know a little bit more. Every inch you give me, I want another mile; I can’t get enough of you.”

               “Oh.”

               “Yeah, oh. So now, here we are. I’ve seen you in so many different moods, so many different places, I need to see this. I need to know what you’re like.”

               “But… why?”

               “Well, I wasn’t going to tell you yet…”

               “Tell me what?”

               “I think I could be happy with you.”

               “Happy with me?”

               “You know… for the rest of my life.”

               “Oh.”

               “Yeah, oh.”

               “Well, my period should be starting sometime this week. I warned you though; I can be kind of unpleasant.”

               “I know.”

               “Good.”

               “I don’t think it’ll matter though.”

Talking to you causes my heart rate to increase
Speed up
As I enjoy the words coming from your mouth
From your fingers
You never cease to make me smile
You never cease to make me grin
Your happiness infects me
Your joy consumes me

Being in your presence
Is akin to a religious experience
I worry before hand
Wonder if I’d imagined it
Convinced it couldn’t have been
You just couldn’t have been
As lovely
As beautiful
As I remembered

Then you walk through the door
Or I spot you in the room
And the worry
The wonder
The doubt
Fades away
And I am left
With just your face
Your eyes
Your smile
And I wonder how I ever doubted
How I ever wondered
That you really are as wonderful as you are

You never fail to consume my thoughts
No matter the distance between us
You never fail to make me smile
Even when you’re not around
You are everything I’ve ever wanted
Everything I’ve ever needed
Everything I’ve ever desired

But I’m ok with just being friends

Detective Comics #27, released in May of 1939, was the debut of the caped crusader Batman. He was the second superhero superstar to debut in what would later become the DC universe (Superman debuted in the sister comic Action Comics a year earlier). This first showing of Batman didn’t hold many of the characteristics most of us would be familiar with, but he dark, willing to get his fists dirty in a fight, and had the bored playboy alter-ego Bruce Wayne.

It wasn’t until a short time later, November with Detective Comics #33, that Bill Finger and Bob Kane introduced us to what I still consider to be one of the more compelling of superhero origin store; the death of Bruce’s parents.

The story has been retold countless times but it still remains simple in its essence. Bruce’s parents were walking home from a movie and got mugged. Who the mugger is has come and gone, changed through retellings and movies, but in my mind, it remains Joe Chill.

There’s a panel in Neil Gaiman and Andy Kubert’s Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader that stands out to me. That… echoes the past and the future. Selina Kyle is walking into the bar and is greeted by Joe Chill. After short discussion she heads in back, stops, and turns to face him.

“Joe…” she says, “I thought I heard that you were dead.”

“I was here at the start of it all, Miss Kyle,” Joe says, not looking at her, continuing to clean the glass in his hand, “I’m not going to miss the end.”

Throughout Bruce Wayne’s progression, throughout Batman’s career, this story that rarely ever takes more than two or three pages, echoes throughout it. Perhaps echoing the small events that occur throughout our lives. These things that impacts us so dramatically, altering our lives and continuing to affect us.

In the Madness story in Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s Haunted Knight book there are two panels that stick out clearly and vividly. Batman, having chased Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, and been wounded stumbles out of a building. He collapses on the ground, someone yet to be identified reaching to help him. A full page panel has a bruised, bloodied, and unconscious batman lying in the arms of a ghostly figure of his mother. The Park Row sign behind them vandalized with Crime Alley sprawled in red.

Later in memory Bruce, the young child, is kneeling between the corpses of his parents in the spotlight of a lone streetlight. The silhouettes of a wall of cops are standing behind him. The next panel is a close up of his shoulders and head. Then a close up of angry, steely eyes.

Throughout it all, this scene drives Batman in his quest, his war, and his vengeance. He has had evil done to him so he is not necessarily as worried about doing it to others deserving. He has his code, he does not kill, but he walks a line, uses fear as a weapon, and isn’t afraid to do what is needed.

In Loeb and Sale’s the Long Halloween Bruce Wayne is standing on a balcony at Wayne Manor with Selina Kyle, alter egos left behind.

“Bruce,” Selina says, “Why do you stay in Gotham City?”

“After… my parent’ deaths, I left,” he says, “But, I was… drawn back. I made… a promise to them.”

Selina then asks him what it would take for him to let go. They exchange dishonest pleasantries but in the end, in the black thought box of Batman, he asks himself, “What would it take to let go?”

Batman is a creature driven by need and desire, but above all he is driven by memory. Memory of what has come before and what could happen next. A memory of his parents. A memory of Jason Todd. Of intimate knowledge that while humanity can strive to become more and better, we often become mired in our own shortcomings. That too often we aren’t willing and able to do what needs to be done, to take that step to protect ourselves.

The origin story has always been one of the reasons that I’ve found Batman the most compelling out of the superhero stables from either side, DC or Marvel. Batman himself has always been more nuanced, more fleshed out, just more real to me than any of the other heroes.

               Steve stood under the bus pavilion, waiting for his bus. He’d been there for five minutes already, letting the light drizzle from the smattering of clouds hit around him. He sighed and grabbing the cigarette pack from his pocket. He pulled one out, crushing the small menthol ball at the end and stuck it in his mouth. He flicked the lighter, making fire, when the bus started pulling up. Well, at least he hadn’t lit it yet. He put the unlit cigarette back in the pack and waited patiently for the bus to pull up.

               The doors opened wide and he stepped up the steps, nodding at Mike as he dropped three dollars in change into the change slot. Mike nodded back and handed him his ticket. Steve shoved the ticket in his pocket and started heading back to his seat. Jimmy was sitting in the seat next to it, as usual. Jimmy got on at the stop a few blocks north of Steve’s, and they’d been riding the bus into work for as long as either could remember.

               “How’s it goin’ Jimmy,” Steve said politely as he sat down, less a question more a greeting.

               “It’s not goin’ bad,” Jimmy answered, “Yourself?”

               “Can’t complain,” Steve said by way of answer, “You hear about the reorg?”

               “Course I heard,” Jimmy said, “They’re always talking about a reorg, like that will make it run smoother.”

               Steve and Jimmy worked in the same department. Everyone on the bus worked in the same place. Hard to get where they were going except for the bus. Some had other ways to get to work, but those were very special cases. Steve and Jimmy were not special cases.

               “So how is the missus,” Steve asked Jimmy, “She have that Tupperware party Saturday night?”

               “Sure did,” Jimmy said, “Happy as a clam she is, that party is the talk of all the wives now.”

               “And the kids?” Steve asked.

               “Ah, they’re teenaged kids,” Jimmy said, “Never happy about their lot in life, always complaining, always wanting more. Except for Leah of course, that girls an angel, well, you know what I mean.”

               Steve grinned.

               “Yeah, I catch your drift,” Jimmy said, “As much as an angel as she can be at least.”

               Jimmy chuckled and shook his head.

               “What about you Steve?” Jimmy asked, “When you gonna settle down, have a batch of your own?”

               Steve shrugged.

               “Who knows,” Steve said, “Gotta find the right girl first.”

               “Or she’s gotta find you,” Jimmy said, “We all know it’s gonna be some hellfire bitch that snatches you up. Don’t have enough confidence to find you a nice one.”

               “Well,” Steve said, a small grin on his face, “It’s unlikely I’ll meet anyone but a hellfire bitch these days. Rarely spend anytime anywhere except the office.”

               “That is true,” Jimmy said, “Looks like we’re gettin’ close.”

               The bus took a right turn down an alley that ended in a brick wall most of the time. A large swirling portal opened up in the wall and the bus drove through it. As they crossed the threshold the sky turned red, fire and brimstone burned around them, and everyone on the bus took very different characteristics. Mike’s skin started hanging loose and was missing in various places. His eyes were also a milky white. Everyone else grew various sized horns and their skin turned a bright red, Steve and Jimmy included.

               The bus pulled up to the unloading zone and everyone filed off. Steve and Jimmy made their way to Soul Processing, the screams of the damned echoing through the hallways of the office. They stopped to punch their timecards before heading to their desks.

               Just another workday in Hell.

We’re all a bit fucked up, screwed in the brain, just a giant mess on the inside.

Some are better than others at hiding it.

Not I and not those I care about.

We wear our differences on our sleeves.

We proclaim our freakishness in loud and proud voices.

Some may think us strange.

Some may think us odd.

But I couldn’t think of a better place to be.

Thinkers.

Tinkers.

Singers.

Writers.

Artists.

Poets.

We stand alone in a cold hard world.

We see that which others don’t.

We see the beauty in the mundane.

We see the complex in the simple.

We rage against the confines of the world.

We set aside our differences.

We learn to accept.

We learn to like.

We learn to love.

Those things others see as a hindrance.

Emotions like love, caring, and empathy.

We embrace with our whole hearts.

We feel pain.

We feel hurt.

We feel grief.

We feel remorse.

Instead of packaging them down inside.

Instead of shutting them off entirely.

We take them and make them our own.

We own ourselves.

Our thoughts.

Our feelings.

Our souls.

Our being.

We take everything and put it to the pen.

We take everything and put it to the page.

We take everything and turn it into art.

You can mock us.

You can hate us.

You can ignore us.

But you will never be rid of us.

So to my brothers and sisters of the written words.

To my cousins in the visual arts.

I raise this glass, and salute you.

               Steve and Julia pulled up to the large barricade protecting the Sanctuary. They were in a beaten up Dodge pickup so jury rigged that it was doubtful that a mechanic would be able to make heads or tails of the internal combustion system. Not that there were any mechanics around anymore.

               Billy and Michael were on gate guard duty, their hunting rifles slung over their shoulders. Steve honked the horn and the pair looked over, noticing them. Recognizing Steve, Julia, and the truck they turned around, leaned over the edge of the inside of the barricade and shouted down below. Some teens that Steve didn’t recognize opened the gate.

               The gate was a makeshift steel contraption on rusted wheels and the teens had to put their back into it. The barricade itself was a makeshift steel wall that the community had put together over a period of months to help discourage raiders and neighboring communities. Sanctuary was positioned over an underground reservoir so it had more resources than most, which made it a prime target these days.

               Steve pulled the truck in through the gate when it was open, nodding at the teens as he drove past and they started closing the metal gate. He didn’t know them by name, but he’d have been surprised if they didn’t know who he was. One of the perks of being the leader of the community’s small band of scouts was that he was known by pretty much everyone and you never wanted someone to have some imagined slight; made things difficult these days.

               As they pulled into the small community center at the middle of Sanctuary that doubled as a scout headquarters, Steve couldn’t help but notice James standing outside with his arms crossed, a worried look on his face. James was six foot ten, three hundred pounds, and had biceps the size of Steve’s head. There weren’t a lot of things that made James nervous, and Steve didn’t want to know what would make him so worried.

               He slowly made his way out of his seat and out of the driver’s side door after he’d parked the vehicle, standing at his six foot even height. He ran a hand through his dark brown shoulder length hair. He and Julia had been outside for a few days now, so his hair was grimy. He grimaced and started walking to James.

               “This better be important James,” he said, irritation apparent in his voice, “We had to go eighty miles out to find supplies this time, Julia and I haven’t been home in days, and all I want is a bath and a warm bed, for sleep and other things.” He flashed Julia a lascivious look as he said the last.

               “Peter’s group didn’t come back,” James said.

               That stopped Steve completely and Julia’s eyes widened as she let out a small worried gasp. Peter’s group had left a day before Steve and Julia. Sanctuary had received intel on a possible raider encampment and Peter had taken a few people to check the intel out; the group included Steve and Julia’s sixteen year old daughter Michelle.

               “No contact?” Steve asked, knowing the answer already, James wouldn’t be this worried if there’d been contact. Sure enough, James shook his head. Steve growled lowly.

               “What’s the plan?” Steve asked.

               “Lachlan thought we should wait for you two,” James answered, “Said you two would take it personal if we tried to do something without you. Also felt that you two would have the best ideas.”

               Steve nodded, that made sense. There’s a reason why Steve lead the scouts, and Julia’s abilities were only a hair short of his own.

               “Julia and I will get ourselves decent,” Steve said, “Make sure everyone’s here in an hour. I want whoever isn’t out here.”

               “Roger that,” James said, “I think we’ve got nineteen not out on patrols.”

               Steve frowned but accepted that answer; he could make do with nineteen; had to make do with nineteen.

               As they Steve and Julia left the community center and headed to their own home, Julia saddled in close to Steve, grabbing his arm with worry.

               “We never should have let her join the scouts,” she said, “We should’ve made her learn something else.”

               Steve laughed and gave her one of his understanding and knowing looks.

               “Daddy’s the legendary Steve Calaran of the Sanctuary Scouts and her mom’s the spitfire Julia Calaran, scourge of the desert,” he said, “You really think she was going to do anything else?”

               Julia shook her head, accepting the fact.

               “Still,” she said, “I always worried that something like this would happen.”

               “I know,” he said, “I imagine it’s something akin to the worry that she used to feel when we went out.”

               They reached their house and Julia released Steve’s arm, walking up to the door. She stopped and turned around.

               “It isn’t easy?” she asked, “Raising a kid these days?”

               Steve shook his head.

               “Babe,” he said, “I don’t think it ever was.”

               They cleaned up quickly, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and headed back to the community center. Everyone was already there; nineteen people all looked at them with concern as they walked in.

               “All right people,” Steve said, walking up to the map board in the center of the room, “You all know why we’re here. We’ve got six people that went missing patrolling a possible raider encampment here,” he pointed to the location on the map, “So either they found it and got caught or just got caught in general. We’re heading out to see what we can do. All of us will be going, questions?”

               No one raised their hands. They all knew what they had to do. No one said anything about Michelle.

               “Good,” Steve said, “Mount up then.”

               They all headed out of the community building and into the various trucks and jeeps parked outside. All nineteen packed themselves into the cabs and trunks of five vehicles. They moved out as a single convoy, Steve and Julia taking lead vehicle position. Billy and Michael saluted them from on top of the barricade. The teens Steve didn’t know opened up the gate.

               Steve and Julia made their way across the open plain in a tense silence. No one bothered with roads these days. There weren’t enough and the few there were weren’t in any sort of working condition. You just picked the most direct route and hoped the terrain would let you through. The convoy stopped about a click from where the raiders were supposed to be. Everyone dismounted and formed up around Steve and Julia.

               “Right, scout first, establish the situation, then get our people back,” Steve said, no nonsense look on his face, “Understood?”

               Everyone echoed their affirmative. They moved out, heading towards where the pirates were supposed to be. Steve and Julia took point. They all moved silently and cautiously, on the lookout for any raiders.

               They came upon a pair of raiders sitting at a small lookout, playing a game of dice. They noticed the pair before the raiders noticed them. Steve indicated for the party to stay low and quiet. He and Julia slowly made their way to the lookout. They were on the pair before they even knew they were there. Steve and Julia each slitting the throat of one almost simultaneously. Steve grimaced as the raider slid down to the ground. The kid couldn’t be older than seventeen.

               Still he had other things to worry about. You couldn’t worry about people that weren’t yours, and this boy would have kept him from getting to his daughter. Steve and Julia quickly made their way back to the party, indicating it was safe to move on, and they did.

               They came to a small encampment, obviously the raiders. There were no walls, just a series of makeshift tents set up. Raiders tended to move light and quickly, which is why Sanctuary had pounced on the chance to take care of this encampment.

               Steve watched a pair of raider walks out of one of the tents laughing and slapping each other on the back. Steve had a sick feeling in his stomach, a sinking feeling he knew what they were laughing about.

               They’d brought equipment needed to take the encampment out. Sanctuary would spare no offense at wiping these raiders from existence. Steve nodded to James, who started pulling out grenades and flash bangs to people. They slowly made their way up to the encampment.

               One of the scouts threw a flash bang and Steve started shooting. James and his people started tossing grenades, avoiding what everyone already knew was the tent they were keeping the prisoners. Steve and Julia quickly made their way into the tent as chaos exploded around them.

               Three of the men were tied to poles, beaten and bruised. Peter was near death and chained so he had no choice but watch the bed. Michelle was tied to the bed, naked, bruised, bleeding, and a shocked tortured look on her face. A raider had a pistol to her head.

               “Move and she…” he said, Steve didn’t even think, just shot the man in the eye. He dropped without firing. Julia went to Michelle, undoing her restraints and finding something to cover her with. Steve started freeing the rest of his men. They weren’t in good shape. Peter was barely alive.

               “Sorry,” he said, “Caught us by surprise, tried to stop them, oh god…”

               Steve shook his head.

               “Happens these days,” Steve said, “No matter how careful you are, people get dead and bad things happen.”

               Peter nodded but didn’t look like he believed Steve.

               Steve made his way out of the tent. Things were already cooling down. His people were very good at what they did. Most of the raiders were dead and the scouts were finishing off the rest of them. James drove up in a big van with the window rolled down, some stupid fantasy scene painted on the side of it.

               “Found this,” he said, “Figured our people would be in bad shape and might need it.”

               Steve nodded.

               “Good thinking,” he said, “We’ll start loading them up.”

               After they raided the equipment and supplies the raiders had on them, loaded up the van, and headed out, the sun was already starting to set. Julia wanted to stay with Michelle and Steve didn’t blame her. It would take a long time to get over this, and honestly she might not ever really recover. Steve had a feeling that his spunky, intelligent girl was gone. He just hoped they could bring part of her back.

               James and one of the other scouts took the van back to Sanctuary, Julia in the back with Michelle, the rest returned to their vehicles and drove them back. Steve had a new scout riding with him, Robert, who was a veteran. He gave Steve his silence and space, which Steve was thankful for. As they rolled through the wasteland his country has become Steve sighed silently.

               Sure it was a bad day, but who could expect anything else these days? At least they’d managed to wipe out a raider encampment; one less band of petty, marauding, raping, and pillaging bastards to worry about. These days you had to take whatever you could, hold onto every little thing you had. And at least he still had Julia and Michelle.

               Sure, it was bad, but it could always be worse.

               The fire burned inside him, uncontainable on a molecular level. His blood was infected, yearning to spill, yearning to spread its fever to others. It wasn’t a standard STD; it wasn’t anything that anyone had seen before. He’d been scared at first, terrified in fact. That first time he’d felt compelled to cut into his flesh, the first time he’d seen it pour out black and viscous, crawling along the floor. It rolled over and over itself, seeking out the first thing it could infect. It had found his cat.

               The cat attacked the dark, rolling, and bubbling mass but as the claws hit the blood enveloped the cat’s claws, and then spread to cover the entire animal’s body. Then the blood entered its body through any available orifice. It let out a strangled cry and then went silent, dropping to the ground. For a few moments it was still and silent. Then it began twitching, hissing, spasms wracking its body, throwing it to and fro.

               Finally it stood up, fur slicked in dark mucous, aftereffect of the blood that had invaded its body. Its eyes were red and it radiated an almost visible hatred, you could almost see vapors of antipathy rising from its body.

               It attempted to attack him at that moment. He kicked it in fear and it hit the opposite wall with a hard thud. It fell to the ground, neck broken at a weird angle but still attempting to move, still attempting to attack. He ended up burning the body.

               From that moment on he always felt the darkness in his blood, yearning to be free. It took a couple of incidents before he was able to establish a modicum of control over the desire to cut, to release the darkness, the pain, the hatred upon the world. Once the blood took control of a man. It was four days and sixteen dead bodies later that the police caught him and put him down. It was considered one of the grisliest murder sprees that the city had ever seen.

               After that he took steps to control himself. And when he felt the control slipping, when he felt that the blood was too much, and he could no longer contain it, he had controls in place to keep the blood from infecting the world around him.

                He had a darkness and fire in his blood, yearning to be free, yearning to destroy the world. It was hard, it was difficult, it was lonely, but he did his best to contain it, to keep it from breaking free and bringing about darkness and misery to all around him.