Chapter Text
Anon
January 6th, 201M2021 BC - Volcadera Cemetery.
A year since I met them. It’d only taken me a few months to dismantle everything she was, all it took was one bad night and the cheapest grog we could get our hands on. If you’d told me at the start of the year that I’d be capable of this, I’d have lapped it up as a compliment like the rancid dog I always have been.
It’s been 8 months since I broke them, since everyone let her down all at once in a cascade of disastrous decisions and threw what was left of her into the awaiting arms of a fucking snake in the grass, yours truly, Anon Y. Mous.
Everyone had let them down, and not just on the important shit either, even the most minute of details and the smallest of moments stained their mind when the end was coming. Not surprising, you tend to notice more dark shit when your life is so blackened that light can barely pierce through the veil.
Sure, Naser had fucked up by being too controlling of their sibling and their actions, but maybe they could have lived through that if Naser didn’t try and guide her through even the tiniest and simplest of things… the worst example that came to my head was the 2am dino nuggets incident he described to me once, why the fuck would you get ol’ ripper involved in that? How did he think that would help?
Naser had honestly been the smallest piece of this nightmare puzzle that made up her-
FUCK!
8 months on, and I still can’t even get that right, I’m such a crock of shit.
Naser wasn’t the biggest of her problems, far from it. Everyone else had fucked her over so royally that his major fuck-ups had barely mattered in the end.
At least she knew Naser gave a fuck about them, and that’s the most anyone could say about any of us.
Their parents had buried their heads, Samantha in the sand and Ripley had jammed his snout so far up his own ass that he could smell last night's dinner. Raptor Jesus, Ripley pissed me off. In the aftermath he didn’t know who to blame, he tried to blame me at first but his own officers had come to bat for me, since they’d witnessed my last moments with them as they fell, after they blew a .357 hollow point through my leg. Since he couldn’t blame me, he tried to blame Trish and Reed, said they were common carfe junkies who’d corrupted his daughter… and regardless of my distaste for ‘em both, Trish’s aims weren’t… this.
Once Ripley learned the charges against Trish and Reed wouldn’t stick, he blamed the school system, he blamed the internet, he blamed anything and everything.
Except for himself.
I mean, don’t get me wrong. Samantha wasn’t exactly a saint either. Given how far she’d stuck her head in the sand and pretended nothing was wrong with the family she claimed to love more than anything else, she’d given the impression that Samantha cared for her daughter, but not for what had taken her daughters place.
Their home was cold, loveless and overloaded with hatred and angst. To the happy couple it may have been home, and perhaps even Naser considered it home, but them?
They didn’t have a home, they had a place they slept at night.
What left me bitter more than anything was the knowledge that they did love them, even if they were incapable of showing it.
If their parents had pulled their shit together, that might have been enough that they could have survived this spiral.
They’d been caught in a tidal vortex of anguish, slowly they were pulled deeper and deeper into the depths of their own mind, piece by piece they were broken down and those “parents” could have pulled them out if they’d just heard them, if they’d so much as seen the cries for help as their child sunk to the bottom of the abyss.
And down there, they were met with me. Someone who could crush what little of them was left, and somehow through the divine power of sheer social retardation could miss that they’d devastated them.
They all let them down, which made them confide in me.
Confiding in me ruined what little they had.
Raptor Jesus, if I had a second chance at this I’d make sure they fuckin’ hated me if i could.
But I know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from entangling myself within their grasp again.
I suppose I’d settle for helping her without getting any closer to her than needed. They didn’t need fixing themselves, and I wouldn’t dream of doing that to them again, but their friends and family certainly could receive a few reality checks. After that, I’d disappear from their lives and never hurt them again.
It was the only way.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of them hating me, but perhaps knowing that they’re alright would suffice.
Not like it matters, I won’t get a second chance at this, and we all know where I’m going once I’m done with this life, and it sure as shit ain’t where they went.
Raptor Jesus, I struggled to even say their name anymore.
After all of that shit went down I’d given up on life, my parents hadn’t bothered to contact me when their rent payments for my apartment stopped, nor after my graduation had passed without a word from them. They’d abandoned me, and I’d become the very lowlife my dad always assumed I would be. I’d been homeless for 4 months, just living out what little of my life was left as a vagrant. Did some odd jobs here and there to get enough money for food and some other… essentials.
And all of that led to this very moment.
I looked down towards the grave in front of me, covered in a thick layer of snow just like everything surrounding it, but still just free enough from its coverings to be readable.
‘Here lies Lucy, Heaven restores you in light’ it read. They’d used their birth name, the bastards.
Flowers laid on the grave to the right, Naser’s tombstone.
Their parents had been recently, perhaps today.
They’d left flowers for their son, but not for their other child who had experienced infinitely more tragedy over their short life… not to imply that Naser’s end wasn’t a tragedy, I knew that all too well by now.
I could feel what little soul was left within me stirring as anger flowed through me for a moment… but I didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore.
Naser… I’ll miss you, buddy.
I’m glad that at least one of you is still loved, neither of you deserve to be forgotten.
I look up towards a pitch black sky, dotted with a few small white lights.
I could hear nothing but the quiet gusts of wind passing me, there was no life around. Not a soul in sight.
Perfect.
“Hi, Fang.” I said, trying to keep my tone level as I reached into my pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of menthol black cigarettes. I couldn’t even look at my old reds anymore.
“I know it’s been a while, uh…” I mutter while placing a cigarette in my mouth and desperately flicking at my cheap shit lighter that was just refusing to light in the wind. I covered my hand over it, trying to protect it from the wind as I kept flicking at it.
“But I figured I should come see you again, even if you don’t want me here.”
The lighter finally flickered to life as I took a puff. It tastes like them.
“You got me on the menthols, you bitch.” I attempted to laugh with that line, but all that came out was snipped breathing as I shuddered in the cold.
“Look, I’m struggling to beat around the bush here, so I’ll say what I came to say for once.” I say as strongly as my pitiful body allowed, I’d withered away like some kinda fuckin mummy over the last year.
“I’m sorry.”
…
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be the shoulder to cry on that you needed, no matter how much I wanted to be. And, I’m sorry that I never even fucking noticed in the first place. It was so obvious that you wanted someone to just give a shit about you, but I didn’t fuckin care… None of us cared enough.”
…
“I’m sorry for that bullshit I pulled at my apartment, I knew you needed comfort and the first thing my head came up with was Rock Ring 2 of all things. I’m such a fuck up, and you should have had someone better than me, anyone really. You deserved that much, at least.”
…
“I thought your band could have gotten somewhere if we could have gotten Trish and Reed to stop being such hardasses about the double bass bullshit. Hell, I was planning on letting you know that I thought you could have gone solo if you wanted and seen success anyway. I’d have been right there with you if you wanted, or if you wanted me gone, I’d have done that too.”
…
“I’m sorry that my sorry ass even showed up to Volcadera in the first place… Maybe if I wasn’t here, you’d still be alive. You probably wouldn’t be happy either, but that’s no different to what happened.”
The end of my cigarette fell from my mouth as I blew through the last of the tobacco.
“I want you to know, Trish and Reed are still hanging on. They have their families to keep them steady, one day they’ll be alright again.”
I leaned down, and gently placed the lighter and pack of cigarettes against their tombstone.
“But me? I have nothing, and I deserve nothing for what I did.”
…
“I want you to know none of this is your fault. They made you like this, and I finished the job. The lives lost on that day are all on me, not you. That includes your life too…”
I pull my snub-nosed revolver out of my right pocket.
“This last body won’t be your fault either.”
I press on the chamber release and observe the chamber.
All five rounds of .38 special are loaded and ready.
No chances to bullshit this with Russian roulette, just this once I’ll act like I’m not a raging pussy.
“I won’t see you once I’m gone, I’m going down… and if I see you down there with me, there will be more than just hell to pay.”
I close the chamber with a click and place the barrel under my chin pointing towards the sky.
With this angle and this calibre my brain should turn to goosh and put me beyond the point of saving. And even if someone found me and managed to get me to a hospital, I’ll have long bled out by then.
I exhale, steeling myself as I pull back the hammer and I feel the revolver shudder lightly in my hand as the chamber rolled into place.
This is it.
“Ahem.” Someone announces their presence behind me.
I turn, keeping the gun pointed at my bald-ass head.
I can’t make out anything beyond a large humanoid figure standing there, 5 or so steps away.
We stand there in silence as two golden eyes glare at me with a contempt I recognise.
“Mr. Aaron.”
“Anon.” He replies with a growl. He raises his right hand and clicks down on a button on something.
An electronic lantern lights us up like a firefly in this sea of darkness, and Ripley can see me in full display, just as I can see all of him.
He’s lost weight, a lot of it. And not in a good way. This version of Ripley wasn’t as powerful as I had seen him last.
His gaze flickered down towards the silver revolver in my hands, and his expression contorted into something resembling pity.
“That won’t fix anything.” He says.
“I know… but I can’t live with this.”
“This isn’t what she’d want, son.” Ripley replies.
“Because you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”
A flash of anger jumps through him like a lightning bolt, but it leaves just as quickly as it came.
“I know she… I know they cared for you.” He said as if the very thought made him violently sick. “And I know she told you not to come to school that day… she wanted you to live.”
Hear him out.
>There’s no saving you, Anon.
I smirked at him. “They aren’t here to stop me now, are they? Neither is your son, and that’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, they’d still be alive… Still as miserable as they both always were, but alive.”
He stilled for a moment, his eyes glazing over for a moment.
“I can’t convince you, can I?” He said stiffly, as if he’d manually turned off all of his emotions at once.
“No, if you stopped me here I’d just find a way somewhere else… The gun just makes it easy.”
Ripley stared into my eyes, a strange expression on his face. I’d call it regret, but I wasn’t entirely sure he could feel that. He nodded gently, and began to slowly step back, step by step without a word.
Once he got around 20 steps away from me, he turned off his lantern, and stood there silently.
Guess I was going out with an audience.
I turned back towards their grave.
Back out like the coward you are.
>Barrel, meet head.
I placed my finger on the trigger, and applied pressure.
Back out, coward.
>Pull the trigger.
“See you never, Sweet Tooth.”
*BANG*
—-----------------------------------
* BEEP * * BEEP * * BEEP *
Ah, I can’t even fantasize about my own death in peace.
I reach out and away from the bed, blearily smacking at the desk nearby until I hit the alarm.
Slowly rising from the comfortable bed, I rubbed my eyes as I stood and started walking towards…
Wait.
I don’t have a bed.
I don’t even have a place to call my own anymore beyond an alleyway.
Looking around in a blind panic, I take in my surroundings.
It’s familiar, but not something I can name. There’s a couple anime posters on the walls, a phone and a desktop in one corner of the room, alongside an XROX and not much else. The room had high ceilings and a fancy light fixture, not quite a chandelier or anything like that but clearly something expensive.
Come to think of it, everything in this room looked vaguely bougie and expensive, the bed frame and desk looked to be solid proper wood.
Heh, come to think of it, it almost reminded me of the apartment in Rock Bottom that I’d grown up in…
No…
Scrambling towards the computer, I turn it on with all the delicacy of a meteor and wait for the piece of shit to boot up…
Anticipation hangs above me like the sword of Damocles, swinging like a pendulum in rhythm with my heart.
I see the Wingdows 8.1 bootup screen… and finally hit the login page.
December 21st, 201M2016.
…
I…
I don’t understand…
I slam my slightly overweight ass into the comfort of an office chair that’s far too comfortable for someone of my ilk, and begin typing erratically.
‘Volcadera shooting’, ‘Volcano High shooting’.
Nothing.
I checked the Volcadera Police Department's public arrest record, and to my surprise their last arrest was Monday, December 19th of 201M2016.
Their system corroborates it as well…
Fuck…
‘Lucy Aaron’.
No hits.
‘Fang Aaron’
Zilch.
‘Naser Aaron’.
One hit, an article entitled ‘New VPD commissioner Ripley Aaron - A career retrospective.’ Looking through it revealed Ripley’s past service, joined the military in 1990, 2 tours in the military and then joined the police in 1998, served as a officer and quickly climbed ranks, joined VPD SWAT in 99 and made Sergeant by 2000, got lieutenant early thanks to his superior biting the bullet early in 2004. Seems after that he stayed behind a desk with the exception of SWAT duties after that until recently with this promotion to commissioner after the prior commissioner ran for mayor and won.
I presume he also stuck to the deskwork because Samantha would wring his neck if he willingly stepped foot into any more danger than he already did when his family needed him. Funny, he wasn’t of much use even when he was present.
I pawed at my pocket to light up a cigarette, only to remember that the pocket wasn’t there because I wasn’t in the fuckin cemetery anymore and I’ve apparently warped through time like I’m Marty fuckin McFly.
I keep scrolling through the article until I find what I’m looking for.
It’s a picture of Ripley and Samantha standing at the side of a running track, cheering on a much younger but still crippled Naser. It was labelled as being taken this year, and given that Naser would be… fuck, he’s like 12 in this picture.
Damn it all, their accident had happened this year.
I knew realistically what the fuck was I gonna do to stop that, hell why would they even listen to a random skinnie screaming at them anyway?
It still stung. Fang’s downward spiral began with that accident, and things never got better for them.
I bit down on my hand idly as I kept scrolling down.
The article finished up on a picture of Ripley receiving a medal from… Raptor president legend Bill Cliffton? Holy shit, can’t imagine Ripley was too happy hearing the president that gave him his medal was the one that got sucked off in the oval office.
That would explain why I never noticed the picture hanging anywhere in their home.
Right… Think Anon, think you ape-brained retard.
I need to get things planned, get things in place for the moment to strike.
Fang’s life is on the fuckin line here, I need to get my shit together for one fucking second.
First, I need to get stronger. I need to have a fighting chance of beating any of those fucking meteor-dodging fuck-knuckles at Volcano High if push comes to shove, as paranoid as that sounds it’ll also minimise the chances of losing this potential second chance to some junkie on skin row.
There’s gyms in my area, and MMA gyms too, dunno how my parents will react to that but worth a shot, outside of that I think Rock Bottom High has a gym available to students after school hours, so that’ll work.
Next, money; Fang’s pockets weren’t exactly filled with money and they flat-out would not go to their parents for money, having some extra pocket change would help with that. A part-time job, preferably something that Ripley and Samantha would respect, would be available to me when I turned 16, which according to my calendar is… four months away. April 1st, because I was born a joke.
Fuck, are there any other options…
Wait a minute…
After a minute or so of keyboard clacking, I’d found what I was looking for.
BitCoin was only valued at 600 fucking dollars right now…
Shit do I have my own bank account yet?
Doesn’t matter, I’ll check later.
Next comes the personal matters; how to best go about dismantling all the bullshit that’s gonna form around Fang as their life goes on…
“Nonny? Are you awake?” I hear a feminine voice echo from behind me loudly, somewhere else in this apartment.
My mother.
Fuck.
Rushing towards the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I look younger, that much I had already assumed, still bald as always. Chubbier than I remember, but not by much.
Not unexpected for Ptero-fucker permit carrying virgins like I am now.
Once I get to the door, I take a second to brace myself.
I gently open the door.
There stood a woman I hadn’t seen in over a year at this point, Masq U. Mous, her tired eyes and tightly strung face glared at me with the same indifference I remembered well.
This bitch was just as high on my shit-list as Samantha was, she did the same shit as her, more or less. She was a fence sitter, she’d watch the countless arguments between me and my old man and flat-out refuse to get involved, even over the smallest shit. I remembered that more than I remembered her face.
She was a business woman, she never told me the specifics but it was something like COO of an accounting firm, she’d never specified beyond that.
Her thin, gaunt hand raised and pointed down the hall “I got breakfast, it’s waiting for you in the dining hall.” She said with a practiced plastic smile, the very same one she wore at her countless business affairs, even the ones she dragged me to as a kid.
Notice how she said she ‘got’ breakfast rather than she ‘made’ it, she couldn’t cook to save her life.
I’ve seen her struggle to boil water before.
I followed her without a word, hoping to Raptor Jesus that I wasn’t scowling enough for her to notice. Following down the hall we passed by a number of pictures and portraits, scattered on the walls on either side of us.
Business meetings, their wedding day, more business meetings, and old family photos.
Not a single picture of my bald head in here.
As we reach the end of the corridor and turn into the lavish dining room, which is more of a dining hall given the high ceilings and ludicrous size of this apartment, I’m able to hear my dad watching the morning news before I even see him.
“ Fuckin meteor-dodging boot skinned bastards! ” He screamed at the news over what I could only assume was something minor to him, like a baryonyx mayor being elected or some crime that CNN said a raptor had committed in another city.
He was sat on a bougie red leather sofa at the other end of the room, staring at an obnoxiously large TV and waving his fist at it in a blind rage as always. This might as well be his favourite hobby, I don’t remember him doing much of anything besides this and working.
“Honey, Breakfast is ready.” My mother said to him, loud enough to pull him away from the TV.
As I sat down at one end of the dining table, I heard my dad slowly rise from his leather throne, and waddle his way towards the dining table, where he sat a whole tables length across from me.
Ahead of me sat Paron Y. Mous, my dad. He was a short man, weak and tubby. His poor diet had ravaged his body, and he barely looked human at this point, like Danny DeDino but completely bald like me. I’ve always assumed my dad must have been a looker of some kind when he met my mother, but even in the oldest pictures I’ve seen of him he’s always looked somewhat like that.
That rat had multiple businesses going. His main income was through a series of car dealerships he owned in Rock Bottom which brought him real good money, but he started investing in real estate a number of years ago when I was younger, and now he was a landlord as well. A shitty one at that, given how poor the property in Volcadera was.
I’m thankful I take after my mother, and I have some height. I’m also built like a normal person, which I can only thank Raptor Jesus for.
“What’s for grubbin today honey?” He said in his sleazy car salesman voice that always rubbed me the wrong way.
My mother placed a plastic shopping bag on the table, and began pulling out small cardboard boxes.
“I got Chinese, your favourite.” she replied with a smile that looked considerably more genuine than the one she’d given to me just two minutes ago.
As my mother walked my portion of ‘breakfast’ past a dozen rows of chairs, she finally got to me and plopped my meal on the table, turned around on her heel and marched her way back towards my dad, sitting down in the seat to his side.
The distance between us was ridiculous, it was like that dinner scene in Shrek 2.
I forgot that we ate like this. I forgot this was my normal until very recently.
It made the Aaron family look like a picture perfect propaganda family.
As I opened up the box in front of me, I saw an incredibly greasy concoction of rice, noodles and some kind of mystery meat that could have been from literally any animal in existence.
I hazardously raised a piece with the cheap chopsticks that had been provided and slopped it into my mouth like an animal.
…
Sweet Raptor Jesus this is terrible.
It’s slimy, like the texture of what you’d assume eating a worm is like, it tasted of somehow nothing and everything at the same time, you couldn’t make out any of the flavours at all.
This was a crime against cuisine.
I looked up towards my parents, expecting they would match my own horror.
Instead, I found my dad pawing at two different portions with each hand, while my mother picked at hers, wearing that same false face.
How the hell did this family ever function at all?
Fuck it, I can’t watch this anymore and I’ve got questions to ask this pig and his blow-up doll.
“Dad.”
He looked up at me, still pawing food into his face. “Yeah, kid?” He said with disdain, as if I’d offended him by interrupting his ‘hard-earned’ meal.
“You said ‘college or the service’... are there any other options?”
“Hah, finally thinking about the future, ey kid?” He guffawed with practiced laughter, he let go of the food in one hand and raised it to his chin, rubbing it as if he was a cartoon character in thought.
My mother was looking at me funny, as if I’d shocked her or something.
“Well, I don’t care which college you go to, as long as it gets you money… As for the service, any branch is fine, and if you don’t wanna die in the sandbox then you can at least become a cop or security or something.” He said, with slightly exasperated breaths as if he was struggling to finish even one sentence.
“That’s… a lot more than what I thought you meant.”
“As long as you’re making dough, kid! It’s what makes the world go round, and I don’t plan on giving you anything more than I have to until you’re pulling it from my cold, dead hands!” He said with a laugh, as if that was funny.
My mother let out a polite laugh, nodding along with him like the sycophant she is.
“Why? What’s got you so interested all of a sudden?”
Shit.
Gotta think, need to convince them I’m interested in some career path, but what? Shit they’re gonna push me into something… Fuck, this is too early for this!
“The police.” I say without thinking.
The fuck was I talking about? The police? That was the last thing on my mind.
Fuck it, already said it, might as well go with it.
“I saw some ads for their…” I have to physically stop myself from saying they had recruitment ads, they wouldn’t buy that since I’m… what, 15 now? “Their cadets program, that’s all.” I mutter, hoping they take the bait and at least leave me alone.
“Alright, I can work with that. I’d prefer you stay off the desks if you can, keep yourself out there on the streets like a real go-getter!” He said with a smirk.
What, did he want me dead or something? Rock Bottom may have a lot of business opportunities and rich type business moguls. But it’s called Rock Bottom for a reason, you can be in the safest part of the city, walk a single block and now you’re liable for a bullet to the head.
“That’s enough on work, dear. Anon has school to deal with soon.” My mother said.
Fuck
—------------------------------------
Rock Bottom high was the same shithole I remembered.
Old brick construction like most buildings around Rock Bottom, but nothing had been maintained over the 80-something years it’d been up so it was falling apart at its seams. Looking at it only brought back bitter memories, and the sea of humans wasn’t exactly helping. What am I, a scaly sympathiser now?
Hell, I hadn’t seen a human outside of skin row once in Volcadera outside of Spears, and he was never exactly a picture perfect example of what a human looks like.
As I looked around the rundown environment and took in the polluted stench of the packed Rock Bottom streets behind me, all I could think of was ‘How do I get to Volcadera?’
I know that I shouldn’t even dare think about it, who knows what I could fuck up if I mess with any of the events that came before I got to Volcadera… but who’s to say things will play out the same while I’m out of the picture anyway? And even considering that, I don’t know if I can stop myself.
Come to think of it, have those pictures that got me sent to Volcadera in the first place been made yet?
I pulled out my phone, some second hand phone my dad had passed down to me after he replaced it when the later model came out 9 months later, and immediately went to the image gallery app.
…
Yeah, they’d been made alright.
And if I’d made them, then HE definitely had them.
Which meant the doxxing would likely still happen, but I can’t plan on that alone. I’ll have to find my own way to get to Volcadera in case that never gets used.
I took a look around the apps in my phone, until I finally found what I was looking for.
My banking app. So I did have my own account by now.
I checked the pocket on the jacket I’d picked out at random from my closet that morning, and sure enough there was a debit card in there.
I had a pretty good amount of money in here, thanks to my parents' negligence. They never knew what to get me for birthdays or Christmas, but they didn’t want it getting out that I’d never received anything from them, so they just… sent money straight into my bank account. The last time I lived this life I blew it on retarded shit, anime posters and other little shitty trinkets.
Not this time.
I immediately went to the app store and downloaded a crypto trading app while I was walking to class, I found it a lot easier to brush past humans compared to dinos. Especially Ptero’s, their wings caused ‘em to take up a lot more space in a corridor than they typically realise.
One purchase of 12 bitcoin for $4000 dollars was nothing to me, given what it’d become by the time it would be needed. From my memory, by 2019 they’d balloon to some stupid value like $80000 per coin, I’d be a hair away from a millionaire if my memory is right.
$4000 was most of my savings, but I still had a nice little chunk of change for any immediate purchases. Thank fuck my shitty parents had money floating around.
Once I’d put my phone back in my pocket I realised two things, that the halls were now empty, and I’d been walking on autopilot the whole time, and I now had no idea where the fuck I was going.
What class was I supposed to be in?
I looked around in a bit of a panic, God damnit Anon, think!
“You’re supposed to be in your homeroom.” Someone said behind me with a snippy tone.
I turn around, it’s the goddamned principal. Of all people. A human woman, pale with sunken eyes, and a poorly tied bun of brown hair that was already fraying from its confines. And I couldn’t remember her name for love nor money.
“I…”
Raptor Jesus, don’t let the spaghetti fall out of your pockets immediately.
“I don’t know where I’m meant to be going, ma'am.”
“Do you not have a timetable?” The principal asked, no longer seeming as annoyed as she did before.
“I don’t remember.”
…
“Come with me, I’ll find out for you and get you another one printed out.” She said, turning on her heel and marching in the direction I’d come from.
Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen.
—------------------------------------------
Once we got to her office she sat at her desk, and I sat in the only chair across from her. I looked down at the desk and saw a name plaque reading “Principal Isaacs.”
She leaned towards her keyboard, and put on a small pair of glasses with a chain nerd-strap on the end, and squinted her eyes at me.
“Name?” She asked.
“Anon Y. Mous” I replied stiffly, sitting as still as I could. I put my hand in my jacket pocket, out of… habit, I guess.
I could feel cold steel against my hand.
Did… I still have my revolver? The one I’d…
No, why would I have that, but what the hell else could it be?
Shit, did I bring a gun to school?
I could feel myself sperging out as Principal Isaacs clattered away at her keyboard.
Suddenly, she stopped typing and there was complete silence… until the printer at the other end of the room suddenly came to life with a mechanical grinding noise, startling me as I shook in my chair.
The principal, who either decided to ignore my spasm or didn’t notice it, stood from her desk and collected the timetable. She stared at it for a few moments.
“Your first class is math in room 209, you’ve missed your homeroom so I’ll give you a note to explain your absence…” She leaned onto her desk, scrawling her chicken scratch writing onto a sticky note.
I reached out and took the note and timetable from her.
“Thanks, I’ll head to class now.”
As I stand and turn to leave, she places a hand on my shoulder.
“Anon, are you alright?” She asks.
Shit.
“What do you mean, Ma’am?”
“You’re clutching at something in your pocket like your life depends on it, you’re sweating, you can’t look me in the eyes… Do you have something you aren’t meant to have?”
Fuck.
FUCK!
Not even a day into your second chance and I’ve already fucked it up as usual.
Might as well put a gun to my head and pull the trigger… again.
“I…”
“Show it to me.” She demanded, her voice like steel.
“I don’t…”
“Now!” She said at the same volume as before, but with an even sharper edge than before.
Slowly, I pull whatever is in my pocket out and into the open.
Please don’t be a gun, Please don’t be a fucking gun.
I look down at my hand.
It’s a metal lighter with a dark burn scar covering whatever design hid underneath, and a half-spent pack of Marlboro reds.
I let out a very loud exhale, thankful to whatever deities may or may not be out there that my journey hadn’t been prematurely ended by a life sentence on day 1.
Fuck, I haven’t smoked a red since… one of my last days with Fang. The band was meant to be practicing, it was a few days before the concert where everything went to shit and Trish had fucked off to deal with something she refused to speak on, leaving the rest of us to sit around… from what I remember Reed flaked out pretty quick once it was clear Trish wasn’t gonna come back.
I still remember it so clearly, the last good memory with them.
We stood at one of the fire escape doors and smoked while we talked. She’d gotten in a real bad argument with Trish from what they told me, the day before. Something about me and the band, Fang refused to go into any detail on it.
I lost this lighter after everything went to shit, but I can’t remember what I did with it.
“Anon!”
I’m pulled from reminiscing by Principal Isaacs, who looks at me with concern.
“Normally I’d demand an explanation over this, but…”
She looks me in the eye, I struggle to meet it.
“You’re crying, Anon.”
I put my hands to my face.
Yep, sure as shit crying. The question is why? Regardless, it might have just saved my ass.
“I… ”
She placed her palm over mine, picking them both out of my hand. I wanted to reach out and snatch the lighter back, but I stopped myself.
“Why do you use these, Anon?”
>Be honest.
Lie.
Well shit, might as well just be honest and tell her, no point in anything else.
“Stress.”
She cocks her eyebrow at me. “From school?” She asks.
“Yeah, but that’s not the reason I started.”
She looks at me in silence, waiting for me to continue.
“My parents have… expectations. I don’t think things will end well for me if I go against them… but I’m not exactly ‘talented’ or a ‘model student’ so I think I’m screwed if I’m honest.” I say with a shrug.
She looked at me like I’d just kicked her shin.
“I see… what ‘expectations’ do they have of you, if you don’t mind telling me?” She asked tersely.
“At first it was ‘College or the service’ but now that’s been expanded to any college, and the police. They just want me to get into something that pays well.”
“Well, at least it’s workable… I doubt your parents would listen to me if I tried to change their mind, so are there any particular fields that you’re interested in that you think you could succeed in?”
Something I could succeed in? I couldn’t succeed my way out of a paper bag, let alone a career.
But if it’s for Fang? I’ll do anything.
I think back to this morning, and what I’d said to my dad without thinking.
“I have an interest in the police, I think I’ll join their cadet program when I turn 16, other than that… don't wanna die in the sandbox, and I’m not exactly college material… but maybe a community college would work… it’d have to be something involving my hands, my head’s not good for much beyond talking.”
Principal Isaacs looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“That’s a… more rational outlook than most people your age have, Anon.”
Ah fuck, is it obvious?
“Just had to think about this for a while, ma’am.”
“Hmm…” She rubbed at her chin idly as she sat back down at her desk, and ushered me to sit down again.
Great.
“I’m not entirely comfortable with sending you into the force’s hands this young, especially considering the crime rate these days in Rock Bottom, so let me run you through some of our college accreditation plans as well.”
“Don’t worry, no matter what career path I go down, I’m not sticking in Rock Bottom.”
“That’s good to hear, especially if you go down the police route, but may I ask why you don’t plan to stick around?” She asked.
“Bad memories… and the crime rate, that’s all.”
“I see.” She sighed as she spoke, typing away.
“The police cadet program would put you in community college anyway for law enforcement education once you’re done here, so I’ll check for any accreditation there as well.”
She types in relative silence for a minute or two. Am I really doing this? Am I really already pushing myself down a path I’ve never walked before?
I didn’t plan on biting the bullet like this, and not this early either.
Fuck…
“Right, well… The police don’t have an accreditation program, but there are programs for mechanics and carpentry… Do any of those sound workable to you?”
Realistically either mechanics or carpentry could work, but since my dad owns car dealerships I might be able to convince him to let me toy with any old shitboxes that roll into the dealership, beyond that carpentry was less likely to help me in Volcadera since almost all of the constructions were brick and mortar rather than wood, much like Rock Bottom.
For some reason, my gut was telling me to bring up the police again.
“Mechanics is more up my alley… but since I don’t plan on sticking around, would you be able to look at accreditation for another city?”
“That depends, where?”
“Volcadera.”
She raised her eyebrow at me again.
“Volcadera? That’s across the country… why there?”
“It just… seems like a good place to start over, I guess…”
She didn’t respond verbally, but she started typing away.
“...Volcadera has… police force training accreditation and mechanics accreditation… That work for you, Anon?”
“That’s perfect, thank you. I’ll try and set myself up for both if possible, and I’ll have to make a dead-set decision later down the line.“
“Good, in that case…”
She began typing like a madman, pushing out more and more keystrokes, faster and faster. It was like she was playing DDR with her fingers.
“Right, I’ve contacted the colleges in Volcadera about their accreditation program for both courses, and I’ve contacted a few teachers to get your classes re-arranged to suit this.”
I blink at her.
How the fuck?
“I’ll let that language slide.“
Shit, I’m still fucking mumbling.
“Look Anon, Rock Bottoms crime rate is skyrocketing lately, most of the kids that have passed through this school since I got this position 10 years ago have had their lives amount to less than they could have achieved.”
She looked me dead in the eye.
“Everyone has their own destiny to manifest, it’s up to the students, or in this case up to you to walk that path, but it’s up to myself and my faculty to show you that path… And more often than not, someone does something wrong, and that child will most likely never reach their full potential. No matter who makes the mistake, the student or us, it stings all the same.”
She looks down at my lighter, rolling it around in her hands.
“You’re different from most students… There’s something in your eyes, it’s hard to explain… but it looks like you have good reason to leave Rock Bottom in the dust. But more important than that, you have things you want to do, goals to attain, and there’s something within you that is steering you this way… and it would be a disservice to not facilitate that.”
What the hell, how did I manage to stumble my dumb ass into a mini Spears on day 1?
“Uh, thank you, ma’am.” Is all I can say in response.
“Good, now go to class, I’ll call for you once I’ve gotten feedback from the faculty about moving you around.”
As I go to stand up, she thrusts her hand out to me, with my lighter in hand.
“While I’m obligated to confiscate the cigarettes, I see no reason to keep this.”
I gently take it, and slip it back where it belongs in my pocket.
“Besides… I get a feeling it’s more than just a lighter.”
—------------------------------------------------------
Class was boring, I could barely make out any of it as it passed by like a blur.
I only remembered one thing that I saw during those hours.
HIS FACE.
I could only hope I’d forget it one day, having him appear again wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses.
Now I was back home, to an empty house once again.
From everything I could remember, this was normal
I was sitting at my desk, looking into the Rock Bottom Police Department Cadets program, while trying to figure out what the hell I was even doing.
I’d do anything for Fang, whatever would allow me to help them, in whatever manner they required.
But becoming a pig like her dad?
I didn’t have a problem with it personally, I’d long lost any right to a moral high ground. But Fang might have a problem with it…
Fuck it, I can always pull out of it and lean into mechanics once I get to Volcadera, I guess.
I don’t know what’s causing these… gut feelings to go with the police route here, but it was pissing me off.
Twice now I’d spoken without my own consent on this, and that was twice too many.
Was this my fate?
Was Raptor Jesus fucking with me?
Who knows, all I know is that regardless of how I get there, I need to get back there, I need to protect them.
…
Is that even the right thing to do?
Fang hated being controlled, her independence was crucial to her happiness as far as I could tell. I can’t control her…
But I might be able to control their surroundings somewhat.
If I can get the people around them to get their heads out their asses, then maybe she’ll be supported enough that she won’t be destroyed by a skinnie piece of shit like me.
…Yeah, that’s probably the best shot. That comes with the neat bonus of helping the other people I give a shit about as well, Naser could benefit from learning how to take a minute to relax, and Naomi could do with learning how to fuckin’ communicate…
They could also benefit from less lead in em’.
I don’t particularly care for Ripley and Samantha, but their happiness directly correlates to how happy their kids' lives will be… Maybe the police would be an ‘in’ to get ol’ ripper to listen.
I should also be nicer to Stella and Rosa. They were good people, sure Stella was a weeb and Rosa was a slave driver, but they were good people who made it clear they gave a shit about me… I don’t exactly know why they cared.
Holy shit… StegoStar.
I open a new browser tab and start searching for the weeb boards on my Mongolian basket-weaving websites.
She’ll be there…
…
That’s a post about how Gundam is objectively better than Transformers…
…
That’s a blatant lizard lounge user rage-baiting…
…
There she is.
StegoStar, posting more shit about Sailor Moon, as usual.
Now I just gotta think of a way to interact with her.
Hell, this isn’t even a part of my plan, I’m just fucking lonely.
… Tarot cards.
I’ll ask her about Tarot cards…
Wonder if she can do an online reading.
—-----------------------------------------
The next day, I woke up to an empty apartment again. This would be bad enough, but in a penthouse apartment as big as this, the quiet seems almost amplified.
There was a sticky note on the fridge this morning, my dad was travelling to Atlantic City for some sort of hostile takeover with a business partner, and my mother was on a business trip to Toronto. They’d be gone for at least two weeks.
I know my mother would be all business over that time since that was all of her personality… but my dad? He’s taking a fucking vacation by day two.
I made sure to leave my lighter behind this time before locking up.
By the time I got to school, I noticed Principal Isaacs standing at the front door, peering over a sea of high school students, looking around as if she was a human lighthouse.
Until she locked eyes with me, and started walking towards me.
Oh fuck, what have I done now?
“Anon, come with me.”
As she marches me towards her office, I prepare for the inevitable execution that would soon follow.
She sat me down, and then smiled at me, in a way that completely failed to calm me down.
“Good news, the faculty has agreed to move you to follow this path you’ve chosen.” She said happily.
“What? Already?”
“It took a little bit of strong-arming but yes, I’ve taken you out of your electives; Human History, Interspecies Relations, Journalism, Home Economics and World Politics, and I’ve replaced them with Auto Mechanics, Auto Body Repair, Criminal Justice, Physical Education and Music Theory.”
Hah, seems things are finally going the way of the Mous…wait?
“Thank you ma’am but, why am I in Music Theory?”
Her face lost its smile and went blank. “Your Interspecies Relations teacher got involved when he heard about moving your classes and around, and he requested you get out of his class because you kept making jokes about the ptero women.”
Raptor Jesus, I was hunting people like Fang down long before I thought. I barely even remember this shit.
“The Music Theory teacher said he’d take you, so I was happy to let him take you, I’m sure you won’t lose any sleep over it.”
“No ma’am, I will not. I was there for fun, if anything.” I reply blandly.
“Good, in that case let me get you a new timetable printed out, and I’ll send you on your way.” She said, fumbling at her keyboard again as if she was a caveman slapping rocks together.
“Thanks again, Principal Isaacs.”
—---------------------------------
First class, Mechanics.
I had very little fucking idea what I was about to get into.
The classroom was essentially a large workshop with a small section with rows of chairs and a white board, probably because there was too many classes and not enough classrooms in this shithole, the school hasn’t been able to expand this building because they’re in the middle of an grid-iron city, and there’s no chance they have enough budget to purchase another building.
The classroom was far emptier than I expected, there were only five other students, all human as always in Rock Bottom.
Standing at the whiteboard was the teacher for this class, and unlike the principal I didn’t recognise this one at all.
As I got close to the chairs, he waved me over without saying a word.
“You’re Anon, right?” He asked with a tone that sounded exasperated and breathy, as if he’d been working since 3am that morning.
“That’s me, sir.”
“Good, I’m Dr. Clarke, I’ll be your teacher for Mechanics and Auto Body Repair.” He said with that same tone, as if it was normal to talk like that.
He stuck his hand out to shake mine, and I noticed his hand was marked with tattoos in some sort of language that I’d never seen before.
“Doctor?” I said as I shook his hand.
He smirked at me. “I was originally an engineer, but I changed careers after some… bad jobs.” His smirk fell as he idly rubbed at a large scar running across the side of his forehead, starting at the eyebrow and pushing up into his short salt-and-pepper hair.
“Anyway, Principal Isaacs told me you’re stretched between this and the force?” He said as he leaned against the wall at the white board.
“Yeah, Mechanics makes sense since my dad owns a bunch of dealerships so it’ll be easy to get work, but there’s something in my gut telling me to go into the force.”
“Well, I doubt the force would have a problem with you being qualified elsewhere, and besides that every police department needs mechanics to service their cars.”
… I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.
“Anyway, sit down and I’ll start the lesson.” He said as he turned to the whiteboard, popping the lid off of a pen.
I looked back at the seating to find that there were still five people sat there… is this it?
“This class has been getting less popular over the years, it’s only still being taught because it’d cost too much to reconfigure the room for other classes.” Dr. Clarke said without looking at me.
Fucking mumbling.
I took a seat and stared straight ahead, hoping that none of these strangers talked to me… I just wanted to be left alone, no point making any connections here since I’m planning on leaving this place in the dust and never looking back, even then I’d rather not deal with the average Rock Bottom citizen.
“Alright, since we have a new student today, and Christmas break is only a couple days away, I’ll be covering our old material for a refresh before the mid-term exams in January… Anon, you don’t have to take part in that, but if you want to try your hand I won’t stop you.”
Dr. Clarke turned around and started writing on the board in what resembled manic smears and scrawls.
“We’ll start with the basic safety protocols...”
—----------------------------------------
The bell rang out far quicker than I thought it would. Dr Clarke was far better at teaching than I expected, I still couldn’t read anything he wrote down but he’d talk so much about whatever he wrote that it started to become legible.
The second class was Auto Body Repair, which was in the same classroom with the same students, so we just took 5 minutes and kept going…
And somehow, I didn’t get bored.
That’s something I’d never had before.
It felt good.
A part of me thought that this was too good for me; that I didn’t deserve to experience anything positive for what I’d done…
But I wasn’t doing this for my sake.
—--------------------------------------
Third class, Criminal Justice.
I had a distinct feeling I’d somehow manage to incriminate myself and get myself stuck in juvie before I could even sit down, but I managed to push that screaming part of my brain into the back of my mind.
This class was actually full, every student looked more… put together than the average student at Rock Bottom High…
Probably rich kids like me.
Then again, their parents probably gave a shit about ‘em.
I looked past the sea of well groomed teenagers to the teacher.
Sat at a large fancy-looking desk behind a sea of paper that was scattered all over the place, was presumably my teacher for this class.
He looked at me with a glare that was clearly well-practiced, and gestured at me with his finger without a word as he flung a sheet of paper behind him into a pile of even more paperwork.
“Anon?” He asked with a raspy voice.
“That’s me, sir.”
He raised a hand out towards me, much like Dr. Clarke did.
“Mr. Voight, at your service.” He said with all the enthusiasm of a dying whale.
“Good to meet you sir.” I said as I went to lower my hand from his grasp.
As I moved to let go, he tightened his grip like a vice and dragged me towards him.
“I’ve heard about you… you have a reputation for being outspoken in some of your old classes, that will not fly here, you understand?” He said as he tightened his grip further.
This shit has nothing on Ripley.
“I wasn’t taking those classes seriously Mr. Voight. I mean, what career can you get out of Interspecies Relations? I’ve got something to prove, and this class is important to me, I’ll keep in line.” I said as I tightened my grip back to match his.
He laughed as he let go of my hand. “That’s what I’m looking for, you see that, class?” He said loudly as he stood up and gestured to me.
“That’s what I’ve been telling you all to work on, to lay down the law you can’t just have the knowledge, you need to have bite to go with your bark, there’s gotta be a fire in your eyes!” He said as loudly as his raspy tone would allow.
I stared on with feigned disinterest as 30-something students stared at me with jealousy & disdain.
I get the feeling I won’t be well liked in this class.
At least Mr. Voight seems nice.
—----------------------------------
Third class over, Voight’s a fuckin’ slave driver.
But, just like with Dr. Clarke, he was effective at teaching.
This place made Volcano High look like a joke, at this rate I might actually miss this place.
Fourth class, Physical Education.
I was dreading this one, but there was some part of me that was eager to get started.
I was tired of this human body. I’d need to be far stronger than the average teenager to stand a chance against any dino in a scuffle, except for maybe a raptor. With my mouth and my appearance I was bound to get involved in a fight or two eventually, people hunting for easier targets than their dino brethren or perhaps they just saw how noodly I was.
That wouldn’t stand if I could help it. I would not waste all of this by getting my ass beat to death.
Aside from that… Fang did mention that they’d prefer I was beefier.
According to the timetable I’d been provided we’d be in the gymnasium today, but it looked like there were dedicated classrooms for certain days of the week, roughly a 50/50 split.
Walking into the gymnasium I saw a horde of what I could only describe as a horde of apes running down a circular track at full speed in a massive pack, it was like watching a bunch of hyenas chase down their prey in the desert.
I spotted a lithe older woman with a white streak within her black hair standing off to the side in some sort of old-timey purple suit. She had a lit cigarette in her hand that was billowing out far more smoke than most cigarettes would produce.
The hell?
I walked towards her, and by the time I got around 5 steps away from her she started talking at me without looking. “Anon Y. Mous, I presume?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good manners, an impressive trait compared to these… animals.” She said, lazily gesturing her cigarette at the pack of students.
She turned to me, and I came face to face with piercing yellow eyes that reminded me of my mothers. Unlike my mother however, there was a certain charm behind them.
“I understand you’re a late start, especially considering your… stature, but there are mid-term exams and physical tests coming up at the end of January. I expect you to meet the minimum requirements just as I expect of the rest of them.” She said with a level of utter confidence I’d never seen before, as if she was already absolutely certain it would happen without a single doubt in her mind.
I wish I had that trait.
She idly let her dwindling cigarette fall to the ground as she gently stomped her black high heel into it, rubbing out the flame.
“Is that something you think you can do, Anon?” She asked as she pulled out a golden cigarette case containing a number of very high-brow cigarettes and a golden ornamental lighter that looked like it cost more than all of my dad’s wealth combined.
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Ma’am, it’s gotta be done… so it’ll be done.” I said, trying to match her confidence.
She placed a cigarette in her mouth and began flicking at her lighter, which was refusing to cooperate with her. Before I even noticed what I was doing, I pulled my lighter out of my pocket, sparked it, and held the flame to the end of her cigarette.
Wait, I could’ve sworn I left that at home?
Her veneer of confidence briefly broke into surprise, but as soon as the nicotine hit her that prior expression came back. “... I think you and I will get along well.”
I slipped the lighter back into my pocket, unsure as to how it got back in there. I was just happy she didn’t blow a gasket at me for having contraband.
“You may call me the administrator, everyone does.” She said as she blew another puff of smoke out. “Now get to the lockers, get changed, and join the pack… I expect you to keep up until your body fails you.”
—-----------------------------
Lunchtime, I’m dying.
She wasn’t kidding when she said I was to keep up until my body failed. I couldn’t feel anything but pain.
Was I always this weak?
I wasn’t eating anything for lunch today, I hadn’t felt hungry since yesterday morning after I had to watch my dad eat greasy food like an octopus.
I was sitting on a quiet stairwell on the wrong side of the school, technically I wasn’t supposed to be here, but the faculty wouldn’t care so long as I was quiet, and it wasn’t a risk if I never got caught.
I was just scrolling on my phone, looking at random posts on image boards purely so I could check for any posts from a certain stego.
Out of nowhere I heard footsteps behind me.
Shit, had a teacher found me?
“There you are.” said a voice I remembered far too well.
HIM.
I stood, and turned.
“Croacher.”
He sneered at me, as if insulted.
“Who else, numbnuts? Where the fuck you been, I ain’t seen you all day.” HE said, as if I’d somehow offended him by not being in class for one day.
“Got moved out of all my electives, put in new classes at my dads request.” I said, hoping he bought it.
“Ah, that sucks man.”
He went to put his hand on my shoulder, but before I could think about how much that bothered me, I’d already moved away from his touch.
“Woah, what gives?” He said with that same sneer.
“Listen man, I’ve got shit to do and I’ve got the school and my parents breathing down my neck, if I’m around you it’s gonna get even more heat on me.” I lied as easily as I breathed, hoping to Raptor Jesus he’d leave me be.
“Alright, I get it… but I’m gonna be out hunting for raptors all day, it’d be a shame if you missed out on that?” He said with an exaggerated wave of his arms.
“Seems I’ll be missing it.” I replied, gripping my lighter tightly in my pocket.
He sighed, as if he’d lost some ‘game’ and replied “Damn, they really got you by the balls eh?”
Finally, he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, towards… wherever the fuck he was going.
I let out a sigh of relief. Every second that he wasn’t around was another second I hadn’t throttled the bastard with my bare hands.
He made me this way.
He made me into the selfish asshole I am.
He’s the one who got me sent to Volcadera in the first place.
He’s why Fang died.
I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll gut the bastard and watch him die.
—--------------------------------
Fifth class and last of the new electives, Music Theory.
I wasn’t looking forward to this.
I haven’t been able to look at a guitar since it happened, much less hear one play. It didn’t matter what kind of music was being played, it didn’t matter how the guitar looked. It was enough to make me remember, and that was a problem.
As I walked into the classroom I was met with a class full of students who were all talking and bickering over one another as if there wasn’t a class ongoing. As I walked past the walls adorned with various instruments and posters with musical iconography, I got sight of yet another human teacher, to the surprise of nobody.
“Everyone settle down now!” he shouted with an incredibly thick southern drawl to no avail, as everyone continued to ignore him.
“SETTLE DOWN!” HE screamed as loudly as he could, echoing throughout the room as everyone finally stopped talking.
“Right, now that y’all are listening, open your damned textbooks and pay attention to the board.” He said as he turned and pointed at a white board where he’d written “The history of the banjo; the south's greatest gift to mankind.”
Oh, I wasn’t going to like this class, was I?
“Now listen here, we got a new student today by the name of Anon, now… that’d be you in the green shirt, standing there like a moron.”
Asshat.
I sat down without a word, a small part of my mind wishing that when I’d pulled the trigger it’d just left me dead.
“Now listen here all o’ ya, today we’re gonna cover the single greatest musical invention known to man… the banjo!”
The class cheered as if it was their birthday.
I zoned out.
—-------------------------------
The school day ended with all the impact of a wet fart thanks to that asshat that hadn’t even given his name to me.
I’d gotten back home to my parents' empty apartment… Nothing feels right in this apartment anymore.
My stomach grumbled as I locked the door, guess not eating for 30-odd hours had finally taken its toll. I meandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, expecting the bare minimum and yet somehow I was still surprised by the lack of options… in that the fridge had nothing in it.
No food, no drinks, nothing.
But I’d bet what’s left of my soul that the wine cabinet is full of proper vintage.
I rubbed at my forehead as I slammed the fridge door shut… Alright, where the fuck would the food be?
Freezer? Nothing.
Pantry? Nothing.
Cupboards? Nothing, nothing and…
Bread!
Finally, some good fuckin’ food.
I pulled it from its plastic wrapper, idly checking the date on it…
23rd of September?
Shit, this could kill me.
>Eat the bread.
Not today, yeast boy.
…Well, it doesn’t look mouldy…
I took the loaf of bread back to my room and sat at my desk, staring at the blank google page in front of me while I idly gnawed on the very stale bread and pretended that I was just stealing the dough from Moe’s kitchen.
Fuck, I missed Moe’s. You couldn’t pay me to eat the pizza in Rock Bottom, everyone’s obsessed with that deep dish shit, it’s like a fuckin volcano that scolds your entire mouth unless you leave it out for long enough that the edges all get cold. Moe’s grandfather would roll in his grave if he ever saw that.
Hell, I was starting to miss being around dino’s in general; maybe it was just the people I met in Volcadera but… it felt like it was… I don’t know, easier? I’d met people who were two-faced, both dino and human… but at least Naomi had some sort of justification, a reason… a shitty one, but a reason.
People like Croacher didn’t have anything like that… but then again, maybe it wasn’t humans that were the problem… Maybe it was Rock Bottom itself. I’d never seen a dino in Rock Bottom apart from Jurassic Kitchen, Rock Bottom’s very own Skin Row for its minority raptor population, and they had an even more bloody reputation.
The community down there was famously insular to protect themselves, all of the raptors went to the same schools and worked the same jobs in the same areas that were safer for a raptor.
Even after the civil war all those years ago, long before I was around to ruin everything I touched, the ‘equality’ between the two genus of species was rarely truly equal, even in the modern day.
Volcadera was clearly biased in the favour of dinos, but they weren’t openly hostile in most cases. Rock Bottom was a place that considered it normal to spit at anything with scales on the street as you pass them by.
I suppose it didn’t matter.
I wasn’t going anywhere except for Volcadera, there was simply no other options. No plan B, all or nothing.
—----------------------------
December 25th, 201M2016
Christmas day, my last day of school for the year had just passed by and I was sat alone in a silent apartment, just as I expected.
I woke up around 4am from night terrors, and I’d spent the rest of the morning wandering around this apartment, watching the unending traffic of Rock Bottom some 40 stories down.
I’d considered trying to get back to sleep, but I knew pretty well that there wasn’t a point. The things I saw in that nightmare was something I wouldn’t risk seeing any more than I already had to.
I really wish I’d never looked over the ledge after Fang jumped.
After a few hours of what amounted to walking in circles around my house for cardio (gotta pass that P.E. midterm somehow) I eventually got bored and started walking into random rooms.
At first it was the conference room my parents used for business meetings on occasion, but once I remembered how lifeless it was in there I bumbled my way to another room.
My dads study.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this room.
As I walked inside, I was greeted with… exactly what I expected, honestly.
Bookshelves that climbed several feet higher than any man could reach, lined with expensive looking hardbacks that had never been opened before. A gaudy golden chandelier dangling abnormally low from the ceiling, as if my dad had to be certain that everyone who ever walked into the room would see it. That mahogany desk he never stopped bragging about sat at one end of the room covered in various papers, binders and random stacks of money held together with rubber bands, and a clear view of the city below behind him through a series of large gothic windows.
In conclusion, my dad was like a very shit, very tacky Lex Luthor.
I meandered over to his desk, perusing over the sea of files scattered across the wooden surface…
Tax returns… Purchase orders… Internal documents…
Huh, that’s a police sale order… my dad had bought a 2015 Dodge Challenger, a lot of shit’s broken…
Missing a camshaft, needs a full engine replacement?
I picked up the repossession order and looked further, thankful I’d found something to sate the boredom and self-loathing. It seems it’d been a police interceptor that had taken a bunch of minor body damage over the last year, and then someone had pulled a gun on them and mag dumped into the engine block, kept the officers alive but it totaled the engine.
A Dodge Challenger without an engine wasn’t exactly useful to the police, and replacing the V8 engine and all the other problems would probably wind up being more expensive than just ordering a new Challenger, so they just sold it off to the sleaziest man in Rock Bottom; my dad.
Oh neat, there’s pictures attached…
…Wait, that bullet hole in the windshield looks familiar…
Holy shit, it’s the fucking NasCar!
Why the fuck did my dad have it? And how the hell did it get into Ripley’s hands?
Before I could think about it further, my phone started ringing. I pulled it out, dropping the repo form onto the desk. My dad was calling.
I pressed the accept button,
“Hey Anon! I know we ain’t home but eh… happy Christmas kid!” He said with a cheer, as if there was nothing wrong with what he’d just said. Before I could interrupt, he continued talking. “Hey listen, I’ve sent you a little something-something for Christmas… don’t worry about me, you don’t gotta get me anything, your school called me about you changing your classes around, I’ll consider you getting your head out of your ass as a Christmas gift for myself!” He said, laughing at his own joke.
There was silence on the line for a few seconds.
“Hey dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m in your office right now, and-”
“What! I told you not to go in there, I have important business details in there!” He said, interrupting me as he loudly screeched over the phone.
“Listen, I’m looking at this repossession form for a 2015 Dodge Challenger on your desk, since when did you start doing repossessions of damaged product?”
“What? Oh, that bucket of shit. Simple really, he never mentioned that the engine was busted and my ‘talented employees’ didn’t check the engine before they towed it off… amateurs.”
“I assume you plan on dumping it then?”
“Yeah, I could try and get the engine replaced but eh… good V8s of that calibre are hard to come by right now.” he said, shuffling around as he talked, presumably walking somewhere.
“...Would you mind if I took it then?”
My dad says nothing for what felt like weeks, all I could hear was the continued rustling of his well-tailored suit jacket as he walked to Raptor Jesus knows where.
“Sure, not like I’ll get anything out of it anyway, I’ll get one of my employees to tow it to the garage under the tower, you take it from there.”
“Thanks dad.” I say with gritted teeth. I could feel my hand quaking as my grip tightened around the phone in my hand.
“No problem kid, I’ll see you around, hopefully I’ll be home for New Years!” He said as he hung up abruptly.
That meant he wasn’t planning on being here for New Years.
I shouldn’t have minded. I shouldn’t care about him not being there like always.
And yet I couldn’t stop myself from slamming my hand onto his desk.