Placed during Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex. Please R&R.
There was a time it would have never mattered. But that was in the past, and the only thing Aaron could afford to think about was the future. It's what kept him going, to where, he couldn't figure out.
He scratched unconsciously at his right arm, a reminder of his past. He raised the artificial arm, turning it this way and that, watching the perfect skin stretch and move slightly. It looked just like his real arm once looked. He clenched the metal fist, if he wanted, that hand could tear thru a car door.
He dropped his gaze to the sidewalk, watching each step he took, not stepping on any of the cracks. "If only life was this easy." He mused to himself. Each step could be made with careful precision, always under control. That's how Aaron liked his life, no surprises, under complete control.
He glanced up the dark street, a light rain starting to come down the shadowed street. He glanced to the other side of the road, there where only a few cars passing up and down the street. He looked at the bright neon sign, his favorite late night tavern.
He crossed the now empty street, opening up the glass door to the dim interior of the bar. The place was always close to empty; he honestly did not know how the owner could pay rent with so few customers. But that was another mans trouble, not his own.
He made his way to the empty counter, sitting on a tall bar stool. The man behind the counter walked up to him, smiling. "Aaron! It has been awhile since the last time you came into my place." He ran a hand through his dark black hair, scratching at the back of his neck. "As I seem to remember, it's a bottle of vodka and a lonely shot glass."
"Yeah, I am not use to much company Hank." Aaron laughed, scratching his arm lightly again. "But you know what, put out another shot glass, if no one claims it, you can have it when ever you get off."
Hank laughed, showing off his yellowing teeth, "now that's a wager I don't mind taking." He set out the clear bottle and two shot glasses. And then moved over to another customer farther down the dark wood counter.
Aaron was just tipping the first shot to his lips when someone coughed behind him. Aaron drained the shot before turning around, to see a man standing behind him. "Yeah?" he asked, trying not to scowl at the man. His eyes met the man's one eye; the other was just a piece of black metal. Aaron's gaze became more friendlier, another person that had lost something of himself.
"It's nothing, I just over heard you saying something about a free shot glass." He smiled lightly, offering his hand to Aaron. Aaron couldn't help but grin himself, shaking the man's hand hard.
"That was the wager, old man Hank won't be happy with you stealing the prize first." Aaron laughed, waving to the bar stool next to him. "Your lucky, if you came any later I might not have a full bottle."
The man sat down in the stool, twisting so he faced the counter. Aaron filled both of the shot glasses with the clear burning liquid, sliding one to the other man. Hank moved back down to the two men, as soon as he saw the other man with a shot glass in his hand Hank started laughing. "Damn, so the prize was already taken! No, no." He raised his hands up in protest as Aaron offered him the bottle. "Saito here won. Surprisingly though, both of you never have company and now the two lone wolves are drinking together." He laughed, setting out a wooden bowl of peanuts. Hank moved back down the counter again as a new customer sat down.
"So, Saito is it? My name is Aaron." He poured himself another glass, setting down the bottle in between them.
Saito tipped back his own shot and poured himself another before he answered Aaron, "Yeah. I guess everyone that comes to Hank's tavern is a regular."
Aaron nodded, turning his glass this way and that in the dim light, watching the reflection of the clear substance. Aaron glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other man, he couldn't figure out if his eye was the only cyborized part of him or not. Did he want to give up his flesh and blood, to turn hightec, or was it the same as Aaron's own case.
Nothing to live for but the future. Nothing to live for but the next step. Nothing to live for but another breath.
Aaron downed the shot. He felt the burning go down his throat, an old, comforting feeling. Familiarity was built by spending time on something, and time was never kind. Aaron could be called an alcoholic, but he was almost never drunk, he had too high of tolerance, too much control.
"So, what line of work are you in Saito?" Aaron asked, staring at the clear glass in front of him.
"I'm actually just a handyman. You have to do what you can in the world, to make it in reality." Saito's face was blank, as if to say "work was work, it matters what you do with the rest of your life not the job."
Aaron downed another shot, feeling surer about himself. He had to ask the question burning inside him, "Did you chose . . . did you chose to be a cyborg?" Aaron tipped back another shot, how many was that? He had lost count, his thoughts where slower but the rational thinking behind them faded. He wanted to sleep, to be held, to do things he would never dare other wise.
Too close to freedom. Aaron pushed the bottle away, in his current state he was still in control. Control of your body and mind is what matters.
Aaron was lost inside himself until Saito put his hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Hey bud, are you alright?"
Aaron shook the hand off, but tried to smile when he turned his face toward the other man. "Yeah, yeah. I am good, too deep of thoughts for vodka." He laughed easily, make your body do what it has to, to survive in life.
Aaron's question was lost in the moment; he never noticed that it wasn't answered. Memories clouded his thoughts. Of a clouded sky painted in blood.