8
Chapter One
A Presidential Affair
"Tick Tock Ètranger, je suis dans à tu."
-Motléy
The Gravel Conflicts swept its cloak around itself and ceased to perform the battles. The hostile desert thought to be a hiding oasis to the Mann's left behind memories of blood-ridden sands and belligerent management. The small quaint working villages and factories, dust as an ancient maison; the Blu and the Red held snug and knit by early financial survival and international dangers. Peace swept most hours of the moon and sun, yet Hans and Joçan yielded different philosophies on the subject of combat withdrawal. The Mediguns panicked with weariness and idleness. The Constant regeneration of the war provided inhuman durability and cost efficiency. Two Nice Perks.
As John F. Kennedy reviled the Berlin Wall, Hans acquired two hundred acres from the US Occupied portion of Germany. Tyson assured US officials that Hans proved an enemy to the old Nazi regime. His lack of knowledge of the regime chilled no person when in an age where the regime was famous. Tyson and Hans husbanded high hopes of recruitment and fresh blood into Blu, however, Ray suggested they experiment to see how viable regeneration was on larger populations. One hundred squirrels holstered into Ray's smooth wrapped hands, tapping constantly up his, now thicker, arms. Sweeping, curling, and cooling; fog relaxed the forest basin that sheltered rich herb life and serene waters. One by one, each squirrel was killed by a swipe of cyanide injected by orb-like injectors on the curves of the glass presentment dome. With the regenerator whirling as dust in Death Valley, regeneration was performed on the subjects. Quietly, the energy field dispersed as it came either leaving a squirrel or nothing. In the end, only five squirrels regenerated multiple times, fifteen regenerated once only. Hans's heart swan dived. Ray Excalibur Overdein; the runner of fifteen marathons, the backdoor basher, and the knight of ironic expressions.
Matting the profuse grasses, Ray attempted to dissuade with the sedition he suffered. He sighed softly. A bat laid on his chest as he swiftly piggybacked his head on his palms only to lay them down again as a mat for his profuse hair. The sycamore leaves above his upper body filtered the creamy tan-orange light casting shade and sweet light ambiance. His pale green eyes meandered across the forest floor. From time to time, Ray whistled a short, simple tune or he quoted an acoustic poem his uncle, Tommy, wrote when he left Boston for Mann Co. Lips puckered as a soft, warm Boston voice swirled and ringed the expansive branches of the Sycamore trees.
"
My Nephews flew out into the fray,
Their eyes to the brim with brash,
Their voices chilled with anger.
I once thought that I could,
That I could save them...
Run back, Run back
"
The leaves bristled with the wind. Echoes of his voice gasped the trail plateau, rolling as stone through the wild countryside. Showing symptoms of mechanized warfare in the distance.
The dim white tape wrappings Ray designed to shield his hands mimicked modern armor designs with a sudden and thick "V". Reaching up to his carpals, the tape flexed regularly as Ray bent his fingers to meet in his palm. He breathed slowly. An acorn struck him on the waist as he leaned forward. He cringed, gritting his scalp, letting packets of skin leap from his head. Crunching leaves alerted him of an intruder, gracefully he dropped his head, letting go of his neck, allowing him to gaze at a seven-point male German deer. He breathed out. The long legs of the herbivore rotated as knees on parade. Marching toward him, the deer traveled closer and stopped above him.
The wet nose poked Ray's eye, he didn't move. Perfectly still, Ray meditated his movements. The brown tail wagged vigorously.
One loud unclip, one crescent strike, one long blow. As summoned, a waterfall of blood gushed on the assailant, dosing his entire chest with blood. In a red room, he would blend in. The deer carcass seizures, ripping Ray's skin as rubber bands. The antlers of the deer sliced every inch of Ray's right shoulder.
"Shit…ugh… Awe jeez… I'll be up to deal with Jason's freakin' … He hates how dirty I'll be…" Thrusting upwards, the brown deer corpse wiggled as the Wiggles. His calves reached out, signaling a pop before retracting. His arms painted air in the shape of a protractor. Streams of blood painted his smooth and masculine features. Dripping from his rounded "v" chin, blood continued to jump onto his face when he heaved the deer corpse onto his shoulders. Crushing leaves as he left wakes with a blood trail, Ray cursed above and below, clinching his shoulder desperately for relief.
More crunching of leaves behind him. He halted on a tree root, sliding every sound into his ears before actually turning around… Nothing. "Huh… well, dis is awkward. Better keep going… I'd better not be lat' for Hans's partie," A slight shrug of his untouched shoulder prompted him to continue, knowing that he couldn't balance the weight on one side eternally. Crisp crunching continued from underneath his cleats where leaves hung impaled on the metal spikes, but Ray gritted his teeth again, rubbing his feet along a tree root, "Damn leaves… I'll fall over before I get halfway there!" Looking left and right, he crossed Guôm trail, tire tracks appeared fresh and the stench of oil. After calming himself down, Ray beckoned for his ears to listen for motors. Sighing as he crossed the trail in disgust, his legs gripped the face of the ditch as small gears in a watch. Trembling from oozing blood, he sprinted with the deer. Grunting in self-admonishment along the way, he truthfully lied on his feet. Step, step, step… Having not sprinted in a month, he packed his feet into every pound on the soft ground. Stopping at a hedge wall.
Grinning from ear to eye, toe to toe, and shoulder to shoulder, his leg popped two veins. These river-like contours spiked up his thigh to his breast, his spandex shirt tightening, yet again, as sweat reactivated the shirt. He smiled slightly as he knew the feeling; flicking the veins as marbles to amplify the feeling. His hissing smile swinging back and forth.
"Damn… Somehow I always hype myself yup by doing this… Hey… Is there someone up there?" Ray whispered to himself.
The small trail he blazed onto the forest floor reminded him… his arms adjusted the deer. He hopped to the right hedge-arch, hushing his breath to hear the two voices. A mellow, country voice responded rhythmically to a nagging, middle-aged, French voice. The French voice commanded more than it wanted, as she tossed his voice side to side as a doll. He would only bounce unchanged. Agonizing her, she slipped the temperate tone to reveal urgency. Ray hung his head, 'When will this holographic bitch shut up and go?'. Tick tock, tick tock ran through Ray's head, He unfolded his honed legs, double jumping and clipping to the top of the arch. Only to grift along the path of kerosene street lamps as Mario and twin cliffs. His tall teeth smile amplified his burst of celerity with ecstasy.
He called out to the voices behind him, " Yo! How about you guys actually gossip about something! Like….the deer I caught!"
A clash between a dress and a suit endowed the French voice, drapes of cloth vined across her body and her being. A purple undershirt popped from the white glow of her suit in the sun. Hair danced as Apollo's Chariot, living in every cycle; changing color seemingly in the sun. Oddly, Ray sweated a little…unlike his brother. As he ended the crusade in the topics of the lamps, his back bent down where his feet grated along the concrete slabs of the pathway to the thirteen story tower. Four aero pads on each corner. A tank depot connected on the left side, closest to the road. Industrious smoke dotted the barren, jaded sky with wisping strings of clouds. Bolstered by countless crystalline sheets of metal armor, the tower seemed to fit the landscape. Inside the avant-garde steampunk decorations and inner works, battle worn fingers haphazardly graced the fifth button on the crystal elevator. As the machine raised the burdened "young" mercy, he leaned his lean body against the back pane. Memorized by the complex weaves of metal studs and supports.
"You really out did yourself there Tyson, my metalloid friend." The deer's blood ceased to invade the runner's face, finally drained… A soft tinge of a beep signaled Ray's exhorted shoulder to move again.
The bright orange that reflected on the sunset-walls tossed and turned with the ebb and flow of the wind as it graced the couches with sweet scents of the German countryside. Still untouched. A grunt insulted Ray as a slap in the face, an older woman pranced up from her bench seat wearing him down with her eyes.
"What have you done to yourself this time? What is that odor you decide to harbor under your ugly skin?"
"Deer blood Tylié, can you not? I am an independent adult who can actually fend for himself unlike yourself. Look at your husband, he must do everythin' for you because of your "busy schedule"," hesitating to continue walking, Ray stared her down in response to her admonishing brash insult, "it's Hans's birthday today and he actually loves German deer."
"Fine! Go get washed up! will be here anytime now!"
Ray smiled, "Ah! So she reveals her sweaty mood in Hans's icebox. Worried we will disappoint your superior? Maybe you should eat a salad. Bitch!"
"Hans is not here, so you can stick that deer up your ass," She hardly backed down. Being the manager of the Tâvér region, she habited the notion of stubborn thinking. Ray simply smiled yet again. Ripping down the drop-off box handle, he shoved the deer as a whirlwind through the vent. Shaking the entire room, the push popped his left arm out of the socket. He howled. Hanging in agony, Ray reconnected his arm. "he went for some "Bottle of Zumburg"."
"Oh really? Well, I'll be washin' inside." Crawling through as a child, Ray reached the other side. Raising his body to a stand while flicking the switch to the light, he slammed the deer to the isolated operatory table. Sharpening two knives together, he grazed his blood ridden shirt off his chest to widdle the fur hide away from the delicious meat. Slicing the hide full and constant, he pumped his right arm in ecstasy. The creamy tan cabinets sliced and diced the room's atmosphere, leaning curiously in yet also pushing them away.
"My Nephews flew out into the fray,
Their eyes to the brim with brash,
Their voices chilled with anger.
I once thought that I could,
That I could save them...
Run back, Run back"
Curse after curse until the only sound in the room was his thoughts.
I gutted out vein after vein of the beast. So frekin' unbelievable! How hard this thing is to cut. A couple knocks on the door. And yet no voice to call out to me.
"Yo? Who's there, if you need me out there, I'll be out in a jiffy." Nothing… Only shuffles of shoe soles on Hans's carpet… Hell will come for them for that, later. However, something didn't feel right. Didn't know what to do until a loud cock of a… pump action shotgun. Great, Hans left some weapons over to the right of the door. Maybe he left something of my liking?
I sulked over to the closet, leaving me shoes behind. I honestly prayed for something good. My right should is killing me to death here… hold on, why hasn't Hans's monitor on his medigun not gone off? My fist clenched from the thought; these guys might be playing us! Alright Ray, actually unlock the locker and grab the weapons. I first tried to pick at the lock until I realized it wasn't locked in the first place. Ha! I'm a dumbass. A little dusty, dust clouds piping out as worms on fire. Two more knocks on the door, I just ignored it. My hands shuffled through the bags in the locker, finding a pistol of mine with a nice double clip feature. Nice. Oh, the blue barrel felt so soft, I remember this one nicely. Why I didn't go lookin' for this little clipper is totally not me. The door busted down as a cracked grenade, hoping from the locker to the wall to the first guy's head. His head hit downtown with a couple pullbacks.
"Chuckle Nuts!," I pushed off his shoulders like a spindrift. Twirling in the air, I passed him, ran a circle and sliced his face with my knife. Oh, he pushed back with his gun, but I knew this too well. Cracked his elbow open with a nice twist and shot him with his own gun with my toes, finishing him with a stab to his skull, "You better tell Satan that I delivered today. I bet he's missing me!" I honestly think there to be more with a gun to my head. Didn't get that…
Someone wrapped their arms around me at my waist. I noticed fingernail polish on way too young fingers to my Tylié. "Ray Excalibur Overdein, how could I forget a soldier such as you? Hehe, I do remember you too well, you have changed and so have I!" Her fingers matched her voice in softness, I couldn't help but breath so calmly…
"Kind of you to caress me as of now. Sorry, if I may be blinded, but who are you, yo?" A slight tuck of her head chilled me for a moment.
"Had the whole war at our feet, you chased your dream. Unbelievably you achieved it, can you still see my shadow in the willow trees? My father desperately wanted me to find you and… handle those Soviet spies you killed. I knew from your cologne and the blood trail that you would hide out in Hans's operatory." No… this can't be. I whipped around to face her.
I raked down her soft red hair, "What are you doing here Clarissa?" She peered into my eyes, her brown eyes whittled over my face. My head shook. Her right hand kissed my cheek.
"I came to help find you, and to say I'm sorry, for everything. Also, here's your knife back. I won't be needing it." Before I could say "why", she covers my mouth until she kissed me. I couldn't help myself, felt so good. Her perfume of apples and cinnamon filled my nose so much.
"Where is now? Yo should be checking for him." I whispered to her, and I chased her smile across my face with her hand rubbing up and down my chest.
"This is home where you made it, never forget the breeze that can hear the past. He's already here, see?" Mr. Kennedy lounged on the couch, his suit glimmering from the sunlight.
" !" I instinctively saluted, " I am sorry to make such a mess sir!" Clarissa laid her head on my chest. I remembered… I'm covered in blood. I sighed.
"Now now Ray, you are a loyal man. Jolting as you are through those spies, I saw promise within Blu. Never have I ever seen a more advanced and progressive operation. I believe it rivals even the United States! However, I did not come, son, for a three-hour tour. I personally came to welcome you back to the United States because we were blinded by the World Wars and I wanted to make it up to you." handed me a letter with the Seal of the President on top. So many tears, I knew what he meant. A Presidental pardon.
"Thank yo-" My rush faded, I forgot when I last slept. However, I felt like not caring. So tired…could I even fall right? The carpet made the landing better, something told me of a buzz. Then I saw Lucien tap as he kneeled beside me, calling Hans. If Hans didn't see the alert, then why would he hear . I guess he could have the Secret Service find him, but even then, Hans adapted to be hard to find. I tried to reach for Clarissa as she landed softly her body on my stomach. She cried slightly, even she cried when everyone knew I could regenerate.
Clarissa shuffled her voice into my ear, "Hold on babé, memories never change. I remember when I hated you, then you sneaked into my heart. The best thing I know about you is how you resist Luke's attitude. You're so easy to love."
How long has it been since I seen Luke? I could remember him so well even after three years of being away. The war we fought ended and I stopped seeing him. More voices continued above me, I couldn't see anything. Two looming shadows chated over me, one waved his hand back and forth, the other seemed to relax and look me over. Their voices I heard before, I just couldn't remember whom they related to. A flash of light from the overly large gun sparked on me. I remembered what it was, I always enjoyed the medigun. I felt the wisping energy of the gun wrap around me. Tickling my precious blood-stained skin with happiness.
Hans tried to tell me something, "What do you mean Doc?" I felt a raddle behind me.
"You've barely winked in your room. Zt's the problem, sleep is essential! The body's stamina can not renew with it zoring all the time!" So this is his reason... I scratched my armpit, it felt nice. I felt itchy and honestly I was idle. Hans scorned me so much with his eyes, but I just smiled. Like the punk I can be and like to be, when Luke wasn't around.
"Now now, Hans; we should handle this later. should get on his way." Lucien purred, scuffing his cuffs off the dust he collected.
"Zes, Ray... have a hack at ze hay, OK?"
"Yea! I'll be doing that." Now I could actually write this blood off. I felt so badass, but I always to wreck myself. So many cuts from before, I could remember since the medigun would heal me. That was always nice.
The window of the white and green striped room mellowed the darkness, with fog light in the height of winter. Each object in the room enchanted with an orderly demeanor. Parallel and washed as a newborn child, sparkling black and purple cleats that were older than anyone who could wear them practically, yet they looked a day old, even with Sabrina's note underneath the tongue fully attached as she wrote the day before she gave them to her. The tindge layer of carpet on the hardwood floor had a gel sense to it with the odd combination of a wool-cotton texture. Tender, young, and hardpressed feet melted and fell over everytime. And as the owner stepped in, he fell over flat on his face, the towel covering him mostly except for his hair. The black curly oily hair chilled constantly, wandering as wild wheat on the Italian west coast. Each strand grouped togethor, helding their own energy, with independent waving. A six inch framed picture perched on an eyptian lamp in the window still. A family picture with Ray, Luke, and Samual in the front row and the other seven brothers in the background of a beach boardwalk and the Altantic Ocean. The gray sweatpants he wore in the picture, which matched the paint of the footpath of the boardwalk with a complment with the green rails.
Soft moans emitted from the darkside of the black hair, "Damn it Ray, why do you have to tire yourself like this," Swiftly he stands up, clenching the photo in his taped hands purposefully. He looked away for a moment, only to return with a reddened face, " I'm stupid for deserting you guys... never thought I would get this far yo? I convinced Luke into leaving too. Please forgive me, I'll be back home soon; I am sorry if you had to bribe the president into pardoning m'." Placing the photo back with a ribbon bedding, he untaped his hands. The creamy tape with its mutitude of blood stains hesitated to relief the somewhat irratiated hands. Knowing his hands were cranky, he settled in bed without his hands which included a couple of kinetic blows to his skull and a few curses. He shuffled his eyes side to side constantly with his mouth and eyes squrrielly and his body confused completely on where it was. Laying as in the forest grasses, he dunked his pants into the hamper hugging the opposite wall and pulled the covers close as he tended to do with imaginary girlfriends. His right bicep snuggled below his right cheek, his hair tickling him occasionally across his elbow. Amid his desperately wonderful relaxment and the chirps of birds, a slither passed by.
After a soft yawn, Ray held out a tiny envelope with "Brother" dashed across the front and his address down to the room number. The runner smiled, knowing some heartache faded. "Write me back jerk, how sweet of you," lifting on a corner with a tear by his short nails, "I was beginning to wonder when you would actually pull your lazy ass to talk to me."
"Dear Ray,
Thanks for being the plush toy I always wanted to punch, kick, and choke all the time. You definitely have no sense of competition, at least around me. Oh well, I know you rather just not care. Hehe, I'm still glad we can meet. You sneaky hangover caught me off-guard when you slithered the letter in without Glarion noticing. Hate how he yells everytime we get mail, either way I'll be there in about five days. Have bonk and be ready for me to kick your ass. Brace yourself, because I'll admit brother, I did like it when I actually lost. Yo' better tell Hans I'll be their, so they don't fuck me over when I hop in. At least you guys are sensible about that.
Luke."
Ray snorted as a pig, he realized his hands were burned. Now holding the letter by his fingers as a baby in the sun, he rubbed it gently with a couple tears. Flinching back from a cut, Ray noticed something unusual which could be told by his habit of putting his eye right next to it.
"Ah Shit, what's-" pausing, the white of his eyes grew, "a transmitter. Damn Luke, four words huh? So...should I be an ass and insult him? He'd expect that..." He clinched his chin with his thumbs, " I'll click this..."I love you, Luke." He revealed his teeth, folding the letter to a small orange box in the bed crevice where he stored everything he had. Pictures, letters, and other things small him and Luke exchanged. A baseball pillow relieved his hands, cueing leaves to rustle, whisking sleep. Afterall, excitement's hard to subdue. Takes a team.