Artificial Mannerisms - A Man Changed
"Would you like to do the honours, sir?"
He tossed me a large Zippo lighter. It was old. The once shining case had been stained brown with age. I moved it around in my fingers and read the tiny inscription on the lid. 'Happy Birthday Daddy'. It made me sick. Sure, my hands weren't as clean as I would like them to be, but I wasn't raising a child as well. But what if it wasn't from his child. What if this soldier of the 'great army' had stolen it? Sure, thievery didn't bother me too much, I even turned a blind eye to the odd murder. But how does someone acquire something so personal? What if the guy who owned this lighter was killed in some stupid dispute over Mako? What if his child was in the same room? What if the sick bastard in front of me needed a memento from his great victory? I had killed many who deserved to die, but I had never, and would never, kill a child.
My mind raced on and on. I continued flipping the lighter in my hand, trying to look as menacing as possible. I tried to look like I wasn't sickened by the foul smell of kerosene which drenched our latest victim. Three hours we had spent probing the fool. If he'd given up in the first hour, he would have left with a hand missing. In the second hour, one of his legs. But in the third, we couldn't let him go. It was a, lets say, 'company policy'.
I looked up at the poor pillock. Every orifice was bleeding. Nothing had escaped our long and painful interrogation. Water poured from his eyes. I wondered if he was crying, or if his eyes were reacting to the copious amount of car fuel dispensed on his entire body. I looked him straight in the eye. Never had I seen a man so calm before his death. It was as if he didn't care, like he was willing to die for the cause he had spent three hours trying to defend. Or maybe he knew if we didn't kill him, his 'friends' would.
"Mr. Logan," I started, easing myself back into character, "you have been charged with treason. The penalty for such a crime is ten years in prison."
"Go to hell!" he shouted. "You can do what the hell you like to me! I've got nothing to live for anymore!" He spoke proudly, but with a sense of fear. No matter how confident you are, your death daunting cannot be a nice experience.
"But seeing as you failed to give us the information we required in the given time limit, your sentence is death." I had said these words so many times, but this time, it felt wrong, like a child was watching from one of the darkened corners of the putrid room. I didn't want to kill the man.
The soldier with me saluted and left the room, leaving me with the prisoner and the lighter. The door slammed behind him. I turned my back on the wounded man. I looked at the walls. The dark, dry blood had never bothered me before. "Shut up you pussy!" I thought to myself. Its true, I had always seemed tough before, never budging for any dumb shit-head. But for some reason, I was battling with my conscience. This had been the first guy we'd picked up since the meteor incident. Maybe that's why I was struggling so much. With the thought of Cloud and his posse still fresh in my mind, I guess I still felt guilty for not helping them. But Rude and Elena didn't bother either. I wondered if they were feeling like me at that moment.
"Do you have any idea how many people I've killed in this room?" I said in a blank tone. Logan remained silent. "I don't know either. I just know it's been a lot. So many screams, so many pleas. So many families broken because of me." I turned and looked at him. "Do you have a family Logan?" He didn't say a word. "I don't. I killed my parents. They treated me like shit. As long as I kept out of their room of a night, I was ok. Maybe the beating wouldn't be as harsh the next day." I laughed slightly. Logan's blank face didn't move. He looked kind of funny strapped to the wall the way he was. The position he was shackled in made it look like I prepared him for a sordid sex game, not helped by the fact that he was stripped down to his underwear. His entire body was covered in cuts, bruises and burns. I took a few steps towards him.
"We'll kill your friends," I said, straight-faced, "and its your fault. I hope you know that." He looked down at my face. He spat a large gob of blood and spit into my eye. I lifted my hand and removed it, flicking it onto the ground. I flicked open the Zippo.
I moved the flame towards him, when he spoke suddenly.
"Shinra will die!"
"Goodbye. 'Daddy'!" I put the flame onto his naked leg. His flesh began to burn. The flame quickly moved up his leg onto the rest of his body. The smell was horrendous. I dropped the lighter onto the floor and turned my back towards the now screaming victim. As I walked towards the exit, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
"Shinra is dead."
I turned back and walked out the door, never looking at the face of Dyne Logan again.
* * *
"What's wrong sweetie?"
I looked down at her eager eyes. She retorted with a wink and moved her lipstick-smeared mouth down again. I looked at her naked body and her dry, lifeless hair. I had been with many hookers in my time, but that night, I wasn't in the game. I just lay there, my mind occupied with other thoughts. I was beginning to wish I hadn't accepted those joints from Rude. I'd heard his stuff was strong, but this was ridiculous. My head just kept spinning and spinning, the orange wallpaper morphed around me and the red light bulb burned my eyes. The bed we lay on just didn't feel right, like we were riding an earthquake. My mind just wasn't there. She looked up again.
"Listen, honey, I can't give you anything unless you give me the right signals." The look on her face implied she actually enjoyed her job. I wondered if she was one of those types, who work five guys in an hour, just because she loves the dick. It would've certainly explained the state of her disarrayed hair. " I charge by the half-hour, you know?"
I lay my head back again and rubbed my face slightly, pushing my hair behind my ears. It had started to get quite long. The last time I'd had my haircut was almost a year before. It didn't bother me though. My appearance was the least of my concerns. The thoughts that plagued my mind overshadowed such narcissistic worries.
"I'm sorry," I said rubbing my forehead, "things have been weird for me lately. I just can't. you know."
She laughed like I was a puppy who'd just shit on the carpet before being pummelled by her angry husband. I didn't like it too much. "It's okay, honey, your not the first guy I couldn't get up. I guess you're just not in the mood tonight, eh, honey?"
She crawled up next to me and laid her arm across my chest. She moved her fingers around my nipple, while her leg caressed mine in a desperate attempt to arouse me. Maybe she didn't get the message right away. She couldn't turn me on. The notion frustrated me. She was attractive and more than willing to please me, but I was having none of it.
"Yeah.I guess so." I reached over beside the bed and picked up my trousers. Inside the left pocket was a large wad of gil, wrapped in an elastic band. I took out five hundred and threw it near her feet before rising of the bed and walking towards the bathroom. "Keep the change. There are others waiting, no doubt."
She sat up cross-legged and counted the money. The weed was beginning to wear off, now, and I finally got a good luck at her. Her long blonde hair, while disarrayed and dirty, complemented her face well. Her pointed nose and large lips gave her a more alluring face, not to mention her shiny, blue eyes. Just like.
Her whole body was tanned, and not in a cheap way. She had made sure everything looked natural, from the tips of her toes to her forehead. Her large breasts were round and shapely, and her nipples were minute, just the way I liked them. Really, she was a very attractive woman, and as I entered the bathroom, I wondered why I hadn't. Things were maybe a bit to complicated for me back then. In my mind, I just didn't have the time.
The door closed behind me with a bang, and I found myself in a dirty, old bathroom. The toilet had no seat, and I could barely she myself in the blackened mirror. It was a good thing the showers condition was above average, or I would've gone crazy in the putrid hole.
I twisted the tap and the water flowed easily. It started too cold, then too hot, like all showers are fond of doing. I stepped onto the porcelain floor and closed the curtain, when a new noise entered my ears. From inside the bedroom, I could hear the muffled tune off Yuffie Kisaragi's "Brain in Pain". The oriental strings made way for a more rave-like beat, followed by some simple guitar riffs. I'd heard the song a million times before. When it was first released, it was difficult to avoid the juvenile track when turning on the radio. That said, there was no excuse for me knowing the Vincent Valentine played the guitar for this track, and certainly no excuse for me knowing all the words.
The water felt great on my body. It had been nearly a month since I'd took time out to have a good time. In the old days, we used to make sure we'd get laid every week. Rude would always hook us up with some fine bitches. He even used to get a guy for Elena, who was as horny as us most of the time. Maybe it came with the job. But things had changed since then. We didn't travel around together as much, and when we did, we'd be stationed in the same place for no longer than a day. I was bored most of the time, and stopped taking care of myself. But my boredom stopped about a week before, and then my turmoil began.
I began to sing along in my head. I couldn't hear the words properly, so I instinctively began to sing the words aloud, but not audible enough for the hooker to hear. I didn't want to come off as total pussy, did I?
"Your in my head, stepping in my head, take me to my bed, I want you bad.
Touch me, touch me, you know that you want me, Hold me, kiss me, soon you will feel me.
Don't get me wrong I love you, but does that mean I have to meet, Your father, when we are older you'll understand, what I meant, When I said no, and maybe things aren't all that simple."
Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, and the music got louder. I stopped singing, and listened. Her feet were light on the ground as she crept towards the shower, but I didn't find it difficult to find the noise out of the din of music and shower water. She pulled the curtain back slowly, and our eyes met. She placed her feet next to mine and closed the curtain behind her, not losing my gaze once.
"I couldn't let a man as intriguing as you get away from me." For the first time that evening, I began to enjoy her company. I don't know whether it was the music or the water, but something had certainly changed in those few moments.
Without another word, she placed her arms around my neck. Our lips met and we kissed violently. My tongue searched her mouth, as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Things were just getting good, when she asked me a question in my ear:
"I heard you were a Turk. Is it true?"
Stopped. I stopped. Everything disappeared, the sound of trickling water, the heavy guitar, her panting breath. I could only hear the voice of Yuffie. The lyrics rang in my ears.
"Brain, brain, you're a pain in my brain, pain, pain, you're making me insane."
"What's wrong?" She said after a couple of long moments. I looked into her eyes. She yearned for me.
"Brain, Brain."
"Don't stop, I didn't mean to."
"Brain, Brain."
"Please, what's wrong?"
"PAIN, PAIN!"
I grabbed the hair on the side of her head. I pulled it and didn't release it from my grip. She laughed, but was obviously not enjoying the sensation.
"Your not one of those sado types are you?" She smiled as if she was inviting me to share her joke. But it wasn't funny.
Suddenly, I forced her head into the tiled wall. She screamed in pain. It pierced the air, but couldn't block out the voice of Yuffie.
"What are you doing? Let me go." She struggled in my grip. I pulled her head away from the wall and smashed it again. And again. And again. Blood smeared the wall. And again. Blood smeared her face. And again. She started to lose consciousness. And again. Her screams stopped. And again. She bled profusely. And again. And again. And again.
The song ended. It must've been a tape. No other noise came from the radio. The water continued to flow, washing the blood into the drain. I looked at my fist, clutching her wet hair. The trance I was in ended, and the outcome was as unpredictable as time itself. Her body flopped to the ground as my grip lessened and her wet hair slid through my fingers.
What have I done? I thought to myself. How would I explain this to Rude? Why did I do it? I couldn't blame the drugs. Tests would show they had no effect at the time of death. I could only think of the word Turk. I hadn't heard the title in so long. It seemed to spark of this other side. A side that killed in cold blood? I thought, angrily. I had never felt guilty about killing before that guy. And now I was killing people for no apparent reason. Things didn't make sense, so decided it would be best to rendezvous with Rude. I needed to talk to a friend.
* * *
"What took you so long? You growing sleepy in your old age?"
Rude was outside the hotel. He was dressed in his best black suit and his leather trench coat. His baldhead reflected the luminous street signs. On any other night, I would've passed comment, and he'd have said something like, "Screw you honky, real men don't need shit like what's on your head!" We probably would've shared a good laugh. But after I explained what had happened, neither of us was fit to muse.
"What the hell, man? Why you always gotta mess up my shit?"
"Keep it down, man, we don't want any crowds swarming do we?"
"Why the hell did you do it? Bad lay or something? 'Cause if it was man, I gotta be reportin' yo ass. Damn!" He shook his head and punched a nearby wall. The couple making out nearby had the sudden urge to move.
"Sorry man, I don't know what came over me," I started to explain, "everything was okay until she mentioned our old job."
"She knew you wus' a Turk? She tell anybody? If she did man, we're."
"Its cool, nobody else came in. Man, I don't know what came over me."
"And we can't even take care o' this mess now either. We got new orders." He handed me a sheet of paper. A single paragraph was written.
To: Units 1 and 2 From: Base
We got a strange message from a guy with a gun arm. Say's he knows you. Something about that guy we fried last week. Wants to meet in Mideel, tomorrow. Be there!
"Mideel?!"
"We gotta go right now. The pilots already pissed cause you took so long, killing hookers and shit. We'll take of that shit later. Now, we gotta go!"
* * *
"Would you like to do the honours, sir?"
He tossed me a large Zippo lighter. It was old. The once shining case had been stained brown with age. I moved it around in my fingers and read the tiny inscription on the lid. 'Happy Birthday Daddy'. It made me sick. Sure, my hands weren't as clean as I would like them to be, but I wasn't raising a child as well. But what if it wasn't from his child. What if this soldier of the 'great army' had stolen it? Sure, thievery didn't bother me too much, I even turned a blind eye to the odd murder. But how does someone acquire something so personal? What if the guy who owned this lighter was killed in some stupid dispute over Mako? What if his child was in the same room? What if the sick bastard in front of me needed a memento from his great victory? I had killed many who deserved to die, but I had never, and would never, kill a child.
My mind raced on and on. I continued flipping the lighter in my hand, trying to look as menacing as possible. I tried to look like I wasn't sickened by the foul smell of kerosene which drenched our latest victim. Three hours we had spent probing the fool. If he'd given up in the first hour, he would have left with a hand missing. In the second hour, one of his legs. But in the third, we couldn't let him go. It was a, lets say, 'company policy'.
I looked up at the poor pillock. Every orifice was bleeding. Nothing had escaped our long and painful interrogation. Water poured from his eyes. I wondered if he was crying, or if his eyes were reacting to the copious amount of car fuel dispensed on his entire body. I looked him straight in the eye. Never had I seen a man so calm before his death. It was as if he didn't care, like he was willing to die for the cause he had spent three hours trying to defend. Or maybe he knew if we didn't kill him, his 'friends' would.
"Mr. Logan," I started, easing myself back into character, "you have been charged with treason. The penalty for such a crime is ten years in prison."
"Go to hell!" he shouted. "You can do what the hell you like to me! I've got nothing to live for anymore!" He spoke proudly, but with a sense of fear. No matter how confident you are, your death daunting cannot be a nice experience.
"But seeing as you failed to give us the information we required in the given time limit, your sentence is death." I had said these words so many times, but this time, it felt wrong, like a child was watching from one of the darkened corners of the putrid room. I didn't want to kill the man.
The soldier with me saluted and left the room, leaving me with the prisoner and the lighter. The door slammed behind him. I turned my back on the wounded man. I looked at the walls. The dark, dry blood had never bothered me before. "Shut up you pussy!" I thought to myself. Its true, I had always seemed tough before, never budging for any dumb shit-head. But for some reason, I was battling with my conscience. This had been the first guy we'd picked up since the meteor incident. Maybe that's why I was struggling so much. With the thought of Cloud and his posse still fresh in my mind, I guess I still felt guilty for not helping them. But Rude and Elena didn't bother either. I wondered if they were feeling like me at that moment.
"Do you have any idea how many people I've killed in this room?" I said in a blank tone. Logan remained silent. "I don't know either. I just know it's been a lot. So many screams, so many pleas. So many families broken because of me." I turned and looked at him. "Do you have a family Logan?" He didn't say a word. "I don't. I killed my parents. They treated me like shit. As long as I kept out of their room of a night, I was ok. Maybe the beating wouldn't be as harsh the next day." I laughed slightly. Logan's blank face didn't move. He looked kind of funny strapped to the wall the way he was. The position he was shackled in made it look like I prepared him for a sordid sex game, not helped by the fact that he was stripped down to his underwear. His entire body was covered in cuts, bruises and burns. I took a few steps towards him.
"We'll kill your friends," I said, straight-faced, "and its your fault. I hope you know that." He looked down at my face. He spat a large gob of blood and spit into my eye. I lifted my hand and removed it, flicking it onto the ground. I flicked open the Zippo.
I moved the flame towards him, when he spoke suddenly.
"Shinra will die!"
"Goodbye. 'Daddy'!" I put the flame onto his naked leg. His flesh began to burn. The flame quickly moved up his leg onto the rest of his body. The smell was horrendous. I dropped the lighter onto the floor and turned my back towards the now screaming victim. As I walked towards the exit, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.
"Shinra is dead."
I turned back and walked out the door, never looking at the face of Dyne Logan again.
* * *
"What's wrong sweetie?"
I looked down at her eager eyes. She retorted with a wink and moved her lipstick-smeared mouth down again. I looked at her naked body and her dry, lifeless hair. I had been with many hookers in my time, but that night, I wasn't in the game. I just lay there, my mind occupied with other thoughts. I was beginning to wish I hadn't accepted those joints from Rude. I'd heard his stuff was strong, but this was ridiculous. My head just kept spinning and spinning, the orange wallpaper morphed around me and the red light bulb burned my eyes. The bed we lay on just didn't feel right, like we were riding an earthquake. My mind just wasn't there. She looked up again.
"Listen, honey, I can't give you anything unless you give me the right signals." The look on her face implied she actually enjoyed her job. I wondered if she was one of those types, who work five guys in an hour, just because she loves the dick. It would've certainly explained the state of her disarrayed hair. " I charge by the half-hour, you know?"
I lay my head back again and rubbed my face slightly, pushing my hair behind my ears. It had started to get quite long. The last time I'd had my haircut was almost a year before. It didn't bother me though. My appearance was the least of my concerns. The thoughts that plagued my mind overshadowed such narcissistic worries.
"I'm sorry," I said rubbing my forehead, "things have been weird for me lately. I just can't. you know."
She laughed like I was a puppy who'd just shit on the carpet before being pummelled by her angry husband. I didn't like it too much. "It's okay, honey, your not the first guy I couldn't get up. I guess you're just not in the mood tonight, eh, honey?"
She crawled up next to me and laid her arm across my chest. She moved her fingers around my nipple, while her leg caressed mine in a desperate attempt to arouse me. Maybe she didn't get the message right away. She couldn't turn me on. The notion frustrated me. She was attractive and more than willing to please me, but I was having none of it.
"Yeah.I guess so." I reached over beside the bed and picked up my trousers. Inside the left pocket was a large wad of gil, wrapped in an elastic band. I took out five hundred and threw it near her feet before rising of the bed and walking towards the bathroom. "Keep the change. There are others waiting, no doubt."
She sat up cross-legged and counted the money. The weed was beginning to wear off, now, and I finally got a good luck at her. Her long blonde hair, while disarrayed and dirty, complemented her face well. Her pointed nose and large lips gave her a more alluring face, not to mention her shiny, blue eyes. Just like.
Her whole body was tanned, and not in a cheap way. She had made sure everything looked natural, from the tips of her toes to her forehead. Her large breasts were round and shapely, and her nipples were minute, just the way I liked them. Really, she was a very attractive woman, and as I entered the bathroom, I wondered why I hadn't. Things were maybe a bit to complicated for me back then. In my mind, I just didn't have the time.
The door closed behind me with a bang, and I found myself in a dirty, old bathroom. The toilet had no seat, and I could barely she myself in the blackened mirror. It was a good thing the showers condition was above average, or I would've gone crazy in the putrid hole.
I twisted the tap and the water flowed easily. It started too cold, then too hot, like all showers are fond of doing. I stepped onto the porcelain floor and closed the curtain, when a new noise entered my ears. From inside the bedroom, I could hear the muffled tune off Yuffie Kisaragi's "Brain in Pain". The oriental strings made way for a more rave-like beat, followed by some simple guitar riffs. I'd heard the song a million times before. When it was first released, it was difficult to avoid the juvenile track when turning on the radio. That said, there was no excuse for me knowing the Vincent Valentine played the guitar for this track, and certainly no excuse for me knowing all the words.
The water felt great on my body. It had been nearly a month since I'd took time out to have a good time. In the old days, we used to make sure we'd get laid every week. Rude would always hook us up with some fine bitches. He even used to get a guy for Elena, who was as horny as us most of the time. Maybe it came with the job. But things had changed since then. We didn't travel around together as much, and when we did, we'd be stationed in the same place for no longer than a day. I was bored most of the time, and stopped taking care of myself. But my boredom stopped about a week before, and then my turmoil began.
I began to sing along in my head. I couldn't hear the words properly, so I instinctively began to sing the words aloud, but not audible enough for the hooker to hear. I didn't want to come off as total pussy, did I?
"Your in my head, stepping in my head, take me to my bed, I want you bad.
Touch me, touch me, you know that you want me, Hold me, kiss me, soon you will feel me.
Don't get me wrong I love you, but does that mean I have to meet, Your father, when we are older you'll understand, what I meant, When I said no, and maybe things aren't all that simple."
Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open, and the music got louder. I stopped singing, and listened. Her feet were light on the ground as she crept towards the shower, but I didn't find it difficult to find the noise out of the din of music and shower water. She pulled the curtain back slowly, and our eyes met. She placed her feet next to mine and closed the curtain behind her, not losing my gaze once.
"I couldn't let a man as intriguing as you get away from me." For the first time that evening, I began to enjoy her company. I don't know whether it was the music or the water, but something had certainly changed in those few moments.
Without another word, she placed her arms around my neck. Our lips met and we kissed violently. My tongue searched her mouth, as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Things were just getting good, when she asked me a question in my ear:
"I heard you were a Turk. Is it true?"
Stopped. I stopped. Everything disappeared, the sound of trickling water, the heavy guitar, her panting breath. I could only hear the voice of Yuffie. The lyrics rang in my ears.
"Brain, brain, you're a pain in my brain, pain, pain, you're making me insane."
"What's wrong?" She said after a couple of long moments. I looked into her eyes. She yearned for me.
"Brain, Brain."
"Don't stop, I didn't mean to."
"Brain, Brain."
"Please, what's wrong?"
"PAIN, PAIN!"
I grabbed the hair on the side of her head. I pulled it and didn't release it from my grip. She laughed, but was obviously not enjoying the sensation.
"Your not one of those sado types are you?" She smiled as if she was inviting me to share her joke. But it wasn't funny.
Suddenly, I forced her head into the tiled wall. She screamed in pain. It pierced the air, but couldn't block out the voice of Yuffie.
"What are you doing? Let me go." She struggled in my grip. I pulled her head away from the wall and smashed it again. And again. And again. Blood smeared the wall. And again. Blood smeared her face. And again. She started to lose consciousness. And again. Her screams stopped. And again. She bled profusely. And again. And again. And again.
The song ended. It must've been a tape. No other noise came from the radio. The water continued to flow, washing the blood into the drain. I looked at my fist, clutching her wet hair. The trance I was in ended, and the outcome was as unpredictable as time itself. Her body flopped to the ground as my grip lessened and her wet hair slid through my fingers.
What have I done? I thought to myself. How would I explain this to Rude? Why did I do it? I couldn't blame the drugs. Tests would show they had no effect at the time of death. I could only think of the word Turk. I hadn't heard the title in so long. It seemed to spark of this other side. A side that killed in cold blood? I thought, angrily. I had never felt guilty about killing before that guy. And now I was killing people for no apparent reason. Things didn't make sense, so decided it would be best to rendezvous with Rude. I needed to talk to a friend.
* * *
"What took you so long? You growing sleepy in your old age?"
Rude was outside the hotel. He was dressed in his best black suit and his leather trench coat. His baldhead reflected the luminous street signs. On any other night, I would've passed comment, and he'd have said something like, "Screw you honky, real men don't need shit like what's on your head!" We probably would've shared a good laugh. But after I explained what had happened, neither of us was fit to muse.
"What the hell, man? Why you always gotta mess up my shit?"
"Keep it down, man, we don't want any crowds swarming do we?"
"Why the hell did you do it? Bad lay or something? 'Cause if it was man, I gotta be reportin' yo ass. Damn!" He shook his head and punched a nearby wall. The couple making out nearby had the sudden urge to move.
"Sorry man, I don't know what came over me," I started to explain, "everything was okay until she mentioned our old job."
"She knew you wus' a Turk? She tell anybody? If she did man, we're."
"Its cool, nobody else came in. Man, I don't know what came over me."
"And we can't even take care o' this mess now either. We got new orders." He handed me a sheet of paper. A single paragraph was written.
To: Units 1 and 2 From: Base
We got a strange message from a guy with a gun arm. Say's he knows you. Something about that guy we fried last week. Wants to meet in Mideel, tomorrow. Be there!
"Mideel?!"
"We gotta go right now. The pilots already pissed cause you took so long, killing hookers and shit. We'll take of that shit later. Now, we gotta go!"
* * *