Drugs in the Dark
Slut.
…lazy bastard.
I'm sure you'd kill them the second you had the chance.
His eyes flicked open to see darkness. He felt the climbing pain in his leg, the burning fingers that crept around his stomach and pelvis where Siberian had dug his claws in. Even the broken rib ached inside his chest, pulling tauntly when he breathed. Someone was beside him.. under his arm. Bombay. His quiet breathing and dreaming thoughts were chorused with Nagi's, who must still be asleep in the chair by the wall. The thoughts from his dream echoed back to him as he got his bearings.
… chickenshit…always hiding behind a gun or his telepathy.
Not thoughts or dreams, but memories. Memories of thoughts he picked up when others either forgot about his talent or didn't care that he heard them. It was constant.
Take your filthy hands off me.
He sometimes wondered what it would be like, not to know what others thought of you. To be a little naïve. Naïve people always seemed just a little bit happier than the cynics who knew better. Not like it was ever going to happen. No, he got to hear every little detail. He knew when people hated him, despised him, were scared of him. He also knew when they were pleased… aroused. Every thought given to him like a gift on a platter. Granted… there were exceptions. He could never really read Brad, other than the pointed insults the American tossed in his direction. Maybe because the pre-cog was always one step ahead, or maybe it was because he just really didn't think about anything other than business and the job. Whatever it was, the strange essence of the man's mind was never really open to him. Moira was also an exception. Oh, he could read her fine, as long as her shields were down to him, which was usually the case these days. But the fact of the matter was.. Moira's mind was mainly quiet. Even when she was concentrating on something, her thoughts were simple, to the point… nearly emotionless. In fact, the only way he knew she was angry or upset was when the thoughts stopped completely. When he was in her mind, it was like being in a womb.. silent, warm, comforting.. and nothing else.
Over the years, he'd come to realize that he actually relied on Brad's chaotic mind to set his at ease. Despite the brawls and beatings, Schu couldn't leave the man for very long or he wouldn't get a moment's peace. He'd come to think of Brad as a drug. Just another addiction – a hit or three of Brad a day and he could keep himself fairly sane. And then Moira came along… his sedative. Something about her could solve whatever problem was plaguing him, and an hour or so in her mind was like a daily massage.
Take your filthy hands off me.
And then there was Bombay. Bombay... with his split personalities. Truthfully, Schuldig didn't much care for Omi. From what he had heard from Abyssinian, the other man cared for both of Bombay's personalities. Not true for Schu. Omi was naïve, plaintive.. pitiful. He'd suppressed Bombay, killed off Mamoru, all just to be a happy-go-lucky genki innocent. Maybe that's how he dealt with having to be a killer at his age. Maybe the personalities were Bombay's drug. His way of coping. Whatever it was, Schu didn't much care for Omi, and he was more than glad to encourage Bombay to suppress the genki child. And then it had happened. Bombay had latched onto him. He trusted him… followed him… was loyal to him. Bombay had had numerous chances to kill him. Bombay had listened to Schu ramble… listened to the shit that his life was… and for some damn reason he still seemed to care. Actually, that wasn't quite true. Schuldig was well aware how far Bombay's feelings had gone. He just didn't understand it, and truthfully, didn't want to admit that it had happened. So it looked like he had a third drug… something, he couldn't yet understand. Something… that scared the hell out of him.
Does he really scare you that much?
How the hell had that happened? Him actually admitting to Abyssinian that something could frighten him. He'd meant it as a joke, right? Maybe… maybe not. He really needed to stop playing around with drugs he didn't understand… someday, he was gonna OD.
Schuldig (River)
Slut.
…lazy bastard.
I'm sure you'd kill them the second you had the chance.
His eyes flicked open to see darkness. He felt the climbing pain in his leg, the burning fingers that crept around his stomach and pelvis where Siberian had dug his claws in. Even the broken rib ached inside his chest, pulling tauntly when he breathed. Someone was beside him.. under his arm. Bombay. His quiet breathing and dreaming thoughts were chorused with Nagi's, who must still be asleep in the chair by the wall. The thoughts from his dream echoed back to him as he got his bearings.
… chickenshit…always hiding behind a gun or his telepathy.
Not thoughts or dreams, but memories. Memories of thoughts he picked up when others either forgot about his talent or didn't care that he heard them. It was constant.
Take your filthy hands off me.
He sometimes wondered what it would be like, not to know what others thought of you. To be a little naïve. Naïve people always seemed just a little bit happier than the cynics who knew better. Not like it was ever going to happen. No, he got to hear every little detail. He knew when people hated him, despised him, were scared of him. He also knew when they were pleased… aroused. Every thought given to him like a gift on a platter. Granted… there were exceptions. He could never really read Brad, other than the pointed insults the American tossed in his direction. Maybe because the pre-cog was always one step ahead, or maybe it was because he just really didn't think about anything other than business and the job. Whatever it was, the strange essence of the man's mind was never really open to him. Moira was also an exception. Oh, he could read her fine, as long as her shields were down to him, which was usually the case these days. But the fact of the matter was.. Moira's mind was mainly quiet. Even when she was concentrating on something, her thoughts were simple, to the point… nearly emotionless. In fact, the only way he knew she was angry or upset was when the thoughts stopped completely. When he was in her mind, it was like being in a womb.. silent, warm, comforting.. and nothing else.
Over the years, he'd come to realize that he actually relied on Brad's chaotic mind to set his at ease. Despite the brawls and beatings, Schu couldn't leave the man for very long or he wouldn't get a moment's peace. He'd come to think of Brad as a drug. Just another addiction – a hit or three of Brad a day and he could keep himself fairly sane. And then Moira came along… his sedative. Something about her could solve whatever problem was plaguing him, and an hour or so in her mind was like a daily massage.
Take your filthy hands off me.
And then there was Bombay. Bombay... with his split personalities. Truthfully, Schuldig didn't much care for Omi. From what he had heard from Abyssinian, the other man cared for both of Bombay's personalities. Not true for Schu. Omi was naïve, plaintive.. pitiful. He'd suppressed Bombay, killed off Mamoru, all just to be a happy-go-lucky genki innocent. Maybe that's how he dealt with having to be a killer at his age. Maybe the personalities were Bombay's drug. His way of coping. Whatever it was, Schu didn't much care for Omi, and he was more than glad to encourage Bombay to suppress the genki child. And then it had happened. Bombay had latched onto him. He trusted him… followed him… was loyal to him. Bombay had had numerous chances to kill him. Bombay had listened to Schu ramble… listened to the shit that his life was… and for some damn reason he still seemed to care. Actually, that wasn't quite true. Schuldig was well aware how far Bombay's feelings had gone. He just didn't understand it, and truthfully, didn't want to admit that it had happened. So it looked like he had a third drug… something, he couldn't yet understand. Something… that scared the hell out of him.
Does he really scare you that much?
How the hell had that happened? Him actually admitting to Abyssinian that something could frighten him. He'd meant it as a joke, right? Maybe… maybe not. He really needed to stop playing around with drugs he didn't understand… someday, he was gonna OD.
Schuldig (River)