Disclaimer: I had not the pleasure of writing The Umbrella Academy. I merely adore it.
A/N: I hope this goes well, there aren't many people on this who've read The Umbrella Academy. Shame.
Onwards…
The air around me is thick and cold, freezing even. I'm sitting on some dilapidated street corner, there's not much here. The general waste and detritus of everyday life, a half-devoured Hershey's bar, a used condom, a couple of heroin needles. Dull. Homogenous. Boring.
See me yawn?
There's a kid starring at me from across the street, god he's spooked, it's as if he's seeing some twisted ghost just taunting his eyeballs with existence. I bring the cigarette to my lips, it burns my throat as I inhale, making my spine buzz like an electric chair. I blow the stray locks of ginger hair from my face irritably; I am not in a pleasant mood. I have not been in such a mood for a while now. I'd express this to you in interpretive dance, but I missed my last class. Something catches my eye, a bit of graffiti; it's quite a good piece of art really. It's this one winged Lego angel, kind of bleeding paint. I sidle over, enticed by this charmingly illegal mural. Tracing the wing I sigh, how wonderful it would be to have wings. I can fly, and that's all well and good, but to have wings. Great feathered ones with blood and gore and ink. To be majestic and terrible, like some evil angel. An angel of death…
I continue down the sidewalk, creeping out that gawping kid by making my eyes tip down and sucking in my cheeks. Making myself be a hollow puppet to a frightened ten-year-old audience, round of applause? Flicking the spent cigarette butt to the concrete carpet I shove my hands in my pockets, taking in the sights and smells. There's a rundown motel and a diner which looks like it's been set up by a colony of maggots. A few dead looking trees punctuate greying signposts and houses which could easily be mistaken for shacks. Piss, grease and cut grass are all I can smell. Why the hell am I here? I ask myself, and where the hell is here?
A cat brushes against my leg, purring loudly. I smile, for the first time in a month. It's a cute little feline; it's got these big green eyes which stare into your soul and splodges of black, white and ginger smearing its body. I kiss the animal's nose affectionately, out of spontaneous want more than anything. The cat bats my cheek in reply, but purrs louder. I am completely enamoured with this delightful creature.
I must name him!
"I name you… Vincent." I grin, a little evilly admittedly, but I smile properly all the same. He mewls back which I guess is approval enough, so I start walking, expecting my new friend to run back from whence he came. He doesn't. Instead, the newly appointed Vincent begins to follow me, keeping up with my long, striding paces. I have a fleeting urge to fly, or levitate, whatever it is. Scooping up Vincent I project myself upward, not caring for the scream of the kid from earlier or the cat claws piercing my thigh. Despite his initial surprise, Vincent quite likes flying and begins to purr so loud I fear for his ear-drums. Lighting another cigarette I continue in the direction of home and insanity. I laugh madly, loving my latest neurosis. Vincent caterwauls along. The angel of death and his companion, his familiar if you will. Screaming as in unison.
Happy? Happy happy…