"My Baby's Pretty As A Car-Crash,
Sexy As The Stinger Of A Hornet In Your Arm,
Just Another Modern Swinger, Screaming 'Catch Me If You Can!'
With A Cigarette In Hand And It's Love.
It's Heavy, And It Hurts, And It's Love."
-The Pink Spiders, 'Modern Swinger'
...What I Wrote Most Of This To.
It Started As A Normal Day, But It Will Never Stray Too Far From My Thoughts.
It Was A Typical, Nondescript Morning; I'd Learned I Was To Visit Another Camp A Good Distance To The South Where The Doctor Wanted To Chart
My Progress As A Cognitive, Sentient Being; It's Insulting To Hear You Still Need Work.
I'd Gotten Up, Cleaned, Dressed, And Primed For The Day.
It's Been A Week Or So Spent Idle Here At The Camp;
One Of Those Days Full Of Bedside Conversation, Picking At Food, Pondering, And Yawning.
If I'd Made Any Progress Whatsoever Here, It's Only A Little, But, If There's One Thing I Know About The Doctor And His Workings, It's That He's A Perfectionist, Tried And True.
Any Little Progress Or Detail Is A Heroic Landmark To Him.
A Man In A Exquisitely-Ornate And Steam-Pressed Suit Waited Outside My Door.
"The Doctor Would Like To See You," He Said, His Voice Unforgivingly Commanding.
"It Is Of The Utmost Importance, I Assure You."
I Hardly Call A Routine Progression-Check Important.
Somewhere, Stuffed In That Oversized, Stiff Suit Of His Is A Card He's Reading From, I Swear.
I'm Starting To Wonder If Maybe The Doctor Asked Him To Be So Formal?
"I'll Be Your Escort To Camp Schwartzchild," He Growled.
He Has A Smoker's Voice, One Bleached Out By Heavy Drinking In Years Long Passed, Too.
"From Thereon, The Camp's Staff Will Lead You To The Doctor,"
He Turned His Hard Stare To Me.
"He's Very Interested In You, You Know. Always."
Eerie.
We Left The Camp Out, And Stepped Out Into The Hangar-Area, Where Another Vehicle Like The One That Brought Me To This Place To Begin With Was; Although This One Was A Little Nicer.
The Seats Were Well-Kept, And It Smelled Musty, But Not Disgusting, Entirely.
It Was A Quiet Ride.
From What Little Time I've Spent With My Unnerving Escort, I Know He's A Quiet Fellow,
But, That's Actually Good, Because I'm Not Sure If He'd Be Better Talking To Begin With.
The Road's A Lot Smoother.
But That Engine-Hum…
It Almost Made Me Sleep Last Time, And I'm Still Tired, Seeing As I Just Recently Woke Up.
I'm Half-Awake, Slumped Wearily In The Backseat.
Then, The First Of It Begins.
A Boom, Like Thunder In A Lightening Storm In Echoing Room.
We Spin Out, And Careen Off The Road.
I'm Thrown About, My Stomach Already Internally Doing Acrobatics.
Some Of That's Going To Bruise, But It's The Least Of My Concerns.
We're Upside Down.
I Scream In Panic At The Driver To Do Something,
To Rev Up The Car, Or For Some Direction As Of What To Do.
But He's Silent.
I Fall To The Ceiling As I Unfasten The Buckle Holding Me To My Seat,
And Stare Down In Horror At Him, His Face Lost Amidst Blood And Broken Glass.
I Hear Footsteps, Heavy Ones. The Kind That Rocket Off Boots And Gravel.
"Check For Survivors." One Mutters Quickly.
"Driver's Out." The Other Replies, Just As Rushed.
I'm Cowering Behind The Driver Seat.
This Doesn't Seem Good.
I'll Come Out When I'm Sure As Of Who's Alliance They're Taking.
The Quiet Driver Moans In Pain Against The Shards Of Glass Incoherently.
"I Rather Think You're Wrong." Quips The First.
A Gunshot Rings In The Air, And More Glass Shatters As The Driver Falls Quiet Again.
"I Rather Think I'm Not." Snaps The Second.
This Is Terrible.
I Would Usually Just Teleport Away,
But I'm Too Rattled To Do Anything.
I Just Press Myself Against The Seat As Hard As I Can, And Hold My Breath.
The Steps Get Closer.
"He's Not Alone!" Cries One Of Them.
My Mind Panics, Do I Stay Still, Do I Come Out, Or Do I Try To Fight Them?
I Try To Calm Down.
If I Come Out, They Might Shoot At Me, If I Stay They Might Do The Same, And I'm Weaponless.
Worst Case Scenario.
One Of Them Pulls The Seat Forward And Finds Me.
"Ahhh…Look At You," One Of Them Coos.
"You're All Shaken Up, Aren't You?"
This Is It, It's All Or Nothing.
I Reappear, Out Of The Vehicle, And Infront Of Them, And Break Into Mad-Sprint.
I Can't Help It, One's Just Too Fast, And He Pins Me To The Ground, Slapping A Thick
Set Of Metal Handcuffs Around My Wrists, I Reappear Away Again And Keep Running,
Unfortunately, That Doesn't Quite Keep Handcuffs Off My Wrists.
He Wrestles Me Back To His Partner, Once He Catches Me Again.
"Watch Him, He's A Rather Unique Fellow…" The Exhausted Man Points Out.
"I See; Millennium's Going To Want Him Back; Call In For A Prisoner Exchange."
"Don't Rough Him Up."
Hours Pass.
I Count Pebbles In The Gravel As The Captors Count My Every Move.
Perfectionists Like The Doctor.
For Once, I Would Mind Being Locked In The Doctor's Sterile Rooms Doing Tests.
Suddenly, Bootsteps In The Distance Catch My Ears, And They Perk To Focus In On Them.
I Look Up, Hopefully.
I'm Safe.
I'm Invincible Now.
I'm Practically Already In The Doctor's Quarters.
It's The Captain.
His Long Trenchcoat Flapping Through The Wind,
His Hat Masking The Half Of His Face That The Coat Doesn't.
His Unyielding Stride Only Ends As The Captors Open Fire.
I Can Hear The Bullets Exit Him, And As They Pass The Gun's Barrel,
But He Merely Starts Pacing Towards Them Again,
As If To Say, I Don't Have To Hurry, I Already Have You.
They Make The Last-Ditch Effort To Kill Him.
They Draw Their Knives And Pistols And Leap At Him.
I Can Hear Them Ravaging The Captain.
Then, The Very Thing That Makes This Day Memorable Happens.
The Captain Lobs One Of Them From Him, Then The Other.
The Most Primal Look Of Hatred Crawls Onto His Face,
Seeping Into His Calm-Sculpted Face, Making His Stare Almost Blasphemous.
He Bares His Teeth As If He Were Satan Himself.
Matted Fur Sprouts From His Body, And He Leaps At Them, Like They Did Him, Unarmed.
I Watch In Morbid Fascination And Horror As He Rends Them Apart.
Bringing Handful After Handful Of Dark, Vital Blood Onto The Gravel.
His Teeth Close Down One One's Shoulder, And I Hear It's Bone's Snap As He Bites.
His Teeth.
They Look Like The Scalpels The Doctor Uses To Tear Apart Experiments; Blood-Soaked And All.
He Caught Glimpse At My Horrified Expression, And Looked Down At Himself Ashamed.
He Left Me With The Scent Of Blood Rising Off Body-Heat And The Hollow Whistling Of The Empty Skies.
That's The Last Thing I Remember Of That Night; The Captain, And His Mouthful Of Scalpels.
The Wind Hitched.
I Would Make It To Schwartzchild; I Walked At The Side Of The Road, My Mind Vacant, And My Expression Empty.
I Was Too Transfixed By What I'd Seen To Do Any More Than Walk.
