A/N: Although this experimental fanfic was conceived with no clear end in sight, I'm starting to formulate a possible ending.
The Man with No Name
( Part Twenty-Five: Maverick )
Every bloody thing that went wrong in his life was because of women. And crystals. He might have added booze into the mix - only that the amber liquid didn't provide such a blessed liberation that made the hours go by like minutes and made his mind go numb with pleasure. A sweet and dark intoxication.
In the rare moment his mind was almost (but never truly) lucid, water leaked from his eyes from the great pressure in his head. His pulse would dance to the sound of an beating drum and he's tear apart the motel room until the landowner came a'knockin at his door and throw him out into the streets, chucking his burlap satchel over his head.
No good, low-life, spirit guzzling non-conformist.
Spitting out sand and dust, he rolled over on the dirt and hauled himself up over to the side of the saloon. Walked backwards all the way to his skimmer hidden in the butcher's back lot, and hurled into a bush at the thought of raw buffalo hanging from meat hooks.
He had a mighty fine death wish for carrying out his unspoken threat to Master Cyclonis. If only he hadn't dipped his fingers into the local bar with a Talon he couldn't remember the name of, he might have avoided the temper tantrums that followed with addiction. However, he smirked to himself as he pulled on the sliding door of the meat house and wondered why it wasn't opening.
The Talon was court marshaled three weeks later for drug possession. Dark Ace caught in the crossfire. He should've known.
Turning around, he pulled on the door and it magically opened. The overwhelming smell of meat struck his nostrils; mixed with the liqueurs he had for dinner and well – you know.
Crystals and women and wine. Hate them and love them. Can't live without them.
All he knew about the Zircon crystal was that it really wasn't a crystal at all. A mineral stone enhanced by Master Cyclonis to help reduce crystal consumption. It was all an experiment to date, and the largest piece of rock to have survived his master's curious tinkering. He had been jealous, without a core reason why, and took out his anger on the inanimate object – stole it and left her.
Stupid, really.
At least Zircon was pretty, in an obnoxious sort of way. It was a mild yellow, a blend between orange and red, and if he held it against the light, staring into the facets reminded him of Cyclonia. The wastelands. Furnaces. Heat and dust. Deserts and canyons. A girl with brown skin. A highly annoying laugh.
It always came back to the women. Always.