*It's not meant to hurt you,
But let me assure you
It's not what I said I
Would take you to get (???)
So when you hold onto
The past and you
Go and break down what little is left
Yeah, if nothing more
You can't ignore, and say
It makes no difference to me*
*Sum41 - Makes No Difference*
Kenji was finally dead, the bastard.
She'd hated him for as long as she could remember, and he was finally dead. Angel could hardly believe it. As overjoyed as she was, she was also profoundly disappointed, in that she hadn't gotten to pull the trigger herself. Oh well.
She was sitting in the semidarkness of the living room. The ambulance was long gone, and Bryan was talking to the cops at the door. He'd wondered why cops had come to a suicide, but he later learned that it was because Angel already had a criminal record--all of those self-defense ass-beatings she had administered--and the local officials checked into anything that had to do with Angel purely out of habit.
The cops, satisfied by Bryan's story that Angel was innocent, finally left, and Bryan shook his head as he joined Angel in the living room. She was staring into space, her eyes unfocused. He'd figured that she'd be jumping for joy, but she wasn't. No, she looked disturbed by something. Almost horrified.
"That shocked?" he asked in complete amazement. "I thought you wanted him dead."
His comment brought her out of her trance. "I AM glad that he's dead. There's a few things that are bothering me, though. A, I didn't get to pull the trigger myself. B, do we have to have a funeral?" She paused, and looked thoroughly disgusted. "And C, do I haved to cry at that godforsaken funeral?"
Bryan stared at her. He hadn't thought about a funeral. Kenji's body certainly wasn't going to just go away. Then he had an idea. "Send his body back to Japan. I'm sure he has relatives there that want to bury him."
"I'm sure you have the last part of that sentence correct, but there's a problem with that. I've never heard him speak of relatives of his. Ever." This stumped the both of them, and they sat on the living room loveseat for ten minutes before she stood. "I got it. I'll put a short obituary in the paper, but won't give the details of any funeral. If somebody calls, then I guess I'll have to have a funeral. If nobody calls, than I'll just cremate the bastard and pour his ashes on a pile of Takeru's shit or something."
Bryan raised his eyebrows. "But what of somebody calls years later, a mother or something, and demands her son's ashes?"
"Damn. I hadn't thought of that. And I really wanted to pour his ashes on something nasty, too. Oh well. I'll just box up the urn and put it in the attic."
Bryan nodded. "Good idea." Inwardly, he knew he should be bothered by the whole thougt of Angel not wanting to pay proper respect to a dead man, but knowing Kenji, it was the most acceptable course of action. And she showed plenty of respect for dead men. She was nice to him, wash't she? Bryan grinned at the thought. Then, to cover up his merriment, he coughed and said, "I'm going to bed."
"'Night," said Angel. "I just have to clean up the damn mess he made in his bedroom." At his surprised look, she raised an eyebrow. "What do you want? Blood smells horrible, and if I leave it there, then pretty soon the neighbors will smell it, and much as I hated him, I don't want that to happen."
A sensible idea. Bryan waved goodnight, and headed into his room, where he sat on the end of his bed and heaved a sigh. He hadn't let it show, but tonight had really rattled him. Kenji had killed himself because he hadn't been able to control Angel. And now what? Did that task suddenly fall on him? Was he Angel's guardian now? The concept bothered him. Kenji had simply been working for Dr. Abel, a man Bryan hated profoundly. Then a slow smile crept across his thin lips. Abel had told him that he'd be dead in a few months. What a pleasant surprise it would be if he showed up at Abel's new lab with Angel in tow. What if he asked Angel to intimidate Abel enough to obey her? She could command Abel to modify Bryan's body, to prolong his life.
That had been the main source of his alcoholic binge: the knowledge that he would slowly waste away, and die a slow and probably painful death. He'd almost gotten to the point where he was ready to die. He'd just wanted to get it over with. Angel had woken him up from that stupor, thank God, and now he was ready to challenge fate. He knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do. He just had no idea how to do it.
He went to sleep that night with a considerably lighter conscience, one that Angel was glad to feel in him. She was standing in Kenji's bedroom, the mess cleaned up. She was forced to restrain a sudden desire to torch the entire room, but supressed it with the knowledge that she would likely burn down the entire house. She liked this house. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could almost feel Kenji's presence in this room. His annoying voice, his domineering nature, his disappointment in her. She had been a chore to him. A slave, a duty to be taken care of. She'd stood up to him, and he'd killed himself. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
She and Takeru headed upstairs to her bedroom. Takeru snoozed on the end of her bed while she screwed around on the Internet for an hour or so. She smiled when she found what she was looking for.
Bryan was awakened at 7:00 the next morning to the incredible smells of frying eggs and bacon. Pulling on a pair of pants over his boxers, he headed to the kitchen. Angel was busy at the stove, working two frying pans and the toaster. He set the table without being asked, and ten minutes later they were munching happily on the all-American classic breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, toast, and some strong coffee for Bryan. Angel drank apple cider, since she hated the smell and taste of coffee profoundly.
They chatted, an activity not common for Angel. She was the martial artist/freak of the community, and it was a foreign exercise for her to have a casual conversation with someone without threatening to tear them limb from limb. She enjoyed it immensely.
She expertly steered the converation toward a touchy subject: money. "Bryan, we have a problem. Now that Kenji is dead, we are not going to be earning as much money as we need to survive."
"But you have a job," he objected, having a feeling that he knew where this was going.
"If I may hand your own words back to you, barmaids don't earn that much money." She took a breath. "Bryan, you need to find a job."
Bryan chewed thoughtfully. He didn't really want to find a job. The last couple of months had been rather nice, with someone doing everything for him while he sat on his ass and watched TV all day, something he hadn't done since high school. But she was right. He would have to find a job. "And I gather that you have some ideas as to where I might work?" he asked blithely.
"As a matter of fact, I do," said Angel a bit snippily, ignoring the eye roll she recieved. "I doubt you could get a job at Jerry's. No offense, but you're not much of a people person. That rules out department stores, restaraunts, and telemarketing."
Bryan raised an eyebrow. Telemarketing? What the hell?
"And I gather that you don't want to be a police officer again?" She flinched at the glare she recieved. "The most logical options I can think of for you are bodyguard, bouncer, or prison guard." All of them jobs of intimidation and physical skill. She'd read him perfectly. He waited for her to continue. "No bar in the area needs a bouncer, to my knowledge. There's nobody that needs a bodyguard either, especially one so cheerful as you." Again with the heavy sarcasm, and he couldn't help but grin a little.
"And I take that to mean that you know some prisons in the area that need more guards?"
"No, but I do know a prison guard. Maybe he can help."
Bryan didn't even ask the question. She answered it anyway. "He goes to the judo class I'm going to. He's even taller than you, but he's funny as hell. You'd like him."
"I'm sure." Bryan took another sip of coffee. It was strong and black, and provided a good distraction for him to think about the whole matter. He didn't want a job, he wanted Angel to go find Abel and kick the mad doctor's ass. And this entire family situation still bothered him, as it seemed... almost TOO normal.
His felt a pang of sorrow from the intense thoughts that came to his mind. A family. He'd had a family at one time. A mother, a father, and the token bullying older brother that had been Bryan's best friend. Bryan and Nick, the two Fury brothers, had been inseparable during their childhood. Nick was older, but Bryan was taller, so it evened out. Last he'd heard from Nick, he'd taken some secretive miltary job. He'd sent a picture. Nick, with the standard Fury brown hair going gray at the temples was smiling and waving for the picture. Smiling, with an eye patch. There'd been a short letter from him as well. Doing well, new girlfriend, lost an eye, blah blah blah. Nick had never been much for a friendly personality. It had been the last time that Bryan had ever heard from his brother, three years ago. Now Nick probably thought his little brother was dead. Bryan wondered if his militaristic older brother was still alive. Probably.
Angel came back from the bathroom, jarring him out of his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left. She walked to the table to gather the plates from the table, rinsed them, and stuck them in the dishwasher. His thoughts were disturbed, as if he'd been thinking something sad. It was centered around a family instinct. She still didn't feel right prying into his mind (when he was awake, anyway) so she pulled away. "What were you just thinking about?" she asked cautiously. "Your thoughts are depressed."
The question jolted him. Over the past few months, he'd slowly come to terms with her empathic and telepathic abilities, though they still disturbed him on occasion. This was one of those times. He also knew that she usually asked permission before really reading someone's mind. She usually kept a light link on his, a means of companionship for an otherwise lonely young adult. Never had anything sexual passed between them. She was simply the little sister keeping in close contact with her older brother. It still scared him, though.
"Just the thought that I'm gonna have to actually work now," he said, keeping his tone deliberately light. She saw the lie for what it was, but let it slide. Then she stood with her arms folded and her foot tapping. Bryan raised an eyebrow. "What? What do you want?"
"Today's Saturday, dumbass." She returned an exasperated look for his blank one. "Judo class at the health club? Wake up, Bryan."
"Oh." It was then that Bryan noticed the oversized duffel bag hanging from one of her shoulders. It probably held her gi as well as her sparring pads. Sheepishly he got ready to leave, and fetched his black gloves.
This was going to be a long night, he thought glumly.
But let me assure you
It's not what I said I
Would take you to get (???)
So when you hold onto
The past and you
Go and break down what little is left
Yeah, if nothing more
You can't ignore, and say
It makes no difference to me*
*Sum41 - Makes No Difference*
Kenji was finally dead, the bastard.
She'd hated him for as long as she could remember, and he was finally dead. Angel could hardly believe it. As overjoyed as she was, she was also profoundly disappointed, in that she hadn't gotten to pull the trigger herself. Oh well.
She was sitting in the semidarkness of the living room. The ambulance was long gone, and Bryan was talking to the cops at the door. He'd wondered why cops had come to a suicide, but he later learned that it was because Angel already had a criminal record--all of those self-defense ass-beatings she had administered--and the local officials checked into anything that had to do with Angel purely out of habit.
The cops, satisfied by Bryan's story that Angel was innocent, finally left, and Bryan shook his head as he joined Angel in the living room. She was staring into space, her eyes unfocused. He'd figured that she'd be jumping for joy, but she wasn't. No, she looked disturbed by something. Almost horrified.
"That shocked?" he asked in complete amazement. "I thought you wanted him dead."
His comment brought her out of her trance. "I AM glad that he's dead. There's a few things that are bothering me, though. A, I didn't get to pull the trigger myself. B, do we have to have a funeral?" She paused, and looked thoroughly disgusted. "And C, do I haved to cry at that godforsaken funeral?"
Bryan stared at her. He hadn't thought about a funeral. Kenji's body certainly wasn't going to just go away. Then he had an idea. "Send his body back to Japan. I'm sure he has relatives there that want to bury him."
"I'm sure you have the last part of that sentence correct, but there's a problem with that. I've never heard him speak of relatives of his. Ever." This stumped the both of them, and they sat on the living room loveseat for ten minutes before she stood. "I got it. I'll put a short obituary in the paper, but won't give the details of any funeral. If somebody calls, then I guess I'll have to have a funeral. If nobody calls, than I'll just cremate the bastard and pour his ashes on a pile of Takeru's shit or something."
Bryan raised his eyebrows. "But what of somebody calls years later, a mother or something, and demands her son's ashes?"
"Damn. I hadn't thought of that. And I really wanted to pour his ashes on something nasty, too. Oh well. I'll just box up the urn and put it in the attic."
Bryan nodded. "Good idea." Inwardly, he knew he should be bothered by the whole thougt of Angel not wanting to pay proper respect to a dead man, but knowing Kenji, it was the most acceptable course of action. And she showed plenty of respect for dead men. She was nice to him, wash't she? Bryan grinned at the thought. Then, to cover up his merriment, he coughed and said, "I'm going to bed."
"'Night," said Angel. "I just have to clean up the damn mess he made in his bedroom." At his surprised look, she raised an eyebrow. "What do you want? Blood smells horrible, and if I leave it there, then pretty soon the neighbors will smell it, and much as I hated him, I don't want that to happen."
A sensible idea. Bryan waved goodnight, and headed into his room, where he sat on the end of his bed and heaved a sigh. He hadn't let it show, but tonight had really rattled him. Kenji had killed himself because he hadn't been able to control Angel. And now what? Did that task suddenly fall on him? Was he Angel's guardian now? The concept bothered him. Kenji had simply been working for Dr. Abel, a man Bryan hated profoundly. Then a slow smile crept across his thin lips. Abel had told him that he'd be dead in a few months. What a pleasant surprise it would be if he showed up at Abel's new lab with Angel in tow. What if he asked Angel to intimidate Abel enough to obey her? She could command Abel to modify Bryan's body, to prolong his life.
That had been the main source of his alcoholic binge: the knowledge that he would slowly waste away, and die a slow and probably painful death. He'd almost gotten to the point where he was ready to die. He'd just wanted to get it over with. Angel had woken him up from that stupor, thank God, and now he was ready to challenge fate. He knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do. He just had no idea how to do it.
He went to sleep that night with a considerably lighter conscience, one that Angel was glad to feel in him. She was standing in Kenji's bedroom, the mess cleaned up. She was forced to restrain a sudden desire to torch the entire room, but supressed it with the knowledge that she would likely burn down the entire house. She liked this house. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could almost feel Kenji's presence in this room. His annoying voice, his domineering nature, his disappointment in her. She had been a chore to him. A slave, a duty to be taken care of. She'd stood up to him, and he'd killed himself. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
She and Takeru headed upstairs to her bedroom. Takeru snoozed on the end of her bed while she screwed around on the Internet for an hour or so. She smiled when she found what she was looking for.
Bryan was awakened at 7:00 the next morning to the incredible smells of frying eggs and bacon. Pulling on a pair of pants over his boxers, he headed to the kitchen. Angel was busy at the stove, working two frying pans and the toaster. He set the table without being asked, and ten minutes later they were munching happily on the all-American classic breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, toast, and some strong coffee for Bryan. Angel drank apple cider, since she hated the smell and taste of coffee profoundly.
They chatted, an activity not common for Angel. She was the martial artist/freak of the community, and it was a foreign exercise for her to have a casual conversation with someone without threatening to tear them limb from limb. She enjoyed it immensely.
She expertly steered the converation toward a touchy subject: money. "Bryan, we have a problem. Now that Kenji is dead, we are not going to be earning as much money as we need to survive."
"But you have a job," he objected, having a feeling that he knew where this was going.
"If I may hand your own words back to you, barmaids don't earn that much money." She took a breath. "Bryan, you need to find a job."
Bryan chewed thoughtfully. He didn't really want to find a job. The last couple of months had been rather nice, with someone doing everything for him while he sat on his ass and watched TV all day, something he hadn't done since high school. But she was right. He would have to find a job. "And I gather that you have some ideas as to where I might work?" he asked blithely.
"As a matter of fact, I do," said Angel a bit snippily, ignoring the eye roll she recieved. "I doubt you could get a job at Jerry's. No offense, but you're not much of a people person. That rules out department stores, restaraunts, and telemarketing."
Bryan raised an eyebrow. Telemarketing? What the hell?
"And I gather that you don't want to be a police officer again?" She flinched at the glare she recieved. "The most logical options I can think of for you are bodyguard, bouncer, or prison guard." All of them jobs of intimidation and physical skill. She'd read him perfectly. He waited for her to continue. "No bar in the area needs a bouncer, to my knowledge. There's nobody that needs a bodyguard either, especially one so cheerful as you." Again with the heavy sarcasm, and he couldn't help but grin a little.
"And I take that to mean that you know some prisons in the area that need more guards?"
"No, but I do know a prison guard. Maybe he can help."
Bryan didn't even ask the question. She answered it anyway. "He goes to the judo class I'm going to. He's even taller than you, but he's funny as hell. You'd like him."
"I'm sure." Bryan took another sip of coffee. It was strong and black, and provided a good distraction for him to think about the whole matter. He didn't want a job, he wanted Angel to go find Abel and kick the mad doctor's ass. And this entire family situation still bothered him, as it seemed... almost TOO normal.
His felt a pang of sorrow from the intense thoughts that came to his mind. A family. He'd had a family at one time. A mother, a father, and the token bullying older brother that had been Bryan's best friend. Bryan and Nick, the two Fury brothers, had been inseparable during their childhood. Nick was older, but Bryan was taller, so it evened out. Last he'd heard from Nick, he'd taken some secretive miltary job. He'd sent a picture. Nick, with the standard Fury brown hair going gray at the temples was smiling and waving for the picture. Smiling, with an eye patch. There'd been a short letter from him as well. Doing well, new girlfriend, lost an eye, blah blah blah. Nick had never been much for a friendly personality. It had been the last time that Bryan had ever heard from his brother, three years ago. Now Nick probably thought his little brother was dead. Bryan wondered if his militaristic older brother was still alive. Probably.
Angel came back from the bathroom, jarring him out of his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left. She walked to the table to gather the plates from the table, rinsed them, and stuck them in the dishwasher. His thoughts were disturbed, as if he'd been thinking something sad. It was centered around a family instinct. She still didn't feel right prying into his mind (when he was awake, anyway) so she pulled away. "What were you just thinking about?" she asked cautiously. "Your thoughts are depressed."
The question jolted him. Over the past few months, he'd slowly come to terms with her empathic and telepathic abilities, though they still disturbed him on occasion. This was one of those times. He also knew that she usually asked permission before really reading someone's mind. She usually kept a light link on his, a means of companionship for an otherwise lonely young adult. Never had anything sexual passed between them. She was simply the little sister keeping in close contact with her older brother. It still scared him, though.
"Just the thought that I'm gonna have to actually work now," he said, keeping his tone deliberately light. She saw the lie for what it was, but let it slide. Then she stood with her arms folded and her foot tapping. Bryan raised an eyebrow. "What? What do you want?"
"Today's Saturday, dumbass." She returned an exasperated look for his blank one. "Judo class at the health club? Wake up, Bryan."
"Oh." It was then that Bryan noticed the oversized duffel bag hanging from one of her shoulders. It probably held her gi as well as her sparring pads. Sheepishly he got ready to leave, and fetched his black gloves.
This was going to be a long night, he thought glumly.