Pyromane

(You know what it means by now.  Fun note, it's also German.  I just found that out yesterday.)

DISCLAIMER:  Do not own, blah…  I pity you if you don't realize this by the twelfth chapter.

AN: Update?  In under two months?  I hope I don't lose any readers to shock…  Eep, that'd be bad.  This was still I longer interlude than I intended, and I say now sorry.  This is the third incarnation of this chapter…

Chapter 12

Perspective

[, Altered]

Hm, I'm bored.  Yup, that's definitely how I feel.  It can't be a lack of fire, Zippy's alight right now.  Ok, so I jest.  I didn't name my lighter.  I'm not nuts.  Well, maybe a little, and I'm sure others would argue to the contrary, but I'm not so far gone as to name inanimate objects at the age of 17.  I may have done it until the age of 11, but not anymore.

Yep.

Darn, I'm getting sidetracked again.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, bored,  I need to bother someone.  Why?  If I knew a valid reason (validity being key), I'd tell.  Alas, all I have to reason it by:  it's fun.  Isn't that enough?

Is it just me, or do I seem to rant?  Hm.

All right, back to entertainment,  Gotta find someone to interact with.  But who?

Let's see, Pietro left after we were all dismissed.  Thank the higher forces!  He's too self-absorbed to annoy, he's bloody well oblivious!  I laughed and laughed, and he never even noticed.  And, again invoking those of the higher planes, as much of a narcissist as that bugger is, he knew his hair looked like…  Well, like I'd gotten to it.  He must've gone from drama queen to Cleopatra.  Oh, and after the boredom that was yesterday morning, I'm glad he isn't here.  I don't wanna listen to him.  Ugh…  Always droning on.  [Him, not me.  Heh.]

Next person coming to mind:  Viccy.  I don't know if he's here.  Probably not, considering he rarely is.  Most likely out looking for a snack, something along the lines of road kill.  Or maybe he's wrestling.  He just looks like one.  Ooh!  Especially if he spoke Mexican.  Er, Spanish.  My apologies.  On the chance he is here, well, he ain't exactly one o' me mates.  He's much more likely to rip me apart and eat me on sight.  Especially if he knew I just referred to him a 'Viccy'.  But, of course, being the great god-like figure I am myself, I could defend…myself.  [Darn, I hate being repetitive.]  He's furry.  Burns well.

And so we can all have a laugh:  I know this from experience.  If only he hadn't destroyed the Polaroid's…

Okay, next option:  Piotr.  I think I'll go in search of him.  He's a good friend, he takes it in stride.  He's not the most fun, though.  Sometimes, he takes me too seriously.  And all he ever does is give me weird looks.  Doesn't talk enough.  Plus, I kinda feel bad sometimes, I know the bloke's got some major issues, this whole deal, I think (he won't confirm it), was forced upon him.  But I don't like to think about angst.  I left mine in Oz, and I hope it stays there.  My only qualm now is…the other guy.  Childish, I know, but to sustain my positive demeanor, I will not even acknowledge him by name.  For now.  Admittedly, I don't have the attention span to keep such activities up for long.

So, based on my logic, I head away from the TV room and across base.  I notice Zippy is starting to cut me from my flame. [Hah!  Got you again!]  My new reliable, my precious incendiary device is about to be out of fluid.  I believe it's been a whole three days since I last refilled it.  New record!  Oh well, since I can't function without fire, I must retrieve the fuel that is me lifeblood.  It's just a slight detour, I've got a bottle of it in my locker.

I bet you were expecting it to be in my room, weren't you?  Heh.  Well, okay, I just kinda left it with my uniform by mistake.  Sigh of slight defeat.

And so, I head down the left fork in the labyrinthine halls to the locker room.  Where else might a locker be, huh?  Don't give me that look…  Piotr's room would be to the right.

Walking now.  Walking is boring.  No fire now, darn lighter.  So, I whistle.  Why?  I shrug again.  I don't need to justify myself!  Gah!

Breathe Johnny…  I'm okay now.  Back to my amazing musical talents.  Have I mentioned I can play drums too?  Wait, no distractions! (though I believe my rhythmic skills to be quite impressive)  Whistling now.

As to what intoxicating melody springs forth:  I dunno.  It's just some random pattern of notes constantly stuck in my head.

You know, considering I'm a writer, I suck at real-time narrative.  I spend several lines of text describing my whistling habits.  Er, it would be lines of texts were I to write this all down.  But real-time is boring, for if that is what I were to dictate—well, it would go as such:

I'm walking down the hallway, while whistling.  I'm still walking.  Walking some more…

See what I mean?  I have no desire to do that. I don't have the attention span for that.  (Hey, it's just what others tell me, I in no way support the John-Has-the-attention-Span-of-a-Gnat Organization.)  Like Remy says, I—

Gah!  That bastard!  He should…eh.  I'd say die, but I'm a pyromaniac, not a homicidal one.  He should just suffer terrible physical pain accompanied by a large side of mental anguish, none of which he can sue me for.  If only I could send him LeMarchand's Box.  That'd be amusing.  Wait…he's seen Hellraiser too, he wouldn't touch it.

Alas.

And so I walk.

Going past the training room, I exclaim 'Speak of the devil [eyed-bugger] now!'  Only not really.  That'd be weird if I shouted things to myself.  I use my indoor-voice for that.  Heh.

As for Boomer:  Wow, quite a number must've been done on him.  He's just lying in the middle of the dark room. 

Not moving.

Hm, I wonder if that's a bad thing.  So, I shall investigate.  If only I had a fun little sidekick, I could call him Watson.  Who cares what his real name might be.

It would be kinda funny if he was dead.  I've never seen a corpse before, except this poor dog that got hit in front of my house.  I poked it with a stick.  I didn't know the dog's name (though I didn't mourn it's passing.  Hey, it chased me!), but the stick's name was Kristof.   Keep in mind, I was 8.

Wait, death would be bad.  Remy's always been the most fun to annoy.  There was this one incident, with the microwave…  It was hilarious!  He panicked!  I think he still doesn't realize it was in part intentional.  I kinda wish I hadn't lost my bagel though…  Not that that matters anymore.  He's proven himself to be a vile, privacy-invading bastard.  And no, I don't call him that as an endearment!  Note to self:  set his room on fire.  I just need to pick the lock to get in first.

Damn, he's the one who was gonna teach me how to do that!

Sidetracked in my own brain again, sorry.  All that's for later.  Right now, I'm checking his limp form for a pulse.  Hah!  He just twitched.  That's good, he's not dead.  Just for the heck of it, I poke him in the shoulder.  He's not dead, so it's not creepy or morbid.

No response, so I push harder against his arm/body joint.  I don't like to be repetitive [sometimes], remember?  He just kinda slides sideway this time.

"Rem?"

Oh great, he's unconscious.

I lean forward, a grin playing on the corners of my mouth.  My lips are just millimeters from his ear.  I inhale deeply.  Gotta remember breath support.  (I learned that in Chorus.  I did that for a bit in school too.  Until I set the teacher's office on fire.  He didn't appreciate that.)

My lungs now full…

"REMY!!!"

He hasn't moved.  More badness?  Perhaps.  Damn unconsciousness, that was the loudest yell I could muster.  He's never slept this soundly before.  Then again, unconsciousness isn't exactly sleep, now is it?

I hope he's not in a coma, that'd be...weird.  But, considering how badly he pissed Mags off, I wouldn't be too surprised.  That old man is messed up, serious anger management issues.  Admittedly, part of me last night expected to find him dead, most likely horribly mutilated and full of metal stuff this morning.  Now would most likely be the moment to mention he appears to be intact.  Based on my view of the back of his head, he doesn't even look beat up, which is strange.  He probably just passed out from fright, the poof. 

How the hell does he get this lucky?  I burned down an old house, and Magneto beat the crap out of me.  Gambit, on the other hand, completely blows the bossman off, and he gets unconsciousness.

Yeah, I realize I sound jealous.  I am, you buggers!  Gah!  If any of you think any less of me, I outta burn down your house!  Okay, 10, 9, 8, 1…  You get the picture.

Sigh.  So, here I am, trying not to be so burningly angry.  And Remy's still unconscious.  I'm not sure what exactly to be doing at this point with him.  I'll do…something.  Then I'll go find Dr. Pete, he'll know.

Standing now, I kick him lightly in the side (I'm not being mean, it's really more or a nudge.  A hard nudge.).  It's just one final test for responsiveness.  He still isn't.  Next step:  get him down the hall to the Med room.  Not far, I can handle that.  No way am I carrying him.  So, I bend over and grab both his wrists.  Yes, he is being dragged.

After approximately 5.9 cm of dragging, I have come to this conclusion:

Damn, he's heavy.

Okay, so my first method of bodily transport doesn't work.  Um…  Improv. time!

I turn around and grab his arms instead of his wrists.  Yes, I realize he'll still be just as heavy, but at least I'll have a better grasp.  Facing forward (so I can see where I'm going), I yank and pull again.  I made visible forward movement this time.  Let us rejoice.  Actually no, I don't care that much.  I'm not even sure why I'm helping him like this, I should just leave him here to wake on his own.

While debating my morals (to move or not to move), I let his arms drop once again with a thud.  I make up my mind based on Piotr.  The number of weird/disapproving looks he'd give me for not acting wouldn't be worth it.  Oh yeah, I should probably mention at some point that I was never really mad at him. Just Remy.

Once again, I have to turn and face the Cajun to get a grip and continue movement.  As I lean forward, I catch sight of something weird by his left leg.  A dark streak.  Funny, I didn't notice anything until we crossed into the light of the hallway.

I'm feeling really weird right now.  Knotted stomach and all that…  I think I already know what that is, but I move closer to see.

My stomach almost came up my throat when I confirmed what that was.  Shit, he'd bleeding.  I don't particularly like blood, especially coming from one of my friends.  Biting my lip to distract myself from the nausea, I kneel down next to his leg and look closer at it.  I touch the black denim lightly.  My fingers come back wet, and I lean over and gag.  Oh god…  Oh bloody hell…

I bite my lip hard as I jerk the fabric back to see how bad it is.  Oh god, soaked through…

I dodge sideways and heave my stomach out on the floor of the training room.  I check his pulse again quickly, it's there, but really weak.

Forget lighter fluid, I run for dear life down the hall in a panic.  I'm freaking out, I don't know what to do!

"PIOTR!"

To be continued…

Special thanks to:

Epona-  Just so long as you remember to breath, be as crazy as you'd like.  Oh, and watch out for walls…

Alesca Munroe- Very generic.  TM?  Wow, as common as that is, you'd think it'd be public domain by now.  You must make a fortune off it.

Jukebox- Thanks, hope you liked the speedy(er than usual) update.

Dragon Master Lytore-  We all now feel his pain…

Streetwise Girl-  Good point.

Tigere47- ::Cdragon holds out wrists::  Cuff me!

Etwa-  I don't think Remy found it funny, but thank you.

Snitter in Rivendell- Thanks, ooh, and I see you updated too.  It just won't let me at ch. 3 yet!

Anon-  Hence the warning.  I tried to make it not so gorey, but that's part of the drama, isn't it.  Just be glad I didn't make it worse.  I could have, it's kind of a specialty of mine…

Green Eyed Lilys Daughter-  Ok, I have a list of questions ready, I just need to find the piece of paper they're on and actually type them.  Big question that I remember now: drinking age?

Cat- I wouldn't dare commit such blasphemy as abandoning this.  It's my pride and joy.

DemonRogue13- Thanks.

Jaina- Danke.

Berserker Nightwitch- Last few paragraphs… (shh…)

Personage-  You scare me.  ::Hides behind Piotr::