"The color fits ya 'Tooth" she teased him, he growled at her in response.
He took out his keys. When he got close to his car, the smell of vomit dissapeared with something different. He looked through the back seat window. Two cartons of Marlboros, a carton of Sugar Bombs, a box of Cigars, the Desert Eagle replica and his old trench oat laid across the back seat.
"Where'd ya get the money ta pay for this kid," his attention never leaving the backseat. He took another whiff.
"Well," she suddenly appeared in the backseat of the car, "when the girl ya took home woke up, she panicked," she shrugged her shoulders like she didn't know why, "she threw at least three thousand dollars at me, screamin' not to hurt her as she ran out the door -- I was gonna say somethin' but who am I not ta spend money given ta me." she gave him a beaming smile.
He heard enough as he shook his head. He got in the car and put the keys in the ignition. Looking behind him he noticed that she was still in the back.
"I'm not a taxi kid," he warned her. He played 'cabbie' once to get some victims, but no one was here to be one. He saw her shrug as she appeared right next to him.
He started the car and left where they were. Hoping that along the way he'd find some way to get rid of this specter.
+ + +
A couple hours on the road made him think of various stuff. Especially when he passed sign stating the Canadian border was two thousand miles away. He groaned inwardly as he thought of how it was not like him to miscalculate. He snorted, hell, his actions for the past few days wasn't like him.
He looked over at the passenger side, she had stayed that way for the past couple of hours. When they left, her gaze looked out the window.
If someone told him a ghost of the runt's ally would come to stop him from killing, maiming, torturing and all the stuff that made him who he was -- he slapped him around for living.
If someone told him he would be making a deal with his 'conscious' to gain some freedom -- he gut him after the last sentence.
Yet here they were, and he didn't know a way to get rid of her.
He looked at the back seat to see the Desert Eagle replica. He scowled at what lead to that incident with that gun. When instinct took over and it told him to kill himself, he didn't give it a second thought. He didn't like having the things he got used to over the decades just change on him.
He'd rather be dead than never to kill again.
That statement didn't sit well with him -- actually it bothered him.
He never felt guilty before on any decisions on his life. He was trained not to his whole entire life. A killer, that's what he was and he was damn good at it.
He looked over the kid again and shook the stupid thoughts out of his head and turned on the radio. The melodic guitar intro leads to the old grizzled voice of Johnny Cash.
"Leave it," they both said at the same time and they looked each other.
"No surprise ya like Cash 'Tooth," She stated as she looked at him as she rolled her eyes.
"Ain't no one like the man in black kid, surprised you like him," he turned the radio up.
"Just cause he did tha cover fer Nine Inch Nails," she looked back out the window and he focused on the road.
"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything..."
He sighed somberly as he kept driving into the darkness without his lights on.
+ + +
Five straight hours of Johnny Cash, the songs eased his mind. Since the man in black died, they'd been playing his songs non-stop. He didn't mind and he noticed that his passenger didn't mind either.
A grumble erupted from he pit of his stomach. He didn't eat today, only smoked a couple of cigarettes.
"There's sugar bombs in the back ya know," her suggestion made him growl. He'd never eat those sugar packed items -- ever.
He noticed his surroundings, he chose to drive close to the woods. He slowed down and parked on the side of the road.
"Huntin'," A voice piped up next to him as he got out of the car.
"Yeah kid, ya wanna watch a bunny die," he popped out his claws as he sniffed the air. There were plenty of them here, he'd have no problem killing one.
"I'm good thanks," she put up her hand, "d'ya mind leavin' the radio on."
He shrugged as Johnny Cash blared from his Viper as he went to hunt.
+ + +
He didn't have to walk fifteen minutes, he'd found a rabbit run past him. All he did was leapt at the blur and he held an instant meal in his hand.
He felt the furry being trying to kick out. He just gripped it well -- he'd done this before and reactions of bunnies are simple.
He let the bunny scream a little as he still had a firm grip on it. He felt the bunny's heart race, unable to escape. His preys eyes started to glaze over as he felt the bunny give one last kick. His preys heart stopped -- dinner was served.
+ + +
He patted his stomach as he threw the bone in his hand to the pile. The meat was tough, but fulfilling. He started to walk to the car. The closer he got, Cash's songs became louder.
The kid was already out, leaning on the side of the car.
"Ya got some of your dinner on the side of your face," she touched her own face to point it out. He ignored her as he went to the backseat to pick out what he wanted.
He took a cigarette out the pack and lit it.
"Do ya mind if I hit that," she asked him and floated near him.
"I thought ya ain't gonna control me," he pointed out to her. Why should he give up his body just so the kid can smoke.
"Err wrong answer 'Tooth," she floated right in front of him and made sure she made eye contact, "Ain't gonna use yer memories 'gainst ya and c'mon 'Tooth would ya rather have me singin'," she opened her mouth and took in a deep breath. He rolled his eyes, he knew that she could just take over his body anytime. Why was she being polite?
He resigned himself, "Sure kid why not,"
He got tired of the darkness that took over him.
* * *
He heard laughing, lots of it. His vision was confined down to black and white drawn figures. The words weren't the first thing he focused on.
A bathtub full of body parts, a sink full of sharp metal objects and a wimpy guy covered in blood, cleaning his saw.
This is what she was laughing at?
* * *
He came back to find a newly lit cigarette in his hand and smelled that two have been smoked.
"Kid, I thought ya wanted a little bit," He asked her as she shrugged as she phased through the door and sat at the passenger seat.
"Two is a little," she replied innocently.
He threw the newly lit cigarette out, something bothered him about what he saw in the kid's mind. He went inside the car and turned off the radio.
"I was listenin'," she was serious bout this.
"I just went into that mind of yours, seems like killin' is funny ta you," he confronted her with his vision.
She gave him a confused look, "What ya see, a guy in black and white." she questioned him.
"Yeah," He replied to confirm it, and he didn't expect her reaction.
She laughed, not sarcastically laughing he heard throughout this whole ordeal or nervous laughter that he usual instilled into his prey before he killed it,but genuine funny laughter.
"Boy I miss that comic," she wheezed out trying to control her laughter. The only thing he could do is frown.
She noticed this as she stopped laughing abruptly and shrugged, "Killing is wrong, everyone needs ta gain redemption, follow the 'dream' yadda yadda yadda but it's a comic, not real life," she pointed the last point out.
He just sighed as he went to start the car, but he'd have to teach a kid a lesson.
"In my reality, kid, I live ta see the fear in my preys eyes and hear him scream for mercy as I rip his heart out his chest. The comic yer laughin' at is basically the same thing I do for a livin'," He saw her blink a little, "aren't ya a hypocrite ta not let me kill, but enjoy it when someone else does it."
He actually saw her gaze blankly at him, like she didn't expect him to say those words. That gaze didn't last long though as she came back to her peppy self.
"You're right 'Tooth, I am a hypocrite," her voice sullen as could be, but then she smiled at him, "but we made a deal and I keep ta it -- too bad," she stuck out her tongue at him as she went back to look out the window.
He started the car, he knew she was putting up a front. The last couple of days he started to get the kid. They had crappy childhoods, liked smoking, liked Johnny Cash and now he found out that she thought killing was funny -- but only in the comic books.
He pushed those thoughts away as the facts were still there. He was still unable to kill anything human and it irked him a little. He needed to get rid of her and maybe along the way he'd find someone to help him...
When did not being able to kill a frail 'irk' him? He lived and thrived on it -- he should be in a state of insanity for not killing a frail for so long.
"Are we goin' or what 'Tooth, you and thinkin' don't go together," she poked fun at him.
He pushed the gas pedal as they went forward into the night. Who would've thought the kid and him had some things in common...
Wait...
|+++++++++++++++++++++|
Note of reference: The comic scene I'm referring to is from, Johnny: The Homicidal Maniac by Jhonen Vasquez. He's also the creator of the show, Invader Zim.