Fixated, elated. A permanent smile on his black-and-white canvas, hearing the question from a distant place in his mind. Much too long in this place, the realm of the living, no longer his home. Away from Shelly, away from salvation. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. Sometimes she’d become a flash, an image in his memory, distant from where he was now. He’d hear her laugh, her voice, feel her embrace, smell her perfume. One moment a glimpse of Eric came through, and the next he was gone. Gone again into the abyss of the darkness. The darkness created by the horror, the violence, the torment, the solitude.
So long, so far away, so merciless.
The mad man raised the stolen twelve-gauge. Reciting his words, head tilting to their pace.
“I am going to kill them all.” crazed hazel eyes, teeth exposed in a delirious grin.
“I am Santa Claus–” he breathed in a low, enraged baritone, “–and I bring presents to all who have been naughty.” teeth gritted in a false smile. An upturned gesture fueled with the pleasure of pain to come.
⊰ ATTABOY ! ⊱ cawed the crow, fluttering its wings.
“I don’t take orders from a clown, my orders came from the man down stairs, now step aside, I’m taking this dirt bag down with me, you seem like a nice gale, and I don’t want to shoot you, but get out of my way” he grunted “if you do what I ask?” he lifted his head up with the eyes shifted to the side to keep his eyes still upon the other man “A hot topic gift card would be added to your generosity and I’ll throw in some black nail polish, it seems like you people like that sort of thing” he said
“Now move” but once the man left he couldn’t help but to follow him “Hey, we an’t done yet pal” he jumped in front of him with the same kind of agility that could use him in combats that needed to be won for the last of all hope. His wings were the only weight to be pressing against the wall as both wings fluttered as the tip pressed lightly against that wall when landing but quickly vanished “Alright, ill bite, why do you want this cock sucker so badly son?”he said standing down till he herd his side of the story. Crossing his arms “but if I don’t like your answer? You can count on that ass whooping ya hear?”
“I’m fuckin’ cold.” Fun-boy said from his place on the cold of the asphalt. The initial shock of the graphic wounds had settled in, now came numbness. A soothing release that would allow the man to slip into death soon enough. Eric knew this. “I know.” Said the dead man, crouching down before the feet-less junkie. “It won’t last, I promise.” His words held some comfort, though the criminal understood, he was dying.
Eric took the spot next to him, sitting by his side. Waiting for the man’s death. “You’re him, ain’t ya?” asked dying Fun-boy, now trembling, growing cold. “I am, yes.” he needn’t an explanation, context could not put to words the horrors this dying man had committed against Eric and Shelly.
A new noise. At first far, then enhanced to Eric’s hearing.
⊰ Y’GOT VISIT, KID. ⊱ The bird cawed from above, the former musician listened.
Ramey made a new appearance. Question at the ready, Eric could not avoid the violent truth from coming afloat. Fun-boy was dying and deserved it.
Behind white and black paint, his voice was low. As if an echo of past injuries spoke for him. “We have unfinished business.” Eric said to the winged man. Gaze glancing upwards from the floor, blood gushing from the other’s limbs. Where his feet used to be. Not far away were the man’s shoes, his feet still wearing them. A clean, vicious cut, exposing Fun-boy’s fate. Shaking, cold as ice, he didn’t have long. “You may take him after, if you so please.”
“you an’t like the typical girls are ya?” he grinned “that’s fine with me that just means-“ he flipped backwards this time using his hands pressing the palm of his hands on the ground doing a cartwheel backwards placing his hands back up in self-defense mode “ I have to hit ya a lot harder sunshine” Ramey jumped in the air kicking his face with one of his boots as the other leg became a jab with another blow to the face. as he looked back at him.
“you made it clear buttercup, your flowers are starting to sing a song, I get ya, but what you don’t know is I believe Disney already did some bullshit about a ice princess singing about that song of fear and letting it blow, now do me a favor and step aside, or I will kill ya” he swing the pipe attempting to hit the man in the face once more “I won’t ask ya again, or do I have to sing let it go for you to move your ass along.”
he said with a cocky attitude he was beginning to walk away when the man with the golden smile struck him down to the ground. giving him a blow to the head as it sends him flying to a small corner of the wall. He held his head “look, I don’t care if there’s two of ya, your both going to hell” he stated since that blow to the head and back made ramey see double.
Shaking his head, he got up dancing around once more. “your good son, but I’m better” he picked up a shot gun pointing it at the man’s head “Now I won’t ask you again, stand down, or your looking for something pretty and red to go with that make up of yours sunny boy, and son these bullets can kill a demon like you.”
Blow after blow, hard hit after hard hit. At every contact that pipe made against him, at every harsh impact at his body, the former musician understood that the winged man, Ramey, was not going to let him go easy. Whatever his reason to want his prey, he was as driven ( perhaps ) as Eric himself. However, as far as he could tell, Eric’s perseverance came from pain and love. Hate and sorrow. Ramey’s… Ramey’s were dutiful, at most.
With the long barrel now aimed directly at him, the black-clad dead man stood still. His gaze, unbreakable. He held his sights on Ramey. Not a single move, until his head gave a slight tilt. In exhaustion. He didn’t want to continue fighting, it was pointless. It would end with one of the two, and Ramey hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve it.
“Put your gun away.” Eric said. Not a plead, but an order. “Ramey, I am taking this man with me… I don’t want to hurt you but I am taking him with me.”
⊰ HEY, ERIC! IT’S TIME, BOY. LET’S GO. ⊱ The bird took a dive & settled itself on a post. Eric was wasting time.
Eric ducked and stepped aside with feline agility. Disappearing into the shadows of the night. He’d stolen a gallery of goods from Gideon’s pawnshop, among them a sword. Fun-boy wouldn’t miss his limbs in a few minutes. Feet-less, the junkie sat on the alley behind the building. Damp and darkened, the alleyway offered the privacy Eric needed.
His eyes widen but quickly his eyes narrowed back into an emotionless expression, when he said he was dead Ramey lifted his right brow. “So, the answer is to dress as a clown from the batman reject collection?” but once he was swept under his feet making him land on the ground his eyes widen as his lips closed just a bit to get out of his way rolling to the right.
But not entirely in a crouching position his legs spread out he swift one leg under the man once more letting that turn into a somersault upper cutting his foot hoping it would kick the man in the cheek or the jaw, he landed backwards on his feet.
“your good, but I an’t going to let you walk out of here with that soul” he ran towards him with another jaw “I prefer to not use my gun for this, or you would be adios muchacho” he Said moving around a tiny circle slowly rotating his hands his eyes locked with his to read what moves would be coming next.
But Ramey did pick up a pipe that was lying around with just one kick from the tip of the shoe letting it fly up to the tip of his waist as his right hand grabbed it, with one quick swing he aimed for the face of the man who was fighting him “there’s more where that came from chump” he said, he placed the rim of the pipe on top of his shoulder waiting for this man’s next move.
Eric watched Ramey throw himself into the air. The unexpected movement catching him in the face. A hard blow. Making the former musician nearly lose his balance, stepping backward. That focused pain became the center of his attention for a moment. Perhaps he’d have to explain his opposition in some other way. “— Ow.” Eric said, disingenuously.
Barely processing the threat ( or what sounded like one ), guns would not harm him. Not permanently. And Ramey had been wise to save his bullets.
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear.” Gritted teeth remained into a grin as he spoke, recovering his composure. “I know pain at the molecular level…” Eric, steady again, immersed his eyes on Ramey as he walked around him. “It pulls at my atoms. It sings to me in an alphabet of… fear.” Anger in his voice.
Metal made contact against him, his speech interrupted. He’d felt this before. A thud hitting him with a cold clink of the perpetrator. Leaving a smear of white paint as it went from him and away. Eric was sent to the floor. Hands instinctively going first, as if preventing a harsh landing. A quick roll to his side, the leather-clad man moved out of the way and up to his feet again.
“Mister Bird-man.” Eric turned to face Ramey. “You are not paying attention.” With a forced smile on him, his arm went elbow first at the side of Ramey’s head. “Try again.” Without hesitance, nor losing a beat, his bent arm went up again. Striking a second blow at Ramey’s back. “Try harder!”
“ you know all i herd out of ya? blah blah, for a clown who has no license to do any kids shows i assume you talk way to much, ” he said as he gave him a quick punch in the jaw “I did say let’s tango, no time for poetry bullshit, nor the care for it.” Ramey grinned “were did you get that jacket pal? Off a dead person who bullshit their life into deep sorrow who shopped at hot topic? Or was it the deep sorrow bullshit you feed yourself? You know nothing of pain till you enter my life” he did an upper cut towards the man not sure if it did anything nor not. Ramey held up his fist and shifted his feet from time to time as if he was trying to dance with this man.
“ you think your better than me pal, just because you have a coat, news flash emo fucker, I don’t give a shit about your wants, whoever your protecting I need them now, or your looking at your two front teeth on top of a tree next Christmas.” Ramey danced the dance of a midnight brawl around the man hoping this would get him someplace after he would rumble.
A heavy fist landed its impact upon Eric’s face. A short-lived pain. Instant, but never lasting. Indulging, in a near-masochistic streak, the long-haired musician’s face was thrown by the punch. Immediately returning back to face the winged man. It seemed, they were both on a mission; different to each, crossed goals brought them to this moment, this instant. And neither of the two were backing down.
Understanding he’d not understood his explanation. Through what might have seemed an act of lunacy, reciting a poem, he’d attempted to somehow tell this stranger why he could not do as he so desired. Unfortunately, the message had not gone through. Much like Ramey’s varying insults had not been thoroughly received in Eric’s long deteriorated mind.
With a maniacal wide grin, taste of copper invading his lips as blood showed itself, Eric said, “I am dead… pal.” With feline agility and balance, the black-clad musician swept his leg against Ramey’s own (his coat, one he’d indeed taken from a now dead man –Tin Tin, no great loss– flapped and waved after his movements) in an attempt of having him fall. “Deck the halls with parts of bodies…” Eric sang behind gritted teeth.
“the name’s ramey, but you can call me the man with the feathers” he stated pointing up letting the extensions of his wings as they disappeared
“look pal I will kill you if it’s needed, you think you’re the only one with your shit stinks? Not at all buddy, my boss wants a soul, and that soul is the one your guarding, so either you let me collect? Or ill take yours” he stepped closer “you really want to miss with this bird man clown face? because it’s going to be time to get the dukes up and dance, if you catch my drift”
A wild smile painted in madness twisted the face of the late musician. The firearm slid away behind him, the sling across his chest letting it hang. No longer threatening. “No more talk where God or Angel guest with Man, as with his friend, familiar us’d, to sit indulgent, and with him partake rural repast; permitting him the while venial discourse unblam’d.”
Eric’s hand raised itself forward, in a preventive manner. “I now must change.” He continued his demented recitation. “Those notes to tragic; foul distrust, and breach disloyal on the part of Man, revolt, and disobedience…” His voice lowered itself. Speech sounding less insane. “–on the part of Heaven now alienated, distance and distaste, anger and just rebuke, and judgement given, that brought into this world a world of woe, sin and her shadow death, and misery death’s harbinger.” Eric turned to Ramey again.
“Sad talk. Yet argument not less but more heroic than the wrath of stern Achilles on his foe pursued. If answerable style I can obtain of my celestial patroness, who deigns her nightly visitation unimplor’d, and dictates to me slumbering.” A memory long withheld. “Or inspires…”
The man– Ramey– was wrong. He was not protecting the soul he so desired. He was looking forward to make it, him, suffer for what he’d done. Certainly, he could not hand him over. No yet.
“shoot if you must, but I can’t allow you to harm someone just because you can” ramey looked into his eyes “let’s tango if we must, but I assure you, it would be the best tango of your life” he said with an evil smile
Eric’s attention goes to the man obstructing his way. Where there once would have been concern now slithered an unhinged curiosity. Driven by the madness within, a new discovery.
⊰ THAT AIN’T NORMAL, KID. ⊱ The bird cawed from above. Eric lowered the shotgun and asked, “Who are you?”
“It is in your best interest to not proceed.” Shotgun in hand, Eric warned. “I assure you, it is not my intent to hurt you, but if you decide to stay in my way… I cannot guarantee your well-being.” There was justice to be delivered, and Eric couldn’t waste more time.
