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Full Version: Tales of the Infamous: Striking Midnight
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January 29, 2009

11:55 pm EST

Steel Canyon, Paragon City, RI

You don't understand. You can't understand.

You never will.

You don't know what it's like to be alone.

The rain plasters my hair to my skull, trickles down my skin. The sounds of the city echo past my ears.

A car goes by, splashing a wave over the pavement. It soaks me, down to the bone.

The driver doesn't stop. He doesn't care.

Nobody does.

Five minutes, now.

I close my eyes. My chest rises, falls.

A woman pushes past now, the metal tines of her umbrella jabbing against my face as she passes by.

She says nothing. No words, no apology.

To her, I might as well not exist.

I'm not important.

I don't matter.

I remember this. I remember being this way.

The isolation. The emptiness.

This is what I ran away from. This is what I fought so hard to escape.

But now...

It's like waking from a dream. The best dream in the world.

Only to be spat on by reality. Spat and kicked and dragged into the cold wet street.

I had everything. Everything and everyone. I was part of something. I was someone.

But it's gone. All gone.

And it's your fault.

Your fault.

You don't understand. You can't understand.

You think you do. But you're wrong.

The silence is all you've ever known.

So you've dragged me down with you.

You think that's right.

Oh yes. So very right.

So right that I have to thank you.

Almost time.

I pull my sleeve back, squinting at the watch strapped to my wrist.

Water sluices over the scratched plastic, obscuring the face. The glowing hands are visible. Just barely.

I stare at the lights across the street.

It's just a building. I know that. It's not even the place I really want.

But it's the closest I can get to you.

It'll do.


The flash lights the darkness. One, two, three and four, a rolling boom across the night.

The heat washes over my face.

I smile.

Fuck you, Midnighters.

I turn away, and walk.

The university burns behind me.

Mission: Accomplished

End Notes:

Probably the first time I've posted fic for something before actually rolling the character. This guy now exists in my head, though I'm not yet clear
on his name, appearance, or indeed abilities.

I will say - this was directly inspired by Wiregeek's excellent Lost Sabre story in the other thread, which got me thinking about the consequences of the
Midnight arc's Lost Cure.

Not everyone wants to be "saved".
-- Acyl
no freaking clue what was going on until the last eight lines.. then I'm all O_O

you gonna roll the toon for this?
"No can brain today. Want cheezeburger."
From NGE: Nobody Dies, by Gregg Landsman
I have a preliminary visual design... whacko nutjob gunman in a tattered trenchcoat and combat boots... which means he's either an AR/Traps Corr or Wolf Spider (ie. using the gun powers). What he does not have is a good name. My first few choices were taken. I could use 'The Nameless Man', but I was kinda saving that for something else.
'The Restructuralist' is open, but is probably too clumsy and long...though admittedly, it'd fit the sort of crazy who has a manifesto. And, of course, is a direct reference to his backstory.
-- Acyl
Well done Acyl. A touch of Hemmingway.

Short sentences.

To die.

In the rain.