Every millisecond of every day was planned rigorously, meticulously. From the moment Regina woke up she knew how many steps to the bathroom, how many steps to the kitchen. How many minutes it would take her to the second, to get breakfast made and get dressed. She based this on heart rate, beats per minute her internal blood pressure, joint stiffness etc. She could gauge and react to her body like it was a machine and she was just reading numbers off a chart.
At any given moment her brain was doing a million different things in a million different scenarios playing out inside her mind. Don't take skillet with the orange handle. It only had 33 minutes and 22 seconds to soak in the dishwater it's only 98.2% clean. Use the green handled one, you've cleaned that one more thoroughly. Her mind was a constant annoyance. As she moved to the counter her hand grasped the green handled skillet and she dropped it on the burner. She reached over a hand and dug through the drawer for a spatula. She didn't have to look over to find it.
She knew exactly where it was and had memorized the spacial difference from where she stood to the drawer. She knew exactly where to place her hand to grab it on the first try. Just making eggs and she was already fucking exhausted. She whipped her hair around her shoulder and tried her best to shut her brain off. Just think about anything, anything else at all. Her thoughts drifted to a beach in Antigua.
She had never been there, but she could sense the warm sand on her bare feet. The heat gently kissing her skin. The smell of salt in the air. She experience those things in her dirty cluttered kitchen. Her brain fetched a memory from six years ago where she had been to the beach. She recalled it so perfectly she smelled the beach air in her kitchen. It was all she could smell. She wiggled her toes and felt the tactile touch of warm sand against her skin, though she was barefoot on cold tile. She felt the wind against her skin and her body temperature rose to simulate the heat. She regulated her own internal temperature with a passing thought.
She leaned against the counter and it was as if she was really there. A rocky smile pushed it's way across her face. Better than sex. She thought. Reaching in her pocket she pulled out a joint and lit it up. The smoke plumed into her nose and she breathed deeply on the inhale. She needed something to just numb her thoughts for awhile. Allow her to breathe. It was only 7am and already she was ready to bang her head against the counter. She looked down at her eggs. With a look of disgust she turned them off to the side and dumped them in the sink. It was 7:13. The uptown bus arrived at 7:39, 7:27, 7:22, 7:37 and 7:12 the last five days.
Ralph the driver was an unbelievably unreliable prick. She was dressed in a rock and roll t-shirt and some short shorts. She didn't feel like changing. She brushed her hair back and grabbed her house keys. Moving over to the door she slipped her on a pair of boots and locked up before jogging lightly to the bus stop. 7:19. Ralph you asshole, be unreliable, i'm relying on it. She thought hoping he hadn't actually shown up to the stop at 7 like he was supposed to. She needed a drink. Who cares if it was 7 am. She knew there were bars all over this shit hole state that catered to the unemployed. To them it was always happy out.
Regina made it to the Bus stop by 7:23. She looked around. No one was waiting at the stop. But there were no recent bus tire tracks. The air didn't have that mixture of diesel exhaust and Detroit pollution. She sat down and waited. She took the bus a lot. She was a member of the Fool's Dice Club, but she hadn't been made a full member yet. She had a prospect jacket. It was something. Regina reached across her face to brush the hair from her face. She didn't have to check a clock. She knew it was 7:25. "Mr. Punctual and his 7:25 doughnut." She murmored. Just then a man in a dress shirt and tie came running out of a doughtnut shop. He climbed in a car and headed off down the street going god knows where. She barely had an interest in other people's lifes. If she had to remember every detail of their boring shit she might actually kill herself. "Hello Ralph." She said as the bus pulled up.
Getting onto the bus she sat in the back and just stared out the window. It had started to rain lightly. She occupied her time by staring at the passing scenery. She got distracted when she found herself counting the droplets of rain on the window in front of her. She sighed. She didn't give a fuck about that, but she constantly found herself doing things like that. And there were 787 droplets on the window. And the capitol of Antigua was St. John's and she just wanted to be bombed off her fucking face. She hurried off the bus when it came to her stop. Thank you! The middle class district. Her life was a blur of middle class. She stepped inside a bar called Harvell's The sign said closed but the door was open. She was a criminal. So she let herself in. No harm no fowl. If the owner got snippy she could talk her way out of it. She only wanted a drink. She only wanted her brain to be quiet for a little while.
Sitting on a stool she reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle. She saw no one around. All the chairs were upside down on top of the tables. The floor was neatly swept. She saw specs of dust on the top, higher shelves. Her nose crinkled at the bowl of peanuts on the counter. She could tell they had been there a long time by the stale smell that lingered in the air and the fact that there were two million different fingerprints on the bowl. It hadn't been washed in some time. She uncorked the bottle and threw it back. She was already counting shit in here and noticing things she didn't really care to notice. She was going to be bombed here in a few minutes. Then she could thank the propritor for the drink and get about her day.
Matt wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the harsh touch of an agonizing hangover, it would have been better if he wasn’t slumped over a couch in the back room with an empty bottle clutched in his palm and a dirty bruise building on his cheek. He couldn’t really remember what happened but he knew the tall red head working for him stormed out after he fucked up the old asshole trying his luck one too many times, turns out she was banging the bearded old screw up for a little money on the side. Nevertheless, he was lucky no one stole what money he had in the register or his wallet hanging dangerously by a thin fold of his pocket.
He would’ve slept to noon if he didn’t have an unnerving sense of someone’s presence past the slightly ajar door leading to the space behind the old, worn bar. He pulled a gruff hand through his hair, dropped the bottle in the quick motion and heard the audible “fuck” slip through his lips. He must have looked like shit, a grey shirt stained with whiskey, a bruised left eye and unkempt hair feeling inhumanly heavy in light of the hangover pulsing through his veins.
His eyes scrunched in the dim light seeping through the windows as he laid his eyes on the beautiful shape of a stranger with a bottle tucked inside her grasp. Matthew was pleasantly surprised to see the floors swept and stairs stacked, even when she was pissed at him her work ethic was unmatched. Lydia must have slipped back after the brief argument and locked up, she must’ve forgotten to lock the door though or else he wouldn’t have some strange woman sipping away at his stock so early in the morning.
“If you weren’t so good looking I’d show you the way out”, he leaned against the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. He pulled a small pebble from his pocket and allowed it to drift in the air under the bar and out of sight, some people chewed their nails, he tossed rocks in the air when people didn’t look. He caught himself staring in the mirror hanging loosely under the old, antique clock on the opposite wall but how could he blame his mind for being hypnotized by the raw beauty of someone who didn’t seem to care for rules.
“I’m curious, why the hell are you drinking this goddamn early? Not that I’m complaining, regulars are a bunch of old bastards and cheap whores, you’re a breath of fresh air”, Matt pulled a beer from the fridge, knocked off the cap and lifted the bitter fluid to his lips before sliding over the chipped bar top. He shut the door in fear that someone less interesting would bother his morning, the headache behind his lids still thudded but he hoped the sooner he dived back into a new drink he’d forget it altogether.
Making his way back to the back of the bar he crouched down, pulled an expensive bottle of scotch into his grasp and set a clean glass in front of her. “If you’re staying you might as well drink the good stuff”, he pulled a stool beneath him, balanced his feet on the low shelf of the bar that held nothing but empty bags and useless papers and leaned forward to glance at the stranger.
“Matt Harvell, like the fucking sign”, there was a humorous tone to his voice as he pulled the cold bottle to his lips again. The taste was a welcome touch to his throat, even this early in the morning. He was a dick most days but chasing a gorgeous woman back out wasn’t in his ballpark, besides, he’d be dumb as shit if he didn’t entertain her for a while.
Regina heard the expletive sworn in the back of the room. Her eyes shot that way peering over her shoulder. She took another swig of the bottle just in case she was tossed out on her ass. At least she would have gotten a nice heady buzz before all the fun was ruined. She heard him stumbling over and she watched him with curiosity. He told her he wasn't going to toss her out because he liked her figure. Well, interesting start.
Go-Go smirked at him as he got behind the bar. Her eyes were devilish in nature. Sure she might've been undressing him a little with her eyes. Her mind was hyper focused. She could visualize very well. She saw by the way the dirty shirt hung on him he was ripped and chiseled under that muck. "You look like you had a rough one honey." She said boldly taking another sip of his stock before being offered any. There was a smile dancing at the corner of her lips. Contempt and intrigue breathed in her eyes. She knew he was a mutant. The moment he started playing with that little trinket. She didn't take her eyes off him though. He was handsome under all the dirt and bruises.
He grabbed himself a beer and opened it. Saying he was curious as to why she was drinking so god damn early. "Maybe I would ask you why you were drinking so god damn late." His blood alcohol level was 0.09% that was one percent over legally impaired. And he still had the smoothness to be so fucking charming. She smiled wider at him. He sat down across the bar from her and continued to play with his little trinket. Levitating it, twirling it around and spinning it just above the palm of his hand. "So you're a mutant." She said factually.
She could see the look of surprise washing over his handsome features. She could have told him that she could feel the subtle shift in air pressure around him. That she could hear the scratching sound of the air pushing across the smoothness of the stone or that She could see the muscles dancing in his shoulder and even though it was just muscle beneath skin she was able to tell what he was doing from the visuals of his nerves and reacting muscles alone and nothing else. That she had deduced his mischief with her amazing analytical skills and nothing more. Concentration is an amazing thing when you tune everything else out.
You can see everything. The world breaks down to a series of numbers and equations and you can weigh the options from a purely mathematical standpoint. She didn't say though things. She took a swig of the drink from the glass he offered her and pointed to the TV behind him. It hung on the top corner of the bar and the reflection showed him sitting in his chair. She had a clear view of his little trick.
Though that's not how she discovered him. "Well.... That makes two of us. I'm a mutant myself." She said once again factually. "And I'm drinking this early to tune out the white knuckle monotony in my head. If i have to listen to myself think another second I might blow my brains out. But then again...I'd hate to ruin such a nice shirt." She was a bit of a bitch, but she was cloying and coy and dangerously sarcastic.
She craved challenge and his smooth hit on the ladies because he was fucking cute act wasn't winning him any participation trophies. He had something to prove if he wanted any of her attention. Her mind was already so cluttered with analytical shit that she had to make room for anything else. If you weren't truly standout she pushed you aside and forgot about you. Which is saying something because she never forgot anything.
Matt’s eyes lit up in a playful glint he donned perfectly since he was still a teenager fluent in charm and bullshit, “You should see the other guy”. He reached up bravely to touch the tender skin already blue and purple but a low hiss left him looking elsewhere instead. Normally it took a whole lot to make him hurt but when his head stung that bad from a few too many drinks his pain threshold was perfectly up to shit.
There was something complex and calculative to her gaze, he wasn’t the prodding type though and let her thoughts be. Instead he focused his gaze on the intricate lines coloring her skin in almost hypnotizing patterns that left him wondering what else was hiding just underneath the fabric of her clothes. Shock rode over his face like a tornado as he looked to her, the pebble fell to his palm without the pull from his mutant powers as an almost questioning glint slipped into his gaze. The last time he had someone smart as that in the bar he was cheated out of a bet in a game of poker. If the two of them got into strip poker he wouldn’t be too upset losing a round or two.
He glanced over his shoulder with a nonchalant shrug to see the reflection of his little trick and he set the smooth rock down on the bar in front of him. “Smart and gorgeous, I’m still drunk, aren’t I?”, the joking tone slipped back to his voice and a new playful grin lifted on his lips. With no need to keep his unique talent he shifted the rock back into the air within sight, it was an almost compulsive habit that brought with it a sense of calmness.
She was a mutant, he was pleasantly surprised to hear the confession. He’d met his fair share of mutants from a very flexible blonde back in Florida to an old man who was intensely energetic for his age but she seemed to be something new, something interesting. Matt genuinely appreciated her blunt honesty, God knows he hated people who drove away from the genuine reality of saying the shit hanging on your mind.
“Sorry gorgeous, if you needed someone to screw your brains out you’re in the right place but I’m not wiping blood off the floor”, he chuckled lightly welcoming the entirety of the remaining beer to his throat with a happy sigh before reaching back to grasp another beer in his palm.
“Planning on telling me your name any time soon? Even if you're some beer induced hallucination I'm still curious”, he felt the natural sway of a wink on his gaze as a phone vibrated to life in his pocket. Matt pulled the device to his palms, saw the useless text from a buddy of his and tossed the phone onto the counter with no interest in talking. She looked to be the type of woman begging the taste of adrenaline from life’s most notorious adventures, it was a fitting touch to the unique sway of intelligence in her gaze.
The last thing Matt expected was waking up to a stranger drinking his stock and there he was sitting with his legs balancing on the fragile supports of the shelf and delving right into the per chance encounter with every ounce of charm and intrigue he had building up in his cluttered mind.
The conversation took a nasty turn when he suggested screwing her brains out. Her eyes flicked dangerously to his. There was a almost sneer across her face. She gave him a free pass. Mostly because she had broken in and helped herself. "HOW ABOUT YOU TRY SCREWING YOUR BRAINS 'IN.'" She spoke inside his mind. Her mental telepathy pushing her words into his thoughts like a whisper that originated within his own subconscious. Her words were sour though a hint of a smile remained on her face. She didn't want to be 'hit on' she wanted to be impressed. Any asshole could hit on here. Most of them did. She wanted him to do something to stand out from the pack. Otherwise he was boring. She could find 40 more just like him by reaching outside the door of the bar and grabbing the first shirt collar her hands fell upon. "MY NAME IS REGINA BLACK BUT YOU CAN CALL ME GO-GO." She said in his mind once more.
Telepathy was just one of her abilities. She had noticed him in the back sleeping when she came in. She hadn't expected him to wake. Had she any interest she could have delved right into his dreams and joined him there. Just a curious dream to shake off when he woke up. She could have enjoyed his expensive spirits and taken a peek into what he was dreaming and been gone before he woke up. No, she chose to stay because Go-Go had an endlessly curious mind. It wasn't bad enough that she had to know everything and be aware of everything at every moment but she also..... A glass slipped off the edge of the counter because Matt bumped it with his foot.
Go-Go reached out and caught the glass. Without taking her eyes off of Matt. She swirled the booze around in it's container before downing the rest. "I'm not some prize to be had or some brainless bimbo who flauntingly revels in your boozy lecherous titalations. I am a woman Mr. Harvell. A woman who is only entertaining your boorish charm because well... Because you offered me a drink." Reaching a hand out she playfully shoved his foot off the counter. She smiled as he stumbled forward and landed with his feet on the floor. She stood up and moved around her chair. 547 seconds. They have been talking for 547 seconds that's 9 minutes and 7 seconds. Go-Go took a step back.
The standard bar height from the floor to the top of a bar top (excluding the bar rail) should be 42 inches. This allows for a standard 30 inch high bar stool to seat you comfortably at your bar. More numbers, constant numbers. The booze had a dulling effect on the numbers but they were still pushing their way into her mind like a crazed super laser. She could see literal numbers in front of her eyes. The numbers that showed how tall the bar was. Numbers of bottles on the shelf 212 bottles. Including 114 that had been watered down to keep the cost of liquor low.
Naughty mister Harvell. She smirked at that. She could smell the bottles that were tainted with being watered down. They gave off a dryer, airier smell. She moved back to the couch he was sleeping on. Placing her hand on the the couch she felt for warmth. She could tell by the heat residing in the fabric and the numbers in front of her eyes that he had slept there all night. "You fell asleep here about 1:17 in the morning." She saw recent depression patterns in the couch. She could tell by the pattern it was a hand print from where he gotten up, though it was an older faded hand print. Barely visible.
She looked around the neatly swept floor and saw outlines of bare feet (It wasn't difficult his feet were dirty) moving to what she assumed was the bathroom based on the lay out of the place and the design flow she interpreted. "You got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and stumbled back here where you stubbed your toe on the jukebox...." She could see where the jukebox had been moved slightly There was a layer of dust on the wall that outlined the jukebox and it was slightly askew. "Annnd you crashed her until I woke you up.If you're still not convince I could read your horoscope or something."
She shrugged. Her mutation wasn't a palor trick to her. It was actually quite frustrating. She didn't get that dull numbness she wanted from Mister. Harvell's watered down booze. She sighed and leaned against the wall. He head thudded lightly against the pillar post. "You ever just want to end it all?" She asked quietly. There was somber meloncoly tone to her voice. She had contemplated suicide before. 646 times to be exact. Each time left a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn't like to think of herself as a coward. But sometimes it became a little much.
She knew that this moment was probably confusing the hell out of Mister Harvell, but she was off in her head. She was always off in her head. Living there. In her own personal hell. Her nose trickled with blood. It ran down her nose and splattered on the floor in hurried little drops. "Shit." She said. She had to find a way to quiet the numbers all the computing and calculating was making her brain hemorrhage. Go-Go slipped back and fell on the couch. He head hit the wall and the room began to cartwheel out of control.
Matt rubbed the back of his head nervously at the sneer growing over her striking features, he hadn’t meant to offend, thinking before he spoke hasn’t ever been an integrated part of his conversations, besides the drunken stupor brushing over his mind wasn’t helping to focus his line of thoughts. Still, the quip in her voice resonated as a beautiful echo and he felt himself grinning at the insult traveling through the fog of his subconscious. Obviously she was a very unique breed of mutant with a unique set of skills that left him slightly awestruck.
“As nice as it is having you prod into my mind, I prefer actually talking”, he tiled the beer bottle to her glass in a cheery gesture and found himself smirking with that same boyish charm he retained all his life. Leaning forward to balance his elbows on the table wooden bar top he nearly lost his balance and felt his feet anchor him against the shelf with a hard thud. His eyes flickered to her flawless catch of the tumbling glass. He spared her an impressed grin with an appreciative nod as he kept a levitating touch on the small rock.
“Trust me, I’m well aware that you’re not some cheap thrill that stumbled into my bar, I’ve had enough of those to recognize the smarts of a woman who doesn’t grovel for a good time”, there was a cocky, challenging glint to his gaze and tone to his voice. Not a lot of people got it right to put him in his place, he was suddenly very glad he didn’t delve deeper into the drunk induced sleep.
Matt sipped on his beer in an effort to keep his impressed shock to drift through as an incredulous chuckle. Go-Go dived into a level of intelligence he hardy even recognized, he wasn’t an idiot but he knew damn well half the asshole on Harvard’s payroll weren’t so attentive. He didn’t look at the time he passed out but he believed her deduction. He followed her every step with intrigue, his lips slightly agape over the cold glass of the beer bottle in a futile effort to hide just how impressed he was with her complex mind working in perfection.
“Hurt like a bitch”, he subconsciously shifted his toe against the shelf in memory of the almost comical cusses ripping through the empty bar. ‘Motherfucker!’, he’d remember to sleep upstairs instead the next time he decided to pass out in the aftermath of a right hook and a bottle of expensive bourbon. “You’re obviously not one of those phony assholes digging though a crystal ball to tell me my dead grandma left me suitcase of money buried under the old treehouse so let’s not dive into star sign alright”, he leaned back comfortably with one hand balanced over his leg and the other barely reaching the green tinted bottle set on the surface in front of him.
“Who doesn’t want to end it every now and then. I dive into the good stuff if I contemplate diving down a bridge”, he was curious why she asked but her business was her own and he didn’t pester her too much. Matt guessed the root of her semi suicidal thoughts had something to do with her brain doing all those marvelous things every day from start to finish. “Still, you look like you have bigger balls than half the bastards out there, I take it you’re no coward?”, the words were laced with a true compliment he shrouded in a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
Matt was on his feet in a second when he saw the slight trickle of blood over her porcelain skin, he was next to her the second she met the couch in a soft thud. His feet skidded to halt in front of the couch as he leaned over to curiously inspect Go-Go, the last thing he wanted was to explain a dead girl in his bar to the cops.
“Hey! Don’t go ending it all now”, his voice was low and the headache from the hangover thudded harshly against his skull. Stress wasn’t entirely a good remedy for the consequences of drinking too much. “I’m a degenerate drunk who can toss a few stones in the air, I don’t know how to fix this”, he whipped around to pull a cloth to his fingers and dabbed the light material to the blood under her nose.
“gimme something to work with alright gorgeous, what do I do?”, the most he knew about saving anyone was stitching up himself after a rowdy assault or dabbing his face in hot water to clean off old blood.
It was an internal struggle. She shook and convulsed and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. It was so hard to focus. She couldn't think. She couldn't control the toxins flooding into her mind. Her brain was special. Where a normal brains had a biochemistry made of of dopamine and serotonin to act as neurotransmitters; her brain had an extra one. She was aware of this extra special neurotransmitter. A neurotransmitter she playfully called "Sexadreen."
She could feel it moving blood around her brain in a neat tidy little stream of blood flow that ended up in her limbic system. Made her sexual desires from time to time run off the fucking tracks. Sexual desire was the one emotion she couldn't suppress. Usually she was such a neat and tidy, organized little monster. Now she couldn't control anything. Her mind flooded with dopamine at her request.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply waiting for the rush of the euphoric. She wanted to feel no more pain. Only the cheap booze made her receptors slightly numb to the flood of the chemical. She tried to force the response, but she only shook more on the dirty bar couch. She could hear Matt talking, but he sounded a million miles away. She chose instead to accept his words mentally.
His voice flooded into his mind. Her ears shut off. With a willful thought she stopped taking orders from the center of her brain that allowed speech comprehension and instead allowed her words to storm through her mind. It sounded like he was shouting. She talk as calmly as she could. "DIM THE LIGHTS. QUICKLY!" Her eyes remained closed. She felt the soothing tide of the waves of the beach crashing against her ankles. Suddenly she wasn't at a dirty bar she was back in Antigua. The soft, yet scratchy sand under her palms she could smell the sea air and she breathed deep.
The pain was fading. She could feel the dopamine crashing through her system wiping out what little pain she had. She turned off the part of her brain that dealt with pain and for the most part that seemed to be helping. Her body slowly stopped convulsing. She pushed herself up so she was seated against the back of the couch. Still, not bothering to open here eyes. Her hair rained down over her face as she washed her face with her pale hands. Speaking to Matt slowly, and still telepathically. "GOT A COLD RAG?"
Even in his mind her voice was tired and weak. It took a lot out of her though she shifted her biochemistry inside her brain around to help combat the flood of toxins. Adrenaline, dopamine and a little serotonine just as a added bonus. Those thoughts of suicide pushing through her mind right before reminded her she needed to do something about those pesky thoughts rampaging in her head. She had enough to deal with without depression. Usually someone would just pop a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor to stop their receptors from reabsorbing the serotonin levels in their brain... The commonly used word for this was anti depressant.
Alcohol acts as depressant and in her unique brain chemistry it was enough to set off the wild stray thoughts of death. She adjusted her levels casually the same as someone would have popped a pill for depression. She reached up and brushed her hair back away from her face and stared into his eyes. There were trails of blood running down her nostrils. She had seen her fellow fool silver shadow have streaks like his under his nose once though his were black and tar like. She didn't know Silver Shadow that well.
He was kind of a mean hearted secretive guy, but he had been nicer since he started hanging around that other prospect. The one that gave Go-Go the creeps. Lara was her name.. Even with a fucking brain hemorrhage threatening to take her out she was still on point. She couldn't forget a god damned thing. "I'm fine." She said softly taking the cold rag from his hands. "Do you...." Her eyes met his for a moment. She didn't want to take the bus all the way back home. Not like this.
She could stop pain in her entire body with a single thought, but when she had one of these attacks her brain throbbed and burned and brought her to her knees and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. No matter how much she rearranged the chemistry of her magnificent brain. "Do you have a place I can lay down?" She almost hoped he'd offer to join her. Go-Go wasn't a prude. In fact she was more promiscuous than most men, but something about him being by her side was comforting. He was kind of an oaf, but he was easy on the eyes at least. That was something.
Matt’s eyebrows scrunched up as he glanced down at her convulsing figure, he saw an epileptic fit a few years back but this didn’t entirely look like it. There was something darker about the eerie roll of her eyes to the back of her skull. He thought about locking up better at night in hopes that he wouldn’t have to relive the unique strangeness of this encounter again. There was a quick stiffness to his shoulders, iit was a new sensation having a voice breathing into his mind and honestly it spooked him just a little, although he’d deny it for the rest of his life.
Matt lifted to his feet with a grunt and shut the blinds keeping prying eyes from peeking in through the high windows lining the wall on either side of the worn, wooden door. The room fell into a darkness that he preferred over the piercing nudge of sunlight against the headache pulsing behind his lids. His knees feet touched the wooden floor in harsh thuds as he made his way back over to the couch hoping that she’d have more prompts to lead his attempts to help even in the midst of her own personal chaos.
He could hear the strain dripping from the tone of her voice as the melody echoed through her mind. “Sure, how about a martini and a foot massage while you’re at it?”, he hoped she could hear the chuckle at the end of his words in hopes that to cheer her up in the clutched of the momentary confusion and pain. Matt grasped the cloth tucked between two glasses and doused it in cold water before setting it gently into her palm.
Matt reached out, pulled a chair from the top of one of the tables and set it by the side of the couch as he waited for her to recover, he rested his arms over one another long the back of the chair with a slight glint of concern dancing in his gaze. there was a genuine curiosity whether this was a common occurrence for her, he was fucking glad that he didn’t have to deal with shit like that every now and then.
His brow lifted just a bit at her request before he nodded with a brief shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, there’s stairs through the back. I just gotta lock up”, he stood to his feet, gripped the key stuffed under the ugly pot plant in the window sill and locked the door before tossing the keyring into his pocket. walking back to the couch he kicked the chair to the side with a simple extension of his leg and held out a hand to Go-Go.
“Come on gorgeous, let’s get you somewhere comfortable”, he pulled her to her feet with a gentle tug and gestured to the door behind the bar, “think you can walk all the way up?”. Matt came across as rude at most times but he was actually a nice guy with somewhat good manners, if she was open to help he’d help her up otherwise he’d take up the rear in hopes to catch her if she stumbled down from another fit of convulsions, besides, he was sure the view wouldn’t suck one second.
“It’s not much”, he spoked loudly as he stepped past her at the top of the dusty stairs to open the door. He was lucky to even get this property, if it wasn’t for his sister’s eager intrusion in real estate he probably would have overlooked the ad entirely. Matt stood to the side and held open the door for Go-Go, there was a small pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen, a half drunken bottle of whiskey on the dining table he never used and a jacket slung over the back of the couch.
“make yourself at home, or you know wait till I sleep and start drinking my stuff”, he spared her a quick, playful wink and pulled the jacket from the rough material of the couch before tossing it into the ajar door leading to his bedroom.
“I’m gonna take a lucky guess and say it ain’t the first time that happened?”, he slumped down into the chair facing away from the window with his feet propped up on the low coffee table. The hangover was slowly releasing it’s hold over him, enough that he didn’t have to dig into his bathroom cabinet for a handful of pain cabinets. “You can use my phone if you wanna tell your boss you’re not coming in today”, someone with smarts like hers had to have something else do in the day except raid a bar for a few good drinks, he wasn’t aware of her connection to the fools.
Regina made it to the top of the stairs on wobbly legs. twenty two stairs. He has twenty two stairs leading to his bedroom. She thought with a warm crushing weight of sleep pulling over her eyes. It was honestly one of the few times she wasn't in absolute control of her mind. She usually functioned like a machine, but today she seemed to be having one of her bad days. She could tell as early as this morning when she was trying to make eggs. She realized she still hadn't eaten and her stomach grumbled loudly as he helped her the last of the way up.
She was drooping and sluggish and exhausted from her efforts to battle the brain busting migraine coursing through her head. Her arm was over his shoulder and she reveled in the strong muscles he had. She leaned against a wall a moment and slipped her leather jacket from her shoulders. The jacket was carelessly tossed onto the back of a chair. The jacket was black with gold trim and it had a playing card of the of the Queen of hearts on the back. The words Fool's Dice prospect scribbled elegantly across the bottom hem.
Her eyes were half closed; sleepy in the way she took in the world of his quiet upstairs bedroom. "Nice place." She added. He mentioned something about calling into work. She was off today. Not that she would have called. She worked at an adult movie store. Her boss was a skeevy fucking perv and he wouldn't dare replace her with her connection with the fools. She came and went as she wanted. Chose her own hours and pretty much treated it as her escape on the off days when the numbers grew two loud in her head.
She pushed off the wall and stumbled over to his bed collapsing in a heap. Her muscles ached and burned from the adrenaline that was still flowing like a mack truck through her veins. She didn't turn it off. She liked the burn. It made her receptive to the world around her when all she wanted to do was close her eyes. Her hair spilled over the edge of the bed. Her face was pale and ghostly. She hadn't even bothered with makeup before she left this morning, though she stunned with natural beauty that applications simply couldn't replicate.
Her eyes were on Matt and his big broad shoulders. Shit bit her lips and wiped away the bits of blood that ran under her nose. The bleeding had stopped but that didn't mean that she felt any better. "I have what you would call a super computer in my head. It's not pleasant. It's actually pretty loud in there. I find that booze dulls it out. Makes it easier to focus. Same with pot." She was propped up on one hand and looked at him as she spoke. She allowed herself to crash back against the plushness of his bed and smiled at the ceiling.
Looking over at a naked lady poster she smirked. "Big fan of Miss June are we?" She joked. Go-Go supposed the reason she was so sexually adventurous, aside from her overactive neurotransmitters was because it was a time when she could tune out the world around her and just live in a single moment. A breathless exciting moment of pure risk and thrill. "You're really kind of a man's man aren't you?" She asked commenting more to herself than to him specifically. Around his room was sports shit. And all the other typical stuff you would see in a single man's bedroom. She closed her eyes wishing nothing more than to just be....
To find a moment of clarity and peace against the chaos, but her mind's eye showed her images of him. Bulging ripping muscles poorly concealed by a thin white shirt and his cocky bravado running off him in dripping waves. Her mind was endlessly imaginative. She opened her eyes to see him coming towards her with a confident stride. He pushed her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. Her breath caught in her throat as he roughly grabbed her hand and pushed them above her head. Her stare never faltered.
She stared defiantly at him with a mischievous smirk daring to tempt his anger. "You going to show me?" She teased with a stern voice. She was still daring him to act. Calling him to rise to the occasion and show her what kind of man's man he really was. She felt her shirt rip. The cool stale air kissing the skin of her flat stomach and the breath of his tongue riding along the line of her jaw. Her teeth sunk into his neck and he gripped her wrists harder for daring to take that tiny monicure of control.
A harsh moan ripped from her throat as the sound her her cries echoed off the thin walls ringing back to her senses. Her body writhed beneath his weight and she nipped at his ear feeling the sexadreen push her body into overdrive. Her legs curled around him and she sank into the mattress. Giving in to the temptation to be his to use and do what he wished With. It was better than all the dopamine in the world. This sense of wrongness. She was sick to death with the feeling of absolute thrill and she thought about nothing. Nothing at all.
Opening her eyes again she saw him on the other side of the room. Still sitting in his chair. Her smirk still resided there as her mind had just played out one of the many scenarios. So what if he was a man of lesser intelligence. Who wasn't compared to her? She had this scale of worth in her mind and no one ever measured up to her impossibly high standards. Go-Go was just a woman in need of the same thing as any other person. A sense of worth. A little excitement and danger to keep the idea of really living alive. She was so tired. Her back pressed against the headboard as she sat up beneath the sheets. She had already helped herself off with her pants and sat in his bed with only a t-shirt and nothing more. Her arms wrapped around her long tattooed legs.
"You don't have to go...." She said quietly. Her eyes flicked to his wishing to relive that moment from her fantasy only moments before. She bit her lips and watched him anxiously as she stirred beneath the sheets. It wasn't slutty in her mind. In her mind every moment of every day was a chance. A calculated chance at finding the end result. What everyone else wanted. Happiness. Love. Purpose. Her eyes rested on him and the number just in front of him. The calculations in her head running the probability of their success together. 32% chance. A frown tugged at her lips, but her eyes lit up with a smile just the same. It wasn't 0 she rationalized.
Matt wasn’t oblivious to the low growl of a grumbling stomach and he couldn’t deny hunger creeping into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon and he wasn’t entirely up for starving himself just because he was too lazy to grab some Chinese from the shop across the street. He thought he’d wait for her to settle in as best she could before he would brave the stairs and dare expose his fragile sight to the bright sunlight begging to invade the depths of his headache. He glanced at the obvious scribbled words along the bottom hem of her jacket, he didn’t know the fools personally but he found their reckless rebellious acts to be something intriguing. He almost stubbed his toe again feeling foolish that he didn’t notice the jacket down in the bar.
He lifted a brow watching her stumble her way to his bedroom, he was pretty sure it was a mess with clothes piled in the corner and a set of underwear from the last woman who shared the bed with him. thankfully she didn’t look like the kind of woman to be too bothered by the messy décor, either way, he didn’t really care. There was a sickly pallor to her skin but he hoped it would dissipate with a little bit of rest.
He had to admire her methods for drowning out the buzz of her highly intelligent mind, he would have done the same if he was her. Actually, he was pretty sure he could dig out some pot for her under the piles of clothes if she’d asked, he dived into the calming high every once in a while but he was so busy losing himself to the addictive taste of alcohol that he almost forgot about it.
“Goddamnit, you really are a breath of fresh air”, his lips tilted into a confident grin as he watched her from his seat with two legs propped onto the wooden table in front of him. most of the women he dragged back were good for sex and not much else. Go-Go was highly intelligent with a lust to drown out the workings of her mind, well, it didn’t mean she wasn’t good for sex but at least he could muster up a conversation with her.
“Only cause I lost Miss July”, he called out loudly digging into his pocket for a piece of gum before welcoming the intense minty flavor to his taste buds. He was almost sure he heard her mutter something else too but he was too busy glancing at the grey dove darting into the window like an idiot to focus on her words.
For a few long seconds he leaned back with his hands folded behind his head, he wondered if she drifted off into a brief nap but the pleasant stretch of his arms and neck was too comfortable to risk losing only to dull the curiosity burning in his mind. When he glanced up to her slender figure with a shameless desire dancing over his gaze. if she didn’t look so damn pale and beaten he’d be eagerly trying to win his way into her pants. She looked like the kind of woman who’d offer him a lustful endeavor he wouldn’t forget for his entire life.
Matt stood to his feat unable to hide the lustful desires dancing in his blatant gaze at the lining of her figures under the dark covers of his bed. For a second it might have looked like he was marching to make his subconscious desires a reality but instead he grasped the soft fabric of a white shirt strewn aside behind the door and pulled the grey t-shirt from his shoulders. He dressed in the semi clean white shirt, glanced at the gorgeous woman laying in his bed before leaning against the door frame
“You’re not allergic to Chinese right? I’m starving and by the looks of it you haven’t eaten yet”, he shrugged his shoulders with a calm nonchalance. Matt spared her a charming wink before slipping back out to door opening up to the set of stairs. The old lady who barely recognized English helped him ring up a quick order before he waited bored at the small booth until she called out his number. She called out the wrong number but since he was the only person in the tiny restaurant he figured it was his after all.
He had a lazy sway to his steps as he braved the searing touch of sunlight in an effort to cross the street. He couldn’t find the key at first, he nearly stumbled face first because of a clumsy step before he blamed the old rug welcoming patrons and stalked up the tedious set of stairs. “Honey, I’m home!”, his tone was laced in a humorous joke as he turned his back to shut the door. Turning around to see if she was even still there he never expected the sight that registered in his peripheral.
Dylan sat at the quaint shit little bar with the musty smell nursing a glass of scotch. It seemed like everyone this morning was just helping themselves. He broke in the moment Mr. Tall dark and scary left and he waited patiently for him to return. He wanted to catch him off guard. He wanted to get him when his defenses were down. Dylan was the type of man to revel in theatrics and this opportunity was just too good to pass up. He heard the key in the latch and the shades on the door were pulled down already, just like Go-Go had asked Matt to do previously.
It left Matt's mysterious stranger bathed in a depressing mood lighting of the gloomy and disenchanted. Upstairs Go-Go was asleep. She had the ability to turn her mind off like a switch and go right to sleep the second her eyes closed. She figured she could catch a little bit of sleep before he got back with food so why not. Dylan had entered the bar and sat down... Poured himself a couple of fingers or rye and waited for his gracious host. Ever since Dylan hooked up with G.A.D.E.M. He had been working the angles.
Tracking mutants. Same as he had always done except now... The pay was a lot better. He sat on the stool with a long flowing tan trench coat. He wore a white button down shirt and a bright red tie. Loosened and pulled back for that casual demeanor he was going for. "Evening mate." He said without bothering to look up from his glass at first. He turned to Matt who was holding some delicious smelling food. "I ain't honey, but I hope you brought enough for the whole class." He smirked. There was a shocked stunned expression on Matt's face at first. Why wouldn't there be. Some guy broke into his bar when he clearly locked it. "Hope you don't mind I let meself in. Locked it though, can't be to careful.... There are crazies out there." He gave the man a wink and downed the rest of his glass before setting it down.
Spinning on his stool he turned to face him and got right to the point. "Mate, I know you're harboring a fugitive mutant upstairs. What I don't know it why." Dylan was well versed on the capabilities of the fools. What his research didn't tell him was that Mathew himself was in fact a mutant. Dylan had a nifty little scanner in his coat pocket. It looked like a tazer with a computer screen on it. Press it against someone's neck and it will tell you in 2 seconds weather they have any mutant DNA within them. Marvelous thing technology is.
"Here's the deal pretty boy. My employers are interested in these mutant bastards. What that means for you is you get a nice little paycheck, right here. Right now if you can help me nab her. Now this one is dangerous. She's like a super computer mate. She'll see any attack coming a mile away.... That's where you come in. See You're a handsome sod. I take it you have no problems bedding the babes. Ah, these American girls. They're all pent up with sexual frustration. Guess why they call this place the land of dreams right fella?"
Dylan gave Matt another wink who up until this moment hadn't said a word. Dylan reached over the bar and helped himself to another glass. The thing about working for G.A.D.E.M. was... Mutants feared you... People suspected of helping mutants, feared you more because they were used to their precious civil liberties that could be stripped away at a moment's notice. A kindly fuck you, drop your pants and get ready for Uncle Sam to show you some love! AMERICAN STYLE!!!!
"Now your li'l girlfriend upstairs isn't very easy to track. She's clever. Too fucking clever if you ask me mate. I had to break out the old spell book and do a location spell just to track her down to this nasty rathole. That's besides the point. Alls I needs from you is, for you to gain her trust... Find out what you can about the fools and lead her into a trap. You can distract a super computer can't you boy-o? Ah! Of course you can. Now do me a favor. Keep this li'l chat between the two of us. Wouldn't want G.A.D.E.M. looking into your bar now would ya? Do you have a liquor license for this? This tastes a bit off mate. And I would know I'm English. I know what a good scotch tastes like."
Last Edit: May 28, 2018 21:28:53 GMT by Dylan Walker
Matt tossed the bag of takeout onto the first table to his right with a loud groan and killer glare, he already felt the tug of anger washing over his mind. “Keep talking and I’ll bust a bottle over the whole class’ head. You broke into the wrong bar you arrogant fuck”, Matt wanted to toss a rock through the asshole’s skull but he thought he’d watch it play out for a few. Something was off about the trench coated dick busying himself like he owned the damn place, Matt kept a steady stance in front of the door with his arms folded over his chest and a dirty sneer brushed over his features.
He hung on Dylan’s every word with a draw to the rock in his pocket, Go-Go didn’t carry herself like a fugitive and he hardly believed the raging bullshit from a man who carried himself like a gift to the world. Fucking asshole looked like a lanky stick figure wrapped in a tan trench coat with the kind of personality that made Matt’s blood boil. He felt the fury bubble subtly enough to rustle the dust on the high shelves, the bastard was just helping himself to everything in stock. At least when Go-Go did it he had something worth looking at, now he was stuck debating how he’d aim to hit a cocky stick.
He wasn’t above seducing a gorgeous woman but when some asshole breaks in and demands it he didn’t want to participate. Spell book, either this asshole pretended to be a wizard or there were things out there even Matt wasn’t aware of, which wasn’t entirely a stretch. Dylan was slowly building up a new level of anger with every word he uttered, the nonchalance in his actions was even more infuriating than the insult to his bar.
“How about I counter your offer with something dumb enough even you can understand, why don’t you shove it all up your ass ‘till you smell the bullshit you’ve been sprouting and get the hell out of my bar”, Matt leaned dangerously close to the man, grasped the bottle of scotch and shoved it down the length of the bar.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you and your employers want, I don’t have anyone upstairs and I’m not looking forward to wiping your guts off the floor. I highly suggest you go look for this girl you’re so obsessed with somewhere else”, Matt grabbed the bag of food and started making his way past the bar hoping the dick would be smart enough to leave when he still had a cranium free of rocks and rubble or at least long enough for Matt to warn Go-Go about her admirer.
Dylan listened politely and smiled with his rugged handsome smile. His British accent drenching over every word he said. "Okay cowboy." He said in his best American accent that by comparison almost sounded insulting. "I understand mate. You don't want to give the pretty lass up, but I tell you one thing. She is much much smarter than you, because if the roles were reversed..... She would have taken that deal. She would have sold you out because she's a fool. She's criminal scum. And worst of all she's a mutant. We all know they have no scruples.."
Dylan walked forward. His boots echoing with each step as he drew closer to the seething, giant of a man compared to his slime frame. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Because we all know that Mutants are unevolved. They like to think they're higher on the evolutionary scale, but if they were... We wouldn't hunt them down and track them like animals. Stop watering down your booze mate. It tastes like piss!!!! Have a good one cowboy!" He called gleefully and picked up his hat off the bar and placed it on his head before walking out in a confident strut.
Dylan wasn't done here. Not when he had a mission to complete. He always got his man. Or woman as the case may be here. Dylan was very good at his job and if the easy route didn't work he would surely go for the less direct approach. Walking across the street he began to sing. "I got my baby a box of chocolates, and all I got was heatache. I got my baby A dozen roooooses and all I got was pain... I got my baby the moonlight and all I got was trouble. I gave my baby my whole life and she left my soul down in the rumble..."
He continued to hum the little diddy as he walked over to his car and opened the trunk. Dylan saw the m16 resting inside there, but he didn't go for it. Instead he closed the trunk and stuck his keys in his pocket. Moving across the street he headed upstairs of a little motel across from the bar. Room 206... He slipped a key out of his pocket and stepped inside with a song still on is lips. He peeled his coat off and tossed it on the bed.
" I gave you eeeeeverything baaaaby. You took eeeeeeverything from meeeee-yaaa-yaa...." As he sang he rolled up the sleeves of his nice dress shirt and kneeled in front of the window facing Harvell's bar. The window blinds on the second story were wide open. He saw the alluring shapely legs of a young lady resting in the bed. He crouched in front of a sniper rifle.... "So baaaaaaby tell me please why you do this to meeeeee! When all I want is everything you neeeeeed.." He continued to soulfully sing his little tune as he adjusted the scope on his target.
Matt focused his sneer on the lanky asshole practically swimming a cocky demeanor begging for a kick to the balls. He didn’t give a single shit if she’d sell him out , he wasn’t going to be the kind of dick who sold out another mutant to a cocky stick and his mysterious employers. They could go fuck themselves for all he cared, he was as much their enemy as she was and he wasn’t scared to live up to the reputation of a man on the run. The world underneath him shook the slightest at the pressure of his anger bubbling into dangerous intent as he watched the asshole saunter out of the bar.
Matt sprinted up the stairs at a pace his hungover body wasn’t quite content with, the door burst open at the impact of his rough palm against worn wood. He didn’t care if she was feeling better anymore, he just wanted to get the hell out of dodge. At least long enough to calm down without having people busting into his bar the entire time. He made sure to lock the door this time hoping to keep the strays out long enough to get her up and going.
“Time to get up gorgeous!”, Matt hastily ripped the covers from her body with a nervous glare over his shoulder but even he couldn’t hide the hungry glance at her long legs and honestly, a fucking beautiful ass. Albeit he was more focused on the English bastard trying to screw over Go-Go and her friends with subtle threats to him and his business, so he shoved her pants into her palms at an alarming pace.
“You’re a wanted woman and the stick figure fuck just left the bar. If I were you I’d get the hell out and warn the rest of the fools, someone out there is gunning for you all and right now you’re not exactly safe”, Matt crouched down to pull a gun tucked under a shelf and tucked it into his waistband. He wasn’t happy about leaving the bar but he was worried how long it’d take the sneaky bastard to figure out he was a mutant too and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the middle of a mess that didn't concern him. Matt considered laying low for a few days till most of the shit passed and he could happily drink himself into a stupor without worrying about who else might break into his bar. He whipped around at the sound of shattered glass with wide eyes and an angry sneer, the bastard ought to stay away if he didn’t want a boulder crushing his face. The next time Matt saw him he was letting off a little steam.
Regina's eyes were open and instantly she was awake and focused. Her mind buzzed to life in a second of consious though. She felt herself yanked out of bed. Her long tan legs were cut by bits of flying broken glass. Her head whipped around to the bullethole now in the wall. She shoved Matt down. From the angel and tradjectory it was coming from across the street on the second floor.
Third window on the right side of the railing. "There's a sniper in the motel across the street. What the fuck are you talking about?!?!? Who's after me?" It wasn't often she was confused, but she had never had run ins with GADEM. She had never been chased to her knowledge and she had never seen any man following her that looked like a stick figure. The shots continued to fire. Shot after shot after shot after shot. She honestly couldn't understand what he was shooting at.
They weren't presenting a target. Her head looked over to the wall and saw there was a message being spelled out in bullet holes. "H..........I..........! " Who the fuck was this guy? By the sounds of the gunfire he was using a Dragonov sniper rifle to make emojis in the wall across the street. Was he insane? They couldn't go downstairs. The front door left them too open to gunfire from the street. She didn't know if he was the only one there.
There was a bit of broken mirror hanging on the wall. It was angeled in such a way that it's reflection bounced off a silver tray on the coffee table. The silver tray's reflection reflected off of the plasma screen tv. There she saw the blury face of a blond haired man and he was reloading! "Come on." She said hauling Matt to his feet. She didn't like the idea of running through the Michigan streets in her underwear, but this wasn't exactly normal circumstances.
Regain's mind calcuated percentages crunching the numbers. The fire escape beside the bar was a high risk low reward option. Running out into the street was a High risk low reward option.... Challenging th sniper head on was a high risk high reward opton. She thought about it briefly before she reached for the gun that Matt had so thoguhtfully pulled out for them. Moving in front of the window She knew just where to aim. She was no expert marksmen.
In fact, she had only held a gun a few times in he rlife but she knew spacial awareness and her mind was flawless in this regard. She stepped in front of the window andpulled the trigger. Dylan saw this and ducked in time. He nearly took a bullet to the shoulder. It grazed him causing a hissing burning sensation of pain and a few growls and curse words. "Let's get out of here." She wondered if Matt had noticed the message on the wall. This guy was toying with them, but then again.... Whoever he was fucked with the wrong ones. This was going to bring the anger of the fools down on their head. Go-GO wasn't a full member.
She didn't have the same sway in the club that some others did but she was a part of the club and you don't fuck with the club. Period. Draging Matt behind her she pulled him down the stairs. "You got a car handsome?" She asked quickly as she pulled on her pants at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't bother with shoes.
There was no time. She had to have pissed off the shooter andhe would be gunning for them if she hadn't scared him off. She looked at the door to the street and decided to make a break for it. She didn't know what abilities Matthew had, weather it be affect on gravity or elemental manipulation or even psychic talent. All she knew was they might need his skills to survive.
" Who the fuck was this guy? By the sounds of the gunfire he was using a Dragonov sniper rifle to make emojis in the wall across the street. Was he insane? They couldn't go downstairs. The front door left them too open to gunfire from the street. She didn't know if he was the only one there.