[jmm] 20.5.2 - relive a nightmare
May. 26th, 2009 01:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magic_fratboy“The story run yet?”
“Aunt Aggie emailed me last night. Some promotions firm in Vegas made the deal with the Mirage to sponsor the event after they presented your signed contract. Forgery, I bet.”
Tommy huffed with bitter laughter, nodding as he paused to catch his breath. “Some dummy corporation it runs, I bet. Boney?”
“Yo.”
“…gimme the pick.”
“You got the pick.”
“I mean the real one.”
He watched Carbone flinch just a little at the admission of weakness, blinking a little too hard and gaping just a bit before twisting at the waist to grab the lock pick off the side table and hand it to him. “What’s up with that?”
Instead of answering, Tommy turned sullenly back to the cuffs around his wrists and set to work trying to pick them without using his powers. In public, he’d use a phony to keep up the appearance that he was using true escapology, but this time he didn’t have the luxury of playacting. Under the influence of the Darkness, his power would fail and his memories would abandon him if it got really bad.
It was a struggle to focus on the task without venturing past his own thoughts and into those of another lifetime, a struggle so enormous his hands were soon shaking and his brow sore from furrowing in concentration.
He couldn’t do this. That much was clear to him now as the tremors got worse and the dull throb began to spread. This wasn’t a battle against evil, this was a fight against his own mind and body to master survival when none would be available to him. He had to be able to do this on his own, and he couldn’t.
He couldn’t even pick a goddamn pair of handcuffs without the power of a god and the memory of a man a hundred years dead.
“God-DAMN IT!!”
The pick flew and hit the wall hard, echoing less than the alien sound of Tommy’s voice…angry, frustrated, and harsh. In a fit of rage that didn’t quite feel like his own, he wished for the filthy floors and dank pipes where he nearly died almost a year before. He’d had power then, a way out. He was new and green and still protected by the secrets locked in his own head.
Now those secrets were useless to him.
“T Bird.”
Lifting his gaze, he felt blood as the quiet, calm gaze of his cousin, dying a little every second, cut into him like a stiletto blade.
“Stop trying to save my life. That’s a side effect here. Save your own ass, then worry about me. Alright?”
After a moment he nodded, lowering his gaze back to the cuffs around his wrists…and for the first time since his initiation, doubted his ability to follow through.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 475
“Aunt Aggie emailed me last night. Some promotions firm in Vegas made the deal with the Mirage to sponsor the event after they presented your signed contract. Forgery, I bet.”
Tommy huffed with bitter laughter, nodding as he paused to catch his breath. “Some dummy corporation it runs, I bet. Boney?”
“Yo.”
“…gimme the pick.”
“You got the pick.”
“I mean the real one.”
He watched Carbone flinch just a little at the admission of weakness, blinking a little too hard and gaping just a bit before twisting at the waist to grab the lock pick off the side table and hand it to him. “What’s up with that?”
Instead of answering, Tommy turned sullenly back to the cuffs around his wrists and set to work trying to pick them without using his powers. In public, he’d use a phony to keep up the appearance that he was using true escapology, but this time he didn’t have the luxury of playacting. Under the influence of the Darkness, his power would fail and his memories would abandon him if it got really bad.
It was a struggle to focus on the task without venturing past his own thoughts and into those of another lifetime, a struggle so enormous his hands were soon shaking and his brow sore from furrowing in concentration.
He couldn’t do this. That much was clear to him now as the tremors got worse and the dull throb began to spread. This wasn’t a battle against evil, this was a fight against his own mind and body to master survival when none would be available to him. He had to be able to do this on his own, and he couldn’t.
He couldn’t even pick a goddamn pair of handcuffs without the power of a god and the memory of a man a hundred years dead.
“God-DAMN IT!!”
The pick flew and hit the wall hard, echoing less than the alien sound of Tommy’s voice…angry, frustrated, and harsh. In a fit of rage that didn’t quite feel like his own, he wished for the filthy floors and dank pipes where he nearly died almost a year before. He’d had power then, a way out. He was new and green and still protected by the secrets locked in his own head.
Now those secrets were useless to him.
“T Bird.”
Lifting his gaze, he felt blood as the quiet, calm gaze of his cousin, dying a little every second, cut into him like a stiletto blade.
“Stop trying to save my life. That’s a side effect here. Save your own ass, then worry about me. Alright?”
After a moment he nodded, lowering his gaze back to the cuffs around his wrists…and for the first time since his initiation, doubted his ability to follow through.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 475
