I'm Not Made of Steel [entries|friends|calendar] Tyler [ website | Birthright: A Whedonverse RP ] [ userinfo | greatestjournal userinfo ] [ calendar | greatestjournal calendar ]

where are you [12 Sep 2007|10:53pm] The transformation from visitor to occupant of Traslin’s home came quickly for Tyler. There was not much in the house to get use to; the general décor was very basic, with lots of space for a mobile home. But when there was not the standard set of furniture, or TV, or many other things, there was little to take up space. Just bodies and necessities. The memories of living this way as a boy came flooding back to Tyler. It dawned on him that the years that he had spent living in Searchlight and Vegas had permeated his way of life, and slowly he had gotten away from his old way of life. Tyler had mentioned this to his new instructor. The old man had just grinned in his own way, and tried to turn it into an opportunity to teach. It hadn’t taken Tyler long to realize that Traslin didn’t just teach breathing techniques, meditation, and philosophy. He advocated a way of living, and he tried his best to explain it simply every chance he got. And Tyler was listening. They kept a strict schedule. Every morning at five they rose for hours of mediation. Then, if the weather wasn’t too hot, they set to work doing what needed to be done in and around the house. Even though there was little opportunity for anything to acquire dirt, the old man seemed to be somewhat of a neat freak. And there was always something outside that needed cut, dug out, straightened, watered, or tended to. But after the first week, Tyler was already getting accustomed to the slower pace of Traslin’s simple life. The afternoons were left open, and Tyler didn’t question why. After dinner, they would go for a walk, trying to find a new path each night. When they returned, they would again sit for a few hours in meditation, serenaded by the soft song of crickets and cicadas. If they were lucky, a coyote would howl off in the distance. It was sitting and talking that Tyler found he liked most. Traslin had a way of speaking that was fascinating to the younger man. Rarely did Traslin tell stories; instead he would pick some topic and just talk about it. One night Tyler was reliving for his mentor a story about Star, and how he had disappeared for 29 nine days. He had been fighting with a warlock at the time, and when he found her down in a park, she set a cactus on fire just by looking at it. He had been a little nervous. “She took care of me though,” he said with a grin and a far away look. “Man, when I got to her I was hurting so bad I could barely breathe. And by the time she was done…” His voice trailed off. After a few moments, the old man leaned over and tapped Tyler a few times on the forehead. “Where are you at, Tyler?” he asked. It was a question Ty heard all the time from the old man. Where are you at? Where are you at? He had no idea why Traslin kept asking him that, but he wanted to find out. It was driving him nuts. “How can you ask me that,” he replied, snapping out of his memory. “You’re hitting me on the head, you have to know where I am.” Traslin snorted and settled back down in his chair. “You want me to believe you were here just now? You were not here, Tyler. You were in another place, and another time.” He chuckled and took a drink of his tea. “What’s wrong with that?” Tyler wasn’t trying to be rude, but he found that often he had to ask Traslin what was wrong with doing things that he had done his entire life. It was almost becoming a hobby of sorts, but it made him feel out of place from time to time. “Plenty,” came the raspy reply, turning somewhat serious. “Tyler is here. Tyler is in this moment. Why should he live in past moments, or in future moments? Be here. Be now. Grow into the next moment, but don’t go past it. And don’t fall behind, either.” Tyler sat quietly for a few moments, thinking over what Traslin said. In a way he understood what the man was saying, but it still got under his skin. “You’re always saying ‘be here, be now’,” he said, questioningly. “Yes, and you always should be. That is how you will find balance. Too far in the past, and the scales tip back. Too far in the future, the scales tip forward.” He reached out and smacked Tyler on the knee, but not hard. Just to emphasis his words. “Don’t tip the scales,” he warned good-naturedly. There was very little that got Traslin worked up. Most of the time, you had to be a weed in his begonias to make him get the least bit excited. “Be patient,” Traslin continued. “You have all the time in the world.” “True,” Ty admitted, though he wasn’t sure that he really did. “But what I want is out there right now, Traslin-roshi.” “That is your problem, Tyler,” he mentor replied sternly. “You want too much. Have no wants. Rid yourself of your desires. Then, everything you have will be what you desire. And anything else that comes along, that is extra to rejoice in.” After a few moments of silence from all but the crickets, Traslin put his tea down and rose to his feet. “That’s enough talk for tonight,” he said with a knowing smile. “Let’s meditate and forget everything we have just said.” Tyler went to his place of mediation, but the conversation was not forgotten. And it was several hours of thinking it over before Tyler got any sleep. 2 Comments |Reply

two weeks passed [05 Sep 2007|10:25pm] It’s not enough just to make an effort. The mind must be right. The motivation must be right. The aim must be right. All these things must be aligned together. This was how Tyler had been raised. Proper practice was the key element in achieving a tranquil mind. It was one of the gateways to understanding the world as it truly is. For three days, he had been wandering around Lake Mohave, trying his hardest to concentrate and focus while waiting for his father’s friend to show up. It was not going well, to say the least. Tyler doubted the necessity for him to even be there. After all, sitting here and doing nothing was not going to harm the hoards of evil that seemed to have a backstage pass to Las Vegas. Still, Tyler sat, frustrated, and tried not to think to hard about the fact that he very well could starve to death if something didn’t change, and soon. Tyler had sat, trying to count his breath and keep his mind clear to no avail, when he decided that this was pointless. He opened his eyes, determining to head back to the city ASAP, when he sucked his breath in, surprised. Before him stood a rather strange sight; an elderly gentlemen with an unruly beard stood before him, his wild grin matched the look in his eye. He wore clothing that was somewhat tattered at the seems: a red plaid short-sleeved shirt, and grungy looking green workpants. His feet were covered by hard looking leather boots, and in his right hand he held a shotgun. The gun was the only thing that seemed to be in good condition. “You have to be Traslin,” Tyler muttered, rising to his feet. His arm brushed the fallen hair away from his face. Behind the hair, his mind raced with thoughts. Ty extended his hand. “I’m Tyler. How did you find me?” The old man shifted the gun to the other hand, leaning on the gun as if it served for a makeshift cane. His handshake was brief, but firm. “Joey Traslin,” he said warmly, by way of introduction. For the moments that their hands touched, time itself seemed to slow down around Tyler. Not that he moved slower himself. It was as if he had been riding a rushing river for his entire life till that moment, and suddenly he had attached himself to something stationary. His eyes were opened, in those fluttering seconds, to a new world. It was full of sound, movement, and knowledge that had never before presented itself to Tyler. It was quiet a lot to take in so quickly, and within the twinkling of an eye it was gone again. “I found you,” the old man continued, certainly aware of what Tyler had just experienced, “by following the sound of your mind. It was not a hard task. Why is your mind so noisy?” Though the last sentence had been stated as an inquiry, no answer was expected, and Tyler knew it instantly. He opened his mouth to reply with something that he deemed witty, but lost interest in it. Sarcasm was not a good opener. Plus, Tyler sucked at it. Without a word spoken, the two of them began a silent journey through the landscape that surrounds them. The silence was not uncomfortable, but rather nature seemed to insist upon it in its special way. Tyler was impressed that an elderly gentleman such as his guide was able to manage his way across the terrain without the slightest stumble. For his own part, Tyler managed to keep up without too much trouble. He was just beginning to get tired when a mobile home appeared before them. There are very few places in the world today that make a person instantly feel as though they belong there. Of those few, only a small percentages are dwelling establishments. People often make houses to feel like their home, and it suits them just fine. Extremely rare is it to find a person who causes that home feeling to extend to not only themselves, but everyone else who comes along as well. That person would be exceptionally selfless in every aspect of their life to accomplish such a noteworthy achievement. Along the house, very nice plants and desert like landscaping appeared to be in very fine order. A large, wooden deck attached itself to the front entrance. Stairs ran up either side of the deck, making it easily accessible. Taking the stairs on the right, the two of the ascended till they stood together at the door. Traslin turned to Tyler. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Ty did as he was told without contest. In a few moments, Traslin returned with a large pitcher containing several cubes of ice floating in water, as well as two glasses. He pour Ty a glass, handed it to him. Tyler thanked him for it and downed it greedily. Ty had not recognized his own thirst until the water had been there to quench it. Traslin laughed and refilled the young man’s glass again. Then, he filled one for himself. Sitting down on the wood, Traslin sighed contently and took a long draw on his own glass. Feeling awkward standing, Tyler sat down as well. The sun shone down on them both, but the weather seemed to be rather cool and relaxing. Tyler was slightly perplexed, but did not voice his concern. The old man looked at him just then, with a knowing eye. “You are not so sound-proof, you know,” he said with a chuckle, pointing at Tyler. “Again you have a noisy mind. Again I could close my eyes and still point right to your head.” He nodded slowly to himself, still laughing as he raised the glass to his lips. Tyler cocked his head and raised his eyebrow. Had his father sent him to a mind-reader? Time might tell, but Ty guessed that little would be revealed to him now. “Traslin-roshi,” he began, tacking on the roshi out of the respect he had been taught as a child for and elderly man of enlightenment, “why am I here?” It was a fair question, at least to Tyler. After all, he’d just spent days out in the middle of nowhere, and then followed a mentally questionable old man to his middle-of-nowhere property while enduring some rather crazy talk. Traslin looked Tyler squarely in the eye. “You are here to know,” he answered, his voice a mixture of warmth and instruction. He leaned forward, and tapped Tyler sharply in the middle of the forehead. “You are here to see.” Traslin put down his water and stood quickly while grabbing up his gun that rested against the house nearby. He walked out to the middle of the deck, and beckoned for Tyler to follow him. Ty put down his drink and did as the man motioned. “Sit down,” Traslin said. So Tyler sat. “You shall sit here, in the lotus position. No matter how long it takes, just sit. I want you to try and catch your mind, in its entire state. Once you have caught it, my gun will do the rest. No matter how long it takes, just sit, and capture your mind.” Tyler looked up, his internal doubts splayed across his face. Traslin chuckled, and shrugged his shoulders. “Just try. When you get it, I will know. My gun will do the rest.” Tyler didn’t care for the sound of that at all. His mind was located in his head, and there was little a crazy old man could do with a gun that would affect the inside of Ty’s head. Except use it to bring the inside of Ty’s head to the outside. And that wasn’t the best plan he had heard. Then again, so what if he did get shot. It meant marginally less to someone who was immortal. So instead of arguing, Tyler did as he was told. He crossed his legs, placed his right hand inside of his left, with the tips of his thumbs touching. He closed his eyes, and began by counting breaths. Perhaps it was the strangeness of the situation on the whole, or perhaps it was the quite and serene environment; there was no doubt about the fact that Ty’s mind had already began to silence itself. As he counted his breath, he scaled to ten and back. Again and again, for countless times over many hours, it was all he would allow himself to do. Slowly, very slowly, his mind began to open. When it did, it was a truly wonderful experience. To try and put such a think into words would be absurd. We certainly won’t attempt to do so here. After what may have been moments, days, or possibly even years, Tyler’s eyes opened to look up at his newest master, who had stood throughout that time without flinching. Tyler wondered if he even blinked. “You’ve laid a nice foundation,” Traslin said, his voice already sounding like that of an old friend. “The rest of our work will be based upon this first practice. Never forget it.” The old man stuck the butt end of the gun down for Tyler to grab while trying to stand. “Welcome home.” Tyler stayed many years and studied under Traslin. Many things transpired, and the young man was forever changed for the rest of his very long life. All through out, Tyler would look back on everything he learned here, at how much he grew in such a relatively short time, and would simply be amazed. When he returned to Vegas, he was not at all surprised to find that only about two weeks had passed. Such was the magical nature of the world that Tyler was a part of. He wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Reply

Pound for Pounding [16 Jul 2007|11:20pm] Tyler stood still in the parking lot, the sun setting in the west, telltale strokes of pink, orange and indigo bordered between the sinking sphere and the growing dusk that settled upon the city. The calm breeze of falling eve slid warmly past him; gently taking its leave of Sin City and returning to the desert from where it came. It was strange to be standing in the very spot he had died, yet to feel so comforted and untroubled. The old warehouse lay not too far ahead of him; due northwest. The shadows from the building crept slowly out and towards him, as if once again the reaper was coming for him, albeit this time slowly and in unadorned sight. If his senses had only been sharper last time he was here…if his mind had only been more focused, maybe death wouldn’t have overtaken him so easily. So swift and silent. Tyler had not seen it coming. The moment his feet had touched the Nevada ground, Tyler had been drawn to this very spot as if it were magnetized, giving off an invisible pull that tugged only at his soul. It wasn’t revenge that brought him back, nor was it for any form of justice that his boots now rested upon that hot blacktop. It was a personal, it was deep and emotional. And it a very wrong use of the word, it felt timeless. Time, however, was still that old proverbial flowing river that trickled and cascaded all at the same time. Corrosion from said river was apparent in the landscape about him. Everything about this place groaned silently with ruinous attrition. The decay of brick and mortar left the building itself looking like a crone who spent her time wistfully remembering the beauty of her youth, and bitterly denying the fact that was so obvious to all those who would look upon her…time was not on her side anymore. No one lusted after the exterior of this place. No sleep was ever lost pining away for what was once here, except by the victim herself. The cleverest tricksters in this world with all of their horrid deceits totaled together could not compare to the travesties that time plays upon all things. Most things. Magnetic forces and spatial rivers were all fine and good for evenings that catered to the needs of the philosophical creature, but they all failed in the endeavor that had truly brought a young man out to an emotional place. Tyler did not stand here for want of comprehension of the past or the future. It was what, and most importantly who, was inside of him at present that drove his every thought in the place. It struck him as humorlessly funny that in hundreds of years when every building in this place was reduced to rubble, no matter the reason, he would be here to see it. He could stand in this very God Forsaken spot and watch as it was all reduced back to desert. He could watch, and he could laugh. God took all men but Noah and his family by flood, according to the ancient Hebrew texts. In Revelations, a prophesy said that God would again destroy the world, this time through fire that melted the hillsides and laid barren the farthest expanses of the globe. How does a twenty-something guy who doesn’t have the first clue about anything in life comprehend that not even that would end his existence? If not even deities could end his life in their strongest display of wrath, then what exactly did that make him? One of them? Better even? Lost. A lost man who had watched his entire belief system about everything get shaken to the very core, burned away and refined into something else. Something foreign within him, yet very real. He could try his best to unwrap this enigma, and he certainly would. But at the end of this day, the only thing he had truly come to understand is that he didn’t understand. It wasn’t easy to swallow. He had, in a strange humor brought about by a sense of desperation, called himself Ishmael. The strange man that no one knew anything about, who was the sole survivor from a war at sea, raged against a white whale by the enraged Ahab. A man who had many questions, and who allowed himself to view the mysteries of life as that and not rationalize them all away. Tyler had sent her flowers, Ishmael had thought it a bad idea. Tyler wanted his old life back, with lazy Saturdays spent laying around in his boxers, watching TV and wondering if the night would be spent hunting prey of fulfilling his own carnal desires. Ishmael wanted only to move on, cut himself off from everything and everyone. Spend some of his very long years seeking the questions that haunted him, and revenge on those who had stolen away his normalcy. But wasn’t it Ahab who cut himself off from everything but the constant thought of revenge? Your losing it here, pal. Get a grip on yourself. A night spent stalking predators and turning them into prey might help clear his head. 2 Comments |Reply

Foreign Task [10 Jul 2007|08:43pm] Ironic? No, it wasn’t irony. It was perverse perfection. The rubble cracked and popped under Tyler’s boots, seeming to protest his very presence in their own way. He had climbed the fence that ran the perimeter of Las Vegas’ latest fiasco; the demise of The Witching Hour. For the span a week or so, every tabloid in town had been plastered with cropped and edited pictures. Pictures of her. Tyler had cut out and kept every last one of them. For a city that never sleeps, five a.m. brought about the closest standstill that the inhabitants would ever see. The clean-up crew hadn’t arrived just yet, though Ty knew that with the heat index where it had been over the past few days he had been in town, they would be here early. It was only just a matter of time. If anything, time was now on the young man’s side. It always would be. The past month had brought about so many questions, emotions, and nights only half slept. All of those things had their place, but in Tyler’s life, standing here at this very moment, the only thing that mattered was her. Her life, now. Her plans, now. Then, as if the universe itself were privy to his most private and sacred thoughts, it presented him with a present that caused him to hold his breath. He spied, among the broken pieces of plaster and busted brick and mortar, a pink shoe, dirty and missing a heel. Sad? No, it wasn’t sad. It was goddamn heartbreaking. The rubble and wreckage, the people stopping to gawk, the complete and dramatic ridiculousness of this whole situation…Tyler knew that he was surrounded by her. At this moment in his life, he may not have known himself; he knew Star Tomlin when he saw her. Where he saw her. It was a comfort, albeit small, that the mangled shoe maintained its dignity in a way that only a possession of hers could. Where could she be? Did she have any reason to stay in this town? It wasn’t a stretch in his mind to envision her rolling up her sleeves and fixing this. It also wasn’t a stretch to see her packing up whatever was left of her stuff and leaving this town. The though brought terror to him. What if she was gone? What would he possibly do then? Ty realized that he had no idea how she would react to his return, but not even in his worst nightmares had he imagined that he wouldn’t get to see her. His heart lurched in his chest. His eyes closed for a moment, clutching that shoe to his chest as he focused on breathing. It was almost too much to ask. It was then that a voice broke the silence. ( Getting caught ) 2 Comments |Reply

Of Fire and Water [05 Jul 2007|08:46pm] The waves danced brilliantly for a few brief moments before crashing into the shore, and then were gone like those that had come before, and those that were to come after. To Yoshiro, this was a thing of beauty. The code that he had sworn to live his life by, with all of its theories, philosophies, and wisdom, could have been visually summed up in just a few moments by the crashing wave. They took their thirty seconds of glory, and then crashed with dignity into the sand. Much of what was honorable about life repeated this same paradigm. This was not a time of reflection for Yoshiro. This was a time of deep conviction and concentration. It was not for fun that he had spent the previous nineteen days, plus this one, performing rituals and chanting prayers. And all of this hard work was about to come to fruition on the shores of Nishihama. All religions, all faiths, and all cultures have stories about rebirth. They are a necessary part of our survival. We want to believe. Want gives way to desire. Desire, when it is in full bloom, gives way to need. Yoshiro needed the same thing that the rest of his people needed. They needed a sign that their lives had not been spent in struggle for only vanity’s sake. A prophesy to be fulfilled. They hadn’t been mistaken; they hadn’t watched their brothers fall without reason. The entire community needed an insignia to follow. Listen to the words long written down: When the time of the prophesy has been fulfilled, The Headpiece of our great nation of warriors will choose a small boy, one who has experienced less than one year of life. He is to be sealed with our most sacred and holy ritual. Only then shall this chosen one, at the beck of The Headpiece, be recalled again and again from the land of the spirits, to rise from the ash of his pyre and be reborn; infused with the power of the Phoenix, and all the glory there attributed to It had been an honor, those twenty six years ago, to seal his own son, delivered to him from unknown origin, with those sacred responsibilities. The one who loved him had returned him to his home shores. She had added the salt of her own body to the salt of the sea by way of her tears. They had mixed with his ash, and it was fitting. She was and always would be a part of him, even into the next Age, and the Age thereafter. The last words of the rites passed from his lips. Yoshiro sat alone next to his fire, the only source of light for a few miles around. Night had fallen upon those dancing waves, upon that salty sand. Upon a father who looked up in anticipation to watch for the return of his son. He would see him in the distance, and would be the first to greet him. When nothing happened, Yoshiro rose to his feet and waded out ankle deep. The waves licked his shins, and soaked into the bottom of his cloak. He looked out, and saw only blackness. He looked again, and saw only darkness. A third time he looked out. Twenty yards out, there was the faintest glow. Embers upon the water, slowly circling around one point. Weaker eyes might not have seen, but Yoshiro did. And he smiled when he saw that it was good. In the span of several seconds that masqueraded under the feeling of several years, the fire grew and grew until it roared upon the black waters. It was so powerful that Yoshiro felt the heat on his face, despite the great distance between them. In the middle of the fire sat the outline of a man, curled up around himself. First, an arm twitched. Then a leg. A hand balled up into a fist, only to flex back out into a flat outline. The man in the fire looked at his own hand, but was not amazed. Naked, he rose to his feet, and took his first reborn steps away from the fire and across the water. He closed the distance, a dark silhouette save for the glowing orange embers of his eyes. His stride was not timid, but it was not arrogant either. It was as if he was simply gliding over those rejoicing waves. Yoshiro removed his outer cloak, and wrapped it around the figure that approached him. His son, reborn from flame to continue to wage the war that his adopted ancestors had taken up so long ago. Tyler had returned to his father. There was much to be explained. And Yoshiro knew in his heart that his place would be back in America, among those that he had left behind. He would need them to find himself yet again in this world. And there was little time. Reply

Ky and Ty [17 Oct 2006|08:28am] “…And from there, I just ended up working for Armando.” For the past twenty minutes, Tyler had been listening to Kyrie tell her entire life story. As unbelievable as it seemed, he knew that it had been a complete and honest account. Now finished, she sat at his kitchen table, knees pulled up to her chest. She gave a sheepish grin and a shrug as he searched for the proper response. “So wait…you mean you actually…and then, with the flood, there were how many water syrens?” Kyrie laughed and rolled her eyes, reaching for the cup of tea that sat in front of her. “Twenty.” She paused for a moment, eyeing him with interest as a thought formed. “Now let me ask you something. How, exactly, did you know that I wasn’t just another girl working the area? There are, like, twenty other girls out there.” Ty’s eyebrows rose as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back into his seat, adjusting comfortably, and obviously proud of himself. “Simple. I asked the other pro’s in the area about you. When absolutely NO one knew who you were, it was a dead give away. They all know each other, especially in that neighborhood. Bad shit goes down there all the time.” The young woman gave a nod of understanding. “You’re telling me,” she replied wryly. She sighed, and then bit her bottom lip and cocked her head to one side in a curious fashion. “What are you doing out there, late at night? Don’t tell me you play superhero on your off hours.” She gave him a challenging look, full of smug, yet playful, contempt. Eyes narrowing with return contempt, Tyler grinned evilly. “I was looking for a friends’ lost three year old daughter, and when I saw you I figured that I’d found her.” “Oh!” Came Kyrie’s high pitched reply. “I should have known you were out looking for little girls, you so fit the profile.” She made a fist and shook it at him for good measure. Now it was Ty’s turn for an eye roll before he fell into a few moments of silence. He looked her over a few times, trying to decide what to say next. Finally, his hand went through his hair. He slide a small piece of sturdy paper across the table, and when he lifted his hand there was a pen on top of the paper. “You write down where I can find this guy, Kyrie. Don’t argue, just give me an address. Then find somewhere to lay low for a week or two. After that, you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Kyrie stared at him for a moment, as though his language had just switched from English to Japanese. Then, as though decidedly giving up on any form of protest, her small hand picked up the pen and began to jot down information. And Tyler began to smile. Reply

girl [30 Aug 2006|04:24pm] “You shopping around, baby?” A hooker’s proposition wasn’t anything new to Tyler. Even though his time spent hunting in Vegas hadn’t been extensive, the local population of working girls (and the term ‘girl’ is being loosely applied here) seemed to have a knack for detecting his presence. It was an ability that Ty had decided had been naturally selected for, because a prostitute that wasn’t on their toes in this town could, and would, fall victim to the plethora of dangers that lay in wait for them. Be that as it may, Tyler always turned down the invitation politely, but used it to start a conversation. There was more information to be obtained from these types of sources than from anywhere else. These girls knew the streets well. But the tone and pitch of the offer caused Ty to stop dead in his tracks, and turn around to the view the source. As he spied her standing at the mouth of the alleyway, he literally couldn’t believe his eyes. The girl standing there looked like she belonged in junior high. “Am I shopping around for what?” he asked warily, anticipating an answer, but not wanting to actually hear it. He felt like he was walking into some sort of trap. She held out her arms, and looked down her own body, tightly wrapped in different forms of cloth and lace. She looked back at him and cocked her head with an air of attitude that only a young teenager could possess. “What do you think, stupid?” “Oh my God. You’ve got to be joking me.” Ty turned at took a few steps toward her, noting that she didn’t flinch a muscle as he approached. “What are you, kid? Twelve?” She glared at him then, as she folded her arms and pulled her lips together in a sour pucker of a face. Ty didn’t know if he was suppose to feel threatened, but the countenance of the girl did remind him of a pouting teenager. She wasn’t helping her case out any. “I’m 19,” she replied, looking him square in the eye. Her lips may have told him one thing, but Tyler was studying her body language instead. It was telling him that she was lying, and that she had probably practiced that lie over and over again. “Oh my God,” he repeated, still moving closer. “Not only are you twelve, but you think that I’m a complete idiot.” “What else would I think, what with some strange dude running around in the shadows all dressed up for a funeral,” she spat back venomously at him. Ty didn’t even blink. “What the hell are you doing out here anyways,” he questioned, stopping where he was, which was only a few feet from her now. She hadn’t looked around, hadn’t backed up any, nothing. Whoever she was, and whatever she was doing, she wasn’t afraid. And that made Tyler scared for her. She didn’t reply for a moment, content to just stare him down, as if her look could somehow put him in the place she felt he needed to be. Finally, her entire attitude flipped without warning, and she smiled coyly at him with a shrug of her shoulders. “Just, you know, workin’,” she answered, her tone suggesting that she couldn’t be more proud of herself. “And I’m pretty damn good at it too. But you know that, or you wouldn’t be here would you, baby.” “Let’s get one thing straight,” Ty replied as soon as he was done cringing. “If you call me baby one more time, I’m going to literally throw up on you.” It was a little mean, but Ty had no idea how to respond to this. Naturally a protector, everything about this situation felt extremely wrong to him. He had to get to the bottom of this; there had to be some mistake. She took a few steps towards him, till there was very little room left. Ty could hear the long heels of her shoes clicking as “What, you don’t think I’m pretty?” The question was asked with an air of bait to it. She knew that she was extremely good looking, and that’s what turned almost every guy onto her instantly. “I still think you’re twelve.” Her eyes narrowed again, as if she was mad that she hadn’t been able to get under his skin using her looks. As if she hadn’t been able to prove herself to him. This seemed to irk her greatly. She dramatically threw her hands up in the air, “Think whatever you want, I’ve got money to make,” she replied with a sigh, as she spun around on her toes and headed back toward the road. Ty just watched her walk away. The only thing he could do was shake his head. He’d be back to check on her again. Soon. 1 Comment |Reply

Stars [03 Aug 2006|07:20pm] Because you know that it is easier to brush off dust than to wash off blood. Because you know better than to repeat mistakes. Because you know. Other people, they think that Las Vegas is all pretty girls and dancing lights. They think it’s all pretty lights and dancing girls. They think fun. They think money. They think luck. You know better. You think work. You think survival. Life or death. Violence and chaos. Win or lose. Other people, they hear laughter. They hear drinks being ordered from bars. When they hear screaming, they think about the roulette table. Life’s one big gamble, they say. Takes money to make money, they repeat their mantra. Confession at the poker table. Penance: five red chips. All’s forgiven. Be blessed, child. You know better. You hear what is missed. Back alley confessions from those desperately in need. I’m too young. This isn’t happening. Please. God. No. Please. Oh. God Help Please. Wait, whispers experience. Make sure you are really seeing what you think you are seeing, patience advises. Move now, screams training. It’s going to be too late, fear tells you. But you know better, now. You can’t gamble with life. You don’t pay attention to that nagging thought in the back of your head. You don’t hear the past remind you of your failures. Because you know that it is easier to brush off dust than to wash off blood. Because you know better than to repeat mistakes. Because you know. Other people, they don’t take time to watch. They don’t learn to read eyes. Or expressions. You know the difference, now. You know terror when you see it. You wait, and you look for it. It’s a green light. The number three. Ready. Set. Other people, they wouldn’t get involved. They don’t carry weapons, they haven’t trained to be the fastest. The most agile. They don’t compensate a lack of super-natural strength with the ability to read body language and adjust. Trajectory to heart. Compensate. Fist coming in from the right. Compensate. Wood. Heart. Gasp. Dust. Other people, they would want noticed. A pat on the back. Complements. Fifteen minutes of fame. You disappear as fast as you came. You don’t want recognized. You don’t want anything. You just do your job. Sometimes, you look back from the shadows as those you save strain to find where it was you just came from. Where you just went. Sometimes, you want to reach out to them. Be blessed, child. Because you know better, you just silently wipe away dust. They never see you again. You run your hand through your hair, and wonder where the person you care about most in the entire world is right now. You think about what she’s doing. You think about her smile. Her eyes. Her laugh. You think about how much you love her. You think about those times in the night when you wake up and sit up in bed. You listen to her breath. You admire every rise and fall of her bare skin in between the two sheets. It makes the aches and pains of your job easier. It makes failure seem so much more unacceptable. It makes everything seem worth it. You think that maybe you just saved some else’s Star. This is what you do when you’re Tyler. Reply

getting back [22 Jul 2006|08:21am] Tyler sat in the middle of his living room floor, right next to his shirt that he had pulled off and discarded when he had walked in from work. After a quick shower and a check of the wonderful device that is satellite TV, he had finally given in and admitted to himself that something was definitely not well in his life. He had realized he felt this way before, but that was when he had been separated from Star, and so he had naturally assumed that the lack of that relationship had been the source of his unrest. But since the two of them had gotten back together, and even ironed out some of the problems that had plagued the relationship before hand, he had refused to admit to himself that somewhere in the back of his mind, he still felt like something was missing. He refused to admit to anyone that moving to the bigger city, and everything that had followed after was just his way of trying to ignore his problems. But men were not suppose to have identity crisis problems at his age, and he knew it. So, sitting in the middle of his apartment floor surrounded by nothing but stillness and silence, he reverted back to the tried and true methods of reflection and meditation that he had known almost all of his life. The problem was that he just kept hitting that same old brick wall. When the only answer to a problem is one that you refuse to even contemplate for even a moment, thoughts and reflections can quickly lead to frustration and anger. After a half hour of getting absolutely no where, Ty was completely fed up with the whole situation and was willing to go back to just not dealing with the problem at all. He leaned back, breaking position and resting his head and back against the couch with a little more gusty than was necessary, just to prove to the couch that he was frustrated. Even though nothing had been on TV an hour ago, he still decided to give it another go. Besides, he craved a distraction at this point. He flipped it over to one of the various MTV spawn channels, the ones that still played music. He was just in time too see a white screen with an older styled microphone. The bearded face of Dave Grohl singing into that microphone that he had another confession to make. That everyone has their chains to break. Dave asked, is someone getting the best of you?j Ty watched, borderline entranced with the combination of words and video. When the song ended, various lines ran through his head again and again. For the better part of an hour, Ty just stared off into space, his thoughts a jumbled mess of everything he had been through since moving to Searchlight/Vegas, and even before. All the time the song’s questions kept leading him back to the answer he knew that he had to give into. Now...Where the fuck did he leave that sword and those stakes? Reply

days [21 Apr 2006|08:25am] Tyler had driven up and down various streets of Searchlight for nearly half of an hour, and his glances over the names of the establishments were starting to get a bit frantic. As his truck slowly cruised up and down the road, his eyebrows furrowed in a bewildered expression as he read the sign. The Nugget. Hadn’t he been by this place? Twice? He knew for certain he had passed the Excalibur Church, because who forgets a church named after a sword? The rest of it was a blur in his mind, with every street sign bearing an unfamiliar name that sounded like the street he was currently on. His systematic sweep of the small town was proving hard to keep systematic. Tyler wasn’t a retard (depending on who you asked). He realized that his memory of this town wasn’t what it should be. He had spent over a year patrolling these small streets on a nightly basis, and should have had the town memorized like the back of his hand. But as the truck moved on at a Sunday morning pace, all the demon hunter could do was scowl at the signs and at the locals who were already scowling at him anyways. He had been tempted to roll down his window and yell “What?! I’m driving at the customary speed!” But he had passed on actually doing that. For now, anyways. Old people. Sheesh. Over that past few days, Tyler’s memory had been going from bad to worse. It had started out with streets and directions, then progressed to where he kept things in his own house. Now, people were all starting to blur together in his mind. It was as if a memory cancer was slowly eating away at his memory, and was taking up the room where recollection was usually stored in his brain. In a now rare flash of remembrance, Ty had recalled the cultic bookstore in Searchlight. “Come on, where is it?” He muttered, glad for the sunglasses covering his eyes. Had anyone seen him, they would have probably called the cops. Tyler appeared as though he was looking for some new little victim to eat. It was slightly ironic, as he was usually looking for demons who were actually looking for little victims to eat. Ty wasn’t of that persuasion. Finally, his eyes fell on the Unseen Insight. “Good name,” he said bitterly as he whipped the truck into a parking space, turned the key back, and jumped out onto the baking pavement that led way into the store. Fortunately for him, he could remember why he was there. It took him a moment to get his bearings in the store, his eyes now searched out titles of books instead of the sign for the building. After several minutes of searching and possibly a bit of booger extraction, Tyler finally came upon a section of books that sounded by title as if they may be of some use. Hands slid up and down the front of his jeans, so that any remnants of the nasal spelunking would not transfer to clean, white pages. Taking the first three books, Ty flipped them open to the table of contents, and looked for words that would serve as some indicator that he was searching in the right volumes of demonic knowledge. He had wondered of Star might have been able to help him, but an ache in his stomach told him that going to her wouldn’t be the right thing to do. He knew that he owed her some sort of apology, but at the moment the reasoning for why came up muddled in his mind. They had fought, but that‘s all he had remembered. No one else had jumped out at him. Two books and some swearing later, Tyler finally found something that looked as though it might serve his purpose. Ghailha Demons hail from a dimension that is rumored to be tied to all the matter that represents the collective memory from every other dimension tied to this one. When confronted by a Ghailha demon, one does not actually interact with it’s physical representation, but rather a shell that is projected inter-dimensionally from the demon’s home world to several others at once. The more shells a Ghailha demon has working in other dimensions at once, the stronger that demon is. In all appearances and interactions, the shell is the exact replica of the demon, and is tied to him through a psychic link. If the shell’s mortality comes to an end, only then does the actual demon leave his home world and venture to this one, seeking out revenge on the person who destroyed his psychic shell. If the demon successfully kills the being, that being is altered to become the new shell in that dimension. There are two types of Ghailha demons, one that has the power to destroy memory, and another that has the power to restore memory. While the first type is limited to destroying only what a being may have in his brain, the second type is actually able to bring up repressed memories, create false memories, or put in memories from one being into another one. These two types of demons represent the two genders of the dimension. The most important thing to remember is--- Tyler flipped the page over, but found himself reading something that made no sense to him. A quick glance at the page number told him what he had already guessed…there were several pages missing from the book. Tyler flipped out a small notebook he had in his pocked, and jotted down all of the highlights of the beginning of that passage, circling the name of the demon three times. If memory was to fail him, the pen and paper would be his redemption in the days to come. 2 Comments |Reply

the beginning [10 Apr 2006|12:42pm] “Fuck you.” The words were spat from the mouth of the demon hunter with disgust. His eyes glared at the three vampires that stood in the partially lit alleyway of Las Vegas. So much darkness in a town so bright. Ty stood, sword in hand, and a packet full of wooden stakes dangling from his side, just in case. Ty preferred the sharp edge of the blade to the sharp point of the stake. It allowed him to be more mobile, and to use his quickness and agility that he worked so goddamn hard for all these years. “It won’t be offered to you again,” came the feminine reply from the demon that was the closest to him. She was the only female of the three, and she was trying her best to use womanly persuasion to get Tyler to lower his guard. She took a few steps toward him, grinning maliciously as she approached. “Join our group, or we will suck you drier than a slice of jerky.” She thought for a moment…maybe the word “and” would have been better than the word “or”. To Tyler, it didn’t matter. The demoness had stepped close enough to be within reach. With all the speed he could muster, Tyler sailed through the air and closed the last few feet, the edge of his blade singing as it cut horizontally through the night air. Decapitation was instantaneous, and cut down the ratio of vampires to hunter, 2:1. Things were looking up already. “And fuck the two of you, too,” Sneered Tyler, raising his sword again, clearly displaying his intentions of violence. Hatred burned deep in his eyes, and confusion was pushed far from his mind as the transformed faces clearly betrayed demonic origins in the dark eyes that glared back at him. Fangs were also another good indicator. Ty knew that he could not afford to be distracted by past mistakes at this moment. No, he would pay for his past sins at a later time, but for the moment it was time to fulfill a role that he was bound to, whether he liked it or not. The two vampires lunged in unison, and Tyler had to make a split second decision. With a last second spin, Tyler dodged the first vampire, sinking his blade into the back of the demon as it passed, and leaving it there as he was tackled to the ground by the second vampire. Using it’s own momentum against it, Tyler put his knees up and flipped the second vampire over himself, and the with a sharp kick of his feet, Tyler was standing again. In that same motion, he quickly pulled a stake out from the bag that hung at his side, and sunk it into the heart of the vampire that was run through by the blade. As the explosion of dust erupted, Ty reached out to find the handle of the blade. His efforts were futile, however, as a boot landed on the side of his face, the kick sent the demon hunter flying into a nearby wall. Now, as stars burst upon his vision, he made the dark outline of the vampire that was closing in on him for the kill. Behind the vampire, a dark shadow fell to the ground, landing where the blade now rested in the alleyway. The vampire noticed nothing, but lifted it’s boot again, clearly aiming for Ty’s head. Tyler closed his eyes and waited for the devastating blow to connect, but it never did. Tyler popped one eye open, and then the other, not quite sure how to respond to what he saw. A man stood above Tyler, circled in the leftovers of vampire dust, offering out a hand to help the young demon hunter to his feet. Tyler took it with some caution, but quickly found himself on his feet, facing this stranger. The man made no move to return the weapon to Tyler. “It’s hard sometimes, remembering that they can kill you with more than just their fangs,” the man said, his eyes focused on Ty’s blade as he moved it around, examining it from every angle. Maybe he was looking for some sort of flaw, or identifying mark. Maybe. Ty didn’t know. “Uh, yeah. Tricky sons of bitches,” was all Ty could think of to say in reply. “Thanks for your help.” Awkwardly, Tyler tried to think of what to say next. “Who are you?” The man told Tyler his name, and then finally adverted his eyes from the blade to the young demon hunter that had lost it in battle. “Doesn’t do you much good when it’s laying on the ground,” he mused with a look in his eyes that could only be described as condescending amusement. The sword flipped in air, and the man caught it by the blade without doing any harm to himself. Not even a scratch, leaving Tyler feeling somewhat impressed. “It did this time,” Ty countered with a grin as he took the sword from the other man and sheathed it. It was all he could think of to say. Before he could formulate any more questions, the man was speaking again. He told Tyler something, taking a few minutes to explain in great detail an event, and Tyler nodded in return brushing his hair out of his eyes. He took it in word by word, but did nothing in response. “That’s life though,” the man continued, taking a few steps closer to Tyler. Ty knew that there some something deeply predatorial about the way this man moved, but he didn’t do anything to get away. No alarm registered in Ty’s body, and he trusted it. “And at least when it’s over, it will have been a family affair, right?” Tyler narrowed his eyes and, taking everything the man had explained to him in to consideration, gave a shrug as if he couldn’t be bothered less by it. “You’ll have to do it first,” he retorted, noticing that he was feeling a little light-headed. “I will,” the man said solemnly, with a nod of his head. “You’ll see.” “But I’ll be waiting for you now,” Ty stated, balling his hands into tight fists at his side. “I’ll bring you down the next time I see you.” “See, that’s the neat thing about me,” came a response coupled with a wicked grin. “Other than vaguely remembering you had a conversation with a guy you didn’t like, you won’t remember one other thing about me. Not the way I look, not what I told you, nothing. Other than knowing we are going to meet again for some unknown reason, you will simply forget the confessions I have made to you. Oh, you’ll remember just enough to get you started, but nothing more.” The stranger took a few steps back, and nodded his head. “I’ll be rooting you on the whole time,” he promised. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared. If you asked Ty after the fact, he would have said that the man looked familiar, but that no distinctive traits stuck out in his memory. He may have had a scar…or not. His eyes may have been blue…or green, or gray. His hair had been a certain color, and a certain length, but Ty just wouldn’t have been able to recall. The only thing he knew was the he urgently needed to remember everything he had just forgotten. And time wasn’t on his side. Reply

sold [04 Apr 2006|04:52pm] Tyler had to admit, the building didn’t look like much at all. There was a large door, which appeared old but sturdy. Beyond that, the door opened into a large room, complete with concrete walls and floors. The fact that the place had been completely cleaned out made the room appear much larger, and hallow. If the Nevada State Penitentiary had a cell dubbed the Presidential Suite, this would be exactly how Ty would picture it. Bare, grey, cold, and slightly musty smelling. “It’s homey,” Tyler said over his shoulder to the woman who stood behind him. “It has it’s subtle charms,” she agreed with a nod. Kirie Shannings hadn’t been a real-estate agent very long, but she had a feeling that this was going well, despite Ty’s comment. He had a look in his eye that said, to her, he was interested. She decided to go on the offensive. “For Las Vegas, the price is very affordable,” she said sweetly, crossing deeper into the room and pointing at a set of stairs on the far side. “And those stairs lead up into an apartment; do you want to see it?” She started off in the direction of the stairs. “No,” Ty replied quietly, still looking around the room. He nodded his head up and down, before shaking the hair out of his face quickly. “No,” he repeated, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen enough.” He flashed a small smile, finally, at the young blonde woman. “I want it. I think it will be perfect.” “Excellent!” she said, flashing her own pearly whites. The commission on this one would at least cover the down payment on the new car she had her eye on. “You certainly know how to make a lady’s day,” she said, slightly chuckling at her own joke. Tyler’s eyebrows lifted, as he tried to stifle a sarcastic grunt. “Could I get that in writing, and notarized?” The smile stayed on Kirie’s face, but Ty knew she didn’t understand what he meant. He dropped the subject. “So, stop by tomorrow and fill out the paper work, if you have time,” she said, walking toward him, fingers clasped around two small objects. “Here’s the keys, the place is yours.” She extended two keys on a small, plain ring. Tyler took them and examined them for a moment, and then tossed them up slightly in the air. They landed again in his hand, and he slipped them into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said with a nod. He knew she was doing him a favor; he shouldn’t have those until after the paper work had been filed. “Don’t mention it,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “Literally. You seem like you have a lot of work to do, so I’m going to get out of your way. Like I said, see you in the morning.” With hips swinging slightly from side to side, she exited the building, and switched the “For Sale” sign on the front to now read “Sold.” Tyler nodded his head as she disappeared. “Yeah, see ya.” Ty made a mental note of the things he would need, but for the most part it was done. In a few weeks, he would be opening his very dojo. After examining the upper room, which was very humble indeed, he went back down to the main floor and checked his cell phone. At least he got reception. He dialed information, and soon he was connected to a local construction company that he had seen advertised. This place needed serious work. Reply

[29 Mar 2006|12:23pm] Tyler pulled his coat tighter on his shoulders, taking a moment to enjoy the small comfort that the material brought when it pressed against him. Tyler sat in his truck, and nervously eyed the brown sandwich bag that sat on the passenger seat. He could help but marvel, as he waited, at how such a small amount of anything could be worth so much. People had literally killed other people for the contents of the bag. Looking out the window into the night sky, Tyler contemplated turning on his engine, just to hear something other than the silence that he sat in. This was a brand new situation to him; comfort level was at an all time low. But he knew what he had to do: take the money from some unnamed man in a red hood, and give him the bag. Once that transaction took place, all Tyler had to do was hold on to the money for long enough to get it back to the people who wanted it. This was definitely not something Ty saw himself doing a few weeks ago. Eleven P.M. was the time, and the fact that most of these things happened at night was not a stereotype that was lost on Tyler. Everything that happened, when it was secretive in nature, tended to happen at times that made those involved feel as though they were in a secretive part of the day. As for Ty, he believed that nothing that was secret would stay a secret forever. Maybe that was when the world ended, when all that was secret would be secret no more. But such musings were laid aside when he noticed movement on the far side of the parking lot. True to the information given him, a man wearing a black leather jacket with a red hood sweatshirt underneath began to approach the truck. Though Ty couldn’t see the man’s face, common sense dictated that he would certainly have spent time checking out the new trans-man and his vehicle from the safety of shadow. He could look all he wanted, because Ty was completely alone. Ty rolled the window down, his dark hair hung in his face. For possibly the first time in his life, he made no attempt to push it back. Concealment was vital. Wordlessly, the exchanged happened. Tyler took a bundle of cash, roughly the thickness of a brick, and in exchange he delivered over the brown bag. A hint of a snort came from underneath the hood, though whether it was contempt for Tyler or glee of receiving the bag, Ty would never know. The window went back up, and the man took off at a fast pace back into the shadows from whence he had appeared. A few moment of silence, and Tyler looked over the money he had been handed. He couldn’t remember if he had ever held that much in his hand at once. Then, the small radio in his ear chirped loudly as the voice on the other side came through. “Ok, kid, just sit tight. We’ve got a few agents tailing that guy, but that’s their business. You played your part real good, the Federal government owes you one.” There was a moment of silence, and then a snort. “Well, ok, that’s a lie. You still owe us big for pulling the strings we have to get you out of that murder rap. Still, you did good. Lucky for you your old man has friends everywhere. See you in a few.” Tyler breathed a sigh of relief, though it was edged with frustration at the same time. While he was glad his accident was getting sorted out, there was something about needing Dad to bail you out of a mess once again that made him feel a tight ball of stress in the pit of his stomach. Maybe one day he’d be better, smarter, and able to keep his head on straight. Until then, he’d work off the debt he owed to society while staying a free man. It was a bargain that he would have to live with. Reply

lorne! [10 Mar 2006|11:54pm] Tyler glanced around the place, not sure if he was glad he had come. He’d heard of this place on and off again for a few months. Mostly, he’d heard of the ‘house special,’ but never had the thought of ending up here himself crossed his mind. But that was then, and this is now. Tyler sighed, shook his head and pressed on. He wasn’t sure who exactly he was looking for, or what he would have to do. The bar looked nice though, and if his arrival had been under different circumstances, then he would be digging it a lot more. He took a moment to look about, and realized this was definitely a mixed sort of environment. Earlier in life, Ty might have taken an exception to this crowd. Now, he was fairly convinced out of everything in here, he was on the top of the villainous list. He bit his lower lip and contemplated some rum in a glass of coke. Something was in the air this evening. It wasn't just the sound of music, because in Lorne's world, that type of nebula engulfed him almost everywhere he went. It wasn't the typical smells of Las Vegas, or the faint odor of cigarette smoke that occasionally wafted into the demon's field of smell, either. This particular something existed solely on a psychic level, a hypothetical change of winds that was blowing in currents tinged with caution; something ominous that set the demon slightly on edge, causing his mind to put out veritable feelers to suss out the cause of the clairvoyant upheaval. The bar this evening, however, hadn't been too busy, and the sporadic periods of quiet seemed somewhat eerie, heightening the sensation that Lorne got that something foreboding was on it's way. He sat solitary at a small table to the left of the stage, a mask of enthusiasm steadfast on his green face, hiding from the world a deep rooted worry of something he could not surmise. ( New friends ) Reply

disjointed [01 Mar 2006|11:53pm] Day? Night? Humid? Monsoon? Tyler had no knowledge of the world outside of his door. He had been hiding for days, and now the unkempt young man ambled around his house with no real goal or aim. It was just time to move from the couch. His fingers scratched the rough growth that was starting to fill in. He stunk too, but not terribly. He just smelled like someone who hadn’t showered. Or slept much. Or eaten much. Just lay in bed and try for days to forget something burned forever in his memory. Breathing. There had been lots of that. Thinking, on the other hand, had been halted by the numbness of emotion that clouded all mental functions and caused him to operate pretty much like the victim of a forced lobotomy in the early 1900’s. Headlines just in…Zombies own property outside of Vegas. Tomorrow’s papers would sell like hotcakes. While he was at it, maybe he could put in a personal ad. One heartless zombie looking for companionship. Be careful when responding to this add. No sudden moves. Eh, that was probably to many words. Tick, tock, tick, tock… Where the hell did squirrels go when it got cold, anyways? These are the kinds of things you think about when you can’t think. These are the kind of things you do when you don’t do anything. What you don’t do, you don’t think about trying to make things right. That’s a joke at this point. There is nothing you can do, no justifications. He knows he shouldn’t be alive. He should be locked up. If he was going to be locked up, he’d get a haircut first. No point in going in and making yourself a shower-time target. You also don’t think about telling anyone. Not when you don’t have any friends. Also, you feel sorry for yourself, and a lot. Tyler stood in front of the fridge for a few moments, not taking anything because he wasn’t hungry. He then closed the door, and tried to remember how life had been just a week or so ago. Fingers scratch face again, and the prickly hair tickles the end of his fingers. Something else you don’t do, you don’t laugh. It never feels quite right. 3 Comments |Reply

oopsie [16 Feb 2006|02:36pm] It’s been a few hours since Tyler has left the Witching Hour. He’s alone, propping himself up against a brick building by his right arm, staring through dark strands of hair at his own left hand. Slightly bent over, his breath comes out in ragged gasps from the distance that he’s just ran. Now he can not take his eyes off of the telltale sign of his actions, the sign that no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t escape. He can’t believe the message that his eyes are trying to deliver to his brain. No, the phrase that repeats over and over in his mind. Oh no, oh no no no... Though he does his best to deny the reality, there is no escaping the fact that his left fist in drenched in dark red blood. It drips slowly, once...twice...landing in small red beads on the dirty pavement between the two buildings. In the dim light, Tyler can see them. So he closes his eyes, but it doesn’t matter. The deep breaths that his lungs draw through his nose carry the metallic scent of blood up to his nose, and then his scent of smell sends his brain signals that confirm that his eyes were telling the truth. His hands have blood all over them. Human blood that isn’t his. The past twenty minutes flashed through his mind again. First, his ears had betrayed him. Tyler’s mind had been racing for most of his patrol. Japan, Nathan and the mines, Searchlight...everything involved in this disaster that he use to refer to as the relationship that was better than he could have dreamed. Star. She was the crossroads that all his thoughts traced back to. It had been then that he had heard muffled cries and moans sounding urgent. Sounding close. Tyler sprang into action, racing half of a block down to the nearest alley entrance, and saw two bodies pinned up against the far back wall. Be careful, little ears, what you hear. Second, his eyes betrayed him. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t stop to think for a moment. Maybe he saw what he wanted to see; a chance to burn frustration and do good at the same time. He wanted a chance to set things right for someone, somewhere. A chance to do what he couldn’t seem to do in his own life. Maybe that’s why he ignored the fact that his sixth sense did not warn him of any danger. Or maybe he felt time was of the essence, and that was the reason to blame. In a split second, Tyler saw the face of a young woman, eyes wide as he body was pressed firmly against the brick wall. He also saw a man, pressed tightly against her body, hand covering her mouth. From his vantage point, Tyler could tell that his mouth was on her neck, moving back and forth furiously. But Ty could only see the back of his head. She cried out again and again, he voice muffled by his hand. Be careful, little eyes, what you see. Last of all, Tyler’s body betrayed him. In a flash, Tyler was upon the man, grabbing him by the back of the shirt. “Filthy vampire,” he muttered, flinging the body against the adjacent wall. Tyler, motivated by emotion and adrenaline, moved faster than he ever had. And he was fast on a bad day. Ty grabbed the man by the back of his hair, ramming his face into the bricks again and again, not flinching at the blood and skin that flew back and hit him in the face. He threw the body back into the first wall again, next to the would be victim. His fist pounded into the bloody mass that had been a face, time and time again. He felt the flesh give way under his fist. He threw one last punch before going for the stake strapped to his side. With one determined thrust, it sunk right into the heart. Ty waited for the customary explosion of dust...one second...two...three...The body, still whole and intact, slumped forward and landed face down on the alleyway. Be careful, little hands, what you do. Tyler stood over the man, who was obviously not a vampire. He blinked a few times, staring numbly down at his mistake, the seriousness and gravity not registering in his mind until the woman, the one he thought he had been saving, starting to scream in terror. “What did you do!?? Wha...He-help! Someone please!” That was when his stomach began to twist into knots, and the weight of reality hit him like a ton of cinder blocks. He did the only thing he could think of to do. He ran for his life. He ran, and ran, and then ran more, until he felt that he had put enough distance between himself and his crime. It all flashes by so quickly, Tyler can’t handle the power of the memory. His hand comes off the wall, while at the same time the contents of his stomach empty upon the concrete of the alleyway. It’s a violent reaction, accompanied by loud coughing and heaving. When it finally ends, his breath still is ragged and sporadic as he stumbles a few feet away. He doesn’t make it far before those breaths become uncontrollable sobs, and he falls to a heap on the ground. Tears began to streak down his face, and when he goes to brush them away he smears more blood in his efforts. He tries his best to blink the burning sensation out of his eyes and think about what to do next. 31 Comments |Reply

julie and Ty 2 [30 Jan 2006|07:48pm] Tyler blinked the sun out of his eyes as he stepped into the Lighthouse. This was his second time back since before he went to Japan, and before that whole mess with Nathan, Micah, Star...the whole mess that pretty much lead to everything that he currently hated about his life. But hopefully Nathan would be here, with a possible answer. If nothing else, a sympathetic ear. While Nathan was no where to be found, Tyler did notice a pretty form behind the bar in his place. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Julie, the girl he had met at the El Ray. Not sure just how to approach, he was already too far in the bar to simply turn around and walk out. Hoping that he wouldn’t again make her uncomfortable, he walked up to the bar and took a seat. “I take it the job interview went well,” he commented with a sideways grin. Julie nodded “Yup, been here a few weeks now. A nice place to work.” She looked the young man over and didn’t see that silver sword anywhere on him, nor could she smell it in his scent. A smile broke out on her face. Hopefully this meeting wouldn’t go as awkwardly as the last time. The day had passed slowly so far as there hadn’t been much traffic in the bar and not much to do. Julie was bored and Tyler was a welcome distraction “So what can I get you?” “Oh, just a coke will be fine,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’m headed off to Vegas later, don’t want to give the cops a reason to pull me over,” he said, pulling his hair back out of his head. “You still staying at the El Ray?” ( Getting to know you a bit ) Reply

Boden [15 Jan 2006|10:23pm] Tyler leapt from one rooftop to the next as the bright moon shone down upon him. Full moons, to Tyler, seemed to bring about the most...fun in Searchlight. Granted, there was always something to do if you were a demon hunter, but when the moon hung low and bright, Ty could count on something different. Unique. There was a feeling that hung in the air on nights like this. If Tyler slowed down for a moment to reflect upon the surroundings, he could almost detect an ancient feeling; of if something old and sacred had once been built here...or dwelt here, or...something. It was something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and if he tried too hard, the feeling would dissipate completely, leaving him to feel somewhat foolish. But standing on the rooftop now, flooded by the lunar light, Tyler’s mind was anything but clear. He was far from impressed, Searchlight was a small almost rundown town where the locals glared and the people avoided you if you were different from what they were used to. Boden, however, understood the value of appearances and how this towns’ appearance probably covered up a lot of things, and hid a great many realities from the minds of the ignorant. Knives were sheathed at his belt, sword cut a diagonal line across his back and stakes littered the inside pockets of Boden's jacket. Rich red blood still stained the skin of his hand and had dried in to form a hard outer layer. A bruise had formed around one cheek and his stomach and shoulder still throbbed from his previous altercation with the demon in Vegas. He rarely broke in stride when it came to hunting and ridding the world of the demon waste that infected its land. He himself was part demon but it was a flaw in his genetic makeup, a flaw he could not be rid of but could use to his advantage. Boden had not allowed genetics to dictate his path in life, which had been paved in front of him by the organization that had taken him in when the cult had come for him. Sharp senses picked up on movement in his peripheral vision and long confident stride was brought to rest in an even posture. Angular features tilted towards the moonlight as eyes sought the rooftops and lingered on the figure that seemed to stand atop a roof. Most people would have looked away, passed it off as nothing - some crazy guy up on a roof but Boden didn't. He locked his eyes on the target and let his gaze linger. A rough hand ran through Tyler’s hair, pulling it back and away from his face; out of his eyes. His hand rested behind his head for a moment, still holding onto the long, brown locks. He would have been lying if he had said he was thinking about anything other than Star, but since no one was asking, Tyler wasn’t telling lies. Exhale. Mix in with it equal parts of frustration, and boredom. Add in a heavy heart, and you have a recipe for a Tyler. Then a familiar feeling pricked inside the young man. He turned and looked sharp, not seeing anything at first. Slowly, however, the moonlight revealed the being that Tyler had missed at first. He realized he was being watched, but he wasn’t sure who or what was watching him. But he intended to find out. Tyler dropped from the roof onto a balcony that jutted out from the building. From there, it was a short drop to the alleyway below. Now Tyler stood a few paces away from the man. Tyler noticed the weapons that hung all around the man that was giving off a vibe. “Think we’re going to be friends?” Ty asked, watching for any sudden moves. ( Fast Friends ) 3 Comments |Reply

Lots of fun [07 Jan 2006|07:41am] "Oh good heavens, Elsie. I think that boy's wearing make-up," huffed Rosie Yates. She turned and gave her best friend a disapproving look. "This whole town is going straight to hell, skipping the whole idea of the hand basket, if you ask me." "Well don't stare at him," Elsie Parker warned, looking over her gold framed glasses to get a better look. "He might come over here and cast voodoo spells or something. I read that in a book you know, the one about kids these days wearing eyeliner and casting voodoo spells." Both women adverted their eyes for a moment as Tyler passed down the street. He had other things on his mind as he set out for the Lighthouse, and two women sitting in rocking chairs and sipping lemonade didn't register on his radar. As soon as he had passed and was mostly out of earshot, the two women started up again. "Voodoo spells," repeated Elsie once more, shaking her head as if she had just witnessed a terrible car accident. "And it's a shame." "A shame indeed," resounded Rosie, taking a sip of her drink. "Oh, look there, isn't that the girl that walks the streets at night, looking for strange men..." Tyler was not, of course, wearing make-up of any kind or sort. It was true, his eyes did have dark circles under them, ones that could be chalked up to a night void of much sleep. The same could be said for his slightly-less-than-pleasant demeanor as well. To sum it up in a short cliche, Tyler looked as bad as he felt. And that was saying something. Five o'clock in the afternoon was plenty late enough to Tyler to start drinking, so when the clock struck three p.m. Tyler decided it was close enough to five to start. So here he sat in a mostly empty bar, a tall glass of his favorite beer sat right in front of him. The sight of the froth and foam did less to lift his spirits than he had originally hoped. Mostly empty bar. The only three people present that saved the bar from being completely empty when Tyler entered where three old men playing cards at a nearby table. Tyler didn't give them a passing glance as he walked in, and had no idea that their conversation now revolved around him. But had he been listening, this would have been what he heard. "Come on, George. You know it's always more fun with a fourth man in." "No means no. Besides, that kid looks like his wearing make-up." "So what?! He probably got money, he's already drinking...you know you can't pass up an easy mark. Paul, are you going to back me up here or what?" "He's right George. That kid could be paying for all our drinks with what we win..." "Yeah, or he could gut us like fish. You know the crazy stuff that's been going on around here. It's better for local folk to stick to their own, if you ask me." "Well, i'm not asking you to play, you're already playing. I am going to go over and ask him." With the quiet protests of George being offered, John Gains got up and approached Tyler, who had just enough presence of mind to realize that someone was coming his way. "Hello," the old man said kindly, "I'm John Gains, and these are my friends Paul Stone and George Yates. We are looking for a fourth man to join us at cards, and out of everyone here, we picked you," he explained with a chuckle. "We're high rollers, dollar buys you in. What do you say." Tyler cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the old man, and then back at the table where the other men sat, one with a smile and one with a scowl. "Let me get this striaght," he replied. He pointed first at he man closest. "John?" John nodded. Tyler pointed again, and said "George and Paul?" Paul nodded with warm smile. George didn't respond in any kind other than blinking. Tyler nodded. "Ok, I'll play," he said, much to the surprise of himself. "But I ain't going by Ringo." The joke went above the head of all the men playing cards, but then most jokes about anything slightly modern went over the heads of these guys. "You guys ain't card sharks, are ya," Tyler commented dryly as he sat down. "You ain't wearing make-up are ya," replied George, matching Tyler's tone. Tyler looked at the man for a moment, and George matched his gaze as well. Tyler grinned slightly. "Ain't been sleeping much," he replied. "Hope you wear protection," John said, and all the men laughed at that. The cards were being dealt out when Tyler realized he didn't even know what they were playing. When he asked as much, all he got from George was "Well, it ain't go fish, junior." And so, the card playing commenced, and went on till the late hour of nine p.m. It was stopped then, for fear of wives' accusations of fooling around with bar women. The big winner of the night was Paul Stone, with a grand total of twenty bucks. George grumbled, John congratulated his friend, and Tyler laughed a lot more than he had expected to. He was also a lot less drunk than he had intended. As he climbed into bed that night, he realized that this night had been just what he needed. Reply

Breaking Point subtitle: when one goes too far. [05 Jan 2006|08:18pm] Tyler stood in front of the Witching Hour doors, very much focused on his breathing. In the pit of his stomach, a small knot had started to form. In his mind, he replayed various ways this conversation could go...but all of them turned into the same ending, and it was one that Tyler didn't really like. Still, he could only stand outside for so long before he felt like a goober...and that time had come. Ty reached out and pushed the doors open, stepping into the building. The bar was mostly empty at the time of day, but there were still a few patrons sitting around, enjoying what Ty assumed must be afternoon drink specials. A drink didn't really sound so bad at this point...but no, he knew that he couldn't delay any longer. Besides, what if she came down and found him there, sipping a Long Island. He knew for sure it would be his last. So when he spotted a man who looked like he knew what was going on, Tyler approached him, and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but do you know where I could find Star Tomlin?" ( Feeling Bad ) ( Feeling Better ) 2 Comments |Reply

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