Re: The Second Chance (Round One: The Fitzpatrick Center)
08-03-2011, 04:48 PM
Luckily for Prof. Armidillo Reccxer, he had been teleported inside a store that specialized in various kinds of paper, along with the organization and binding thereof. He reached for the fanciest-looking journal he could find, pulled out a pen, and began a new journal. He had a new objective.
It seems I lost my old journal before I died, so this one will have to do. Iâll miss it dearly, it was a fine book.
Strangely enough though, even though I can recall my death, gruesome as it was, my final breath in that grand battle⦠I am now alive once again. What great forces these are, so can undo the finality that is Death himself! I am not sure if I want to laugh or cry, to return to my grave or to dance on it. I am tired of the apparent endlessness of it all, and I simply want to rest.
However, I think I may have found a reason to liveâ¦
âHEY, YOU. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOINâ WITH MY WARES!?â
The professor turned towards the rather indecent speech, to be met with the rage filled face of the storekeeper. He felt the jab of a pistol in his stomach, but Reccxer simply smiled at the rage-filled man.
âYOU HAVE TO FUCKINâ PAY FOR THAT, YOU KNOW!â
âI know such things very well, sir, but thrusting your gun into my side isnât a particularly good way to promote customer satisfaction.â
The storekeeperâs rage lessened a bit as he replied saying, âSo you have the money to pay for that journal?â
âHow much is it?â
â$4.99.â
âIâm afraid I only have a quarter on me, good sir,â the professor replied, checking his pockets.
âARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?â
Reccxer shook his head.
âNo, sir, such a time as this is not time for jest, I promise you.â
âWhatâs keepinâ me from shootinâ you, right âere, right now? Ya stole my wares, and now youâre beinâ cheeky with me, you stupid upperclass dolt!â
In reply, the otherwise cheerful professor frowned. A fire burned behind his eyes, and his voice wavered with anger as he replied.
âWell, then, sir, Iâll inform you that today, I might have let you shoot me, in cold blood, allowing me to once again return to the earth I had began to become accustomed. Oh, I yearn for that soil, the precious embrace of death. I hear it calling to me, and I want nothing more than to die.
However, sir, today is not that day. Because, even though I may be imprisoned against my will, deprived of the honor of death, I have found something worth living for. Love, sir. That is what I have found. I sat across for him for about the span of three minutes, but now I must find him here, among this war zone, this wretched battle. For at first sight, I fell in love, improper though it may be.
And so, sir that is what is stopping you from killing me right here, right now. The name of my lover, the one I have been searching for all these years.â
Reccxer lifted his cane and smashed it on the storekeeperâs foot, changing its density to that of several apartment buildings. The concrete cracked under him, and he fell through the floor, tumbling into the darkness of the Fitzpatrick Centerâs basement. The professor stood at the edge, looking into the infinite black, and spoke.
âAnd that name⦠is Hatman.â
It seems I lost my old journal before I died, so this one will have to do. Iâll miss it dearly, it was a fine book.
Strangely enough though, even though I can recall my death, gruesome as it was, my final breath in that grand battle⦠I am now alive once again. What great forces these are, so can undo the finality that is Death himself! I am not sure if I want to laugh or cry, to return to my grave or to dance on it. I am tired of the apparent endlessness of it all, and I simply want to rest.
However, I think I may have found a reason to liveâ¦
âHEY, YOU. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOINâ WITH MY WARES!?â
The professor turned towards the rather indecent speech, to be met with the rage filled face of the storekeeper. He felt the jab of a pistol in his stomach, but Reccxer simply smiled at the rage-filled man.
âYOU HAVE TO FUCKINâ PAY FOR THAT, YOU KNOW!â
âI know such things very well, sir, but thrusting your gun into my side isnât a particularly good way to promote customer satisfaction.â
The storekeeperâs rage lessened a bit as he replied saying, âSo you have the money to pay for that journal?â
âHow much is it?â
â$4.99.â
âIâm afraid I only have a quarter on me, good sir,â the professor replied, checking his pockets.
âARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?â
Reccxer shook his head.
âNo, sir, such a time as this is not time for jest, I promise you.â
âWhatâs keepinâ me from shootinâ you, right âere, right now? Ya stole my wares, and now youâre beinâ cheeky with me, you stupid upperclass dolt!â
In reply, the otherwise cheerful professor frowned. A fire burned behind his eyes, and his voice wavered with anger as he replied.
âWell, then, sir, Iâll inform you that today, I might have let you shoot me, in cold blood, allowing me to once again return to the earth I had began to become accustomed. Oh, I yearn for that soil, the precious embrace of death. I hear it calling to me, and I want nothing more than to die.
However, sir, today is not that day. Because, even though I may be imprisoned against my will, deprived of the honor of death, I have found something worth living for. Love, sir. That is what I have found. I sat across for him for about the span of three minutes, but now I must find him here, among this war zone, this wretched battle. For at first sight, I fell in love, improper though it may be.
And so, sir that is what is stopping you from killing me right here, right now. The name of my lover, the one I have been searching for all these years.â
Reccxer lifted his cane and smashed it on the storekeeperâs foot, changing its density to that of several apartment buildings. The concrete cracked under him, and he fell through the floor, tumbling into the darkness of the Fitzpatrick Centerâs basement. The professor stood at the edge, looking into the infinite black, and spoke.
âAnd that name⦠is Hatman.â