That internet thing didn't play out.




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Running down the street, Scott looked back at me and said, “This is another bizarre and thankless situation you’ve gotten us in.”

Eyes swiveled up – only enough to express my sentiments towards this. Fuckin’ whiner. I’d read his record; everyone on staff had read it. The exploits of Captain Scott Ducheyne. Like he’d never been in a fight before, like he’d never caused a scene.

The distant song of a very angry mob roused me from these thoughts, however, and I adjusted my intended vector accordingly, turning on heel down the nearest backalley. Scott drifted behind me, detached as ever from our present plight – such a lucky little motherfuck.

The alternate means of escape ended rather abruptly, as it were – a brick wall loomed ahead, preceded by a thick mass of garbage bags and other refuse. Ennh. I placed a hand against the side of it, waist-deep in the pool of discard, feeling for any sort of foothold. Nada. Could have predicted this.

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Inspirations, have I none.