There wasn't much to remember. The night itself was like any other summer night I had. Things change though and when he saw us they changed for the worst. I remember the seething anger in his eyes. The screams I let out as i tried to push him away. The crimson hue that covered my vision, painting the world in a sea of deep red. I remember hearing him, like a wild animal, howling at me. I remember trying to cry. I remember holding my face together as I felt the blood seep through my fingers onto the dirt covered floor as I watched in horror, wiping the my face. He towered over her like a black monolith. He spat in her face. He called her a whore. He hit her, with a sickening thud that made me want to scream. Instead i coughed out the blood that had entered my mouth, the taste of metal and dirt invading my tongue. His body like a black shadow draped down gracefully on her form. I saw her not scream or cry but whimper like kitten left out in the cold as it begged for warmth. Then came the most horrible memory, the silence. Dead silence that pierced the room like a railroad spike into the ground. It entered my soul and dug deep within it. You're young and you make mistakes. You live with them, but no one lives with them like I do. As the wounds that cover my face blister and swell open, too infected to heal properly as they erupt the skin. The gauze now is as much a part of me as my skin as it aches and pains as I peel it off. If looking at my face isn't painful enough the way she looks at me, with her eyes glazed over as if asking me why? Why I didn't do anything, except watch. This my friend is the burden I carry. The burden that has sat in my mind and ate away at it like a cancer. This is my grudge.
The Morning Routine: 1.) Get out your supplies and make note of any that are running low. These include gauze, alcohol, sterilized needles, special medical thread. 2.) Slowly and carefully remove the gauze from yesterday. Some of it maybe stuck to the wounds and can sting if pulled off too fast. 3.) Clean wounds with alcohol, especially those that seem to be getting infected. If pain to harsh find a piece of foam to bite down on. 4.) With the needles and medical thread stitch up any larger open wounds. 5.) Rewrap your face in fresh gauze, making sure you have ample mouth and nose holes for breathing and eating. 6.) Be off on your day - Index card found on the medicine cabinet mirror.
There was a time in my life when I dropped the grudge for a few months. It was when I realized that private investigators can make a handsome sum. You wouldn't believe how many people try keep tabs on people. I can't say that the most savoury of people ask for my help, and most don't believe that a man covered in bandages can blend in. People however don't expect a guy like me to be tailing them. I drive by their houses, follow them around town. Most often it's husbands cheating on their wives, but I have seen some weird stuff. Bodies being dumped into rivers. The weird rituals people have. Their fetishes, their sick desires. Or, the most shocking, people I have been tailing for crime bosses or the police only to find that at home they live the most normal of lives. Anyways, you can only forget things for so long though and while my job helped me make money it soon didn't ease the pain and I remembered why I learned to be a private investigator in the first place. Hey, are you listening? - Conversation with Penny
Projectile Attack: Superior
- Ranged Attack Only
- Ranged and Melee Attack
- Weakness: Power in Item - Hard to Lose
I use to hunt ducks you know. Back when I lived out in the country. Never really got a chance to use pistols. Mostly just rifles and shot guns *click* but this feels right. Why do I want this gun sir? There are loonies in this city. They aren't as common as the news would have us believe but they're out there. Looking and stalking for easy pray. You know I use to hunt elk as well and something always caught me. The horns on the elk, they are both its weapon and its symbol of power. No male elk ever dared mess with the head elk whose large horns reached up into the winter sky. I guess this gun is simply my pair of horn. - Conversation with an illegal arms dealer
I try to talk to god before I go to sleep. I wouldn't call it praying. Praying to me seems like begging. Like asking god to do you a favour. No I try to connect with him, I don't ask him what I want, but why things are the way they are. The bible said god created us in his image, but I asked him if that were true then why did he make us weak. I asked him why he allowed us to be slaves to our emotions. It didn't seem fair, as these thoughts of mutilating another man entered my head. They're not normal and certainly not what god would think would think in my situation. The way I demand some sort of justice, some sort of way to get back at the one who hurt me. I don't like this game. The tug of war between just getting on with my life and trying to get back at him. It's hard to try to live when children point at you. People keeping their distance whenever they talk to you. Never being able to feel a kiss again. I go to sleep and my faith slips away just a little bit more before I enter my dreamless silence.