Capt. H’s Weblog

The man stepped out of the ruined buildings into the sunlight. Looking around, he could see the influence of evil. This city was dead, it’s spirit crushed. Was it that simple? Point people in the wrong direction and it’ll lead them to bring about their own destruction? It couldn’t be so easy. The man had to believe that people would make the right choice, if given the option.

It was time to move on. He’d spent too much time in this dead place, and never once got a sense of her. She wasn’t here, and quite possibly never had been. It was difficult to say that with certainty though, seeing as time was such a fluid concept in this chase. How long had it been since he’d found out she was gone? How long had he searched? It felt like years, decades, centuries. Of course that was never the case. Time felt like it was flying because of how it didn’t affect him. The man stopped and thought. If he were to guess, he’d say it’d been about 5 years since he’d left home. 5 years. Was there even any possibility that she was even still alive? This chase had led him across so many worlds, always one step behind the demon. It was unsettling to always know he was just a second too late. He was used to having all the answers, knowing exactly what was going to happen. This was something new to him entirely.

It occurred to him that even if she was found, there was always the chance that she wouldn’t recognize him. There was no telling what he’d done to her, what liberties he’d taken with her mind, what he’d culled from her memories. Would she remember she loved him? Would she remember his face? How could she when it had changed so drastically over the past years. The scars of the chase so publicly displayed for all to see. The price of having to give up everything just to find her.

The man shivered. He was close, he could feel it. It was time to move on. She was waiting. Somewhere.

Brody.

The man walked quietly down the street with hands in pockets, breath a fog before him. To the outside observer, he was the definition of calm. Inside though, he was a raging storm of anger, helplessness and frustration. Why did things always have to be so difficult? What was it about him that always seemed to bring out the worst in people? Is this my fate, he pondered idly.

The fight had started like they always did nowadays; about cigarettes. There was just something about the things that drove her crazy. Anytime she caught him it was the equivalent of a world war. The man didn’t understand why they set her off so bad, but it always irritated him she wanted him to quit. She had done nothing he’d asked. Not one thing. So why should he have to give up something for her? Why was there always an ultimatum? It just didn’t make sense to him. But he rarely understood her.

The man reached the street corner and stopped, watching the world go by around him. People on their way to here or there, bustling about much like sheep. Did no one stop to think for themselves anymore? Why was everyone so content to do what they were told? The man would never understand, not having seen what he’d seen, and done what he’d done.

I honestly thought the world would be different, he thought. I’ve been gone for a year, away to places that people only dream about in their most private moments. What was it that made people so scared to break out of the mould? He would never understand.

Sighing, he continued on his way. As he walked on, he thought of her face. The way her features had contorted in disgust the first time she’d seen him after he came back. Were the scars really that bad? He resisted the urge to touch them. Idiot, he thought. You wouldn’t feel anything with the left hand anyway. Thinking of the left brought on a torrent of new memories. The day she’d found out that what was under the glove wasn’t what he’d told her. There were no burn scars, no disfiguration. No, what was under the glove was…a tool. She’d come to accept it though. Under the surface he was still the same. It was only the vessel that had changed.

2 months later.

The man kneeled. All around him were the sounds of a world ending. He thought what he often did. What does it take to break a man? How far does someone have to go before they’ve had enough? How do you learn your limits? After everything, the man still didn’t know. Could it be that one day he would collapse? He hoped not because there was much to be done.

He looked at the woman he was kneeling beside. She was all but gone. There was nothing to do but offer comfort. He stroked her head and whispered to her. It didn’t matter if she heard or not. This was his therapy, his way to wash away a sliver of his guilt. The world had gone to hell. And to think it had only been 2 months since he’d stepped off that bus. It seemed so far away.

The woman breathed her last breath and slipped into the void. Sighing, the man stood up and continued on. As he walked a breeze began. I’ll find you, he said. I’m coming. You’re not alone.

But no one heard. The wind stole his words and carried them away, possibly to the same emptiness the woman had fled to. It would be so easy to give up, to lose sight, to lose faith. But the man soldiered on. Surely hope was alive somewhere.

The man stepped off the bus and stood listening as it drove away. Only when it’s telltale sounds had faded into the night did he move. He glanced around him, taking in the familiar sights. For many years he’d called this city and this neighborhood home. Of course there are always two sides to a story. In truth, while he called this place home it meant less to him than the dirt on his shoes. It was not a home. It was simply a place where he existed. Home was far, far away. Home was a place filled with love and laughter, and pets and family. The place that he called home had none of those things. There was the possibility for it to be considered a home long ago, but that hope had died alongside his belief that all people were good.

As he stood breathing in the sights and sounds of a city sleeping, he reflected on the day that had been. No one could have seen this coming. Well, he said to himself, that’s a lie. He’d seen this coming, but not so soon. Who knew that it would be so easy? Who knew just how lightly buried old feelings were? As far as he was concerned though it was all for naught. Everything that had happened, could happen and might happen didn’t mean anything. Not until…

Sighing, the man took one last look and then trudged his way through the snow, still thinking. A chill was beginning to seep in, especially in his toes. Even though the man knew it wasn’t actually as cold as he thought it was, his body disagreed. I’ve spoiled myself, he though. It was time to stop moping and begin anew like he always did. Time to move on and figure out his next move. So much to do, so little time to do it in. But wasn’t that always the case? But one small thought nagged him in the back of his mind; nagged and nagged until it could no longer be ignored. It wormed it’s way into his thoughts and made itself apparent. Shocked at the realization he paused. It couldn’t possibly be that easy could it? He turned the thought over in his head, coming at it from every angle, trying to find a flaw. None could be found. So the man accepted the thought, and continued on his way.

He began planning. One needed plans in situations like this. Because falling in love is always a tricky situation to find oneself in.