Wow, long character-plotted beginning...And well. Yeah. This monster took forever once I got started. ;w;
Kent Lockewood
Near Quarterman, 11 o’clock PM
He never really tried to think about where he would be 10 years from now. It was a subject he mostly avoided, not because it was a delicate matter that was to be treated as glass, but because it was just something he rather not. Calling the shots on what his life would be seemed strange almost, because even though he was dictator extraordinaire of his life, it was difficult to wrap his head around real, adult choices. Even if he had the capacity to think, over-analyze the situation, call out the flaws, and be the ever relentless cynic, his life was something he preferred not to look at.
Maybe because he didn’t like to make those tough adult decisions on where to go or he was just confused about his career path in general. But along with this, there was also that underlying sense of failure and incontrol. He would love to say that he was in control of his life, of his choices, of the friends he made and the people he associated with, but that wasn’t reality. There were other forces at play, be it luck, fate, destiny. All those fancy, jazzy words that had little meaning to him-or so he had thought until it all came at his face, exploded, and then giggled at the unfortunate situation it caused.
He almost let out a rough, unsaturated cry of laughter, because here he fecking was. Sitting on his motorbike, engine still running, gas being burned and wasted, and he was thinking about his god damn life when there were bloody monsters that needed to be killed and people to be supported. It wasn’t irony, it was foolishness and unwise decisions that led him to this point where he was at, and it just seemed so damn funny right now in his head. He let out a low groan and sank down, sagging his whole body, gently running his hands through the bike’s handles as his mind drew a blank.
He needed a smoke. Cigarettes weren’t his thing to be honest, he had tried them once, hated them, and didn’t care if Gino said it added to his appeal. But he needed something to relieve his stress, heck, maybe he’d get addicted to them and be one of those chain smokers that were so cool like the Fonz or some of that stuff. Maybe he would be a late-twenties something, that always sat on his a ss. Eating potato chips on the couch and only getting up for the occasional drug store liquor and smokes. Maybe it didn’t sound so bad to be in that life with some broken dreams and empty glass bottles haphazardly strewn on his one bedroom apartment floor, because somehow, he would still be Kent in some way. A teenage Kent, undecided and still not the typical adult, not like some foreign adult dressed in a business suit who graduated cuem de laude from some top-tier university with a degree that allowed him to work those dull 9 to 4 hours. Then he would be some typical dime-a-dollar nitwit, working in some office cubicle like the hundreds of other blurry faces in the same rising building. And again came the thought of the future. It wasn’t that he feared the unknown, it was that he feared what he would become-if he lost touch with that attitude of his, if he wasn’t so bitter, sarcastic, and edgy, to become a stranger to himself.
The events of tonight already heightened his overall crappy attitude for the past week.
Yes, it had been pretty messed up to find out he was some member of a monster fighting crew, with that cliché plot that they had to do it or the world would freakin’ end. Maybe this was something he or the others hoped for, to get rid of the boring and mundane, and do something. But along with that, he felt an alien to the people he worked with. Even if they were all stuck together in this little world, he was still an outsider. Harsh to admit it as so, but he was a late arrival and didn’t quite fit-or even get the team kinesthetics that were there. Many of these people were looking for support from new friends, but he already had a group outside of that realm, he had people who cared for him-and he hadn’t exactly been looking for more. It almost seemed as if everyone fit a stereotype in there, the loners who weren’t exactly alone since there were so many, foreign exchange students, along with the supposed karate bad a ss who acted all tough but was probably a wimpy kid on the inside. All those little clichés apparent in movies, TV, and nerd comics.
Then what was he? He had long-term friends, he wasn’t a lonely misfit at school. But maybe that’s what made him such an outlier in the first place. And he was stuck between two little ecosystems now, the one that he spent years crafting with his friends and the one that pulled him in and he wasn’t entirely happy with it.
His mind drummed against the events that unfolded tonight and the same aspects of resentment, anger, and guilt washed over him.
It all started when he went home to pick up his darling black beauty-the motorcycle that he had left back home and meant to pick up-until all the heavenly shet of the Court came about.
He was revving it, testing the brakes, checking if the front hadn’t been scratched by the occasional heavy moving his stepfather did in the garage. It was still perfect, no dust coating it, and for a moment, he thought everything would be fine and he could leave without making some huge scene.
But obviously, his mother stepped in, and then everything seemed to explode.
The small garage door leading into the house opened, and she stood there, adorned with pearls, looking ready for a night out, and with her mouth tilted in displeasure.
“Why?” she asked. “Why can’t you do a bit more with your life?”
“Aren’t I doing enough?” was his reply back as he continued fine-tuning some of the things that had been missing when he took a break from the house.
She scoffed and threw her hands up in the air, “You don’t think I haven’t tried to give you the good resources in life? You don’t think I haven’t given you what most parents die to have their children have? A fine education, numerous athletics, and even quite a nice roof to live under. And what do you do? You quit. You quit junior varsity tennis, you do poorly on your lessons. And all the friends you have is that Turkish girl whose Muslim parents work in IT. After all the people I introduced you to, you have to pick some random, 1st generation immigrant and befriend her?”
He turned to his helmet on the rack. A few blemishes were apparent, as if someone came and tried it on, then disturbingly put it back in its original shape. He wiped it with his sleeves. “I’m sorry Arty’s middle-class upbringing that bad. And there’s Gino.”
“Yes, Gino is fine. His mother and I go to the country-club often, but is that it? “
“It’s enough for me.”
A snort came in the background. “Yes, yes, everything is fine with Kent. He doesn’t need all the friends in the world to be happy, he doesn’t have to think about the associates he has to make when his stepfather takes him to those expensive dinners. He’s fine not knowing where’s he’s going for university,” she replied in a sing-songly voice. “All Kent does is take and never give back.”
Anger shot in his veins, “I never asked for any of this. And to be honest, you didn’t earn it either. You married into it.” He gestured to the house, the fitness machines in the garage, and to his mother’s fancy car. “Honestly, my grades are fine-and you know it. You know that I have a chance at all the universities you want me to go to. And seriously…John’s
associates…man..Guys who own a plumbing business will make such a huge difference in my life.”
“Kent-“
He waved a hand, ignoring the protests coming. “Just came to pick this up, laters.”
--
Maybe he expected Arty to understand. Maybe he expected too much. Especially since friendships were things that required two people to keep contact. And he hadn’t. So he shouldn’t have expected comfort, especially when he had been a bad friend.
--
The familiar ringtone rang as he put his cell closer to his ear. The familiar tune of Maroon 5’s Moves Like Jagger rang and he waited for Arty to pick up. It was around 7 and he spent the whole time running around town, trying to calm himself from the petty squander with his mother. It was childish of him to rethink the scene, but somehow, his mother always made him get all uptight and irritated, no matter how small the argument.
“Herro?” the female voice answered. The familiar Turkish music played in the background with the faint vocal jargon of…Korean dramas?
“Hey Arty,” he said, half-relieved she had picked up and become his current lifeline.
“Hey Kent,” she said back, “And gosh, why the call? Especially on your motorcycle-I hear the noise. You know driving and calling at the same time will do wonders for your criminal record.”
He laughed, “I’m parked Arty. Relax.”
“Anyways…what’s up?” she asked, “This is like the second time you called me since school started.”
“Jus’mi mother,” he muttered.
“Ah,” was the reply. Other than the sounds coming from Arty’s electronic devices, there no speaking. Kent felt his throat clench while waiting for the reply. Somehow, Arty had always understood his situation and never judged him on it, so the silence wasn’t too awkward.
“Was it about your life again?” Arty asked.
“Pretty much,” he answered back, giving a resounding huff. “There’s so much that’s been going on. And she can’t understand any of it. I mean…it isn’t her life, but she never realizes this yeah?”
“Yeah,” Arty said, “My parents never know either. And to be honest, you’re grades are better than mine, I don’t know why she worries about it so much. But then we’re not Mr. Perfect either,” she replied sarcastically.
He laughed into the phone, “Jealous?”
“Of course,” was the snarky reply back…And then some. “Kent,” she said, and this time, Kent could realize that the mood was changing. It was none of the austere childish and friendliness, but some real concern.
“Yeah?” he asked back.
“Seriously, call me more if this happens ok?”
“I’ll call you all the time Arty.” And this he knew was the truth.
The was a minor humph. “It just feels like you’re shutting me out.”
“When has that happened?” he questioned. Somewhat defensive, but also curious on how she concluded that.
“Since school started,” she murmured back. “You’ve become somewhat distant.”
“Arty, you’re thinking too much.”
“Oh really? Am I?” was the condescending tone back. “Kent…we haven’t hanged out, we haven’t even talked much. For cripes sake, even Gino has visited more……And…”
“And?” he challenged, wanting to refute the claims, wanting to desperately say something else...But it was true. Ever since he got dragged in, he had been spending less and less time with the people he knew and loved.
“..And it’s like you’re hiding something from me.”
His mouth clenched. There was anger, but not at Arty. It was true that he had been hiding much more than something from her. He had been lying about the late nights out when she questioned him in the hallways at school or when she saw him interacting with random strangers that they never associated with. All this time, he had brushed it off, trying to fend off the unnecessary questions, and only thought about himself.
But not Arty, and she knew. And that was why he felt anger at himself.
“So..” was the rather vulnerable voice that was coming from the other line of his cell. “Is it true Kent…seriously man, you can tell me anything. It’s not like I’m going to blather away, I’ve known you for years. If we grew up since we were babies, I could say I’ve known you my whole life.”
“It’s…not like that Arty…” No seriously, how the feck could he tell her that he spent time killing monsters in the middle of the night? Well, he wasn’t exactly killing, he was more of a deadweight.
“Kent…” her voice echoed, full of dejection.
“I’m sorry,” he replied back. And then he hung up.
--
The guilt washed over him, and he remembered everything that had happened ever since moving to Quarterman. There was the first day of school in the 5th grade…and the familiar black haired girl. “I’m Ajema” he remembered her saying. “I kinda hate my name.” And then it went from there…the familiar nickname of Arty that came about, the nights on the swing sets, her Muslim parents, and the familiar taste of hummus that he, Arty, and Gino ate at lunch from her lunchbox.
He knew someday, that it would change, that they would all grow apart…But he never expected that it was happening so suddenly-or so fast. He had depended on them for much of his teenage life…But he never knew it would fall away so quickly.
And speaking of which….there were people depending on him as well.
Bellow High School
Near Midnight
He was zooming on the roads, totally speeding out of control on the faint suburban complexes. But none of that really mattered yeah? Sure it would have mattered on any normal day, but the clock was ticking towards midnight soon, and he had to hurry before the Court started and his motorcycle-his ride to school ceased to work. And thus, he was trying to beat the clock before having to resort to walking.
It made it difficult to believe why he was willing to risk his life for complete strangers. There was that garuntun Russian girl, as well as a few. All nameless faces that weren’t the people he loved or cared about the most. He could imagine risking life and limb for his sister…But the doctor in the pharmacy at his school? What in hell happened? Some could say he was selfish not to want to save others-or other people would have called him masochistic to be willing to risk his life for some random people he didn’t know. And to be honest, he didn’t know himself. He didn’t know why rational-headed Kent was speeding out of control on a 15 mph lane and desperately in risk of crashing.
All he knew was the adrenaline running in his veins, the smell of sweat, smoke, and gasoline, and the fact that he was himself.
More, he thought his head, Faster, faster, faster.
And then, it all ceased to work. His motocycle slowed into a halt, and he felt all signs of life in the machine fail as the eerie fog of yellow came about and the moon became a red droplet in the sky. Midnight had arrived, but he wasn’t inside the school yet, nor even close to the Court. Kent sprinted towards the direction of the school, he was getting closer and closer-his motorcycle had along the edges of the educationary institute luckily.
Briefly, his eyes caught sight of the familiar “Welcome to Bellow High” sign as he entered the high school. His eyes flicked to the empty classrooms, desolate halls, wondering where the others could be. And finally, he heard the noises from the cafeteria. He went in that direction, hastening his trek through the outlying scenery of grass and blacktop…
And then he bolted through the cafeteria door.
For a cafeteria, it seemed awfully lively. Not in the usual, chitter chatter way, but the fact that there were people injured and bleeding, random eerie projections floating in the air-the summons of regular students. And then came some random, theatrical jazz - singing, laughter, and horror all wrapped in one sort of twisted envelope.
A girl with snow white hair screaming in the middle, desperately calling something that was beginning to materialize in the shape of a hooded priestess beckoning the crowd in floating clothing, ripped on some sides, with a beautiful, golden balance scale in her hands.
Some beleaguered stares came his way, although there wasn’t as much surprise considering the previous amount of shet and drama that happened. “Sorry for taking forever,” he said roguishly. “Pretty crappy entrance I made, but I’m arrived somewhat on time yeah?”
Well…enough not to miss the whole scene that was unfolding.
--
Whoa, missed SoS's post D: Now it just seems kind of messed up.
And yeah, long post. D:
