Everyone wishes they could change the past.

Saturday, 7 January 2012

And lonely;

You'll have to forgive me for not joining in with the general air of New Years' cheer; I'm in no mood for happiness and merriment at present, especially when my life is filled with neither. I'm not even sure what those things are, never mind if I have enough of either to celebrate. I stayed in my room, relaxing. Nothing too fascinating.

Last night, however, I had my first dream - my first nightmare, rather. The only part of it that I remember is I recall waking up in the dream, only to see a shadow rush across my eyes; in the shadow, I saw a monstrous mirror of myself; eyes burned from their sockets, blood dribbling from it's mouth. I shuddered and opened my real eyes; I awoke in the world of the living, all the more thankful for it.

With that done, I went back to sleep; I awoke in time for my 1PM appointment with the elusive infinity symbol. There was a letter through my door; opening it, I found an address for a warehouse (with the idiotic title of "The Fin Complex"). Hunting the address down, I soon found myself on the outskirts of the city (which I am not likely to give the details out for, mark you); the warehouse was largely locked down (and the windows sealed up - suspicious indeed), apart from a single open door. On it, the mercury symbol; the one which adorns my blog. An open invitation, for me? You shouldn't be so kind, you anonymous twat.

Upon entering, I was confronted with a hooded figure. "You're Marisa, yes?" They said; an authentic local accent. Colour me surprised.

"Yeah, I am," I replied. The figure pointed me to another door.

"Wait there; the boss'll be ready to see you in a bit."

Upon going in the room, I looked around; a fairly opulent study. I don't doubt that this "boss" had read any of the books on the shelf, and only kept them there to look smart. Comfortable chairs were a bonus, and a desk that looked rather tatty, relative to the rest of the room. Not a bad carpet, either.

... I probably shouldn't nitpick their taste in decoration, I don't even have a room.

On the tatty desk, I found a note; blank on both sides. I threw it down, and lay in the chair for some time; after a while, I stood back up and found the note moved. I presume that I'd dozed off at some point in my sleep, and picked the note up. The side facing me was blank, but the reverse had writing, in the darkest blank ink.


As far as pick-up attempts go, I've heard better. The call of "miss, the boss is ready" only barely registered; I placed the note back on the table, and confronted the 'boss' with open contempt already. I already has a good read of how much class he had, so I felt comfortable in holding him in contempt from the moment I saw him.

Black hair, held long; styled in some ridiculous modern haircut. Trenchcoat over clothing that I can only barely call a suit; an ill-fitting and cheap one. He'd recently shaved, and inexpertly and at that - I could see the cuts around his lips. Dirty informal shoes clashed horribly with the suit. Again, I probably shouldn't be criticising other people's fashion tastes.

Nevertheless, I found myself in the room with this fellow. He took the liberty of speaking first.

"Ah, dear Marisa, so glad you could come; I'm happy to know that you took some interest in my e-mail," he said, in a tone which he probably thought had charm (hint: it didn't).

"I don't even remember it," I spat back.

"How droll," he said, mirroring my thoughts exactly. "My offer therein still stands, though; we are all faced with great monstrosities, likely sired from the Original Father. Alone, we do not stand a chance - but if we work together, if we unite," his voice now shaking with some fervent conviction. "we can stand against the enemy. We can rise up against our fear."

I hadn't yet looked at the e-mail account associated with this account (which I presume this guy used to contact me), so I just had to guess as to what they were getting at. I think I had a pretty good guess by now, though - it appears that I was in the realm of a madman. "Whatever you're talking about, I don't want anything to do with it. If you aren't going to speak sense, speak nothing."

A slight chuckle from this unkempt idiot. "Ah, ah, ah, come now. I mean you no harm, so why the hostility, hmmm?" He gestured towards a table in the centre of the room, covered with a black cloth. "Come, dear, let me tell you your fortune."

On a personal level, I felt that I was extremely unfortunate to be in the presence of this gentleman. "I'll humour you, then," I said, not entirely sure of where the exit was. Sat down, I could at least calculate the fastest way out of the building without attracting attention.

The braggart pinched the cloth and whisked it from the table, revealing two chairs hidden under it. In front of one, a deck of normal playing cards; in front of the other, nothing. He sat beyond the deck of cards, and gestured for me to sit in the other. I, of course, did so.

"Before we begin, dear Marisa, any questions?" He asked, in that charming charmless tone.

"If you are to insist on calling me by that name," I said, "then I'd be appreciative if you'd give me the dubious honour of something to refer to you by."

He laughed, shuffling the cards between his hands. While his eyes were closed, my eyes darted around the room, looking for the exit. By the time he'd ceased to laugh, my eyes were calmly staring at him once more. "My name is Infinity, dear, but do call me Fin."

"Fin, got it." Another obvious pseudonym. Why is it that I have been so badly outplayed in the cosmic game that's being played? They know far more about me then I could hope to know of either of them. How truly maddening.

"Were my messages truly so boring that you forget everything about them? Since I must say that yours were quite interesting..." An attempt to silken his voice that only sickened me.

"Indeed they were, Fin. What is it that you're trying to do here?" I queried, hoping for some elaboration.

He continued to shuffle the cards; he tossed the deck from hand to hand without dropping a single card, mixing them constantly as he did so. "Why, didn't you hear? I'm fighting fear. Championing the causes of those who cannot champion themselves. I'm fighting for the future. Now, are you ready to see what your future holds?" He ceased to shuffle, and laid the deck, face-down before me. I nodded, and he spoke. "Pick a card, but do not show it to me."

I chose one and revealed it to myself: the Ace of Hearts. Somehow, I got the idea that this guy and gotten confused between a tarot deck and a playing deck... another item in the list of failures that he was. He grinned, and shuffled the deck: "replace it" were the words that heralded him pointing the deck back at me. He shuffled them once more, offered them to me for me to mix the order up (I took the chance), and shuffled them once more. He removed the top card, revealing the Ace of Hearts.

"Your card, correct?" he laughed, before stopping. "The next cards will, one imagines, be an important part of your life," he said, revealing the Two of Diamonds, King of Hearts and Jack of Diamonds. I'd like to think that I tolerated his inane rubbish, but I must admit to stifling a yawn. "I should hope that was... illuminating," he chuckled.

"I assure you, it's convinced me of several things," you pompous idiot.

He stopped for a few moments, before standing up. "Well fuck you, too, lady," he said, turning around and walking towards the door. I raised my eyebrow, before standing up and looking around the room for an exit myself.

I'm back now. Perhaps that brain-dead moron recognised that I was not entirely sympathetic as to his attempts to pick up a girlfriend, nor to his stupid idea followed by stupid ideas. Just talking to him made me want to beat my head into a wall with frustration.

Whatever, I'm out of here for now. Catch you on the flip side.
-Achromatic Morality-

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