Snippet #997991

Crip couldn't see what Leon and Keely were doing, but after a few seconds of them hovering over the prone figure of the girl like vultures over an almost-dead gazelle, they were shoved aside and the newbie stumbled to her feet. She appeared to be in better shape than Crip, which didn't match up with the events as he remembered them. But there she went, running out of view like she hadn't just had the shit kicked out of her. Crip's arm creaked as he scratched his head in puzzlement. "Keely must be some miracle medic." he mused, then stared at the rest of the crowd milling around for a few more seconds before he got bored. "I suppose I should leave. The stooge brigade will be looking for me." With that, he wiped up his blood and carefully made his way back to his apartment on the roof.

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Crip pulled the hatch closed and shuffled over to his sink, a fixture stolen from the next dome over and halfheartedly fixed between homemade shelves so the whole thing together almost looked like a kitchen counter. He started washing his arm and wincing at the pain. There would be an interesting scar there soon. It wouldn't last long, but for a while it would look pretty cool. He traced the small shape of her hand on his forearm and replayed the whole thing in his head with a smile. It was a few minutes before he realized he'd stopped cleaning his wound and was focusing entirely on the memories. On one specific part of the memories at that. His smile vanished. It wasn't the action, or the pain, or getting away from Leon again, or even the way she ran away with that mad look on her face afterwards. In his mind he saw her fall against him again and he could feel how light she was. He'd snaked his arm up her chest to press the makeshift blade to her throat, but it was the press of her breasts on his arm that lingered in his memory. He'd pulled her close so he could move her easily, but only now did he notice how warm her small body had been...

Crip dug his fingers into his wounded arm to shock his mind back into the present. It worked. "Fuckin' oww!" And now it was bleeding again too. He went back to washing it and scolded himself for his childishness. "Crip! Are you suddenly fifteen again? Such a beautiful step towards a less ignorant world and you're sitting here lusting after a teenager? Grow up already. Jesus!" He'd considered forcing himself on someone before. After all, it would have just about the same effect on their psyche as what he'd done today. He'd even gone out with just those intentions once, but the moment he found the perfect girl, he suddenly had no more desire whatsoever. Crip had told himself it was stupid anyways. That it was something brainless thugs did, because they didn't have the mental fortitude to accomplish anything more meaningful. They were just following that animal instinct forever buried in the subconscious from humanity's primal ancestry. But Crip? Crip had a deeper purpose: a mission. And doing this would only serve to debase that mission and make him look like just another goon. He told himself that to distract himself from the real reason he couldn't go through with it. He'd never wanted it, just something unnervingly similar, yet completely different. A more modern instinct to humanity. Crip wanted to fall in love.

The thoughts weren't going away. They never did once they'd worked their way into his head. Cursing, Crip stomped (as well as he could) over to his freezer and pulled out the fifth of whiskey he'd bought a couple weeks ago. He took a long swig and set to wrapping his arm. It took him only a few minutes and a third of the bottle. Crip checked out the bandaging, gave it an approving nod, then turned on the bottle with a look just a shy more critical. "I'm going to run out at this rate." he finally decided, then took another swig and stared for another few seconds. "I guess I better go get more."

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Not liking crowds, Crip stalked around the outside of the commerce area in the closest dome somewhat meekly. He trailed his hand along the glass wall, so he wouldn't lose track of it, and stared inward, looking for an alcohol vendor not surrounded by people. He held just over half a fifth of whiskey in his other hand, not willing to let a little exercise ruing his buzz and force him to start all over again. The thought of that filled him with inappropriate amounts of dread. Buildings and faces churned in front of him, and every now and then a voice. Then it was there, a vendor with a full line of bottles on the shelf behind him and not a trace of a line of people in front of him. Crip started to take a step forward with thoughts of a speedy transaction and a quiet trip home, but caught himself as his prosthetic hit the ground. It twisted as he put all his weight on it, still not use to walking on it drunk, and he glanced around nervously to make sure his stumble hadn't drawn any attention. Not that anyone cared about another drunk, but right next to the alcohol vendor was a burger stand, and in front of that was Jasen piggishly shoving an oversizes burger down his throat. Best not go near that and risk grease splatter...or a bullet to the forehead. Crip took another swig and carefully returned his hand to the dome wall. He moved on, a bit more mindful of his bad leg. It wasn't too much longer before his hand hit something. He wrinkled his brow and turned to see what was protruding from the glass. It was a person....and his hand was covering her face. He yanked it back with a jolt and lifted the bottle in front of him, more as a wordless explanation to the probably very confused bystander than as a shield. Then, after a moment's though, he jiggled it as a peace offering as well. She was rather cute, after all, and Crip was still in that dangerous mood. She wore a form fitting space suit that looked about a comfortable as a layer of baked tar, and now that his hand was out of the way, Crip could see she had bright turquoise eyes. He couldn't help but laugh at the look she was giving him as he spoke. "I'm sorry. Hah! Er...let me make up for it? Not even half the bottle gone yet." He raised his eyebrows as if to say "Go ahead. It'll be fun."