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<blockquote data-quote="Arrgh! Mark!" data-source="post: 2150861" data-attributes="member: 14559"><p>Part 2 of 2</p><p></p><p>What can I say? The little moments of indecision in life are often the greatest. At any rate, they lead to the most interesting conclusions. It’s those that really make you …feel, you know? The rest of your life you follow these sorts of pathways of things that you know you could not do. But you never do. It’s always that same old smile, that same old addiction-to-habit.</p><p></p><p>As a red-blooded male, it’s women that I hate the most. Want to know why? Because it’s women that are the hardest to feel indecision about. I know, that doesn’t make sense. You’re thinking – but I feel indecision all the time! Do I want her, don’t I want her… Am I gay? Who knows what each man feels in his heart? But he knows that sometimes he has a chance and will slot into it as soon as soon as he can. Courage, decision… meaningless words in a society driven by ourselves. Why the term ‘Falling’ in love? There’s no indecision with women. Either you do, or you feel burned that you can’t. Or sometimes you cant but tell yourself you don’t want to.</p><p></p><p>And with Miss Hawk, you felt burned no matter which choice you told yourself. Even when you fall in love. And worse when she falls for you.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>The speak-easy burned with a hot jazz sound.</p><p></p><p>The dirt under my hands only exacerbated the feeling of uneven woodwork. The Café Easy Speaking didn’t match its name in anything but the feeling of being stuck. It was one of those places where once it might have been high culture but got lost when people started throwing beanbags on the floor and wearing tight clothing. It was a twenties bar designed for the seventies. The funk-swing combination jarred enough to be good at least. It was my favourite of the overpriced pseudo-culture bars around. Despite that, it still didn’t alleviate my tension.</p><p></p><p>Culture out of style. Right up my alley. I absently tapped my black rabbit-skin fedora. I tried to stare at Miss Hawk with the edges of my vision, looking at anything that wasn’t a silk-clad feather shawl wearing 20’s re-enactor with a bird motif. We sipped expensive spirits musingly. Or at least she did.</p><p></p><p>Though the mask did look good. </p><p></p><p>And it felt good to be out of that vinnies suit. Good enough, in fact, to feel like myself again. I felt on top of the world, in a bitter and sarcastic way. My unending pessimism would do wonders for our long-lasting relationship – i.e. not. </p><p></p><p>“So what do you think?”</p><p></p><p>What did I think? I think we’re rapidly falling into a situation where I would neither be able to pay my debts or run. And in that situation, it’s only a matter of time before the leg-breakers come…</p><p></p><p>But I already knew what she wanted to hear. “I think that we got out safely. After you pulled that stunt with the fire…”</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>Echoing, the noise of footsteps slowly drained into the dusty sanatorium. Together we walked out of that great stone walled house. I wasn’t sure what was happening. How could it be that she got these documents so easily? I watched her, those dark eyes scanning the scraps of yellowed paper for some clue. She turned to me.</p><p></p><p>“Have a look at this.”</p><p></p><p>I quickly scanned as we walked to the entrance. Finding something odd, I stopped.</p><p></p><p>“Died to overdose, two years ago. Doctor Lesley McKinnon administered the charge. What’s this?” My voice must have sounded ragged, as Ms. Hawk turned her full charm on me again. </p><p></p><p>“Why, Mr. Goethe! Surely you don’t believe that! Look closer!”</p><p></p><p>“What? He’s still dead.” I had a sneaking suspicion that someone wasn’t suited for normal life, and it had nothing to do with the mysterious Harry Hawk.</p><p></p><p>“No! Look at his previous medication! There’s nothing but simple anti-depressants and long walks in the sunshine.” I remember the moment vividly – her dark eyes flaring as we stalked through the long grey corridors to emerge into the bright light of midday, phasing everything into a montage of black and white. Even as we blinked the afterimages away there came a voice like scratches on metal.</p><p></p><p>“EX-cuse me, sirs!” Turning, I noticed a older woman in a nurses uniform approaching, rapidly greying hair done so tight it pulled the skin back from her cheeks. Or maybe it was plastic surgery. Behind her were three goons, all wearing white. I noticed two were big islanders. There shadows lengthened towards us over the concrete, ours stretched away to the road some fifty meters away. I turned, tucking the sheets into the back of my belt. Ms Hawk suddenly looked green.</p><p></p><p>I was quick to speak. From the hard-faced expression, this wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. “Yes?” </p><p></p><p>Despite my query, she ignored me. “You! You’re not to come here anymore. You were lucky I didn’t call the police on you last time. I won’t have you harassing my staff any further.”</p><p></p><p>Miss Hawk smiled a little, even as I backed away. That old woman noticed me for the first time – her mouth opened wide with shock and something else. Fear? I couldn’t believe it… one of those feelings of Déjà vu.</p><p></p><p>But there was something. Something I’d seen before. A flash like lightning and fire and I wanted it but it was too close, I drove it away and so they screamed and screamed, the two, the scientist and the shrieking hawk-man, a young woman with blue, blue eyes and dark, dark hair in the corner and the lightning didn’t touch her because I didn’t want them to but the others screamed and then they exploded in splashes of red red red rum. And I didn’t want them to die but they did because I didn’t want it in me, what they’d done, it was their fault…</p><p></p><p>The two orderlies moved forward. Before I could even think, they pulled out large truncheons. What the hell was this place?</p><p></p><p>Miss Hawk grabbed me by the arm. “Mr. Goethe. I think it’s time to go. These men don’t want us any longer.” </p><p></p><p>“I have this sneaking suspicion that you might be right. Good day, fellows.” A proper gentleman’s galoss at that. </p><p></p><p>We backed off slow, and walked down the path outside, shaded with great eucalyptus trees. After some time of walking, she let go of my arm. We found ourselves in a cosy picnic table overlooking the muddy river, cranes and skyscrapers towering overhead. Under the hot sun, my hat shaded my face nicely. She on the other hand visibly wilted. </p><p></p><p>“I’ve got the papers, at any rate. Care to tell me what that was about, or should I guess?” I needed to check up on this Miss Hawk. She sounded like someone only too ready to get me involved in more problems. Or raise up ones that I’d prefer left well alone. Most men try to forget their problems. Most men succeed. But mine always cropped up with police sirens more often than I cared to count.</p><p></p><p>“Why don’t you tell me why that old …biddy almost fainted when she saw you?”</p><p></p><p>“Don’t you know?”</p><p></p><p>She smiled with those red, red lips. “I don’t know anything about that. Old love?”</p><p></p><p>“I shouldn’t think so. But shouldn’t we be talking about your brother?”</p><p></p><p>Oh, that annoying smile. “He’s not there. And he’s alive. Before you start, I know it. And it wasn’t the run-around they’ve been giving me. Want to know how I found that document there? I found it before. I’ve been to Darkholme before. That’s how that old tart knew me. I found a locked record room, separate to the normal room and hidden in a basement floor. Inside, I found those papers you have. But two weeks ago they didn’t have Overdose on them. They had “Taken for testing.”</p><p></p><p>For some reason, I believed her. “Even if I did believe you… which I don’t…” She smiled charmingly, touching my wrist. “There’s only two leads I can think of. That old nurse knows that place top-to-bottom. And this Doctor…” I fumbled for the papers. “McKinnely” said Miss Hawk. “Thank you, yes. McKinnely. He injected the dose apparently, or ordered it. We can at least check him out, whether he’s the genuine article. And that nurse looks like she’d be a hard nut to crack, especially when she’s got two big fellows with clubs at all times. </p><p></p><p>“Hey! I’ve got a really good idea!”</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>The old nurse screamed as I kicked down the door to her house and laid flat her white-haired husband with a haymaker. Seeing him out cold, I looked around. Three little grandchildren poked little white faces over the brown leather couch even as Australian Idol played in the corner. It looked like Shannon Noal had it.</p><p></p><p>My fellow burglar, a rather more petite one than I slinked in. Taking out an automatic pistol she held it to the nurses head, rock steady. The both of us forced the old woman into our waiting car. The third balaclava-clad man, hulking above all of us nodded pleasantly to Miss Hawk and closed the door behind him. She drove – I sat in the back seat with the now cuffed and crying nurse. And the sound of Lois Armstrong came over the speakers loud enough to have to yell.</p><p></p><p>I didn’t like this. But when we’d set the fire in the sanatorium we hadn’t expected her to be already home, off her break. So it’d come to a more confusing situation. I ripped the duct tape from her face. Mack the Knife started. I don’t know what it was, but my bedside manner must have been just right. She started by throwing herself and yelling a bit, saying some nonsense about how she’d done nothing wrong. A light punch in the ribs ended that. After a bit of wheezing she started talking – about something I don’t even know.</p><p></p><p>“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t kill me, I’ve done nothing wrong.” and all that jazz, tears flying. I smelt the urine as it oozed down her stocking. In the front of the car, I heard Miss Hawk mutter. It went on for a while. I hated this. I hated it because I was so good at it. I didn’t want to do it but I had to, because our wonderful Harriet would have me into the cops and that’s game over Goethe.</p><p></p><p>I tried to cover my voice a bit, sound lower. “Who said you had? We’ve just taken you to question a bit about some of the things that have been going on.” </p><p></p><p>“My grandkids, please…” </p><p></p><p>Yeah. “They’ll be fine. Tell me…” </p><p></p><p>“I’ve been doing it as you ask! All of it! I don’t want to but I do it because I have to! The patients get a shot with your chemical, goes into a coma and the special ambulance takes it away! There’s been nothing in two years! God, I only took it for the money, little Sophie had leuke –“ </p><p></p><p>“Shut up!” I held the automatic to her head. I deliberately flicked the safety to on, just for the effect. The old woman with those blue, blue eyes started shaking. “Tell me about Harry Hawk! The exact details of the operation! Or we take you to the boathouse and…” And so I was blah-de-blah and she started going on.</p><p></p><p>“The Easy Speaking Café!” I’d been there. Some twenties bar or something. She went on. “Your man there, Patrick, he knows it, he set it all up! It’s him, I swear, if anything’s wrong!”</p><p></p><p>Aha. There was something. I mustered my gravely voice. “Tell me exactly what you did. Slowly, clearly. From the start…”</p><p></p><p>* * *</p><p></p><p>Miss Hawk was stunned. “I can’t… I mean, do you think she was telling the truth?”</p><p></p><p>The force of the river bumped boats into the abandoned boathouse, nothing but scrub outside. We stood taking cigarettes. The cold of water felt odd. Strangely, she even looked good smoking. Most women who smoke look terrible. She really had that sexy feel. </p><p></p><p>“Yeah. I’m fairly certain of it.” Sighing, I wiped the oily much from my hands. </p><p></p><p>“And when she wakes up?”</p><p></p><p>“She’ll say nothing. She won’t know what’s going on, though – she’d be surprised to live.”</p><p></p><p>“And my Brother?”</p><p></p><p>“Disappeared into a Van on the behest of this Patrick. This sounds familiar, somehow.”</p><p></p><p>Miss Hawk looked at me oddly. “Oh?”</p><p></p><p>I never managed to finish the conversation, as we both heard cars – expensive Jeep-type cars – coming in our direction. You could see the plumes of dust rising up behind them in the distance. The two of us looked at one another.</p><p></p><p>“She was under surveillance?” I muttered. </p><p></p><p>“I doubt there’s much time for that now. Leave her. We’ll get in the car and leave. If we head to that gorge to the east, we could lose them before they even get here.” Her voice echoed the coldness in those dark eyes. But I… couldn’t leave her so easy.</p><p></p><p>“Right. You get the car. I’ll get the nurse.”</p><p></p><p>She looked at me oddly. "Since when do you care?"</p><p></p><p>I ignored the question.</p><p></p><p>* * *</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Arrgh! Mark!, post: 2150861, member: 14559"] Part 2 of 2 What can I say? The little moments of indecision in life are often the greatest. At any rate, they lead to the most interesting conclusions. It’s those that really make you …feel, you know? The rest of your life you follow these sorts of pathways of things that you know you could not do. But you never do. It’s always that same old smile, that same old addiction-to-habit. As a red-blooded male, it’s women that I hate the most. Want to know why? Because it’s women that are the hardest to feel indecision about. I know, that doesn’t make sense. You’re thinking – but I feel indecision all the time! Do I want her, don’t I want her… Am I gay? Who knows what each man feels in his heart? But he knows that sometimes he has a chance and will slot into it as soon as soon as he can. Courage, decision… meaningless words in a society driven by ourselves. Why the term ‘Falling’ in love? There’s no indecision with women. Either you do, or you feel burned that you can’t. Or sometimes you cant but tell yourself you don’t want to. And with Miss Hawk, you felt burned no matter which choice you told yourself. Even when you fall in love. And worse when she falls for you. * * * The speak-easy burned with a hot jazz sound. The dirt under my hands only exacerbated the feeling of uneven woodwork. The Café Easy Speaking didn’t match its name in anything but the feeling of being stuck. It was one of those places where once it might have been high culture but got lost when people started throwing beanbags on the floor and wearing tight clothing. It was a twenties bar designed for the seventies. The funk-swing combination jarred enough to be good at least. It was my favourite of the overpriced pseudo-culture bars around. Despite that, it still didn’t alleviate my tension. Culture out of style. Right up my alley. I absently tapped my black rabbit-skin fedora. I tried to stare at Miss Hawk with the edges of my vision, looking at anything that wasn’t a silk-clad feather shawl wearing 20’s re-enactor with a bird motif. We sipped expensive spirits musingly. Or at least she did. Though the mask did look good. And it felt good to be out of that vinnies suit. Good enough, in fact, to feel like myself again. I felt on top of the world, in a bitter and sarcastic way. My unending pessimism would do wonders for our long-lasting relationship – i.e. not. “So what do you think?” What did I think? I think we’re rapidly falling into a situation where I would neither be able to pay my debts or run. And in that situation, it’s only a matter of time before the leg-breakers come… But I already knew what she wanted to hear. “I think that we got out safely. After you pulled that stunt with the fire…” * * * Echoing, the noise of footsteps slowly drained into the dusty sanatorium. Together we walked out of that great stone walled house. I wasn’t sure what was happening. How could it be that she got these documents so easily? I watched her, those dark eyes scanning the scraps of yellowed paper for some clue. She turned to me. “Have a look at this.” I quickly scanned as we walked to the entrance. Finding something odd, I stopped. “Died to overdose, two years ago. Doctor Lesley McKinnon administered the charge. What’s this?” My voice must have sounded ragged, as Ms. Hawk turned her full charm on me again. “Why, Mr. Goethe! Surely you don’t believe that! Look closer!” “What? He’s still dead.” I had a sneaking suspicion that someone wasn’t suited for normal life, and it had nothing to do with the mysterious Harry Hawk. “No! Look at his previous medication! There’s nothing but simple anti-depressants and long walks in the sunshine.” I remember the moment vividly – her dark eyes flaring as we stalked through the long grey corridors to emerge into the bright light of midday, phasing everything into a montage of black and white. Even as we blinked the afterimages away there came a voice like scratches on metal. “EX-cuse me, sirs!” Turning, I noticed a older woman in a nurses uniform approaching, rapidly greying hair done so tight it pulled the skin back from her cheeks. Or maybe it was plastic surgery. Behind her were three goons, all wearing white. I noticed two were big islanders. There shadows lengthened towards us over the concrete, ours stretched away to the road some fifty meters away. I turned, tucking the sheets into the back of my belt. Ms Hawk suddenly looked green. I was quick to speak. From the hard-faced expression, this wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. “Yes?” Despite my query, she ignored me. “You! You’re not to come here anymore. You were lucky I didn’t call the police on you last time. I won’t have you harassing my staff any further.” Miss Hawk smiled a little, even as I backed away. That old woman noticed me for the first time – her mouth opened wide with shock and something else. Fear? I couldn’t believe it… one of those feelings of Déjà vu. But there was something. Something I’d seen before. A flash like lightning and fire and I wanted it but it was too close, I drove it away and so they screamed and screamed, the two, the scientist and the shrieking hawk-man, a young woman with blue, blue eyes and dark, dark hair in the corner and the lightning didn’t touch her because I didn’t want them to but the others screamed and then they exploded in splashes of red red red rum. And I didn’t want them to die but they did because I didn’t want it in me, what they’d done, it was their fault… The two orderlies moved forward. Before I could even think, they pulled out large truncheons. What the hell was this place? Miss Hawk grabbed me by the arm. “Mr. Goethe. I think it’s time to go. These men don’t want us any longer.” “I have this sneaking suspicion that you might be right. Good day, fellows.” A proper gentleman’s galoss at that. We backed off slow, and walked down the path outside, shaded with great eucalyptus trees. After some time of walking, she let go of my arm. We found ourselves in a cosy picnic table overlooking the muddy river, cranes and skyscrapers towering overhead. Under the hot sun, my hat shaded my face nicely. She on the other hand visibly wilted. “I’ve got the papers, at any rate. Care to tell me what that was about, or should I guess?” I needed to check up on this Miss Hawk. She sounded like someone only too ready to get me involved in more problems. Or raise up ones that I’d prefer left well alone. Most men try to forget their problems. Most men succeed. But mine always cropped up with police sirens more often than I cared to count. “Why don’t you tell me why that old …biddy almost fainted when she saw you?” “Don’t you know?” She smiled with those red, red lips. “I don’t know anything about that. Old love?” “I shouldn’t think so. But shouldn’t we be talking about your brother?” Oh, that annoying smile. “He’s not there. And he’s alive. Before you start, I know it. And it wasn’t the run-around they’ve been giving me. Want to know how I found that document there? I found it before. I’ve been to Darkholme before. That’s how that old tart knew me. I found a locked record room, separate to the normal room and hidden in a basement floor. Inside, I found those papers you have. But two weeks ago they didn’t have Overdose on them. They had “Taken for testing.” For some reason, I believed her. “Even if I did believe you… which I don’t…” She smiled charmingly, touching my wrist. “There’s only two leads I can think of. That old nurse knows that place top-to-bottom. And this Doctor…” I fumbled for the papers. “McKinnely” said Miss Hawk. “Thank you, yes. McKinnely. He injected the dose apparently, or ordered it. We can at least check him out, whether he’s the genuine article. And that nurse looks like she’d be a hard nut to crack, especially when she’s got two big fellows with clubs at all times. “Hey! I’ve got a really good idea!” * * * The old nurse screamed as I kicked down the door to her house and laid flat her white-haired husband with a haymaker. Seeing him out cold, I looked around. Three little grandchildren poked little white faces over the brown leather couch even as Australian Idol played in the corner. It looked like Shannon Noal had it. My fellow burglar, a rather more petite one than I slinked in. Taking out an automatic pistol she held it to the nurses head, rock steady. The both of us forced the old woman into our waiting car. The third balaclava-clad man, hulking above all of us nodded pleasantly to Miss Hawk and closed the door behind him. She drove – I sat in the back seat with the now cuffed and crying nurse. And the sound of Lois Armstrong came over the speakers loud enough to have to yell. I didn’t like this. But when we’d set the fire in the sanatorium we hadn’t expected her to be already home, off her break. So it’d come to a more confusing situation. I ripped the duct tape from her face. Mack the Knife started. I don’t know what it was, but my bedside manner must have been just right. She started by throwing herself and yelling a bit, saying some nonsense about how she’d done nothing wrong. A light punch in the ribs ended that. After a bit of wheezing she started talking – about something I don’t even know. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t kill me, I’ve done nothing wrong.” and all that jazz, tears flying. I smelt the urine as it oozed down her stocking. In the front of the car, I heard Miss Hawk mutter. It went on for a while. I hated this. I hated it because I was so good at it. I didn’t want to do it but I had to, because our wonderful Harriet would have me into the cops and that’s game over Goethe. I tried to cover my voice a bit, sound lower. “Who said you had? We’ve just taken you to question a bit about some of the things that have been going on.” “My grandkids, please…” Yeah. “They’ll be fine. Tell me…” “I’ve been doing it as you ask! All of it! I don’t want to but I do it because I have to! The patients get a shot with your chemical, goes into a coma and the special ambulance takes it away! There’s been nothing in two years! God, I only took it for the money, little Sophie had leuke –“ “Shut up!” I held the automatic to her head. I deliberately flicked the safety to on, just for the effect. The old woman with those blue, blue eyes started shaking. “Tell me about Harry Hawk! The exact details of the operation! Or we take you to the boathouse and…” And so I was blah-de-blah and she started going on. “The Easy Speaking Café!” I’d been there. Some twenties bar or something. She went on. “Your man there, Patrick, he knows it, he set it all up! It’s him, I swear, if anything’s wrong!” Aha. There was something. I mustered my gravely voice. “Tell me exactly what you did. Slowly, clearly. From the start…” * * * Miss Hawk was stunned. “I can’t… I mean, do you think she was telling the truth?” The force of the river bumped boats into the abandoned boathouse, nothing but scrub outside. We stood taking cigarettes. The cold of water felt odd. Strangely, she even looked good smoking. Most women who smoke look terrible. She really had that sexy feel. “Yeah. I’m fairly certain of it.” Sighing, I wiped the oily much from my hands. “And when she wakes up?” “She’ll say nothing. She won’t know what’s going on, though – she’d be surprised to live.” “And my Brother?” “Disappeared into a Van on the behest of this Patrick. This sounds familiar, somehow.” Miss Hawk looked at me oddly. “Oh?” I never managed to finish the conversation, as we both heard cars – expensive Jeep-type cars – coming in our direction. You could see the plumes of dust rising up behind them in the distance. The two of us looked at one another. “She was under surveillance?” I muttered. “I doubt there’s much time for that now. Leave her. We’ll get in the car and leave. If we head to that gorge to the east, we could lose them before they even get here.” Her voice echoed the coldness in those dark eyes. But I… couldn’t leave her so easy. “Right. You get the car. I’ll get the nurse.” She looked at me oddly. "Since when do you care?" I ignored the question. * * * [/QUOTE]
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