Thursday, March 11, 2010

Outsiders II

This is the second part of Outsiders. I know I'm two days late with it but I finished correcting it only now. Unfortunately my corrector/proof reader is starting to fail me miserably so I will need to find somebody else soon or it will all take more time. The third part is going to come up in a month as I promised (plus I realized next month the 9th is a Friday so it would be 2 stories in one day and I am trying to avoid that for now at least)

By Sunday I will try to post one of my original stories. One which I started writing last year - one of the first one which I took really, really seriously. This will be a good occasion to finally finish it :-)

For now please enjoy Outsiders II and tomorrow another part of Fireworks is coming up!

Cheers~!
PhotoKisser

***


OUTSIDERS II


Looking in the mirror is hard. Especially when the one staring back at me is myself. I wonder if yesterday was real. It felt like a dream. The only proof of what happened were those purple and green bruises covering my body. But wherever I looked my wings were nowhere to be found. Not even one feather. Why? It is all I ever wanted. Some potential. Alex's wings are beautiful. I don't expect to have wings even half as gorgeous as his but to have even a couple of feathers would be enough.
I also have this weird feeling like I'm forgetting something important. Something happened after I saw my wings. I don't know what. And all that mafia talk. When a person is overexcited about something life just starts flowing faster and what happens in my case is that I can't really catch up to what's happening. It's sad and I hate it.
“Hey, Nick!” I heard Alex's voice from behind the door. “Get out already!” he said banging his fist against the wooden door of the bathroom.
I took the towel and drying my hair with one hand I opened the door. He was holding my shirt and gave it to me while we exchanged short glances when I was leaving the bathroom. He had his usual unapproachable aura but his eyes flickered. He looked nervous... and excited? He couldn't be... happy? There was no way I could figure him out. He was just too weird. I looked back and saw his back stiffen as he closed the door behind him.
We haven't really spoken about yesterday. In fact, I haven't seen him even once after he had pulled his trousers out of my grip and left the men's room. But life continued as if nothing had happened. For everyone except myself. It was quite cruel. I got my hopes up yesterday and now the blow is even more painful.
I pulled myself together and fixed my uniform. With new clothes at least I didn't look like some foster child. Even with my hair looking messy all the bruises were disguised with the striped black material. Good.
I stuffed all my books and pens inside my bag not even looking at what I'm taking. Somehow this sort of thing repeats itself more and more often even when I have some more time on my hands. I put on my trainers and took a glance at Alex's shoes collection. He had some expensive leather shoes, some used up sneakers and three pairs of trainers. I glanced at his three suitcases standing still untouched in the middle of the room. There was more where those shoes came from, oh yes.
I hesitated before leaving the room. I'm not really used to having a roommate. Should I be leaving him alone? I went a few times back and forth between the door and the couch until Alex peeked out of the bathroom.
“Hey, can you go ahead and get me the... umm... set C?” he asked as if he was reading my mind. “You know, the one where they always put freaky stuff... The one I used to get... There are always huge cues so I'll meet you there. And take my ID card.”
I looked at him. What the hell? He didn't sound in the least like a transfer student. More like he was attending this school for at least five years. And what the hell was set C? I didn't recall anything like that ever being at the school cafeteria.
Alex looked kind of disappointed.
“Never mind, just get me set C” he said and looked at me intensely as if trying to convey his thoughts upon me. I guess it only works one way. He can read my mind and I have no idea what he's thinking whatsoever.
Alex had a few bruises himself but there was something about him that made him look somewhat strong even after being almost beat up to a pulp.
I took my bag and left the room in hurry. There are always queues in the cafeteria. Especially since a small percent of the kids here have any idea how to cook and thus the kitchen in each segment is considered more as a hang-out rather than the room you make food in.
Our dorms are divided first into buildings and then small segments with three to five rooms each. Each room has a separate bathroom and there is a kitchen in every segment. The lucky ones sometimes have only two rooms in a segment.
The FF is actually more of a academic city rather than just a school. It's mainly for the kids who learn here and there are little families living in the city. Only those running the business. It's a really isolated place to be honest. The person running the school must be in such a great position. To be able to manipulate all the rich and powerful families in the country who are not able to see the reality behind the posh disguise. But it's their problem, I guess. I only came here because I wanted to find somebody. Nothing more.
It's a wonder how fifteen minutes can make such a difference. Usually, I arrive at the cafeteria around eight, eight fifteen when there was a huge crowd. And I have to stand in the queue like a loser. I get my meal at a quarter to nine when the lessons start at nine.
Now, the queue was a lot shorter. I glanced up at the menu, now hanging right next to me. There actually was a set C! I took one of those and a set B as well since I am a huge believer in a french breakfast consisting of cereals, milk, croissant and jam.
“You sure you're gonna eat all this, son?” the lady behind the counter asked giving me two plates.
I smiled back at her and mentioned the other meal was Alex's. I feel a lot of sympathy for the ladies working at the cafeteria. They always call you son and almost everyone hates it - especially the rich boys are deeply annoyed with it and they are very mean towards them.
I payed for the meal and looked for an empty table or somebody I knew. The second option was a lot harder to accomplish. I did however notice Bob's blond locks and following that lead I found him as well as Paul and a couple of other people sitting by a table near the coke dispensers.
“Wow, you're early!” Bob said seeing me approach. “Seems that having a roommate is having a good effect on you,” he added.
I grimaced. “Does everyone know?” I asked. Alex was after all the talk of the school and now that he was my roommate that made me the stuff of gossip as well.
“Seems so,” Paul said finishing his crispy croissant. He glared at my plate and looked up at me. I passed the plate with my own croissant and bun to him leaving only the bowl of cereals for myself. Everyday routing.
It seemed that even we didn't break the rules of gossip. Everyone was talking about Alex and so were we. Everyone was surprised to hear that I don't really know him that much and that I didn't arrange for him to be my roommate. I don't know why they would assume something like that. It was a shock even for me, maybe bigger because I could see just how amazing a person he really was. Though, apparently Bob and Paul seemed to know him more than I did.
“Speak of the devil,” Bob said suddenly and I turned around to see Alex enter the cafeteria by the entrance near our table. I was shocked to see him wear sunglasses. It made him look literary like a lady killer and I could bet my months worth of dinners that he was one as well. I glanced behind him at his wings. They looked like they had all the possible clinical work done on them. I never really thought about what happens when wings are hurt...
I felt really proud when I saw Alex's wings. No, not of Alex himself, I'm not that kind of a person. Somehow, seeing wings suddenly became a good thing. I could see things that other people couldn't. It also felt a bit like seeing the future too. I suddenly had the urge to tell somebody about it. To show Alex's wings as if they were a piece of art. Show them to Bob and Paul, tell them everything.
But I couldn't. I can't do something like that. My ability is both a blessing and a curse. And now, I didn't even know if the only person that was a bit like me, that could see them as well even had that ability. I have no idea if yesterday even happened. If it wasn't just a delusion of a person who was beaten in the head a couple times too many.
“You didn't take my card,” Alex said when he approached our table. The cards are a payment method at the campus to avoid having us buy too many things. What we pay for is controlled by our parents and the people running this place.
“I can at least pay for your first breakfast,” I reasoned with a hint of anger in my voice.
“Thanks, but this would be my second one,” Alex smiled and sat down.
Our conversation over breakfast took on different turns avoiding the subject of yesterday or Alex's past but for almost all the time he was the main subject. He is, I noticed, quite egocentric. However all the time I could see that flicker across the eyes, his attention focused on everything any of us said.
Michael and Andy, the two other guys we sometimes hang out with, joined us half way through and we peacefully finished our breakfast with them. Or so we thought when we stood up and headed towards the exit together.
We passed his table and the only thing that Bob had done wrong was glanced at Resa, the girlfriend. I know he has had a crush on her since a very long time but this time around that one look brought upon us a disaster. I'm not mad at him though. Why would I be? He likes the girl and that's all there is to it. Infatuation is infatuation no matter how big a bitch the girl is.
“What're you looking at, mates?” Christopher asked standing up. He used his fake cockney accent which he uses whenever he's annoyed or tries to scare somebody.
He noticed Michael in our group and I could already tell this was going to be a lot more complicated.
“Yo, fagot!” he shouted. “She's a girl you know!” his joke was a tragic one. Not only did he mistake who actually took a look at Resa it had no merit value. I'm amazed that something like that can escape the lips of an almost grown man.
I felt guilt cramp my stomach. After all I couldn't do anything.
Michael, although called a gayboy almost every day is not a homosexual. He's just eccentric in his own way. He brought it upon himself though. Accidentally attending homosexual parties, hanging out with gay friends and having a really gayish attitude and taste in clothes and accessories... It was inevitable.
“Back off!” Alex said coming forward.
I saw his eyes glitter with rage and his eyebrows furrow. Hands turned to fists. I felt the hair on my arms lift. Excitement, fear, anger and... anxiousness. But it wasn't Alex's fists that worried me. It was Christopher. His wings to be more exact. They were bigger. Almost the same size as Alex's if not the same. Last I remembered they were smaller. I could only conclude one thing. They grew. Over night? Before, I would think that it was Alex's win. But now I couldn't be sure. Anything could happen.
My fists moved faster than I expected. For that one moment I felt free. The moment my knuckles drilled into his cheek the force and surprise making him lose balance and fall down.
Afterwards, the feeling disappeared. Panic replaced it. I couldn't believe what I did. I couldn't have done it. But there was no helping it now. I wouldn't back down at that time. I'm not that sort of person. There would be consequences, I knew, but there was no saying sorry at that point. Everyone was looking at me.
I said nothing. I tried to think of some punch line but my mind only made up stupid things. There was honestly no point in pushing it any further.
The Captain's minions were clueless a to what should they do. Christopher however remained cold blooded for which I do have to say a word of praise. He may be a rich spoilt brat but he has some charisma. He stood up, still a bit off balance, corrected his uniform and glared at me with pure rage. His brown eyes seemed to drill into my head. For a split second I thought I saw a bit of fear and jealousy there as well.
“Know your place Nick!” he said, his voice as stoic as ever. I have to give it to him: he has quite a lot of self control. “We had an agreement,” he added and I knew that this was a declaration of war. Everyone of us knew it. Alex did, Bob did, Paul did... It was only the rest of the room that had no idea what we were talking about.
I didn't answer. My slight nod was absolutely enough. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep the deal much longer anyway. Especially with Alex suddenly appearing at the FF. I kind of feel pity because of that, though. I may speak badly of Christopher but a part of me admires him in its own little way. He's neither an imposer nor did he lack any potential for being a leader. I still don't know what Alex's potential is. In my opinion, although I'm not really that oriented in this matter, each feather represents a certain talent and the more feathers of one kind one has the bigger the talent. This is only a speculation, though.
I glanced once more at Christopher's wings. I had no doubt about it. They were the same size as Alex's now. I headed straight, passing him. Alex, Bob and Paul were right at my side and Michael and Andy just behind us. I didn't turn around but I was sure that Michael was still in shock but smiling slightly.
Once by the classroom we started laughing and joking about what happened. Although all of us were clearly feeling strange about it we tried to hide it and calm down. In three minutes the bell was going to ring. Michael, Andy and Bob were attending a different class so only Alex, Paul and me remained.
Jackie joined us asking what happened. Jackie, full name Jacqueline Jackson is one of a few nice girls in out year. I met her through Bob and Paul because she hangs out with those two a lot. She has curly brown hair and green eyes to match. She's half French from her mother's side so she can speak very fluent French. She has a huge talent for languages. Besides English and French she also knows German, Italian, Spanish and Arabic which at the age of seventeen is very impressive. Hell, it would be impressive even if she were fifty years old.
“Nick just stood up to Christopher,” Paul explained eagerly.
“Wow! Finally! What happened?” Jackie asked not hiding her amazement.
I didn't really answer that question. People say that girls are the biggest gossipers and although it's usually the other way around if I could delay everybody knowing for even one minute I would do it.
“He hit him in the face,” Alex backstabbed me.
In any other situation I would say all the best things about him but now I just wanted to take his wings and pluck all the wings out as a payment. How could he?
Jacqueline's reaction was just as I knew it would be. After a short laugh of disbelief she noticed our serious expressions and tapped me on the shoulder with a friendly: “About time, Nick!”
I smiled awkwardly. I knew everyone wasn't too happy with my agreement with Christopher.
Fortunately, the bell rang saving me. I said goodbye to Jackie who was already rushing to her class . I tried my best to hide the relief on my face. Classes were as boring as only biology can be. What's so interesting about plant reproduction system? Sadly, it's one of the subjects I have to attend. It was my parents doing. I would rather do chemistry or physics but my father being a doctor wanted me to continue in his footsteps. They know perfectly well that it's the last thing I would ever do.
For Alex it was a lot easier. He ditched it! I couldn't even believe what he did. He went into the classroom and used the short when there was still chaos and the teachers still hadn't remembered everyone who was in the class. He approached my table and slipped out the window! It was the second floor but he somehow managed to climb down and I was the only one who realized what happened.
I have to give it to him that it was quite thoughtful of him. If he stayed on the corridor he would eventually be noticed.
I had to cover for him during the lesson. I had to send a deadly glare towards Paul who almost slipped tat he was just outside with us.
I also received a message from Christopher about him wanting to get revenge. He didn't exactly put it that way but “5 o'clock, The Mocking Spring” is quite obvious. I noticed the handwriting wasn't his.
The Mocking Spring is located in the one area we are never supposed to go to. It's in the forest by the campus. The rules are pretty specific about that one point. It's only my speculation but I think that there used to be a military base there and now there may still be some dangerous things there. Or at least it would be a very good place for a military base. It's a thick forest yet there are very little bushes. Some kids a while back found a blind spot in the CCTV's range. Little people know where it is because the information is guarded heavily by a few chosen ones and it costs a lot.
I told Alex, Paul and Bob to b ready half past four in front of my room. I already decided to leave Michael out of it and Andy as well since they were roommates and it could arouse suspicion. Michael would probably feel bad about it. He could neither fight nor run.
Paul and Bob were ready five minutes earlier, both wearing more casual and sporty clothes but, fortunately, without flashy accessories which Paul likes to add when he doesn't have to be dressed in his uniform. He does so sometimes even when he does have to wear his uniform so I guess there's no apparent rule as to when he does it.
I went out to greet them, perfectly aware of where Alex was: in the bathroom. I had no idea what he was doing but twenty minutes was a bit too much. We waited a few more moments and when there was still no sign of him I started getting really worried.
I went back inside and called Alex through the door. He didn't answer. I expected a short “I'll be right there” at least, even if it were to be lie. But there was absolutely nothing. I panicked. I pushed the handle down and tried to get in. Surprisingly, the door wasn't locked. Alex looked at my reflection in the mirror shocked. I shivered slightly when I saw his eyes empty but at the same time full of grief.
“Shit,” I said totally missing the moment. “Sorry, I'm gonna go...”
And I really, really didn't want to. I couldn't go as well. He stared at me, our eyes trapped in each other's reflections. I was surprised to find that he wasn't as athletic as I first portrayed him to be. His wings spread out from his back and there were feathers shattered on the floor next to his bare feet. All of them were covered in blood.
He turned around and rested his head on my shoulder. “They keep growing back,” I thought I heard him whisper into my ear. I may have imagined it though.
I glanced at the mirror where now only my face was visible. I pushed Alex away. I don't know why I did it. Did I think that Alex was stronger? Or was I just mad? I have absolutely no idea. It was a spur of the moment. What I do know, however, is that I was absolutely terrified afterwards. In that moment none of us were actually “us”.
I went out without facing Alex. I didn't even so much as look at him. I was thankful that Bob and Paul were not in the room and I didn't have to explain anything to them. They were outside thinking that Alex would be out in a matter of seconds. I joined Paul and Bob and a moment later Alex was with us as well. I was amazed how quick he managed to regain his cool. His cold eyes scrutinized me at first but then a smile came back to his face. I felt a lump of guilt stuck in my throat.
When Bob and Paul were leading the way I once more gathered the courage to look at Alex. He met my gaze and furrowed his eyebrows. Not in anger, however. In fact, I can swear that he was trying to thank me in his own twisted way just not knowing how to show that without words.
We reached the brick wall behind which the forest lay after about twenty minutes of walking. Half of the way we talked about normal things but when we came to the “illegal” part of the campus we kept as quiet as it was possible. It didn't work out as planned, though. We kept chuckling although there was nothing funny about our situation. Maybe except Christopher having his cheek bloody red for the whole day. His lips were bleeding a bit as well.
We reached the blind spot. Paul made sure that CCTV wouldn't capture us on film before we went out of our hiding place. He approached the wall and pulled a brick out. The three of us observed as he searched the insides of the niche and pulled out a small notebook. It was full of drawings. Paul and Bob's drawings, I thought seeing their characteristic style. When smaller they used to sneak into the forest and draw the landscapes and maps. That was our advantage over Christopher. We had the two people who knew the most about this place. Paul put the brick back in place.
We climbed the wall one after another, Bob the last making sure that nobody was watching. He was a bit lousy at it but thankfully there was nobody besides us around. We waited by the wall until Bob climbed over and I went forward. Paul grabbed my collar and immediately pulled me back.
“That way,” he pointed more to the left steering me that way. “We'll just make a short stop...”
The short stop was another hiding spot. Paul and Bob buried a small metal box in the ground under a huge willow tree. There were lots of drawings and maps inside most of which the two didn't show to me and Alex. I don't know why but Paul kept them at the bottom of the box. He did however take out a small pocket knife and gave it to Alex.
“We're not preparing for battle here!” Bob objected.
“What else do you think this is?” Paul asked with a little smirk.
“Don't push it that way Paul,” I said. “It's just sorting out a few disputes. A fight would result in nothing and Christopher knows it.”
I wasn't lying when I said that. Christopher is intelligent like many people in this school (although most of them have little realization to when they are manipulated). Resolving these things with fights is not something he would see as a necessity. Especially knowing that this wasn't a way to win with us.
Paul glanced at a photo that was on the top of the pile of notebooks and papers but before I could take a second look he quickly covered it with a few kid trinkets that he had taken out to before find the knife and another map.
We reached the Spring in a few minutes. Christopher was already there. There were five other students with him. Not the ones who usually were responsible for threatening and fighting.
We were late by about five minutes. Christopher opened his lips most likely wanting to make some comment but thought better of it. Instead he did something else, something that surprised all of us. He hit me exactly the way I hit him in the morning. I didn't fall as a part of me was probably expecting something of this sort to happen and I was subconsciously prepared. I did however feel a lot of pain and the metallic taste of blood on my lips.
“So what do you want?” I asked. For some reason I wanted this meeting to be over as soon as possible. What was so important that he had to come by this lake? Moreover, I had this weird feeling in my chest when I came here and saw the still water. I still couldn't figure out what it exactly was but it freaked me out.
Christopher proceeded onto the small bridge that reached into the lake. We followed him and so did his five friends. It was a very awkward walk. Nobody said a word and I constantly fell the gaze of the five students walking behind us on the back of my neck.
Christopher turned around at the end of the pier.
“Remind me what was our agreement again, Nick?” he said.
I bit my lips. Everybody knew we had an agreement but nobody knew what it exactly was. And I really didn't want anybody to know. It was pretty embarrassing what I would do just to stay out of trouble with him.
“You leave me alone...” I started hoping it would be sufficient. I felt the expectant gazes of everybody on myself.
“That's only my part of the agreement,” Christopher said.
“And I do anything you ask me to do once a week...” I added feeling my head fall onto my chest.
“I haven't asked you for anything for a very long time...” he continued.
I realized that was true. I don't remember being involved in anything concerning Christopher in a few weeks. At first I had been nervous but then life continued and everything was fine.
“It was a very good few weeks,” I remarked smiling crookedly. I wasn't in a mood for jokes, really.
“Have you told your little friends what was the last thing you did?” Christopher asked.
I was pale at that moment. It was the worst thing I had done. I felt like betraying everybody I felt sympathy for in the whole school. It was just a little party, something we did once a month without anyone knowing, just to have some fun and exchange a few stories. Somehow Christopher found out that something had been going on and asked me what it was. He knew I was lying when I said that nothing was out of the ordinary. So I ended up telling him. And they ruined it completely. Barged in and started bullying everybody.
“Why should I care what he did?” Alex said suddenly. “I already have a sufficient enough reason to hate him but I don't. All of us have.”
I looked at him. What was he talking about? And was he trying to save me or make matters worse? I have absolutely no idea.
Christopher furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing in reply. He just continued what he started saying earlier. “I am giving you one last chance, otherwise, this is war...”
I raised my eyebrows. Rage and confusion filled me. On the one hand I really wanted to rid myself off of Christopher's influence and on the other I didn't want to bother a war with him.
“Don't save him...” Christopher whispered to my surprise. Three of the guys immobilized Alex and Paul and the two others threw Bob into the cold water of the lake.
In those few moments time started passing quicker when it should slow down. My adrenaline levels were through the roof. Was he joking? Did he really think I wouldn't do anything? The issue wasn't Bob's inability to swim, because he obviously could, but the shock and temperature change would delay his reaction. Either way he most likely would take care of himself but it was my job as a friend to help him. Did Christopher really think that I would destroy my relationship with my friends just for the sake of being left alone?
“You suck, Chris,” I said and jumped into the water.
I could hear Alex and Paul fighting to get free and Christopher walking around making a speech about what I had done to ruin the party. But mostly what I heard was Bob bashing his hands against the water trying to keep his head above the surface. I dived into the water. I was afraid and angry and proud of myself. Suddenly it was cold and very, very quiet. Peaceful as opposed to what was going on in my heart and mind.
And with everything that was happening, everything I felt, A thought came crossing through my mind and somehow it was an undeniable truth to me. I've been here before. Not just by the lake. I've been in this situation. Saving a boy with curly blond hair from drowning. Saving Bob. Saving my friend.
I swam upwards to where I remembered Bob was. I opened my eyes as soon as my head was above the surface. Bob was now doing better, his hectic waving replaced by slow movements of his hands. I swam towards him and met with huge relief displayed on his face. Bob really wasn't the best of swimmers. He grabbed my collar and attached himself to my back like a giant spider. I could barely breathe with his hands so strongly tied around my neck. Not without effort I swam to the pier and let Bob climb up first with me following right behind Christopher was already gone, heading towards the shore and his lackeys with him. Alex and Paul were sitting on the pier still trying to catch their breaths. I could see it on their faces that they all managed to hear Christopher's story out.
I looked at the three of them together on the pier, Bob lying on his belly, Paul leaning on his hands, stretched back and Alex hunched over. And then I noticed it. Bob too had wings. They were tiny, but they were there flapping back and forth trying to dry themselves. I smiled.
There was no smile back. Paul and Alex glanced at me with a bit of disappointment and just a tiny bit of resentment. Bob's look was sad and he obviously felt pity for me.
“You actually went on a compromise with that guy?” Paul asked.
“Well... yeah... but it was in the very beginning, before I even got to know you properly,” I tried to find an excuse. But there wasn't any that would explain my cruel behavior. And I felt that my explanation only made matters worse. “And I really didn't want anything interrupting my... my...” I felt tears in my eyes. I kept them back. I knew that in just a few moments I would have three people against myself.
“Your what?” Alex asked. “What would be so important as to complicate the life of your friends so much?”
“I...” I couldn't answer. Should I tell them? Tell them that I'm still holding onto a hope that I will find my childhood friends in this rotten place.
“We're going...” Paul said and stood up.
Alex and Bob followed him. I did remember how to get back but I felt a sudden tinge of fear. And yet another question arose. Was I that big of a bastard that I had no chance of being friends with the people I like?
Bob turned around one last time before he followed Paul down the pier. “Thanks...” he whispered, obviously torn between staying with me and going with Alex and Paul. He chose the second option.
I looked at their backs. Three sets of wings flopping in the air. One big and the other ones tiny but still beautiful. I didn't try following them even though I knew that it was probably all it took to get back on their good side. Another apology, another promise and they would have given me a second chance.
It was already dark when I got back. I spent my whole journey pondering about that feeling I had in the water. It had gone the moment all the sounds came blasting into my ears. Did I really know Bob before or was it just my imagination? Did we go to the lake? Did I go alone? Did I go at all?
I sneaked back to the dorms and into my room. Surprisingly finding it empty felt really disappointing and not relieving. I went to bed immediately, wondering wether or not I would be dreaming of anything that night.  

Friday, March 5, 2010

Fireworks ch07

Already the seventh chapter is up. I know I'm not very good at making up chapter/story names but I do my best. Hope you enjoy the story!

Love
~PhotoKisser

***

Chapter 7
"When both sides benefit, it's called cooperation."
Sylar woke up with his head hurting and full of voices echoing in his mind. He felt heavy. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even open his eyes. It was all his fault. He calmed his mind a little to separate the voices from each other. He heard two heartbeats he already knew and one that he couldn’t determine who it belonged to. The first two belonged to Noah Bennet from the “paper factory” where he used to be imprisoned and the invisible man. He was probably the one to hit him so hard that time. The third heartbeat reminded him of someone. It was slow and regular. Innocent. Finally he understood. It belonged to Mohinder. ‘Innocent?’ he thought with a little surprise. His mind wondered trying to determine if his thoughts were true or not. Mohinder definitely wasn’t innocent when pointing a gun at him, and shooting, and getting his spine fluids. But Sylar heard his heart beat like that before. Only once, but it still remained somewhere in his brain, almost forgotten. Mohinder was sleeping. That was the one thing he could be sure of. 
Sylar tried to move his hand but ended up using lots of strength to gain nothing. Pain filled his entire body from toes to the top of his head. He shut his eyes even more. He knew he couldn’t open them now. Even a simple move like blinking could make those people realize he was not asleep. 
He relaxed, let his stiff muscles loosen up, making the pain go away. He focused on the hearing sense slowly absorbing all the noise around him. For some reason this ability worked while he couldn’t use any others. At first he could hear every car passing by, even the drivers swearing as the traffic jam getting bigger, and bigger. Then he concentrated on the voices closer to him making all the others fade away. He couldn’t help but smile in his thoughts. This was his true ability. To control and understand. He could see how things work and thanks to that he could make any power obey him. 
There was mostly silence in the room. The three heartbeats he heard from the beginning, the same number of breaths and some less major sounds like the water drops regularly hitting the bottom of the sink, Mohinder rubbing the cold wood of the bookcases. Look at that… The lizard once again freed itself from its aquarium. Sylar once again smiled in his thoughts feeling a bit nostalgic. Just like the animal escaped every time it was locked in it’s aquarium, so did Sylar when he was caught. He wondered if Bennet knew he was going to once again escape from him. Even though it wasn’t sure Sylar felt like there was no way he would die or stay in this place for long. He saw it. 
‘You think it’s going to work?’ Sylar heard a voice with Irish accent. He never heard it before, so it was most likely the Invisible Man. Interesting. 
‘Mohinder said that he couldn’t use his powers.’ He heard a familiar voice. It was Bennet. ‘At least in the beginning. But that is enough.’
Sylar smirked. He knew it could make the two people realize he wasn’t sleeping, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was now sure that it was the same drug as last time. And he knew exactly what to do now. He took a deep breath and exhaled a short moment afterwards. His breathing became more regular and relaxed. He loosened up his whole body as if he wanted to get out of it. He waited. It was the only way. He had to wait until he had enough strength to use his powers for just a brief moment. But it was all it took.
‘What about him’ the Irish continued asking questions. 
‘It depends…’ a cold voice replied almost free of emotions. 
Him. Sylar knew exactly who they were referring to. His whole efforts to strengthen up were put to waist. His breath became rapid and shallow and his muscles stiffened. A shock of pain went through his entire body and he pressed together his teeth to stop a scream coming out of his mouth. 
Why…? Why did he act like that? It was the same as last time, when Mohinder stopped his attack. He tried again to calm down but his heart still couldn’t stop its fast beating. He cursed Mohinder in his thoughts and tried again promising himself to be as wary as it was possible. 
It worked. He felt like the time slowed down for him a bit and closed his mind inside him letting the time pass by as he was half sleeping and half aware of what was going on around him. Focus on your heartbeat, he said to himself. Focus on small, regular sounds. Don’t let them get to your head. Everything else was like a dream, but one he could easily remember. They weren’t talking about anything serious. All they said about what really concerned him was that they wanted him to be awake. Good. That could give him enough time to recover. In theory he should sleep at least a couple of hours more. 

Sylar smiled at the act he was going to prepare. These people knew nothing about him and his abilities. There was no way they could see through it. He slowly opened his eyes taking his time to get used to the light. Everything was prepared. 
Sylar slowly raised his head looking with fake tiredness ahead of him. He had to use the short moment when the two men still didn’t notice him to turn of the IV. It was on his left. Just like the last time. A second to find it. He heard their hearts race faster. Another one to turn it off. A weak click could be heard as one of them unlocked his gun. The last moment to look at them… 
He made it. Just as his head turned he and Bennet looked at each other. He was alone. Or at least the other guy… Claude was his name… was invisible. 
His heartbeat. Both of them were nervous, but Claude seemed to panic. His breath was a lot more rapid and Sylar could hear him step from one foot to another. He cursed himself for not being fast enough. He must’ve seen him turn the IV off. But he didn’t know that Sylar could hear him. He was probably there to eventually stop him. This made it a lot easier. With that the invisible man couldn’t show himself and he couldn’t say anything to Bennet. 
Sylar looked around a bit tired. He used up his strength to make the first step of his escape plan and now was the time to make the second one. Regaining energy. His eyes found another person whose heartbeat he heard earlier. The regular and shallow heartbeat. Mohinder’s heartbeat.
The Indian was sitting in a chair tied to it with duck tape. He looked as if he hasn’t slept for years. Weak and tired. Unconscious. Sylar could imagine that they gave him the same drug as they gave him, just in a smaller dose.
‘What did you do to him…?’ Sylar asked almost silently. 
‘What was that?’ Bennet didn’t hear his question.
‘What did you do to him!?’ Sylar shouted acting as if he tried to free himself. Mohinder was a pretty good way to earn their trust. 
‘Not much…’ Bennet answered using the same voice he had used when Sylar was imprisoned last time. ‘It’s weaker than what you have and it probably won’t leave any traces of it in his body. Completely harmless. But it’s weird… You, caring for other people… He tried to kill you, you know?’
‘Five times at least…’ Sylar made it straight. ‘Six counting the first time, actually… But he also helped me… So now I’m helping him…’
‘That’s different from what I heard from Mohinder… He said you were using him this morning.’
‘When both sides benefit it’s called cooperation.’ Sylar said with a smile. 
‘Then what does he get from you…? Have you got anything that interest him?’
‘Oh, I got something… And he can’t do anything without me…’ Sylar’s smile changed into a wide grin. ‘What are you going to do to him…?’ he then asked making a more serious face.
‘It depends…’ Bennet answered the same way he did before. ‘If he’s helping you I guess I have no choice. Besides, he can even be one of you…’
‘Mohinder?’ Sylar laughed weakly. ‘I would’ve known if he had any power…’
‘Why is he helping you?’ Bennet asked. Sylar recognized that tone of voice. He used it when the killer was threatening his daughter, Claire. He was angry and afraid. 
‘Because he is like me…’ Sylar answered calmly with a smile on his face. 
‘What do you want to achieve?’ Noah continued with the questioning, trying not to believe what he heard.
‘Why should I tell you…? You can’t stop me, so why don’t you just wait for the results?’ the killer kept on being cold and calm making Bennet angrier and angrier. It was much easier to defeat a nervous person and a lot simpler to control him. ‘You don’t want to kill me…’
‘Answer or I’ll shoot him!’ Bennet shouted pointing the gun at Mohinder’s forehead. This was something Gabriel didn't foresee. 
Bennet already put the Indian on his black list for intentionally helping Sylar, even though the two of them were getting along so well in the last few days. His desire to protect his daughter was so big he would kill Mohinder without a second of hesitation to keep her safe. Especially now, that the Indian was helping the person who once almost killed Clair. In the beginning he thought of simply shooting Sylar, but the murderer knew a lot of things he also desired to know. Plus, he wanted to make him suffer as much as it was possible. From what it looked like Sylar seemed a bit attached to the geneticist, so hurting him would be more painful then simply shooting the killer.
Sylar looked with a bit of fear at Mohinder. He dragged him into this mess. He ordered him to get help. It was his fault. No. It was Mohinder’s fault. He could’ve easily said he was being used and tried to disobey him, which was actually true, but instead he ended up just like him.
Sylar smiled hiding the little battle which was taking place in his soul. He knew exactly what would happen next, but even with that he couldn’t help but feeling a bit guilty and sorry for Mohinder. 
Finally logic won over his emotions. It was the safest way at that moment. 
‘Do it…’ Sylar whispered. 
Bennet looked amazed at him.
‘Do it!’ Sylar repeated shouting.
‘I’m not joking, Gabriel!’ Noah said still pointing the gun at Mohinder, but looking in the direction of the other prisoner. 
‘Then just get it over with! Or… maybe you’re just too scared…’
‘I’ll do what ever it takes to protect my family! Even if it means killing a friend…’ Bennet said with his hands trembling. The tension Sylar created became too much to handle.
‘Do it!’ Sylar screamed for the last time.

Bang! Bang!

Two bullets traveled through the room and stopped just before the Indian’s forehead. Sylar smirked. He already removed the tape holding him down. But before he stood up something held him down for a brief moment.
‘He wasn’t begging for his life… he was offering you yours…’ the three men heard a weak voice coming from the place, where the Indian was tied up. Then Sylar realized… There was a small change in his heartbeat. So subtle that he didn’t notice it. 
Mohinder was smirking with his head still dropped a little to his knees. 

Friday, February 26, 2010

Fireworks ch06

So the sixth chapter is up! Enjoy.

~PhotoKisser

***


Chapter 6
"He has her"

Sylar smiled as he looked again at the yellow letters in the notebook. He did that a couple of times already in the past few minutes. It seemed as if he was having a great time hearing Mohinder complain about Molly’s disappearance. 
‘It’s his…’ Sylar said (finally) making an end to the Indian’s words. 
‘What?’ Mohinder asked quickly with contempt. He couldn’t believe that the killer showed no respect for his feelings, and was obsessed with that little piece of paper. It felt as if he was insulting him.
‘It’s his handwriting, I recognize it…’ Sylar repeated, adding a little more details. 
‘And just what does that has to do with Molly’s disappearance?’ asked Mohinder.
‘He has her. If that’s the case, all we need to do is find him and we find your new little sister…’ explained Sylar a lot more calmly than Mohinder. ‘So now you have a better reason to help me…’
‘Great… just great… First I end up being a taxi driver and then I have to help the bad guy…’ Mohinder complained leaning on his desk.
Sylar ignored (once again) Mohinder’s whining and focused on something different. He took a notebook, different from the one with the sign and turned a couple of white pages. The paper where he opened was blank and was suited just fine for what he was about to do. Sylar’s eyes turned white and misty and his hand automatically took a pen from the desk. He went towards the red couch and sat on it focusing on the paper. 
After a few minutes the drawings were completed. They were simple, black and white sketches which put together made no sense. Sylar smiled looking at one of the pages. His expression changes as his eyes caught a glimpse of something in the picture. 
Sylar looked in Mohinder’s direction trying to find something that should be there. The Indian moved his hands all the time so it was hard to get even a short look at them. Finally his eyes caught a glimpse of the bandage on the Indian’s hand. Somehow it didn’t get his attention before, mostly because of the red gloves Mohinder was wearing until now. 
‘What happened to you?’ he asked with only a little concern in his voice. He was still using his “Zane Taylor” tone when he was around Mohinder but it already started changing and modifying to his original one. It was only because of his habits that he talked that way. 
‘It’s nothing…’ the Indian quickly replied. ‘Just a little scratch…’
‘Well that doesn’t look like just a scratch’ Sylar said with his tone changing again into a bit more of his normal way of speaking. 
‘Anyways, since Molly’s missing maybe we do something about it…’ said Mohinder returning to the primary topic. ‘Except talking about my hand…’ he added a few seconds later.
‘You already phoned Bennet… You said he will help us… so what’s the problem?’ 
‘Well, he just hung up on me… I don’t know if he’ll really come…’
‘Calm down… I’ll make you some tea…’ said Sylar moving from the couch to the kitchen. He infused the water and went back to where Mohinder was sitting. 
‘Don’t you think you should order my trainers first?’ he asked looking at the computer screen. 
Mohinder stared at Sylar in disbelief, but seeing the other man's ignorance he sighed and looked in the same spot Sylar did. He obediently kept his “promise”, how Gabriel called it. Just when he finished typing in the last information two sounds came to his ears. First was the… 

…swish…

 of the infused water and the second one was quiet knocking on the door. Sylar immediately stood up.
“I’ll go get it” he “said” with his fingers. He went towards the door and opened it. Mohinder couldn’t do anything to stop him.

***

The first thing Bennet did after the door opened was pull out a gun. He didn’t even get the chance to point it. The tall, dark haired man, who stood before him reached out with his arm and made the weapon fly a few meter’s further. After that Bennet felt his limbs become stiff. He couldn’t move and he felt like he had no ground under his feet. When he looked down he saw his shoes a few inches above the ground desperately trying to fall down and feel safe again. After that the man felt as if his breath was being greatly decreased as Sylar reached out his arm in front of him crushing Bennet’s throat with his unusual power leaving just enough space so that the air could hardly pass through. He smirked seeing, as his old enemy desperately tried to free himself. He backed out to the room with Bennet levitating without breath in the air, before him. Mohinder gave a protest, but it wasn’t enough to stop Sylar’s actions. 
He pushed Bennet on the couch and at the same moment he heard the heartbeat. 

Thump, thump… 

He didn’t recognize who it belonged to. He heard it from the very beginning. A weak, but always racing heartbeat, somewhere in the lobby. It never came close to him, always staying at a safe distance. Finally it decided to act. He smirked reaching with his hand in the direction of the heartbeat. A second later the person was about to hit the wall behind him. 
‘Stop!’ a loud voice reached Sylar’s ears. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to take the persons power, become invisible, he wanted revenge. But no power came to his hand. It stopped in the middle of the way, slowed down giving the person behind him enough time to...

Bang!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

A certain Heroes addiction & some music

After reading my own Heroes fanfiction recently I started watching Heroes again. The second and third volumes which I watched earlier were a bit bad so I stopped watching it but I have to say the fifth volume is genius. The story at least. I was a bit annoyed that each episode focused around only a few characters and often there was little of my favorite ones in it. I mean you can like Peter only that much. But Sylar was brilliant. Throughout the whole series he was just amazing! So, I rediscovered my love for him and Heroes and Mohinder (although I was disappointed that he had a wife, everything figured out and appeared very little). I finished the forth season now. It's a bit of a relief taking into account that since Friday I didn't really do anything and I only watched Heroes. Yup, it was less than a week. I haven't written much and I most certainly didn't follow through with my attempt to finish Torchwood by last Sunday. I will do it by this Sunday though. There's no Heroes to disturb me now :-)

Great news! I got my tickets for Editors gig in April. I'm so happy. I was really stressed that I wouldn't make it - there were no tickets available from any of the sites. But I managed it. Now only tickets for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are left to buy. And maybe also for Subways if I go with my friend. It would be quite cool. Can't wait for any of them. I have a wall where I hang all the photos from the gigs I've been to. I've got about 30 already but I still have to print out another 45 and I need to find some photos from other gigs I've been to. When I finish my masterpiece I'm gonna take a picture and post it.

I listened to a lot of David Bowie during the weekend. I wanna learn how to play a few songs on the piano. It's gonna be hell oh but the beauty of those songs will make everything worthwhile.

I also found a band called Choo Choo today. They were quite nice I have to say. And when I had a choice them or Arctic Monkeys they totally won. I've had a day of finding new bands today. You can't do much in an hour (the rest of the time I was watching Heroes) but you can most definitely accept one band and discard another three. Yes, the Choo Choo band was the only one I checked that I liked. I tried giving Arctic Monkeys a chance but I guess it doesn't work that way. I can be positively psyched about something but in the end it's the music that counts.

Now I'm off to watch this -> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V31POD2otRk
pigeons and seagulls are probably one of the weirdest omnipresent birds in existance.

Fireworks coming up Friday and on 9th March there's gonna be a continuation of Outsiders. I am already thinking about the next part as well as putting up another one of my old stories. It won't be soon though. I'd rather finish one thing first and then continue with another.

Cheers

~PhotoKisser

Friday, February 19, 2010

Fireworks ch05

Now up is Fireworks chapter 5. I am actually considering putting this up at ff.net but I'm not really sure. At least for now I'm a bit too lazy. Maybe I will attract some readers from there. It would be nice.

I continued to correct it yesterday and I actually got a bit drawn into it. Silly, I know but what can I say. I don't remember all that I wrote there and some parts are a bit daft but some are nice. Currently at ch 10 so I'm half way through (yes, it's that long. I was surprised as well). I really love Sylar and Mohinder though. I will have to catch up with the series soon. Stopped watching at the third season.

Currently listening to Radiohead Karma Police <3. Previously was The Killers with Bones and I love that song so much.

Anyways, enjoy the story.

~PhotoKisser

***


Chapter 5 
“Let the game begin”

‘A dream…?’ Mohinder said with contempt. ‘You want me to help you find a guy from a dream that you know nothing about…’
‘He’s got a power and I know what he looked like… a bit’ Sylar disagreed quickly. ‘Besides I do all the killing, so in reality you got the easy part!’ he grinned. 
‘Explain to me again: why do I have to sit here with you talking about killing someone?’ Mohinder asked making the question sound like a rhetorical one.
‘Because you think I’m right… And I’ll hurt your new little sister if you don’t…’ Sylar answered immediately.
Mohinder gritted his teeth. It was true. For some odd reason the killer knew every inch of Mohinder’s soul; even the parts he himself wasn’t sure about. Molly thought of him as a friend, maybe even a father she lost at such a young age. And he tried to find in her someone who had already died. His sister. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t see the girl as she really was. She wasn’t much older than his sister when she had died, they both had the same disease, and neither of them was more or less pretty than the other. His long hidden loneliness made an exit towards the little girl. 
‘You understand, right?’ Sylar put an end to his thoughts. 
Mohinder nodded silently with a grim smile on his face.

Riiiiing, riiiiing… 

Mohinder’s phone rang and with that well-known sound the whole world returned to him. He took the phone out of the pocket of his light brown jacket. The screen showed the name of the caller. It was Noah Bennet. Mohinder looked in panic at Sylar who was sitting before him on a comfortable straw chair. He had a grin on his face. Just seeing it made everything clear.
‘Hi!’ Mohinder said answering the phone. After a short and uncomfortable talk with Bennet he put the phone back in his pocket. The conversation was full of lies from his side. It wasn’t good but the Indian had no choice. Under the careful look of the killer, Mohinder quietly finished his coffee. Focusing on the cup he didn’t see Sylar’s eyes pointed at him but he could surely feel them. The man sitting in front of him hid the fact quite well. Each time Mohinder took even a glimpse at him, Sylar was either drinking his own coffee or glaring with questioning look at his shoe. 
‘Mohinder?’ Sylar asked suddenly. ‘Can I ask you something?’
The Indian looked at him surprised.
‘Can you… buy me new shoes?’ the killer asked quietly, like a little boy asking for a new toy. ‘You know I lost my one shoe from the last pair…’ he added trying his best to convince the Indian at least a little.
Mohinder looked straight ahead with evident shock on his face. Of everything Sylar could ask him, he asked for shoes. 
‘What next… a priest robe?’ he asked, still unsure if he heard right.
‘No…’ Sylar answered as if he didn’t hear the little rhetorical accent in Mohinder’s tone. ‘So, what about it?’ he didn’t let Mohinder go with that small answer.
‘Okay…’ the Indian gave up. He already knew that he wouldn’t win this “fight”. Plus, he felt a bit comfortable around that man, especially when they were talking about things other than himself. For some reason, Sylar understood him more than anyone ever before. 
Gabriel smirked grimly. 
This wasn’t right, Mohinder thought. He was a murderer. He killed his father and lots of other innocent people. But now, from what he understood, Sylar was trying to do something “good”. Well, killing a bad person could be good, but Mohinder wasn’t even sure if Sylar’s next victim was evil. If he was then there would be no problem aside from conscience but if he wasn't then what would happen? Would he be able to stop Sylar?
‘Let’s go,’ he said taking the empty cup and all the other trash he left after eating and leaving the comfortable cafĂ© into the cold street. 
Sylar smirked following him out. Forcing the geneticist on his side wasn’t so hard after all… Plus, he knew how things work. And although Mohinder’s soul was complicated and full of barriers, for him figuring it out was as easy as riding a bike. 
‘What now?’ Mohinder asked throwing his trash away.
‘Now…? Now… we go shopping…’Sylar said.
Another shock. Mohinder looked at him with surprise. His eyes sparkled as he walked down the street leaving the Indian behind. He grinned turning around and waving a black credit card in the air. 
‘Hey!’ Mohinder shouted already running to get his Visa back. He jumped at his hand but it was already gone. Sylar overwhelmed him in both height and power, so there was no chance in getting the card back on his own. ‘OK… I’m going…’ he gave up and Sylar’s half-innocent grin widened. 

Five minutes later

Sylar was looking at a black shirt with red stitches and buttons. He searched for the right size and took it. He did the same with some other T-shirts, pants and blouses. Most of them were black and simple, but even so, Sylar looked very unique in them. In the end, he left first shop with one almost full bag of clothes for three days. 
‘Much better,’ he said grinning. He looked as Mohinder took a grim look at his credit card. ‘Now for the shoes…’ he added making the Indian’s anger even bigger. 
Mohinder held his feelings inside and simply nodded annoyed with Sylar’s childish acting. But he couldn’t oppose. Each time he tried to defy him his hands moved on their own and he couldn’t do anything to stop them. So he had to play along. Making a scene would only make things worse. When that happened Mohinder felt Sylar’s warm breath on his neck, even though the man was already checking if there’s another shirt that he would want to buy. But the feeling of fear and being controlled didn’t disappear. Especially, when none of them said anything. Talking made him feel comfortable, but it was the opposite with staying silent.
‘Mohinder’ a voice called him interrupting his thoughts. 
He looked up to see that he had lost the track of Sylar. He turned around just to see the man looking at him and pointing at the entrance to a shoe store. 
Mohinder went back and entered the shop just after Sylar did. After looking through a bunch of shoes they finally found Sylar’s “perfect trainers”. They were black with red shoelaces that could be laced throughout almost the entire shoe. It had eyelets almost in every place on the sides of the trainers. With those the set of his clothes would finally be complete. But unfortunately the size didn’t fit. 
Sylar looked with disappointment at the shoes. He grinned insanely. In just a few seconds the shoe was already in the air. 
‘Stop that!’ Mohinder shouted with his voice strangled. 
Sylar looked at him with contempt and moved his finger a bit. The shoe slowly traveled through the air towards its box, but in the last moment it turned around and hit Mohinder in his stomach. The Indian curled, but picked up the shoe and placed it in the box. He looked at Sylar with pity. 
‘There’s always internet you fool…’ he said to himself, knowing that the man would hear him. 
Sylar looked at Mohinder with hope in his eyes. The Indian found himself pushed against the wall with just that one look. He sighed knowing that he couldn’t escape now. He put the trainers back on the shelf and exited the shop without looking back at Sylar. The man followed him anyway.
‘So, now what?’ asked Mohinder for the second time this day.
‘We go home…’ Sylar gave the instructions. 
They took a taxi to Queens, but Mohinder made the cab stop before the building where the apartment of Chandra Suresh was first. Checking in on Molly was his first priority in that very moment. 
Mohinder went upstairs and unlocked the door. He went inside the room seeking any trace off the little girl. She left the empty, Starbucks bag on the table where the computer was, but besides that there was no trace of the little girl. He went into the bedroom – the last hope he got for finding her. 
It was empty. 
The only unusual thing he found there was a black notebook lying on the bed. He took it and quickly opened. In panic hurried down stairs to find Sylar. 
He didn’t have to. The man he was looking for appeared before him just as he was leaving the apartment. 
‘Look at this’ Mohinder said passing him the notebook. ‘Are you happy now?’ he asked drawing immediate conclusions. ‘It’s all your planning, right?’
Sylar took the notebook in his hands and turned carefully at the first page. When he first looked he didn’t see anything because of the black pages, but soon he found the yellow ink on the middle of the paper. He grinned widely. The sign on the page said:
“Let the game begin.” 

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Music, annoying software & google buzz?

I haven't got any new stories yet but I guessed I could just write something anyways. A few interesting things have happened during the last week.

First the new google buzz appeared (or I just accidentally got it on my gmail account - no idea to be honest). I don't understand that thing at all! I mean sure, it connects twitter, picassa, blogger and so on but how come I have 16 followers out of which 1/3 is apparently myself.

The other thing is that annoying High School Programming League. My CS teacher makes me participate and sure the programs aren't that bad but still the site just isn't tolerant for java. I had to put one program in C++ because of it and I needed to search for a good compiler. I ended up with some program which I later came to a conclusion should've installed in the terminal but of course I didn't. In the end I apparently can't use C++ in my other compiler. I don't know if I can ever use C++ again. I messed something up and probably seriously. I know I should just use Python but I would need to sit down properly, print out a proper guide and then just do it step by step. On the other hand I have ready C++ codes to base my own and I know how to import and other things like that so it's easier for me. Am I boring anyone? Probably not since nobody reads this damn blog or they just don't comment.

As for music I got really cross with my acquaintance (can't really call him friend... mate? no, still too familiar). He represents every aspect that I despise of music fandom. "New bands are shit, only old classic rock and jazz are what people should listen to." Makes me sick. I can be persuasive but never will I dislike something just because it's new or has black in the name. That kind of thinking pulls music back and then we end up with Foo Fighters (sorry to all fans, I really don't like them) and lots and lots of copy cats.

I am continuing to write Torchwood. Currently working on the third episode and I want to finish it till Sunday to prove to myself that i can write a whole epie in one week. Not an easy task and I will have to dismiss school and everything else but I really need to work on it some more. I'm currently printing out the second part and I'm extremely proud of it. When I finish the third part I'm going to send the beginning to the Torchwood Magazine. Maybe something comes out of it. That would be nice. If not, I'm still going to publish it. I'm going to do my own forth series. With a proper storyline.

I was thinking about where I should study and I thought of four cities in the UK (excluding the rest of the world - haven't thought about those yet). One of them is Glasgow. So if I do get into the Glasgow Uni and I will still be obsessed with Torchwood (how can I not be, right?) I am so writing a story about myself being in Torchwood 2. Highly unlikely though judging from my grades (for now at least). Worst part is. I actually get pretty average grades for Polish and it's driving me mad because I'm really working hard and I've never ditched a lesson! I never play truant. Same with physics. But I guess I will just have to sit down to it once and study really seriously for a few days and then show everybody what I'm really made of and then their jaws are going to drop when I get 100%.

As for future uploads next up will be again Fireworks. I'm going to post it on Friday as from now on until I finish posting Fireworks it's going to be called Fireworks Day. Each Friday I will post another chapter. Other stories will also have their days: Outsiders is 9th of every month from today onwards. But that's the only one aside from Fireworks I can predict.

That is all for today. Next up will be my thoughts about nietzcheanizm. Where he's right and where I absolutely hate his guts. I really hate philosophy...

~PhotoKisser