Topic: DTJ - Modern Times.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-01-08 20:38 EST
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDY CASEFILE - 1000314904AH SUBJECT NAME: D'LON JONEAS. RANK: GENERAL - 01 KNOWN ALIASES: DILLON TACITUS JONES. THE WEAPON OF THE FIRST. RED WARRIOR. WAR LEADER. THOMAS CARLYLE. DILLON BONES. THE BADGE. SIX STRING SLINGER. PLUTARCH SMITH. FURIE01. HE WHO WALKS QUICKLY. MICHEAL VOLTAIRE. UNBREAKABLE SERPENT ARM ZERO ONE. THE FATHER. . LONG DILL THE PIRATE. BEARER OF THE NINE #Eight blades. I gave one to Chris. At least keep up to date.# BLADES. . . . .

POSSIBLE DATA INTERRUPTION. RESETTING IN 3....2....1...

POSSIBLE DATA INTERRUPTION. RESETTING IN 3....2....1...

#Greetings, people of The Company. I. Am. Killface...#

POSSIBLE DATA INTERAPTION. RESEPPING IN 3izzle....2izzle....izzle...

#No, not really. But I always wanted to say that. Damn, they must of upgraded the security protocols in these things since I was last here. Give me a second...#

PROBABLE DATE INTERACTION. RESERVING IN 3.8 TO THE 64th POWER SECONDS...

#There we go. I sent the security intelligences on a date for a few eons. Should give me time to pump this out and keep it up before they catch on.#

#By them, I mean me really. Hello, I'm Dillon. And I am 'The Man' in the linguistic vernacular that I am in some way, your boss. If you came here you wanted to know a little bit about me for whatever reason.#

#And I respect that, and even encourage it.#

#But not for me.#

#I am not a complete *** though. Since my last few attempts at erasing this file did not work. Nor did my porn video bomb I left here....which surprised me, because some of that shocked even me....I will be using this space as temporary storage for useless pictures and logs that overflow from my main pile. Who knows what will end up here, but it will be recent.#

#So recent you might not understand it. But understand this.#

#Everything I do. I do for a reason. For the reason I hope you all do what you do, for. We uphold the tenets of The Company.#

#We protect Mortality.#

#From what is inconsequential. But we do not protect them, from themselves.#

#Either way, Image dump incoming...#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8333/8362260491_5c51fa39fc_z.jpg #Alternate Terra 431IZ. They were -still- fighting world war II, I was pretty proud of the scrappy Terrans. It was a simple black order against some Outsiders Mark II Infernal class. No one ever noticed us despite the fact we all had the same face....I won a five million credit bet because of this. Thanks Marcus. That's me, to the far right.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8080/8362260231_678801ca43.jpg #Alternate Terra 874UJ. This I think is a good picture of Sargent Baxter. We were there for a Red order insertion for an anomalous object. Apparently their world had a large mustache versus beard war. As the Sarge can tell you, the mustaches won.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8368/8363324552_0d09900d67.jpg #PERSONAL PICTURE OVERFLOW. YOUR INBOX IS FULL WITH 304.2 EXABYTES OF DATA. PLEASE CLEAN OUT OR ASSIGN A VIRTUAL INTELLIGENCE TO CLEANING DUTIES. THIS IS AUTOMATED MESSAGE NUMBER 1,801,203 FOR GENERAL DILLON TACITUS JONES REPEATING. - PERSONAL PICTURE OVERFLOW...#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8464/8363323652_a8f903808e.jpg #Alternate Terra 623TY. Nobody gets the joke. Police are still looking for me here. Distraction proved enough time to neutralize possible other realm entry point. Estimated lives saved from initial expulsion of energy, 10, 432. Actual loss of lives, 0. They labeled me crazy. Nobody gets the joke....That might be your greatest power or our worst weakness, I just don't know.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8503/8363324460_f6980fe182.jpg #I....Honestly have no way of telling you how this all came about. But you know what? It worked.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8467/8362302383_599a3266a4_m.jpg #Alternate Terra 201UT-D4. I am really, really sorry this went down. Again, I apologize to those company operatives that were caught in the blast radius and the subsequent genetic reordering that had to be done to them and any nightmares or waking dreams that resulted from such. I will pay for any memory deletion services and provide my own medical bays for such. In my defense, I did say I was going to shoot that creature. Like six times. Angel or not. Not one of you asked 'with what?'#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8471/8363324408_a1e75947ee.jpg #WINNERS. Best dressed Infernal hunt of 2012. From R to L. Sgt. Henson. Lt. Col. Joneas. Lt. Henderson. Spc. Dok'ral. Congrats guys. Complete and utter BS though, my group went as the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Group. -And- we got more kills then you. Just saying.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8085/8362260543_53fb3f03a4.jpg #Alternate Terra 723IT - D1. Black order. Quick strike, ten minutes. We all know the call. Fully Armored, pumping, moving to my target and I look over and see this mother running beside me....Towards the same objective for his own reasons. This is why Mortality will defeat everything in the whole of the multiverse. This is why we will never be stopped and why the fire will never die. Also, welcome Private First Class Johnson, recruited.#

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8083/8363323876_ca4e335232.jpg #Science!....Whatever, it worked. Pay up.#

MORE PICTURE OVERFLOW POSSIBLE.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-01-08 22:43 EST
MEMORY LOG UNKNOWN DESIGNATION UNKNOWN TIME

He wore the bars of lieutenant on his shoulder. Hidden under the covering over his coat and away from the eyes of the public. Never would tell anyone, but it did make him proud to have it. He saw what they could do and he wanted to help them do it. The bars were just another step.

Until then, his duty must always be done. This was why he was standing out in the middle of the pouring rain on a Chinese street.

The Company mined data in the way they mined minerals. They sucked out everything useful from entire planets without even breaking a sweat. Somewhere all data was funneled and sifted by hundreds of thousands of intelligences that combed for the most minor of interesting pieces.

The interesting pieces were always the glitches in the system. Normally, cultures were pretty easy to track. People were born, people died. They had an average life span. They made and lost money. They lived. But to the unblinking eyes of the data miner intelligences of the Company, they were all just ones and zeroes.

When the glitches came up, The Company looked harder. And this amount of missing persons in a small area, got them looking very hard.

"You do not want to go in there." The shrill tone of Mandarin brought Dillon from his mindlessness. Dark eyes moving down to the form of the old woman, huddled in the far alleyway across the street. Protecting her bike from the rain.

"I do not' Why not?" Dillon answered back in flawless Chinese that had the woman stopping for a second. But not as much as that grin that came from the man. It was warm, but in some way, in unnerved her more then the house the man stood in front of.

"People go in there....Never come back out. Priests put up wards..." Her fingers pointed to the chalk diagrams Dillon had already took in, but he looked any way to make her feel more comfortable. Still, when he looked back, he just grinned her way. And gave a humorless chuckle she understood well.

"I have to go in there." Dillon said, with more mirth then anything else. Looking back to the building as he turned fully away from the woman. But she got the point, she was already walking away quickly. Rain or not.

"I have to go in there..." He repeated to himself. Then took one long breath. The last breath for a long time before the Black over came him and he charged in.

COMPANY REPORT: AFTER ACTION. 24 CONFIRMED OTHERWORLDLY ENTITY KILLED, CLASSIFICATION 103423. 'The Heartless'. 0 COMPANY CASUALTIES. 46 CONFIRMED MORTAL BODIES. 30 MALE 16 FEMALE. ALL OF ASIAN DECENT. ALL PROBABLE DEATHS CAUSED BY EXSANGUINATION AFTER HEARTS WERE REMOVED FROM CHEST CAVITY. 87% LIKELIHOOD OF MEMORY ALTERING OBJECT. OBJECT CLASSIFIED AS 8175AU. !!!CAUTION IS ADVISED!!!

He wore the leaf of Major, on his collar. It was another step, and while short he was surprised at how much things had changed.

They all used to move so slow, he remembers. Taking lifetimes to complete single buildings. Now, they erected palaces in minutes. He was so proud of them.

And yet, on the other side, there had been so much to see. So many more chances lost, so many more failures, so much more death.

Still, the man who stood in front of the building was standing there proudly. And comfortably, from the looks of it. The sun beat down on him. Something he grinned at. But it did not seem to fully beat down on the building he was looking at.

"I wouldn't go in there." Came the voice nearby. This time it was a homeless man huddled across the street that stared past Dillon at the building, watching it.

Dillon turned to face him slowly. Taking in what he could. But he knew what he saw here. He bowed his head and gently placed his hand to his chest to the man.

"I greet you, Soldier. And I thank you for your vigilant watch, but I do not think you will be needed anymore." It was weird. But the way Dillon spoke the words came with the promise that they were etched in stone. He believed in what he said then to the other man.

It was enough to bring the man from looking from the building to look at Dill. He blinked, quietly. Speechless.

"I know. People go in there and don't come out..." Dillon went on, with a friendly grin.

"Can you stop it?" Asked the man, with a sharp curiosity borne of fear and desperation.

"I will do my best to try." Responded Dillon just as quickly. With a slow nod.

Both men were quiet then. Just watching each other in the warm breeze. Dillon's grin bloomed a bit after a second or two.

"This kind of duty, should not go unrewarded..." Motioning from the man, to the building, and back. "...Where I am from, someone who stands guard is rewarded quite well. Name your reward, soldier." As if it was just common talk between them. This was the strength of Dillon's words again.

The man was silent. The weight of such a thing was too much. It overpowered the thought that such a question was a joke. It was real.

Dillon just grinned wider. Bowing his head for a moment in respect to the man. Then, he just looked back to the building in quiet contemplation.

It was a long while of silence again until the homeless man spoke up.

"What....did you do?" It was different now. It was just all, different now. Eyes were wide for a moment as thoughts flowed in, clearly.

"Some minor rewiring of your synapses. I hope you don't mind. But your schizophrenia is gone now." Words flowed out from Dillon like water. Gentle and smooth, even with what he said. "There is a briefcase of money, a few streets over. I suggest you go get it before someone else does."

The man was up in motion already. More out of a pure fear of what Dillon had done then anything else.

"I look forward to seeing you on the line, soldier..." Dillon rumbled at the man's back. His eyes never leaving the building. "...But here and now, I will walk this path."

"I will walk this path..." Repeated, before he took a deep breath. His last for a while. Then his heart stopped. Then the Black overcame him, and he charged in.

COMPANY REPORT AFTER ACTION 43 CONFIRMED HEARTLESS KILLED. 1 UNKNOWN ETHERAL ENTITY DISCOVERED. DESTROYED. 23 MORTAL BODIES FOUND. 16 MALE 7 FEMALE. CAUSE OF DEATH IS SAME AS LAST VICTIMS IN REPORT # 113823 ATTACHED TO FILE. OBJECT 8175AU WAS ASSUMED PRESENT. AT THE PRESENT ITS LOCATION IS UNKNOWN.

#We found this quicker then the last time, and there was more creatures. This doesn't make sense, but I don't care about making sense.#

#This thing is preying on our kind without limits. Find it, and destroy it. Now.#

He wore the star of General not on his form, but in his heart. Where it had always been, where it never mattered what he wore on his shoulder.

Especially now, that there was no rank on his form anywhere.

It was the Metro this time. It all flooded back to him with he just, felt, something was off and paced the city for days looking for it. Now all the memories of his past rushed back to him as he stood in front of another building on a Rhy'Din street.

It all just washed over him as he stood there. The rage boiling up in him, dangerously. It was almost enough for him to just, burst right there, until a voice came out from the darkness.

"I wouldn't go in there..." Said a young boy, standing in the shadows of the alley way. Street smarts all over him, to the point that even Dillon seemed a bit surprised when he looked his way.

"I have to go in there." Answered Dillon back. Forcing a grin on his lips. But even the kid seemed to see through it. Cocking his head.

"You don't want to..." The young man snapped back, just as fluidly as the man. It brought a bark of a laugh from Dillon as he turned to face the boy, fully.

"No, I don't. But I have to." His honesty was plain as simple. Gloved hands opening up as if Dillon didn't have a choice in the matter.

The kid looked from the building, then back to Dillon.

"Is it worth it?" Was his only question. Probably finding no reason to go into the building in his mind. Almost pleading with Dillon to give him one.

Dill's mouth opened, then shut slowly.

"No."

A simple answer that hung in the air. The kid didn't seem to even catch it. Until Dillon slowly shook his head.

"No. It is never really worth it....But that is why we have to do things like this."A small grin there. A hope that one day the boy will understand. But it wasn't all manure in his fields. Sun shown through, in it's own way. "Want to see something cool?" Dillon suddenly asked the kid, to brighten him up.

"Yeah!" quickly snapped back.

"Alright....but you have to promise me you will go home after this. Home, lock the doors, don't come out to morning. Promise?"

"Promise."

"Cool." One last grin. One last breath. One last heartbeat. Then the black poured from his skin. Over taking him. Discarding flesh for the too-tall form of Black Armor that now suddenly was standing in front of the wide eyed young man.

"Now. Go home. A promise is a promise..." Tone was mechanical and emotionless, but it still somewhat sounded like the man who once stood there. The kid didn't argue, he ran. And the visor of Dillon's technological mask panned back to the door of the small house.

"A promise is a promise..." Mechanical tone rolled out to no one, and with a raise of his hand a burst of pure force snapped into the air in a shock wave. Shattering the front door and allowing him entrance, even if he had to duck.

After the first step in, he curled his hand back over his shoulder and pulled a weapon from seemingly mid air. Half there, half built in his grip as he brought it back around. A rifle, though one well beyond a simple fire arm. Shouldered and brought against him as he slowly paced into the house.

The place was....dead. No lights, no real furniture, no fixtures. But there was still food in the shelves of the kitchen Dillon walked by. There was still water in glasses on the sink. This was two worlds now. One that had been, and the one that took over.

Large form was quite agile despite it's size. The floorboards didn't even creak in the passing of Armored boots on them. The deathly silence wasn't even broken as the form moved from the shadows behind Dillon. Slowly curling over him.

Hideous. There was no way else to describe such a mockery of flesh. Barely a jaw and teeth, but no head. Skinny necks, skinny arms, skinny legs. Flesh that looked like more jerky then flesh. And a large hole in the middle of its chest....It curled over the armored form of Dillon as he crept down the hallway. Completely unaware.

Or so it would seem, as just when the shadowy form behind him seemed to tense for a pounce Dillon was snapping around. Hand coming out as blades snapped out from armored wrist to catch the beast right on the neck. The spurt of fluid went everywhere, but not as quickly as the call came from the nightmares severed head. It pitched, it keened.

Dillon turned without even thinking. Looking down the hallway just as more forms appeared. Killswitch was engaged, and he jabbed an armored fingertip down on the firing stud of the rifle. With the low whine of magnetics the weapon began to spit metal. Tiny needles of it that snapped into the rushing forms of the monsters with a deceptive and earth shattering force.

Limbs were torn. Heads were cleaved off. Chests exploded. But they never stopped it would seem. Dillon kept firing as he shifted the grip of his rifle to one hand just so he could draw his other one back. A pistol half appearing half made in its grip so he could start firing off rounds the opposite direction. Where the beasts already began to flank him.

They got closer and closer despite every shot. Closer and closer. Until at the very end when they reached out to touch him....Dillon smashed an armored boot into the floorboards and sent a sharp wave of force down. Shattering the wood like it was just paper and sending everyone to the basement in a chaotic rush of bodies and force.

Dillon landed on his feet. Controlled in the descent that sent everything spilling down with him. There was only the smallest of moments before he snapped up his rifle and he automatic lights from his armor popped on in such a deep darkness.

They were lined in the basement to the brim. The only spot without them standing shoulder to shoulder was around Dillon. They bayed at him. They called. They reached out to his mind. To his thoughts. They found higher walls they they thought possible, technology that baffled them. They also found something else.

Dillon's tone came out again there, breaking their Mexican stand off.

He looked down he top of his rifle without question. Singling out a single one over the sights. Re calibrated by a thousand sensors on his form that made such a thing second nature.

"Die." It came out a sharp, single word. No long speeches. No great works of linguistic art. It did however, sum up his entire feeling at that point. Another press of the firing stud sent the weapon into action. Shattering the face he was looking back before he quickly swung it over others with devastating accuracy.

It was not enough though. The horde flowed onto the form of Dillon and changed the fight. In a split second the rifle was drop, deconstructing in mid air as blades snapped out of his wrist again.

Don't let them on top of you.

The single thought in his head as he met the first wave and smashed his fist into the face of the first that came close. Blades digging into whatever made up its flesh and used to send Dill up in a small leap that had him wildly slashing at bodies. On top of the wave, but it pushed him along. He felt hands digging into armor, seeking places to pull and tug.

Don't let them on top of you.

The thought repeated as the wave of flesh took him right through a support beam to he basement and kept going. They were strong. Even now the beginnings of warning lights were popping up in his mind. He kept slashing. Kept feeling blades slice through bodies. More fell, but more kept coming.

Don't let them on top of you.

More speed, more momentum backwards. There was no stopping him now. His hand came back as if to stop him from hitting the wall, but there was just no chance. He slammed into the concrete with enough force to send shattering spider cracks down the entire length of the wall.

And, break the pipe right beside Dillon that began to leak an orderless colorless gas everywhere.

They all seemed to catch it. Everything just, stopped, as the horde of beasts watched Dillon. Then watched him sharply drag the blades from his hand on the wall over the concrete, sparking it, and turning the basement into hell for a few quick seconds when the gas line ignited.

There was nothing left of the basement after that. Nothing much left of the floor above it, to be honest. In the aftermath though there was one thing. The armored form of Dillon walking over debris. Calculatingly picking off the wounded nightmares, one, by, one.

It took some maneuvering to get up to the second floor, but Dillon did it. Walking up what was left of the stair case slowly. He knew what was up here. He felt it. He was close. He paced down the hallway, slowly. Until he just stopped and looked at a shut door.

This was the room.

There was a life in it. A human one.

Weapon was slowly lowered. Mind, still reeling from the combat, fought to find some sort of normalicy. He could of taken off his helmet, but he didn't. He didn't know what was in there. But he did quietly speak out.

"Hello?" Mechanical voice did it's best to feel warm and caring, and actually managed it quite well. A small cheat, but right now it didn't matter. But there was no answer.

"Hello' I'm here to help. We can get through this..." He tried against. Armored palm placed gently on the door. Just waiting to press it open, or feeling...

"You can't help me." Came the quiet whisper that even Dillon heard.

"No, I can. I can get you out of here. I can help you." He tried to pour his heart in his words. But he knew it was fading already. He knew the ending here. He just didn't want to see it.

"You can't help me..." One last final whisper, then the terrible sound of flesh ripping. Dillon didn't even move. He just stood there.

He couldn't walk into that room. He knew what was in there. What it did. He couldn't risk it. His armor shut down all sensors. Became deaf and dumb. It pushed open the door. It called for a containment box that was placed around that unknown object and sealed it. It gave the okay signal, and Dillon blinked awake again to look around.

It was a nursery.

There was nothing his mind could even do to think on this. He just, dumbly looked around. A crib. A chair to rock the baby to sleep with. A body, new, near three others.

A pace to walk over to the fallen form of the woman. Blood still spreading down her chest from the gruesome hole there. Heart, gone. But that didn't draw Dillon sight. What did was what he saw when his armored fingers gently touched her brow to shut her eyes for the final time.

They were the most amazing pair of green eyes he had ever seen.

COMPANY REPORT. 68 HEARTLESS KILLED. 4 CONFIRMED MORTAL DEATHS. 1 MALE. 1 FEMALE. 1 CHILD. 1 INFANT. UNKNOWN OBJECT 8175AU CAPTURED. PROCESSED. ANALYZED. VOTED ON AND WAITING DESTRUCTION.

OBJECT IDENTIFIED AS ONE(1) POLAROID BRAND PHOTOGRAPH. WRITTEN ON ITS FRONT ARE THE WORDS 'GOOD TIMES, CHRISTMAS '77' IN IT. FIGURES IN PHOTO APPEAR DISTORTED AND UNIDENTIFIABLE.







One last walk with this story. The Armored form of Dillon found himself deep in The Company. They never found a hole deep enough to toss some of the stuff they found, so they made their own. And here is where he was walking the box holding Object 8175AU.

It was placed in a holding tank, which quickly shut around it. Warning beacons blared off and lights flashed, but Dillon did not care. The impassive armored form just watched the entire assembly be shot out into the space the Company made, towards the giant sphere of black in the middle.

A singularity. A black hole.

Gravitational forces made it so the package was lost to Dillon's sight even when it left. Time shifting and stretching as the thing was just, wiped out. Then the form simply turned and left. Walking away. Pacing all the way back to the doors of the small elevator, which shut behind him as armor bled off to just leave his flesh and blood standing there.

Doors shut. Elevator chimed. And began to rise. Through elevation and pure reality. Finding it's way back home to The Company. Dillon was left there, staring at nothing. Quiet. Then it just broke.

Fist smashed into the wall with a terrible roar of anger. He lashed out at the door. He hit anything he could hit as hard as he can. Feeling bones break, and heal in the same breath. But it wasn't enough. He found himself caught in the corner. Sobbing into his hands as he slowly slipped down the metal.

Seventy Three.

"I'm so sorry!" He bawled out to no one.

All dead. Seventy three.

"I'm so sorry! Please!" His form racked with the sobs as he broke down.

You are supposed to be the best...

"I'm so sorry!"

You failed seventy three of them.

"Please! I'm so sorry! Just!..."

The child. The infant

"Oh please! I'm so sorry!"

The woman...

"Make it stop! Please I'm so sorry!"

Her eyes....

"Please! I can't..."

...Her green eyes

"I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry..." Over and over again. But it was never enough. He was broken. Just huddled in the corner crying. Rocking lightly as his failure washed over him.

Seventy three.

And her eyes... ...God, they were so beautiful.





*Ding*. The doors opened up, and the form of Dillon walked out from them as normally as ever. Pacing down the hallway of The Company and back into the thickness of work. His eyes showed no tears. His mind showed no cracks.

If anything, he walked out of that elevator more determined then before.



#Six months. 2 deaths. 4 complete mind wipes and 16 partial ones later...#

#And I still see those green eyes of hers.#

#...It's not worth it.#

#But someone has to do it.#

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-01-25 20:41 EST
It was a great irony that with how the man's life was, that his house was perhaps one of the most calm places in all of the city. Now, he was as modern as he dared to be.

Even when the door shut and the quiet overcame him he was lost to his thoughts, the comings and goings of his mind already lashing out in ten thousand problems that needed ten thousand solutions. Lost in his own mind as he went about the business of picking up plates. Not even noticing doors opening and the life of his room mates beginning again, after he bribed them to stay in their rooms.

The large man in the fluffy pink bathrobe was the first one to the kitchen, and the first one to take the leftovers right from Dillon's hand and place them back on the counter so he could pick over them.

No words from the man. Dillon did his best to go about cleaning up, but the motions were just that. Movements to keep his mind occupied. The silence hung for long minutes, dangling between both man and fluffy pink bathrobe wearer, who was contently chowing down on food with no compunction.

Voices filled Dillon's thoughts. Entire choirs sang to him information. The Company linked with his mind and told him all of the problems going on.

Probable attack located at designation 011-2847C, request 300 armed Mark II soldiers...

Red Order in play. Information needed on Infernal memetic agents...

Overrun world located. 64.7 million survivors in process of being relocated. Estimated time 18 minutes...

It didn't even repeat. It didn't even move back and forth like the tide. It was just a rising level that went over his head quickly. But so well practiced at even this that the man could dance underwater, and not get wet.

Thankfully, it was his room mate that had enough mind to speak up before the man was just lost in his own work.

"How was it?" As easily asked as a demon in human form could ask. As much tact, as much subtlety. The fact he asked in such a way showed his respect for the man.

The fact that Dillon answered, showed the respect was not one way. He pushed thoughts out of his head, bringing back the here and now. The painful things that spoke to him on so many levels. Of all those that told him they had loved him and ended up paying for it. For all those that saw only the beast and not the reasons behind it. For all the choices he made to protect. All those faces on the wall of pictures he would never see again. Even with all he was doing right now, part of his mind saw it as wrong.

As weakness.

Still, a curl of a grin over his lips as he responded. Plate slowly sliding into the sink before he let go.

"It was....different." His chuckle was matched by the other man. Both didn't understand where the other was coming from, but both could see it. The silence drawn out again. Not uncomfortably, just natural between the two.

"She is different." Said the man in the bathrobe after a while. Eyes watching Dillon as he cleaned for no other reason for something to do with his hands. Questions unspoken, pain not touched on, confusion not worked with.

The non-committal growl from the man. Plates finally just moved away from as he pulled a smoke from somewhere and spark it up between his lips quickly. Different. Yes. Sharp. An absolute pain to be around, in many more ways then one. And he couldn't get her out of his head.

All this was just watched casually from the other man. Taking the smoke from Dillon when it was offered for a long pull himself. The press of vice filling lungs before he handed it back and spoke.

"Is it worth it?" Asked curiously over to the man. Question deeper than just one woman, but at the same time as accurate as a laser on just her.

Mouth opened for an immediate answer. One he had known in his heart for decades now. It wasn't. Not in his mind. Not in his heart. Not for what he did. When he had to sacrifice things to make him better at his job, this was one of those first things he put on the fire to make him burn brighter. And yet....When she leaned on him he realized, he should of sacrificed something else.

It was all such a bad idea. The chance something could go wrong, the chance she just wouldn't care, and even the fact he could get hurt.

And yet he didn't care. Even if she ran and decided to come back months later, she would probably find him still grinning there.

"I'm going to work." That was his answer, as he handed back the smoke and moved around the counter towards the door. Slipping on out even as the other man watched until Dillon was gone. Then a grin came over his lips. The demon room mate knew his answer even if Dillon never gave it.

It was worth it. All of this, was one of those things he died for.

He had to remember to thank her for making him remember such. And he needed to think of the next time, he could see her.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-01-27 23:20 EST
Her scent was already locked somewhere in his mind. Kept away from parts of work. Teeth chewed on the toothpick between them. Careful to the wood.

Mind didn't have enough intention to connect back to work, though parts of his heart seemed to call for it. Another light press of fear ticked at the back of his throat. Something so well known but still so sharp after all these years.

A couple days ago he couldn't of said he if was chasing her, or just the fear that came with her. After tonight there wasn't really much of a doubt to that. Of all the things she has told him, it was what she ordered that pushed him over the edge.

It was always the little things that got you in the end.

Pace finally just halted on the sidewalk. He didn't even know why it began to be honest. Thoughts reached out for any kind of help, but for the information he could reach nothing could help him. Apprehension hung in the air, but he didn't know if it was from what was coming or the plain fact he wanted to see her again already.

Even the most natural of things for him to do seemed to be beyond help right now. Mouth and lungs itched for a cigarette out of habit rather than addictive need. But he didn't make the motions for one.

A breath to the air, ending in a small chuckle. So long away he didn't even know what to do. But it came back to him. Step by step. All those old thoughts and feelings he hadn't felt in decades. All those hard presses and pokes into his thoughts that just tore everything he built to pieces.

Only two things to do in these situations. Run, or go forward.

There would be other things to do personally, but that was easy work for a man who was like him. A sad fact of reality. But there were, professional, things that would have to take priority for at least a tiny bit longer.

He exhaled steam into the air, nibbling on his toothpick again. Nothing else there, but a couple of seconds later a fox padded up beside the man to sit comfortably on the side walk. Watching his with a look that was well beyond the intelligence of an animal.

Dillon rumbled for a moment, then just spoke off the top of his head. Thoughts that even the fox couldn't touch.

"The Project is on an permanent hiatus, as of now." Yes. Even his gaze moved down to look at the fox as he spoke to it. The only response was a gentle bark.

"The same as it always was, I guess. You have always had the option to do what you wanted." Dillon even responded to the bark. Not that he was connected to the fox, but he just knew it so well.

Another bark, after a second or two of silence. Another sort of answer.

"...I'll deal with work here in a second. You know how it works there. I do not follow them, they follow me. We'll figure something out." They were all adaptable. They would figure something out. It was more of a hope then something he actually knew.

Another soft chirp of a bark on the silent street. The fox looking back up to the man. Almost smiling a bit, if it could.

"Shut up....You like her too." A dark rumble from the man, but it finally ended when he looked away with a chuckle. Mind linked back to The Company. Thoughts became one with the all.

Flesh of both fox and man was gone a second later with no fanfare. Just lost in mid air.

Then, he began to speak. And many listened. He told him how he wanted things to be, and even worse, why. Told them of her, and of himself. Things hidden from even those he depended on for his life.

Many listened, and agreed. In the end, it was as simple as that.

Then again, many owed the man favors.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-02-06 18:53 EST
The Project had ended, and was forgotten about almost as quickly as it came into being. Such was the way in The Company, things moved fast.

There was however, the question as to what to do about....him. It was answered by the same intelligences that covered it all up to begin with. He would be as anyone else in The Company.

He would put in work.

His first day was not going so well.

As in, at the moment he was perched on the lip of some sort of crater in a hellish no man's land made even worse by the cacophony of inhuman roars that surrounded his position.

His position, and another man's.

Both men were in full Armor. Impressive suits of deep black that looked like some mate between impossible and the humanoid form. The man doing his best not to be seen across from Dillon wore an Armor much more impressive than the other. On his collar was the three bars of sergeant.

Two more bars then the lone singular one Dillon wore on his collar of Private. Now, the low man on the totem pole. First day of work, brand spanking new Armor so fresh it still smelled clean despite being stuck down in the mud.

This was the relief that came for Sergeant Maxwell Stuart, when no one else would. When even the smartest of intelligences told him to just die. Not that this was a problem anymore at The Company. They had long since found death redundant, and mostly eliminated it from it's employees.

The idea of death still lingered in Max's mind though. And even if it had happened to him 23 times before today, he still clung to it defiantly.

And now his defiance rested not just with him, but with this unknown Private that shared his hole for now. One with a call sign that bore no prior combats. The only thing to mark the man once known as General, the name 'Variable'.

"War, war never changes." The Private spoke up first, in the quiet before the storm. The link between the two Armored men made it not vocal, but something of pure thought being passed back and forth.

"...What?" Max responded back as the gold visor of his mask turned to fully look at the other man.

"Ron Perlman. Fallout' War never changes....I was just wondering how many other poor f*ckers like us have been stuck in some hole with enemies all around them..." The Private's visor never left from looking at the lip of their hole. As if just waiting for something to pop over. But Max saw even despite his all, the Private was much too....comfortable.

The oddness of the man speaking this way struck Max sharply, but somehow it melted away into somewhat casualness. His mind felt cooler as it calmed. The idea of death suddenly at least a pace back. "Hopefully, not many with this kind of enemy..." A thought of laughter after. Matched by the other man easily.

A bit more silence, just between the two of them. Outside of their hole, the whole world seemed to scream at something. But in that crater, it was calm.

"No one else came when I called for aid..." Max commented over to the man, a touch of scornful pride in the fake tone.

"I did."

"Yes, you did. Private Variable....Funny. So who is Private Variable?"

"You want to know my story, Sergeant?"

"Yes."

"Alright....One story, then we have to put in work."

And with that, Private Variable began to tell a completely bullsh*t story.

——————————————————

The scene was definitely not a crater on some unknown world.

Now it was the golden age of sharp beats and colorvision TV. Earth, 1970s. As a quartet of men stood on a stage in a typical fashion of a band. There was a lead singer, who had way too much hair. A bassist who was rocking a pretty decent 'fro. A guitarist that could of used a shave. And a drummer....Who was in all black Armor, just as he was in that crater. Except this time he wore a bad wig of long black hair.

It was that Armored man that began the beat with a steady tap of drumsticks to skin. The lead singer leaned into the mic, and began to speak.

"You ready Steve?"

"Uh huh..." Answered the guitarist with a showy nod.

"Andy?"

"Yeah?" Answered the bassist with the same kind of nod.

"Mick?"

The camera centered on the golden visor of the drummer.

"...My name's not Mick. I've told you guys this a thousand times. My name is Variable. I'm the guy in the Armor. The drummer."

This apparently was quite confusing to the other three in the band. So the man in Armor just stood up and tossed his drum sticks down on the ground.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go kill Demons for no other real reason because I can..."



———————————

It was now that the story was interrupted by Max. Thankfully before it went any further.

"Wait, Wait. That's, Sweet."

"I know, thank you." Answered the Private without a pause. The joke apparently not hitting Max.

"No, Sweet....the band. That's the opening to Ballroom Blitz. The song. And you said you were in Armor..."

"I know, I was part of Sweet. And I was born, in Armor."

"When were you born?" Max asked the Private, critically.

"1980." Answered the Private without hesitation, even if he knew his BS had just been foiled.

"Yeah..." Max rumbled something akin to a laugh between them.

"Alright, alright. Let's put in work. We got a long road ahead of us. You ready?" Sudden shift, turning from friend to soldier. The gold visor finally looked on over to Max.

The Sergeant felt a rush of life come to his mind. Pinned under the unseen gaze of the Private seemed to be worse than any officer he could remember. He nodded, slowly. Ready for what may come. Form eased just barely higher, on his end of the crater.

Both men rose as one. Rifles shouldered and aimed out into what appeared to be a never ending field of motion. Uncountable numbers of beasts borne into hellish shapes of flesh moved out there.

And it was into that horde that both men began firing. Impossibly technology sending needles of metal out fast as they could physically be. Force enough to send demonic forms into nothing more then scraps and debris.

It just drew the attention of it. Dozens fell in that first barrage, but there were hundreds behind them to take their place. They charged the hill in one smooth curl of motion. More fell, but their kin just trampled them down in their rush to get to the two armored men.

A roar started between those two. A sound of pure emotion as the wave of hellish flesh grew closer and closer even with their best efforts. The men were pushed back to the middle of the crater just as the wave crested.

Then that wave exploded out as another wave of force came to meet it. Tendrils of smoke following the weapons that slammed into the ground and exploded. A sudden burst of speed as a plane broke from the low clouds above them. It's downward path suddenly turning as a lift dropped open from the back.

"Ride's here..." Said the Private casually. Armor leaping to catch a hold on the lip of the lift. Followed by Max a second later. Both men climbed up without much trouble, leaving a braying horde underneath them as the plane lifted from it's hover and took the the sky with deft speed.

Once Max was into the belly of the plane he reached up and almost tore at the seals in his helmet. Popping it off with oddly fluid motions of the material. Metal flecking and melting away. Visor disappearing to be replaced by flesh. Flesh rebuilt, rather then reawakened. Once mask was off body became real underneath Armor, with all the bad affects. He dropped to his knees and vomited out into the open air.

It did not do his stomach much good that when he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was the Private's. Max looked up in the weird light the planets sun was giving off. Right into that gold visor that was like all the rest. But already, so different.

"We rise, Sergeant Stuart. And I promise you, our fall will be spectacular." A laugh there, from the Private's thoughts to Max's own.

Max vomited again.





It was some time later. Once Max had gotten balanced again, but had not gone back to being fully Armored. He sat on a seat looking out into the belly. To where the Private stood. Waiting on the lip of the still open lift. As if just pausing rather than resting.

"You never told me about the pilot and the plane." Max spoke up, finally.

"I didn't?" Still, thoughts transmitted rather than voice.

"No, you didn't." Max's voice echoed out into the space inside the plane. All polished metal and dangerous technology. Even inertia wasn't seemingly felt in this place. It was calmer here, than on the ground.

"My apologies. I did spend half my budget on it though, in my defense....but it was worth it." Armored fingertips stroked over the metal near to where the Private leaned.

Max noted it was oddly loving. It stilled his next thoughts for some reason. Leaving an air of silence between both men in both voice and thoughts.

"Can I ask you something?" The Private spoke up again, into Max's thoughts.

"Sure. Please." Max replied vocally, wiping hands over his face. Looking for some sort of anchor to what was going on.

"When....dating, Terran women....Women from Earth....is there anything I should know, about the places to go' I mean, lately. It's just..."

Max was speechless there. The Private was asking him about, dating. But his mind worked it out quickly.

"You're Chul'gaian?" Max asked over to the Private, curiously. There wasn't much else that could make sense in that moment. But he did not know, still, the Private never took off his Armor.

"Yeah, I am." Dillon rolled with it, with a soft laugh it wasn't actually a lie. Quite from it. He wasn't from Earth.

"Ahhh." Max said, understandingly. The clash of cultures had been a bit of a thorn in The Company's side. Two species of, humans, meeting was bound to be troublesome. Give them immense power and weapons, and it sometimes got....weird.

"Well....Man, I don't know." Max began to speak. "I am sure it's different from what you know. Women usually like, social things. Going out and doing something. You kind of want to aim it towards something you are good at, but is easy to learn." Max's words came out slowly, carefully.

"I'm a forty year old divorcee though..." Max added onto the end there. Tacking it on as a caveat to his advice.

"If it is another person at The Company....that isn't much of a problem. As long as you know how things usually go." Voice began again after a few nods from the Private. Max was just talking to talk about now. "There has been a few marriages even, between....well, our people."

"Mmm, yes. I heard." Dillon had presided over a few of them. But Max knew nothing about that from the man. It was just the Private looking out to the world they were stuck on. Plane or not.

There was a long block of silence as both men flowed into their natural grooves. The pressure of combat focused on Max while the Private stood there as calm as ever.

"Their are no rules, for dating here, at The Company." Max broke the silence with a comfortable flow of words. Filling up the air with his voice again. Talking to talk. "No rules from on high." A small laugh. "The General would be the one who would make such a rule, and he doesn't seem like a man who cares....Last time he dated, when the woman broke up with him he spent two decades in constant combat." A laugh there, trying to break the ice.

"She died." The private spoke up after a half second of thought. The careful control of the Armor making his tone emotionless.

Max didn't pick up on it, just considered it something he saw as odd. "Huh....I didn't know that. Well, either way, he hasn't dated in three decades in his own mind. I don't think it enters into his thoughts."

Yeah, it didn't. Until a few weeks ago. Dillon tapped armored fingers once over the metal he was leaning his hand on. Mind moving off to it's own little world, quietly. He didn't even notice Max coming up beside him to look out the open gate to the world they flew over.

"You gonna tell me another story about how you got here before we go back into Hell?" Max asked over to the Armored form beside him. A soft smile coming over his lips.

It was just what Dillon needed. He laughed in his soul, but would nod slowly.

And again, The Private told a completely bullsh*t story.



————————————————-



Again, the scene was another world away. Far as possible from their hellish predicament. Now it was the automated lines of a factory. Chugging out endlessly with gleaming metal. Their product, toys.

And there was the Private standing still in full armor amid all of it. Now though with a white lab coat over his thickened form. Fake, black circular goggles over where his eyes should of been. Armor of his mask thickened at the 'jaw' down to the 'chin' in a mockery of a sharp beard and goatee. And it was here, the Armored form began to....sing.

"Once upon a time, on the assembly line ran my brilliant designs made of plastic. Then the factory called me, said 'we are appalled, your new designs are too drastic'..."



The story was interrupted quickly once the song began. Max waving his hand in the air in front of the man's visor.

"Wait, wait. You were an insane toymaker." Max questioned, obviously not believing him.

"Yes." Dillon answered quickly with a nod.

Max sighed. Mask fluidly popping back into place around his head. Leaving the face for last where the golden visor melted into place in one odd dance of technology.

"I don't believe you." Voice was gone now from the Sergeant. Now just the lightning snap of thoughts back and forth.

"Whatever. It's time to move anyhow." Armored hand from the Private reached out to slap against Max's chest casually. Both men reading the countdown cloak projected in front of their mind. Waiting for that moment to begin it all again. And when it hit zero, they both stepped out into the air and began to fall.

Max got a full view of the world he might have to die for. Though with the conditions, it was not pretty. Even at this height the air was thick with a dusty haze that clouded both sight and light from everything. The falling form of Dillon was lost already, though sensors kept the men in constant contact.

The fall was fun, but ended quickly. Max hit the ground boots first in a sudden deceleration that sent cracks into the rocks around him from the sudden force of his form landing. Body went into an immediate motion though. Rifle popping into his hands from seemingly no where. Pulling it to an Armored shoulder as he drew it around and aimed it towards a pair of glowing red eyes that was staring him down in the sandstorm of dust.

As impressive as Max's landing was, it did not have much on the Private's. Just a moment before the trigger was pulled on the rifle Dillon's armored form landed boots first right on the head of the charging demon. Slamming it to the ground violently with a jab of a blade that snapped from wrist in the roll of momentum.

The monsters run became a slide that ended just a few feet in front of Max. His weapon lowered just as Dillon's blade rose, thick with a black ichor from the demon. The weapon snapped back into his wrist as he slowly stood up, now though on the fallen form of his enemy.

Max had to note, he was taller than the Private. By six inches, he knew that by what kind of Armor each man wore.

Why then did he always find himself in the position he was right now, looking up at him.

But Max knew the reason even as both man hung there in the silence of the moment. Max had fallen and landed without a scratch, this was impressive.

The Private had fallen and had killed while doing so. That was, something else entirely.

———————————————————————-

Time passed quickly, like it does in all wars. For all their technology the rush was still there. Take away the flesh to replace it with Armor, and it just made it that much more poignant. But both men knew the rules. They used their advantages to their full affect. They watched each others backs even when things got heated.

And with it came the calm between storms. Like now with those forms of power armor stood on the lip of one of the many of somewhat standing buildings in the ghost town they had both ended in. Looking down to another almost unending sea of moving flesh. Countless hordes waited for them down there, and even now many clambered up the building anyway they could. But it was taking them some time.

"Hey. I'm sorry about asking about dating. I shouldn't of done that....I just had to ask someone, and I figured the best guy was someone who's life I just saved." The visor of Dillon's armor didn't look over even as thoughts were transmitted directly to Max.

Max's visor did turn to look over to Dillon though. With all the sensors and technology it was sometimes better just to look. To understand.

"I get you. Must be hard, new rules and all that..." Max went with general sympathy. Hours together had eroded what he had once felt. His own defenses coming down in friendship to the other man.

"Something like that, yeah." A mechanical laugh from Dillon, marking his humor.

Max kept his sight on the other man for a moment or two. Another second of relenting as he looked away and back down to the ever growing horde.

"You care about her?" Max will finally ask, just tossing it out there to end all the stepping around.

"Yeah." The response was immediately back.

"Then put your faith in her. She deserves it, if you feel anything for her. Everything else will come what may." Even the helmet of the man nodded. A useless motion, but not so useless with his words.

A nod returned from Dillon. Questions so easily answered even if so hard to ask. Problems unlike so many he faced. All over something as small as faith. Or perhaps, something as important as faith. A moment or two from both men as the quiet over came them. Then it would be Dillon who spoke up. Pacing down the line of the edge of the building with unnatural balance. Getting some space between them.

"Don't mess up." One last warning before he went into a kneel, matched by Max. Nothing else but a snapping up of fluid speed that sent both forms across the distance to the next building. Which they slammed into unceremoniously. Creating two large divots in the side that went for many floors before both stopped.

Max had the honors of lighting it all up. His armored fist raising up towards the hole he created and the building they just leaped from. One single shot snapping from under an armored plate. A single small tube that rode a contrail of smoke right into the other building. Erupting the whole structure into a white explosion of energy from the first floor to the last. Taking all those nightmares inside with it and the collapse of the structure. The sound was amazing, but it wasn't enough to overshadow the laughs of both men.

"That was....impressive." Max breathed out a laugh as he watched it all tumble down.

"That it was. Hey, I ever tell you about the time I was the leader of a four man team of ex special force operatives that was wrongly convicted of a crime we didn't-"

"Private. You were not Hannibal Smith from the A Team..."

"F*ck....Well, a man can dream. You wanna do this again? They'll fall for it..."

"Yeah, let's do it again..."





—————————————————-



It was another space of time between battles. Another span of distance in this tiny war for a planet neither man had heard of before today. But was one they were willing to give their lives for.

So far, that had not been the case as what was needed. The planet only took their rage and fury. Their intelligence and cunning. Now both men were veterans of a war that lasted less than a day. Standing together once again looking out into a valley from their extremely high vantage point they had.

"Longest vertical fall on the planet..." Dillon spoke casually despite being two men in power armor watching the sun go down. The haze dissipating enough for such a thing to be possible, but there was work to be done yet before they could go home.

"Really?" Max responded with a curious tone.

"Yep. It's the little things that kill you know. This will work. Trust me..." It was good timing that just when Dillon said this, a hand that dwarfed either of their forms slammed into the edge of the rock face and pulled the enormous form of a red skinned demonic monster up head level with the pair of men. Staring down with a pair of black eyes that were wider than both armored forms were tall.

It bellowed a sound that vibrated the very mountain beneath both men. But it was not enough to stop them both from going in motion in two different directions. Weapons brought into existence in their hands and drawn up to a shoulder as tiny inconsequential flecks of metal were snapped up to the enormous form.

One swipe. It missed Dillon as his body went to the ground. It hit Max. Pinning his form against the rocks like an insects. Grinding him down in a mad claw that dragged form out to the edge.

Max had a second in the mad rush. It would be a second to call out to the other man. To warn him back. To tell him it was fine. It was worth it. It was all part of the plan.

He never had a chance. Dillon was already diving to snap both hands around one of Max's own. Caught in the flow of motion that dragged both men to the plummet and what waited for them out there. But Dillon never let go. Not even when Max went over the edge into space and Dillon's boot slammed into the lip of the rock. The only thing from keeping them both from being tossed over.

The enormous monster raised it's hand again, to smash both men down without much effort. But it was now, of all times, Dillon sent the plan into motion. The plane broke the cloud cover again like a lightning bolt. It's speed almost impossible, but it bore it well. Quite well considering it's pilot had already bailed out moments ago. But in an instant the plane with all it's speed smashed into the face of the enormous demon. Sending it off into the valley below.

The quiet came over them again. Even if was just Max holding on for dear life to Dillon's grip. One good pull and the man came up from the void and to somewhat solid ground. Both men just laid there. Unbreathing. Unfeeling. But it didn't matter. This was both of their moments.



————————————-



It was one last moment in time before it all ended. Now, the sun shined bright even if was just a small sliver on the horizon. Now it was both men in the city from before, though now it was with many others that wore Armor like theirs. Going about their business. Though the armored form of Dillon seemed more interested in poking around.

Max, however, found some time away from the man to give his final report. He watched Dillon move from body to body of their fallen enemies, still quite confused. But not complaining.

"...What had started as a distress call, turned into an assault, turned into a full out war, turned into a clean up operation. Terraforming specialists give estimates at four months before the planet is fully capable of supporting an ecosystem again.

I have to say, I don't think such a thing would of been possible without the intervention of the Private in this. In one day he turned my last chance into something that will bring life to this world once again. I don't think I am an arrogant man when I say I did my fair share, here."

There was a moment where Dillon stopped, then brutally stabbed into a fallen Demon's corpse. A moment later he came up with his prize.

"Hey! Max! One of these demons swallowed one of those talking fish plaques!" Dillon held up his prize proudly over towards the other man over the distance. After a second, the fish began to sing and move.

"Max! Max! It still works! Oh this thing is my new best friend!"

Max just went on with his log rather than answering the other man.

"...The Private is....unique. I don't know if he is batsh*t insane or just brilliant. Or both. He asked me about dating tips after he shot a dozen demons...I don't know much, but I know I feel sorry for whatever woman has his attention. Either way, I give him the rank of Corporal. I am sure others will agree with me."

"They asked him what he wanted to name the planet, in honor of his duty here..."

"The bastard named it 'Faith'..."





#The only demons and monsters are the ones in our hearts, and in our minds...# #...Those places where all battles must be fought.#

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-02-15 05:14 EST
The thought had been in his head for a week now. One that he couldn't clean out from his mind no matter how hard he tried. For work, everything shut off. In his wake, already, swarms of intelligences fed off of him. They noticed the difference before he did. It traveled up the chain of gossip and rumor until everyone else knew, before the man did.

It was really the -one- day apart from the almost constant contact that had been part and parcel to them since just about the time they actually started all this.

One day had cemented it in his mind. Or at least, allowed him understand what was going on.

There was no fighting it. Not even a resignation that, this is what it was and he should deal with it. It was part of his brain that had not turned on for decades but now she was nestled comfortably in it without even asking. He couldn't get her out of there.

No sleep for the man. He spent the night with his room mates and friends. Laughing and grinning, but they watched him out of the corners of their eyes. They shared small laughs and idle nudges of elbows once they filtered off in ones or twos to get more vices. Some of them didn't even know the emotion, but they smelled it on the man.

When it all aligned, and she was curled against him as close as they could possibly get but still daring to try for even closer....He could see it in the way she smiled. She knew it too. He could feel it in the way her heart beat against him. He sensed the words running through her mind. Those words that he had already spoken in his thoughts over and over just to make sure it was the same taste from when he first understood.

Even then part of his mind laughed at the irony of the whole moment. That once again this was, in a weird way, a joke. That breath holding moment before the punchline drops and everyone waits for the laugh or failure. But he didn't prolong it, just spoke it before she did.

It was the easiest thing to do or say, because it was like everything else he had already said to her, the truth.

"I love you, Candy."

Her smile bloomed, then, she responded.

"I love you too, Dillon."

His heart skipped a beat.

A thought already known, but to hear it from her lips gave it a finality that took his breath away. She was the one who turned his mind inside out. Who turned aside decades worth of defenses like they were nothing. The one that changed how everything was.

Now, she knew just what she meant to him.

She was his dangerous woman.

Dill T Jones

Date: 2013-02-18 21:07 EST
The hardest part of it all had been letting her go by herself to take care of what she needed to. Though he played it well, not letting it show and giving her a grin and a promise to see her later as they parted.

Alone, it roared up in the back of his mind. It mixed dangerously with the anger that had clung to him even through the night. A night spent curled up with her. He swallowed it down all that time to help her. Now it found a stitch in his defenses and picked at it as he prowled around the streets with no real aim.

Work was out of the question. Decades of it had made the accumulation of vacation days in the range of years, rather than weeks. Plus right now such a poison in his mind was not at all conducive to his labor.

Even in the here and now there was still so much to do. Answers for Aja, problems he created with the Guardians, the pure fact everyone at the fight had seen so -much- of him in that split second. A bad mood poured off him. Singular people or entire groups crossed the street to get out of his way on the sidewalk.

This bad mood was unlike the others. It was, sticky. It stayed with him, because of her.

You could kill him.

The thought crossed his mind, but it was not his own. Dark eyes looking down. To the fox that padded comfortably beside him. It was, it's, thought. His brows furrowed and his growl rolled out to the animal that was anything but.

"Not worth it." A reply that was sharp but at least, honest. The Fox laughed in his thoughts, earning another growl from Dillon. But it was not out of anger towards the intelligence that walked beside him. It was towards what he already knew. His options were limited.

You could watch her.

Another snarl of a growl from the man. That thought earning more anger from him than the previous one. The Fox's laughter haunted him again for his response.

"I am allowed to be pissed every once in a while you know..." Words rumbled out around the end of the cigarette he was chewing on slowly, but deeply.

No. You are not. What we do is more important then that. You are hardly effective when you are angry. You will -not- give me your anger Dillon. I want your cunning.

No response from the man as Fox dripped thoughts into his own. He just walked. But he did not have to walk far. Pace stopped in front of the high walls of a gasoline storage facility. Well protected from the outside city. It usually took Dillon a minute or two to circumvent such defenses. Today he just flicked a good chunk of distance past them into the facility and kept walking.

The foolishness of the Liontaur has given us ample opportunity.

"People are dying." Dillon reminded the fox with a sharp venom disguised as a casual tone. Pace moving up the steps of one extremely large storage tank.

People will die Dillon. You know this better than most. What is important is that it all keep moving on.

"The inevitability of death does not mean we should not protect what we can."

The numbers we deal with are not in ten or twenty. But ten to twenty thousand, Million.

"Ten to twenty is just as important as thousands or millions."

You've said this so many times. Until you see what happens when we do not do our jobs. Please don't sacrifice two to save one.

No response again, the walk up had been shots back and forth but as he paced into the middle of the wide storage tank he was silent once again.

She has changed your thoughts.

This earned a look from Dillon down to the Fox, who sat there. Metal broke apart in a circle far outside of where they stood. Then, began to descend. Not quickly though. Such a lift was built for torque, not speed.

She is strong. She will come out of this stronger. She will be weaker, if your thoughts remain changed.

Into the black they fell, slowly. Dillon just stood there with his arms crossed, the light from his cigarette the only light. But still he felt the Fox's eyes on him. They both did not worry much about things like the light and the dark.

Revenge will be given by the city, all you need to do is sit back and watch. Enjoy, as the liontaur gets put into the stocks of public opinion.

Still, the lift dropped. And his breathing slowed. Once it ended it's decent, it had opened up far, far underground. In an open cave that was large enough to have a horizon. But was still mostly dominated by the form of some sort of long dead gigantic creature, smashed into what remains of a long dead city. That monstrous form now covered in plates of thick metal.

Sounds filled the space. Sounds of labor, sounds of work. But many eyes looked up to him. Not the eyes of organic life. He wouldn't draw people into something like this. It was eyes though. The eerily glowing eyes of golems that looked up with curiosity to the man. Their words of power bills of rights or receipts, by the man's own hand. The odd eyes of mechanical forms built from his own intelligence. The brown eyes of the Fox that sat there beside him, tail wagging.

Orders?

The thought of the Fox ran teasingly through his mind. It already knew the answer. It just wanted to hear it from the man.

"We put in work." Rumble, then he would move off the platform to do what he needed to do.