Topic: Borrowed Time

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-02-24 23:03 EST
"Life is only precious because it ends, kid."
- Rick Riordan, The Son of Neptune


The long tables and benches were littered with scrolls and books, beakers and jars. Liquids of different colors sloshed on the tables, some bubbling over small flames. The man remained stooped over a weathered book, pouring over the archaic text that was beautifully scripted on the bound yellowing parchment.

"What did you do tonight?"
"Had a problem at the office and spent the entire day taking care of it."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's done now."
"He told me I should infect you."

He ran a calloused hand over his head, pushing back the errand strands of hair that fell wildly in his face and turned the tome toward the a lamp nearby, eyes narrowing to focus on the script. Stray hints of gray that newly colored fair colored head and beard, revealed themselves in the glare of the lamp light. Streaks of red colored the whites around the man's cool blue eyes.

"Who?"

The man stood up and rolled the tired muscles of his shoulders and stretched out the aching muscles of his back. He drew a deep breath and rubbed his stinging, watering eyes. He reached back to rub the back of his neck as he looked over his work, strewn over the tables. He let out another breath and stepped away from his work. He blew out the lamp and started upstairs.

It was time to go see Kate.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-04-24 02:23 EST
He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt.
- Joseph Heller, Catch-22 (1961).


Gwyr carried the tray back into the kitchen.

The Barrister had spent near every waking hour in the lab the past few weeks, shut up behind the vault-like door. An hour before sunset, the man would emerge and go home. The next morning, he would return to the townhouse, march down to the cellar and disappear behind the lab door once more. An hour before sunset, it would start all over again.

Normally, the man would pick at the meal Gwyr left for him. Today, Lucien didn't even bothered to keep up the farce of pretending to eat. The man's lunch remained untouched.

Long hours past, without sound from behind the closed door. The Barrister's faithful manservant gathered the reports, took messages and tended to other duties. The day waned and ticked toward sunset before Gwyr heard a hiss as the air escaped from the seams of the opening door. The resounding thud of the door slammed shut preceded the Barrister's emergence into the remaining light of day.

Lucien murmured his thanks as Gwyr handed him the reports and leave.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-06-29 01:25 EST
"One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive."
- Friedrich Nietzsche


Gwyr had near a month of quiet and peace without the Barrister. Lucien had remained away from the townhouse and the "lab", spending his time at home with Kate and at the shipyard. As the month came and went and a new month started without the Barrister sighting, the faithful manservant thought perhaps, just perhaps, Lucien had given up on his research project.

He should have known better.

It was midweek when the Barrister showed up at the townhouse with a new stack of weathered tomes and scrolls. He went down to the lab and shuttered himself for hours behind the door. Lucien emerged a few hours before sundown, took the reports Gwyr handed him and went home. Next morning, he returned and the routine began again.

One morning, just before noon, Lucien emerged and left the townhouse for a few hours. When he returned, he had with him a large box, which he carried down to the lab and disappeared behind the door with instructions that he wasn't to be disturbed. Gwyr nodded and left to tend to his remaining tasks. He had a few hours before the Barrister would re-emerge and leave for home.

As the Barrister's faithful manservant reached the top of the stairs, an explosion knocked him forward off his feet and shook the foundations of the townhouse. When he found his feet and scrambled back down the stairs, all he saw was smoke billowing from beneath the lab door.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-07-06 04:16 EST
When Gwyr gathered his wits and his feet, he rushed down to the lab door and tried to open it. It was locked from the other side, but he had to try and get it opened. He had been beating on the door with a tire iron (that Lucien had gotten off Tara a while back...actually it had been left during one of her break-ins), when he heard the lock unlatch. Gwyr took a step back, still wielding the tire iron, hands ringing from the effort he had exerted, as the door slowly creaked opened.

A plume of acrid grey smoke rolled out of the room as the door opened. The Barrister staggered out of the room a breath later, coughing and gasping for air. He was covered in soot and his clothes were charred. His shirt was still smoking off the back. Gwyr rushed over to lend the Barrister a hand. "Oops," was all Lucien managed to choke out as he was helped out of the room and back upstairs.

Gwyr returned a few hours later to clean up after Lucien had washed up, changed and went home. The room, the lab, was destroyed. Nothing remained intact, save the concrete walls the and the vault-like door. The room was littered with debris...broken, burnt. Smoke still lingered in the room, clinging to the broken and burned surfaces. A dark smell, akin to death, hung heavily in the air.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-09-10 22:21 EST
He was going to find the missing pieces. He was going to do whatever it took. He had a narrow focus and he zeroed in on what he was looking for. And he was careless for it.

He didn't notice the trader he dealt with fidget and glance over his shoulder. He had many dealings with the man in the past, so he didn't pay it any mind. He didn't notice the odd weight of the package, he was just glad that it finally came in. He didn't notice many things that had been out of place. Subtle signs he should have noticed. He had gotten careless.

He rushed back to the townhouse and barely addressed Gwyr before barricading himself in the lab. He set the package down in the midst of the vials and tomes, scrolls and components, and tore it open, like a kid at Christmas. He had barely gotten the box open when he realized...too late...he had been careless.

Lucky Duck

Date: 2013-11-16 23:37 EST
Overheard at the RDI*
- I will. I'll even send a letter to Lucien.
- He still lives? Of course he does. The barrister has more lives in his pockets I think, than anyone.

The muffled, dull thudding seeped through the blackness, whispered insistently through the persistent ringing in his head. He tried to move. He tried to speak. But his limbs and voice refused to obey. How he wished that annoying ringing and banging echoing in his head would cease. His head hurt, his body hurt, his arm felt like it was on fire. He drew a deep breath and immediately a violent fit of coughing wracked his body as it tried to expel the acrid smoke from his lungs...which didn't help his head.

But perhaps the coughing fit jarred some of his memory loose. Slowly, it came back to him....where he was, what had passed in a blink of an eye. He recalled the wisp of smoke that rose from the package he so eagerly tore open, before everything literally blew up in his face.

He pulled himself up off the floor against the painful protests of his body. The room was dark, choking with smoke. However, that far away urgent thudding persisted and he stumbled toward the sound. He blindly found the latch on the door and as soon as he opened it, he was greeted by a rush of fresh air. And Gwyr's worried face.

"Oops," he heard his voice strain.


* quote part of an exchange between Kitty Helston and Guthorm Othinsson