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Jerusalem & Jackson; Vegeta -> Frieza #79 (4 Days)
Topic Started: May 24 2011, 08:35 AM (120 Views)
Jerusalem
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Live by your rep.
"See you on the other side!"

"Shut up, Romeo!"

"What? No, I meant .... Frieza ... damn it. Since when did I get a reputation of being a buzzkill?"

"Asses." I comment right before my Pod door closes. Through the circular window I can see the Pod doors of my unit's ships shut as well. All of us in unison are punching in our coordinates ...

Frieza #79, here we come.

As we break the atmosphere my breathing slows down -- the pod's systems are kicking in, and it's going to put me in a nice, deep sleep. I look forward to it 'cause I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tense as fuck. It took a lot of ra-ra-ra sis-boom-bah bullshit to get my team to believe we could handle this mission, and it was even harder 'cause I keep SIC's name out of it. As if that was the least of my problems, shit ... here it comes.

Sometimes in suspended animation .. you dream. Sometimes ... you just relive recent memories.

---

24 hours ago...

I sit with my hands folded at the desk, dressed in my civvies. There's no reason to agitate him by coming in, dressed like a grunt. I'm nervous. My heart's pounding, leaping into my throat. This is about the only thing that truly gets me nervous anymore. It's been ... shit, it's got to be at least a month ... I waited a whole month before coming to see him again. That's fucking cold. I was pretty good at first ... weekly visits, but things just started getting worse and worse and I fucking hid like a coward. Hid from my own little bro. What was I thinking?

The buzzer sounds and the door slides open. He's first through the door, his hands shackled. I do the same thing I do every time I see him ... I size him up, see what's new. He's been working out, but he's got that prison build. He's bigger on top than on the bottom. In prison, people have a tendency to focus on the upper bod. His hands -- they're just healing up. Within the last week I'd say he used them to pound someone or something. There's a prison spider tat on his hand between the thumb and index finger, but he's had that for at least 3 months. The one on his face is new ... a tear drop. The implications aren't lost on me.

The guard that hustles him into the room might have been in the system at some point too. He has two worn, faded tear drops on his cheek that looks like he's tried to have removed.

Jackson -- my brother -- sits down and just glares at me.

"Yo, bro. Guess you haven't forgot about me after all?" His lips tug into a smile -- not the smile I used to know. "How's it going on out there? I hear it's Hell." The smile grows. "A lot of boys -- a lot of Elites are dying out there. Sounds like a shame, know what I mean? Breaks my heart to hear."

"That's cold, Jax. Your family --"

"My family?" His eyes widen, they're buggy. He leans forward, then looks to the guard. Can you believe this guy?, that's what he's thinking. "Who? You? Pops? Pops been dead for some time Salem, and I haven't seen big bro around these parts in some time. What happened?"

"War happened. But that's no excuse."

"Shit."

"It's not. You're right. Jax, I need you to be smart." He's only halfway listening to me. The smirk on his face suggests he's hearing, but he doesn't give two shits what's coming out of my mouth. "What are you doing?" I motion to his cut up hands, then his new tat and shake my god damned head. "What are you doing, Jax? You want to get out of here? Huh?"

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Don't be an idiot."

"No, seriously -- why would I want to do that, bro? Go back out into that world where I'm a piece of shit. Things are more equal on the inside than they are out there. In here? We're all pieces of shit with every kernel of corn created equally. Nah, there's only one way and one reason I want to be on the outside." He raises his cuffed hands and curls a finger to tell me to come closer. I shake my head again, but do so. He whispers right into my ear. "When this God damned planet is about to burn ..." He pushes back and throws his hands into the air, palms up. "That's it, Salem. That's it."

"Is that what you really want, Jax?"

There's a pregnant pause. I'm waiting for his fucked up response.

"No."

It gives me a moment's relief, but I realize he hasn't finished.

"What I want -- is to be the one pouring the fucking kerosene."

He spits on the ground, but he's really spitting on the planet. The people. The culture.

I wake up in my Pod and check my vitals. My heart rate's elevated, but that's just the anger. I realize it's Ringo's turn to play the music, and he's got our Pods in sync to Jimi Hendrix' "House Burning Down" ... poor choice, kiddo. I let Hendrix lull me back to sleep and dream more about my brother and the same question keeps popping into my head. Is there a trip too remote from which there's no coming back?

[Word Count: 928]
Edited by Jerusalem, May 24 2011, 08:36 AM.
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Jerusalem
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[+440 EXP//+200 Zenni]

[DOCKING - FRIEZA #79]
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