Tom Stories

A town famed for its urban slasher legend, The Angel Smile Killer, makes its money from being a morbid tourist spot and putting on a murder and spooks themed festival at the end of the each summer. But it's all just for a bit of fun, it's all fictional, and those that live in the town? They, especially the younger crowd, know how to keep anything suggesting otherwise subtle.

Randy Saxon, a teenager who's lived there his whole life, has learned to stay out of the way. And some day, if one can even hope, escape. His life wasn't fun to begin with, and only got worse after his best (and only) friend moved away when they were young. Now he just waits, suffering through seemingly neverending hot and dull summers, hoping for some kind of change.

This summer, the most terribly muggy and grating summer, something does change. Change comes to town in the form of Randy's childhood friend, Tobias White, returned home. When he sees how cruelly those their age behave to each other, he comes up with an idea. Something to pass the summer time with. Toby always had a scheme.

Tobias said, ever so casually, that they should use the Angel Smile Killer story the town loved so dearly against it. Use it to give out a little karma- but mostly harmless karma, nothing more than a good scare. Randy is hesitant, but with revenge on the mind, agrees. On the terms that it only happens once, and truly stays harmless.

It doesn't happen only once, and it doesn't stay harmless.

And as it turns out, maybe the original Angel Smile Killer wasn't just an urban legend after all.

Randy’s dreams are a swirl of terribly lucid imaginings and drifting bits of memories. He sees angels, towering creatures that are too much for human sight, a mix of misplaced eyes, organs and blinding light. They take him apart and put him back together again, except this time, in their image. They revel in blood and glory and don’t show an ounce of mercy to those that are dirtied. Randy wonders to himself, in that moment, how he could be one of them. Dirty, filthy, sinner. He’d been called those things, even by himself. He’d been left by the only person who’d seemed to care, and surrounded by the ones that didn’t. Or, at least, only cared about making his life reflect his insides. The angels had their insides on the outside, so maybe it was more fitting than he’d thought. Maybe it was meant to be. He was the one in the right, and always had been. They were wrong, and had even tricked him into thinking the opposite.

Wronging the heavenly would never end well. Not forgiven, not forgotten.

Not something a person could do while keeping their delicate self alive.


Randy woke up in almost pitch darkness, and it took him a minute to realize he wasn’t still asleep. The light of his phone illuminated the dark. It was enough to make him flinch, but nowhere near the brightness he’d experienced in the dream. He curled into himself as the imagery played itself over. However much he didn’t want to think about it, he did, which was predictable enough. He supposed, after a while, that all the extra chatter around was finally sinking into his subconscious. But the personal aspects unsettled him.

He thought he’d gotten good at quieting down the psychological tortures he’d been gifted with, but apparently not. No, that would be too easy. You’re born, and then you have to spend the rest of your life paying for it.

Randy slowly dragged himself away from the soft nest that was his bed. He pulled aside the beach towels over his windows, cringing as the sunlight flooded in and attacked him. He pried open the windows to relieve a little of the heat, as his room had been turned into an oven overnight. But he wasn’t going to leave them open overnight. He didn’t leave anything open when he was asleep, or really planning to stick around at all. After that, he quickly gathered a bundle of clothes, his phone, and his wallet. When he peeked at his phone again, more awake now, the headache he already had worsened along with his nerves. He’d woken up a lot later than he should’ve, especially in this heat. It was probably the dream that made him stay under longer, before waking covered in his own sweat.

As he exited his room slowly and made for the shower, head down, he could hear the sound of his mother’s voice. Gossip mongering with someone. Randy didn’t want to say friend, since he knew they all talked behind each others back, like a game. Not like friends. The Saxon family didn’t have friends. Randy screwed up his nose, hoped they would stay distracted by each other in the kitchen, and took his quick cold shower. When finished, he begrudgingly put on his clothes, and took a few deep breaths. Then, he made a run for the garage. As the door slammed shut, he heard his mother call a name that wasn’t his, and his stomach spun along with his head.

He sat on a step and tied on his dirty sneakers while the garage door took its time rolling up. He knew he wouldn’t be followed, but still felt antsy, and eyed the gleam of his bike. Finally, he leapt up, and in a few strides he was on his bike and out of there, wind blowing the dark curls of wet hair out of his face.

It was late June, those around his age only just let out of school for the summer, but already hotter than ever. That wasn’t an exaggeration, and the news team was all over it. If they were on, it was either to talk about the heat, or further advertise the big horror festival. On the news, on posters around town... as if anyone who lived here didn’t already know about it. As if anyone who was visiting wasn’t visiting purely to go to that. It kind of all unsettled him, how much the town had capitalized on what it did. Even if it was just an urban legend, a story, which of course it was- it was certainly a distasteful thing to advertise yourself as absolutely adoring. And really, he’d always felt that maybe it was just a bit hypocritical.

As he rode, cats began to pop up, lazily following him along on the sidewalk. They couldn’t keep up with his speed, but knew where he was going. Randy smiled for the first time that day, and the neighborhood flashed by, until there was open space. Waves of green and down the slope, the wide river that ran through the center of their town. Over it, a very old bridge, featuring designs of angels. And although they had the typical look, their veiled faces seemed ominous. It was for pedestrians, but large and tall in size. Everything had been built around the bridge, and named after it. Angelbridge. Tourists loved to lurk around near it, but Randy ignored them. Most people did, and Randy especially had the learned talent of being invisible. The angels, however, he was eager to keep away from. He had cats to feed.

After the mostly residential area, and the open river and greenery, one could start getting into the denser and growing center of town. Where all the important things were, and where you spent your money. That and all the other places Randy had passed were on one side of the river, and on the other was mostly just dense, deep forest. At some point, the river wound around into that bulk of flourishing trees and animals. Humans were discouraged from entering and leaving too much of a mark. The forest was one of Randy’s favorite places, and held a lot of nostalgic value, which wasn’t something he could say about much else. Randy shook himself off from thoughts like that, and turned into the town’s center.

It was small. Although Randy had never been to any cities, he knew they were much bigger than this. Still, it was a lot less small than it had been when he was young. All the businesses were getting extremely competitive, and some had been overtaken due to that. Randy was glad that somehow, the tiny grocery store he’d always gone to was still open. He approached it, chained up his bike (which he’d saved way too much for to lose, even if there wasn’t much theft there), and briskly entered the grocery store. It was cool inside, and he lingered a little to enjoy that, even though he was only buying one thing. He was in and out the right aisle in a second, and was pleasantly surprised to be checked out by the store owner- an older woman who he sometimes helped out. He said helped, rather than worked for, since the times he could help were erratic for the both of them and pretty loose. But sometimes he earned some money, and she liked to give him discounts. They weren’t really friends, but it was the closest Randy had to a long term pleasant relationship. She used his name.

He made small talk for a minute, but was soon back outside. He walked with his bike back to the riverbank, unable to ride with the decently heavy bag under one arm. It was a semi-regular thing he did. He found his big, shaded weeping willow tree at the river’s edge, and left his bike under it. Then he went back up to the sidewalk, where a dozen or so stray cats were waiting for him. Some looked expectant (the snobs), some were sunbathing, and a few came up to meow at him in greeting or wind around his legs. Unceremoniously, he opened up the bag and started to pour dry cat food onto the sidewalk. The cats feasted, while Randy grinned and got the pleasure of petting them while they were distracted. Even the grumpy ones.

He left them to it after stealing his pettings, and trudged back down to the weeping willow to escape the sun. He laid down on the grass, cleared his mind, and started daydreaming- which was far safer than the dreams he had at night. He let his mind wander through idle hopes and good memories. The memories were filled mostly with strawberry blond hair and dimples, which made a warm feeling settle into his chest. Heat that got part his surface, into his bones. Almost scary. At some point, he felt a cat climb onto his chest, and possibly another one at his side. He continued to drift.


Randy snapped out of his quiet, thoughtless state when he heard muffled voices- followed by a wet cracking. He was hyper aware of things like that, to an uncanny degree. He began to slowly sit up, every motion as soundless as he could get it. No more stray cats. The heat was still merciless, and he tugged a little at his tank top. Sucked in a breath, and held it. He crept to the edge of the tree’s offered safety, carefully moving the hanging curtain of branches aside. Just to peek. Nothing more, nothing less.

His eyes quickly focused on the bridge, or more specifically, under it. There, in the shadows, was an all too familiar scene. Randy stiffened, but couldn’t turn away.

The first thing he was drawn to, ultimately, was the victim of what was occurring. Ever so small and curling into themself, like a child, although Randy knew inside it was someone he’d seen before, around his age. The thought didn’t give him much peace. Randy never liked seeing these scenes, as it left a very vivid image. One that made him avoid speaking or looking at others- even more so than he already did.

The kid had a shoe digging into their face. Pressing, threatening, enjoying. Rubbing grime into the wounds. The other foot holding down their wrists, possibly where the slick crack had originated. There was a limpness there, but still the occasional squirm.

Tracy Norman was, and always had been, the designated enforcer. Although he was one year older than the rest of them at eighteen, he wasn’t ambitious. He followed the power and simply had a passion in his job. If you pointed and asked for broken bones, he’d follow through without any hesitation. And he was the one that was really built for it, looked the part. He was repeating a grade, but Randy didn’t think he was just the stereotypical mindless brute. Just quiet. Really watched people. He gave off a vibe that kept people away. How casually he could step on another human being’s face was almost admirable... in a very sick way.

Now that Randy was more awake, along with his trained hearing, he could make out a little of what the group was saying- which wasn’t helping his morbid curiosity. Morbid curiosity with a mix of self sabotage, perhaps.

“Trace. Trace-y, my man. Dial it down a notch- we’re not savages, are we?” piped up a particularly obnoxious voice. It had an edge of practiced snark to it, a certain lazy confidence that tried too hard to be just that. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious to most, but Randy had known the owner of the voice since childhood. Known most of them. Closely acquainted for quite some time. Rhys Ray liked to be in charge, liked to be looked at, and had just the right flair for a figurehead leader. Randy had decided, at some point, that Rhys’ ego was fragile. Or his masculinity. Or both, both was most likely, as those two things often mixed in the most terrifying way. So he constantly had to go around proving himself, before anyone even vaguely threatened those things. However much Randy made fun of the possibilities in his own head, it really scared him. Rhys wanted to be a police officer. Of course he did.

Rhys kneeled down in front of the kid, just as Tracy removed his shoe from their face. Those two were very in sync. Rhys gave a big ol’ toothy grin, which stretched his face in a disconcerting way. “Hey there, buddy. How you doing down there? Everything hurts, you say? Aw. We bein’ too hard on you, d’you think?”

The kid started to sob, snot and tears mixing with blood and dirt. He was saying something- or trying to, at least. After a second, Randy realized it was a slur of garbled apologies.

Rhys’ smile looked like plastic. It was hard to register him even moving, just one moment he was down, smiling away, the next he was up and kicking the shit out of the kid on the ground. Tracy’s foot pressed down further into their wrists- another crunch- while Rhys tried to leave a mark in their guts. Squirm, squirm, squirm- it only seemed to encourage them. Familiar, so familiar, and Randy just kept staring.

“Apologies-” Rhys snarled, jaws snapping, “mean nothing, you fuck! Fucking snitch! We didn’t even touch you, what the hell’s wrong with you? You’re the one who caused this, the one who made me have to hurt you. You. Made. Me! I don’t want to be the bad guy! And I’m not! But when someone fucking, thinks he can try shit? I can’t let that slide, don’t you- don’t-” He slowed, huffing, then stopped completely with a sigh. “don’t you understand that? It’s how the pecking order works.” He tilted his head to the side, with another attempt at a smile. “Listen… I’m sorry. Haha. Did hearing it make you feel better? Sorry, sorry! Made a mistake! All is forgiven, right? We both made mistakes. You tried to fuck with me and my pals, we got a bit emotional and ah, returned the favor! Now everyone can go on with their lives. Right? Isn’t that… how it works?” Rhys leered.

Then, he temporarily seemed to forget what he was doing, and paused to fix his hair- which had fallen slightly out of order with all the excitement.

“Very nice monologue, Rhys,” came the voice of the one and only Rosemary Powell, along with a few mild claps. “Truly entertaining, well done. Are you satisfied now? There are other things to deal with, and I think our... charge, may be close to fainting.” Dry and eloquent as always. And none of it seemed fake like it did with Rhys. She’d always been like that, coming across as older and more imposing than any of them, even when they were young. It felt off, and bad. Really bad. Rosemary never appeared as though she was really on the same plane of existence with the others of the group, or really, anyone around town. As a teenager, she’d gotten into a far away private school, and now, only came back here for the summers.

Randy thought she hated it. She despised being in the town, around these people, everything. He’d guessed that her motive for doing this sort of thing was to vent those feelings. But he couldn’t claim to have a perfect grasp of her, neither in facts or theories. All he knew was that while Rhys put on the big, dramatic show, she gave the important commands. Randy had heard somewhere, possibly from his mother’s gossip (which, in all honesty, he learned a lot from), that Rosemary wanted to be a criminal psychologist. She dressed like she wanted that and far more.

Rhys glowered a little at her for the remark, but made a show of shrugging languorously and stepping back. “It’s enough,” he offered.

“Are you guys- are we going?” Called down a voice from above, which Randy was a little caught off guard by. Oh. Right, that’s right. Jeremy Barnett. Gangly mousy guy, and son of some (supposedly) important politician. All Randy knew there was that his dad worked for the mayor, and that Jeremy really liked to mention it- pretty much every other second. Randy had seen Jeremy hang around the local bully squad, but hadn’t been aware he was in with them too. He didn’t look in, though, he looked like he was just standing watch on the bridge, and not even very well. As he watched, Randy could just feel that the other members of the group thinking the same things. And dear Jeremy wasn’t being all that subtle with his desire to leave.

The son-of-a-politician fidgeted, holding a pink mini fan closer to his face. Randy wondered if keeping him around was worth it.

Rhys rolled his eyes, muttering something to Tracy before trotting away, out from under the bridge (and, thankfully, on the side Randy wasn’t spying from) and off down the grassy bank. Jeremy scrambled to follow him while not dropping his fan, and Rosemary lingered. Down to three.

Tracy had a look of anticipation, Rosemary’s red lips quirked upwards, and Leslie Rios stepped forward for her turn in the spotlight.

Leslie was a short, chubby girl with bouncy ginger hair and freckles. Her face could light up like no other, and she always had her instant camera with her. Randy had seen the girl with others, but favoritism was definitely shown. She was the youngest in the group at sixteen, and like Rosemary was only around for the summers. Unlike Rosemary, it had always been that way for her- she’d been getting dropped off at her grandparent’s home since forever, so her parents could take their months long vacations. Leslie loved her grandparents, her life, and this town. She looked so normal, so fulfilled. Just a peppy little girl.

Leslie leaned as close as she could with that camera, humming, and said to Tracy, “Hurt him again, it has to be raw.” She reached out a hand, brushing away some of the other kid’s hair and laughing airily. Tracy complied, moving shoe onto neck, and Leslie fingered a bruise. “Perfect,” she said.

They had to get a dirty cloth in their victim’s mouth after that. The camera clicked away, making Randy flinch with every snap, and the flashes that followed would light up the reds and purples and sickly yellows. Almost made it all look fake, uncanny valley esque. Sometimes, the body on the ground looked like a doll, with near dead, glassy eyes.

Leslie’s face held a manic energy. She looked like she could start salivating. There was lazy satisfaction, but also obsession, that hung heavily around her and seemed to even infect the other two.

Randy’s palms were sweating. His heart hammered, and his hands shook. He felt dirty, bad, like something was in his stomach, eating at its walls and writhing.
He watched until they finished, leaving their toy in the dirt. Then, he got his bike and made a run for it. He headed for his secret place.

He thought about angels, and tried not to throw up.

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil had always known he wasn’t meant to live in a fishbowl. It was a very familiar story, growing up in a small town, always feeling too different, too much. Wondering if it was your fault or theirs. Finally deciding that you weren’t sure, but either way, you had to escape. He’d read endless books with these sympathetic characters that felt the same way, and eventually, did get out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent](There were some in which they never left, of course, but he only cared for happy endings.)[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He’d held onto that hope that this was something [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]destined.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] That he was like every other storybook character, experiencing a little sadness to make the joy they were owed all the more sweet. He’d learned to adapt a certain fictional whimsy and melodrama to himself in general. If he made himself larger than life, and was confident in what he deserved and fit so perfectly, all he desired would present itself on a silver, sparkling platter.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jeremy Agnelli wasn’t quite what Basil had expected, but he also wasn’t about to complain. Opportunity was opportunity! The man had come into his town looking to pull the locals down with things like drugs and innocent seeming little loans. Back in the city he was a small-time criminal, but here, he was powerful, with an impact that would leave them all suffering for years. Basil wasn’t staying behind to watch.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jeremy had a weakness for young boys with heavy eyelashes, ready to hang off of him and beg him to take them away, give them a better life. Basil fit into those categories, could play the role easily- because it was only half acted. The fact that his story was switching to [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]this[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] type of genre was exciting, and just a little sickening. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to change any time soon.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Everything happened so fast. It hadn’t taken long for his birthplace to sink into corruption, for him leave it all behind. Just like he’d always dreamed of. He never second guessed his choice, but until now, there’d been a sense of numbness, heavy and deep in his bones. They were in a hotel room at the outskirts of the city. It was dirty and dark here, but the balcony was open, and the view was grander than anything he’d ever seen. Towers decorated with dazzling neon lights, unnatural,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] wonderful. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Smoke and density. Within all the powerful, artificial glory and pollution was something very human. Cruelty and beauty went together hand in hand.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He felt the detachment fade from him, cheeks flushed, cold air biting at his exposed skin as he pressed against the railing. He was fully overwhelmed, he wanted to bask in this feeling forever. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was in love.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Arms curled around his slim waist, lips pressing to the back of his neck. Jeremy’s breath was warm, a bold contrast to the chill outside on the balcony. It didn’t snap Basil out of his moment. After years of patience, he was going to revel in this properly. He couldn’t let anyone take it from him. Not now, not ever. He curled around in his lover’s arms and kissed him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]happy.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] For once, having Jeremy touch him didn’t feel so wrong. It was different, and he adored that. He really had been saved, why shouldn’t he show his gratitude? He laughed and laughed as he was dropped back onto their bed. Everything was looking up. Jeremy whispered promises against his skin, that he was getting promoted, that he’d share everything with his cute boytoy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“Yes, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]yes,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] I want to see everything, be everything,” Basil gasped. “Ah, I love… I love…” He looked at Jeremy through hazy eyes, grandeur swimming in his head. He was so happy. He smiled like the sun, bigger than he ever had. His gaze was needy. He pulled him closer, but it wasn’t enough. None of this was enough.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jeremy choked, atmosphere slowly changing. This didn’t scare Basil so much as it annoyed and hurt him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask what happened, to listen any longer, because it wouldn’t be satisfying. They’d come so far. He was happy, and he was beginning to realize he’d never been happy before. Jeremy Agnelli was a sad man, but depraved in ways that made up for that. Basil loved him. He opened his entire being to this charming, awful human, and made him his own, sinking teeth into flesh and sense of self. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]This was what love was. It felt right.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When they were finished, the sheets were sticky and Basil’s breath was short. The afterglow was something to savor, and he dozed off in a state of pure bliss. When he woke up again, the sun was coming up, and he was covered in nothing but red.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wobbled to the bathroom to throw up, the smooth daydream over. He was crying and hiccuping by the time he was done, scrubbing his hands under hot water until they burned. When he looked in the mirror, between all the freckles all over his naked body, a new smattering of tiny eyes blinked back at him. The gore that went along with them confirmed what he’d done.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He showered, washing blood and eyes from his skin, then got his stuff and Jeremy’s money, leaving the hotel as quickly as possible. He didn’t look back.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]If he’d calmed his heartbeat and thought for a moment, he would’ve realized he was still happy. However, it was fine to stay naive for a little longer. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]All the best happily ever afters are earned.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil had finally caught the first bus into the inner city, and a migraine was settling in without any sign of mercy. He’d never experienced so much as a light headache before, but this was unmistakable. His empty, bleary staring was courtesy of the throbbing color show in his skull, and not directed at any of the other passengers, but he could feel their discomfort nonetheless. He tried to keep to himself, back seat, knees hugged to his chest.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was starting to feel like someone wanted in. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Knock knock, crack open that head of yours, let me take it for a spin. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]He clutched his forehead weakly, wondering if it was already occurring.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It turned into a numb blur somewhere along the line. He slumped and pressed his face to the window. Out of the fishbowl and into the ocean, and all he knew was that he wanted to be at the center of it. He watched the people in the streets turn into tropical fish in bursts of bubbles, and couldn’t help but laugh, until he was lulled into sleep.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]When he woke up again, for a moment, he wasn’t quite sure who he was. Or who he’d ever been. There were far less people on the bus. Looking outside, he saw ugliness, dirt, and an endless stain of depression. It made something thick catch in his throat, an untreatable disease creeping under his skin.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He blinked, and it was all gone in a flash, the color melting back in like a spill of bright paint coating him from the inside out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He got off at a bus stop at the edge of it all, where everything only started reaching higher from then on, trying to touch the sky. He envied that. Nausea settled into his stomach, and his surroundings kept warping. He stumbled on the sidewalk, lost in a clash of beauty and filth. Nobody stopped to try and help him, despite the disoriented, shaky steps.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Feeling like prey was a foreign concept, but somehow, a very familiar one. He didn’t like it. He had to escape, to hide, hurt his own pride but replace it with the warm embrace of safety. This was a dangerous place. It would chew him up and spit him out until he had no worth, and had to go to some [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]hick pitstop [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]just to get a sense of superiority, a taste of winning. They never let him fucking win. He’d show them, he’d show everyone. He was going to be better some day. But first, he had to protect what he had, make sure even the little things weren’t stolen and clawed away.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He knew where to go. It was like an instinct, walking blindfolded but with an innate knowledge of what you needed. He hunched more as he made his way through the hostile crowds, irritated mutterings on his tongue, shifty, tense looks that never stayed on one subject for long. Anything could be a threat towards far too fragile and angry existences. Just because he puffed out his chest and sneered didn’t mean he wasn’t running.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The apartment building was cheap. There was a drug dealer outside, turned down in the same tone that was always used to do so. The man gave him a funny look at that, and for a moment, he almost felt hesitation. It was brushed off.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Jeremiah Agnelli unlocked his room, but Basil was the one left standing inside with the key dangling in weak fingers. At least, he assumed that was who he was. He remembered growing up with a family that wasn’t quite his, neighbors that would spit their hatred at him in church (while a faint whisper of[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] false god, false god [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]echoed in his mind), and never quite being as bothered by any of it as he should’ve been. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He also remembered a legacy of failure and cowardice, of being scum and making those around you out to be the same, digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole, of touching prettier things to forget. He could picture bruises on his skin from other children, going to school in the bad part of the gleaming city, and only growing up to repeat the same motions.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He settled down in a place that both was and wasn’t his own, as a person that was and wasn’t him, and tried to figure out how to cope.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The hopes and terrors of his darling city kept him going.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Living with the leftover thoughts and emotions of a dead man wasn’t so bad, once you got used to it. Optimism, right? Fake it til’ you make it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil was trying to focus more on exploration and keeping his lifestyle sustainable, both distracting from and appeasing his unconventional roommate. It was all a rush, and one they both enjoyed. He indulged in the nightlife greedily, and tended to wake up in a lot of foreign beds. Currently, he was surviving on the money that Agnelli had hoarded through screwing over his hometown- it was only fair. However, it wasn’t going to last much longer, and he knew it was time to start looking for a job. It wouldn’t be smooth sailing, but the more he waited, the worse the situation was going to get.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Turns out the work was coming to him. Whether that was godsend or a curse was unclear, and [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]money[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] made one less likely to overthink such things. Still, even when trying to see nothing but the bright side, it was hard to shrug off the fact that it started with debt collectors that intended to kick in his door. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Agnelli wanted to run. He always did, and Basil despised it. He felt that way towards most of what this man was infecting him with. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He clenched his trembling hands and made himself as gracious a host as he could manage to.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They asked where Jeremy Agnelli was, and Basil unconsciously brushed his fingers over his mouth. He replied, in a local accent (that he’d attained far faster than he should’ve), that the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]damn scumbag[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] was gone without a trace. It wasn’t a complete lie. Mentally, he held that other presence further under his boot, crushing it into pitiful ashes for some temporary peace.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And as nice as it would’ve been to have his guests leave, convinced by that answer, they were understandably... frustrated. Agnelli hadn’t just visited his town to hit those who wouldn’t see it coming, or to make enough of a mark to be more respected back home- it was to try and pay off what he owed from previous vices and desperate overambition. Basil had been going down the same path, and now, even though he’d gotten that voice out of him, he was being fucked thanks to another person’s mistakes [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]anyway. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]His apartment, Agnelli’s, whatever, was being ransacked for evidence of where the man had fled- and almost more importantly, valuables. There wasn’t a lot, but what there was, Basil needed.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]All he could do was stand in the middle of it and watch as everything seemed to fall apart. His limbs felt frozen, blood running cold. He couldn’t move. Like it was inevitable, and pointless to fight. Except, that was normal, wasn’t it? Something to be expected. You had to break before you could build yourself back up again, become something more. Basil wanted more. He’d do anything for it. A simple, pure notion.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]So he begged the bad, bad men to hire him. He’d pay off the debts himself, and succeed where Agnelli hadn’t. Maybe then, they’d both be satisfied.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent](With Basil, there were no guarantees, but shutting up his undesired friend would be a relief.)[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil’s plans had been going swimmingly. This setup left a bittersweet taste in his mouth, replacing the sharp iron that had been lingering and sticking to his teeth. It seemed as though he was getting closer to the vivid dreams he’d been holding onto. He wasn’t there yet, but close.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Crime was intrigue, excitement, and power. He was only a delivery boy, but already he’d seen so much, many of it in the category of ‘things no reasonable human being should be comfortable with’ (and perhaps that didn’t apply to him). While Basil adored the city and kept finding new novelties to be fascinated with, admittedly, his very favorite part of it wasn’t something others tended to put in the same boat as the rest at all.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In the very center of, what to him was now his entire world, stood a forest. The ruins of old concrete giants had crashed down, and from their grave, trees had risen, plantlife overgrown and thick. They’d nicknamed it the Old City Park, and it made for a spectacle that most only looked in on from the outside. To them, it was ominous, almost a display of previous hubris that led to the fall of what man had built, a warning of what could happen again. If it was a warning, it was being ignored. There was morbid interest here, a grander horror story, but no real trust.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It had called to Basil, and now, was his place of comfort. While the rest of the city was endless in beauty and overwhelming, sinking corruption, here he felt like he could stretch out. And while he would occasionally sort out his many thoughts there, he wasn’t pushed to do so. There was no agitated, frantic whisper in his mind, no twitching urge to busy himself and keep away from emptiness. Just a hum, sunlight filtering through leaves far above, and warped oddities that he could find relatability in. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wished he was there now. At the docks after nightfall, there was a profound loneliness. Waiting by the pitch black sea for warmer creatures to join him again was unsettling. It was too quiet. All he could hear was the water, lapping at the edge of the fragile feeling platform he stood on, and a stream of mocking words coming from within. He shifted, and gripped his backpack snug against his chest.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It’d been a few months since the initial events that had spiraled him to where he was now. The majority of what he’d experienced lived up to the romanticised stories. The worst of it was still proving to be Jeremiah Agnelli. When trying to stay the dominant personality in your own body, one started to question what [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]you[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] even were. Other than desire, Basil had never associated himself with much of anything. He did things just to do them, and although he’d had no end of free time to spend deciding who he was when younger, that energy had instead gone into waiting. Waiting for the next chance, the next distraction, or another piece of fiction to adjust into his own being. He was constructed from second hand passions and a nameless need that couldn’t be fulfilled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He also happened to be a lot of things Jeremiah disliked. It was strange. Now that he had someone else unpleasantly entwined with him, blunt differences came that much easier. He’d always known he was different, but it’d been hard to pin down exactly why or truly register it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some traits of Agnelli’s he’d shamelessly stolen, made his own. Speech patterns, skills received from years of criminal activity, and the complete self awareness of being a horrible person. Others, he rejected with a passion. Fear, pessimism, misanthropy.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Maleness.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The prettier Basil made himself, the crueler his second voice was. It was funny. The man had favored pretty boys, but not [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]too[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] pretty. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Not like him. Darling Basil, who dolled himself up in skirts and wore candy colored makeup, who had already been pushing his luck by existing with dark skin and an open sexuality. [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]What are you?[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] they asked. What are you? he asked himself.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]None of anyone’s damn business, that’s what.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Heavy steps interrupted his thoughts, and that, Basil was grateful for. The occurrences after? Not so much. He knew there was something wrong. This wasn’t the group he’d been meant to meet up with, wasn’t the deal that had been agreed on. He was just a delivery boy, but he had enough awareness to understand when a job was [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]fucked.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] He’d usually back out of it, but while he hadn’t been told what was in the backpack, he’d been told to be careful with it. That was meaningful. He was stuck on the dock, and that water seemed cold, colder and deeper than anything. The moon didn’t reflect on it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil wasn’t particularly tough. The only things he had to use were his wits and looks, and this wasn’t the kind of crowd he wanted to offer the latter to. He tried his best to talk his way out of it, but brute force won over, hands tight on his arm and pulling the bag from him with barely any effort. He swung a pocket knife wildly, leaving a nick on one of the thug’s arms. This only caused him to be shoved down and kicked in the stomach. He coughed and sputtered but he didn’t cry, peering up at his attackers with a glazed over, almost indifferent expression. He didn’t care about them. He’d promised himself to do this right.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]So Basil got up. And was pushed down again. Again, and again, and again, and- this only served to make rile them up. They hadn’t meant to kill him, not at first, but that didn’t matter anymore. A gunshot rang out, and Basil barely even felt himself falling until he hit the water, all at once. He closed his eyes.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It wasn’t as cold as he’d thought it would be. He could spread out here, similar to what he did in Old City Park, but it wasn’t just spiritual this time. It was strikingly physical. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His body thrummed with power as it warped and glowed. He was wonderful and terrible, a grotesque specimen like no other, he would’ve belonged in a museum if any could’ve held his brilliance. He breathed, and almost felt nostalgic.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He rose up from the drowning depths with his eyes and mouths open wide, consuming all in his path, voices transforming from two to many as he went. They tried to speak, impress their wills upon him, a confusing, awful mess. They didn’t affect him, not when he had work to do. He was going to see it through if it killed him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It wouldn’t kill him.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Despite this, there was a survivor. Basil surged after him, ink dripping and teeth gnashing, but he was quick on his feet, and the monster was clumsier in such an out of use form. So, from the knee down, one leg was snapped away and swallowed whole, never to be used for irritating fleeing ever again. He made it out, pathetic and alive, but still had something taken in exchange. Penance.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The backpack was gone, and with it, any confidence Basil had that he could fix things. This kind of mistake, and the massacre surrounding it, couldn’t be forgiven.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He pressed his hands to his face, touching and searching. It was the same as it’d always been. There were no sharp teeth, no inhuman eyes, no thick black limbs that bled disgusting, horrid fluids- but he could no longer pretend it hadn’t been real. Whispers of corpses plagued him, and they weren’t from a mental break. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was a heat in his stomach, and death in the air.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Rather than having any moral dilemmas, Basil simply dreaded the possibility of being fired, and that was that.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Instead of getting harshly chewed out, turned over to the cops (you know, due to being an unholy abomination), or isolated from his ‘family’ completely- when the group he worked for found out what happened, from Basil himself along with witnessing the bare remains, he was invited to one of the hottest nightclubs in the city. Reeling, he was unable to process a lot on his own, but helpfully enough, had a couple of goons dress him up nice and drag him there.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gomorrah was a sleek, stylish representation of Hell that raked in endless cash. Apparently the owner was as charming as the Devil himself, and even more attractive. The club didn’t feel quite like [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]home,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] but instead, something uncannily close to it. And suddenly, Basil had a VIP pass. He blinked rapidly, but never shook off his dazed state.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He caught the gaze of a red-haired man for a significant seeming moment, but couldn’t seek him out, as he had a very important meeting to attend. Perhaps he’d get to return to this place, eventually, and see if a shared look could lead to anything greater. It was a lovely thought.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil was escorted to a private room, then left by himself. He sat in tense anticipation, voices gaining volume again, until he was joined by a decidedly handsome woman. She was dressed to kill, and the mere sight of her nearly made him shrink into his seat. He didn’t, and there was a glimmer in her eyes that might’ve suggested she was impressed. She introduced herself as Hughes. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He recognized the name instantly, of course. That was the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]big boss[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] behind the syndicate he was with, top of the foodchain. While the low tier, in the dark employees addressed her as Mr. Hughes, she was evidently a queen rather than a king- and bolder than any man could ever aspire to be. She still preferred ‘sir’.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She was aware of his being a monster. Asked him to retell his story to her personally, and at every point he expected her to recoil, she leaned in closer. He tried to resist basking in the attention, but it didn’t take a lot for him to give in. He was soft and compliant in her hands, allowing himself to overflow with her influence. She was so assured of what she offered him, perfect when he was struggling to understand what to do on his own. She embodied a shiny, new, glorified dream to reach for.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Old habits were hard to break.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil had gotten a promotion. Instead of a weak, disposable delivery boy, he was a weapon. And although Hughes had his loyalty, when the news spread, there was a certain demand for him, instead of the full fear he’d expected. He was happy, for a while. It didn’t matter how many other selves began to clog his brain and make him loopier by each meal, or if his every wink of sleep was haunted by screaming and visions of lives cut too short. The praise he received from his queen outdid it all.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He’d wanted more, pure and simple. He’d been given a lot, and this was it, the dream finally come true. He had a life of action and was spoiled sick by his boss. At this point, could he reasonably ask for more? Did he have that right? What was he even looking for, truly? As it ticked over to having been one year since he’d arrived, he asked himself these questions repeatedly, whenever he was lucid enough to do so. He hadn’t come up with any answers yet, but if there was anything Basil was good at, it was stubbornly clinging to hope.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]If he didn’t have that, he wouldn’t be able to keep smiling. Bittersweet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]In one of his lucid states, instead of his usual attempts at self reflection, he sought out something else, which would be equally selfish, and wonderfully wanton. He [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]needed[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] selfish, disconnected from his current routine, not reliant on being a dog that did tricks for treats.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]With the countless people he’d gobbled up, he was bound to recognize and learn about the red-haired man in a memory eventually. It was the awe inspiring Gabriel Baltimore himself, owner of Gomorrah, the nightclub that had dazzled him dizzy. Despite being strangers, Basil knew Gabriel well, and far, far past the surface rumors. Basil had relived so many experiences with him, none of which he’d gone through himself, but that felt painfully, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]sacredly [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]real nonetheless. Deals, torment, fucking, worshipping. Gabriel was a very busy individual. The Devil always was.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]To Basil, Gabriel was an old friend, lover, and enemy, harmoniously. It was possible he hated him, and it was more than certain that he loved him (in the way that creatures like them could love, that is). He was going to pay his demon a visit, see if it was requited.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil made plans to meet with Gabriel in an expensive hotel, using the voice of a very dead previous dalliance and the salary afforded to him with his current career. He had wine, music, and was wearing garters with his stockings and slip of a dress. In his opinion, he was already doing well.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]They reunited, and perhaps Gabriel knew a little too much about him in return. It was fine as long as it was mutual. The demon also happened to be ever so curious about so many things, and Basil, eager to share and please, was entirely ready to gush. It became their pillow talk, because some things just took the immediate priority over others. There was no particular hurry for them, either way. Being together was slower and heavier, yet lighter and casual at the same time. Those sorts of contradictions and complications were what made it exhilarating.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There must have been something in Basil that was helplessly drawn to the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]charismatic[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] species of monster, as it was a striking trend. The fact that Gabriel was the same as him made this different. The man’s honeyed words held a sharper gospel in them, and although Basil accepted being played with (even now, yes, especially now), there was no pretending he was naive in it.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Gabriel told him that he was a monster, but not the one they thought he was. When ordinary men tried to control and toy with destructive elements they couldn’t comprehend, it always came back to bite them. Basil listened, and felt, unquestionably, like himself. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]anywhere, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]not until he forced it. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He could carve his own place, and it wouldn’t have to be bitter. Just sweet.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Hughes had wanted Basil as a pet, but he was a wild animal. He made that much clear when he ate her without remorse, biting the hand that both fed him and caged him in every objectifying, cocky way that could be gotten away with, making a [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]show[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] of it all.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wiped out her and her entire organization, singlehandedly. Hughes was a special meal. He took her ambition, willpower, and decisiveness for himself. Everything was so obvious now, and feverishly, he knew where to go. It was an instinct.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The blindfold was being pulled away, permanently cut into ribbons. There wouldn’t be any looking back.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Goodbye, fishbowl. About time.[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]Old City Park. His sanctuary, and the center. The midnight sky cast a purple hue over everything, giving his skin an alien sheen. He followed the broken sidewalk road, humming a fitting tune under his breath. Everything within his mental space was crashing down and bleeding into an ugly wreck. Ugliness, beauty, was there a difference? If there’d ever been one, it no longer made sense to Basil. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The further he pressed ahead, towards the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]source,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] the more memories he received, without even having to embrace his beloved gluttony. These weren’t foreign. They were him. His past, present, and future was marvelous and eternal. He knew timelessness, and the ache of divine boredom.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was difficult to understand and be a part of a world with such fleeting, tiny things, despite having an obsession with them. A single look upon your most honest form and they could be torn apart. To slip in unnoticed, without the very skies breaking and heaving under your glory, you needed to fold into yourself, suppress and disconnect before introducing the truth.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Almighty beings could never fully hide their nature. The freckles that danced across his entire body were clusters of stars. The fluid ways in which he moved were reminiscent of something you’d find deep in the depths of the sea, as were his other strange, beautiful, and fear inducing features. His level of emotion and knowledge was too intense, he was too much, and never enough. Always more.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It may have been impossible for him to find a final sense of satisfaction, but his work wasn’t pointless. Happiness was living and breathing, and, just like him, needed to be fed continuously to thrive. That wasn’t depressing, it was something to be [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]celebrated.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wasn’t stagnant anymore.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]As Basil passed long dead electronics, they buzzed and flashed, woken from their rest due to the thick energy passing through. He wound in and out of buildings, with directions and patterns that a human couldn’t replicate, honing in on a place of sanctity. He clawed and dug at the overgrowth, tearing away vines and moss, scraping until he could see them. Symbols. They read clearly to him, and settled more pleasantly into his chest than any of his cherished storybooks ever had.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He opened his eyes from head to toe, and pushed through the gate, descending into the tunnel, down, down below. He felt full to bursting. A thin fog swirled around his feet, and everything looked as though it hadn’t been disturbed for decades. The crumbling stairs seemed to go on forever. Statues of obscure forms, woven into forbidden languages, became more frequent and ambitious as he went. He wasn’t sure how long he kept at it until he finally, [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]deservingly,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] reached the end.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Or would it be the beginning? He smiled, drunk on it all. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He’d found his home.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]At some point, very much [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]later,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Basil exited. He got through the ruins mapless yet again, and nearby, there was a morose, sobbing man. He seemed as though he’d drowned himself in alcohol- figuratively and literally, going off of the scent. Most importantly, he was a heartbeat away from dropping himself down a chasm, following the skyscrapers that had sunk back into the earth, reclaimed. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Basil caught him by the back of his dirtied suit jacket, right as he started to tip. He had a proposition, one that would be going places.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]“Since you were already intending on throwing your life away… wouldn’t you prefer to use it for something greater?[/BCOLOR]


[BCOLOR=transparent]More time passed. Whether it was months or years, Basil made himself busy getting up to new things, and creating the interest rather than purely seeking it out. In terms of status, he was a big fish. He had his own cult, and really, they were absolute darlings. He wore the most stunning and attention drawing of dresses, whenever he wanted, and could intimidate anyone into not making a peep about it (thank you dearly for that ability, Hughes). He mixed business and pleasure with Gabriel Baltimore, the luxury visits to Gomorrah constant. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was a monster, a human, and anything he so pleased. He didn’t overthink it, or let himself believe that always wanting [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]more [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]could be a bad, miserable existence. Never again.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was a happy ending, a happy beginning, and everything inbetween.[/BCOLOR]