{"id":2608,"date":"2023-10-09T22:32:01","date_gmt":"2023-10-09T22:32:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/?p=2608"},"modified":"2023-11-21T04:44:06","modified_gmt":"2023-11-21T04:44:06","slug":"cunt-toward-enemy-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/cunt-toward-enemy-8\/","title":{"rendered":"Cuntdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

If you ‘act’ the most fatal ‘act’ of your life, the most fatal act of the epoch, you are depriving your life and the epoch of their deadly seriousness. From this consideration springs my first warning advice:
1. By no means should you consent to acting yourself, to become the actor of your life.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014 G\u00fcnther Anders to Claude Eatherly, the pilot of Straight Flush<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur stares into those hell blue eyes that reflect him without iridodialysis black or hyphemic red. Pupil, iris, sclera; clean circles of control.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\u201cI never expected you to make yourself so completely helpless.\u201d Rubicon curls his fingers into a tight ball hissing hissing. \u201cStupid bomb dog.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something squeezes Lazur\u2019s throat, ticking like a watch. He grips it, expecting cold hard tightness, and finds it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have a dummy shaped like you in my lab.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s voice is devoid of sounds such as nasal, wet, sucking, clogged, wheezing, smacking, grinding, phlegmy, or smacking, pure as a clarinet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBallistic gel full of resin bones and synthetic blood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur drops to his knees, choking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA jaundiced translucence. Like a man made of honey.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bomb collar tick tick tickles his throat cartilage, tongue thrusting hunting for air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy are you so scared? You\u2019re just another dummy. A piece of male tissue squeezed into a black rubber toothpaste. Or out. I forget how toothpaste works. I have this oral rinse station\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The collar turns harder and heavier the more he claws at it, bristling with wires and bolts and the neat tight bulge of just enough payload to pop his skull like a fruit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can ruin your mind from here. Make every second unbearable until you go insane\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHhhhghk. Help me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon recoils, fingers curling across his face. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s chasing me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho\u2019s chasing you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m trying to think. It was a red name. Rrr, rrrh, ruhh, ruby? But the bad version of that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBad?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen there\u2019s no pros.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPoetry?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCons. Ruby. Con.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat a cool name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. It\u2019s pretty cool. But he\u2019s insane.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow would you describe this mysterious menace?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s. All fucked up. Crippled. Mutilated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon cocks his head with an exaggerated expression of confusion. \u201cYou\u2019re scared of a cripple?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t understand. He\u2019s trying to kill me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cKill you!?\u201d Thinking pose. \u201cLike run you over with his wheelchair?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe wants to blow my ass up.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd you don\u2019t see him anywhere in this room?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur strains to look around, the collar so heavy his head can barely lift, dark hair brushing the floor. \u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou sure?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur\u2019s eyelids droop, throat failing to register the sensation of air. \u201cIt\u2019s not you. You\u2019re beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The color leaves Rubicon\u2019s face, his mouth turned downward and crushed by a hand of light. An invisible hook pulls at the corner of his lip, dragging open a few teeth to smile by. \u201cHaha. Yeah. I get that a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

*<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\u2019re sitting at a table. The table is covered in words he can\u2019t read. Short phrases that make his mouth pucker. The table is covered in food. He leans forward to cover his crotch. \u201cI\u2019m very sorry about this. But I seem to have lost my clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t have clothes if you don\u2019t know who you are, retard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho I am.\u201d He stares at his hand, trying to understand the history of his limb. \u201cJust something normal. I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019s wearing a suit now. It seems appropriate for fancy food in a fancy house. But his palms are sweaty. He looks for an exit. The walls are blurred, as if sweating with him. For some reason, the young man across the table makes him uncomfortable. Probably his attractive appearance. Why would that matter? Is he a rival?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cYou seem like a nice guy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI had this thing I was supposed to do but I can\u2019t figure it out. There was a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon stabs his fork into the table and blood spurts out, dripping cough syrup red over the side. \u201cWhat the fuck do you mean. A woman?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur flinches. \u201cShe\u2019s in trouble.\u201d He tries to think, embarrassed of the mistakes he seems to be making. \u201cWas it my mother? Do you know her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon twirls the fork, head leaning on his hand. \u201cI\u2019m dying to meet her. But I don\u2019t think you\u2019ve introduced us yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur puts his hands on his lap, uncomfortable. \u201cSorry. I can\u2019t remember what the nature of our relationship is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, a little about me. My biggest passion is probably respecting human rights.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. I\u2019m a pretty boring person. I like wargaming conventions but haaaaate violence. I\u2019m terrified of my phone exploding and killing me. What about you, hot stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI. I\u2019m sorry. I can\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou lost your long-term memory, dummy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat happened to me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cProbably huffing paint.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs inhalant abuse a problem I have?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, yes. Many\u2019s the time I\u2019ve seen you snorking Krylon under the bleachers. But I don\u2019t judge you for it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So much food. A stained glass window was smashed on the table, blue corn chips, slices of purple potato, jeweled berries of ruby and sapphire, a nosebleed of pomegranate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry to interrupt you at dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon regards the food for the first time and it sharpens under his gaze, made vibrant by his attention. He knows it isn\u2019t real. His mouth waters. He takes a pastiched pastry and bites very carefully with his illusory teeth, believing in their hardness and uniformity. Now his eyes are watering, a barely suppressed moan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur looks up. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNothing.\u201d Rubicon covers his face with ten fingers, so delicately limned with evening red as to be nearly translucent. \u201cIt just tastes so good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The flavor fades, leaving nothing but medicinal scum and broken teeth. He turns back to Lazur and his smile is perfect again. It\u2019s easier to hold this form around the technician, this amnesiac Lazur without preconceptions, so apologetic and sensitive. Easier to believe he can be beautiful, even if it\u2019s a lie, outside and in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The room has changed and we do not understand it. Was that real?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It throbs up again in the silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve felt this way before. In the ancient valleys of the past.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shape of a young man, a silent blur.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. I\u2019m definitely paranoid and I definitely feel bad. But that\u2019s okay. It happens. Sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou need a reference point.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur picks up the pen. \u201cDetonator.\u201d He points to a strand of Rubicon\u2019s hair, swirling as if underwater. \u201cDeath transmitter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow, you\u2019re almost ready to graduate kindergarten.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHa?\u201d He looks down, blue highlights in his ultrablack hair like an old comic. \u201cI am scared of something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon settles in like his favorite show just came on, dreamy smiling face framed by his hands, legs kicking behind his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cWhat I really hate about fear. Is it\u2019s such a mind-killer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. I hate when my mind gets killed.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A half-remembered conversation by the pool. \u201cIf fear is the mind-killer. What\u2019s terror?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTerror is the dick-killer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHaha. Hmmm. I shouldn\u2019t be this weak. I don\u2019t know why I can\u2019t control it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou’re shock hardened, Laz. Hard, but brittle. Lazur shock. Haha.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOne day I\u2019ll feel normal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, Laz. I seriously doubt it\u2019ll be today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho are you again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m your worst fucking enemy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat seems hyperbolic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHyperbolic, metabolic, anabolic, diabolic, take your pick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCrispy fried critter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Delighted. \u201cThat\u2019s right!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI have to get out of Toontown.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This bathroom has a broken mirror, ugly shapes hunting through the shards, he feels like that fractured reflection, carrying around a bucket of his shattered self.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cold sweat on the back of his neck, the tickle of God\u2019s crosshair, he crosses himself, his fingers are small as bullets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon says, \u201cWow, you\u2019re so cute like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grabs Lazur\u2019s hand. \u201cYou wanna go play in the street? Eat Pop Rocks?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur rips his hand away and it pops back to long fingers and dark hair, adult knuckles curling. There is a powerful and definite heat that seems to be following him. He slides along the wall. His tongue hangs out, limbs dark as the maned wolf, ears perked forward, muzzle charred black.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou got your hackles up, Laz.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s hackles?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. But you got em.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just. I get a bad feeling from you. The sound of your voice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just the old constraint of an essential bond. Don\u2019t worry about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Damp sensation but his skin is dry. He stares at the back of his hand and sweat pops out like blisters. \u201cSomething is definitively casting a shadow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe gotta be quiet\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s coming.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re making me paranoid too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t keep changing shape. There has to be a cost.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe cost is so gradual you won\u2019t even notice until it\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s just time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVroom vroom.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The floorboards rattle and pop like fireworks in the basement. Lazur\u2019s hair jets out like a scared cat, long and dark with a white streak through it, brown eyes smoldering like the bed of that iron-rich river. She checks the air for tripwires, finding exactly what she expects. Snip of her wire cutter blue nails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon makes binocular circles around his eyes. \u201cLazurowy\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur crushes her breasts into the wall, feeling for the door handle. She opens it and they\u2019re in another hall. \u201cAre we going in gurkles?\u201d Sniff sniff. Is that smoke?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tries the window and it rattles. \u201cDo you have. Is there some kind of specialized window opening device?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An explosion sound. She looks back. Rubi, pert tits in a bomber jacket, blond hair shimmering like tinsel, snapping melted skin in her mouth like bubblegum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur grabs her by the collar. \u201cDid you just change shape?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s crazy talk, mister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMister?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI mean. Cool it, milfy!\u201d Rubi sinks into the lifted jacket, face buried, blond bob with red bomb bows sticking out, bare midriff stretching. \u201cWould you say you have a punitive personality?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur looks down to see the girl\u2019s tiptoes teetering on the floor. She releases her. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I don\u2019t, I don\u2019t like hurting people. That can\u2019t be me, can it?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLook in the mirror.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI need a window.\u201d Lazur stares into the forlorn distance, canthal lines dancing around her eyes like water striders. The ice wall of emotion melts to reveal tangible environmental details. The window is gone. Heat blasts down the hall. Something is burning down here. \u201cWe have to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubi\u2019s big shojo eyes peer from over the collar of her bomber jacket, lids at half-mast. \u201cCan\u2019t we stay like this forever?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe building is on fire. We have to get out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubi’s breasts pop like water balloons of blood, soaking her top red. She teeters on her feet, a gauntness in her jaw like a teenage zombie. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing for me outside. I won\u2019t go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur grabs her by the wrist and her hair gasps, ash flying from her ears. \u201cI\u2019m not letting you die here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s clips fall out, hair limp and charred at the edges. He looks up with bloodcherry eyeballs, fidgeting with the zipper running from the side of his mouth, all his stitches are zippers. \u201cYou still don\u2019t remember me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They\u2019re back in the piano room. The food glistens lusciously, then he remembers that time has passed, and it turns rotten purple, twilight bruises on the walls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He wears a suit and tie now, funeral bleak. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. My state of mind. It\u2019s no excuse for my behavior. I wish I knew the right words and actions. It\u2019s all I want.\u201d He loosens his tie and marbles fall out, clattering across the dense hardwood with teeth-aching impact. He picks one up. A steel ball bearing from a claymore. \u201cI don\u2019t even know where I am.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon stares with flat steaming eyes, then sighs and unzips his bomber jacket. A scar rips across his leg, red clouds of contusion like evening in his thigh. The room feels less clenched, more detailed. \u201cFigure it out, stupid!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur stares at the objects on the floor. Leather watch. Cigarette stubs, still smoking. Blasting caps. Pink dress. A handful of ammonia fertilizer. School uniform, dark shorts and a skinny red tie. A glove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He picks up the dark glove. \u201cI\u2019m like this glove.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Memory dances on his fingers like a coin rolling across his knuckles. \u201cMy body is in another location. This is a projection.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWow!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He flexes his fingers, feeling the stretch of unseen rubber. \u201cI was in a bad place. A dungeon with no entrance or exit. Only suits could enter. Controlled by a signal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So where am I now?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the place where the signal dies.
I\u2019m stuck.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLimbo. Limbomb.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhy would I enter a place of danger? I had to find the clue. The clue turned into a woman. I had to save her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlot twist! What happened next?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI began to feel confused. I think he sabotaged the signal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYup. The pieces of your brain got separated from each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen there was a bomb.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAlways is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAm I in hell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Rubicon says seriously. \u201cWhat kind of bomb?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe dungeon collapses. The evidence is destroyed. The evidence has a burnt mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo you have a countdown. That\u2019s your specialty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the best bomb defuser in the whole world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s very kind of you to say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhatever. How long is this countdown?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTen minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something snaps in LAZUR\u2019S wrist. He grasps the bleeding area. Blood spurts from his watch, fanged with broken glass.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

RUBICON (sardonic smile)
Do you have the time, sir?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LAZUR
The time?
(struggling with his watch)
Just a minute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

RUBICON (shocked)
Is that all?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LAZUR
I think it\u2019s a number. Can you read it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

RUBICON
Aw, jeez. That\u2019s one of the bad ones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LAZUR
Oh no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

RUBICON snickers.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

LAZUR
Wait. This isn\u2019t real.
Don\u2019t play with me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grabs RUBICON and holds him against the ADJACENT SURFACE.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf I\u2019m wearing a suit. You\u2019re wearing a suit too. You concealed your form.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A drop of red runs from Rubicon\u2019s eye. \u201cGreat job, genius!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you sick?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ragged breathing from a different audio channel. \u201cJust the stress of your regard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur\u2019s chest aches and tightens. \u201cRubicon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re getting sweat on me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sizzling droplets fall from Lazur’s terror mask. \u201cWhat did you do to me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cD-don\u2019t blame me. It\u2019s you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The more Lazur notices the heat the hotter it gets, faster and crazier, panic like an electrode on his tongue. \u201cI\u2019m running hot. I\u2019m hot. I\u2019m burning. Like fire. You know? That hot stuff? Orange, red\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLook at the suit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

LAZUR blinks rapidly, each blink stripping layers from his skin until he sees the suit with the entrancing lines like the scars on your body.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCoolant tubes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe price of the dream is heat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur reaches back and feels the tube running from his spine, pulsing with coolant, cold in, hot out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s lips crack like hot plastic. \u201cYou can see why this didn\u2019t hit mass market. That\u2019s the cost of fidelity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt feels so real.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. It piggybacks off your dream center. Stimulates the hippocampus. Hyper-associative schizine overdrive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur feels like he\u2019s dying of cold, frostbitten dreamlike. Flakes of ash drift through the air like fallout snow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly. Cal had it set up so, anyone who isn\u2019t authorized gets hit with an exploit.\u201d At the mention of Cal\u2019s name, the room flashes orange like the detonation of a distant bomb. \u201cOverstimulate your pattern recognition, desync the cute little pieces of your brain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A door jitters in Lazur\u2019s periphery. The boy hasn\u2019t seen it yet. But if he turns too fast, it\u2019ll disappear like a fly. He edges sideways, reaching his hand out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon snaps his finger and the doorseeming zips away. \u201cNot so fast, baby.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur slams him into the piano and it makes a BONG sound. The healthy body struggles uncannily, breathing too ugly for that pristine mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cYou\u2019ll never know how bad you hurt me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An eye of blood-filled rage through the broken mask of Rubicon\u2019s face. \u201cYou think I don\u2019t know pain?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pink lines cut his body like a map, slicing through organs, fingers, crotch, leaping from blast chakras into the anatomic air. Lazur pulls away but he\u2019s tangled in the pain like red wires, feeding the ghost nerves with his perception. He shuts his eyes and the wires go limp like noodles, feedback loop killed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A cassette clicks, Rubicon\u2019s voice like a decaying tape or a jaw filling with blood. I began feeling phantom pain for limbs I never had.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dotted lines encircle Rubicon like paper ribbons, outlining appendages in blood pink: ballistic spurs, drone halo, terrorphotic esca swaying in the room\u2019s ground zero gloom. He twists onto his stomach, ribs so sharp they nearly slice from his back. His shoulder blades radiate neon arcs of nerve crystal, feathered with orphan neurons. \u201cYou\u2019re such a fucking angel. Maybe we can do mirror therapy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAt the restaurant. I could see how shook you were. Maybe you have phantom pain for other things as well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe emotions you never thought anyone would see in you again.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re gonna make me puke.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur slaps the floor and it turns to concrete. \u201cYou didn\u2019t feel anything after what you did to that woman?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s body tightens to sculpted imp red, angular and cringing until he\u2019s almost disappeared behind himself like a salamander. \u201cN-no. He was. I\u2019m just. Putting it all together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSame thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon crawls across the piano keys to get away, PLING PLONK CHNNNNG.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cThat\u2019s why you were so scared.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sharp eyebrows slice from the sides of Rubicon\u2019s head, angry blond scissors. \u201cI\u2019m not scared.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt hurts you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t use someone like that without being damaged.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s hair flares across his face, a blond scything shield, teeth glitching, breaking and reforming. \u201cY-y-you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are the prisoners for? Help me understand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon snaps back to his stable form and holds up his fingers, a single digit flickering. \u201cThe qatran is activated by words.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike a specific sequence, or\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon circles with his skinny body, sharp hair tendrils probing and tingling, the background whipping catching up with each crane of Lazur\u2019s neck. \u201cRu-bi-con. The tip of the detonator taking a trip of three seconds down the timer to tap, at three, on the blasting cap and blow your teeth across the map.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the sequence?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a million of \u2018em. But it has to be the right order or something bad happens.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo the prison is a linguistic firing range.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDing ding.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the delivery mechanism?\u201d He holds the photocopy from his memory, black and white ballistomorphs melting to Rorschach blobs. \u201cI saw the bullet. So there\u2019s a gun. And you need the words to fire it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s face flips like pages, whispering nervously at the edge. \u201cBasically. Yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur has that feeling again, of waking up and thinking his mother died a long time ago. Why hasn\u2019t he visited her more? All the depressing, annoying things seem so trivial now, compared to the simple fact of knowing if she’s still alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He folds up on the floor, collapsing into the hollow of his body. He can feel her cross-legged on concrete, naked skin shining under the UV. No no no he whispers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhatsa matter?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s too late. I couldn\u2019t save her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, you fucked up and your life is ruined and everyone is dead because of you. Kill yourself.\u201d Rubicon stares, breathing heavily until his mouth goes flat and his eyes roll to the side, exasperated blue. \u201cBut we\u2019re on relative time, so, you know\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRelative?\u201d He thinks of his mom. He\u2019s definitely on her time. Neurologically crumbling, free associating. Dancing with the enemy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTime is stretchy in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur checks his watch. The cartoon figure is jumping around and shaking its ass. That has to mean something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre you telling me. There\u2019s still hope in the universe?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUh. By that broad metric, fuck yeah, buddy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur leaves the room and runs down the hall. He turns the corner and he\u2019s back in the room. Rubicon sits on the piano, legs hanging off the side. His hand covers half his face, bloodshot eye staring through a stump gap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur tries another door. He walks through and steps out into the same room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cEverywhere I go leads back to you. This egotist architecture.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s face burrows under hands wrapping like bandages serving Beksinski cunt with the smell of medicine from the nursing home. \u201cI didn\u2019t ask you to have a panic attack inside my skull.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur checks the window. Locked and mirror sick, specks of blood paste covering the glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGuess you\u2019re fucked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur casts his dark eyes in the young man\u2019s direction. \u201cI\u2019ll get out of here. With a little help from my enemy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you want from me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou want to hurt this? Control it? Own it?\u201d He peels back his sleeve to expose the slick dark material underneath, blistering with heat. \u201cI\u2019m hollow as this suit. But if you want to trick yourself with open eyes, with my body. Fine.\u201d The piano shrieks, a solitary high note. \u201cIs my life worth a single finger on your\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMaybe if you detached it first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur\u2019s outstretched hand vibrates like antennae with the sensitivity of a panic attack, psychosomatic cannibalism, all the feelings of the past year like lumps of rock salt behind his eyes. His finger shudders against the phantom pain like poles of two magnets, his subcutaneous fat and muscle and bone stripped away until all that remains is a slender length of reed, bending theraminal along the length of Rubicon\u2019s decapitated wingspan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How simple and delicate and gentle to be a reed.
But if that reed made contact
it would burn up
in an instant.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon looks as if he\u2019s going to throw up, face melting like grease paint, childish or haughty bones surfing through screaming tissue, cunty eyes chasing holes in a skull, his phantom limbs erect, scorpionlike. \u201cDon\u2019t touch me, you filthy peasant, you sick molester, you like fucking cripples?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI like to live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLove.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t seem to enjoy it very much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI know. It\u2019s only when I\u2019m threatened very. Very badly. That I seem to enjoy it desperately.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s eyes are wide and absorbing, then slashed into hunting crescents, circling again. Lazur feels another wave of heat crash from his captive body into his whipped dream. \u201cAt the restaurant. You said I have a wish.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said put it in your back pocket.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sweat blinds him, suit clinging like a boiled condom. \u201cMy back pocket.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDid you remember to do that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur reaches behind and slowly inserts his fingers into the void. His hand flows along the tight rubber curve, then pulls something out. A flower blossoms in his hand, a blue violet, bruised purple. \u201cI know it\u2019s not very good. It got ruined by the heat and crushed. But it\u2019s all I have.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon rubs his shoulder, embarrassed and cringing into himself. \u201cWhatever. I may be a war criminal, but I\u2019d never break a birthday wish.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The window swings open and the unbearable heat recedes under verisimilitudinous coolness. Lazur leans outside, gasping and sucking air into his sister lungs, antipodean sacss. \u201cYou could have melted my brain from my skull.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon stands next to him, inhaling the sensation of fresh air. His scars are gone, his face perfectly formed and melancholy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cWhy did you help me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The young man turns away. \u201cWhen you couldn\u2019t remember me. I felt like I didn\u2019t exist.\u201d His eyes stare back through his head, blue drops glittering through a winter wonderland of scar fibers. \u201cBut I break all my mirrors in the end.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur steps onto the ivy-covered ledge, just enough space for his foot. The drop is far enough to give him a heat stroke before he hits the ground. He grips the crimson vines, edging very slowly toward the slope of a roof. He looks back, smelling smoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon\u2019s hand is stuck to the sill by burning flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur says, \u201cYou should disconnect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWon\u2019t you stay and burn with me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on. You\u2019ll lose consciousness faster than you think. You have to jack out now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat do you care? It solves your problem.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt would make me feel physically ill to watch someone die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake a fucking Dramamine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you get heat stroke, it could damage your brain. What else do you have?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rubicon looks at himself in the mirror of Lazur\u2019s body, flayed face dripping red, deep dark crescents burnt under his eyes. \u201cOh. I don\u2019t even look human anymore, do I?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fire spreads across the vines, the yard blazing with an inferno of autumn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI forget sometimes. Especially in here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are human.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThis body doesn\u2019t have a human thing about it. This body doesn\u2019t have a future.\u201d Rubicon rips his hand from the sill, skin stretching like melted cheese. He stares at it with hollow eyes. \u201cOh well. Soon everyone will know how I feel.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRu\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A vine snaps and Lazur claws down the wall, one leg dropping into the air, the other tucked into his chest, heart pounding into his knee. Only his nails keep him from falling into the flames, dragging trails of red sap. He looks up to see Rubicon\u2019s face, arrogant and stabilized. \u201cGrab your tail.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If he lets go, he falls. But the fire comes either way. He reaches behind and a violet petal snaps on his fingertip like a spark of ionized air. He falls and hot air shreds his back like hot metal slag. His heart leaps fast enough to black out the edges of his eyes, then his hand squeezes something thick and rubbery and he swings through the air across the dizzying hell of fall, feet brushing the dry leaves of the canopy\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He slams into the carpet rolling across the room until his limbs fly out black and shiny, the tube at his tailbone yanking him back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An angel of sweat darkens the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He slaps his hand against the tensed plane of his abdomen, a trembling laugh as he feels his clammy mass inside the suit, sweating through the vents like a gutted animal of water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is the body that belongs to me. I belong to myself. I\u2019ll take care of you.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He compares the location of the other suit relative to the blueprint, superimposes that on the desert, and converts it to GPS coordinates. He crawls to his phone and dials a number, trying to hold the little flip phone steady in his gloved hand. Ring. Ring. Quince\u2019s voice crackles, \u201cDo you know what fucking time it is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur tells him the coordinates. \u201cSend a team. Right now. And dig.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDig?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a body. A living body. A person. In the dirt.\u201d Well. There\u2019s a very small chance of that happening. If the caulk can be broken and she fits inside the sample elevator and it goes all the way up. But this is the only sequence of events that results in survival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn the dirt?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBuried alive. Dig them out. I\u2019m serious. Do it now. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The silence of, is that any way to talk to your superior officer? But hesitation. The fear of an unknown context.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur drinks from his bottled water, rasp smoothing out. \u201cQuince. We can\u2019t let them win.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know who they are.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The prevaricating sound of Quince licking his lips on the other end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember what you told me? All it takes is for a guy to do nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI said that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen you said that, it blew my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Deep breath. \u201cIf we pull this off. It\u2019s a big fat W for the good guys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScore one for the good guys. You know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScore one for the good guys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScore one for the good guys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBig win. Big win for democracy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou figure?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMake the call. Be the man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking at the numbers\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s your big fat lottery ticket. It\u2019s all you, man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSure. Okay, Laser. I\u2019m making the call.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScore one for the good guys.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cScore one for the good guys!\u201d Click.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unreality of the autopilot, running and outrunning his nervous system. The necessary sequence has concluded, leaving him numb. The question of which emotional reality to believe in, all these living dreaming bodies inside him, cold and hot. The suit is soaked with his suffering, but you can\u2019t see it, this clear fear without the eloquence of blood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I can forget. I can pass beyond this moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lazur turns around. A shadow stands before the window, framed by the night.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

If you ‘act’ the most fatal ‘act’ of your life, the most fatal act of the epoch, you are depriving your life and the epoch of their deadly seriousness. From this consideration springs my first warning advice:1. By no means should you consent to acting yourself, to become the actor of your life. \u2014 G\u00fcnther […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2608","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cunt-toward-enemy"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2608","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2608"}],"version-history":[{"count":38,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2608\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2852,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2608\/revisions\/2852"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2608"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2608"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/xrafstar.monster\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2608"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}