Could You Just Shut Up? [Restricted]

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

Sometimes, people could be unbearable. They just talk and talk and talk, rambling on about things that you never needed or wanted to know about. It was times like these that Benjamin wondered if people could even hear themselves speak. He often hoped for their sake they couldn’t. Benjamin tried to wait it out, for the sake of not looking like an asshole, but he was not that patient.

“I’m going to go have a smoke, alright?” He raised himself from the chair he was sitting in, but promptly paused when he saw his company begin to rise, too. “No, no, you can stay. Please, stay.” He placed a hand on the irritants shoulder, and the idiot was instantly soothed, sure he had done nothing wrong. If Benjamin had any say, he would have nothing to do with this type of idiot, but if schmoozing with some brown-noser was necessary to get to the boss, then he’d do it. Not that he was the one who was gonna deal with the big cheese. He just had to get the group’s trust, then others would take over.

Such thoughts got Benjamin nothing but agitated, so he stopped thinking them. He merely pulled his lips to a smile and left the room as quickly as was logical. As soon as he’d reached the sidewalk outside of the shabby house, he pulled out a cigarette, and had it in his mouth and lit before you could count to two. After that cigarette, he was still tense and angry. He made his way to the door, poked his head in, and made up some bullshit story, leaving with a sufficient amount of goodwill for a meeting with someone higher-up to go well enough. He started to walk down the street without any particular destination in mind, just searching for something exciting to do in a residential district.

Suddenly, he thought of his sister. He could visit Emmeline. She was so sweet… And he rarely had such a good opportunity to see her. He spit out his cigarette, crushing it under his right foot. He slowed his pace, uncomfortable in his surroundings. He was too excited to see his sister to rush. Rushing meant not noticing things, and being unobservant in an area where his sister would be… That could mean something unfortunate. He couldn’t stand doing anything that might harm her. She was absolutely precious, so he could take a few extra moments for her.

And, really, what’s the worst that could happen in a couple of minutes?

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

Apples. Yes, apples. Well actually, one apple on paper. It was drawn in short, thick sketches rather than long, thin lines. Not a work of art. Not anything too creative, really. Just a big, black, shaded apple in the middle of a finger print stained page. Why was it taken upon the artist to be drawn then? Well honestly, Dorothy knew a hell of a lot about apples. Useless information it might have been, but they were cute. She had reasons to believe that. Considering she owns a book on apples, she has many reasons to believe it. They were so cute and round. When cut open they made a crudely shaped heart. It was nice.

That wasn't it, though. That was not why she had drawn this apple. It was a member of the rose family. That was why she had drawn it. A round, sweet, tree-grown fruit was a part of a romantic symbol's family. It was also the state flower of Michigan. How sweet was that? A fruit who thought it was a flower? Ha. Dorothy was sure if inanimate objects could speak, then the Apple would certainly be one crazy bitch. If you are wondering, her imagination is running wild. She didn't know apples grew ripe anymore. They were never that pretty. She was almost afraid to eat it....

Eh. Like anybody cared about a single apple. Before the war, there was nothing concerning the sudden decline in its growth. Same with humans. Dorothy had finished this rough sketch in order to get started with her day. Doodling whatever she passed didn't get her job done and Dorothy was too good at her job to slack off that much. Kind of. She walked forward through the rows of houses, looking only at her notebook. Oh, she did take the apple by the way. And she was eating it. Before Uptown, she was in the Middle town, checking out different churches. Gothic designs were the most inspirational for designing a weapon.

"Maybe I'll put the window designs from the church on something shaped like an apple... But what for?" she murmured to herself. Now she ran through the mental file cabnets filled with different types of weapons. The apple was so sweet it made her wish she picked many of them from the tree she had passed. There weren't many this ripe it seemed. In between her chews she said, "I'll call it 'Red Delicious' for the apple. Give it the shape. Put the designs on it, and turn it into a small bomb. No. Not just a bomb. Maybe a tear gas bomb. For Valentines. Yeah. Just in case things get too out of hand with the men. It certainly fits the title."

There she goes again, talking to herself in the middle of nowhere. Homeless scattered off like rats at her passing through. Funny. She had to step over cracks in the floor. It was all fine as long as she had her apple. Being so developed in her decisions on the newly thought weapon, she was holding the apple down to her side after putting the sketchbook into her backpack. Someone brave, in the shadows of course, was eying it. Dorothy didn't know this. Otherwise the few seconds that are about to pass wouldn't have led her to the man with the eye patch.

The brave and also quite homeless and hungry person had lost his control. He was shaggy and rather smelly. Every spot where white was supposed to be, was yellow. Teeth, eyes and fingernails. Dorothy smiled at her beautiful apple, unaware of the man very close behind her. She knew agents lurked these houses all the time. It was a nice way to make new friends. At last, another juicy bite and--- Nothing. Nothing? Dorothy's eyes ran to the side. The homeless man stood with her precious apple at hand, staring at her blankly. Dorothy stared back. She was in shock. Nobody, meaning no one stole her food. That was a terrible choice.

"Heeeeey....." Dorothy said quietly, holding her hand out. She would hate to freak out on this poor, homeless man. Before she could even continue her sentence, he turned and ran. Dorothy's eyebrows furrowed with anger. She followed after him, catching up quickly. He was hungry, large and unhealthy. She was hungry, small and fit. They passed someone standing by a house. This hobo wasn't very smart. Houses had fences.

He stopped, looking both ways for some exit. Dorothy didn't want to shoot him. She hardly ever shot at a real person. It wasn't in her nature. Hurt them, yes. Kill them, ridiculous. Dorothy leaned over, picked up a palm-sized rock, and chucked it. She was aiming for his ass, but he just had to turn around. Yep. It hit his pride alright. Quite hard, in fact. Shaggy-Man's ankles buckled beneath him and he was down for the battle. Dorothy winced, imagining the pain. Another thing she hated doing. Below the belt was just unfair.

Dorothy trotted lightly over to him, towering over him. His shaking arm held the apple up for her to take. She took it gently and leaned in a little. "Sorry!" she said with real sympathy in her voice, repeating it a few times before turning to leave. How awkward that must have looked. She turned. Great. There stood some man smoking. Dorothy's eyes first went to the eye patch. How rude of her. "Um. Hi there," she voiced. She was positive he was feeling secondhand embarrassment just watching her little scene. Dorothy looked down at her apple. It was bitten all over. Not her bite marks. He must have eaten and ran at the same time. Her face expressed great outrage and when turning back to see if he was still there, he wasn't. He must have climbed over the fence when she wasn't looking. She sighed, "...Dang it..."

The little white haired lady was done moping now. She looked back at him--the man with the cigarette and eye patch-- and smiled gently. Now time to kill off the awkward! Dorothy didn't think much of him now. In the back of her mind, she did find him attractive but her confidence succeeded in keeping herself in check. That was why boys didn't like to date her. She knew what she wanted, and it must have been scary. Dorothy walked up to him, dropping the apple on the way, and stood, looking up at him. She held her hand out for him to shake. "Well, I'm Dorothy."

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

Suddenly, Benjamin was in a fabulous mood. Life’s funny that way. One moment, you’re blocked in a stuffy house, with a conceited ass, being bored to death, and the next you have to cigarettes full of tobacco in you, and feel fabulous about watching the grass grow. He was just thinking about exactly what he would do—visiting his sister didn’t seem like such a fabulous idea anymore—when she ran by. She wore an oversized sweater, combat boots, and… skin-tight, skin-colored pants? Either that, or some seriously strange tattoos and no pants. She had extremely long hair, that flew behind her like a bridal veil. She was chasing a man who was much larger than her, and much dirtier. He could not see anything of value that this man possessed until the girl retrieved from him a no-longer-shining red fruit. She took one look at the apple, deemed it violated, and raised her head. Eye-contact. A rush of blood at the sight of those animated, quick red eyes. He couldn’t look away from the fascinating creature in front of him. Nearly a foot shorter, she was a lovely sight, but so completely out of the norm, that he found himself curious about her every action.

“Well, I’m Dorothy,” her voice was relatively high, and breathy, which wasn’t terribly surprising considering he didn’t know how long she’d been running after that poor, no-longer-there homeless man. Her hand was presented in front of her, right hand, palm to the left. She wanted to shake his hand; she was no longer holding the apple. As soon as he noticed this, Benjamin felt himself reeling. When had she dropped the apple? He saw it laying on the ground, but he hadn’t seen it fall there. Why hadn’t he noticed its departure from point A to point B while it was happening? If he paid so much attention to something as insignificant as a young lady, and he could no longer catch the nuances of each situation, then he should obviously not pay attention to said young lady. He looked over her facial features and surmised that it might be a difficult task. All of this and more was running races in his head, competing for his attention and begging to be voiced in frustration. It had been but seconds since her introduction, so much more of a delay would be rather strange. He felt conflicted between crying out and hitting himself for such a complete exaggeration and overreaction. Out of the two options, he chose the third, more logical option.

“Hello, Dorothy. My name’s Benjamin.” He met her hand with his, brought it briefly to his lips, and released it to allow it to swing freely at her side. He did not smile. He said nothing cute or coy. It seemed ridiculous to hit on some girl simply because she was pretty. By the direction she was walking, Benjamin could assume that she’d come through Middle Town. He felt worried, knowing the type of people and places in Middle Town. Should such a frail-looking thing be wondering around alone, clad in the clothing she was, in a town of rats and abandoned churches? Really, where did safety come into this? He had seen her handle herself against a man, but it was a hobo. It was just some homeless riff-raff off of the street, who was out-of-shape and had both an empty stomach and an empty mind. Her killshot really was unfair, too. He couldn’t imagine her against another man. One much stronger, and with actual reason to harm her, be it for vendetta or command. The idea of a nameless, faceless, helpless, someone in trouble and pain made him feel. This someone now had a name and a face, though she was no less helpless. This intensified any worry he might feel.

He also wondered about this girl’s family. Where were they? Why did they allow her to walk in such a dangerous area unaccompanied? Or, maybe, they didn’t realize how many strangers and stalkers might be lurking in the empty houses in the surrounding areas. In either case, he didn’t want to assume anything about these possibly inexistent human beings. Now, he realized that it would be ridiculous for him to spend so much time so ruffled if he allowed her to continue her journey alone, and just as completely vulnerable as she had been before he’d first caught sight of her. It would be so hypocritical that he would be bitter for days after. Now, angry with himself for coming to such an indescribably annoying ultimatum, he came back from his thought to realize he had never looked away from Dorothy’s face. “I’m going to walk with you the rest of the way to your destination. I hope that’s alright with you, because you really have little choice. I’d prefer you stay in sight, though, while we’re walking. A lady never leaves her escort.”

After a moment of thought, he decided the company wasn’t too terrible.

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

Dorothy had no idea that his mind was going in and out of different, unfathomable things. She never thought of anything she did as a big deal. Dropping an apple? It was dirty! She certainly never noticed when people did such things. It was like watching television on mute. Moving pictures; no thought process. She wasn't even thinking about how delayed he was in speaking. In fact, her mind wandered slowly back to the flower-fruit her mouth craved. She would get back at that homeless man. Maybe bake a pie. Bake a pie, then eat it. That sounded absolutely splendid. Not that would effect him. Being that she would make it at home. She looked back at the ginger standing in front of her. Maybe she'd share her pie with him. She'd ask him later.

She imagined people would look at her funny when she spilled out all her facts about apples and their pie. In the nineteenth century, apple pie--or any other type of fruit pie-- was surved for breakfast often. Dorothy was sure the wives got sick of that. She was sure to invent her new 'Red Delicious' so women could get their revenge with the irony of apples. She turned her attention back to Ginger-Sir-Slow-Reaction over there. He said his name. Dorothy took note of it. She hated forgetting someone's name when she had known them for days at a time. It was alright if it was the candy-counter girls or the gas-station boys. She smiled and repeated his name in a totally unaware of how flirtatious she was about to sound way, "Benjamin. I've always liked that name. It suits you."

Then, for whatever peculiar reason. They shook hands much too quickly for her understanding. Dorothy didn't care. She was too touchy-and-feel for her own good anyways. Of course it might have been because of her perfectly great life. She hadn't been forced to miss anyone besides her parents. Even if she was normal, that was the stresses of being an adult. Dorothy tilted her head and let her hair fall to that side. He spoke of walking with her. That was interesting. Sure, she had offers of helping keep the door open or stopping the elevator closing but never being escorted. It made her feel a little giddy. Or excited. She couldn't tell. "Alrighty. I don't think I've ever had an escort before... I was just going to go explore some houses so..."

Dorothy walked ahead, and actually made it out to the street. She wasn't used to being lead anywhere. She was always doing the leading. For some reason, people thought she was an overachiever. How silly. Dorothy plus Over Achieving equals Impossible. At least that's what she thought. She usually got things done just right. She turned on a heel, and looked at him with a very strong eye-to-eye contact. The first time she went to Japan, people thought she was frightening. Because in Japan, looking into someone's eyes while speaking to them showed that you held little respect for them. Or you wanted to fight them. That explained why when she came back, she went two weeks without looking at anyone in fear they would Karate chop her.

"Let's go find a big house. Or maybe a mansion looking building. Something like that, you know? I can't really explain it since I've never lived in a big house before. Somewhere real creepy," she leaned in and whispered that last part through the side of her mouth to his collar bone. Oh. There went the personal boundary flaw. She was terrible at respecting it. Which is why people didn't like befriending her. Silly, awkward Dorothy of Yachats. She stepped back, and started to walk, looking at the sky, not paying attention to whether he was at her side or behind her.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with

[/font][/size]

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

So they were looking for a potentially haunted house. There was a lovely young lady walking beside him, who appeared from nineteen to twenty-one years of age, and they were off to ghost hunting like twelve year olds. Technically, he supposed they weren’t ghost hunting. In all honesty, she just mentioned old houses or mansions… But, somewhere in his mind, he felt ridiculously sure that they were going for the specters. Not that Benjamin was frightened. Ghosts had always been a fascination of his. Ghosts, fires, and mythical beasts had all captured his attention in the most extreme of ways at one point or another during his childhood. Though his obsession had faded, the initial attraction was still there, and that meant that their destination was taken without any fuss. Not that it mattered. Once they got there, he would leave. Or when they got to her house. Whatever. When he left wasn’t terribly important.

What was really important was that he left soon. As much as Benjamin may enjoy a good ghost-hunting escapade, he needed to return to HQ pretty quickly. He wouldn’t be missed much, he had finished early, but it still wasn’t smart to be caught gallivanting around with some frail little creature just for the fun. The idea of such pointless nonsense made him want to spit. Of course, he didn’t leave her. ‘What was the harm in staying a bit longer?’ He argued with himself, ‘You may as well finish this walk that you’ve started.’ So, they walked along, moving further through Uptown, reaching the shabbier parts, the parts that meant Middle Town was close by. Benjamin was pretty sure she meant one of the houses they were about to run into. He looked around, deciding just about exactly where their destination was. He kept pausing, and waiting for Dorothy to choose a house, or even suddenly break off from their current trail to make a beeline for one of the nearest old houses. It took him quite a few minutes to decide whether or not to simply choose a place to head to. He partially wanted to procrastinate, and simply stay where he was, strolling aimlessly through the streets. The idea that any part of him, no matter how small or large that part was, found such an idea even vaguely interesting, proved he’d already been away from work too long, and that he really did need to focus better.

While Benjamin was still caught in his whirlpool of thought, she turned. He barely noticed her disappearance in time to run and catch up to which house she went into. He couldn’t see any particular reason to choose the house she did. None of the houses were particularly alike, but this one fit into the same sort of mold. Older, somewhat gothic, high windows, chipping paint… As unique as any of the others. He had to stop and wonder what exactly made this house any better of a choice than the others. So, when they reached the inside of the house, Benjamin decided to stay just a bit longer, despite his ever-dwindling logical side. Why would she spend so long dawdling around the houses, and then pick this one so suddenly? Her decisiveness made him do a double-take. He reassessed the house, checking for an over-sized neon sign that said, “Hey, Dorothy and company, you’ll want to come in here!” After a glance, he deemed the house sign-less, and tried, for the first time, to unravel the reasoning process going on in that pretty little head he was following. He followed her for just a few more minutes through the winding passages going any and every which way throughout the house. These hallways were like a puzzle. He had never looked in any of these other houses, so he couldn’t say whether or not this house was unique in its design. If it was, was that the reason Dorothy had chosen this house? Once again Benjamin found himself absorbed in his own thoughts, only following the sprite-like girl in body, not in mind.

Really, though, what dangerous things could happen in a house like this?

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

Of course if something catches your interest, you want to look a little further, right? Absolutely! That was why Dorothy was skipping off, completely forgetting the fact she promised One-Eyed-Stranger she wouldn’t be out of his sight. He would follow far enough, she was sure. That was out of her mind now. She was completely fixated on the house that she chose. Why did she choose it? Well, it loomed on the slight hill it was raised on. The windows were all shut solid, aside from the few cracks. What really caught her interest was how large it was. She was sure she could get lost in that. Oh yeah, Dorothy wanted to get lost. Smart girl, right? She trotted up to the front of it. “It’s nailed shut…”

She ran her finger down the wood that was so quickly placed on. That was something she noticed. Dorothy wasn’t one for noticing things either. Her head tilted. “Whoever did this was in a hurry…” she said with more questions rising in her mind. Curiosity was the worst quality for someone who loved danger to have. She now had to figure out how to get in. She tried to pry it open, but the wood was burning her soft hands, so she stopped that. Tapping her foot, she thought seriously. It was always harder to get in than out. Besides, what if there was a good reason this was nailed so quickly? She walked over to the window closest to the house on the right. She picked up a rock, because apparently her new discovered talent was that she could chuck them pretty hard. Standing back, she threw it as hard as she could. The window shattered entirely, which wasn’t her intention, but worked fine for her. Few bits of glass stuck out from the corners but the window was so big they didn’t have to worry about it. Dorothy motioned for him to follow right before she climbed onto the window. It was closer to the ground outside than in.

She dropped down, looking around for a few moments. Besides the square of light where she was standing, there was absolutely no possible way to see where she was going. Her first instinct was to go left. For some reason, she always went left when she didn’t know where she was going. While doing so, Dorothy pulled a flashlight from her backpack of wonders. The first few times it wouldn’t work, but she slapped its side until it flickered on. It barely helped, but she was glad to have it. Dorothy found where she had broken into, was a surprisingly large entry room. She shined the light up. Besides the millions of dust particles flying about, there was a small chandelier ready to break off, and a spiraling staircase. The kind girls walk down when they’re getting ready to be taken to prom. To their left—her original destination—was a one step down living room. It was big as well. She walked down there. It wasn’t untouched. There were pieces of furniture ripped in half, and an pieces of the floor torn apart. It was wooden, too. That was some skill.

Then, she spotted the radio and an old one at that. Dorothy smiled largely, and walked towards it. She bent down to see the scattered tapes and CDs. A lot of the film was ripped out of the cassettes. That was depressing to see. Old music was the best to enjoy. She picked up the best one she could find. Reading the artist, excitement took over. She shot back up, and placed it into the radio player. A few minutes of fiddling with the On or Off buttons, then volume, and settings. Whatever button she could find, really. The sound of fuzz came before the jazzy tune started. Dorothy was happy it still worked, and began a small dance. “Frank Sinatra!” she exclaimed, turning to her newly found friend. “He had such a nice voice.” Dorothy grabbed Benjamin’s hands gently and danced with them, even if he wasn’t joining in. She hummed along with it. “This’ll help keep the house less creepy, won’t it?”

She stopped dancing after growing tired. The music was loud enough to echo through the house, so they would be fine leaving it until they had to flip the tape. Dorothy leaned to look into a dark hall. She played with strands of hair, trying to shine her flashlight. The thing didn’t help a damn bit. “Let’s go down there…” She didn’t hesitate to start walking. Isn’t it funny how the things we fear the most give us something to wonder about? Dorothy got through the door frame just fine. Her light caught a fridge, and a sideways oven. Well they knew they were in the kitchen. Unknowingly, she was about to get the creeps enough for the both of them.

Squish. Her boot was stuck in something…gooey. Sneering, with hairs basically on their ends, Dorothy looked down. It was black, and surrounded her entire foot. “Eh… eh….” She gasped, trying to remain calm. Dorothy pulled her foot out hard, because it required quite a bit of strength. She stumbled back. Her flashlight looked down. Little black puddles of the tar-like substance were all over the place. “Benjamin?” she asked with a shaky voice, reaching back to make sure he was still there. “Benjamin, I don’t like that. Whatever that is, I don’t like it one bit. Nope. It’s gross and I stepped in it.”

Dorothy looked down at her poor combat boot. She was very fond of the only shoes she owned. They made her feel big. She still wasn’t very big at all, but it was nice to believe, right? “My shoe…” she sighed. It was her mistake for choosing this spot. How funny it looked to have quaint music playing while she stood there, freaking out. She looked at the bottom of it. “Way too big to scrape off with a quarter… I have to throw this in the washer…”

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

They were in a large, open room, made clearly for having company over and chatting. It was a generally hang-out area. He supposed it had once been a living room. The irony of this room ever belonging to the living hit him as funny. The room was in total disgrace. Upholstery was split, and stuffing bulged from the gaps like blood through a wound. The floor was in pieces, literally having holes nearly a foot long in some places. Benjamin sank to one knee and leaned, examining who or what might’ve made these holes, and how. He set his hands carefully upon the edge, letting his fingers explore the jaggedness of each ridge. This had to be torn up just on purpose. But… With what intent? The holes seemed to serve absolutely no point, and looked like obvious destruction more than attempted creation. But such effort… Why? Benjamin looked over the room again, and felt chills run down him. It was not safe here. Not everything was as it should be. Something was definitely amiss, wrong. Unfortunately, since Benjamin couldn’t put his finger on whatever it was, he ignored it. He just stuck a bit closer to Dorothy.

Benjamin was still looking over the room when Dorothy stumbled across some type of music that he was sure she simply had to listen to. He bit the inside of his cheek, sure it would be something absolutely horrid, when a familiar rhythm put him at ease. Sinatra? Hm. Who knew the girl had taste. She turned to face him, holding his hands in hers, and doing a dance of sorts, swinging and swaying his arms for him while he stood motionless. Had he been expecting anything of this sort, he would’ve either danced with the girl or averted its happening. Of course, he didn’t expect it. He rarely expected anything that she ever came up with. She asked him a question, and it took him a minute to respond. “Yeah, the house’ll seem like sunshine and sugar-cakes with this type of music playing,” he muttered, trying to focus on something he’d been thinking about earlier that had seemed so important at the time. She danced slowly, keeping her hands resting in his for nearly the entire song. She had such small, soft hands. They reminded him of the hands of children. So delicate and fragile: easier to break than porcelain, he imagined.

Then, without any warning, she withdrew her hands and started off in a new direction. She called back to him, asking about going “down there,” wherever that was. He felt uneasy about such an idea. The house itself was unsettling, no type of basement or cellar could be helpful to that. She walked ahead of him, watching and admiring the appearance of every aspect that was new to the scenery. He kept his tread as light as he could manage, considering his size and apparel. Watching their backs felt like a necessary task for him. Then her footsteps stopped. A few huffs of breath, a strange noise to his ears, and he turned to see Dorothy fall backwards. With two steps forward and a quick bend, he caught her by the shoulders. Looking past her, he saw her foot covered in the remains of a grimy, gloppy black substance. He saw a gargantuan blob of it on the step into the net room, and assumed it had gotten on to her foot with an unwitting step. “Benjamin?” She whimpered softly. Her hand trailed back resting for a minute on his arm and then returning to her combat boots. “Benjamin, I don’t like that. Whatever that is, I don’t like it one bit. Nope. It’s gross, and I stepped in it.” She nodded her head at the asphalt-like substance, trying to pick the gunk off of her combat boots.

He stayed where he was a moment, thinking to himself and listening to her mumble, and then decided that they wouldn’t have turned off the water in the house, so he could always clear off this crap. But, why should he have to. Suddenly Benjamin felt angry. Not just annoyed, or agitated, or perturbed, or any other form of toned-down anger you could imagine. Benjamin was flat-out pissed, and now he would deal with things the way he did when he was angry. He would stop thinking, and just do. “Don’t worry about it, Dorothy. I promise I’ll get all of that off of your shoe. C’mon. We’re gonna find a washer,” he said, scooping her up in both arms and walking off. No need to let her run around and get trapped in some other hidden wad of overblown bubblegum-with-an-ego. Nothing logically inclined him to go any way in particular, so he turned left. If you start reading a book from the left, why not start everything else there as well? He shifted Dorothy into a piggyback-position, assuming she was uncomfortable being held like a two-year-old. They hadn’t been walking for too long before they came to another sitting room. Benjamin just kept walking. He would’ve let Dorothy down, but he didn’t like the idea of her barefoot when there really could be anything on this ground. It was also illogical to wear a boot that stuck to anything when you applied pressure against it.

“Tell me if you see something, ‘kay, toots?”

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

Now, Dorothy wasn’t the sort to find something that this disgusting. In fact, she barely finds the most repulsive things even a little bit nose crinkling. Changers diapers? She could handle. Mutilated bodies of the innocent? Been there, done that. She was solid. Yet, when she actually came in contact with this… slush, she felt everything she had never been disgusted by run down her spine and around to her stomach. It just freaked her out in every way possible. She was suddenly lifted up from the ground. Dorothy pushed the thought of how small she was compared to the big guy holding her to the back of her head. She wasn’t even that small. He was just huge. Thank the heavens and above that she exercises a lot, so she was light enough to be lifted. Dorothy almost didn’t want to this weekend. How funny that would have been to see him try to pick her up and failing. That would hurt her ego, surely. She need not worry. Dorothy was well aware of her small figure. She had been told it plenty of times. Which is why she wore the suit.

“Eep!” she squealed when he lifted her. It slipped out, really. Dorothy didn’t say a word about it. She was actually holding this in her collections of “Things She Would Tell to Her Friends, If She Had Any Friends”. She was thrown around to his back after a couple of moments of carrying her in a cute way. Piggybacks weren’t bad either. Dorothy refrained from jumping over him and screaming ‘Leap Frog’. It was tempting. Something told her he wouldn’t play back, though. She latched on with her arms around his neck, but low enough so he wouldn’t choke. Her knees held tight to his hips, too. “So this is what it’s like to be gigantic. Huh,” she said seriously. Being that much shorter than him, she couldn’t help but say something like that. Dorothy imagined how shielding he felt. She never understood that.

She shined the flashlight over them, toward the ground. If he stepped in the goo, then they’d have to hobble around on one foot. Whoever put this stuff here would get a kick out of that. That is, if it’s a person. She rested her cheek on his head. How inappropriate for someone she hardly knew, right? Dorothy never seemed to care about such matters. She didn’t even notice when she was much too close to someone. People always got the wrong idea which is why she took the Weapon’s Department up. To fight off the freaks. Ha. That was funny considering she wasn’t in any case normal. White hair, red eyes and pale skin, with skin tight clothes and some itch for danger. Oh, we can’t forget how obsessive she is with useless information. “Did you know flashlights were invented in eighteen ninety nine? They couldn’t be used for a long time, so they’d only be used in really short flashes. Which is why we call them that…” she paused, knowing this probably didn’t interest him what-so-ever. Dorothy watched people fall asleep while she spoke. So, she ended the subject with, “But uh… Mine only flickers sometimes. So we’ll be fine. Unless the batteries run out.”

Dorothy stopped then. That was a good place to end a subject, right? She couldn’t understand how people just… stopped talking. Someone was only alive for so long. So get out all the words possible. She never knew when one moment was her last. That gave thrill to just… breathing, when she thought of it. By the way, Dorothy does think frequently, if that answers questions. For a moment, she thought she was seeing things, but wherever they were, there were clothes. A lot of them. Most of them were ripped to shreds, except for some shoes…“Shoes!” she gasped, sliding off his back carefully so she didn’t trip and she didn’t hurt him. Dorothy had to remember how short she was. How ungraceful that must have seemed. She picked up pairs that varied in size. “Ah, here we go. Looks like a little girl’s. It might fit.”

She swung her white hair away from her face, and removed the gooey shoe. Her feet looked surprisingly small compared to the boot. It most likely didn’t fit her. She was terrible at shopping at actual stores. Thrift stores were so much easier. She placed the little black sandal over her foot. It fit perfectly. She did the same with the other foot. “These haven’t been worn in so long. I’ll have to break them in…” She did the pacing with her feet. Dorothy took off her backpack and unzipped it. Goodbye nice, clean things. She sighed. Like a captain watching his ship sink, she was forced to dump the goopy shoe and the other in with all her nice things. As long as her weapons remained untouched, she would survive. They were in holsters for now.

She turned to the wall to their side. Dorothy shined the flashlight in that direction, and her eyes widened. The black goo was dragged down the wall. Along with… what was that? Blood? Yes. Dorothy squinted at it. The blood was dry. It had been for a while. She wished to touch it, but she knew better. Dorothy turned to her new friend. She was considering him that because of how he went to the trouble of lifting her and taking her around. Calling her toots made her giddy for a few seconds. “I’m not sure what we’re dealing with, but it’s not a ghost, Benji,” she whispered. She began to head down the hall. The backpack was awkwardly heavier now. It was fine for Dorothy. She could lift bazookas! Boots weren’t going to kill her.

She began to walk down the hall, yet again leading the way. “Um. Thanks for carrying me. It was really nice of you,” she said quietly. As the music got further away, she would lower her voice. Less Sinatra was less comfort. She came to another abrupt stop. They were at the staircase. Her hands were steady, but too slow. She shined the light up every few steps it could take in. On the way, there were bones. Not animal bones, but bones of human anatomy. She knew this, because of her tons of useless information. Dorothy didn’t say a word now. She felt her heart skip with fear. Like she was in a trance, Dorothy stepped up slowly, avoiding the noise of cracking bones. “Now we’re getting somewhere…” she whispered more to herself than her friend. The goo was all over the ceiling and walls. A few spots on the floor, but not much. As if whatever it were, was thrown up there.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

At first, he thought she fell off of his back. When he realized she’d dropped herself, he was once again taken aback by how haphazard all of her actions seemed to be. He watched her rifle through the pile of old clothing, wondering if she was fazed by much of anything. She didn’t stop to consider how old these clothes might be, or what might’ve happened to those who had worn them before. She didn’t wonder if these were fresh from the dryer or straight out of the hamper. She just got down on her knees and started rifling through the clothing. He would’ve helped her, had he known that she was simply looking for a pair of replacement shoes. When she found some, he was slightly surprised. Away in her bag went the hulking combat boots, and on slipped soft, petite black sandals, fitting her perfectly. The perfection of the match, though, made him wonder. Since when has coincidence and good-luck coincided in such convenient times? With a shrug, Benjamin was forced to drop his train of thought and re-focus on the current situation. She was just finishing situating her stuff in her knapsack. Benjamin felt guilty that all of her stuff would be covered in muck, but what were the alternatives?

She turned, shining her flashlight (which she knew quite a lot about, he had learned while they’d been walking.) on the wall of the room. Dragged across each of the boards were large handprint-like marks. It could’ve been done in some type of brown, flaky paint, but something in Benjamin’s gut screamed at him for trying to deny the bloodstains. Dorothy spoke, “I’m not sure what we’re dealing with, but it’s not a ghost, Benji.” Her whisper carried, but he was so immersed in his thoughts he barely even registered the strange nickname that she’d used. He was calculating, trying to come up with some type of realistic creature that might make any type of marking like that. Any creature, any at all, except for humans. Coming up with none, Benjamin tensed, and prodded Dorothy to walk on. They continued, seeing that each hall and room were designed to be remarkably similar. They passed a large pile of bones. At first glance, Benjamin classified them as animal. After a moment, he realized he could make out a femur, a tibia, a humorous, a patella… These were human bones. He’d thought animal because of the ghastly gnaw marks left on each of the bones. He had been wrong. Dorothy was right, this was definitely not a ghost of any kind. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Benjamin was immediately cautious. He knew that no good could come of something that ate humans, unless that thing had a small brain and nothing but muscle. This thing, though… Ugh. Dorothy was excited for this? He found himself worrying about her mental health. He decided that different did not necessarily mean deranged. He walked behind her, keeping close. Since her change of shoes, he could barely hear her tread, if at all. Each of his steps echoed deeply on the boards. Feeling alone, Benjamin starting walking with longer, slower strides. Examining the hallway, he caught sight of even more bones. A large set of them. Before Benjamin had come within five feet of it, the skeleton was in plain sight. It was still clothed. A deep crimson dress, stained with blood. Had he bothered with closer inspection, he would’ve seen the huge tears through the dress’ fabric. She had been small, thin, and young. Her feet were bare. Benjamin remembered the shoes Dorothy had put-on and felt a chill. His mind conjured the little girl, feeling pretty in her new dress. She had probably spent many minutes preening and primping in front of a mirror, just to die here. He could almost hear this baby’s voice.

As the passed the skeleton, he would’ve sworn he heard a giggle. Fear washed over him at his hallucination, and he scooted a little farther forward, closer to Dorothy, and caught her hand in his. He was absolutely terrified, but he would hide that as well as he could. “Thought you might feel frightened. That would help nothing.” He mumbled softly. He was glad she couldn’t see the blush in his cheeks, and hoped she couldn’t hear it in his voice. He was not easily frightened, but the thought of whatever this creature was put him on extreme edge. He didn’t like the idea of it getting at him, and Dorothy was absolutely helpless. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to feel pity for her? Her seemingly thoughtless behavior may get her into trouble, and with a beast like theirs running around, there was no logic in allowing her to get herself in trouble. They were still walking, her hand curled inside of his. He felt as though she could be ripped from his grasp at any second. He threaded their fingers together, and then pushed her arm lightly, an indicator to turn into a room just off of the hall. He needed to get his baring, and moving around in such a maze-like house was definitely not the way to do it. He needed to pause for a moment and get a hold of himself.

The problem with that, was that he never knew which moment might be their last in peace.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

In the back of her head she knew it was scary. In the back of her head, she was very aware that whatever thing was would not spare them. That intrigued her, which wasn’t hard to do. If there was a mystery, Dorothy had to put her nose into it. The way she was drawn to things was almost a curse. It’s not like she liked to be so interested in whatever came across her path. She was just drawn to it. Like a moth to a light. More like a deer to headlights in this situation. Dorothy tried to think of other things to pull her mind away from the subject of whether she was afraid or not. She knew she was. She didn’t believe it. Usually her mind could drift easily but it seemed impossible now. The face of death laughed at her. Great, she was seeing faces now.

The last time she was ever this frightened was when she was about nine years old and she saw a kid crack his head open falling off a barred fence. Dorothy thought it funny that she was comparing now to around ten years ago. It was like a scaled bigger nine year old. Dorothy’s lips zipped tightened when they got closer to the top of the stairs. Without warning her, Benjamin’s hand grabbed her own. Dorothy didn’t flinch because she knew right away it was him. Looking over her shoulder, she saw their hands were locked pretty solid. Dorothy turned quickly so he didn’t see how red she was. It was funny the way all her nerves shifted to concentrate on the places his hand touched hers. It was all she could feel. Dorothy has never held a hand other than her mother’s. “ Um, thank you.

Actually, it was her hand being held. His basically fit over her whole hand. Not only did Dorothy enjoy it, but she was loving the fact that it did make her feel secure. She bit her bottom lip, leading them up the stairs. They were at the top now. Benjamin steered her to a room. That was fine with her. Her sense of direction was losing its power to the darkness. She turned into that room without even hesitating. She wasn’t as frightened because she didn’t see the skeleton Benjamin had. It didn’t even occur to her that the shoes she was wearing belonged to a little girl. They just looked like a lucky fit to her. She mumbled, “I wonder what’s in here…”

Dorothy didn’t release his hand. She loosened her incredibly tight grip so his fingers could breathe a little. She turned her flashlight to the corners. It was always best to check the corners. Nothing. Pausing, Dorothy began to relax. Breathe lighter. This room looked like a man’s den or something. The sort you see guys with robes and pipes sitting in before they introduce a story. Except the chair was ripped literally in half, covered with black, and crushed under a bookcase. Books scattered on the floor. She avoided stepping on them which was easy because of her little shoes.

Dorothy felt a hot breath on her neck. At first, she assumed it was Benjamin. That wasn’t logical. Benjamin’s wrist was in an entirely different direction, which was in front of her. Her hands began to shake. That just didn’t make sense. Dorothy directed the light head level to see where Benjamin was. She got his neck and shirt under the light. He was in front of her. But, that meant…

Dorothy turned on a heel, with the flashlight near her cheekbone. She only saw a reflection of herself in two very big, black eyes. She got to see her own expression twist in ugly horror. Her heart thumped through her, and she was just terrified. Dorothy gulped. The breath continued. Whatever this was, it was entirely black, and dripping the tar they saw all over the place, a line from cheek to cheek where a mouth should be. It was in the shape of a man, and that was clear. It was upside down, suspended from the ceiling by a wad of black tar. A sludge covered hand with half fingers, half claws, flew up, and touched Dorothy’s shoulder. The pure excuse for a mouth flew open like a nutcracker, and revealed maybe four sets of sharp teeth. It was like looking at a black Parana. Dorothy felt tar drip onto the chest of her clothes.

Too frightened to even speak, Dorothy was frozen in front of this thing for the longest time. Until its mouth began to open so wide it had the capability to fit her entire head inside. That was probably the idea. She stepped back too quickly, and fell into Benjamin, gripping tightly to his shirt and the back of his neck. It was her reaction. She didn’t scream once during this. Dorothy doesn’t scream. “Benjamin,” she said quietly, aiming her light back to the tar-thing, “That touched me.”

It struggled, falling out of its wad. It stood up. The creature began to shiver itself, breathing in from its mouth, sending goo particles flying all over. It craned its head back for a moment, and then rolled it to one side, looking at them with what appeared to be a smile. Dorothy was just horrified. She could barely think. When it took a step forward, she didn’t realize that was the time to run. Well, she did. Yet, she couldn’t. Dorothy was watching herself stare at the creepy thing. She wondered when she would start to see her life flash through her eyes. Before or after it killed her? Huh.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with

[Benjamin Cross]

I don’t need your “go ahead”

To go ahead.

The room was of medium size. It held little, though the floor was covered with pieces of literature, ripped to bits. There was also some fluffing here and there from a nearby armchair, and scattered bits of wood from… What? The bookcase looked to be intact, so Benjamin started forward to examine a nearby desk, but was stopped. Since he still held Dorothy’s hand, her stillness had caused him to stop. Here he had two choices. Pull her along like a three-year-old or release her hand. As he found neither option terribly pleasant, he just squatted down, looking at the underside instead of running his hands under it. He saw no cracks, and began to wonder, but a small, mousy voice cut into his train of thought. “Benjamin, that touched me…” Benjamin spun around quicker than was really logical and saw a creature. It was bathed in the light of Dorothy’s flashlight, and the shadows made it seem beyond menacing. It looked like the creature from the Black Lagoon: Humanoid, with a gaping mouth and horrifying hands. It hung from the ceiling, using the black tar-like substance as an adhesive. Dorothy had checked every nook and cranny in the room, but hadn’t bothered to look up? A curse fell from Benjamin lips. If he had thought he’d been scared before… This was true terror.

This creature must’ve been the one who’d killed all of the people who had once owned the bones littering the hallways. A horrible feeling in Benjamin’s gut told him that this creature ate his prey. The urgency of the feeling made Benjamin think that some of the creature’s meals still had a pulse. It was at that second that Benjamin decided for sure that they would NOT become any form of victim to this creature. Benjamin knew his gun wouldn’t help him in a situation like this. So, he did the only logical thing: grabbed Dorothy’s gun. She had one in a holster nearby, so, disregarding any idea of personal space, he stretched across and grabbed it. His actions were extremely quick, and whether it his speed, or some type of stalling by this monster, he got it in time. The gun was out, Dorothy had been moved aside, and the muzzle was buried in the mouth of the creature. When he pulled the trigger, he found it stiff, a bit difficult to pull. The backlash was surprising, and caught him off guard. With a steadying hand, he was balanced with less than a stumble. The creature was… Disabled? The flashlight beam was now pointed into some random corner, but you could see the ceiling well enough due to the angle. It looked like a pile of goop. Benjamin breathed, “Shit… Dorothy, run.”

Benjamin grabbed Dorothy’s hand again, unsure of exactly when it was released, and bolted. He didn’t want to leave the girl behind with that gloppy bastard. They sprinted up and down hallways, searching for some form of exterior light. An open door, or a hole in the roof, or… There! In a far away hallway, a line lightened the color of the floor boards. Benjamin could only hope it was sunlight. He took a fleeting moment to peek behind him, and saw Dorothy running like Hell’s fire was on her heels, and that creature. What was it, unkillable!? Not that that mattered. They were close, oh so close, to the light source, because that’s what it was. Benjamin turned into a room, slamming the door immediately after Dorothy. He hoped that would help, because it was all he could do. This was a strange room. Light filtered in through the blinds, and, unlike the rest of the house, looked untouched. Everything else had looked like a tornado of toddlers had blown through. This, on the other hand, was as civilized as it may have been years before this creature inhabited it. Years before the creature existed. This room looked like it might’ve before the war. Benjamin paused; this was stupid. He turned to check on Dorothy, and found that the creature could indeed squeeze through the cracks between the door and the ceiling. The creature was different now, though.

It was… Bubbling? It looked like it was boiling on spot, and it was making a horrid, screeching noise. The scream was almost as bad as the sight itself. Benjamin simultaneously pulled himself—and by default, Dorothy with him—backwards and gasped. There was a stench. No words could describe it. Foul would be a compliment. Whatever was happening, it was slowing the creature down. The process itself, though, was speeding up, and Benjamin did not want to stick around and see the end result. He didn’t find burned-jello-shaped-shit very attractive. So, in a motion probably faster than it needed to be, Benjamin went to the window, and placed his foot squarely in the corner. He chose the top-left corner, because of the spider-webbing cracks. Then, he just kicked, Thos window shattered, and only then did Benjamin think that he should’ve told Dorothy to step behind him. He hoped she didn’t get cut. It took him just a few quick seconds to grind all of the remaining glass with the heel of his shoe. He checked outside, and saw bushes… two stories down. Another curse, and Benjamin had slipped off his jacket and thrown it out of the window. With what was either a gracious give in the shithole of events that Benjamin had just gone through, or serendipity, The jacket landed squarely over the center of a large bush. Then, he pulled Dorothy around, and asked her to jump. His jacket should help keep from scratching her up and down like nails on a chalkboard. Benjamin took one last look at the disgusting creature, wished he hadn’t, and then dove out of the window. He landed in the bush next to the one covered by his jacket. Safely, but scratched. He hoped Dorothy had hit the jacket. He picked up his jacket, walked to Dorothy, and laughed. He felt like he’d defied Death himself. Jubilant, he embraced Dorothy. When his conscious caught up, he immediately released her and pulled out a cigarette. As he lit up, he spoke around the cigarette.

“Now what?”

[Dorothy Roads]

cause i like to be gone most of the time

and you like to be home most of the time

[/font]

Dorothy had never imagined herself holding a ginger with an eye patch’s hand, nearly pissing herself with fright from a giant monster made of black. She felt his hand touch the side of her hip. Whoa. Dorothy snapped her head up at him, bewildered. There was no time to cuddle while shaking in fright from some goopy goo monster! She was about to announce that, when he pulled the gun from her holster. Surprised, she clamped her mouth shut curiosity. So he knew how to use a gun? Somehow, that didn’t surprise her. He had that sort of face. The real clever kind that knew how to do everything the first time you ever met them. He released her hand, and then aimed it towards the creature. Dorothy was pushed over and stood to watch like an audience of a movie. Except no one else was in the theater but her and she was sitting in the very middle with absolutely no popcorn or ice slushie. Oh, it had to have been 3-D if things could reach out toward her. A 3-D horror film wasn’t ever good to watch alone.

Dorothy gasped so deeply she coughed from it, when he placed her beautiful gun into the creature’s mouth. It was like watching someone push a child in front of a car. Nobody could imagine that pain for her. She invented that thing! The Mama of Weaponry, as she was called. She bit her bottom lip hard and turned her head when he shot. Not only because she didn’t want to see her precious baby get covered in gunk, but also because she didn’t want to see the result of the Goo Monster’s death. She realized it wasn’t even close to death when Benjamin had told her to run. She really couldn’t do that now. There was way too much running around in her head. She looked to where the flashlight was pointed and watched moving glop begin its way down the wall. She squealed quietly when he took her hand and started booking it out of there. Her feet could barely stay on the ground what with his giant leaps. She had to hold onto his wrist with her other hand to keep herself from tripping. Still, she was able to run quickly with those shoes. When she saw him quickly look back, fear ran down her spine. It was totally behind her.

The girl was forced into some room, where light was shining, and the door shut behind them. Sighing, for a moment, she felt relaxed. A mirror was the first thing she noticed. Squinting, she was horrified to find her hair an absolute mess after all this. Black tar stained her clothes, and she had looked flushed from all the fear. She started to reach back for a comb when her eye caught something unusual. Black tar-like substance began oozing through small cracks around them. For some reason, it sizzled down toward them. She jumped when Benjamin pulled her back so hard that she ran into him. She would have jumped in a matter of that time but she was too shocked. “Why is the gunk screaming?” she asked. It actually sounded more like a sarcastic statement than a question, but her meaning didn’t represent that. She felt like she was going to cry now. Dorothy cried a lot. So, she almost started just before Benjamin ran up to the window. He brilliantly kicked it open. Dorothy felt a surge through her. By god, they were saved! He threw his jacket down, and asked her to go first. She stared at him awkwardly and peered out the window.


“I’m a terrible jumper…” she mumbled, and turned to find the stinky tar continue its way down the walls, even closer to them. “But I’d make a horrible meal, so—.” Dorothy never finished the sentence. She jumped down, landed on the jacket, and then slid off of the bushes like a trampoline and onto the ground. Feeling dizzy, she had to catch a moment to regain herself. She waited for Benjamin, who had made a graceful landing on the bush completely around the jacket. She winced. “Ooh. Ouch. Alright there Benji?” she asked nicely. Now that they were safe, she felt the need to use her voice again. She laughed when he did, because she hadn’t had a reason to all day. Then, out of the blue, she was in his arms. Dorothy was first surprised, but then, she relaxed her body. She hugged him back quite tightly of course. If she was going to be near a person, might as well be as close as possible. Then, he released her. Dorothy let go a lot slower than he and was a bit confused. She felt like crying, again. Now, because she was so happy that they were alive and because she hadn’t had a hug since she left her home. It felt… nice.

“Well, we should…” Dorothy paused. She hadn’t ever planned for the day to turn out like this. In fact, she was sure that they would have been in there for hours rather than that short period of time. She tapped her finger against her lip. “All that running around and being terrified made me awfully hungry, so, we should go eat.” Dorothy, in her mind, was a total fat ass, actually, and would have eaten all the time if she didn’t spend every penny she earned into saving up for that new home and her weapon parts. She had enough money to get herself some tea or a small soda if she found a quarter on the way.

Without asking anymore questions about it, Dorothy started walking towards the direction that would lead them into town. She wished to be just outside of it, so they could explore some wide spaces if he still wanted to. If not, she’d be able to walk home from there. It would only take an hour or two. Maybe shorter if she hitch hiked. She looked at him and, with the quite apparent blush on her face said, “You got my weapon all covered in goop.” Then, pausing, she tried to remember if she had already said this. It didn’t matter. She could say it a billion times because it really felt like it deserved that much. “But thank you for holding my hand.” Dorothy then pulled out a brush and combed through her own hair. After pulling such hairs out of her brush, she held it in front of him. “Your hair is all funky, too. So here you go.”

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

if i stay in one place i lose my mind
i'm a pretty impossible lady to be with