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(Captain) John Hart ([personal profile] notethesarcasm) wrote on September 17th, 2008 at 11:10 am
Some Weird Sin

10 September 2008    23.40

Well I never got my license to live / they won’t give it up / so I stand at the world’s edge
 
Back to roaming the streets, it looks like. Not that I mind; Cardiff is /infinitely/ more interesting at night, surprisingly enough – that’s when all the freaks come out to play. Weevils, blowfish, muggers…it’s all the same to me. Been a tense couple of days, what with Gwen finally reaching her last straw and all, and as good as she is, Lara’s just not cutting it tonight. ‘Course, now she’s got it in her head that it’s something /she/ did, so I’m gonna have to deal with that when I get back. Oh joy. …And now the mood’s been effectively killed. Thanks, Lara.
 
I’m trying to break in / Oh, I know it’s not for me / And the sight of it all / makes me sad and ill / That’s when I want – some Weird Sin
 
The music blares in my ears, from some iPod substitute Lara had lying around her office that I knicked on my way out. Iggy Pop. Not as hard as I usually like my rock, but it gets the job done. I pass a couple frantically humping each other in an alleyway, like all they’ve got is this moment. Hey, for all I know it could be. World’s going to hell in a handbasket, from what I hear, entirely possible that it’ll get there ahead of schedule.
 
I walk further, and see two more figures struggling with each other, only this time they don’t look quite so amorous. One of ‘em’s got a gun, and the other looks like he’s about to piss his pants any second. It brings back memories of the first time I showed up in 21st century Cardiff, looking for Jack. I grin and step in, pulling the mugger off and lifting him off the ground, hand closing around his throat and blocking his airway. He still tries to fight back though, pushing the gun into my stomach. /Not/ the right move, mate.
 
Things get too straight / I can’t bear it / I feel stuck, stuck on a pin
 
I grab his hand, grateful for the opportunity to burn off some of this excess energy, and squeeze, hearing the bones in his wrist creak, until he drops the gun from nerveless fingers. “See, wouldn’t have done that, mate, not if I were you.” I lift him higher, smirking as he starts to turn blue. It would be so easy to just kill him, snap his neck right here, right now. Just a little twist, a little more pressure, and he’d make that little cracking noise and the lights would go out. Forever. I smile in anticipation. I even think I’d be justified – he /was/ threatening an innocent person, probably would have killed him if I hadn’t stepped in.
 
But somehow I doubt Jack would see it that way.
 
I’m trying to break in / Oh, I know it’s not for me / And the sight of it all / makes me sad and ill / That’s what I want – some Weird Sin / That’s when I want – some Weird Sin / Just to relax with
 
Jack sodding Harkness, with his bloody hero complex.
 
I drop the mugger, who by now has started making noises that I’m pretty sure, if his throat wasn’t so crushed, might be considered crying. He falls inelegantly to the ground and scuttles back, scrambling to his feet and disappearing into the darkness as fast as he can.
 
He seems to be rubbing off on me, and not in the way I’d prefer. First with this stupid /love/ thing, which he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge, and now somehow managing to prevent me from killing someone when he’s not even here. How the bloody hell does that even /work/, anyway?
 
I’m getting soft, that’s how it works. I don’t /want/ to turn into another Jack, I like me the way I am! I /like/ the drinking and the sex and the sudden homicidal urges. But no, I’m “reckless”, can’t be trusted, even after I stopped Gwen from shooting him. Granted, in retrospect it really didn’t matter much, seeing as how he /can’t die/, but that’s not the point. So what if I threatened his team a few times? It’s not like I actually /hurt/ anyone, not seriously, anyway. All I wanted was some attention. That’s it.   And now I’ve got it. Maybe not as much as I’d like, but I’ll take what I can get. I can work with it.
 
He just /better/ not try to turn me into one of his band of Superfriends, or whatever. Not gonna happen, not in a million years. Might join up if he’ll let me, but there is /no/ way I’m gonna turn into the next Eyecandy.
 
That’s some dumb weird sin / For a while anyway / With my head out on the ledge / that’s what you get out on the edge / Some Weird Sin
 
Not that it’s all bad, mind…Sort of nice not havin’ to troll the bars for a quick shag all the time. And I really do like Lara, probably more than I’ll ever actually tell her, even if she /does/ tend to piss me off when she goes after Jack in front of me just because she knows it pisses me off.
 
Still.
 
…And now the night is /completely/ ruined.
 
Goddess, I need a drink… 
 
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