Information

misanthropy-
Legacy Name: misanthropy-

The

Blacklight Montre
Owner:

illusion_834

Age: 13 years, 2 months, 3 weeks

Born: January 22nd, 2011

Adopted: 12 years, 10 months, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: May 20th, 2011

Statistics

Level: 19
Strength: 15
Defense: 15
Speed: 18
Health: 18
HP: 18/18
Intelligence: 3
Books Read: 1
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Refreshment Concierge

The interrogation room is dark, hot, and stuffy. The air smells like dried blood, urine, and old coffee. A male in his early twenties is cuffed to the table. He hasn't shaved in two days, his dark brown hair is stringy and in need of a shower, and he has a Burger King crown around his neck. He is in what was once a fashionable suit, now it looks as if it was dragged down a logging trail and dumped in a lake. One of his eyes is swollen shut, the other is bloodshot. A pale comparison to the man you saw last night. A man who calls himself â€œKing of England.â€You watch through the dark glass as the man stares at his hands, bloodied and cut up to the point of making you wince. You don't usually wince. Part of you pities this kid. He has his whole life ahead of him and he's throwing it down the drain. The other part wants him to become an example, a scapegoat so none of the other peers of his generation go the same way.A police officer walks in and nods at you. You stand, straightening your jacket and picking up your clipboard. You have a list of questions as long as the wait list for death row and you have been preparing them since the night before when you were told they had picked up a man passed out in front of your house. They had said he had asked for you when he had finally come to and would not explain why.You walk into the room, pausing so the man has to turn and see you. He does, glancing you over. His face relaxes. It disarms you, you did not expect him to be pleased to see you.The officer shuts the door behind you and, though you cannot see him, you know he has moved behind the dark glass to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.You walk around the table and sit across from the man, taking out his file quietly. You try and keep the silence for as long as you can. He looks up at you for a moment as you scribble down notes in the margin of your note pad.â€œThank God you came!â€ He says. You look up at him, shocked. He smiles a bit, showing slightly misaligned teeth. â€œI don't understand why you would be glad to see me,â€ you say, â€œme being here just means they have enough evidence to fine you, or lock you away for a long time.â€ His face changes. He looks at you in confusion for a moment before moving closer in his seat.â€œNo no no!â€ He says, his hands clasped together and his mouth smiling a bit less cocky now. â€œYou being here means someone can prove I didn't cheat that bastard!â€ He says, laughing through his nose. He coughs, spraying blood on the folder. You stand up in shock. He hangs his head. â€œSorry.â€ He manages, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. â€œWho is it you say you didn't cheat?â€ You ask, scanning through the list in front of you but keeping your distance. There's no telling what diseases this man may carry on him and you don't want to take your chances. â€œBecause there's a list here claiming-â€â€œI know the list!â€ He shouts, his body shaking. â€œOfficer,â€ you say, turning to the window, â€œthe suspect needs medical attention!â€ He tries to reach across the table to you.â€œLook, I've done things on that list, okay, a lot of them. But this one!â€ He points to a name on the list, smearing the red across it. â€œThis one isn't true. It isn't true!â€ He stops, leaning back before breaking down coughing. â€œPlease.â€ He manages before his chair tips over. Guards move past you, people in lab coats. You pick up your file and walk out through the chaos, numbed to it all.â€¦You sit across from the suspect in the hospital room. You don't know why you came, after all you could have waited until he was conscious. Yet for some reason here you are, sitting in an uncomfortable chair looking over a worn out case file and listening to hospital white noise. You close your eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of your nose.â€œSo, they strapped me in?â€ You look up to find the suspect smirking at you. The stubble has become more of a rampant goatee and his eye is better. He looks at you. â€œYou want to know what happened?â€ He breaths out, coughs, and looks at you. You stand up and move closer to the bedside.â€œYes, in order to help you I need to-â€ you begin.â€œOh cut it,â€ he snaps. â€œYou don't want to help me, they don't want to help me, they want to help the cassino and joints I've been playing at. They're all under each others thumb. I'd tell you to go look it up but I need you alive.â€ You're not sure if he seriously believes what he's saying or the pain medicine is starting to kick in.â€œThen why would you tell me what happened?â€ You ask. He closes his eyes for a moment and you worry that he's gone back to sleep again.â€œBecause you need to listen,â€ he says, his voice barely a whisper. â€œI can see it in your face. Even if you don't like me, even if you want to tell me to go shoot myself and then jump off a cliff, you want to know.â€ You sigh. He's right. â€œI was playing at some of the tables, down at the local.â€ He begins.â€œI don't usually play so close to home, they tend to know me. Once people know me, I'm in trouble. Look the only reason I'm admitting I'm trouble is so you can get me out of this one, okay? Use your patient-client confidentiality or what ever, I don't care. I was in the mood, you know? I have moods, don't look at me like that. Sometimes I want the risk. Most people just go jump off a cliff with a cord tied to their ankle or go deep sea diving. I liked to play the house. Sure, the house wins a lot, but so do I. I still don't get why me fudging a couple hands gets me in trouble but the house does it and it's all for business. I had my eyes on the cards, so most of the night really slips by me. Plus a couple hard ones in and I get buzzed. A little whiskey helps too. I have this habit of people calling me Henry a lot, I mean I know it's my name and all but they say it in a certain way and my mind goes crazy. This chick once called me Henry VII, some big fat king over in England or something from way back, had a bunch of wives. I guess a dude I would maybe scam or something. I was so hammered I took it as a compliment. So when ever I get really out of it I start telling people that's who I am. I guess part of me wants to throw them off my trail.Well I was really dizzy and I managed to stumble up to the bar and order a new glass since mine had gone on the floor and there was this angel from heaven above on the stool next to me. I mean she had eyes, and a chest, and the legs! And hair, yeah dark hair that was all kinds of curly. Well I started flirting with her, actually got her laughing. I think she was probably laughing because I was making a fool of myself, but they don't usually laugh. They usually smack me.â€ He pauses, smiling a bit at the memory. You're slightly repulsed at the idea of him enjoying these memories, but say nothing. He continues.â€œThen these two guys come up and start getting mad at me, saying they were buying this girl a drink. She didn't seem happy about it at all. Least, I don't think she did. So I challenged them to a game of cards, like I usually do. They thought their odds were really good, and I guess mine were really bad. But I got lucky, like I honestly god lucky. I beat them sky high and they were not happy about it. They said I cheated. Now look, I know I was drunk, and I know I cheat a lot, but I know when I cheat. I actually have to cheat. And I won that game by the skin of my teeth. If I had cheated, they would have all been mad, not just these two dunderheads.So they grabbed me and dragged me outside the joint and put me in their van. I'm guessing they roughed me up by those x-rays over there and the blood.â€ He nods towards the outlines of a few snapped ribs the doctors had left on the screen. â€œNext thing I know I was waking up in the cop's place. They kept asking me what I had done and why I was here and if I could remember things. I just told them I wanted to talk to you, because you know stuff. I've heard about you. So can you help me?â€ He asks, looking at you through dark eyes. You sigh and close your eyes. You glance at the door for a moment, biting your lip.â€œLook, Henry,â€ you say. He deflated a bit. You lean over like you're grabbing his medical charts from behind the bed. Instead you slip the key into the lock of his handcuffs. You read the chart, then set it back into place. Henry stares at you, shocked. â€œDon't get into trouble.â€ You whisper, leaving the room with a small smirk on your face. You know Henry is going to wind right back up in the police station again, it's only a matter of time. But at least he can try to find his dark haired girl between visits.Layout and coding by ShortAxelBackground from ColourloversStills from the movie "21"