Extraordinary Girls

Alex is quiet as she once again ignored his request that she settle in and try to rest. Rather she did the opposite and sat up on her knees so she was eye level with him, at least near enough that he didn't have to look down to actually make eye contact with her. There is a gentle whirring as his body adjusts so that she wasn't likely to fall off the bed with whatever it was she was trying to do.

It has been a battle with both his mechanical side and his human side to adequately express that he's been grateful for June's help since his arrival here, that gratefulness has since evolved into what he'd label as a friendship between them, and something else he can't name, the programming OCP placed in him prevent it. And that is where his human side battles with his mechanical one.

They would be breathing together, if Alex could actually breathe. In that moment the two were in rhythm, trying to communicate something they, or at least June, couldn't quite state.

She was in love with him. She was hopelessly devoted, head over heels, lovestruck from the very moment she laid eyes on him. She didn't dare dream of some fantastical life they might have together, whatever happiness is waiting for Alex is likely far away from her. But it put in her a determination to do whatever it took to give it to him. Because he was a brave, noble, gentle soul who never saw her as a simple convenience, that he kept his dignity and purity of spirit despite all that was taken from him. She was so in love with him she felt sick, she felt crazy, she felt like her heart would burst out of her chest if she kept it inside any longer.

But she didn't say any of it.

Alex is beyond feeling sorry for himself over the faults that OCP's full body prosthesis has, those didn't outweigh the functionality of everything else about him, besides, it's not just the metal frame of his armour that makes him heavy, it's the fluids, the oil, water and hydraulic fluid that allow him to move that add to that weight.

He studies her for a moment as she speaks before his lips press into a thin line and he shakes his head a little. He tilts his head just slightly, Alex didn't need the comfort now, because he was fine now, sure he might be a little shaken up over seeing Boddicker's face in his nightmares, but he knows the man can never hurt anyone again, and that's enough for him to have a bit of peace over his nightmares when they come. Enough that he didn't need her fretting over him now that the moment back in the lab had passed.

She wanted to kiss him more than anything in the world. An overflow of long-suppressed impulses was an insane, effervescent feeling that started appearing the minute she saw... Well, when she took real time to thought about it, Officer Murphy wasn't the first. There were a couple before him, ones that resulted in that dull thud of rejection. But this felt so much stronger, she thought (hoped) it was because she sensed he returned that interest, these strange new feelings.

The greater likelihood is that June had officially snapped. Or she was dying.

But she did find herself kneeling on the bed instead of settling, so she was more eye-level with him. The low, moody glow of the Christmas lights that Johnny Cage had installed in her room so she wasn't in pitch darkness hid the flaws of her fatigued appearance that he usually saw. June looked almost mystical, dreamy, especially with that periwinkle nightgown and soft, grateful expression. Like her whole body took a big sigh of calm and relief.

His internal database tells him a little bit about each book she has, and his actual memory is called upon to to let him know if he knew any of them. He had noticed June's preference towards poetry, memorized her favourite authors too.

His head moves as he looks at her when she says his name again, he's still getting used to hearing it, given how many of his other names people preferred to use, whether it was to honour the man he had been or not, he's not sure, but his first name is not one he hears often.

He looked down at their hands when she takes his, his instinctively closing around hers gently, the sensors in the soft silicone pads that line his palm and fingers sending the feedback through his system to register as touch. His gaze flickers back up again, and his lips part slightly to say something, then seems to change his mind about whatever it was before he shakes his head. "Any accommodations that can be made for me can be made after you rest. For now, I am more comfortable standing, it puts less strain on the articulators in my joints and hydraulic systems." He explains, "and I do not require to read, not when I am watching over you, June."

He could see that she made a mental note to upgrade both his articulators and his hydraulic systems. They were up on the list, along with making him more lightweight. He did not have to endure life weighing down on the world like an anchor.

"But you were not okay." June's grip tightened around his hands. "You had a nightmare, again. As did I but... I was frightened for you, I thought you were suffering a severe malfunction, that I missed something in a repair and I was failing you. And I was clueless, and frantic, and no help at all to you." Though she tenderly brushed an involuntary tear away, and fretted over his emotional damage as much as his physical, she could never see her capacity for nurturing others. Just in serving them.

Alex notes the difference her pyjamas give her, but he doesn't say anything about it, there was no reason to do so. Instead he focuses on finding a comfortable spot to stay, not that he necessarily needs to, since he intended to stay standing, if only because his weight meant he couldn't sit in a normal chair or the bed beside her. Though the floor was a good option, it put more strain on his systems sitting like that for long periods.

So he's stood roughly a foot away from her bed, watching her get comfortable and choosing a book from the shelf nearby. He can't help but look over the titles of the books on the shelf. It's been a while since he'd been able to read one, usually too busy with his police work, or whatever maintenance or software upgrades OCP felt was needed.

Sylvia Plath, Louise Glück, Walt Whitman, though poetry was June's main preference she also had a worn through copy of Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, clearly very well-loved.

She tilts her head as he stands ramrod at her bedside, a respectable foot away as if she was in a glass case. How he denied any offers of comfort.

"Alex..." She repeated his name, so he knew that was who she saw, shifted herself in the bed, leaned forward and gently took his hands. "You told me that you wanted me to want things, to have thoughts and feelings... To indulge. I would encourage you to lead by example in this regard. If you would like a book to read, or for accommodations to be made for you... I am responsible for your care, and it is no great undertaking to make sure that you are properly attended to, and happy."

It's not as if Alex hadn't paid any mind to the situations he observed here, He's yet to fully understand all that red tape around June, but it's not going to stop him from treating her like a human, regardless of what anyone else calls her, it's what she was, and he's damn sure he's going to make sure she learns that, but understands it's going to take time for her to come to that understanding on her own.

"I know."

June took off the big robe and hung it up. She looked so... Normal in her pajamas, less of a lab experiment and more of a patient in a hospital. But more like a woman, not in a clinical surgical gown, but draped in periwinkle and polka-dots.

She sat up in her bed, and reached for a small shelf which held about a half-dozen secondhand books. Reading was another joy of June's. Her mind was usually so scattered she couldn't focus on novels, but the rhythm of poetry was a balm.

Of course his bio-scanners pick up on the slight increase of her heartbeat, something he's come to understand is a common occurrence with her. He never draws any attention to the fact he notices, if only to save her the embarrassment. Regardless, he's not said anything to her that he wouldn't do for anyone else, so Alex has even less of a reason to mention it, but he is at least mindful of it.

"I said you didn't need to, but I didn't say you had to stop." Alex amends, shaking his head. He still thinks he couldn't actually stop her unless he physically stopped her. However unnecessary he feels it is, he's not going to do that. "It's human to want to care for the people we care about." He adds after a moment. The blanket she'd given him is finally pulled off and placed onto his chair, where it will stay until it's needed again. Not that it is, but he gets the feeling she'll place it back onto him when he goes offline again.

"You don't have to. But I would... appreciate that. Very much."

June's quarters were considerably improved by the time Murphy entered the picture, in the sense that she actually had quarters. When she first began with Special Forces, she slept where Officer Murphy currently did. In her lab. She would crash at her desk or curl up in a corner, she tried to make it hospitable for Alex, but no one had extended the same courtesy.

Eventually Sonya Blade was able to carve out a space in Special Forces Headquarters for June, a little nook by her lab, with a bed and a desk, furnished and decorated with hand-me-downs from her daughter and Johnny Cage's grandmother. It was nice, it felt less like a cell and more like a real room. She painted flowers on the walls, flora and fauna from her native Pyrenees. But there were still no windows, and there was still all the red tape around June being prohibited from leaving unsupervised. Or ideally, at all.

Of course Alex knows the signs, it was unfortunately part of the job to notice them, but even without that knowledge, his sensors pick up on, feeding him information that a normal human officer wouldn't have. Regardless of that, it's still different when it's someone he cares about.

His head tilts slightly, cybernetics whirring quietly as he does so. He keeps his thoughts on the fact she was forced into that position by her creators. It's also something he understood, the same way OCP tries to force him to behave like a machine, one that didn't think and feel. When they call him things like 'it' and 'machine'.

"Even if these things here weren't, they would have to come through me to punish you for indulging." He says. Sure there were people here who could actually damage him if they tried, but he knows they won't, if only because they're all on the same side here, a community. Friends, more or less. "You are allowed to take up space, as a living being with thoughts and feelings. I will do all within my power to make sure you feel safe."

There were the things he said that projected images of a knight in shining armor to June. This was one of them. That vow to protect her, this idea he has that he can keep her safe so she can be someone open, kinder. A woman, instead of a scientist. She felt like a woman with him, a human woman, if only for how he made her heart jump into her throat.

She believed he could tell, and it embarrassed her. She thought his bioscan would have ridiculous cartoon hearts radiating off her.

"I know. You can look after yourself, and I don't have to but... I want to. It gives me a purpose, a good one. After years of assisting in death and destruction." For the 'good guys', but death is death. "I am probably hopeless at it. I've never been comforted in moments of distress, so I don't really know how to offer it to another. But I wish to try, to learn. To be kind, and good, and look after someone I... Care about, very much."

"It bothers me." Murphy responds, brows coming together underneath his visor. "And directive 2 means I would forcibly shut down, regardless of intent." And it would hurt. just like it had when directive 4 had come up to keep him from arresting Dick Jones.

He stares at her for a moment when she responds to what he says about wanting her to rest more, to take better care of herself. Then the comparison to him makes him straighten up slightly. It's the hypocrisy that stands out to him the most, he doesn't blame her. HIs jaw tightens slightly. "There is no misunderstanding." Alex says, "you are human. In your DNA. That makes biological needs a necessity to survive." He explains to her, but perhaps he needed a different strategy to his approach to making her see why it bothers him so much that she can't see it the way he does.

"What you call a misunderstanding, is no different than me calling myself a machine, like my human parts do not matter. Do not tell me it's not the same." If she wants to compare herself to what he's been turned into than he'll make a comparison so she understands why it bothers him that she neglects herself to take care of him.

June winced a bit when he called her human. She wasn't sure if she was, really. Entirely human at all. Had her genetics been so tampered with since before her birth that she no longer counted anymore. Aside from her appearance, how much of her mother really was there? Legally she knew she didn't, if not someone would've done something years ago.

It had historically been a crime for June to ask for help, which made her wince again. A severe crime, one worthy of corporal punishment. "I have been expected from a very young age to silence myself." She notably left the term comfort out of it. That was always irrelevant. "For the convenience of others."

"I know that they say things are different here, that safety somehow exists. But I know what happens if I do indulge, and it turns out to be untrue." Alex knew too, at this point, even before his augmentations his police training likely taught him the telltale signs of longterm abuse.

He would rather she didn't throw herself onto him to comfort him, knowing those jerky movements he has could very well injure her. Given the strength in which his metal body possesses, he doesn't want to injure her unintentionally because he wasn't in control of those involuntary twitches. Or should he wake up in a complete panic, she could easily be thrown too. It bothers him that she put herself in that kind of danger, even without his second directive blinking across his HUD.

"You do not have to keep a vigil over me." Alex does feel a little like he's had this conversation before. He would feel better if she didn't sleep on the floor beside him. "You could have gotten hurt, I do not exactly have control of my systems when I am offline." He hadn't felt her touch him to know she was there after all, he could have crushed her.

"If you do not rest appropriately, you are no use to anyone." He doesn't mean it to sound so harsh, but he is hoping the bluntness of the statement would help her realise that she can't help anyone if she runs herself into the ground. He's gentler when he speaks again though, "perhaps reminding yourself of that next time you can't sleep will help." He moves slightly, standing up then, though he did not remove the blanket, except to uncover the vent on his chest plate, if only to keep his systems from getting too warm.

"Pain doesn't bother me, not when I know you don't mean it." She took his hand again, giving him a reassuring look. But it fell when he expressed concern about her lifestyle.

"I know. I... know. I am used to it. Not just from you, but from Johnny, and Cassandra, and Sonya, all of them. The same thing. The same... Misunderstanding of what I am." She seemed almost a little annoyed by it, the idea that this should all be so easy for her.

She rubbed her face in her hands. "I'm like you, Alex. But not reborn. From the moment when I was nothing but a zygote in a petri dish, sleep deprivation was never supposed to be a problem. It was never supposed to be a need for me, or at least it doesn't get in the way of what I do for others." He's seen her calculate and repair him perfectly in much worse condition.

@extraordinarygrrls sent:

[  night  watch  ]  june refuses  to  sleep  deeply, or really at all, listening  for  every  shift  or  breath from Robocop. She comforts him at the slightest sign of distress from traumatic nightmares that she herself is prone to, she even wrapped a blanket around him. She wanted to make sure he felt comfortable. Human.

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐲𝐨𝐮

Murphy's cybernetics meant he didn't sleep the same way a regular human would, it'd be more accurate to call it resting with his eyes closed, considering he's chosen to power down more or less, turning off his non-vital systems to allow his brain the necessary rest period all humans need. And his systems to do their quiet diagnostics whilst he replenishes the energy reserves his power supply needs. He doesn't breathe, it hadn't been necessary since his augmentation, but the machines he's connected to would tell June that he is running at a roughly 95-98%, his optimum efficiency window.

Since arriving here, Murphy's woken up with a blanket draped over him more than once, or to June trying to reassure him when he awakens suddenly due to a nightmare. She hasn't listened to him in the past when he'd told her he didn't need her be standing vigil at his side all night, as much as he appreciates the concern, he'd rather not be a reason she's not looking after her own needs.

It took her a moment to register that he was awake, no longer thrashing. June felt like she had no clue what she was doing when Alex would have a distressing standby incident, a nightmare. A memory of all that he endured. She just threw herself on him, gently rubbed his shoulders or held his hands, whispering to him that he was safe. But what did she really know about offering comfort? She had no firsthand experience of it.

"I was awake before you started..." She didn't like talking about it, she didn't want him feeling embarrassed. "I-I did actually try to sleep this time, honest." She even had pajamas on, a robe in place of a lab coat. She slinked off to bed at a less than reasonable hour with much hesitance.

"You and I have a... Similar issue, with similar regularity. I can't turn my mind off, I never could... And when I'm left without something to make it useful, it starts dredging up..." She sighed, and sat next to him, releasing him at last. "I thought if I was up, I could be useful again... But I did try to sleep."

He caught June staring, her biometric signs were always strange, but even stranger when he was around. Elevated heartrate, that was common, but the dilated pupils signaled a lack of fear. When he furrowed his brow, she did too, and her hands stopped taking notes, scribbling on a blueprint.

She was blushing, and finally looked away.

"I-... My apologies, officer. I don't know what came over me, I know its rude to stare. I am usually discouraged from even..." She was taught to never meet the eyes of another person, it made them see her for what she was, not what she was trained to be.

and so the story begins...

#MUSESMYWAY. a multi-fandom multimuse. featuring: SUPERMAN/CLARK KENT, ABSOLUTE BATMAN, THOMAS WAYNE/FLASHPOINT BATMAN, ROBOCOP (1987), AND THE DOOMSLAYER/DOOMGUY && more.

written and beloved by Fox (30, they/them, Australian EST). indie, selective but non-mutual.

Sit down. The words draw ears to flatten, further, a nose to wrinkle, teeth to bare (In some manner of DISGUST,) disapproval, a clear disagreement with the means by which she speaks. Whatever she feels is HER DUTY, like some mismanaged doctor who could not find the CONFIDENCE TO ACT, Sinestro holds little respect for it- (in this moment, at least-) In this, his show of POWER, strength, in his  n e e d  to be a thing SELF SUFFICIENT.

                                    His hand snaps upward, pulled away from cracked ribs,                                   (in act of anger, perhaps-) like unsheathed claws,                               like a threat to ATTACK-  that loses its fire,                           that turns, instead, to a long gesture (DISMISSIVE.)                         Waving her away.

His body turns, turns away, as if to leave- (testing the limitations of his own ability,) the extend to which he may push his own strength. Muscles tight, bruised, a hand that feels at the curve of his own body & tries for what is not  OBVIOUS. Bruises, here, breaks, there, lacerations that wet his fingerstips & draw his breath as a sharp hiss through his teeth.

                                     & then HER  W O R D S.

His chin, turning over his shoulder, his gaze cast, sidelong & narrowed. Sinestro considers her words, even if his INTENT is not to LINGER, (even if he prefers to abandon her here, leave her to her own MOPING-) a thing he did not care to BOTHER HIMSELF UPON-  Ignore him in   a g o n y  - the phrase draws a barking LAUGH, a sharp, cruel sound. His eyes turn, AWAY. His face hides itself from her view.

"An idiot's consideration."

His left hand, continuing its self-assessment. Exhaustion, settling heavy on his shoulders.

"You have brought only further ire upon you, for interfering with the GREEN LANTERNS' WILL. If I was to be CAPTIVE, if I was to suffer DEATH, it was best you had LET IT BE." 

She seemed so confused at the idea of just letting an injustice happen, of standing by and watching Sinestro be beaten into the ground, captured, and executed. As if that was right and reasonable.

"But... You didn't do anything wrong." Well, not this time anyway. "You lost the fight because your ring shorted out momentarily, I got out of that bubble to intervene because Lantern Nyko's ring shorted out momentarily. According to the intel I was given, this has been happening to both Green and Yellow lanterns... All day. That's a first hand witness report, Henry and Milton Shearer, died 1929 in a construction accident..." She muttered into her notebook before looking up at him.

   DESPITE THE GUARDIANS CULPABILITY, IT HAD BEEN HAND-  Hand, whose efforts had twisted the very nature of the world, who had turned life UPON ITS HEAD, & set into motion events that had torn the Emotional Spectrum asunder. Hand, whose interference had allowed for the interception of the GUARDIANS- the release of the FIRST LANTERN,

                                                        ...The Destruction of Korugar.

Hand, another pawn in a greater scheme, given, so briefly, the conductor's baton. Disagreeable, loathsome, SORRY TO THE VERY CORE. & This- this girl, who SIMPERS & curls upon herself like a KICKED DOG, tucks their tail & watches with eyes whale-like at their master- who mutters ADMITTANCE OF RELATION as if it was the very command to execute.

Sinestro's expression holds, a still, icy thing- long lines & age that tugs at the corners of gleaming eyes. Aggression, perhaps... or simply means of CONTAINMENT, of holding together that which threatened to burst OUTWARD from his chest, & rip apart all about it. His fingers curl in, test at the curve of his ribcage, feel the FRACTURED RIBS THERE, painful, (trying.)

                                   Share a bloodline. His eyes shimmer- (an ember, in the dark.)                              & She- who nearly gives to EMOTION.

"That is enough   s e l f   p i t y."

He is steadying himself- stretching his spine upward, lengthening, TALL. To draw himself to his full height is an AGONY, pain that sears & burns within him, & nearly threatens to topple the carefully placed cornerstones of his SELF-CONTAINED COUNTENANCE- but he MANAGES, presses through, until he has gathered himself entirely.  His fingers, wiping at the blood upon his upper lip- his expression, held tight, to avoid a sense of WEAKNESS.

He continues.

"The Green Lanterns display their cowardice in their MISPLACED RAGE. They speak strongly of that which they do not UNDERSTAND, by nature of such being that with which they FEAR. Black Hand was a threat neutralized not once, but  T W I C E - a man, whose weakness is known well enough already. Should you be amongst his ranks-"

                                   & from her sorry countenance-.... well-

"You would prove no threat to them. They remain STUBBORN FOOLS- their word is not to be taken with any sincerity." 

"Well, if you aren't going to kill me, you... Really should sit down. There's a bench over there." It's about the only thing that remained standing in the carnage. "I won't think any less of you, if that's what's stopping you. Are you sure you don't need anything? I think I have some water in my bag... Is there anyone I can call to pick you up?"

It was duty of care, clearly. While she was unsure what her legal liability was with an intergalactic despot, she tried to maintain good practice at all times. No matter what side of her career (so to speak) she was occupied with, it was on her to make sure that she did all she could to prevent further harm.

He was to LEAVE, leave, with shoulders turning & face tipped away, with wounds held tight & Ring burning, (preparation, to tear him from this atmosphere,) & deposit him BACK into the antimatter universe, where he would doubtless be tended to (by his SOOTHSAYER,) with words of simultaneous taunting & ease at her lip- when it is the voice of the Green Lantern that CUTS, breaks past the heavy atmosphere.

Body is moving, slinking, shoulders curved & ribs expanding with a deep breath in, the Ring hot as (power surged,) throbbed through veins, ebbed through him- & then Thaal Sinestro (stops.) He halts. Ears turn- words are taken in, absorbed. An argument.  His eyes turn, tip, over his shoulder, &   L I N G E R.

Amber hues narrow, a brow tightening, lips pressing together in a thin, long line- Ghosts. The Emotional Spectrum. This girl-

Fear, anew, coursing through the air. Sinestro's body, tensing, the feeling of it surging, burning, sulphur in his veins. Like hackles raised, like hair on end, burning (only greater light) behind his eyes, he watches, watches as the Green Lantern wrenches her wrist upward- & then the name. Black Hand. (William.) William Hand, whose actions had set a great train forward in motion, ( & changed the Universe, )

Black Hand, whose fervor had resulted in Korugar's Destruction.

& Then, as quickly as it had started, the Lanterns have (vanished,) in arcs of brilliant EMERALD that cut through the night air, & leave the two, ALONE, in darkness. Sinestro lingers, a great cat, lanky, (ready to vanish into the Night-) & then the girl turns. Her eyes meet his own.

"Enemy."

The words slip from his teeth, a hiss. His ears lay, flat- his body twists, draws itself up into PRIDE once more, despite the agony of bruise, laceration, (defeat) that SEARS through him. A hand presses to his ribs- a WINCE drags along his teeth.

"Your opinion means little. But your PURPOSE-"

His eyes, flashing. Bright, savage. Cruel.

"The Lanterns spoke of Black Hand. Elaborate- lest I end your existence where you stand." 

Her parents were first, soon after she turned 18, when the darkness crawled from the tips of her fingers down to her wrist. The horror in their eyes, the anger that despite their efforts they had failed to lock the curse away. So they needed to lock her somewhere no one would look for her: Arkham Asylum. Lest she ends up like...

Anyone who wore a ring gave her an evil eye, even the Guardians in their infinite wisdom looked at her hand and ignored the young woman, the trained counsellor, the trusted medium attached. After all, it looked just like...

Her cousin, William Hand. Black Hand.

Even this stranger, who she had helped, who she tried to look after, was threatening to kill her. She looked genuinely disheartened at that, more than before. At the threat, a ghostly rat loomed over Mona's shoulder, glowing eyes staring wide at him.

"We're related, distantly. We are distant cousins. I-I can't remember if we're first cousins once removed, or second cousins, or second cousins once removed, or even third it's one of those." Mona wasn't a Hand, William was a Mallory. "We haven't met, I don't even want to meet him. But we share a bloodline which was cursed well before either of us..." She sighed.

"I didn't ask for this. I do all I can to help others, to do good, be good. I really didn't want anyone to get hurt, and I know you don't believe me but... I tried, I really did try. " Her legs looked about ready to give out. In her eyes, inky black, brimming with tears, was both misery and certainty. A tragic sense of inevitability.

To get rich. A huff, like a scoff, that bounces off his teeth, falls flat upon the earth & seems to sink into it- unimpressed. A theme, it seems, for this girl, for this s t r e e t r a t who had been handed to him. Little more than utility. The air quivers, silence broken under the sound of her (anger,) a heavier breath, a snarl on the teeth. His ear twitches, turns, catches the sound of it, though little else appears to respond. His eyes remain turned away, posture unbending, unyielding. Her opinion, after all, mattered (little-) a lamb held no place to speak against the maws of a lion. Want it all- but never got it. "It is fortunate, then, that I am quite different from any man you have met prior." The gang-leaders, drug-lords, petty thieves & villains of Gotham- their numbers were high, scurrying vermin vying each for a place in history. Some claimed influence more than most, it was true- but in the end, it was each & every one with a Will broken. A lack of vision, to make their desire reality. But Thaal Sinestro did not suffer such weakness. Thaal Sinestro did not bend. Renegade. Despot. King of Fear. His eyes, now, back upon her face. The silence, breathing tense, between them. Tension thick & viscous, vitriol against her tongue. His lip curls- a smile. He speaks. "Because, my dear: The fate with which befalls those who fail me is quite worse than death, & will afford me answer regardless."

The flash of red was so instant and blinding, bright and sudden like an alarm going off, there wasn't even time to register the flunky's head making swift and crunchy contact with his orbital bone.

CRACK!

It was like getting smacked by a piece of hardwood, bone far more dense than an ordinary person's. Not 'man-of-steel' hard, but Charlie was more than people think.

"Fuck. YOU. I'm already there." There wasn't even a bruise on their head, but there was rage, instinct, pure instinct. Charlie stood over him, knuckles already clenched white. Burning red, a sudden change in temper... A mood swing. In their eyes one could see something a little lost and vacant.

"I see you. I see what you are. What you want. Bring order? Bullshit. Fuck the poor, right? The weak. The sick. You get rid of them, you big men."

Charlie was poor, Charlie was sick. Strong, maybe, but constantly fighting from underneath, without and within.