#dirk+strider

Day 556

Your name is D- Strider and you’re dying.

The overwhelming pain that ripped through your body put you into shock long ago. You can barely feel a thing. Your body is lost to you, completely disconnected from your mind. You could be falling. You could be bent into impossible shapes. You could be simply resting on your back in the grass. You can’t tell, save for the few glimmers of pain twitching through your muscles.

The battle is a blur to you now. Your body moved faster than you could keep up with. Closer to a robot with one function than an actual person. The only thing you can recall was a blaring siren of a command over and over and over again.

Fight. Kill. Win. Fight. Kill. Win. Fight. Kill. Win.

When Dave showed up, he wasn't quite Dave. He was painted a brilliant shining orange and had wings like an angel. This Dave had a dedication and melancholy to him that you've never seen in Dave before. You recall his voice, screaming at you from his side of the battle.

Then you hit the ground.

The moment you lost your ability to fight was the moment you lost all relevance. Cal is gone. Your head is silent for the first time in…. Ever.

Everything within the past year is a blur. As the stars above pity you in your slow march to death, it dawns on you that your glasses have been stolen. Your hat is gone from your head. You're looking at the sky with your own eyes.

It's beautiful.

The shock wears down as you draw your final breaths. Your sword pinning your body to the ground is a dick move, but you're actually grateful for it. You would have gotten up if it wasn't there. You would have continued your robotic level of dedication to this one task. Fight.

You're so tired of fighting.

That's all you've ever done. It's all you gave to your kid. It's the only thing you could think of to justify your existence. The puppets never mattered. The adult industry never mattered. Your video games, magazine subscriptions, neighbors, hobbies, and turntables never mattered.

You wonder if Dave will miss you. You hope he doesn't. You hope he forgets you and lives on out of spite, or something similar. But selfishly you hope he will.

Tears well up in your eyes.

You wish you were better. But that's a thing that comes up often in your tale of woe and puppets. You found yourself wishing for so many things. Wishing you were a better person, however, doesn't mean a god damn thing. Instead of wishing, this time, you're going to hope. That's what you were missing, isn't it? You hope with everything you have left that Dave will make it through this hellscape of a game.

"Mh?" Dirk pulled out an earbud, giving Dave a questioning look. Surely Bro knew better than to violate Headphone Etiquette, he must be calling for his attention for a reason.

"You're always listenin' to that ipod, you got a favorite song? Or do you just shuffle and let the lord Steve Jobs decide your musical pleasure for the evening?" Dave wryly gestured at Dirk's pocket, where indeed his timeline counterpart's ipod nano was safely stowed away.

The question made him pause. Discussing his Bro had often left Dave in a sort of... wistful mood. Not quite nostalgic, but far away. Tinged with a melancholy Dirk couldn't understand, but Dave would look at him again and he'd know he was seeing his own Bro. Wondering where he could find him, if he came at Dirk from the right angle, would his guardian appear?

It was simultaneously a shitload of pressure and a quiet relief that he never quite measured up. He knew Dave preferred him just the way he was.

Even still. "I shuffle it, yeah, but that's just cause I think that's how you listened to it. Cherry picking vibes never struck me as the way."

"But do you have a favorite?" He looked a little impatient, and Dirk really couldn't figure out why it mattered.

He shook his head a little in disbelief and answered honestly. "Changes now and then, but 2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted might be the current pick."

A slow and easy grin spread across Dave's face, and Dirk let go of the tension that had started spreading through him, holding his shoulders up. "You got the best taste Bro, always did."

"Was there any doubt?" He furrowed his brows. "Now, you."

"It's the same for me dude, you already said it." Dave punched his shoulder then moved to his system, sorting through his vinyls until he found the right one. "Put that old ass trash away dude, c'mon."