The warning to fasten up for the drive came, but Quayhoggr was already seated tightly, bracing his leg against the side of his metal table as the Absolute Magnitude lifted off. Gravity stabilizers helped to keep his stacks of books and items in place, and his hands raised and held the rest in place, a set of acts second nature in his tenure in the team of bounty hunters. Instead, like the mess of documents that shifted along the floor to the side of the bed as the ship travelled forward, his mind was devastatingly headed towards the direction of self criticism… yet again. Thought after thought, his inner self fought with his inner self, logic fighting emotion, reason struggling with instinct, sheer brilliance being trumped by a self-fulfilling, cycling stain of depression.
He read aloud a transcript of an alien language on the wall, practising and expanding his phonetic capabilities with the full intention of distracting himself from a cosmic whirlwind of dejection.
”They don’t need you.”
”Yes, they do. I have skills none of them have. They have themselves a powerful genius.””But one they don’t need.
He stood up, marking notes to the script on its semantics, logic entailment, and pronunciation with a piece of chalk only for it to snap. He sighed heavily, turning to his bed and slamming himself onto it, trench coat and all still on him. His hands covered his face. He didn’t need to cry, but his breaths felt impossibly loaded and weighty and his spirits tranquilized and in comatose. He heard the footsteps outside in the hallway. Poole had left for the A.L.C. - the event deduced by the reasoning of efficiency, after hearing the announcements, of course. Many footsteps followed the muscle man’s pounding stride. Not one looked to Deevee’s room.
”Of course, they wouldn’t, freak.”
Deevee has watched his teammates eat before. Of course, this set of observations earned him several arguments and looks, but it is one of his many techniques to learn how a person could be, especially when they are at one of their most relaxed moments.
Poole, eating hefty and plentifully, tries to speak with other people and even to his teammates. Considering his backstory, and his tendencies and habits, he is repentant for his origins, shameful and attempting to be humble for his mistakes and progress.
”He could destroy you without a care in the universe.”
Jeremiah eats all he can and even takes some away. He keeps to himself unless engaged with, and showers people with charming talk of conversation when he is really into it. But assuming his practice of alcohol and possibly drugs - keeping in mind his perpetual state of high and intoxication - he is very unconfident, maybe even ‘attention-seeking’ would be a proper adjective. A manic man with rusty skills despite all the training he’s had.
”You’re not good enough for him.”
Xaara is someone with no obvious eating idiosyncrasies. However, this is emblematic of someone really reclusive and detached - a personality trait that he shares with her based on the fact that both stay away from each other. Jaded, though not a great word, is still a word and is not too inappropriate.
”You’re unimportant.”
Eimi eats with a world of her own, keeping to herself as much as she could unless pulled out from her safe haven. Anxiety? Unsure of herself? Those are some descriptions one could make for her. She could be faking everything she has ever displayed outwardly in her persona. She is so much like him.
”No, you are more like her. Do not ever think you are comparable to anyone.
Lynette sticks to only one serving every meal, maintaining a semblance of her regal history through her actions though her current state of affairs seems contrary to everything her upbringing seems to make her out. This is only on the guess that she is regal, or at least of a very high-class environment. Nostalgic? Guilt-ridden seems to read off her face everytime she makes her mark as the moral compass of the group.
”She is so much better than you in every way.”
His recollection of his analyses was part of his specialized profession - one that was in high demand, with technical skills and operable talents recognized by way of opening new worlds and allowing immersion to be successful and easy. In this way, that is how he kept himself alive, knowing that the team needed him, in so many ways.
He was ready to pick himself off his bed, mood better to continue his practice, a flash of bright light spontaneously combusted within his vision, but he knew well in fact that nothing could have caused that in his room. His head only confirmed this when it was introduced with a most terrible ache. He collapsed back to his bed, and he began to see something.
***
Quayhoggr was in a room, watching
himself talk to a man who was by no means in danger from physical harm, but his tremors and sweat showed that he was mortally closing in on his fate’s end. He listened to what his other self had to say:
“You see, Mr. Fja”XXa, I’m already being nice. And please, relax. I’m merely reminding you that I have connections within the police department, spoken with the security guards in this building to take it a little easy on surveillance - good friends, actually, Moooadap has twins - and I digged up significant intel from my ex-girlfriend in the Ganymedian IRS that shows me that you haven’t been taxing in a lot of your stuff - she’s hot; three sets of tits is really a handful.
Of course, I can make this nightmare of yours go all away… if you would open your safe right now and let me have everything in it.” Mr. Fja”XXa shot up and opened it immediately, offering to put all of his savings, jewelry, and large dossiers of what could be really delicate secrets.
”Much love, and remember: behave.”The other Quayhoggr left the room and Mr. Fja”XXa slumped back to his chair, crying in his hands. Original Quayhoggr followed his other out of the room and caught him pressing the earbud communicator, talking back to someone. Strangely enough, original Quayhoggr could hear the speakers: it was the Absolute Magnitude cast:
”Good god, Deevee you’re scary.” Eimi spoke. “Excellent job,” from Poole. “His soul looked like it left him long ago after what you did in there.” Another praise, this time from Lynette.This Quayhoggr was liked by his teammates so much more than he was. This one even walked with swagger and confidence, so much more articulate and more gentlemanly. He had no idea what was going on. Could this have been him from before? Maybe his stress is overworking his creativity. But… even so, he was jealous with this Deevee.
Then everything faded to black.
***
Deevee came to in tears, crying tremendously as he pondered on what happened, thinking about the convoluted possibilities of what could have been, what should be, what will be, what ought to be, what can- It was too much.
If only he had someone to talk to.
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