Amy Nelson

Amy Nelson

Shady Tradesman 22 Jan 2012 01:42

It is my intention to relax my craft for the purposes of this journal, and to let flow any vulgar thoughts that, under normal circumstances, would be beautiful. Even I need to let my hair down from time to time.

The past week has been unusual to say the least. I awoke naked in the jungle, clutching two fist-fulls of red feathers. There I met a very polite man in a black suit, but I never got his name. He transported me to New Mexico first by limo (which drove exceptionally well through the jungle, though it didn't seem odd to me at the time), then helicopter, then plane, and finally by car. He showered me, gave me clothes, and even provided food. Very polite.

Eventually I found my way into a hotel meeting room. I was somewhat swept up in the moment, but there was food, so I stayed. This is also where I met Letho Gullet, a horribly scarred and troubled man who appeared relaxed but was always on edge. Though he was curt, he wasn't cruel, and in fact he would prove to be very generous in the coming days. The only other soul in the area was a large, athletic man by the name of Nathaniel McGuire. He was far more polite than Letho and equally generous.

There were three name-plates on the table: one for each of us, and mine read Amy Nelson. I've assumed that as my name for now. Compared to my other wakings, this one went exceptionally smoothly. I didn't need to sell my body for money, learn a new language, kill anyone, or steal anything, but all the same it was not without its own share of complications. Although my new identity and re-introduction to society was handed to me on a silver platter, things quickly got more complicated. It appears that the men who found me were a part of some sort of conspiracy or organization. They seemed to not know why we were inside a meeting room, or even who was expected to arrive, but they picked up a trail and started an adventure all the same. Sticking along seemed like the best idea at the time.

We were offered a ten thousand dollar reward to solve a mystery, but my companions didn't seem interested in the money. Nathaniel even went out of his way to buy me equipment, including a new set of clothes, a cell-phone and headset, a bag, a pen, paper, and several other small items. Letho stuck around but didn't say much. They hadn't met before, but seemed to form an immediate bond similar perhaps to the one that two soldiers in the same army might share. Even stranger, they seemed to consider me to be a part of their group. They told me that we would probably be facing danger soon, but I didn't leave them; a little adventure could be exciting now and again.

We interviewed citizens, talked to doctors, searched houses, and generally investigated the humming sound. Things didn't get strange until we found some crows sporting many eyes watching us. From there, things got even stranger, culminating in a battle with several giant bugs underground. Letho and Nathaniel proved to be invaluable during the fight, and without the rugged clothes they bought me earlier, I'm not sure I would have survived.

I felt somewhat useless during the fight itself, although I did disarm one of the bugs by throwing a nearby turtle at its weapon. The doctor was behaving somewhat irregularly. At first we thought she was turning into one of the bugs, but I'm not sure…

The place self-destructed as we left, and we didn't even bother trying to get the reward. I managed to save the turtle, and my companions survived as well. Both offered to let me live with them while I established myself, but I chose to go with Letho because Nathaniel traveled too much. Letho was kind enough to puchase me a good fake ID and a plane ticket to New York, and I must say I was simply taken aback by his generosity. I wonder if it's because of my gender.

Letho named the turtle Myrtle, no doubt after the Christian hybrid-god of Venus and Murcia which represents sloth and slowness. He may be more clever than he looks.

Re: Amy Nelson

Shady Tradesman 12 Feb 2012 04:03

I'm tired of routine.

Scars rip across his face, and his eye gazes only at what he's doing. He lives his life moment-to-moment, and he's not the sort of person who would think twice about taking a life if he needed to. For now I'm convenient, and I doubt I'm being kept around as anything other than a possible ally. One shouldn't place much trust in those who practice killing all day.

Letho speaks like a child, but his casual demeanor is backed by apathy and is so profoundly disturbing on some level. He's agreed to teach me a thing or two about defending myself with weapons; apparently I'll be needing that knowledge if I continue to accept jobs from these mysterious employers. As for him; it's all he knows. Is there a fitting end to his sort of life? If there is, I suppose it would be face down in a ditch somewhere. Forgotten.

In the meantime, he's proven useful. I get the feeling that I won't be staying with this madman indefinitely, though. I've been struck with a wanderlust, and these “missions” seem to be a good way to quench it.

Re: Amy Nelson

Shady Tradesman 12 Feb 2012 04:34

Nathaniel McGuire was no super-spy. Had it been that his mother had dropped him as a child? Or was it that he simply that he couldn't be bothered to stay focused for more than the time it takes to chug a gallon of water? Outside was too cold for him, and carrying the gun his (more competent) partner had gotten him was making his arms tired. He couldn't shake the feeling that hunting down an escaped monkey was a task out of his league.

The inauspicious crescent moon had climbed over the mountain only hours after he and Amy had. Damn, was she beautiful, and not just attractive but capable, intelligent, and mysterious. She blended into a crowd, but he knew that there was more to her than met the eye. She had guided him here, given him the tranquilizer gun, and spoken to the family they were guarding. The residents might have been uncomfortable about the whole situation had Amy not spoken their native language, French, with them. Nathaniel stopped pacing for a moment and took a deep breath. He wished he had some sort of relevant skill.

What was that? A noise in the house? Everyone should have been asleep so he decided to check it out; he wouldn't want to let his partner down. There was a palpable silence that hung in the air like a blanket on a hot night. First he checked the entryway. Nothing. Then he made his way into the kitchen, boots clacking on the tile. It was empty. Finally he made his way upstairs; that's when he saw the ape. Without thinking a single thought he raised the gun to his shoulder and took aim. The monkey turned around just in time to see the dart enter its left bicep. That's when he realized his mistake.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have been so dense? He heard Amy scream his name and a curse, and the when he looked more carefully he noticed that it wasn't the ape he had shot after all. It was Amy. A lump as big as his over-sized fist dropped into his throat. He'd set things straight.

Amy, who at this time had already tied a tourniquet around her arm, gestured for him to come over to her. He did as he was told, and she whispered urgently to him, “No matter what, don't send me to the hospital.”

“Okay,” he said, lying through is teeth. As she slipped in and out of consciousness, he helped the paramedics load her onto the helicopter. Would he be able to finish the job without her? Unlikely, but he'd have to try.

Downtime: The Professor

Shady Tradesman 12 Feb 2012 04:54

So I escaped the hospital, still in that shitty paper gown they wrapped me in, and made my way to the nearby forest. I had to suck a dick for some real clothes, but we do what we have to I suppose. The newspaper had a wanted ad for me, and I'm sure I'm on some sort of government list now. I can't exactly use my old fake id to get back to New York (not that I had it anymore), and Nathaniel wasn't picking up his phone. That man. I think he means well, but he seems to be the kind of person who messes everything up while only trying to do what's right. Classic comedy of errors.

Getting across the border to Mexico was not difficult, but I wish I had gone up north to Canada. Mexico is a dirty, desperate place, and it can be dangerous. Letho answered his phone and said he'd make the trip down to bring me my things, the sweetheart. Funny how these people stick their necks out for someone they barely know but are willing to kill those they don't without question. I hope he remembers to feed Myrtle; from what I gather, he's recovering well from his injuries. The turtle, that is, not the assassin. I'm going to have to be more careful with those feathers if I'm going to become a person of interest to the United States Government. They don't grow on trees, you know.

The new name is Mercedes Verdú. Fake ID again, and I'm still not on any government lists, but Mexico City is a dusty place, and I'm bound to blend in amongst the filth. It's funny. I've never noticed it before now, but these married men and women are so desperate for the touch of a new person. I'm not the most stunning person on earth, but they seem to practically throw themselves at my feet. I find the double lives these people live fascinating. It reminds me of myself.

Last edited on 12 Feb 2012 04:55 by Shady Tradesman + Show more

Rose

Shady Tradesman 13 Feb 2012 21:20

My God, the things I do. What the hell am I thinking going on these jobs? This month I followed some obtuse clue from Mexico to Boston with Nathaniel's help. I nearly died several times, but I've never felt so alive. I've been trapped in this cycle of the mundane for so long. Am I really that eager for adventure, for inspiration, that I'd risk everything? It's as if I don't even have control over myself any longer. It's a compulsion, an insanity.

I once witnessed a golden yolk broken, and it was the saddest day of my life. That potential: lost. Yet, for all the times I've left myself, have I ever gotten anywhere? The golden pool swallowed me easily, like a teardrop. My mind was wrapped in the gauze of the octave, and I ran from the blazing skies. My home, the pool, embraced me, wrapped its maternal wings about me, and I saw the feathers and thought the world of myself. Imagine the shock, the mind-funeral, when I discovered that hole; that which would bring me from her caring grasp back into the cold, dry plain of waterless cracked mud. A thousand thousand hands gripped at me, passed me between them, and I was naked for the first time in after.

It's still there in the sky, that yellow mass. It bleeds upon me each night, and the dogs that consume my flesh either do not see or do not care that I am dieing. Will I leave a crater when I finally land upon the earth? I miss that which I have rejected, but the stream flows swiftly and in one direction as time does for those of us who are doomed to perish. Perhaps I will lay down in finality against a silk sheet. Or perhaps in a ditch. Don't close your eyes, but avert them. This is not for your benefit, but for mine. That pool of light may never hold my soul again, and I find the cold dirt refreshing. Who are you to ask this of me?

Downtime: Rose

Shady Tradesman 29 Feb 2012 02:19

The Great White North is a fairly difficult place to be homeless, but Nathaniel's hospitality has me holed up in a warm spot for now. I can only afford a few more months of rent, so it's imperative that I adopt a family as soon as possible.

Dating has been going poorly, and I'm growing tired of the drama that comes with dating married men. At first, their double lives fascinated me and reminded me of myself. It took me far too long to realize that the secrets they keep are far different than my own. They weren't made to live as I was, and they chafe under their cultural conditioning. Adulterers are like children playing with matches, overwhelmed by guilt and passion. Even the most passive ones seemed a dangerous to me.

I've been writing a book about an adulterous man, inspired by the ones I've been dating. It's helped clear my mind of the notion that betrayal is some romantic adventure. Next, I will be pursuing the 25-35 age range, looking for a suitable mate. I find that the young men are often naive about the commitment of marriage and so engage in it too readily, and that the older men are desperate and so lower their standards.

Children have always seemed so irritating to me, like even stupider people. But I think their simplicity is growing on me. It's as if they're the alpha, the origin, the seed. I'll see one grow to be a fine young man or woman under my care.