Chapter 01; Part 02

Hey people; there is more written and coming – I just have to go do some other stuff at the mo. I hope these 900 words make sense; remember this is a hell draft; so any spelling/grammar help you can give would be greatly appreciated.

The last thing I wanted, starting up the shower, was a meeting with the suits. My unit of Inter-Portal Enforcement was one of eight; all the units existed in the struggling city of Melbourne; being that Melbourne was the most intersected string of quantum space between dimensions; hence 8 portals in a 237,629 km2 space. Most of Units were made up of OtherWorlders; their species was human but their evolution had created slight changes. As their culture was aggressively tribal’ the nocturnal human has a very limited capability to see during the bad – but they could hunt and fight better than any ‘Earthlings’. Their divine difference was the black and white of their minds, which defined their existence. A single act of evil would define all actions moving forward; they would always choose an immoral way – and there were no reported cases of people becoming ‘evil’ and moving back to ‘good’.

The Inter-Portal Enforcement Agency only worked with ‘good OtherWorlders to protect the leak of ‘evil’ into our world. These ‘good’ OtherWorlders were chosen by a combined and trusted panel and given a singular test of morality to confirm which type the potential agent was. All Enforcement Units were constructed of 5 OtherWorlders and 1 Earth-Witch. The OtherWorlders knew how to hunt their own whilst the rite of opening and sealing the portals went to the witches.

I stepped into the shower and got busy with the nail brush and shower chemicals that I always kept into the shower stall. I didn’t ever imagine I would feel clean, I figured the chemicals in the shower cleaner would be stronger than standard soap and by the time I’d finished my skin was a rosy pink. As I dried off with the towel I noticed in places I had scrubbed so hard that prickles of blood kept rising to the surface. I sprayed those areas with antiseptic and shower chemical but this time to clean the stall. I didn’t want a single epithelial of Giffen to exist within my space so I scrubbed the stall with a renewed vigour and single mindedness and watched his remnants dribble down the drain. And when I finished I felt microscopically cleaner; but I don’t know if I would ever feel clean.

I turned to face myself in the big mirror above the vanity and noticed I couldn’t’ bring myself to look in my eyes. I no longer respected or trusted the image looking back at me. But if I went without make up; my positions ritual markings; then everyone would be suspicious. The one thing I didn’t need was enforced downtime. I wanted to kill Giffen; to take back my confidence, my self-esteem and I suppose I also wanted to punish him. Luckily I was in the business of hunting and punishing errand OtherWorlders

I started marking my face when Gabriel’s rough knock sounded on the door; “You got 5 minutes,” he said.

“Or what? You gonna go without me?” I snapped.

“Are you OK in there?” He asked and I heard the door take some weight as he must have leaned against it to divine what I was up to.

“Gabe, I’m fine, just give me a minute to do my make-up.”

“Oh, Ok, just make-up?” He asked hope dawning in his voice.

“I also gotta get dressed,” I said knowing I was crushing that spawn of hope on his voice.

“Alright, just hurry. I hate being made late places.” He said out loud and whispered to himself, “You’re usually not like this.”

He was right, usually it was me fully dressed and pacing, waiting for these creatures to move into action. ‘Patience’ was not my virtue; ‘hurry the fuck up’ was usually my morning utterance.

I slap dashed my make up and walked out the other door of my en suite; into my walk in wardrobe. Dressing never took long. I snapped and pulled on underwear; then went for my linen focus tunic. The tunic was a hand-woven garment that was imbued with herbs and magic to help focus my chakras during combat. It had to go as close to my skin for full effectiveness; on the off white fabric the chakra points of the upper body were circled and joined via a line of woven gold thread that helped interact with the rest of the tunic. The garment had no sleeves and fell down past my pubis for full affectivity.  I yanked on black combat cargoes and a black long sleeved t-shirt. At this stage was the base of all the clothing I wore except when going home to see my family. Over the top went a Kevlar vest and then a utility netted vest – but before that I had to get my boots and socks on or I usually tipped head over heels. The Utility vest was made up of net and had holsters for two Glock 9mils and my ceremonial knife, which was a large machete, used for the practise of magic and to wield on any occasion my guns went missing. The rest of the netting held a carabineer with a bungee rope attached to a mobile phone, a torch, pockets for particular herb mixes and other items of use. Generally my wardrobe was three quarters work clothes because that’s what I spent my life doing, my non-work clothes weren’t adventurous either and took up a very small portion of my wardrobe.

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About VictoriaK

I’m a raw nerve ending, a bundle of sensitivity. I invite you to journey through my recovery.

Posted on May 28, 2011, in Chapter 1. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. cant wait to read more, few misstakes but not to bad

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