Life Without end

“So, Mark, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Four draft beers. You know how to change to barrels, right? All the bottle beers are back here. Spirits back here, and the price lists are by the registers. How are you at cocktails?”

“Not really my thing. Didn’t realize this was a cocktail bar.”

“It’s not. Never will be, just don’t want you trying that fancy throwing shit.”

“Riiight. I won’t. More of a plain spirits kind of man.”

“Good.” The bar owner look at his new employee with some renewed suspicion. “As long as you don’t go and drink all of my profits.”

She was beautiful. Slim, agile and with an intelligent air. If only she would notice him. Perhaps she was a little snobbish, lying on the patio as if she were the Queen of Sheba, knowing what a tease she was.

Every day he took a walk that just happened to take him by the fence that separated the two properties in hopes of seeing her. Maybe today she would see him and come over.

He tried to ignore them calling him back to the house, but had to obey the second time.

“Scipio! Here boy!”

He whined, and trotted home.

[Pic here]

Alexa’s newest bikini was very tiny, and Mark thought that if she wore it for the sole purpose of arousing him, then it was working very well. Arms around her waist as they stood by the pool, he suddenly chuckled.

When she asked him what was so funny, he told her. “Hundred years ago, you would’ve scandalized society. Shit, you’d never got near a beach. They even had this guy with a tape measure who would make sure women’s bathing suits weren’t too short before they got onto the beach.” Caressing her bottom, he added. “So fucking glad times changed.”

“Cas, you have to deal with it. The funeral, the villa, all the practical stuff.”

Mark stood right on the edge of the cliff that separated their villa from the sea. What made Stelios nervous was the half empty vodka bottle in his friend’s hand. Unlike him, Mark would not heal quickly if he slipped or a rock loosened.

“She’s gone, Stelios! I don’t give a fuck for your ‘practical’ shit. Go do it yourself, if you’re that fucking concerned.” He swayed, teetering, as he poured more vodka down his throat.

“CAS!” Stelios reached out, grabbing at thin air. “Idiot."

OOC: Set just before Mark and Alexa met.

“How long have you been an alcoholic?”

Mark’s glare gave way to a shrug, wishing he was anywhere but talking with this shrink. “Don’t know. Since the curse?” Since getting my Century murdered. “Two thousand years, give or take.”

“Did you drink much before then?”

“No...yes...no.... How the fuck should I know? I drank wine or that piss the Britons called ale. It was normal, like today, a way to unwind when off-duty.”

“And get drunk?”

“Sometimes.” That silent, non-judgemental stare irritated him. “Okay, most times. I was never drunk on duty.” Notes were written down on a pad. “Shit.”

The younger Stephen stayed and soon began to wish he hadn’t.

The snake that looked so much like a tattoo, shimmered for a moment. It began to uncoil itself from Stephen’s forearm, taking shape, filling out. Its brown head raised, tongue flicking to taste the air.

Rob backed away, near panicking when it turned its gaze on him. It hissed, fangs dripping with venom, as it opened its jaw wide. The adder, named jokingly Hadrian, struck suddenly. The fangs sank into the dying man’s wrist.

Venom pumped into him, dragging him unwillingly from death’s brink. Back to his endless life.

Wasting no time, his sons carried Stephen into the back room. By the time they laid him on the hurriedly cleared table, he was dying, each breath a labored struggle. His namesake looked on, scared, unable to do anything but watch with fascinated horror.

Rob had seen this once before and, although just as reluctant, pulled his father’s right sleeve clear of his arm, exposing Hadrian.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping him.” Rob couldn’t know it wasn’t necessary. Hadrian would act anyway. “If you want to see Papa live, stay and accept what Maman could not. If not, leave now.”

The sun warmed his skin as he relaxed, a light breeze gently swinging him to and fro. Even when Alexa wasn’t here, like now, it was one of his favourite places to just chill out. Of course, he would far prefer that she was with him in his arms, instead of running errands in town, but the memories of all the good – not to mention hot – times they shared was close compensation. He started dozing, head resting on his hands, dreaming of her and her lips brushing over his chest, his throat.

Mark’s eyes slowly opened, smiling up at her.

As Mark had promised Alexa, before Christmas he took Alexa to whichever Christmas markets she wanted to go to, anywhere in Europe. Some were large ones, like in Birmingham, Vienna, Prague, and of course, a few in Germany such as, Cologne, Frankfurt, and the quintessential one, the Christkindl Markt in Munich, and they also visited a few in small villages that were nowhere as grand but had very quaint atmospheres in snowy, historic settings where they could enjoy Bratwurst, Kartoffelrösti a greasy, flat, fried hash brown with a side of apple sauce as well as a cup of Glühwein. And as he had promised her, he didn't protest any of the flights they took, just permitting himself a small whiskey to settle his nerves. He also didn't complain as they walked from stall-to-stall spending several hours minutes at each one while Alexa browsed, appearing to look at every single thing, and buying plenty of them, which he carried for her without moaning. He didn't even huff with impatience once! Pretty good, considering he was very much a see what he wants, get it, pay for it and get out typical guy type of shopper.

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And Mark's mood theme is done, both on here and on LJ! Now all my main muses have mood themse, and considering how long it took me to finish this one and Hsu's I'm feeling both relieved and accomplished. *g*

You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes. - Walter Schirra, Sr.

Dordogne, France...1248

The two men rode their horses gently towards the small manor house. They appeared to be of similar age and both were knights. From their state of clothes, they had travelled some distance and, judging by various tears and stains, had seen action in battle. As they drew closer to the track which led up to the house, one of them reined in his horse.

The other stopped and looked back. "Papa? What is the matter?"

( I'll find a room at the village inn, Rob. )

***

Mark Carter/Cassius Albinius (as Stephen de Brabancon)
Non-Fandom OC
988 words

Tell us about a Terrible, Horrible, Not Good, Very Bad Day you have had.

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Tonight we invite you to talk about family...
1) List your family members (blood relations). Feel free to include all the cousins, uncles and ancestors you like. Who are they? What's their stories?

That would be a very long list, if I were to mention every blood relation, and that's even if I don't bother mentioning the ones I don't care to remember.

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OOC: Apologies for blatantly stealing and using as inspiration elements of "The Bounty Hunter". Alexa features with her writer's kind permission.

"Milo? Milo Boyd?" Mark turned around, but not before exchanging a glance with his wife. Alexa simply looked puzzled as the middle aged woman, clearly past her prime, walked up to them as they waited in line at the coffee shop. Mark, however, face filled with a mixture of horror and panic as he realized who she was.

Quickly, he recovered as he faced her, now looking as puzzled as Alexa. "No, you must be mistaken."

The woman, although in her late-fifties at least, had at one time probably been quite attractive, still thin with long legs and blonde hair, brassy now, from a bottle as she tried to hold onto those vestiges of youth. "You look just like him. I'm Nicole. Milo and I were together back in the Eighties."

Slowly, and making this up as he went, Mark smiled. "Oh, Milo! Yeah, he was my dad." He could feel Alexa's questioning gaze on him, knowing she wanted a full explanation of this as she knew he was not this man's son. "I don't remember him mentioning you."

For a moment, Nicole looked sad. "Milo died?" Mark nodded. "He could be such a pain in the arse, and that was when he was sober, but damn we had some fun together. Did he ever tell you how we met?" Mark shook his head, knowing the story and knowing Nicole would tell it anyway. They moved out of the line, to let the people behind go ahead. She glanced at Alexa, seeing that she looked far more interested than Milo's son. "Well, he must have said he was a bounty hunter. I had a misunderstanding with a judge...I missed my court appearance, and he was hired to get me. That was a fun road trip. Damn, we had a good time in Atlantic City." She chuckled at the memory. "Oh, the look on his face when I tasered him! Did he ever get rid of that tattoo? No? I was always said that would look funky as he got older."

"Anyway," Mark, his arm around Alexa, made as if they were leaving. "We're in a bit of a hurry, so nice to meet you...Nicole, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, sorry. Nice to meet you. You sure do look like Milo." She grabbed his hand to shake it, and for a moment, Mark was concerned she'd pull up his sleeve and see that same 'tattoo' that Milo had. Thankfully, she didn't and after saying goodbye to Alexa as well, she was gone.

Mark heaved a sigh of relief and then prepared himself to explain everything to Alexa, whom he knew would be dying to hear this story, and he always felt awkward talking about exs, not that she had anything to worry about. As he looked down at her, he could see she was barely able to not laugh, even covering her mouth. "Princess?"

It was no good and she was soon giggling. "Milo! You called yourself Milo!"

but as applying to all 'verses and timelines:


I LOVE MY WIFE!!

AND I MISS BEING ABLE TO CHAT WITH HER AS MUCH AS I FUCKING SHOULD BE ABLE TO!

From Here

The rest of the flight passed quietly. Neither of them had much to say. It wasn't a time for words, written or spoken. Instead as Alexa massaged his arm, and he relaxed to her touch, he slowly -- tentatively, at first -- touched her. Her face, her hands, her hair. Reconnecting. At one point, Cas took her fingers and traced down the length of the scar on his face, his eyes closed. It was, as if silently, he was telling her the pain behind it, showing her the man he was now, and it was better, and easier, than showing her the full mess his body was.

Finally, the ship came into dock at Station Three. It wasn't the largest spaceport on Gauda Prime, but it was the one nearest Stelios' compound. Del brought it to land in nice and smoothly. Once everything was shut down and secured, Del came back to the crew room where they were. "I'm going to assume that you two will be okay by yourselves." He grinned. "I'm going to find a bed and a shower and a hot meal." Normally, he knew that Cas would hang around too, although straight to the nearest bar to get hammered. "You going straight up to the compound?" Cas nodded. "Okay, I'll stop by tomorrow and see what's going on." With another grin and a wink at Alexa, he left.

They followed soon after, heading to the landcraft dock. Cas had dropped of his speeder before they'd left, but like the old motorbikes, it wasn't really something for passengers. So instead, they went along a few spots and found a small, but fast little hover cruiser. "After you," he said, helping Alexa into the passenger side, and he punched in an override code to start it. With a lawless planet like Gauda Prime, it was easier to just let someone steal your vehicle than really securing it. Transport had become a kind of communal property. Sure, if you got caught there could be hell to pay, but no one would interfere either. They turned out of the spot and onto the main thoroughfare. It wasn't busy, never really was as everyone was in the bars that lined the way to the spaceport, and then the boarding rooms. Only a few of the really successful mercenaries and smugglers could afford, as Stelios had, to set up property away from the city. Still away from that oppressive crowd, this part of Gauda Prime was still forested with trees hundreds of feet tall.

Cas weaved in and out of the trees at a fairly good speed, and he seemed far more alert, as alert as he had done in Huw Tothas as they had made their way to the spaceport. "Bandits," he cautioned Alexa. Of course on GP everywhere was bandit country, but it paid to be attentive.

For once, Cas Tarrant was not to be found in his dave bar of choice, which told Del that he must be fairly sober or had been to make it back across a couple of hundred kilometers of dense forest to where he called home. In fact, the compuund and largest house belonged to Stelios -- Cas' old friend -- but the Immortal warrior had been away for some time, fighting for the rebel cause in the civil war on Kairos. A good old-fashioned war where he could really get his hands dirty and bloody.

Cas was in his own quarters just off of Stelios' main house. It was big but large enough for just him, and it was functional. Two rooms, bathroom and another room that was living, sleeping and dining room. There was no kitchen, only a food replicator and a coffee pot for those days when he needed to sober himself up, which was today.

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(OOC: In response to this post

( The photo )

Jesku stepped into the bar, knowing just where to find Cas Tarrant. And there he was, slumped over the bar, the bartender wiping down around him. If he didn't rouse soon, he would have to get a couple of the bouncers to drag the drunkard upstairs so he could sleep it off, until he came back down and started over. The bartender nodded to Jesku, knowing -- well hoping -- that he would deal with him. Jesku was mostly humanoid in appearance, except that his skin had a pale, translucent quality to it, and there was, of course, the long tentacle that stemmed from the back of his skull like a ponytail. He was well dressed, which stood him out from everyone in the bar, and probably everyone on Gauda Prime, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. He was well known.

He gave Cas a hard shove. The man's head rocked on the bar, and he grunted. Another one, which also had little affect. Jesku grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him upright. Cas managed to look up at him, blinking hard as he tried to comprehend this sudden change in events. There was a string of untranslatable cursing from the alien's mouth, although their meaning was very well implied. "If you can even stand, Tarrant, get over to the table. There's something you should see."

Cas blinked again, his mouth pasty and dry. "You've got a job for me?"

"Not like this, I don't. Once you dry out again, we'll talk. Now, meet me at the table."

It took a couple of minutes, but grabbing his bottle, Cas made his unsteady way to where Jesku was sitting in a -- relatively -- quiet corner of the bar. He not so much sat down but collapsed in the seat opposite. Jesku shook his head, the man was a good soldier, one of the best he had come across. He had the bravery, the skill, and the discipline...when he wasn't drinking. They had known each other, been business associates and friends of a sort for some fifty Earth years. In fact, Jesku was one of the few who knew that Cas Tarrant was immortal, his own life span being much longer than a human's. As far as their business association went, Jesku was the middle man, hiring mercenaries for a variety of interested parties for all kinds of jobs. As Cas settled and drank straight from the bottle, he handed over a small electronic device.

"Got a message from an old friend of yours. It seems he wants to play with you again." He didn't sound happy.

Cas took it and pressed play. The face he made as soon as he saw the person on the screen said enough. There were few people he truly hated, he saved most of that for himself, but this was definitely one of them. Belit. He watched the message play. That smug look on that bastard's face, and he was tempted to throw the video device across the bar and then shoot it, but that was just his impotence at not being able to do the same to Belit.

"It's quite cryptic, although given Belit's tastes and what his poor unfortunate toys usually are, I think we can guess that part." Jesku leaned across the table. If this was going to affect his business he wanted to know. "What's he talking about?"

Tarrant shrugged. "No fucking clue. Haven't been to Huw Tothas in years, as you know, and I certainly haven't had any 'toys' there or anywhere in years...fuck, decades." After the explosion over Malodar, and the long and painful recuperation, one of the few things he had been able to take pleasure in in life had died. All desire was gone, somehow squeezed from him in all that pain. For sometime after he had managed to get aroused, but it was an effort, and he felt he was just going through the motions. Gradually, it faded completely. His body might keep on living, but inside nothing. "Shit, perhaps he got me and Del mixed up." He knew that wasn't likely at all. "Poor bitch." What he must have put who ever his victim though, wasn't something to think about deeply.

Accepting the explanation, Jesku leaned back again. "Just watch out. Clearly he's out to bait you and bring you into the open for a shot. I told you, you should have killed him before."

"Yeah, hindsight. Fucking love it. Can I keep this?"

Jesku was standing, ready to leave. "Sure, although you've probably got one waiting if you ever went back home."

After he left, Cas played the message back again. For some reason, at the mention of golden hair, an image of Alexa lying on their hammock came to mind until he forced it away again. A happy thought that he could rarely afford to indulge in, and he certainly didn't want to tarnish her memory while listening to this sick message from Belit.

Nearly a century previously

The explosion ripped through the living quarters of the transport ship. Immediately following the screams and first cries for help, came shouts and orders. It was only to be expected. The ship was full of soldiers on their way to defend the newly established Earth colony on Malodar from the heavy handed rule of its twin planet, Radolam.

"What the hell happened to the shields?"

"Get hold of the bridge and find out what the fuck's happening."

"Fuck! The captain was in there."

"Let's get this shit cleared away and get in there!"

"You, soldier, get extinguishers and lights. NOW!"

Two of the soldiers, who were barking the orders and clearly experienced NCOs made their way through the smoke and wreckage. One had managed to find a commlink still working and growled to the bridge, demanding to know the status of the ship and their attackers, only to be told that the hull had been breached just beyond the living quarters and was being protected by a blister force wall. They were going to try to enter Malodar's atmosphere, and hopefully it would hold. "Hopefully! Fuck that!"

"Over here, sarge!"

He made his way over to the voice and saw. The captain was lying underneath some wreckage that had been the metal frame of one of the bunks which had been ripped from the wall with the force of the blast. At least he was still breathing, but he was in a bad way. The left side of his body from shoulder to hip was burned from being caught in the explosion, the lightweight wifebeater not giving the same protection as his leather pants. His arm, which he must have thrown up to protect his face was also badly burned was now pinned down and crushed by the twisted metal. The sarge took one look. "Get a medic in here now!"

The captain was a good man. He had overseen all the training of the squad, as tough but fair minded on them as the seasoned NCOs, garnering their hard-to-come by respect as well by knowing, as few officers did, when to let them do their job and respect their opinions. Sure, the captain could be a bad tempered and moody son of a bitch, but he was a soldier's soldier, and a good leader of men. His men had come to like him a lot and would rather not have anyone else commanding them.

Several minutes later the medic arrived, and checked him over before shaking his head. "He could well die before we get him to the surface, maybe before then, so we have to move him. But, if we just lift the bed off him, he could bleed to death. The scan I ran on his arm points towards the arm being damaged beyond repair."

"So, we take his arm off? Cyberparts are easy enough to come by these days." There was a groan from the injured man, hearing enough to rouse him from unconsciousness.

The medic shrugged. "It could be just as bad. But we would free him quicker, and that could well save his life, and we could treat the burns before they get infected." Then again they might all die if the pilot couldn't land the damaged ship. "He might die of shock, but he might live."

"Listen captain, the doc's going to amputate your arm. It'll be fine." The sarge crouched by him, resting a hand on his right shoulder as the captain tried to argue. "Don't worry, it'll be fine, sir. We'll get you onto the planet, and they'll fix you up with a new one, better than ever." The captain tried to protest, trying to say that he would be fine, but a moment later he felt the sedative shot into his neck.

***

When he awoke, he was in the clinical white atmosphere of a hospital, but he didn't notice. Nor did he notice the doctor studying his records with a puzzled frown. The only thing he knew was the searing pain that was at the exposed nerve endings of his amputated arm. The doctor rushed to him, trying to calm him, but the man clearly was in agony. With some help of three orderlies he managed to keep him still long enough to increase the sedation levels.

***

The weeks passed. Months. Every time he woke, he was in terrible pain, so they kept him in a coma as his arm...healed. They wanted to know how, but he was the only one who could tell them, and at the moment, he couldn't. They would have to wait until the processes had finished. His case had attracted a lot of attention, especially from the fledgling government there. New cybertechnology was developing, had been used in a few such amputees. Not only were they given a new arm, but it included enhancements. Still, they were all metal. This soldier's arm was rebuilding itself, the tissue regenerating. It took many operations to combine technology with natural tissue, but it worked and the laseron destructor was enveloped in the centre with his arm grown around it. The trigger and focal point in his hand. Unlike the pure artificial ones, this one would be undetectable, scans would just read it as a metal rod from elbow to wrist. The connections a part of his own neurological process.

They had created a new weapon, even if they still didn't know how he had managed to regrown a whole new limb.

Gauda Prime

The first place the pilot went after docking at the main space port on Gauda Prime was the bar. It was where nearly all the smugglers, runners, and mercenaries headed on their return to the planet. There were no laws here, no government. As a declared open planet, it had no penal code and so had become a haven for every crook and opportunist in the galaxy. True bandit country, and that suited its residents just fine. No one bothered them. No one dared to as the only thing that could possibly unite such a group of murderers, thieves, and cutthroats was some planetary system trying to enforce its rules there. Most of them had prices on their heads, but aside from a few hardcore bounty hunters, who knew better and sought their bounties elsewhere, no one would dare try to find anyone on Gauda Prime.

The pilot was a fresh-faced young man with a mass of dark curly hair, but his appearance was a bad indication of his experience or hardness, something a few people had learned over the years. He had been a hotshot pilot for the dictatorial regime on Malodar until he deserted. Since then he had smuggled anything for anyone as long as the price was right.

He stepped into the bar. In most systems there were 'no-gun' laws for such places. A rule so impossible to enforce on Gauda Prime that it was pointless. One bar owner had tried once, and on opening night there had been a dozen or more deaths, including said bar owner. He scanned across the dimly lit bar, clearly looking for someone and his eyes came to rest on a figure hunched at the bar. Pulling a stool alongside him, Del Tarrant signalled the bartender for two drinks, and he looked at the man next to him who had yet to acknowledge his presence. They had met a few years ago, done a few runs together. It was trivial really, what had got them together, a matter of talking in this same bar over drinks, when they realized they shared the same last name. Since then they had been friends, well as much of friends as anyone was on this pit of a planet.

The drinks were set before them, and Del took his. "I was just at Huw Tothas. Someone's looking for you there." There was an answering grunt, Cas could be an uncommunicative miserable bastard at times, okay most times, when he was drunk. And he was usually drunk. Del reached inside his tunic and pulled out a piece of paper and set it before him. "I printed this off of the blogs." There was a sketch of a handsome man and a reward under the title HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

Cas looked up then, his blue eyes having taken in the sketch. It was really quite good, and only a few things were off. The eyes in the picture were smiling, and his were old and tired, empty even, and his mouth hadn't curved into a smile like that since...since she'd died. The scar was also missing. It ran from his left temple almost to his jawline, and where it cut through his whiskers, the hair was a small streak of white. But despite all that, it was a very good likeness. "So? There's lots of people looking for me. You too."

"Yeah, but those notices are on the law blogs. This was a classified ad."

Cas shrugged. "They're going to have to raise that reward higher, if they want any bounty hunter to come find me."

"Just thought I'd let you know." Del drained the rest of his drink and left.

He stared at the picture for a while longer. It hardly felt like he was looking at himself. The man there was some stranger who had been far happier and in love. He finished the drink, paid for them both, and picking up the page, left as well. He hadn't been that happy in so very long.