Post by Damian Moreau on Oct 11, 2017 5:11:35 GMT -8
He still couldn’t believe it. Did it really happen? Or was he trapped in another nightmare again? Damian really didn’t know. In fact, he hadn’t been able to sleep for the past few weeks after getting word that he’d disappeared again. And this time, nobody knew where he’d gone off to. Sure, he’d tried calling the number he had saved on his phone, but it just…kept on ringing. A few days ago, it had finally rerouted to voicemail, and after the beep, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say when he was asked if he wanted to leave a message. He’d even gone so far to ask some of the people working in the agency if they’d heard from their boss, but they’d all given him a negative answer. Where could he be? Initially, it had been the frantic searching throughout Veria, astride Fenrir. Other times, he was riding Azrael. But no matter how far he’d searched, or how hard he tried to look for the older man, he couldn’t find hide nor hair of the Interpol Commander who’d been labeled as “missing in action”. He vaguely remembered something about the psychopath he’d encountered before, but nothing strange had come up in the past few months… …at least, nothing too suspicious on that front. He’d already asked his friend who worked part-time in Interpol if he’d seen or heard anything, but got a negative answer in response. It had been several days since he’d gone to the Underground with a load of the best alcohol the surface-side had to offer (and drinking his heart out with his opposite number, who ruled the Underground) but not even that was enough to snap him out of his funk. He’d had half-brewed thoughts of going out to search again, but he’d already been doing that for the past three weeks nonstop without getting too much rest, and he’d run his own sources dry to the ground. Did he do it again? It was possible. But why? Even Damian couldn’t answer that question, even if he himself tried. He’d taken to hiding in his Skydome, keeping it closed in the meantime—even the research and construction of the prototype hover vehicles had come to a halt since he’d shut himself in. He’d gone without food again, ignoring the hunger pangs that were incessantly bothering him—and even if he’d heard his phone ringing several times, he didn’t bother answering whoever was trying to reach him—it was probably Mike, but who knew? In the meantime, though, he’d taken to floating around in the low gravity of his gym proper, having lowered the challenger boxes to the ground so that he could have more room to drift around while the reversed gravity was in effect. There was something oddly…relaxing about floating around, which was why he’d made it a part of his own Gym’s little trick. Of course, he wasn’t expecting to be bothered today, so he’d taken to wearing some of his rarely-worn short-sleeved shirts, and had taken to drifting around aimlessly, the better to deal with his own thoughts that were sinking further and further downwards. The only signs that something was wrong with him were the bandages that he’d carelessly wrapped around his wrists, and his own muffled breathing—like he was trying to hold something down. | I fell in love with your sin, your littlest sin @mikey 556 team he needs his bro... |
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