"so do you have any plans
tonight?" He said to Tina
"SO you want to monopolise all my
time, huh?" She said
"What? No! I was just making small
talk."
She came up to him and rubbed his back
gently. "It's alright, I was just kidding. Yeah actually, I'm catching up
with a couple of girlfriends. Do you want to come along?"
"No it's probably better I don't, you
know, completely integrate myself into your life from now."
"Yeah you're probably right. Well, do
you mind if I call you once we're finished?"
"NO of course not"
"Good because I might want to come
over." She smiled at him again and leaned in to kiss him. He leaned in and
gave her a kiss and felt his chest flutter. The lift was at six now. Five.
Four. Three. Two. Ding! The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Menelaus
pushed the button for the fourth floor and the doors closed again. They stood
in the elevator and it seemed a little bit chilly to Menelaus. He looked over
at Tina and she was standing with her arms tight around her as if she was
freezing. He went over and put his arm around her and tried to warm her up. She
smiled at him, "Thank you"
They got to the floor and stepped out and
tried to find the ward. There were a lot of signs pointing in all directions.
Finally they found one that said "C Ward" and they followed it to the
main desk where they asked about Peter.
"He's just behind me in that room
there" the nurse answered pointing to a set of double doors nearby. They
thanked her and walked through. About two beds down they saw Peter. He looked
like a commercial for health insurance, all covered up in plaster and bandages.
It actually looked slightly comical and Menelaus would've laughed if it hadn't
had been his friend. Tina walked over and kissed Peter on the forehead.
"Hey there, champ" she said, "how are you feeling?"
"Much better." He said,
"Please, kiss me on the forehead again."
She laughed, "no silly, that'll be for
when you get better. It can be your reward for knitting those bones
together!"
"Ok Ok." He said. Menelaus walked
over. "hey there Peter how are you going?"
"I'm not too bad actually, despite how
this looks..."
"It looks like you broke every bone in
your body!" blurted out Menelaus
"Yeah I know. It's not that bad, it's
actually to stop me from moving too much while they hold my ribs and spine in
place. Should only be for a couple more days and then they take this thing off,
watch me for another night and then send me home."
"Oh fantastic" said Tina
"Yeah that's really great"
Menelaus said.
"So how are you two lovebirds?"
Said Peter
"Lovebirds?" said Menelaus
shakily
"Oh come on" said Peter,
"It's pretty obvious. You two are all flushed around each other. Of
course, I'm on a lot of drugs. I could just be seeing lots of colours that
aren't actually there. Or maybe you two aren't really here? Or maybe... maybe
I'm not really here..."
"Ok Peter, yeah something happened
with us." Tina said
A small smile could be visible behind the
bandages slightly obscuring his face. “Well, that’s nice. It is nice, right?
Are you guys happy?”
“I’m happy” Menelaus said
“and..”
“Yes, I’m happy” Tina said
“Yes, I’m happy” Tina said
“Well there you go” said Peter, “Nice work!
So what did you guys bring for me?”
Tina brought out some magazines and handed
them over to him. “These just seemed like they had the most cool stuff.
Gadgets, guitars, flashy things, art, etc.”
Peter looked them over, “Thank you, this
looks fantastic. And Menelaus? You remembered?”
Menelaus reached into his satchel bag and
brought out his portable game system and handed it over. “There you go. The
earphones are wrapped around it, there’s a card with games on it, you should be
able to work it out.”
“Ok amazing, thank you. This should help me
from dying of boredom at least.”
"No problem."
"Well guys, take a seat! Sit around
and chat to me for a bit if you don't mind?"
"We don't mind." Said Tina and
grabbed a chair from the side of the room and pulled it up to where the bed was
and Menelaus followed suit.
--
The mime paid the taxi driver with shaky
fingers. He snatched money from his hand, assumed a tip and sped off into the
city leaving a trail of yelling pedestrians and screeching cars behind him.
This was getting to be ridiculous, who was out to get him now? He half wished
they had been successful rather than have had to brave that taxi journey
though. He got back up to his apartment and changed into his dressing gown. At
least now he looked reasonably dignified. He threw the shorts into his laundry
basket, on the off chance the owner ever enquired about them and actually
wanted them physically back. He knew those sorts of weird people actually
existed. He looked at his calendar, two months to prepare for the party. Wait,
was it a party? Of a sort, it was a get together but they were doing it as a
formal thing. He decided he had to utilise a disguise. Obviously he had access
to prosthetics but possibly it was going to take more than that. He decided to
put on weight for the assignment. He wasn't sure how to do this in a healthy
way, but possibly he would utilise a prosthetic for that too. At least for some
of it. He looked in the mirror and said goodbye to his chiseled jawline. Oh
well, he'll get it back but it gets harder and harder as you get older, he knew
that for a fact. He'd be living on shakes and smoothies for a while once the
job was over.
He set himself a routine to follow. First
studying the chat sessions, then eating a big bowl of fruit, the studying his
acting classes, then eating a big bowl of breakfast cereal, then writing down
what he felt the inner motivation of the character "Kusa" was within
the chat room, in any new way he saw it that day, then eating a big protein
based meal. He would still walk for half an hour each day but he would follow
the walk immediately with a big bowl of spaghetti bolognaise. He felt
reasonably confident with this method. He followed it every day from then,
working his way through the sheets and through a sizable amount of food. He
found an excellent shopping service that would go to various high quality
stores for him and shop (just because he was going to be over-eating didn't
mean he had to eat processed supermarket food) and stuck to the meal plan as
well. After the eighth week he had an overhang over his belt and under his
chin. He admired his work in the mirror, then placed a few well chosen
prosthetics. Yes, this would do. Noone would recognise him. Even the big thug
who knocked him down probably wouldn't recognise him, although he'd probably
still track him. Still, it would work for the assignment and maybe deter
whatever assassin was after him. He turned his face to the side and slapped the
turkey neck under his chin. Well, at least it didn't wobble he thought to
himself. He grabbed hold of his overhang and gave himself a similar consoling
thought that at least it wasn't a full handful with each hand. He walked back
over to his lounge chair, grabbing a banana off the kichen counter on the way,
peeling it and throwing the peel into the bin at the end of the counter as he
passed it. He lay down on his chair and grabbed the pile of sheets sitting next
to it. He still needed to work out Kusa's wardrobe. Luckily the internet
provided for that sort of thing as well. He saw a few anime references in the
things that he said, maybe he could go with a variety of misguided J-pop
clothes matching or maybe even be carrying a sword? He thought about even
grabbing himself some sort of branded Doctor Who merchandise but that wasn't a
show really mentioned by him either and he didn't want to err on the wrong side
of the nerd culture fence.
Over the next few week, he gained even more
weight but this time not as rapidly as the first ten or so kilos, so he could
control it at the end. He got the prosthetics altered to fit his new face with
its less pronounced cheekbones. He certainly would not be able to put on the
mime make up in this state, he thought, and the thought of his life as a mime
filled him with profound sadness. Even with everything they did to him, within
that make up was still where he felt safe, where he felt he could act
naturally. The japanese mud mask was a facsimile of the experience but it
didn't quite work. Sure, he had clean pores after (even with the interruption)
but it wasn't quite the same. The attack didn't help either but it wasn't the
entirety of the problem. Now that I've blown up my past, quite literary, the
mime thought to himself, how do I return to life missing the identity I crafted
for myself? An identity I can never go back to? He felt a single tear well in
his eye and willed it back into his eye socket. NO time for crying. Plus, the
single tear was yet another reminder. He looked at the calendar, the get
together was in a couple of nights. He had the outfit put together, he knew how
he was getting there, He had moved into a different block of apartments but
with a similar layout so that he could just move everything exactly how it was
in the apartment (which was his instruction to the specialist moving men he
hired, obviously after locking all sensitive items up first). Now at the least
he was reasonably sure he wasn't being watched. By anyone other than the
Portugese Secret Service guy. The PSS. Are you taking the PSS? The mime asked
himself in his mind and chortled to himself. Hmm, he probably needed to get
some real friends. Where would he find those? Maybe Paraguay? He made a mental
note to move continents after this job, it was obviously starting to play with
his head and he wanted to stay sharp, eve nif it meant never doing this job
again. He could probably curate an art museum with his specialised art
education anyway.
He took a look around him. This had been
his work and relaxation space for a long time, ever since he worked out he
could make more money from more advanced techniques than just begging on the
street with his mimery. He could always recreate it where-ever he ended up, he
decided. What did it matter in the end? We were all going to die, he thought to
himself.
---
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