Shadows Creed
Welcome to the family
“How many times has it been, Seward?”
“Too fucking many.”
“Yeah. Y’know, by rights you shoulda been shot years ago.”
“So what? You gonna shoot me now?”
“No. Take this.”
The guard was bored. Nothing ever changed and the little shit standing in front of him hadn’t changed any since he’d arrived at the joint six years ago. Seward was the same sullen, rat-faced lout he’d been when the Creed had cornered him and his buddies in some dank garage at the wrong end of New Huntington.
The guard held out a red card to the young man. The same red card he’d given him every time Seward broke a rule.
“Here,” he repeated in a monotone. “Put that on record, and get outta my sight.”
Seward took the proffered card with a smirk, a mere twist of the lips, before darting off with a triumphant chuckle.
* * * * *
The smell of oil filled his nostrils making him want to retch. Zacky lay flat on his back beneath a laid out piece of crap, aka the mayor’s Bentley, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. His brother was leaning against the body of the vehicle, tunelessly humming and not helping him at all.
“Matty, get that rag, could ya?” Zacky called out as he squinted up at the underside of the vehicle.
“Get your own, lazy ass...” the younger male mumbled.
Zacky frowned, biting down hard on his lip before retorting, “I don’t see you under this heap of shit.”
“That’s because I’m the smart one,” came his brother’s response. There wasn’t much that could be said to that statement, so the elder Baker remained silent and returned his concentration to his task.
* * * * *
Chaos and hate fill the world
Take me away to
Some place better than this
I know a place where we can go...
Brian stabbed his pen against the page he was scribbling on. The words seemed okay, but he wasn’t game to read over them again. Scraps of paper were scattered across the surface of his desk, littering his bed and floor as well. He’d been at it for days, but he could never get anything solid or that he felt was worthy of continuing.
His father had been the same way, when he’d been living at home. A perfectionist at heart, it ran in the genes.
“Fu-uck! I hate this!” Brian slammed his palms against the surface of the desk, jarring the bones in his forearms.
“What, hun?”
His fiancée peered around the doorjamb, her warm brown eyes catching his attention and drawing his scowl away from his work.
“Chelle...this...poem. It’s crap.” He scrunched the page into a tight ball, lobbing it across to the basket next to his bed.
Michelle sighed, coming in to lean next to him. “You should take a break. Don’t forget, Shads and Val are coming around for drinks tonight...”
Brian smiled, thinking of his friend. It had been a long time between shouts. But, considering they were each hitched to a Dibenedetto girl, it was time they reforged their friendship. Nodding to his woman, he swung around on his chair, placing his hands against his knees and standing up.
“Well, we’d better go to the shops then.”
* * * * *
He had five trash can lids. It was a record. He wasn’t certain what he was going to do with them yet, and he was sure his landlord would probably collar him and force him to put them back where he’d found them. But, he didn’t really give a shit. His parents were coming around with his sisters and he wanted to show them his masterpiece. Requiem for a Garbologist was going to be his finest work. A lot of mangled sounds of metal clashing against metal were definitely music to his ears.
In fact, making music was something he loved doing, however he never really got any chances and there was no way anyone ever appreciated anything he created. Because he was basically a screw-up who was shunned by society and loved only by his family and friends.
He did have one redeeming quality, though. Jimmy Sullivan was a genius. He knew just about everything one needed to know about society, and also a lot of useless stuff as well. Including how The Flushers got their name. They used to be responsible for making sure all the toilets in the shopping malls were flushed. They’re now responsible for flushing out the waste of the streets.
Jimmy was also an expert at screwing things up. And he always found it amusing to watch the Flushers trying to clean up after him. They of course weren’t as much entertainment as the Creed, though.
The Creed. Jimmy’s number one obsession and the one thing he knew more about other than his own family. The Creed who controlled New Huntington with a fist of iron. The Creed who his best buddy, for the past five years, commanded...
* * * * *
Wake up. Meditate. Clean his gear. Eat. Pump iron. Shower. Wake the rest of the corp. Every morning it was the same and Matthew never tired of it. It was regular as clockwork. And he preferred it that way. Routine and order lead to responsible action. And responsible action lead to the law being upheld.
Of course, he wasn’t so inflexible that he couldn’t allow for some deviation from the norm. For example, the other morning, his wife of mere weeks, had surprised him at the barracks with a box of his favourite chocolates and a passionate kiss. He normally wouldn’t encourage public displays of affection; it was a sign of weakness he couldn’t really afford. However, he had only just recently married, so he knew his superiors and subordinates alike would turn a blind eye, at least once or twice.
Today, though, things were going to be a little different. Matthew had decided to take a break, an honest to goodness day off. He had been on call non-stop for five years; he hadn’t become TaskerOne by sitting on his ass, stagnating. Therefore he felt he deserved this one day of respite. Still, he couldn’t abandon routine entirely. And so that’s why he was walking toward the showers a heavy black towel over one shoulder, bandana dangling from his left fist, a tight smile twisting his lips.
“Shadows? What’re you doing?”
Matthew paused midstride as he was about to head into the showers, glancing to the person who had just questioned him. His 2IC, Jason Berry, was holding the wall up, a smirk gracing his lean features.
He chuckled low, lifting the bandana. “Rookie salute.”
The younger man laughed. “Been bashing up the kiddies in the gym again? That’s not very nice.”
Matthew shrugged, pushing the door open and heading into the steaming shower block. Jason followed behind, stripping.
“I mean, fuck...I know they all gotta toughen up. But don’t you think you’re just a tad hard on them?”
Matthew gave a non-committal grunt, tossing his towel and bandana over a pole, stripping his sweat-soaked clothes from his body. He stepped into the shower bay; it was large enough to take a whole football team and then some. Communal bathing was good for morale as far as the Creed was concerned.
As the sensors picked up his presence steaming jets of water sprayed down. He stood under it with his eyes closed, stretching his arms above his head.
“No harder than Eski was on us when we first joined,” he finally commented as Jason joined him.
“That’s true,” Jason murmured, as he cast a quick glance over the bigger man’s body. “Did you no harm, though.”
Matthew snorted. “Right back atcha, buddy.”
“Hah. I’m not the one who packed it on.”
“You’ll keep,” he muttered, while grabbing a bar of soap and proceeding to lather up all over.
“True. All that ink must’ve been killer though.”
Matthew glanced at the other male. “Hmmm?”
Jason nodded to the artwork that covered his body. “All that.”
“Yeah. A bit.” Matthew smirked. “But pain is good for the soul.”
“Trust you to say that,” Jason muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing, Shads.”
Matthew frowned. “I’m serious.”
The 2IC rolled his eyes, splashing water at him. “Be careful, you might turn into Jimmy.”
“If I do, I give you full permission to recommend my closure.”
“Haha, very funny.”
Matthew flicked water back at Jason, then scowled. “Dead serious, Jason. Jimmy’s my best friend. But, he’s not the sort of person who stays in the Creed’s good books. Ever. In fact...he’s just...not.”
“Yeah, I get it. I get it. By the way, day off, right?”
“Yeah,” Matthew smiled. “Going to Brian’s for drinks. Been a long time.”
“Enjoy that.”
“Sure will.” He sighed. “But first I gotta rouse the rabble...”
Jason cocked an eyebrow. “You do know what a day off is, don’t you? It’s where you leave the shit work to me.” He clapped a hand against Matt’s shoulder, squeezing the hard muscle. “Finish up here and get your ass home...let me deal with the corps.”
Matthew grimaced as he said, “I don’t think-”
“Don’t argue,” Jason interrupted, firmly. “As your second-in-command I insist that you forget about all your responsibilities, and go. Just go. Let your hair down...”
“If I had any, I would.” Matthew ran a palm over his skull then patted the same hand against his friend’s left bicep. “Thanks. I guess you’re right. I’ll just go once I’m done here?”
“Don’t ask me.” Jason began laughing, but sobered quickly as his commander glared at him. “Yeah...yeah, just go, Shads...I can deal.”
Matthew, unable to maintain his stern expression, gave a grateful smile whilst ducking beneath the spray, washing away the sweat and soap.
After a moment he said, “Good. Because you still owe me for the whole of last quarter.”
Jason chuckled again, shaking his head. “True.”
Nothing more was said between them as they finished up, preparing to part ways.
“Too fucking many.”
“Yeah. Y’know, by rights you shoulda been shot years ago.”
“So what? You gonna shoot me now?”
“No. Take this.”
The guard was bored. Nothing ever changed and the little shit standing in front of him hadn’t changed any since he’d arrived at the joint six years ago. Seward was the same sullen, rat-faced lout he’d been when the Creed had cornered him and his buddies in some dank garage at the wrong end of New Huntington.
The guard held out a red card to the young man. The same red card he’d given him every time Seward broke a rule.
“Here,” he repeated in a monotone. “Put that on record, and get outta my sight.”
Seward took the proffered card with a smirk, a mere twist of the lips, before darting off with a triumphant chuckle.
* * * * *
The smell of oil filled his nostrils making him want to retch. Zacky lay flat on his back beneath a laid out piece of crap, aka the mayor’s Bentley, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with it. His brother was leaning against the body of the vehicle, tunelessly humming and not helping him at all.
“Matty, get that rag, could ya?” Zacky called out as he squinted up at the underside of the vehicle.
“Get your own, lazy ass...” the younger male mumbled.
Zacky frowned, biting down hard on his lip before retorting, “I don’t see you under this heap of shit.”
“That’s because I’m the smart one,” came his brother’s response. There wasn’t much that could be said to that statement, so the elder Baker remained silent and returned his concentration to his task.
* * * * *
Chaos and hate fill the world
Take me away to
Some place better than this
I know a place where we can go...
Brian stabbed his pen against the page he was scribbling on. The words seemed okay, but he wasn’t game to read over them again. Scraps of paper were scattered across the surface of his desk, littering his bed and floor as well. He’d been at it for days, but he could never get anything solid or that he felt was worthy of continuing.
His father had been the same way, when he’d been living at home. A perfectionist at heart, it ran in the genes.
“Fu-uck! I hate this!” Brian slammed his palms against the surface of the desk, jarring the bones in his forearms.
“What, hun?”
His fiancée peered around the doorjamb, her warm brown eyes catching his attention and drawing his scowl away from his work.
“Chelle...this...poem. It’s crap.” He scrunched the page into a tight ball, lobbing it across to the basket next to his bed.
Michelle sighed, coming in to lean next to him. “You should take a break. Don’t forget, Shads and Val are coming around for drinks tonight...”
Brian smiled, thinking of his friend. It had been a long time between shouts. But, considering they were each hitched to a Dibenedetto girl, it was time they reforged their friendship. Nodding to his woman, he swung around on his chair, placing his hands against his knees and standing up.
“Well, we’d better go to the shops then.”
* * * * *
He had five trash can lids. It was a record. He wasn’t certain what he was going to do with them yet, and he was sure his landlord would probably collar him and force him to put them back where he’d found them. But, he didn’t really give a shit. His parents were coming around with his sisters and he wanted to show them his masterpiece. Requiem for a Garbologist was going to be his finest work. A lot of mangled sounds of metal clashing against metal were definitely music to his ears.
In fact, making music was something he loved doing, however he never really got any chances and there was no way anyone ever appreciated anything he created. Because he was basically a screw-up who was shunned by society and loved only by his family and friends.
He did have one redeeming quality, though. Jimmy Sullivan was a genius. He knew just about everything one needed to know about society, and also a lot of useless stuff as well. Including how The Flushers got their name. They used to be responsible for making sure all the toilets in the shopping malls were flushed. They’re now responsible for flushing out the waste of the streets.
Jimmy was also an expert at screwing things up. And he always found it amusing to watch the Flushers trying to clean up after him. They of course weren’t as much entertainment as the Creed, though.
The Creed. Jimmy’s number one obsession and the one thing he knew more about other than his own family. The Creed who controlled New Huntington with a fist of iron. The Creed who his best buddy, for the past five years, commanded...
* * * * *
Wake up. Meditate. Clean his gear. Eat. Pump iron. Shower. Wake the rest of the corp. Every morning it was the same and Matthew never tired of it. It was regular as clockwork. And he preferred it that way. Routine and order lead to responsible action. And responsible action lead to the law being upheld.
Of course, he wasn’t so inflexible that he couldn’t allow for some deviation from the norm. For example, the other morning, his wife of mere weeks, had surprised him at the barracks with a box of his favourite chocolates and a passionate kiss. He normally wouldn’t encourage public displays of affection; it was a sign of weakness he couldn’t really afford. However, he had only just recently married, so he knew his superiors and subordinates alike would turn a blind eye, at least once or twice.
Today, though, things were going to be a little different. Matthew had decided to take a break, an honest to goodness day off. He had been on call non-stop for five years; he hadn’t become TaskerOne by sitting on his ass, stagnating. Therefore he felt he deserved this one day of respite. Still, he couldn’t abandon routine entirely. And so that’s why he was walking toward the showers a heavy black towel over one shoulder, bandana dangling from his left fist, a tight smile twisting his lips.
“Shadows? What’re you doing?”
Matthew paused midstride as he was about to head into the showers, glancing to the person who had just questioned him. His 2IC, Jason Berry, was holding the wall up, a smirk gracing his lean features.
He chuckled low, lifting the bandana. “Rookie salute.”
The younger man laughed. “Been bashing up the kiddies in the gym again? That’s not very nice.”
Matthew shrugged, pushing the door open and heading into the steaming shower block. Jason followed behind, stripping.
“I mean, fuck...I know they all gotta toughen up. But don’t you think you’re just a tad hard on them?”
Matthew gave a non-committal grunt, tossing his towel and bandana over a pole, stripping his sweat-soaked clothes from his body. He stepped into the shower bay; it was large enough to take a whole football team and then some. Communal bathing was good for morale as far as the Creed was concerned.
As the sensors picked up his presence steaming jets of water sprayed down. He stood under it with his eyes closed, stretching his arms above his head.
“No harder than Eski was on us when we first joined,” he finally commented as Jason joined him.
“That’s true,” Jason murmured, as he cast a quick glance over the bigger man’s body. “Did you no harm, though.”
Matthew snorted. “Right back atcha, buddy.”
“Hah. I’m not the one who packed it on.”
“You’ll keep,” he muttered, while grabbing a bar of soap and proceeding to lather up all over.
“True. All that ink must’ve been killer though.”
Matthew glanced at the other male. “Hmmm?”
Jason nodded to the artwork that covered his body. “All that.”
“Yeah. A bit.” Matthew smirked. “But pain is good for the soul.”
“Trust you to say that,” Jason muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing, Shads.”
Matthew frowned. “I’m serious.”
The 2IC rolled his eyes, splashing water at him. “Be careful, you might turn into Jimmy.”
“If I do, I give you full permission to recommend my closure.”
“Haha, very funny.”
Matthew flicked water back at Jason, then scowled. “Dead serious, Jason. Jimmy’s my best friend. But, he’s not the sort of person who stays in the Creed’s good books. Ever. In fact...he’s just...not.”
“Yeah, I get it. I get it. By the way, day off, right?”
“Yeah,” Matthew smiled. “Going to Brian’s for drinks. Been a long time.”
“Enjoy that.”
“Sure will.” He sighed. “But first I gotta rouse the rabble...”
Jason cocked an eyebrow. “You do know what a day off is, don’t you? It’s where you leave the shit work to me.” He clapped a hand against Matt’s shoulder, squeezing the hard muscle. “Finish up here and get your ass home...let me deal with the corps.”
Matthew grimaced as he said, “I don’t think-”
“Don’t argue,” Jason interrupted, firmly. “As your second-in-command I insist that you forget about all your responsibilities, and go. Just go. Let your hair down...”
“If I had any, I would.” Matthew ran a palm over his skull then patted the same hand against his friend’s left bicep. “Thanks. I guess you’re right. I’ll just go once I’m done here?”
“Don’t ask me.” Jason began laughing, but sobered quickly as his commander glared at him. “Yeah...yeah, just go, Shads...I can deal.”
Matthew, unable to maintain his stern expression, gave a grateful smile whilst ducking beneath the spray, washing away the sweat and soap.
After a moment he said, “Good. Because you still owe me for the whole of last quarter.”
Jason chuckled again, shaking his head. “True.”
Nothing more was said between them as they finished up, preparing to part ways.
this was...so awesome! you said you were working on it for three or so years and i see why, it was so well written and thought out! going to start the sequel now :)
3/12/14