Need Another Drink -/|\- Rogue Nemesis Round Two

Need Another Drink.

So I'm pretty soused today. Been drinking off and on the whole day. I need to murder someone. It's a gloriously sobering thing, knowing that you need to squeeze the life out of someone with your bare hands. You need a few drinks to get yourself back on your normal baseline, or you'd go insane. He had it coming you see. He's the reason it's all coming down. He's the reason The Presence became HER. He indirectly lead to HER death. I thought I killed him. I thought I killed the son of a bitch. I thought I ended that right mean motherfucker years ago. But he's not dead. He's not fucking dead. He's still alive running around and ruining peoples' lives because nobody ever finished the job.

I'm going to have one more drink, and then I'm going to get into my car. (I've got a Designated Driver, don't worry.) And then I'm going to figure out what happens next. I'll write about some history, won't I? Yes. That will make me feel better. The next memory is a good one.

Explaining what happened at the club will take a while. Expect a full post about it on Sunday. For now, lets talk about my rematch with Rogue Nemesis, shall we?

-/|\-

Rogue Nemesis Round Two:

It was September of 2002. Things had continued to go from bad to worse. the demonic onslaught had reached a fevered pitch. It was maybe September 7th, I don't have a precise date. Battle after battle was beginning to take its toll. Everyone was on edge and terrified.

I hadn't actually tried to intentionally meet with The Presence before that. It felt too intrusive. At least, that was what I told myself. I found out later that the real truth was that she was dropping messages into my subconscious telling me to stay away. She didn't want me to see what she was doing. It hurts knowing what she was doing, and what she was hiding from me. I don't worry about it too much these days.

The Day started like this:

Me: "The Perimeter is secure?"
Lieutenant: "Yes Sir. And I'd like to take a moment to apologize for the mutinies. All four of them."

Around this time, the "Soldiers" under my command had started to come apart. Constant combat does that to you. And when the majority of them were loyal to the Rogues, and being told that they'd get to go back to their old lives as soon as I remembered everything was making them desperate. To make matters worse, a lot of the people who died during these mutinies ended up being the most competent officers. A few of them were genuinely decent people that I would have occasional, vague glimpses of memories about. There was one death that continues to haunt me, but I'll write about that when I'm not vaguely homicidal about everything else.

About 70% of my original force was intact. .We were holding things together with spit and prayer, and we were running out of spit. It was a miracle that we still had so many people. I'd like to think that my tactics were pretty good. We weren't getting properly reinforced. Then again, how was I supposed to know that the Higher Planes commanders thought I was a traitor if nobody told me?

Anyways, after a status report, Rogue Nemesis showed up with his usual shtick. This time though? I was pissed. Samurai's little demonstration had been humiliating. All I had to do was think of getting my robe tossed behind me. Suddenly, Rogue Nemesis had a problem: I wasn't terrified of him killing anyone. I was too busy kicking his ass.

Rogue Nemesis: You are Terrif- OW!
Me: *punching him*
Rogue Nemesis: Fuck! Cower in Fea-OW!
Me: *punching him*
Rogue Nemesis: OH that HURTS, why did you-
Me: *punching him*
Rogue Nemesis: Oh its ON N-OW!
Me: *punching him*

And then we started fighting proper. The thing about Rogue Nemesis was that he was a being that knew his way around a fight...AFTER his boot was on the other guy's throat. He and I were amateurs at the real thing, and it showed. Once he stopped kidding around, he could almost match me in a straight fight. However much of an amateur I may have been, two months of nonstop fighting had given me an edge that he just didn't have at that point.

So he went running, and I felt slightly better about myself. I wasn't laying down and dying for NO-person/place/thing....yeah.

I should talk about all this when I'm less drunk. Drunken Proofreading is STILL better than Proofreading with Migraine. Hey all you guys! Tomorrow is going to suck.