"Goodbye Curly Head"

"Everything In Its Right Place"

Ah, Laterano, Laterano, the great White City… A mere turn of his thoughts towards that monument of sankta civilization was enough to send him on a one way tour down memory lane, heading towards that beloved red hallway filled with photographs. A loud salvo of laughter woke him from the dream-like state, sending a bright blush to cover his face. What if there was a mind reader in the vicinity? They’d be up for one hell of an embarrassing ride, that’s for sure. That made him wonder - what if anyone was to ever discover the little, secretive, late night travels to that intimate, idyllic land of his deepest fantasies? Would be a bummer, he thought.

Hours spent staring out the window passed in peace, a nice change of pace for once. He thanked the driver and got off at his stop, welcomed by the unnaturally civilized city of Gornac. While it may have been technically different from the makeshift towns full of wooden huts and extreme poverty, it wasn’t any better. Brutal, but in a different way.

Resting under the dim, colorless sky, were rows upon rows of silent, umoving blocks of gray concrete, lining the dead residential area. Looking out at the world through their endless windows and miniscule balconies, seeing the bleak reality they were born into by the restless hands of the honest men and women of this cruel land. Far too tall for their own good, silent and stuffy inside, promoting a lifestyle of never ending “solitude within a crowd”, listening to your neighbors’ arguments through the thin walls of cheap gypsum. Andy felt a light sense of dread as he dragged himself through the empty street, passing the towering concrete giants. As if the apartment blocks themselves were watching him, judging and filling his stomach with an immense sense of exclusion. Everything felt so distant, so fake and insincere. Empty playgrounds, bleached grass, dusty cars, an ocean of pavement and hills of concrete. When passing by an open window, he’d hear muffled radio broadcasts and worried voices dancing around in a troupe of sorrow and anxiety. Such was the “peaceful” civilian life in Kazdel. 

His legs led him towards the city’s heart, dead and beatless. A concrete plaza filled with commercial novelties - a few bars with loud neons in front, some pleasure dens (accompanied by a conveniently placed loch hospital next door), alluring with various signs promising the lowest of prices and highest quality of services, a bunch of empty restaurants and a gigantic, faceless statue in front. Andy stopped to look at the stone herald, icked by his complete lack of any and all personality. Not even a fancy pose, just blind concrete to fill the empty space.

Giving into the city’s monotony, he wandered into one of the bars, narrowly avoiding any pleasure houses, as per Hedley’s advice (“They maim the mind and tear away the heart, but what do I know, I’m just a merc.”) The interior was exactly what he had imagined. Roughly painted walls, cheap bar stools lined along a wooden counter, beer taps protruding from the top, a few shelves filled with various brandless bottles behind. There wasn’t a single soul here. Not even a barkeep, not even a mouse roaming wild or a fly buzzing about. 

Andy sat by the bar and dropped the rifle by his side. His only drinking buddy at the moment.

Letting curiosity take over, he leaned over the counter and nudged one of the taps. A few drops of the golden liquid seeped out, falling into the depths of a drain below. He took one more thorough look around the place and shrugged. What the eye doesn’t see, the heart does not grieve over.

After messily pouring himself a foam filled pint, he sat back down and took the first sip. Bitter. 

The more alcohol entered his body the better the taste became. Day drinking during the crisp hours of the morning wasn’t something he had planned for today, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. Especially given that the liquor was free.