The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 8) Vergil

Guess what? Her baby boy is standing before you folks today. Twenty-four years old and everyone that ever loved him is dead. I wish that was as bad as it got, but that's just the appetizer. My mom left me everything and I'm so goddamn pathetic that I decided living homeless was better than drowning in our memories."

Vergil paused and took a deep drink of stale coffee in its complementary styrofoam cup. The faces around him were rapt with attention intermingled with dashes of pity. Tears dotted the cheeks of a woman with a thick scarf and sunglasses she'd worn to mask a hangover. He debated letting his story sit, but now that he'd started, he knew he needed to finish. This random circle of losers were taking a little of the weight he'd been carrying with him his whole life.

"I had a pretty sweet gig for a homeless guy. I got to live in the projector shack over at the Nueva Vista Drive-In, as long as I agreed to get paid under the table. My mom's ex boyfriend, Saul, let me work out at Gold's Gym free of charge. Oh, and I had a pet mouse named Jerry. That part is important later. It was hardly an ideal arrangement, but beggars can't be choosers. Eventually, the owner decided he was too old to be competing with the big chain theaters, and it was time for the Nueva Vista to close up shop for good.

As I wallowed in misery, waiting for the power to get shut off for good, this fucking purple light shows up from God knows where, and now all of a sudden I have superpowers. Neat huh? You'd think so, but you'd be wrong, because Jerry got hopped up on steroids and growth hormone and decided to make my mom's ex boyfriend a midnight snack. I had to put Jerry down and Saul died in my arms anyways. Even with superpowers, I still couldn't keep him from dying.

Now, I've been running around at night like a chicken with its head chopped off trying to keep a deranged serial killer from striking again, because I couldn't stop him the first time. While I'm dealing with my self-loathing over that whole incident, the purple light shows up again, and two aliens in suits from The Godfather show up, and I let them give me the slip too. So here I am, because I promised my talking dog and my dead mom I wouldn't drink anymore.

Oh, I almost forgot, Hi I'm Vergil, and I'm an alcoholic."

Harold stood up tried to pat Vergil on the back.

"I'm sorry-"

"Shut up Harold," Vergil said knocking his hand away and striding towards the door, "Let's go Albert. We're done here."

When the door clicked behind them, Vergil spread out his arms and let the Sun's rays sink in.

"I don't know about you, but I feel better." Vergil said with a crooked smirk.

"Relapse is looking like it may have been the better of the two options," Albert replied, "Anything short of defecating in the middle of the floor would have been better than that sorry display."

"Come on, it wasn't that bad." Vergil said kneeling down and patting the dog on the back.

"Do you have the slightest clue what you've done? You've revealed our secret to a crowd of sodden drunks, and your days of failing at saving people are numbered. We'll both be squirreled away in a government facility never to see the light of day."

Vergil laughed, "Is that what's got you all bunged up? Relax. It's anonymous. They won't say a word. There's a code of honor among us drunks. Besides, they think I'm off my rocker and probably drunker than a skunk to boot."

"I suppose you're right. You don't tend to inspire a great deal of confidence in people." Albert sighed, shaking his head.

"Now you're talkin!" Vergil exclaimed as he heard the heavy door shut behind him.