After 01 (Preview)
January 6th, 2000
I woke up in the same position I’d gone to sleep in the night before. I felt the same too. Which is to say I felt like shit. London didn’t agree with me. Well not this trip at least. We’d only made a quick two day run through during the traveling over the summer. I’d liked it then. How could I not when I was being shown around by one the people who’d loved this city so much. It’d felt like home. I understood her so much better after seeing London through her eyes. It was dirty, crowded, and ungrateful at times but none of that mattered. It was home.
Now though it just felt lonely. The clouds were even more oppressive than usual and the snow that had started immediately after the funeral had given way to a pounding rain that was more something that should be seen in Southeast Asia during monsoon season than inside the United Kingdom.
Staring out the window at the people that my mother had given her life to protect I still couldn’t help but wonder if any of them were worth a damn. I’m sure that there was someone. Maybe even a few people. Still it really hacked me off that already people were going back to their normal way of life. There should be something. Something should be different. My mother had killed God not a week ago and still the world kept turning as it always had.
Shaking my head in disgust I turned to look at the bed. On it was my mother’s idea of a joke. It was a uniform of a sort. I’d found it inside a garment bag that I’d seen hanging up in the closet when I’d gone to hang up my coat in the hall closet. Considering that she’d gone out of her way to avoid wearing a uniform of any sort for at least the past thirty years it was interesting that she’d had one made up for me. It looked a lot like a picture of her that I had looked at before. The uniform she’d worn when she’d fought in the war against the King of Nails. But this one was obviously made for me. It had the same white uniform pants with their red blood stripe down the sides. The matching leather tunic had a flap that buttoned to the right and was patterned with the Union Jack. It lacked the epaulets but all the other accessories were present. Including to my surprise an energy pistol that fit perfectly into the included holster.
I didn’t doubt it would fit. She’d gotten my measurements when we’d gone shopping in Italy and no doubt had kept them. It would certainly explain all the appropriately sized clothes I’d found inside the closet of the master bedroom. Damn her. Of course she’d known it was going to happen. She’d written everything in that damn journal of hers. Making plans was easy when you knew the exact date and time of your death if not the cause. The flat had been well stocked with all the things that a young bachelor would need to either start a life over or just get on with the one he had. The one I had.
Who knows how long I would have stood there staring at that uniform if the phone on the desk hadn’t rung.
There was a long pause without even the sound breathing over the line. “Is this Alexander Sparks?”
“If you have to ask that bloody question, I’d advise you to think real hard about what ten thousand volts feels like as it passes from your ear though your brain.” I sigh at the rather strangled sound coming from the other side of the line. The fact that I can now hear someone hyperventilating over the phone means that they really need to talk to me for some stupid reason. Any sane person would have taken this opportunity to hang up or at the very least drop the bloody phone.
“You’ve got thirty seconds to come up with a reason for me not to fry you.”