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playing the game -- rick austin (takingsides) wrote in bellumlogs,

Rick had a gun, and he was seriously considering using it on the big octopus outside the glass, but he changed his mind when its squelching disgusting horrifically watching self moved around the glass without breaking it in. He had it in his hands, however, as he confronted the thing, pointed at the floor, waiting.

For his part, Rick knew what kind of person he had become. He was a dark person, a ruthless person, the kind of guy that said one thing and meant another, and never did much of anything for himself. He was responsible for death and pain and the sort of bad things that happened to good people. He was responsible because he hadn't cared, hadn't thought to care. He understood that, and while he knew he could not compensate, in his way, he was trying to prevent anything worse from happening.

The monster didn't really care what Rick meant to do, just what he had done.

For the man, at least, there was The Cat, who had nothing to hide and only amusement at the thought of it. The green eyes glowed out at the monster, and after it passed, he chuckled a very soft, purring chuckle to himself. He holstered the weapon.

The old god went 'round again, and again, until finally the darkness dissipated, and a door opened in one of the glass walls. Water did not pour down into it, and light and warm wood waited beyond.