Doug Ramsey (code_kid) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-08-09 05:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | alternaverse plot, doug ramsey |
From the fractured memories of Doug Ramsey...
Warnings for... incoherent ramblings of a strange mind...
July the 23rd: Doug felt pleasure wash through him, and then, suddenly, it went wrong, as pain lashed into him. It filled him in that moment. But with it came knowledge, and power, and thought, and so many patterns, all revealed to him. All suddenly making sense... it all flared within him and broke over him like a tidal wave that swallowed him, pulling him down into the darkness...
He spasmed as he woke.
He groaned as he hit the floor, rolling away from the bed and standing up almost without thinking. His whole body trembled with energy as his mind filled with knowledge, with ideas. He groaned, his mind spasming with the energy of it.
He groaned as he pulled on clothing, mismatched, cleaned, he did not care as he stumbled out to the halls, to the stairs, and down.
Somehow, he made it to the streets, and out into the night air, he wandered, groaning, not seeing where he was going, not consciously, despite his mind directing him flawlessly. Inside his mind, everything was confused, changed, different. How had he ever not seen it all, all the meaning, all the patterns.
His body wracked again, pain and pleasure rushing though him, and he groaned, as he staggered into the night.
He had things to do, things to do, things to do...
***
July 31st: Somewhere, money changed hands, money and knowledge.
Somewhere, criminals were busted by federal agents suddenly possessing knowledge they should not, and proof that was iron clad of their enemies' wrongdoing.
Somewhere, other criminals found money missing, without a trace, and fell on each other, lashing out in a frenzy of anger, and being picked up by cops when they did so.
Somewhere, a new building rose, and equipment assembled, and new equipment was born, a factory born in the middle of a place that was nowhere and everywhere.
Somewhere, men whimpered as their nights were filled with a nightmare, a nightmare of sound and anger, only to be woken to noise everywhere, construction going on.
Somewhere, in a dark room, a man worked, feverish, alone, a new home built, a new dream building, and a fever driving him, pushing him, not letting him sleep more than necessary, not letting him eat more than he had to.
And it went on, for he had things to do, things to do, things to do...
***
August 3rd: As the Joker struck, a man watched, as he watched everything. As the Joker struck, he groaned, and wished, through the bleariness that held him in, that he could have changed his timing. Was this purposeful? Some pattern? A flurry of checking bade it not be, and it was not.
Time folded around him as he worked, and watched, and saw the heroes successful, and a part of him vowed that when he was needed again, he would be there, but then he was drawn back to the work, for he had things to do, things to do, things to do...
***
August 8th-9th: Somewhere, as everything comes together, a man watches screens, and winces. A flicker of pain and outrage, for a friend, for those hurting, crosses his face, even as he is drawn back to his designs, to his work.
He is being pushed on, beyond human endurance, beyond his ability to resist, by that charge that filled him, so many days ago. But as he continues, new elements enter his design, and a further element of his plan alters, a tribute, and a gift, to those who walk the night. And the work goes on, for he had things to do, things to do, things to do...
***
To Be Continued...