FSE

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Written by fugi88, commissions open

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Part 7 of Alexander's Accounts, continuing from the flat scene and the outside POV of the hospital scene.

So, turns out Artemis was a member of the gang that wanted me dead. “What the actual fuck?!"

He budged up closer to me, making me lean further away, a little. He sighed. “I've changed now."

I've also changed, i guess.

I remember coming here. I expected worse, to be honest. I was going to be discharged in a day, and i got to this place instead of that boring-ass museum.

And it shows me just how good bad stuff can be sometimes. Like now. I'm glad for the car crash nowadays. Even if the glass left me with barely-visible scars, even if the leg needed weeks to fix, even if i destroyed any chance of returning to a life i once had.

And i remember my life before that. Absolute shit, doubting myself. Saying not to be gay, not to dream for fantasy creatures, spending every night reading the Bible and figuring out how to live, new reasons to hate myself.

Hating on werewolves and other mostly-human bodies, particularly, for i acted like i saw them as a gateway into much “worse" pursuits.

Thank god that hospital-stealing person saved my life. I was dying, just not physically.

“I can tell", i said. “I used to hate crazy fantasy, like werewolves."

“Not so crazy, turns out", he said. “Eh, for me, i just believed the propaganda"

I leaned back. “I used to rant about these fantasies for the money. All in ecclesiastical Latin, non futuis lycanthroporum"

Artemis let out a little chuckle. “Hey, that was almost good northern Spanish"

“Well, it wasn't but what was wrong?"

“'Non futuis' was wrong, but good work with lycanthroporum, their word for 'hombre lobo'", he said.

Hombre lobo; literally “human wolf". English wasn't as sensical with “werewolf", coming from the same basis, wer- being an Old English word for man.

"What did you do for money?"

He put on a slightly more somber face. "Hunt humans."

As if i'd've'd forgot.

We've changed now, i guess. But i changed because i pushed myself out of that vicar place and into the real world. How did he?

“And why did you change?", i asked.

He shifted. “A handful of us were tired with killing… it grossed me out."

“So…?"

He shrugged. “I got kicked out for asking for change. The gang shrunk a hefty handful after that."

And that explains it.

He glanced at a clock. The sun had gone down by now and 9:32, mentally translated to 21:32, was glaring at us. “The estate agent'll still be open", he said. “I could probably request the full payment, if they sold the house."

“Bye", i said.

He stood to open the door and leave.

And i was alone, yet again.

So, i turned on the TV, onto the news. Yet again, horrific horrors horrifying all who even had a morsel of empathy for the human species.

There was yet more footage of the raids taking place out in the street, the crazy shit happening.

A very different raid, too, was happening. In one of the few werewolvian factories, there was the plastics-manufacturer. They were looking for a certain degreaser.

And in front of the camera, a spokesperson made a speech. Something about the contact poison, something about just how destructive it'd be, just how useful a spray of it would be against humans.

It'd slowly suck out the calcium, destroying the bones, with a side effect of causing some cardiac arrest. At the concentrations they had, they just needed a few drops from a pipette and it'd be life over.

The demonstrated on this human the camera panned. Bound and gagged, a former cook at a restaurant with poor food safety, apparently. A few drops from the pipette ran across the bare, almost hairless arm-skin and traced its way to land on the ground.

And there, in 24 hours, they said, he'd die, he wouldn't be a risk to the werewolf society.

And that, that's where we were at.

We switched to a finance segment. I was offended, a little, by how little regard they had to giving any form of commentary on the human-killing.

A graph. Increasing, over 50 years of consistent growth. Population, growing to some point north of a million, the line somewhat parallel to the money-line.

Humans, too, found their own separate line, some one-eighth the way up.

We zoomed in. The money line was taking a small downturn. The human line, too.

And the presenter began speaking. Saying how the small downturn was only a temporary effect, how everything'd be ok, how

I looked for a different channels with the guide tool on the remote. There were only three channels, it turns out, the third being a static-filled series of Northern broadcasts. The sound was mostly indiscriminate hisses and the occasional stressed vowel, the visuals full of snow, the digital kind.

The second was really only displaying Werewolvian soap operas.

I went back to the news, then. They were going over some boring details about the economy and new government benefits being given out.

The back of the remote, it turns out, said “Property of St Mildred's - DO NOT REMOVE FROM THE HOSPITAL". Hmm, yet another stolen good.

Wait, was the werewolf TV system all-digital at all? Was there an analogue branch of channels?

Ugh, this hospital TV is so dumb. It only really knows the digital protocol.

Eh.

---

Knocking on the door, Artemis announcing his name.

Was it Artemis? Better ask a question to be mostly sure. “non futuis que?"

“lycanthroporum, bonus?", he said.

I opened the door to welcome in the Artemis. “We need a better secret code."

“Yeah". He moved to sit on the sofa, again.

“So, how was it?", i asked.

“I got the half-value now that people are interested."

“What's that?"

“Approximately ¤25,000, in my account"

“No, what is it…?"

“Oh, just the post-proven-client-interest 50% we get, so we can pay stuff for a new house."

Properties here, aren't that expensive. Not a surprise for me. I remember my first owned home, back in the human world, somewhere in some random village. £250,000, for some stingy two bedrooms.

But it was a home, anyways, and i had made sure to keep myself happy, living a simple life. I went to the little church and did my duty in the name of a god i now don't believe to exist.

But looks like things were slowly pushing forward for us.

I let out a little twinge of tension stuck in my body. “Are we going to spend it on a house?"

“Probably", he said.

Well, that's nice. Somewhere, i can imagine, in a pro-human district, the perfect place to camp out when things calm down. Will they calm down? The bounties won't be stopped, so there might not be a good reason to.

Unless, say, the economic downtick was to become more of a tick but a massive red flag.

I plan slowly came to form. Down, at the gang's center, find the anti-kill-human members and set them apart. Maybe we could also use a new plan on top of that.

“Maybe we should destroy the economy, remove the gang's backing."

He looked at me, saw my slightly-serious expression. “Ok, what the hell…?!"

I put on a smile that could be called friendly, especially to a stranger. “It's easy. Ever heard of the earth landlords?"

He retched a little at the mention. “The overpriced-house guys…?"

I chuckled a little. “Yeah!"

And he let out a little sigh, a little shake of the head. But it was in good humor.

“Ok, we'll see… as long as we let the economy recover afterwards, ok…?", he said.

“Fine", i said.

So, the plan was still coming to form. Us, finding the gang members, singling out those who killed with remorse, those that looked like they hated it.

And we could find some way to redirect them elsewhere.

I shifted my legs into a thinking position. “What causes people to enter the gang, anyways, even those who hate it?"

He shuffled a little. “I guess… the money."

I struck the floor with my foot. “Ha, done!", i exclaimed.

“We'll use our rent earnages to offer bounties", i said. “And from there, we can split the gang!"

“You're crazy", he said.

I simply shrugged.

Because, as clearly as i saw it, everything was pointing in the right ways. Get a property, sell a room, use the money to buy another property, use the rent to destroy the mortgage, and use the surplus to get new property.

Again and again, for a year. Again and again, until we took over half of southern city. And then we'd raise the prices and destroy the common person.

And then, for the price of a roof over their heads, we'd get the public to destroy the gang for us.

If we weren't to destroy the economy, we'd destroy the gang directly. And that's how we'd tackle the gang.

I turned on the TV, looked at the news. Nothing interesting. Artemis switched to the second channel and we watched a soap opera together.

I budged up closer to him. “Does this TV do analogue?"

He reclined a little deeper into the sofa. “Analogue broadcasts are supposed to be gone by now."

“Supposed to…?"

He took his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. “Occasional pirate channel, mostly north-operated, away from the regulator's radar. Not that you can access analogue on this model."

And so, we watched the boring soap opera. Nothing that interesting.

Being here, though, was perfect. Away from the clammer of pots and pans as the night-shift worker cleaned dishes, away from the straight couple on the other side who had sex all-too-often, away from all the little annoyances.

Sure, there were other flats, the noises of cooking, the noises of little parties, but nothing too annoying through the walls.

His hair was comfortable, holding a great deal of warmth. But it was somehow better, him being softish under my head, breathing slowly.

In and out, slowly, counts of 6 seconds. He'd muted the TV and went for reading captions. My eyes were getting blurry, my eyelids heavy. I instead cared to listen to his breath, to his heart, to his slowing functions.

And i couldn't help but let myself nod off below his arm, leaning into the side of his ribs.

---

The sun was streaming through the window, lighting up Artemis's face. Sideways, slumped over onto the rest of the sofa, bringing me atop him.

He also seemed quite happy. I tried to move and realised my neck had gone sore from a night spent leaning.

Did werewolves get sore? Did they get used to weird positions? Not sure.

So, he opened his eyes at my little movements, and smiled at me.

“Did you sleep well?", i asked.

His mouth paused for a second. “Yeah."

“Not sore?"

"No. You?"

“Neck."

Eh.

What could we do today? Maybe Artemis could pay a visit to the real estate office, arrange a viewing, pay for a house. Find a place together, and find myself a job.

I was getting bored of being stuck inside all day. I wanted to leave, find myself something to do, something to make my body useful as more then a prison.

So, that's what i wanted to do, to find a way out.

“You need to get a new house, ASAP", i said.

“In a pro-human district?", he asked.

I nodded.

He frowned, a little. “Are you sure…? The gang will be raiding harder there."

And i remember what i saw on channel 1, the gang taking over new buildings everywhere, indiscriminate, uncaring, gunshots everywhere.

“I don't really care either way", i said. “Just get a house", i said.

He moved from beneath me, to move to stand up, gently placing me back on the couch. “I haven't changed out of these clothes for a while, and ugh, i slept in them."

I shifted back into a comfortable position. “You've your bag, right?"

So, he went to get stuff from his bag. And he went into the room, moved to close the door. I spoke up. “No need to hide away, we've had sex."

“Eh", he said. The door closed, and i was alone here.

It'd get boring here without him. The news scares me and i don't feel it's that important anymore. So what i find out about the new ways to kill humans they're trialing?

He left, wearing new clothes, wrinkled. “I'll get bored without you", i said.

“We'll fix that and get you a job you can walk downstairs to, yeah?", he said.

“Ok", i said.

And he closed the door, left,

I'd get bored without him.

So, i sat here, getting bored.

I turned on the TV, reluctantly, to watch the morning news. The wee-hours shift had been at their work over the night and the bleary-eyed people on the TV were going on their little talk about the world.

It was turning to shit. Not the earth world, that was doing whatever it did. I didn't really care for the human world, the place that had tired me inside out.

I did sometimes find out what i could. I'd heard that my home country had left its trade bloc just as some virus came to lock everyone at home.

I heard there were a bunch of complaints and angry people unhappy to stay at home, to be locked in, to have to jump through hoops to go outside.

I could see why now, i guess.

I turned my attention back to the TV., yet another building-raid. And in the people that left, i was reminded of something.

I remember the discrimination they did in the human world. Hearing about the horrific things people did for small differences in skin colour or face structure, for the places humans hailed from, about everything the little differences made now. It seemed so distant, so meaningless now. We, after all, are just the human species, united in the fact we're not werewolves. And we were all unified in our hatred of the True Vigilantes, all unified in our desire to live.

And yet again some spokeperson talked out across to the camera, promising the purity of the world as humans were destroyed behind them, doused with single shots from a barrel kissing the head.

It grossed me out to see. To see my fellow humans destroyed like this.

So, the TV was turned off. The clouds were looked at. The window was stood by.

And i looked out onto the street. A beautiful street, after all, both sides covered by shops, both sides harboring a path, the middle a small car-road.

But if you looked closer you saw all the wrong things, the blood-stains from the raids, the broken doors, the passers-by silently ignoring the world collapsing around them.

How would the economy be doing? A recession might be nice, to get us even cheaper houses.

And maybe it wouldn't work out. People would hold back rent in a recession.

So maybe we invest in houses near the center. And from there, we'd invest in monopolising districts systematically.

And we'd twist our rent-payers with discounts for campaigning a certain way, for voting a certain way and proving it. We'd pervert democracy like they'd destroyed human life, and that'd give us the power.

A man can dream, after all, and that seemed like a good idea.

I walked back from the window. And i looked at the TV.

I watched them do the most boring talks because there was nothing better to do. I watched the True Vigilantes destroy humans.

With guns and raids and pushing forwards. Did we really have years?

I almost began crying at one point, but Artemis walked in, distracted me. “Honey, i'm home!"

It made me smile a little.

“You got the house?", i asked.

“Yep, two bedrooms, fully furnished, waiting for us", he said. “Better then this one, anyways."

“Safe to go?"

“If i carry you, probably."

And the door locked behind us.

Stay tuned for part 8, in which we explore the new house and just what we can do within it.

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Some notes:

• Self-indulgence

• i think my writing has improved over the course of writing this. I mean, I'm already good enough at English to say anything i want in my journal and express myself, and writing novels is basically the same.

• except it's not because what you write has to be very controlled.

• I'm following the "every line must have a purpose" principle in my writing.

• the one thing I've gotten worse at is writing sex scenes because I've written so many my libido tank is running on empty, at last.

• it's crazy to think i started as "werewolves are very sexually fun creatures" and changed entirely to "i like werewolves because the let me write about discrimination and problems with otherwise utopian governments without fearing I'm misrepresenting people". Talk about a glow-up!

• And i guess my drawing's been improving as i draw each image, from “looks like shit" to “dosen't look too much like shit", but eh, it's been only a week.

• Fun tip: Do a shitty little project every day and you'll improve much quicker then working on a single shitty project for a week.

• Be careful! The liquid the gang uses is a very real liquid and actually incredibly scary. Whoever has a good guess of the liquid's chemical-name can put it in the comments (no using ChatGPT, that's boring!).

• As i've found out, my flavour of being distracted happens to be very helpful. If i was not distracted by browsing Reddit, i wouldn't have even known that a liquid was that terrifying.

• Ooh, world-building demographics! The cost of living here is much lower and you can actually afford to have descendants, so the werewolf world isn't really going for a Japan or South Korea situation.

• Sometimes i feel like Alexander. “Ooh, if i build an audience, i might just get commisions" and i know it's a crazy idea but IDRC because i've seen that even if it might not work, i've still learnt so much from this, from how to tackle long-term projects to some amount of how to tell a story.