#'Flash is so much better then Eddie because Flash is actually sympathetic' shut UP

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

“Eddie used to be such a bad character because he was just scary and mean and weird” YOURE A BAD CHARACTER!

[edsbev]

where was the scene i said and then wrote it 

----------------

Richie only breathes once he’s staring into the murky water of the quarry.

A very faint, badly rendered image of his face stares back at him. A reflection that ripples and waves – makes him look as wobbly and small as he feels, all his parts coming undone. He can hear their words, the cruel angry snarls from Bower’s mouth. So jagged and sharp his lips are shaped like a cut. He can hear that word, over and over, slicing through the video-game gunshots, the dark, dreaded music of a game over. Tangling itself like barbed wire around Richie’s throat.

Faggot.

Reflection Richie begins to tremble. Real Richie snatches up a rock and hurls it right through his face. The water explodes. The image breaks. Doesn’t want to see the way his breaths escape him in hitching gasps, bottom lip sucked in toward his mouth, like some kind of fucking pussy.

Instead, he sees the boy’s face. Looking back at Richie as he steps away. First a smile, then panic. Then his features cave in and his mouth turns over and he’s disgusted. Disgusted by Richie. Disgusted by this thing inside him that he wants to claw out. Richie hadn’t meant to make things weird. He really hadn’t. He had been so careful, kept his distance, all day. But then their hands had touched and the boy had smiled at him and Richie had thought…he’d wondered…

It wasn’t as though he had a crush on that boy, or anything. Richie didn’t even know his name. But something in Richie had been drawn to him, the curl of his fair hair, the sharpness of his smile, the way he had laughed, when Richie had told a joke, and said, with a snort, fuck off.

He’d reminded Richie of someone else.

The water of the quarry has smoothed back over and Reflection Richie stares up at him once again, a pale, shaken ghost of himself.

Richie hurls another rock through his face and then collapses onto the bank. Sits with his knees bent up, sneakers toeing the edge of the water, sun beating down on the back of his neck.

Fuck, he thinks. “Fuck,” he says, and worms his fingers under his glasses, presses against his squeezed-shut eyes until he sees bursts of colour, flashes of strange shadowed light, behind his eyelids.

Fuck this. Fuck this. He’s going to leave Derry, just you fucking wait. He can’t wait to get out of this shithole. He’ll just up and leave and never look back. And it’s not like the change of place will change him too but maybe it’ll better. To be in a place where no one knows him. He could change his name if he wanted. Could cut off all his hair and grow out a beard and replace his glasses with contacts and maybe cover his body in tattoos. It’d be better.

But, then, of course, that’d mean he’d have to leave –

“Richie?”

Richie can’t see, when he looks up. Because his vision is still swimming with colour and light from pressing down on his eyes, only made worse by the glare of the sun against the water.

But he knows it’s Eddie.

“Hey, man,” Richie says, tries for casual but his broken, watery voice betrays him. He clears his throat, wipes at his damp cheeks, blinks and blinks and blinks until his vision clears. “What – uh. Whatcha doing here?”

Eddie stands only a few feet away, his hair looking tousled and wind-swept, presumably from the ride over. He wears a baby blue Thundercats shirt, half tucked into the fannypack around his waist, and short yellow-and-blue shorts. One of his white tennis socks is hiked higher up his calf than the other. A small frown scrunches up his sun-kissed face – Eddie always tans during the summer – and he studies Richie like he can very much tell that he’s not okay.

Sometimes Eddie is painful to look at.

“I figured someone would be here,” Eddie says, and Richie’s really grateful that Eddie doesn’t prod, though he knows that Eddie’s probably itching to question him.

“Bet you were hoping it would be Bill. Sorry to disappoint, Spaghetti, but you’re stuck with me,” Richie jokes.

Eddie shrugs. “That’s fine,” he says. “Actually I was kinda hoping that I’d find you.”

It’s the last thing Richie would ever had expected him to say. He can’t find a single way to respond.

The rocks of the bank roll and clack together as Eddie makes his way over, Richie’s stomach twists and jolts as Eddie sits down next to him. His hand flails around by his side, blindly picks up a rock and skims it across the surface of the water. To try and distract himself from the fact that Eddie has the side of his sneaker pushed up against his own.

“Richie,” Eddie says, as Richie scrabbles for another rock.

Richie whistles, low, ignoring him. The rock skims over the water. “See that one, Eds? Bounced five times. Bet you can’t beat that.”

Eddie scoffs. “I can,” he says. But he doesn’t reach for a rock. Instead, he knocks his knee against Richie’s. Leaves it there. Golden skin against the stark white of Richie’s leg, all warm and sunbathed. Richie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. Eddie says, a little firmer, “Richie.”

He’s asking Richie to look at him. So Richie does.

Richie shouldn’t be surprised to find Eddie’s face so close, to find Eddie’s brown eyes staring into his own. There’s a splattering of freckles across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, that you can only see when you’re close to him like this, or if you look hard enough. Richie wishes he could say that this is his first time ever noticing them. But it’s not. He’s noticed those freckles a thousand times.

A smile hooks at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Idiot,” he says, but there’s no bite to it; he calls Richie that the same way Richie calls him ‘Eds’. “You were hoping I’d be here too, weren’t you?”

The answer is no, technically. Richie had run here after being chased from the arcade. Had just run and run and run until he’d shaken Bower’s gang from his back. He hadn’t thought about Eddie as he scrambled down here; he’d just been thinking of finding a safe place.

But the answer is also yes. Because Richie hopes to see Eddie everywhere.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, my good chap,” Richie says, putting on his British guy voice. “I wasn’t hoping to see anyone. Thought I’d just pop down ‘ere and hone in my swimming skills, I did. I figured I’d practise my breast-stroke. All good men must practise that one.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he looks amused. “Ha ha. You do know I’m trying to have a conversation with you, right?”

Those words feel like oddly like a sucker-punch. Richie can’t even think of a joke. He asks, jittery, trying not to go cross-eyed from looking at Eddie’s freckles, “A…about what?”

“About, you know…” Eddie trails off, his cheeks going a little pink. It hurts to look at.

“I don’t know.”

“You know…”

“No, dude, I don’t.”

Eddie coyly ducks his head and looks up at Richie through his lashes. It hurts it hurts it hurts. “About the fact that you like me.”

Fear spikes so sharply through Richie’s heart that for a second he is certain he’s going to die.

“Wha – ” Richie’s throat closes up and he can’t speak. Can’t breathe. “I don’t – ”

In his mind he sees the boy at the arcade, his face screwed up in disgust. In his mind he hears that word. Over and over again.

God, isn’t this impeccable timing. What the fuck brought this on. Eddie looking at him like that, face flushed, a warmth in his eyes, like some sort of fucking daydream. Why is Eddie saying this.

“You do,” Eddie says. “I can see it. The way you look at me is the same way Ben looks at Bev.”

No it’s not. No it’s not, because Richie is so careful he’s nothing like Ben he’s so fucking hyper-aware he doesn’t look at Eddie at all not if he can help it.

Except he does.

He looks at Eddie all the time. He looks and looks and looks. Quick, stolen glances. Long, wanting stares. His gaze is pulled to Eddie like a magnet, he’d just thought Eddie hadn’t noticed.

A little crease forms between Eddie’s brows now, his lips purse in a gaze that is both sympathetic and very thoughtful. “You like me so much,” he says, “don’t you?”

“No, I – ” The words come out like a gasp. “I don’t know what – ”

And, god, Richie remembers the two of them on the hammock in the clubhouse just yesterday, Eddie half on top of him, his head leant back, chatting happily to Mike. Richie had watched him over the top of his comic, until Eddie had looked, suddenly, over at him, like he could feel his stare. And Richie ducked his head, quickly, behind the pages before their eyes could meet, before Eddie could see him looking. 

He thought he’d been fast enough.

“Chill, Richie,” Eddie says, with a small laugh. The words aren’t unkind. If anything, they’re affectionate. The next sentence is much softer, “it’s okay.”

But it’s not. Because they’re sitting here, in the open air. Exposed. The water reflecting onto the rocky cliffs around them, the water reflecting onto the smooth surface of Eddie’s cheek. Because they’re sitting here, and their legs are pressed together, and their faces are so close that Richie is dizzy with it, and they’re both boys, and it’s Eddie.

Because it was supposed to be a secret.

“I’m not going to say anything bad,” Eddie continues, voice still soft.

“N-no. Eddie, you’re…I mean, you’re wrong.” And this whole thing feels wrong. Like he’s warped Reflection Richie, not Real Richie. “What you’re saying isn’t true.”

“So, what, if I kissed you right now you wouldn’t like it?” Eddie asks.

If he – kissed – If Eddie kissed him –  Richie stares at him dumbly. “I…”

“…want to kiss me,” Eddie finishes for him. Richie can’t say anything in response. Maybe he’s frozen. Maybe he’s scared he’ll say yes. “I know. How many times have you thought about it? Sometimes I think you probably think about it a lot. You know, when I see the way you look at me.”

Richie swallows. It’s not something he wants to think about. But it creeps up on him. But it’s there when he closes his eyes. But it’s all he can fucking think about when Eddie laughs or smiles or frowns or does nothing at all. His mouth on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s mouth on his.

Eddie scoots even closer to him. “C’mon, Richie,” he says. He’s so fucking close that Richie can feel his breath on face. That Richie’s vision blurs when he tries to look at Eddie all at once, so he alternates, looks at Eddie’s doe brown eyes one by one. Eddie lowers his lashes. His gaze drops to Richie’s lips. Richie’s heart leaps into his throat. “Kiss me.”

It’s like every dream Richie’s ever had.

“Eddie…” he murmurs, uncertain.

“Richie,” Eddie whispers. He leans in, impossibly close. Richie’s whole body is on fire. “Just kiss me.”

So Richie leans in.

And the dream stops there.

Because a high, cold sound makes Richie pause before their mouths meet. Laughter. Eddie is laughing. Because Richie is immediately recoiling, and Richie is immediately so fucking scared.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, gasping for air like this is the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed. “You thought I was serious.” Richie’s whole body feels like a thousand tiny shards of glass, breaking away. And then Eddie laughter dies, and his eyes pin Richie in place. “Did you really think I’d want to kiss a boy, Richie?”

“Eddie,” Richie starts, desperate. “I’m sorry, I was just – ”

“Did you really think I’d want to kiss a boy like you?”

Richie’s mouth works hopelessly over a word he can’t get out. And then Eddie is dead.

His skin melts right off; rotting pale flesh, cold lifeless eyes. It is Eddie’s corpse, that Richie is looking at. It is a Eddie who died years ago, and clawed his way up from the ground.

A horrified shout rips from Richie’s throat. He thinks he yells, Eddie.

“See what happens when you try to kiss other boys, Richie?” Eddie grins, in a voice that is much too deep be his own. “See what you’ve done?”

“Holy fucking shit,” Richie says, fumbles frantically to his feet. “You’re not real, you’re not fucking real – ”

“I was real enough for you a minute ago,” not-Eddie says. He doesn’t have half his teeth. “When you wanted to shove your tongue down my throat.”

It’s maybe the wrong time to think about this. But a cold dread trickles down Richie’s blood stream as he comes to terms with what this really means.

That wasn’t Eddie. None of that was Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t want him.

Richie snatches up a rock. Zombie Eddie’s face is changing, lips growing redder, forehead growing larger.

Eddie would never want him.

Richie launches the rock straight into Pennywise’s face. But It only laughs.

“I know your secret,” Pennywise sings.

But – and in that dread Richie also feels relief, and disappointment – at least Eddie doesn’t. At least it’s still a secret. And it will stay that way, until the day Richie fucking dies. Because It is right, as much as that sentence makes Richie’s skin crawl; Eddie would never want to kiss a boy, let alone a boy like Richie.

And for the second time that day, Richie swallows down a sense of fear, of panic, of self-loathing, and he runs. Runs and runs and runs until he’s all out of breath. And he doesn’t tell anyone. About any of it. Not the losers, not thoughtful, kind Ben, or strong leader Big Bill. Even when the topic of seeing It comes up, and they all glance at him, waiting for him to chime in, expecting that he’s had the same experience they have.

Richie says nothing.

And this time when his eyes are to drawn to Eddie, as they always are. He doesn’t let himself look.

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 34

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna thank you guys for sticking with this story for so long. There aren’t that many chapters left (I’m estimating only about 1 or 2 after this one), and the fact that this fic is almost over has me feeling emotional lol. I hope you guys enjoy the last few parts of this story, and again, thanks for being there for all this time :)

From Arthur’s POV

O’CREAGH’S RUN

A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER

“You got everything?” Hamish asked, eyeing my bag.

I shut the leather flap closed, placin’ my hands on my hips.

“Yeah. I think so. Eddie and I should be ready to go.”

The veteran limped over to me and patted me on the shoulder, displaying a warm smile.

“Well then, you boys stay safe out there, you hear? Things can get pretty wild on the roads nowadays, but you already know this. I just hope your plan to get out of America works for you.”

I nodded in agreement, gazing at Eddie through one of the windows as he readied the horses outside.

“Yeah, me too. Lemme tell you, it’s been one hell of a journey, runnin’ around with that boy, but...I know it’s gonna be worth it. I just have this...feelin’ in me, you know?”

Hamish followed my line of sight and peered at Eddie with an almost fatherly expression, reminiscing about the times when he was our age.

“I believe that feeling is called ‘hope,” he replied. “You become very familiar with it when you fight in a war. Sometimes, it’s all you have. Guns are fine and dandy, sure, but what happens when you don’t have one? That ‘feeling’ is the only thing you can hold onto, and if you’re lucky...it might just save your life.”

I took my attention away from the pianist for a moment and changed the subject, curious to know more about Hamish’s past.

“Sounds like those were bad times,” I remarked seriously. “How anyone survived that war is beyond me.”

Hamish raised a brow, appearing confused. “You wasn’t around back then?”

“I was,” I corrected, “but I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Just a lil’ boy. I hardly remember anything from back then.”

The veteran let out a sigh. “Consider yourself lucky. Ain’t nothin’ pleasant to remember about the Civil War. Colored folk were in chains, our people was beatin’ them, and of course...there was death. Everywhere you went. Sometimes, the bodies lay so thick, you coulda walked across the whole field without your boots touching mud.”

I shook my head in a sympathetic manner, lookin’ Hamish in the eye.

“It’s a good thing those times are behind us, then.”

He gave me a weary expression. “Behind the government, perhaps. But not us. There’s still conflict in this country every single day. A thousand little wars ragin’ on in the unseen corners of America. That’s why you absolutely cannot let anything happen to you, or Mister Ryan.”

Hamish paused at the mention of Eddie’s name and switched to a more inquiring tone, leaning casually on his crutch.

“Say, how did you meet that man in the first place? I’ve spoken with Eddie a bit, and he says y’all haven’t known each other for that long, but the two of you seem real close to me.”

A chuckle escaped me. “I ran into him in Saint Denis. Quite literally, actually. I had just come stumblin’ outta some pompous saloon and accidentally slammed right into him. It was...memorable, you could say.”

Hamish returned the laugh. “Tell me, what was Eddie like back then? How’d a simple pianist end up running around with America’s most wanted?”

I backtracked through all the months I’d spent with Eddie, the memories bombarding my head like the continuous flash of a camera.

“To be honest, I couldn’t quite tell you. He was a kind, law-abiding citizen who had never killed a man before, and then...there was me. A rotten, ol’ thief come looking to pick that city clean.”

The other man smirked at that, clearly not buying it. “And yet, Eddie insists you’re one of the noblest men he’s ever known.”

I grinned in response, carrying on with my story. “Well, I suppose Eddie just...brought somethin’ out in me. I saw the struggles he was dealin’ with, and I wanted to give him better. So, I helped him out with his troubles, taught him how to survive, and gave him shelter within the gang, but...now that’s fallen apart, too.”

I sighed in a despondent tone, glancing at the floor. “...Seems like that happens all too often, nowadays.”

An encouraging glint twinkled in Hamish’s eyes. “So it does. But you’ll make it through this, Arthur. You and Eddie. I know a survivor when I see one.”

I picked up the leather bag and slung it over my shoulder, preparin’ to head outside as I spoke with Hamish along the way.

“I just...I wanna give Eddie the life he deserves, y’know? But I dunno if I can do it.”

The veteran followed after me, still remaining optimistic.

“Why not? You’ve gotten this far, ain’t you?”

I stopped right in front of the door, turnin’ around to face the old man.

“Well, yeah, but how long will we be running? I’m a criminal, for god’s sake. An outlaw. I’m constantly on the lookout for Pinkertons, bounty hunters, rival gangs -- how in the hell am I supposed to help Eddie find a normal life when I can’t even find one?”

Hamish chuckled lightly, pointing out the obvious. “You rely on yourself too much, Arthur. Remember, you ain’t bearing all this weight by yourself. Eddie’s there to help you just as much as you’re there to help him.”

The veteran laid a hand on my shoulder, attempting to reassure me. “I know it’s comfortable believing that you’re capable of findin’ all your own solutions, but the reality is, sometimes you need other people to fill in the blanks. You haven’t been able to find a normal life, Arthur, because you ain’t meant to do it on your own. Don’t be afraid to lean on Eddie every once in a while. The boy’s strong. He can take it. You just gotta let him know what’s goin’ on.”

Falling silent for a minute, I took what Hamish said to heart and thought about it for a while, suddenly changin’ my whole perspective on my relationship with Eddie.

I...I supposed Hamish was right.

I had gotten so used to fixing my own problems and building up my own pride, that I forgot there weren’t no shame in askin’ for help when I needed it.

Things was just always so tense within the gang, and everyone was concerned with their own problems, that eventually, I learned to look out for myself. Didn’t even take a moment to step back and consider that perhaps, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I knew Eddie was capable of protecting himself, and of me, but I was just too afraid to let him do it.

I rested a hand on the doorknob and simply stayed still for a moment, listenin’ to Hamish as he continued to talk.

“Love goes both ways, Arthur. Whatever you’re willin’ to do in order to keep Eddie alive, I know that man feels the same way about you. It’s how love works.”

“Wait,” I said, pausing for a second. “...Love? How did you know that we were...” my voice trailed off awkwardly, causin’ me to clear my throat. “Did...did Eddie tell you?”

The veteran chortled. “Didn’t have to. The bond between you two is pretty obvious. In fact, I suspected it from the moment you set foot on my doorstep. I just never said anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna pry.”

My face started to feel hot with embarrassment, and I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. “Ah. I see.”

Hamish quickly offered some reassurance, noticing my mood.

“Hey, you’ll get no judgements here. I must admit I’m a tad surprised, but frankly...” he sighed, his eyes sinking with profound sorrow, “...I’ve seen the damage unfair judgement can do. My own partner -- a colored woman -- was killed years ago because of it. ...You just take care of Mister Ryan while you’re out there, alright? And yourself.”

I nodded firmly at that, somewhat more relaxed now that our secret was out in the open.

“Oh, believe me. I will.”

A paternal smile radiated on the old man’s face and he pulled me into a hug with one of his arms, happily pattin’ me on the back as he said goodbye.

“Then I wish you luck. I’ll miss your company, Arthur. Yours and Eddie’s. It was a pleasure havin’ you boys stay.”

I laughed warmly at that, opening the front door.

“Heh, well, thank you for everything you’ve done. Y’know...this might be the first time I’m leavin’ someone’s house without any of their belongings.”

Hamish shook his head in an amused manner, separating the hug. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Let’s just see if you can keep it up.”

I stepped out the door and made my way into the crisp weather outside, throwin’ one last wave at Hamish as he stayed behind.

“I’ll do my best.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Strollin’ away from the quaint cabin as a light breeze whistled past me, I approached the horses while Eddie secured our stuff onto their backs and whistled to himself, his face shielded from the sun due to the Nevada hat sittin’ on his head.

His leg was looking much better now, thanks to all those weeks of recovery. He still weren’t able to walk or run as well as before, and it had been a while since he last left the house, but the man didn’t require a cane to get around no more. At least, not most of the time.

I was just happy to see Eddie on his feet again.

It scared the hell outta me, watchin’ him go through all that just ‘cause of one bullet. There was a lot of pain and frustration involved with his healing process, and part of me worried he’d never be able to walk again. As for the other part, well -- I was just grateful that he was still around in the first place.

After all, it didn’t look like many of our people survived Rodrick’s attack back at Beaver Hollow. And considering what happened to fellers like Kieran, or Lenny, or Strauss...I considered ourselves lucky for gettin’ away how we did.

I only hoped our luck would last long enough for us to get out of America.

Our plan at the moment was to get to Saint Denis and hop onto the next ship to England, but I had seen enough of my friends get killed to know that nothin’ was ever that easy. The road to freedom was rarely ever a straight path, and I doubted this one was going to be any different.

I supposed we would just have to wait and see what the future held.

“Morning, handsome,” I called out cheerfully, slingin’ my bag over my horse’s saddle. “You ready to go?”

The pianist fed his mount a quick snack, patting him on the neck.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. It feels like ages since I last stepped outside. What about you, Arthur? How are you feeling?”

I let out a hesitant sigh, admittedly nervous about going to England.

“...I’m ready,” I answered, not sounding as sincere as I hoped. “Just...not quite used to the idea of livin’ halfway across the world yet.”

Eddie picked up on my tone and gave me a concerned look. “If you’re uncomfortable with going to England, we can always go somewhere else. There’s still time to decide. Remember, this isn’t just about me. I wanna make sure you’re safe too.”

“Well...where else would we go?” I asked. “Ain’t like we got a lot of options.”

The other man offered some suggestions. “Canada, perhaps? Or even Mexico, if you prefer.”

I waved a dismissive hand, goin’ along with our original idea.

“Nah, both of those places are too close. I’d feel better knowin’ we had some ocean between us and them Pinkertons. If they’re gonna come after me, I wanna at least make ‘em work for it. Besides, accordin’ to Javier, Mexico ain’t the best place to lie low right now.”

The pianist shrugged uncertainly, takin’ my word for it. “Well, alright, I guess.”

I came to a halt, noticing that Eddie still had a worried expression on his face.

“...Look, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “I just need some time to wrap my head ‘round this whole thing. I’ve never left America before. You know this. England’s a whole new world to me.”

The other man clearly wasn’t convinced about my commitment to this just yet, but decided to trust me anyway.

“...If you say so. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I don’t wanna drag you into something you’re not willing to do. And besides, the more backup plans we have, the better. I hate to be the pessimist, but there really is no guarantee our trip to England will go smoothly. And that’s assuming we even reach Saint Denis.”

I chuckled sarcastically, unhitching my horse. “You certainly know how to comfort a man, don’t you?”

Eddie smirked in response. “I learned from the best. Anyways, now that we got that out of the way...” he mounted his horse, stickin’ his boots in the stirrups, “...shall we get going?”

I followed his actions and climbed on top of my own mount, makin’ myself comfortable in the saddle.

“Yes, let’s.”

Turning away from Hamish’s lone cabin, the two of us began trotting at a casual pace as we slowly made our way back to the road, finally resuming the seemingly eternal journey we started months ago.

I couldn’t lie -- I was gonna miss O’Creagh’s Run. There was just a certain air to the place that offered a sense of sanctuary, and I always felt like we was hidden from the rest of the world whenever I wandered near here.

I supposed I was just more a nature person. America had its flaws, sure, but part of me honestly wished we could stay. Ever since I was a little boy, the view of lively meadows, never-ending forests, and purple mountains crowning the horizon always made me feel at home.

Somethin’ about them just brought you closer to the sky, I guess. They seemed to compliment the stars like nothing mankind ever built, and no matter how large people made their cities or how brightly they lit them up...I knew the wild west was always gonna have my heart.

It just made me sad to know that those times were comin’ to an end.

All them years I spent runnin’ around with Dutch and Hosea -- creating our own society and riding across America -- they were nothing more than a handful of lost memories now.

Hosea was dead, Dutch had lost his mind, and I...well, I hated to admit it, but the era of outlaws and gunslingers was over.

Despite all our efforts to stay ahead of it, civilization was spreading rapidly across the whole world, and people like me had no place in its society.

If I was gonna keep Eddie alive and hope to have a future with him, my entire lifestyle was gonna have to change.

My criminal background, my time spent runnin’ from the law, my love for a freer life -- it would all have to go. I would have to become a...civilized man, and live in a civilized place.

I didn’t know if I was ready for that kind of a difference, but what I did know was that I loved Eddie. And regardless of how much I longed for another life, that man meant more to me than anything else right now.

Even if it meant giving up everything I had in America, I was gonna do whatever it took to help him...because I knew he’d do the same for me.

I just hoped we’d be able to reach Saint Denis first. We were finally nearing the end of this harsh journey, and Lord only knew what sort of obstacles we was gonna face along the way. I had a feeling neither Atticus nor the Pinkertons were going to let us go that easy, but if I had any say in it, they weren’t gonna stop us from reaching England.

Nothing was.

~~~~~~~~~~

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

EASTERN NEW HANOVER

Roaming through New Hanover’s wide, open fields, Eddie and I ventured down a path that would lead us alongside the Kamassa River and straight into Bluewater Marsh, hopefully taking us to the northern region of Bayou Nwa before the day ended.

So far, things had been peaceful enough except for a few random crazies on the road, but...we had yet to run into anything life-threatening.

The weather was only partly cloudy, the roads were empty, the birds were soarin’ in the sky, and our heads were still on our shoulders. S’far as I was concerned, that was a win in my book.

As for Eddie, the man seemed content with our plan and didn’t show as much hesitance as I did, but there was still a certain...melancholy surrounding him. Sorta like he was about to visit a cemetery or something.

Though, the more I thought about it...he kinda was. After all, the last time Eddie set foot in England was when his family had just been murdered, and his previous partner, Nathaniel, was killed.

Goin’ back to that place after all these years...I imagined it must’ve brought back some terrible memories for the man.

I knew from personal experience that there weren’t nothing pleasant about returning to an old graveyard, and the longer Eddie stayed silent, the more I worried about his well-being.

I leaned over in my saddle and brought my horse closer to the other man, wantin’ to check up on him.

“Hey, Eddie,” I said, peerin’ at him from under my hat. “You doin’ alright there? You seem kinda...preoccupied.”

The pianist took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at me, his brow furrowed with suspicion.

“...I won’t lie to you, Arthur,” he replied in a perturbed voice. “I’ve had a strange feeling ever since we left the cabin. Like...someone’s watching us.”

I took a look at the surrounding area, scanning the trees to our side.

“You see anyone?” I questioned.

“Not yet,” Eddie admitted, “but the feeling’s still there.”

“Well...just keep your eyes open,” I warned. “I doubt it’s Atticus, but there’s still plenty of bandits in these parts. Could be them.”

The pianist wasn’t so sure. “Maybe, but bandits don’t stalk you, do they?”

I let out a troubled sigh, shakin’ my head. “Not usually, no. Again, like I said -- just keep your eyes open. We don’t need any surprises.”

Tryin’ to ease Eddie’s nerves, I decided to switch topics and took on a softer tone, hoping to calm the man down a little.

“Listen,” I began, “when I asked if you was doin’ okay, I was more referring to the fact that we’re going back to England. To your homeland. I know you haven’t seen it in a long time, and I was just...curious, I guess. About what’s on your mind.”

Eddie chuckled in response, though it sounded more like he was laughing at himself.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. From the moment I set foot in the States, I spent every second wishing I could go back home. I missed London. I missed my family, the people, the buildings, the culture, the way of life...”

I jumped in. “But now...?”

“But now...” he continued, “I honestly wish I could stay here. In America. With you.”

I grinned, admittedly a tad surprised. “Is that so?”

Eddie returned the smile. “I’m afraid it is. But...I know it’s not safe for us here anymore. I know we have to leave. It’s just -- I’ll miss America. Despite everything we’ve been through.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” I reassured him. “We’ll come back someday.”

The pianist smirked. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Ridin’ in silence for a few moments, a random thought suddenly crossed my mind when I glanced at Eddie’s mount, causing me to raise a question.

“Hey, I just noticed something. Whatever happened to your other horse, Bullet? I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

Eddie frowned at that, sighing mournfully. “He died, I’m afraid.”

My eyes sprang open in surprise. “Died? When?”

“He was shot down when Rodrick attacked our camp,” he explained. “I didn’t even get the chance to try to save him.”

Bewildered by the news, I thought back to the ambush and replayed all the events in my head as clearly as I could, suddenly realizin’ something I completely missed before.

If I recalled correctly, I took cover behind a dead horse at some point during the shootout. It was right after Eddie had just been shot in the leg and I was tryin’ to make my way to him.

...That must’ve been Bullet.

“Aw, shit...” I breathed out. “I’m sorry, Eddie. He was a good horse.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “he was. I’ll miss that big brute. I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”

I leaned to the side and placed a hand on top of Eddie’s, comforting the pianist.

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t let that happen. And neither would you.”

Smiling warmly at the comment, Eddie’s face radiated with affection as he tightened his hand ‘round mine, gazing lovingly at me.

Just before he could reply however, a third voice suddenly cut him off from a distance and darkened the mood with a sense of dread, causin’ us to stop dead in our tracks.

“A sweet sentiment,” their voice flatly observed, “...but I’m afraid that’s all it is.”

Turnin’ to see just who the hell had interrupted us, I brought my focus to the opposite end of the road and spotted a mysterious man sitting on a horse, only to quickly recognize the Pinkerton badge shining brightly on his coat.

There was a large array of other agents protecting him on both sides -- all of them armed to the teeth -- and the more I searched the thick trees surrounding us, the easier I started to notice the sons-of-bitches hidin’ in the bushes.

I guessed Eddie’s instincts were correct.

“...Shit...” I cursed under my breath. “Milton.”

Eddie paused. “Wait, you know this man?”

I kept my voice low, makin’ sure that the bastard couldn’t hear me.

“He’s one of them Pinkertons,” I explained with a whisper. “He’s been hunting Dutch for months now. Even before I met you.”

“...Dammit. What should we do?”

I signaled Eddie to stay back with a simple gesture, remindin’ him to remain calm as Milton slowly approached the two of us.

“Just let me do the talking,” I said. “Don’t shoot anything yet.”

Eddie was obviously unsettled by the encounter but followed my lead anyway, keepin’ his hand close to his holster.

“...If you think that’s best. Just be careful.”

I gave him a nod, ensuring that I would.

Finally bringin’ my attention over to Milton, I tapped my spurs into the side of my horse and steadily trotted closer to him, wandering down the road alone as the other Pinkertons kept their guns nailed onto me.

I didn’t dare take my eyes off of Milton’s friends -- especially not that sleaze Ross -- and with every torturous second that passed by, I could feel Milton’s glare practically piercin’ through me more and more.

It was evident that he didn’t intend on lettin’ us walk outta here alive, and just by studying his arrogant demeanor, I could tell he had already captured some o’ the other folks in our gang.

My only question was who.

“Mister Morgan,” Milton greeted as I came to a halt. “Nice to see you again. It’s been quite a long time since we last spoke.”

I sighed to myself, already wishin’ I could kill this man. “...I do my best to avoid you.”

“So I see.”

The Pinkerton’s iron sight traveled over to Eddie, leading him into his next question. “...I assume that’s Mister Ryan?”

I followed Milton’s gaze and briefly glanced at the pianist, surprised that he knew him.

“Oh, there’s no need to be shocked,” Milton remarked, noticing my expression. “Micah Bell hardly left anything to question, after all. He’s been quite the informant as of late.”

An irritated breath escaped me. “Of course. Well...what is it that you want?”

The agent rested his arms on the horn of his saddle. “I want many things, Mister Morgan. Van der Linde, most of all. But also...you.”

That triggered a sense of alarm within me, but I decided to hold it back for now.

“So...what,” I asked, tryin’ to hide my agitation, “you here to kill me? Claim the price on my head? Is that it?”

Milton nonchalantly shook his head. “Not kill. ...Not yet.”

The Pinkerton raised his hands in a diplomatic manner and slowly walked towards me, closing the distance between us until there were only a couple meters left.

“I’ve come to make a deal, Mister Morgan.”

I let out a scoff. “A deal?”

“I’m offering you a chance to surrender,” Milton continued, disregarding my reluctance. “Lay down your weapons, and come with me peacefully. If you tell me where to find Van der Linde, I promise you won’t be executed.”

I refused to humor him.

“Ol’ Dutch? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

The Pinkerton obviously didn’t believe me. “Is that so?”

“I’ve lied about many things in my time, agent,” I countered, “but that ain’t one of them.”

Milton’s mind remained unswayed. “Even so, my offer still stands. You may not know where Dutch is at the moment, but I’m sure a man like you would know how to find him. Help me locate Mister Van der Linde, and you have my word you won’t swing.”

I shrugged. “And you expect me to just believe you?”

The agent’s expression hardened with impatience. “You don’t have a choice.”

Cocking their guns as a warning, the other Pinkertons immediately assumed a more hostile stance as they cornered me and Eddie within the confines of this road, preventin’ us from going anywhere.

There were far too many of them for us to simply escape without a fight, and judging by the faint rustling I heard from behind me, I could only assume they had blocked us from the rear as well.

We were trapped.

“So,” Milton said, readying his own pistol, “what’s it going to be, Arthur? Shall we handle this like civilized folk...or do I need to order my men to open fire?”

Observin’ the Pinkertons with an alarmed glare, I started to grow restless as my heart began to pound heavily and I slowly realized just how many of them there actually were.

It looked like an entire goddamned battalion had ambushed us, and for as far as the eye could see, there were nothin’ but Pinkertons blocking us from every direction, making me feel as if we was trapped in a human cobweb.

It was clear to me that we had to get the hell outta here as soon as possible...but I just didn’t know how.

Eddie trotted closer to me and kept his voice hushed, whispering in a panicked tone.

“There’s too many of them, Arthur,” he stated, his eyes frantically dartin’ around. “If we start shooting, we’ll be slaughtered...!”

I glanced back at him, adamant that we would make it outta this.

“We can’t surrender now, Eddie. We’ve come way too far. If they take us, we’ll go straight to the gallows. You think that’s any better than dyin’ here?”

The pianist found himself at a dead end. “Well -- what else can we do? Do you believe Milton will actually spare you if we surrender?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it, but it don’t matter anyway. I ain’t gonna become a traitor like Micah. If Milton wants Dutch, he’s gon’ have to find him himself.”

“No,” Eddie disagreed, “Dutch betrayed you, Arthur. Not the other way around. You were his son and he almost killed you...! Don’t you want him to answer for what he did? Perhaps this is your chance.”

“I ain’t in the revenge business, Eddie.” I reminded him. “If Dutch is gonna die by my hand someday, so be it. But I won’t give these snakes the satisfaction.”

The other man sighed out of discouragement.

“Very well, but...” his voice trailed off into a grim silence, leadin’ me to urge him on.

“What is it?” I questioned.

Eddie gazed at me with an expression sharpened by genuine fear and clenched his jaw out of distress, knowing damn-well what the near-future held.

“...I don’t want to die, Arthur,” he confessed morosely. “If we don’t do what Milton says, his Pinkertons will kill us right here. We’ll...we’ll be dead. ...I’m not ready for that.”

I let out a heartbroken breath at the statement and bit my bottom lip, reluctant to admit that Eddie was right once the dreadful news sunk in.

We...we truly were done for, weren’t we?

We couldn’t surrender, and we couldn’t fight all these men either.

Just like that, all our efforts to get outta this country had been snuffed out like a dying candle because of these goddamned Pinkertons, and for the first time since I met Eddie, I was powerless to stop it.

...This was where we were gonna die.

This was how our journey was gonna come to an end.

These were my final moments in this godforsaken world, and the retribution for all the sins I had committed had caught up to me at last.

Even if I had to die today though, I refused to let the Pinkertons use me as their toy.

I was gonna go down fighting like the outlaw I was born to be, and I’d do it side-by-side with the man I loved.

There weren’t no glory in this kind of death, but perhaps there would be peace.

“...Arthur?” Eddie asked, bringin’ me back to reality. I could tell he was waiting for a decision. “What are you thinking?”

I steadily lowered my hand so that it was next to my holster and glared at Milton with an unbreakable stare, somehow tryin’ to comfort Eddie even in the face of imminent death.

“...We stand our ground.” I said with a heavy heart, attempting to remain strong for both our sakes. “Milton’s a goddamned fool if he thinks we’re gonna surrender.”

To my surprise, Eddie didn’t even question the choice and simply reached for his own revolver, barely wavering as he walked his horse to my side.

“Then I’ll stand with you.”

I gave Eddie a look of profound remorse, hopelessly wishing I could whisk him away from this mess.

“You know I love you, right?” I whispered compassionately, unable to believe I was truly sayin’ goodbye to this man.

“There’s no doubt in my mind.” He confirmed, maintaining his composure. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

Finally done with waitin’ for an answer, Milton raised his voice and called to us from the other end of the road, demanding a decision from us.

“Well? Have you made a choice, Mister Morgan? Will you accept my offer? My patience grows thin.”

I threw the Pinkerton a steadfast grin and lightly scoffed to myself, strangely amused by the fact that, despite cornering us, he still lost this battle.

“Not a chance, Milton,” I replied firmly. “...I’m afraid we’ll be outlaws for life.”

The agent responded with an ice-cold glower.

“...So be it.”

Boldly elevating his arm into the air with an open hand, Milton signaled the other Pinkertons to prepare for a fight.

“You chose this path, Arthur,” he announced, narrowing his eyes in anger. “Let it be known that I offered you mercy.”

The rest of the Pinkertons readied their rifles, eagerly taking aim.

“May God spare you from the suffering you’ve inflicted on His creatures, Mister Morgan,” Milton prayed apathetically. “...Because I certainly won’t.”

Striking like a thunderbolt, an unexpected bang echoed throughout the entire field as everyone instantly froze and birds soared away in the distance, all of us stuck in disbelief until we noticed a bullet hole buried in Milton’s skull.

It didn’t look like the agent had realized what had happened just yet, but after about a second of staring blankly into the space ahead of him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground, rendering us speechless.

I hurriedly searched for the source of the shot, only to spot Rodrick Kinglsey mounted on a horse in the distance.

Goddammit...

That son-of-a-bitch found us.

The madman cocked his smoking repeater and chuckled maliciously, goading the Pinkertons into a fight as the rest of Atticus’ gang joined the scene.

“You government boys did us a huge favor,” he mocked, “but we’ll take it from here.”

“Shit!” Agent Ross exclaimed sharply, finally snappin’ out of his state of shock. “There’s more of the bastards! Open fire!”

Not even wasting a single second, the Pinkertons began raining bullets on Atticus’ gang as guns fired off in every direction and smoke filled the air, forcin’ us to ride blind while horses frantically trampled all over the scene.

“Eddie!” I shouted over the commotion, “RUN!”

Takin’ this opportunity to flee, the pianist and I immediately hauled ass away from the battlefield as we shot down Pinkertons and outlaws alike, not sparing even one bullet during our escape.

Unfortunately for us, some of Atticus’ men had managed to single us out from the crowd -- including Rodrick -- and started to chase after us, shootin’ wildly as if there was no tomorrow.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled, dodging a bullet that just barely missed his head. “Where are we going?!”

I gestured in front of us. “Just keep headin’ south! We’ll try to lose them up ahead!”

Whippin’ my reins with a sharp tug, I glanced over my shoulder and fired a few shots at the men behind us, struggling to keep my aim straight with how much my horse was diggin’ its hooves into the ground.

I managed to kill one of Atticus’ men and sent them crashin’ into the dirt below, practically turning them into a human tumbleweed as they rolled through thick billows of dust.

It looked like the Pinkertons were keepin’ the rest of their gang busy with all the chaos surrounding Milton’s death, and fortunately for me and Eddie, I had yet to see any sign of Atticus Rose himself.

Though, if Rodrick was here runnin’ after us, I had no other choice but to assume he was close.

We would have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Arthur, look!” Eddie called out, pointing ahead. “There’s a bridge!”

Peering over the wavy hills laid out in front of us, I leaned forward in my saddle and gazed through the numerous trees, makin’ out a long hanging bridge not too far away from us.

It was positioned just above a colossal waterfall and connected the gap between two massive rock formations, both of which towered over the land like a pair of skyscrapers.

That could be our way out.

“Get across the bridge!” I told Eddie. “We’ll cut it down from the other side!”

The pianist glued his eyes onto the multiple people ridin’ behind me, instantly slipping his pistol out.

“That might be harder than you think...!”

Bringin’ my attention back to Rodrick and his men, I signaled for Eddie to follow my lead as the two of us started gunning them down together, both of us desperately tryin’ to pick up our speed.

It wouldn’t be too long before we’d be crossin’ that bridge now, and if we didn’t put enough distance between ourselves and Rodrick’s men, our plan to trap ‘em on the other side would’ve been one of futility.

“You go on ahead!” I exclaimed at Eddie, killing another one of Atticus’ people. “I’ll make sure these bastards stay back!”

“What? No!” Eddie rejected. “I’m not leaving you here, Arthur!”

I hurriedly reloaded my pistol. “Look, that bridge is too narrow for us to cross it at the same time anyway, so you may as well just go in front of me! Now, hurry!”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, the pianist pondered the dilemma for a moment before snappin’ his horse’s reins and bolting ahead, rushing directly towards the bridge’s entrance.

Just before he had any time to react however, I suddenly noticed a small group of Atticus’ men hidin’ on the other side, ready to cut the bridge down right as Eddie was about to cross it.

“Oh, shit,” I cursed, “Eddie! STOP!”

But it was too late.

Even though the pianist had already yanked the reins back with a great amount of force, the poor animal still slid onto the bridge’s rickety planks due to its incredible speed and let out a panicked neigh as the structure came swingin’ down, causing both the horse and Eddie to go plummeting towards the waterfall.

“EDDIE!” I yelled, immediately hopping off my own mount. I sprinted towards the edge of the cliff and looked down, only to see that the man was now dangling from a thin ledge as the waterfall raged underneath him.

“A-Arthur!” Eddie shouted back, his voice strainin’ with effort. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

“Here!” I said, extending an arm. “Grab my hand!”

Before I could get anywhere near the man though, the sound of someone cocking their gun abruptly reached my ears, leadin’ me to come to a halt.

It was Mister Kingsley himself.

“...I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sunshine.” He warned, wearin’ his usual grin. “You might hurt yourself.”

I steadily rose from the ground and turned to face the crazed man, secretly panicking on the inside about how Eddie was about to fall at any second.

“You son-of-a-bitch...” I muttered lowly, clenchin’ my fist. “What d’you want with us? Atticus, I understand, but you -- what the hell do you get outta this?”

Rodrick sauntered towards me and smiled widely, shrugging casually.

“Entertainment, my good sir,” he answered simply. “Entertainment. You see--” he let out a melodramatic sigh, “everybody’s so boring, nowadays. They’re always bein’ held back by polite manners, or etiquette, or some goddamn pretense.”

Rodrick gestured to me. “You though? You’re so easy to rile up. All someone’s gotta do is point a gun at Mister Ryan, and you’re ready to kill a man.” An amused chuckle escaped him. “You can pretend to be a good man all you want, Arthur. Everyone knows you’re just as rotten as the rest of us. Nothin’ but another thief with larceny in his blood. Ain’t no shame in it though. In fact, that’s what I like about you.”

I strengthened my gaze and glared at Kingsley, starin’ him down.

“I used to be like that, but not anymore.”

He scoffed in a bored manner. “Pfft...come on, Morgan. Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscious suddenly. All because you helped one man? What about the other men in your life? Lenny? Strauss? Hosea? All of ‘em died ‘cause you felt Eddie was more important. Tell me...d’you feel like a hero yet?”

“Shut your mouth, Kingsley!” I snapped, raisin’ my voice.

“Or what?” He asked with a smirk. “You’ll kill me? I’m the one with a gun in my hand, sunshine.”

Rodrick strolled closer to me and playfully tapped the barrel of his pistol against my hat, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh, how easy it would be to put a bullet in your head right now. I could take away everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve achieved. I could destroy Eddie’s entire life with just the simple pull of a trigger, and he’d never see you again. I gotta admit...havin’ that much power at my fingertips -- it’s almost addicting.”

Kingsley suddenly pointed his gun away from me and took a few steps back, reachin’ for his knife.

“...But I won’t do it. After all, where’s the fun in shootin’ such an interesting creature like you? Naw...you and me, we’re gonna fight man-to-man. Outlaw-to-outlaw. Killer-to-killer.”

He brandished his knife and began circling around me, encouragin’ me to follow his actions.

“Well, come on then, sunshine! Do your worst. ...Show me exactly what kind of a monster Dutch van der Linde created.”

Barely givin’ me a chance to fight back, Rodrick aggressively lunged forward and started slashing erratically at me, sporting an insane smile as the sky grew darker above us, and the rumbling of thunder lurked in the distance.

By now, the clouds had evolved into one, monstrous shadow that blotted out the sun and stretched across the entire region, leavin’ just enough room for a slice of sunlight.

As for Kingsley himself, the bastard fought more like a wild animal than a man and moved sporadically around me, makin’ it even more difficult than usual to read his patterns.

“What’s the matter, Arthur?” Rodrick taunted, throwin’ a punch at me. “You ain’t got any fight left in you?”

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I hurriedly reached down and whipped out my own knife before retaliating with a few solid cuts to his chest, rippin’ through the fabric of his suit.

Despite managing to make Rodrick bleed however, the wound didn’t seem to slow him down at all. He simply bounced back from the injury as if it was nothing, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said it actually fueled him to fight harder.

The man suddenly grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against a nearby boulder, knockin’ the wind outta my lungs.

“Gonna have to do more than that, Morgan...!”

Forcing his knife towards my throat, Rodrick wrestled with me as I desperately tried to push him away and practically crushed his hand with an iron grip, making my arm tremble due to the amount of strength I was puttin’ on it.

The two of us scratched and clawed at each other like a bunch of animals and nearly tore each other apart in the mud, our faces becoming more and more bruised as the fight carried on.

“Why won’t you just die...?!”

Closin’ my fist, I repeatedly slammed my knuckles into Rodrick’s cheekbone and damn-near smashed his face in, doin’ everything I could to get the madman off me.

Luckily, with one final punch to the nose, I put enough power behind the attack to send Rodrick reeling and shoved him away from me, afterwards tackling him to the ground.

Keeping the man down with my weight, I began pressing my own knife into his throat and struggled against his resistance, lettin’ out a pained groan when Rodrick started twisting the skin on my wrist.

There was blood streaming down from his nose at this point, but even with the numerous lacerations decoratin’ his body and a broken nose, Kingsley still brawled with the same amount of prowess as he did before.

He jabbed his knee into my gut and threw me off, takin’ a second to regain his footing.

“You fight like the devil himself, sunshine,” Rodrick growled in a deranged tone. “I almost don’t wanna kill you!”

Rising back to his feet with an unbalanced sway, the maniac loosely charged at me again and aimed straight for my throat, tiredly trampling through the soupy mud beneath our feet.

Thanks to his fatigued state however, I managed to grab him by the shoulders and hurl him in a different direction, pinnin’ the lunatic against a tree as I practically held onto him for support, admittedly more beaten up than I cared to show.

Determined to put an end to this vicious fight, I wasted no time in takin’ hold of my knife and immediately thrusting it forward, eagerly planting the blade deep into Rodrick’s abdomen as the man’s eyes widened in shock.

It was the first time I had ever seen the outlaw in a state of fear or pain, and as malignant as it might’ve sounded, just gettin’ the chance to watch that cocky grin finally be wiped off his goddamned face granted me with a dark sense of satisfaction that I had never felt before.

I drilled the knife even further into his stomach, almost snarling at him while his hot blood stained my hand.

“You’re wrong, Kingsley,” I said through gritted teeth, stabbing him again. “I am a good man.”

I drove the blade into him one last time, twistin’ the weapon inside his chest.

“...But only when I need to be.”

Watchin’ the life vanish from his eyes, I didn’t even bother to blink as Rodrick writhed in pain and blood gathered in his mouth, causing him to choke.

His face was red with agony and the veins in his forehead protruded from his skin, makin’ me think they were about to burst.

Though, to my surprise, Kingsley managed to conjure one, final smile and let out a hoarse laugh, revealing the bloodied teeth beneath.

“...Oh...you got me, Morgan...” he wheezed out. “...You got me. My only regret is...lettin’ you kill me before going after Atticus. My, my, what a show that would’ve been...”

Rodrick weakly patted my hand, uttering his last words.

“...Go on...and raise some hell, would you, sunshine? I know it’s gonna be beautiful...it always is...”

Drifting into a deathly silence, Rodrick’s body finally fell limp as his last breath escaped him and his hand slipped from the knife’s hilt, allowin’ me to relax for the first time in a while.

I couldn’t believe he was actually dead.

After so many months of him tormenting me and Eddie -- there were times when I felt like the bastard would never die.

He just seemed so invincible. So welcoming to death. So...inhumane.

But I was foolish to think in such a way. It was clear to me now that Rodrick bled just like every other son-of-a-bitch on this Earth...and boy, was I glad that he did.

Removin’ my blade from the man’s torso, I stepped away and let his body collapse to the soaking wet ground, instantly bringing my focus back to Eddie now that Kingsley was dead.

I had no idea if the pianist was still latched on to that little piece of rock on the cliff face, but to think that he already fallen to his death made me sick with worry.

“Eddie!” I called out, kneeling by the edge. “You there?”

Thankfully, I got a response.

“I’m here, Arthur! But the rock’s too wet! I-I can’t climb up!”

I reached a hand down, suddenly realizin’ just how much blood was covering it.

“Come on! I’ll pull you up!”

Grabbing onto my arm, Eddie grunted with effort and hoisted himself onto my level, usin’ the thin ledges in the cliff’s side as leverage.

“I got you, darling,” I comforted, helping him over the edge. “I got you.”

Finally returning to the surface, Eddie gladly plopped himself on the grass and simply sat there for a moment, briefly catchin’ his breath.

“Jesus Christ...” he panted out, “that...that was close. Thank you, Arthur. I would’ve slipped soon if you didn’t help.”

“No need to thank me,” I replied, also out of breath. “Let’s just get the hell outta here...and go to Saint Denis. I’ve had enough of this goddamn place.”

Eddie nodded in agreement and stood up from the ground, only to freeze mid-action when he noticed Rodrick’s body sitting against the tree.

The pianist paused for a second, staring blankly at his corpse.

“Wait...Rodrick’s dead?” He asked, clearly in disbelief. “...You...you killed him?”

“I did.” I said firmly. “And I’d do it again.”

Contrary to what I expected, Eddie sighed in regret and hung his head low, recalling all the encounters he had with that lunatic.

“That crazy bastard...” he whispered softly. “Both him and Middleton pursued me for years. I never thought I’d be blessed to see the day he died. My only regret is that I couldn’t help you finish him off.”

I laid a reassuring hand on Eddie’s shoulder, urgin’ him to look away.

“Well...he’s as dead as they come now, thank God. We should move before we end up like him.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Come on, let’s...”

Eddie suddenly paused, jerking his head around in confusion as if he had just heard something.

I shrugged. “What?”

The pianist brought his gaze upwards, leadin’ him to point towards the sky.

“Arthur, look.”

Following his line of sight, I turned around and saw a magnificent rock formation dominating the landscape in the distance, as well as a group of people who were fightin’ on top of it.

The rock was shaped like an anvil and tilted towards the clouds with an incredible height, almost as if it were a ramp to the heavens themselves.

Once I took a better look though, I realized that the people standing atop weren’t just some random passersby. The majority of them was Pinkertons...and they were fighting Atticus.

“It’s Atticus,” I remarked nonchalantly. “So what?”

Eddie gave me a resolute stare, formulatin’ a plan in his head.

“...We have to kill him, Arthur.”

I pulled back at the idea, lookin’ at the other man in bewilderment.

“What? Eddie, we can’t--”

“--We have to,” he reiterated, taking hold of my hand. “If we don’t, he’ll never stop chasing us. Atticus already followed me to America. What makes you think he won’t follow us to England? This is our chance to eliminate him! Rodrick is dead, and the Pinkertons have him cornered. We can do this.”

I let out a deep breath, still tentative about the proposal.

“...You know how I feel about vengeance, Eddie.”

The pianist persisted. “This isn’t about vengeance. We’ve been looking at this all wrong, Arthur. We’re never going to be free if we just...keep running! We need to face Atticus head-on. We need to kill him. Otherwise, this journey’s never going to end. You know that.”

Chewin’ on my lip in thought, I pondered the decision for a while as I weighed our options, genuinely torn about what to do.

On one hand, I knew Eddie wasn’t gonna leave this place so long as Atticus still breathed. They had too much history. Too much to settle. They both needed closure.

And on top of that, I couldn’t deny that I conceded Eddie’s point about Atticus chasin’ us halfway across the world. That old man had done it before, after all, and I’d seen how relentless he could be for myself.

What worried me though, was the number of Pinkertons we’d have to fight through in order to reach him. They was givin’ him hell at the moment, and I wasn’t sure if Eddie and I would be able to kill that many people on our own.

I mean, we barely escaped death not too long ago. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt it even more.

But, then again...I knew Eddie well enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, it’d be foolish to get in his way.

As much as I wanted to just leave and high-tail it outta here, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Maybe this was our chance to get rid of Atticus.

Maybe we could finally put an end to this godforsaken war, and close this chapter in our lives.

We just had to be brave enough to do it.

“...Okay,” I agreed at last. “You’re right. Atticus needs to die.”

Eddie’s expression perked with hope, and a glint of excitement twinkled in his eyes.

“You mean, you’ll help me kill him?”

I nodded assertively and thought back to the day Eddie and I killed Middleton, swiftly takin’ out my revolvers as the two of us made our way to Atticus.

“For you...anything.”

[the-desolated-quill]

So What The Fuck Is Going On With This Venom Movie? - Quill’s Scribbles

After many false starts and changing productions, it appears that the long awaited Venom movie is finally getting off the ground with Tom Hardy in the leading role as Eddie Brock and Zombieland director Ruben Fleischer attached to direct the film. And you’d think people would be excited for this, but surfing the Internet, the reaction to Sony’s Venom movie seems to be lukewarm at best. There are many reasons for this and I thought I’d take the opportunity to explore those reasons whilst trying to understand just what the hell Sony is planning (because I have a sneaking suspicion that not even they know).

There was once a time when Venom ruled the fucking world. Every comic book geek was obsessed with the character, including myself when I was younger. And I’m sure you can see why. I mean look at him:

Come on! You’ve got to admit he looks cool!

Not only did the character have an incredibly distinct look, but also the idea behind him was both creative and unique. An alternate Spider-Man costume later revealed to be an alien life form was a totally unexpected twist.

Venom is a black alien goo called a Symbiote. The symbiotes were a race of parasites that bonded to host bodies and forced them to do death defying acts in order to feed off of their adrenaline. However Venom was an outcast because it was the only one of its kind who wanted to form a symbiotic bond with the host rather than drain and discard them (so technically only Venom is a true symbiote because it’s the only one that desires symbiosis with its host… Yeah. Shut up. It’s still cool). Banished to Battleworld, Spider-Man accidentally releases it from its prison and ends up taking it back to Earth, becoming the Black Suit Spider-Man.

Black Suit Spidey was significantly more powerful than regular Spidey. He was faster, stronger and could produce his own organic webbing. However he was also more aggressive in costume (not to the extent that it changed his entire personality like in the film Spider-Man 3, but still he was noticeably more violent than we were used to seeing) and was often extremely tired when not wearing the costume. Later Spidey realised that not only was his new costume a living, thinking being, it would also take control of his body while he was sleeping, hence why he was so tired all of the time.

With the help of the Fantastic Four, Spidey manages to remove and contain the symbiote only for it to escape and attack him, wanting to bond with him permanently. This leads to the famous bell tower scene where Spidey uses the sound waves of the church bell to remove the symbiote. Left weakened by the struggle, Spidey was close to death only to be unexpectedly rescued by the symbiote before it slithered away. Left heartbroken and rejected, it would later bond with Eddie Brock, whose irrational hatred for Spider-Man corrupted the symbiote into the feral predator we know today.

The Black Suit Spidey arc was and still is one of the great Spider-Man stories, serving as an excellent origin story for Venom. Comic book readers loved the character and as his popularity grew, Marvel were quick to milk it for all its worth. Eventually Venom got his own spin-off series called Venom: Lethal Predator, where Venom becomes an anti-hero protecting a community of homeless people in San Francisco. We were also introduced to other prominent symbiotes over the years, the most notable being Carnage and Toxin.

Venom-Mania officially reached its peak in the late 90s/early 00s, with plans for a Venom movie produced by New Line Cinema and written by David S Goyer featuring Venom as an anti-hero and Carnage as an antagonist. Ultimately this didn’t pan out and the rights reverted to Sony along with Spider-Man himself. Eager to cash in on Venom’s popularity, Sony execs forced director Sam Raimi to include the character in his third Spider-Man movie. This generated a lot of excitement as many, including myself, were eager to see Venom finally appear on the big screen. The results were… 

…less than satisfactory.

Yeah. You’d think Venom and the director of the Evil Dead movies would go hand in hand, but no. Turns out Sam Raimi doesn’t like Venom at all and kind of resented Sony forcing the issue. You can tell watching the movie that Raimi was only doing this under protest and clearly was not taking the character seriously, which angered a lot of people. But despite this, Sony were still planning to do a Venom spinoff movie, however this was scrapped when they decided to reboot the Spider-Man franchise. The project was briefly reignited when there were plans to create a Spider-Man shared universe featuring the Sinister Six and Black Cat, but this ultimately fell through when The Amazing Spider-Man movies failed to deliver at the box office (a billion dollars Sony? Fucking really?!)

So this upcoming Venom movie marks the fourth attempt at giving the character his own solo film, and you’d think there’d be a lot more anticipation over this. But as I say the reaction has been lukewarm. The thing is, while Spider-Man 3′s Venom was a disaster, I think people would still have been excited about a Venom movie regardless if it were being made ten years ago. The fact is that while Venom still has a dedicated fanbase, he’s not quite as popular as he once was. This is just my personal opinion of course, but I think the reason why his popularity dwindled is because, outside of his origin story… well… there isn’t really a lot of things you can do with Venom. I mean sure, they tried to mix it up a little. The Venom symbiote would eventually leave Eddie Brock and move on to other hosts, including Mac Gargan (aka Scorpion) and Flash Thompson, and while they provide interesting spins on the character, it did become very repetitive. Plus without Eddie Brock, Venom kind of loses his motivation a little bit.

That’s not to say a Venom movie can’t still be good. As I said, his origin story is really good and the concept is still very unique and creative. It’s going to be R rated and is apparently going to be more akin to a science fiction horror movie rather than a superhero film, which could be interesting. And I think we can all agree Tom Hardy is an excellent choice to play Eddie Brock. It’s just a question of whether or not Sony have learned from their previous mistakes.

While I didn’t mind in Spider-Man 3 that they kept the symbiote’s origins secret, one of the biggest problems was that the symbiote didn’t have a character. It was treated as little more than a plot device with no depth or explanation given to it, which I found really irritating because the symbiote is an interesting character in its own right. It’s lonely. It wants to permanently bond with a host and share abilities and experiences. While overzealous and often overstepping the mark, it does actually care for its host, as demonstrated when it saved Spidey’s life in the bell tower. And when it realised that Spidey didn’t want to be a part of this symbiotic relationship, it reluctantly left him. Its relationship with Spidey can easily be construed as a tragic and twisted love affair. It only truly turned evil when it came into contact with Eddie Brock, whose irrationality warped and corrupted the symbiote into a rage fuelled monster.

Something else Spider-Man 3 got wrong was its depiction of Eddie Brock, portraying him as this selfish, self centred jerk (plus Topher Grace was the wrong choice entirely for the part). In the comics he’s a bit more complex than that.

Working as a journalist for the Daily Globe, Eddie Brock is able to get a confession from a man claiming to be a serial killer called the Sin Eater. This backfires when the man is revealed to be a compulsive liar and that Spider-Man had caught the real killer. With his reputation in tatters, Eddie Brock sinks into a deep depression. Forced to work for tacky tabloid magazines, his wife divorces him in disgust and his father, who he’s been desperately trying to win the approval of, stops talking to him. He starts bodybuilding in an effort to take his mind off of his predicament, but his anger and depression still remains, blaming Spider-Man for what happened to him. And just to add insult to injury, he finds out he has cancer.

That’s the key difference between the two. In Spider-Man 3, Eddie is an entitled little shit who deserves everything he gets. In the comics, Eddie is a broken man that the reader can actually identify with. In the movie Eddie faked photos of Spidey stealing from a bank and then blames Peter Parker for ratting him out. In the comics Eddie makes an honest mistake and his life spirals downwards as a result, projecting his anger onto Spidey, And then there’s the church scene. In the movie, Eddie asks God to kill Peter Parker, which just comes across as laughable and reveals what a rubbish one dimensional villain he is. In the comics, Eddie goes to the church because he’s contemplating suicide and asks God for forgiveness, which makes him more sympathetic and his ultimate fate that much more tragic. While both versions share an irrational hatred of Spider-Man, only one of them comes from an understandable place.

This is why I’m happy Tom Hardy is playing the character. As well as having the right build, he’s also played this kind of character before and done an extremely good job. If the filmmakers focus on making Eddie Brock a relatable and sympathetic character, give the symbiote its own identity and personality, and go to great lengths to explore the relationship between the two, this could make for a pretty decent movie.

However there are a few other concerns I have about this movie, and this largely stems from the business side of things.

Sony have mentioned that Venom is going to be the first instalment of a Sony Marvel Universe. Now their track record when it comes to franchise building is shaky at best. While I liked The Amazing Spider-Man 2 better than most, I will admit that the movie does feel extremely cluttered. It suffers from the same problem as movies like Iron Man 2 in that it had a lot of good ideas, but there were just too many. Sony were clearly putting more emphasis on franchise building rather than telling a good story, and while The Amazing Spider-Man 2 wasn’t a bad movie by any means, it did suffer as a result.

They also have a tendency to have unrealistic expectations for their movies. The Amazing Spider-Man 2 for instance was expected to make a billion dollars at the box office. A billion?! Look, the Avengers can make a billion dollars, Justice League could make a billion dollars and Batman V Superman should have made a billion dollars, but Spider-Man? I know he’s popular, but… that popular?! Another example is the Ghostbusters reboot, which Sony were hoping to turn into its own shared universe. It ultimately failed to deliver at the box office, and the main reason for this (apart from the sexist butthurt fanboys) is because Ghostbusters just isn’t a tentpole franchise. The most a Ghostbusters movie has ever made at the box office was 295 million dollars. It’s profitable, but not that profitable. As much as I LOVE the Ghostbusters reboot and wanted it to succeed, the fact is Sony were incredibly foolish with how they handled it. Throwing massive wads of money at a movie that simply would never have been the mega success they wanted, regardless of whether the sexist butthurt fanboys boycotted the movie or not.

So what the fuck IS going on with this Venom movie? Well as best as I can understand it, Venom is going to be a part of his own shared universe called the Sony Marvel Universe, which will have no connection to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Now to some extent, I can see why Sony have made that decision. Spider-Man may be part of the MCU now and they do still have creative control over the character, but it’s not theirs. As it stands, Sony make money off of any Spider-Man movies they produce, but any MCU movies where Spider-Man makes a guest appearance, Marvel Studios get the money. Naturally they want something to call their own, and there are rumours that after the Spider-Man Homecoming sequel, Sony plan to ditch the MCU entirely and continue the Spider-Man franchise themselves, presumably keeping the same actor but having none of the future movies connecting with the MCU at all (might as well. I mean its not as if the MCU movies connect with each other anymore). But then it gets even stranger when you learn that Spider-Man might not actually be in this Venom movie. That’s very odd considering how pivotal a role Spider-Man plays in Venom’s backstory and how famous the Black Suit Spider-Man arc is. Why wouldn’t you want to adapt that? 

The problem is if Spider-Man appears or is even mentioned in the Venom movie, then people are going to assume that its part of the MCU, which it isn’t. I suppose you could do something similar to Supergirl and cast another actor to play a different version of Spider-Man, but that might be tricky to pull off. For one thing, Superman doesn’t wear a mask so we can look at Tyler Hoechlin and say ‘oh he doesn’t look like Henry Cavill. Clearly this is not the same Superman from Man Of Steel.’ The different mediums also help the audience make that distinction, that the movie and TV universes are separate. With this, I think it’ll be harder for casual movie going audiences to make that distinction and would actually confuse them.

One possible option Sony could take is to make a few discreet references to Spider-Man and the larger MCU to imply a larger connection, but I don’t think Marvel Studios would really appreciate that. No, the telling detail here is that this is called the Sony Marvel Universe as opposed to something like the Spideyverse or something. In other words, Sony could be making a Spider-Man shared universe… without Spider-Man. Now yes, this could work, but just look at the movies slated to come out. Venom, Black Cat and Silver Sable. Aside from the fact that they all appear in Spider-Man comics, what do they have in common?

… 

Nothing. 

They have pretty much nothing to do with each other outside of Spider-Man. So how are you supposed to create a shared universe around them? And why would anybody want to see this? Black Cat and Silver Sable are hardly household names and while Venom does still have a dedicated following, he’s just not as popular as he was ten years ago. The ship has pretty much sailed on that front. Either there’s something Sony aren’t telling us or, more likely, they haven’t thought this through. Using whatever assets they’ve got lying around to create their own shared universe that they can control, not because of its artistic merit or creative possibilities, but because it’s a trend they want to cash in on while they still can.

On the whole, I’m adopting a kind of wait and see attitude to all of this. Like I said, the film does have potential and I’m confident Tom Hardy will do a great job in the role. I just can’t shake the feeling that Sony might have, once again, shot themselves in the foot before they’ve even started.

[thegfiles]

It by Stephen King

Stephen King's It is about the essence and personafication of evil in the form of whatever scares you the most -- this It prefers to take the shape of a clown and calls Itself either Pennywise the Dancing Clown or Robert "Bob" Gray. This entity was here long before people were in existance anywhere. In the 1950s a group of children, six boys and one girl, came to know and understand this entity for what It was as much as any human being can and set out to destroy It. They thought they were successful...but then It came back. And, in the 1980s they found themselves right back in their hometown of Derry, Maine where they had to battle this monstrosity again.

(Major spoilers below the cut, including character deaths. I also add a lot of speculation, conjecture, and heavily add my own opinions and this does absolutely involve criticism. Stephen King is my favorite author, It is one of my favorite books, but this review is detailed and lengthy and doesn’t skimp on criticism just because of that and it probably will upset some people.)

In this book, more than any other by him that I've read, he flirts with the subject of homosexuality. This was actually a theme that went throughout the book both in negative and positive ways. In the very beginning of the book one of the first new murder victims was a gay man who was in a loving and committed relationship with another man. The relationship seemed quite healthy and not at all abnormal. Many of the characters throughout in the 50s were worried about homosexuals, especially being accidentally mistaken for one, so he definitely touches on the prejudice, using anti-gay explitives quite often. There was also an odd bond between the characters Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak.

In the beginning of the book there are two gay characters, one of which becomes a victim of a violent hate crime and then of It as well. I like the way that King describes their struggle just to fit in and have a normal life. I like the way that these two were pretty much opposite in the way that they saw the world. One was a perpetual optimist (he died), and the other was more of a realist (he survived). I liked how prejudice was displayed, in its nitty gritty, rude and vile true colors. There was nothing sympathetic about it, there was nothing right about it. There was no, "well you know, if the gay guy had just...walked away..." scapegoating. It showed pack mentality at its worst. And, above all, King did a great job of describing just how much the two men had loved each other and had meant to one another and that their love was genuine and real. Just as real as any heterosexual relationship. And he did all of this without even making them main characters, or having them last in the book aside from later references past the first few chapters. That's fucking talent (too bad he couldn't apply that talent to adding a few strong women).

Excerpt from Part 1, chapter 2, page 26:

That summer, Haggarty told Harold Gardener and Jeff Reeves, was the happiest summer of his life--he shuld have been on the lookout, he said; he should have known that God only puts a rug under guys like him in order to jerk it out from under their feet.

Excerpt from Part 1, chapter 2, page 28:

Another match revealed STICK NAILS IN EYES OF ALL FAGOTS (FOR GOD)! "Whoever writes these little homilies has got a case of the deep-down crazies. I'd feel better if I thought it was just one person, one isolated sickie, but..." Don swept his arm vaguely down the length of the Kissing Bridge. "There's a lot of this stuff...and I just don't think one person did it all. That's why I want to leave Derry, Ade. Too many places and too many people seem to have the deep-down crazies." "Well, wait until I finish my novel, okay? Please? October, I promise, no later. The air's better here." "He didn't know it was the water he was going to have to watch out for," Don Haggarty said bitterly.

In the end, when Eddie dies and after they've finally defeated It, Richie tries to carry Eddie out, aided at first by Ben. This part is set in the 1980s when they are adults. This takes place deep under the ground of Derry, Maine. In the sewer systems. That is where It's lair is and always has been. So, that's where they had to go the first time and the last time (this time) to battle it. But, they've already got Bill's wife Audra to get out of the sewers where It had mind-fucked someone into bringing her as a way of weakening the group's leader, and she happens to be catatonic (literally). They were already two members short. One of the members, upon finding out It was back, committed suicide to avoid having to come back to Derry and battle It again. Another was injured by another mind-fucked human and had to go to the hospital and was still recovering and had been unable to make it. Now Eddie's dead, and two of the remaining men had to carry a woman who was still alive but in a coma of some sort due to having seen the true version of It (this is all really complicated to explain, so forgive me if its confusing) called the Dead Lights. Somehow this is both where It truly resides and also the true form of It. Don't ask me how, it just is.

That leaves Bill and Ben to carry the still-alive woman (because Bill is not all there right now, anyway), and Richie to carry Eddie all alone through the complicated sewer system. Why Beverly couldn't help him, I don't know. She was just useless throughout this part as she was throughout the rest of it, really. So, once they got just outside of the lair, they do something that I found horrible. They told Richie...to just put Eddie down and leave him there. In the dark and the cold. Among the stagnant sewer water and the bones and half-rotted corpses of past victims.

Excerpt from Part 5, chapter 23, page 1054:

"Put him down," Beverly said. "He can stay here." "It's too dark," Richie sobbed. "You know..it's too dark. Eds...he..." "No, it's okay," Ben said. "Maybe this is where he's supposed to be. I think maybe it is." They put him down, and Richie kissed Eddie's cheek. Then he looked blindly up at Ben. "You sure?" "Yeah. Come on, Richie." Richie got up and turned toward the door. "Fuck you, Bitch!" he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched. "Why'd you do that?" Beverly asked. "I don't know," Richie said, but he knew well enough. He looked back over his shoulder just as the match Beverly was holding went out.

Richie, at first, refuses. But, they convince him. That, and the fact that he probably couldn't carry him out on his own anyway, I think. And, someone opens their mouth and opines that this is probably where Eddie was meant to be anyway (but, ladies, this is bullshit. If you have read this book, you know how Eddie was, and you know that is the VERY FUCKING LAST place he'd want to be left under ANY circumstances. Especially since he pretty much saved their fucking lives and that's why he was dead).

Excerpt from Part 5, chapter 22, page 1023:

The Spider's head turned toward the sound, Its eyes momentarily leaving Richie's. "Here!" Eddie howled in his fading voice. "Here, have some of this!" He leaped at It, triggering the aspirator at the same time, and for an instant all his childhood belief in the medicine came back to him, the childhood medicine that could solve everything, that could make him feel better when the bigger boys roughed him up or when he was knocked over in the rush to get through the doors when school let out or when he had to sit on the edge of the Tracker Brothers' vacant lot, out of the game because his mother wouldn't allow him to play baseball. It was good, strong medicine, and as he leaped into the Spider's face, smelling Its foul yellow stench, feeling himself overwhelmed by Its single-minded fury and determination to wipe them all out, he triggered the aspirator into one of Its ruby eyes.

He felt-heared Its scream--no rage this time, only pain, a horrid screaming agony. He saw the mist of droplets turn white where they landed, saw them sink in as a splash of carbolic acid would sink in; he saw Its huge eye begin to flatten out like a bloody egg-yolk and run in a ghastly stream of living blood and ichor and maggoty pus. "Come home now, Bill!" he screamed with the last of his voice, and then he struck It, he felt Its noisome heat baking into him; he felt a terrible wet warmth and realized that his good arm had slipped into the Spider's mouth.

He triggered the aspirator again, shooting the stuff right down Its throat this time, right down Its rotten evil stinking gullet, and there was sudden, flashing pain, as clean as the drop of a heavy knife, as Its jaws closed and ripped his arm off at the shoulder.

Excerpt from Part 5, chapter 22, page 1024:

He looked up at Beverly and saw she was crying, the tears coursing down her dirty cheeks as she got an arm under him; he became aware that she had taken off her blouse and was trying to staunch the flow of blood, and that she was screaming for help. Then he looked at Richie and licked his lips. Fading, fading back. Becoming clearer and clearer, emptying out, all of the impurities flowing out of him so he could become clear, so that the light could flow through, and if he had had time enough he could have preached on this, he could have sermonized: Not bad, he would begin. This is not bad at all. But there was something else he had to say first. "Richie," he whispered. "What?" Richie was down on his hands and knees, staring at him desperately." "Don't call me Eds," he said, and smiled. He raised his left hand slowly and touched Richie's cheek. Richie was crying. "You know I...I..." Eddie closed his eyes, thinking of how to finish, and while he was still thinking it over he died.

So, what's that got to do with homosexuality? Well, not a lot. But, it sets things up for what a lot of readers kind of figured in the first place. It sets things up to show that Richie probably cared about Eddie more than he let on. He was the only one who, after setting him down, not only cried...but kissed Eddie. On the cheek, yeah, but it was a kiss.

In this book there is only one female character as one of the 8 main characters. Beverly Marsh was really not all that important to the plot or anything else. She was there sometimes as a love interest, where all the boys in the Lucky 7 individually seemed to have some sort of crush on her (with, perhaps, the exception of Mike Hanlon -- the only black child of the bunch). Its important to note that this book jumps between the 50s and the 80s for its time period. The 50s weren't really that awesome as far as how women were viewed, but still. There's no excuse for some of the nonsense that is in this book.

The book and the movie are drastically different, and I'm speaking strictly about the book here. Beverly Marsh for most of the book has a thing for Bill Denbrough, the leader of their group. And he's got a thing for her. But, she's also sort of interested in Ben Hanscome. And he's REALLY gaga for her. And Richie Tozier sort of likes her, too. And she was showing interest in him at first as well (before she met Bill).

And, you know, at that point they're still really young kids and its okay, because they've never really experienced feelings like that before and its mostly just crushes and puppy love and nothing serious. Beverly also comes from a poor family, on the "wrong" side of town. Her father is a janitor at both the school she goes to and also the Derry Home Hospital, her mother is a waitress and they live in a not-so-impressive-looking apartment building. Her mother is hardly around, and her father is violent and has an obsession with the idea that if she has anything to do with boys at all she'll have sex with them and that that is BAD. And its implied that he might have sexual thoughts about her, though its never actually made much of or actually confirmed. Its just one of those undertones you get from Al Marsh. And her mother apparently is worried about that, because she asked Beverly at one point right out if her father had ever "touched" her.

Excerpt from Part 2, page 386, chapter 9:

Her mother looked back at her, her lips pressed together so tightly they almost weren't there. "You sure your dad wasn't angry with you last night?" "No!" "Bevvie, does he ever touch you?" "What?" Beverly looked at her mother, totally perplexed. God, her father touched her every day. "I don't get what you--" "Never mind," Elfrida said shortly. "Don't forget the trash. And if those windows are streaked, you won't need your father to give you the blue devil."

Al Marsh is a very strange man. This worry from her mother is not entirely unfounded. There are several incidences in the book where his actions towards his daughter are just plain odd. Sometimes, its a little more vague and when she isn't around, but it's easily noticed.

Excerpt from Part 2, page 379, chapter 9:

He did not drink, he did not smoke, he did not chase after women. I got all the women I need at home, he said on occasion, and when said it a peculiar secretive smile would cross his face--it not brighten it but did quite the opposite. Watching that smile was like watching the shadow of a cloud travel rapidly across a rocky field. They take care of me, and when they need it, I take care of them.

Excerpt from Part 2, page 869, chapter 19:

All the times he had scared her; all the times he had shamed her; all the times he had hurt her. "You just let me alone!" "Don't talk to your daddy like that," he said, sounding startled. "I didn't do what you're saying! I never did!" "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm going to check and make sure. I know how. Take your pants off."

This is often a pattern I see with women in King's books. Most characters have currently or have had in the past a violent parent, usually a father. If its a girl, she's usually had some sort of sexual abuse or the fear was there, even if in the back of her mind, that she might be molested by her father at some point. Even if she never gives voice to it in those words.

Another bit of beef I have to take up with King in this book involving Beverly is just how useless she was. I only really ever saw her do anything actually useful once. And that was when they fought It the first time as a whole group. They did so on 29 Neibolt Street in their town of Derry. It was a run-down area that was largely abandoned. That house was also abandoned. She was the one that saved their asses that day. Sort of. Mostly. By shooting it with a silver slug they'd melted and made out of silver dollars (this process was described in great detail within the book and it was quite fascinating) while it was in the form of a werewolf. They only had two and she wasted one on nothing when she was startled by something in a cupboard...But, if she hadn't done what she did at that point, and then faked the monster out (with generous help from the boys on that faking out part) to make It think she had a third slug when she did not, they'd have all died in that house.

But, other than that, she did nothing useful whatsoever, except scream, and run around, and get chased by It, by school bullies, and by her father. And a few times she fell down.

Later in life, she is married to a real jerk who gets off on keeping tight control over her by use of beatings (sometimes with belts), emotional abuse, verbal abuse, and sexual abuse. Its opined by her that she married her father. Its opined by others in the book that she married the school bully, Henry Bowers, from whom they spent the summer running away from back in the 50s when they first learned of It's existance. But, really, its just more of the same from King when it comes to this. Women who are main characters, or at least important characters, often have violent husbands in his books.

And here I come to a fork in the road. There are two paths which are important that I want to take, and I don't know which one I want to go down first. But, I will get to both of them. I guess I'll start with the pregnancy issue.

For some reason in this book, and others that I've read from King, he uses the phrase, "catching pregnant," or "caught pregnant," to describe a woman who is...well...pregnant. As if its a cold or a disease that you catch. I find this repulsive. And, I have no idea where this phrase came from. I really don't think that its something he made up himself. I've heard it before, though rarely. I think I heard it in a movie or two before. I don't even remember which one, its just that that phrase is one that sticks with you when you hear it, you know? Its just so bizarre and ridiculous and offensive. I sort of want to write to him and ask him where he got that phrase, why he uses it, and if he is aware of the implications of using it. Its always used as such a cast-away phrasing, as if someone is just commenting on the weather or something. Its just that casual, even in print when its used. But, yet its so glaring.

Excerpt from Part 3, chapter 10, page 494:

"Anyway, Audra said it wuold be just our luck if she caught pregnant while we were in preproduction and she had to do ten weeks of strenuous acting and being morning-sick at the same time."

Pregnancy is not a disease, nor is it a common cold. Nor should pregnancy nor pregnant women be treated as if they have some sort of disease, cold, little tiny alien invader within themselves, or some other illness.

Moving on from this, though, is the last straw that I have to pick with this book that I can think of at the moment when it comes to women. And it contains another spoiler alert. This was something I did not see coming. Character death I foresaw, but THIS was not something I foresaw. Even when it was hinted at ONE time during the book. I just thought, "surely not" and moved on. Well, I was wrong! So, here is another warning.

When they are children in the 50s and they battle It in the sewers then, the first time they ever battle It there, and think they've won. Something very curious happens. Eddie was supposed to be able to lead them back out. He could not, which was odd. He was known for always knowing which way to go, even if he was unfamiliar with the terrain. HE knew how to get them to the lair in the first place. He led them there. Straight there. Now, he had no idea. They were all starting to get upset, anxious, and panicky. Nerves were wearing thin and they were snapping at each other. So, Beverly comes up with a plan to calm everyone down so that Eddie can think straight and get them out of there. What was this plan?

Well, let me say it was ridiculous and I gawked at the page for a while. She decided that, since her father was so obsessed with sex and her keeping her virginity and that his motivation must be that he wanted to keep any and all power out of her hands and sex was power, then she would be rebellious and take that power for herself and have sex. With all six of those boys. YES! All six of them, right then, in the sewer, where they were lost. She got down on her back, took off her pants, in the dark and on the wet floor, and had them all take turns with her, each one at a time. All of the boys seemed embarrassed and a bit unwilling at first, some more unwilling than others. They all needed at least a little bit of encouragement from her to actually get the job done, or even get started in the first place. She seemed a lot less embarrassed than the boys, from what I remember. It was just...odd, because she really lacked any sort of embarrassment at all, even any sort of self-consciousness or second thoughts.

Excerpt from Part 5, chapter 22, page 1036:

She feels powerful: she feels a sense of triumph rise up strongly within her. Is this what her father was afraid of? Well he might be! There was power in this act, all right, a chain-breaking power that was blood-deep. She feels no physical pleasure, but there is a kind of mental ecstasy in it for her. She senses the closeness.

That's where he attempts to make some belated sense of what is going on, I think. But, it falls far short.

It came out of absolute nowhere, and it didn't even belong in the book. It was like he changed everything else before sending it out to his publisher, but forgot to take out that ridiculous part about the sex. It was like it was just slipped in on the off chance a pedophile might want to read the book. These kids were all around 11. Or on the off chance there wasn't enough objectifying of girls as being around solely to be damsels-in-distress until a man is unsure what to do, then she lets him use her like a toilet to calm him down and get him thinking straight again. What the fucking hell is that??

Just thinking about it makes me angry, because there's no rhyme or reason for it that makes any sense! There were definitely sexual undertones and overtones throughout the entire book, but this here just took the cake. And the icing. And the plate it was sitting on. And the table, too! And not in a good way.

There's so much to say about it that I don't even know how to accurately describe it. I think even after a couple of months I'm still in shock over that random placement of weird, sexist, pedophile pandering... 

Also, I have to note that the one woman in the book who was billed specifically as a feminist seemed to have a distaste for men in general (which perpetuates the idea that all feminists hate all men or at least can't be bothered to respect men as fellow human beings and equals), but she was also more worried about her face than she was about the life and safety of her best friend when Beverly's husband threatened her if she did not tell him where Beverly had gone. She even states that that was what she was most worried about when she finally gave up the information she had; her face. This also perpetuates the idea that women are too concerned about our appearances to really worry about anything else that is of dire importance. Obviously, this woman's face not getting scarred up was a lot more important than her friend's life and well-being. I really hope that nobody ever entrusts her with important government secrets, because she wouldn't stand up to five seconds of torture. Especially if it included threats to her face.

Excerpt from Part 3, chapter 12, page 599:

Kay went upstairs and took another Valium. She lay down and waited for sleep. Sleep didn't come. I'm sorry, Bev, she thought, looking into the dark, floating on the dope. What he said about my face...I just couldn't stand that.

Yeah, well, at least its some consolation that she was feeling so guilty and disgusted with herself that she couldn't sleep? No. Not really a consolation at all.

Overall this was actually a good book, even though I did have a good deal to complain about. I would still recommend it for reading, but you should be aware that there will be things within it that will have you biting your tongue and not in a funny or cheeky way (although there's that, too). It goes through a lot of issues in the book, despite the problem with the portrayal of women. There's a great look at fat stigma and fat phobia, a look at racism and anti-semitism, anti-gay prejudice, and the objectification of women. But, there will be things that will make you stare at the book in outraged disbelief. It will definitely not be winning King any feminist awards for his portrayal of women and young girls anytime soon.