Thread: The Archaeologist, The Succubus, and The Gun  (LeftShield x Umbrale)

Oatmeal Creampies There was one vending machine in this emergency room and it was completely empty of everything. Everything but, Little Debbie, Oatmeal Creampies. He stared at the glass, just able to see his reflection if he didn't focus on the snack cake. Dark, dried blood stained his white collar while a few specks splattered across his cheek. His eyes had deep dark circles underneath them from the sleepless hours that had been the journey home. His dark brown hair was a mess, scattered across his head in every direction making him look like a anime character more than a human. His lips cracked, his five o clock shadow thick, his hazel eyes more green than brown were bloodshot. Was that because he was tired, or crying? Crying had he been crying? He must have right? Right? Mr. Poole! Ty looked over from the machine to see a doctor in full get up. White overcoat, blue smocks, face mask pulled under his chin, had he been trying to get his attention this whole time. Mr. Poole can you hear me? Mr. Poole....I'm sorry to tell you this....it-... the cancer won. We tried our best sir but it was just to late. I'm so sorry. The doctor said putting his hand on Ty's shoulder. Ty looked at the man with a blank, cold stare. Is this the only food in the place?....I don't like oatmeal. Two Weeks Later... Ty stood in front of the large mirror at his sister's flat. Staring at the monkey suit he had put on as if it would will the tie to tie itself. You're almost thirty Tyson, why can't you tie a tie yet? He heard from behind him as sweet and caring Kimmy came around in front of him. His little sister, Ty had been worried this would be hard on her but he thought that about his dad's death too. She was strong, she would keep moving always. Kimmy... I'm sorry I wasn't around more often. Work...it just put me farther- Ty tried to explain before Kimmy put her finger to his lips to shush him. She quietly tied the fabric and straightened out his jacket. He could see the tears welding in her eyes but she held them back. Just...just promise me you'll be around more often OK? You and me, we're all each others got now. I'm gonna need my big brother around so I have someone to go to OK?....Fuck you Tyson Poole, trying to get me to cry before we even got to the funeral home. I'm gonna be crying later anyways, no tears til then.....Mum wouldn't want that. Ty just nodded before Kimmy went off to finish herself up. It had been two weeks and yet his mother's death just wasn't effecting him. She ment so much to him though which was what he didn't get. She was the one that encouraged him to chase his dream. Calling him her little Indiana, telling the young British boy that he could grow up to have amazing adventures just like Indiana Jones. Even when it didn't turn out as he thought she still was so proud. Telling all her friends and seeming very interested as he told her about the ancient Greek pot he had found. It was no ark of the convenient but she sure treated it like it was. When the cancer hit, he couldn't be home as often. He worked for the British Museum after all. One could just call off for a year and take care of his mother. He got the holidays though, Valentines day she looked fine, Thanksgiving you could surely see it, Christmas....she was on a bed in the living room, because sitting tired her out to much. It was almost one year to the diagnosis, and he wish he would have quit. The funeral was nice, Kimmy said some words, the priest had a good sermon. It was all talk though, still there were no tears from Tyson. He was stoic, emotionless. Even at the wake which for a their family was packing a pub until day break and singing songs, drinking, crying, but celebrating his mother's life rather than mourn it. Still, while he may have stayed until the very last person, he didn't cry, he barley drunk. He just sat there. Two Months Later... Oi! Ty, mate, listen my wife is going into labor. I know it's my shift but please, you got to cover for me. Curtis the night guard pleaded in front of Tyson. He just nodded and smiled. Of course! You're not gonna miss the birth of your baby. Go man! Go! Curtis smiled and ran off, hailing a cab before he even opened the door. The last two months had been, empty, like Ty was. He had asked for a cataloguing job back at the museum in London, he wasn't going to be away from Kimmy again. They agreed and set him up for the night shift, he'd go into the back and make sure that every piece of history that wasn't being shown was there. It was pretty cool for a history nerd like him but it wasn't what he wanted. Kimmy had set him up in a flat down the block from him. It had one window which looked out onto the street but the giant tree across the way blocked all sunlight from coming in. Which left his already empty apartment, dark, black. When his mom died, something died with Ty. He wasn't the same person anymore, he didn't have passion, he barley had the will to get up in the morning. Ty stood behind the security desk and looked down at the papers for the upcoming exhibits, thinking he would go double check on the items that would be moved soon. His hand froze when he saw it, his body tensing and shaking. Two days from now, a new exhibit would open up. It was going to be named, the wonders of Archeology, the past could be your future. Something about that was the knife that cut the last wire. He wondered if his parents looked at him as a failure, if they were ashamed that their son dug around in dirt all day. He was a burden to Kimmy and a waste of life. No one besides his sister even cared. It was then he heard his mother's voice, a flashback to when he would run around the house with a jump rope and that hat playing Indiana Jones. Come on Indiana! Lunch is ready! His mother's heavenly voice yelled. Tears poured like waterfalls, his breath getting caught in his throat as it tightened up. He looked around and without even thinking it he went towards the backroom. Walking past the artifacts, sobbing as he did he tried to find the key on shaky hands. The restricted area, artifacts to rare or fragile to be out in rotation. He looked around getting angrier by the minute, he was throwing items now. Vases from BC, swords from Mesopotamia, ancient Japanese scrolls. Where is it?! Where!!?! He yelled before finally seeing it, Jessie James Revolver. It had been locked away because of the countless attempts to try and steal it. When thieves hear that the biggest American thief's gun was in a museum, they got crazy. He stared at the revolver, his cheeks wet and cold. He reached out and was about to touch it, but stopped. ...Ammo, fucking hell Tyson. You can't even kill yourself right! Oh right. He said remembering that there would be bullets two shelves down. He grabbed the box of bullets, twenty four of them, so old the box was falling apart in his hand, but they would work. He put the box on the shelf next to the gun and took one out. He took a deep breath, picked up the gun, quickly loaded it and held the cold, cold steel to his temple. Tyson Poole had never been anything extraordinary. He just wanted it to all to be over. Maybe he'd find happiness on the other side. Little did he know that putting that gun to his head would not be the end of his life, but the beginning.