Me

I keep thinking about all the things I've dived into in my pursuit for an identity. I remember a couple of years ago when I became a furry, and I just...whole hog. Or at least as whole hog as I was willing to go given my budget and my anxiety at getting found out that I was part of a fandom notorious for weird sex acts.
It never occurred to me to buy a fursuit, that felt like that one step too far, y'know? But I did commission art, roleplay in some channels as my fursona (a rat with cybernetic limbs for extra EDGE), start referring to myself as a furry, etc. I never really felt attached to the fandom too much, though. Never really made that extra push.
A few years before that it was LARP. Live Action Role Playing for those not in the know. And I gave to that with just as much, if not more, relish. It helped that this particular identity-defining activity was slightly more socially acceptable, at least among my peer group, so I didn't have to hide it from anyone. I was able to freely talk about my adventures as an elf wizard among my friends, both LARPers and non, without fear of weird looks or being abandoned by closest associates.
And then something else happened in my life, I'm not sure when, or how, or why but I made a discovery about myself. I don't know how else to put it, but it's weird to realize that you're transgender at post-30, and I found I was starting to dive into this just as much...when I had to take a step back and examine.
Being trans is not a fandom. It's not a fun activity that you share with your friends. It's an identity. And while I'd been seeking identity in those other activities, not all of which I've listed here, it never occurred to me that this would be the one that I found. And this has caused me no end of angst, as much as that word is sort of a joke these days, because I find myself wondering if it's real or not.
I feel like it's real. I want it to be real. But...what if it isn't? What if it's just another activity I've found, another bid for identity that I'm desperately clinging to until something else comes along and snaps up my attention? This is one of my greatest fears. I hate this feeling. I hate myself.
I think, when it comes down to it, real or not...the root of the problem is that I desperately just want to be anything other than myself. Because that's what all these things have in common, a desire to be something that I choose to be instead of what was thrust on me by random chance and biology. And I hate that because...if it's not real, what does that mean? Does that mean I can never really be happy? Does that mean I can never really be satisfied?
I wish this was an article with a nicely rounded out thesis and a good conclusion paragraph, but the truth is this is just my thoughts spilling out over the keyboard almost randomly while I have the inclination to let them out. I don't even know if it has a point.

The Thing in the Dark

There was something in the dark, sitting on Claire's bed, staring at her with bright yellow eyes. It was vaguely humanoid, a head, two arms relaxed in its lap ending in hands that ended in fingers that were too long to be human. It seemed to have legs, or at least two appendages that protruded from what appeared to be a humanoid torso. It had a neck which terminated in a head, a head that was oddly shaped with hollow eyes and a wide, too wide, mouth filled with too many teeth.

Claire couldn't move, wasn't sure she should move, under that thing's gaze. It didn't blink, just sat on the end of her bed and watched her in the darkness, grinning. It didn't move for what seemed like forever, finally leaning forward and opening its mouth as if to speak. Claire feared that whatever the creature had to say would be the last thing she ever heard, and that when it was done telling her whatever secret it wanted to reveal to her that she would beg for the sweet mercy of a slow and painful death.

It didn't get the chance. I wasn't going to give it that chance. I burst from the closet, my good friend Ted behind me bellowing at the top of his lungs, and I swung the baseball bat I held in both clenched fists, an old-style solid wood Louiville Slugger, with all of the force my meager muscles could summon and cracked the monster on the side of the head just as it twisted its head in rage and alarm to face us.

There was a noise like a crash of thunder and my arms went numb from the force of the blow. When I looked up to see the creature it looked more annoyed than anything, and the solid chunk of broken wood that had once been a bat fell from my nerveless fingers. The noise that came out of my throat at that moment was something between a whimper and a gurgle as I fought back vomit.

I heard Ted curse behind me as he slammed into my back, his momentum making me stumble forward just in time for the monster to stand up. It reached out and wrapped a hand around my throat, choking off my cries as those over long fingers encircled my neck and cut off my air supply. It hissed and pushed both of us back with little effort, pinning me to Ted and Ted to the wall.

"You..." it hissed, dark slime dripping from its maw, "We've seen you, both of you."

It began to laugh as it squeezed and my eyes bulged. My left hand grasped at its wrist while the right dug into my pocket, trying desperately to grip onto the small object inside.

"Get it, man," Ted tried to whisper in my ear, "Stick him, c'mon!"

I rolled my eyes just in time for the creature to grab my other wrist with its free hand and pull my hand out of my pocket. It looked at what I held and laughed again, its gruesome chuckle full of derisive mirth.

"Dammit, Ted," I muttered, or would have. It actually came out as, "Gasp, wheeze,"

The monster held my wrist in an iron grip and locked its eyes on mine as it shook the pocket knife loose from my hand. The tiny blade hit the carpet with a dull thud.

"If the bat didn't do the trick, you thought a penknife would solve the problem?" it asked maliciously.

I gurgled a reply, Ted cursed and tried to push me off of him, and the creature just laughed again, "We are eternal," it began, a familiar, infuriating smugness creeping into the rasp of its voice, "We have been here since man first woke, and we will be here until the last of you dies. You are a fool, and more than that, you are a dead man."

I glared at it, rage filling my mind. I hated these things, these monsters, with their superiority complexes, playing games and thinking it's okay to use people as pawns. I'd rather have been at home, playing Xbox and getting baked with Ted, but I just couldn't stand to let these bastards keep winning.

Behind me, Ted was silent, in an uncharacteristic show of solidarity for my own forced muteness I assumed at the time. The thing holding me kept monologuing, and I kept staring at it with laser focused hate, so only Ted wasn't caught off-guard when Claire came up behind the monster and jammed the pointed end of the broken slugged into its spine.

It shrieked, not in pain but in rage, and backhanded the girl, launching her across the room and slamming her into the other wall, which caused a family photo to crack and fall off to the floor alongside her. The change in the creature's center of gravity gave Ted the wiggle room he needed, and he dived to the floor, grasping the penknife quickly and tossing it toward my free hand, already open.

I grinned as well as I could as it landed in my palm, and I brought it down on the monster's forearm just as it turned back to face me. This time, there was pain.

The wound, small as it was, sizzled and burned as I dug the two-inch knife into the meat of its arm, and it was forced to let go of me. I ripped the blade free and gasped for breath, while the monster cradled its wounded arm and looked at me with a combination of surprise and fear.

"What..." it hissed, "What sort of...what is that!?"

I brandished the knife and stepped forward, "Come find out," I said, taunting it.

Ted laughed, "Osmium, bitch!," he screamed, invalidating my badass moment, "400 dollars an ounce, but worth every fuckin' penny!"

Looking to Ted, then back to me, then down to the knife, the monster took a step back, "This isn't over," it said, fading into the shadows, "Not at all."

When it left, I dropped the knife, "Ted, check on Claire," I said, slumping back against the wall and slowly sliding to the floor, "Make sure she isn't dead. Fuck."

He did as I asked and I leaned my head against the wall. That was close, and we'd survived, but it hadn't been the plan. We'd have to be better prepared next time, though I wasn't sure how we could get more prepared than an osmium plated knife. Fuck, I hated this job, and I knew for sure it wasn't over. Creatures like that don't leave empty threats.

I closed my eyes, exhausted. The whole thing had happened over the course of maybe ten or fifteen seconds, but it felt like a year at least, "Ted," I said, my voice already thick, "Get her...get her to the hospital if she needs it. I'm just...I'm just gonna take a nap."

Ted said something back to me, but I didn't hear it. I was already starting to dream.

Hunger

I scratch at the door, the smell of sweet flesh calling to me from inside. My limbs, no longer agile as they once were, weak with decay, pound the wooden surface, unable to find purchase. My mouth hangs open, fetid green slime oozing from my slackened jaw as I moan out wordless pleas. I'm so hungry it hurts. The pain is all encompassing,  and the only thing standing between me and relief is a simple, two inch thick plank of wood, but I am not strong enough to break through. I try the handle, but my fingers won't close tight enough to open it.

It wasn't always this way, I know, but it's hard to remember anything before I woke up in the box, so deep under the earth. I don't know how I found the strength to claw free of the dirt, to pull my rotting body from the ground,  but I did it. The hunger was so strong, and when I tasted the groundskeeper it was so sweet, and for a moment I could think. I heard screams, and looked to see someone else had witnessed my feast. I reached out, trying to assure them that the hunger was sated, I was alright, they didn't have anything to fear, but all that came out was a gurgling moan and a wet slapping noise as a hunk of the groundskeeper fell from my jaw and hit the pavement.

They ran, and I suppose I can't really blame them, and I followed. I just wanted to reassure them, but it didn't take long before I was hungry again. They ran into this building, the groundskeepers shed I think, and locked the door. A minute ago the groundskeeper joined me, and I'm not sure there will be enough to share. I can smell them in there, and I know they can hear me. I'm so, so hungry.

Milk Run pt. 5

The machine gun barked and spewed a rain of imaginary, digital ammunition.  The minotaur's reaction was immediate, stopping in its tracks and throwing its arms up defensively. The construct absorbed the impact of the bullets, stepping back on one leg to brace itself. It roared in pain and frustration.

I grinned wide and advanced, pushing the creature backwards down the hallway. My grin disappeared, however, when the thing swatted at me with one massive hand. I fiddled with some code as fast as I could, raising the gun up to block the strike, watching as the heavy weapon transformed in my hand and became a massive riot shield.  I grunted as I did my best to absorb the impact, but fell backwards onto my digital ass.

I scrambled as the monster reared back for another blow, and threw up my shield again. My arm went numb under the force, and I was reasonably certain my meat body was sporting a nosebleed. Thinking fast, I slammed my free hand to the ground and executed one of my programs, summoning forth a riot geared avatar next to me that began throwing out suppressive fire.

The minotaur howled and staggered back, giving me a moment to breathe. I rolled back and slapped my palm to the floor again, and summoned up another avatar, this time to the opposite side of the beast. Using the distraction to my advantage,  I took another look around.

The data point was right behind it, and I grinned. All I had to do know was get to it. Grunting with effort, I burst forward in a blur of motion and slid between the monster's legs.

I reached the data point, a glowing orb made of digital light and code, and slammed my fists into it to begin the download.  In a matter of moments, I had transferred the contents of the node into my brain, and then from my brain into the hard drive plugged into my cyberdeck. I grinned and jacked out.

Back in meatspace, I came to and yanked the cord out of the terminal,  "Let's get out of here," I barked at Drex, "I've got what we came for."

She nodded, and together we headed out the window of the top floor, rapelling down the side of the building towards freedom and payday.

Johnson was at the agreed location and delivered as promised. It took all of my effort not to rip his skinny neck out, but I held back and we got paid.

About an hour later, Drex and I were sipping soykaf and wondering what to do with the money. She tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out a figure approaching carefully from one of the alleys nearby, dressed in a high-nuyen suit and a wide open greatcoat, his golden eyes locked in our direction and his mouth pulled up into a predatory grin.

When he got close enough, he extended his hand to us, "My name is Hans Brackhaus," he said in a thick German accent, "and I represent Saeder-Krupp. I'm here to offer you a job."

I curled my lip in a snarl, but Drex waved me off, "What kind of job?" She asked.

The German chuckled, "Smash and grab," he said, smiling and showing far too many teeth, "your standard milk run."

There is no such thing as a milk run, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.

Milk Run, pt 4

I nodded to her and gathered my unholstered my pistol, handing it to her handle first, "We both know you can handle yourself without this, but for my peace of mind, take it," I told her. She did as I asked, and I bent down to pick up my damaged cyberdeck.

"There'll be more coming," I said as I inspected 'deck, the device that allowed me to jack into the Matrix and explore cyberspace in full VR. It was still usable. I cracked it open and began to make some quick fixes, sort of a mechanical first-aid, so I could try again.

"Is it slagged?" Drex asked me as she scanned the points of entry into the small office, her eyes focused down the sights of my pistol.

I shook my head and grinned at her, my Troll tusks protruding garishly, "Never," I said, and pulled the connecting cable free from it's sheath on the side of the 'deck, "Now keep your eyes open. I'm going back."

She nodded, and I plugged the cable into the datajack slot on the side of my head, firmly connecting my brain via a network of cybernetic cables to the computer in my lap, and began typing the commands to jack myself into full VR.

My vision faded away, abruptly replaced with streams of code as I adjusted my perceptions to virtual reality. It didn't take long before the visual representation flooded in, replacing code with a network of faintly glowing filing cabinets in an office building similar in shape to the one I was in back in meatspace, only far, far larger. This building was more akin to a massive warehouse filled with cabinets than a small records room. I gasped at the size of it, and shook my digital head. Now was not the time for wonder.

Quickly I assembled my persona, my online representation, and made sure I had everything that I'd need. Autosoft weaponry, maybe a few drone programs for backup, and now I was prepared for the inevitable intrusion countermeasures.

This was the fun part. In reality, decking is just hacking on steroids; sorting through lines of code and moving things around to make things more accessible, exploiting weaknesses in firewalls and the like. Seen through the lenses of VR, however, it's much more impressive as visual representations based on both the decker's and the target's imaginations are displayed, and since my mind was jacked directly to the computer system I was able to perform operations at the speed of thought rather than the speed of my typing fingers or clicking mouse.

I activated some of my autosoft programs, represented visually by a suit of Corp-issue body armor and a massive automatic weapon. I grinned, and my persona grinned in turn, and I began to stalk through the halls of the cyber-complex to find the data we'd been hired to find.

Last time it had seemed like a piece of cake, and so it followed this time. As before, I wandered the virtual warehouse looking at file numbers and names until I came upon the one I was looking for, displayed on one of the warehouse shelves seemingly 50 feet or so in front of me. I knew now, though, that as I entered this hallway and got closer to the file in question, I would be set upon by incredibly dangerous black intrusion countermeasures. I was prepared.

Right on schedule, it arrived, materializing in front of me, coming into focus as a giant, four-armed minotaur. It towered above me, almost too tall to be real which, of course, it wasn't. I leveled my assault rifle at the big bastard and grinned.

TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART 5

Milk Run, pt 3

It's 2075. A lot has changed since the old days. Cybernetic enhancements are relatively commonplace, the rule of law has been largely replaced by corporate decree, men and women can cruise a fully VR Matrix or overlap their day-to-day with Augmented Reality. Despite all of that, some practices and traditions going back thousands of years are still in practice today.

When the Awakening brought magic back to the world in the early part of the 21st century, a lot of these traditions gained new life. Hermetic magic, shamanism, and ancient martial arts disciplines that fuse magic and physical combat all have new adherents. Drex was about to give the wageslave mercenaries that had fired on us a lesson in some of that.

She was standing now, and a malicious grin stretched across her face as she cracked her knuckles, "All right, boys," she said, her voice soft, "Who wants it first?'

The two of them looked dumbfounded to one another, then back to Drex, before reloading their guns without another word. I chuckled from my hiding spot, "Go for the guy on the left. I don't like the way he parts his hair."

Drex nodded and, still smiling, dropped into a fighting crouch as her whole body began to glow. Literally. She was emanating a soft, golden light in waves that made small bits of dust on the floor spin around in a thin vortex around her.

You'll have to take this next part on my word, because I didn't experience it myself, but later she described it to me.

She closed her eyes, shutting out the enhanced visuals usually provided by her cybereyes, and allowed her other senses to extend outward. She smelled the oil in the guns, the sweat on the mercs foreheads, and the powder in their ammunition. She felt the shifts in the air around her as they began to raise their weapons. She heard their fingers tense on the triggers. She could taste the pressure change as the miniature explosions that sent the bullets from the barrels went off. Then she moved.

Watching her was like watching ballet. She danced through the air as they began to fire, filling the air with leaden death. She twirled, spun, jumped, and dived over, under, and around their bullets as she made her way toward them.

After an instant that felt like an eternity she landed in front of Lefty, her eyes still closed, and snatched his gun from him by the still hot barrel. Absently, she brought it across her body, tossing it into Righty's face. There was crack as his nose broke and he staggered backward, but Drex wasn't nearly done yet.

Like flowing water she continued to move, her eyes still closed, as her free hand curled into a fist and found it's way into Lefty's windpipe. From where I was sitting, I could almost hear it crunch and collapse, and Lefty fell to the ground. Righty came at her, blood running freely and mixing with tears as it ran down his face, and swung his gun at her like a club. She dodged lightly, ducking down and coming back up so that her shoulder slammed into his extended elbow. Her hands came out of nowhere, one moving down and the other moving up, and using her shoulder as a fulcrum she snapped his arm nearly in half.

The glow faded as she opened her eyes. She smiled at me, "C'mon, Gavin. Let's get what we came for and get the frag out of here."

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4

Milk Run, pt 2

As quick as I could manage, which was pretty quick considering how much cyberware was lining my nervous system and musculature, I snatched Drex by the arm and hurled her in front of me and away, towards a large statue of a Greek warrior goddess that stood on the left side of the office we were in. I dove after her, hiding my bulk as well as I could behind the relatively small hunk of stone.

"What in the...!?", she shouted, before slapping at me ineffectually, "Are you totally whacked? What happened!?"

I grunted and reached into my coat, pulling out a small device, a round, flat thing about the size of a human palm. Like a hockey puck with buttons.

"They had Black ICE, Drex," I explained, pressing a few buttons on the device and sliding across the floor behind us, towards our attackers, "Intrusion countermeasures, the highly illegal and really, really nasty kind. I almost didn't manage to jack out in time."

I pointed to the back of my neck, where my cyberdeck, now ruined, would normally be plugged into the base of my skull. Wires still dangled from it, from where I had simply ripped them out of the deck instead of my head.

Johnson had told us this job would be simple. A smash and grab. A milk run. Go in, take out a few guards, and extract a file marked "Rutherford". He'd claimed it wouldn't be well protected, and we'd believed him.

"You're supposed to be the hot drek Decker, Gavin," Drex said, inspecting the cables briefly. I pushed her away idly, closing my eyes and switching to Augmented Reality.

"Not now, Drex," I muttered, opening my eyes and focusing on the picture-in-picture display that popped into the left side of my vision, taking up a quarter or so of my total view, "I have to concentrate."

The disk I had hurled at the guards behind us, two mundanes with machine guns and a wagemage, sprouted eight little legs and an eye stalk, then stood and scuttled over to our attackers unnoticed while they continued their assault. On the end of the eye stalk it had a small, but excellent, camera that was feeding into my commlink and filling the picture-in-picture display of my AR. I grinned and directed my little spider-bot towards the wagemage.

Our attackers finally took notice of us when the spider-bot leaped up a full eight feet and wrapped it's legs around the mage's head, enveloping it. The mage screamed and stumbled backward, reeling and spinning his arms, shouting for his allies to get the thing off of him. I allowed myself to finally laugh out loud when I sent the command to flip the kill-switch, shorting out the drone's systems and sending a several thousand volt shock through the wizard.

He dropped to the ground and shook violently, his body seizing. Drex took that as an opportunity. Smiling, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and stood, her whole body glowing as she dropped into a fighting stance.

PART 3 TOMORROW...