The Passenger [IC]

[Lone Star]

Lights flashed outside the window of the subway. Blake was seated, and the car he was in way empty. His music player was turned on, and Blake lightly tapped a beat out on his knee. The rough voice of Iggy Pop sang in his ear from his music player.

"I am the passenger and I ride and I ride, I ride through the city's backsides. I see the stars come out of the sky, yeah, the bright and hollow sky. You know it looks so good tonight..."

Tonight, Blake was a passenger as well. As the subway ran through the underground tracks of Freedom City, Blake found himself staring out the window of the subway car. Though the train moved forward, Blake's mind traveled to the past.

[Lone Star]

He looked to the left and right in the car, and made sure he was alone. A tear fell from his eye, and he quickly wiped it away. Although he acted social and fun on the outside, Blake was still mourning his parents. He buried his hands in his face and wept silently to himself. He missed them more than anything.

After his mom's death, his father retreated into his room, sometimes for days at a time. When Blake returned from a friend's house, the police told him he had killed himself. He never said good-bye, and that's what hurt him the most. His parents, who rarely spoke to him and would never tell them he loved him, died without even a goodbye.

He barely knew them at all. But Blake loved them, and he missed them.

"I am the passenger, I stay under glass. I look through my window so bright, I see the stars come out tonight."

Blake looked out the window of his car to see the lights of the tunnels flashing by. He closed his eyes, and wiped his eyes once more.

[Lone Star]

Blake tried to keep his mind off of his parents. He took off his backpack, and unzipped it. Beneath folders and school papers for Claremont was a leather-bound black book. The pages were yellowed from age, but there was no denying which book it was. The Necronomicon Ex Mortis.

He traced his fingers over the complex pentacle which made up the front cover. The book, which was simultaneously his source of power, and his greatest curse. As he ran his fingers along the pentacle, he could feel the power pulsing inside of it, like the beating of some unholy drum. He had rarely looked inside it since he had performed the ritual which gave him his power. He shivered a little, and bunched his jacket closer to him.

[Lone Star]

Blake hesitated for a a moment.

The clattering of the subway seemed to grow quieter.

He opened the book.

I see the bright and hollow sky over the city's ripped backsides, and everything looks good tonight. Singing la la la la la.. lala la la..."

The voice of Iggy Pop seemed to slow down, and the notes of the guitar became a booming bass tone. Blake looked up, and the graffiti on the subway's interior began to move and shift, becoming horrible symbols that hurt the mind to contemplate. His breathing increased, and he almost shut the book, when he saw a reflection in the mirror. A horrible madness lurking just outside the two-way glass of reality, things that humanity couldn't see, but something that could see us. He squinted his eyes, and tried to get past the hallucination.

Blake opened his eyes.

Sigh. He sat back a little, and closed the book.