(( TUMBLR EXCLUSIVE: I decided I was going to do a post of Giles’ musing and filming his memoirs. WARNING: Triggers inside, no doubt those reading this know this writing can get a bit… Dark. It will be dark here and I don’t want anyone reading upset. This is the first chunk. I am not totally pleased with it (a writers thing). So feedback on a reply or a vote to post the rest would be appreciated :). This long post is for my consistent readers, they will get to see all of Giles and all of his secrets. So thank you. If you think this is good, reblog it and spread it around, that would mean a lot. Here we go! ))
"They used to call me Mikko."
The soft voice began before the image. It hazed in to show the Watcher sitting in a chair, chest bared to show the markings he wore so proudly. Monochrome designs spread from his wrists up and onto his shoulders and chest. The right arm wrapped in jagged lines like lightning and dull knife marks, his thin left juxtaposed by peaceful swirls and circular patterns. His tattooed knuckles were laded between his legs while he sat in plain grey pants, a cigarette between fingers somewhere in the mosh of digits. Smoke wafted up in front of him and the holocam.
"I do not know why I am recording this. I just started, now I am scared to stop." He paused to take a drag and blow it out, still staring straight at the camera with the golden eyes gifted by spice though the big black pupils detracted away from the wreath of color. "I guess I wanted to leave something behind, maybe someone will find it after I kill myself and understand why… Why. I guess just why." He blinked and shifted in the chair. Quiet, like he didn’t know how to go on.
"I grew up in an affluent part of Kaas. Big houses and bigger egos." He flicked ash to the ground absently, thumb initiating the crisp maneuver. "But everyone that knows part of my history thinks I grew up in a poor complex of buildings." His voice gave a soft laugh that didn’t seem genuine. "Sometimes I lie, because I can. Because I know people will believe it. Isn’t that fucked?"
He lit another cigarette with the end of the one previously smoked before he flicked the punk away and dragged on the new one. “We had a big house. My Father was the Head of Commerce in the Imperial Logistics Division, he didn’t come around much, probably had too many cunts in the city.” He spoke bitterly, emotion leaking into his soft voice, a strange sound, like someone letting there true accent come through. He took another drag and spoke through the haze of smoke. “I am being crude.. I shouldn’t be crude. But it was true.” He shook his head, “He was home on weekends to do work in his office then he’d be gone. On holiday he would sit on his datapad and work while we were out. He didn’t talk a lot. I wish he did.” His long fingered hand ran through his bright orange hair, the well groomed strip becoming disheveled by the mussing fingers. “He gave me this though, my brother and I both. That’s all we got besides speeders and credits.”
His long body leaned back in a lounge, his body never seemed tense, like he lacked the muscle mass to do it or was unboned and made of gelatin. His wide eyes stared at the holocam unnervingly while his jaw ground back and forth, tooth to tooth. “We needed him. Or something to give us a male to look up to. My mother had no lover, my brother and I had no model. Maybe that isn’t so bad, you know? We became our own men. I wouldn’t want to be like him.” His thin lips tightened around the cigarette and blew out thoughtfully. “Maybe I ended up like him. I did.. What a trip.” The same tense, remembering laugh came back for an encore.
"I don’t know how mother did it. Probably a lot of booze. Looking back she always seemed to drink. She never went anywhere, just sat about that big, clean, empty house by herself and just thought how fucking stupid she was." His head drooped a bit and he exhaled hard from the bottoms of his thick lungs. "Everything was so clean." He shook his head, brow knitting in hard thought, "Every bit had it’s place. From the couch to the vases on the end table. Sterilized, that’s a good word." His head shook, brow relaxing. "Mother… Yes."
His cigarette lit another in a slow chain of carcinogens and smoke to taint whatever room he lounged in. “She never cleaned though, it was always this green Twi’lek,” His hand rubbed his side absently, “She was my nanny too. I don’t remember her name. I was little..” His hand still stroked at his side, “Eight or nine, we were sitting about outside, she hade made us go, my brother and I were more comfortable in our rooms. But she stood in our lawn and danced for us. Laughing and trying to get us to join. She would get us too, make us giggle and spin and flail around. She slithered and…” His hand made a serpentine gesuture. “Moved!”He sat back and relaxed. “Our small bodies just… Jerked and bounced.” He laughed, this time it had a looser edge.
"Then Mother died." He frowned almost at his own bluntness. "Just, gave up on it all I guess. She didn’t kill herself it was just like…" His hand thumped his chest lightly, "Her… Well she just quit. But by then we were well into primary schooling. I was Thirteen and my brother was ten. Up until then schooling was uninteresting." He ashed his cigarette and looked back up. "It wasn’t stimulating, everyone was so slow too. I read really fast, first to learn how and didn’t stop. Every symbol and glyph I learned and read. I didn’t forget it. So I remembered." He disposed of another cigarette on the deck.
His hands reached back and laced behind his head. “I kept up and beyond my classmates for all of it, so it never was a priority. My marks began to fall, neglecting to do projects and homework, but my test scores were above average. They called me lazy and that I did not apply myself. I didn’t argue, I didn’t talk much.” He smiled to show the front of his teeth between his lips.
"So I started to run with other rejects and the ones who did not apply themselves. Bored and rich we didn’t have much supervision or things to do. So we rode speeders and threw things not to be thrown at buildings and people. We thought it was funny." Both his hands laid his hair down flat, running flat from front to eyes and then back to rest. "Started to smoke cigarettes and steal clothes to keep up with the fashion,I had credits but stealing was fun." He bit his bottom lip in thought, but mostly to stop his teeth from grinding when he paused. "The first time I did ryll was about… Fourteen years old. He came up boasting about his new pusher and how all he did was blow Ryll. So he gave us all some, a little bump, child’s thing." He held up a hand with the symbol of ‘forg’ across his knuckles. He splayed fingers, the other hand inked with ‘iven’, forefinger pointed at the webbing of his thumb and pointer. "Just a little hill of red, put it to your nose and inhaled." Both his hands dropped to his lap. "It made me gag and sneeze. Everyone else did the same, even the kid that did it all the time." He laughed curtly then shook his head.
He finally looked away, off the camera. “It was always rainy and dreary there in Kaas City, but some days always seemed greyer. It was a day like that, they came over, four friends of mine, I forgot their names.” He grimaced a bit, “No… I remember them. But I don’t like the sound of them. It had just got done raining and everything was dripping on my head. They were all rushed, grinning but they looked anxious, scared, pale… They told me to hurry up and follow. So I did, I didn’t have anywhere to be.” He tensed his lips again, his jaw strafing back and forth. “They took me to this alley way, clean like the rest of the City, but it felt disgusting. It was too dark. They walked me… They walked me back to an alcove where large bins were. I heard crying and snuffling before I rounded the corner. There were two more guys, older, but I knew them too.” He rolled his shoulders as if easing some tension, or preparing for more.
"There was a girl I remembered from school We had just graduated, I remember her from the ceremony where we became Citizens of the Empire. She was very pretty then, but on the ground there she was ugly and filthy. Her clothes were all torn up and her face was bleeding, she looked like she only had one eye." He swallowed hard, paling a bit. Just a bit. "They laughed and slapped each other on the back. Now it’s a blur, I tried to forget but you can’t… You know that? It’s like deleting a hard copy of a piece of art. Other than purging it with flame… It stays around." His hands came up and his head drooped into them. Hands rubbed his face and he made a soft sigh, speaking thickly through his hands. "They were all around her with their cocks ou—" He shook his head abruptly and stood. The Holofaded out.
The imaged would shoot out right after the other faded. He must have spliced it together.
Now he had another cigarette in his fingers, and his eyes were wide, body seeming energized and even more relaxed. He still looked sad though, maybe it was thoughtful. “I did it too.” He picked back up again, voice louder and sure of itself. “I know I did the unthinkable. It is a thing that should never be forgiven. I still carry that black all over me. That taint.” He shivered, “But somewhere in there, in that frenzy of evil… Someone turned and shouted. I looked back too and saw him there. My little brother, he was smart, he knew what was happening. So he just looked on curiously. He was smart. Smarter than me…” He shook his head. “Maybe we were part of a genetics program. That would be exciting.” He took a drag and blew it out his nose.
Everyone stopped and looked at him, I was trying to stuff myself back in my pants and walking to him telling to leave. I was embarrassed, that is when I realized what I had just done, I felt sick. They all started to shout at me, telling me he couldn’t tell and that he would just run off and rat. But I knew he wouldn’t, I just couldn’t talk through my tight throat.” He tensed up, neck bulging and he breathed it out with a cloud of smoke. “The oldest one came up to me and told me he couldn’t leave, that he needed to die because if someone found out I would never get into a good Furthering Education Program, no one would. He convinced me there, telling me all that shit. That he would do it. It had to be done. My brother never ran away, only looked on with big curious blue eyes.” He smiled sadly, putting it on to hide the frown. “He was so smart.” He repeated.
"So I just hit him one, it hurt my hand. He fell down, then I just at him, maybe it was because I was angry at myself. Like I could beat out my own hate for myself. So I busted up my hands and kicked him when they were done. He didn’t move and I didn’t look at him. So I turned and puked while they all sped off. I was 16. I ran away, then forgot my speeder when I was a klick away, I had to run back hoping no one found him." He let his head fall back to stare at the ceiling while he took a drag. He spoke from that position, "I got home and went straight to my datapad I had bought a while ago. It was mostly new, I used the stolen one I got a few years ago, it had all my files. I had already made a plan on the way there." His head came forward to stare back at the Holorecorder.
"I sat there for hours and hours in solitude, no one ever came in. It took me nearly twelve hours. I had taken up a bit of a personal interest in tech and that sort of science. I started slicing people’s accounts at school, then the school and my neighbors. But never had I tried to slice Imperial Records. But I did it. I had to, necessity drove me. I made up totally new records. Banished the name Neir as my surname and left Mikko. The only risk I took was to take my brother’s name." He straightened up and spoke slowly and precisely, "I stole Identification Numbers from a neighbor who’s son had just been born. Changed the child’s to a new set, he was young and not very spread across the Net, they would just assume a small error and take the new one. Too many babies being born. I covered my tracks and just doctored the rest. Put my age to eighteen and wrote the rest."
He had a new cigarette and lit it, pausing only to complete the task. “Then I just slept. It was only because I was tired. I still felt sick and my fingers and head hurt. I woke up in the dark and moved downstairs in the same clothes I had worn during the.. Murder.” He said the word harshly, like he was forcing it out. “There was a little blood on my pants but I wasn’t worried. My dad was sitting and drinking, on his fucking datapad. He looked up and asked where my brother was. I shrugged, he did too, then he went back to reading. I left and made a prayer his fingers would break and he would go blind. Then maybe he’d be a real person.” His body twitched and he grunted but he wrestled his muscles to softness.
"I took a cab into the city, then walked the rest of the way. I wasn’t worried about it, I knew I was safe from trouble now. I was confident. I rented a room in a large hotel with my false I.D, I drank everything in the personal fridge. I threw up, that’s why I don’t drink anymore. I walked into the Marine Station nearby in the morning still in my same change of clothes. Now I looked the party of a less affluent boy and more an disgruntled teen. I handed them my documents without a word. They let me stay overnight on a cot before we left the next morning.
I boarded the shuttle with a few other dirty people and sat in silence, I think I only said yes sir once when the Sargent screamed at me.” He shrugged apathetically. “I didn’t feel like talking. Nothing to say.”
He looked to the recorder and shrugged.
"I can’t do this anymore."
He rose and cut it off.