riverviewlogs | [OPEN] As I arrived I thought I saw you leaving, carrying your shoes

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[OPEN] As I arrived I thought I saw you leaving, carrying your shoes

who: Jamie Dodger and YOU!
what: Memory-sharing, in both day-flash and dream flavors.
when: All throughout the event.
where: ~Dreamscape~
warnings: Drug use/alcoholism, child abuse, domestic abuse, violence/murder, mentions of sexual violence, and just... y'know. Dodger's life.

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i. revolution

[This is a rather long flash, but it crops up during the day - in first person, from the eyes of someone quickly stalking through the shadows of an alleyway. As he reaches a turn, a burly young man with glasses and ill-fitting clothing comes to speak to him.]

Demarco's here. Shen was with him when he showed up, but he ran off again - we can track Shen down if you want, but it won't help anything if-

Let Shen go. I've got him where I need him, no need to piss off the BLQ. [Dodger looks the man over, focus narrowing on a small cut just barely visible under his bangs, by his hairline.] Where were you last night?

What? Nowhere. [The man glances around, bemused, before shaking his head.] Come on, Demarco's this way.

[Without another word Dodger follows him, to meet two more men holding a third by his arms. The man is struggling, unkempt and clearly drugged up on something, and his body stretches unnaturally - like rubber - as he tries to struggle away from the other two. Still, he can't shape his body shape quite enough to escape. As soon as he spots Dodger he stops, a manic smile on his face.]

Thank god. Dodger. Dodger, Dodger, you're with me on this, yeah? C'mon, kid, those fuckers oughta know we're around, right, gotta show a message, send a-

[He can't get any further than that, before Dodger's put a bullet through his head. His face is caught in a look of shock, as the men release him and he melts into a sickening puddle of misshapen limbs. Dodger barely looks at it before turning back to the man he'd followed here.]

You can handle this shit yourself next time, Johnny. I mean it. If I have to personally deal with every fucking idiot that thinks revolution means standing on top of a cop car shouting threats, we're never getting anything done. Yeah?

[Johnny is stunned as he turns, but he hears the man chattering to one of the others - 'he remembered my name!' Dodger lets out a sneer before the flash ends, returning the viewer to their daily routine.]

ii. useful

[This is a shorter flash. It lasts only a few moments - from a first-person perspective of a rather short teenager, the viewer is watching a man repeatedly smash an acoustic guitar into the ground. The guitar isn't particularly expensive looking, but the boy is trembling with rage and fear as he sees it. The man is much larger than him, a drunk monster dressed like a greaser from the 50's and reeking of booze and women.

The guitar's body snaps away from its neck, and he stomps it down a few times before kicking it aside and grabbing the boy by his ear.]

Stop wasting your money on this worthless shit, understand? [The man barks at him, aiming a smart whack to his head with the guitar's neck before tossing it aside.] You got no use for it. 'Cause I got no use for it. And if you ain't useful to me, you ain't. Useful. Got it?

[The boy can't manage a response, but he gets out a choked sob before the memory ends.]

iii. blood

[Another day flash, about medium length. The viewer is now in the perspective of a young boy, sitting on the ledge of a dizzyingly tall building. Another man is sitting just behind him, legs on either side of him to effectively trap him against edge of the building. In his hands, young Dodger is holding a large sniper rifle, heavy in his arms despite his growing musculature.]

Let's check out that playground, you see anyone there?

Yeah. [His voice betrays him as roughly 12 during this memory, and his accent is a muddled mixture of London and Boston.] Two girls and a boy.

Let's play with some female empowerment. [The man mutters, motioning for Dodger to pull the gun up.] You know what the difference between girls and women is? Blood.

I don't...

The boy, kid. Aim it at the boy.

[Dodger hesitates, but he raises the gun and watches through the crosshair. His target is a middle schooler, apparently keeping an eye on the two girls who seem to be about eight. Dodger is silent for a few moments before putting the gun down.]

Paul, I can't do it.

It's one fuckin' button, how hard could it be.

But I-

Pull it, or I'm shoving you off the wall. Benny's orders.

[Dodger swallows uncomfortably, and lifts the gun again. The memory ends as he trains the gun on his target and pulls the trigger, squeezing his eyes shut before he sees the results.]

iv. patricide

[This is a dream, giving space for the viewer to watch in third person. Dodger himself is watching from third person himself, sitting at the far corner of the room, but may not be noticeable at first. There's something that catches the viewer's attention much more.

The room seems to be an old-fashioned diner, something common in the 50's, which has been cleaned up and closed for the night. by the wall of the room, near the window, one table is occupied by two men and populated by several bottles. The man is recognizable from the second day flash, if one say both; he dresses like a 50's greaser, and has slicked black hair with thick sideburns that flow into rugged scruff. The other is a teenage boy, roughly 16. His hair is ruffled and messy, but stylishly so, and he evidently has done his best to imitate the man with scruffy sideburns and patchy stubble. There's a red kerchief tied around his neck, complimenting the spiked leather jacket he's wearing and the studded knuckles on his leather gloves. Surely this can't be Dodger... the colors are all right, the moody look is right, but he's missing his iconic scars and he looks scrawny as hell.]

When are you gonna stop spending your money on that worthless shit?

[The man looks up then, his eyes blazing with a silent challenge. The young Dodger stares back evenly, his green eyes cold with hatred.]

What do you know about worthless shit, kiddo.

What are you trying to get at?

Anthony said he caught you out with that girl again last night.

Yeah? So what?

So you were on security last night. That wasn't a fuckin' suggestion.

[The man slams his fist into the table, and Dodger flinches before sitting up a bit to make up for the fallen ground.]

I can’t spend all my time out with you, I’ve got a life outside of-

[The man shoves himself to his feet, towering over Dodger as his chair clatters to the floor.] Let me make one thing very, painfully clear to you, Dodger - I made you. You don’t got nothin’ outside o’ my house and my givin’ hands. Ya got that?

[Dodger gets to his feet as well, circling the table to confront him.] You don’t own me, Benny, I can do what I-

[The man doesn't dignify him with an argument. Dodger shrieks at the first punch to his face, and his hands fly up to protect himself only for Benny to grab his wrist, turn him to slam his face into the wall, twist his arm until he cries out again in pain.]

If it weren’t for me, you woulda died eight years ago just like your whore mother. I been keepin’ you safe, keepin’ you fed, givin’ you a good life, and I sure as all hell didn’t have to.

[Dodger wilts in his grip, head tipping to reveal blood leaking from his nose and a bruise on his brow, and body shaking as he’s released and just leans against the wall, panting.]

Now. You wanna reconsider your values, kid? [Dodger shakily nods his head, and Benny releases him with a sneer.] Good. Then I got one more errand for you to run. I want that Janet girl’s head on a platter.

N- wait. No, I'm not gonna-

Sorry. I didn't hear that. [Benny grasps Dodger's hair, rearing his head back and slamming it hard into the wall until the kid staggers in a daze.] What was your answer?

[Dodger's hand snaps up to grab Benny by the jaw, and with inhuman strength he shoves him back toward the table. He gets up shakily, legs trembling, and wipes the blood from his nose before tightening his fists. Benny lunges, but Dodger is smaller and faster and shoves him backward into the table, smashing his head against glass bottles that crack onto the floor. Under the sudden weight, the table snaps in half and leaves them fallen on the floor.

Dazed for only a moment, the older man grabs the neck of a broken bottle and slashes it across the teenager's face - four fresh cuts appear; one across his brow and nose, one across his cheekbone and lips, one along his jaw and chin, and a thin and shallow one dangerously close to his eye, along the front of his cheekbone. Dodger doesn't seem to notice at all, not even hesitating as he throws a punch at the man's face. It lands, but a moment later Benny has grabbed him by the throat and is snickering as the boy chokes.]

That all you got, sonny boy?

[The dream is still going, and the fight continues in front of you, and the older Dodger moves to approach you.]

This is private, and graphic. Pick a reason to make yourself scarce.

[Despite the words... he can't seem to keep his eyes off of the fight. And he looks like he could use some kind words, or at least the company.]

v. common ground - Ivar

[Ivar gets a special treat - a private viewing experience of one of Dodger's memories. This is in third person, and stars a Dodger that looks to be about eight. He has no scars, but he has ruffled and unkempt hair and a dangerously thin body. He stumbles as he walks through the messy and small kitchen, gripping onto a dishtowel tightly as he moves toward the dining table.

A short woman with brilliantly red hair snatches the towel from him, smacking him smartly with it as she speaks with a thick russian accent.]

Always you are clinging to things. If that is dirty, will you still be clinging?

[Dodger wilts, and reaches as if to take it again before his shoulders slump and he moves to sit at the dining room table. Beside him, a darker boy with messy black hair is playing with an empty cup, his blue eyes bright with concentration. After a moment he looks up and nearly speaks to Dodger before the man seen in the other dreams slams the door open, strolling over casually to sit across from them and slump in his chair. A minute of silence passes, before he raises a brow at Dodger.]

What, not even a greeting?

Morning, Mr. McQueen.

Morning, Mr. McQueen. [Benny scoffs, rolling his eyes.] Benny. We're family now, right

[Dodger hesitates, looking away as Benny's eyes sharpen.]

Right?

Uh-hm.

Right. [Benny huffs, turning to speak to the Russian woman still cooking busily.] Just got back from burying the kid's mom... lemme tell ya, that dumb bitch was heavy for all she talked up being sooo hungryyy... Bet she did fine keeping him fed by drinking c-

[Dodger's fist slams into the table, a flash of fire scorching the wood. The room falls silent, and even the cup that the other boy was playing with goes fully still. Benny rises up out of his chair, and towers over the two boys as Dodger shrinks into his seat, his eyes suddenly wide with fear.]

That table cost more than your mom's ever spent on you. Do you wanna apologize, little man?

[The kid Dodger continues to cower, too afraid to talk... and the adult Dodger appears, leaning against the wall behind Ivar while they observe the scene.]

Fuck are you doing in my private thoughts, Speed Racer?

[He's not even angry. He's just tired.]

vi. warning - Shigeru

[Shigeru gets a dream of Dodger at nearly his current age; he is about 19. He's sitting on an eggcrate in what looks like the basement of a bar, surrounded by cigarette smoke and the smell of liquor. Two men are playing pool in a corner, while he chats with three more to the side of that. Dodger is just in the middle of a story when the memory starts.]

-So she gets in the car, glances in the back to look for her purse or some shit, and this girl's fucking panties are still in the back seat. I start thinking, fuck, she's gotta be smart enough to figure that out. She turns to me, bats her dumb little doe eyes, says 'Jamie, what are those?'

Your name's JAMIE? [One of the men laughs, and Dodger laughs along with him after swatting him playfully with a hand.]

Yeah, keep the fuck up. So she says 'Jamie, what are those?' and I say 'ah, my friend had a girl back there. Just let 'em have their fun'. Like I was gonna jack a car and then let someone else get off behind me on the way back, right? But check this, the dumb broad actually believed it.

[The group laughs, and as it settles one of the men playing pool leans against the table to watch them.]

So fess up, JAMIE, how many girls you sleeping with around these parts?

Including your mom? [He takes a swig, shrugging as he leans back.] Listen, if I started listing names we'd be up all night. Hell, I slept with half the people in this room. You all know who you are.

[The room tenses a bit at that. But in an effort to not out themselves, the men still laugh tightly in response. And Dodger lounges in the uncertain attention, cool as a cat.]

Why the long faces, huh? Janet knows I'm working 'overtime' tonight, let's live it up, make it worth it. Jack, go get everyone another round and put it on my tab, yeah?

[The festivities continue while the older Dodger sits, incorporeal and unnoticed on the edge of the pool table. He sees Shigeru there, watching all this.... and he's just too guilty to say anything.]

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Don't know. Fell asleep and here I was.

[Ivar watches the scene, weight shifted to his right leg as he stands there. Here, in the dreamworld, is the only place he's free of the shackles his legs present to him otherwise. He remembers what Jamie had once told him. That his mother had died, starved to death trying to protect him. It doesn't take a genius to see when this memory had taken place.

There's no scathing words designed to hurt, no biting sarcasm forthcoming as Ivar turns towards the adult Dodger. This hits too close to home, remembering how his own mother was the only one to protect him growing up. He wouldn't have even been alive were it not for Aslaug.]

So. This is what happened after your mother died, yes?

[He doesn't have to wonder about what happened to the somewhat-innocent boy before him that turned him into the cynical, self-destructive soul he's come to know.]

[He nods quietly. There's no point in fighting or hiding information, Ivar will be able to gather as much as he wants as the memory progresses and Dodger knows it. Instead he points out the man, who has struck the younger Dodger and is jeering at him.]

That's Benny, he killed my mother. Thought he could trade sex for food, she couldn't stomach it, so he made damn sure she wouldn't get anything to eat. And anything she did get, she gave to me. Afterward he had the balls to tell me he saved me. [He shifts toward the woman, still cooking as if nothing is wrong.] That's Yana, his girlfriend... can't tell which is worse, her grasp on the english language or her grasp on the world. [Finally he points out the young boy beside Dodger, glancing between everyone but more confused than alarmed.] And that's Anthony. Their kid, my brother. Sort of. Dumbass never got the 'attention' I did, so he turned into a spoiled brat.

[Dodger shudders as Benny continues speaking to his younger self:] Stop fucking crying, you think anyone gives a shit if you're upset in the real world? Huh?

I don't cry- [Anthony offers, before wilting as Benny looks up with a sharp look of disinterest.]

[Ivar watches the scene play out. To be raised by the man who had killed his mother...if it had been Ivar, he would have spent every day plotting how to kill him until he was strong enough. But then, the Viking was from a culture where revenge was encouraged, a way to gain honor and glory.]

You have lived a very fucked up life.

[He flinches just a little when Benny strikes the young Dodger, a shudder running through his powerful shoulders.]

It makes me...sad. For you.

[Sad wasn't precisely the quite word, but Ivar's vocabulary didn't often include the word sympathy. He'd never really known what it felt like to feel sorry for someone else. He still hated Dodger, but he felt bad for the boy who hadn't really had a choice in becoming the man before him.]

I don't need your pity.

[It's a knee-jerk reaction; not just because of his war with Ivar. He's never been good at accepting sympathy, even if he knows that's exactly what this is.

Benny has settled down now, and Yana is serving breakfast as if nothing happened. Anthony does not get a plate until he specifically whines for one, and the young Dodger eats as if he hasn't seen a meal in days.]

Feeling bad for someone doesn't fill their stomach, it doesn't fill their wallet, and it won't make them happy. It's just a pointless sentiment. [He hesitates.] I bet you know that much already, right? People feel plenty bad for you.

[It doesn't have the heat of an insult. It's just a fact.]

If what I felt was pity, I would have said pity, you worthless mutt. But fine then. See if I ever give a shit about you again.

[He snaps the words out with a bit of heat. This is what he gets for trying to do the decent thing for once and act the way a normal human being might react to the situation. Anger was so much easier. Ivar didn't have to worry about being vulnerable when he was angry all the time.]

Plenty of people do. They think it's kindness, but it's not. [Pity just meant people saw you as lesser and inferior. It produced nothing in Ivar but a sense of helpless rage, knowing that no matter what he did, it was never enough to be seen as equal to everyone else.

[Dodger is silent, unmoved by the heat of Ivar's comments, and after a while he just sighs as his attention strays back to the memory in front of them.]

Hold onto that anger. [He comments, as he watches Benny beat his younger self, and flinches each time a fist hits, until the boy is cowering under the table.] Trust me - if anyone manages to beat it out of you, you'll just be an empty husk.

[If there's anything Dodger wants Ivar to see, it's the day he killed Benny. After seeing this, it almost makes him nostalgic for it. And as Yana finally moves to get Benny away from the boys, he finishes his thought aloud.]

I shoved a table leg through that man's stomach, when I got sick of him. No doubt there's a couple people you'd like to do that to, huh?

[Dodger's words are so similar to what Ragnar had told him, in their last conversation, that Ivar feels a chill go across his spine. 'Anger was a gift.' Judging by what Dodger was telling him and the sight of the terrified boy being beaten before him, it was a lesson he'd learned the hard way as well.

His thoughts turn to Aethelwulf, King Ecbert's son. He'd beaten his father while Ivar had been forced to watch, laughing with his soldiers all the while, like it was some big joke to them. He'd been unable to act then. Ragnar hadn't wanted them to know that he could've taken them all apart with his bare hands, instructing him to act like a cripple.

When Ivar caught up to him, he was going to dish out some special revenge. First, every single one of those soldiers was going to lose their hands and then their heads. Then he'd find a way to make Aethelwulf hurt, make him beg for death before Ivar finally granted it to him.]

I can think of a few.

[That puts a smile on Dodger's face. He's reminded so much of his younger self, it's equal parts cute and creepy.

Finally the scene cools down, the family returns to their meal, but the younger Dodger has to be dragged from under the table and is shaking heavily. Anthony doesn't seem to react at all, so used to it that he's already numb to it even though he can't be older than seven.]

Must be hell waiting to get back home so you can kill 'em, huh. [He shrugs.] Some people really need to die. It's a shame we're stuck here.

[There's a flicker in Ivar's eyes at the sight of Dodger and Anthony. He's reminded strongly of his brothers, Sigurd in a way, but also how Ubbe and Hvitserk would often like to simply sit back, and pretend nothing was wrong rather than be forced to interfere.]

I'll get back there eventually. Of that, you can be sure.

[Not even his love for Winter could keep him tied in Riverview forever. He was going to go back and then everyone he wanted to get his revenge on was going to die. It never occurred to Ivar that he might fail in his endeavors. That was just not an option. They would die no matter what.]

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