[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

Tonight. It has to be tonight. It has to happen. Again and again and again and again and again and...

Snap out of it, Dexter. You're going insane. Calm down and think about this, think about what you're doing. There has been no preparation, to planning...not enough time, not the right prey. The Code. It has to fit the code... This is a test. Failure is not an option, it results in being caught. Rule number one: Do not get caught.

I'm not sure how longer we can take this. The passenger fidgets and flaps its frightful, feathered wings....As if frigid, firm, fingers are forking into my spine. Desperate, devoid Dexter in dire need of a deadly date--Tonight. It has to be tonight---

Calm, calm, deep breath...and release. Run a finger down the trophy case, feel the glass under those fingertips as they clink against each other from your touch. Yes, you know the sound, all too well, keep that sound in mind...it's all you've got, for now...

[/Filter]


In a place where theres supposedly no electricity...that was one hell of a volt.
What was that?



[ooc note: Going a little more crazy, one post at a time.]

[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

It's that feeling, the feeling that I get when I know the time is now. The Need, being thrown at the back of my head by the Dark Passenger, who's been sitting in the backseat of the dodge k-car that is Dexter's would-be soul.

I'm hungry, again---hungry for flesh, but not in the obvious way. Oh no. Hungry in a different way. The Need is creeping, crawling up my spine and tickling at my ears, where the Dark Passenger whispers. Who will be next? A chuckle, a ruffle of dark feathers behind these eyes. I cannot disobey my Dark Passenger, for it is good to me, and without it, I cannot survive.

But it's so tempting. I need to stick to the code. I must keep my word--my vow, the one I gave to Harry, the one I promised my father. Harry would be displeased if I slip up now. There is no excuse for a mistake. This place is not a free pass. This is a test. A test that we, the Passenger and I, will pass. With flying, dark, messy colors. As soon as we figure out how to get away with it, and we will, we always do.

And with nothing left behind, no signs of even the slightest presence. Nothing but one simple red dot on a clean glass slide. Which reminds me, how lucky I have been, with my dear friends returned to me, after all this time. Seeing these precious trophies only makes it stronger, the Need rises, bubbles, overflows---

I'm on edge. I feel weak, almost human. How much longer can deeply distraught Dexter delay the inevitable?

[/Filter]

So many more people, here. Stuck just like the rest of us...

...If I may ask, is there any upcoming sweep I should know about? I need something to keep me busy.

[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

I still look up to the night sky expecting to see that one moon. That one, glorious, reddish, fat, moon. Instead, my eyes meet two, bringing light down across this barren land, bringing anything but joy to dearly, deprived Dexter. Two menacing moons, twice the pull, the calling of the Need.

The Need, ripping and tearing inside, the symphonic shriek within. Very strong now, carefully coiled, cool and collected. The creeping, cackling Need, stronger now than ever before, and that thing that came with it, that silent stalker, that thing that mocks me, laughs in my ear. The dark passenger.

How can I rid it of it's hunger in this wasteland? These monsters keep the Need at bay, but never satisfy the hunger. I've killed worse in my childhood than these pitiful things. These things that keep coming back, just like the humans do. I can't touch them, no, no, can't lay a finger. If I do, my secret is no more, my shadow self revealed. No doubt some of them wouldn't have a problem taking care of me.

I need to find a solution. I really need...to kill someone.

[/Filter]

I'm going to be out later than usual, it looks like. The High School is a mess, after all. The sweep went alright, but it's going to need a bunch of cleaning before it's inhabitable, and considering I have nothing else to do, well, it's the job for me.

I second the earlier post about some music, it might help working in this place a little less...creepy.

[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

Death is a funny thing. We all have to go eventually. Though I'm sure they hadn't hoped to go in such a dreadful way. Sure, some of them could have deserved it. I could have given it to them, made it quicker. One, swift slice, unless, of course, I was feeling a little more playful. Still, it would have been much less depressing than the plague. That's not on anyone's top ten preferred ways to perish. No, no. At least not mine, anyhow.

So I suppose I'm happy, then. If I feel happiness. Satisfied, more like it. Save my time for a night far from now when I fall asleep, never to wake up again.

Death brings a lot of questions to the table. Questions that I repeated in my mind over and over as I watched the others decay like corpses. What happens when you die? I don't believe in a Heaven or a Hell. I can't bring myself to, it's all nonsense to me. I don't feel spiritual at all...in fact, I don't feel anything.

I suppose I'm better off without a soul, without a conscience. Without faith or beliefs in Hell. Because if there was a hell, I would inevitably find myself in it, after death. What, with what I am and the things I've done. The entire thought is just tragic.

But I digress, I've avoided this one. This time. No one would have mourned me, anyway. But the curse is over, the cure administered, or soon to be, anyhow. As soon as dutiful Dexter delivers the drug. Helping in any way that I can. Fitting in, that's all that I can do.

[/Filter]

There's a cure. A light at the end of the tunnel. If help is needed administering the shots, you can find it here; good ol' Dexter can help. And how. Maybe I should charge a fee...

Yes, I do have medical experience. College was a blast, but I chose to go into the forensics career, instead. Piqued my interest.

[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

I'm not alone, after all. Nope, not in the least bit. It seems there are not only other survivors, but those with shadows just like mine. Hungry, shifting shadows behind bright eyes, seemingly simple on the outside, but dark within. Whether or not this is comforting to know, I can't decide. Still, it goes without saying that none of them can be trusted. I can't get too close. Not this time.

So then the question is, what do I do with my code? Ripping these monsters apart is nothing like my usual rituals. It's satisfying, but not filling enough. Leaves me still hungry for seconds. Dangerously, destitute Dexter; unfulfilled.

The rising Need, which the code could satisfy if only this city, this wasteland, would allow it. The dead rise again, an interesting habit of theirs. It makes me wonder what my current status is. Did we all die? Am I dead? Did only a select few get revived after this apocalypse? What does that mean?

For that matter, what's the point in letting the Passenger in to the driving seat? One will only revive, remember, and I'll be a target, my secret revealed. This is not the kind of city I want to live in. There has to be some other explanation.

[/Filter]

I've still yet to pick out an appropriate apartment. I guess I'm picky about those things. Or maybe it just doesn't feel like home to me. Perhaps, both.

I suppose I'll have to settle in, eventually. I feel like I haven't slept in years. It seems like staying in the Marshall St. apartments is the popular choice---which reminds me: Thank you so much, Garcian, for the escort to safety. Let's just say, I owe you.

I think I'll stay on the first floor. It's quick exit, but then again, if something gets in, I guess I'm in trouble. Most seem to say that's not a problem, though. I'll take my chances. Room 105--- I think I'll claim it as mine.

[Filtered to Self//Thoughts]

I've spent most of my life looking down at the figure on the table, not being it. I was the practitioner...now I'm the subject. But how I went from there, to here, is a whole different story. And along with the faint chuckle of something familiar...ah yes, the Dark Passenger, I have to listen to the beeping of this strange device. At least in this world where I am alone, the passenger remains. Comforting. But here I am, following instructions that are leading me no where.

Alone. Hm...there was a time when I was sure this would be a dream come true. I remember pretending like I was the last man on earth; post-apocalypse, no one left to pretend or hide from. Just me, it was...freeing. Freeing, until I got a little too close to others. I actually began to dislike seeing them hurt. And face it, humans are hurt so often. My dear foster sister, Deborah, and my disguise, my dedicated, damaged Rita. I couldn't even say whether or not they've survived. That, I don't know. I may never know, and while I can try my hardest to not care, to keep smiling like I did back in those beautiful Miami days when I pretended to be alone, I will still have thoughts of them.

These thoughts could really bring a man down. But I'm not sure how much farther down the rabbit hole I can go, at this point. Here I stand, beside a crumbled building, in an empty street, pretending to be the Omega Man. How pathetic---just click the button, Dexter...Turn this device on...

[/Filter]

...Where am I? Hello? Calling all cars---I come in peace??