Character Bar (Explicit, 18+)

Amy: Hey, that's what happens when you take therapy for a few years: you learn the lingo. Yeah, I can classify my symptoms into "Intrusion," "Numbness and Avoidance," and "Arousal" symptoms, but that doesn't change the human story that those symptoms are describing. For about the first year of so after I was raped to within an inch of my life at 15, accused by my entire community of having asked for it, and ran away from home, my life was constant, overwhelming terror. I was jumping at shadows, waking up screaming, and anytime somebody bumped into me, I'd think I was about to have a panic attack, and a lot of the time I did. You can't see, you can't breathe, you can't feel the ground, you can't pull the chains out of your chest that are crushing your heart and lungs to a bloody pulp ... Oh, fuck. Twenty-seven, fifty-seven, ninety-seven, twelve. Thirty-seven, fifty-seven, twenty-seven, five.

OK, OK. That has to be the worst part: not just getting panic attacks because you think you're about to get raped again, but also getting panic attacks just because you're worried you're about to get a panic attack again. And it's not just panicking when you think you're in more danger than you really are, it's also panicking when you know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that you're not in any danger whatso-fucking-ever, but you still can't stop yourself from paralyzing as your lizard-brain goes into overdrive.

Now let's look at the opposite: when you're not exploding in a firestorm of primal terror, you're crippled by the feeling that you're breathing solid rock all day. You don't want to walk, you don't want to eat, you don't even feel like you're living inside your own body anymore. You don't want to do anything, you don't even want to want to do anything.

I spent the first year on my own living with constant overwhelming terror and occasional overwhelming emptiness. Next four years after that? Exactly the opposite: dominated by overwhelming emptiness, punctuated by occasional overwhelming terror.

Then I discovered serial murder. PTSD is about powerlessness, and showing my rapist what it had felt like for me had made me feel a little less powerless, so after being homeless for a while, I decided to take it a step further. Beating random guys senseless and cutting them open never cured my powerlessness, but it certainly kept the worst of the nightmares at bay for about a year until I met Charlie. She gave me a job after finding me in the middle of self-medicating – my 15th project as The Richmond Ripper – and for a few months, having a friend and a stable job as her enforcer made me feel even better than murder ever did. And after I stored up enough cash, professional therapy made me feel even better than that. Burying doesn't work.

Oh, and your sister? I love my baby brother, and if I thought he was in danger, then yeah, I'd kill to keep him safe, but that doesn't mean anything, I'd kill if somebody cut in line at the gas station for a chocolate bar and if I thought I could get away with it. More importantly, I'd die to keep my brother safe.

You planning to get your sister back? If not personally, then finding somebody who can?

 

Ortlinde: Tax...I was a roadie for Jim Croce. I knew Jim Croce. Jim Croce was a friend of mine...and you are no Jim Croce.

 

Ortlinde: That's it. Enough with the fucking royal riders already.

*feeds quarter into Jukebox*

 

Amy: Would you like to hear my song?
I'm afraid it's rather long
Of the famous on-to-Richmond double trouble

Of the half a dozen trips
And the half a dozen slips
And the very latest bursting of the bubble?

'Tis pretty hard to sing
And like a round, round ring,
'Tis a dreadful knotty puzzle to unravel -

Charlie: Wait, are you seriously about to do the whole thing?

 

Amy: Oh, boy, I love this plan! [takes M9 bayonet out of her pants] Can I play too?

 

*Ortlinde and Rossweisse catch on fire*

Ortlinde: How many times do I have to tell y'all not to break shit in my bar?!!!

Maha: Fuck yes! I've never been in a real fight before!

Rossweisse: Shut up, wonder-teen.

Maha: You shut up, bitch!

Rossweisse: Seriously kid, you do not want to walk into this.

Maha: What are you, MY MOM?!

Darit: *mumbling* Get me out of here. Get me out of here.

 

*Ortlinde rushes in front of Aidan at supernatural speed, her whole body engulfed in fire, changing color from yellow to blue as she heats up, eyes turning to black coals*

Ortlinde: *in an unnaturally load roar* SETTLE THE FUCK DOWN!

 

Ortlinde: *still burning strong, and starting to magnetically attract flower petals from the vases on the tables * Water? Are you fucking kidding me?
Rossweisse: *grabbing Cira by the shoulder as all the dust in the room starts to gravitate toward her* Wow, nice flames - but you haven't got a clue what we're actually made of, do you? Fire is a side-effect, sweetie. I could melt your brain right now, so you probably should turn off the gas and tell your friend to simmer down.

 

*Rosseweisse and Ortlinde return to normal form and Rossweisse storms out*

Ortlinde: Okay - Aidan, would you pretty please nicely stop fucking up my bar? Also, if you need help with your childhood issues, I'm sure Little Miss Stabbypants over there will be happy to help out. *cocks head toward Amy*

Rossweisse: *from outside* Now to have a chat with this tree...

 

Ortlinde: *Making a call on an iPhone* Yeah, hey girl, this might get ugly....yup...I know...Ten Four.

Rossweisse: *from outside* That's it, you wood-face schlemiel!

*Smell of Burning wood wafts in*

 

Ortlinde: *filing her nails* Oh no, sugar, I'm sure he's tryin'. She's just indestructible is all.

*Helmwige, a valkyrie with long blonde curls that seem to shimmer green, walks in. She is wearing a green cardigan and a prominent silver cross*

Helmwige: Seriously, Ross is fighting a tree? That's what you called me about?

*Ortlinde shrugs her shoulders*

Helmwige: That one never made sense to me. All she wanted was quiet time with her books, but one wrong word and and THAT happens.

Ortlinde: Look on the bright side, at least she didn't take up Nazism.

Helmwige: Not funny, especially coming from you.

*Ortlinde stares at the floor*

*Schwertleite enters - a valkyrie with frizzy, purple-streaked hair, hipster glasses, a plaid miniskirt, and combat boots*

Schwertleite: Hey-hey Orte...So what was it you said about Ross getting in a scrap with a...the fuck?.

Helmwige: Wait a minute, you aren't even IN the book!

Schwertleite: Planned sequel.

Helmwige: Wait a minute, we're bringing in characters from barely-imagined sequels to a book that hasn't been written past Act One? We have some SERIOUS continuity problems here.

Schwertleite: Do you want my help or not?

Helmwige: *sighs* Sure, let's go.

*Helmwige catches fire, unnaturally bright green, unlike the others, causing the lights to flicker and static electricity to pop through the room*

Schwertleite: *catching fire normally, time seeming to slow down as she does* FLAME ON!

Helmwige: "Flame on?" Are you kidding me?

Schwertleite: What? I thought it was a nice touch!

 

Amy: Oh, oh! Can I sing?

Charlie: You describe yourself as Chaotic Evil, I think the question is "could anybody stop you?"

Amy: I just wanted you to bring up Chaotic Evilness for me.

Charlie: What.

Amy: Now my momma said, "Be a good girl, and don't ever play with knives," but I stabbed some men in Richmond, just to watch them die.

Charlie: ... That actually rhymes better than the original.

Amy: Thank you!

 

Ortlinde: Are you fucking kidding me?

*Rumbling and punching noises from outside*

Helmwige: Ross, lay off! This isn't going to go anywhere!

Schwertleite: Kowabunga! Die Tree-Man!

Helmwige: Not helping, Schwerte!