To Oblivion: Pawn
by bob_obo
“Hey man, how you doing?”
Seamus exhaled a cloud of smoke as he spoke, blearily looking in Owens general direction.
Owen shrugged nonchalantly, “Not bad mate.” he replied, “You?”
“I'm good.” Seamus affirmed.
“Cool.” Owen paused.
Seamus frowned, “Your toke.” he proffer the limp, half smoked spliff.
Owen sighed slightly. He'd known Seamus for years, and they'd been best friends for almost as long. He was a large guy, not only tall and big boned, but a huge fat fucker to boot. His intimidating size was further increased by the extensive, almost obsessive martial arts classes and random weight lifting. The harmless, bumbling facade he adopted may have been a vague attempt to diminish his naturally intimidating nature.
Then again, it might have been simply that beneath the huge, intimidating monster, there was a comedy, clumsy, friendly bloke peering out. And he was generous with weed too...
“Cheers man.” he accepted.
After a few moments, he handed back the significantly diminished joint.
“So,” he tried to sound casual. “You seen Oz lately?”
Seamus snorted, “The freak?” he shook his head dismissively. “Nah. Haven't seen him for weeks. Not since that day he started tripping about demons and shit. Strange guy. Chess?”
“Yeah.” Owen agreed, unconsciously accepting the stub that was passed back to him and then beginning to set out the pieces.
He inhaled gratefully, vaguely feeling the skunk comfortingly cushioning him from the terrifying reality of the past twenty four hours.
They'd summoned a fucking demon!
Admittedly, not much of a demon. As demons went, it was kind of disappointing. Owen didn't believe in god, he certainly didn't believe in demons, and this sad little specimens did little to change his mind.
Did enough though.
He pushed a pawn forwards unseeingly.
He'd had a dream one night. Nothing unusual about that, but this dream had stayed with him, and had come back to him after yesterdays events.
In this dream he'd woken up. Nothing too unusual there. He'd got up and gone outside, in the standard fractured way of dreams where you're suddenly standing outside but know without questioning the interim steps which have taken place.
Only thing is, the sky was not there.
In its place, there was... nothing. It wasn't anything he could really put into words. It wasn't just black. It wasn't a colorless void, it was just an absence of sky. It was a little like that nagging feeling you've forgotten something, only in this case you remember what, only it's not there. It was the disconcerting, implacable terror that something important in the world is not quite right.
He'd wandered down the street, stopping random blankly smiling passersby, excuse me, have you seen the sky?
They'd all smile at him with a polite, puzzled expression, then carry on.
Then a giant haddock had come and told him to expect the cheese man when he least expected it, but he always had that dream...
He pushed a bishop across the board negligently.
It was like that now. He'd tried to talk to Neil and Douglas, but they'd been ecstatic, so buoyed up by their so called achievement, so transfixed by the idea that someone – or something, had actually noticed them, to bother considering the rather terrifying ramifications of what they had done.
The fact that they had buggered them all.
He picked up and placed a knight sightlessly.
Owen didn't believe in demons. He still didn't see any reason to. Just because they existed was no excuse. But still, he found it prudent to find out as much as he could about them, as fast as he possibly could. And there was only one person he knew who could help out there.
He negligently pushed another piece a few squares across without seeing.
Oz was his token 'cool' older friend. The guy was at least a decade older than him, but had a knack for saying absolutely nothing but still putting him at his ease. He'd wondered how the guy so effortlessly exuded the cool that Owen so dramatically failed at. Maybe it was the fact that he was American. Pretty much everyone Owen knew loathed America in principle, but seemed to worship the ground any actual real life Americans deigned to tread on.
He arbitrarily moved another piece through the cloud of smoke to an equally arbitrary place.
Maybe I should move to America? He thought, maybe coolness is relative to your birthplace? Further away the better? Somehow he doubted it. No matter how far he ran, he'd still catch himself up. Arsehole.
Meh. Bollocks to that. Owen was no good at running. He was no good at fighting either to be fair, but at least he didn't look like such a twat.
Besides, he suspected there was no place on earth that would be far enough to run to avoid this...
“Your move.” Seamus broke in pointedly.
Owen focused on the board blankly. He frowned irritably, then moved a piece.
He needing to find Oz. That was clear enough. If only because there was no-one else that could possibly help him now. Necessity being a powerful thingy and all.
That plan being a bit rubbish as he had no idea where the guy was...
“Check.” Seamus smirked, then looked slightly puzzled. “You alright Owen, you don't really seem with it today?”
Owen shrugged noncommittally, “I'm ok.” he poked his queen a few squares across the board, “Checkmate.”
“Balls.”
“So, you no idea where Oz is?”
“Well...”

This story archived at: The Slayer\'s Fanfic Archive
The Slayer\\\\\\\\'s FanFic Archive - http://www.slayerfanfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=16379