Fic: Earthling (Bowie challenge), white cortina, by Sytaxia
Dead Man Walking
The concrete was firm beneath his feet, harsh and glaring under the soles of his highly polished shoes. A world of steel and glass, a hard, cold, unfeeling world, sterile and inhuman. He felt the wind rush past him as his feet pounded against the surface, and then there was nothing - the air rushed about him, his clothing flapping against him like wings. Within seconds, he knew that he had hit the ground, splattered himself against the pavement in a horrific reality. And then he stood and walked towards the end of the tunnel, a dead man, but finally home.
Telling Lies
Every word is a betrayal. Every glance, every gesture, every movement. Annie knows, but she doesn’t, really. She thinks it’s all just some half-cocked delusion. But it’s the truth, and he has to live with that. Every time he pushes procedure, makes another announcement about the future, every small bet and tiny utterance that holds any knowledge of the future serves as a reminder. He can never tell Gene: he wouldn’t declare him to be crazy, he wouldn’t force him out, but still, part of him knows that he could never tell. So every word, every action is a lie.
Battle for Britain
The world is going to shit. Gene Hunt knows that, and knows it well. He can remember the war, back from the days of his youth, and the way that the posters declared that everyone had to do their part, had to put in for the effort. That effort is gone now, but a harder, colder war is being fought. He fights against the rapists, the pushers, the murderers, and with every step, he sees nothing but cold, apathetic faces. It’s that disdain that drove him away, into their arms, but Sam brought him back. The war is still on.
Law
The law is a tricky, confusing beast. To Sam, it’s all about rules and regulations, about the clear cut black and white of the world. And that law serves its purpose, and has its place. But Gene knows the law better than that. The law is the spirit of the downtrodden rising up and declaring what is wrong, a weapon in the hands of those that would fight against the wrongdoers. Sometimes, the written law is wrong, but Gene knows that it’s not the real law he’s breaking. The real law is written, there, for the people, in his heart.
Looking for Satellites
There are so many things that he thinks he recognizes; a factory that will be his block of flats, the flash of light off of a girl’s bracelet might very well be the blinking screen of a mobile phone. And at night, he stares at the sky, knowing that the first of them are out there, ready to bring down the world that Gene, and all of his colleagues, know. He stares at the sky, wondering which blinking lights are manmade, heralds of the world he knows is to come. And he silently wishes that they were all only stars.
Little Wonder
After the jump, after coming back, everything seems new. The dirt and the grime only make the place seem more human, and the grit and the fight only fill him with a sense of being alive. Each blade of grass, each leaf on every tree, every punch from Gene or smile from Annie, every taste of alcohol burning down his throat, only makes the world seem more real. The sounds of children playing in the streets, the laughs of Ray and Chris as the ogle their pornographic magazines, scents of smoke and cologne, everything holds its own sense of wonder.
The Last Thing You Should Do
He can hear them screaming at the end of the tunnel, hear the gunshots ricochet off of the steel walls of the train with startling clarity. The moment seems to freeze, drawing all about him, reaching down and making everything razor sharp in his sense, his breath pounding in his ears as he sees the light. This is what he wanted: this is his chance to return to the place from which he came, this is what he thought he was fighting for. As he walks into the light, guilt and apprehension fill him. He already was where he belonged.
Seven Years in Tibet
A single, horrific moment in one world, enough to build a life in another. The softening of Ray’s hard edges that were never as hard as Ray would have liked him to believe, Chris coming into his own and learning, the long nights on stakeouts or at the pub, sharing everything and nothing, both silently and with words, with Gene. Sharing glances and flirtations with Annie. Loves and lives and people that he cares for. As the glass shatters and water begins to fill the car, the sounds of a flatline come over the radio. Seven years in that moment.
I’m Afraid of Americans
Sam and Gene both crossed their arms over their chests; Gene was the first to speak. “What the bloody hell do you soddin’ micks think you’re playin’ at?”
“I just told you, we’re Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler, from Los Angeles,” the first of the two tall Irishmen said, flashing a $1,000 smile that likely cost enough to earn its name.
“Of all the scatterbrained shit to crawl out of the cesspits of my subconscious,” Sam muttered, and Gene threw him a look.
Two fists came flashing forward simultaneously, connecting with two jaws, and two Hollywood backs hit the pavement.
The concrete was firm beneath his feet, harsh and glaring under the soles of his highly polished shoes. A world of steel and glass, a hard, cold, unfeeling world, sterile and inhuman. He felt the wind rush past him as his feet pounded against the surface, and then there was nothing - the air rushed about him, his clothing flapping against him like wings. Within seconds, he knew that he had hit the ground, splattered himself against the pavement in a horrific reality. And then he stood and walked towards the end of the tunnel, a dead man, but finally home.
Telling Lies
Every word is a betrayal. Every glance, every gesture, every movement. Annie knows, but she doesn’t, really. She thinks it’s all just some half-cocked delusion. But it’s the truth, and he has to live with that. Every time he pushes procedure, makes another announcement about the future, every small bet and tiny utterance that holds any knowledge of the future serves as a reminder. He can never tell Gene: he wouldn’t declare him to be crazy, he wouldn’t force him out, but still, part of him knows that he could never tell. So every word, every action is a lie.
Battle for Britain
The world is going to shit. Gene Hunt knows that, and knows it well. He can remember the war, back from the days of his youth, and the way that the posters declared that everyone had to do their part, had to put in for the effort. That effort is gone now, but a harder, colder war is being fought. He fights against the rapists, the pushers, the murderers, and with every step, he sees nothing but cold, apathetic faces. It’s that disdain that drove him away, into their arms, but Sam brought him back. The war is still on.
Law
The law is a tricky, confusing beast. To Sam, it’s all about rules and regulations, about the clear cut black and white of the world. And that law serves its purpose, and has its place. But Gene knows the law better than that. The law is the spirit of the downtrodden rising up and declaring what is wrong, a weapon in the hands of those that would fight against the wrongdoers. Sometimes, the written law is wrong, but Gene knows that it’s not the real law he’s breaking. The real law is written, there, for the people, in his heart.
Looking for Satellites
There are so many things that he thinks he recognizes; a factory that will be his block of flats, the flash of light off of a girl’s bracelet might very well be the blinking screen of a mobile phone. And at night, he stares at the sky, knowing that the first of them are out there, ready to bring down the world that Gene, and all of his colleagues, know. He stares at the sky, wondering which blinking lights are manmade, heralds of the world he knows is to come. And he silently wishes that they were all only stars.
Little Wonder
After the jump, after coming back, everything seems new. The dirt and the grime only make the place seem more human, and the grit and the fight only fill him with a sense of being alive. Each blade of grass, each leaf on every tree, every punch from Gene or smile from Annie, every taste of alcohol burning down his throat, only makes the world seem more real. The sounds of children playing in the streets, the laughs of Ray and Chris as the ogle their pornographic magazines, scents of smoke and cologne, everything holds its own sense of wonder.
The Last Thing You Should Do
He can hear them screaming at the end of the tunnel, hear the gunshots ricochet off of the steel walls of the train with startling clarity. The moment seems to freeze, drawing all about him, reaching down and making everything razor sharp in his sense, his breath pounding in his ears as he sees the light. This is what he wanted: this is his chance to return to the place from which he came, this is what he thought he was fighting for. As he walks into the light, guilt and apprehension fill him. He already was where he belonged.
Seven Years in Tibet
A single, horrific moment in one world, enough to build a life in another. The softening of Ray’s hard edges that were never as hard as Ray would have liked him to believe, Chris coming into his own and learning, the long nights on stakeouts or at the pub, sharing everything and nothing, both silently and with words, with Gene. Sharing glances and flirtations with Annie. Loves and lives and people that he cares for. As the glass shatters and water begins to fill the car, the sounds of a flatline come over the radio. Seven years in that moment.
I’m Afraid of Americans
Sam and Gene both crossed their arms over their chests; Gene was the first to speak. “What the bloody hell do you soddin’ micks think you’re playin’ at?”
“I just told you, we’re Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler, from Los Angeles,” the first of the two tall Irishmen said, flashing a $1,000 smile that likely cost enough to earn its name.
“Of all the scatterbrained shit to crawl out of the cesspits of my subconscious,” Sam muttered, and Gene threw him a look.
Two fists came flashing forward simultaneously, connecting with two jaws, and two Hollywood backs hit the pavement.