Chapter Text
Wednesday, 10/8/16
22:17
Recoverable Inventory update:
Cocaine - 30.6kg
Fentanyl - 46.7kg
Marijuana - 70kg
Weapons seized
- 2x assault rifle
- 6x carbine
- 7x compact pistol
Targeted local militia + drug bust.
There were 13 people, 7 belonged to the militia group, 6 belonged to the drug runners. None survived.
I followed Peacemaker from a distance until he arrived at the location of the deal. I know he could have handled all of them on his own, but he told me he appreciated my help once I arrived, just like last time. He depends on me to watch his back, even when he doesn't know I’m watching it.
Adrian stashed his journal in the lockbox beneath his work bench, withdrawing the journal he branded ‘therapy friendly’ where he wrote much less about his frequent vigilante crime-fighting escapades and more about how much he liked Peacemaker and how much he hated his mother. His therapist, Melissa, had been given permission by him to read his journals in therapy from time to time but he had the sense even at 17 when he’d first met with her not to disclose that he’d killed a man…and that he was probably going to keep killing them just with a carefully constructed ethical code patterned wholly off Peacemaker and United States Criminal Code, which wasn't perfect but it wasn't just mindless murder and that felt…better.
It shouldn't have made sense that the more often Adrian was able to cave in some derelict’s skull, the easier it was for him to do human being things; Like hold a job and keep a therapist for longer than two seasons. Somehow, though, it worked. Not that Adrian would have told Melissa about that extracurricular activity. The less she knew about all that, the better. Truthfully, though, Adrian often wondered if she was acutely aware and simply continued to see him because she was just that great of a therapist.
Melissa, a woman nearly as tall as he is, with locced hair and an affinity for statement earrings, has been the longest relationship Adrian’s maintained, save for his complex relationship with Christopher “Peacemaker” Smith. She was younger than any other mental health professional he’d seen, not even a decade his senior. When he was 17, her being 24 didn't cross his mind as young. But by the time that he was 25, he recognized how young she really was. He suspected that was what made their sessions easier, he didn't feel condescended to, she spoke to him like a peer and not a child. She also wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else, even when he opened up about what had always been perceived as unnerving thoughts. Her lack of fear made it easier for him to hold him accountable, which had actually resulted in progress.
Over the course of their 8 year professional relationship, Adrian initially fluctuated between biweekly appointments, as in twice weekly, and once a week, however in the past few years he’d managed to downgrade the biweekly as in twice weekly to hi weekly as in once every two weeks. He had Melissa’s number (which he rarely used for therapy based reasons), so he could contact her in a crisis but life hadn't thrown him much crisis.
He’d graduated high school with honours, which his mother had mentioned being a waste considering he’d had no desire to go to college - he figured his delinquency would've disqualified him anyway - and was happier working as a cashier, or a barista, or a busboy. It had been a challenge to find a job he could hold, steadily discovering he wasn't great with public facing jobs. Melissa had suggested he apply to work in the back of house at Fennel Fields, wondering if he’d fair better in a position where he didn't have to socialize, and instead could perform routine based chores (which he was good at). She was correct, as Adrian had come to discover she usually was.
Adrian jotted down a couple reflections about his day in his therapy specific journal:
Wednesday, 10/8/16
I saw Peacemaker tonight. I wish I could be myself around him but he's safer when I’m hiding. Besides, what if he doesn't like the real me?
I’m thinking of adding a futon to the basement so I can sleep down here. That way I don't have to talk to my mom as much.
AC
As he shut the journal, he imagined what Melissa might say about what he’d written if she were to read it. When you say ‘hiding’, what do you mean? To which Adrian would have to say, You know, like…masking. He’d lie, which was only a half lie, really. He was technically wearing a mask when he and Peacemaker interacted - both literally and…mentally? He was carefully tuning himself to be as appealing to Chris as he could manage. He thought maybe she’d want to talk about his mother again, she usually did. He felt less inclined to lie about his mother to Melissa.
It was nice to have a therapist who wasn’t primarily concerned with making Adrian 'normal’, but rather just ensuring he could function in the world the way it was structured. She didn't pester him with insisting he repair his relationship with his mother, or reach out to his father, or make amends with his brother. Melissa saw Adrian as a person, which was unique to any other mental health professional he’d interacted with.
“How are we finding the seroquel?” Melissa asked him the next day at his appointment, which was held in the cozy and eclectic front sitting room of her bungalow.
He’d started taking a new medication, primarily to sleep because apparently he's more impulsive when he's tired and he's prone to insomnia. He resented it initially, but couldn't exactly tell her ‘I don't want to take something to help me sleep because it's when I get my most important work done’ because then she’d ask ‘what work?’ and he can't exactly tell his therapist he’s out in the night doing vigilante extrajudicial murders with Peacemaker. He’d opted for taking it when he got back from his outtings and sleeping well into midday, considering his shifts never started before three in the afternoon anyway.
“I was tired at work all week.” Adrian answered truthfully. “Also I had a night terror for the first time since I was a kid after my first dose last week but I don't know if that's related.”
“Could be.” Melissa responded. “People often report vivid dreams when taking seroquel, so I wouldn't be surprised if they're related. Just the one night terror then?”
Adrian nodded. He hadn't even remembered it by the time he’d woken up but it made him feel like a child again. When he was a child and would awake in the night screaming, his parents had subscribed to the tried and true method of letting children self soothe, much to his brother’s chagrin who had a room on the other side of the wall. Of course, Dorian developed a resentment as his own sleep was disrupted by Adrian’s nightly fits that went all but ignored. He’d learned to cope with it by avoiding sleep until his body simply couldn't stay awake, which would result in more night terrors. Eventually a psychiatrist prescribed him some kind of SSRI.
“There can be an adjustment period…” when starting new medications. Adrian mentally finished the statement he’d heard over and over while tuning Melissa out instinctively.
Melissa was keenly aware of Adrian’s tells; It was clear to her when he was inattentive or disengaging. She was good at getting him back on track in a session. “So, what’s going on with you and…Peacemaker.” She clearly felt silly using the pseudonym but Adrian had refused to actually engage with the conversation if she didn’t, noting his concern over Peacemaker’s safety otherwise.
If Adrian were a dog, his ears would have perked and his tail would've been wagging at the mention of Peacemaker. “We’ve been,” he hesitated for a moment as he tried to find language that wouldn't implicate them, “spending more time together. I think he's starting to see my value, finally.” He smiled to himself.
“Yea?” Melissa mused, tucking a loose loc behind her ear. “And what do you mean by ‘value’?” She asked.
Stumped, Adrian sat for a moment to process the question and come up with an answer. “I’m useful.” He responded.
“Okay.” She nodded. “You told me you liked working at Fennel Fields because you feel useful. Are there times you don’t feel useful?”
Adrian blinked as memories flashed through his mind.
He’s eight, he's twelve, he's fourteen, he's seventeen and Dorian calls him a waste of space. He’s twenty-two and his mother is insinuating he’s a burden, fully believing he wouldn't notice, “I didn't anticipate raising an adult.” She’d said after he’d been fired from his cashier position at the dollar store. He didn’t expect to become an adult at all. He’s fifteen and his dad looks at him like he’s an alien, a creature, something he doesn't understand.
“I don't know.” Adrian murmured. “I don't think I’m good at being…a person.” He shrugged, picking at a hangnail on his left hand.
“Being a person,” Melissa nodded along, “what does being a person mean to you?”
“Like,” Adrian scoffed, “having…feelings and friends and stuff.”
“You have feelings.”
“Not like people do.” Adrian countered. “I don't…react right.”
Melissa wrote something in her notes. “Do you have an example of a time you reacted ‘wrong’?” She put air quotes around the word.
Plenty, Adrian thought, I let my brother treat me like a pin-cushion to stab or a fetal pig to dissect because he thought it’d make us closer. I don’t miss my father despite not hearing from him in half a year. I sometimes fantasize about harming my mother: I dream of killing my brother and it's never a nightmare. Or maybe the first time I actually killed someone, I felt in control.
“Um,” Adrian hesitated, “when my brother went no-contact with me, I didn't care.” He tried. It’s an understatement.
Melissa nods knowingly. “And you think you should have?”
“He's my brother. Wouldn't a normal person miss their brother?”
“Not all people experience severe abuse at the hands of their brothers’.” She pointed out. “I would say it’s an appropriate response to not miss somebody who harmed you extensively.”
Adrian frowned. It made him feel small to be reminded of his victimhood. He resented ever allowing someone access to himself in the way he had Dorian.
With a soft sigh, Melissa continued, “How do you think a ‘normal person’ would respond to the level of trauma you’d endured?”
He hated that word. Trauma. Melissa would use that word often, traumatized, and each time Adrian wrinkled his nose. To her benefit, despite noticing it, Melissa never mentioned his reaction to the descriptor.
“I don't know.” Adrian shrugged, because truthfully, he didn't know. “I just know I’m not one.” A normal person. Barely a person at all. In some ways it felt like a badge of honour, to be abnormal.
“Okay,” Melissa acquiesced. “Fine. Maybe you aren't normal.”
Adrian nodded along, but not in the sense that it bothered him.
“You are not a standard person. You have a developmental disorder, as well as a personality disorder, and a trauma based disorder on top of that. So, I think it would be fair to suggest you’re not going to respond to everything the way society expects people to. And that's okay.” She offered.
Adrian hated being reminded of it all. Autism was always there. It was the spark that lit the fire - Dorian poured gasoline on it until it was a blazing anti-social inferno. In the wake of it all there was the complex post-traumatic stress. He wasn’t normal because he wasn't able to be - he was never even given the chance. Maybe with just autism, he could have managed. His parents caught it early, one of the only things they did catch on their own, and got him diagnosed before he could even conceptualize himself. Somehow they balanced neglect with being overbearing, focusing all their energy on him and none of it on Dorian. However, despite their coddling, they managed to miss the developing antisocial tendencies. Melissa had suggested that Dorian was jealous of the perceived attention Adrian received while he was being neglected, and used Adrian as a convenient outlet for that misplaced anger. It made logical sense, Adrian supposed, but it didn't make him hate his brother any less. He couldn’t find it within himself to have much empathy for anybody, much less Dorian. It also didn't change what Adrian was now: Disordered. He wonders who he could have been had someone noticed him - had someone noticed Dorian.
“I think you’re making good progress in your goals - slow, but it’s still progress. You wanted to be able to hold a job for longer than a month and you’ve worked at the restaurant for almost an entire year - and without being written up.” Melissa reminded him. “You wanted to find more independence and now you have a license, you’re working to save for a car.” She continued.
“I want to put a futon in the basement.” Adrian added.
“Would that make you feel more independent?” Melissa asked.
“Yes.” Adrian nodded.
“Okay, what’s a drawback to having a futon in the basement?” She prompted.
Adrian considered that. Maybe a ‘standard person’ would say something like ‘I’ll see my mom less’ but thats not exactly a con in his books, so he supplied Melissa with “I think a futon probably has bad back support.”
That got a laugh, for some reason, but he smiled in return.
“Alright, so maybe get a futon and a mattress pad for extra support.”
Adrian nodded vigorously, making a mental note. “Good idea.” He agreed.
“Alright, so you’re working towards being more independent. You also wanted to make a friend, and I think you’re making progress with that.”
Peacemaker, Adrian’s favourite subject. He sits up with a nod. “Yea, we’re getting closer. We’ve not hung out properly but we’ve been interacting.” He explained. He was unsure how to navigate the conversation without explicitly saying he’s helped Peacemaker bust up a major drug deal because he patrolled the same areas as him in hopes something would kick off and he’d need a hand. He wasn't sure that Melissa would approve of that particular bonding activity.
“Interacting…okay.” Melissa furrowed her brow as she listened. Peacemaker wasn't exactly a hidden figure in Evergreen. It was not hard to guess what interacting meant, but she’d developed a soft spot for Adrian and deliberately chose to turn a blind eye - as long as Adrian never mentioned a crime, she could continue to work with him.
“I think with enough dedication we could be like, part- uh, friends. Like good friends.”
“You mentioned in the past that you felt you couldn't make friends because you always had to pretend to be something else. Is that the case with Peacemaker?”
Adrian gnawed at the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t not the case, and Adrian knew that. But it was for a good reason! “It’s safer if I pretend.”
“Safer for him, or for you?”
“For him.” Adrian responded quickly. It's not entirely truthful, but it was his instinct to protect Peacemaker.
Melissa sighed. It was hard to treat Adrian when he lied - and he often did. Not particularly well, mind you, but he still did it. He somehow contained equal parts sincerity and deception. It had been noted by previous professionals that worked with him, that Adrian was intensely honest when it came to his parents, and his feelings about them. He could be honest about his brother but would often conceal some of the harder truths he hadn’t quite been honest with himself about; For many of the first years he was in therapy and Dorian was still actively engaging in his abuse, Adrian would rarely acknowledge it as such despite many therapists or psychologists noting that Dorian was an obvious trigger - even if what Adrian said was ‘we were just playing’ or ‘he's teaching me to be stronger’. There were times it was clear, at least to Melissa, that Adrian was lying. Particularly he’d lie about the nature of his relationship with Peacemaker. She wasn't naive, she may not have any proof that Adrian is Evergreen’s new vigilante, aptly called Vigilante, but she knows.
“Do you think you’re pretending with Peacemaker because you worry he won't like you for who you are?” Melissa asked cautiously.
Adrian frowned as he continued to pick at a hangnail until it bled. “Nobody likes me for who I am.” He responded, his voice carrying a degree of certainty that Melissa struggled to challenge because in many ways, he’s right.
That said, Melissa had seen Peacemaker’s exploits on the news, and they weren’t exactly out of line with some of the internal desires - that he claimed not to act on - Adrian had expressed over the years. They weren’t as dissimilar as Adrian seemed to believe.
“You never know.” She shrugged.
Therapy was wrapped shortly thereafter, Adrian encouraged to continue taking his new medication and perhaps be a degree more vulnerable with Peacemaker upon their next meeting - whatever that might mean as far as two men who don't take much issue with murdering people goes.
Friday, 16/9/16
1:07
No inventory update
I got Peacemaker’s number. I’ve never had a friend give me their contact information. It feels like I’ve taken a major step. We could be partners in crime-fighting as long as I continue to be strategic.
We found the source of a bunch of recent car jackings, turns out it's the same group that keeps stealing people’s catalytic converters. We took some out last night.
I’ll find the rest.
It shouldn't have worked. In any other scenario, habitually following around the object (person) of your obsession, even to places that deserve a degree of privacy (like one’s home), should not have resulted in Peacemaker becoming a contact in Adrian’s phone, but by the grace of whatever spectral force is in control of Adrian’s life, it does. Granted, Chris didn’t know about the proclivity towards lurking in the trees around his trailer when he gave Adrian his number for 'professional reasons’, and Adrian figured he never had to.
He’d sit quietly in the dark, in the trees and observe. It felt innocent initially - he’d lurk about and watch for signs of threats that never came. He was there for Chris’ protection. Only nothing ever happened. Nobody seemed to care enough to track him down and get the jump on him in his trailer. So, the innocence faded and Adrian realized that perhaps he enjoyed it - watching Chris while he was blissfully unaware. It was like Adrian held the control in a situation that only he was aware of.
Guardian angel, monster under the bed, silent observer, quiet voyeur, security system, latent threat, Adrian is all of the above and he wears each of those like badges of honour. There was something in him that knew it was wrong, but it was overridden by the intense desire to simply know Chris - in his entirety.
He was so different when Dorian wasn't in the picture - better, Adrian thought. There was a discernable sweetness to Chris that Adrian noticed in the moments he thought he was alone. Dancing to records, spraying whipped cream directly into his mouth from the can, the band shirts he slept in with no pants, the way he seemed lonely. Nobody ever came over. Was that why he was willing to give Adrian his number? Was he lonely?
One evening, while Chris sat alone in his trailer, Adrian watching him through the window from the woods, something possessed him. A boldness. Adrian sent a text.
Vigilante:
Busy night?
He knew it wasn't because he could see Chris watching reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard. A jolt of excitement shot through Adrian as he watched Chris pick up his phone - an even expression as he read the text. His thumbs tapped over the phone screen.
Peacemaker:
Not really. Checked the scanner and heard nothing so I’m home watching TV.
Peacemaker:
Anything happening on your end?
Vigilante:
Nope. All quiet for me too, but I’m sure if I patrolled around I could find soemthing
Vigilante:
*Something
Vigilante:
Wanna come?
Chris clearly deliberated his response to the text. He glanced around the living room, he didn't seem overly prepared to go anywhere.
Peacemaker:
Nah.
Peacemaker:
Stay safe out there tho
Adrian didn’t go patrolling. No, he remained at his post, a dutiful protector in the trees, watching over his friend. His friend. He observed Chris like a bacteria under a microscope, with intent and care. He longed to pin his strong limbs back like an insect against a foam board, forever to be beheld and studied.
Saturday, 8/10/16
23:25
Peacemaker is watching the second season of The Dukes of Hazzard again. It's clearly his favourite because it's the one season he watches over and over. I don't get the appeal. Maybe it's better if you can hear it.
23:40
He’s having another beer. It's his fourth one. He's drank more before and doesn't get drunk - he has a good tolerance for alcohol.
23:52
He's in the bathroom.
23:55
He’s getting another beer. He shotgunned it and is grabbing another. I've never been drunk but I think I would entertain the possibility if it were with Peacemaker.
24:22
He’s turned the tv off and seems to be heading to bed. I’ll linger to make sure he's safe.
Adrian slowly sauntered through the trees to get a better view of Chris’ bedroom. He watched on as he got ready for bed, stripping down to his underwear and flopping back onto his bed. Chris was built like some kind of pro wrestler and Adrian found himself shamelessly admiring him. Not in a pervy way, though, in an appreciative manner. He knew what it takes to build a physique like that, and he admires the dedication.
Though, Chris didn't turn the light out immediately, instead opting to look at his phone in the lamplight of his bedroom. Adrian watched intently as the other man’s hand began to roam over himself. This was not the first time Adrian had found himself watching Christopher Smith pleasure himself, though he usually obliged the privacy once Chris actually got down to business. He really should close his curtains, Adrian thought. But maybe, Adrian rationalized, he wanted to be seen. He wanted someone - Adrian - to see him palm himself through his underwear, encouraging his growing arousal. This was one of the few instances where Adrian felt the tickle of guilt, like he knew he shouldn't watch. But he couldn't look away as Chris withdrew his erection from his underwear, like he was transfixed on the act.
Very rarely did Adrian find himself in the state of arousal. He lost his virginity in a lacklustre hookup with a coworker when he was 20, because he figured that was something ‘normal people’ did. He deduced he wasn't into sex - at least not with people he barely knew. Because there were times when he’d imagine what sex with Chris would be like, the nights he’d bring girls back to his trailer and Adrian’s gut stirred with jealousy. He wondered about Chris, what he liked, what he wanted, how he looked in the throes of pleasure, what he sounded like when he couldn't bite back his arousal.
So Adrian let himself watch - just this once, he promised himself. His mind wandered as his eyes traced Chris’ unknowing form, taught with pleasure, and he imagined it was him pleasuring Chris. It was a short lived moment, no longer than 5 minutes but it left Adrian straining against his restrictive suit. When he returned home, Adrian found himself rutting against a pillow, shuddering breaths muffled against his bed as he lay face down. He thought about Chris and came with a groan, immediately feeling equal parts guilt and pleasure.