The Slicer Chronicles Character Interview: David Chase Hadley

David Chase Hadley
Five Year Psychiatric Evaluation.
Interviewer: INT Charles Cameron.


* * * * * *


(INT note: This interview is being conducted bedside at Ochsner Baptist Hospital, where Agent Hadley is recuperating from injuries received in a recent case.)


INT: If I may, I'm going to preface by saying that I've heard a lot about you over the past few days, Agent Hadley.


-Really? Anything good? (INT: Conflicting.) -Uh-huh. Who've you interviewed so far? Aside from Kyra, of course. (INT: Captain Diaz.) -Well, this'll be interesting, then. Go ahead, hit me.


INT: Please state your name for the record, alongside any nicknames you may have had or currently have.


-Name is David Chase Hadley. Previous identity was Anjelica Marie Sutton. No known alias that I'm aware of, but I'm fairly sure Hector's got a few choice names for me.


INT: Please state your eye and hair color.


-Fuschia eyes, Black hair. (INT: If you don't mind my asking, how did you--) -Get the fuschia eyes? (INT: Yeah.) -It's cool. I get asked that fairly often. Parents were rich-ish, and mom wanted a beautiful baby girl, so they did that genetic baby manipulation crap everyone threw an uproar over some years back. In the end, I was born with pink-purple eyes. (laughs)


INT: Do you have any distinguishing facial features?


-Just the eyes, and a little scarring from a recent scuffle I got in to. Nothing major.


INT: Do you have any birthmarks or scars?


-Yeah, I have two scars on my chest from a double masectomy, and again, scarring from a fight, mostly on my breastbone.


INT: Who are your friends and family? Who do you surround herself with? Who are the people you're closest to? Who do you wish you were closest to?


-Parents are Deanne and Stephen Sutton, both alive and able to leave me the fuck alone. Sibling was Richard Sutton, but he died two years ago from an overdose. Don't really have any friends outside of Kyra and Hector. I also have a dog, little guy named Cloud. (INT: Why "Cloud", Agent Hadley?) -My room mate at NCLA was a cat named "Chiba", after the district in Japan. Biggest geek you'd ever meet. Huge fan of pre-Net video games. Played these games called "Final Fantasy" all the damn time. I normally didn't pay attention, but he played number seven for a long time, and I got caught up in it. Cloud was the main character in the game. I loved that huge fuckin' sword he carried. (pause) Chiba's dead now. Pancreatic cancer took him, two months before graduation. After I got my apartment, I got myself a pomeranian to keep me company, and I named him Cloud in memory of Chiba. (pause) I miss him. He was a good friend.


INT: Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do you call home?


-Born in Baton Rouge. Moved here after secondary school to be my own person. Lived here ever since that day. I like it too much.


INT: Where do you go when you're angry?


-The hole. (INT: I beg your pardon?) -The hole. That's where he tells me to go. (INT: Where who--) -Jesus, man. It's a joke! Really, I just close myself off for a while, try to swallow it down, and emerge in a few hours or so.


INT: What is your biggest fear? Who have you told this to? Who would you never tell this to? Why?


-Well, it used to be that people would find out about who I used to be. But now... (pause) Now I'd say it's not being able to do the best I know I can do. (INT: Do you mean in work, or--) -I mean in anything. Work, sex, art, anything.


INT: Do you have a secret?


-(laughs) Not any more!


INT: What makes you laugh?


-Seeing other people laugh. And getting a rise out of Hector's always fun. I don't really mean to piss him off, but he just doesn't seem to enjoy life. Everything's all serious, all the time with him. If he'd just let himself chill out for a few minutes, he'd be a lot happier, I think.


INT: Have you ever been in love? Had a broken heart?


-I had a boyfriend once. I already knew what I was, but my mom insisted I "act like a damn girl and date someone", so I did. We went on a few dates. I ended up ditching him at a resteraunt for a dyke from my art cl-- (INT: Agent Hadley, please refrain--) -HER words, not mine. She was proud of who she was. Didn't last long, anyway. Jumped another girl a week later. Didn't date again until Kyra came along.


INT: What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?


-Fridge is empty. I think I have a pizza from about two weeks ago sittin' in there, from before this Tuttle bullshit. Bedroom's kinda messy, but once I get out of here I need to do laundry anyway. Garbage chute's clean, though.


INT: What type of shoes or coverings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?


-When I'm not in yellow booties? (holds up his foot) I generally prefer combat boots. I've gotten used to 'em by now.


INT: When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell do you associate with it? Why is that smell so resonant for you?


-Wine. My mom hardly ever cooked. But I swear, she'd have her friends over eight days a week and they'd kill more wine than Nappa Valley could produce in a year. (laughs)


INT: Let's say you're doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?


-What's there to get rid of? I have three pieces of furniture, a dog, and a Dumbass. (thoughtful pause) Well, maybe Dumbass...


INT: It’s noon on a Saturday. What are you normally doing? Please be specific.


-Workin'. We have a rotation Hector keeps. He's always on call, and Kyra and I flip-flop back and forth with each other. And on the odd occasion we're all off or not plugged in, we'll have some drinks and bullshit.


INT: What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?


-The day I left my parents. I told them that I'd finally figured out who I was. I was openly lesbian before that for a few years, of course. They didn't like it, but they weren't going to throw me out. They just tried to "push me" in to being straight. (scoffs) Whatever. Didn't work. But by the time graduation from secondary school came about, I had already figured it out. (pause) (INT: Figured out what, Agent Hadley?) -Hmm? Oh, that I was born wrong. I was a boy. In my head, I was a boy. And I told them that. The night after graduation I sat them down, poured them each a glass of merlot, and laid everything out; that I'd always been uncomfortable in my skin, that I was always different from my girlfriends but I never knew why. Fuck, I even think I told them about crying to sleep some nights when I couldn't pee standing up. Like I said, I laid EVERYTHING out. And when I was done, my dad threw his wine glass right at my head, hit me between the eyes. He started screaming at me at the top of his lungs, telling me that "You were supposed to be my little girl," and "How dare you do this to your mother," and just on and on. And I laid there. I laid there on the rug in the living room and took it. And I cried. Oh dear sweet God did I cry.  I mean, how can you do that to your own child? (cries) I never did anything to hurt him! Never! Why? (INT: Would you like a moment, or--) -(wipes his eyes) No, no I'm fine. It's just a harsh memory, is all. (sniffles) Any way, I just laid there on the floor. I didn't move for hours. And after they went to sleep, I packed my shit and left, and took the quickrail to New Orleans. I only had a few dresses that my mom made me wear for clothes, but I traded those for jeans, t-shirts, and a sports bra when I got out here. I applied for reassignment the next day at the Social Ident office, after I registered at a shelter. And the next day, I applied to NCLA. Got accepted on the first try from my testing scores. I went through reassignment throughout my time there, and got my new name and ident about a week before Chiba died. (pause) Yup. (INT: That's quite a tale, Agent Hadley. Do you mind if we continue on?) -No, it's cool. By all means.


INT: You're getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?


-I don't go out. People find out you're NetPD, you get shunned anywhere you go.


INT: What is your favorite occupation?


-Oh, professional hedonist, hands down.


INT: What is your most treasured possession?


-Well, he's not really a possession, but Cloud. He's been the best company I've ever had, 'till Kyra came along. He's a needy little fuck, though. He's got more energy in him than I'll ever know what to do with.


INT: What do you consider your greatest achievement?


-Proving my parents wrong. I know they try to check on me. I'm happy, and I'm loving my life, and they can kiss the fleshiest part of my skinny ass. They think I'm an abomination? Fuck them. I'm proving them wrong every damn day. THAT'S my achievement.


INT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?


-Loving who you are and filling your life with those who accept that.


INT: What is your current state of mind?


-Tired of this hospital bed. I want to go home and be with Kyra and Cloud. Get laid, grab a take-n-bake, and just veg.


INT: What or who is the greatest love of your life?


-Kyra. She gets me, she's gorgeous, and for some insane fucking reason, she loves me. I'm thinking hallucinagens, but really, who's counting?


INT: What is your favorite journey?


-I don't travel, man. This hospital stay is the longest I've been from home ever, and I've only been in here two weeks or so.


INT: What is your most marked characteristic?


-Everybody's going to expect me to say my sense of humor. And, to be frank, I agree whole-heartedly.


INT: When and where were you the happiest?


-I think it's the day Kyra asked me out, man. I was waiting for it. We kissed a few times before, but she talked the doctors here from giving me pain meds until she could ask. I remember what I told her, too. She leaned over me, and asked me, looking in my eyes, if I'd be her boyfriend. And all I could say to her... Was "OW-OH-MY-GOD-THAT-HURTS-I-HAVE-A-CRACKED-STERNUM-FOR-CHRIST-SAKE-NUUUUURSE!". She probably remembers it different, though.


INT: What is it that you most dislike?


-Mayonaisse. I HATE mayonaisse. And The Joker.


INT: What is your greatest fear?


-Fear? What's fear?


INT: What is your greatest extravagance?


-Batarangs. (INT: Excuse me, sir?) -You heard me. Batarangs. And grapple line. (INT: I did hear you, Agent Hadley, but I don't get the joke.) -Then let me spell it out for you. This interview, with you and me, right here, is a waste of my time and yours. If I have to pretend I'm the goddamn Batman to get this over quicker for both of us, then that's what I plan to do. (INT: But we have to do a psychiatric--) -Do you? Well then, prepare for a dazzling interpretation of Damien Wayne, my friend. (INT: I really didn't want to have to do this, Agent Hadley. Refusal to cooperate will result in your immediate dismissal and forfeiture of all back pay, hazard pay, and benefits.) -Really? Over a fucking Q-and-A? (INT: Yes.) -(scoff) Just get the damn thing done and over with already.


INT: Which living person do you most despise?


-Udo Ugundokov. He's a villain. Over-the-top, Adolf Hitler two-point-oh villain. (pause) Someone needs to put a bullet in his brainpan, stat. Next.


INT: What is your greatest regret?


-Never standing up for myself all the times that my identity and self-worth were shit on at home. Next.


INT: Which talent would you most like to have?


-The ability to convincingly whistle while I work. Next.


INT: Where would you like to live?


-Nowhere. New Orleans is home, not the red stick. No other place like it. Next.


INT: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?


-Having your sense of self destroyed, piece by piece, by your "loved ones" while being told it's "good for you". That's low. Next.


INT: What is the quality you most like in a man?


-He has to have a sense of humor. No humor means no joy. No joy means no zeal for life. And a man who doesn't want to live is no friend of mine. Next.


INT: What is the quality you most like in a woman?


-(pauses) She has to be honest and caring. Looks don't really matter, though they do help. Same with intelligence. She has to be smart.


INT: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?


-I internalize everything. I'll fight back physically, if I can. But I just take the words and insults and keep 'em in.


INT: What is the trait you most deplore in others?


-Noticing nothing of the world around them. Despite the crap we've done to it, the world's still a gorgeous place. And nobody takes the time to just stand back and see it. I can't stand that.


INT: What do you most value in your friends?


-Being open-minded. (pause) Relatively speaking, of course.


INT: Who is your favorite hero of fiction?


-(very long pause) (INT: Agent Hadley, do you have an answer?) -Y'know, I'm sitting here, racking my brain, trying to think of a good answer. I think of all the heros I've enjoyed, from Holden Caulfield to Harry Potter, from Scout Finch to Guy Montag. And I can't pick one. There are so many fictional characters I admire. Before I came out, I read voraciously to pass the time. I had a library in my room, I swear. Couldn't bring any of it with me when I left. God knows what they did with 'em. But in any case, I really can't pick just one. If you gave me a limit of twenty, I might be able to whittle it down for you in a few hours. Sound like a plan? (INT: Actually, Agent Hadley, I really don't have the time for that. I think your answer's good as is.) -Are you sure? (INT: Yeah.) -Okay. Onwards.


INT: Who are your heroes in real life?


-Probably someone like Harvey Milk.


INT: Which living person do you most admire?


-Hector. I know I joke with him a lot, but the fact of the matter is I wouldn't be who the hell I am today if he hadn't picked Kyra and I for his new crew when he became chief down here. He has taught me amazing stuff that I never even dreamed was possible. I owe him my livelihood, I really do.


INT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?


-Respect for your elders. They don't respect me, so why should I return the fucking favor?


INT: On what occasions do you lie?


-Only when my mouth is open, sir.


INT: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?


-Hyperdiscombobulatory. (INT: Again, Agent Hadley, I have to rem--) -Yeah, yeah. I don't overuse any word or phrase too often, man.


INT: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?


-I'd love to be able to take things more seriously. Don't get me wrong, I love who I am. I love the man that I've become. But sometimes, I really wish I weren't such a smartass.


INT: What are your favorite names?


-I like Melancholy. I think it's a gorgeous girl's name, despite the meaning behind it. For boys, I like David.


INT: How would you like to die?


-Hmm. That's a toughie. (pause) I think, if I were to choose my own way, I would like to know it was coming. I'd like to be able to have my affairs in order, train my ducks to at least appear to be in a row, and I'd love to be surrounded by my loved ones, whoever they are at the time. That would be nice.


INT: If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?


-I'd make it a cycle and come back as me, except in a better house to parents who actually love and support their children.


INT: Final question. What is your motto?


-"Be who you are, not what society wants you to be". I can't remember who said that to save my life. But I think it fits, really. So, that's it? We're done? (INT: Yes, Agent Hadley. We are finally done.) -Good. Got everything you need? (INT: Yep.) -Good. Please send in Kyra on your way out.


(Psych Eval Interview Concluded.)

The Slicer Chronicles Character Interview: Kyra Amber Marston

Kyra Amber Marston
Five Year Psychiatric Evaluation.
Interviewer: INT Charles Cameron.

* * * * * *

INT: Please state your name for the record, alongside any nicknames you may have had or currently have.

-Marston, Kyra Amber, sir. I generally go by Kyra or my surname.

INT: Please state your eye and hair color.

-Grey eyes, dark brown hair. Did you want a physical description for the record as well, sir? (INT: No, just eye and hair is fine, ma'am.) -Okay.

INT: Do you have any distinguishing facial features?

-No, sir.

INT: Do you have any birthmarks or scars?

-No, sir.

INT: Who are your friends and family? Who do you surround herself with? Who are the people you're closest to? Who do you wish you were closest to?

-My father, Kirk, still lives in Austin, and I communicate regularly. Mother's dead. Boyfriend is NetCop Agent David Hadley.

INT: Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do you call home?

-Born and raised in Austin, Texas, sir. Moved to New Orleans to attend NetCop Academy of Louisiana seven years ago. Assigned to New Orleans region under supervision of Region Chief Hector Diaz upon graduation. Been here since.

INT: Where do you go when you're angry?

-I'm not an angry person, sir. I don't have a failsafe.

INT: What is your biggest fear? Who have you told this to? Who would you never tell this to? Why?

-Dying, sir. (INT: Do you mean dying alone, or--) -No, I mean death. I had this one thing lately, a brush with this rapist-- (INT: The Jerry Tuttle incident?) -Yes, sir. I really, honestly thought I was gonna die. One of the scariest things I've ever been through.

INT: Do you have a secret?

-Not that I can think of, sir.

INT: What makes you laugh?

-My boyfriend, David. Funniest man I know. (INT: I've heard that from your chief, Hector.) -Oh, you talked to Hector already? (INT: Yes, ma'am. He also says Agent Hadley can push the jokes way too far.) -He just likes to push Hector's buttons. Man needs to loosen up sometimes, in my opinion.

INT: Have you ever been in love? Had a broken heart?

-I had a boyfriend in secondary school. We dated a few years, but broke up right after graduation. (INT: May I ask why, or--) -No, it's fine. He got enrolled to be a lawyer at some damn place up north, and I wanted to go to NCLA for enforcement. Just parted ways, is all.

INT: What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

-That's pretty personal sir, mind if we skip that one? (INT: Unfortunately, we can't, Agent Marston.) -Okay. Refrigerator is clean. I have a few things in there, but nothing expired. Bedroom's clean. My garbage needs to be taken out, but that's just 'cause I haven't done my daily cleaning yet today, sir.

INT: What type of shoes or coverings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?

-At work I wear heels. I try to stay professional. At home I wear sandals or flats, sir.

INT: When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell do you associate with it? Why is that smell so resonant for you?

-Smell? Fresh herbs. My momma used to grow pots of herbs on the windowsill. Dill, basil, mint, thyme, and rosemary, in that order, left to right. Dad used to grow bellpeppers out back, too, but they don't really smell 'till you cut 'em open. But those herbs smell to high heaven.

INT: Let's say you're doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?

-I could do to get rid of some stuff. Sports equipment, some junk up in the attic. I am not getting rid of my furniture, though. Lot of it's been in the family for years.

INT: It’s noon on a Saturday. What are you normally doing? Please be specific.

-I'm either plugged in when it's my turn on rotation or maybe havin' a few drinks with Hector and David, sir. I don't go out much anymore.

INT: What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

-The day my momma died. I was fourteen years old. We lived in a good neighborhood out there, but this gang came in, started trying to loot the houses and just go crazy. My dad bought a rifle to protect us in case those assholes come by our way, but it didn't help. One of 'em came by, knocked on the door like a gentleman. Momma thought it was safe, and started going up there, when the man opened fire. I didn't get hit, thank God, but my dad took one in the leg and momma took one in the chest and one in the head. Didn't kill her right away, either. She started doing silly stuff, like singin' nursery rhymes and sayin' poems. Dad called for an ambulance, but she bled out before they got there. (smiles) Last words she said to me was "I love you, Ki-Ki." She came to long enough to say she loved me. That's somethin' you'll never forget. Ever.

INT: You're getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?

-I don't really go out, sir. Don't like the crowds.

INT: What is your favorite occupation?

-(laughs) I like mine. Get to rid the world of the bad guys and help folks out what need help.

INT: What is your most treasured possession?

-My collection of vacation stuff. Every year, my dad would take us out somewhere. Redwood forest, Grand Canyon, London, that sort of thing. And every year I would take a picture and get a souvenir of some sort. I still have 'em all, keep 'em in my living room.

INT: What do you consider your greatest achievement?

-I caught the bastard. (INT: Excuse me?) -The man that attacked us. After momma's funeral, I plugged in and read everything I could about Slicers, watched memories, and the like. Took about a year of jumping around, but I finally found the man. He had the memory to prove it. Name was Clifford Payne. White male, thirty-one years old. Tracked him down, shot him in the leg, and ripped out his VI button so he couldn't call for backup. Then I called the police, and they arrested him on sight. NetCop confirmed his guilt, and I got scholarships thrown at me by about ten state academies. Texas wasn't one of 'em, but Louisiana was and their instructors looked like they knew their stuff, so I went there.

INT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

-I'd say having a good family to love and support you. Every time I talk to my dad, he reminds me how much he loves me. That's happiness, right there.

INT: What is your current state of mind?

-I'm fine. A little hungry, but that's normal.

INT: What or who is the greatest love of your life?

-Well, I don't know about "love of my life" yet, but I'm really happy with David, sir.

INT: What is your favorite journey?

-The trip back and forth to Austin to see my dad. It's long, and I only do it about once a year, but it is some gorgeous.

INT: What is your most marked characteristic?

-I'd say my dedication, sir. When I'm on duty, ain't a damn soul better. You can bank on it.

INT: When and where were you the happiest, Agent Marston?

-The day David said "yes" and we became official. I wanted to ask him out for a while, but I was too nervous. The day he saved me from Tuttle, though? I opened my eyes, and he was the first thing I saw. (pause) He's such a good man. Anyway, he went in to the hospital afterward, and I asked him before they put in the drugs so I'd know the answer was real. And he looked me dead in the eyes and said, "I've been waiting for you to ask that!" I tell you, I could've flown that day.

INT: What is it that you most dislike?

-People who think they're better than you, sir.

INT: What is your greatest fear?

-Now wait, didn't you already ask me that? (INT: I did, sorry. Been meaning to take that out. Moving on.)

INT: What is your greatest extravagance?

-Like, spendin'-wise? (INT: Yes, ma'am.) -Oh, okay. I spend a lot on business suits, but really, I save more than I spend.

INT: Which living person do you most despise?

-I don't really hate anyone. But there's this one guy Hector was tellin' me about the other day, name of Udon somethin'-or-other-- (INT: Are you referring to the war lord Udo Ugundokov?) -That's the one. Killin' people like crazy over there. Heard he's even getting a cult of personality startin' over here. I'd watch out for him.

INT: What is your greatest regret?

-Not gettin' a chance to say goodbye to my momma. I was in so much shock I couldn't say "I love you" back to her.

INT: Which talent would you most like to have?

-Oh, man, I'd love to be able to sing. I honestly couldn't carry a tune in a bucket the size of Texas.

INT: Where would you like to live?

-I'd like to move back to Austin, sooner or later, sir. Be with my dad.

INT: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

-Losin' a loved one, definitely.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a man?

-The ability to make me laugh.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a woman?

-Well, she can't be prettier than me, that's for sure. (laughs) Really, just be a good person. Help those that need helpin', that sort of thing.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

-I get too overzealous at work sometimes, sir. Tend to jump to conclusions, especially if I'm really involved in a case.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in others?

-No respect for the law. I can't stand that.

INT: What do you most value in your friends?

-Honesty and loyalty, sir. If you can't be honest or you talk bad about me, you best get to steppin'.

INT: Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

-(pause) Man by the name of Atticus Finch. Ever heard of him? (INT: Wasn't he the protagonist of "To Kill A Mockingbird?") -(nods) Yup. Good man. Everyone should be more like him.

INT: Who are your heroes in real life?

-I think I'd say Josh Eastwood. (INT: The actor?) -Yes, sir, great-grandson of Clint. Man stood for what he believed in. You know that man spent sixteen years as a police officer between movie shoots? (INT: I did not, actually.) -(nods) Yes, indeed. Again, he was a good man.

INT: Which living person do you most admire?

-My dad. He's been a role-model for me my entire life, sir.

INT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

-Kindness, sir. Sometimes, people get it, but they sure as hell don't deserve it in my eyes.

INT: On what occasions do you lie?

-Not at all, which is entirely too much, sir. (laughs)

INT: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

-I don't overuse too many words or phrases, sir.

INT: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

-I wouldn't. I am who I am, for better or for worse.

INT: What are your favorite names?

-I like a few different ones. I like Kirk, obviously. I like Brendon. I think Ariel would be a beautiful name for a girl.

INT: How would you like to die?

-I don't want to. I don't-- No. I'm not-- N-no. No. Not thinking about that. I can't. No. Move on. (INT: Unfortunately, Agent Marston, I need an answer--) -Then you can kiss my ass, sir. Ain't gettin' one. (INT: With all due respect, refusal to cooperate will result in the loss--) -Fine. I don't want to see it happening. I just want it to happen and be over with, happy?

INT: If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

-I'm gonna reach across this table and kick your ass down Canal Street and back, you don't knock it off with these death questions, sir! (INT: But Agent Marston, we--) -You what? Gonna fire me? Take sanctions against me? Let me tell you somethin', son. My record is spotless. I have received more commendations for my work in the past five years than you ever will in your career. I. Am. Afraid. Of. Death. Get it through that thick freakin' skull of yours. I know for a fact that an interview question of this caliber can be omitted when the content of the question calls in to play or brings forth mortal fear in the interviewed Agent. That is occuring here. Now knock it the fuck off and MOVE ON!

INT: Okay. Final question. What is your motto?

-(deep breath) (pause) "Live today like it's your last, so every day can be your fullest." There, I'm done. Now leave me alone.

(Psych Eval Interview Concluded.)

The Slicer Chronicles Character Interview: Hector Alejondro Diaz

Hector Alejondro Diaz
Five Year Psychiatric Evaluation.
Interviewer: INT Charles Cameron.

* * * * * *

INT: Ready, sir? Please state your name for the record, alongside any nicknames you may have had or currently have.

-My name is Captain Hector Alejondro Diaz. I answer to Hector or Sir. Call me by my middle name and I gut you.

INT: Please state your eye and hair color.

-Blue and Black, respectively. Height is 6'4", skin is light tan.

INT: Do you have any distinguishing facial features, sir?

-I can always be distinguished by my beard. I've had it since secondary school. (INT: And why is that?) (shrugs) I just did. Liked the way I looked then, still do now.

INT: Do you have any birthmarks or scars?

-Scar by my left wrist from an incident with a cauterizer scalpel. No tattoos or birthmarks.

INT: Who are your friends and family? Who do you surround herself with? Who are the people you're closest to? Who do you wish you were closest to?

-Nope. Ran from home my senior year of secondary. They can all kiss my ass. Closest to family I have are the two NetCops under my command, Agent Kyra Marston and Agent David Hadley. They're like my little siblings.

INT: Where were you born? Where have you lived since then? Where do you call home?

-Born and raised in East Texas. When I ran, I came to New Orleans, and I've been here since.

INT: Where do you go when you're angry?

-The hospital. (laughs for minutes) Most of the time, I just retreat to my studio and paint. It helps.

INT: What is your biggest fear? Who have you told this to? Who would you never tell this to? Why?

-Losing my temper. I can get real angry at times. It's an open secret by now, I think.

INT: Do you have a secret?

-(INT note: Throughout this answer, Cpt. Diaz's eyes flick continually up and to the right. Make note.) I can't think of anything that would be qualified as a secret, no.

INT: What makes you laugh?

-Not much. One of my charges, Hadley, is a pretty funny guy, but he pushes the jokes too far and he ends up coming across as annoying to a fault half the time.

INT: Have you ever been in love? Had a broken heart?

-Never been in a steady relationship, man. (leans back) If I need to get laid, it's one-nighters for me.

INT: What is in your refrigerator right now? On your bedroom floor? On your nightstand? In your garbage can?

-That's pretty personal, man. (INT: I realize that, but I have to--) I know you do. And I'm stating for the record that that is a question I'm uncomfortable with. (INT: I still need an answer, sir.) I know. Fridge needs to be cleaned out, but it's not a science experiment yet. Bedroom needs to be cleaned up. Garbage is empty. Next.

INT: What type of shoes or coverings do you wear on a day-to-day basis?

-I like the old styles, as you can see. (holds out foot) They used to call these "Chucks". Everybody wore 'em. There's still a few companies making them, but it's a specialty now.

INT: When you think of your childhood kitchen, what smell do you associate with it? Why is that smell so resonant for you?

-Beer and pot. My dad was NetPD, but the man was a loser. He'd get drunk and wasted and pass out on the table before mom could finish making dinner. We'd always eat in the sitting room.

INT: Let's say you're doing intense spring cleaning. What is easy for you to throw out? What is difficult for you to part with? Why?

-I could throw out some of my older paintings. My studio's cluttered, and I wouldn't hauck that shit on anyone. Other than that, I think I'm pretty good.

INT: It’s noon on a Saturday. What are you normally doing? Please be specific.

-I'm either plugged in or hanging out with Marston and Hadley. They're good people. Might have a beer or two.

INT: What is one strong memory that has stuck with you from childhood? Why is it so powerful and lasting?

-My dad. He never treated us right. One day, man got drunk, took a swing at my mom. I stopped him. Laid him out cold, right there on the kitchen floor. I think I even broke his VI switch. That was the day I left. Mom followed my trip online, and sent me a "thank you" when I settled down here. Dad tried to hunt me down. (INT: Did he find you?) Yeah. Found me while I was enrolled in NCLA. We sat down, had a few beers. Told me about his life coming up. He's an asshole, but at least he's honest, I'll give him that. Haven't seen either of 'em since.

INT: You're getting ready for a night out. Where are you going? What do you wear? Who will you be with?

-I'm probably just putting on my jeans and boots and going to a pub. There's one on Clearview I like, Sammy's Place. Quiet, respectful. Good people.

INT: What is your favorite occupation?

-If I weren't NPD, I would love to be a professional artist. But I love doing the NetCop thing, so I'm good.

INT: What is your most treasured possession?

-I think it's my collection of antique computer hardware. I love to keep it around, see how far we've come.

INT: What do you consider your greatest achievement?

-Becoming Region Chief after being a low-level agent for so long. That was cool. Something my dad never did, so I've officially one-upped the fucker. (laughs)

INT: What is your idea of perfect happiness?

-(long pause) Finding a wife. Being in love. After I left home, I was so focused on work, never found time to settle down. I don't want kids, and in any case finding someone in the motherhood program is like choosing between Cthulhu and Gojira. (INT: Beg your pardon?) -Nevermind. Next question.

INT: Okay. What is your current state of mind?

-Bored. Thirsty. Ready to get out of here so I can go visit Hadley in the hospital and go over some paperwork. (INT: What happened?) -I'd rather not say. Move on.

INT: What or who is the greatest love of your life?

-Don't have one.

INT: What is your favorite journey?

-The trip to New York for my promotion. That place is something out of science fiction, man. You know they have transport tubes there now? (INT: Yes, sir. I work there most of the time.) -Then you know. I've heard they're talking about putting the system in other cities, too. Wouldn't work here, though. (INT: Why not?) -(shrugs) Ground's too saturated. If they go the underground route, the tubes'll flood in a week, and I don't think we have the support for an overground system. I guess we'll see.

INT: What is your most marked characteristic?

-(laughs) The beard. Everyone loves it.

INT: When and where were you the happiest, sir?

-When I got on my own. I was free.

INT: What is it that you most dislike?

-I can't abide stupidity.

INT: What is your greatest fear?

-Haven't you already asked that question, man? (INT: Yes, I have. Sorry about that, moving on.)

INT: What is your greatest extravagance?

-Canvas and paint. I also like paper books, but it's few and far between that I splurge on them.

INT: Which living person do you most despise?

-Udo Ugundokov. I think he needs to die. (INT: Just like that?) -Have you ever heard of a man named Adolf Hitler? (INT: Yes, sir.) -Herr Hitler was a brilliant man. United a nation, even named Man Of The Year. But he was a sick fuck. Real sick. Hated his own heritage, and tried to wipe out everyone as compensation. (INT: What's that got to do with--) - I'm getting there. Ugundokov's the same way. United the Czech Republic, and a brilliant orator. Thing is, he's gathering power and national pride the old way: violence, propoganda, and wanton destruction. Even has his own private Riefenstahl on payroll. (leans back, stretches out legs) Man needs to die, or next thing you know we're looking at a second holocaust, plain and simple.

INT: What is your greatest regret?

-Probably not getting married. Should've done.

INT: Which talent would you most like to have?

-Don't know. That's a good one. (lowers head in thought, then looks up) I think I would love to be able to write. But all told, I'm pretty happy as is.

INT: Where would you like to live?

-I like it in New Orleans. Good people, good food. Maybe move back to Bushlands after I retire, but that's a ways off, I think.

INT: What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

-Again, that's a good one, man. Uh, I think watching your loved ones have their lives ripped apart by the one person who's supposed to be taking care of them, and knowing you're powerless to stop it. That's low. Lowest I've ever been, at least.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a man?

-Huge cock. (INT: Excuse me, sir?) -(laughs) Just jokin' with ya. A sense of duty, of doing what has to be done when the time comes.

INT: What is the quality you most like in a woman?

-Huge cock. (laughs hysterically) Really, the ability to cook. I'm a sucker for a home-cooked meal.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

-I hate my temper. I fucking hate it.

INT: What is the trait you most deplore in others?

-Idiocy. Stupidity. You have a brain, peoples. Use it.

INT: What do you most value in your friends?

-Don't really have friends, man. (INT: But you said--) -That I hang out with my underlings. Ocassionally. Move on.

INT: Who is your favorite hero of fiction?

-Batman. (INT: The superhero?) -Yeah, the fictional one, not that asshole that popped up twenty years ago. Shame they cancelled the book.

INT: Whose are your heroes in real life?

-Don't have one.

INT: Which living person do you most admire?

-Probably my mother, for putting up with my dad's bullshit for so long, just to keep the family together.

INT: What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

-Forgiveness. Grudges are a time-honored tradition, man. (laughs)

INT: On what occasions do you lie?

-I try not to as best I can.

INT: Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

-Don't really use one phrase over the other too much. I say "man" a lot at the end of sentences, though.

INT: If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

-I'd have settled down earlier. Gotten married.

INT: What are your favorite names?

-I like "Alicia". I think it's a wonderful female name. Boy's name would be "James".

INT: How would you like to die?

-I'd like to die suddenly. No pain, no build-up, just BLAM. Maybe saving a life.

INT: If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?

-A paintbrush would be cool. I would be used to create art forever.

INT: Final question. What is your motto?

-"You're either with me or against me." I've always loved that quote. Never found a practical use for it, but I love it all the same. (leans forward) So that's it? (INT: Yes sir. You're free to go.) Cool. Have a good one.

(Psych Eval Interview Concluded.)

NEWS UPDATE

Heyya, Guys/Gals/Betwixt...

It's been a few weeks since the release date for my first solo anthology, "Tales Of The Morbidly Macabre". In that time, lots of awesome stuff has happened. I have my first book signing set up for 11 July, I have my first Convention appearance set up for June 2013, etc. Things are groovy.

But THIS.

This blog, Fiction Is Stranger Than Truth, is a bit of a mystery to me. See, when I first started writing, I created it as a way for people to see my stories. Then, upon having my stories published by Schlock! Webzine, I just linked to them there and then put them up on here the next week (after the stories were archived at Schlock!). But now that the book is out containing updated and revised versions of the stories featured on here (plus many more), I'm at a bit of a crossroads regarding this... thing... you are now reading. Do I keep it up? Do I pull the plug? Well, I think I have the answer.

Work has begun on my first full-length novel, "The Slicer Chronicles: No Way Home" (tentative title). So I plan on using this monstrosity of a blogsite and post behind-the-scenes material as it comes available. First up will be character interviews, allowing my fans and readers to get to know my characters from the Slicer Chronicles better than before, and it will all be kicked off by my brand-new lead character: Tasha Jade Williams. Expect her interview to be up later today, and the rest (David Hadley, Hector Diaz, and Kyra Marston) to follow upon completion.


This is Fiction Is Stranger Than Truth 2.0, peoples. Dig it.


Cheers!
-C. Priest Brumley


P.S.: You can get copies of my anthology "Tales Of The Morbidly Macabre" at http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Morbidly-Macabre-Priest-Brumley/dp/1477634924/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_t_1

One Night In Hell, A Short Story

A bit of a note before you read this story:

On 27 May 2012, this blog hit 1,000 pageviews. I was (and still am) absolutely flabbergasted that that many people would view my stories, even if it is a cumulative number across the entirety of my offerings. So, in appreciation of that mark being hit, I did a drawing on my official Facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/cpriestbrumley), with the winner receiving a custom-written story starring themselves, in the genre of their choice.

Well, it didn't quite work out that way.

The chosen winner, Chris Reid, opted instead for me to write a post-apocalyptic war story centered upon a few of his popular characters from the site "Last Days Journal", Richard Faust and Cpt. Alan Dryfter. So, in the spirit of the contest, I reimagined the characters, trying my best to remain true to their core, all the while incorporating new life in to the Zombie mythos surrounding them.

I hope you all enjoy.

Cheers!
-C. Priest Brumley, 31 May 2012

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"These earplugs aren't working for shit, Faust."

"Nor mine, mate."

The sound of a thousand human voices hung in the air, an orchestra of pain and mortal danger in an unstopped crescendo surrounding the two men. The first to talk hefted his gun, an un-modified AK-47, on to his lap and threw his head back in frustration.

"Jesus H, if I have to hear this non-stop moaning bull all night, I'm gonna lose my cool!"

"Same, I'm afraid."


Clink. Clink.

"Well, you can take solace in knowing that I'll stop you and burn you before you can turn."

"You'd really do that, Alan? Shoot me, I mean."

A tired sigh floated through the dark air between the two men, unheard. "No, I wouldn't. Just trying to cheer you up some."

"Good soddin' luck. My nerves are on edge here, mate."

"Hard to argue right now. Still no word from H-Q?"

The second man's voice sounded strained, his accent thickening from stress. "None yet. I've tried fixing the receiver best I can, but the most I'm still getting is white noise and the occasional snip from a football replay. Apparently, Man-U's up on Galaxy three to one."

Clink. Clink.

Alan looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise. "They're still playing football?"

"Replay, mate. From what I can get, this one's three years on."

Another tired sigh. Alan shifted in his spot to relieve the numb feeling caused by the rubble they were perched on. "Damn. I was hoping they still had a spot safe enough, too."

"Same here, I tell you."

Clink. Clink.

"What the hell are you doing over there?"

Faust smiled for the first time that evening. "Counting."

"Counting what?"

"Bullets."

"Oh."

"According to my estimate, you have about sixty-seven left."

Alan broke out in a wide grin. "I like the sound of those words!"

"You're not going to like the next ones, then. I'm skint, mate."

Alan cursed under his breath, a sound lost under the continual stream of moans that issued from beneath them. He ran his hand through his coarse, short hair as a gesture of contemplation, then looked up, an idea gleaming in his eye.

"How are we on fourties?"

"Haven't got there yet, but I know we have six or seven loaded clips in your bag. Speaking on, chuck it at us, will you?" Alan slid the pack off with one smooth motion and threw it, one-handed, to Faust. "The faster I count, the faster we can institute a cunning plan of escape."

The desk, set on end in the corner of the room to block the stairwell, gave a shake, a fresh stream of moans pouring in through the gaps.

"Guess the first and second floors didn't take, eh?" The false chipper note on Faust's tongue did not go unnoticed.

"Guess so." Alan patted his chest, followed by his pockets, then cursed again. "Hey, while you're in there, see if you can find a pack? I can't find mine." A half-used pack of cigarettes flew through the air between the men, and was caught just before impact by Alan's quick hand. "Thanks. Where were they?"

"Front pocket. Hang on--" The red glow of the lighter flared as Faust started one for himself, then threw the lighter on the same trajectory as the pack before it. "--There you are."

The same glow illuminated Alan's face for a moment, grizzled features thrown in relief by the dancing light. He pulled a deep drag, letting the nicotine run its course, then turned his mind to the pressing issue.

"So. You're out, but I'm good on both of mine. Brilliant."

"Technically speaking, yes, but even with you being 'good', I think we can only count on half for kill shots. So I'm thinking we can hold off the horde out the door, but we're right screwed after, mate."

"Damn it. We need something, Faust. At this point, I'll take anything."

Faust shifted on his pile of rubble and returned to sifting through the rucksack set between his boots, flicking the dead ashes from the end of his cigarette on occasion. Alan, for his part, stayed silent, finishing his cigarette well before Faust and flicking it out of the open hole in the wall to fall to the hording mass below. After a few more minutes of sorting, Faust straightened out, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

"Talk to me."

"My dearest Captain, we are saved."

"How saved are you talking, Faust? Napalming the 'Cong saved or 'Shot heard 'round the world' saved?"

Faust gave a soft laugh, barely audible in the cacophony. "How dramatic do you like your victories, Alan?"

"Yes!" Alan stood up, punching the air in excitement, the AK-47 laying across his lap falling to the ground with a metallic clatter. "You found one?"

"Just the one. If you can clear out the surrounding horde a mo, I can eyeball the bastard and call this one a win, eh?"

Alan scooped down and grabbed the strap of the AK-47, hefting it on to his shoulder. "Cut 'em or kill 'em?"

"Kill. If I miss the runt, we're dead off. We need as many down for good as we can get."

Faust straightened up, tossing the backpack to Alan with one hand while he unshouldered his sniper rifle with the other. Alan caught the bag, shouldered his gun, and started to root for clips. "Can do. Where do you think he's at?"

"My guess is the slight break in the mass, right--" Faust stood and walked to the gaping hole, scanning the gathered horde below until he spotted what he was looking for. "--Right there." He pointed at a small gap in the midst of a tight-packed group, barely visible in the light of the full moon shining overhead.

Alan strode the few steps to stand by Faust, pocketing the loaded clips in his hand, and scoped the area below, picking out the opening almost at once. "Right there. You loaded?"

Faust slipped the length of dark metal off of his shoulder, opened the chamber, and loaded the sole round in the span of a single second. "Done. You?"

"Ready when you are."

"Then give me an opening, Cap--"

CRASH.

The oaken desk that had been blocking the stairway in the corner gave way, spilling the oncoming horde in to the war-ravaged room. Alan and Faust both spun at the same time, Faust grabbing the semi-automatic pistol strapped to Alan's side as it passed and dropping the sniper rifle in a single movement.

"Kill shots only!" Alan's voice rang out over the moans of the horde as he and Faust levelled their weapons at the creatures' heads, gunshots ringing in rapid succession dropping the horde as they approached en mass, bodies crawling over bodies crawling over more bodies, blood painting the brick surfaces around them in a grisly shade of putrefied black as the stench of the reanimated dead still approached, a hundred corpses moving toward the only fresh food in a hundred miles, the wall of bodies growing taller...

"I'm out!" Alan's voice rang out a minute later, barely heard over the ringing in their ears from the utter din of the weapons and assailants. The wall of bodies had grown too tall for the horde to climb over, but the movements behind the wall were growing in intensity as the horde continued to push, unabated, knowing that nothing is entirely unmoveable.

"We have to off that controller, Alan!"

"And how do you propose we do that? Want me to pull a Nathan Lane, dress in drag, and do the hula?"

"What?"

"It's a joke, for Christ sake!"

"Now is not the time for a sodding joke! Take this!" Faust flipped the handgun through the air at Alan, who caught it by the hot muzzle and flipped it to grip the handle, dropped the clip, and slammed in a new one brought up by his other hand from his pocket. "I need space to get to the controller, mate. Make it happen!"

Alan brought the sight up to his eye, took aim, and fired, again, and again, the protective cluster around the controller being reduced one by one. On the fourteenth shot, Alan turned to Faust, intending on cracking wise.

He opted for silence instead.

The long, dark sniper rifle was set up and being aimed directly at the exposed controller: a child, no more than four feet in height, the result of evolution's sickening attempt at protecting the ruling caste of these mindless creatures. Faust had done this before, dozens of times, but it was a mark of his humanity that it unsettled him each and every... and now was not the exception. Fighting the rising bile in his throat, he squeezed the trigger, loosing the sole round they had left for the gun.

His aim was true, and the head of the child exploded outward, crumpling the controller's body as Faust lost the fight against the combined force of his conscience and stomach.

The effects were immediate. The horde that had gathered around the building dropped, one at a time at first, then by twos and threes, then more, a ripple of reanimated corpses falling dead again from the loss of their reanimator, originating from the center point of the controller and working out from there.

The wall of bodies stopped shifting as the remaining horde beyond it fell down. Alan holstered his gun and clicked the strap over the back end, then scooped to grab the AK-47 from its resting place below on the ground and reshouldered it next to his rucksack. Faust spat out the remnants of the vomit in his mouth to the rubble pile, trying to ignore the sharp stench wafting up to his nostrils, and reshouldered his rifle. Both men met at the center of the room, watching the sky lighten through the gaping bombshell hole in the wall.

"Did it again?"

"I think I'll be worried when I don't, Alan."

"And that's why I keep you around, man. Best shot in the world and you're still more humane than anyone back at camp."

"Speaking on, let's start moving this pile, mate. Haven't eaten since we left to scout."

"I heard that, brother."

The sun broke out over the horizon in the distance.

Reminiscences Of My Childhood, An Autobiographical Essay

You want to know why I am who I am today?

First and foremost, I blame my parents. They did this to me, you see.

My parents were a weird sort. Not weird like, "Granola and TinFoil hats" weird. Their particular flavour of weird was closer to "Let's strap on hand-made armour and/or hand-made period clothing and re-enact the middle ages using modern conveniences such as bathrooms, running water, electricity, etc."

(For those of you who just guessed I was an S.C.A. Brat, you get bonus points. For those of you who said Renn Fair Brat, close this blog, go outside, close your eyes, and play in traffic. Or deep-throat a cactus, take your pick.)

The S.C.A. was, at the time, the greatest thing that could ever happen to my life. Once a month, I was allowed to get dressed up in costume and run around huge campgrounds and recreation areas, meeting new people constantly, learning about everything from sword fighting to calligraphy and back again. I learned how to cook, to barter, play the djimba and didgeridoo, and so much more before I even hit puberty. I learned of a myriad of alternate lifestyles and religions, all of which seemed awesome and exciting to a child my age. Hell, my S.C.A. name, Kveld Ulfr Des Fjords (Old Norse for "Evening Wolf of the Waters"), was so synonymous with who I was that (at times) I answered more readily to Kveld than Chris!

It was a great time of my life. But the weird influences did not even begin there, and they certainly did not end as we packed up from events.

While I was in the womb, my mother would put earphones on her baby bump and play Queen, Jethro Tull, and Alice Cooper. Immediately out of the womb, my father's influence was added, with Pink Floyd, Heart, Huey Lewis and the News, and more joining my previous affiliations. To this day, I maintain that these are the reasons music has been such a big factor in my life, and the foundation given to me in those formative days has only led my natural progression to current tastes, such as Dommin, Megadeth, and Iced Earth.

As well, through the interactions of my parents and their assorted friends, I was exposed to Elvira, early Doctor Who (we used to man the phones during Doctor Who marathons for LPB), and Mystery Science Theater 3000 (colloquially known as MST3K), as well as other cult features such as Army Of Darkness and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. My father, upon seeing my enthusiasm for these features, proceeded to feed them to me on a regular basis, which included all-night viewings of TNT's "Monstervision" where I viewed some of the greatest (and worst) horror movies ever made weekly, further shaping my tastes for decades to come.

And there's more. My parents and their friends also gave to me what I now consider my greatest assets: my "geek cred", as it were. I watched, intrigued, as men I had known my entire life played the original Beta release of Magic: The Gathering on our kitchen table, learning the rules for the first time. I listened to and watched games of D&D unfold before my eyes. I marveled at my father's dedication to playing and beating (with my mother as his "navigator") Final Fantasy, Dragon Warrior 1-3, and more. Star Wars was omnipresent alongside Excalibur and Labyrinth and The Princess Bride. Comics were ingrained in my DNA.

This is all not to say I was not interested in typical things in my youth; on the contrary, I was a fan of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Masters Of The Universe, Voltron, G.I. Joe, and Transformers, same as every child in those days. I played Nintendo, had (and still maintain) a massive Lego collection, and used my father's flashlights as lightsabers. My childhood just had a few extra... perks.

After leaving the S.C.A. in my teen years (long story, but let's just say my personal involvement ended with my cursing out an entire e-mail list full of adults with language that would make a sailor blush), I found myself the odd man out. No one else I knew was interested in Norse mythology, or sword fighting, or cheap Sci-Fi. They were far more interested in professional wrestling, and cars, and heavy metal. So I tried to fit in, coming to appreciate wrestling (at the time). But the fundamentals instilled in me during those formative years in the S.C.A. never disappeared.

I still believe in chivalry.

I still believe that every man should learn how to handle a sword properly.

I still believe that cooking a feast and eating a meal together with dozens of your closest friends and family is tantamount to what others would call "Heaven".

I still believe in friends being family.

I still believe in faded "Highlander" shirts and B.Y.O.E. (Bring Your Own Everything) parties and multi-day games of Uno and proudly displaying that sword you found that goes great with your persona.

I still believe in my childhood.


Cheers!
-C. Priest Brumley