Connor Rourke Session One

Connor Rourke

​Hello, Da …

​It’s pissing down with rain here, but that’s probably what drew me here in the first place. I was in Chicago a few weeks ago (and got me hair trimmed by this poofter wearing all white. You should have seen this bloke!) and it was bitterly cold there and rainy there, but just not the same feeling you get on the coast. Also, it wasn’t far enough away … though I’m starting to realize nowhere is.​

So, anyway, I’m writing this to you to collect my thoughts, you know? A lot’s happened since you passed on. I wish you’d had more time to tell me about that crazy bird bitch. She really put the shits up me today.

So I was running (I know you told me a man doesn’t run from his responsibilities, but I sort of guessed you were warning me about bonking Meg Merrilees behind the O’Malley’s barn and getting her pregnant rather than a fuckin’ blood curse) and I hopped a container ship to the States and I’ve been grifting and thieving my way across this ridiculously huge country.​

So now I’m in Seattle. Thought about heading to Boston first, but there’s too many wannapaddies there. I’ve been staying in this Ford outside a curio shop of sorts. The chink owner wasn’t your average git trying to get me to move along. He was nice enough. Even brought me coffee once in a while, and proper coffee, not that instant Nescafe shite gran used to drink. I get the feeling he was just trying to stay in me good graces, so I wouldn’t come in and pinch his shite. Little did the Jappo know he’d have to draw me a chart comparing the value of his brickabrac to cars before I’d have the foggiest what any of it is worth.​

So, today I decide to act the proper house (parking lot) guest and take the chink’s cup back inside (where it’s warm), and I come across the bloke next a bleeding corpse. Well, you can guess my first though, da. After that night Meg and I caught old Pete having it off with that bloater he’d found in the river, I thought I’d caught another necrofeeler or what have ya?

Turns out this lovely lass is a vehicle for a chink or jap supernatural car thief of sorts called a Kitsune. She was bleeding something awful out of a wound above her arse. The chink (actually, pretty sure he’s Japanese), Morimoto, managed to slow the wound down. I looked at her with that weird sight that the Morrigan gave us. The outlook wasn’t good.

Speaking of a bad outlook, I check out the door and there’s this little black haired waif standing out in the rain. I invite her in, of course (don’t get ahead of me, da, I know now it was a fuckin’ stupid move). I’m trying to get her warm and dry, even give her me jacket, and I start asking where’s her mam and da. Well, she’s got me talking away and she says she’s from Belfast and she grabs my finger with the strength of a fuckin 800 lb gorilla. Well, if only me mind was as fast as me mouth because that’s when I twig. Not only has Morimoto fucked off, but his da (another weird old Jap living in the curio shop) has made hisself scarce and all. So I figure it out. The Black Queen is here and she’s playin games with me. Not surprisingly, she’s there to remind me that she has me bollocks in a vice. So I tell her I understand (which I bloody well don’t) and that I’ll do whatever she wants (if I can’t avoid it), y’know, whatever the lass needs to hear to let me finger go and leave.

So she does. Turns into a different form right there before God and all (though I get the feeling everone there either knew by then who she was or saw shite like that all the time) and then fucks off with me favorite jacket. Where the hell am I going to find another vintage 1970s leather jacket in Seattle? Who would even know where to get something like that?

​Anyway, apparently, while Morrigan Lite is playing Chinese finger trap with me, Morimoto calls this doctor friend of his, and wouldn’t you know it, 20 or so minutes later, some toff English cunt strolls in like he owns the place. Not that I’m too concerned with the company I’m keeping at that stage beyond The Black Queen.

​Also, there was this real fit lass. A bit weird, but who am I to judge? I took a shot at getting in her knickers, but she blew me off. Probably a dyke, eh?​

Then, Morimoto’s place was just hot and cold running totty. This blue haired girl showed up (another lesbian, I’d wager, since me subtle charms had no effect).

I stopped paying attention too much when they started going about stuff, transfer of energy or some shite.

Things got interesting when one last
lass showed up, another cracker, and this one liked boys, thank God. She was a chink too, but I’m not one to be caring about things like where she’s from anyway, especially when she’s sidling up nice and close. So this one’s raring to go as soon as she meets me. Gotta be careful about throwing around the Rourke charm, eh? Don’t wanna get worn out. But I figured i’d earned a bit of fun what with my terrorizing run-in with Her Nibs earlier on. So we get down to business and it is fantastic!

It was a but weird, though. I can’t put my finger on it, but it was just this strange feeling. Like I was getting a bit more tired out than I should be.

​Come to think of it, it felt just like when that Chicago poof was cutting me hair. Gawd, hope I’m not turning to queer. Mind you, think the Morrigan would let me go, then?

Connor Rourke Session One

Emerald City Blues redrayvn