From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

Storylines

This is where I'm going to put events in Julian's life, past and present, that I find interesting or important enough.

#1: Reminiscence

Julian stared at the rising moon over Port Oakes, fishing rod in hand, sitting next to a complete stranger who had been fishing along side him for about an hour. The fisherman made mention of an old friend of his. Julian sighed and then started up.

"I remember the last time I saw my best friend. He saved by life."

"Nice guy, named Tim. Met him while workin' at some docks up uh, up in Maine. We used to run bullshit bets like 'would a nailgun puncture a hardhat' or 'which of these is flamable.' *laughs* Y'know, just fun shit. He had two brothers, Johnny and Tom. Tom wudn't around much, but Johnny... fuckin' Johnny.."

He had stopped talking at this point, til the fisherman said, "That ain't the end of the story."

"Right, I-I.." He stopped to clear his throat. "I was a kinda like a non-blood brother. To Tim and Johnny anyway.. Tom was too much of a shadow 'round their house. So's anyway, I'm just gettin home to my place from theirs, and I go to put my wallet on the nightstand. 'Fuckin.. dipshit' I said to myself, I'd forgotten the damn thing. Wasn't a long drive back, but still a pain in the ass, know what I mean? I drive back, and when I get outta the car.. all sortsa yellin is coming from inside the house. I want to know what's going on, and I hear "pff!pff!" like a silencer. I look in the window and see a fucking dead body, and Johnny holding a gun! I did the only thing I -could- do, go to get my phone."

Johnny started to re-live the event in his head as he narrated it.

With a hand shaking so terribly he could barely hold the cellphone, Julian dialed the police. The operator answered, and he began to speak. "I'd like to report a murder at two five one-" the address information was cut off, with a loud clank of a shovel, followed by a foot stomping on the phone.

Julian awoke, legs and arms bound by rope, on a desolate lot near the shore somewhere. John Stroud was smacking him repeatedly, trying to wake him up.

"We took you in, we made you a part of the family, you fuckin' piece of shit, and you do this to US?!" John's screaming directly into Julians ear was more painful than being hit with the shovel. He let go and put his boot on Julian's face and pushed him backwards onto the mud. He pulled out the same silenced pistol he used to shoot the stranger earlier, and pointed it at Julian's face.

"I don't appreciate having some fuck we trusted, one of our OWN, turn his back on us without getting the facts. Hate to do this, Jules.."

Tim walked up and pushed the gun in his brother's hand down. "We can't kill him, Johnny. Granted he's gunna be a liability to have hangin' around now, but we can't kill'm." He rubbed his head, horribly stressed out, and then looked at John, and whispered something in his ear. John grunted, "He better fuckin' do it." Tim didn't respond, but gave a nod to Julian, obviously saying "do it."

"You get outta here. You forget you saw anything, you forget you know us, you never say shit. Outta this city, outta the damn state, hear me Jules?" Julians only response was another nod. John pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and forcibly turned Julian around, cutting the ropes.

"Notta fuckin' word. See ya 'round, brother. ...or, I guess I won't." As he staggered in a random direction, not entirely sure where he was, he looked back a single time at Tim, who just stared. He wanted to know what was going on in his friend's head, but at the same time, didn't. He turned back around and wandered off.

Julian shook his head, "Granted if I never knew the guy I wouldn't have almost gotten killed, but... he stilled saved my ass. Heard how cheap it was to get a place here, got myself a passport and moved over. They forgot to mention the shitty weather and, oh yeah, fucking monsters all over the place."

The fisherman, reclining in his folding chair, simply replied with "Sounds like bad luck." Julian didn't say anything to this and quietly stood with fishing rod in hand for a few minutes, when he got a bite. A big bite. "What was that about luck, ya coot?" He laughed at his own remark and furiously tried reeling in, when the line snapped.

He sighed.

"Sack of shit town."