ethangranger: (steady to hell)
After the night, when I wake up...I'll see what tomorrow brings. 

ethangranger: (shades and sun)
Shiiiit. It's been a while since we've been on. And even longer since we've posted a music selection.

So, song of the month is by Hozier.

ethangranger: (renegade)
Look at us being all social and shit.

We thought that this was an amusing song for the shit we've been dealing with over the course of the last few months--sorta amusing, sorta messed up and sorta mean. Welcome to our world...where zombies exist.

ethangranger: (shades and sun)
On Saturday, October 12th, 2013, Original Sin will open its doors to welcome your muses into its razed Garden of Eden where sin and evil drip from every rotten apple, withered but still tethered to the ashen tree by a leathery umbilical cord. Allow this place to breathe new life into you, giving birth to a cesspit of utter despair, darkness and chaos. Come. We will take care of you.



flat,800x800,070,f
ethangranger: (Default)
This takes place well over 15 years ago

The disinterested prison guard slid a yellow manila envelop toward him. Granger carefully opened it to find the few possessions that he owned slide out into his palm--a silver ring that could knock a person out, a leather cuff, keys and his aged wallet. Next the guard opened a locker and sorted through labels before pulling out a clear plastic bag and setting it out before Ethan. It crinkled as he took out the items--a worn pair of jeans, black motorcycle boots with the tips sanded down through the leather. The shirt he heaved over his head had the slash of a knife through it that match the length of the scar running along his side in the same place but the black leather jacket he tossed on didn't seem older than the day he started his sentence, almost two years ago.

Like a bull before the gates open, he shifted from one foot to the other as a series of buzzes let him through one section of the prison to freedom. Hand in front of his eyes, he squinted at the sun and smiled. He could hear the claps before he could see them. Sure enough though the "coffin crew" as they were dubbed by those retards in the media stood on the other side dressed in black leather like some fucked up guardian angels. The sun reflected off the chrome of the Harley's behind them. It was the most beautiful thing ever.

"Welcome back, brother." They thumped him on the back and it was like being reborn. Fresh air pumped into his lungs. He lived. "Thanks. S'been a while." Some nodded and others grew quiet. Those that took the fall looked at those that didn't and it was all right. Sometimes shit went down and that was just the way it was 'cause they all took hits for the club. Last time it was his turn. Trafficking. His first stint in prison. Taught him a thing or two.

"Got sumpthin' that belongs to you." 
Granger raised a brow and looked at the club's Treasurer. He held out a leather vest. Granger's cut. He reached out to whoops and cheers to claim it back, his passport to what he knew of family, loyalty and strength. Taking off his jacket, he slid the vest on. It was like laying on armor...or a bulls eye, depending on where you were and what you were doing. It no longer said "Prospect", the small patch across the front now said Member and the club's emblem was fully emblazoned on the back.
"Where's Alvarez?" Ethan inquired, and Blain, the VP. Jose Alvarez was the club's Prez. The next two highest ranking members eyed each other. "Thing's changed, the Prez is a very busy man these days, Granger. Don't worry about it. You'll see him tonight at the clubhouse. He's gonna be there for your 'welcome home' shindig." Now there was a hangover that would last for days.

"Wait. What's she doin' here?" Came a curious mutter from a member of the club.
Hm? Who? Granger turned and raised his hand to the sun to make out the person storming toward him. Before he could make out the features, something, a fist, was being hurled at him. Small and dense, the impact didn't throw him off balance but it did spit the skin of his cheek. Prison reflexes were about acting before you thought. There was no time to think. He grabbed the person, swinging them around to him and his hand around their neck. The other hand balled into a fist.

"Woaw ,woaw, Granger, wait!"
His squinted against the sun, eyes coming into focus and meeting large dark almond shaped eyes. Pissed off looking almond shaped eyes. Rowan.
"Ro?" She wasn't supposed to meet him here. Immediately his fist loosened of its own volition although those sad haunting eyes may have had something to do with it. Her jaw was locked and strong, she carried her shoulders wide with pride that gave height to her chin. Her demeanor spoke of business but it was the tears that she was fighting back and the slight tremble to her lips that gave her game away.

"Asshole." She said with a quiver. "ASSHOLE!" Her voice rose to a shrill yell.
"C'mon Rowan, give the man a break". Mumbled the prospect. The glare she threw him should have ignited him on the spot.
Her hand slapped Ethan's chest. "I hate you." But it wasn't for this. Once, twice, three times, she slapped at him. Then she shoved him. "Do you hear me? I. Hate. You." Now she sounded angry and wounded. Her hands folded into fists and she hit his chest.  "Don't you ever...EVER.." She stopped, shaking her head at him, her voice shaking and her shoulders slacking a bit. Ethan stood very still, concern crinkling a smooth brow, searching her face and seeing the writing between the lines. She shook. He reached out quickly, before she could protest and pressed her tightly against him to the sound of cheesy 'awwwwws' from the club. "Don't you ever do that to me again." She cried against his shoulder. "You asshole." And by 'that' she meant prison.
"Shuush. S'alright. S'alright now." He soothed. "Ro, I'm sorry, baby. I am."
"Had to be done." Chimed in the MC's Sergeant In Arms, Chitto Elsu.
"YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She yelled back before burying her head in Granger's shoulder. That sort of outburst would only fly once. "She was upset," Chitto would assure Ethan later, "don't worry about it." But Chitto never forgot shit like that. 
Not sure what surprised Granger more, that she cursed out the club's sergeant or that she was crying. Likely the latter.

The kiss he placed on top of her head lingered and was warm and apologetic. She stepped back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm fine. I'm fine." Rowan found her smile and wore it for show, but she slid her arm underneath his and took her hand. "I really missed you." He rumbled out.
"Well, you've got nearly two years worth of that to make up for, now don't you?" That was more like her. He smiled, bending to kiss her temple as they strode toward the Harleys. They had his too...it was tradition. You got out of prison, you then rode home. 

She held his jacket, shaking her head with a small uncertain smile as he got on the bike and then got on behind him. Watching the row of riders, she had to pause and wonder what life would be like now that Ethan was a member. With everyone in a line, her lips formed the words written on everyone's patch--Los Muertos.
ethangranger: (In shadow)
“Yah ran outta time, son.” The weathered voice croaked out as he shook his head. Leathery skin crinkled while he considered Ethan’s situation while taking a drag off his cigar. His white stringy hair that was lightly tinged with yellow was braided down his back hanging limpy at the nape of his thick red neck. A leather cord and a piece of the smallest bone held the braid together. “Heard yous gonna catch a stainless-steel ride real soon. Real soon, son.” He muttered quietly nodding his head. Granger sat next to him in the yard and nodded back while looking out into the distance that was nothing but sand chasing more sand. Squinting caused the now deeper groove of the wrinkle of skin between his eyes to pinch into a small crevice as his eyes adjusted to the light that his shit-for- brains vampire night guards and vampire sympathizer day crew let him see less and less of now. Bite marks ran like heroine tracks along his arms, the secret of why he never turned the only thing that kept him alive. "Turn into what, princess? This ain't your fairytale, Cinderella, and I sure as hell ain't your godmother." That got him a row of broken ribs, which was infinity better, then being their meal.

“You remember how long yous been in ‘ere?”

Granger shook his head, lying. His thumb tapped on his lip as he balanced the cigarette he had won between his thumb and forefinger. Every purple welt spoke of hours, every yellowed bruise of weeks, every aching poorly set bone spoke of months, scar tissue over a stab wound told a story of a long year but it was the hollowed out deeply controlled anger that spoke of over a year on the Row. And time spent in solitary was like over-time. Except you weren’t the one getting paid.

“S’been a while.” Was all he muttered.

Prison made one a better criminal. A better, hardened hunter. The inhumanity of shit showered on him would find its rightful place. Even if he couldn’t be the one to be its harbinger. That’s all right. It’s why you had to have people on the outside. People like John the Revelator. Or Saint John as they called him. St. John granted your last wish on this earth. He wouldn’t stop until it was done. Guy was a fucking legend. Didn’t come to everyone’s call. He decided who he visited. It was like getting visited by Saint Nick, ‘cept you knew it was your time to go when you saw him. In a way he was there during ones personal last supper.
“Dates set.” John the Revelator said, his voice lifting a bit in an unspoken question. Scratched his scraggy bead, he revealed outlaw ink under his chin which he smoothed his beard over.
Granger nodded. “12/12/11” The smoke curled around his nose as he let it out evenly. “11pm.” Or so they said now. Didn’t matter to St. John. He’d find out the exact time. Because St. John liked to have the final dates and times of those he helped tattooed on his arm like Santa’s list of good boys and girls. Except that there was no one nice on that list. No one good. But that’s all relative, isn’t it? “It’ll be done.”

Granger sighed out, something heavy lifting off his shoulders as if this man had the ability to absolve his sins or right the wrongs he committed. Ethan Granger saw one glaring wrong.

Hannibal King was walking around, a free man. Alive.

Having learned that had been like having your matches pissed on by a dog when you really wanted a fucking cigarette.

But that wrong would be corrected.

John got up, a black shadow against the sun. Only when he moved would anyone see that on his right arm, he had a tattoo. It was native American-like. A beast being brought down. A symbol encompassed it and while it was different, elements of it bore a clear resemblance of the tattoo that Granger had on his arm. And so did something else. St. John unwound the leather strip circling over his wrist a few times. Holding it in his hand, his finger passed over the fairly large fang. However, only one who ever looked carefully enough would have seen what looked like a piece of twine woven into the leather. No one ever braved looking that closely or asking about it if they had. The others—those very specific monsters—, who saw it and knew from stories what it was, never had the chance to utter a word about it. The story behind it passed into a wordless legend of how a man could become more of a monster than the monster alone.

St. John held it out to Ethan. “Take it.” He ordered when Granger shook his head. Temples throbbing against his skin, his jaw locked into a painful spasm. It dropped into his open palm like a weight and he swore that he could hear wind pass through bone wind chimes again. Curling his fingers over the leather, he let the pad of his thumb brush over the worn strips of hide.

“I…I know that they probably took yours when you got here. I’m lending it to you. Don’t wanna die without it. Do you? Then you’ll never find your way through the wasteland. You’ll come back…again as Navezgane. No peace. No rest.” Usually Granger would have laughed this load of bullshit off. But no matter what you believed or did not believe, you sure as fuck did not laugh at John the Revelator. He had more apostles at the table than there were seats. “You better make sure I get that back, asshole. I don’t care if you have to swallow it. I better be diggin’ that out of your intestines or shifting through your shit to get it back or else I’ll be settlin’ a score with shadows. Understand me, son?”

Granger nodded once curtly.

Making a motion to the guard, St. John shifted towards the gate. “Oh.” Taking what looked like a page from his pocket, one that was folded over several times, he slid it on the table toward Ethan. “Just in case you get an urge to pray.”

John the Revelator was gone. Granger gingerly looked at the Bible page with raised brows, tucking it into his shoe. They would check. They always did. He knew that they’d find the leather strip too.

Have faith, Granger.

John has many apostles.

Inbetween

Oct. 15th, 2011 11:19 pm
ethangranger: (shades and sun)
Ran outta appeals. Big fucking surprise. Was running outta blood too but it appears that luck, if one wants to call it that, was still on my side. Nearly night by night those shit sucking fucks ambushed me in my cell. They fed on me and wondered why I didn't turn. "Turn into what, Cinderella? This ain't your fairytale and I sure as hell ain't your godmother." That got me a row of broken ribs which was infinity better then being their meal. Thing about the row? The day crew begins to notice when their inmates are sporting more broken bones and health problems than they should be. Not like they gave a shit but it looks bad on the warden when those non-profit bleeding hearts come around. Sparked some controversy the last time and the time after. And then, a week ago maybe, rumors started milling about. Fuck. You'd think this was high school.

"Granger?" God daaaamn. Where the hell was I and why did it feel like the voice that spoke was trying to kick my head in? I tried blinking. Swallowing wasn't working. It was like rubbing gravel into an open wound. "Granger?!" It hissed again. "Lugo." I groaned out."Think you could keep it down a notch?" Jackass.  I left the explicates out this time. Talking hurt. Moving was clearly impossible. Tried squirming a finger. I think it moved. Did it? Shit. That's when my head exploded into a nebula of stars. He only shook my shoulder but the tremors reached my head.

Instinct drew my arm up before I could even tell myself that was a bad idea. I was going to strangle that sonofabitch. Like a dog on a leash my arm was jolted back against metal. The hell. I managed to peek through the tiniest crack in my eyelid. Handcuffs. Lugo chuckled. Ah. Now it made sense. I was in the hospital. Again. Prison life wasn't a picnic. Alliances changed and credit was only as good as a convicts word. No one knew or understood the war that went down in this hole. After whatever the fuck happened to the East Wing, more "rioting" occurred. I called it revenge. Would have made a good story to tell the grand kids. Well, someones grand kids. Los Muertos. The one that killed my old lady. Gone. It was justice. But it was also stupid. I might as well spelled out "hunter" on my orange prison uniform. It was worth it. I could finally bury a piece of the past just like the world was soon to bury me. Three weeks. Exact. I had three weeks left.

And apparently, I had to be healthy before they killed me. Fuck. That's priceless.

"Granger!"
Sonofab-
"What!"
"I heard something."
"Aw, don't be scared princess. Your boyfriend will be around soon." Lugo shook me some more for that one. My feverish eyes flew open. "Better stop man. These restraints have to come off eventually."
"Yeah, asshole?" He cajoled. "You might want to be a touch nicer. Especially when I got's news."  He shook his head while messing with the machine that was measuring something that was dripping into my veins. Lugo's not one of those people you wanna piss off. For fun he'll lower your morphine drip.
"News?"
"Yeah. News." How he found out prison news, I don't know. Someone was talking to him. He came to the prison once a week. More after I started becoming the vampire's juice box. Wonder what whoever he talked to exchanged in return. Drugs most likely. Lugo wasn't exactly walking the straight and narrow himself. Pussy white collar type crimes. "I heard that you are getting a transfer."
I snorted in return.
"No man, really. You're getting transferred. And you got me to thank for it in part. Had to write a medical report about your sorry cantankerous ass."
Careful Lugo. Use big words like that and that last brain cell's gonna pop. "I've got three weeks to live. The hell..."Shit. Coughing nearly made me pass out.
"Hey jackass? Shut up. Let me do the talking." He shook his head. "Christ." Guess I didn't look as pretty as I usually did, I thought dryly.
"You're going to Safford." My brows crinkled between my brows. They couldn't inject me in Safford. Wait. Safford Arizona? The fuck? He shrugged. "Fucking club med, man.  Shit, what happened to you? I call it karma, asshole. Buuuuut the civ. lib people made such a stink about the inhuman torture and conditions you were 'suffering' in the prison. They brought some human rights bullshit and my report. The politicos were forced to get involved." Lugo sighed. "They're talking about prison reform...again. But some guy is assigned to crawl up everyone's ass at Quintin because of what happened to you." Lugo scoffed and looked thoughtful for a second. "Imagine it. You've become the Mother Teresa of the prison reform movement. A martyr."

If he didn't stop I was going to kill myself accidentally by laughing.
"Now say thank you."
"Cause you had to write a report 'bout me gettin' my ass handed to me every night?" By vampires.
"No, sleeping beauty. For this." I hardly heard passed that as the morphine and drugs made me swoon into a drug induced slumber. Fucking sucked when your entire life was in someones hands and you could do jack shit about it. But there is was. And here I am...between here and nowhere. 

2010-2011

Jan. 3rd, 2011 10:16 pm
ethangranger: (Default)
New Years is just a load of crap. Nothing changes assholes so go on eating that donut.
ethangranger: (Default)

Ok, for people who love In This Moment, this is by far the BEST album they have done. And this song sounds like a song that some might attribute to describe Granger, somewhat. I thought it was interesting though I can't imagine the woman that would say or feel that unless this is spoken from the perspective of the "enemy", which would be perfect. Very inspiring.




And behold a Cowboy came into town, dirty and worn.
He had Black eyes, long hair and lines that cut deep into his frown.
He had the right hand of the devil strapped tightly to his side.
And you could tell fear abandoned this outlaw in a previous life.

Why, looking but never seeing.
Why, searching but never finding.
Why, for the kiss to bring his
cold dead heart back to life.

I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Last stand.
I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Catch me if you can.

He had the story of whiskey on his breath and death in his eyes.
You never heard him say a word, but the pistol shot straight through the lies.
Looking for the new world going from dead town to town.
but his compass is cracked and north is six feet underground.
Why, looking but never seeing.
Why, searching but never finding.
Why, for the kiss to bring his
cold dead heart back to life.

I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Last stand.
I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Catch me if you can.

I towed the line for you.

I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Last stand.
I am, I am searching for you.
Waiting, I am Coming.
First Light, I am coming for you.
Catch me if you can.

If you ever cross a shadow in a wasted void.
You tell him I'm here waiting for the last cowboy.
ethangranger: (Default)
I found a way out from life in despair, I found a better day but forgot how to find my way there. I sensed a morning not ravaged with fear, I felt a better place, And I knew that it couldn't be here. But I tell you that things will be better, tell you that things will be fine. Would I make you Believe if I told you so? Okay I was lying, not telling the truth, I've seen no sight of the day, and it's not like I've not been pursued. Thought I'd make you believe things are not half as bad As they look. So I told you that things would be better, told you that things would be fine )

Ain't gonna lie. Made some mistakes in my life. Ain't gonna apologize for 'em neither or else I'd be apologizing for the rest of my life. And even that was considerably shorter now. Least my lawyer gave me a smoke. "You know, I should just give you the whole pack. If you smoke all of them at the same time, it might shorten the sentence." I snorted out in a huff of laughter. Morbid humor. I got it. Cause really? I heard a few times 'bout them doctors really fucking up killing someone with those lethal injection drugs. Guess it's hard if you never really had any practice in it. I'd offer to shoot myself up, but I'd like to see them to do it. Got some respect for those that take matters into their own hands. 

"San Quentin?"
The lawyer nodded.
I did too.
Silence.
"Can I ask you something?"
I looked at the lawyer from the corner of my eyes.
"If you have to." Last thing I want is a heart to fuckin' heart.
"Am I going to be wastin' my time on these appeals?"
Silence.
I nodded. "Yeah, man. Most likely." I say quietly, looking down before another puff. 'Cause I've been on the inside before. Knew what it was like.
"Gotta lot of enemies up in Quentin. Old acquaintances." Took a deep drag off the cigarette. Nearly burned it down to the middle with one pull. The lawyer nodded. Fucker knew me. Since I was...what...seven? 
"Los Muertos?" He said quickly as if I'd hit him if he drew it out. The skin pulled tightly across my face. It's been a few months that someone had the balls to breath that out in my presence. Ever since...ever since I pulled the plug on...her. Ain't life a bitch?
"Son." He began, his weathered face pinched in lines that drew a map of the kind of life he had lived. "Don't." I hissed. Yeah, he was more like a dad than mine was, the entire Nation had been, should have taken more from him than the bastard, but I was a man who believed in genetics and they proved me right time and time again.
"Lot more people need to die before they put a needle in my arm." I said, my voice raspier than I could control. "Couldn't do that from the outside looking in."
"He's going to be protected. You got nothing. Nothing."
"Yea." Morose and sullen I thought back to shit that shouldn't matter any more but did. "Maybe. Maybe not." I eyed him carefully. It dawned on him slowly. "Oh, Ethan. You know that if you try it, you'll be dead before-"
"Before what? Before the State of California buries a needle in my arm? What does it matter which needle I bury in my arm? They'll both kill me, but at least if you bring me mine, I might be able to take him down. Come on. Need to set that record straight. Can't die knowing that..." Shook my head because it was easier.
"I know." Yeah. He sure as hell did. We sat in the cell like two man sitting the shit about nuthin.
"Maybe." He started, rubbing his head, thinking and grasping at straws that I knew were all short. "Maybe we can work on getting you transferred until..."
"You ain't one of your crazy totem gods, Frank." I interrupted, knowing what he was thinking. "Can't wish me outta something I got myself into."
He shook his head. "Navezgane, your path was never going to end well. But..." Frank looked sad. "Apache blood in your veins. Thought you would die better...with honor."
Thought I was gonna throw up hearing that. Some invisible knife was being twisted in my stomach. He wasn't wrong. But this was useless. "Honors got no place among murderers and thieves. And we both know what I am. Blood's blood. Not matter what bullshit clan runs in my veins. Changes nothing." I said, blowing it all off even though it echoed in my head.
"You do not understand, Navezgane. You are Killer of Monsters. No death given from your hands has ever reached its wrong target--man, child, monster, officer. Destiny make it so that you channel Sky Father's will."
"Yeah." Granger sneered with contempt, turning his head to laugh bitterly. "Right." 
"But...I did not think that you would not live to..." He shook his head, shamed that he would tell a dead man walking of what he should'a done.
"What?"
"I did not think you would not live to avenge your blood." Stone cold silence. He patted my hand. "That is why I will appeal. The spirit of your ancestors demands it."
Didn't have enough time to make a comment about practicing law and smoking peyote. The transport bus was there with a special seat for me. He nodded his head but it was his words that echoed in my mind. Had half a mind to tell him what I thought about what he said. 
ethangranger: (Killer)
Who Or What Would You Kill For?

I'd kill for humanity
I'd kill for science
I'd kill for survival
I'd kill you to release you
I'd kill to eventually stop having to kill.

Fuckers.
ethangranger: (pensive)
"Wasn't enough to watch her die, was it? Fuck." Granger looked at the blood seeping into the carpet, and although it had been more than a decade that spilled blood made him sick, the Skinwalker's dress hiked above her head did. He knew what had gone down here. "You know, you're sick, man. This is bullshit." Riding in this world alone. God take your soul, you're on your own. On the devil's bed until you die. )
ethangranger: (steady to hell)
Part of this series

A friend whose got your back, one last bullet in your gun, someone you trust. Whatever man, all those things? Fuck. They're just another way to die. Trust is the potion of fools and he sure as hell wasn't gonna drink from that flask. Except...

"Deh fuck you waiting for?" Granger turned back toward the voice with the heavy accent. Taking a drag of the cigarette, he slowly let the smoke out in the guy's face. His face was something else, too. It looked like his features had melted half off his face and soured into a curdled lump somewhere where his nose was supposed to be. This was man he was expected to trust? Right. There was a snowballs chance in hell.
"You in a rush to get somewhere, Manuel?" Like the Mexican border perhaps? Granger threw the butt onto the ground and snuffed it out under his boot while lighting up another. Walking around American classic car, he got in, put the car into drive and shuttled off toward Algodones, just across the border. Manuel grinned and in that moment Granger decided that he would try to refrain from doing or saying anything that would make that man grin again.
We don't always finish what we've started )
ethangranger: (Default)
This page will be updated in a few days. A link for this page will appear in the links toolbar.

1. Daystar 2.0: aka Roach Motel. The initial carrier has to be human as to provide the bait needed to lure the vampire. The virus is not harmful to the mortal as it is harnessed from the bodies own antibodies that have been exposed to the vampire virus via the vaccine and genetically modified to effectively deliver the "bait". The vampire once having fed off the mortal, is exposed to the virus which starts replicating in its body. It is now contagious yet will not present with symptoms for another three nights all the while infecting those he comes in contact with who go on to infect others. We are working to lengthen the incubation period for the virus so that the contagion duration could be prolonged for at least another three nights before the vampire starts presenting with symptoms to allow for maximum range of infection.

2. Frost:

3. Hunter Serum: aka "youmustbeouttayourfuckinmindtotrythis" Atlas. Although inroads have been made over the last seven years, Atlas continues to be highly unstable and unreliable. Testing continues.

4. Cures: Strain A and Strain B. Stain B has been destroyed in lab explosion.

5. Bio-weapons: [Clearance needed]

6. Medical Security:

7. Vaccine: aka Moonshine. Works against Dracula's strain of vampirism. Highly effective against low to mid level potency carriers. Side effects: redness and swelling at injection site, fever, aches, seizures (in less than 5% of those sampled), cardiac arrest ( in less than 5.5% of those sampled), headache. Symptoms generally vanish within a week. Longevity of vaccine/required re-vaccination: unknown. Vaccine potential increases with potency/age of genetic material acquired from vampire.
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