WHO ARE YOU REALLY: A Hannibal Fanfiction

False Idols

Charlie Countryman — Christophe Beck

Judas was never morally inclined. More or less meaning he never went out of his way to do a wrong or necessarily hurt anyone. He was neither savage nor brute, though, he could fool anyone when he fought in the ring.
Last night's fight left him pulverized.

It reminded him of his days back when his family moved to California, in Paso Robles. The smell of brimstone and blood hallmarked his time there... When he would play underdog and save the bullied from the bullies... Only in turn resulting in him going home to his step-mother bloodied and limp.

He felt real good doing it though. It was sweet.
This morning he counted the reddened split flesh and black-blue circles on his body and sigh, ten grand for winning. But what good was money when it could only buy him pain medication and pay for rent? In that case he was set for life.

Judas, in his best attempt to roll over in bed, rolled a little too far off the edge and landed on the hardwood floor. "Uhhh-hh... Goodmorning." he groaned in a nearly complete hushed tone. His cheek mashed against the ground and his hand covering his face so that the sunlight wouldn't come from the window and hit him directly.
Amazing.

His hand eventually slithered off his head and slapped the top of the nightstand a few times until he was able to grasp the bottle of Advil.

Judas sat at his kitchen table and looked out the window to the city of Baltimore below him. The sun was behind the clouds but the building cast a large shadow over many smaller buildings.
His coffee was cold and his cigarette was almost out. From here he could see the inner harbor and it somehow reminded him of the florist.
“She was a spitfire.” he said to himself, half honest.

His eyes diverted from the outside in, a large apartment full with furniture and lights, everything warm browns and red. Despite his smoking, the place smelt like a home... And a box full of cinnabons that his friend left behind from the after-fight celebration.

Unable to stand the silence, in need of stimulation of some sort, Judas turned on the radio.
“Last week another victim of the Chesapeake Ripper turns up. James Gray, serial killer, killed in a heroin overdose and the killer took his kidneys. It was to believe former suspect Abel Gideon was the killer but admist these outturns of events— he has allegedly gone missing as of last night.” the voice reported, Judas' jaw clenched. Eyes beginning to narrow in disdain he changed the station with his middle and pointer fingers- twisting the knob while he took a drink of his coffee.
Updates on ISIL, the military and Syria, our economy and— beetz.

He shut off the radio.
Scoffing he slid his jacket onto his back and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Grabbing his wallet and his keys, he sped down the stairwell and headed to the exit. He'd maybe go to the docks. But then again the sky was a dark grey now, it might rain.
Judas slid into the passengers seat of a taxi cab and settled into the hard leather seats. Thoughts ricocheted through the walls of his mind while he played with his carton of cigarettes. His soul possession.

Judas had only one left. And if today was stress free, he'd only need one.
But what he didn't know, was, that it would be.
The door opened and a lithe silhouette glided into the seat and orders “National Aquarium. And make it—”
India Maibus.

“Are you seriously sitting next to me right now?” India exasperated throwing her hands to the seat “As I live and breathe!” Judas teased feigning faux sarcastism “You know we really need to stop meeting up like this.” he adjusted in his seat, relaxing a bit more.
“Like what?” she snipped.
“Like, where I see you after something puts you in a bad mood.”
India took that to heart, sighing “It's not something it's you. I feel like you're somehow following me.” she adjusts her purse and slumps back in her seat “Oh yes.” he jests “Ever since I met you I wish I knew how to quit you!”