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Title: Reset
Author: Sleepy Insomniac
Summary: Using the power of an unusual device
that allows his soul to travel back to his
most desired moment in life, an ex-mobster
must uncover his soulmate's killer and
rewrite his own history.

Keywords:

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http://www.asstr.org/~Sleepy_Insomniac/
http://storiesonline.net/library/author.php?i
d=5508

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I hope you enjoy my story and happy reading
:)

-------------------------------------

Reset
By Sleepy Insomniac
(C) July 2009

_|Part One - "The Singing Swan"|_

Chapter 1 - "Bad Tastes In Company"

____________________1____________________

The grind only turned him off, Robert Sest, a
man with a mood so dull he could hear
crickets chirping. Being able to hear
anything was quite a feat considering the
volume of the trance line thumping through
the floor from the rave below. Red lights
alternated with black shadows as his newfound
evening entertainment, Ki-ki, the black love-
button, rode him up and down. She looked like
a faux professional stripper besting a man-
bull and swinging an invisible lasso with
hopes the display would generate a hoot, a
holler, and maybe a few more singles in her
thong. It was most unfortunate, Rob thought,
that Ki-ki actually was a stripper, albeit
one that barely qualified. For whatever
reason, he had decided to spend hard money on
her with hopes that her dancing would improve
in the dark and her looks would improve with
the liquor. *Well*, Rob thought, *we can't
all be winners*.

Neon-green lasers zapped through the chain-
linked windows that looked out across the
smoke-filled demon's nest below until Ki-ki
leaned in close, blocking Rob's view. Her
fake, shapely breasts squished against his
chest as she gripped his shoulders, rubbed
them in and dug her fingers into his blades.
In a sad attempt at being seductive, she gave
a swift lick to his ear-lobe and smiled a
little. A breathy voice followed.

"Do you like that, baby?" she hissed. With a
slight cough, Rob forced the air out of his
lungs, expulsing the taste and the scent her
breath funneled into his nostrils. Her breath
wasn't bad; it was rancid. As close as Rob
could tell, it was a mixture of smoke,
alcohol and vomit.

"Get the fuck off me," Rob gasped with the
remaining air in his lungs. He was still too
afraid to breathe.

"What's the matter? Too hot for you?" she
giggled as she doubled the pace of her grind
like a washing machine switching into spin
cycle. Rob gave her a blank stare.

Grabbing the backside of his chair, Rob
forcefully stood up, allowing Ki-ki to slide
off his waist and plop onto the floor with a
thud. She landed on her ass and her hands
behind her back, like she was sitting there
all along. She fired him a nasty look.

"You little-dick mother fucker," she snarled,
"you gonna get fucked up tonight...you hear
me? *Fucked up.*"

"As long as you aren't the one doing the
fucking," Rob replied. Ki-ki scowled and
flapped up from the floor, arms flailing and
thighs jiggling as she tapped away in her 8-
inch high-heels. If there was a single decent
quality Ki-ki could lay claim to, Rob
thought, it would be walking in those candle
sticks. On the other hand, she probably only
wore those to work, and with the skill she
displayed walking in them, that meant she
worked *a lot*.

Ki-ki stormed down the narrow upstairs
landing towards the very large, very bald
JoeMan Bouncer sitting on a stool next to an
open doorway leading to the stairway. He was
absorbed with writing in a newspaper
crossword-puzzle and hadn't noticed Rob and
Ki-ki's little skirmish. When her heels
clipity-clopped close enough to him, where
the sound could travel through the trance
line, his narrow eyes glanced up at her.
Normally, the girls would float on by,
another job accomplished, no mess, no fuss,
but when a girl would make eye contact, he
knew there was trouble. Ki-ki, never one for
subtlety, went one step further once she got
to the face of the doorway. After giving
JoeMan a clear, distinct look, she flipped a
clear, distinct middle-finger in Rob's
direction. JoeMan turned his head to Rob and
calmly laid his newspaper onto another stool
he was using to rest his foot on. Ki-ki
disappeared downstairs as he commenced his
slow, plodding bouncer-walk across the room.
The walk, slow and musclely, looked like a
large dinosaur on a path to lay waste to a
neighbor's nest. To JoeMan, it was badass; to
Rob, it was a waste of time. Eventually,
JoeMan arrived.

"Get out...or I'm gonna take you out," JoeMan
growled. Rob looked at JoeMan for just enough
time to make it uncomfortable. Then, Rob
lifted up a dollar between his fingers up
next to his face and wiggled it a few times.

"Where we goin'?"

____________________2____________________

Empty bottles and aluminum bins CRASHED as
Rob's momentum sent him sprawling into the
back alley rubble. His forehead dove and
bounced off the pavement with a loud POP that
splashed dark stars into his field of view.
Silence bit his eardrums and a ringing sound,
gradually increasing in volume, overcame any
thoughts or feelings his body could produce.
All his mind could process after reaching the
end of his beating were the three hulking
figures silhouetted in the light spilling out
of the club's open back door. One figure was
clearly JoeMan, but two additional figures,
bigger than he was, stood in a staggered
array behind him. Wasting little time, they
left only a flash of an image as they
disappeared into the light. The large, metal
door snapped shut, blowing a gust of air into
Rob's blood-streaked hair and shrouding his
eyes in darkness like a large candle that had
been violently blown out. Rob's eyes shut,
his conscious giving way, his mind blanking,
allowing whatever held within to take over.

*What the fuck happened with me?* a voice
whispered as the world around him faded.
*When did everything go so wrong?*

____________________3____________________

***RIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG***

Rob's head snapped up and his hands grabbed
his ears. Shortly after, the ringing stopped
and the echo of the school bell faded. Slowly
letting go of one ear and opening up his
eyes, Rob rubbed against the side of his
face; it felt red, even though he couldn't
see it. His face had been planted on the desk
in front of him. A school desk, just like he
used to have, in the old days. A character he
invented, "Steekman", rested at the top right
corner in all his sharply drawn glory. That
familiar wink and thumb up reached out to
Rob, that not so subtle way of Steekman
saying "You suck, Rob, but that's OK. Someday
things are gonna be allll-right....*WINK* ;)"

Rob's eyes rolled up, taking in his
surroundings. Desks like his own ran down the
room in parallel rows. The classroom walls
quivered as students faded into view, filling
the desks and giving a sense of place for
Rob. It was immediately recognizable; Ms.
Dumey's class, junior year (*Or was it
sophomore?*). It was odd being here, but not
without a sense of reason. After Rob's recent
escapade in the alley, his mind needed
something a little more straightforward to
distract him from the pain his body must be
feeling. It was still resting, he was sure,
in that alleyway covered by all that trash
full of beer and piss. Ms. Dumey's classroom,
once a place of solid contempt compared to
the rest of Rob's school day, now felt like a
sanctuary, as good of one as any to quell his
mind. Sure, it wasn't great sex, and with
that thought, Rob laughed...even in a dream,
it was hard to remember, much less imagine,
those wonderful times in comfortable beds
with exceptional women. There really weren't
any...none that could classify as
"exceptional", anyway.

"Something to add, Mr. Sest?" Ms. Dumey asked
as an entire room full of eyes turned to face
Rob. *I must've laughed out loud*, Rob
thought, and with that he laughed again.
Thoughts, then Rob's real voice, echoed
against each other, *Why the hell does it
matter*-"Why the hell does it matter?! I'm
dreaming!"

"I know...I could see you were sleeping. You
still have a puddle of drool on your desk,"
Ms. Dumey countered. The classroom laughed,
pointing. Uproarish. Rob looked down at his
desk. Dumey was right; a big puddle of saliva
had formed on top of Steekman's face, which
now carried an unpleasant frown. Rob whipped
his hand across the puddle, smearing
Steekman's face into a gluttonous blob. *Why
the fuck am I*-"Why the fuck am I here?!"
Rob's inner and outer voice echoed. Ms. Dumey
stood and lightly punched the top of her
desk, almost appalled.

"There will NOT be that kind of language used
in my classroom, Mr. Sest!" she demanded. Rob
ignored her, his voice(s) continuing their
rampant conversations with himself. If this
was just a memory of Ms. Dumey busting his
balls, he wanted out, right now. He didn't
care what kind of pain his body was feeling,
but that wasn't the only reason. He had
something to do.

*Something*-"Something...what was it?" he
whispered.

"I have something to add, Ms. Dumey." Rob's
ear twitched. That voice, that heavenly
voice. It was clearer than Rob's voice ever
could be and its timbre alone was tempting
enough to milk unconscious favors from the
boys and men that heard it. Rob knew who it
belonged to, but his mind blocked the name
out. Pain would only come with remembering.
Deep, deep pain.

"OK, |******|, let's hear it," Ms. Dumey
responded, folding her arms.

"I think Robert's grumpy and needs his juice
box after his nap," the voice chimed.
Laughter exploded and eyes darted back at
him, eyes of all those boys and girls Rob had
long forgotten the names of. Even Ms. Dumey
had to fight a grin from her lips. Rob didn't
care...he wasn't even embarrassed. He just
knew that he needed to wake up soon, before
recalling the identity of the voice's owner
and subjecting himself to something he
certainly didn't need in his current life.
More pain.

"Ow!" Rob gasped as he grabbed his shoulder
where someone had punched him. Rob turned,
but instantly realized that was a mistake;
the puncher was the very person he was trying
to avoid. A playful (but kinda painful) love
punch came from the girl to his left, the
owner of the voice, and the memory Rob was
avoiding. He managed to blur out her face and
eyes, but her hair, chest and arms were
clearly visible.

"Don't be such a baby, Robby," the voice
lectured. Even with the blurring, Rob could
see hints of a heart-thumping smile and eyes
that could melt glass. Skin of white, tanned
flesh, hair dark and brown and flowing, and
the hint of eye color matching the hue of her
hair, she called out to him, even as a
figment. Especially her eyes, even blurred,
Rob could tell they were deep, dark and
unavoidable.

Without warning, the world around Rob
vanished as his conscious took hold, the pain
stitching its way into his chest, face and
back, and the wetness of the garbage he was
lying in soaked into his clothes. In spite of
the rapid loss of memory from his dreamlike
encounter with his memories, Rob's mind
produced a name, and it was the first thing
to escape his lips the moment his conscious
restored.


____________________4____________________

(coming soonish...)