Ryan Victor West

SO ROCK'N ROLL SO COOPERATE SUIT
SO DAMN UGLE SO DAMN CUTE
SO WELL TRAINED SO ANIMAL
SO NEED YOUR LOVE SO FUCK YOU ALL.

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welcome to 'bloomfield falls', colleague. i am evan armstrong, dean of this school and the one person who can either make or break you. i am kidding of course; i suppose my humor might have gone unnoticed. it's your age, i don't blame you. bit absorbed in the whole application process, aren't you? of course you are, i know your kind.

in order for us to determine whether you will fit in here or not i am going to ask you a few simple question. if you could just answer them as honestly as possible, that'd be great. before we begin go ahead and make yourself comfortable.
what the hell? don't touch those tiny pretzels, they are the last I've got!


I AM NOT AFRAID OF DYING I JUST DON'T WANT TO.

so, it's just you and i in my little office. do you like it? i picked the curtains out myself. anyway, i am me and you are but what exactly does that mean? why are you here?
"Well, for a fresh start to tell you the truth. I…I really needed to get out of New York, I needed to get out of America period. No, I‘m not in any trouble, it‘s just a lot of stuff that‘s happened to me. That and, I‘ve really always wanted to teach music, and Bloomfield Academy is one of the most prestigious schools in the UK. "

nope, not impressed. not in the slightest. but the interview has only just started; don't worry.. there are only about 200 others wanting this spot as badly as you. if i called you by any other name, would that make you more comfortable?
"Ryan. But please, just Ryan. Don‘t call my Rye or Ry Ry or Victor or something. I like my first name."

it has a ring to it, i give you that. now that we are practically acquainted, tell me a little bit more about yourself. personal things you hoped i wouldn't ask.
"Well, I‘m 34, I was born on October 12th, 1975, I‘m male, always have been. *he says cracking a grin and then hesitates and winces as he says the next bit* I‘m…g-gay, hope that‘s not a problem. I was born in Denver Colorado."

wow i am still awake, i’m surprised, really. you talk a little bit like you've swallowed a stick or you've been screaming your lungs out at a concert, all night. speaking of that, what do you like to do when you're not at work?
"I love to listen to, play and compose music. I spend a lot of time playing the Violin and the Piano, although I‘m not very good with latter. I like to read, anything really as long as it‘s good. I adore art, all types, and comedy. I love a good debate, friendly of course, and just good company in general."

and you’re still alive? you must have some pretty good insurance or a nifty lawyer, eh? i love it, i am a bit of a risk taker myself. now that you got my attention again, tell me about all the things you avoid in life.
"Action movies, the Davinci Code, Abuse of any kind, So-called straight camps, most pop music, sanctimonious people, gross stupidity and I cannot stand beats."

now that i know a little bit more about your precious self, go on and humor me some more. what kind of person are you, really? you know.. like when no one is watching or in general; i am not picky.
"I like to think that, with all that’s happened to me, that I‘m a very nice person, it takes a lot, and I mean A LOT to get me riled up. I don‘t like to raise my voice, and I‘m really gentle. What I really want now is just to teach music and maybe find some good friends that truly like me, maybe even someone to date. I‘m kind of a romantic at heart."

hmm, you sure as hell are not afraid to point out your flaws, are you? that could either mean you are smart and know not to piss me off by not answering my questions or you’re just plain dumb and don't even know that i am watching your every move. kidding, again. did you catch it this time? was it funny?
"Oh yeah…*he says using his water bottle to hide his own smirk at how bad a joke it really was*"

that was good! that was really good.  i am starting to like you. but let's say i had never seen you before and needed to pick you out in the staff room; how would i recognize you?
"Well, I‘m about five eight, a hundred thirty pounds, I‘m rather compact, wiry even. I do jog so to stay in shape…anyway, I have black hair, brown eyes, and oddly shaped ears."

well, i can tell looks are not your strong point. but what is?
"I‘m patient, loyal, caring, intelligent and I have a great sense of humor."

blimey! you could have fooled me. let me make a note of that. hold on just one second, will you? okay, i am good. continue.
"I don‘t respond well to sudden and unexpected movements, like I‘d be fine in class because I‘m expecting anything but if you even raise your hand right now I‘ll flinch. Loud noses startle me, only if their unexpected though, and outside of actually playing music on the violin or Piano I don‘t like things to be loud. I‘m…emotionally fragile right now, I just got out of a really bad marriage. I…*swallows hard* was tortured for three years in a straight camp back in the states. It‘s left scars…and not the physical kind, the type that have taken almost twelve years of therapy to help ease. I‘m very quiet and unassuming, not the type to speak my mind easily."

woah. interesting. does your family know about all that? you do have a family, don't you? or maybe you're even married with children? family is such a nice thing.
"*Gets a distant look* I don‘t care what my family knows. The man who impregnated the woman who gave birth to me, Jared and Emily, I could care less of them. They sent me to that hell, about the only good thing they‘ve ever done for me was to send me to Juliard…a ‘gift‘ for getting ‘well‘. *he says with a sneer* My ex-wife, Brenda…well, I think she‘s out of her job because of what she did to me. I even heard that she has some other problems, frankly I don‘t care. Look, I’m sorry, but I really hate talking about my family, can we move on? "

oops. sorry about that, i must have dozed off. i am sure you were great in.. what were we talking about? oh what the heck.. tell me how you got here, and don't say by car. i mean, tell me about your life.
"*sighs not happy that he‘s going to have to relive some very bad memories* I was born in Denver Colorado. The people who raised me, no they may have been my biological parents but they were not my mother and father, in the sense that I hold anything but contempt for them, raised me. They both came from family that was ‘old money‘ and so I had a very comfortable life style, I hated the distance though, they didn‘t even know how old I was on my tenth birthday for Christ sakes! Well, when I turned sixteen, I meet this boy at the Private school I attended. His name was Vance Baxter, we both hit it off easily, he was my first and only crush. My parents found us one day, the next week I was shipped off to a Straight camp in Wyoming. I will not tell you about anything that happened in that Auschwitz, but it was a living hell. After I managed to convince those monsters that I was ’cured’ I was sent home. I got my diploma…that hell hole was also a school…so, my parents sent me to Juliard. Don’t get me wrong, I had always wanted to go to Juliard, but the whole experience was tainted now. Well, four years after that, I graduated, I don’t remember much of anything outside of my studies there, I spent a year working in Denver with minor local Symphony but then I met Brenda and we got married. Don’t ask why, I’ll never know what I was thinking. We moved to New York, for the next Seven years I worked with various musical organizations, I even got a job with the New York Philharmonic. I wasn’t happy though, Brenda would only come home maybe once a month, when she was home, she was…cold, impersonal and completely devoid of caring for me. A few times, she hurt me when I got angry at how I never saw her. So, seven months ago, she came home, I told her to her face that I was leaving. She broke my arm, my nose and gave me a bad black eye. I woke up in a hospital, I never saw her again, I signed the divorce papers and they were sent to her attorneys, they came back signed with her name. I took my Violin, my books, and my cloths and left, I stayed in an apartment in New York for a few months but then I decided that I needed to get away, that’s how I got here."

ever considered writing a book? i think it would sell. we should talk about it some time later. anyway, yep, i think you'd fit in just fine. but where exactly do you think you'd belong?
"Band Teacher"

once your background check is completed and i set you free what will you do? anything you are looking forward to?
"Probably start getting psyched for my first day as a teacher. That or play some Vivaldi."

okay.. uhm.. maybe i made a mistake by hiring you, after all?
"For being excited to teach and wanting to play music? You must have some serious issues man."

don't get so wound up, i was kidding. anyway, as fun as it was to talk to you and all that .. uhm.. i have places to go and people to see. we'll meet again, eh? i'll have my eyes on you.
"Thank you sir, I‘m just glad that I can start this new chapter of my life here."

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Meet
"Will"
s/he's been plotting since "age twenty"
and gee doesn't Ryan look like "Joe Flanigan"
s/he's also the puppet master of "Xander Mead"
but you can all me
"Music (lover)"

QUOTE

His hands trembled as he fumbled with his keys. His breath shuddered in his lungs as he tried to push the metal into the lock. God he didn't want to do this...no, he did want to do this, he just didn't want to die...With a click the deadbolt unlocked. This was it, no turning back. As casually as he could he turned the nob and pushed the door open to the Condo he shared with his wife Brenda. Well, shared was to heavy a word when she was only here once a month, maybe less. "Ryan." The words sent a pang of nausea right to his stomach. They were cold and smooth, like an ice dagger, one ready to plunge into his heart. "Hi Brenda." He said lightly, trying to sounds relaxed, he failed miserably. To keep them from trembling visibly he jammed his hands into his pockets and turned the corner to the kitchen. Brenda sat at the table, several guns in front of her, some dismantled, some not...it was the few that weren't that worried him the most. Her FBI ID sitting casually alongside her keys and cell not far from the towel that protected the table from the heavy metal of the weapons. "Your late. I called you twenty minutes ago. Told you to be here. Your..." She looked at her watch, like she hadn't already memorized the time already. "Two minutes late. You know I hate tardiness." Part of him, the part that was tried of the pain, wanted to fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him. The part that was made of sterner stuff, the part that had survived thee years in that Auschwitz of a camp, the part that was telling him, shouting, for him to stand straight and look her in the eye, was fighting it with every bit of his being. "Well, that's really too bad." He says with far more courage then he should have. He took a deep breath, this wasn't going to be pleasant. "Brenda, I can't take this anymore. I'm packing my cloths and leaving." He said softly, adding as much weight as he could to each word. Trying to impress upon her how utterly committed he was to getting out of this sham of a marriage now. She watched him, utterly devoid of any movement. Her sudden movement made him flinch unconsciously, or perhaps it was the slam of the chair hitting the kitchen floor. He held his ground though, his was it...It was like watching something in slow motion, instead of picking up one of the guns like he totally expected, she moved around the table and punched him in the eye. The shock was the worst part, no, wait, the blinding, searing pain was the worst part. With a strangled grunt, he would not give her the satisfaction of screaming like a stuck pig, he stumbled back, one hand clutching at his eye. "Jesus Brenda! What the hell is wrong with you?!?!" He shouted at her. Oh she did not like that at all...Her fist slammed into his nose now, pain erupted again and he felt and tasted hot blood in his mouth. Then, his free arm was in a vice like grip, suddenly bending behind him, now that he wasn't able to keep from screaming. "Don't you ever talk like that to me again." She said quietly into his ear. God he was terrified, he wanted to just whimper but he'd be damned if he was going to live like this. "Fuck you." He said quietly, almost a whisper really. Oh she heard it though. There was a sickening crack, and for a second he wondered what the hell she had just broke, didn't take long for the fire that lanced up his arm to tell him. His left arm, broken....He let out a loud scream, god it hurt! He was trying to get his breath to tell her he was sorry, that he'd be good, That he'd do what ever she said, he just couldn't get the breathe to say it. There was a pounding, and someone was shouting, he couldn't make it out though, he was already sinking into unconsciousness. Bitterly wondering why life had it in for him so bad.