Thursday, May 10, 2012

Raymond Shaughnessy, AKA Reach (What You Are In The Dark)

Name: Raymond Shaughnessy
Alias: Reach
Blog: What You Are In The Dark
Details of Death: Died approximately April 29, 2011.  See details of Ava's posts below for information regarding the details of death.

From "Reach is Out" on Don't Shoot The Messenger:

Well, another one has fallen.  Reach.  Raymond Shaughnessy.  Irishman tricked into believing he had superpowers.  For a while, everything he knew was a lie.

He had a kid.  Has a kid.  ...Will have a kid.  I don't know if it's a son or daughter, and I don't know if the mother does either.  But hey, there's one bit of solace.  Reach is gone, but his kid will live on.  Hopefully.  From what I hear, Robert's trying to do everything he can to make sure of that.

He was a figurehead.  He was a hero.  He decided that he didn't want to work for The Boss anymore, and quit in the most spectacular fashion possible.

He was also just a kid.  Only seventeen years old.  That's younger than me.  And he and another kid were thrust into this together.  This shouldn't have happened to them.  This shouldn't happen to any of us.

Reach is living testimony that those of us working for The Boss are human, and can genuinely care about you guys (even if, like me, we refuse to switch sides).  He showed that, even in darkness, there is some light.

Goodbye, Reach.  It would have been an honor to sign you off.  Too bad that librarian bitch beat me to it.  Stupid cruddy connection cutting out on me.

And no, Ava, that was not affectionate teasing.  You're a bitch.  I understand that this sucks, yeah.  But grow up.  Get over it.

So to end on a more positive note, let's all remember Reach again.  A brave kid in way over his head.  We'll miss you, buddy.  And we'll always, always remember to

Reach Out.

From an untitled post on The London Librarian and "No Reply" on What You Are In The Dark:

I swore to myself that I wouldn’t fucking post here again. On this stupid blog. But I can’t just leave it and there’s no-one left to help me record things.

Ray is dead. I can’t process it. I can’t believe it. It’s so open ended... We were in the Magna, one of us keeping an eye on the entrance at all times, when we heard voices. Ray knew who they were straight off the bat, shoved me out of the way and stood infront of me. I scrabbled around a little before getting to my feet and seeing the two. Eulogy and Hammer. I knew their names from Ray's introduction I guess you could say it was. It was more of a mock casual greeting, I guess.

Of course then we turned tail and ran like hell, because I'm pregnant and Ray's human. It didn't work. Like, at all. When Ray'd shoved me out of the way, the two of us lost sight of the entrance. So it wasn't there. Like a fucking Weeping Angel. It buggered off the second it could. And of course the other two were like fucking Olympic sprinters and that bloody moron had to go and be chivalrous and tell me to "Run as he held them off." I really wanted to hit him then. But I realised something. I'm thinking for two. I can't be so reckless anymore. I can't...stand up for myself.

So I let him. I let him "Fend them off" while I fled like fucking Brave Sir Robin.

I had an enjoyable half hour/hour/month/decade trying to find the entrance again, because my senses were skewing themselves left right and center. I could smell and taste things that weren't there, feel things, see things. But I found it. I think it's more a case of wanting it and knowing that this is how the place works. I didn't exit though. I just sort of...hung about in the gap. I think I heard gunshots at a point, but it was so echoey and merely dropping a pencil could get that loud after a while...

Ray came stumbling out from a corner a way away about an hour later, something like that. His arm was bleeding heavily and he was clutching it, when he saw me he smiled a little and

And then there was this thick fog behind him and it made the air smell so strongly you could taste it. It tasted like novocaine.

The fog solidified into tentacles and thrashed around the narrow corridor we were in, I only realised that they'd pulled Ray back into the fog, where I couldn't see him after a minute. I think the fog did more than just TASTE like novocaine. I think they really did numb your own brain screaming at you to flee.

He was screaming, Tony. He was fucking screaming his lungs out. And I felt rain on my face. I ran. I turned and fucking ran for my life, for my baby's life, for my sanity...

He can't be dead. It's too open-ended.

Even though I know he is, because I have Ray’s blood on my face.

I can’t wash it off. In some strange way it’s all I have left of him, so instead I’m left staring at myself in the mirror over the sink, hands bracing themselves for when I throw up. I never do. I’m too numb still. I don’t know if this has something to do with my coma, Redlight's fucking about in my head and it’s repercussions on my emotions, or if believing Ray dead once before was all my mind and body could take. Now it’s happened a second time and I can’t even think anything other than white noise. There’s nothing in my head. Usually there’s something in my mind, something going about, something that needs testing or doing or going to. I just can’t think like that right now, but there’s no grief either. I honestly don’t think I can mourn Ray again.

It fucked me up too much the first time round.

So I’ll stand at my mirror and stare at the blood on my face, and sometime soon , I’ll wash it off. I’ll say a final goodbye.

And then I'll be damned if I don't reassess my priorities. Because I’m staying in Egypt now.

My Anorexic Associate didn't just rip out Ray's heart.

...I found this when I went to post this on Ray's blog. He seems to have written it a few weeks ago. Stupid soppy cunt. (His fucking password was "spesproreliquo", for fuck's sake.)

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