Something, a webseries

This was extremely unlike Edward. It had taken him more than an hour just to decide on the colour of his tie. His long hair had been combed back. His facial hair had been trimmed and shaven in the right places, and he actually applied moisturising cream to his hands and arms -- something he had grown up doing, but haven't done in a couple of years.    After standing in front of the humungous, floor-to-ceiling mirror wall in his room, trying to compare the differences between a red tie he had acquired for his prom back in the day, and a red tie he had acquired for the relaunch and rebranding party for the technology blog he served as Editor In Chief for, Edward finally let out a disappointed sigh and sat down on his bed.    He looked over to the bedside alarm clock and then fell down on his back, wishing that he had never sent his manuscript - unfinished and unedited - to the publisher.    "Now you're just being a sissy," he told himself and turned his face so th

   Ian and Devon were staring at a computer screen in their office. It was a vast, empty office with no walls, just three desks and three PCs.    “This isn’t working, it keeps failing on the third iteration,” said Devon.    “Then fix it, dude, it’s your animation code,”    “True enough, but it’s built off of your framework. The base code just can’t handle it,”    “The base code can handle it, just change the approach,”    “Excuse me,” came a voice from the far side of the office. It was a young woman, no older than twenty two. “I’m looking for Project Eight Gaming?”    “Welcome, you must be here for the interview,” said Ian, stepping out from behind the desk as she approached them.    “Yes, Melisa,”    “I’m Ian, this is Devon, take a seat over there and we’ll get started,”    “Sal haar soos n perd ry,” said Devon.    “I understand Afrikaans,” she said, distaste in her voice.    “Jip, she does,” said Ian after he quickly flipped through her CV. He looked down at his watch and

Edward sat down at the kitchen's island counter, rubbed his eyes with his right thumb and index finger, then looked over at Ian who had just placed a cup warm Jacobs Kronüng in front of him, from where he stood on the other side of the island counter. Ian was smiling slightly at him, possibly due to him looking half like shit, and half like a train had hit him square in the face.             "I bet the JR and Berries are going to be out until well after 2 PM."             "I bet you are right on that one," Ian replied as he turned around and got his own cup, took a sip, and shifted his weight over to the still-empty plates. "I made us some breakfast. Figured that you'd need it after last night."             "I'm more worried about the other two. You know I might have had you, had I not been slightly more intoxicated and worried about JR's toe who just about got broken on that god forsaken coffee table."             

            Ian woke with a slight start as he heard muffled voices and sounds from the living room downstairs. He listened for a few seconds; there were three of them by his guess.             He got out of bed and drew one of the long swords that hung in their scabbards on a hook behind his door before proceeding downstairs, silent as Ed’s cat which was stalking off in the opposite direction.             The lights were off and with the curtains drawn it was almost pitch black in the living room. One of the intruders banged his knee into the heavy oaken coffee table and swore under his breath, or at least that’s what Ian decided to believe.             They were spread out across the room, which gave Ian the advantage. Finally some of their parkour training would come in handy. Ian silently charged at the closest man, hitting him with the flat of the blade on the chest. The man hunched over in pain and Ian knocked his feet out from under him.             Next he pounced

Edward stood up from the deck chair, walked inside and contemplated finishing the bottle of whiskey he had started half an hour ago. As soon as his mind flicked to the "why the hell not" side of the button, his cat jumped onto the bar inside, rattling a few of the bottles ever so slightly.   "Hey there!" Ed exclaimed, but abruptly shut his mouth when he realised that Ian may already be asleep.   The cat purred as Ed ran his fingers through it's short, sharp fur, then let out a sigh and continued on its way out the door to the deck, probably to go and catch a quick midnight snack or something, Edward thought.   He stood and starred at the outside for a good few minutes before he let out a sigh himself, picked the bottle of whiskey up from the floor and placed it neatly on the shelf with the various other bottles filled with all kinds of alcoholic pleasures. He then walked over to the other side of the bar, where the cleaning cloth had been neatly laid out over

Edward made his way up the staircase. He wondered where the others were but was half answered when he found Ian sitting in one of the deck chairs with a glass of what looked suspiciously like whiskey in his hands.   “I thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he asked, planting himself in the chair next to Ian.   “I don’t,” Ian said and offered the glass to him. They were staring out at the town below them. Their house was built atop a small hill and was two stories high and a flat room that doubled as a covered lapa.   “Where’s, uhm…what’s her name?” he asked, taking a sip of whiskey.   “Left,”   “Another one?”   “Jip,”   “You know, it might not be that bad if you…well, you know,”   “Sex”   “Well if you put it that bluntly, it doesn’t really sound better. Wait, are you going to answer every question with one word,”   “Jip,” said Ian, then he turned to Edward with a devilish smile on his face. “By now you should know that I’m blunt when it comes to sex,”   “I should.