"Fucking assholes!"

 "Everyone is a fucking asshole!"

Fort's bass toned voice bellows with malice.

He rolls down the driver's side widow as he speeds up beside the road transgressor.

Nicey pulls her winged black rimmed  with violet lenses sunglasses.

She looks unfazed.

Imagining she is dancing on the hills of Ankara, a priceless memory.

Feeling grateful she had experienced it at all.

"Suck my dick motherfucker!"

Violently shaking his middle finger at occupants of the vehicle next to him.

Fort's idea of justice on the road was basically anyone who was not him breaking the rules. According to him he was the most just and sensible driver, but what he could not take was the stupidity of others on the road.

As a captive of this experience Nicely closed her eyes.

Early on she would question his driving etiquette, urge him to calm down.

"Babe, just drive on. I know that person was being an idiot, but the best thing about being in a car is that you get to just drive away from that, you know."

Such an enabler she was.

Should have been a deal breaker.

She should have never shown her hand like that at all.

When Nicey would attempt to explain to Fort, a grown man,  just how much these outbursts frightened her...

Outburst.

When she begged him not to conduct himself like that in the area she worked in, as she would be the one to have to bear the brunt. 

What if some of her  students' parents recognized her or worse one of her preschoolers?

Outburst.

"Don't try to control me, I do not give a shit about what these rich assholes think, why are you always trying to impress them? They don't care about you. They don't respect you. They're probably ALL racist!"

"You're right Fort, I'm sorry."

Nicey neither believed that Fort was justified, nor was she sorry.

But she knew better.

Any perception of betrayal by her would  lead to a transference of rage towards her. Whatever, he may have felt about the person who cut him off or flipped him off would be re-routed in Nicey's direction.

He would accuse her of:

 "Not supporting him,"

"Siding with the enemy,"

"Dissing him,"

"Purposely trying to just piss him the fuck off, just for fun."

Even when he was trying to "do something nice," somehow she would end up feeling like shit.

A few days ago, after the first job interview she had had in months, Fort offered to buy pizza.

Give her a break from cooking dinner.

She was happy not to cook.

Pizza?

It did not matter, it was the gesture that was important.

Within twenty minutes of Fort heading out into the world, she received a call from him.

Happened more and more these days.

"Hey is everything..."

Nicey already knew that nothing was okay.

"These motherfuckers are pissing me off. Standing too close to me! Too bad we don't live in a place where I could just take these assholes out and stomp the shit outta them!"

Fort unloaded into the phone.

Speaking to her, but threatening whoever was in line.

For what?

She could not say.

 Nicey never bothered to ask for clarification anymore. Neither did she offer calm instructions.

Just sounds of agreement was all she could  offer.

"Oh."

"Ah."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"Oh no."

"So sorry."

So frustrated.

Having to stop whatever she was doing, to listen to an adult who claimed to be the pinnacle of logic and mental health, have a meltdown at random people in public.

Why did he always get away with it?

No one challenged him.

Granted, when he was in this headspace even a soft challenge could lead to an explosive word or two being flung right at you.

You may not have been the person who offended him, lied to him, laughed at him or whatever, put you in his crosshairs.

During his bouts of seething  animosity, there was no distinction between you and the stimulus, you merged with it.

Reason at your own peril.

Nicey often wondered if Fort even understood why he experienced these fits of rage.

Maybe that was why he attributed them to others?

Otherwise, what the fuck was he doing?

So many people  had wronged him.

So many he could never challenge about it, lest they crush him with indifference.

Shamed him.

The last time she had heard him bragging about a new art piece, at an exhibit, he was  congratulated, meekly.

The expressions on the person face was not over the top hysterics

He held the reaction against them, resented them.

Sometimes he would tell them off, however, this person, he lived to please.

It was his father.

From Fort's perspective his dad was "hating on him."

Perhaps.

Nicey would argue that it could be a "hater," but from what she deduced, anyone who was not giving him what he wanted was a "hater."

Some people did genuinely like him.

But praise from them only provided small ego boasts, but if someone like Reston rebuked him, all of his "lovers" could get curb-stomped, for all he cared

If one of the members of his "Elite Squad of Approval," dismissed him.

Sadly, for Nicey  and others, those people were never present physically.

All they could do was brace for the copious amounts of  maximum anguish to be distributed.

She, however, was always around.

Whether in the same room or on the other end of the phone...

Nicey was on the receiving end of unmitigated anger in place on people who she could not see.

She was the main"whipping boy" of his life.

"Look at this cock-"

Peering  into the right lane the driver of the van slowed in front of them, before veering into the next lane.

Fort sped up only to have his "road opp" pretend to drive into their vehicle, then swerve to the right, drifting through three lanes.

A bespeckled man and a wavy haired woman in the backseat wave mockingly at Fort and Nicey.

The woman is rocking a baby car seat, her smile is jarring and satisfied. As her driver companion's eyes remained transfixed upon Fort, not breaking his stare to view the road ahead of him. Middle finger raised.

Nicey sighs.

The car accelerates.

She imagines just how miserable her after life will be, if this road drama becomes fatal.

Shuddering at the thought of haunting the highway with ghost Fort by her side.

The van nemesis carries three occupants, a pair of  depraved adults and an infant.

The adults continue to gesticulate as they disappear down the off ramp, the baby continues to be rocked in the car seat, with her free had.

The black Honda Accord carrying one irate man and one numb woman, continues onward.

When they finally arrive at the air dropped location, Fort gets out of the car to open the large metal gate.

Even in his fifties he remains trim and fit.

He often boasts that he is the same size he was when he was seventeen.

The soft lines around the corners of his eyes and on his forehead are less present than they had been when they met.

He has been sleeping more.

A recent convert of the benefits of drinking water.

He could pass for mid forties tops.

The air is hazy, stare anywhere too long it begins to bend.

 Much hotter than the city.

She feels off balanced under the blaring heat of the sun.

As the car inches forward and gate is closed, they transport through a portal; the world of Reston.

A refuge from the concrete world, a place where Fort  sends his polished representative.

Nicey likes his representative, in "The Kingdom of Machion."

Together they walk to the front of the house.

The couple seats themselves at the picnic table.

No sign of life.

"Where are these guys?"

"Likely off in the forest or on a food run."

Nicey thinks, she chooses not to vocalize, this thought.

She is far more interested in the cloudless powder sky, then she is to interact with Fort.

Not after that hell-ride.

She is unnerved by how quiet it feels here, as she is so accustomed to the noise of the highway.

Surrounded by trees and bushes, Nicey senses a watchful eye, but she always does.

Fort is constantly studying her.

Thankfully, he is standing near the fire pit, hands on head swinging his upper body.

Nicey has never met Viviali, though she has met Barin from the last time, shortly after he was hired.

She has known Doctor Fearsome almost as long as she has known Fort, his spiritual mentor.

She has heard of Reston from Fort over and over.

He loves this guy.

Reston seemed to have a genuine love for Fort.

While Nicey thought Reston was nice,  definitely wanted him to like her, but she was never sure whether he actually did.

She wanted him to, she wanted at least one of her partner's few friends to like her, to approve of her.

Understandably she tried not to push her luck and be as gracious as possible. 

Once a world traveler, this was the only world she had visited for the past 4 years.

Here and New York, but she rather not think of  that trip.

A bush a few feet away from her rustles.

Startled, she turns towards it.

Not a hint of wind, must be a raccoon or a chipmunk.

A bird.

A small animal, she hopes.

 Reston showed her footage of a bear that wandered right up to the door. Not present at the cottage that night, but the bear had alerted the sensor. He viewed his burly visitor via phone alarm app.

He and Fort joked about it.

Beautiful, wild, the real outdoors.

"What you don't want to run into a bear Nicey?"

Reston teased.

She liked animals, but had no interest in making contact with them.

Especially the wild ones.

She had her journey, they had theirs.'

Respect that; carry on.

The rustling ceases.

Nicey swears she hears slow methodical feet crushing the dry twigs on the ground.

She sees nothing.

Must be the heat getting to her.

She adjusts her sunglasses, then rustles through her large pink faux leather bag.

Retrieving a stick of  SPF 30 sunscreen and insect repellent, she applies the sunscreen thoughtfully, then sprays her skin generously.

Every insect that bites, bites her frequently, causing large welts and bumps.

Mostly on her large behind and muscular arms.

"You want some bug spray and sunscreen," she calls out to Fort.

Running over, he smiles. He loves it out here.

She wishes he had his own equivalent of this.

Maybe it would make him happier, more content?

A place where he could hide.

Protect himself.

She did not care about properties or luxury.

She was not against it either. She just thought it was wonderful when people got what they wanted.

Even though she had not wanted anything for awhile.

Too much disappointment.

"Turn around, your shoulders are the first to burn, you need to remember to apply in often, especially on your tattoos, the sun will fade them."

He lifts his arms.

She laughs to herself.

"What's so funny."

His voice is gentle, playful even.

" I dunno, when we arrived. How no one was here, felt like a scene of a movie. You know. The camp is empty, it's eerie. Like we just missed getting abducted by aliens."

He laughs.

"Yeah."

They avert their eyes towards one of the four  open paths leading into the forests.

A low rumbling noise, is gets louder, the closer it gets.

"Guess the aliens left them, too rowdy."

But Fort is not listening, his representative has a job to do.