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The Postal Dude was... A lot different in person than Not Important had pictured him.
The news articles and reports he'd spent his teen years poring over had painted the Dude as some sort of ruthless killing machine. Brutally efficient and remorseless, spending three days trekking across his town and mowing down person after person without a moment's rest.
The Dude's war journal, which Nottem had spent ages tracking down all the entries for, presented a different picture. They showed a man forced into a corner, pushed and threatened until he had no choice but to lash out. Everything he did was for his own safety, and to stop the danger from spreading any farther than it already had.
Nottem quite honestly didn't give much of a shit about which was closer to the truth. Not in a negative way, it just really didn't matter. Either way, his opinion of the Dude would stay the same.
And what was that opinion? Well, Dude was the only person Nottem could think of that he didn't absolutely fucking despise. In fact, he'd go as far as to say that he liked the other.
That alone was enough of a feat, but it was so much more than that. Dude completely changed the course of Nottem's life. Dude was responsible for him finding his life's purpose.
He'd only been around fifteen at the time. His parents were watching the news and he happened to be in the room, but he was hardly paying any attention. He was only with them in the first place because they bitched so much about how he stayed in his room too often, and how they missed him, and shit like that. So he guessed he could stand spending some time with them if it would get them to leave him alone.
Initially he'd intended for this to consist of as little time as he could get away with, a few minutes at most. He'd been waiting for a commercial so he could slink away then, that way they couldn't say he never did anything with them, he'd have spent at least fifteen minutes tolerating whatever fucking garbage they wanted to watch.
Unfortunately, this meant paying at least bare minimum attention to what was happening on screen. Which was annoying at first, but that feeling quickly shifted.
Instead of the usual pointless shit, the news was talking about something that didn't make him want to blow a hole through the TV. Something legitimately interesting.
Currently in Arizona, there was a man making his way across the town of Paradise. Each area he arrived in, he slaughtered anyone who got in his way, wiping out countless people. This had been going on for days, no matter how many police or military were thrown at him he found a way to blast through them to his next goal.
Nottem found himself transfixed, the more he heard the harder it was to look away. Occasionally rather than simply having the reporter talk about what was happening, they'd show helicopter footage of what was happening. It was... not great. Too far away to get a good view of the events, horrendously low quality. The sound quality was also terrible, screams and gunshots mingling together, and then that was being talked over which further muddied things.
That didn't matter, though. Regardless, Nottem was hooked. He sat statue still, taking in every detail with wide eyes.
Vaguely, he was aware of his mother saying something about how awful the events were. He nodded without sparing her a glance.
He stayed like that for hours, he didn't bother keeping track of the time but it was late into the night by the time he was ready to move.
At several points his parents suggested he leave, but he refused. Apparently they thought this was upsetting him... They clearly didn't know him very well. It was the exact opposite, for the first time in ages he was feeling something outside of emptiness and rage. The only reason he wasn't smiling was because his face was so unused to the action, his muscles weren't quite sure how to do it unconsciously. (To be fair, he wasn't that great at doing it consciously either. Whenever he tried it almost always ended up looking like a grimace)
His heart was beating out of his chest, with every new development his breath was drawn in with a gasp. He wasn't sure if he'd ever felt this level of excitement before, the only thing he could think to compare it to was the restless anger that normally itched under his skin. This was different though, this felt... Nice. Good.
He needed to see how far this man, who the media had dubbed The Postal Dude, could go. And how his story would end, if he'd be killed or caught.
In the end, surprisingly he didn't die. He ended up being caught, and arrested.
After he got that answer, he listened when his parents suggested he go to bed. However, he got very little sleep that night. He kept replaying what he'd seen in his mind. On top of that, he thought about how that had apparently been ongoing for three whole days. He could only imagine what sort of man it took to do all that and live through it.
After several days passed and his thoughts didn't clear up, he decided just imagining wasn't enough. He needed to know more.
He went online and scoured for every bit of information he could find. He spent hours each day analyzing every article, report and each bit of footage. Things from official sources such as the media, and small opinion pieces from random people talking about what happened. There was a lot of fuss about it, which he supposed was to be expected with such a massive event.
Most of the footage was similarly bad, like what he'd seen initially. But there were a few gems out there where he could really get a good look at what was happening. They still weren't stunning or anything, but they were at least serviceable. You could tell the people apart and the blood and gore was distinguishable as such.
This also let him get his first real look at The Postal Dude. Fiery red hair, going just below his shoulders. A goatee on his chin, a bit scruffy from days of neglect. A long trench coat and green bag on his back, presumably to carry his arsenal of weapons. A pair of sunglasses sitting on his face, obscuring his eyes.
Well okay, he didn't notice all of those details simply from watching videos of The Dude's massacre, some he saw in pictures attached to the news articles.
Nottem went from strictly researching the shooting to doing a little digging about Dude himself. There wasn't a whole lot out there, all reports said he seemed like a completely normal guy before the incident. A bit aloof maybe, but nice enough. (There were also plenty of articles theorizing about Dude's mental health, trying to psychoanalyze him. Nottem couldn't say he gave much of a fuck about those, most of them were written by people who had no idea what they were talking about, just people trying to sound smart. Even the official statement put out by the facility Dude had been sent to seemed clueless)
The only real hint at what Dude was like before and what his motives may have been was his journal, which the media only mentioned offhand a few times. Nottem made it his mission to find it, though. It had to have been posted somewhere, there wouldn't be so many mentions of it otherwise. These people must have read it somehow.
This fixation of his lasted weeks, and then months. After a while he accepted that it probably wasn't going to go away. A few things happened during this time.
The first, less important thing was that his parents noted the shift in his mood. They said he seemed more lively, maybe even happier. (He let them make this observation, but didn't tell them the cause. He didn't need them lecturing him)
The second thing was a realization that hit him. It occurred to him that in theory, he could do what The Postal Dude did. It would be so easy, very little was stopping him. All he needed were weapons and a plan.
Not only did he realize he could, but he wanted to. He really wanted to. He fucking hated everyone around him, anyone he came into contact with always found some way to piss him off. Honestly, all of humanity seemed so unbelievably fucking stupid. World leaders and politicians so content spreading lies and corruption, all the ordinary citizens so happy to eat up their lies, never wanting to question a damn thing. The criminals scurrying about the streets filling the world with filth and discontent, and all the people sitting safely in their homes completely oblivious, feeling like no danger could ever touch them.
Humanity was beyond being worth saving, outside of him Nottem couldn't think of a single soul that didn't fill him with vitriolic disgust. If anything, he'd be doing them a favor by wiping them all out.
So it was decided, he was going to do this. He would usher in a new age of genocide.
He spent years thinking through the logistics, formulating a proper plan. He started exercising, he would need to be strong enough to mow through as many as he could, and fast enough to evade any life ending injuries.
Once he was a legal adult, he moved into his own place. He cut contact with his family as best he could, not giving them his new number or address. He stripped himself of his legal name, it wasn't important. All that mattered was what he was going to do.
He started buying weapons. First smaller things like knives and handguns, but he quickly moved up to what some would consider military grade weaponry. He turned his basement into an armory and a shooting range.
He started keeping a journal of his own, detailing his ideal actions for the future. Some of them were... unrealistic, he would admit. More of a fantasy than real plans. (Everything involving the nuclear power plant in particular was very far removed from reality. He wasn't sure if nuclear reactors even could explode the way he envisioned them doing. And there was no way in hell his guess for the passcode was correct) But he didn't fucking care, because the thought of them put a grin on his face. The mental image of himself slaughtering nearly his entire neighborhood, conquering an army base and then picking off any survivors with a massive nuclear explosion... It really got his blood pumping. He couldn't wait to put it into action.
He practiced with smaller, more concentrated acts of violence. Kidnapping people in the night and trapping them in his basement, experimenting with different ways of killing them. He used this as a method to figure out the limits of the human body, as well as the most effective ways to take a life.
Truly, nothing compared to that feeling. Getting to watch as the fear in someone's eyes faded away into blank emptiness as their blood pooled at his feet. It took a good chunk of self control to keep his kidnappings at a reasonable pace, he couldn't risk authorities getting suspicious before his plans really started. He couldn't imagine what the true climax of his plans would feel like if a few simple murders got him this excited, but he very much looked forward to finding out.
He needed to wait, though. Bide his time until he was truly ready. He would be endlessly disappointed and disgusted with himself if he rushed and ruined everything.
At some point while he was busy waiting and honing his plans, he got the idea in his head to visit the town of Paradise Arizona. Why not? He normally hated traveling, but this place was special. It was the birthplace of the man he'd decided was his idol, and home to the massacre that had inspired him to become who he was.
And it would be really interesting to walk along the path The Postal Dude had. Take in the surroundings, see what he had seen. And see how much things had changed over the years.
Besides, he had all the time in the world. He was in no hurry to start things, he could take a few days off for this.
This trip ended up being far more eventful than he could have accounted for.
Being there alone didn't do much to move him. The town was noticeably different, but he'd expected that. It was still similar enough that he could vividly recall the videos he'd seen of The Dude wreaking havoc, and that was pretty fun, but not exactly life changing.
No, what really made the trip was the later events of it.
He heard some commotion from the inside of a butcher shop. Screaming, gunshots, things of that nature. He didn't pay it too much mind, even when leagues of cops showed up and began pouring into the building. It was a bit interesting that whatever was happening in there was being done in the middle of the day, but aside from that it wasn't very noteworthy. One thing Nottem learned while in Paradise was that violent crime was rather common here, he could be walking down just about any street and see people assaulting each other. Normally that's all it was, but these events escalating to murder wasn't the most rare occurrence. Honestly, Nottem had a feeling the only reason he hadn't been accosted by anyone was because of his inherently intimidating appearance. Being several feet taller than the average person and always visibly angry had its perks.
He stayed within the peripherals of what was happening, close enough to keep an eye on the building. He was vaguely curious about how this would turn out, it seemed bigger than anything he'd witnessed so far.
After several minutes of continuous gunfire echoing from within the building, everything went quiet. And then after a few seconds, a man exited.
At the sight of this man Nottem froze. The hair the color of a roaring flame (Much shorter than Nottem remembered, but unmistakable), the sunglasses (A bit scratched and cracked with age), and the flowing trench coat covering most of the man's body.
It was him. Nottem had heard rumors that he'd escaped the hospital he'd been sent to, but he'd had no way of knowing for sure whether it was true. Until now, that is.
The Dude had a clipboard in one of his hands, from the distance Nottem couldn't see exactly what was on it, but he crossed something off before tucking it back into one of the pockets of his coat. Then he nodded to himself and began walking.
Without thinking, Nottem began following. He stayed a few steps behind until Dude stopped and spun to face him, a pistol casually resting in his hand. "Hey pal, can I help you?" He asked, laid back voice doing nothing to conceal the threat in his words.
Nottem's heart felt like it could burst from his chest any second, and he couldn't quite get his breathing to stay even. The Postal Dude was not only here, but was speaking to him! The fact that his life was being threatened hardly even registered. All that came out of his mouth was a quiet "You're the Postal Dude..."
Dude raised an eyebrow at that. "Yeah, and you're not from around here." Then a bit quieter, but still loud enough that Nottem could hear, he muttered "Trust me, I'd remember if I saw your greasy, half-assed goth ass wandering around town."
At that Nottem huffed out a laugh and explained that he learned about Dude from the news, what he did was talked about quite a bit.
"I guess I am kinda famous, huh?" Dude gave a small shrug. "And I guess that makes you one of my crazy fans?"
Nottem wasn't about to deny that, though it was hard to tell whether Dude was being sarcastic or not.
"Are you like... The type of fan who's gonna ask me to sign your tits, or the type who tracked me down to kill me?"
"I would die a thousand deaths before even thinking of harming you."
Dude let out a little 'holy shit' and chuckled. "Okay, good to know." He tucked his pistol away. "You got a name or anything?"
"My name is not important." He responded with the affirmation he'd been telling himself for years, as well as what he told anyone he needed to introduce himself to.
Dude waited a few seconds, and then "...No, seriously. What do I call you?"
"It doesn't matter, choose whatever you want."
Nottem was almost one hundred percent certain Dude rolled his eyes at that. He murmured a little "Okay..." and his eyebrows scrunched together in thought. Then after a few seconds "Not Important... I'll just call you Notty."
Nottem's eyebrows raised at this, that was certainly a new one. He couldn't say he disliked it. Hearing it caused an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and a warmth in his cheeks, and he was pretty sure that was a good thing? It was hard to tell, but it didn't make him want to hurt someone, so that was something.
Dude checked his wrist (Which didn't have a watch) before speaking again. "Listen, I still got almost a full list of chores to get done, but how about this weekend you show up to the Psychotic Friends Network Barbecue?"
Nottem could only nod in reply.
"It'll be at my place... I have a feeling I don't gotta tell you where that is."
That assumption was correct. Nottem didn't know where Dude resided yet, but he could easily figure it out.
Dude moved to walk away before pausing. "Actually... I guess I could use a little extra security today, if you wanted to tag along?"
And there was no way in hell Nottem was going to turn that down. "Any worm who even looks at you wrong will be fucking annihilated."
That got another chuckle out of Dude. "Great, come on then. Next stop is the police station, I got a ticket I have to pay off."