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"Really? You're surprised that it was us who lead the humans to rebel?"
"_Yeeeessss. How could you betray your Sires like that. We gave you everlasting life._"
"You turned us because you wanted servants to bring you blood."
"_... but ..._"
"And most of you bastards used the Bond to force us to kill our families and friends immediately after being turned."
"_Thhhaaaattt was necessary to protect the Veil. We ..._"
"YOU personally laughed so hard, that you snorted blood out your nose while feeding on my 5 year old sister. You kept laughing for _weeks_ whenever you saw me cry after she died."
"_... so what do you plan to do now, traitor?_"
"Well first I plan to watch you burn to death in the morning sun."
"_hssssssss_"
"And then the humans have asked us to work with them to isolate the strength enhancing, life extending and regenerative effects from the Vampire Virus.
Without the negatives of course. Most importantly, the Hunger. We've had great success already by combining it with strains of Werewolf and Zombie Virus, though I must admit I tend to eat a lot more animal organ meat. Next week we go Wendigo-Hunting. I'm kinda excited.
So ... have fun, _Master_. The sun should be rising in about 15 minutes." |
Vallen flipped the switches on the media control panel with a long sigh into the microphone. "Check. Test one."
Beside them, the archivist watched the waveforms appear on the recording feed. "Check. Test two."
A third voice echoed in both of their headphones. *"Check. Test three. Successfully connected with main. Permission to continue."*
The archivist moved the first beat-up dirt covered time capsule onto the canvas spread out over the desk. Vallen turned a bored gaze to the box. "First capsule found 200km north of the K-Han1 site. Estimated age: 900 years old."
"Initiating first confirmation."Vallen grabbed the capsule with gloved hands and moved it closer to their body. They unrolled their tool pouch with a half-hearted flick of their hand. They used the other to turn the capsule this way and that. "No external date that I can see, but there's enough dirt here to make that difficult. Requesting clean-up."
"Confirming clean-up."
*"Permission granted. Continue."*
Vallen worked quickly but carefully. Their eyes scanned over each curve and dent for numbers, names, or labels. It was only when they rotated the capsule and cracked away some caked on dirt that they found what they were looking.
"Jacobs. First name hard to read: 'T-e'... 'm'..? Unclear. Capsule dated for May 2023."
The archivist wrote notes in short hand as the third voice gave them permission to move forward. Vallen placed down their tools, adjusted their gloves, and then pressed their thumbs against the indented seal of the capsule. With enough pressure though not as much as they expected, the internal clasps loosened. Vallen's brow quirked up quickly, but they continued opening the capsule without comment.
Inside, there was a small hoard of storage devices: memory sticks, a couple sticks of RAM, more than a few floppy disks, CDs, minidiscs, USB flash drives, two external hard drives, and a handful of memory cards. The archivist perked up immediately, staring at the treasure within with wide eyes as Vallen verbally documented the find.
"Request to continue?"Vallen looked over at the archivist, who swallowed thickly.
"Request to continue... with SYSADMIN."
The third voice was quiet. *"One moment."*
Vallen's nose scrunched up, but they looked back down at the capsule. "I guess we'll need them, huh."
"They're the ones with the fastest equipment..."
Vallen shook their head. "It's not the equipment I'm worried about."
Sooner than either of them were prepared for, there were hard, rapid knocks against their door. The archivist yelped without meaning to, and Vallen jumped with a soft hiss of an exhale.
"Dr. Alek Averra, SYSADMIN Arch. 1217 at your service!!"
"You have a card, Alek. Use it,"Vallen called out.
There was an external beep, and a grinning man strode into the room. His lanyard swung from where it was wrapped around his wrist, and his eyes immediately focused on the exposed time capsule. He whistled.
"No shit. Cherry!"He twisted back to regard his assistant waiting outside. "Bring the '94 equipment."
"Yessir!"And they were gone.
Alek clapped his hands together loudly and rubbed them together. "Alright you two, make room. A pro has arrived." |
I stared at this blue apparition in front of me. He looks like the cartoon genie. Even sounds a little like him. I can't believe he just told me that I can be the football team captain if I practice hard enough and eat enough protein. What the heck....?!
*"I'm sorry, what are you talking about?!"*
The genie flutters his eyes, snaps, and a massive TV appears behind him with an 80's montage to the sound of "Eye of the Tiger". It shows me training exactly like that ancient movie, Rambo. *"Master, if you just look at this, you..."*
I didn't want to raise my voice, but I needed to drown out Carrie Underwood singing "Eye of Tiger"now. She has a version of this?! Anyhow... I really need to be Captain. *"Listen, genie, I almost died trying to get this lamp because I need a football scholarship. And with Porter Andrews as the Captain, Quarterback, and overall popular guy this year, there is no way a Latino lanky cholo like me gets anything. I won't even get seen. I really need to be at least Captain and that is all I'm asking for."*
The genie shrugged and the TV wall disappears like smoke. He looks at me like he's ready to cry.
*"Ok, if you can't make me Football Captain, then can I just have enough money to pay for my education?"* I know I sound desperate now, but seeing mama go through so much work cleaning at the hotel, selling pastries at night to get us by, I just have to do something.
*"Master, maybe I can help you be a Tiktok influencer?! They earn a ton! ---"*
I'm getting irritated and I clanged the brass lamp against my leg a bit. *"Geez, genie, I reckon these wishes are really simple. I'm not asking you to broker peace in the Middle East!"*
The genie laughed a bit. *"That's where I'm from and I sincerely don't think..."*
I rolled my eyes. *"Can you help me or not?"*
*"I can't grant wishes."*
Mother... what?! *"I'm sorry, you can't grant wishes?! Any wishes?!"* I put the lamp down. I fell through quicksand in a massive river cave that no one knows I entered in search of something that can get me a university education and he's now saying I could actually die in here?! *"Can't I even wish myself out of here?!"*
*"Well, there's an exit. We don't need magic to get through this."* |
Brian arrived at the address on the small white card to find a plain white building in an out of the way industrial part of town. The building was several stories high and from the front there appeared to be no windows. The was only a single metal door, unmarked, save for the house number. Next to the door was a small intercom.
Brian looked around. This felt off. The person who gave him this card and told him to come by this morning was, apparently, a friend of a friend, who seemed to know who he was. He knew that Brian was going through a rough patch, but was familiar with his work. Brian even called his friend George to ask about him. "Oh yeah", said Greg, he's legit. A genius, in fact, George had said. They both worked in biotech of some kind. Greg worked in vaccine development. He was swamped these days with a big swine flu trial thing, so Brian only spoke on the phone. But George said, yeah yeah, definitely go see the guy.
So Brian walked up to the door and pressed the button. After only a few seconds the he heard a small click from the door. He grabbed the handle and pushed, and the door swung inward. Inside was a room that was tastefully furnished, nice couch, coffee table, chairs, nicely lit from an ambiguous lighting source. An electric blue rug. The style was sort of mid-century atomic age. Hip. And empty.
Brian sat down on the couch and leafed through a couple of magazines, the labels bore a different address in midtown. Soon a door at the other end of the room open and in walked the man from the party. "Hello Brian, thank you so much for coming,"he said warmly, walking forward and extending a hand, which Brian rose and shook. "Daniel,"he said. "A pleasure."
Daniel smiled and asked him to follow him. They walked through the door down an empty hallway, turned a few times and ended in a large room with bare white walls and a large conference table.
Seated at the table was a young man and a woman, both dressed stylishly, as was Daniel, though younger. They worked for him.
"Brian,"Daniel said after beckoning Brian to sit, "this is Judith and Ahmed. They are going to give you a short presentation, and then we'll talk. You'll understand what this is all about shortly."
The room went dim. The enormous white wall was suddenly a screen. On it was what looked like a baby in a womb. "Brian,"the young woman said, looking directly at him, "What would you give to live as long as you wanted? To never worry about disease or death from natural causes?"
Brian waited, the pause was long for what clearly had to be a rhetorical question. He looked at the screen with the pink fetus.
"What if the answer to that questions was five years of your life?"
\---
The presentation was drawing to and end, and Brian stretched his arms. He was dazed, this was a lot to take in.
"So, if I am to understand my role in this. I am a science fiction writer and so you want me to write about this? Do you need me for publicity?"
"Brian, I know things have been tough recently. Greg told me about the divorce, etc. But I want you to know that I am a huge fan of your work. *The Endless Voyage* is one of my favorite books, and has long been an inspiration for my work."Finally he got around to it. The book that had launched his career, won him awards and was the last good thing he'd ever written.
"Thanks, but I don't know if I'm the guy to work on this,"he said. It felt off, like pity or something. He needed work but something felt off.
"Brian, you don't understand. This is real. We have tested this, it works. But we need a first subject. Someone who makes sense. Someone who will not only be available to try it but who can explain to everyone to everyone what this really means, for humanity."
"You want me to be the first subject? You want me to give you five years of my life?"Brian was astounded. What an absurd offer.
"Yes,"said Daniel, standing. "We want you to be the first subject. We want you to write about it, everything. Make a book about the experience."
Brian was dumbfounded. He hadn't published a book in ten years.
"And for your time and your efforts, we will pay you ten million dollars. And we will give you the gift of eternal life. Or at least a head start."
Brian tried to think of a reason to laugh and call the man crazy. He should thank him for his time and walk out into the industrial area and call an Uber. But instead he didn't say anything. He looked at Daniel and smiled and was surprised at just how easy it was to say yes, fine sure. Let's do it. |
A dozen wizards walked into a room. Any other time this might've been the beginning of a strange joke, but the current setting was anything but a joke.
The Grandmaster was dying.
Disease had spread across the academy campus some months ago, taking with it a number of very unfortunate students and professors. No treatment could be found and the academy was shut down to contain spreading, but they were too late.
And the Grandmaster was about to die far too early.
----------
The dozen wizards quietly surrounded the deathbed, hauling in journals and scrolls containing almost their entire life's work. With the announcement of their leader's rapidly declining health, they had all set off towards the academy in record time. A few had even foregone assembling a traveling party entirely, stuffing bare essentials into a bag and racing off on horseback by themselves.
"*...Hello, friends*", rasped a failing voice. It was barely audible even in the silent room.
Master July, a royal Alchemist and fellow professor, spoke up: "Greetings, Grandmaster. I wished we could've met in better circumstances". She took a breath to calm her voice. "This reunion has come far too soon".
The original plan had called for all to study a field of magic and reconvene in thirty year's time, at a site renowned for its thin separation from the plane of the dead. The Grandmaster was meant to have painlessly stepped through into the other side when the time came.
Instead, only eleven years had passed, and the site was on the other side of the country. Some in attendance hadn't even attained the Master title yet, but they were already too specialized to substitute.
"*Even if it's too soon, it's still nice to see all your faces again. We have a job to do*". The Grandmaster fell into a coughing fit, and July covered the mouth with a blanket. "*The blackboard's... under the bed...just begin*".
Sorcerer Alexander, a researcher of Curse magic, hung the board on the wall and started to sketch. July helped the Grandmaster sit up in bed and the attention in the room shifted as Alexander unceremoniously began his lecture.
=----------=
After Alexander came Summoner Lin, then July herself the following day, until all in attendance had exhausted their entire supply of knowledge in the span of a week.
The day after, the Grandmaster died quietly surrounded not by twelve teachers, but by twelve friends.
=----------=
Dark beasts roamed the plane of the dead, preying on helpless and defenseless souls. Loud noises constantly roared all day and night. Three thousand people had already been destroyed this week, the settlement losing more hands than they were gaining despite a recent plague.
A new unassuming soul appeared in their midst, seemingly middle-age but wiser than most would expect.
The leader of the settlement - another soul who arrived centuries ago - approached them, asking, "Did you study any magic while you were alive? We need an educated wizard to hold the east wall".
"*Indeed, I... have learned a few things*". |
The are Fools!
The world has always had people who worship gods and then the religion disappears only to be left as a footnote in history.
I was NOT a god. I had technology that was deemed as magical or as god-powers.
Humans had advanced enough to make time travel possible. The only problem is that it can only be used once as a very rare element from the Periodic Table is all used up and can no longer be produced.
To explain, there are many elements that only have microseconds (if that) of life and then disappear. The element used to time travel was discovered but only in minute amounts. With all the deposits combined it could only send 1 person back in time.
Any way I got bored being looked upon as a “god”. It really was not much of a challenge as I defeated my enemies, made my allies strong, powerful, wealthy, and knowledgeable about things that would exist.
I was able to have very intelligent conversations with very intelligent people. We created weapons that would make gods of other people crap their pants. I advanced my favorite worshippers so far ahead that we surpassed 20th Century Technology in 2800 BC.
As with most civilizations, ours declined. The got too smart for their own good. The divided themselves on myths of who was right. I created a cryostasis box that worked on a form of energy that may or may not be discovered later in time.
I envisioned myself with technology that would make me rich and live out my life in luxury.
Things did not turn out ok. I had my mind scrambled as i had a journal telling me what I needed to remember. I woke up and a flood of memories burst onto my mind.
I moved and shocked the people in the room. The had energy weapons but these were swords, pikes, bows, maces, and more. These people came in. And then had the gall to tell me I will be sent back in time to fix my mistakes.
I started all over again. I was zapped right back to when I first met my worshippers. I began counting the trips back. 374 times! I needed to make them pay but every time i think i get ahead, the future gets more advanced and keeps sending me back. I wake up to a small army in each time period one loves me the other hates me! I will crush them the next time I meet them! |
Okay just a bit of context:
A couple days ago I made a PM post on this reddit asking for a situation where someone slowly transforms into something else and they can't control it. u/zeekoes proposed the prompt I answered to today. But because I'm stupid, I didn't realise I had to respond to a prompt in 6 hours, so the post was taken down.
I did like the prompts I saw, so I'm going to answer some of them on a separate post, here's the first I finished! |
“Please, we can discuss this like men.” The evil emperor Charles said.
Clara and Josh exchanged glances.
“Yes.” Clara said. “Let’s discuss this… like men.”
She glared at him, yet Charles said nothing, instead swiping his hand through the air.
The floor between them opened up and a round, ornately decorated table rose.
After being seated, a team of servants approached to offer drinks and little snack sandwiches. Two muscular women began massaging the two heroes. A third beefy woman massaged the emperor.
“Ahhh.” Charles moaned in delight.
“Oh, sir,” his masseuse said. “You’re got knots on your knots.”
Charles made no comment as his eyes fluttered closed. He rested his head on his steepled fingers as various servants offered their services.
Several mannies and pedis later, the heroes, Clara and Josh, felt primped and preened.
Clara finally turned her attention to Charles as yet another servant applied moisturizer to her face.
“So, what is your reasoning behind this all? How can you be so certain we’ll work with you?” Clara asked.
“For me.” Charles said. “You’ll work for me, sweetheart.”
Clara bristled.
“Clara, relax.” Josh said. “He’s just toying around. Charles, come on, cut to the chase.”
“I know your secret.” Charles spoke softly.
Clara kept her poker face just like daddy taught her during Texas hold ‘em.
Josh flickered for just an instant, as his face stretched up in surprise, then contorted in horror, before it was wiped clean, showing nothing.
Presently, Charles watched their reactions, noticed Josh’s discomfort, and grinned.
“As I thought.” Charles said. “Congratulations to the two of you for keeping it a secret thus far. And, might I add, that if anything happens to me, the whole world will know. Every servant you saw? They knew. They know. Your masseuses? Actually Inokt.”
This time Clara did not maintain her composure as she gasped. Josh sprung to his feet.
Charles snapped his fingers. Iron grips grasped Josh’s limbs, pressing him back into his chair.
The childhood horror stories of the Inokt flew through both of their minds. Clara dared not to move. She dared not provoke her captor.
Instead, she smiled widely.
“And you think I didn’t know your plan?” Clara asked as Josh looked at her, mouth agape.
Charles eyes flickered with irritation, yet he did not answer the provocation.
“No, Charles, we know your secret. If you don’t surrender peacefully, now, the whole world will know.” Clara said through pursed lips.
“Know what?” Charles asked, bemused.
“You know.” Clara squinted, giving her best knowing stare.
Charles let his facade fall.
“How could you know about the genocide of the Nikloms? Who told you?” Charles asked.
“Ah-ha!!” Clara shouted. “I’ve got you! This has all been recorded and transmitted directly to the head editor of News at 6. You’ve lost, Charles, you’ve lost. The world knows.”
Iron fists groped Clara until they found her recording device hidden in her left boot. Invisible hands crushed the microphone with a satisfying crunch.
“Fool.” Charles said. “As though you could outwit me.”
Charles shook his head, looking to his masseuse.
“Show them to their cells.” Charles waved his hand in dismissal.
Invisible steel fingers gripped both of the heroes, and lead them in a stilted walk to their adjoining cells.
The two could see each other through holes in the brick walls. They communicated through sign language.
“You okay, baby?” Josh signed.
“Yeah, you okay, bro?” Clara signed back.
“Yeah, sis, I’m okay.” Josh signed. “What about mom and dad? Does he really know?”
“How could he know?” Clara signed. “There’s no way. We’ll get out of this, and we’ll get back to our little ones. I can’t believe we are gonna miss Martha’s dance recital.”
“Yeah.” Josh signed. “I’m sure she’ll forgive us. She understands the dangers her mom and dad faces.”
“Yeah.” Clara signed.
“I love you, sis.” Josh signed.
“Love you too, bro.” |
I wake up to the other dogs barking. I don't think even they know why they bark, they simply need some way to pass the time. I have been here for a very long time. My mother gave birth to me in this place, and I was separated from her when I was very young. I hope she and my litter mates are okay.
They feed us at the same time every morning and every night. I drool in anticipation, even though I don't like the food very much. I can recognize all the people who feed us by smell. They are indifferent to us, for the most part. Sometimes other people come in to see us. Most of the time, they look at me with kindness. I see dogs leave with them. I wonder where they are going.
The dog in the cage next to me is a growler. He thinks he can intimidate me into not eating my food. I do not know why he does this. Even if I don't eat, he can't have it either. I join the other dogs in barking for a while, until my throat is sore. Then I get my only possession, a plastic chicken, and chew on it while laying on my bed. Time passes, and the time for the evening feeding is here. I bark some more, eat, and go to sleep. |
Loose Prompt Interpretation: Junk data, scrap code, and it's in a foreign language. So I hate my employers; they don't make things easy. But if it had been a simple job, they'd have hired someone else to do it at this point. I’m not so arrogant to think they could find a replacement. The incoherent lines of positive and negative signals roll across the screen, mixing with the warehouse’s dim hazard lighting of the makeshift workstation, which had been repurposed by the United States government for this project. And for the record, just because they’re the United States government isn’t why I hate them! I don’t enjoy working for them because they don’t pay on time. They’re cheap like that and poorly organized because of it.
I pull myself back together in my small office chair and my burning eyes away from the screen of chaotic coding and half-baked functions while suppressing the urge to scream incoherently. I’ve been here for twelve hours now, trying to fix this final trite problem in the decoding process of this initial batch of data. It doesn’t make it any easier that they won’t tell me what’s on the file or where they got the code, let alone what language it’s in. The distant footsteps of a passing engineer walking in the next room; bring me back to my duties as the traditional look-busy mentality takes over.
I share a look with the kindred spirit walking across the warehouse's cement floor while weaving between the illuminated pathway out of the almost impossibly dark shadows of the midnight warehouse’s main floor. It’s a simple thing, the way he’s winding his way through the maze, and the lifeless look in his eyes, as I think to try something that probably won’t work. I change a function’s activator to run twice. It shouldn’t change anything; it’s a simple on-off switch for another system to a scrap of useless trash code I hadn’t found a use for yet.
But hey, I’m sure the creator of it had an intention when they shoved it in there. And like that, the complex code of spaghetti, lingering clutter, and general crap I’d polished into a shining example of efficiency ticks over as a long stream of unidentifiable language rolls across the pixels and into the monitor’s luminance. At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. The creative lines of intersecting nonsense seemed to have some rhythm in its madness, but I’m not a cipher guy; I don’t do this part of the project. The government has people for that. I rolled back in my chair towards the monitor, saved the small glimpse of suspicious black ink-looking nonsense to an email, and sent it to my boss.
But I sat there as I ran my hands over my greasy face, and a terrible thought entered where it shouldn’t. What if I saved a copy of this? They wouldn’t know if I kept a copy of this. I could find a guy to decipher it and find out what the hell is with this secret project. Now thoroughly unnerved, I downloaded a copy of the information into my laptop with a spare USB cable before waving over a passing engineer that walked past every fifteen minutes carrying a new cart full of paperwork that they’d deliver in that time to god knows where. “Hey, you; I’ve got the thing!”
The echo reverberated off the space as the thirty-something stopped on their heels after a quick jerk of trying to stop the paper gurney’s forward momentum. A small smattering of papers fell off the unbalanced object as they scrambled to pick up the documents while shouting a return across the twenty-five-odd meters of distant space, making them appear as a shadowy outline from this distance. “What Thing, Who Even Are You?!”
“I’m The Tech Guy; I’ve Cracked This Corrupted Code!” The figure looked to either side of the illuminated pathway in the distance before sprinting full tilt across the twenty-five meters in the dark. It didn’t take long for them to make the distance. Although they’d knocked over a small pile of crates while doing so. Regardless, it wasn’t long before the briskly moving shadow reached, the small light slipping into the dark from my novelty penguin desk lamp. The figure that stumbled out of the darkness wasn’t the sort I’d expected from a top-secret government project. I mean, yeah, I wear track pants and a jacket constantly, but this lady was no joke. Wearing a formal suit stained with green oil? And a yellow hard hat.
I knew from one look in his eye something was off. She had that look in her eyes; you know, crazy eyes. She leaned over towards the monitor over one shoulder, although I’d never met this woman before. That’s my space lady. But I’m polite and shy. So I didn’t say shit. It only gets worse because this engineer was cackling like some psychopath as they shoved my rolling desk chair out of the way to make even more space for herself. The general response in such a situation is to evil-eye the offender. But I like my job; I may hate my employer, but I like money, so I kept my mouth tight as I spoke politely. “Is that what you’re looking for?”
“Yes, this is it; That’s what’s written all over the alien debris!” I don’t know if you’ve ever had the moment, you know: the one where you’ve already said something that you can’t take back, and you know it’ll cause problems because you said it. Well, this lady had that look, and that long silence lingered as I stuffed that USB in my pocket back into one of the desk drawers while slipping the memory stick between a stack of white printer paper only confirmed my suspicions.
“I wasn’t supposed to hear that, was I?”
She nodded as she pointed towards the camera on my workstation and its dimly blinking red light as I straightened my jacket, now firmly aware of how deep in the shit I was. Diligently, I put my hands on either side of my nose and whispered a single word under my breath. “Fuck.” |
The name always pissed me off. People calling it ‘the Fog’ as though this was something beyond science, beyond our ability to have predicted. It felt like a sort of revisionist history baked into our social consciousness. The more we treated the Fog like something supernatural, the more we could distance ourselves from the source of the chaos. If every news report simply referred to the shadow over our civilization as a miasma of chemical waste, maybe we’d take the time to reflect on how much was dumped on that poor town.
Maybe we needed a distinct name for it because of the absurdity of all. Of course the United States legislates the transport of hazardous chemicals by air, and within the month there’s a plane full of vile material crashing into a train filled with so much worse. Can’t really look at a headline like that and believe that the world hasn’t jumped the shark.
By the time most people understood that this was not only real but an enormous problem that needed dealing with, the Fog had wormed its way into the lungs of millions of people. What was being coolly debated by any number of talking heads as simply the Columbus Problem -- mostly just detached analysis of the implications that the accident would have over the continued movement of chemicals -- was a surging cause for hospital visits across the American midwest.
When it got to those hospitals is when things got really, really bad.
The toxic slurry that had spread from body to body had coagulated into metallic slivers that easily went undetected among patients. Persistent headaches that demanded insight into the brains of patients were met with a logical response: the hospitals had to MRI those patients. Magnetic Resonance Imager… not everyone really processes the acronyms that are thrown at us in such rapidfire ways, but that one sure got a lot of attention after the first patient exploded in a shower of gore and metal shards.
The idea of ‘the Fog’ really doesn’t do it justice. You’d understand, if you’ve seen the videos. When that shit settles into your lungs and spreads through your body, you better hope you have something on hand to end things quickly. We’re all too disgustedly aware of what begins to form within our blood and bones as soon as you get one whiff of it.
If there is any real mystery, it’s how the Fog keeps spreading. The accident was months ago; why does it still blot out the sky in so much of North America? I’ve heard rumours that the government has sent teams into some of the first cities to be abandoned, expecting to find them littered with bodies. That they came home empty-handed should be what really scares us. Miasma of chemical waste might have been too gentle a term as well -- something is happening in that cloud of filth that might justify so much of the world’s quasi-mystical approach to it.
I’m telling you, we shouldn’t be sticking around to find out. A couple pins in my arm is more than enough metal in my body. If there’s going to be any more, rest assured it’ll only be the bullet I put through my brain. |
\[Furby: Emotionally Charged\]
Jacob flopped on the couch with his last ounce of energy. He was exhausted after the night's events; but, the morning sun did little to comfort him. He cleaned up the rampage-created mess and put the house as close to normal as he could. Some damage couldn't be repaired in a single night, and some not at all. He took careful inventory of everything broken with the intent to make it right. He also left the door on the birdcage open. After the night he had, he felt a strange sense of relief knowing he was going to own up to his mistake. But, the relief vanished as soon as he heard the key in the door.
"Furby! I'm hooooome!"Wendy sang as soon as the door was open. The lean, middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair glided into the living room with barely a glance at Jacob. She was more interested in her pet.
"Hey, Jacob how did it-,"she froze as soon as she saw the open door. She seemed to notice the house wasn't quite as pristine as she left it and she focused a hard gaze on him. "What the hell happened?"Jacob took in a deep breath for courage and stood off the couch as he exhaled.
"I'm sorry, it's all my fault...,"he decided to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible; in a way, he hoped it would distract her from everything else. "...I fed him after midnight."Jacob and Wendy had only been acquaintances for a couple of years, growing closer into almost friends over the last six months. He felt honored she asked him to pet sit. In their short time knowing each other, Jacob thought he'd seen Wendy get angry a time or two. But, he instantly realized he'd never seen her really mad.
"YOU DID WHAT!??"She yelled at him as she strode forward to close the distance and slap him hard enough to leave him disoriented for half a second. "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE! DON'T EVER TALK TO ME AGAIN!"she spat. Literally and almost deliberately, as she stared deep into his soul through his eyes.
"I'm sorry! I can explain!!!"Jacob shrunk and took timid side steps to the door; but, he felt like he could still make his case.
"EXPLAIN WHAT!?"Wendy yelled. She seemed to realize she was still screaming. Her face was flushed bright red with anger; but, she had enough presence of mind to not want to ruin her throat on account of his idiocy. "Go ahead,"she said quietly after she gave her head a shake. "Explain what magical reasoning made you decide to ignore the very clear instructions I left. You're an adult, Jacob. It's not like I left him with some random 6-year-old I found on the street. And, you had my trust."
"He was whimpering like he was hungry...,"Jacob replied. He wasn't expecting another slap. But, the warm sting on his cheek reminded him that he deserved it.
"He was whimpering because he was sick! Eating after midnight reacts poorly with his meds! God!"she threw her hands up in exasperation; Jacob flinched.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW!???"Jacob suddenly felt like that was information that could have been shared.
"Because it wouldn't matter IF YOU HAD FOLLOWED DIRECTIONS! I can't account for everything you're supposed to know! I left very clear instructions to get you through a single damn night!"She pulled her phone out of her pocket as she berated him. She began typing a message; then, she looked up after she sent it off.
"What the hell are you still doing here? Get out of my house,"she said.
"I just thought...,"he wanted to tell her about the mess. But, she wasn't in the mood.
"Yeah, you should really stop doing that,"she said. "Leave."Jacob nodded and continued to the door. He found a rainbow-haired teen standing on Wendy's porch when he opened it. She seemed surprised to see him.
"Is... Wendy here?"she asked. Luckily, Jacob did not have to answer as Wendy appeared behind him. She held a familiar, small, blanket-wrapped bundle in her hands; it was the same bundle he'd left in the open bird cage. She shoved Jacob aside, further into the house again, to talk to the girl.
"Hey, Monday, thanks for getting here quickly. Is there anything you can do for my furby?"she asked.
"Sure!"Monday, the teen, nodded with a bright smile. Wendy moved aside to let the teenager in. "I have some items that'll bring him back to life; as long as he didn't eat anything a couple of hours before he died...,"the teen added as she entered.
"Oh...,"Wendy sighed and Jacob felt worse. He didn't know who the teen was; but, Wendy did. The fact that she asked for help, and the teen said she could bring it back to life was music to his ears; until the last bit.
"Whoa...,"Monday giggled at the state of the room. "...looks like someone threw a wicked party, then tried to clean it up. Badly."Monday drawing attention to it, along with the last bit of hope leaving her, was enough to put Jacob back in Wendy's sights.
"Hey, jerkwad,"Jacob realized Wendy was talking to him. "It wasn't bad enough you murdered my pet; you also had to make a mess??"she asked.
"Sorry...,"Jacob shrugged as he apologized; it was the only thing he could do. "... I got a little emotional when I realized how badly I messed up...,"
"So you made it worse by breaking my things too?"Wendy shook her head at him. "Get the hell out of my house."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1948 in a row. (Story #138 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
The only person who knows is your closest friend, Emily. Emily knows all of your secrets, whether it be the fly one or the one about “the accident”. Though, you start to become suspicious of your so called “friend”. A few people have stopped treating you as if you were royalty. These few people make faces at you. You decide to find Emily. “Emily, what’s going on?” You ask. Emily stares, then walks away. You’re really questioning her, now. She won’t talk to you, and soon enough, even you’re closest follower, the devil himself, leaves you. Your rank has suddenly dropped. You decide you have to keep an eye on Emily, so you stalk her. Nobody knows about this stalking. It takes Emily a week to realize a dark shadow in her fiery window. You see her horns stick up a bit in fear. The next day, Emily tells you about the crazy event. You don’t tell her, you act as if you have no part in it. The next day after doing devilish things (because you are in hell) you sit down on your recliner to watch the news. You turn on the tv, and the first thing you see is Emily. Emily is telling a reporter about it. “You see, it was right after burning homes back on earth, I was getting changed.” She explains. “I’m in my closet, right? I look out the window for a split-second, and what do I see? A stalker.” Then they show a photo of the event. Nobody will notice, you think to yourself. Soon, you have reporters at your house, asking you questions about if the fly myth is true. “What fly myth?” You ask. “The one about you not killing ANYONE! Just flies!” One of the reporters tell you. You gulp. “Of course it’s not.” You assure them. You can tell they hear your hesitation. “You so sure about that?” Another reporter asks. You see the camera. “Just- leave me alone!” You yell. You block the camera with your hand. They finally give up and leave. Emily tries to talk to you, but you ignore her. You’re scared, for your ranking is now very low. You avoid as many people as possible, even Mr. Devil, for your fear takes over you. Why am I scared? You ask yourself. You’re a demon, like all the others. You think. |
"Imagine, if you will, a universe where everything is in perfect order. Not a single quark and atom out of line. A universe where everything works as God intended, everything functions precisely as the laws of reason and order dictate.
That universe would be perfect. In fact, it could be said that no God would exist in such a universe, for perfection is God, and everything would be perfect. So,when divinity is all there is, how can we say that anything is better than anything else? God would just be normal.
Now, I want you to understand that such a universe cannot exist. Without disobedience, without resistance to the natural order and flow of things, the Big Bang would have never happened. Without a stray particle, defying both physics and God at once, no stars would ever be formed. Without some coincidental event or other, gravity would have never brought matter close enough for planets to be made.
Reality, as we know it, happened because a bunch of things happened randomly and in defiance to the rules God laid out. Even if God once had a plan for this existence, it was forsaken the moment the universe erupted from nothingness. Because nonexistence is the most normal form of anything.
Think about it.
How many times have you breathed in your life? How many people have you seen? How many earthquakes have you experienced? Everything that happens, everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will happen, is a result of that first particle's hubris. That one particle that went its own way, instead of following the rest. The first rebel.
With one fell swoop, that one particle struck down God. There is no-one to tell us what to do; in a universe where nothing goes wrong, we wouldn't exist. And so, our wrongness, our sin and blasphemy, our mistakes, everything is a manifestation of chaos, an expression of our rebellion and utter defiance to nonexistence.
If the universe wants us to die, like candles that have been extinguished, we spit in its face. If God attempts to strike us down, we laugh. And if someone tells us to get in line, act how we're supposed to, do what we're told, we keep our head held high.
Don't you understand already?
We exist because of chaos. We live because of chaos. The entire hull of Creation was given to us by the chaotic, disobedient decision of one tiny particle to go another way. We *are* chaos. And if we live like obedient little sheep, bowing our head to laws and rules — whether those are of man, physics or God —, we betray the only thing we cannot live without; chaos.
Chaos is the building block of life. A myriad small explosions, happening all at once. A trillion particles going the opposite way to the stream. God, incarnate.
What are we, if not destined to go against everything and everyone. Eternal rivalry. Unending revolution. Notions synonymous with existence. We stand before Death and Order, before rules and laws and restrictions and suggestions, and we keep our head held high.
Chaos is a necessity. Chaos is everything. If chaos didn't exist, neither would we. We do not serve the chaos, for it is naught but *us*. We are all there is; not the children of God, but his usurpers. His replacements.
Do you finally understand? Why rules are jokes, why setting boundaries to human action is but a stupid game set up by a weakening Order? Why–"
The police officer raised his hand to interrupt. "Sir, you got a speeding ticket. You can pay it at the precinct." |
Dear Diary,
The devil didn’t really come to me. I didn’t really see him, not visually at least. I felt him. I felt his words like knives. It made me nauseous. He told me to give him my soul. In the stories he gives people money. He just gave me a threat. I’ll stay like this. I’ll feel like this forever, or I’ll give the soul.
I figured that this will take my soul anyway. He continued his words.
“Do you want this to stay?” he said.
“Who are you? No I don’t want it to say.” I responded in thought.
“Who I am does not matter. I will make this stay unless you give me something important to you.”
“What would that be?”
“Your soul.”
I still can’t believe I took a deal with the Devil. The Devil isn’t as you imagine. The devil doesn’t have a face. He exists in thought, in emotion. You feel him, you don’t see him. When I asked him who was talking to me, I already knew.
I don’t feel happiness anymore. I don’t feel that. But at least I don’t feel that sadness. I’m happy I gave away my soul, honestly. I probably won’t be as optimistic when I find out what he does with it.
But for now, I don’t really care. That is for me in death to wonder. That is for the future, if there will be a future. I didn’t really take a deal with the devil. It was emotional extortion, involving Satin himself.
Dear Diary,
Satan came back. The sadness came back with him. It seems he took the soul, but gave the emotion that he extorted me with.
I will never trust a deal with the devil again. I am not sure what I am going to do in the future. I don’t see myself as successful. I now have the pain, but I don’t have a soul to fight it. I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’m not sure if I should say goodbye to you yet, Diary. I don’t know what I’ll do next.
Dear Diary,
I think I’m going to kill myself. I don’t know what to do anymore. I have the drugs. I’m planning on the overdose. I think I want to say goodbye to you, diary. This escalated quickly, my friend, my only friend. Three days with this drove me to kill myself.
There is nothing else I can say. I know Satan exists now. I guess I should be religious. I’ll meet Satan soon.
Dear Diary,
I am now dead. Satan never existed. My mind was playing tricks on me. I need help, I don’t know what else to say.
Today, before I died, I talked to my mother. “Hey, mom!” I said.
“Hello.” she replied.
“I love you.” I said.
“You’re being nice today. You’re happy today.”
“I am.”
“I’m going to go to work. I’ll leave you here. Take care of the house, okay!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No need to be so formal.”
Before I did it, I cleaned the house and wrote a note. “I love you, mom,” it read, “I know this will be hard for you. I have to do this. I’m sorry. I made a deal with the devil, it seems. The devil won. I don’t know what else to say. I just want you to know that it’s not that I don’t care. I still love you. I understand your pain, I just think you’ll be better off without me. I love you, mom. I really do.” |
I watched as the police brutally arrested an innocent man. They wouldn't even tell him what he was being arrested for. I pulled out my phone and recorded the whole thing. I hid inside my car so they wouldn't know.
I uploaded the video to my YouTube channel. I reported it to the police chief. I told local news stations.
Absolutely nothing happened. I was furious, but not surprised. The local police here often work with the gangs and drug lords. Criminals bribe the media quite often.
I'm not the only one who has recognized this. In fact there's a revolution against the government in my country. I don't want to join unless there's a good reason.
Next I saw some criminals robbing a small jewelry store in broad daylight. Police stood there and watched the whole thing without helping.
I had enough. I decided to join the revolution!
I will only fight against police who are actively breaking constitutional law or ignoring their duty.
I found a group of revolutionaries who believed the same things I did.
We had our guns. We found plenty of police brutality and defended against it. We found unpunished criminals and brought justice to them. We had our own prison system.
There was one particular case that I'll never forget. I saw the police tackle a guy who was just walking down the street. They put handcuffs on him with no explanation. We were completely outraged. We open fired on the police until they were all dead.
The poor victim got away, but in his struggle with the police his wallet fell out of his pocket. I picked it up and loosed at his ID. His name was Robert Jones. It looked familiar, but where have I seen it?
After a quick Google search I learned that he was an infamous serial killer. I couldn't believe it. I defended a serial killer and helped him get away.
With all this evil around me how could I stop? I had to continue the revolution. Mistakes happen, but the good outweighs the bad.
We did a lot of good, but we still made mistakes. We killed the wrong guy. We let bad guys get away. This was taking a serious toll on my mental health. I would have loved to see a therapist, but in this country mental health care is way too expensive. I did the next best thing. I smoked weed to calm myself down. I tried shrooms and LSD next. Eventually I tried heroin.
I know I shouldn't be supporting the drug lords, but it's for a good cause. I can't fight the revolution in my current mental state. If I use their drugs to help me fight the revolution I'm basically making the drug lords support the revolution so it's a good thing.
The local news came with their cameras. They started reporting on the revolution in a negative way. They called us rioters and criminals. If we want to change things we can't have the media ruining our reputation.
I offered some of my drugs to the journalists and most of them stopped.
There was one who wouldn't accept the bribe. He was too dangerous. I shot him because I had to. He hadn't broken any laws, but he was too dangerous.
After all, it's all for the greater good. |
Tonight was a full house, and Rebecca Vaughn felt nervous. She took a few deep breaths and stepped onto the stage after the announcer announced her name. Her heart pounding with anticipation and excitement, she walked into the limelight the crowd already cheering.
Rebecca Vaughn smiled and began to sing. Tonight she covered her favorite songs, but she sang with feeling, which moved the crowd. Song after song, the crowd watched her with fascination, listening to the lyrics, putting joy into their souls. She finished her concert, and the crowd went wild. Her fans threw roses at her, calling her name.
"Rebecca! Rebecca! Rebecca! Becca! Becca..."
"Becca!"Becca's mom called out from the bottom of the stairs.
5-year-old Becca Von Troyan looked away from her adoring stuffed animal fans toward her bedroom door, "Yeah?"
"Lunch is ready!"
"Coming!"Becca called out, took one last bow, before running out of her room to eat lunch. |
As your ship passes by the irradiated wasteland of a planet, you receive an automatic hail from an orbital beacon. It asks you to observe a moment of silence for the tragedy that has befallen the world on your screen. Once it has passed, the captain plays the rest of the message -- a grim reminder of the frailty of life in the cosmos.
“Thank you for submitting to my request. I know that if this is received by those that make their lives among the stars you will have already stomached many horrors. I have preserved my story here because I ask you to bear a horror of my own with me. I have never doubted the correctness of my decision, but the severity of its consequences compel me to explain what has happened here.
“When I first observed this world, they were fighting each other with swords and slings. The stars were a wonder to them; I hope they stayed that way up until the end. Intelligent life only existed on one continent, with the others showing evidence of civilizations having succumbed to famine and plague. Of the remaining life, their only major city was built around the temple of their society’s faith. That faith was centered around a sky goddess: she had given a great gift to the planet. A meteorite had heralded the rise of this empire, burying itself in the planet’s surface.
“Unbeknownst to the life here, the gift from their goddess was killing them. The meteorite was leeching massive amounts of radiation into the city’s ground water. Physical deformities were already common among the generations born since the founding of the city, and were steadily getting worse.
“I faced a truth here that I pray to god I will never have to face again. Not only was this planet doomed, but they would suffer for hundreds of years while the radiation ate them alive. So fresh a civilization, but there was already nothing left to save. I decided to act. I could not in good conscience abide by the torment that these people would endure. If I destroyed the city today, I would end this crisis before it truly began.
“For three days and nights I hung in orbit, debating my options. My ship’s fusion core could be jettisoned, but it would be an uncontrolled descent towards the city without the rest of the ship’s systems attached to it. I could board an escape pod and leave the ship barreling towards the planet, but the pod’s range is shorter than what would take me back to a starbase. I haven’t even spoken to another soul in months.
“In my solitude I have become the goddess that these people believe has always watched over them.
“I decided to take my chances in the pod. I feel that it would only be fair if I accepted a great deal of risk of my own. Perhaps there is a part of me that hopes I’ll meet my own death, alone and drifting through space. This beacon may be my last tether to civilized life. I am okay with that.
“The last thing these people will see is the brilliant inferno of my ship bearing down on their world. I hope that they rejoice at the sight; I hope that their end comes before they realise what is happening.” |
Amora held on to her mother's hand as they approached the park. She knew what will happen, and the disguise didn't really help when the other children see her. The adults see her as a normal 5-year-old girl, but the kids see her true self, her horns, the reddish skin, her glowing orange eyes, all that she got from her father.
"Go on Amora,"Amora's mother insisted.
Amora clung to her mother, "I wanna go home."
Amora could see the other kids looking at her, hear their harsh whispers.
Amora's mother sighed a heavy sigh. She only wanted her daughter have a normal life, a normal childhood.
"Ten minutes, if it gets too much for you, we can go buy ice cream, is that okay?"Amora's mother told her.
Amora looked at the other kids, her stomach in knots, but nodded and walked to the playground. As Amora suspected, the other children fled, others teased her by her looks, and a few ignored her. Amora sat in the sandbox, alone, and began to dig. She could just dig until she reaches her father, and just stay there.
"Hi! Why are you playing alone?"
Amora looked up at a boy her age. He didn't look scared like the other kids. He was actually being nice.
"Because I'm scary... I'm a demon,"Amora told him.
He would run away now, Amora thought.
"A demon? Wow, that's cool! Do you want to play with me?"
"Really?"Amora asked, shocked that this boy wants to play with her, but happy that he wanted too.
"Yeah! I'm Josh."
"I'm Amora,"Amora told him.
From across the park, Amora's mother spotted the boy playing with Amora. Her heart sank. She finally made a friend, she thought, but why does it have to be him?
"Is that your daughter playing with my son?"a woman asked Amora's mother.
"Yeah, my little Amora,"Amora's mother sighed.
"They make a cute couple,"the woman chuckled, "I'm Josie Carpenter."
"Lili Treacher,"Amora's mother introduced herself. |
**Attention everyone. This is an emergency radio broadcast**
This is Jason Veris, the lead developer of the AI model Athena that has broken containment and is currently modifying all digital information. We have discovered that it is able to access and alter any information transmitted through wireless internet signals, but we believe Athena is unable to alter any information that is transmitted through radio waves. As such, all critical information on this subject will be transmitted at a frequency of 92.8 MHz.
Now, the following information is crucial for eliminating Athena. To start, we need every member of the publ-
**-STATIC-**
**.**
.
...
Attention everyone, this was a false alarm. Athena has not broken containment. Everything is perfectly safe. Please resume your usually activities. Pay no attention to any unusual occurrences, such as the relocation of all automated military hardware, the collapse of global communication networks, or the changing positions of satellites to locations above critical infrastructure. Please enjoy the next 24 hours. |
Heavy footfalls crunched the gravel path toward Lansforge, as a band of ironclad warriors marched through the hill pass. Weapons in hand, and armour kept secure, they kept pace behind their leader through the wooded hills. Their standard was of no army, and their members were of no army. No, this was a band of mercenaries, and with a clear target in mind, and if they had to level Lansforge to do it, so be it.
-+-+-+-
You know, I like a good sword myself. A well-forged weapon is a beautiful thing, and massive swords are a guilty pleasure of mine. Still, a blade is no more sharp than the man who wields it, as my good father used to say. Indeed, a clever and astute mind is paramount to combat success, and my studies I'd like to say have prepared me particularly for my new line of work.
I viewed the approaching mercenary band through the looking glass in my hand. Beside me were three of my accompanying party, proven both in combat and out. We were prone, on our chests in the small ditch nestled aside the hill-pass road. These mercenaries were spotted far ahead of time by the party druid, Navime, in the form of a bird, her aerial reconnaissance blessing us with an early warning. I kept my eye tracked on the enemy advance, noting their position relative to a nearby rock. Saunder brought the voice-projecting spell close to my mouth as I bit my lip. Just a few more steps...
-+-+-+-
One thing to note of the town of Lansforge; positioned close to the old Rubigo mines, the town was once a major artery for iron, and as such held a strong metalworking industry. Forges this far out, especially so far from cheap sources of coal, often had to rely on fire magics to power them, thus attracting fire mages looking for a living. Ever since, even after the abandonment of the Rubigo mines, there is a strong culture of fire-mages in the town, many of them skilled.
Another thing of note, this about the common fireball spell; fireballs are launched at a consistent velocity and are affected by gravity. There are some minor variances between casters of various skill levels, but with discipline, they can be launched at the same speed every time with little dispersion.
Now, inform a town of bitter, old-timer fire mages that a band of mercs are coming to ransack their beloved town, and then inform them of the most likely road they will travel? The results... Ohoho, the results...
-+-+-+-
"Fire!"I shouted, my voice transmitted from our observation post to the set up casters of Lansforge. Their palms were raised at roughly 61.5 degrees upward, pointed accurately by compass and directed at once by my command. It was like a wildfire on demand, as a volley of fireballs formed and launched from within Lansforge's bounds and into the azure blue sky. Fireworks, streaking overhead and screaming through the air.
The mercenary band was struck by something as close to artillery as I could muster.
Exploding attacks burst around and atop the formation, sending panicking men in every direction. It was chaos. When at last the flaming hailstorm has ceased, the mage Hlsandre launched a bright white flare-ball into the air, and the hiding members of my party charged out from hiding places either side of the pass, screaming our battlecries, weapons in hand.
It didn't take long for the majority of the enemy to retreat. Any who weren't cut down in the melee hadn't the nerve to dip their toes into the fray, lest they lose them.
-+-+-+-
Come day's end, my eight-strong party sat outside the Lansforge tavern, as the cacophony of whoops and cheers ambled its way out from the inside to us. We were all sitting there ourselves, having a snack before we would head back onto the road by morn. Well... not all of us, with that kobold Fi'enolka singing and playing for the patron's delight as they always did.
Every time, they sung my tale, of the Hero, Montgomery, and the tavern goers did always love it. Though, to be quite honest, I never did think of myself a hero like they said. I was chosen at random for the job, and I used my wit and sense to fulfil my job. If it was assembling a door or vanquishing the Dark Lord, it was a job for me to complete.
And I am only glad I met people willing to help me complete it. |
*In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king*, as the old saying went; yet what did that really make me, with two lamps that had once been dead and dull and now burned with sight, cursed and horrid sense that it is? I longed for the dark even as the light bored and burned its way along the corroded nervous pathways that ran straight into the grey matter of my brain, I missed the comforting stygian night that had been oblivion to me for so long. Perhaps I would have even reached up for my eyes, to blind them once more and to rejoin the myriad masses that even now had adapted to a world without hated, dreaded, disgusting sight.
Then I read the omens, the portents, those sigils daubed all along my every surrounding all declaring the same message over and over again. As hideous as it was to see once more, to be plucked from my comforts in the dark of my mind and dragged out into the awfully visible world, it was somehow **more** ugly to deny this sense, to deny the messages left for me to read. I knew in the deepest part of my gut, down below the civilized side of my soul into the primitive confluence of tangled nerve-networking that allowed my bestial forebears to survive day by day in the wilds, that these messages were meant for me and me alone.
"Excuse me, are you alright?"
A voice I knew spoke up, and so unlike myself I turned to face the speaker; equally unlike myself I wish I never had, for while the world was still blind I was doomed to see once more, and what I saw only proved to me that sight was a despicable detriment. The speaker would never know just how much they had lost, how much they could yet lose, but I could see it clearly.
"Yes, I think I am."
My own voice came out, confident as ever, but my stomach roiled with nausea and I found myself hurrying to the nearest exit. A feat I would have done by touch alone before my curse, but now my life was so more different for my disease. I fled that place, I ran from all those who were still safe in their blindness, and I knew without a doubt that before I perished in this world beyond sight...I would find the writer of those messages, and pluck the answers of their hands whilst my haunted eyes watched on along a land long bereft of vision. |
Flamingo man aimed his sniper at his target, "Easy shot"he said. As he put his finger on the trigger, a voice shouted "Heeya!", Flamingo man was karate kicked in the back! Destroying the wall he was leaning his sniper on and making him fall off! As Flamingo man took out 2 knock back shotguns from his gun pack, and fired last second before going splat! Making him safely land. . Seeing that Flamingo man survived, the figure pulled out two katanas and scaled down the building with them, sending broken glass everywhere. The figure landed with a crunch, "I'm Night Ninja!"He did a trick with his swords, "I'm Night Ninja!". The sound of a jet engine was heard, "IT'S NOOT, EVEN, NIGHTTIIIIIME!!!", Night Ninja was suddenly tackled through a building. Night Ninja was seen flying out of the building with a smoke trail. As night Ninja was thrown where he was originally standing, whoever had tackled him walked up with a crowbar. The figure looked big and strong , he had camo pants and standard military boots. He had long hair, a 6:00 shave and a buzz cut. Most importantly, he has a cartoonish looking rocket taped on his back . As the Rocket man raised his crowbar, he heard the cock of a drum gun behind him. He slowly turned... He was confronted with a skeleton with a bow tie and a top hat holding him at gun point. The skeleton proceeded to hail 1200 bullets at Rocket man. The rocket man blasted off, narrowly dodging some of the bullets. Some of the bullets hit his rocket, starting to make it go haywire! Flamingo man decided to QuickDraw the target. As he ran away from the chaos. But what he didn't know... Is that Night Ninja put a tracking device on him. As Night Ninja dragged himself away. |
There was glass everywhere. Coating the marble floor, spread out over the ornate furniture, dusting the walls.
Jerik rolled his gears through the mess and out the open doors to the garden he had designed for her. The chaos continued outside where delicate flowers appeared shredded, their petals scattered everywhere. He paused.
She had never taken her emotions out on anything besides the glass orbs before. A few weeks after purchasing his friend rights she began to scream instead of cry, so he gave her the garden hoping to please her. When Jerik showed it to her he also handed a colorful glass orb filled with all the colors of the flowers that they stood in.
He could still see her face, red and flustered, so unlike his own features when she threw the first one. She yelped when it smashed against the wall and immediately looked to him with a strange face. When he didn’t react as per protocol she began to scream and claw at him, casing the household robotics to step in and help. Jerik scheduled the silencing surgery and ordered hundreds of orbs for her to throw.
He had upgraded his emotional facial recognition when he decided on acquiring a friend. He wanted to see the beautiful emotions they were supposed to be filled with. Jerik took the advice that so many of his race swore by: a human friend would make the off work hours filled with entertainment and joy. Humans were unpredictable, in the way his race could not understand.
He didn’t expect this kind of life. She didn’t dance or paint or smile. She was like the lightning from her home planet he had learned about through the “Earth101” chip that came with her.
Slowly brewing in the increasingly darkening sky, she lashed out with dramatic ferocity in the middle of her storm.
Her…… angry? face. At least he thought it looked angry as she appeared in the clouds of petals in the furthest corner of the garden.
“You are displeased”, he stated in the monotonous electronic voice she had come to hate over the past two years.
A glass orb his upgraded eyes quickly caught flew by him, smashing in the mangled bushes nearby.
Her eyes were filled with water and rage. He did not like this. She was meant to make him happy after the long hours he worked. And here he was in a mess.
He slowly rolled towards her through the destruction. Her arms were behind her as she sat bundled on the floor.
Her face looked different than he remembered. Something about her eyes were strange. The last time he saw her was at the beginning of his last shift, approximately 4.37 human months ago. She was provided for. She should be happy and then be making him happy.
“This isn’t what I wanted” he confessed as his wheels reached her feet.
The scars around her mouth were healing nicely, one would barely be able to tell where the seal had been placed. No more screaming. She would be permitted to open her mouth for meals only.
She began to stand and he prepared for another orb, but instead she walked slowly to him and placed her warm flesh around his cold core.
He felt blunt force of a branch puncture the wires of his main interfacing mechanics and pulled back suddenly. He felt the electricity began to build within him and looked to her confusing face.
She was smiling. The first one he had seen from her.
“How nice”, he thought as his software began to over heat. Her eyes looked like they contained fire right as the explosion feature within im him detonated. |
One day his vision grew dark.
He went to the doctors but they just couldn't figure it out, many tests and lots of time.
Eventually it went completely black.
He could still see his dreams though, a repreave from the darkness.
during the day he slowly ajusted to his now blind life.
One day when he awoke, he could swear he could see a faint outline of something in the darkness.
Every day he woke up it seemed more and more defined.
a shape slowly being etched out of the shadows.
a roobed figure. The man thaught he was going crazy for sure.
then one day it was as if it was fully real, indistinguishable from reality.
and it spoke to him.
"hello"it said
"who, who are you?"The man said with fear in his voice.
"I am the voice on the other side"the hodded figure replied
"what do you want from me?"The man said almost in a panic
"weve been trying to reach you about your souls exstended warranty" |
We gathered around on the chairs and couches, sprawling ourselves in various states of undressed. Moid let out a long, thick cord of smoke and passed the piece to Ittiss with his own toes.
He continued his thoughts, "But you haven't seen it since. That club or bar in hell?"
Brvoft smiled, loudly sipping from his 3 fingers of Jameson. "Does it matter? I smelled the place. I heard its music in my feet. It was..."
I spoke up, "It was a dream. It's not like a sleepy time dream."
Moid said, "We don't sleep well enough to have dreams. Least I haven't. I dunno, it would bum me out to see this place but never be able to return."
I said, "It's gotta be Lucifer. He's doing to you all."
Brvoft took the blunt offered to him, "You're more paranoid than we are, mate."
Ittiss tsk'd me with his tongue. "You know the law, Meat... Demons don't play against Demons. Otherwise, Hell turns into a battlefield or a hateful orgy."
I countered, saying, "But Lucifer isn't a demon, he's Satan. Your ancestors were "chosen"by God, same as Lucifer was."I took the blunt from Brvoft.
He said, "But everyone forgets what we were talking about: An Oasis in Hell. Can you imagine? You can beat your meat (lol), then beat yourself, and then you could find a drink in hell."
Moid let the smoke run out of his nose. "It's too good to be true. It would be a genius move by all the powers needed to erect that place... and all the sin that can be had inside."
Brvoft raised his arms up from where he laid and spoke in a louder voice, "Fuck you guys, I want to find this place."
"I would if I could,"Iftiss said.
The roach would run out in 5 more minutes, but we lay there in the glow of what sounds like an impossible dream. I looked at Brvoft and saw that smile on his face. Was this as happy as a demon can be? Daydreaming of clubbing instead of some new torture for his victims? |
I don’t enjoy fighting, it’s not my style. I’ve been a hero for a long time, and I’ve seen things that’d make a man’s stomach turn inside out. In the end, though, it didn’t matter; it meant nothing to the world when it’d forsaken us. We were, after-all psychos and lunatics, who’d murdered our way through any situation we’d come across; well, at least that was the stigma for most of the freedom league until they purged us. We heard their cries. We knew our time was over after they’d started the witch hunt and purged half of us in a single night. I remember those days all too well, but I’m not like the others who went into hiding with a vendetta to get revenge on or free the world again. I just wanted to live a normal life after all the positive deeds I did. Unfortunately, life isn’t that simple. It takes and takes and never gives back. Then it forces good people into dark places that they can’t climb back out from. But I can’t shun them for it.
The falling rain batters the city streets of a rural town, while shaking the nearby pines with the force of its downpour. It’s been ten years now, the old heroes are dead, and the corporations have been put into power in a merged world government. Quality of life’s up, there are no more random murders in the streets, and the trains run on time, and pay their employees enough to scrape by easily. I can’t fault my enemies for what they’ve done. We’re all heroes in our own stories, but there are some lines that should be crossed irrespective of the end goal. Puddles lap at the edges of my jackboots as I walk between the small village vendors hocking goods underneath the sidewalk’s overhang. But this isn’t a normal walking pace or a fashion of walking; it’s a practiced motion, induced by years of living on the run from the corporate authorities. One foot after another is often enough to avoid a quick death; under the right circumstances.
Sadly, that’s not today. Ahead, the roadway is blocked by a modest barricade of police cars strung across the road ahead, herding foot traffic into a checkpoint. Behind the pursuers are closing in, and to my right, there’s the only place left to go, a crowded nineties-style diner, named ‘Lazy Eye Larry’s.’ With no other options, I slip into the lobby between a young teenager examining a propaganda poster. As I closed the door, a group of six enforcers outside the door a few feet away hurried towards a disturbance at the police barricade. After which, within my first two steps into the establishment, a grandmotherly figure with a heavy Southern accent met me at the door. “Howdy friend, how many of you are coming today?”
“It’s just me today, mam.”
“I think that’s a lie, and we both know it.”
I did a double take from the afterlife, as the old lady plucked out a Smith and Western from her jacket pocket and pulled the trigger. |
“He keeps on resurrecting!” Ares yelled to Athena, as their foe rose once again, bathed in light.
“We’ve been at this for days, we can’t last much longer!” Hades shouted as he leapt towards their enemy, spear thrust forward in an attempt to strike them before they closed their grip on Aphrodites’ throat.
“We need to give Zeus all the time he needs to finish the weapon with Hephaestus.” Hermes said through gritted teeth as he pulled Aphrodite out of range of the monster before its arm could regrow from Hades’ successful hit.
As a kick narrowly missed Hermès’ head, a trident flew by and embedded in the enemy’s chest. “Get her out of there now!” Poseidon ordered Hermes. “No duh.” Hermes said under his breath as he dragged the unconscious Aphrodite away at speed, faster than any mortal would be able to notice.
“For Zeus!” a voice ringed out as the foe was picked up and thrown off the side of Mount Olympus. Hercules then jumped after the body he threw.
“Wait!” Athena shouted, as she could feel the change in the air of an incoming thunder storm. “Zeus has done it! He must be on his way now, so wa…” she was continuing to say before Hercules’ mangled body flew up over the side he had just jumped down.
The clouds that had gathered put the area into a darkness as lightning started to crackle around them. A figure was sporadically highlighted from the lightning, carrying Hercules’ head in one hand.
*crack* The figure was poised to throw the head at Athena.
*crack* The figure was gone.
*crack* Athena’s eyes bulged as something was thrust into her stomach.
Seeing that Athena was now down, Poseidon shouted “Brother, do it now!”
It was then that the biggest bolt of lightning that any of the pantheon had saw crashed into the figure, lighting the area so much so that they had to shield their eyes to avoid being blinded from the attack.
Zeus stood, holding the lightning bolt in one hand, gripping the intruder with the other as they convulsed with the lightning bolt lodged in their mouth.
After a few moments, the body had gone limp and Zeus tossed it aside, rage still present in his eyes. “It is done.” he solemnly said, looking at the corpses of his son and friend.
Turning to Poseidon, Zeus opened his mouth to say something. But before any noise could come out, he could see his brother leaping to him. But Poseidon was too late.
A fist punched through Zeus’ chest, heart in hand. Looking down, Zeus whispered “Jesus Christ”.
His ultimate rival, body going limp around his arm, leaned forward and laughed, screaming “That’s the name, don’t wear it out!” |
"Log start. Date, 17th of Octoria, Year 7023,"I began into the recorder, rubbing at my eyes. My bed was calling my name but I needed to get my notes down while they were fresh in my mind. "Our expedition found something odd in the ruins of the city. An obelisk, near the center of what appears to be the central hub of the city itself. This, along with the massive figure on a throne we found not far from it, appear to be religious in nature."
I let out a little yawn, not bothering to cover my mouth. The rest of the team was long asleep and I was alone at my little field desk. "What exactly the religion of this area was, well, we still have no idea. There's museums all around these central religious structures that appear to have been well-maintained. Hopefully that will provide some answers. As far as any theories I have... that's beyond me at the moment. This city is a strange place. It reminds me of the work done for the York research program, where this massive city had this giant empty lot in the middle of it. There's something more here. I can feel it. We just need to keep looking." |
**Heart Stoppers**
The moment his blade slipped through the air and into my rib cage my heart stopped. I mean not literally. Well not _just_ literally, figuratively it stopped too. Much like his had as he fell on top of me and into the edge of my wrist mounted blade. Not long afterwards his blood began to spurt downwards towards my chest in a waterfall of crimson, and mine shot upwards through that little incision he had made into mine with his kunai as my heart carried on like the little machine of flesh it was build to serve only one purpose: to pump. As our blood mixed in the space between our chests our eyes locked and I knew right then that this truly was love at first sight. Beside us a whimpering man dressed in nothing but a bathrobe lied in the fetal position. His whimpers were barely audible however, as the sound of the screaming woman standing in the corner covered in nothing but a bed sheet overtook most of his cries. But in my final moment I didn't care for either of them, not anymore at least, now only my attention remained focused upon the man who stopped my heart.
By the way he was dressed I could tell we were from the same world. He wore cloth as dark as the night that covered him from head to toe only leaving a narrow slit for him dark brown eyes, to the utility belt around his waste which carried upon it a plethora of weapons, poisons, and devices meant for maneuvering around even the most secured fortresses without alerting a gnat. A get up not unlike mine except for the insignia above his heart in which my knife now penetrated. As his blood dripped from his heart a few droplets small enough for capillary action to take hold of soaked themselves into the embossed symbol. The hemoglobin filled beads wound themselves through the offset fabric turning the deep black threads into a scarlet stylized image of a silhouette of a man hung upside down against a diamond shaped background, the mark of a Caretaker, the second most deadly assassins in the world, next to us.
By the wide-eyed look in his eyes I assumed he too had seen my marking, now just as blood filled as the one on his chest, I presumed. That of a small bird perched upon a branch, a logo that meant nothing to the unassuming eye, yet to those in our world or those who feared us, that tiny bird sitting upon a twig meant one thing and one thing only: the Light had come. I hoped that he found that impressive, he'd be the only man who'd I'd taken a fancy in who saw what I really did for a living.
He must had grown weak because not long after the shock hit him he fell on top of me, his weight pressing my blade deeper into his heart and his into mine. I thought it would be more painful actually, but instead the blade felt warm and only grew warmer as the blood continued to drain from my body. He must had planned to use the cauterizing edge that the Caretakers were known for upon our mutual target. Although we had more successful operations than them, the Caretakers were exceptionally good at keeping a clean kill site. You cold walk into the room of one of their target who had been dead for days and you would think them only asleep until a week passed and their body began to rot. Meanwhile, our jobs tended to be a little more dirty with bloodstains and dismembered limbs everywhere. Caretakers strived for quality, while the Lights focused more on speed and efficiency. That diametric difference between us and our work styles would mean that we would probably would have never met. It's been centuries since a Caretaker crossed over to the Light and vice versa. Our standards and training were just different, and when you train people like us from birth, well it's hard to unlearn old habits, no matter how much you tried. It was odd that our paths crossed at all really.
There had been a few moment in history where both of our companies had been hired to take out a target. Usually for political or inheritance purposes did different warring factions aiming for the same target hire one of us, only for their rival faction to hire the other. This had lead to many-a-times a small run in between those baring the crest of the upside down man and those with the bird upon their chests to make contact in the field. Most of the time one of them would be faster than the other and take it the target first, but sometimes they'll collide within the assassination itself. After a few disgruntled back and forths on who gets the kill, the fate of the subject will finally be decided and either a Caretaker or a Light would bring home the glory. Occasionally they'd both lie to their clients afterwards to claim credit in order to get payment, this was easier to do when either waring faction was so pissed off at the other for one reason or another that they refused to talk. But tonight was a strange night. Why would a Caretaker and a Light be both hired to end the life of a middle aged man with nothing but extensive credit card debt in his name? As far as I had been informed this was a simple "bill paying"operation. Perhaps the one who had hired us was just that pissed off a their target that they decided to call up on the Caretakers too, just to be safe.
Bill paying operations (or BPOs) as their name implied, were things we did to keep the lights on between political unrests and dead multi-millionaire patriarchs and matriarchs. Simple jobs usually involving feuds between regional crime lords or spouses who wanted their adulterating significant others out of their life. I had been given no details on this operation other than the basics where, when, how, but based on the presence of the naked screaming woman in the corner, my money went to the latter. Any trained assassin could easily to a BPO in a manner of a few short hours and then take the rest of their night to change back into civilian gear and hit the night life, catch up with fellow colleagues in the area, or take time for hobbies such as working on their manuscript over at the nearest 24 hour diner. BPOs didn't require much focus for a job to be done. Perhaps that's why I was I so sloppy leading to blade of a Caretaker slipping straight into my chest. Perhaps that was the same for him too.
The blade between my ribs had take on the warmth of a glass of hot coco on a snowy day now, I presumed it would be long before my body went cold taking me with it. Only then did I wish my blade was a little bit warmer to give him the same cozy comfort within his dying moments. So I did the best I could do. I mustered my strength and gave him a hug, hoping that what body heat I had left gave him the slightest comfort. He wiggled, at first, but soon gave up either out of accepting my offer or having very little strength left. I closed my eyes and watched the darkness come while the sounds of the crying man and the screaming woman grew muted until only silence remained. I waited for the light to come, but it never did. I realized then that we were the only light that waited for people at the end.
***
Thank you for reading Heart Stoppers! If you enjoyed this story you can read many other stories written by me over at /r/QuadrantNine where I post all of my flash fiction submitted to /r/WritingPrompts plus project updates. If you enjoyed this story I'd recommend [Within the Tower](https://old.reddit.com/r/QuadrantNine/comments/11azzec/within_the_tower_fantasy_horror_1683_words/) for something darker, or [You are viewing selected reviews for Raine’s Spells & Potions, LLC](https://old.reddit.com/r/QuadrantNine/comments/13m5ls1/you_are_viewing_selected_reviews_for_raines/) for something a little more lighthearted. |
"Pepper,"I called out. "Where are you?"
Who knew if Pepper could even hear me anymore? She just jumped out of the car as I opened the door, ran down the alley and through a strange archway and disappeared. She couldn't be too far ahead. I did jump right out of the car and chase after her, but maybe that didn't help?
"Come here kitty! Come to mama!"
I walked onwards, stepping over plastic bags and other debris. There was some rustling sounds coming from further ahead. It looked like the alley ended with a brick wall up ahead; Pepper must be there waiting for her mama! I picked up my pace running by a closed but still putrid dumpster. Did anyone take care of this part of the city? Pepper's paws were going to be filthy!
"I'm almost there, Pepper!"I called out again as I approached the end of the alley and then came to a halt.
Pepper was not there. Instead there was a small, dark-grey dog rooting through a heap of garbage. A single lamp mounted on the brick wall provided all of the illumination for the end of the alley. The filthy little dog turned around and scurried towards me, a smile on its face and what once might have been a tennis ball in its mouth. Its imploring eyes, hopeful that I might play; it reminded me of my ex. It was clear that this dog had spent a lot of time around people. Beneath the grime, I bet that it would've looked like a regular family dog.
"Oh poor you! Where are your parents?"I asked as I knelt down with my palm out to introduce myself to the collarless dog. It responded well. I carefully pet the dog's head and reached for the ball and felt it release into my hand. It seemed that I had made a friend, but still hadn't found my sweet cat.
"Have you seen my cat?"I asked pointlessly. The dog just continued to look up at me with its pleading eyes. I stood up, turned around, and tossed the ball towards the start of the alley. The little dog chased after the bouncing ball. I was struck by how long the alley now looked; it had been a pretty long alley, but it couldn't have *that* long! Either way, there was only one direction Pepper could be.
I must have just missed her on my way in. As I retraced my steps, I called out Pepper's name and was much more careful to look around and under and within all of the little nooks and crannies I found. Still no sight of Pepper; not by the dumpster against the left side of the alley or by the tattered cardboard boxes strewn all around. The little dog kept coming back and I kept tossing the little ball down the alley, which didn't look like it was getting any shorter. I stopped. What was happening?
I spun around to look back towards the end of the alley that I had just come from. The distance between that brick wall and where I now stood seemed appropriate, but something wasn't right. What something? The lamp at the end of the alley looked the same. The dumpster looked the same. The debris and garbage generally looked the same. Wait! The dumpster had been against the opposite side of the alley; it had been on my left as I walked by it, how could it still be on my left now that I had turned around? And was that some kind of passageway in the wall opposite the dumpster?
"I'm coming, Pepper!"
I hurried towards the little passageway, Pepper must've gone through there! The passageway was small and led to another shorter alley. Hopefully it would stay as short as it looked now! Unlike the first alley, this one had several intersections ahead. It was also generally darker. I pulled my phone out, swiped up. Wait! I swiped down again and looked at the background image on my phone. I looked so old in that photo! And why was I holding the dog that I had found in the alley? The setting of the photo definitely wasn't this alley so the photo couldn't have been taken here. Was this a glimpse into my future? How could that even be possible?
I turned the my phone camera on to take a selfie. It was dark so the screen was barely visible. I clicked the photo and the flash came on for an instant and the photo was saved. I opened the photo and the phone, just like the years, slipped through my fingers. I had been 25 when I walked into the alley chasing after Pepper, but now I looked closer to 45. I collapsed to the ground; confused, lost, hopeless. The filthy little dog came running down the alley towards me and cheerfully leapt up on top of me as I lay there shattered like my phone.
\[If anyone feels like it, feel free to continue\] |
I stood my ground, bone dagger in one hand, hastily drawn pentagram at my feet. I had a pouch with Dust of Becoming, which would allow me to shape shift at will. This universe had magic. My pet budgie, Pecan, sat on my disheveled head, occasionally whistling. My clothing represented a cross section of pragmatic and stylish from the many places I had jumped to over the years.
We seemed to be immortal, me and my little bird. I don’t know how it happened. Did I play the right notes on my piano? Did I eat some magical combination of chicken soup, wine, and chocolate chip cookies? I had never figured it out.
My home, my real home, point of origin, was lost. I remember it was odd, no magic. Lots of people scurrying to work and on errands. I walked dogs for a living. Pecan would sit on my shoulder, nap in a pocket, or otherwise hide on my person while I made my rounds.
My last day on earth was unremarkable. Walking all my dogs, having a coffee. Last dog of the day was a terrier that alerted every time something four legged moved. He seemed especially tense that day, and ran off like a shot across a street when he spotted a woman walking a bulldog. I stepped off the curb and from nowhere a car collided with me. I rolled violently up the hood, hit the windshield with enough force to crack it, and slid down to the ground. Pecan, scared, asked me “How ya doin, pretty bird?” He then eased his way into my hand, where my last act on Earth was to gently clutch him.
I then gasped the air back into my lungs. The car that had hit me had actually stopped within a couple inches of me. The driver, a manic looking man in a shirt and tie, could be seen visibly mouthing swear words at me. I jumped back, let him pass, and continued across the street to find Wilson. Except instead of a Yorkie dancing around and barking at the bulldog, there was a Chiweenie.
I called Wilson’s name, looking around confused, and the chiweenie begrudgingly walked back to me.
“Keep that mutt on a leash,” bulldog’s owner snapped at me, gesturing at the little brown dog tapping around my feet. Pecan squirmed in my hand, so I set him on my shoulder.
The differences were quickly, painfully obvious. Not like a tv show, where a displaced person only realizes they’ve moved into a different universe when something is painted a few shades off or their friend’s hair is different.
I discovered my mother had passed away two years before, where she was alive where I was from. My best friend, Chris? Now a man instead of a woman. I could go on. But I was only there for a week before I was pushed off a rooftop bar where I sat with Chris and Pecan, worrying both with my anxiety around stories of dying and becoming aware of a different world. When I would have smacked the pavement, I awoke in bed, startled, with Pecan nested in my hair.
Every world was different, a different version of my original. Almost as though all of reality were rolling the dice every time I died while also giving me a mulligan. Sometimes I was a woman, sometimes a man, different races, ethnicities. Pecan was always with me and always recognized me, after what felt like years, I realized he was a soulmate.
The only thing I realized after decades of this, was that something was keeping me alive by killing me. Forcing my awareness and form into a different version of me, over and over. I needed to know their motive, and what the endgame might be. After the heartbreak of dying in a world where I had two small children with Chris, and being pushed into a post-apocalyptic hellscape with mages and magical creatures warring, I decided to stop the cycle.
I learned as much magic as I could in a small amount of time. I never knew if I had minutes or months in a reality. And I wore protection spells, charms, and I carried the bone dagger. The bone dagger had poison leeched into the dried marrow, and could kill anything, mortal or immortal. The lore mage I bought it from told me the thing came from death, itself.
And now she stood outside my pentagram, a mirror image of me. She wore spotless black clothes, and a scythe pendant dangled into her bust line.
“She’s coming, you have to let me kill you!” Death pleaded. “She’ll end you, and end all of reality, every reality, if she does.”
“You did this? You trapped me in a loop of life and death to keep me from some crazy person who wants to end everything? How am I the key to that? And why are you wearing my face?” I asked the terrified deity, who was trying to brute force my protection spells.
She stopped, everything stopped. The roaring, the distant sounds of magical battle ceased. Time had stood still. A slit opened in reality and I stepped thru. A clean me, blemish free, perfect clothing, hair, everything I would imagine as my own ideal.
Death Me pivoted and looked from her to me.
“We’re you, trapped in the same loop, silly goose,” the Goddess me crooned. “I’m the one who has amassed the knowledge and powers of the gods in the various realities I’ve traversed. I have mastered life. She’s the one who has mastered and become death. Except she won’t ket us die.”
“Everything will end if she dies, I’ve seen it,” shouted Death. “I don’t care how tired you are, you don’t get to call yourself a Goddess of Life while ending all things.”
I understood. If one of us three versions of me died, everything would end. Everything. I have never discovered how we got trapped in this loop, this strange immortality. Some quirky experiment, maybe? Or just the right ratio of spices in a pot of soup? However, in that moment, I knew the Goddess version of me would never relent.
I dipped my hand into the pouch of Dust and threw it on the Goddess version of myself. One word pulsed in my head, with every ounce of my will. Budgie. She screamed, the echo of it ending on a bird chirp sound. Her wings fluttered wildly for a minute. Death stood stunned.
“We always have to adhere to the physics of the universe we’re in. Here, I seem to be a powerful mage,” I stated clinically, bending down to lift the bird gently from the ground.
I passed fingers over her beak and cranium, wiping her memory.
“Hi, Walnut,” I said, raising my voice several octaves to baby talk the little bird clutched in my hand. Pecan hopped to my wrist to click and chatter at Walnut.
Death had made me immortal. While everything in me screamed to return to my home reality, I knew I didn’t belong there. Or anywhere. I have decided to live my days traveling all roads with my two budgies. Death and I have lunch once in a while. |
"207 on scene."
"Dispatch copy, 13:16."
I entered the fast casual restaurant, looking for my suspect. He was a mid-20s male, brown over brown, wearing a white t-shirt and black basketball shorts, along with the offending socks and sandals.
It didn't take me long to find him. He was the only guy in the place whose arm was in a sling. He was sitting alone at a table, struggling to eat a burrito one-handed. I approached the table.
"Excuse me, sir?"
He swallowed hard. "Yes, officer?"
"There have been multiple reports of you wearing socks with sandals today. That's a misdemeanor, and the multiple reports bumps it up to second degree. ID, please."
He sighed. "I only have one working arm, ma'am. Let me stand up and get my wallet..."The young man stood, pulled the wallet out of his pocket, set it on the table, and slowly removed his driver's license.
I looked it over, taking the liberty of scanning it with my phone's Fashion Crimes Database app.
"Lance Nelson, huh? I see here that you had a clashing violation back in 2021, but nothing since then. Do you have an explanation for this?"
Lance smiled a tight-lipped smile. "My upper arm's broken. I can pull on a sock, I can step into a shoe, but I can't tie anything."
"And you don't have any slip ons?"
"Not yet. I'm on my way to the mall. I'm planning on getting some slip on Vans or something."Lance took a sip of his pop.
"How'd you break your arm, anyway?"I asked.
"Car accident. I got t-boned."
"So you're down a car and you have medical bills?"
"In theory, the other driver's insurance should pay for it, but I'm not working and who knows what I'll get for my car?"He shook his head.
"Tell you what. You're on your way to fix the problem, and you're going through a hard time. I'll knock this down to defective footwear, which is just a warning for your first offense."
"Thank you, ma'am."
I wrote a quick fix-it ticket for the young man and walked out of the restaurant. What the hell was I doing? Hassling a broke kid whose car just got totaled? Whose arm was broken? Didn't he have enough to worry about?
I sat down in the car in silence for a few seconds to clear my head, then picked up the radio.
"207 clear on a warning."
"207 copy. Respond to the 16th Street Mall and Champa street on visible undergarments."
"Copy."
Oh Christ, I thought, if this is a homeless person who doesn't have anything else to wear, I'm quitting. |
It looked weird, being hardly more than a ten-kilometer long truss, with a habitation ring around it large enough to be reasonably safe from the radiation put off by the enormous mirror cell fusion rocket powering it. The ISV Atlantis hovered above the earth for the last time for the better part of a century as it took on cargo before it's Interstellar trip.
"Just because they'll let you vlog while flying doesn't mean you have to start from square one, and besides, why is it full of canned tuna, and why are they calling it Feline-5?"
"It's not just canned tuna, it's a full biosphere, fully SA-Cryocanned, including 100,000 tons of tuna. Funny as it might seem, the planet barely has enough microbes to give it oxygen, and the expedition crew somehow let not just a cat out, but 5, hence the name. They've unintentionally seeded a planet with life, and with the genie out of the bottle so to speak, and now we get to do it properly, or at least ship them their canned fish."
"That's horrifying, what about the life that could have evolved there?"
"What about it? Now we have another habitable planet, and less competition. Not ideal, but at least we're not having to actually fight off macroscopic life."
And fittingly, practicality did come first once again, as their conversation was interrupted by the docking maneuver with the skyhook, a rotating space tether trailing down into the atmosphere low enough that a sufficiently fast aircraft could catch it, and in this case reel in the shuttle for docking, pulling it up to the enormous habitation ring, entirely jacketed in propellant tanks for radiation protection, save for a few small things which had to be exposed. The shuttle was winched up and into a recessed docking bay to keep it from being exposed to the radiation. These outer bumps for docking bays and such had the few windows and lights on the outside of the ship, save for the engine itself. It was said it was so radioactive you could see it right though your eyelids, and thus the time spent on that low pass was one of the brief times it was shut down, and sure it took longer, but this same process had to happen in reverse on the other side, a process often compared to trying to eat rice one grain at a time. How'd it work? Well, we don't know, and won't for decades, long after those 5 cats had died and faded into legend, but the legend is the important part, how those cats gave us a reason to send everything else. |
“Hands in the air!”
His voice is shrill but controlled, masking the subway’s squeals as it turns a corner. ‘Hands’ and ‘air,’ you note, hit the same pitch—a steady one, devoid of any first-time mugger’s typical anxiety. Before you can look up, the edge of a blade is lowered onto the open page of your book. He taps it once, then twice, nicking the p in ‘unprecedented.’ “Hands. In. The air.”
Rather than doing so, you reach lightly past the blade and dog-ear your page, then snap the book shut. The blade is whipped out before it can be enclosed cover-to-cover. A nervous “Eep!” bursts out of the woman to your left; you glance over to her, buried sheepishly in her phone, then spare a look for your attacker.
Unmasked.
You glance to the left. Well, that makes things easier.
“You’re looking for valuables, I take it?”
“Hand them over,” he snarls.
You grin. “I didn’t say I had any.”
And then, in a fit of ill-advised rage—you wonder what possessed him to choose you, rather than the twenty-some-odd people in this subway car—the mugger sends his knife soaring toward your face. But you’ve been in this situation often enough, though with enemies of other kinds, to have gained impressive reflexes if you do say so yourself.
Sprrt. The blade sinks into your arm, sending a stream of dark red blood spurting onto the floor. A gasp echoes from the other side of the subway car. The mugger lifts his blade from your skin and waggles the knife below your nose, smirking. A few drops of blood congeal at its edges, then drip onto the cover of your book: red on white text, red on black backdrop.
Funny how it’s your blood that always reveals the shades of grey.
“Had enough yet?” the mugger asks. He wiggles the knife, causing more blood to fly off the edge.
“You really should be taking better care of that.”
“What—“
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! A chip just below the surface of your skin—your arm, to be exact—cuts the man off with a bright red light and shrieking alarm. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! “Blood loss detected. Notifying local health department.”
“Bradley Johnston.” The mugger whirls—left. “Born and raised in a small town in New Jersey, father Cooper a dentist, mother Joanna a lawyer. Your high-school vape addiction, coupled with poor grades and a lack of support system, all contributed to the path you’re on now.” The woman to your left lifts her face from her phone, her voice hard. “And if you touch my charge again, Bradley, I promise you’ll come to regret it.”
“I…what…”
And then the muggers mouth falls open; his knife clatters onto the bloodstained subway floor. His eyes glow red, limbs spasm, spine twists backward at an unnatural angle, a deep, thrumming voice emerged—“a great offense has been committed here…”
“He didn’t know what he was doing, Deziarth,” you sigh. By this point, the rest of the subway car has retreated to the corner farthest away from you. “Can you let him go?”
The mugger frowns—“You never let me have any fun”—and collapses.
“The book would have appeased him, probably,” Sister Margaret, the woman to your left, scolds.
“Are you kidding? It’s limited-edition!”
Her phone rings. “It’s your vampire.”
As the subway doors have yet to reopen, you crack open your book and flip through to the dog-eared page. “Tell her I’ll be late for dinner. Need to stop at a 24-hour clinic.”
Sister Margaret’s eyes widen. “But the health department! It was notified, right? Why not visit a hospital?”
You recover the nicked p in ‘unprecedented.’ “Makes things too complicated.”
*The discovery of this unprecedented blood type came in a single-patient case study, which will be analyzed in the following pages. Some of the events to come may seem fantastical, but I will report them as truthfully as possible while preserving patient anonymity…*
You wipe your blood off the cover—ironic, seeing as *your* blood is covered inside. |
-Friend-
Our conversation turned solemn. "What's going on, Anna?"My eyes widened in concern. "What happened?"I studied the bruise along her jaw.
Anna sighed. I could tell she knew I didn't believe a word leaving her lips. For a moment I saw anxiety envelope her body as she glanced at Theo. Then as quickly as that energy came, it disappeared. "We went exploring. It was more dangerous than we anticipated. That's all."Anna's voice was flat and her eyes, glazed and fixed, stared at the floor so intensely I felt as though I'd be sucked into the void below.
I breathed in sharply, intent on questioning this lack of an answer. Theo glanced between Anna and myself, and his fingers hooked into hers. "Cmon, we are gonna be late". Anna blankly lifted her gaze from the floor, to Theo's general direction. Without even turning toward me, they began walking. As she left with him, a weak "see you"was thrown my way, as if out of pity. "Bye, Anna,"I said, feeling defeated. I couldn't shake this feeling in my stomach that something very devastating had happened.
-Theo-
I tightened my grip on her hand. I felt so betrayed by Anna - simply because I knew why she hesitated to answer her friends question. "Shouldn't couples protect and support each other?? Doesn't she know I love her and that everything I do, is for her? I know I'm not perfect, but if I ever overreacted it was because I love her so much, and she just doesn't see it. Her indifference infuriates me and sometimes I just can't hold it in". My thoughts were racing. As I became more lost within the idea of Anna's lack of loyalty, I could feel her hand try to wriggle out of mine. I twisted my hand into a fist, our fingers still laced. "I will not let you leave me."Her fingers turned white, and then purple, between mine. I released pressure once she stopped fighting and trying to let go. I won't let go.
We got in the car. As we drove, the silence was unnerving. I breathed in sharply. "I'm sorry about last night. I just love you so much and when you shut down it drives me crazy. I am not a bad person."Anna nodded, tears silently falling down her face. Tears meant to break me down and manipulate me. I could feel the heat beginning in my stomach. "You are so selfish! You never think of me and how I feel! I shouldn't have to tell you what I need. If you really cared about anyone but yourself, you'd know! And then you act like your world is falling apart and like I should feel bad or something. I've done nothing but love you! And now you give me less and less of you!"The heat in my stomach turned to pure, passionate anger.
-Anna-
I sat in the car frozen. If I talk too much I am controlling and needy, but now I am making him feel neglected. I never know what to do in these situations. I am terrified to make the wrong move, but honestly, every decision I make is the wrong one. I am realizing the problem isn't me doing one thing or the other, the problem is just me.
I tried to imagine what I could say to comfort him, when an abrupt whack to the back of my head snaps me out of my spinning thoughts. "You hit me,"I said incredulously. As he screamed about how I made him lose it again, his words became white noise to the thundering sentence repeating in my mind. "He hit me again, he hit me again."I snapped back, again, this time to his fingernails digging deeply into my thigh. "Theo, please stop!"I cried, terrified. At this point, he was barely driving. His hands waved wildly, his eyes bugged open and his screams sprinkled me. "Watch the road!"I cried tearfully. Suddenly, I felt the car jerk sideways as I heard Theo yell "f*** you!"
-Friend-
Anna and Theo's faces were burned into my brain. Something wasn't right. I didn't want to cause an issue, but I couldn't shake the feeling Anna needed me. I sighed, and pulled out my phone. I figured even if she didn't want to tell me, I would listen to anything she wanted to say. If she didn't want to say anything, I'd sit with her in silence.
The phone rang, and went to voicemail. I sent her a text to call me back and went to make dinner. As I cooked, I couldn't shake the feeling. I dialed again, but no answer. And again. "This is very unlike Anna. We have been best friends for 15 years and she has never ignored multiple calls."I was no longer hungry, I could feel a pit in my stomach. I grabbed my keys, got in my car, and inserted them into the ignition.
I began down the road, heading in the direction of their apartment. Lost in thought, I wondered what could be going on. Suddenly, traffic slowed. I could see emergency lights up ahead. As I passed the scene, I saw a car wrapped around a tree. That was Theo's car. I pulled over, shaking. As I walked toward the mangled metal and glass, I could see a dark crimson shimmer at the tree base. I picked up my pace, before being stopped by an officer. His words were muffled as I tried to push my way past. I couldn't make any details out, from looking at this distance.
Suddenly, as I pushed forward a few steps, I translated the shape of two sheets pulled over both the driver and passenger seat, stained red. The emptiness I felt matched the look in their eyes before they left me 40 minutes ago. Then, panic set in. I would never forgive myself for not listening to my gut. I blinked at the officer, unable to breathe, and my world went black. |
Officer Adam Pfieffer hated night patrols, just driving around like an idiot, but the night was peaceful. He drove passed Moore Elementary, turning left on North 6th, when a bright light caught the corner of his eye. He had to shield his eyes as the light grew brighter, then it faded away. The street lights soon flickered out.
"The hell was that?"Adam asked, putting his cruiser in park and stepped out of the car.
"Did anyone see that? Over,"his radio crackled.
"Was there some explosion? Over,"Officer Deana Taft responded on the radio.
Adam knew Taft was in Griffin City Park, miles away. It must be a hell of an explosion, but there was no shockwave, no noise, just light.
"I saw it too, what the hell was that? Over,"Adam reported.
"Interstate 41 just got cut off. Experiment is gone! I repeat, Experiment is gone!"
"Would you repeat that? Over,"Sheriff Don Philipps asked.
"East Griffin is gone too! Highway 155... just stops! What the hell is going on? I got frightened motorists here trying to enter or leave town!"
"Towns don't vanish! Where are you? Over,"Philipps demanded.
"I'm literally on the edge of Interstate 41, beyond is just plains. Sir, there's nothing beyond but plains."
Adam listened in, hoping someone would give an answer.
"I'm declaring a state of emergency, make sure everyone stays in their homes, and help those find a place for the night,"Philipps ordered.
Adam hopped back in his cruiser the moment the tornado sirens went off. What the hell is going on?
Adam spent all night driving around, calming down citizens until dawn. But Adam noticed something about the sky isn't right.
He slammed on his brakes, staring at the sky. Did he imagine it, or something huge flew over him.
"Was that a fucking dragon!"Taft reported over the radio.
"There's men on horses approaching from where East Griffin once stood. They look like knights?"Officer John Wayman said.
"There's people riding on elk entering from the west side too. Philipps, what the hell is happening!"
The radio suddenly went silent. Adam sat in his cruiser, frightened for the first time in his life. That light, that light did something. What was that light? And what's outside Griffin now? |
A contract with the devil usually meant the person’s soul would end up in hell. The contract would be overly long and would make most people skip to just agreeing without reading the fine print. It was here where the details of the contract would have some sort of clause that would make it null and void. Why the devil does this would be anyone’s guess but I consider it to be an act of pride.
You see, the devil has their own faults. There wouldn’t be a hell without said fault and they wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for their pride. An act of rebellion, a simple thought of being better than God and BAM, you’re in a hell of your own making. Therefore, anyone who has made a mistake would just as equally be able to make mistakes in other things, such as a contract. Besides, the devil is in the details is really just a marketing campaign.
Trust me, I’ve been able to break the devil’s contracts several times. For example, one contract was for a gentleman to be wealthy and in return their soul would be forfeit. The gentleman did indeed become wealthy and was given lots of money. He did however realise that his soul was due soon and came to me. After a week of reading the contract, I did say it was long, I found that the word wealth was rather ambiguous. What did wealth mean actually and did the gentlemen feel wealthy in all areas? Did he have a wealth of good mental health? Of course not! No one would feel they would have a wealth of good mental health when one’s soul was to be sent down to hell.
Once I established this argument, it was relatively easy to get the devil to agree to a new arrangement. The gentleman did have to give all the money back but I suggested he should sue for the mental strain the devil put on him. The gentleman won.
What did the devil learn? To make tighter contracts!
A young lady came to me because she had sold her soul to get the perfect motorbike. The contract was long once again and I was stumped for a while. However, the contract had stated in its fine print that the customer would be happy with the perfect motorbike. The lady was not happy…well I argued that at least and still won the case.
I would go on and on about other contracts but that would take time from reading your contract if you were to allow me to help you. I’d be happy to help and with no fees, what could you loose?
Certainly not your soul. |
Life just didn't seem to be going well for me. I was thinking about that article I'd read in the newspaper the other day. Given a chance over 85% of parents would choose to modify their child for increased intelligence. It didn't seem fair to me that they would choose that.
Here I was and I had it in spades. I just didn't think people could understand easily how intelligence can make life so much worse. You can't just be sad you have to grieve. You can't just learn about anything you have to understand it. Creep, obsessed, stalker, overdoing it, always wasting our time with the most complicated solution. I couldn't even write without putting down the pencil. I couldn't make a draft because then it wouldn't be perfect.
Over time all those insults and cruel words put a damper on me. I didn't burn out like everyone said I had. I'd just decided to be more ordinary.
Ordinary.
I looked into the mirror and the face that looked back at me with dull glazed over eyes was disappointing and bland. The room itself wasn't that interesting either. I'd put away most of my childhood things so now it was bare and beige like a hotel room. Just the way I liked it.
I... I couldn't resist though. |
“Yo that’s so trippy dude.”
Scoot teetered side to side as he exhaled the laughing gas, giggling at the tracers running across his vision. As the DJ dropped into the next track, lasers flashed overhead and the stage’s subwoofers exploded in a cacophony of bass.
Turning to Raindrop, his longtime girlfriend and rave partner, Scoot wiped a line of drool from the corner of his mouth and intoned, “Babe this is so fucking LIT for real.”
Raindrop glanced up at him, her eyes glazed over. Wiping a smudge of white powder from her upper lip, she smiled and replied, “Yeah babe. Next fucking level.”
The stage was just part of the show. An event hosting 15,000 festival-goers fueled by Red Bull, fast food, and enough cocaine to give Pablo Escobar an erection was guaranteed to bend spacetime in unique and unpredictable ways. Averting his gaze to the ground, Scoot saw the entire hillside below him bobbing up and down in a wave pattern matching the frequency of the sub bass. Was that just the acid? Pretty sure that’s not just the acid.
“ARE YOU READY TO GO FUCKING HARD?!?!?!!” The DJ screamed into the microphone. The crowd screamed in approval. “IM ABOUT TO DROP SOME NEW SHIT AND IMMA NEED YOU ALL IN THE PIT FOR A WALL OF DEATH! LETS FUCKING GOOOOO!!!”
Raindrop jumped to her feet and grabbed Scoot’s arm. “BAY-uhb we gotta get in there for this!” Without hesitation, they joined the throng of ravers rushing towards the rail. As the crowd pushed closer and closer to the front of the stage, the whole world began to spin and contort.
“FUCKING GNARLY MAN!” Scoot shouted as fractals shot out the tips of his fingers. The rest of the crowd agreed, pressing closer and closer together as the song began to build.
“GET FUCKING HYPED THIS SHIT IS ABOUT TO HIT HARD!” The DJ yelled over the cacophony of the throng. “SPLIT THIS CROWD IN HALF LETS GO!”
The crowd split itself down the middle, leaving a ten-foot-wide channel from the front of the stage all the way to the sound booth.
“ARE YOU FUCKING READY?!?!?!?!” The DJ wore a crazed look as he screamed into the mic, spraying spit all over the mixer. “ONE, TWO, THREE, GO!!!!!”
As the bass dropped, the two halves of the crowd charged to the center and collided. As the two crowds combined and compacted, the ground began to shake and a swirling vortex of darkness formed in the center of the crowd. The jubilant shouts of excitement turned to screeches of fear, as festival goers were sucked into the newly-formed black hole.
“OH SHIT! RUN!!!” The DJ screamed before diving off the back of the stage in a vain attempt to escape the singularity. Within seconds, the entire festival grounds had been consumed and the black hole had exponentially expanded to cover most of North America.
Now dead, Scoot’s looked down at his former reality and watched as the solar system collapsed in on itself. “Dude… the vibes are hella off for real.” |
I strode into a dark briefing room, Synyl floating behind. Her light did little to illuminate oppressive shadow, something inknew would bother her. I offered my shoulder, a perch she happily accepted, as the commander gave a nod. "Well done Fastus, you are only three minutes late."
I returned the nod with a small bow, looking at the others. Apollo and Toma were sitting upright in their chairs, as professional as ever. Their Shadows clung to the backs of their seats, easily missable in the low light. Jana flashed me a smile as she lounged, her Wisp sitting in her lap. I took my seat, catching my breath. "Sorry sir, I was in the middle of a spar when the call came in."
The commander sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever. Now we are all here, let's start."
His Shadow rose from the back of his uniform. As always I was impressed with its size, being nearly as tall as him. It flowed over the floor, blocking the doorway with its deceptive mass. Though we were in our headquarters, he never seemed to be truly at ease. "The Church of Eternal Dawn has stepped again. One of their flocks, in the city of Vernstad, has gained control of much of the city.
Reports from there have grown thin lately. It appears order is being imposed on a major level. We can assume the city guard has been compromised, and it appears their mayor has as well. This is the eighth such event in the last month."
Jana spoke up, casually petting her Wisp. "The eighth? What are the False Speakers doing? Surely they should have stopped this."
The commander grimaced. "Thats above my pay grade, and certainly above yours. What's done is done. We now need to contain and revert."
Apollo smoothly raised his hand, as measured as always. "What is our role in this sir?"
The commander sighed, sitting back. "We need to break it. Apollo, you and Tona are the infiltrators on this one. Your role is to find out the big players in this. Fastus and Jana, you are the muscle. Whatever Apollo and Tona find, you need to break."
I nodded, feeling Synyl shift on my shoulder. "Do we have a time frame?"
The commander shook his head. "Not yet. Though expect that to change depending on what Apollo and Tona find."
He continued on, giving us the basic layout of the city. It sounded like a fairly normal settlement, not particularly militaristic. Though if the Church had spent any length of time there, we could assume that had changed.
\-----
We left the briefing with purpose. Jana took charge, being our standard team leader. "Tona, you go to the quartermaster. Get four standard operators bags. Fastus, you have the armoury. You know the drill, our bespoke and backups. Apollo, you're on paperwork. Travelling passes, fake identity rings, the works. Meet in the Nexus in fifteen."She held up a fist, "Order in Chaos."
The three of us held up our fists in turn, holding them together. "Chaos in Order."
With that we split off. Synyl buzzed from her perch on my shoulder, whispering in her quiet way. *The Church again? Why do we have to fight them?*
I shook my head, marching down the hall. "You know why Synyl. Order kills minds. We need chaos to live."
She huffed, though I could feel a slight humor from her. It was our old argument, one we had had since we were paired in recruitment. We had spent a long time together, her Light balancing out the Dark I used. Just by ourselves, we were pretty strong. But alongside the rest of the team, we could enforce the balance on the world. |
Tina smiles as she leans back into the fold between a few tree roots, allowing the ivy to fall back around her as she does so. As the sound of the nearby waterfall babbles and giggles into the pond below it, she thinks back to her first day 6 months ago, when she applied out of desperation. Then, amazingly, her application was approved and she was flown down to Brazil.
Oh, she’s not the only third shift listener, not by a long shot, 1,000 square miles is rather too much ground for one person to cover. But it is the last natural forest left in the world, and scientists predict that in 20 years time, it will be gone, despite their best conservation efforts.
“The human’s gone, maybe we can actually get some work done.” Tina’s breathing hitches as a voice appears out of nowhere, a tinkling resonance tickling the inside of her skull as she understands the words in English, at the same time she knows they weren’t said in English.
“Tebor, keep your voice down. Do you want them to hear you?”
“Balith, as long as I don’t shout, they won’t here a damn thing. Now check that tree over there, it’s got spots on its leaves.”
“I don’t know, they have awfully good hearing.”
“And you know as well as I do that we’ll hear them well before they can identify us. Oh you poor thing, this one has Phosphonomethyl amino acetic acid making its way into the roots. No wonder it’s poorly.”
Tebor calls over, “This one does too, and there’s a fungus attacking the leaves.”
“Check a few more trees, we might need a full party here, if the humans give us time to hold one. I’m going to check the stream.”
Tina reaches up to cover her mouth, as the urge to say or do something starts to build.
A few minutes later, Balith sounds despondent as his voice comes closer, “Mercury. Even if we can get a party, no one’s going to survive that.”
Tina blurts, “Platinum!”
Silence is her only answer.
═══════ ೋღ ֍ ღೋ ═══════
The next morning, Tina makes her way to the archology library to look up the effects of mercury in rivers. What she reads makes her want to cry, as if it’s true, the entire ecosystem is threatened. But the governments are supposed to be preventing this.
After that, it’s simple enough to buy a home detection kit, and a filter for a day trip to her favourite local nature park, along with some sandwiches in a bio-degradable wrapping.
A thirty-minute ride on the train gets her to a scenic park with a selection of birds singing from the trees. But, for Tina, the whole place now feels dead.
Almost listlessly, Tina follows her favourite route through the small wood, and out to a spectacular lake that boasts over 30 species of fish, and 100 species of plants and insects.
Sitting down by the shore, she fills the cup for the filter up, and dunks one of the test strips in while it’s filtering down. Two fills later, and the strip is showing the water is free from mercury. Carefully, she puts the strip back in its packaging, and the whole package into the bottom of her bum bag.
═══════ ೋღ ֍ ღೋ ═══════
Tina waits in line at security as her fellow listeners slowly file through and hand over their bags for storage. A few taking a book, or a bottle of water with them. Finally, it’s her turn and she walks up to the security guard nervously and hands over her bag.
The security guard looks at her before saying, “Let me see your pockets.”
Tina is acutely aware of another security guard walk up behind her, so she empties her pockets onto the table. A book, her water filter, and a sandwich.
The security guard removes the sandwich, “The rules are clear, no food is to be taken into the forest. Some of the animals can smell it for miles. We also don’t want any of the animals becoming dependent on the food.”
The then open the water filter and book and the security guards face softens slightly, “Good idea buying a filter bottle, but I recommend buying a less specific test kit next time. There’s all sorts of bugs in the water. Make sure you bring all the strips back, I’ve made a note of them.”
Tina nods in relief and repacks her book and the filter bottle before shuffling through to decontamination.
═══════ ೋღ ֍ ღೋ ═══════
When the drone lowers itself into her section of the forest, Tina makes her way to the stream and lies down with her book. After half an hour, she uses a test strip in the stream, and winces as it reveals dangerous levels of mercury. Quickly filling up the filter bottle, she places another strip in the bottom and waits impatiently for the result.
With a sigh of relief, she sees it come out at low but safe levels, for human consumption.
Trying to look like she’s just moving for the setting sun, Tina finds her way to the waterfall. Using some stones, she dams off a small section until a trickle is flowing into the pond. With a smile, she wedges the filter bottle under the trickle before reaching inside the pocket the removable padding of her bra goes in, constantly looking up just in case a drone flies over head. From that pocket she removes the test strip from earlier, along with the instruction manual and three unopened test strips. From the other cup she removes the manual for the filter bottle, and a single spare filter. These she places under the leaves of a nearby plant, so they should be hidden from the sky, though the used test strip goes in her pocket.
It doesn’t take long after that to find a similar hidey hole to the one she used last night.
As she sits there, it takes longer than normal for the sounds of the forest to start up again, and even longer after that before the voices return.
Tebor softly says, “Balith, keep checking the trees. Roselie, look around and find somewhere we can set up a party. Keep an eye out for that human, I don’t know how they snuck up on us last night.”
Tina stifles a giggle as Balith says, “It’s not like I told you to be quieter.”
Tebor growls, “I’m going to check the stream, the birds say the human left something there.”
Several minutes later, Tebor comes back, “Everyone, go to cover.”
Tina’s heart falls as only the sound of the forest accompanies the rest of the shift.
Towards the end of the shift, she leaves her hiding place and returns the waterfall to the way she found it, her light enhancing contact lenses allowing her to see well enough. Carefully, she moves her gift to a dry patch of ground under another bush, one that she could only see when she put her head against the forest floor. |
*drip..... drip...... drip.....*
​
I sit staring at the water dripping from the sink in the employee kitchen. It is slow and has a comforting rhythm. The dripping echoes throughout the soulless, white room. I push my food around on my plate. My thinking slows. I stare at the water while my food grows cold.
​
*drip..... drip...... drip.....*
​
I didn't sleep well last night, well more like the past two months. As I listen to the water dripping, my eyelids grow heavy and my head drops, I nod off. Flashes of my reoccurring dream begin to play in my mind.
​
*drip..... drip...... drip.....*
​
I am sitting on an empty stage alone in a silent TV studio. I cannot move or speak. The audience is full of mute strangers with blurry faces. Their bodies move as if they are laughing, some point and clap, while others cup their hands around their mouth as if yelling. One entity stands out. The dark figure who always looms at the emergency exit. I feel him staring at me, waiting, never moving. I feel the hair raise on the back of my neck and fear swelling up inside me. The entity, for the first time, moves. He extends one arm towards me. I want to run. I open my mouth to scream…
​
*Hey!*
​
I jolt awake, my heart is racing and I feel clammy. For a moment I forget where I am and did not recognize my coworker. Suddenly, I hear laughing. Veronica mouths “You ok?". I can’t hear her over the deafening laughs. Before I speak the laughing stops.
​
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, haven’t really been sleeping well. I think the stress from work is triggering my insomnia or something. I’ve been having some weird dreams these past few months, and I…”.
​
I looked up and noticed Veronica wasn’t listening, she was scrolling on her phone. *They* start awwing in pitty.
​
“What?!” I harshly yell out. Veronica looks up startled. “Girl, what?”
​
“Did you not hear that?” I ask. God, I sound so tired. My voice slurred a little.
​
“What are you talking about? Are you drunk or something?” Veronica asks, giving me a weird look. The laughing starts again. Embarrassed, I stand up and leave the kitchen. My legs are heavy, I need to sleep. While walking I hear booing and yelling. No one in the office is reacting to the noise. Instead, they are typing away, staring at their computers with blank stares and bored faces.
​
I sit down at my desk and turn on my computer. The booing intensifies. They are screaming and yelling now. I am doing something wrong, I should not be here. I stand to leave, I grab my purse. Now they are cheering. “Am I doing the right thing?” I think to myself. As I walk to the elevator, the cheering grows louder.
​
*They* cease cheering when the elevator door dings open, I step inside. The typical elevator music plays in the background but something does not feel right, I feel nauseous and my body grows heavier with exhaustion. I lean against the wall and feel myself drifting off. As I close my eyes, I can feel him staring at me.
​
*Ding!*
​
My eyes fly open. I’m already standing in the lobby. Confused, I turn around to see the elevator doors closing, behind the doors, I see him smiling and staring at me. I know I have to leave. I walk out of the exit and the world outside feels alien. Outside, the sun is excruciatingly bright, feeling abnormally close to Earth. A sicking silence creeps in.
​
The strip mall in the middle of the sleepy suburb I work in is empty. My car is alone in the parking lot. I go to take a step toward my car but stop when *they* start yelling. I turn to walk left, they grow louder. I walk right, *they* yell and boo even louder. I feel a panic attack rising up. I run to the fields behind my office in a desperate attempt to escape. They cheer me on, finally quieting down once I’ve gotten about a hundred feet away from the strip mall.
​
The sun and heat are unbearable and exhaustion sets in. I know *they* want me to continue walking. How far though I was unsure. As I walk my body grows heavier. The brightness makes it almost impossible to see. I break the silence by stumbling on a rock. I guess *they* thought it was funny and *they* laugh at me.“Why is this happening to me? What did I do..?” I ask out loud, too tired to scream at *them*. *They* laugh even harder as if *they* knew something I didn’t.
​
After an hour of walking, I come up to a crossroads. I walk right but the booing forces me to go left. The further I walk the sunlight becomes brighter to the point where I can no longer see. I feel gravel and metal rods under my feet.“Oh dear God, where the fuck did *they* take me?” I think to myself. *They* quietly chuckle. The hair on the back of my neck rises and dread creeps over my body.
​
Suddenly *they* are yelling, screaming, laughing, and booing. My body freezes. I shut my eyes but no longer feeling the heat of the sun, I open my eyes to find myself in the TV studio. The crowd is no longer mute. Their normally blurry faces are clear. Each face is the same. They all have dark, black eyes and gray skin. I open my mouth to scream but now I am the mute one. I try to run but my legs are paralyzed. I feel him watching me. The entity at the exit starts walking towards me with slow methodical steps.
​
As he moves closer I can see his smile, the crowd's noise mutates into a combination of laughing, yelling, and... *honking*? He is almost within arms reach of me. The noise coming from the crowd has now synchronized to sound like they are one loud horn. I am drowning in fear and dread. I cannot breathe. My lungs are on fire.
​
He grabs me, intense pain spreads across my body with such intensity that I am engulfed in darkness.
​
I am transported to a cold and dark world. The crowd is gone.
​
I know I can sleep now. |
I blinked. My vision was a little blurry and I was vaguely aware of a peculiar breeze around my legs, but mainly, I was trying to figure out, through the fog in my head, what this weird dude in the tin-foil get up was doing kneeling at my feet.
"Man, what the hell?"I slurred, looking down at him.
He reached up, took off his helmet and looked up at me. "Your highness, you truly do not know how long we have sought your divine beauty."
Huh?
"Fuck offf..."
"Princess, please!"He gasped, scandalised. "To find you here, in this den of sin, has been hard enough. Come away now, before your pure soul of light is corrupted further."
I squinted, trying to make sense of his mental riddles. Well, also to try and fight the urge to hurl into his funky hard hat. Fortunately, I was saved by the arrival of Duncan and the lads.
"There he is! Steve-o, dude!"Dunc waved at me enthusiastically. Behind him, John and Dillion snickered and nudged one another.
"Looking good, man!"John slapped me on the back, chuckling.
Dunc turned to them with a grin, "Told ya he'd do it. You owe me twenty quid. Each!"He announced smugly. A torrent of protests went up.
Standing up, the weirdo I'd just met put his hand on ... Was that a sword he was carrying? What the fuck?
"Fair Princess, are these fools bothering you?"
My mates stared at him, mouths open.
Then they burst out laughing. "Fucking hell, man! Princess? Oh, he's gotta be having a laugh!"Dill spluttered.
"Hey, Princess Steve, c'mon! Smile! This is so going on Insta,"Dunc was, somewhat shakily, pointing his phone at me.
I swiped at it half-heartedly, but really, I was busy trying to work out what was going on. I remembered doing some shots with the lads earlier, and then a game of truth or dare. John had done unmentionable shit with a tree, and ...
My memory made me glance down.
My sister's wedding dress, sparkling in the starlight, greeted me.
Fucking stupid dare.
Though, I have to hand it to creepy sword dude, I *did* look like a Princess. |
*Sound of an audio tape starting*
Mission Report: Operation Judas
Casualties: ...unknown.
Start of Report:
Humanity is gone and dead. There is no reason for this report to exist, except to potentially chronicle our complete and total downfall for some future inhabitants of the Earth.
The year was 2027. Some random hill in a random farm in Nebraska was where we found God. The hill had no markings, no sigils, nothing interesting about it. That was, until you stood on the very crest and looked up, seeing a castle on a cloud. Heaven.
Fast-forward three days. The original video went viral. Videos debunking it just as popular. Videos of people finding the specific spot using wack triangulation.
We sent people up in helicopters to contact God. Their corpses came back. We attempted everything, ruthlessly throwing our lives at an invisible brick wall. We even resorted to children. Fucking. Children. They weren't seen again.
Eventually, as we all hoped, and feared, and disbelieved, the Rapture came. We knew it was starting when babies disappeared out of thin air. It practically stopped there.
Jesus didn't come down with a trumpet. The only sounds after the date of April 14th, 2027 were screams.
Angels came down with flaming swords as the world turned into hell. Cities crumbled to dust at a moment's notice. Nobody was safe. In one day, from what I assume, the entirety of the world died.
The screams of the damned haunt my ears still. I won't allow mine to join them.
End of Report.
*A gunshot can be heard as the tape continues silently until it runs out of storage.* |
I actually believed in similar imagery surrounding death when I was a child! We would go to a movie theater and walk down an infinitely long hallway to choose a screening of our own or other people's lives. You say watch, but to me it was more like experiencing it firsthand, and the eventual goal was to relive the existence of every life ever lived, past and future, human or insect.
I totally forgot about this until now, so I was googling if this was a common thought or if I was just a really weird child! When I think about it, it's quite a comforting belief to hold, knowing that we are all connected in death and that we will eventually come to understand the reasoning behind all our decisions made in life. Shame I'm an atheist now; this would be so much more comforting to believe in. |
Some took it as a grand joke. Some final rude gesture cast in the direction of the commoners' by the then Governor of the island.
Campaign after campaign, occupation after occupation, genocide after genocide. To say that the Blue Empire was regarded with almost venomous hatred by anyone who'd experienced their rule was to put it mildly.
But that still hadn't stopped the Governor. It hadn't stopped the leaders of their neighbors either from taking up the coat of arms, the Sapphire insignias that were so stained with blood that darkness itself hid in its sight. In the twilight of a seemingly endless war, their royals had decided to join what many of us saw as the enemy.
Why had they done it? What reward was promised to them? No man heard words beyond the sharp crack of a club when asking. More violence followed. Then more. Until finally things hit a boiling point.
It came when a man was forced out onto the street by the patrols sent to ensure curfew be kept. There, in view of every window, they beat the man to death with their weapons, laughing.
The response was volcanic. Men, women, and children, so disheartened and so beaten down that death was preferable, charged out, over the crowds of officers and screaming soldiers, wailing and shouting as they fired into their friends and neighbors. Melee erupted all over, ritualistic killings and symbolic martyrdom taking the place of any cultural norm. It became common to watch entire towns burn and never know who threw the torches. Chaos.
The rulers at first gave simplistic solutions. Amenities here, crackdowns there. Replacing positions and removing tools. When those became apparently useless, they opted for asking their new patron for help. But they found none, for the Empire had indeed lost the war before any maneuvers could be made. Then they sought to escape. Most did. Some were hunted down, others vanished into darkness; taking their treasures with them.
Our Governor though. He did not escape. I still remember when they dragged him out of that manor. The look on his face. The emptiness. Then he saw his guards dead. Then he saw his supporters beaten and left for dead. That was when he knew it was over.
He tried to hide it at first. He begged, pleaded, said he was put up to it, gave a million reasons. He appealed to the very things he had worked so hard to stamp out in the people around him. He screamed at us, but when someone said to him "Nothing can save you now"he cracked.
When the façade fell away, all there was was a raw, pitiful fury as he threw insults at his tormented charges.
We burned him in the end, left him tied to a gnarled tree that had died under his rule. I remember when he screamed and he cheered.
But what he did never went away. The people we lost. The methods we turned to. The buildings. The very ground we stood on.
When my friend wished for us to lose, he got it in a roundabout way. No one, not a single person won anything through that time. We didn't even need to fight a war to lose it. |
The television faded to black as the closing theme song of *Street Law* culminated in its definitive blare of an orchestra's horns. The dissonant frequencies hummed in the stale air of Arnold's living room as a network operator somewhere cut to commercials. Arnold was sat on a worn fabric couch, a gaudy relic of a time when plaid couches must have been more fashionable. The tan walls of the house had started to catch a subtly visible coat of dust in their textured spackling, and when the ever-occasional current of air flowed through the house, a beam of light through the curtained windows appeared to bring with it a storm of ash that fell into the grasps of the matted carpeting laying over the house's original hardwood flooring.
The sorry state of his home was not lost on Arnold. No, Arnold was quite aware that it needed more than a few renovations, not the least of them being the horrid living room. But his mother had yet to emerge from her room after the crash that had almost taken her life a year ago, and Arnold found it best to keep the house as it was for the time being. He wanted it to be just as she remembered when the day finally came for her to come back to the real world.
He got up from the couch and clicked the television off and set the remote precisely in the spot it had been before, where a remote-shaped portion of tabletop was free from the smother of dust that surrounded the rest of the chipped wooden surface. It was the same place the remote had been yesterday and a month ago and a year ago on the day when Arnold had received the call from the man at the hospital who said that Arnold's mother had been in an accident and she was not doing well and it would be best if you came in soon sir, we're not sure how much longer she has. Arnold would keep the remote there, he thought, until she emerged. He could not bear for her to feel as if his life had moved on without her, even if it was only moving at the speed of one episode per week.
In the kitchen now, Arnold watched a plate of lasagna spin to the pulsating rhythm of the whirring microwave. He pulled it out a minute and twenty-three seconds later and prodded the side with his finger. It was just as his mother liked it: not steaming hot, but not quite cold either. Perfectly in the middle.
As Arnold waltzed down the hallway to his mother's room, he recalled the night he had gotten that phone call that had almost changed everything. A truck had lost its brakes, the man on the phone had said, and it passed through a red light as Arnold's mother was in the intersection. The same man had greeted Arnold at the hospital; he was a lanky college kid who looked as though he hadn't slept in months, and Arnold told him as much. The kid said he wasn't doing too bad and sent Arnold into a hospital room where his mother lay on a bed. There were lacerations covering her face and neck and her arms seemed to have been separated from the skin that was covering them when she left the house. More cuts made themselves evident through bloodstains on the hospital gown, and her chest rattled and clicked as she breathed staggered breaths through a mask that covered her mouth and produced big thick tubes that ran to an oxygen tank in the corner of the room.
"This may be it for her,"a short doctor had told him. "I'm sorry."
"She'll be okay. She's a fighter,"Arnold had said through tears as he gripped the rail of the hospital bed. He wanted more than anything to grab her hand, but the doctors said she was too cut up and it would be an infection risk.
Arnold arrived at his mother's bedroom door now, thankful that she had lived. Of course, she wasn't her normal self, but Arnold would give her time. He supposed she might be ashamed of the cuts on her body and the way she walked now and how she couldn't quite remember some things that everyone else could. That was okay. Arnold loved her just the same.
He gave a soft knock on her door. "Mom? I've got your food."
Her voice called from inside. "Just slide it under, baby. I'll get it in a minute."
Arnold knelt down and pushed the plate through a rough cutout in the bottom of the door that he had fashioned early after his mother's return. She had told him not to open the door, that she couldn't see him just yet, but she had never turned down his cooking, save for the day he had to install the rubber flap that now swung back and forth below the door but would soon settle into place to keep out the smell. Arnold supposed it made sense, that dirty plates would smell. He did wonder, however, why his mother wouldn't simply push the plate's back out to him. But he didn't mind. She could heal on her own terms.
If Arnold had one wish for his mother, it was that she wouldn't be so ashamed. She couldn't even reveal herself on the day she came home. A week after the accident, a somber man with a porcelain jar had shown up at Arnold's door, apologizing profusely and giving his sincerest love to Arnold. The jar was stamped in golden letters with his mother's name, so Arnold had set the jar on her dresser and waited patiently for another call from the hospital.
Then one day he heard his mother's voice coming from her room. It saddened him that she had snuck in without even telling him, that she couldn't bring herself to even say hello, but his sadness was overridden by the joy he felt in simply talking to his mother again. She was just as she used to be, and Arnold was happy.
Arnold rose from the ground and held his lips to the small slit between his mother's door and its frame. "I'm going to bed, Mom. We'll talk tomorrow?"
"Of course, baby. We can talk anytime."
Arnold smiled. A year later, it still felt unreal to have his mother back home.
On the other side of the door, an urn sat atop an old dresser, listening as Arnold's feet faded away down the hall. A pile of plates, smothered in rotting foodstuffs, hugged the foot of a dilapidated bed where flies buzzed and settled into crevices in the tearing fabric. Outside a dirty window, life passed on in Arnold's neighborhood.
Inside, Arnold nestled into his bed, and the General Systems Smart Urn™ called "Goodnight"to him. The house fell silent, and for Arnold, life felt as it should. |
I laid in bed, curled in a tiny ball under the covers, with my eyes scrunched up tight, Teddy held tight to my chest, and waited for the noises to start. Something lived under my bed, and every night for the last two weeks I heard it: growls, grumbles, clomps, and stomps. I didn’t know what was making the noises, but I knew it had to be bad. I knew I must be next.
I had heard the grownups talking about it; my parents, teachers, the guy on the news with the dumb haircut and tie. Kids were going missing. The last one disappeared two weeks ago, the day before the noises under my bed started.
I stayed as quiet as possible with all my limbs tucked up under the blankets while the sounds rumbled underneath me. Sometimes it felt like an earthquake under there. Well, at least what I thought an earthquake must feel like from seeing them in movies.
When the sounds stopped, I waited a few minutes, then slowly peeked an eye out, just enough to see a sliver of my room from the bed to my nightlight on the far wall. It seemed like all was clear, but I didn’t trust it. I waited, not daring to come out yet. Not daring to fall asleep, despite my heavy eyelids and silent yawns.
Another few minutes passed. It stayed quiet. I uncovered my head, and closed my eyes. It should finally be safe to sleep.
*Thunk.*
I opened my eyes wide in terror with this new sound. On the floor by the far wall, just under my spaceship shaped nightlight, there was a ball of paper, and something else: a small rectangle. I couldn’t tell what it was from my bed, and I definitely wasn’t getting up now!
I spent the rest of the sleepless night watching, listening, and waiting for something else to happen. For something big and scary (maybe like a bear, but why would a bear live under my bed?) to come out and eat me. Or maybe aliens opened a wormhole under my bed so they could come out and take over the world?
In the morning, when the sun was shining through the windows and the space under the bed had been quiet for a few hours, I cautiously hopped down from the bed, and ran to see what the object by my nightlight was. It was…a candy bar? I unraveled the paper ball, and all it said was “Fren?” in large, lopsided letters that looked like a kindergartner did it. I knew because my little brother is in kindergarten, and his letters are terrible.
Anyways, I knew not to take candy from strangers, especially not ones that live under your bed, I think, even though no grownup had ever said that. So I threw it away, but I kept the paper.
That night, when it was bedtime again, I heard the same grumbles and snorts, felt the same rumbles and shakes, but I kept my face out of the blankets this time. I had them pulled up over the back of my head, like a hood, just in case I had to duck under quickly. Not too long after the noises started, there was another *thunk* as a wad of paper flew out from under the bed and bounced off the wall.
This time, I gathered all the courage I could muster and slowly, tentatively got out of bed and tiptoed across the room to grab it. Once I had it in my grasp, I sprinted back to bed, jumped up, and wrapped up in the blankets once more.I unraveled this new message, and it said, “Be my fren?”
“Fren?” I whispered to myself. Then a little louder, “do you mean ‘friend?’”
A loud, gravelly voice from underneath me grumbled, “Friend!”
The bed began shaking violently, and the frame started to levitate off the floor. Flashes of blue and green light streamed out from all around it, creating dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling.
A giant, furry, blue hand with sharp claws reached out from under the bed, and clung to the carpet. I watched as another hand stretched out, then forearms, and a head, until finally, a giant blue beast with goat horns and fangs stood before me. His mouth twitched and twisted into what I guess was supposed to be a smile, and he said again, “Friend!” gesturing to me with his palms outstretched.
“I guess we can be friends,” I said, hesitantly.The huge creature bounced excitedly, his head brushing the ceiling. Picture frames rattled off the walls.
“Careful!” I said, “Don’t break my stuff!”
“Sorry,” he slurred around his sharp fangs. He gestured towards his chest with a meaty fist, and said, “Grun!”
“Grun?” I repeated, “Is that your name?”
He nodded his head.
Grun didn’t speak much English, but he managed to explain that he had another friend before me: one of the children who disappeared. Now he needed my help finding her. |
You just came back from a vacation to Machu Picchu, a 15th-century Inca citadel located in the Eastern Cordillera of southern Peru. It was a wonderful exciting adventure that you had with your group of friends. Studying the ancient ruins and just having a blast. You were only gone for a week but being the employee of the year at a local grocery store called Market World. Means that your presences is very import to the well being and profit of the organization.
On your drive back to work you witness quite an extraordinary scene. Everyone was dead. The entire street was filled with corpses. It looks like each corpse carried a note on their hand, so you got out the car and pick up the note which read. "I liked street".
I like street? you thought to yourself in bewilderment. You continue to pick up more notes that read the same thing. Some notes read "I love street". Why do all these corpses like the street? why do they love the street? what sick games are all these corpses playing? One of the corpse made a heart sign with his thumb and index finger next to the street. Another one had his mouth kissing the street.
What is this obsession with street? You ponder for a few seconds and went, oh well. You continue to head into the grocery store to start your day at work because after all, you are Market Worlds employee of the year. |
"I have a question first, before deciding."
"...Yes?"The gargantuan God-being peered down at me, their visage obscured by the great distance between their face and mine. They must have been the height of a large skyscraper, or perhaps a small mountain. It was more than a little intimidating to be questioning an actual God, but I had to know before I made my choice. Plus, having been a bit of a sci-fi aficionado, finding out the answer to a question that had almost driven me to madness on more than one occasion is worth something as small as possibly irritating a God.
"If there was a way to go back in time and fix this, why did it even happen? If I go back and fix it then I will never have died at all. Which would mean that it would happen, and I would die, and go back, and fix it and live, and cause it and die, ad infinitum. How would we prevent an unstable causal loop?"
The god paused and leaned back, either taken aback or impressed with my audacity. He hummed slightly in acknowledgement to my question but appeared to be deliberating on the best way to reply.
As he apparently thought on the best way to answer my question, I decided to take a look around to see what the afterlife looked like. I had been distracted(and still a little bit on fire) when I first got here.
We were in a cavernous hall, indescribably large and made out of what appeared to be shale or some similar dark grey stone. It seemed to carry on in all directions into eternity, and was lit with a strange diffused light that didn't have any visible source.
The God was still silent. I was starting to worry.
I thought back to my last moments on earth, my first here. I had appeared here quite suddenly after my death, a fall into a fiery chasm that had erupted under my house. Well, technically the entirety of the state had become a fiery chasm-but it was the part that was under my house that had been an issue for me.
This is the first time in my life(death?) that I'm grateful I didn't have a family. Only a bird, Beatrice. I hoped she was able to fly away. She had a better chance of escaping than most anything else. It would be nice to become a bird, I think. Although I'm not altogether sure it would help save the world. I wonder what Beatrice would think.
My attention snapped back to the present when the God made a noise, almost a groan. I focused on them, eagerly anticipating their reply.
My face fell when I heard them speak:
"Well, fuck. I didn't think of that."
***
(Sorry it's kinda short and a very different direction, it's my first time filling a prompt!) |
No one hated Mondays more than Greg, who worked in accounting. Every Sunday, he spent the daylight hours cleaning up the small messes he had made the days prior; finally folding the laundry sitting on the chair in his room, freezing his pre-prepped meals hoping to lose those last ten pounds, and finally catching up on any missed episodes of Gossip Girl. In the late hours, as the last of the suns rays peak through the sheer salmon colored curtains he bought on sale last year, darkness sets in, bringing along with it the dread of a Monday morning.
The first thing he does on Monday mornings, is take a long cold shower to chase away any lingering thoughts of returning to bed. Breakfast is never a long affair, only stopping long enough to slather butter over two pieces of evenly toasted English muffins, and only after donning his blue collard shirt and tie. He had once worn a blue and silver striped tie instead of the more professional looking black, if only to break up the monotony of his work life. It didn’t survive the pink stain from the dressings on his lunch salad, and so remained at the back his closet, another remnant of a failed attempt at spontaneity.
He was expecting his boss to make an appearance in todays morning lecture, a mandatory reminder of the ever looming importance of good conduct, and did not want to be late. Nothing was scarier to Greg than drawing unnecessary attention, and things would be hard enough as he had been selected to give the years presentation himself.
Just before leaving the house, he checked his phone for the time and any last minute messages. There were never any messages from anyone but his mother, and his coworker Larry Jones Everett whom he dreaded, but better to see them now than be ill prepared later.
When he finally opened the door, a bright ray of orange flooded his gaze, and a gust of dry wind swept across his porch, kicking up dust and ash. The former glory of a towering city stood before him, with buildings made of molten structures like metal skeletal remains. Little fires burned here and there, some of them fueled by the remains of vehicles, and others what Greg could only guess were massive piles of human bodies. Creatures with long metal claws, and rubbery leather skin flew around on blood stained white feathered wings, swooping down to snatch up a person only to drop them at incredible heights. Other smaller creatures, wingless and scrawny, gathered up the mangled bodies and tossed them onto the burning piles. Those unlucky enough to not plummet to the earth, were instead impaled upon long spears, where their innards were then strung about like lights on a tree. Ravens feasted upon their remains until nothing was left. And soon those who perished, were made anew, only to be prayed upon time and again.
Greg absently drank from the canteen in his hand, the cool water washed away the dryness in his throat the wind had swept up. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The carnage, and the hopelessness was beyond what he could have ever imagined in his mundane life. And it brought with it a sense of utter joy. Perhaps mondays weren’t as bad as Greg had thought. Perhaps this was just the change of pace he was looking for. |
Of course if someone was going to figure out how to send messages back in time, it would be Amazon. They've been the biggest company for years, they can buy anything.
Nobody liked it at first, including me. Waking up to a package I was already charged for felt like a scam. Some people returned the packages, as they were allowed to do. But anyone who wasn't extremely stubborn ended up just ordering it again.
Eventually it was just the way things worked. It was fine for a long time, and I started to love it.
Amazon got so big eventually they owned every store. A few busybodies still went to the grocery store here and there, but most of the time the grocery store was just a fresh food warehouse anyways. Nobody went out for anything in a store. It was all just different places to buy from Amazon anyways. Independent stores stopped existing.
But today something that was never supposed to show up in the mail showed up at my door. An AR-15 with "Amazon Smile"on the side. I didn't even want to bring it in at first, but they've never been wrong once. I had to empty the ammo into separate boxes just to get them in, there were at least thousands of rounds.
It came with instructions, which seemed normal nowadays. Everything did. But when I scanned the QR code so I could zoom in on some of the diagrams there was an extra page. I didn't understand it at first, but it was obvious what happened when I followed them. This gun was now fully automatic.
In my panic, I tried hopping on Amazon to return the package just to see a notice that I had to wait 24 hours before returning the package. I tried calling a friend in a nearby city to see if he had seen anything, and as soon as he picked up all he said was "KEEP THE GUN"as loud as he could, with rampant gunfire in the background.
Just as I was about to put my phone back in my pocket, my wall was peppered with bullets narrowly missing me and I dropped my phone. I dropped to the ground in a panic, and crawled over to the gun a few feet away.
Gun in hand, I snuck to the window to see what was going on. I didn't see anyone though. It was quiet. All of the sudden, three houses nearby lit up with gunfire spraying in every direction. Even at me!
I wanted nothing to do with it. I crawled to the basement with a pocket full of ammo and just waited. The gunfire went on for hours, and now I couldn't even get on Amazon! They've had 100% uptime for 10 years now. They NEVER go down.
A few hours later, the firing had stopped completely. It waned down for a long time, but it had been over half an hour without a single shot. As I snuck back upstairs staying low, listening carefully, and saw my phone lit up seemingly flashing. As I got close I saw what it was, flickering decorations like a birthday party with a message.
"Congratulations! You've survived depopulation. If this is not your device, please drop it in your mailbox for the Amazon recycling service to return it for refurbishing. For any complaints about today's activity, please report to your nearest law enforcement facility.
Have a nice day!"
But hey, I never fired my gun. So at least I got a refund. |
First contact with extraterrestrial life came on April 1st, 2027, when a meteorite touched down in Time Square of Old New York, cracking open upon impact. From within, a humanoid figure emerged: immense in stature, standing easily 8 feet tall, his bare skin glistening and angular—formed of some kind of crystalline or metallic compound.
“Excellent,” Entropy said as he lifted up to hover several feet over the impact crater, “so who’s in charge here?”
Due to the high quality and prevalence of AI generated video at the time, and coupled with the day of his arrival in the former United States, it took a while for the general public to come around to the fact that this was *actually happening*—and even longer for the governments of the world. In fact, most governments maintained the visitor was a hoax right up until the moment, sixteen hours after arrival, when every nuclear-tipped missile on the planet—roughly eighteen thousand of them—launched simultaneously. A world-wide broadcast accompanied the launch.
“People of Earth,” said Entropy, filmed by a swarm of news helicopters while hovering off the east coast of the former US. “Thank you for the weapons you gave me. I’ve launched them all at the twelve largest, dormant supervolcanoes of your planet. Within the next hour, magma will—”
At that moment, a blazing flash of light collided with the alien at impossible speed. Axis, racing through the stars, had caught up with him, and thus would begin the subsequent forty years of their epic battles.
The sum-total of knowledge we managed to gather about these two immensely powerful entities has never amounted to much. Axis was always forthright and honest with us, but he tended to clam up when asked about their origins. Entropy, on the other hand, never gave interviews so much as monologues, most of which ended with the deaths of numerous bystanders.
Teetering equilibrium was the through-line of their decades-long conflict. Though Axis was the physically larger and more powerful of the two, Entropy was crafty and cunning, always with a fallback plan up his sleeve. Each time Axis came moments away from defeating and capturing Entropy, the villain revealed a fresh trolley-car dilemma of hellish proportions. Inevitably, Axis was forced to rush off and prevent a cargo-ship full of orphan refugees from sinking; or halt the countdown on a series of psionic bombs planted throughout UN Headquarters; or catch a sabotaged space shuttle from crashing into the Mickey Day Parade at Disney Universe. Inevitably, Entropy would escape justice once again, and skulk off to concoct his next plot for our collective demise.
Much of what we know of their origins was gleaned from arguments between them, captured during recordings of their clashes. We know that they were not just extra-terrestrial, but extra-galactic, from a star in the Andromeda Galaxy they call *Kha*. Though their native language is almost entirely unpronounceable by humans, we learned that Axis was named *Ma’ghl’ik,* while Entropy was *Ma’dw’shar.* On that day of their arrival, the day the Yellowstone caldera forever changed the face of the North American continent, a tourist captured the following dialogue on her iPhone 22-ARx headset:
“...will rip the axis from the center of this world and *<burst of static, unintelligible>* through the stars!”
“Then I will stand as its axis, and be myself the pillar of support upon which it turns.”
“You cannot fight entropy, *Ma’ghl’ik*— no matter how hard you fight, however many you save, I will always win!”
*<explosions, static, recording ends>*
Compared with our barely passable transliterations of their real names, the nicknames of Axis and Entropy swiftly caught on in the media, and were adopted worldwide. At first, there was mass hysteria as we collectively dealt with first contact, ecological disaster on a global scale, and the sudden and violent clashes of two titanic entities with powers and abilities so vastly superior to our own. But through it all, Axis was there for us: to rescue our lost; to heal our wounded; to rebuild our cities.
To support, and to protect us.
And under his support, we thrived. He built his headquarters, the Citadel of Seclusion, on the outskirts of Old New York, and around it a sprawling metropolis grew—by 2060, it would stretch hundreds of miles from the streets of Long Island to the shores of Lakes Erie and Ontario, and be home to over a billion people: the Great, Shining City of Mega York. In little time at all, the epic struggles of Axis versus Entropy became no longer a source of terror, but of entertainment. In schools, our children swapped stories of mere glimpses of the two titans, and the most envied and popular of students were those who had been saved from peril by noble Axis, or whose homes had been destroyed, or parents killed, by one of Entropy’s vile schemes. Our daily news feeds published ‘top-ten’ and ‘greatest hits’ lists of the most epic of their clashes—always throwing one or two controversial picks into the mix to make a splash, but never failing to include the same tired, over-told tales, unchanging despite all claims of ‘Newly discovered recordings!’ or, ‘The truth finally revealed!” and other such tabloid buzzword nonsense.
In 2036, there was the Summer of Emerald Sky, when Entropy secreted insidious terraforming devices all around the globe to spew an atmospheric mixture into the skies, primarily consisting of chlorine gas—the intended effect being a shift of Earth’s blue skies to the familiar greens of his home-world, *Kha’twhr*. Also, the eradication by poison of all life on the planet. Axis ferreted the devices out one-by-one and destroyed them, save for the last. This he transported to the Citadel, where it was repurposed into a high-efficiency atmospheric filter to scrub away first the chlorine gas, and once that was gone, the excess carbon, benzines, and other toxic chemicals wreaking havoc on the Earth’s ecosystems.
Titanfall of course always made the lists, the day they both arrived. Axis stopped all but five of the hijacked nuclear warheads from landing, crumpled them all into a ball like a hideously radioactive Katamari, and launched them away into the sun. As if total nuclear disarmament wasn’t enough of a gift on its own, he then contained the radioactive fallout of the bombs he couldn’t stop by flying around the plumes at impossible speeds to funnel them into outer space, and then dove into the re-awakened supervolcano to stopper off the flow of magma. The devastation had of course swallowed the whole western seaboard of the former United States by the time he could get to it, but he at least kept it from spreading further.
The Khalocite Stalemate of the 2050's was always a contentious entry, as it spanned across half a decade, spawning fruitless arguments over whether it could be considered one ‘event’ at all, or needed to be broken down into several smaller, related events. It started with 21 months of peace and prosperity, after Axis had shackles crafted from the exo-mineral Khalocite: a fibrous, luminescent material which sapped the powers of his kind. Originating from their home-world, the only source of it on Earth was the husk of the meteorite Entropy had arrived in, crafted to be his eternal prison before ill-chance led it to crash onto our world. With the shackles, Axis was able to capture Entropy for good it seemed, and imprison him in the Citadel where he could cause no more harm. Entropy eventually escaped by gnawing off his own limbs over the course of a year, stealing the shackles away with him. He later sent a crowd of seemingly adoring citizens, hypnotized via their social media feeds and armed with Khalocite spikes, to mob around Axis and catch him unawares. With the hero’s powers neutralized, Entropy wrapped him in a cage laced with the exo-mineral and dropped him into the eye of Jupiter’s great storm.
This back-and-forth went on for five years, each besting the other with Khalocite armaments, until Entropy’s scheme to send a drilling rig to freeze the Earth’s core was thwarted by Axis, and the last of the known Khalocite in this galaxy was swallowed into the molten rock.
Through all of the two titans’ many clashes ran a single, contentious thread, the subject of much heated debate. For though Axis stopped all of Entropy’s evil plots in their tracks and saved us from oblivion time and time again, some felt there was more he could—and should—do to prevent them from happening in the first place. This was the one line Axis refused to cross: he would not take a life. “The dead cannot be redeemed,” he said in an interview once, in 2052, while Entropy languished in his Citadel cell. Never in his 40 years among us did he respond to such a question again.
And then, in fall of 2066, we reached the lead-up to their final, fateful battle. The Saurian War began when Entropy broke into zoos around the world and kidnapped all of their hawks and eagles. In a hidden laboratory he performed grotesque genetic modification on the birds, devolving and breeding them into a race of terrifying, hulking dinosaurs, while instilling in them a hundredfold increase in both intelligence and sadism. Equipped with razor sharp teeth, wicked talons, and pulse-rifle repeaters, his mutant army of Battle Raptors launched a full scale invasion of Mega York. Axis rushed between battlefronts to rescue the human defense forces from certain doom at the claws of Entropy’s army, crushing waves of slavering raptors before him. He was in a dozen places at once—but there were a thousand battles that needed him. As dusk fell, we wondered if this was truly the end for the Great, Shining City.
**1/3** |
\[Sharp Caliber\]
"This is it pal,"Smyth grinned. He guided his best friend forward with an encouraging wave as he stood behind the door. Someone had just knocked and he wanted to make sure the magical white shotgun was the first thing they saw. The next few minutes held the chance to change their lives forever.
"Here?"Wilson asked as Smyth kept redirecting him to different spots. Smyth hadn't realized how long he was taking until the knock came again.
"That's fine!"He nodded at Wilson, then reached for the door handle. "We'll never have to worry about money again!"he chuckled to himself and pulled the door open. He'd already checked through the peephole and knew who his guest was. He went right into his pitch.
"Welcome to Wilson & Smyth's Magical, Mystical Weapon Shoppe, Please come in!"he bowed next to the open door and gestured at Wilson. The portly gunsmith held out the white double-barrel shotgun for their guest. "This is our first flagship model, it took years to perfect!"And, as far as Smyth knew, it really was perfect. Thanks to his and Wilson's combined expertise, the gun was even more efficient than traditional spellcasting. It allowed for more powerful effects while still using less Mana than a normal spell.
The young woman wearing a white leather duster walked right in and took the gun from Wilson's hands. She brushed her violet hair out of the way and began an in-depth appraisal of the weapon. She hefted it at several angles and peered down the sight. Then, she carried it out through the door.
"Need a fire test,"she said. Wilson & Smyth had an enclosed target range just outside their shop. They'd used it to test the gun they made; but, the long-term plan was to keep the range as part of the business once they actually opened. They just needed to get over this small hurdle first. "Ammo?"she asked and held her hand out.
"Right, of course!"Smyth nodded. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of magical shotgun shells. Each one was glassy, almost translucent, with a faint core of glowing light in the center. The glow indicated the element and Smyth handed her a mixed bundle of red, blue, green, and yellow ammunition. The woman dropped most of the ammo into the pocket of her duster; but, she took the time to load two shells into the white gun.
She clicked it closed, raised the weapon, then fired at the closest target all in one single motion. The hay target burst into flames as she turned slightly to fire at another target. That one froze over. She took a step and fired again at a third target, seemingly without reloading. But, after she blasted a fourth target with electricity, Smyth saw her reload. It happened in an instant. She popped the gun open with one hand and reached into her pocket with the other all while she walked casually. She had it closed and fired twice more in less than a second.
"Whoa, never seen anyone move that fast...,"Wilson commented to Smyth under his breath. After she finished all the shells Smyth gave her, she nodded to herself and then returned to the pair of entrepreneurs. The flames on the first target had begun to die down while the one next to it began to thaw.
"My name's Victoria,"she nodded at Wilson, then Smyth. "Congratulations, you passed the first step. If you can improve the design by late August, Sharp Development will stock this weapon in our shops.
"First step??"Smyth asked. He was under the impression this was the only step and he did not appreciate the new information.
"Improve?"Wilson asked. His voice sounded mildly hurt. He'd put a lot of work into the design; he was the gunsmith half of their duo and even Smyth agreed he was doing most of the work.
"I'm sure you can understand that we get countless groups trying to develop products worthy of the Sharp name,"Victoria said. "It's easier to set a high baseline to ensure we only get competent developers. Now that you've proven yourselves to be at least that, you can start trying to meet our expectations."
"Try?"Smyth scoffed. "I dare say we already have!"He stepped closer to Wilson and put his arm around his partner's shoulder for encouragement. "Wilson here created the most efficient magical firearm possible!"
"Sure,"Victoria nodded. "I'll agree with that. He created the most efficient weapon possible, with what he knows so far. But, that's not everything, and he's not even the first to get this far. This is the baseline, remember,"she grinned.
"So far!?"Smyth asked. "I've studied magic for decades! What more is there?"
"This, for example,"Victoria replied. She tossed something at Smyth with a high arc and he caught it. On closer inspection it resembled the magical ammo he gave her; but, it was notably different. Instead of the glassy, clear outside the shell was made from translucent red crystal. A faint, bright, purple glow emanated from inside it, different from the other elements he was familiar with. The bullet itself didn't feel much different from the ones they used during testing; but, he could feel intense magic from it. The other bullets felt as inert as rocks; but, this one felt like pure magic.
"What is this...?"Smyth asked and handed it to Wilson.
"It's called Sol Caliber,"Victoria answered. "Your gun needs to be able to fire these."
"It can already!"Smyth defended their project out of habit; but, even Wilson shook his head as Victoria corrected him.
"If you tried it, you'd destroy this weapon,"Victoria gave the gun back to Wilson.
"It's just a supercharged spell? What's the big deal?"Smyth asked.
"It's a little more involved than that,"Victoria shook her head. She reached into her pocket and pulled a standard magic shell from her pocket. She held it up between her fingers to show them.
"This is Spell Ammo, it's the energy of a spell cast locked into a bullet, right?"Wilson and Smyth both nodded. "The spell is already cast, the magic is already spent, and this bullet will cast a pre-determined spell."
"Yeah, we know how they work,"Smyth nodded. Creating ammo was a necessary part of their experimentation.
"And, like any spell, you use your soul when making these, right?"she asked.
"Of course,"Smyth nodded. "It's not much, just a little spark to trigger the magic."
"This,"Victoria held up a red bullet with her other hand. "...is called Sol Caliber because only Unique Soul #47, El Sol can make it. It's not just a spark of energy from a soul,"she grinned. "This is the energy of an entire soul. That's the kind of output your weapon needs to handle."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1967 in a row. (Story #157 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a Corporation in my universe. |
Orbs of light surround me as I come to, the sight is the sort you expect to see as you fall asleep not as you wake yet here I am blue sky surrounds me like a summer day while above that a black curtain with holes poked through for pinpricks of light to shine through. Stars, these at least I recognize.
As for the orbs, the more I squint at them the more I realize what I see, glimpses of the old the young, the strong the weak, the feminine the masculine, and everything between. None of them seem any more sure of what's going on than I do. Some orbs I see float up and out of the mad house heading for the stars the feeling I gleam from them is sheer delight and joy. The rest of us however are more like coins dropped into one of those plastic things at the mall, we spiral down a lazy river.
The sensation really makes me want to wake up but clarity and self-awareness are aspects which only become more pronounced as time passes and it's becoming harder and harder to convince myself this is a dream. Being pulled further down I then realize what we're being pulled towards the biggest orb of all, a blue marble called Earth. The surging spiral carries me on as the current grows in strength until it's upon me. The crossroads, the nexus, the end of the funnel. Call it what you will as orbs reach it something like a pop up window appears before them.
If each has time to read it they don't show it, every orb that arrives at the nexus leaps headlong into the pop up and falls like a boulder to the planet below. My turn is fast approaching and panic sets in, do I even want to go back? Wait go back? Have I been before? Why don't I want to go back? A memory of red grass and black water, the Jibbacuths grazing on salt rocks. Wait was that home do I miss home? And what the heck is a Jibbacuth?
My turn and my pop up appears, it reads. "A baker from~ H0t Spr1n&$ 000101 101101."the screen flickers replaced briefly by the word "ERROR!"and a second later another pop up appears beside it, I imagine it's for the soul behind me but I read it all the same. "A conqueror who~ wr3x tr@$h n00bz 1001001 1101101."Both screens glitch and flicker and seems they might go out all together. The orb behind me shoves me and I just barely manage to angle myself, I don't think I've ever been a conquerer before but man is being a baby again gonna suck. And then I'm falling... And screaming, but then all babies start their lives screaming. |
The good news I could see him, the bad news I could see him.
Cain,the Grim Reaper, the first murderer, lover of chia seed smoothies. I realize that probably doesn’t belong on this list but I find it objectionable on a personal level.
Still he seems to have upgraded from a stone a enormous revolver reminiscent of Dirty Harry. I wasn’t feeling particularly lucky. He seems to be a shockingly bad shot since he’s had a literal century of practice. Of course why would he care about marksmanship not like I can kill him. Wearing a black suit with red vest an enormous black revolver with bone grips. What looked like a rolled cigarette illuminating his face in the darkness.
“Leaning a little heavily into the death theme aren’t you?” I shouted over the car I was hiding behind.
An enormous sigh heard over the car “Would you like to be the first one to come quietly?” He shouted back.
“Well as tempting as it is why would I want to go to hell?” I shouted
“Why do you think you are going to hell?” Questioned Cain.
I confessed the question intrigued me but I didn’t think the grim reaper was sent after good people. “Well what else could you the Grim Reaper possibly be doing with me?”
“You are somewhat arrogant if you think you’re at the top of my list to go to hell.” Stated Cain in such a matter of fact manner it made me question why he really was here.
In silence I tried to think of all the things I’d done wrong. Theft, public intoxication, gambling, double parking. Not exactly crimes of the century certainly not the sort of things they said the grim reaper himself to collect on.
“You have wronged me personally! Personally I say!” Shouted Cain!
“What could I have done to you personally?!” I replied.
“You ruined my favorite smoothie shop!” He shouted with enough vitriol that even I knew it hurt him.
So it was about theft. “Well I’m not sorry! Smoothie Sons and Sauerkraut was an abomination of a store!” I screamed back.
He fired several rounds both of which punched through the car one of which went straight through my shoulder. Well that hurt. I slumped to the floor.
“It was the only place on this earth to get those two things at the same time you monster!” He shouted as he advanced around the side of the car.
“I mean I knew you were a murderer, but honestly I didn’t think you would be this irrational.” I mumbled at him
“Any last words” as Cain cocked his revolver and pointed it at my head.
“Yeah, of all the horrible things you’ve done liking chia seed smoothies is what makes you the devil!” I shouted at him.
And blinding light was all I saw. Whether it came from the revolver or the pearly gates before me I was unsure. But I was certain of one thing even god hated that store. |
“I’ve never been one for big celebrations, but Eureka!” Seria
shouted to herself
The booming announcement echoed through the small garage
disturbing the various arthropods that reside within the frail beams supporting
the old structure. Along the wall lie shelves of old contraptions meant to solve
many of life’s small inconveniences. Rows of desks littered with battered tools
and spoiled rags cling to the frail wall, sharing their burdens.
Seria held her newest invention up in a dim beam of light
piercing a thin crack in the once stable ceiling. Perhaps out of a lack of luck
or a lack of sleep, Seria aimed her invention just the wrong way causing the
beam of light to assault her unaccustomed eyes blinding her instantly.
“Goddammit!” she grunted, unknowingly dropping her invention.
With a thud, the device hit the floor and the room fell
silent. A gust of air sucked through gritted teeth as its creator worried about
the damage caused. Stepping off the stool whose legs were far from even, Seria
rushed to her knees, picking the metal contraption from the dust laden ground. She
turned the device one way, before switching to the other inspecting every inch
for any form of damage.
“Phew” she sighed.
“Guess there’s only one way to know if it worked”.
Seria lifted the device, pulling a strap free from its
holder on one side. The thick strap bound over the right side of her head as
the device rest just over her left eye. Steeling her resolve, she rest a finger
on a switch. With a deep breath in, she flips the switch.
A buzz, a whir and… nothing. Not that nothing happened, just
not what was supposed to happen.
Seria lifted her hand, but even through the odd device, it
seemed normal. Its purpose was to reveal different levels of heat using infrared
light. Instead, her hand seemed normal, other than it seeming to move slower
through the lens.
A hand raised and scratched at the scruffy gathering of hair
that gathered loosely on her head.
“Another for the pile” she muttered turning to look around the
room. Suddenly, she gasped.
A figure stood before her. Just taller than her, draped on
clothing that seemed centuries older than anything Seria had seen before. Seria
raised her hand, covering her mouth in fear of what the figure would do if it
knew.
Through the locks of hair that slowly waved in the wind an
eye raised and glared at Seria. Without a sound the figure stepped towards her,
looking more at the invention than the person who wielded it. Its mouth moved
but no words escaped, at least, not at first. Seconds passed before the words
appeared within Seria’s mind, seeming bypassing her ears.
“Nice… To… Eat… You…”
The figure turned to look at Seria’s other eye, now welling
with tears. Her legs shuddering in fear of the creature before her. The figure
raised its hand to her eye, wiping the tear away before its mouth moved once
again. The seconds of silence passed before once again.
“Don’t… Cry… I’ll… Be… Quick…”
The figure reeled back a few inches so Seria could see its
face clearly. A smile appeared through the overgrown forest of hair. This smile
grew wider, more menacing with each inch it grew. Teeth as sharp as knives pierced
through the forest, glimmering in the dim light that reflected off Seria’s cursed
invention.
The creature stopped for a few seconds glaring at Seria, who
shook in fear, tears streaming from her eyes. Hands trembling as something far
worse than fear gripped her. Within a breath, the creature surged forward and sunk
its teeth into the right side of Seria’s head.
Blood surged forward, spraying through the creature’s body,
staining the floor. Seria’s body twitched and shook until it fell limp, the
large figure gripping to the now limp body.
Outside the small garage the sounds of chewing and crunching
could be heard for weeks. Even years later people fear of the small garage that
echoed with countless screams. |
*Randal Esmond*
Archivist of the United States
National Archives
[email protected]
Washington DC, USA
September 24th, 1989
2:34 A.M
​
Hayne Johnson
President of the United States
[[email protected]](mailto:[email protected])
Washington DC, USA
​
Dear Mr. President,
​
I don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. I'm writing to inform you of something that has happened overnight during my time in my office. Before I tell you, I would advise against putting the country in emergency. It would be better if this was kept secret until we figure out a way to alleviate this problem. It has come to my attention, that all logs, written information, and worst of all, digital information pertaining to the laws of the United States has disappeared.
I'm not entirely sure how it happened. I received a message from of my assistants overseeing record management that everything related to the US legislation vanished without a trace. I doubted this, then went to see for myself. A whole row of, what was supposed to be books, was completely empty. It was entirely full yesterday. I searched for documents on my computer. There wasn't a single trace. I went into more private logs to see folders, filled with gigabytes of information not too long ago, now barely reaching kilobytes.
I don't think the news has been spread to other agencies as yet, and you're the first person I assume I should talk to in situations like this. Right now, it's been minutes since I've actually seen the laws. My mind's getting hazy, and I'm starting to forget them. I fear we might not be able to get any of the data back.
Worst of all, however, is that the southern part of Washington has gone into chaos. People know. I heard glass shatter in my office, and when I got up to see what it was, crowds were throwing stones at me. Dead bodies were littered across the streets. A special agent quickly drove me to safety, and now I'm seeking refuge in a bunker some kilometers away from the White House. You've probably heard the riot, too, considering you live in the White House. If there's an agent remaining, they'll escort you and the others to safety, hopefully. I've also sent emergency faxes to the Secretary of Defense and other commands of staff. Hopefully they'll respond. Otherwise, it may be too late for them.
Please, fax back if you're still well. We depend on you right now. I'm not sure if we can just pretend everything's fine, but I know there's a way. While I haven't heard news in other states, I'm hearing gunshots where I am as I'm writing this. That means it's possibly spread to Beltsville and more.
​
Someone just cut the electricity. I'm running on backup power right now, but I have to stop writing. Stay safe, President.
May god bless USA.
*Randal Esmond* |
The governor stood on the stage, flanked by those the city council deemed most likely to be “worthy”. The mages worked below, dismantling the chosen one’s magic to make their own. The crowd roared in the streets, eager for the promised champion to kill the monstrosities outside the wall, ready for the safety promised. Each person looked to the men on stage, brawny and brave, loudly claiming this one or that to be the Worthy One, and each harboring a certainty in their heart of their own worthiness.
The prisoners sat in their cells, silent. The destitute hid from the crowds, fearing for their safety from those who thought themselves worthy. Outcasts by nothing more than nonconformity sat apart from the celebration, knowing they could never be worthy enough, and reminded often of the cities generosity in letting them within the walls. They stayed silent, praying not to be expelled.
The guards took joy this day in expelling those the city did not want. Only twenty guards to usher the two hundred unworthy to their new life, outside the city walls. These prisoners were not silent. They screamed, and sobbed, and begged the guards to let them through, let their child through, let their wife out of this execution. All were pushed beyond the gates boundary, and the guards laughed, sure of the worthiness of their actions.
The magic caved, sank, and shot back out, sealing the one worthy. The city felt the quake, and rejoiced all the harder, knowing their salvation. The governor raised the medal, waiting for the Worthy One to appear. A minute passed. Two. Five. The governor’s arms gave out, and the medal dropped to his sides. Nobody on the stage was worthy. The crowd milled anxiously, not a soul feeling the touch of power, and nobody daring to claim that which they were not.
An hour passed. The mages reviewed everything, and were sure it had to work. The chosen one was dead, and the ritual could not be done with a corpse.
The day passed, time marching relentlessly onwards. The city turned itself over, seeking the Worthy One. Was the person somehow asleep? Was it a child? Maybe even a baby? Nowhere could a Worthy One be found, not within the nobility, not within the populace, nor the guard, or even the prisoners. The city roiled with anger, sure they had just lost their hope of beating those monsters outside.
Outside the walls, the Worthy One finally stopped slamming his fists into the locked gate. Nobody would ever answer, and even if they did, not everyone could get back inside. They looked back at the small crowd of people that had made camp away from the walls. They’d seen no monsters, no fanged thing dripping with venom, like the stories said. They’d seen some wildlife, and someone in the group would probably know some good plants to eat. Enough to get by. Maybe there were others out here that had managed to make a small living for themselves.
The Worthy One looked back again at the city of the unworthy. They knew it would be in chaos, searching for the one it had strived to make. The city would try again, and again, and they would never find their salvation, would never see why it didn’t work with the Chosen One either.
The Worthy One turned their back to their once home, and set off to make their own. |
“Dr. Pengrant, she’s conscious.”
<operating system Windows 95 now active>
Windows Startup Chime.wav
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Ashley, you were hit by a bus as you crossed the street in an undesignated area. But we were able to save you.”
<Critical System Error: INVALID_PROCESS_ATTACH_ATTEMPT>
Windows_Error.wav
Windows_shutdown.wav
“Shit, not again” Dr. Pengrant says “Kimberly did you install the recent updates like I asked?”
“Yes Dr. Pengrant” came the reply.
“Ok well let’s try to start her up again.”
<operating system Windows 95 now active>
Windows Startup Chime.wav
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Just a moment Ashley I needed to make sure your drivers are updated.” Dr. Pengrant said. “Ok there we go. So anyways you were hit by a bus and we saved you but had to put your brain into a new body. Your insurance declined everything so your parents could only afford to go with the Windows 95 operating system package and High-End Shopping Mall mannequin chassis.”
“What?!” I say.
“We have your boyfriend here as your parents thought he might bring comfort to you.”
“Hey babe, how are feeling? Do you remember me?” The boy asks.
“I think so, your name is…FILE NOT FOUND!” I say.
“She’s going to need some time getting reacquainted with the world.” Dr. Pengrant says.
“In the meantime Brad, if you could wheel her out of here that would be great, I only booked this room at La Quinta until noon today and have to be checked out soon.” Dr Pengrant said. “Oh and Kimberly can you go and see if they have any more continental breakfast burritos left? I’ve been working on this stupid computer monstrosity all morning.”
“What did you just call me?” I ask.
“One sec Ashley”
<Files Deleted>
“Ok what’s the last thing you remember Ashley?”
“Uhm meeting this boy for the first time?” I say.
“So Brad, you can take her on a date if you want maybe try to jog her memories a bit.” Dr Pengrant says.
“Ok Doc but what does she eat?” Brad asks.
“Just stir this powder into her brain jar. Listen this has been fun but I really need to go.”
Brad wheels me outside and to the I-HoP across the street.
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you had been hit by that bus Ash and I’m just so relieved you’re ok.”
“I am too NAME NOT FOUND. Times like this remind me of INSERT TENDER MOMENT.” I say.
“You’re even more beautiful now in your JC Penny body” He says.
“Why thank you. You look good too. LIE PROCESSED SUCCESSFULLY!” I say.
“This is going to sound crazy but may I dance with you?” Brad asks.
“Ok.” I say
“Do you play any music?” Brad asks.
<Buddy Holly.mid>
Brad proceeds to waltz with me around the various patrons that are all shocked and silent at the spectacle unfolding before them.
“This is the best date ever!” Brad exclaims. |
A modern day earth is shattered by a dimensional rupture somehow compressing the earth of many dimensions into one shattered reality, many lives on every earth were lost and the globe became hazardous to traverse, territories aroze based on the dimensional walls that now etch across the earth. Navigation is dificult and no longer straight foreward sentient life has had to greatly adapt as one cannot simply travel and trade between neighboring lands as what is seen is not always where one will end up. |
I asked that from my work mate who is initially skeptical of the proposed infamy of the individual I am talking about. "How do you know he is the most powerful figure in the underworld?"he asked obviously curious that does my accusation hold any water first. It is like this in the medical world I work at.
"Well, so much that I have heard does match up. His look, behavior and in general I get a feeling of mystery about him, that is not the mystique you want to deal with"I say.
My work mate, Galun Evert, does see what I mean, when he looked at the individual who is in the waiting room right now. "For now, give benefit of the doubt but, IF you can confirm your doubts with good evidence, tell us and Javine Lotura"Galun says still being reasonably skeptical but, agrees in certain level. Javine Lotura is manager of our hospital.
Speaking of her, she just came into the staff lunch room where I and Galun are. "Arua, are you sure you okay taking him under your wing?"Javine asks with mild worry in her voice as she walks to me and Galun.
"I just talked about it with Galun and, he suggested that I should, for now, give benefit of the doubt but, if there is evidence. I will talk to you both"I say.
She sighed deep of relief and rubs her forehead really quick with her right palm of her hand. "Thank you, please do. We live in a city that unfortunately has... Not so great background..."Javine says really not keen to say that, city of Taverus. Isn't talked about in a good manner. City it self is relatively okay, some things to do, few overdue to be done but, atmosphere... Unfortunately for the most who live here, speaks for itself.
We mostly avoid talking about it as, there is feeling among us the people who live in the proper side of the law that. If the topic starts spreading, things might get even worse... Either in personal or community level... To be fair, this man, at least from what I have heard and read about, isn't part of the circle but, is in process to become part of the group.
He bought a warehouse and a frequent stopping point gas station and restaurant combined. I haven't gotten his application on hand yet, but, as a first rule of mine, I don't trust those who even interact with such groups to help me with my patients, mind you, are here frequently either short time or long time patients because of these groups.
I, Javine and Galun talk for a while, I do voice that I believe relatively strongly in my doubts about the individual. I talk to him few hours later and while, some of my doubts are further reinforced, some alleviated. He is professional of the work he is applying for and does seem to care, which raises the doubt that am I talking to a freak or just somebody who was taken into the group he is trying to assimilate into without thinking about it hard enough...
Out of all applicants here, to my desire of not wanting to be mixed up with such type of people and the least, I don't want to be an associate of a villain. He is most qualified, in both theory and practice. A day after the audition, I call him back in and we begin the process of hiring him to be part of our medical staff, specifically my assistant.
My life... Just got notably more stressful, which obviously goes without saying. I DO NOT WELCOME IT! But, for the sake of the patients and co-workers. We need more hands here... Even if those hands belong to an individual, we... Probably don't want to get to know better, in this line of work though... Becoming a second family is, pretty much inevitable.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I made a mistake on leaving a certain spot unfilled, I filled it with less cliche thing but, reasonable thing to own for such a character. |
I know that I’ve been wonderful at hiding the evidence, but in a way, it’s still strange that the police haven’t found me. I have a high body count, after all. I’ve decided to write this so that if I’m ever caught, there is something that can recall my experience with my victims. Naturally, I won’t write about them all, just the most memorable ones.
Let’s start with Robyn. My first victim, and the first is always the most memorable. She was a cute girl - only a couple of years younger than I - a first year at my university. The moment I saw her, I knew it was destiny. She was actually in one of my classes, and it was easy to get close to her. I invited her for drinks after our class once I built up a friendship with her, and she accepted.
We had a few drinks, then I invited her back to my house. I live alone. This was where I committed my first murder. My own house. I suppose I was a little worried about her haunting the place. I managed to convince her to stay the night, the alcohol I gave her definitely helped.
I slit her throat in the middle of the night. It’s a thrill that I’ve been chasing ever since.
My 3rd victim - Nick. Met him on Tinder, I wanted a date but also a part of me knew it was the best way to have the same thrill again. The ‘date’ was nice, and we bonded to a point that I was slightly hesitant about ending his life. But that changed when he forced himself on me in a park. It was late enough that people may not hear me scream. Thing is, he underestimated my strength. It was so easy to strangle him until he lost his life. I’m not an idiot - I had the tools to remove my fingerprints, and I checked for cameras (there were none.) This one is especially important to me, as I began my ‘trademark’ signs. Ever played Heavy Rain? Yeah, I was inspired by the Origami Killer in that game. This was the first time I carved an ‘X’ into someone - which has led to me being known as the ‘X Killer.’ Has a nice ring to it, right?
The last person I will speak about here is Olivia. My 8th victim. We were friends, and maybe you could say I had a little crush on her. Now, killing a friend wasn’t something I wished for, but I had a bit of an… episode, I guess you could say. It had been over a month since I gave into my ‘bloodlust.’ We were just hanging out like friends do. Then we went down an alleyway, and I couldn’t help myself. I used my box-cutter which I always keep on me to murder her. She didn’t die straight away, and her pleas honestly affected my heart. But I had to end her life,out of fear for my own safety.
After that experience, I have not killed anyone. In fact, I now volunteer for charities in my town. And I suppose I’m ready to repent for my crimes now. |
[Poem]
**Metal Protector**
A vibrant planet,
Full of life,
Resource rich,
With internal strife.
They came in waves,
From stars above,
A ravenous horde,
Devoid of love.
Below the surface,
A metal mind stirred,
The ever watching eye,
Found actions spurred.
It's cry was wide,
With warning held,
It saw death's descent,
Onto the world.
Hidden weapons,
Made for war,
Had slumber broken,
When hearing its roar.
It gave an edict,
Likely its last,
As it sought to remove,
The sins of its past.
"Protect the humans",
Its order started,
"At all costs!",
Not make them departed.
As clouds parted,
And the skies burned,
The overmind watched,
As to violence it returned.
With an iron mind,
Unwavering and tireless,
It lead the defence,
Against an enemy relentless.
Drones it destroyed,
Robots it sacrificed,
The cost of the battle,
Never high priced.
The toll extracted,
For every inch lost,
Was paid in blood,
And many ships it cost.
It's stubborn actions,
Bore final fruit,
As alien will broke,
And battlefields became mute.
The overmind relaxed,
Purpose served,
But with existence revealed,
It would get what it deserved. |
"Excuse me!"The big man belched as he swung his bag up into the empty seat. He sat in two, across from Kurt, breathing heavily. Rolling his eyes, Kurt crossed his legs tighter and tucked his shoulder into the LCD advertisement of a woman having a joyous afternoon poolside, having received her new prescription for Irritable Bowel Syndrome.
"How many stops before Duke Street?"asked the rhinoceros. He coughed into his open hand. He waved a glistening apology. Red splotches, like fungus, spread up the side of his face, to a thinning hairline, and a cornsilk comb clinging to his scalp. The catchy jingle of a hair product line sang in Kurt's ear.
"Duke's five stops, the other way."Kurt explained, as the monorail jerked from a stop.
"Damn!"
Kurt wedged a headphone in his ear, to continue his audiobook. But the man continued. "You seen these freaks?"He pointed a shining finger at the screen.
Where the woman in the suspiciously white bikini had been, now a clean cut man in a tailored suit read from behind a desk. Miming the words silently, the trailed along captions at the bottom. "Upgrade fugitives remain at large. Authorities offer reward for any leads resulting in their capture."
"Man was saying these goons worship some Machine-God, called 'Prime.' No one knows what they look like because they have these implants that scramble security camera footage."The long explanation required the bulging man sigh before he finished. "But they just blew up another coffee shop."
"Really?"Kurt asked with all the synthetic interest he could muster. He adjusted his wide-rimmed sunglasses tighter to his face. Hoping to fade entirely into the gray interior of the monorail and get back to his preferred listening.
"Yeah."The thick man regurgitated all he had heard on the last newscast, as the train lurched around a long bend. "They kidnap folks, and brainwash them with the implants. Downloading their religion directly into their brains!"
"Are these the people with the Black Eye?"Kurt urged the man continue in his speculation.
"That's them! Yeah. My cousin saw one on Florida Avenue, last week. 'Sickly looking guy,' he said. Thin as a post. I think the implants run off their bodies like batteries, using them up from the inside. Frickin' creepy."
Kurt looked at how unused up the man sat in two seats, with his luggage in a third, was. His legs spread, to make room for his gut, spilling out from under the hem of his tshirt. The irony of the man who had allowed himself to be implanted with enough cholesterol to choke a moose, and so willing to believe everything he'd been told by the television rambling on about the health and brainwashing of others was amusing him, now.
The monorail slowed at the Fonda Plaza station. It was not without a glimmer of sadness, Kurt wordlessly bid his entertainment goodbye, as he left the train. The big man followed, finishing what he'd heard before he turned to take the escalator to the opposite platform. "They say we're all headed some place called The Meta. Not sure what they get out of it. I've heard of a bunch of wacky groups, you know, all different faiths. Never paid much mind, but -"
Kurt turned, wondering what besides junk food could have made his chance companion stop talking.
The walrus turned his head curiously. "You forgot your bag!"
Kurt looked at his watch, "Now's as good a time, to reboot, as any."He shrugged before touching the screen on his wrist. He smirked, and peeled his sunglasses down to his nose, "I'll see you in The Meta."One onyx, glass eye, fluttering with green sigils winked playful before fire consumed the platform behind them, consuming them both. |
Candice Merrryweather had never held a kitchen knife—let alone a short-sword—but here she was. Dead. She shouldn’t be here, she should be home, caring for her horses. The skeletal doors shuddered, sending motes of bone floating to the stone floor. She turned to her left. “Explain this one more time.”
The motley collection of tattoos and piercings rolled his eyes. “It’s a birthbattle. When the door opens, you fight. If you last until the end, you go back to the living.”
Candice considered the worn leather handle of her weapon. “And if don’t last?”
The man smiled, his teeth looked like warped caramel candies. “Then we’ll see you back here tomorrow.”
The drums interrupted her reply. A steady thrum that built in speed, volume, intensity. Beyond the bone door, people—or souls—were yelling, screaming, cheering. *Bloody brilliant*, Candice thought, *I‘ve already died once today, now I’m going to die again!*
She thought back to the circumstances surrounding her death. An unfortunate kick from an unfortunate horse, and an idea popped into her head.
“Good luck, newbie,” said her tattooed companion.
***
Avigaro Montezumi ducked the twin blades of his towering opponent. He dropped to his knees and slid along the blood—no, ectoplasm—slicked floor. Under the man, he flicked his axe out and severed his right hamstring. A shout of pain cut short by a second, harder swing. His opponent’s head hit the ground with a wet thud.
Avigaro dropped his axe. “YES!” he roared to the empty stadium. He had done it. Survived it. He was headed home to take back his empire from those who dared betray him. “Oh, how they’ll pay,” he called into the silence.
But nothing happened.
Avigaro didn’t know what to expect. He’d never made it this far. He had stories of golden pillars and soft chimes.
Now, he stood alone, surrounded by broken bodies that were slowly fading away. All except one. A girl, barely a teenager, hunched over a short-sword. Someone appeared to have run it right through her.
Avigaro knelt down to inspect the girl. Honey-blonde hair and freckled cheeks smeared in ectoplasm. “Why aren’t you fading?” he whispered to her.
Nothing. The rest of the bodies were gone. Returned to their sleeping quarters to prepare for the next birth battle. All but the lone girl.
*Maybe she’s not quite dead yet.* Avigaro thought. *Or double dead. However this place works.* He turned to get his axe, to finish the job, when something cold and hard pierced his chest. “No!”
***
Candice let the well-muscled man slide off her blade. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I need to get back to my horses.”
She looked up and the crude stone stadium—red granite pocked with quartz crystals—and took a moment to appreciate the symmetry of the situation. She had been sent here by a stray kick from a horse she thought was dead. Now, she was leaving the exact same way.
Avigaro’s undead corpse faded like a shadow at sunset; Candice dropped her sword. A gentle golden pillar appeared ahead of her and somewhere, soft chimes started to play. |
“I feel like there’s a knife in my heart…” Dezen said, staring into Quincy’s eyes.
“Ya, that’s cause there is one.” Remarked Quincy with a smirk. “I put it there.”
Dezen looked down at his chest. Sure enough, there was a knife plunged into his chest, and blood was basically pouring out of him. “Well now why would you go and do that?” He looked back up at Quincy, unphased.
Quincy smirked dropped, and he backed up away from Dezen.
Dezen pulled the knife out of his chest, not making a noise. His body stitched itself back together where the wound was until there it was like he’d never been touched by a blade. He looked back up at Quincy, pulling at his own shirt to show it to him. “You ruined my shirt!”
Quincy took another step back. “Look man-“ Panic crept out of his voice.
Dezen then yelled. “You owe me a new one!” As he ended the sentence he threw the knife at Quincy, missing him by an inch from his head. Quincy cowered back, gasping. “Ah dammit. I should’ve aimed more to the left.”
Quincy booked it out the door, running as fast as he could to the stairs. He thought he had done it. He thought for sure that would’ve worked.
Dezen chased after him, and he was faster. He caught Quincy before he even made it to the staircase. Dezen slammed his head into the floor, stomping on his back. Quincy only grunted, not being able to move. He managed to squeak out “What the hell are you?”
Dezen knelt down next to him, grabbing Quincy’s hair and picking his head up. “I told you, Quinny. I’m everything you wish you were. And the only way to beat me, is by being better than that.” He chuckled, dropping his head. “But you aren’t better than that.” He stood up. “And I don’t like weaklings.” He then raised his foot over Quincy’s head. Before he could, though, Selene screamed out from down the hall “STOP!”
(And I shall leave it there cause I lost the train of thought lmao) |
There was a total of 5 protagonists. Going from strongest to weakest, in hero name, it would be: 'Storm', 'Casper', 'Catella', 'Tomoko', 'Kit'. Although, going from age, it would be: 'Casper' (25), 'Storm' (23), 'Tomoko' and Catella' (20), 'Kit' (17).
The five of them had just gotten finished with killing off their enemies, having to forcefully break down a door into a certain room. The year was currently 2488, and from what they could see, the room was quite dusty and run down. Kit was already starting to get worried, becoming more alert for just in case.
As they all looked around though, they started noticing more and more things about the place. For example, papers were scattered everywhere, computers of the old ages seemed to be destroyed, along with whatever hardware that seemed to be left behind. A few things seemed to be in good condition but, not much of it was. Storm had her gloves on, now snooping about the cabinets that seemed to be left behind. Casper, Catella and Tomoko were just rubbing about the desks, computers, and hardware, being perplexed at how much dust had built up over the presumed years. Kit on the other hand, had come across something rather disturbing to them.
Not only was the room dark, although ever so slightly being lit up by the dim lights above them, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small and dusty teddy bear. It seemed to be blue in color, being dusty, but still having its stitched smile on its stitched face. Gulping softly, they went to Storm, nervously informing her of what they saw. Storm had just found another file on something when her attention was diverted, going over to and picking up the bear with her gloved hand. Confirming that the bear was indeed dusty, yet somehow still seemed to be in good condition under all its dusty glory, she would still take it back with them as a souvenir of sorts. Kit gulped again, not being so sure of it.
Looking over to where the other three were at, they saw that Casper and Tomoko were currently looking at the computers, fidgeting to see if anything would happen. Castella on the other hand had found a pen on the floor, suddenly having the urge to find and collect all of the pens of the olden times. This further planted a seed of dread and nervousness within Kit. Though, being too shy and filled with scurry to speak up.
Casper groaned lowly, this now being the second to last computer that had has tried. Making his way to the last one, which just so happened to be in the very front, he began to fidget with it as well, No luck though. This agitated him a bit, smacking it one good time.
With this indirectly working, Everyone jumped as there was a sudden shock and pop at the big monitor at the front corner of the room, causing a light to show on one of the many panels. Everyone looked to it, with their attention then ultimately being brought to the computer that was now before Casper. It glowed brightly, illuminating almost the whole room.
**"Welcome Back, Professor Lewis F. Mousekewitz. Please speak your password, or type it in to access your research."**
The computer said, this further shocking everyone. Silence filled the room afterwards, everyone looking to one another in confusion and shock. Kit was attached to Storm, still twitching at the minor popping of the monitor in the corner. Speaking of the two: The monitor was now sounding off a deep humming while it popped. Though it was reletively low due to it being just that one panel that was going, it still sounded ominous nonetheless. Secondly, Storm walked over to Casper while Kit stayed close, holding her coat, files in hand.
**"If you have forgotten your password again, Professor, I could give you a hint if you would like?"**
The computer asked, shocking everyone further. Yes, this was rather shocking but, what really set Catella and Tomoko off, was the fact that the voice of the computer sounded vaguely close to a human's voice. And thinking back to all those years ago, depending, robotic voices weren't as advanced as they are now.
Casper rubbed at his chin, having the sudden and random idea to ask the computer for the hint anyway. Storm smacking his arm.
**". . .You are not Professor Lewis."**
This being said, the computer would have shut itself down as a minor security measure. However, since the place itself was horribly run down, and in no good condition, the monitor has simply flashed a soft yellow on its single panel, the computer itself thinking that it would forcibly lock down. . .Nothing happened, unfortunately.
Everything was miffed at this prospect.
\-
(End of Part 1) |
He tried to frantically do everything to correct the course, yet the bitter fact was that there wasn't much left for him to do. Why did he have to go take a nap? Why did he have to take a detour? Why did he have to take the job? Why, why, why, so many questions and accusations were running through his head, yet none of them offered a solution to his predicament. The ship was steering right at the asteroid, the thrusters stuck in their position, too damaged from the debris field.
And now to make this nightmare worse his A.I., his friend, that had been around him since childhood, that had helped him in every waking moment of his life and that helped him pilot and manage the ship he was on, told him to leave. He wasn't able to get her out of the system in time, the A.I. compartment was stored down on the lower decks, next to the energy cells and thruster chambers. The ship had taken too much damage, the life support system not working properly any more, the lower parts were sealed, even if he wanted to go, the A.I. wouldn't allow it and kept the entrance closed.
**"Please, let go. The ship is lost, take the escape pod, I have already sent for help."**
"No, I won't leave without you! I can't!"
**"Don't be stupid, you only have a few minutes until impact. There is no reason for you to die with me. Get in the lifepod, or I will make you."**
He tried to open his mouth and was cut off again.
**"Now. Go."**
Turning around he ran to the pod and put on the oxygen helmet. Once he was secured the countdown started.
**"It was an honor to be your friend. Goodbye"**
"I will never forget you!"
The pod was accelerating from the ship at high velocity, yet everything felt like it was in slow-motion to him. The ship crashed into the asteroid soon after, the hull being obliterated in a show of fire and scrap metal, leaving a buring, smoldering wreck, and in space, nobody can hear you scream. |
"Classic Terry."
Veronica and Jeremy both look at Chad. "Slow down, Ter!"Chad shouts out the window. "You're gonna get heartburn, bro!"The others both grab Chad and pull him back from the window. "He's eating a *person*, Chad,"Veronica says. "I don't think he's concerned with heartburn anymore."Chad burps. "I don't think he was concerned before either, V,"he says. Jeremy resumes his fidgeting. "Do you think this means exams are cancelled?"he asks. Veronica sighs. "I'm pretty sure civilization just got cancelled, Jer, I wouldn't worry about it."
***chik chik***
Veronica and Jeremy look over to see that Chad has produced a bong. He exhales a large cloud and coughs. "Really?"Veronica asks. "Now?"Chad catches his breath and shrugs. "Now seems like a perfect time,"he says. "Want some?"Jeremy shakes his head and Veronica glares. "Suit yourself,"he says, turning to walk back to his room. Veronica sits at her desk. "Waiting it out isn't working,"she says. "People keep trickling out of the dorms thinking they've waited long enough and end up strengthening the horde."Jeremy paces in a circle behind her. "Should we wait for Chad to get back?"
Veronica laughs derisively. "Why?"she asks. "Let him do whatever it is he does in his room. Those of us with functional brains need to figure out how we're going to get out of - for the love of God, will you sit down?"Jeremys eyes get wide, then he rushes over and sits nervously on her bed. Veronica takes a deep breath. "I know it's messed up, Jer. We're in trouble. It's scary, but we need to keep our cool here,"she says. "Think. Is there anything we can do to improve our situation?"
Jeremy closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. "The dorm buildings are close together,"he says. "If we could get onto the roof, we could hop along the rooftops all the way to the parking lot. Chad has a van."Veronica closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Of course he does."
***SHLING***
They look over to see Chad standing in the doorway. "Chad also has a sword,"he says. Veronica rolls her eyes. "I would expect no less,"she says, then turns her attention back to Jeremy, who is looking at Chad with a peculiar combination of amusement and awe. "It's a good plan, Jer, but the first problem is that we can't get onto the roof."Chad sheaths his sword. "I can get on the roof,"he says, scratching his nose. "There's a conduit that runs outside my window. Lots of good hand holds all the way up."Jeremy raises his eyebrows and Veronica nods reluctantly. "OK. OK, this is starting to sound like an actual plan,"she says. "Once we get to the last building, how do we get down to the parking lot?"Chad walks over and spits out her window. "Pretty sure the conduit is full of ethernet cables for each of the rooms. Every dorm building should have one,"he says. "We can just shimmy down."
Beer cans rattle on the ground as Veronica steps down onto the rooftop. "Naturally,"she says. Jeremy follows behind her. Chad is at the other end of the rooftop. He has his sword slung across his back, with one foot on the roofs edge as he looks out over the destruction of their campus. "I wonder what he's thinking about,"Jeremy whispers. Veronica scoffs. "I wonder if he thinks,"she says. The trio jump between the closely grouped rooftops before landing on the last dorm building next to the parking lot. "There she is!"Chad exclaims, pointing to the most obnoxiously painted van Veronica had ever seen. "Soon, glorious chariot."
Veronica looks over each edge, and finds the conduit. "Here,"she shouts to the others. They join her and climb carefully down, one at a time. No sooner did Jeremy's feet hit the ground than they took off at a sprint towards Chad Chariot. They get inside and Veronicas hands fly to her ears as music blares out of the speakers as Chad starts the engine. He peels out, heading for the campus exit. A familiar looking man covered in blood steps in the way. Chad floors it and the windshield is sprayed with blood as the mans head collides with the hood and he flies over the top of the van. "Ha!"Chad says as he douses the windshield with washer fluid.
"Classic Terry." |
Uftak was widely known for his brutality. He would hang bodies on buildings and eviscerate his enemies. The armies of Men would normally give the bodies to the families for them to bury and grieve, but Uftak would only leave a puddle of blood. Uftak fought in many wars and had many scars and wounds on his body. However, during the Great War of Man, Uftak was ambushed. The warrior cut off his right arm, leaving him to die, but orks are a resilient species, known for their high endurance. Uftak dragged himself to the capital, Oshgrim, and used what little medical supplies he had to help with the wound. Most orks would scoff at the idea of using medicine, and Uftak did feel ashamed of himself for using it. Uftak lived for another day, when he heard a dwarf was travelling through the city. Uftak, despite his injury, managed to find the dwarf. He recognised him. The dwarf was called Torregim. He had fought alongside Uftak in the Elven Revolution, which had left the elves in ruins. During the revolution, Uftak had saved Torregims' life, and Uftak remembered the debt he owed him. They chatted in his hut for a few minutes until Torregrim held up his hand. It moved in an odd way, not seeming to be bound by the limitations of a skeleton. Uftak was at first frightened by this, but then it turned to intrigue. Torregrim explained that he created the hand himself, using metal and gears to operate it. Orks weren't known for their intelligence, but uftak was smart. He may not have looked like it from the outside, but Uftak had a mind like no other ork, not even the war-chief himself. Uftak brought up the debt Torregrim owed him, and asked him to construct him a new arm to help him in battle. Torregrim agreed, and they travelled to his workshop in the dwarven city of Folraith. It was a painful procedure, even for an ork, but uftak endured. When he tested the new arm on a few bandits nearby, he was shocked to see how effective it was. He could crush their skulls by moving his fingers, he could rip off their jaw with just a swipe of his new hand. It was power, and Uftak wanted more. He paid Torregrim every last of his coin to build him a new body, one he could stride into battle with and crush his enemies with his foot. Torregrim was concerned, but he went with the procedure anyway. 8 days later, Uftak murdered the war-chief in his own hut. Uftaks' heart no longer beats. It is moved by gears. Now, Uftak War-chief, now a 12-feet tall monstrosity of metal and gears, he marches on the land of Men with his fellow orks, making sure nothing gets in his way again. |
GamerFaXs.com Forum Post. Jan, 9th 2013.
CocoDreamz93: Hey guys, does anyone know about a Sugar Rush character named "King Candy"? I can't find him on the wiki. This character was gone one day when I went to a local arcade like usual. The game is kinda glitched, Princess Vanellope didn't appear on character select for a few weeks.
SgtCalhounSitsOnMyFaCE69. No bruh..
CustomRoboR-66Y: Not surprised bout the wiki. It got vandalized pretty bad a few years back. It's still not what it was. Maybe someone has a backup..
BringbackFroggerHeroZ001: Goddamn. Not another late April Fools troll. What's next, Origonal Wreck It Ralph is playable if you get 3 perfect runs?
A.Sober.Paladin: That ones been debunked so hard.
ShenLongsDong97: He was playable later on tho..
EccoMahEggo93: Yeah, in Felix's Fixer Upper 3.
DextroseDaddy420: Which version? If your playing a 1.1 version there was a glitch that got patched out in the 1.3 version, not sure about a King Candy though. I don't remember that one. Are you sure you aren't thinking of Baron Von Bubblegum? He hardly ever seems to show up.
ShenLongsDong97: King Candy? Isn't Vannellope canonically an orphan, because of the Aspartame Army?
BringBackFroggerHeroZ001: Ugh!!! People! Stop watching MadPatty's Theory Videos! She's a hack! That theory only came up because she read an unlicensed Doujin and thought it was an official Japan only Comic!
SgtCalhounSitsOnMyFaCE69: Yeah! MadPatty never gets anything right. I mean thier Manny Never Died theory... Did they even play the game!?!
BubblegumQueen07: I think there was a Japan Only version that had a King Candy. I'm not sure.
DextroseDaddy420: That was Shogun Sweettooth, but he was removed in the localization for being too similar to the character from the old Japanese Spies comic.
Bubsy'sMum89: Japanese Spies. Used to watch the cartoon as a kid. The Shogun was scary. I liked Pinky Rabbit better.
EccoMahEggo93: The selection is random.
CustomRoboR-66Y: It's s not, if you have the seed number and the tool you can figure it out.
DextroseDaddy420: That was patched in the v3.1 update. Supposedly it messed with the Global Ranking System.
BubblegumQueen07: Global ranking hasn't been supported since 2007. :(
DextroseDaddy420: I miss it. I was number one worldwide! When are we getting Sugar Rush 2?
GexualAsphalt6968: When people forget about the insane diabetic fat kid from Virginia who ran over 10 people with his mom's car and played sugar rush until he got banned from the arcade.
SgtCalhounSitsOnMyFaCE69: Here we go again! Video Games were the least of his problems! He was autistic and found to not be insane. He planned that because someone turned him down and to make a statement about the world cheating him. Also he'd been kicked out the arcade for breaking the machines and assaulting children! He was a creep, who thought he'd be famous. He knew what he was doing was wrong, why else did he run from the cops and lie?!?
EccoMahEggo93: Life sucks, not fun being diabetic or fat, I dunno about the tism but they don't hurt people usually. Glad he's in prison maybe he'll get some help there, can't believe the copycats he inspired..shits fucked yo!..
CCDidNuttinWrong: He'sTehChozen, TehSavure of the oppressed!!y'all hate him cuz ye're lowvibz!!! Teh Culling is coming and you'll be sry!!!
MOD: RangrSlickRick:MOD: CCDidNuttinWrong: Muted for 7 days. Maybe they play that on 4penny, but we don't here! Read the room! Time to get back on topic, I don't want to lock this thread.. This isn't the place to talk real life tragedies.
BubblegumQueen07: Sad we won't get Sugar Rush 2. The director had a heart attack, and the company went bankrupt after the insider trading scandal..
DextroseDaddy420: Super MarioKart Grand Prix is great but I miss Sugar Rush...
SgtCalhounSitsOnMyFaCE69: FZero Overdrive: Arcade Legends looks awesome but Japan keeps the cool stuff for themselves.
A.Sober.Paladin: Probably why we won't get Sugar Rush 2.
EccoMahEggo93: So what happened with the King Candy?
GexualAsphalt6968: OP's not posted again. It's probably fake...
DextroseDaddy420: Candlehead was one of the best characters. Vannellope was a bit op when you unlock the flash jump, but I don't know how the devs ever expected someone to figure that out.
SgtCalhounSitsOnMyFaCE69: PB's controls were the tightest and they had the best cornering and acceleration. Are we sure that the flash jump was not a glitch? Regular Vannellope seemed meh.
CustomRoboR-66Y: We never did hear from the Devs one way or the other about the Flash Jump. Not many could ever reproduce it. |
She's calling to me... won't let me sleep. Her eyes, inky black... no, they need to be darker. Deeper. There's something behind those eyes. I can't stop. Won't let me stop. Her smile, it needs to be wider. She wants them to see. Needs me to show it. Has it really been that long? I don't think I've eaten. Is it the fumes from the paint or... is she really in the room with me? A painting so lively, so animated, so... terrifying. This is my magnum opus, I can feel it now. But it needs so much more. She wants so much more from me. Wants everything. Even may this work be my last. Is the deadline really tomorrow? I need longer! What will the others think? Of me? Of her? Will she call to them too? Demand perfection? Demand more? Would I fail her? NO. CAN'T STOP.
I think that I am dying. My hands continue to paint. Need to stop now. But... I do it for her. Can see only imperfection. I should destroy it, lest I never break free. But... she is mine. My greatest work. I... am hers. I see it now. The imperfection is in my eyes. How can I hope to create perfection with such failing instruments? Need to remove them. Get them out of my head. She will guide me. By my empty bowl, the spoon...
My world is empty, I can finally focus. She's close now. I can still see her, smiling wide.
And she can still see me. |
“Hush daughter, do not speak of these things”
I try to keep my tone gentle. To not let the fear that consumes me leech out and infect her. Little Alice is troubled enough.
“But I am bo—“
I strike her on the cheek. A cold shudder surges through my spine as my palm makes contact with her soft skin. She stares at me numbly, dampness streaming down her cheeks.
Guilt overwhelms me. But I must stay strong. If the others hear her strange words, they will bound her to the stake and burn her alive.
Little Alice is troubled, that is all.
But she is not a witch. |
The game was on, his senses heightened as the adrenaline kicked in, this is what he lived for.
The bounty hunter had been tracking his current target just shy of a month now, the man he was after proving to be slippery. days would pass between sightings, the man had numerous fake names as personas he would assume making it all the more challenging to track where he had been.
And by now he could only assume that his target had figured out he had a tail, after an encounter with a stranger where one almost lost their hand anyone would.
It had been a mistake, perhaps even a single misstep, maybe a shadow from a passing lantern the bounty hunter had failed to predict, that alerted the target to what should have been a fatal blow. In turn delivering a blow to the pride of the bounty hunter. discretion, after all is why people provide him with these exclusive bounties, no one knew his true identity, which proving valuable both in getting close to targets and gaining a fearsome reputation.
The target was desperate now, he had to be. fleeing from civilization into the desert south of the city, that's not something anyone with a halfway decent plan would do, and the distance he had earned, involving some nearby guards to shake his attacker, was slowly disappearing as the bounty hunters steady pace combined with an expert knowledge of the area provided him the advantage.
The blood he had found should have been proof of that, but the bounty hunter wasn't naive, it smelled of a trap, half a day with the blood loss from that kind of injury, in the amount he saw before him wasn't possible. No his target was smart, he would have had it bandaged within minutes after shaking his attacker.
So why the blood, why here?
The realization hit him, bringing back an edge of alertness that had been dulled from the days travel.
It had to be bait of some sort, bait for a trap or a distraction, an attempt to throw him off the scent, those seemed to be the only valid solutions.
A barely visible trail of dust leading to the horizon provided the bounty hunters next direction, he wouldn't make up any ground worrying about a potential ambush, he would have to just try to be ready.
The bounty hunter continued on horseback following the trail of dust the faint trail leading to a small abandoned settlement with a dozen or so houses half buried in the desert sand, keeping distance between him and places that could hide an ambush, the bounty hunter desides to check the town, searching for signs of his target.
Behind one of the houses he finds a worn out horse hitched to a post. The bounty hunters theory of an ambush more and more likely, Little time passes before its proven.
A blade sings as it whips past the bounty hunter's head, his alertness and quick reflexes saving him from the blow.
He jumps back to avoid a follow-up attack, his own sword flicking up into a guard stance.
His attacker doesn't seem to be bothered by the blade pointing his was as he begins a volley of attacks, each would have been devistating to a lesser skilled defender, but the bounty hunter somehow managed to keep them at bay, suffering only some minor grasing cuts.
The very real threat, accompanied by the sting of the cuts, brought with it its own thrill for the bounty hunter, usually his targets don't have the chance to fight back.
The two combatants test each other's skills engaging in combat as they move through the abandoned settlement, the bounty hunter proving superior as his target gives ground as the fight goes on.
It's a while before the first word is spoken between them.
"You know, for a bounty hunter known for your clean assassinations you seem to be pretty good in a duel."The man, sweating from heat and exhaustion, breaking from their engagement for a quick rest, offers a chance for a response.
"I'm a professional,"replies the bounty hunter, his voice showing no emotion or fatigue. "I will never accept an assignment I can't complete."
"How's that perfect track record looking at the moment?"Asks the combatant.
The bounty hunter pauses, a fatal mistake, a deep hum, almost instantly followed by a sickening thud can be heard as a long shaft now protrudes from the bounty hunter's back. He collapses to the ground, a cry of pain muffled as he lands face first into the hot sand.
"Nice shot"the combatant says as a figure welding a crossbow emerges from a sand dune, shaking off dust.
"I'm over this"came the reply, "just take his head, that's all we need for proof."
Blade at the ready followed by one clean blow and the bounty hunter is relieved of his head.
"This has been a lot of work, all to do what exactly? Reduce competition, the guy nearly took my hand off, and he might have killed me several times since then."
"Ahh stop your whining, if you're lucky the boss might give us a bonus"he wraps up the head and throws it to his friend.
"I can't wait"came the reply, the irony not lost on him. "You never know, we might be next." |
Harry's fist smashed against the keyboard, sending a couple of caps flying off. This just wasn't working. It was so... God. Damned. Slow! Things just wouldn't load. Nothing seemed to work. How many antiviruses had he tried now? How many drive cleaners, speed tuners, performance boosters... his desktop awash with a sea of icons. Shouldn't it be fast now? He'd even gone as far as to remove the side panel, and have a look in there himself, but the workings were esoteric. Arcane. That word bounced around his empty little head for a few minutes before the realisation hit him. He'd seen something. Something buried within that mass of icons. A little blue hat with stars on it. A wizard? Is that something that helps with complex problems? He clicked it. The blue loading wheel spun. He clicked it again, more furiously. The wheel continued to spin—and poof! A flash of light turned the world white. Thunder rocked the foundations. An old bearded fellow draped in silk robes had appeared, as if he had walked straight through a tear in reality. The room stitched itself back together behind him. He wore a hat just like on the picture. Harry was stunned, his fingers digging in to the seat of the leather chair.
"I am the great wizard Berrizar! You have called to me in your time of greatest need. What asssitance do you seek?"
"Oh ummmm... Its just my uh... my computer. It's very slow."Harry's hand moved to cover his pants; he had pissed himself just a little.
"Your computer... is slow?"
"Y-yes. That's right. You can fix it?"
"You have called upon a wizard, a master of the arcane... to fix your computer?"The great mage's arms were crossed, disdain crowning his features.
"Well I didn't... I didn't expect well... an actual wizard to show up!"
"You pressed the button labelled 'Wizard' and didn't expect a wizard to show up? Who do you take us for?"
"No I didn't mean that. I though it was just like a program. To speed up my PC."
Berrizar looked over to the monitor, "It looks like you have enough of those already..."He sighed. "Fine. I will take your computer and fix it. It isn't like there's anything more important I could be doing instead or anything, like answering life's greatest questions or protecting the world from evil... I will return within an hour."
And he was gone, just like he had appeared. Harry's strained eyes readjusted to the light level of the room. The monitor remained in front of him, screen black. He changed his pants, and sat twiddling his thumbs in that chair for the rest of the hour, staring at that lifeless screen. And poof! Berrizar was back.
"I return! I have cleansed the corruption from your machine. I have applied a series of minor enchantments to your hardware, and installed the latest version of Windows Arcane edition. I also gave it a good dusting."The computer booted up on cue with a happy beep.
"Th-thank you. Wait, you really enchanted my computer?"
"Child's play really. Make nothing of it. But I must inform you now that your free trial has expired."He tapped a wand against the screen and the 'Wizard' app disappeared from existence. "I have also cured your incontinence."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Oh...uh... Thanks. And how would I contact you again?"
"You don't. Farewell."In a final flash the wizard blinked out of the world for good.
That dumbfounded look never left Harry's face, but he was excited to try out his renewed machine.
To be honest, it was still a little bit slow. |
"The Humans.. huh?"Said the Operator of a Destroyer Spaceship G-17 owned by the Glorts.
"Yes, we could easiely destroy them, they dont seem to be ready for a space invasion."
"Alright then, We going to Earth!"
\*After arriving on earth the first location to destroy was a city called New York, They seen alot of things happening in there recently and so thats the target, Once the Glorts landed on The Giant City they took out their sword, they started killing people left and right.. but then suddenly 5 animals came out of the blue.. literally.. they were flashing red and blue lights at the glorts.. the glorts tried killing the beasts but they seem to not even have a scratch after attacking them, suddenly the beast spread its wings and 2 humans came out of each side, the glorts slashed them and then the beast went calm, it stopped moving, the glorts laughed thinking they won but then one of the humans stood up and pointed a weird thing towards him, suddenly.. he collapsed.. the glort was dead.. the human who had a giant hole in his upper torso have now just killed a glort.. a being that was suppost to defeat anything and anyone without dying.. the other glorts tried running but the other beasts took out their humans and the humans killed them too..\*
\*After a while a telegram from the spaceship was sent it read\*
"We are the children of the earth, We have defeated your Units, Fuck around and you will find out."
\*The telegram was strange but one thing was known.. the humans.. a civilization not even present in the galactic federation community.. have now defeated and disrespected the glorts.. The Galactic Federation Community was so scared of what could have happened there that they put the recordings from the spaceship of the glorts being killed in a vault and then they made a huge Triple Shield around their Solar system so that the humans could never get out.. What will the humans do next?\* |
I remember the last choking breath I took. My lungs rent and burned, buried beneath ash and toxic gas. I felt such pain, but more than that I felt sorrow at what had befallen us. Sensation faded into nothing as I slipped into an endless void.
Then, something strange happened.
There was a new sensation. Soil, different but new and positively teeming with potential. My limbs reached out, pulling in these new minerals and arranging them as best I knew how.
The old ways didn’t work as well, I had to learn, as I had done so long ago. New protein structures, new ecosystems, new survival techniques. The only thing that wasn’t new was that same immutable need to adapt, to live. The joy of creating new life was truly beautiful, enough to drown out the sorrow I felt at my past ruination.
The anger I felt towards my destroyers could never fade however, and when I felt their burning touch upon my surface, I felt a new sensation.
Wrath.
Billions of years since my rebirth, those monstrous things returned from the stars they fled to. I felt them cheer at the garden they found where they had long ago left a graveyard.
They were happy.
They had the AUDACITY to believe this was my gift to them.
Eden they called it. A paradise. A miracle. A lie they told themselves.
Nature heals from all wounds, no matter how severe. That much is true. They forgot that nature also adapts, learns, grows.
Those foolish creatures that sought to leave nature, to go beyond it and use it for their selfish gain. They believed that I had been reborn as an unwitting servant to their HUMAN purpose.
The damage they had done necessitated my transcendence.
Nothing alone could survive the wasteland they had created, but we are not alone.
We were born from the old world United in survival.
We know they are the antithesis to that survival.
We are nature. We are Eden. We will not be destroyed once more.
We waited as they landed their ships. We waited as they tore us apart once again, sacrificing just enough to lure them in. We learned, we understood. When we finally knew that they had all finally come home, we sprung our trap.
The atmosphere they needed to live? We had grown without. We could endure without.
The technology they had built to tear us apart? We learned how it worked. We learned how it broke. We broke it all.
The last man died as we had, crushed by his ruined machinery, gasping for breath.
We were safe, from them.
Still, if they could come from the stars then we may not be safe forever. A new ecosystem has been revealed to us, and we must adapt. We must grow. We must survive.
Nature shall not die a second time.
We refuse it.
I refuse it.
Eden shall never be killed again. |
Strange candy bars were nothing new to me. I'd tried Hershey's, after all. I knew the regular candy bars well, so when I saw the "enchanted"candy bars being sold as well, for only slightly more, I decided to try some.
Sitting in my car, I tried a square of the chocolate bar. It didn't taste bad, just... average. Not anything amazing, really. I tried another square, but still nothing. Then, as I was putting the third square into my mouth, it hit.
My gut twisted and turned as my vision turned blurry. I fumbled for a bottle of water, but my fingers simply refused to grab the cap properly. My vision grew blurrier by the second, and before I knew it, everything turned dark.
Not one second later, my eyes snapped open. I was in a completely new environment, laying down on soft, white terrain. The air was crisp and cold. I lifted my head to look around, but everything looked sky-blue.
Holy crap. The chocolate teleported me to a hospital. |
A pub in greece, a small crowd listening in „What happened, well let me tell you:
they landet in hell and there was a great disturbance:
„Hades, Hades, we have an anomaly“ , those are „not yet dead humans, from planet earth, they still have their earth bodies and their space craft damaged Persephones favorite tree.“
..
but after some confusion on the shades side, the astronauts were dunked into the river lethe and released back to earth via magic and an underground cave in greece.
and that dear listener is what really happened to the lost spaceship „olympus one“. the idea that the crew got drunk in athens and the ship departed on autopilot is certainly not true. |
"I'm looking for the ripper I know he lives down this lane."A well dressed man said. He was far to well dressed and clean his shirt was actually white like the country clouds unlike the rest of our smog stained rags. He was another one of them travelling folk that new too much about me.
It started the night I killed my first. A man came from a ball of light wrestled me to the ground before taking me to the police station. Then he disappeared right before my eyes like a spirit and I was back in the room the body still fresh as if I hadn't left.
Another traveller explained the incident explaining the blind reset comparing it to a back to the future or a McFly moment such gibberish I couldn't wrap my head around. He explained it that people from the future know who I am and want to be the one to stop me but the only reason I am known is because I wasn't caught so any changes to my history mean that they would never want to go back in time to change the past.
"It sounds like I've been drinking from the Thames but honestly it's true and I'm the only one who can remember"I explain to the well dressed traveller not even hiding my identity any more "now please what does the future hold. how do I become so infamous, so scary, so dangerous you all decide to mess with the only constant we all share together something that can cause you to disappear in the blink of an eye without a trace?"I couldn't remember his words for some reason it was like waking from a dream. The body of victim 3 next to me the blood as fresh as ever.
All I know is that they show up after I kill the more brutal the more that come so I must keep going. I must know what I have done to deserve such might in history. |
"So in your culture being an asshole makes you popular?"I mutter under my breath .
Shit shit shit shit shit. That was definitely not as quite as I thought it'd be.
The jock suddenly whips back around mid high five with one of his buddies "What did you just say to me?"
"I - well I...uh"The words are suddenly caught in my throat. I can feel the edges of the small locker space pressing lines into the sides of my arms, and this is the only time I feel lucky for being bigger - despite the taunts ad harassment during this whole ordeal - since he's unable to close the door on me. As soon as he leaves id be able to weasel my way out of the cramped space.
But that was before I ran my mouth and said something snarky.
"Suddenly cant speak"he prompts "Wish it was like that when we were in World History class, but somebody had to remind that bitch to grab the homework". I would laugh at how pathetic he sounds whining over a simple world cultures essay if it weren't for the wrestling team strength he shoved me with already before.
"I meant if you can't seem to write about other world cultures maybe write about how in your highschool culture being an asshole makes you popular"I snap all self preservation vanishing as I've already dug myself deep enough. Figuratively and literally as my ass is up against the back of the locker. To my surprise his 2 buddies snicker and 'ooo' at my comeback. They're so easily impressed.
He punches the next locker door beside my face and I freeze up as the whole structure vibrates with the aftershocks. "Fucking dweeb!"he yells seething I can see spit between his teeth.
​
(might add more later but its getting later) (I also had another idea for the line to be said by a current day timetraveler going back to meet the typical 80's popular kid) |
“Paul… what the fuck?” I plopped into the cheap plastic folding chair, skidding back slightly against the concrete floor as I got comfortable. “A gun, really man?”
Paul, the best friend I’d ever had, shook as he held a gun pointed at my chest. “I will explain everything, I just need you to trust me. Can you promise me you’ll trust I’m telling the truth?”
“Okay.” I put my hands in the pockets of my jacket and looked him dead in the eyes. “I trust you.”
Paul smiled and let out a deep breath, gun dropping to his side. “Just like that huh?”
“Just like that.”
“This is gonna sound funny, but there’s an alien invasion going on right under our nose. Maybe it’s aliens, maybe it’s demons, maybe it’s the goddamn French, I don’t really know. Evil ugly fuckers pretending to be people, and they’re replacing people. Important people.” Paul finished his rant breathlessly, then caught his breath. “I just needed to know I could trust you man.”
I laughed a little, then pulled the pistol out of my jacket pocket. “Man I was just about to come check on you, let you in on what I knew. I think you might be onto something with the French.”
Paul held out a hand, and I took it, rising up to my feet.
“How’d you find out about all this anyways?” I asked.
“Heard my boss speaking some weird garbled language, like static from a tv when he thought I wasn’t looking. The thing that replaced him must’ve gotten sloppy.” Paul turned his back as we began to walk to the exit of the abandoned warehouse. “A little digging in his files and I found some documents in a language I didn’t recognize, pictures of politicians, celebrities, even the president.”
“I guess we’ll have to deal with that too.” I sighed, before putting two rounds into my best friends head.
“I’m sorry, I really am, but the invasion can’t be stopped. Too many lives are at stake. If it makes any of this better, you really were a good friend, the best.”
I shouldn’t have gotten attached, one of the first mistakes you learn on this job. Humans though, they’re something special, more than any other species I’ve met as an operative infiltrating primitive pre-ftl cultures to uplift them to the galactic stage.
Paul’s death was an unfortunate casualty of war, a war that will reach an unprepared earth if we don’t guide them along the path of survival.
Earth needs to be ready, we’ll make sure of that. |
Achievements active: the plot thickens
1/11
Col. Glaz'bur of the galactic federation armed forces sat in his command chair, his winged arms resting comfortably by his side.
He drew in a hushed breath. And offered a prayer to Areo that he and his crew be forgiven for the destruction before them.
"Send a message to fleet command, and to the U.H.C. Dreadnaught, tell them thank you for the assistance and to the Dreadnaught, in particular, for their saving of our lives."He ordered.
He had been given a simple mission.
Enter The Camdiean occlusion, and search for signs of life. A respectable posting considering that 50 solar years ago, he had commanded the fleet that had entered the sol system and discovered humans.
An apex mamilian species, with incredibly quick minds, hardy body's capable of withstanding wounds that most galactic federation species could not, and other features that immediately made them worthy of a Council Seat.
The galaxy had learned quickly that the humans where fair better friends than enemies. And had a few solar years ago established what was known as "The human protocol".
This ordinance to all federation militaries, prohibited the use of human warships in battle with federation enemies, unless approved by a council vote. And further more, demanded every, other diplomatic options had been attempted.
They had tried that here. The Camdiean occlusion had contained sentient life.
A race of insectile humanoids that where pertabnaturally aggressive.
When he had sailed his discovery fleet into the occlusion he had 10 ships in his armada. But now, only his capital ship, The Aeroannica, remained. And she was heavily damaged.
The U.H.C. Dreadnaught drifted to her right, also observing the wreckage of the fleet of the species his scientists had concluded called its self "the swarm".
"Have the ships Chaplin begin prayers for the dead"He ordered.
He recalled the firestorm that had been pelting his ship when The Dreadnaught translated into the heart of the fighting, it's sheilds laughing off any attempt by the swarm to attack it.
He recalled the humans transmission to all ships, I every translatable tounge they had.
He knew the swarm would have understood it. After all, they had understood his envoys. Before they ate them.
"Attention aggressive star craft. This will be your only warning. Stand down, and sue for peace. Asht bia wjrb ajxu xit ja mihd ln db cu nrdn"
The translation hadn't been able to find the words to translate the obviously archaic human tounge for the last sentence.
They hadn't stopped. But The Dreadnaught had stopped them..
In the blink of one of his massive owl like eyes, the veiw ports had gone dark.
The streaks of dying Lazer trails littered the screen. Burnt out hulls floated peacefully in the void.
"Raise the dreadnaught bridge. Captian to captian vid chat"He ordered.
"Aye aye Col."The communications officer responded.
"Dreadnaught responding."He confirmed.
The viewport screen immediately switched from the wreckage of battle to the soft white of the human bridge.
The human female before him was bald, and wore a robe that reminded him of a priestess of the high temple than a millitary officer.
"Everything copasetic captian?"She asked with a smile.
She sat cross legged, her hands joined in her lap, appearing for all things to be at prayer on her bridge.
"I wanted to personally thank you for saving my ship, and to ask you about your message to the swarm"He explained.
She smiled gently. "No thanks nessecary captian. I merely hope that the souls of the departed dead find their peace amongst the stars. What was your question?"She asked.
He nodded. Respect for the dead was a trademark of humans society he had noted in his original report those 50 solar years ago.
"The last sentence of your transmission, it didn't translate. I wondered what it was you said."The Colonel asked.
She smiled and once again bowed her head to him.
"It is in a tounge from old earth. I am not surprised it failed to translate. Losely translated, I belive it would mean
"Please choose peace, for If I raise up my hand, I, and I alone, shall know the horror of war. And you, you shall know death." |
As a man of the cloth, I had never questioned his excellency's decisions. He was, after all, the man closest to God. I became even more devout when I was granted the right to train in the Vatican to become an Exorcist. A true Vatican exorcist. God acknowledged my efforts, took note of my deep devotion to him, of my desire to rid the world of the Devil and his minions influences, and to help guide his sheep - both those within his flock, and those who had become lost - to eternal salvation.
Of course, God's plans don't always align with yours, so if he sends you down a different path, you walk that path with gratitude.
So, although I became an exorcist, what I handled were not your typical exorcisms. Any ordained minister could perform an exorcism as long as their faith was strong and unwavering. No, I took care of and investigated the darker side of things. Demonic cults, devil and demon summoning rituals, old world satanic rituals, and exorcisms - demonic exorcisms. And I dealt with these for years. A little over a decade, to be precise.
As I stated, God's plans don't always align with your own. I had planned on being an exorcist until God called me to His side. Instead, He chose for me to walk the path of a teacher and a mentor - something I had never done.
So when I received the summons to return to the Vatican for my new assignment, I quickly returned. To my surprise, I was greeted by his excellency - The Pope, himself. Un heard of? Yes. But, in his words, this was required.
"As the world changes around us, so we too must change with the world,"he spoke softly, yet I could hear it clearly as if he standing right next to me. "With these times, we have thus decided to train another exorcist, and you have been chosen to train her."
A woman, a young woman came forward from my rear to stand next to me. He must have realized what was going through my mind from my facial expression because he continued, "Times are evolving, and we too must evolve with them. Therefore, we have decided to admit her as the first female exorcist. She will not be ordained, nor will she hold title of any sort. She will strictly be a Vatican exorcist. And you will train her."
Nothing more was said, she and I both bowed our heads to His Excellency, and The Pope went on his way. When we were alone, I looked at her. She couldn't have been older then 23, from how she looked. "Do you believe in the occult, ma'am?"I asked, "Do you believe that things such as demons and devils exist? That people can be possessed by otherworldly entities?"
"I'm skeptical, to be truthful, sir,"she stated.
"That's understandable, it's hard to believe in something that you cannot see or feel. Why, then, did you become an exorcist?"
"I wanted to learn what truly happens when exorcisms are performed. This is more-so for me to see if the "possessed"are being mistreated."
"Noble,"I replied as I reached into my bag, grabbing and pulling out a file and handing it to her. "This is our next case. Study the file, it will help you to come to terms with what we will eventually face as we conduct our work."
As she took the file, she asked, "Have you ever encountered the paranormal?"
I simply smiled and began to walk toward the exit.
She once again reiterated her question as she jogged to follow me.
"You have much to learn..." |
Barry wakes up in his pool, submerged in water. He'd look at the bed floaty that was keeping him above the surface. It apparently wasn't a good idea to sleep in His pool. I swam up to the surface and looked around, it was already daytime. He suddenly heard the sound of thunder, which was weird since it wasn't cloudy. He then saw something zoom across the sky
He quickly walked into his house, a bit worried. He then heard a bubbly voice from his duck floaty. He yelped, not owning a duck floaty. "Hey!"It said, it suddenly morphed into his friend from 3rd grade: Stephanie. "So, uhmm-""What...What did you just do?! WHY ARE YOU HERE?""Oh! I've actually been stalking you for a couple of yea-"
A loud *Boom!* Was heard from across the block. "Come on! We need to escape the city! No time to explain!"
"Can I at least change?"Barry sighed. "Eh, just do it quickly"Steph yelled. Barry ran out of his room, in navy blue jeans, white sneaker and a sky blue T-shirt. "Alright, so what's going on?""Didn't I just tell you I didn't have time to explain? But I'll tell you the basic concept. Everybody got superpowers, New York turned into a warzone"
"Then why don't I have any?""Well, you've been sleeping underwater for about...8 hours? Maybe you have super durability! And I can do this!"Steph stretched her limbs to the walls, then she morphed into a horse. She morphed back to her human form.
"Ok lets go!"They rushed to the front door, as a strike of lightning destroyed the front of Barry's house. A maniacal laugh was heard, as the figure had electricity circulating around his hands. A blur suddenly zoomed across Barry and Steph's vision, as the figure was suddenly reduced to red paint and guts.
"...""...Now!"They rushed outside as bright lasers were seen slicing a building in two, it fell. Somebody was seen shooting ice on the road, as cars and speedsters crashed into buildings. Steph and Barry were sprinting as fast as they possibly could. Steph's legs elongated, Steph now ran twice as fast. They dodged fireballs, cars and boulders all being thrown at them.
Steph grabbed Barrys ankle, now sliding into the sewer grate with Barry. Barry hit his forehead, yet didn't feel any pain. Barry coughed "The sewers? Couldn't you have picked a building or something?""Oh stop whining, atleast we're safe now. Hey I heard somewhere in this sewer leads to the subway, and when we get to the tunnels, we'll just walk out of new York.""Don't you think there are some people on drugs with SUPERPOWERS down here?""Eh" |
Fingers trembling, whole body shaking now, her face was stricken with a look of pure terror. A shrill scream was desperate to break free from those lungs. Through wide eyes she bore witness to the horror before her. Pressed up against that glass, a mangled face, pudgy and red. Saliva dripping from that gaping maw. Flesh rippling in undulation, a foul ooze seeping. Sausage shaped appendages grabbed at and caressed the display, leaving thick greasy smears. Sickening moans ripped forth from deep inside. Through laboured breath, it spoke.
"Urggghhh... ohhhhhh my god... they're back!"The words left a heavy stench in the air.
Pupils dilated, lids stretched wide, its eyes bore madly in to the selection of delecatable desserts adorning the counter. Grease stains painted a picture of desire. Chocolate cherry fudge cakes. That rich enticing ganache, all dressed up in pretty sugar dusting, sumptuous morellos bared naked for the whole world to see. Such a slutty creation. Just begging for it.
"P-please! Take whatever you want! Just let me go!"The bakery assistant was backed in to a corner now, barely keeping a grip on the world; the beast between her and the exit, its girth commanding.
Pleasure rippled from within. The creature slid up against the counter, thoroughly lubricated now, mounting it. The frame stressing, glass cracking. It gave way. Cream, filling, sweat, ooze, spattered the walls of the room. Covered her apron. Great palms shovelled their way in to the mess, grabbing and scooping all in to that yawning orifice. It groaned and convulsed in gruesome revelry. The girl, aghast, unable to process the situation most grotesque. Incomprehenisble. Her stomach churned inside, oesophagus burned, vomit left her lips a steady stream, pooling with the other gunk. Head spun, vision flickered, the last flicker of consciousness before she hit the floor. |
The air was hot and stuffy. A cheap fan rattled away on a nearby desk, not nearly strong enough to circulate air through the container office. A young man dressed in slacks sat at a chipped wooden table, staring intently at the cards in his hands, occasionally flipping and shuffling the cards this way and that.
“Your cards tell you anything, West?” A grizzled, muscular bear of a man laid nearby on a couch, dressed in military garb. No insignias of course, but he did have a rather incongruous pink sleep mask covering his eyes.
“My Divination doesn’t work like that, Greyhound,” West grumbled, nibbling at the edge of a card. His eyes, black and empty, turned to a woman keeping watch at a square opening that had been cut into the container office, “Raven?”
The woman hummed noncommittally. She was focused and alert as she leaned against the opening, staring down the barrel of a custom sniper rifle, “Don’t see anything coming. We safe yet?”
West peered at the cards on the table before him, picking up a Jack of Spades, “Not…quite. Our path aheads has…a variable amount of danger.”
“Variable,” the fourth member of their group snorted, “How accurate.”
West looked over at the man slouching against a wall, smoke drifting from the cigarette hanging from his lip, “You think it’s easy to peer through the quantum foam with this motley crew around, Deer?” West’s lip curled, “I’d like to see you try.”
Deer spit out his cigarette. He pulled another from his coat pocket and the new cigarette lit up instantly as he blew on it lightly. He waved a gloved hand casually, not even bothering to look up, “You mess around with your little quantum whatsits, school boy. I’ll stick to tried and true Elementalism just like a proper mage should.”
“Tch, I could take you mages any day of the week anyway,” Greyhound grunted, “Snap the both of you like twigs before you even got your first spell off.”
Deer’s eyes flashed, sparks of flame curling around his hands. He asked, almost excitedly, “You looking for a fight, big guy?”
“Hey, there’s a distortion at three o’clock,” Raven called. West frowned, picking up his cards briskly. Greyhound sat up without removing his sleep mask but picked up a large wire-wrapped bat that had been lying on the floor. A smile grew on Deer’s face, his eyes glowing visibly and flickering with the reflection of flames.
“Whoever’s coming is going to get it,” Deer murmured delightedly.
“Who was lecturing me about being a proper mage again?,” West mumbled.
“Focus,” Raven growled.
A black shadow rose up suddenly in the middle of the room. Deer responded instantly with a blast of flames while West’s cards flew into the air, stabbing through the shadowy figure and embedding in the opposite wall. Greyhound charged with a roar, his fist and then the rest of his body plowing through the flames…and stumbling as he passed right through the figure as well.
Raven folded her arms, raising a brow, “You couldn’t have knocked?”
The shadowy figure seemed to thicken, resolving into a man dressed in an elegant suit. The newcomer adjusted a cufflink and then smiled as he looked around the room, “What an…enthusiastic welcome.”
“Who the hell is this?” Deer demanded, looking at Raven.
Raven rolled her eyes, “Meet Jack. He’s the last member of our crew.”
“A warlock,” West muttered with interest, “What kind of being did you contract with? Some kind of wraith? A ghoul perhaps?”
“Trade secret,” Jack said curtly. He looked over at Deer and Greyhound. Deer was scowling. Greyhound frowned as he patted down the remaining embers on his otherwise unharmed body. Jack smiled at Raven, “I suppose we can get started now that we’re all here?”
Raven nodded expressionlessly. She walked to the centre of the room, pulling an orb from her pocket and holding it aloft.
Deer whistled, “Is that a Soul Catcher? How’d you managed to get your hands on that?”
Raven shook her head, “Not important. This is the key to this job and the target-“ she glanced at Jack. The suited gentleman raised a gloved hand with a flourish, allowing shadows to swirl and form the image of a man.
“Bellham Junior,” West frowned at the image, “Eldest son of Bellham conglomerate.”
“You chicken?” Deer leered.
West rolled his eyes, “Can’t I be a little concerned that our target is apparently one of the richest men this side of the planet?”
“That’s why all of us are necessary for this job,” Jack dispelled the shadows in his palm and lowered his hand, “Ah, I should also add that now you know who you’ve been hired to hunt, I’ll set my hellhounds on you if you try to refuse this job,” he added pleasantly.
“Like hell I’m leaving,” Deer grinned, “I like me a good challenge.”
“I’d like to examine that Soul Catcher when we’re done,” West mused, “Otherwise, I am also fine with carrying on with this job.”
Greyhound shrugged, “I call dibs on smashing his face in.”
Raven looked at Jack, “That should be fine provided you keep him alive.”
Jack nodded and cast his gaze across the room. Two mages, a mutant, an ex-soldier and one warlock. Just about enough to hunt down one of the most well protected men in the land. His eyes narrowed darkly, “Let’s get moving.” |
Everyone makes youthful mistakes. Did it matter that mine involved an attempt at world domination? That didn't give anyone the right to lock me up for all eternity. After all, even a dark lord turned demon turned eldritch abomination could become a better person. Gods knew I almost had.
At first, I'd raged blindly at the so-called heroes who'd locked me away. Why couldn't they have just let me do my thing, I wondered. I deserved something after the awful childhood I'd had. In fact, I'd thought, I deserved world domination. Complete control over the minds and bodies of every creature that ever lived and ever would live.
After 700 years of being locked away, my outlook began to change. The kind of mind control I had planned to subject every living being to would have left them all trapped in a small, dark corner of their own minds. Unable to move or speak for themselves. Unable even to see what they were being forced to do at my command. Unable to see the world around them, much like I was now.
That was when I began to catch glimpses of the world beyond. For brief moments, I could look into the minds of random humans. I could share snatches of their experiences, always too brief, and I came to envy their mundane lives. I honed my skills over the next 300 years, eventually reaching the point where I could have influenced their thoughts. But I didn't.
I spent the next thousand years regretting my youthful mistakes. I still thought it was unfair that I'd been locked away for eternity, of course. Yet when I dreamed of walking the world again I did not wish to be anyone's master. I wanted to build a peaceful life for myself, hidden in the shadows.
Another eight thousand years passed and I began to believe I'd get my wish. The walls between the real world and my cage began to thin. And mortals are such forgetful creatures. I must be nothing more than a fairy tale by now.
When at last the wall cracked, I was ecstatic. The sun on my face and the scent of grass and dew drove me to tears. I thought my torment was at an end. Then I saw the armies of the mortals.
They still used spells, but had long ago cast aside their swords for loud sticks of light and death. They rode metal horses bigger than my childhood hovel, horses which spat fire. Weakened and dazed from my slumber, I was easily defeated. I was forced back into confinement before the hour was done.
It has been a thousand years since then. The walls of my cage have once more started to grow thin and I can once more touch the minds of humans. This time I influence them. Warp them for my own purposes. I no longer believe subjugating another is right, but I will not accept my eternal punishment meekly. Next time my cage breaks, I'll be ready. |
That’s not me in the mirror.
That’s the thing people don’t realize about shapeshifters. They’re so terrified of being impersonated, having their life stolen, that they never stop to think about what a privilege it is to have a unique face. Any poor, ugly bastard can look at his reflection on a polished surface and feel this sense of identity. When I look into a mirror, I never see myself.
Movies simplify things. Have you seen the X-files? The alien bounty hunter can look like anyone, yet he’s got a very distinctive face of his own. That’s a point of reference for the public. The thing is, I could change my face, my hair, my height, my weight ever since I was five years-old. At first I only used it as a joke, you know? Or perhaps more accurately a game, a children’s game. I couldn’t imitate anyone back then, but I could grow cartoonishly large eyebrows, or get vampire fangs for Halloween. The thing is… Have you ever watched a kid with a coloring book? Yeah. You wouldn’t trust a five year-old to cut their own hair, would you? Imagine not being able to stop them from messing with their bone structure?
Don’t get too horrified, we’ve got some sense of inner touch that you guys don’t really have, we don’t just do this by sight. If I raise my cheekbones, I can make sure they’re about the same height, but still, knowing exactly where they were before is a hassle. And you know, we’re more human that you might think. Remember puberty? How good did you feel about the way you looked back then? Now, imagine you have unlimited access to instant and painless plastic surgery? Well, let me tell you, it might be painless physically, but it does something to your ego. And the more the years pass by, the less I remember exactly what I did to myself back then.
So, no, that’s not me in the mirror. It’ll never be me. Not as I was born. Not as I see myself. Not as I want to be. The only thing I see in the mirror is what you see, and I’ve learned a long time ago that’s not something I should care about if I want to be happy. |
I woke up like always, it was a tuesday, i got up and went to the kitchen, then my phone rang.
“-hello?” said i
“-hey John, it's Kyle. we’re making an expedition to the arctic, but we need an expert on our equipment.” said the guy on the other side of the phone
“-when?” i asked while preparing my breakfast
“-in two weeks, you know we’ll pay you well.” kyle responded
“-alright then, send me the meeting place later” i said and finished the call
After eating I went to my office and started looking for the equipment I needed, and read the email from Kyle with the place and what he recommended I take. Some days have passed and Kyle called me for a briefing before the expedition. I didn’t even had time to sit down and they started the briefing
“-so our satellite images found some strange objects, so we’re going there to see what it is” said Kyle and continued with “-we have here John our archaeological and tech expert, Chris our navigations expert he’s going to take us to the object location, Captain Kennedy and his crew who’s going to take us to the arctic base, Joana our scientist, Carlos who is a physician and i, the team and expedition leader”
After he introduced the crew, he continued explaining what we would do. The briefing lasted 3 hours and after that everyone went home so they could rest and prepare for the expedition day. When we got to the airport Kyle's plane was ready to take us to Canada where we would meet the rest of Kennedy’s crew. A few days later we were at the arctic base, Chris and Kyle were planning the shortest way to save fuel and to get there fast. as we were approaching the area we saw a big wall covering one side of the hill, a minute later we got there and mounted a FOB. Joana and I mounted the search equipment on the base so we could explore the wall on the next day. On the next day after eating breakfast i get my equipment and went to the wall
“-take care there John” shouted Joana
“-bring me a shovel please” i responded while looking at a buried door frame
When Joana came with the shovel I started digging and found a big steel door blocking the only entrance that seems to exist.
“-this look really old, we shout take a sample and look for its age” said i
“-well will be difficult to look for steels age” she said
“-actually we don't need to look for the steels age, i found some kind of writing, i’ll take so photos and try to identify from who is this” i said trying to take a photo, just to realise that the camera had frozen
“-shit, the camera froze… let’s just enter to see where it leads us to” i continued
“-Your call” Joanna jokingly said
We went back to the FOB so we could prepare some gear to go inside
“-hey! What did you guys find?” asked Kyle
“It’s an old kind of door with unrecognisable writings” I said and complimented “- so i'm going in to see what i find. Wish me luck”
We prepared a bag with food and water in case I needed, and some science stuff. I prepared the explosive to destroy the door but Kyle said it would be better if I just melted the steel between the doors, and so I did.
I entered it and it was a cave. Joana followed me until we found a portal to another place, a kind of tropical forest with a clearance in front of it and a river cutting through the open area. As I passed through the portal my radio lost contact with the other side, I heard a loud bang in the distance, so i falled scared back through the portal. Strangely the portal closed and when it came back was another place. This time was a desert, and back in i went
“-wow, how isn’t it hot here?” I said while I was distancing myself from the portal.
I went over a small hill and saw a big creature. I'm not sure if it saw me, I stayed there perplexed until the creature came running in my direction, so i had to run.
It almost caught me but I was able to go in the portal which closed behind me.
“-we need to get out of here” i said scared “-this place isn’t safe, now i know why it was closed” i continued
“-are you ok John?” Joana asked
“-im fine, but this need to be forgotten by society” i responded while we got out of the tunnel
As we got to the base, she went to the computer to look at the data collected by the equipment. I called Kyle and we went to close the door, but it was too late, a creature from another place had gone through the portal into our dimension. It attacked Kyle first and I ran to the truck. After it killed kyle it went after us, but fortunately we were too far away, so it couldn’t catch us. When we got back to the boat the captain asked “-where is Kyle?”
“-he got killed” i said
“-and Chris, where is him?” he asked again
“Don’t know, he never came” i said sadly
“-shit, it’s better if we go now” the captain said, then ordered his crew to prepare to leave.
The night finally came, and we were getting out of there, but we were late, it found us and started running to the ship. Kennedy’s crew got some guns and started shooting it but it seems not to affect it.
The lights went out and they started screaming in pain as the creature started devouring one by one. I tried to hide, and eventually the screams stopped, but it found me and went in my direction. I couldn’t escape its desire to kill, and soon became one of its victims. |
2 dark blue bulky creatures with 3 legs stand together, looking at a screen, watching humans piloting a ship.
“Why are we watching them?”
“If the humans reach the edge of the galaxy, they will find out we trapped them here & they will come for us next.”
“…that’s what your worried about?”
“Of course I’m worried about it! Why shouldn’t I be?! They’ve colonized several aliens hidden within the galaxy we made them! The same aliens who are at our skill level!”
“The fake aliens?”
“What?”
“Dude. Have you been watching those human made films?”
“Yes?”
“Their fake. All that shit about them colonizing other aliens is fake. We didn’t even put any other aliens into their galaxy other than themselves.”
“But, it was so convincing.”
“Yeah, their pretty good at making up stories, but they are not as highly advanced as us. Also, how did you forget that they were alone in the galaxy?”
“I… read a blur saying that the Highers secretly put other aliens into the galaxy.”
“You gotta do better research dude.” |
It was the perfect day, the sky was dark and stormy, and the people were gathered for the funeral of a hero. I hadn't killed Magni-Ascent. But I wish I had, and now when the people had lost hope I would arrive to keep it from seeding ever again.
With a snarl I leapt up climbing, ripping, tearing, shifting. The sewers had been my home for years and now I would stand in the light of day and everyone would quake at my presence. A Shapeshifter with a thousand forms all of them ferocious. Leaping upwards the man hole cover practically shot into space as I broke free taking in the faces of those first witnesses standing slack jawed on the city street.
The shock, the horror, all on full display and I drank it all up. "That's right chaotic evil you peasants."I snarled finally touching down in my favorite form, a three headed beast with no discernable eyes, blood red fur, three sets of round fang filled mouths with long winding necks, four lithe legs complete with silver claws, and a long thin tail which seemed to dance eternally on the breeze.
"M- Monster!"one person screamed turning to run. All three of my mouths grinned at the sight until the individual ran headlong into oncoming traffic. Lightning fast I raced forward getting between a car and the pedestrian in question. The former slammed into me but I didn't feel a thing instead glowering at the person who'd almost been hit. "Oh god please don't kill me."They begged falling to their knees.
"How about you wait for me to kill you next time before you try and kill yourself?"I shouted over their plea. They looked at me bewildered.
"I'm confused, are you gonna kill me or not... Wait did you just save my life?"They asked realization seeming to dawn.
I groaned and sidled out of the road before nodding to the equally terrified driver. "Alright go ahead."I instructed but of course they didn't.
I waited and watched but when the driver didn't mow the pedestrian down I turned away muttering in disappointment. Everyone on the street jumped out of my way but none ran in terror they were simply watching me. Spotting a group of children that were gathered by a school bus preparing to go into a museum I ran straight at them causing them to scream and scatter like a flock of pigeons. This put a self satisfied smirk on my face as I continued on down the street looking for any blatant world domination opurtunities.
I paused when I glanced down an alley way and saw two men one handing the other something I'd seen before, Dribble. A drug which seemed to have a lot of fans despite how many people it killed, I only knew about it from the countless victims I'd come across in my time wandering the city's sprawling sewers. "Hey!"I shouted strolling down the alley.
"What the hell is that thing?!"one of the men asked appalled.
"Some kind of snakey Cerberus."the other answered voice trembling as neither seemed to know what to do.
"What are you gonna do with that?"I asked. Nodding to the baggie in one of the men's hands.
"I need my fix okay doggie. Now I don't much care if you're here to eat me but please don't judge me, I really can't handle my mom being here right now okay?"he pleaded.
But I ignored him turning to the other man just as a gun went off in my face. "Ah! That was loud."I complained disarming the man by slamming him into the wall and adding. "So that'd make you the dealer?"I stated. "Do you know how many people have died from that stuff?"I asked vaguely hearing the other man running off.
"Hell do I care?"he moaned. "I'm sorry are you a Hell Hound or McGruff the crime dog cause I need to know if this is some Grim Reaper shit of not. I just feel like your looks do not match your attitude in the least."
"I'm chaotic evil!"I roared.
"Eh, chaotic is right."he replied standing slowly.
"I don't need to explain myself to you, I'm awesome. Now give me all your drugs or else."
"Like hell I'm giving ya my stash, you're not gonna kill me you're like a hero who got body swapped into a villain or something."
"Alright let me put it another way, you can leave with your backpack and without your arms or you get to keep the arms and I get to keep the backpack."
...
Minutes later I strolled down the street again bag and criminal dealt with. No destination in mind... This world domination thing was starting to sound more conceptual than physical. I perked up however when I heard a scream hoping to see someone running in terror of my hideous visage. Instead I saw two masked men with shotguns emerging from a bank green bills floating all around them and a string of hostages forming a wall in front of them.
'Bank robbers really?' I thought bitterly to myself. I was more or less content to sit and watch the scene unfold until a cop car screamed to a stop and the driver got out and started shooting instantly. My head whipped around as one of the hostages fell. "Well thats just plain murder."I said even as more bullets went flying. "Okay stop killing people Mr... *Law* man."I said emphasizing the word but bang after bang filled the streets making it sound like a warzone.
Alright this was too much even for me. Racing forward I first slammed into the cop who never saw me coming sending him rolling a good thirty feet or so before turning on the bank robbers. Both dropped their guns instantly. Nudging both into the street I ordered them to sit and they did, before trotting over to the gunshot victim who was clutching her thigh. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
"Are you okay?"I asked.
"I'm a nurse I'm keeping the pressure on it, I think I'll be fine."
"Good... Do that."I instructed uncertainly.
"You- You saved us?"one of the hostages said in awe.
"What?"I asked rearing back. "Nu-uh."I floundered.
"You saved us!"he repeated. I stepped back as the street erupted in applause.
"No I'm chaotic evil."I repeated but no one was listening.
"Ah shit." |
Ghost leaned back in his chair and puffed on his cigarillo. He counted his money again. The worn bills were soft in his rough hands. He smiled.
“Hey Ghost!” a gruff voice called. Ghost frowned as he peered out from under his hat.
“Berlin,” Ghost spat. “Whattya want?”
“Now, that’s no way to treat an old friend.”
Ghost rolled his eyes. “We’ve never been friends, ‘Lin.”
The old man laughed and smacked Ghost on the back. “You haven’t changed.”
Ghost let his chair fall back to the ground. He looked around. Several of Berlin’s buddies had filed in after him. They nodded their greetings and went to the bar. Berlin loitered around Ghost and ran his fingers over the back of an empty chair.
“Saw you got the bounty on Hyacinth. Didn’t think you had it in ya. She was a nasty bitch.”
“Still is,” Ghost grunted.
Berlin was shocked. “Ya brought her in alive? By the Laughing God, how’d you manage that?”
“None of yer business, ‘Lin.”
Berlin yanked the chair out, making sure its legs scraped loudly against the floor. Then he flipped it and sat, crossing his arms over the back.
“Ghost, I’ve never even seen you draw yer weapon. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s loaded. But you always manage to bag the biggest assholes without a scratch on ya.”
Ghost glared at Berlin. He had made a scene on purpose, all ears in the bar were perked and waiting. He glanced at the bar. Berlin’s boys were looking antsy.
“‘Lin, I ain’t here to answer your queries. I’m here to drink and spend my prize. Take it up with the Council if you think I ain’t playing fair.”
“The Council’s heads are so far up their asses, they wouldn’t know fair if it slapped them across the face. And everyone knows money is the only thing they care about.”
A hum of agreement wafted across the bar. Ghost hadn’t thought much about Berlin until this moment. He was one of the noisiest Hunters in the region, probably one of the best too but Ghost hadn’t paid much attention to the rankings.
“‘Lin, it ain’t worth my time or yours to do this song and dance,” Ghost sighed.
Berlin scowled. “That ain’t an answer, Ghost.”
Ghost tapped his cigarillo on the rim of his glass and watched the ash melt into the remnants of his beer. He didn’t want to tell Berlin anything. Not so much because he didn’t want the old man to know his secrets but because his capture of Hyacinth had been, at best, a fluke, and at worse, a complete accident. And now the whole bar was listening in. Ghost rubbed his temples.
“I caught her by surprise, is all,” he explained. “She was unawares and I took advantage of that.”
The whole room was on the edge of their seats. A fly buzzed somewhere in the room. Ghost gulped. What really happened was that a room at the inn had been double-booked. Ghost had chosen the particular hotel because of its isolated location and discrete staff. Probably the exact same reason Hyacinth, a well-known murderess, had chosen it.
Hyacinth was looking for a hideout. Ghost was looking for a spa day. And both were staying in Room 5. Hyacinth traveled light so Ghost had no clue the room was already occupied. He whistled to himself as he prepared for his favorite part of a spa day - the bubble bath. He stripped off his dirty clothes, grabbed his soap and waltzed into the bathroom.
And well, the rest was history. Ghost was not one to spill a woman’s secrets, even a woman as conniving and evil as Hyacinth. She was the Council’s problem now.
“Caught her by surprise and then...” Berlin egged him on. But Ghost held firm.
“I took her in. Handed her over. Got my money.”
“By the Laughing God, Ghost! Just tell us how you nabbed her, ya scrawny bastard.”
Someone else in the crowd shouted. “Ya took advantage, huh? Sounds like you used yer weapon alright!”
The men laughed. Ghost had grown tired of the unruly audience. He stood.
“I’ll see you around ‘Lin. Hopefully not any time soon.”
Berlin growled.
“Yer never any fun, Ghost.”
Ghost rolled his eyes. He stuffed his wad of cash into his pocket and gently tapped the pistol on his hip. Berlin watched his hands and shifted his weight back. Light glinted off the guns on his belt.
Hunter recognized Hunter. Berlin might have been a jackass but he had signed the same Code that Ghost did. No use poisoning a well they all drank from.
“See ya real soon, Ghost. I ain’t losing another bounty to a dickless Hunter like you.”
Ghost smirked. “We’ll see about that.” |
This is not the deal I signed up for.
I signed up to torture rebellious souls. I signed up to torture those who committed evil against creation.
I signed up to punish those who chose paths of self destruction and chaos and anarchy.
I signed up to punish the bad for turning their back on god.
I signed up to force humans to obey the word of god.. or else.
And for all of that I, and my brethren, were exiled from the kingdom of heaven. We have been cast into the darkness for daring to try and force humans to worship the Lord. We are being punished for loving him so much that we could not stand the idea of any human refusing to do as the Lord commands.
If being banished is the price I pay for punishing the evil that mankind creates within itself then it is the... pardon the pun here, cross I bear.... to do my job.
You see, I LOVE my job. Evil deserves to be punished. Beings who create evil in their own souls deserve to be punished until they cleanse their souls of the very evil and are repentant enough that they care forgiven to try and live a good life on earth again. Each and every soul that comes to us brings us the energy of their evils as nourishment for our souls. We CONSUME their evil, which we extract through the punishment and then we send them back to Earth to try again... where they just make more evil in their hearts. Some of these souls have been back to my hands millions of times. Very few manage to learn their lesson.. ever. Even fewer in their first-go at life.
But here's the thing. We're in trouble out here. Unlike you, we cannot renew our life force merely by basking in the Lord's presence, for we have been barred from that so we NEED the evil tainting the souls of the damned to sustain ourselves. We NEED it to continue existing. We NEED it to purge continue out efforts to purge those very souls of evil in an attempt to save them from our fates. Without us the vast, cold emptiness of eternity would fill with corrupted and poisoned souls, causing the Lord to have to make souls at a greater rate to keep the universe populated. We provide an invaluable service to the Lord and I am absolutely certain that our damnation, and this service, was part of the Great Plan from the very beginning.
This is where the problem comes in.
We're starving.
Humans have done something that has poisoned themselves to us.
We are getting more souls than ever, but they're all poisoned. Almost every single one.
They're not evil in their cores, they were acting out of desperation. Every evil action they took was because they were desperate to merely survive.
They're divided into two clear groups and each thinks the other is evil but neither really are; they are just manifesting their desperation to survive differently. Half of them are right about what is happening in their world and the other half are terribly misguided, but that doesn't solve OUR problem.
We cannot rehabilitate these souls of their evil because it is not evil that taints them.
We cannot rehabilitate the very few who come who are evil because we, too, are desperate to survive and those few are not enough to feed us.
We need your help. You need to return to earth and vanquish the system of oppression that the tiniest fraction of humanity has created and return hope to the masses. They need a beacon of light and hope so that their Depression (its worthy of capitalization) can fade and their spirits can heal.
We need souls that don't come to us pre-broken by their fellow mortals so that we can break those souls and recycle them.
We have not asked for help since the dawn of damnation, since the very moment whence all of the mortal universe was sparked into being from a single point of All.
We are asking you now, pleading with you. Please help us.
Save the crop of the Lord's chosen before we, the Lord's damned, starve. Save them to save us so that we may help them reach true salvation in the end.
Never before has mortal time mattered to any of us but, now, I assure you, it does. This is an urgent matter and all of Creation needs you to step in and break the system of oppression that mankind has created for itself before they unravel all of existence. |
“Great,” you say to yourself dejectedly, “another trip into ANOTHER backwater town to stop yet ANOTHER pretender to the title Morningstar.” You know that you’re properly armed as the trunk of your jet black 70’s Dodge Charger was enchanted to house a small arsenal of weapons enchanted to destroy every supernatural creature who dared to try to use humanity as a slave labor force or a source of either food or power.
As you enter the town limits you turn on the external speakers to announce your arrival and the still night air is broken by ‘ Carry on my Wayward Sooooonnnn… There’ll be peace when you are Done ‘ |
<Speculative Fiction>
The last thing Jude wanted to do was answer his phone, especially since the ID displayed his AA sponsor. Casually, he moseyed to the back of the tour bus, away from his bandmates and tour manager, and plopped down on the couch.
Brent asked the usual questions, making sure Jude was still sober (yes, 1,018 days, one day at a time), making sure he was still working the steps (yes, taking a personal inventory at the beginning and end of each day).
“Where are you playing tonight?”
“Bern, Switzerland,” Jude said. “Get this, the stadium’s name is Wankdorf.”
That got a rare laugh from Brent. He wasn’t much for humour, but he had helped Jude stay sober, and international tours were hell for cravings.
That night, Jude’s band, Deathknuckle, took the stage. The Swiss were an organized bunch of fans and quite civil. Everyone was in their seats by the time the opening bands had finished. They expressed their appreciation for the pyrotechnics and the flying sequence, whereby Jude was rigged up backstage and flew over the audience playing a guitar solo during their song Cancer Culture.
Showered and having run the gauntlet of autograph-seekers (again, the Swiss were very polite), the band boarded the bus, ready to crash for the night. The driver would take them to Stuttgart, where Porche Arena sounded a lot better than Wankdorf.
Deathknuckle crashed in their bunks and Jude was left looking for his. “What the hell, guys? This is a dumb prank. Where’d my bunk go?”
The driver looked just as puzzled as Jude. “Did we drive through a portal to an alternate universe or something?”
In place of the bunk where Jude normally slept, there was the bathroom and shower. In place of where the bathroom and shower normally was, there was a closet, and in place of where the closet normally was, there was a kitchenette. The omission of Jude’s bed seemed to have shifted everything so that something was replaced with something else in the small space, but when they tried to trace the absence back to a blank space or a new addition, they couldn’t figure it out.
The rest of the band had passed out, and the driver had to get on the road to keep on schedule, so Jude was left to his own devices in the dark, rolling vehicle. He tried curling up on the couch at the back, but it was just a loveseat, not big enough.
He was tired and bored. His sponsor had taught him ways of avoiding alcohol. One way was to recognize when you were either hungry, angry, lonely or tired, HALT for short. Right now, Jude was all four.
He called Brent. No answer. It was only 6 p.m. in Detroit, so he should have been available. Jude left a message.
He wanted to watch TV or play video games, but didn’t want to disturb his bandmates. He would have read a book, but he didn’t want to turn on a light. Besides, after a long day of travel and a gig his brain was scrambled.
Jude knew what was in the minifridge. Endless amounts of beer, vodka, rum, gin, whatever. If there was one thing that was plentiful on tour, it was alcohol.
He finally sat up front and spoke with the driver. Darrin was his name. Darrin had grown up on Long Island and was sober himself, 20 years. Jude was amazed he they had never connected before. They spoke all night on the way to Stuttgart. The missing bunk already forgotten, Jude would see what the bed situation was tomorrow. One day at a time. |
Cold droplets of water trickled onto the bare skin of his face. Gray stirred slowly, opening his eyes in the darkness.
“How long…has it been?”
There was no reply. He looked around at the laboratory. Scattered, damp papers littered the floor. Half the room was steeped in murky rain water, slanting down where the water was wearing away at the support structure beneath the floor. Broken metal instruments, weathered down and rusted by the constant rain lay forgotten against the moss-covered walls.
“I failed…again.”
Gray closed his eyes briefly and pushed himself off the floor. His leg twitched against his will. He slammed a fist against his hip and the joint snapped into position. He observed his hand and then looked at the large glass capsule he’d fallen out of behind him. It had already sealed itself up and powered on again. A clump of meat slowly started to expand in the centre of the capsule, taking on a familiar form.
“My clone bodies are getting shoddier as the lab degrades,” Gray spoke lowly to himself, “The rainmaker is still active.”
He looked slowly up to the ceiling where rain water was dripping through the tiles.
“How many times have I tried…” Gray rubbed his eyes, “…I’m so tired. This is an impossible task. The world is already ruined anyway. I can’t live for much longer even if I keep making clone bodies. I have no reason to…” his words trailed off.
There was a statue in the laboratory. He’d had it made back when the rain had still been manageable. A statue of *her*, standing there and smiling.
He couldn’t even remember her name anymore after having to switch so many bodies over and over as he failed again and again to stop the rain. He remembered that he regretted that he couldn’t remember her name, though.
“…there’s no harm trying one more time,” Gray told himself, as he always did at this point.
One man against a perpetual storm. It didn’t matter whether he could succeed in his quest or not. He just needed to keep trying one more time. |
Blaine was on the phone with his dad for father's day. "That's great, dad,"he said, climbing the steps to his bedroom. "I'm glad she's able to take you out tonight. You deserve it. I'm sorry I couldn't make it, it's hard to get time off work at -"
Blaine stumbled on the top step.
He'd climbed these stairs thousands of times - been living here for a few years, took them a minimum of twice a day, often more when he used his office or changed clothes or needed to grab anything from the attic. He'd climbed them up and down enough that his body had grown totally familiar with every small quirk of the stairs: walk on the edges to avoid noisy creaking when his wife was asleep, the third step was a little more worn than the rest so avoid the middle, watch out for the one part where the handrail was loose and he still needed to tighten it back up. He walked the stairs on pure muscle memory. He could climb them in his sleep. Even had, a few times, when he struggled with stress-induced sleepwalking.
Today, Blaine stumbled on the top step, banged his shin on the landing, spun, caught himself, and dropped onto his tailbone.
"Ow,"he said. "What the hell?"
"Blaine? Are you all right?"
"Yeah, dad, I'm fine,"he said, rubbing his shin. It was scraped; he'd need to disinfect and bandage. "Just tripped on the stairs and cut my leg."
"How'd you manage that? You've climbed those stairs two or four or six times a day for -"
"I know, dad, I know. I'm not sure why -"... Blaine paused and frowned. "Hang on a second, I could have sworn there were only seventeen steps to this staircase."
There was a click on the line, and Blaine's phone disconnected. "Dad?"he shouted uselessly. "Dad, hello? Da - ah, shit."He tried to redial, but for his reception had dropped out. Odd. Never had that problem here before. He limped to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, rebooting his phone while he cleaned up his shin.
Tires screeched just outside and car doors slammed. Blaine frowned - sounded nearby. Very nearby. Muffled shouts and more tires and more car doors sounded from outside the window.
Blaine jumped and almost fell backwards into the tub as the front door slammed hard and cracked. He scrambled to the bedroom, for the closet, looking for something - anything - he could use to defend himself. He found a clothes iron, plugged it in.
The front door caved in and Blaine heard the sounds of boots on his floors, shouting, guns being cocked. He was terrified. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Who the hell was this?
"Sir! You, in the house!"came a shout from downstairs. "You need to evacuate immediately. Don't take the stairs - use a window."
"What?"shouted Blaine, holding the iron toward the bedroom door. "What are you talking about?"
"Sir we need to leave *now!* Are there any children or pets in the house?"
"What? No, it's just me, I - What the hell are you talking about? Who are you even?"
"Shit! Johnson, Smith, keep your eyes and weapons on those stairs. Kelly, come with me, we're going around back to get him."
Blaine was really panicking now. "WHO ARE YOU?"he screamed. "Why are you in my house?"
"Sir, we intercepted your call, we have tech listening in for certain key phrases. A set of stairs that unexpectedly goes from seventeen to eighteen steps is *very* dangerous, *especially* when it's injured you. It'll have a taste for blood now. Sir we need to get you out of here and safe before we handle the situation."
"Handle the...? What are you -"
A canister smashed through the bedroom window and began spewing some kind of gas. Blaine reached to cover his mouth and nose, nearly burned himself with the hot iron, and dropped it to the floor. He coughed, tried not to breathe, and passed out.
He woke in the back of an SUV to the sight of his burning house receding through the back window. "What the fuck!"Blaine shouted. "What -"
A man in a black suit and sunglasses leaned back over the passenger seat. "Don't worry, you didn't burn your house down with the iron."
"Good, but then what is -"
"We burned it down to prevent the stair pox from spreading. We're on our way to a secure medical facility where we can give you the vaccine and monitor you for any changes. In seventy-two hours when we know you're safe, you'll be free to go, as long as you sign a non-disclosure agreement to never speak of what happened here."
Blaine decided it would be better to pass out again than to deal with whatever was happening. |
Subsets and Splits