Ever wonder why there's no cool animals out there like unicorns and owlbears?4.19 / 5.00 25,763 Views
A rip-roaring dungeon running adventure!3.96 / 5.00 8,090 Views
Keep calm and shoot down mobsters.3.57 / 5.00 3,925 Views
Madness: Timelines (Part 2)
The two suits leaped towards Hank, but one was stopped short as a bullet to the brain sent him back. Dead. The other one had managed to grab onto Hank's neck, and now had him in a chokehold as he held the gun to his temple.
I'm getting soft. He thought as he saw Tricky pull out the all too familiar warning sign. Tricky began approaching the now captured Hank.
With a distraction, I might be able to put a bullet in this guy's liver, at least..
Movement was caught from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, but only slightly, not wanting his eyes to fully leave Tricky. The Donald Trump guy was getting up! Only he really didn't look like Donald Trump now. Parts of his blued face were missing, and whatever pieces were still there were now being pulled off. Hank knew this character well. Jesus.
I would love to catch up so much, Jesus. But first I've got to take care of a Joker.
Hank took advantage of this distraction, shooting his captor in the foot, so that he was now released. Then his captor got a faceful of fist, knocking him into the wall, breaking the back of his skull. The captor slumped to the ground, dead, and Hank refocused on Tricky, who seemed to be as surprised as him that Jesus was here.
"You... you... you were killed." Hank breathed.
"So were you. Tricky too," Jesus answered, "when the world was broken from the annormality that it was sent into, the timeline had been reversed, back to before it had been activated. Any events that had happened during that time no longer happened. So now, we live again. However, it should not be."
Tricky stood there, silent. He still clutched the warning sign in his right hand, which bothered Hank. A sign really wouldn't seem that dangerous, but if you had been through half of what Hank had, you would know that a weapon could be made out of a piece of grass.
"Either we all die, or we put the world back into antinormality," Jesus continued, "fixing this is my job, IT WILL MAKE ME THE SAVIOR!"
Hank noticed lightning coarsing through Jesus's hands.
Not this again... Jesus shot the lightning at the remaining three suits, turning them into zombies. At least it's only three.
Chambering his last three rounds, Hank took in the details, especially what Jesus had said.
Just have to kill them, then myself. He wasn't too fond of throwing in the towel so early but could think of no better way to do it.
Let's get this over with.
Hank unloaded the three bullets left in the pistol into the farthest right zombie. The zombie went down. Tricky was already slashing away at the one closest to him. This left the middle one. Before Hank could formulate even a second of his next attack the zombie was rushing towards him. Hank threw his gun and then caught it again so that he was holding onto the barrel. When the zombie got close enough to got a nice club to the head. Staggering back a bit, the zombie shook off the pain then jumped towards Hank. When the two connected, the zombie got a bite of his hand, and was now hanging on. The impact caused Hank to spin around, and in the same motion he pulled out the only other weapon he had, in case of emergencies, a dagger. Never left home without it. He pushed the zombie, still biting into his hand, into the wall, then stabbed into its heart. Pulling the knife down, the zombie slowly released its grip on Hank's hand until he was free.
Hank looked back over at the battle that was now ensuing between Tricky and Jesus. The third zombie was taken care of, with its head detached and a good two feet from its body. Hank ran to the two zombies there, and took their pistols. He was back in the battle.
Tricky took a swing at Jesus, which was quickly dodged as he began to levitate above their reach. As Jesus had dodged the swing Hank shot at where he was going to be, getting him in the shoulder. This turned both Jesus's and Tricky's attention to him. Crap. Jesus pulled the guns away from Hank telepathically, and now they were floating on either side of him. Double crap. Tricky had also begun swinging at Hank, who was just barely dodging, while Jesus was pulling the triggers, both wasting bullets and, most importantly, bullets that were aimed to kill Hank. There was so much crap in this that Hank would soon need more toilet paper.
Hank once again took out his dagger, and began blocking Tricky's strikes rather than just dodging. At the right opening Hank would take a slash at the clown himself. The moment showed itself after Tricky took the last two bullets in the back. This caused Tricky to lose a little bit of his tight grip on the warning sign. While Tricky was distracted Hank took a stab at Tricky's heart, going in as far as the blade could and then some. After a good five seconds the clown had stopped breathing, and Hank removed the blade.
Jesus was now holding the giant conference table telepthically above his head. Hank would have to act fast. He noticed that holding this table left Jesus's hands open. He threw his dagger, aiming for Jesus's right hand. It hit, the blade sinking into his skin. The force that was used to throw the blade was also enough to send Jesus flying back into the nearby wall, where the blade stabbed into the wall. The conference table suddenly dropped, sending wooden pieces everywhere. Hank took the warning sign from Tricky's dead clutch, and pierced it into Jesus's other hand, and then into the wall. Breathing heavily, Hank approached the zombie that had attacked him, and took its gun. Walking towards the now hanging Jesus, he counted the clip. Six bullets. He unloaded five bullets into Jesus's head, killing him. Hank wondered who had even called in this job.
Probably Jesus, trying to get the three of us in one room. Well, the job is almost done. Hank thought as he raised the gun to his temple. Then, he pulled the trigger.
DISCLAIMER: I have nothing against Donald Trump, he was just the first businessman I could think of.
Chapter I: Whispers in the Dark
I remember walking aimlessly through in the dark, breathing in a coppery scent as I waded in a thick liquid, which rose to my knees. I was trying my best not to shake. I heard a sound of a heart from the shadow in the dark. A voice from the dark coaxed me.
"Come," she said.
I walked toward the sound of her voice, searching for this person. Maybe she had the answers that where spinning in my mind like a F5 tornado. I was swallowing excessively, my eyes darting around the room, if you could call it a room. I don't remember this place. It felt familiar but when I tried, I could not find the name.
I felt a drop of sweat slide down my brow. I can feel my body becoming drenched in sweat. Yet I still don't feel any tiredness, despite the distance.
After what seemed like hours, a wave of fatigue rushed through my body. My knees gave in and I fell into the deep.
I could deny it no longer: It was blood.
A sudden coldness struck me to the core, followed by a heavy feeling in my stomach. I couldn't move my legs. I couldn't breathe. I felt blood flooding into my nose and ears. I used my tired arms to elevate myself, dragging my aching body towards the voice. I could hear my heartbeat roaring in my ears. I was dirty, soiled, with the blood of people I didn't know. I had to escape, but where? Where, in a place where Death attacks Death, could I escape? Searching for a god to pray to, only Death responds, the mocking darkness lying to me.
"Can you stand?"
I saw the darkness surround the shape on the ground, the woman straight up and a body face down. Who is this person? I know her. I can't exactly say why, but I feel like I do. She was walking on top of the blood, as if she was Jesus Christ. She was short and slender and looked no older than I was. Her platinum blonde hair fashioned into twin tails cascaded down her shoulders and perfectly framed her heart shaped face. She was dressed in elegant gothic clothing and wielded what appeared to be a black umbrella. Her lips where shaped like Cupid's bow. She was truly beautiful. The only feature which unnerved me were those almond shaped red eyes that penetrated the darkness.
"Can you stand?" she repeated.
I shook my head.
She extended her pale, gentle hand out to me.
"How can you re-tune the world when you can't even overcome such a simple thing as fatigue?", she said mockingly. Defeated, I grabbed her hand.
A skeletal hand grabbed my ankle, pulling me down. My captured leg sunk into the ground. My skin felt like it was trying to glide to the back of my body. Using my free leg, I kicked and kicked at the hand until another hand reached from the abyss beneath me and grabbed it, throwing me off balance. I tried to scream, but only blood came out of my frozen throat. I was in blood. Other people's blood as well as my own.
I held on to her with both hands for dear life, gripping it with all my might. She just looked at me with those cold red eyes, her stone faced gaze dropping down on me. She tilted her chin and frowned, placing her free hand on her cheek. Her perfect lips arched into a smug grin. "What a pathetic creature. Can't even summon the strength to fight back. Nothing but a beast. No, you're lower than a beast. Your nothing more than a pimple on the rear end of the world's smallest amoeba, and you are the one who is to re-tune the world?"
Another hand sprung from the abyss and seized my hair, pulling my head down just above the sea of blood. I was sinking further into the abyss, their strength overwhelming me. Using what was left of my power to keep my head up, I saw the woman with the black umbrella let go of my trembling hand.
"If you cannot summon the strength to fend them off, then why should I waste my time with you?" she said as if I offended her. "Ah well. I suppose I'll let you die here."
Die. Could I really die from a dream? No, this isn't a dream. It's too real. I struggled and squirmed like an animal with its leg caught in a bear trap. I grabbed bit the skin of the arm until it drew blood of the hand grabbing my hand with all my might, but even that wouldn't loosen its grip on me.
It was Saorise, my little sisters's voice.
The woman looked up and smiled. "She's trying to reach to you in the waking world, little one. If you were to die here, you'd leave her all alone in that damned city of yours."
She was right. I hated to admit it, but she was right. I couldn't leave her alone. Not in our hostel room. Not in that city. She's too kind to make it in that hellhole. Too malleable. Images popped into my head of her getting preyed upon, raped, abused, tortured and alone with no one out there to pity her. She'll be taken advantage of. I couldn't leave her alone. No. I couldn't let that happen to her. Anything but that, I begged to whatever god existed out there.
No, begging is for the weak. I had to fight.
A surge of painful adrenaline rushed throughout my body, a wave of inner strength igniting my veins. I was in agony, like every muscle in my body was on fire. With my newfound strength, I seized the wrist of the hand grabbing my head. With a quick twist, the sound of a bone splitting apart echoed throughout the chamber. I saw her cover her mouth with her hand, eyes wide and shining brilliantly.
I could've relished in my victory, but it wasn't over yet. Whatever was grabbing my leg and pulling me down had to be dealt with. I grabbed the woman's dress and, with her looking at me with rapt attention, began to pull myself out of the abyss. The only thing I could feel was that faint beat inside my chest.
My strength subsided. I was being pulled down once more. What was that strength? All that power? Whatever it was, it consumed me, ate me alive and spat me back out. My entire body felt numb. I
couldn't feel anything anymore.
"You surprised me, little one," she said with brightened countenance. "You more than deserve your life."
A compliment? From her? Was hallucinations a side effect of that power?
"That power is what we envy, to take your fate into your own hands. The power of free will. Stand still, little one, and I shall restore you to life."
She wrapped my cold, lifeless body into her warm embrace, the coldness subsiding. She lifted my chin with her hand. What was she doing?
I felt sharp fangs penetrate my skin and sink deep into my veins. Once again, I felt heat. My illuminated body burned. Red flames consumed me from the inside. My flesh burned. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice ringing throughout the chamber.
She retracted her fangs from my neck, looking at me with those beautiful red eyes, and spoke to me. "You have chosen life, and I have granted it."
"Damon? Damon!" I heard Saorise's voice again as I felt my consciousness slipping.
"This is goodbye."
I woke up, my hand on the side of my neck where she bit me.
Heres some limerick poems written by various Newgrounders
Posted on SteakandKidneyPie's behalf.
As I walk through my monocrome life
Where I live by the gun and the knife
Trapped in the death
Taking others last breath
Living in my world of rife
The clown is a tricky green thing
He is knowen to dance and to sing
But you'd better beware
To not stand and stare
Or you'll find that his bite has some sting
Hank is an unfortunate fellow
He never seems to run out of ammo
Guns are his style
Forced into exile
Yet he always seems to end up the hero
The savior represents our Lord
Mystical powers he seems to hoard
Raising the dead
To take off Hanks head
His life into his work he has poured
As the bullet slots into the shaft
And is aimed into the enemies craft
Violence and murder
Do nothing but further
The fact that our oponents are daft
Blood sprays out of a victim's head
millions suffer and will soon be dead
to Hank's desire
he is the madness world's source of dread
This cartoon became so famed
of grey men getting maimed
everyone loves it, eh?
Tom made a Holiday
And we have Krinkles to blame
He sends shivers down your spine
his head sprouts red fluffy twine
do not interupt his spree
or you will soon see
your fate will be stained on his sign
Waves of a demonic horde run
their goal to kill, maim, or stun
they have slain a lot
but Hank fears not
'cause he knows they will sucumb to his gun
somwhere in Nevada nearby
a man lays in sand and crys
the source of his woes
when he found that Hank never dies
Hank was reputed as one of the deadliest beings to ever grace the earth. Many had mutilated by his savage hand or eliminated by his precise weapon skills. Hank was a one man army incarnate; but things were not always like they are now.
Hank used to be part of a duo, in the same way Sanford and Deios are partners. Hank and his partner, Aaron, were a deadly combination. Hank was always more about finesse, but Aaron was a heavy hitter, he liked to get his hands dirty. Together they had formed the most feared partnership in the entire business of murder. They made a living taking jobs from The Higher Powers. Killing was their business, and business was good.
Things didn't work out for long though. As Hank and Aaron became more notorious, more powerful, the more enemies they obtained. The two were well known to be volatile and unpredictable. They were are army of two, and only two. It was only after the duo's first job in Nevada that they first caught the attention of The Sheriff. It was a rather low key job, just eliminating a small group of ambitious upstarts before they posed a threat. It was rather unspectacular, but The Sheriff knew better, he was a coward and knew a threat when he saw it. He knew that he was going to need some help for this job, and enlisted the aid of his strongest friends, to ensure Hank and Aaron's next job, was their last.
The arid Nevada air simmered in the 100 degree heat. Hank stood on the precipice of a high cliff and, using his binoculars, scouted the towering complex just 100 feet away. A few paces back of him Aaron sat on a small boulder, smoking a cigarette, and wrapping bandages around his fists. Hank could remember clearly the first time he met Aaron. The two had got into a fistfight and Aaron nearly mauled Hank to death. If it wasn't for Hank shooting Aaron in the hands he would have been killed. Aaron was a violent psychopath, but Hank felt like he was the only one he could trust in this world. Aaron didn't think for his own benefit, he only thought about the next fight, and the next meal. hey both respected each other's strength and felt that in this world of deceit and lies it was men like them, strong and dangerous, that needed to stick together.
Hank motioned over to Aaron, who had just finished placing his titanium cestus onto his fists. Aaron looked up and then turned to the large harpoon gun at his side. He lifted it and tossed it to Hank. Hank released the mount from the bottom of the gun and stabbed it into the ground. He then carefully positioned the barrel so that it aligned with the 32nd Floor. He tried to pull back the lever that would fire the harpoon but could only pull it back halfway. Aaron pushed Hank aside and jerked the lever back the full length with only one hand. Hank stood back up and dusted himself off. A few seconds later the harpoon fired, screaming through the air and crashing through into the wall. The harpoon carried behind it a long rope for Hank and Aaron to zipline across over to the complex. Hank grabbed a small cloth from his pocket and wrapped it over the rope and began to slide down, Aaron following, holding the rope with both of his gloved hands while sliding. Hank unstrapped a Grenade Launcher from his back and began to fire at the wall where the Harpoon had embedded itself. The wall came apart in a cloud of dust and shrapnel. Hank and Aaron leaped from the rope into the building. Hank pulled out dual pistols and shot two disoriented guards. Aaron dashed toward another guard and delivered a bone shattering punch to his face that caused his head to rocket into the wall and create a crater from the shock of the blow. Hank snatched a key card from the corpse of a guard and opened the door into the next room. Hank turned to see Aaron ripping the harpoon from the head of the guard it had apparently impaled. He then broke it off of the rope and followed Hank into the next room.
Immediately upon entering the room a flood of l337 Crew agents swarmed the room. Aaron rocketed the harpoon from his hand and stuck three agents to the wall like meat on a spit. Hank unloaded his clip into another 4 agents. Hank threw a vending machine in front of himself for cover as he reloaded. As the bullets whizzed past Hank's head he could hear Aaron's fists shattering bones and crushing brains. Aaron knew how to take a bullet or two, he was a reckless bastard. Hank came out of cover and fired his last clip into the trio of guards who had entered with shotguns. Aaron looked up from on top of the corpse he had just pummeled to see the last guard stagger in front of him with a gun to his head. Aaron was frozen in place when a pistol suddenly hit the guard in the face. The guard fired and hit Aaron in the shoulder, Aaron brushed it off and grabbed the guard by the head with both hands. His hands shook and in an instant the guard's head exploded in a geyser of blood and brain matter. Hank called down the elevator and pressed the button for the 34th and final floor.
Aaron and Hank stood quietly in the elevator as soothing jazz echoed throughout. They were both drenched in blood and Aaron softly massaged his bleeding elbow as the number changed from 32 to 33. The elevator came to a thundering stop and the roof began to glow with hot sparks around the perimeter. Hank and Aaron glanced at each other and nodded. Hank put his hands out in front of him and Aaron jumped on top of them. hank quickly launched him up and Aaron punched a hole into the ceiling of the elevator. Aaron grabbed onto the support cable and looked down, Hank had already climbed to the roof and was fighting the blowtorch wielding grunts. Aaron understood what he had to do and began to climb up the cable to the 34th floor. He knew Hank could handle himself.
Hank fought off the two grunts with relative ease. he punched the first in the face and snatched the blowtorch from his hands. He then began to burn the grunt's stomach with the torch until his blood began to boil from his stomach. He then turned to the next and beat him over the head with the torch. Hank left the dizzied guard and began to burn the bottom of the cable. The cable snapped and Hank quickly grabbed on before the elevator shaft began plummeting down to the bottom. Hank saw that Aaron had already forced the elevator doors open and was apparently already fighting from the sounds he could hear coming from above. When Hank finally reached the top he found a sight that shook him to his core.
Hank climbed from the elevator shaft into the 34th floor. It was a large, spacious room surrounded on all sides by bulletproof, one sided glass. Hank saw before him a being draped in black flame with glowing red eyes. At his feet he saw Aaron, beaten and bloodied. Aaron quickly rose to strike the being but his punch was blocked by but a single hand. The being squeezed his hand until it burst. He then dug his fingers into Aaron's face and ripped his head from his body. He saw The Sheriff sitting not to far away, laughing in security behind the strange being.
Hank was frozen as the being advanced toward him. He heard a static, low voice echo in his head.
"Two have become one, now the balance is restored"
When Hank awoke he found himself back in the Jeep, alone, driving toward he Sheriff. He felt like something or someone was missing; but he quickly discarded the thought and drove onward. All he knew, was a strange and burning hatred for The Sheriff.
Hank's thinking:Should i continue the killing and kill the sherif' brother?Should i?Or should i give myself to police?
I think it's enough of mass killing!Maybe i should R-E-T-I-R-E??No i shouldn't,when i remember the marshmellow
killing,ahhh...Sweet memories!And the my first zombie fight?Man that was cool time so i should continue right?
I am not sure...Maybe it's just enough,i killed over 200 people...But that is like my hobby so...I remember my first fight in Nevada,that was cool,i just got in and then go Boom,Bam,Bem,Boom....Now i really think of retierment!
Someone knocks on the door!!!Hank:Okay,Okay just a moment...Hank open's the door and sees some little kid there,he say's(hanks says):What the fuuuuuuuuu**?Kid just stare's at him and come's inside...Hank grab kid's arm and says:Who the hell are you?Did sherif's brother send you?
Kid say's:Who?What?Who's that....I am not some little jerk i am your son...
Hank thinks:MY son,impossible,he's lying!
Hank say's:Oh really??Prove it!
Kid:Well you remember the girl you had sex with 13 years ago?
Kid:Well she is my mother and you are my father!
Hank:OMFG,That is-s-s-s-sn't possible!That's insane!!
Hank thinks:So now i should retire!That's it i am retiring!
Hank say's:Hey kid,should i retire from massive killing?
Then comes Family hug :)
Sorry Tom for spelling mistaks!
Thanks Chdonga for the signature. <3
The purple trail before me seemed to go on for miles in a never-ending structure of twists and turns that blinded my imagination. The path sparkled in the sun as grey and white clouds watched overhead, dancing with its celestial body. I walked forwards, attracted by its beautiful stare. It spoke to me, called out my name, and lured me into its grasp. I looked below as I started walking into the unknown. There was nothing but snow. The earth was dead, covered in a brush stroke of white. The clouds sang as they did their work, and framed the landscape into an abyss of nothingness.
The exotic world around me called me once more, and I continued into the unknown. Throughout the purple trail, I felt alone. I felt as if nothing was real, as if I was inside a paradoxical universe that's sole purpose was to bewilder me with immense tones of wonderment and astronomical figures, basking in an endless universe that carried me without free will. I had nowhere to turn. I had nowhere to hide. Yet, I felt at peace. I felt safe. I was not scared. There was nothing to be afraid about. It's only nothingness.
I was now walking upside down, walking up and over the loops and twists of the trail. It seemed to have its own gravitational pull, holding me tight in its arms. The isolated magnificence distracted me. I walked further into it and smiled. I felt at piece. I thought too myself, "Is this what it is like to be dead, or is it a simple pit stop in between the worlds of death and life?" I felt no pain. I felt no terror. I only felt the urge to push forward, to discover, and to engulf myself upon the purple glass in the land of snow and clouds. I only felt beautiful isolation.
Up ahead, seemingly out of nowhere, appeared a large, stone gate outlined with a green and grey texture carrying hundreds of strange symbols. It grew larger as I closed in on its form. Its surface was dull and weak, carrying trails of dust and age. I felt my hand against its cold surface, and shivered under its dead appearances. I craved to understand its meaning. I wanted more. I wanted knowledge. I pushed against the cold rock and it slid open just enough for me to walk through. I stared ahead, walking, breathing, thinking, and sweating. Sitting in front of my lifeless body was a forest, entangled with vines and darkness. There were no animals. There were only towering trees laced with dull, green plants that made a maze of uncertainty. The door sealed behind me, and I wondered into the forest of stone.
Grey bricks scattered themselves amongst the terrain, burrowing deep inside the trees and plants that morphed together the sights that rested before me. I touched a black and white flower underneath my feet, and it turned into wind, disappearing from my grasps as if it was never there. I was dead. This was where I was meant to be for the rest of my life. The grey world sang to me and welcomed me deeper within its realm. I reached out to touch its fingers, and it smiled. I climbed up the trees and onto the vines until I saw the dark sky above. Sitting upon the grey leaves, I watched the moon spin slowly in the sky. It watched me as I did it. It spoke to me, as everything else did. This was nature. This was death. Both were calling out to me in harmony. Both were singing to me. I understood. I understood that death was nature, and that nature was death.
My alarm clock screamed at me as I jumped up from my bed, throwing the covers against the wall and tripping against my bedside table. I fell to the floor and grabbed my head in pain. The room spun around me as I climbed to my feet and walked to the dim light of my bathroom. I washed my face off in the sink and breathed smoothly. A dull, saddened expression battered with age stared back at me in the mirror, then I remembered.
Today was the day I would make my move. I couldn't wait any longer. I was going to show everyone what I had seen. The purple glass would welcome the people in the park. That is where I will start. I will begin there and preach them my word. I will show them the wonders of the abyss. Soon, nature will take its place and all will fall under its unavoidable waves. I walked out of the bathroom and descended into my basement.
I reached into the darkness for the light switched, and rubbed my hands against it. The light turned on, revealing a small, grey stereo on a antique, wooden table. I smiled and grabbed the device, hugging it into my arms. I turned around and picked up a small box underneath a cabinet and put it into a backpack. With these things, I made my way outside my home and into the neighborhood.
I walked on the dusty sidewalk that surrounded the small homes of Gabbs, Nevada, holding the backpack close to my chest. I breathed heavily as I grew closer to the park. My heartbeat raced and sweat rolled down my cheeks. The stone gate called out to me once more, encouraging me that everyone deserved to be inside its grey arms. I agreed, and approached the one tree that stood in the middle of Gabbs Park. This was where most of the town residents would come to feel at peace. It was the best area for me to spread the word. I put down my backpack and grabbed the radio from inside. A few residents talking nearby watched as I hit the play button. I smiled, and reached inside the brown box.
I turned the safety off of my submachine gun, and began to fire into the crowd. The first three were easy, weak targets. They fell as blood followed their lifeless bodies and splashed onto the ground below. The music that filled the air helped me focus. I couldn't have succeeded without its forcing power. It helped me. It was there for me.
The next targets were defensive, and attempted to stop me. I shot my bullets through their organs before they could get near me, and laughed as spit trailed out of their mouths and into the air. I continued firing. I didn't stop. I wasn't going to stop until every last one of them were inside the world that was waiting for them. I watched as eight more fell against the grey grass below. They looked so silent and beautiful, like paintings in an art gallery. I knew they would try and resist the gate, but they would love it once they realized how wonderful it is. I felt so good, watching their throats spread open. I saw their eyes widen as they reached for their last breath of air. I knew that they were on the purple trail now. I knew it was the right thing to do. I laughed a marvelous laugh, staring into the sky.
My smile turned to a meaningless expression as I dropped my gun to the bloody grass below. My heart slowed down. The world around me blackened. I grabbed my chest and felt my lungs rip apart. I collapsed to my knees, and felt my face turn into a black X. I could no longer feel my arms. I could no longer feel my legs. I could only feel my hands and my feet against my lifeless torso. Im coming for you, oh grand stone! I will be with you forever now! This is it, this is where I belong! I heard another bang from behind me, and saw a final bullet rush through my chest.
People gathered around the scene as blue and red lights flashed against the cold, night air. Tears fell to the ground as citizens of the town stood on the sidelines, staring with horrified tones into the park. At approximately 2:32 PM this afternoon, a man shot and killed 17 men and 13 women until being stopped by a two bullets from a local police force. A cop stood over the man's dead body and looked into his white eyes. "What do you think could have caused this guy to do such a thing," his co worker asked him. "Well Jim, the only thing that comes to mind," he said calmly, "is madness."
Ch 1 - Chaotic Destruction
Hank looked both ways, most everyone knows his killing efficiency was off the scales, but only he knew why. Time slowed to a crawl as he grabbed the man to his left, using the human shield as he fired one shot, that was all he ever needed. The other figures head turned to a bloody red mist, and he collapsed. Two more entered from the door on his right, and hank knew that by the time he shot the first, the second could fire, He pushed his human shield forward, and in the momentary distraction, killed the second person to enter the room, then with one shot, killed both the human shield and the first man in the room. After raiding the SMG off the second dead man, he moved on to the next room, three behind a table. Hank rushed forward, and while they were still "Hiding" he blew one of their heads off through the table, the other two stood, one wielding a rocket launcher, the other had a sword.
He shot the guy with the sword about an eighth of an inch above the heart, and shot the rocket guy in the head, creating yet another brain/bloody mist explosion. Sword man fell to his knees puking blood, caused by a severed aorta, Hank didn't bother to waste a bullet, taking the mans sword and beheading him with it in one swift movement. Hank jumped the table, sheathed the sword, and grabbed the rocket launcher, then went to move onto the next room. A man hiding in a recessed alcove hopped out, only to be rocket-launcher whipped causing his skull to cave in. Hank stepped into the next room, which appeared to be a mess hall, with a giant crowd waiting for their mound of what looked like brown mashed potatoes, but hank decided not to wait and find out, instead firing the rocket launcher, spraying limbs, bodies, and blood twenty foot in every direction. Hank followed up by throwing the rocket launcher, distracting one of the few armed guards in the room, and after a quick one two with the SMG the guard fell, with two new eye-holes that he will never see from. Hank killed the guard on the other side of the room, one shot to the gut, the next on his heart, the third to his chin, and the fourth splitting the skull. Hank turned without releasing the trigger, cutting a path through the scrambling un-armed agents to the next guard, who took one shot to the face. Hank release the trigger and pulled out the sword, with no more guards to shoot at him, hacking those left alive into oblivion would be easy.
Ch 2 - Clown on a space station
Tricky was already dead, that made fear of death a null point, and this bit of irony didn't escape him as he completely ripped the head off his latest victim, a resident of the new space station in geo-synchronous orbit over Nevada. No weapons were allowed on-board, which hardly mattered to him, his hands were the only weapon he needed. Tricky looked at the blood spraying in zero-g
I should kill people in space more often... He was one of the three people, now two on board, and as he hunted for his only other victim, it occurred to him that the guy was out on a space walk. Tricky found the oxygen supply hose easy enough, and after some contemplation farted into the hose, watching from the port hole as the man tried in vain to take off the air hose, then gave up and returned to the ship, cussing like a sailor on meth. Tricky wasted no time in ripping the mans intestines out, and strangling him with them. Now how can I crash this space ship it would make big boom! He ran to the cockpit and started pulling out wires, after all thats how you break anything, just start ripping stuff out until it stops working, right? After two dozen wires the station partially exploded, and one rocket fired in reverse, sending the station earthward.
Ch 3 - business is good
Hank jumped and came down with a sick double handed overhead blow, that split a man in half, evenly following the spine. He thought, looking around at the various tiny bits and bodies lying in various stages of death, the room was a macabre mess of blood and small pieces of intestines and other various organs that couldn't be named in their current state.
After all of this Hank took inventory of the weapons he had gotten from the three guards, two pistols, and three new SMGs; he then moved on to the next room, which seemingly contained only a cabinet, which after a few well placed shots, miraculously became unlocked. Hank pulled it open, and smiled, which with the metal lower jaw, revealed various metal spikes that acted as his teeth. He strapped the tank onto his back and grabbed the nozzle, but this wasn't your run-of-the-mill flamethrower, It shoots a pellet of iron that is then heated by electricity as it leaves the barrel, creating a spray of molten iron, aptly named the Crowd-Control. Hank fired one shot, and the spray went out in a twenty foot, molten cone of death. Hank walked into the next room, with four agents at the end, and in one shot they were all covered in molten iron mist, and were screaming as acrid smoke rose from their melting flesh. Hank took three steps forward, and fired again, this time close enough for the iron to act like small bullets, and shredded the screams to silence. He thought humorously as he breathed the nice smell of burning flesh. He moved onto the next room, which had five unarmed civilians and a DJ, everyone in the room seemed to be doing near-lethal amounts of drugs, including the DJ, who appeared to be trying to snort coke off the spinning record. They never even had the time to realize what hit them, or perhaps they were to wasted to care, because not a one of them screamed as they were blasted to shreds by the new gun, though there was a lot of sizzling flesh and smoke that filled the room, the DJ still trying to snort the coke off the record, finally looks up and says "Whoa, who started the clan bake in here" before hank shot him in the face, nearly point-blank, creating a bloody splatter that smacked the back wall, and began to burn.
Just as hank was about to step into the next room, a space station smashes into the ground and flings him back nearly fourty foot He thought as he stood up and tricky stepped out of the station eating a hot-dog made from the intestines and flesh of one of his astronaut "friends" Hank begins to walk up to tricky, and tricky holds up his hand in a stop motion, and continues eating the hot-dog. Hank stops about ten foot away and tricky keeps eating, taking his sweet time with it. Hank thought as he waited for tricky to finish. Tricky continued eating until Hank decided he was done waiting and shot at him, but tricky had already moved, for no one can kill the clown. Tricky rushed in close and punched hank in the face, and hank squeezed the trigger, blowing tricky's stomach contents out behind him, including bits of the hot-dog, Tricky then seemed to just vanish, and hank rubbed his nose; when he pulled his hand away from his nose there was a post-it note stuck to his hand. "HA HA HA HA! BOOM!" Hank, knowing tricky mildly well, jumped forward as the explosion destroyed where he was standing only moments ago, and jumped to his feet, spinning around and firing in one fluid movement, catching tricky by surprise not only by surviving, but by also counter attacking, the molten iron caught him in the face. Tricky vanished and Hank looked back to the next doorway.
Ch 4 - The Titanos
Hank dropped the Crowd Control, and grabbed an AK-47. In the next room were four vents on the walls, Hank didn't like the looks of them, but as he turned to leave the solid steel blast doors came down, sealing off all chance of escape. From the vents came a green gas, that seemed to be more dense then air as it curled down, slamming into the ground and flooding over it almost like a liquid. Hank jumped up and grabbed a row of bars that led to a vent in the top, then dropped back to the ground when the bars sent a hundred thousand volts into his hands. He stood back up immediately, but started to feel dizzy as he walked across the room, he didn't remember opening the vent, but he awoke groggily there.
Hank lifted his arm, on which was what looked like a robotic suit, when he looked at his arm he saw a list of weapons. Among that list were various energy weapons and a set of plasma blades, and he laughed aloud when he saw the Anti-matter suicide bomb. He stood in the air duct and began walking, the metal clanging loudly he decided to get out of the air ducts in the next room.
Hank jumped out into a group of scientists, who deactivated the suit just before Hank could rip them to shreds, although he did manage to crush one mans skull before they pressed the button, the suit held him back, actually slowing him down as the scientists started talking.
"Look what he just did to Ted, holy hell!" The scientist who was standing beside the one who's skull was crushed in Hank's hand.
"Hank, we didn't give you five hundred billion dollars of equipment to kill us, we gave it to you to kill this" One of the scientists showed him a photo of a creature, that appeared to be mostly made of energy. The only part that wasn't, was a small patch of solid black that was right between its eyes, the picture was quickly snapped and grainy, but it looked like some machine. They reactivated his suit and he activated the plasma blades, spinning in a quick circle, killing everyone except for the one scientist with the photo, though Hank did cut off one of his legs on accident.
The scientist pressed a button and the heads-up display came up, revealing a radar, that had health above it, and as he looked at various things it gave information, and also had the location of the monster.
Hank tried to step over him, then the radar got in the way and he accidentally crushed the scientist anyway. The next room was gigantic with a colossally sloped cavern, it had to be nearly a quarter mile down from the spot he now stood, and the creature was much bigger than the small photo had shown, It was nearly 120 foot tall and the energy was blood-red casting a similar hue on the entire room, the small black splotch was a complex machine, nearly the size of a house. Hank stared at it for a second, then selected the energy carbine, and began a slide down the slope, the mechanical suit making it much less than lethal, as he fired at the creature, shot after shot hit the machine, and it rushed at Hank, and had closed the nearly 200 feet to hank in a stride and a half, Hank jumped, and the suit carried him further than he had expected, nearly four hundred foot high he turned while in the air, and continued shooting, the heads up display tracked his distance to the ground, and he activated the jet-pack a short while before he hit the ground, because he wasn't completely sure how much abuse the suit could take. He looked at the creature, as it tried to crush him with a giant foot, and he jumped, using the jet-pack to arch him around the creatures foot and started to make decent pace upward the creature tried to grab him but he had trained extensively with jet-packs before He continued to fire the energy carbine, until his suit started to beep Low Energy... Low Energy... Hank looked through his weapon list, trying to find something that could use the energy of the monster to refuel the suit, and very nearly ran out of energy by the time he found it, and fired two wires at the creature, and the suit's batteries were almost instantly filled, the creature smacked hank, and the suit nearly shorted out as he was flung nearly a thousand feet down the tunnel, the creature running toward him with intent to crush, hank stood, time slowed down, and his brain started to form an attack plan, he selected the jet-pack, the energy shotgun,and the Vortex Blaster.
Ch 5 - Time To DIE!
How can this weakling oppose me! Thought Rouge Thcasrurev %u03C4%u03AE%u03BD%u03BF%u03C2 EllöH. it considered itself to be the strongest being to ever grace this world, and had only started as an AI attached to a anti-matter fusion reactor, but quickly created an energy field that could kill anything. The scientists who filled the underground lab where IT* was created, tried to destroy IT with an EMP field generator the deadliest of weapons, yet IT had slain them. IT could destroy anything, all IT needed to do was climb out of this hole, IT was nearly there. The only thing stopping IT was a five foot slab of concrete, and IT had already started digging around the slab, until the weakling of strength attacked. "I shall crush him! Melt his flesh with the force of a million bombs!"
Ch 6 - Killing is business
The vortex blaster was in essence, an energy black-hole, and one shot should have been all it took, Hank squeezed the trigger, and the energy of the creature was disrupted, the structure falling 120 feet, still intact it slammed into the ground, and fifteen robots walked out of the building, Each one had a number painted over its face-plate and carried laser pistols that could burn a quarter inch sheet of metal, from nearly a quarter mile away.
Hank fired another vortex blast, and the robots all fired at him in unison, he hit the ground, and ditched the vortex blaster; he wished he would have kept that fancy molten iron gun, all he had on this POS was energy weapons, He ran the three hundred foot to the closest robot, barely avoiding another in unison blast,
Hank slit one of the robots in half with his plasma blades, spilling what looked like mercury blood everywhere, once it landed it started to reform, so he cut it once more; he jumped away as the robots fired again. He jumped backward, into the circle formed by the robots, and three of them shot three other robots, and were shot by those robots as well. All those robots had a neat hole melted into them, and dissolved into puddles as well. Unfortunately, they also started to reform, he ran and slashed two more bots up, before running to the building that was the creatures brain. Hank hit the ground a second before the lasers melted into the door, and he scrambled through. Hank looked around, surprised to see a crystal that flickered as the AI processed things, and a mercury robot, that walked three steps and flipped a switch, the entire building lurching back into the air as the energy field was re-booted. Hank slashed the mercury bot, and looked to the crystal, attempting to slash into its crystal brain, the plasma deflected off the crystal, and he switched to a laser, which was absorbed by the crystal, the energy field collapsed, and the building tumbled in free-fall, hank getting slammed against the walls as it descended at maniacal speeds hank grabbed onto where the crystal was anchored into the ceiling, and fired the laser into where the housing joins the crystal to the ceiling it melted and the the building smashed into the ground, and hank, along with the crystal, hit the ground, and the crystal shattered to hundreds of pieces, and the robot behind him never again re-formed.
The Way It Is
Wake up. Cold sweat on my brow and I keep telling myself over and over that I need to wake up and go to work. Every part of my body disagrees and tries to send my brain messages about how good it feels to be in my nice soft warm bed on a weekday. I'm so very tempted to give in and forget about my boss and my job and to hell with will everyone at work and just sleep. I turn over on my side and face away from my alarm clock. I dreamt last night, I never dream; haven't for years. I can't even remember the last time I dreamt much less remember what my dream was about. What was this one about? Was it a dream or a nightmare? I lie in bed and try to recollect.
I'm standing on a beach, alone; warm sun shining in a clear blue sky. The wind blows through the air and carries a salty breeze up my nostrils. Have I been to this beach before? I look down and see I'm getting sand in my work shoes. I take them off, along with my socks. I feel the sand between my toes for the first time in years. I love it here. I do not ever want to leave. I am complete on this beach, with only myself the sand the breeze... and that sea. I walk towards to the ocean to feel the water wash over me. I start moving my feet towards the waves. With each step I take I sink a tiny bit further into the sand. The beach is right there in front of me but I never seem to move any closer to it. I sink just a little bit deeper...
I realize that I'm dozing off again. My body begs and begs me to stay in bed but some smaller, and indeed smarter part of my brain won't let me and before I know it I'm out of bed and dragging myself against the wall of my apartment down to the bathroom for my morning shower.
It's unusually cold weather today, I can tell by the way the cool tiles of the bathroom make my toes freeze up and make me wish I had never left my toasty oven warm bed. Once again that part of my mind kicks up a fuss and I'm suddenly in the shower blasting myself in the face with warm water. All I can think about is how much I don't want to go to work today and how soon it will be until I'm there, dreading every second of my decision not to just go back to sleep.
I need this job, however. Work out here in this part of Nevada is scarce and the job is easy enough I guess. I never imagined myself moving out here a year ago; and most certainly did not expect to wind up working as some low level security guard for some giant complex owned by some company I've never even heard of that does... I don't even know. What I do know is that they pay me well enough to get me by, and in order to keep getting paid I need to keep showing up for work. I turn off the shower and step back onto the cool wet tiles and look at myself in the mirror. I look like I've aged five years in just the one that I've been out here. It's the air out here that does it. It's taken hold of me, and it gets into your skin and wears you down until your nothing but the sand in the desert. I doubt I'll ever leave this place though; the best place to get away from somewhere is to go to nowhere. That's what this place is, nowhere. I had to get away from the memories that haunt me, a house, a family, a face in the dark. So here I am, here to live and breathe and work till I die.
What the fuck am I rambling on about? This blasted cold weather has me in a shitty mood. Work's not that bad anyway. I need to stop being such a fucking pussy. Dressed and ready to work, my uniform hasn't been ironed and has creases all over it but whatever, I don't think Team Leader or the others will really care or even notice. As I walk out to my car I realize that I've almost forgotten my piece, still lying on the kitchen bench with its holster. I don't know why they even give these out as standard issue; we never use them. I run back inside and grab it. Never know, maybe the ghosts of the deserts that roam out side the complex might come packing heat today. I chuckle to myself; I always was a funny bastard.
When I step back outside look up at the sky. Bleak and dark for this time of the morning, someone up there must be thinking of me. I lock the apartment door once again and go to my '68 dodge charger, jump in, start her up and away I go to work. It was the first thing I did when I got out here. Sold my old sedan and found this roughed up beauty for a fairly decent price some guy outside of a gas station. The look in his eyes told me that it had to do more with the old bittersweet memories associated with the car than the car itself was the reason he was so keen to palm it off to someone else. Can't say I blame the old timer; it's the same reason I sold my sedan. Those memories...
Fucking hell, snap out of it. Tearing down the road and my head still isn't right, I've been a somber remorseful prick all morning, it's killing me. I turn on the radio and desperately crank the dial to try and find anything playing classic rock, fuck; playing anything at all that will get this shit off my mind. There's nothing... just static. Piece of shit! I slam my fist down on the dash, still nothing. This isn't regular static either. It's some sort of noise, some type of interference coming through. I fiddle fruitlessly with the dials to get anything working again, and when I turn the volume out I swear I can I just out some words, someone speaking but can't make out what they're saying. Whatever, It was probably nothing. I wind up just turning the fucking thing off in the end. Anymore of this crazy shit and I'll be tempted just to drive myself into a ditch and sleep in the back of my car, I'm at the end of my rope here.
My eyes flicker down to the dashboard and it would appear I'm low on gas. That's shitty, but not crazy at least. This I can deal with. I can even see a gas station in the distance. I can even pick up some breakfast before work when I get there. Just got to stay positive is all. I pull into the station and jump up and fill the Charger up as fast as I can. The sky doesn't look so dark anymore, I even crack a half smile; assumed at how fast a bad mood can swing, today might not even turn out half bad.
I waltz inside and up the counter and the attendant sitting behind it. Some young upstart teenager with girly looking hair who seems bored off his ass. Same shit, different job; I think to myself, at least he gets to read magazines all day. I pay for the gas and a pack of cigarettes, also ordering myself a bacon and egg roll to eat on the way in. As the kid is fiddling with the register I decide to try out my people skills with some idle conversation. Why the fuck not? Kid looks like he could use someone to talk to.
"So, the sky's looking pretty strange today" I say nonchalantly.
"Yeah it is." He stops looking down at the till and tilts his head to the right to look outside at the clouds. "Dad says it's an Omen, that if it gets any darker out there the sky will open up and swallow us all". He stares at me and I stare at him for a good ten seconds. We both burst out laughing.
"Kid, are you serious?" wiping a tear from my eye, surprised at how funny I found what he said was.
"That's my dad, crazy old coot. I kind of wish he was right. Then maybe something interesting would happen in this fucking place." He hands me my change.
"Well until it does you take it easy, man" I pocket my money and walk out, still chuckling to myself. Kids these days, maybe there is hope for humanity after all.
I take a bite out of my roll as I hop back in the charger, isn't great thought not as shitty as I thought it would be. I turn the car on and 'hey presto!' The radio even works I drive off from the station in high spirits, even singing along to the end of Alice in Chains: 'Rooster' as I munch away on my roll. I don't think I've ever been so happy to go to work before. The thoughts swirl up in my mind once again.
The sand is up above my ankles now. I cry out for help but I am alone here and the ocean gives me no reply. I feel something under the sand grab my feet and I'm drawn in deeper, up to my waist. Struggling to move with all my life to get out, crying. I look up and the beach is gone, in place of the beautiful shoreline I'm looking up at broken down buildings and skyscrapers of brick and concrete littering the horizon in front of a sky that is a dark daunting blood red. The salty breeze now a stench of car fumes and diesel. The sand is now wet. I look to find I'm now waist deep in wet cement in a foundation. My legs are free from the unknown clutches of below. I can drag myself slowly over to the side and pull myself out with all my might. I lay down on the concrete ground and cry. A building in the distance crumbles and the shockwave blows me over so that I am facing the cement pool. I stare in horror as a figure begins to emerge from within the depths from underneath.
Pulling into the complex I manage to find a park further away than I would have liked but I'm not in a bad enough mood to care. Walking in I run over in my mind what a bizarre morning I'd had. My mood has been in flux since I got up but I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I sure hope Team Leader didn't, I think as I stop to light up a pre work smoke. He's a big strong brute of a man and I've never wanted to be on his bad side, and quite frankly there are times when I hate his guts, but I would be lying if I said I didn't hold some kind of respect for the guy from a work place perspective. Also that dude is fucking scary. He's never really bothered me, probably because I'm smart enough to stay out of his way, not like some of the assholes I get to work with here. The brainless pricks aren't even worth conversing with, let along trying to establish some kind of workplace environment friendship with. Sometimes I feel like I'm the smartest person in this dump. Then again, how smart can I be if I got myself stuck all the way out here?
I flick my smoke butt to the ground as I punch in my security code in the code pad and wait with my hands in my pockets as the big, metal fuck-off doors slowing open allowing me inside. No one was even standing guard outside today, that means Team Leader is in a pissy mood. Being outside in the fresh air and being able to talk freely with the guy you're on duty with is looked upon as one of the job's little luxuries.
When I enter the building I am taken back by how cold it is in here. Sometimes I forget they like to keep the air con on low this time of the year. This building is huge even on the inside. Formed from concrete and steel, one could probably every shade of grey in existence inside of here but I've never seen a dot of color before. Then again I can't act like I know this place inside out. There are many rooms and entire levels off limits to us, I bet there are even areas that Team Leader can't get into.
I walk up to the reception desk with the cute little lady behind it she seems perplexed by something, I hardly ever talk to her but when I do she always seemed cheery enough. I put one hand on the desk to get her attention. Fuck, I've forgotten her name.
"So uh..." I try and see if she's wearing a name badge but I can't find one. "Um... Team Leader in a bad mood today?" I feel like an idiot.
"He was most insistent that I inform all security to report immediately to the briefing room for a urgent meeting this morning. I'd suggest you go there straight away." She says, looking back down at her computer screen.
I stand there for about three seconds before I realize she's done talking to me. "Ok, that's a bit cold but I'll deal", I think to myself as I step away from the reception desk and head left down the long concrete hallway down towards the service elevator. I push the button and fold my arms as I wait for the doors to open. What could it be that has Team Leader calling a meeting like this? I can't for the life of me even remember the last time we actually had a meeting down there. All the other security must be down there already. Damn it, I sure hope I'm not the last one to arrive.
The elevator doors slide open and I'm greeted to the unsmiling face of my hulking Team Leader as he stands at least a head taller than me with his arms by his side, stiff and unmoving, as if he was a corpse. His shades cover his eyes but I can tell he is staring straight at me, wondering why this little pissant hasn't gotten himself to the fucking meeting already. I've always been deathly afraid of Team Leader, even if I've never had him berate me or even raise his voice at me. The first time I met him he ended up breaking one of the other guy's hands for being caught fucking around on duty. I haven't seen him do anything like that again but since then I've always been thankful that I haven't pissed him off enough that he would break one of my limbs, but there's a first time for everything though.
"Why are you just standing there, are you aware you are supposed to be at a meeting right now?" he says in a cool yet firm voice. Fuck; trick question. Now I can either get yelled at for being late, or chewed out for not knowing about the meeting.
"Sorry sir, but I was on my way down to the meeting downstairs but I'm just headed to the bathroom first and you must know what the one downstairs is like, so I figured I'd just head to the one on the floor above us instead. And if you don't mind I'd like to head up there now so as to not delay the meeting, see you soon sir." I push past him slightly and move into the elevator, hitting the level three button and the close doors button in one smooth motion. Team Leader can't even turn his head around fast enough before the metal doors close on him and I'm all alone, safe once again.
I know I've probably pissed him off sevenfold than I already had, but at the last moment I thought "Fuck it, I'll just wear it later". The elevator hums steadily upwards and I feel a genuine urge to piss when I get up there, I seemed to have timed everything well. I sigh and lower my head the rest of the ride up that seems to take forever, though eventually the bell dings and the doors slide open and I walk out like nothing ever happened. I walk down the second floor and walk into the bathroom past the sign with the little man on it. With an air of confidence I stride over and relieve myself in one of the urinals.
When I'm done I head over to the sink to wash my hands. Today has just been plain old fucking crazy. When the hell is it going to stop? What's this meeting bullshit about? I tell you what, when I get home tonight I'm going to down a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and go straight to bed because I don't have to fucking work tomorrow. I splash some cold water on my face and dry it off with some paper towels.
I'm headed for the door when the building shakes violently, it feels like the insides of my ears explode and I am tipped forward and roll out the bathroom and land on my back out in the hallway. I lie still not moving for a good ten seconds. What the fuck just happened? As I regain my footing the alarm signals blaring its deafening wail into the already sore eardrums of everyone in here. This is unreal; I hear the P.A. flick on and can hear Team Leader yelling into the microphone.
"Major breach down on the basement floor, any armed personal are ordered to get the fuck down here immediately!"
Looks like the shit has hit the fan, go time. I sprint over to the elevator and punch the down button a dozen times in a haste before realize that waiting for the lift isn't going to work. I turn and bolt to the door that leads to the staircase, bursting though as I throw all my weight against it. Half trying not to fall and break my neck, half trying to jump to the basement in one go, I fly down the stairs as fast as I can. I have to get there in time, this is serious; whatever it is that's going on.
I can hear gunfire coming from the basement; lots and lots of bullets are going off down there. Are we under attack from an army? Are there tanks outside? I hear the screams of comrades as I pull out my gun from its holster. I see the door and clear the last of the stairs, pulling myself up against the wall. I don't think the shooting is going on in the next room anymore, but rather the fighting has moved a few rooms away. Shit. I'm trying so hard not to shake and not to think about how I've never used this gun in a real life situation before and how there could be someone waiting aro- oh fuck this. I will myself through the door into the room gun raised. Dread and horror well up inside me and I can't even scan the room without wanting to throw up everywhere. Dead, they're all dead. The other security guards now litter the meeting room. A giant hole gapes out of the wall to outside; this must have caused the explosion I felt before.
I press on, choosing not to survey the carnage and look for possible survivors, I can still hear the gunfire. As I move from room to room, closer to the source of this madness, it begins to smell more and more peculiar; my own fear, perhaps? As I come to the final room and place my hand on the door I notice that it is now quiet, total and utter silence. I close my eyes and swallow hard as I slowly push the door open. I see a man, in tattered leather clothes with a hood over his head; he is covered in blood. He has his back facing me; his front faces a mostly still and harshly breathing Team Leader. Around them lie the bodies of the rest of the security team, their blood smearing the walls and floor. With one hand, the hooded assailant holds Team Leader against the wall. In his other, he holds the bloody sword that is penetrating Team Leader's chest, causing him to spill some of his guts out all over the place. His glasses have fallen sideways off of his face and when I open the door he stares over and gives me this look that makes it seem like he is begging me and ordering me to do something at the same time.
Almost instinctively I raise my gun at the man with the sword but I hesitate long enough for him to notice my presence and turn around and face me, pulling his sword out of Team Leader and causing him to fall to the ground. He does not seem intimidated by my gun, but stands still and does nothing. He seems strangely familiar and I feel as if I know him somehow. He raises his head and looks right at me. As he does so a fear that comes from nowhere washes itself over he and I aim my gun and squeeze the trigger.
Click. I stand there stunned. I squeeze the trigger again; only have the gun click at me once more. That's when I remember that I had neglected to load my gun this morning and I have no ammunition. Who is this man? That's when I work where I recognize him from.
The slouching figure stands on top of the wet cement; he seems unable to see me. It is a man with red eyes. His skin is burnt and festering, he wears bandages over his face. I feel as thought I've already seen this thing before, as if I already know him. His breath is making a horrible and painful sounding wheezing noise. He seems lost and weak as he looks around at the half destroyed buildings. For some reason, I want to help him. I stand up and walk over to him. I stand in front of him; he spots me but does nothing. It's just him and me. I go to ask him something that's when he sticks his hand out and grabs my arm, and that's when I...
I drop my gun in shock. Before it can even hit the ground the man with the red eyes draws an automatic weapon from his coat and fires into me. I feel the hot lead rip through organs and flesh and I keel to the ground. How could this be? That face! Those eyes! They have come to me in my dreams and now he comes to take my life. I heave and sigh has he walks his way over to me, kicking my gun aside. As I struggle to look up I see that Team Leader is now lying dead in the corner. His still eyes screaming the same question as mine: why? I look up into the face of my killer and hoarsely croak the word to him. For what purpose and to what end did this serve? Why this horrible end; bleeding out on the floor like a pig? I stare up and beg for an answer. He raises his gun to my head as says in an almost understating way.
"No reason, no reason at all."
I smile knowingly and close my eyes. I breathe in deeply for the last time.
I can hear far away noises; the air here is salty, and then I saw only darkness.
Hank knew there was something wrong about the car he picked up from the agent outpost, even in his battered, sore state and blood pouring out of every major organ, he felt a chill when he jumpstarted the engine. From the way it blasted evangelicals from every FM channel, "Christ will save!" the angry pastor screamed, "Hard to believe that when he shoots you in the head" Hank retorted, to the way the dry, barren Nevada scenery looked like Eden when ever you gazed too long out the wind shield. By the time he found nude photos of Mary Magdalene in the glove box, his mind switched to the worst possible conclusion. "I just stole Jesus' car."
As if saying "Damn right fuck-o!" a lightning bolt hit the front bumper, and Hank, not wearing a seatbelt because its a requisite for being a bad ass, flew out the windshield. Hank braced himself for the grating of asphalt grating against skin, but instead came across a much worse feeling, giant metallic digits grabbed him, crushing the wind out of him. The Savior was pissed. And he brought his better ride, pinned to a giant oak cross that served as the mech's head, the giant robot looked like it could give nothing but divine judgement. Hank looked up, coming to the reality of what was happening, just in time to notice The Saviors halo a glow.
His insticts kicked in, Hank jerked at the right second, causing the halo-ray to skim by his cheek and to cut through the mech's wrist. As the hand fell apart Hank front flipped through the air, pulling two automatic pistols from his jacket. He landed on one knee, twirling and pointing the guns at the mech. As insane music filled the air Hank thought, "Here we go again."
What Purpose Propels Us?
Nothing so picturesque,
as a million faceless
in countries so distant,
lay lifeless where they fall.
No cemetery in sight.
And if we go so unaffected,
why? What million disconnected
lives can change the one,
the one that lays lifeless, remembered
in their final drawing breath?
I call upon this foreign land,
walk among the million faceless
tongues that spill a language
I fail to comprehend.
I am as faceless, reciprocated
feelings, I am faithless
I am drawing to an end.
But really, what purpose propels
us? I feel as though The Animator
in the sky projects these
million faces on a wall
to juxtapose the reality, that
the ones that fall so far away
we never truly loved at all.
Just automated beings
being drawn together, watched
and waited, devices to entertain,
and one-by-one we fall. So really,
what propels us? To our fast
is this a gimmick or a game?
is this all just make pretend?
I could, O, I could conform to
these devices which propels us,
to no end, but I'm
driven to believe that this
purpose that propels us
is not just a higher being's
method to entertain.
What purpose propels us,
every body leaves a memory,
if but a momentary thought.
From those million faces,
caress the thought
that unremarkable, as we are
that which is left behind:
READ: "A Fear of Great Heights" and other forthcoming adventures right HERE
Signature Picture by: Spartan204
The darkness surrounds me.
Clawing at my mind.
What's my name?
I think it begins with a 'H'?
'Hank', that's it
The darkness is clawing deeper.
Where am I?
Someplace in Nevada
Standing alone in a vast crimson red desert.
Images are flashing through my mind at random bursts:
It's all flooding back, the darkness is retreating, my mind is clearing, the crimson red desert becomes clearer.
I look around and see bodies.
There's some sort of bandage around my head.
I know what is wrong...
I know what I must do
I must Murder.....
I keep walking through the desert. The wind blowing sand in to my scarred face.
More images flash back.
But one stands out.
I start running, heading towards a derelict grey building.
I remember the building.
I burst through the door and walk right into a room full of faceless guards.
It's time for murder.
I lunge for the nearest guard and snap his neck, his body goes limp in my grip. I throw his body at a group of guards to the left of me, knocking them down like bowling pins.
Another guard comes striding towards me with a knife.
He takes a swing and I move swiftly out of the way, I lunge for the sword in his hand and pull it out of his grasp. I throw the sword decapitating him and two guards behind him, blood spurts onto the wall behind them, making a sickening splashing noise as it hits.
I need a gun. I spot a guard with a shotgun of some sorts, I lunge for him and grab his wrist, snapping it, I grab the gun and shoot him in the chest, blood explodes all over me and the guards near.
The guards are surrounding me in a circle, all with weapons of sorts, their demeaning empty faces staring at me.
It's time to finish this.
I aim at the nearest guard behind me and blast him with the shotgun, the force sends him flying back knocking other guards. I press the trigger of the shotgun while aiming at another attacker.
Shit, no ammo.
I throw the shotgun, it lodges into the head of my nearest enemy, he falls onto the floor shaking, blood spurting out from where the butt of the shotgun is rammed into his head.
There, in the corner, just what I need.
I bound towards the flamethrower when a guard runs in front of me. I front flip over his head, I grasp onto his neck and tug as hard as i can, I feel the tendons of his neck breaking, his head comes off in my hands.
I land and throw the head at an approaching guard, knocking him unconscious.
I grab the flamethrower.
I grasp the trigger of the flamethrower and aim it at the remaining guards.
The flame engulf the guards, the intense heat sizzles them to tiny little pieces. The powerful inferno brings sweat to my brow.
I leave the room of charred bodies through the door next to me.
In front of me are a flight of stairs. i start to run up them, taking 2 steps at a time. At regular intervals there are windows, showing the vast Nevada desert, in it's brilliant blood red.
I keep running.
Finally I approach a door
I carefully approach the door, i grab the smooth brass door knob. I turn it, and push the door...
Instead of another boring grey room, I'm back in the desert, on railway tracks.
I walk through the door, it slams shut, i turn to look at it but it's gone.
I here a train approaching, i look at either ends of the tracks, which carry on to the horizon, twisting and winding in the vast open space.
Where is it?
I can here it getting closer, but where from?
I look up.
The silhouette of a vast train is crashing down towards me.
I jump out of the way just as the train hits the ground, shaking the earth and raising up sand.
I hear demented laughing.
A vicious throaty voice screams "All aboard!!" followed by that maniacal cackling.
I charge towards the train, the darkness is grasping my mind, rage fills me, boils my blood, some sort of demon is being released inside me. One thought runs through my mind:
" THE CLOWN MUST DIE!"
The World is Madness
Meet Adam. He's a seven-year-old boy that lives in the Bronx. He has brown hair, green eyes and sports a Superman t-shirt. He's a great kid. Really, you'd like him. But most other kids don't. They try to talk to him for a while, but they get too frustrated and stop. Why? He's a mute.
Other than that, he's pretty normal. Same can't be said for his parents though. They were pretty aloof from Adam, and didn't always pay attention to him when they were around him. In fact, they never paid attention to him. If they went out somewhere, like at a park or a fair, they would forget that Adam existed pretty quickly, and wouldn't notice if he was gone until about thirty minutes later. Adam always loved to wonder off somewhere, so his parents always lost him whenever they went out.
After today, though, Adam would never wander off again.
Adam and his parents were at an art museum, looking at a painting by Picasso. If this were a fair, Adam would go to a more interesting part of it, but since this is an art museum, there was nothing for him here. He left the museum and embarked on a quest for fun.
On his quest, he went to three different places.
Places he hopes to never see again.
As he wandered the streets, he hoped there would be an arcade or something around. Unfortunately, this part of the Bronx was littered with places as insipid and as boring as the art museum. If Adam had working vocal cords, he would groan due to the fact that so many people go to so many boring places. As he was about to give up, he watched a teenager who was beginning to walk down a staircase that was in between two abandoned warehouses. Another teenager came over to him.
"Derek, you don't want to go down there!"
"Why? Blake said it was a great place to hang out."
"Blake must want to get you killed then. They only allow people with brown hair and green eyes down there. If you don't have those features, they'll kill you."
"Geez! Well, you've been there. Am I missing anything?"
"Oh, man... you have no idea. It's the most awesome thing ever."
Adam grinned. His search was over.
As he walked down the staircase, he saw a large man wearing a suit, tie and sunglasses. He scanned the boy for the proper features and let him in.
The club had about a dozen people who looked exactly like the man guarding the door, sunglasses and all. They were playing pool, drinking beer and playing chess. Adam didn't see anything that was going on though, as the room was so dimly lit it was almost impossible to see anything.
He could hear just fine, though. The room was filled with sound: beer cups slamming on the tables, pool balls bashing against each other, the men in suits all conversing inexplicable words that blended in with the noise.
A man approached Adam and greeted him. His expression made him look warm and friendly, but Adam couldn't see him very well; all he saw was a figure with a raspy voice in the darkness. "Welcome to the Society of Agents, younger brother. What's your name?" No response. Adam wouldn't have responded even if he weren't mute; talking to some one he can't see would freak him out too much. "On second thought, don't answer that. Names aren't important here." He bent down so he could look at the boy's eyes. "What is important is that you complete the initiation ritual. You can do that, can't you?" Adam nodded. "There's a good boy. Follow me." Adam listened very carefully to the soft footsteps of the man, and found himself in an empty room with a desk and two chairs. On one of the walls, there was a portrait of a gray-skinned creature wearing sunglasses and a uniform, having no facial features except for the cross on his face, and had hands that weren't connected by arms; they were just floating around the body.
As the man closed the door, the noise quieted, and as he turned on the light, the darkness was gone. Adam and the man both sat down on opposite sides of the desk. "There are three things you must do to become a member. Number one: salute the painting that you see in front of you." Adam obeyed. "Good. Now sign your name on these papers."
Adam began to read them. They said, "I, (your name here), agree to abide to all of the rules of the Society of Agents, and pledge my undying loyalty to the Savior-" This went on for about ten pages, and a seven year old can't be bothered to read all of that, so he stopped right there. He signed the pages and returned them to the man. He hoped he didn't have to sign it in cursive.
"Good. Very good. One last thing: you have to recite the Oath of the Agents." Adam looked nervous. He tried to look for something to write with. That's how he usually communicated: by writing what he wants to say on a piece of paper. He pointed to the pen he just used to sign the papers, which was in the right pocket. "Repeat after me: I solemnly swear..." Adam started to point more with more emphasis. Apparently, though, the man couldn't understand body language. "I said, I solemnly swear..." Adam started to point to his neck. "Why won't you say it?" The man said sternly. "I solemnly swear..." Adam looked around frantically. There had to be a pen around here. "Say it!!" The man got a gun out from his pocket. "Say it! If you can't say it, then you must be the enemy!" Adam covered his head. "One last chance; say it!" The man was furious by now. His finger was slowly hugging the trigger tighter and tighter.
Adam heard a gunshot. At first he kept his eyes closed, scared that he might be dead. But then he heard more gunshots, and they weren't coming from the room he was in. "Not him..." a raspy voice muttered nervously. The man in the room quickly got out of his chair, carefully opened the door, his hand shaking frantically and fired a few shots, hoping they'd hit something. Within the blink of an eye, a speedy dark figure came in the room and hit the man with a lead pipe, launching him across the room. The dark figure dashed over to the other side of the room in the instant, and with one swift motion, slammed the pipe on the man's head, and then dashed out the room. Since the room was so dark, and the figure was moving at an ungodly speed, all Adam could see was something resembling a human, wearing a pair of red sunglasses. But in Adam's mind, there was no way that thing could be human. It moved like a cheetah and had the strength of a bear. What was that thing?
Outside the room, he could see brief flashes of light, coming from the guns everyone was firing. He couldn't make out much of what he was seeing.
He could hear things just fine, though. He could hear the bullets whizzing past people, occasionally hitting them. He could hear the pool balls and cues being thrown everywhere, desperately trying to hit the seemingly inhuman invader. He could hear the mugs of beer dropping to the ground, or exploding as they get hit by one of the many bullets. After standing in the room for a while, scared and confused, he dashed out of the building as soon as he didn't hear the noise anymore.
Adam ran as fast as he could for as long as he could. He looked back sometimes to see if he was being chased, but no one was coming after him. Regardless, he still ran. Wouldn't anyone?
After about four blocks, he stopped to rest. Some one bumped into him.
"Oh, sorry there, son, didn't see you there." Adam looked up and saw a somewhat elderly man who had a long robe with a giant cross on the middle of it. He carried a wooden cane that also resembled a cross. He must have been a priest. "Are you lost, son? Do you need help? Do you have a family?" No response. "I see. Well, you can stay with us. Come on." Adam's parents always said to trust priests, so he followed him.
They went into a building that looked like a low-quality hotel from the inside. The rooms were numbered by floor, and there were no elevators, just staircases. The walls were bare. No wallpaper, no paint, no nothing. Just looked like the inside of a log cabin. As plain as it gets.
The priest opened the door to room 303. "Here's your room for the night." It smelled awful, had a very tiny bed, and the bathroom had no toilet paper. However, there was a TV, so Adam was okay with it. "Like it?" Adam nodded. The priest laughed. "Good, good, glad to hear it. But before you rest, I have something to show you in the basement."
After they walked down the long flight of stairs and entered the basement. Adam saw a huge room that was about twenty times the size of his living room, with a bunch of coffins and various stained glass windows. One of them featured a creature that looked like Jesus, but had gray skin, had a cross for a face and had levitating hands.
There were about thirty monks in the room, all hooded and wearing black robes, their faces hidden from the shadow of the hood. Lying near the end of the room were some Agents from the Society, who were tied and gagged. Underneath them was a strange, complex symbol that Adam had never seen before.
The priest lifted up his arms and shouted with a charismatic voice, "friends! We have a new member today! Now, I know we don't need another one for today's ritual, but he had nowhere else to go. Welcome him to the our Church."
Every monk in the room shouted back, "Welcome, young one, to the Church of the Savior," Then said a prayer in Latin.
The priest bent down. "Now, boy, take this book and flip to page 578." It appeared to be a hymnbook. All of the songs were in Latin. "Now, I want you to sing these hymns when everyone else sings in a second." Whenever he was in church, Adam just faked singing, and just lip-synced.
"Ready, everyone?" The priest asked, with an overwhelming benevolence in his voice,
Every monk shouted, "yes, Your Holiness!"
"Then let us call upon our Lord." The monks sang the Latin lyrics as loud as they possibly could. Adam was mouthing them as best he could, but he had never seen these words before, so it was harder to lip-sync. The priest turned around to look at the boy, not hearing any sound from behind him. He picked Adam up by the collar of his shirt. "Do you take me for a fool, boy? I can tell if some one is only pretending to sing. In other churches, you might find that the ministers and priests are more accepting towards children not singing during hymns," he brought the boy closer to his face. "But here, you will be judged by our Lord Himself. And he is not a forgiving one." After about a minute of singing, the ground started shaking, and the stone floor began to collapse, causing the Agents lying on the symbol to fall into the hole, which fire rose from. Even some of the monks fell down into the hole. The other monks made no attempt to save them; they just kept singing their prayer, only with increasing intensity. And finally, after five minutes of praying, out of the fire came the figure that Adam saw on the stained glass window, only the window was missing some features. The real figure had a beard and huge blood red eyes. The creature replaced whatever human-like characteristics Jesus had, and replaced them with monstrous ones.
The creature was levitating twenty feet in the air. The priest dropped Adam, and bowed down to it.
"Oh, Your Supreme Holiness! Oh Savior! We have finally sacrificed enough heathens so that you can remain in this plain of existence for as long as you wish!" The priest looked at his Lord, waiting for a command or, better yet, appraisal. The so-called Savior scanned the basement with its demonic eyes, and pointed at Adam, who in turn shivered. "Oh, yes, this one! This one refused to participate in singing of the prayer! What is his punishment, Your Supreme Holiness?" Adam looked up at the terrifying figure, and tried not to stare at its all-seeing, soul-searching eyes. The creature lifted up its mighty hand, and put it up to its neck, and swished its hand across it. "Excellent idea, your Supreme Holiness!" The priest turned to Adam with the smile of a killer. "I will deal with this one personally!" He used his cross-cane to hit Adam on the chest, launching the boy back five feet. The priest walked over to Adam again and raised his cane again. Adam slowly crawled to the priest and kicked him in the shin, which caused the religious leader to drop the cane and hold his shin in pain. "You insolent heretic!" He grabbed the boy by the neck and started strangling him. "You may be only be a child, but as it is written in the Book of the Savior," he paused, "'All heretics must die.'" Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot came from the entrance. The priest dropped the boy and saw a black blur dash across the basement.
PART 2 CONTINUED IN THE NEXT POST
2. Savior cont'd
"No, no, not him. Not now."
Adam didn't see the blur, but he had a hunch as to what it was.
The figure knocked down the priest and started shooting at the monks, whom were all charging at the killing machine with swords and staffs. A bit of a pitiful attempt to stop it, but these monks had unwavering loyalty to their leader, and would happily sacrifice themselves in order to protect their merciless Lord.
The priest picked up his cross-cane and ran towards the figure, (who was in the middle of a swordfight with another one of the monks) hitting it with all of his might. The figure merely ignored the hit, shoving the priest down and impaling the monk in the chest. The figure then turned around and glared at the priest with its powerful eyes, which were not seen by the priest, due to the sunglasses. The old man smiled nervously. That was the last expression that priest ever made.
Adam ran away to the exit like he did at the Society of Agents building. However, when he got there, a tall figure appeared right in front of him. It was the Savior. Adam froze. Even a seven-year old could figure out that no human stands a chance against that thing.
A line of fire appeared in the Savior's hand, and formed a long sword. Adam couldn't move his legs. The Anti-Christ like being slowly lifted up its weapon, and slowly lowered it. He always liked to take his time with the so-called "heathens". Adam regained control of his legs at the last second and started to run like crazy. He learned quickly, though, that there was no running from this creature; it could teleport. Whenever Adam ran for a few seconds, the creature just appeared right in front of him. All the Savior had to do was play the waiting game. Eventually, Adam ran out of energy. As the Savior was raising its sword again, Adam knew he was dead.
In the nick of time, however, the mysterious dark figure kicked the Savior, which caused the Anti-Christ-like being to fall flat on the ground, dropping its sword. The dark figure then shot at its adversary with its assault rifle, but the Savior captured all of the bullets in its hand, and then flung them back at the figure. Adam knew he should be scared, but to him, this fight was just too cool.
As soon as the figure dodged the barrage of bullets, the Savior lifted its other levitating hand. Suddenly, all of the dead monks in the room came back to life and rose up, but their skin was green and they walked slowly. At that moment, Adam had an expression on his face that had that's not fair! written all over it. The figure quickly grabbed a sword to kill the undead, which gave the Savior ample time to deal with Adam. The boy grabbed a staff that was lying on the ground and threw it at the being. It had no effect. Instead, the figure threw the staff back at the boy with its kinetic powers, but missed. The boy was looking for other objects to throw, but by the time he found something, the Savior was already right next to him. Adam closed his eyes again, half-thinking he was going to be saved. As luck would have it, that half was correct. When he opened his eyes, he saw the dark figure holding the sword back with his bare hands... that weren't attached to arms. The figure turned back slightly so it could see Adam. It jerked its head to the left, which was where the exit was. Though tempted to see the whole fight, Adam took the mysterious figure's advice, deciding that he had too much excitement and weirdness for the night.
Little did he know that the madness was not over yet.
When Adam left, he started to head back to the art museum. Maybe his parents haven't noticed he's gone yet. Only problem was, he wasn't quite sure where he was. In the distance, he could see a large cluster of lights. Adam thought there might be signs there, so he headed towards it. When he got there, he found a circus tent. A circus tent? How long had that been there?
The sign in front of the tent read "Welcome to the Clown Circus! Don't worry; we don't have any boring things like trapeze artists, ringmasters or smelly animals, just good old clowns! Open 24 hours a day."
Considering he didn't know where he was, and the fact that there were no signs anywhere, Adam thought he would just stay at the circus tent until his parents find him. After all, it's just a circus. What can happen?
When he entered, a spotlight came on, and illuminated a wooden chair. On the ground, there was a sign that read "SIT HERE". Though shady, Adam did as the sign instructed.
In the seat, Adam looked at the bleachers surrounding him. There must have been hundreds of seats. But the strange thing was, all of them were empty.
Adam imagined what the circus would be like if there was a show going on. The whole place would be jam-packed with people who were all going crazy, standing up, cheering, applauding, laughing, choking on popcorn. But all that noise was dwarfed by the circus music, blasting out of these huge speakers surrounding the whole crowd. All of that sound, all of that chaos was just bliss to Adam. How he longed to go to the circus.
Suddenly, metal restraints came out of the chair, strapping the boy's ankles and wrists. Then everything went dark, except for the illuminated spot where the chair was.
After a minute, several dark figures approached Adam, chuckling and muttering things like, "we got you now!" As one of them approached the light, it revealed itself to be a regular clown. He was wearing white make-up, was bald except for two horn-like spikes of hair near his ears, and wore gigantic shoes and a striped uniform. He also had a sinister smile on its face, which was highlighted by the red makeup on his lips.
When he looked at Adam, the clown's eyes widened and put his hands up to his mouth. "Oh me, oh my! It looks like we captured the wrong person!" He turns around. "Fellas, it's not him. It's just a boy." The rest of the figures sighed disappointed sighs. The clown got out a remote from one of his pockets and clicked a gigantic red button, which released the restraints. The lights also turned back on, revealing two other, less creepy clowns. "Sorry about that, kid. We thought you might be... some one else." Adam was shaking. Even if this circus freak wasn't hostile, he was still pretty creepy. "Aw, don't be scared." He also didn't have a reassuring voice. "The name's Shortie. We're just clowns who can't find work. We've been from circus to circus trying to find openings, but never once have we found any. Maybe our costumes have been deemed just a little too scary, or not funny enough, or our acts were too trite! So we started out own circus, where even misfits among misfits can shine." Adam stopped shaking. "Alright. So how about we make it up to you by putting on a show?" Adam smiled and nodded. "Great!" He turns around. "Did ya here that boys? We're gonna be puttin' on a show tonight! Jack-O! Get out your unicycle and bowling pins. Handsome John, turn on the music." The two clowns hurried over to their positions, eager for a chance to perform once again.
CONTINUED IN NEXT POST
3. Clown cont'd
Circus music came on as Jack-O rode in, riding a unicycle, holding four bowling pins. He threw them all in the air and juggled them, as fast he could. It was easy to tell that he was having a hard time, as he was tipping frequently, and had a nervous expression on his face the whole time. After around thirty seconds, he finally fell over and dropped all of his pins. Adam smiled. Shortie looked at him. "Kid, ya have to laugh. We busted out butts off practicing our acts."
Next, Handsome John drove next to him in a ridiculously tiny car, honked the horn, and got out next to Jack-O. Jack-O got up and asked, "Wow! That's a tiny car! Why would you have something so small?"
Handsome John chuckled. "Why, Jack-O! Didn't you notice? It's European!"
Adam made a teethy smile, although he didn't entirely understand the joke.
Shortie looked at Adam again. "Hey. What did I say about laughing? You have to laugh! Smiling ain't good enough."
Jack-O was still lying on the ground. "Hey, Handsome John, can't ya help me up?"
Handsome John laughed hysterically. "Sure thing, Jack-O!" He reached out his hand to help Jack-O.
"Hey thanks, frie-" Jack-O started shaking uncontrollably. Then, he fell on the ground again, motionless.
"Jack-O?" Handsome John asked. No response. John looked at his hand. "Whoops! I forget to set my buzzer to 'stun'!"
Adam opened his mouth, smiling and pounding on the chair's arms, but no sound came out.
Shortie looked over at Adam, furious. "Well aren't you a wise-alleck. I tell ya to laugh on two separate occasions, and ya only pretend tah laugh. What's your beef, kid?" He grabbed Adam. "No one has come here in weeks! And now we finally find some kid, and he's a smart-alleck!" He throws down Adam. "Now, I'm gonna have tah bring in the Big Clown!" Jack-O and Handsome John looked nervous. Shortie got out another remote and pressed another big red button on it, and a hidden door on the ground opened up. Out of the door rose a cage, with a thirty-foot tall creature inside of it. It resembled Shortie a little, having a the same spiked hair that he had, but was gray colored, and had white flames covering it's huge body. But the eeriest things about the clown were its lack of arms and it's levitating hands.
It was only slightly creepier than Shortie.
"Alright kid, I'm gonna give you one last chance. Laugh, or this thing is gonna rip ya tah shreds."
Adam couldn't believe this. He wasn't afraid, per se, but he was annoyed. At this point, he knew that the figure would come in just in time to save him, at which point he could run away, but this happened three times in one night. Talk about a bad day. It was starting to get a little for Adam. If he had working vocal cords, he would probably groan.
"No? Well then, say yer prayers." When Shortie pressed the button again, the sound of the slow, noisy movement of the cage doors opening filled the room with an annoying sound and intensity. The Big Clown examined his environment and jumped down from his prison. Though its face was expressionless, you could tell that it was happy to get out of that thing. Jack-O and Handsome John were running frantically to get out of the way, but Handsome John was too slow, and was absorbed by the white flame, dissolving into it's body. Shortie just smiled.
When the Big Clown got near Adam, it just stared at him for a while. It rarely got to see other people, so it always examined its victims, as it always found them fascinating.
"What are ya waiting for, big guy? Get 'im!" The Big Clown glared at Shortie, who in turn backed away. As soon the Big Clown raised its claw, something dashed into the tent, and shot the Big Clown's claw with a shotgun, destroying it.
Right on cue.
Shortie looked back, saw the figure, and recognized it. "No, not you. Please, please, don't hurt me." The sadistic clown was on its knees begging to the figure. It responded to Shortie's plea by taking out its sword, and slicing his head off. Jack-O had enough of this, and ran away to the back exit. Adam was too scared to even move, so he had no choice but to watch the fight.
The Big Clown tried to grab the figure with its remaining claw, but proved to be too slow for it. However, the figure had problems of it's own. The bullets the figure was firing were absorbed and spat out by the fire covering the Big Clown's body.
After a while, the figure stopped, dead in its tracks. Judging by it's panting, the figure looked tired of running inconceivably fast and allowed the Big Clown to grab it.
The Big Clown stared at it, fascinated by it's lack of arms. Could the figure and the Big Clown be... related?
However, this contemplation allowed the figure to fire its last few shells into the Big Clown's forehead; the only place the figure couldn't hit with a shotgun on the ground. The Big Clown dropped the figure and instead used its remaining claw to cover its wound. Sadly, its hand wasn't big enough, so the figure got out its pistol, and fired its last bullet through the opening, causing the Big Clown's body to collapse, and its flames to slowly extinguish.
After the fight, the figure stood still, allowing Adam to get a good look at it. It was gray skinned and had a cross on its face, just like the Savior, but it was hard to see, as the figure was wearing an all-black cloak and red sunglasses.
Adam was waiting for it to say something. Maybe something like, "kid, you that's three times in one night. How do you manage to get in that much trouble?" Or maybe a corny one-liner like, "well, it looks like I had the last laugh on that clown." But Adam heard nothing. The figure just watched its adversary slowly die. Silently, patiently, it stood there, waiting for the last spark on the Big Clown's body to fade away into nothingness. It stood there a good two minutes, Adam watching it with his unrelenting stare, in awe of its awesome power.
Then the figure turned to Adam.
Adam was scared at first; he didn't know what the figure was going to do. He almost fell out of his chair. Up to this point, the figure killed everything it saw without hesitation. True, Adam did get away from it twice, but that was because it was very busy fighting fanatics and Anti-Christs and Agents. Adam could just sneak away before the fight ended.
Now the two were alone.
The figure stepped closer to Adam and raised its hand, it's shoes making no sound as they hit the hard ground. Adam closed his eyes, waiting for a gunshot. After ten seconds, nothing happened. Slowly, Adam opened his eyes.
The figure gave Adam a thumbs-up. It stood there, awaiting a response.
Adam nervously raised his hand and carefully lifted up his thumb. As soon as he did that, he knew he was going to be okay. Adam even felt some bond between the figure and he, like long-lost brothers would... even though they weren't even the same species.
"There he is! Shoot him!" Police officers came from the tents entrance, firing at the figure. The figure bolted away, running towards the exit that Jack-O came out of.
Why did it spare those police officers? Was it because it ran out of bullets and couldn't fight them? Or does it actually care about some humans?
One of the officers saw Adam and brought him to his parents. They gave him the usual speech about how running away from his parents is dangerous and bad people could get to him and blah blah blah. Nothing Adam hadn't learned from his experience that night.
As his parents dragged him out of the circus tent, he looked back at the exit where the figure went, hoping he'd see it again soon.
Hank was in the army and he was a very good soldier 1 day he met
this awesome guy who was good at COD.Hank asked if he wanted
to join the army.He said no.But they played until his boss called.
His boss sent him out on a mission.
Mission #1 Clowning Around
Boss:The Clown is causing major chaos in NY go there
and kill him
So Hank went to NY and found the Clown then 2 zombies had guns
to Hank and the Clown went over and said...
Clown:Oh my you found me and what a mess your in
Hank:You don't have to do this
Clown:Quit wasting my time *Knocks Hank unconscious*
20 minutes later
Hank:Uhhhh were.....am I?
Clown:Oh I almost thought you were dead
Clown:I'm still surprised you still remember....
Boss:Don't worry backup is on the way
Hank:Great when will they get here
*Hank waits 10 minutes then backup arrives*
Backup:Wheres the Clown
Hank:He got away like 5 minutes ago
Boss:HE GOT AWAY!!!!
*Hank hears a lot of swearing and crashing*
Hank:So is this mission over
-End of Mission 1-
Hank met the COD guy in real life that he met in the video game.
The talked until Savior showed up.
Savior:Well hello Hank. Who is this
Hank:A friend why do you care
Savior:Oh i care because i can hold a hostage now.
*Savior grabs Hanks friend and pulls out a gun*
1 bad move and i kill him
*Savior gets away*
Hank:I will hunt him down.Do you want to come
*Hank hands Friend an AK47*
-End of Mission1-
Savior:Found me?*laughs*Oh well your too late.
Hank:What if I'm not?
Savor:Well you are.Zombies!Attack!!!!!!
Hank and Friend:*Kills all the Zombies*
*Savior's skin turns white*
-End of mission2-
Hank:all thats left is Clown
Friend:Were is he though?
Clown:*flying* Up here
This can not be easy for our hero's
Hank:What do you want
Clown:YOU!!!!! *grabs Hank*
Hank:Why you little!!!!!!!!!!!
Friend:*Jumps and snaps Clown's neck*
-End of Mssion3-
Friend:I guess were done now
Hank:We might be done forever.......
Hank lay behind a desk, thumbing bullets into a magazine, while he waited for the next wave. The sensations in his brain had kept him seemingly awake for so long now and yet, he carried on, for reasons unknown.
With a click, the magazine slid into the Eagle, causing the barrel to click back into position. Tucking this into his belt, he stripped a few rounds out of a shotgun that had recently been used to try and kill him. Fortunately, there were still live shells in the gun when Hank used the butt to break the owner's nose.
"Surely this is a dream", he thought as he willed himself to pick up a pen on the desk, instead of reloading the shotgun. No matter how hard he focused on the pen, his body continued it's task and it seemed like he was unable to consciously influence anything. "What would the shrink back home make of what had happened if he could see through my eyes?" he wondered as he unwillingly stood up. As his left foot hit the floor, he felt a shot of pain lance its way up his leg. He had been wounded there somehow, but was unable to examine it, seeing through the eyes of his erstwhile captor. "Am I just a puppet?" The thought occurred to him, as his body slung a coiled rope over his shoulder, picked up a couple of grenades and pulled a hunting knife from the chest of a slain opponent, with a sickening squelch.
Hank dragged the desk across the room and hopped on top of it. He was by now used to the feel of aching muscles, which now just seemed like a dull numb sensation across his body. Opening the overhead vent cover, he jumped up, hauling himself in and pulling the cover shut behind him, crawling into the darkness. "Why...?" Was the only question he could think of, as the dark, enclosed space passed along, slowly indicating the destination to him.
Looking out through a vent cover, there were three visible men, all armed. One was leaning against the wall, gas mask perched on his forehead, smoking a cigarette, cupping it with his hand, to conceal the light. The second two were at a desk, one sat back in the chair, his feet up on the surface, looking idly at the monitor, while his companion showed him the latest hilarious video. The reclining guard looked decidedly nonplussed by this.
Carefully, Hank opened the grate and slid the pin from a grenade in his hand. He dropped the explosive and slid backwards a few feet, pulling the grate to and holding it shut with the fingertips of his left hand. A rustle of paper attracted the guard's attention and the reclining individual looked over the bin, just as the charge detonated, reducing his head to bloody shrapnel and scattering it across the room.
Inside his mind, Hank felt the pain of the heat and a sensation of white-hot burning, as a piece of shrapnel found his fingers. Dropping the grate, Hank dropped into the office and rolled past the desk, firing three shots into the smoker, knocking him off his feet, as he advanced towards the scene of the explosion. Walking over to the semi-conscious second guard that had been looking at the videos, Hank twisted his neck sharply to the left, causing a crunch. The man slumped, his arms hanging limply and inactive. Dropping the corpse, Hank turned to walk away and stopped, as a set of double doors opened across the office, revealing more guards, rushing to investigate the explosion.
"Stop!" Went the shout of a guard, accompanied by the sound of a 'thwum', as a canister was launched in Hank's direction. Quizzically, he looked at the smoking device, as his feet were engulfed in a cloud and two guards ran at him. The Desert Eagle's shots rang out, flattening the first of his would-be assailants. In one swift move, he removed the gas mask of the second, the momentum causing the guard to slide feet first into the expanding cloud of gas, where he started to cough and splutter. Dropping down low, he scooped up an assault rifle and sent a quick burst at around the head height of the guards, causing them to make for cover, as he ran behind a filing cabinet. Pulling the strap for the shotgun over his shoulder, he made himself ready to rejoin the fray. Quickly squeezing the trigger, one opponent that had thought to catch him off guard by diving over the top of the cabinet was picked off in mid air. His momentum carried him across the cubicle and he bounced off the wall, before landing in a heap, the partition swaying slowly.
"I want to wake up. This can't be real, I've never killed anyone!" Cried Hank, in anguish. No-one seemed to notice his cries and it was as if his voice reverberated around an enclosed space. His body meanwhile, continued the spree, unloading shells into two guards and throwing the knife at another, pinning him to the water cooler.
As another man swung a bunched fist at his head, he narrowly avoided that blow, blocking the next one with his forearms whilst dropping the gun. Staying low, he used his powerful frame to pick up the man and threw him against the window. Coughing out a spray of bloody spittle, the dazed combatant started to pick himself up. A brute of a man had ripped a monitor from the computer in a nearby cubicle and was hefting it like an oversized shot put. Stepping back to the dazed man, Hank picked him up by the scruff of the neck and spun towards the window again. The man left Hank's grasp and his back hit the window a fraction of a second before the monitor came crashing into his chest. This time, there was enough force to break the window and both man and machine plummeted from the building, scattering a few glass shards across the office floor.
Realising that he was now unarmed, Hank's consciousness panicked "Great. Now I'm going to die!" The hysterical whimper hadn't been heard by his body, which ran forwards, grabbed the shotgun by the shoulder strap and carried on straight towards the brute.
Drawing a large gun which looked like a small cannon, even in its oversized hand, the brute took aim and pulled the trigger. Hank dropped to the floor a split second before the massive gun went off and slid head first between the legs of his latest adversary, a filing cabinet exploding behind him, sending papers fluttering across the room. As he slid, he rolled onto his back and another slug tore a large hole through the floor tile where only moments before, Hank was stood. The slide slowed and Hank pulled the trigger, peppering the burly guard's back with buckshot from close range. Kicking out his feet, he turned into a shoulder roll and pumped the shotgun, before unloading another round into the same area of bloody flesh.
The bulk of the figure started to turn around slowly, as if trying to work out where the pain was coming from. Hank fired again and ran towards the guard, readying for some close shots. As he pulled the trigger, sending another shot into the upper chest, the massive paw holding the gun slammed into Hank's side, sending him tumbling across the room, into the wall of another cubicle. Inside his mind, Hank felt the blow and the snap of ribs as he flew across to his left. When he hit the wall, the last of the air expelled from his lungs, along with a mouthful of bloody spittle. "Stop! I give in!" his mind cried as the pain became incredible, once more.
Hank picked himself up, incomprehensible powers within making muscles work, completely oblivious to the damage sustained, or the pain that wracked the deepest recesses of his being. The brute leveled the cannon and loosed a shell, obliterating a pot plant to the side of Hank. As the chamber of the massive six-gun rotated, Hank dived at the plastic and cardboard partition, scrambling over, causing it to rock gently side to side. He disappeared below the line of sight and another shot tore a massive hole through the insubstantial material. Holding the massive gun up near his head, the brute lumbered slowly towards the cubicle, looking for Hank's body. A blur moved between cubicles, as it dawned upon him that there was no body.
Loosing off another shot, a printer exploded in a shower of sparks, paper and ink, causing Hank to veer around another corner. One of his earlier victims was slumped against a desk. Hank picked up the body and dropped it on a chair, removing a grenade from the guard's bandolier and clipping it onto his belt. Ripping the phone cord from the wall, he tied the body to the chair, pumped the shotgun and waited.
"You do realize that he's trying to kill me..? Us..?" Hank shouted at his body. "Where do they find these people?!" Hank questioned, as his body stood motionless, awaiting the arrival of the beast. When it lumbered slowly around the corner of the main thoroughfare, a moving target greeted it and the massive cannon spread the remains of the unfortunate guard across a wide area. As a wisp of smoke drifted out of the barrel, Hank chose this moment to act. Calmly, he walked out, advancing on the huge individual and unloaded shot after shot into the torso and head of his foe. Blinded, it pulled the trigger once more, only to hear an agonizing 'clunk' from the mechanism, showing that the ammunition was spent. On the fourth attempt, it decided to throw the massive gun.
The lump of metal arced through the air slowly and caught Hank in the right arm, sending the shotgun spinning away. Hank's arm hung limply by his side, as his mental self yelled in anguished pain, at the injustices of the world. Blinded by the spread of the buckshot, the brute charged forward, flailing madly. Hank stepped to the side, allowing the brute to charge past, into the wall at the end of the room, which it hit at speed, before falling to the ground, motionless.
Through the sobs of pain and fear from his inner self, Hank looked at his arm, forlornly and lifted it back up. With a snap and more screams of agony reverberating around his head, the shoulder relocated and Hank picked up the shotgun, which had seen better days. Looking to the elevator, Hank noted that it was descending to his floor and moved towards the broken window.
Hank poked his head through the window, noting the corpse below. He turned his gaze skywards and noticed a window cleaning cradle further up the side of the building. He took the rope off his shoulder, attached the grapple and started to swing it in long, slow circles.
On the cradle, a worker was wiping suds off the windows with his squeegee, a gun sticking rather obviously out of the back of his dungarees. Suddenly, a grappling hook lunged up from underneath and stuck between his shoulder blades. A few seconds later, a few sharp tugs on the cord pulled the worker over the edge and it plummeted.
As the corpse fell from the cradle, Hank reeled in the excess rope and flicked his wrist. The blood stained hook came loose and the body continued to fall, as Hank prepared a second throw. The grapple caught this time, when the elevator doors slid open and three men, wearing body armour and carrying assault rifles ran through the office, towards the window. Hank jumped, unhooking the grenade from his belt and removing the pin with his teeth as the breeze buffeted his face. He swung back towards the window and let the grenade go, allowing it to drop in through the opening.
A figure appeared at the window and levelled the assault rifle, just as the explosive detonated, blowing smoke, debris and the guard out of the window. Satisfied at some level, he continued to climb.
"So, you're just going to kill everyone here are you, is that the plan? Or will you finally stop if something kills me?" Shattered by the pain wracking his body, Hank was desperately seeking answers to the main question - would he ever wake up, or have his body back? As Hank reached the cradle, he pressed the green button on the controls, sending the cradle up toward the top of the building.
* * *
In a dimly lit office, a man sat in on oversized chair, clicking through CCTV images. As the grenade went off and one of the guards plummeted to his inevitable death, he allowed himself a small chuckle and he shook, uncontrollably for a few seconds, before resuming watching Hank's climb, from a safe distance.
* * *
Hank pried open the cover for the ventilation shaft and dropped in on top of a guard, driving his head in the floor and breaking the fall. As he found some cover, one of the guard's colleagues unloaded a few rounds into the human shield that Hank was now equipped with. Patting him down, Hank acquired a hand gun and a knife, which he threw back at the second guard, causing him to duck. Hank dived sidelong and slotted one shot between the second guard's eyes.
The large doors were bespoke carved wood and appeared to have the word 'manager' scrawled across them in what looked like dried blood. "This is it - we're right at the top now. Is this the end?" thought Hank, as he opened the door.
"Hello Hank. I have been watching your progress with interest." The large chair swiveled around and the clown sat there, his menacing grin fixed across his face and madness glinting within his eyes, in contrast to the sharp suit and Goth stomper boots.. Hank stood there, as his mind filled in the blanks.
"You know my name. How do you know me?" The stare of Hank almost matched that of the clown.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" The clown chortled as he stood up and paced across the room, towards Hank, who moved in a circling pattern with the mysterious clown. On the screens, a bearded figure walked calmly through the main doors and started shooting guards with precision and finesse.
"You're not going to tell me, are you? This really is the end. Come on, we might as well leave." Hank ordered his body to walk away, but the powers controlling his motor function did not listen.
"You're so boring in real life - you were so much better on candid camera." With that, the clown swung a fist and Hank reflexively parried it, allowing the fist fight to start in earnest. The fists flew and on the screens, the bearded man walked with purpose through the destroyed office, taking the elevator.
The clown landed a punch on Hank's jaw and he struggled back, blood trickling from the tight mouth line. He replied with a punch of his own, which squeaked off the clown's nose. The bout continued, as guards foolish enough to stand in the way of the mysterious visitor were given one way tickets to the end of their lives. Finally, the clown pushed Hank back and held out his hand.
"I'm sorry, but now is time I put a stop to this." With that, a cloud of black smoke, tinged with red formed a pole shape in his hand, and a stop sign coalesced in his grip. With Hank surging forward, the clown drove the sign through Hank's chest, laughing all the while, as he planted it in the floor. He returned to the chair and picked up the welding mask from the arm and pulled it over his face, framing two shocking spikes of red hair and a glint of malice in his eyes.
The spark faded from Hank's eyes and his mind felt the pain and the emptiness of the lack of heartbeat. "Is this it? Am I to die here, not knowing any answers?" Tears rolled down the face of Hank's inner self and he looked around the darkening room. Suddenly, he spotted a little child, a memory of himself, long dead, long forgotten. A larger child was chasing him, bunched fists raised and he tripped young Hank, bearing him to the ground.
"Give me your candy! You've gotta pay the toll!"
"I don't have any candy!" The boy wailed, struggling to be let free.
"Then give me your money, so I can buy some candy!" The bully pulled back a fist and scowled at the child, who continued to cry. Upon seeing this long forgotten memory, Hank walked over to see what was going on. As the bully attempted to strike the child, Hank threw his fist in the way of the bully's, causing him to recoil, as if hurt. Lifting the bully off the blubbing child, Hank pulled him close.
"Leave him alone."
"Make me!" Hank dropped the bully, whose form changed into a more mature young man, wearing a cheap suit and carrying a file. "Hank, why aren't these papers on my desk? I asked for them by yesterday. You're fi-" Hank landed a punch on the jaw of the man, who spun and dropped.
Impaled on the stop sign, Hank blinked.
Hank's inner consciousness dropped to his knees and began to rain blows upon the face and torso of the suited manager, turning him into a bloody mess of battered flesh.
While still lying there, Hank slowly moved his hands to the stop sign sticking out of his chest. Casting a sidelong glance at the clown, he gave an experimental tug, causing the sign to move. He decided to wait a while longer.
"So easy. Hank, how did you ever become a part of this?" The clown glanced across at the corpse and shrugged, as if some niggling doubt had just appeared in its mind.
As Hank's inner self laid the final punch on the face of the bloody former boss, the prison of the mind faded and suddenly, he was able to see the ceiling of the room, the edge of the clown's leg and the massive bank of computer monitors. One of the monitors showed a bearded man, crossing a room with two bodies in it and standing at a large, important looking doorway. The tiniest of smiles barely crossed Hank's face.
The door burst open and the bearded figure stood there, looking at the clown, his gun calmly sighted at the laughing man.
"Jesus! You know, you're a little late for the punch line, but I guess that means you're the encore!"
"It's almost like you missed me, clown. And Hank, you're still here, my son." The clown looked around frantically at Hank, standing there, with the stop sign in his hands.
"It never ends - we all know that." Hank noticed that he was no longer breathing, nor did his heart beat, though he was able to speak.
The clown giggled again. "Fun for all the family!"
And the madness continued...
He had a name, but it was enough that he was called the Tycoon. He was in a place, but it was enough that it was somewhere in Nevada, the place where, somehow, a lot of crazy crap seemed to happen. He was in a situation, but it was enough that he had crashed through the roof of some sort of militaristic complex.
Half-stunned guards were all about him. He wasted no time. He withdrew two pistols from the holsters on his belt and got to work. BLAM! BLAM! Now that was what he called taking care of business.
Several more personnel arrived and took a crack at him. He blew their brains out. Since one of his guns was out of ammo, and he expected to encounter more dangerous foes soon anyway, he holstered the gun and drew a dangerous laser gun. He proceeded into the room to his right. In it there was a flight of stairs with a sign saying "Stairway to observation deck". That was what he wanted.
He encountered several more agents on his way up. Some of them looked even more advanced than those he had encountered so far. He still managed to dispatch them while sustaining no damage himself. His favorite kill was when he cut off a pipe above him and it knocked an agent out cold. Some of them dropped advanced guns when he killed them. He slung them over his back for later and kept on climbing.
Finally, he reached the top. He now had a good view of a complex below. The complex, along with everything else for a few miles around, belonged to Americans Against Hank Williamson, a cult if there ever was one. It was headed by a mysterious, shady, yet certainly dangerous character. The Tycoon was tearing up this guy's land on his day off. Well, he had to unwind somehow.
The compound was a well-thought out training facility. There was a weight room here, a drill yard there, a motivational center, a weaponry testing room, and several more unidentifiable structures. He couldn't resist. "HEY YOU COMMIE PIGS!" he shouted. Several personnel turned to look at him. He burned a huge dollar sign onto the compound with the laser gun. That was priceless.
What he was doing was not strictly business. However, it was enough that it was what many friends had told him it was, friends who were usually right. It was enough that it was madness.
Anyway, a bunch of pissed off personnel were heading straight for the bottom level of the building he was in. He also thought that he might have seen some helicopters in the distance. They still had quite a distance to cover, but they would get there. He went back inside and started looking around. If he was going to leave this life or just this building, he wasn't going to do it empty-handed.
He checked the battery on his laser gun. It was low. It seemed that he would just have to be resourceful, nothing new to him. He proceeded through the building, shooting down more guards on the way. He shot down a chair with a dead "dissenter" (according to the sign) that was pinned to the ceiling, killing two agents with it when it fell.
He went into an office-like room and found a safe labeled "Xtreme supplies - Super l33t agents only". Deciding that he was l33t enough, he opened it with a few shots of his laser gun. There was a pretty cool handgun, some imported cigars, a lighter, and a map of the building. He lit up, took the handgun, and looked at the map. He quickly found what he was looking for. He wasted no time.
He went to a stairway and climbed down it. He busted down doors, overturned tables, and shot down more agents on his way. He had to use melee weapons a couple of times because he was running low on guns and ammo. Finally he used his last laser blast on a door with an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign on it, and proceeded inside.
There was only one technician inside. He drew a handgun but the Tycoon threw a table leg at him and killed him first. The Tycoon then proceeded to the console. From here he could view the feed from the security cameras for the entire building. There was all the usual stuff and a bunch of agents coming towards him from his left. He plugged his laser gun into a recharging station, grabbed the handgun from the dead technician, and pressed against the wall by the door and waited.
After dispatching that squad, he turned back to his laser gun. It was gone. He swore and barricaded the doors with a desk each. Still, at least whoever had stolen the gun hadn't used it on him. He examined the controls more thoroughly. What most interested him was a row of red buttons, one of which was labeled "Console Self-destruct (in 20 seconds)". Perfect. He pressed it and climbed out through an air vent on the ceiling.
When he came out it was the same old drill: shoot some agents, take their guns, proceed. Consulting the map, he discovered that there was an elevator nearby. After blasting through another room full of agents, he reached it and pressed the button for the roof. It was rather odd listening to elevator music with his hands soaked in blood, but that was soon over when he reached the roof.
His earlier plan of being picked up was ruined. There were helicopters all around, with armed agents all around them. Still, maybe he could hijack one of these. He chose as a target a nice looking one near the edge. He shot the pilot, then sprinted behind it and opened the door, blocking much fire from the other agents. He returned fire. However, it seemed that there was a passenger that he hadn't counted on.
He felt a gun in the back of his ribs. "Why won't you nuts stay the hell out of my state?" said a voice. He was shot. He fell, several stories. Interestingly, he saw Jesus before he hit the ground. He blacked out. Then, somehow, he returned to conciousness. He looked at his hands. They were green. Jesus was standing right in front of him. "I bailed you out" he said. "How do you like it?"
"It works fine. I've always liked green.", the Tycoon replied.
"I probably should mention, I own you now."
"Works for me. When do we start?"
"What happened to him now?"
"He's hurt really bad. More mortal wounds."
"How did he get here?"
"Same as last time. Some guy with a beard threw him from a truck."
"God what world do we live in?"
"The better question is, what world does he live in?"
"Well nurse, I believe we should get started."
"Where do we begin this time?"
"How should I know? Working on this guy is like playing a game of 'Operation'!"
"Oh look his eyes are opening."
"What? Dammit, you didn't give him enough!"
"Get him back to sleep before he panics."
"Yo-- th- i --n --hat d-- it?"
Oh Hank. A troubled life you lead. Always running into that of misfortune and peril. Here you lie on what is nothing more than your death bed once again. You were so close this time, but alas you have yet to prevail. Will you succeed? Who knows. Death is inevitable within your mind.
You're going to go back out there again aren't you? Don't you realize that a one man army cannot take down a dynasty?
True, Gahndi could do it, but what you lack in his legendary status you make up with violence. Thus you can not equal the magnitude that he once had.
Yes I know the clown is a lunatic. However you are as well to go rushing back in there without a second thought in the world. To what do you they think that you'll never return? They stare at you in wonder as if though you think you're Jesus Christ always coming back from the dead.
I guess that's why Jesus doesn't like you that much.
So you're still going through with it? Fair enough... I mean what's the point in backing down now? You've come this far and you've been through this much, what more can they do to you? You have nothing to lose do you? Nothing at all, no soul, no existence, nothing.
Truth be told Hank, what is your purpose? I mean there is no reason to try and do this? What do they have against you?
It's personal? Surely you jest, it can't be that simple. Then again with your meager appearance I guess you're anything but far from simple.
From the sounds of things it looks like you're going to be 100% again. Sure you're gonna go through with it? That nurse looks really pretty, chances are you can settle down and have a nice life. She certainly does seem to worry for you.
I see... you have to do this. Well maybe she understands something I'm missing then. Well whatever your decision I hope we can talk again, I mean being your conscience mind certainly isn't easy. I mean you take no second thought in wielding a gun do you? It's sad that we only get to talk within your moments of death.
Sure you won't back out? It will certainly give me something to do with my time. When you finish the job then we'll talk? Yeah I'm already onto you on that one, that's what you told me when you went after that sheriff. Oh well... I'll see you soon.
"Doctor he's awake!"
"Good to see you back again Hank. It wasn't easy pulling this one off."
"Where are you going?"
"Yeah you're in no state to be leaving yet!"
"You're going back out there aren't you?"
"What. Hank listen to me you can't leave."
"Yes listen to the doctor Hank, you'll get hurt."
"Hank come back here!"
"Let him go doctor."
"How can you just let him leave again!?"
"Because he has something he needs to do."
"He needs to learn when to quit."
"I have a feeling he can't quit."
"I'm not sure."
"Well, out of all the patients I've had, he's been the strangest."
"I worry for him."
"So do I."
"Why do you worry?"
"Because it's getting to the point that I won't be able to fix him."
So, back onto the battlefield. I really wish you wouldn't go through with this. I know something deep inside troubles you about this, believe me I know. If it didn't eat away at you I still wouldn't be here. You may not believe me, but I wish for your success, because every time you fight... you come one step closer to dieing.
And I come one step closer to losing you.
I don't like doin' fan fiction. I suck at it. hehe
A man stands alone at the bus stop. He drinks his cigarette and nervously keeps his eyes on the street around him. I stand on the second story balcony above him, out of his sight. His cigarette butt sears the night sky and lands on the sidewalk below his feet. He puts the spark out with his shoe. Now I can make my move.
My feet hit the ground and my knuckles break the back of his skull. His body collides with the roadside. I hastily use my foot to turn him over.
Staring at his broken face, I ask him intently, "What does The Clown want with you?"
He speaks through broken teeth, "I'm just a night guard. I keep watch on his building. They're picking me up any minute now."
I stare at him for a moment, analyzing his honesty.
"Please! Please, I'm just a guard; I'm useless. Let me go!"
I love when they get stirred up like this. I grab him by the collar with both hands and drag him to the alleyway behind us. I rest his back on the wall behind a dumpster. With my revolver pressed against his bruised skull I give him no remorse.
Now I'm freezing my ass off, standing at the bus stop, waiting. Headlights surface in the distance. They burn my eyes as a car comes to a stop in front of me. My hand grips the revolver in my jacket.
"Denny, hurry up and get in the car."
I step towards the car and open the passenger door. I sit down.
The driver gives me an excuse for why he's late, "Sorry man, I was pickin' up some--"
My revolver is aimed at his head.
"Woah, woah, Denny. What the fuck?"
I give him the good news, "I'm not Denny. Now tell me where The Clown is before I blow your brains out."
The driver stutters, "Uh, just outside the city, 186 Divsdale Road. But there's no fucking way you're getting in there alive."
"I beg to differ."
With a quick pull of the trigger, a bullet passes through the driver's head and he falls over his door. I reach over him and open the door. He falls to the road. I take the wheel.
I've been driving for thirty minutes now without a trace of the address I was given. I almost regret killing that bastard. At least, killing him so soon. Oh, wait a minute; I see it now. A large warehouse in the middle of nowhere is definitely not suspicious by any means.
I position the car at the end of the long driveway. I take a breath and slam my foot hard on the gas pedal. The car violently shakes as I gain speed. My ass is receiving a pounding I can't begin to describe.
The sidewall of the warehouse stands just a meter in front of the car. I embrace the force of the crash, but still feel immense pain as my head hits the roof and my knees bounce off the dash. An average human would succumb to these sorts of injuries, but I appear far from normal.
My legs are numb, my stomach upside down. Actually, that's just my entire body upside down. It's a difficult and painful procedure, but I eventually worm out of the wreckage, only to find a twelve-gauge shotgun pointed at my face.
I take my hands and wrap them around the barrel of the shotgun. I push upwards with a powerful lunge and the barrel points toward the wielder's face as he pulls the trigger. An explosion of brains bathes the floor. My body makes an attempt to move forward and just barely succeeds. I take out my revolver and enter the next room.
Three guards enter the room from the door in front of me. I fire bullets into the two guards on the right. Another guard flails a knife at me. I shoot his hand and he drops it immediately. His agonizing screams are cut short by my gun. Another guard appears wielding a machine gun. He fires at me, but I swiftly duck under them and send a bullet through his chest.
The Clown must be near; I can sense him. So to speed up my search I grab the guard's machine gun and enter the next room. It's empty. No guards, no furniture, no lights. I feel around for a light switch, but can't find one.
A sudden burst of light appears as a gun sounds. I fire my machine gun in all directions and her cries of pain. I crawl along the floor while bullets fly over my head. There's a door in front of me. When it opens, lights creeps into the room and I turn to see a guard standing over me with his gun in my face. He must not realize I have legs, which I use to trip him. As he falls he sends bullets into the wall behind me. I end his life with a stomp of my foot.
This next room is much busier. Six guards surround me. One steps forward and I shoot him. He drops his gun, and I kick it at another guards face. I shoot backwards and two guards drop dead. Now I use my machine gun as a bat and finish off the last two. The guard on the ground begins to stand but I end him before he gets any chances.
I see movement in the next room. This is it. The Clown must be here. I take out my revolver and prepare for the moment I've been waiting for.
I kick open the door and find it to be empty. Something tells me this is just an illusion. I find myself to be correct, as a gunshot sounds and the blood of a killer paints the wall. I look down at my chest. My eyes close and my body falls.
"You're the true murderer."
A Mad Craving
Somewhere in Nevada where death likes to roam
There lies an abandoned, black and white tomb
It sits and it waits for someone to come
It basks in the darkness, its presence unknown
For one thousand years it breaths no air
It sees no light, feels cold and bare
Large cracks and dust make up its world
Vengeance and terror litter its soul
One day however, as prophecy says
It will rise up and unravel its threads
The tomb will glow with a fierce holy force
And up will rise a man on a horse
Its whitening glare will shoot towards the sky
And fly off ahead leaving nothing behind
The tomb will sink under, way down below
Along with everything, as it is told
Farther away in the dark desert sand
Sits a small fort with a powerful hand
Inside is a man with a fresh cigarette
Lighting the darkness as he is holding it
He sits down upon his cold metal chair
Planning his day as he gathers his wares
He hoards himself out, a fine mighty set
Weapons and things to cause much regret
Pistols and shotguns, extended clip uzis
Brownings and napalm, rocket artillery
Swords and katanas, knifes and machetes
All these and more he starts to get ready
He packs them away, deep inside sheaths
After the armor he has all his needs
He puts on his vest, laced with black leather
And heads out his door with a small letter
The man starts his journey across the gold sands
Until he is crawling on only his hands
He climbs through the desert nearing black death
He's not gonna to stop until his last breath
He prays to his god that he will succeed
The enemy has to suffer and bleed
When all seems lost and seems overwhelming
Just up ahead lies a small building
The block in the sand has a small sign
It reads with bold letters, "Ice cream tonight"
And that is exactly what the man seeks
The journey has ended, he crawls to his feet
He gathers the strength to walk a bit more
Until he finally reaches the door
The people inside stare with confusion
As they see an abrupt explosion...
Smoke and sharp lead emerge in the air
People start screaming and holding their hair
The icy cold room begins to grow hot
As he continues running amok
Chest and large heads implode on the floor
After a minute the rooms filled with gore
Piles of bodies paint the walls red
Just a few more then everyones dead
Behind the counter amongst all the ash
Lies a small clown in a pile of trash
He cries and he shakes, feeling so numb
What do you want you fucking scum?!
The man stops the chaos and spits on the ground
Theres only one thing I want Mr. Clown.
I carry a letter, a story to read
Please open the item and you to shall see
The clown grabs the paper with trembling hands
And opens its seal, reading its plans
Dear good sir, I have something to ask
If you don't please me then ill kick your ass
Every third week this store sends out coupons
However this week, I did not get one
So I demand you give me one free
Im sure you and I can fully agree
The clown starts to cry and points at a chest
Pick any flavor then leave me to rest!
The man steps aside to open the box
He picks out a flavor then looks at his watch
Its time im afraid to head out the door
I need to get home for im feeling sore
But first i will lick this tasty ice cream
Then ill be gone away from this scene
Next door to the shop lies an old tomb
Its presence as said, still lies unknown
This day, however, it shall awake
And wreak havoc upon the one called Hank
He opens his mouth, stick out his tongue
But then is stopped by a certain someone
A glaring white beam shoots in Hanks eyes
He drops the ice cream in sudden surprise
WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THAT ICECREAM IS MINE!
YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO THE FLAVOR OF LIME
PERISH O HERETIC UNDER MY WHIM
ETERNAL SUFFERING SHALL NOW BEGIN
BURN MY SLAVE INSIDE OF MY WOMB
YOU SHALL NOW DIE AND WE SHALL BE ONE
An aura of power screeches out loud
Consuming the world and all of its sound
A fierce holy beam emerges and sips
Into the world and bringing abyss
Black holes of fire tear through the land
Burning all things that sit in its hands
The terror that washes over the earth
Banishes all while killing its birth
Everything stops, its quiet and still
Nothing is heard for all is killed
Jesus was mad, he started to scream
Now where am I going to get my ice cream?!
He pouts in the ash, covered with sadness
I guess this is what I get for this madness
The first time you see an improbability drive up close, you're stricken by a powerful, unsavory feeling that takes a second or two to wash over you. You blink a couple times to try to distill the concepts your mind is adapting to. The first time I saw it, I wondered if the bizarre contraption I was beholding was actually real; that I wasn't high out of my tree on PCP for the umpteenth time.
Turns out it's the smell of the thing.
It's a strange, harsh, acidic scent that kind of rakes over your nostrils like caustic chemicals. Its also what brings you back to reality - nothing imagined could smell just that way. Interesting, considering the point of the device is to flip every facet of reality on its head.
By now, I had gotten used to it. The Auditor had pulled me out of so many sinkholes with it I couldn't begin to doubt its reality. And hell, even the smell was starting to grow on me; that familiar reminder of what a leg-up I had on his less-favored children. It was hard to forget the dead eyes of Jesus's henchmen, the bloodthirsty husks that were driven - much like every other entity in this crazy world - to kill me.
This time was no different.
Bloody eyesockets, sharpened teeth, foul, fetid breath misting into my nostrils. I could see blood, mine, jetting from my trachea almost before I even felt it. The first gush spattered into my enemy's blind face; the second, a torrent that ran down my fingers like water over a rock. The follow-up blow must've come from behind, because when I woke up, that image of that greenskinned automaton tearing my throat out was still pressed into my retinas. It faded after a second as my neck seized up, shooting pain through my now-reassembled vertebrae. The killing blow had come from behind, I concluded, raking a hand over the back of my neck and picturing what I must've looked like when my spine been snapped in half by one of Jesus's faggot zombies.
I silently hoped that Tricky had snuck one of them into the I.D. so I could return the favor.
But for now, my eyes readjusted to a familiar darkness. What the hell was I wearing?
Jesus, what is on my face? I pulled the rimless shades off, blinked, then put them back on.
I wondered who'd picked them out.
The mask was an obvious choice; ditto with the trench coat and cap. As many injuries as I have it'd be prudent to cover them up.
Dust collected on my black shoes as I walked, trying to hazard a guess to my whereabouts. As if in answer, my foot trod on a tarnished piece of metal. I picked it up, wiped a gloved hand over it.
It was a license plate.
A few more wipes and I could make out faded letters. NE#A#A.
Nevada. Fucking Nevada.
Seconds and minutes blurred as I made my way towards lights that'd appeared on the horizon. I fondled the grip of my pistol, then patted my pockets for a suppressor. When I screwed it on, the gun felt newer than I'd remembered it. I decided to distract myself on the walk I'd rack the slide and catch the bullets as they flew out. Then I'd reload and do it again.
It took about nine reloads before I'd closed the distance to the fortress and had climbed the roof.
There's something considerate about a man in a trenchcoat with no expression. It makes it easier to dangle him like a piñata with piano wire from his neck off the side of a concrete building in the middle of Nevada. Below us, groups of his twins had gathered, presumably waiting for me to kill them.
I elected not to keep them waiting. As I smashed feet-first to the ground, guns in hand, I reflected for a moment on how trivial my life'd been thus far. I wondered if becoming immortal had given it more weight or less.
As I pulled the trigger, a wave of gratitude for my proclivity for resurrection washed over me. So did blood.
It only took a few minutes for Jesus to arrive, sword in hand. He grinned as he resurrected his henchmen, a shiver rushing up my spine as their skin turned green and horrible, cicatrice smiles materialized on their faces. I flipped him the bird and charged at him, emptying my clip into his chest. The roof blew skywards, presumably sent flying by his almost-effeminate hand gestures. I dove at him as his goons rushed me, but he was too fast. He often is.
He kicked me in the head, almost knocking the glasses off of my face, but my momentum shot me out of his grasp as I tumbled to the valley floor below. The night was nice and brisk; a welcome contrast to the hot blood running up my sleeve. It felt like fire. The moonlight caught the edge of my gun as the latter and I fell, cutting a pretty pale edge against the dark sky.
It was nice to have a few seconds to myself.
Jesus looked down on me from the top of the cliff face, his halo cutting a condescending figure down at me. As he jumped, I tried to muster the strength in my broken hands and legs to attempt to avoid his knee drop. I only escaped cause he'd let me. He'd only let me because reality had broken again.
I followed his eyes to the matted mass of orange hair that topped the awkward, shaky body of Tricky the clown. It wasn't shaking or jittering. It was vibrating. His chapped, bloody lips peeled back against his mossy teeth and they spread further apart as he grinned at us.
God, I hated that fucking clown sometimes.
Madness ::Breach:: Pt 1
The alarm went off at 9:01. Sid's hand left a smear of blood across the face of the clock as he switched it off. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The blades of the ceiling fan sent shadows spinning through the last bits of sunlight sneaking in through the crack in the curtains. The blankets on the bed were threadbare. He through them back and found the bandages wrapped around chest had soaked through with blood. He planted his bare feet on the concrete floor and put his head in hands. Still here he thought, and the last of the sunlight died.
In the bathroom he scissored off the bandages around his abdomen and wrapped himself in a fresh role. The needle from last night was still laying on the toilet seat, a sticky length of thread hung over the edge. Sid tossed the bandage packaging into the trash with all the others. Sooner or later he'd have to take the trash out. He would when he remember what day the trash came. Or what day it was at all, for that matter. He put the roll of bandages of the counter, besides the bloody instruments and wads of clotted up gauze. When he turned to the door he found Hank. The big wolfhound beamed up at him, his tail beating back and forth like a fluffy metronome. Sid smiled and gave the dog a pat on the head as he limped out, leaving a red hand print his fur. Hank didn't seem to mind.
Sid threw open the curtains. A jagged line of light clung to the tops of the hills in the distance, the last vestiges of the daylight dying away into night. It was always the first thing he saw when he woke up.
The window reflected Sid back at himself. The same pale, wiry, scar laden body he'd gone to bed with. New wounds, maybe, but they too would be scars soon enough. His face was drawn, hollow but beautiful in that that heroine junky kind of way. His hair used to be golden and flowing, but he had shaved it off. He still remembered looking down as the spun down into the stew of isopropyl alcohol, iodine and antibiotic ointment that had pooled in the bottom of the sink.
He touched the reflection of his cheek on the glass. Had his eyes always been so blue? Maybe, who could remember anymore. He turned and walked out of his bedroom, Hank following gingerly behind. The warehouse beyond was massive, and dark, and cold and empty as it always was. Sid switched on a halogen work-light and a wall at the far end lit up in a harsh blast of white. Thousands of hash marks were carved into the cement. Sid picked up a piece of sharpened metal from the ground, carved one more and tossed the metal aside.
Sid flipped another switch and a tarp tucked away in the corner washed over in a beam of halogen glow. He took hold of the tarp with both hands and made to tear it back when something in the darkness behind him let out an electronic chirp.
Sid let the tarp down slow. "No... not this early."
Sid grit his teeth. He let go of the tarp and hobbled into the black. His finger found the little throbbing pinprick of blue and a computer monitor popped on. The desktop was empty. An envelope icon bobbed up and down excitedly. Sid clicked it, and sat down in front of the monitor. He scanned the e-mail numbly.
Time: 9:33 (1 Minute Ago)
Just do what comes naturally.
Sid clicked the attachment and read it. Finishing it, he turned the monitor off and sat unmoving in the darkness. Hank padded up and rested his big fuzzy head on Sid's knees. Sid tussled the dogs ears and smiled. One of these days I'm not going to walk through that door. What will you do then?
Sid found the duffel bag where it was supposed to be. He climbed out of the dumpster with it and carried it back down the alley to his car. Overhead, windows pulsed to the rhythm of television sets. Fire escapes snaked up the brick walls. A few teenagers on the third floor were fucking on one. Sid didn't pay attention. His heavy boots sent echoes out over the damp pavement, all he could think about was how unusual the duffel bag felt. It shouldn't be this light.
The jet black Town Car was parked on the curb. Sometimes he thought of it as the company car, because it sure as shit wasn't registered to him. He didn't know who it was registered to. It didn't have plates or insurance either. One night when Sid had been curious he searched the car for a VIN number. He couldn't even find a single typed word, character or number anywhere on the whole damn vehicle. Except for the numbers on the speedometer and those numbers went all the way to 220. MPH, not, KPH.
A ticket was flapping under the windshield wiper. He tore it up with a smirk and tossed the scraps in the street. He threw the duffel bag in the trunk and slipped into the driver seat. With a twist of the keys the car growled into life, louder and stronger than any car of it's kind had a right to be.
He rolled through the streets slow, watching the neon world dimly through a tint job so dark it was like the world outside was under water. Street kids got in fights, prostitutes were on the corners, dull, drug addled eyes leering at him from under the eaves of rundown porches. He watched it all numbly. He tried to think about what it might be like if he was the one on the other side of the window. Moving through life on a never floating, never sinking raft of abject poverty. Scraping, murdering, stealing just to get by. No prospects or hope of improvement, just a constant unending struggle to survive. He found the idea almost appealing, and wondered if anyone of them would trade lives with him. He imagined himself on a front porch with a bottle of malt liquor, smoking pot and talking shit about the black Town Car rolling past. Maybe once... He grit his teeth, hit the gas and sped out of the slums and onto the highway.
In the distance the crystalline towers of downtown loomed up bright against the night sky. His car roared toward them on a massive web of highways, weaving in out of traffic like it was standing still. Blue and red lights popped up behind him along the way, but they faded as quickly as they came when he nudged the gas just a hair. Not like it mattered, the one time he'd been forced to stop, he'd handed the cop the mysterious packet of papers that sat folded in the glove box. The cop had taken one look at the papers and returned to his police cruiser without a word. When he watched the police cruiser roll past, only then did Sid release the hammer on the gun he'd been holding just out of sight. Good thing the papers had worked.
When Sid barreled into downtown it was close to midnight. He wound his way through the well lit boulevards of the cities most prestigious districts. The lights of expensive boutiques and martini bars streaking across the Town Car's black exterior. The monolithic sky scraper that dominated the skyline at the center of the city grew closer and closer. His tires crackled on the pavement as he slowed the car to a roll outside the front doors. His eyes followed the skyscraper up and up. Dozens, maybe even a hundred floors, all encased in shimmering glass. This is new, he thought. The main lobby was open and well lit, with a broad security desk sitting parallel to the front doors. Half a dozen security guards sat behind it. If they were armed, he couldn't see. It didn't matter though. It never did.
Sid parked his car in the employee parking lot of a building across the street. The sign read: All unauthorized vehicles will be towed at owners expense. Sid laughed. As he stepped out of the car a few roplets of rain hit his bare shoulders. He glanced upward. A thick blanket of fog had spread out across the sky. The light pollution turning the clouds a dull cast of orange.
Sid opened the trunk and rummaged around till he found a fresh black shirt. He buttoned it up, fastened his vest over it and did up his favorite red tie. Next came his black frock coat. He put it on and did up all the oversized buttons in the front. He wasn't a fan of black, but the one thing it had above all other colors was it's ability to resist stains.
Sid unzipped the duffel bag and instead of the four oblong plastique bricks he was accustomed to, he found a note and a cloth bag. Fuck, he thought. The note read: Problem with supplier, sure you'll work something out. For other complications, see enclosed. Sid opened the cloth bag and withdrew a heavy white object. It was ceramic, heavy and expressionless, with black and red pain accenting the eyes and mouth. A Noh mask, beautifully rendered, it had an eerily pristine quality. Sid turned it in his hands a few times, and never knowing his employer to make jests, put it on.
As he raised it, the mask wrenched itself from his fingers and leapt up to his face with a whoosh of air. For a few seconds the world was slate black, then a faint electronic hum filled his ears. A bright line cut through the center of his vision and expanded into a field of red. The light adjusted and the world around him came into focus. Numbers and readouts sprang up around the perimeter of his field of vision. Air temperature, humidity, time, date, a small satellite map, and other various readouts bordered the left. To the right, glowing red icons displayed his pulse rate, body temperature and blood oxygen level and other various vital information. The mask informed him he was bleeding. Thanks a lot, WebMD, I hadn't noticed.
The sounds of the world had become notably more digital, he could hear slight variations in volume as the world around him changed. The volume levels lowered as a thundering diesel engine roared by, and rose back to a heightened level as it passed. He turned his head back and forth, getting a feel for the optics. The mask pumped light into dark places and dropped it in bright ones. Neat, but hardly a fucking substitute for C4. Sid sighed and pulled a few thing from the trunk and tucked them under his coat. Hope this fucking thing has Itunes.
The men behind the security desk looked up as he entered.
"What the fuck." A big black one in the back exclaimed
Sid approached the desk. Whether it was apathy or awe that stopped the men from pulling their guns, Sid didn't know, but it was a mistake. A long time ago, a lifetime ago it seemed, he used to ask people to leave quietly and not resist needlessly. He had even pleaded, once, but as Sid had learned, it was peoples nature to disbelieve. All trying to be humane had ever done was waste time and complicate things. So instead of saying, "Leave or you're all going to fucking die," he pulled his knife and vaulted over the desk without a word.
The jowly one in the middle caught it first. The modest pocket knife (three inches, legal in all states) sank into his chest up to the hilt and and stayed there. As he fell back in his chair Sid snatched the billy club from his belt and whipped the man to his right across the head, knocking him unconscious. The other guards rose almost in unison, but lost all initiative to panic. Red boxes popped up on the mask's screen, overlaying each weapon the security guards were pulling from their holsters with big flashing letters that read: WARNING.
Sid snatched up the tazer from the unconscious man's belt and turned on the nearest guard just as his gun cleared the holster. The tazer's electrified barbs turned the guard into a two hundred pound convulsing bullet shield. Sid was already behind him when the other three guards began unloading bullets in his direction. Sid let off the voltage just long enough to snatch the gun from the incapacitated man's clenched hand. His index finger found the trigger and with three pinpoint shots the other guards crumpled to the ground.
Sid tossed the tazer aside and the bullet mangled human barrier he'd erected for himself, no longer rigid with 50,000 volts, tumbled to the ground. Beside him the man he'd put under moments ago began to stir. When his vision cleared he found a gun muzzle shoved between his eyes.
"Leave." Sid growled.
The man nodded, bleary eyed. Without a second look he pushed himself from the desk and stumbled awkwardly towards the front door. Sid watched him go. There's my one.
Sid traded the pistol he was holding for a shotgun one of security guards had dropped and made his way across the marble floor to the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. He tapped the up arrow.
An obnoxiously civil female voice rang out from somewhere. "We're sorry, we are closed for the day. If you have security clearance, please insert it into the terminal located beside the elevators. Have a nice day."
Sid stared at the terminal for a few seconds, slightly at a loss.
Get a closer look. Came flashing across the screen of his mask. Sid jumped back, that was unexpected.
"What do you mean?" Sid asked out loud. There was no response.
Sid stood, somewhat taken aback. He looked at the terminal hesitantly, then, feeling slightly like an idiot, leaned towards it. The mask hissed and puffs of steam escaped through cracks that formed on it surface. Whole pieces of the mask lifted away on hydraulic pistons and cables lunged from within. They slithered through the air like tentacles and began prodding at the terminal. In a few seconds they wriggled their way inside and without warning Sid's vision was wiped clean.
Unable to see anything Sid became acutely aware that his scalp was beginning to tingle. It was slow at first then whipped down his neck and over his face. Then it began to sink in, boring down into his head, past his muscles and straight into his skull. Then he felt it, the moment when it passed the threshold of his tissue and suddenly it was in his mind. There, it swelled, pushing it's way outward and suddenly he felt his mind fusing with something that was alien. Something new, something strange, something digital. His world became a tumble of passwords and access ways, firewalls and encryption. The network spread out before him in waves and he instantly understood why his employer had imparted him this new tool.
The digital world was strange, but he had a grip on in a few short moments. He swept across the network like a stone across water, staring down into it's murky depths. He could see the traces of 911 calls going out from every free line in the building. People on the floors above had obviously heard the gun fire. He didn't bother trying to contain any of it, the ball was already rolling.
Sid glided across the network to the personnel database. He scrolled through it till he found the index of digital time cards. The information compressed instantly, and in milliseconds he understood that the bottom two thirds of the building, which was classified security level one, was mostly staffed by none-crucial personnel and all of them had already gone home. The top third of the building however, classified security levels 2-4, was very busy for a Friday night...
PERSONNEL SEARCH:: Dylan Harkins
FILE ACCESS ERROR
NO ACCESS FROM UNSECURED TERMINALS
PLEASE CONTACT DEPARTMENT HEADS 3-4 FOR CLEARED TERMINAL ACCESS
Sid wound his way through the company directory till he found the people he was looking for. The department heads for security level 3 had all gone home, but the time cards showed that a single department head for level 4 hadn't clocked out yet. His office was on the sixtieth floor. Good place to start, he figured. Outside the digital ether, the elevator binged. With a little mental kick he drew up out of system. His vision faded back slowly and he glanced at the floor indicator above the elevator doors.