ZOMBIE FORUMS

It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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PostPosted: Sun Mar 07, 2004 11:37 pm 
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<style>#claire p { margin: 0px; text-indent: 2em; }</style><div id="claire"><p style="text-align: right; margin: 1ex;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/razorsharp.ogg">Collide - Razor Sharp</a> */</tt></p><p>If Andy were looking, he would see the ground writhe beneath Claire as she walked the short distance to her 1990 Mazda. Closing the door softly as she sits herself behind the wheel, she looked over to the passenger side, then to any passengers in the back, checking for belts. Gaze lingering on Andy for a last moment, she turns the key. Clutch, reverse, clutch, gas, down the driveway, street, clutch, first, Claire followed the other vehicles, wherever they may lead.</p><p>Claire managed to do a fairly good job at sticking between the lines; occasionally waivering, occasionally not quite matching the gear to the engine revs. Not out of personal preservation, mind you, out of care for the safety of her passengers.</p><p>Claire no longer cared about herself.</p><p><i>I'll say one thing about the Asylum, Alice. Being unconscious does not give you the time to be depressed.</p></div>

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PostPosted: Mon Mar 08, 2004 9:53 am 
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*/ Pearl Jam - Do The Evolution */

Adar hated scramjets.

The idea of getting on a plane is that it takes some goddamn time, you get a meal, perhaps flirt with the attendant. You get royally pissed and sleep it off.

You don't get on a plane at 2 AM in the morning and find yourself blinking in the bright, late morning sun 40 minutes later at Washington Airport. You did that in a scramjet.

Fucking scramjets. "Bringing the world closer" was the logo emblased on the gleaming new sub-orbital jet as it sat proudly on the tarmac as its lesser forebears took off and landed in the distance. Scramjets were new and expensive. Scramjets were a luxury. Scramjets didn't let you sleep off the booze.

"Scramjets" Mused Adar through gritted teeth as he adorned his sunglasses against the sun "Are a goddamned pain in the ass"

Adar shuffled down the ramp onto the tarmac along with the rest of the survivors. The Delta boys were herded into a bus by a couple of sympathetic looking officers. That left Geoff and himself. Geoff was led away by a couple of agents.. one patted him on the back, and the other gently withdrew Geoff's pistol and tucked it away as they walked. Adar smirked.

The last two agents standing around the milling crowd in the reception area approched him. Adar held out his hand and the taller one dropped his car keys into his palm. Adar's fingers clenched around it.

"Agent Grey, we know you've been working on a mission.. and good job, from what we've been told, but as you know, the boss wants to see you at 09:00 tommorow, ok?"

Adar nodded, and mimiced sobriety all the way out to the carpark. Quite an acheivement. Adar mostly had vices that were either very cheap or very expensive depending on how one approached them, but his car... well he had got lucky. Once upon a time a high profile crack dealer got picked up by Unspec while smuggling 20 kilos in the back. The car was eventually actioned off internally, and Adar had snapped it up. $450,000 and a remodded Ferrari 360 was his, complete with bullet-proof windows, light titanium armor that could stop assult rifle rounds. Hidden compartments once hid drugs, but now 'hid' crumpled ciggarette packets and drained bottles of Whiskey, absinth and bourbon.

Adar liked his car.

Hoping in, he flicked the autopilot on and set the car to drive him home. As the hotted-up sports car sped down the freeway at 90 an hour, he dozed off.

*************************

'I swear that old bastard never takes his suit off. Im sure hes actually naked and just has some awesome tatto work done so he never need wear clothes again' Thought Adar to himself as he sat down in his bosses office, trying to remember how he got there. It was most certainly the next day. He'd seemingly managed to shave himself too. He must have had a nop of something on the way out as the world was at the right stage of blurriness to keep him in his comfort zone, and the Autopilot must have got him to work this morning as he wasn't being chewed out for drink-driving (Again).

Adar was still trying to adjust to his new, and by his perspective, sudden circumstances while the boss worked through his 'good work' preamble. Then the boss hit game time, and Adar's amused observational demenor took a dive.

Fifteen minutes later Adar was back at his desk looking at a big pile of papers. Dossiers, lots of them. And all targets. And not the usual assorted scum, these were the same assorted freaks, madmen and psykers that were cousin to those that had come crawling out of that blood-stained base to hunt in the Russian snow...

FUck.

Adar hated psykers.

Adar glanced at the first one. It had the red stamp that indicated that this individual was the be the major target.

MIL#0384242: David Willows

Adar opened the dossier and begain to read... How the hell did they expect him to get things like this back to them alive? Was he to try and handcuff some freak with the ability to start fires in your brain from 40 feet away?

Adar sighed and continued to read untill being interupted and ordered to repost to the armoury.

****************************************************

Adar walked into the large underground armour to find it pretty crowded. Groups of suited men chatted quietly to each other, their suits bulky where the trama vests were worn underneath, and bulders under the shulders. These were most certainly the group he was to be working with.

The agent who had summoned Adar turned and joined a group after telling him to collect something from the gunsmith. Adar walked over to the old man sitting behind a large booth where the weapons were kept.

"Hey, your Agent Grey, huh?" Asked the old man, perking up.

"Yeah, thats me" Adar replied languidly.

The old man's eyes sparkled.
"I got a present for you"

The gunsmith reached under the counter and produced a mighty looking pistol. There was no mistaking it for anything other than what it was. The black rubber grip, grey titanium frame thick barrel were hint enough, but the ominous letters embossed along its lengh said it all.

Mk.1 Exp Plasma

Somewhere there was a god that had smiled on Adar. Almost every plasma weapon, produced at great cost, with its ammunition, almost as costly was in a cargo crate bound for Mars as soon as it cleared the factory convaer. To even get hold of the old experimental weapons was a rare treat.

Adar reached out and took the pistol by the grip. Hell, it was damn heavy, it wieghted down his hand like victory itself. Adar grined.

"They issuing these to everyone?"

The old gunsmith raised an eyebrow.
"No, your boss had this held just for you"

Adar was slid a fair few clips as well as some loose plasma rounds. Pawing through all the loot, he found a folded note.

Ignore that bullshit from the directors about live capture at any expence. Top proriety is putting them down, alive or dead. I've seen to it you have the right tool for the job. I've also explained how you like to operate to Agent Nimmus, who will be heading up the team. Don't worry about being hassled too much.

Good hunting,
Dolivich.


Adar was tucking the large pistol away as his assinged colleage, Nimmus began to outline the area to be covered in the search. Adar tuned out. Finding them was not going to be his problem, only fighting them, and it wasn't likely the pasty, thin man warbling next to a whiteboard was going to tell him anything about that. Adar dozed off as Nimmis continued to yammer away.

********************************

Adar cruised down the freeway, manual driving on and radio up. Tailing one of the black vans carring the team, he was looking more and more forward to finding his prey for some inexplisible reason. He kept reaching into his jacket and touching the butt of the weapon, and rapping his hands against the steering wheel. Whatever the name of that stupid town... Shitsville, USA, whatever, it lay only a few hours drive away.


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 08, 2004 3:24 pm 
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As everyone was filtering over to there individual rides, Chaos decided to take care of a problem he knew needed some attention. “Harry! I need to talk to you.”
Two times now he has claimed I am the devil. Why in hell would he do that!?!?
Harry walked over to Chaos and then was quickly moves to an area where no one could here them.
Chaos: "I'm here to help all of these people, and your speaking against me. Now all of these people do not hold your morals and keeping us together is tough enough. Stop making it more difficult!!!"
Harry: "Morals aside some of these people are very dangerous and wildly unpredictable, you'll forgive me for looking to keep my skin intact.”
Chaos: "Your skin!!! Your going around and grouping me with the mass murderers!!! Why!?!
Harry: “You are known by the company you keep. I'm empathic, when you hear the screams of the tortured in your head, it's difficult to set the accessories off from the guilty.”
Chaos: "I don't presume to be able to remove suffering. That will always exist. What is it? Life is suffering? Anyhow, all I have power over is myself. I'm not into playing hero. Live and let live. I have a problem with you working against me trying to help the others.”
Harry: Then perhaps you could offer me a better alternative? Perhaps we can help each then?
Chaos: “I'm listening.”
Harry: “I sense your leadership waning, The demon with two minds grows stronger... He and the one called Max are my antithesis “
Chaos: “He will eventually overtake me, but I won't disappear. I will still be there, doing my stuff. But Harry, once that happens, I will no longer care about the direction of the group, but the well being of the individual. Our powers are as much a curse as a blessing, my goal is to allow us to deal with that curse.
Clay Allison TX: “Have YOU not thought, though that nightmare or one of the others might strike you in a moment of weakness? They have issues with authority you know?”
chaos Descend: “As do I, Harry, I'm growing tired of leadership.”
Harry: no longer being the focus of the group might render you more vulnerable in their eyes, I offer you an ally, to "watch your back" as it were.”
Chaos: “I would appreciate that”
Harry: “In return...You spoke with helping people with their curse, could you see if Max will allow you to help him control his demon?”
Chaos: “Control I can deal with. Just never ask for elimination.”
Harry: Bah, I do not ask for miracles. But his demon is angry with me, that personality is defiant in the face of my overtures of peace, if he does what I think he will, next time he gains control...it will be disastrous.”
Chaos: “A virgins sanctity?”
Harry: “I should have expected a perfect guess from a psychic.”
Chaos: “I have my limits. I just heard your overtures of peace last night.”
Harry: This falls exactly on the resonance frequency of my empathic brain, and if the unthinkable happens, I will go berserk.”
Chaos: “All I can do is, well, offer sacrifices. Keep the demons' appetite sated.”
Harry: “I am willing to...accept sacrifice, but in order to avoid...that. Hm...perhaps... I offered to turn a blind eye to his other transgressions, but it just made the demon want that even more.”
Chaos: I'll do what I can, but remember. Max does what he does to feed. Much like nightmare.
Harry: I consider...perhaps a bargain may be reached with the other demon, the one who loves music....
Chaos: “Zarathustra is nice enough, but understanding him will be difficult. For now he is on our side, but I feel that he would care little for your plight.”
Harry: “I realize Max’s need to feed, but I ask him to eschew one exceedingly small category, and leave him the balance of humanity, I do not expect the demon Zaruthustra to care, I expect him to trade for equal profit.”
Chaos: Profit?
Harry: “I will offer to sing in any moment of weakness, music of his choice, to give him power and control when he would otherwise lose it.”
Chaos: “In order for him to enforce your one request. I must admit I am surprised.”
Harry: “At this point I can only consider my request selfish, just the need to avoid the anticipated pain.”
Chaos: “Fine, I will make that request. Now, the mall will be some ugly business. Do you wish to meet up with us later?”
Harry: “No, I will go along.”
Chaos: “Your choice. Let us leave.”
Harry: “Agreed. I must make a friend of horror, not hide from it. I will see what I can do to help at a later date.”

With there business concluded, Chaos walked to his car, and prepared for the drive. Hold on... 75 feet. What the hell...

_________________
A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


- Stephen Crane


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 08, 2004 7:39 pm 
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<p style="margin: 1em 0em; text-align: right;"><tt>/* Les Savy Fav - Wake Up */</tt></p>
Morrie managed to shut the bathroom door before collapsing over the toilet and vomiting up all the breakfast she just ate. She clutched at her stomach, eyes squinted shut in pain. Eggs, dough, meat . . . an indefinite yellow-white mass spewed out of her mouth into the bowl, splashing harmless water into her eyes. Hacking and coughing, Morrie pulled her face away from the toilet, spittle hanging from her chin. “Not safe,” she said. “Not for me. Not for you. You’re becoming attached to them . . . you know what happens . . .”

Torn to shreds my God blood everywhere insane look at those eyes why why why I don’t wanna die make it quick you’re going down I’m sorry for . . .

Morrie doubled over in pain and scurried back over the toilet, hacking up until all that came out was saliva and air. “Disgusting,” she said. “Filthy rotting carcasses, the walking dead. Let them go, Morrie. Let them go.”

Slowly, shakily, Morrie stood, staggering over to the sink. She twisted the handles to turn the water on and cupped her hands under the cool stream. Up, and splash. Up, and splash. Do it like you did when you had a nightmare and blew out the ceiling fan, before they understood you. Before you were you. Spitting into the sink, Morrie looked at her reflection in the mirror, and saw skin pulled over muscle and bones, flesh fighting to survive in a harsh world. She saw red eyes, eyes that were an indictment of her existence every moment they stared out of her face. “You’re not me,” she said to her face. “I’m stuck here, but this isn’t me, is it?” She ran her clawed fingers across her temple, brushing the tangled, messy hair out of her face. “What happened to me? Why do I remember the lives of two people? Who gave me my eyes? Who gave me my life?”

It was necessary.

Morrie clutched her head in her hands, baring her teeth in a snarl. “I don’t hear voices,” she whispered, “I’m just dreaming this all up, like the doc said, and someday when I’ve slept long enough, I’ll wake up and it’ll all be okay.” She put the toilet seat down and flushed the contents down into the black sewers running below the ground and the house, then sat on the seat. “I . . . I . . . I—I—I . . .”

Morrighen flung herself off the toilet seat and slammed her upper body into the wall, breaking the weak plaster wall around her thin frame. Her red eyes blazed with inner fire. “I am not you,” she shouted. “You—worthless, timid coward!” She growled, fingers curling around the air. “Give me my own face, bitch! I want my own life!” She stumbled to her feet, staring at the mirror. “I want to be myself.” The lights in the bathroom blew in a shower of sparks, spiraling shadows about Morrie’s face.

Morrie stared at the mirror in the dark, stared at her eyes. “I don’t think I’m alone anymore,” she said. She splashed water in her face and rubbed the plaster off her skin with a towel. She stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door softly. A few of the inmates looked at her. They heard the noises she made. “Ah—don’t use the bathroom,” she said. She smiled, a pale imitation of one at best.

She walked past the rest of them slowly, out the door. For the first time she noticed the coming dawn, and something in her cringed. A bad feeling swelled up in her gut. She almost felt the need to . . . no, it wasn’t that bad yet. She didn’t like the looks of that sun, staining the clouds crimson. It felt like the herald of the Apocalypse.

In a state of false calm, she crawled into the back seat of the Hummer. The feeling wouldn’t go away.

So warm . . . so comforting . . . so vibrant . . . turn your face towards the dawn . . . and die where you stand.


Last edited by Ghost on Tue Mar 23, 2004 2:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Mon Mar 08, 2004 8:59 pm 
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Guy was in an exceptionally good mood. He said yes! After striking a bargain with Grasshopper to let him watch the world through his red eye, he had been shaken awake by Lati.
"Come on little-Guy, food!"
Beeing awakened by a creature with an odd number of limbs wasn't new, but this was the first time he was happy about it. The smell of breakfest perked him up and he grabbed some eggs and ate by the window. When he was halfway through he saw Lati playing outside with this wierd ball and the guy he had me right after Andy play ball, so of course he had to join.
Hey Grass, heres a treat
Unhinging his jaw he swallowed what was left of the food and let it deop into the Dementia
"Gee thanks, you know how much I love human food, and stop grinnig like that! You can be so annoy some-"
Guy wasn't even listening as he ran out the door and joined the game. After Andy sank the house (he thought it was the coolest thing he ever saw) he hopped on the car farthest away from the stinky guy (What his name? Max?) and the girl driving the car was one of the best drivers ever!
"Faster! Faster!"
Guys outburst unnerved Claire and she swerved a bit more than average. "Calm down kid, save some of that energy for the mall."
"Whats a 'mall'?"
"Its, umm, a big store with many little stores."
And Guy blabbed and blabbed like he hadn't since, well, forever


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 09, 2004 11:29 am 
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Harry slid into the Hummer behind Morrie, sensing that something was wrong, he elected not to ask for now. He simply took her hand and felt her emotions surge into him. She didn't know how to open up to anyone, her relationship to the universe had been adversarial for too long. Harry felt her need to give her pain release and he took it. Not away, even he didn't have that power, but he could share the pain, wrap it and her in the power of his calm, a serenity that though disturber of late, on the surface, was as calm as the motionless dark waters of a frozen highlands loch.

Sometimes, it is enough to give a person ground to stand on, so they can bear the weight of the world.

It was a small gesture, a shifting of weight for comfort, not a washing away of care, but Harry hoped it was enough to let her know that someone was there to support her. Harry wiped a single tear from his eye, feeling within himself the pain that he shared, the part of Morrie that she had left with him.

Soon, I must speak with the Two Headed Demon, the one called Zaruthustra. I have offered my protection to the one called chaos, now I must offer this one my service in support of his plan. We are not of this world, nor do we belong to it. We must leave before we do any morte damage, or this world turns on us in force and kills us all

_________________
We used to play for silver, Now we play for life.
One's for sport and one's for blood
At the point of a knife, Now the die is shaken
Now the die must fall,
There ain't a winner in this game
Who don't go home with all, Not with all...


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PostPosted: Tue Mar 09, 2004 2:50 pm 
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Morrie flinched when Harry sat next to her, expecting something terrible, something . . . He was too alive to comfort her. He scared her. He touched her, and a thrill of terror shrieked up her arm. Before she could yank it away, he had covered her hand with his own. Hesitantly she glanced into his eyes. All she saw was peace in those eyes.

Warmth flowed up Morrie's arm where Harry touched it, dulling the fire churning inside her, calming her frayed nerves. She had memories of being tucked into a warm blanket, of being held comfortingly . . . of being protected from the troubles of the outside world by someone who cared. They were all she could think of while Harry held her hand. Morrie half-consciously leaned against his shoulder.

But in the back of her mind there stayed that nagging unease and screeching terror.


Last edited by Ghost on Tue Mar 23, 2004 2:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 09, 2004 4:27 pm 
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After a bit of rest, Andy was awakened by Guy’s one sided conversation with Claire. Oh fuck, I do not need this right now. I’m too tired to deal with this shit. He half opened his eyes and turned to Guy, who was currently leaning forwards between the two front seats.

“Hey, bug boy, you mind keeping quiet? You’re really starting to get on my nerves, and even though I don’t have the energy to shift a blade to wave at you, I can still wring your scrawny neck. Now sit down, keep it down, and let the young lady drive. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like starting my day flying through a windshield, do you?” He enjoyed a few moments of silence before turning to Claire. Though he saw some strange shifts in the background when he looked in her direction, he was still too tired to note any of it. “You know, even though I’ve seen some pretty crazy shit in my life, I’m still amazed that a young kid like you can actually drive.”

“I’m 16.”

“Really? Damn, you sure don’t look it. You look younger than he does.” Andy jerked a thumb back towards Guy. “Though it probably explains why you’re not as hyper as he is.” Kid’s got enough damn energy for the both of us. He leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes again. “Hey Guy, wake me up if anything happens. Wait let me rephrase that. Wake me if something important happens.” Idiot. I spent too much power back at the house. And it’s not like I gained back much of it with 6 hours of sleep. Especially after what I did back at the sanitarium. Need to remember to grab some high energy food when we get there. Or maybe one of them can help me out. Doubtful. Not like I’m injured, just drained. His fatigue caught up with him again and he felt asleep. Unfortunately, it was short-lived as Guy began chattering again. Must stay calm. Can't kill comrades. Bad for health. Must stay calm...


Last edited by wolf346 on Tue Mar 09, 2004 7:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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<style>#claire p { margin: 0px; text-indent: 2em; } #claire p.spacer { margin-top: 1em; }</style><div id="claire"><p style="text-align: right; margin: 1ex;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/life.ogg">Evanescence - Bring Me to Life</a> (<a href="#" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted; cursor: default;" title="High Quality OGG, generally with a quality level of 5 or above. 192kBit ABR, equivalant to a 320kBit MP3.">HQ</a>: 5.5MB) */</tt></p><p>Finally growing weary of Guy's incessent chatter, Claire reached around behind her, pushed a finger onto the bridge of his nose, and transferred a small portion of her power into this new link. <i>Funny, I didn't know I could do that...</i></p><p>The music faltered.</p><p>Claire saw the world.</p><p>And it passed, leaving Claire confused, and Alice even more unhealthy-looking. Guy's eyes widened as his view of the world became distorted - grass dead or dying, sky dark and threatening, car not pristine and clean, but rusted and torn. The engine's clean whine over the sound of the slipstream turning to an animal sound, low and frightening. Shaking her head, "Alice, keep Guy busy, please. I need to keep my attention on the road." Smiling, the girl scrambled into the back from Andy's lap. Pointedly ignoring the byplay as Alice introduced herself to Guy, and vice-versa, Claire got down to some serious introspection.</p><p>Turning her head to her front passenger, "Like music, Andy?" Shrugging slightly when she didn't get a prompt response, Claire raised the 'volume' anyway.</p><p>A rolling concert with an audiance of two.</p><p></p><p><tt><i>Wake me up inside! (Can't wake up!) Wake me up inside! (Save me!) Call my name and save me from the dark! (Wake me up!) Bid my blood to run! (I can't wake up!) Before I come undone! (Save me!) Save me from the nothing I've become...</i></tt></p><p>Claire didn't notice when her voice replaced that of the lead singer. Nor did she notice the changes in the world around her. Black and white lead to sepia, chalk and charcoal to ink to brush. Claire's world filled in as she drove down the winding country roads.</p><p>But Claire knew what the world was supposed to look like; and she could not see.</p><p>But Claire knew what she should feel like; and she was numb.</p><p>Like many of those she had now associated with, through fate or otherwise, she was fighting in inner battle. Hers was a battle not against demons striving to escape, personalities striving for dominance, or inner conflict against the morals of those around her - her battle was against reality itself.</p><p class="spacer">Mother treated me like any other child with friends that could not be seen. She smiled and nodded her head, and told me quite calmly that I would grow out of such things. Father would look at me from above his newspaper each morning or from above others' work each night.</p><p>I remember what changed. I didn't change - the world changed around me. My parents noticed the change.</p><p>My room, with the light colors and happy themes of childhood became a hell. Darkness followed me wherever I went. And my parents could see the darkness, too. Our white house changed, grew dark along with its inhabitants. The walls twisted and aged, mirrors grew spider-webbed cracks, paint chipped, and the light dimmed. My parents didn't like the change. It scared them. Then <i>I</i> scared them. Mother didn't like spiders. As it happened, the spiders she didn't like made her quite ill. Pity there were so many of them - she'd have survived otherwise.</p><p><tt><i>Wake me up inside! (Can't wake up!) Wake me up inside! (Save me!) Call my name and save me from the dark! (Wake me up!) Bid my blood to run! (I can't wake up!) Before I come undone! (Save me!) Save me from the nothing I've become...</i></tt></p><p>Then I was taken. Injected during the night, the darkness melted off the house like fat dripping from a carcass. I awoke in a bare room with no walls. Whiteness flowed around me as if liquid. I was seated in a chair. The chair was bolted to the ground. Then a voice spoke - the voice of God - from everywhere and nowhere at once. At first I ignored it, but hunger does wonders for the weak. The voice told me where I was, and what it wanted. I thought asylums were those things people read about - we had better ways of dealing with the insane, right? The voice said insanity wasn't the purpose to this asylum.</p><p>I was given bland, shapeless food, and rested where I sat. In the whiteness of the room I don't know if I slept. I didn't know how much time passed. Eventually I awoke to find myself on a bed - and tied there. I could feel a pain in my arm, dim and far away. I turned my head and the room rolled in slow motion. I blinked, and darkness came for eternity, then left. A thin man stood next to me and raised a star to my eye. Blink. Eternity. Light. The burning light left as it darkened and turned red. Putting the silver shaft in a breast pocket, the man smiled down at me and told me I'd be okay. I smiled back, and cried. He looked sad, then he was gone. I awoke twice more after that. Once they tried to control me. Then I left.</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: right;"><tt>/* -12x10s crossfade to: <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/imaginary.ogg">Evanescence - Imaginary</a> (<a href="#" style="border-bottom: 1px dotted; cursor: default;" title="High Quality OGG, generally with a quality level of 5 or above. 160kBit ABR, equivalant to a 290kBit MP3.">HQ</a>: 5.0MB) */</tt></p><p class="spacer"><i>I'm me - I'm real. Aren't I? Or am I just a figment of someone's imagination - part of someone's sick dream of the world - a nightmare in someone's subconcious, fighting to get free?</i> Claire turned her head to rest saddened eyes upon her passenger. <i>Is he real? Are any of us? Why, if there is some grand creator out there, did he do this to us? We're children that can't grow up, unprepared for the world as much as it is unprepared for us, and we never asked for this.</i> In Claire's view of the world, the rising sun was quickly snuffed, to be replaced with distant lightning and rain. <i>I know this isn't real... but how do I see the truth? Do I not want to see the truth? Or is the truth hiding from </i>me<i>? Who is afraid of whom in this unhealthy relationship?</i></p><p><i>The weight of the world is upon each of us, and it is crushing the life from all of us.</i> Claire's car continued down the road, following the others. The sound of water spray under the tires a constant rattling, Claire turned the wipers on for visibility sake. She drove on automatic, reflexes more than able to make up for a lack of experience, as her mind drove on automatic. She would occasionally wipe at her cheek with the heel of a hand to wipe away the stream of tears, but nothing would stop the drip, drip, drip, as they fell.</p><p>She didn't notice as her passengers stirred. Nor did she notice when the black and white form of Alice gave her a hug - she just stared ahead.</p><p>Claire sang.</p></div>

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It seemed to Andy that everything was conspiring against him just to deprive him of sleep. Guy had finally shut up and gave him a few minutes of peace, and then Claire turned up the music.

“Wake me up inside! (Can't wake up!) Wake me up inside! (Save me!) Call my name and save me from the dark! (Wake me up!) Bid my blood to run! (I can't wake up!) Before I come undone! (Save me!) Save me from the nothing I've become...”

This has to be God’s idea of a cruel joke. ‘Hey, maybe I should torment the cursed, sleep-deprived kid by giving him some loud music with ironic lyrics. After all, he hasn’t suffered enough for my liking.’ His profanity against God was interrupted when he realized something. Wait a minute. That's no stereo, it doesn't sound quite right. What the...THE FUCKING DRIVER'S SINGING?! WHAT THE HELL DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?! *sigh* This can’t be real. Life isn’t this cruel. He cracked open his eyes slightly and looked. Claire seemed withdraw, focusing on something she could only see. However, she was still singing quite loudly while tears streamed down her cheeks. Great, all the girls I meet seem to be basketcases. This will be a real fun trip. He looked behind her, and saw that Guy was surprisingly silent in the back seat. He couldn’t see behind him to check on the last passenger, but he heard nothing from there either. He closed his eyes again. I hate you God. You owe me so damn much and what do I have? A power that marks me as a freak, a bunch of people that would just as likely kill me as help me, and what’s left of my humanity. Thanks a lot God. Thanks for nothing.

Despite his best efforts to ignore his surroundings, Andy still couldn’t block everything out. His anger merely kept building, slowly but surely, as their car sped along the road. Can’t take much more of this. I swear I’m gonna snap soon. Which means I’m dead. Calm down, focus. Think about something else. Like, where do we go after this? The others aren’t stupid…at least the ones making the plans anyway. They know what will happen once the public learns of us. So what are we to do once the hunt begins? This is just a supply stop, so what’s the end goal? And why do I feel like there’s more to this than just grabbing the essentials?


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Tom became aware of his surroundings as the shattered fragments of his consciousness slowly reassaembled themselves into a coherent whole. He was lying on a soft, warm bed. There was a window directly to his right. It feels like I've been out for a while - and yet, I don't feel rested at all...

Wait a minute, where am I? This isn't my room. No, I'm not at the training center anymore. Training center... No, wait, it was a Sanitarium. That's right... I left with all those other people, the ones who scare me. We came to this house last night? Didn't we? Ah, yes, I remember now.

Ugh, I feel dirty. Very dirty. When was the last time I showered?
Tom staggered out of the room and into the hallway. Bathroom, bathroom, where's the - ah, here we go! Tom stepped in and disrobed, heaving his clothes into the corner of the bathroom in a crumpled pile. Blood... they're covered in blood... He looked in the mirror. My face. Blood. It's all over.

All of a sudden Tom remembered something vaguely from the night before. A woman screaming. Blood everywhere. What else? Can't tell... It's too vague. Though somewhat disturbed by this, Tom dismissed these fractured and indistinct images that were invading his consciousness and stepped into the shower. He turned on the water, which came out boiling hot. FUCK! He lunged at the shower knob to try to turn down the heat, but instead slipped and fell, hitting his head upon the bath spout. Tom was disoriented for several seconds, laying there with the scalding water falling upon still falling upon his body, his head pulsating with a steady rhythm of throbbing pain.

He touched his forehead lightly with his left hand, but quickly pulled it back when the contact engendered a pang of searing hurt. He looked at his hand. It was now covered in fresh blood, which the water was quickly washing away. Blood was now dripping from his face and joining the stream of water heading down the drain, staining it red.

Fresh Blood. So much of it. The memories he had recognized earlier now became more vivid, transforming themselves into a full-fledged flashback of sorts.

I grab her. She's starting to scream, but I won't let her... yet. A man is coming, probably her husband. I concentrate upon the music, ever present, ever powerful. The music allows me to live the moment, to drown in the transcendence of what I'm about to do. Human beings could be so much more; they could do anything, if only they didn't let their fears limit them. Through the sheer force of my will alone, I send the man flying into a nearby wall.

Fear of the unknown. Fear of change. Above all, fear of freedom. It's this fear that causes us to enslave ourselves to the herd. The herd calls this system of fears "morality". I call it suffocation.

With a single thought, I reduce the woman's clothes to tatters. What I am doing, what I am about to do, is what I must do. It's my way of expressing the beauty around me. The music is so beautiful - both in itself, and as a reminder of the holiness that surrounds us. Everything is beautiful in its own way. Everything is sublime. We deny the beauty of blood, of sweat, of screaming - the pure rapture of pain and death. These are the realities we've sheltered ourselves from. We've become a nation of air-conditioned, hypoallergenic bubble-boys, self-sanitized for our own "protection". God forbid we live! God forbid we take risks! God forbid we step outside the boundaries, step outside ourselves, even if it means discomfort, even if it means abandoning the simple and insipid set of prejudices and inhibitions that society has the audacity to call "ethics".

I place my booted foot upon her naked torso, pressing down hard. She's screaming now, and I let her. It adds to the ambience - it complements the music.

It takes more courage to be totally, selflessly "evil" than to be totally, selflessly "good".

I bend down, leaning my hand upon a bare breast. Hovering over her, I punch her square in the face: once, twice, three times. Four times. She's bleeding now: fresh, red blood. Such a vibrant red. Such a beautiful color.

It's time to take this to the next level.

Rape is perhaps the fullest expression of social transgression possible. And that is what all good art does in the end. Art trangresses the mundane, it violates and pushes away the boundaries.

I begin to take off my pants, but then I hear another voice - a young boy. He's obviously very afraid. Good. Fear is better than complacency. The music swells; I become the music. The boy is now pinned to the ceiling.

The pleasure I am getting from this act is not physical - or at least, the physical pleasure is beside the point. Rape, murder, torture, destruction - these are, for me, simply different mediums of artistic expression, like sculpting, or painting, or writing poetry.

Or music. Yes, music. As Wagner continues to thunder in the background, the music envelops me, and I become immersed in the now, in my act of violation. What I am doing now is an expression of the music - an attempt to convey the music in action. A performance. This is how I dance.

As I penetrate her, I continue to pound her with my fists - about the face, shoulders, arms. The blows hit her with a force greater than my physical strength would allow - they carry with them the force of the music.

I ejaculate, the physical bliss coinciding with a much deeper existential bliss. This is freedom, this is beauty, this is art. This is love. All these things transcend the simple and childish ideas of good and evil. As I come, I sink my teeth deep into the flesh of her face, tearing off her nose. The blood flows like fresh honey.

Still keeping her and the other two in their respective places, I run over to a nearby table and break off a leg. It is time to finish my masterpiece. What shall I name this work? "Zarathustra's 10523rd Symphony"? "Untitled Mangled Corpse #10523"?

The first blow of the hard wooden club lands upon her torso. She convulses in agony. The second blow I direct to the side of her naked body. I hear the sound of ribs cracking. She is bleeding now, mangled, unrecognizable, and no longer human. The bleeding mess staring at me now through fear-filled eyes is something that is both more than and less than a human being. It is now a living, breathing work of art.

It is only when we are approaching death that we can truly live.

My final blow lands upon her skull, cracking it in two. I can see the pale grey, gooey brains peeking out from what remains of her forehead. She's surrounded by blood. Puddles of blood. Blood everywhere.
The blood. Oh, sweet Jesus, the blood.

Tom picked himself up groggily and turned the faucet off. Those weren't my memories, were they? They seemed like my own, but... the actions, the thoughts... they're obviously not mine. And the music! How could I remember hearing music? Perhaps Chaos is right about my having a split personality?

Tom's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Harry in the bathroom. How the hell did he get in here!? I locked the door! He hastily covered his dripping wet naked body with a towel and stared at Harry in confusion. He's saying something now... I think... something about us having to leave? Tom nodded to Harry in understanding, and Harry walked through the door - literally - leaving Tom to his thoughts.

Ah, well. I'd better come with them then. It's not like I have a choice. They'll kill me if I don't. Thus Tom dried himself off, got dressed, and within 15 minutes was on the road again with Chaos.


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***Early Morning***
As people were piling into their cars, Chaos decided to take care of one final bit of business.

“Max. I need to talk to you before we leave.”

The two of the walked to the side where others would not be able to hear them.

“Max, I am going to make this quick. I have major concerns about the hostile relationship between you and Harry. Now before you react, let me finish. I know what he has... um.. ‘requested’ of you. I propose something less restricting. Virgins are to be safe from our unwanted attentions. I know that this cramps your style or something, but trust me, it needs to be this way. Note, that I say unwanted. If the girl is willing, you go right ahead, hell, I encourage you. Just make sure you are not raping a virgin, cause if that happens, I am going to have to side with Harry. Ok?”

Max had stood quietly throughout the entire mini-speech, and nodded his head at the end of it. “Ok, Chaos, I can deal with that. Now can we head out of here, I want to get moving.”

Chaos smiled, “Great, let’s go.”

***On The Road***

The radio Turned on and a note was passed.

Zara, we need to go over something. Harry has concerns over Max’s activities. Harry is the Buddhist who sang to you at the sanitarium and Max is the guy who can go tentical monster whenever he gets boozed up. Now. If a virgin is raped by Max, Harry goes wild. Harry has offered to sing for you whenever you please. All he asks in return is that you enforce his one desire. Protection of a females sanctity. I have only promised safety from rape.

As much as I hate to do it, I can compromise. Harry is obviously very powerful, and I need his help if I want to implement my plans for the future. I'll give him what he wants: no raping virgins. However, he shouldn't expect more from me. I need to hurt others. I need to destroy. It's as natural as breathing for me now... and it's more than that. It's my duty.

I don’t expect anything more. I told him exactly what to expect from you on this subject, hence why he offered his services. Now... plans?

I am going to fix my ears and throat as soon as we reach the mall. Once this is done, I think it's time for us to make ourselves known to the world.

No, no, no, no, no. I do not agree. We need to pick a better location. It’s too soon.

Look, we can continue trying to avoid detection until we finally slip and the feds catch up to us, or we can take control of our fates and decide when the battle takes place. Given what happened at the gas station, I doubt we'll be able to go on for much longer without giving ourselves away. We are ready. We can face this challenge.

I agree that we can only hide for so long. I just think that a hit and run is a little better. We go to the mall, raise a little havoc then sink into the woodwork. Repeat. Every time having an escape route. This time, I intend to take up to the largest city near here. New York.

Look, we have to think long-term. What's our goal? Where are we going? I don't think Earth is where we belong. This society has rejected us. We need to make our own way, and the first step of this has to be leaving the planet. The Earth colonists are so preoccupied with battlign the Europans that we could take over one or two of the colonies easily. From there - who knows?

Zatathustra. I have read your file and all that I have seen leads me to think that you are a smart man. But leaving this planet, which honestly is in trouble, working on a skeleton crew, and leaving for a planet (god knows how), which is completely populated by soldiers with advanced weaponry and monsters who will want to kill us. Sorry Zara, I don’t have that strong a motivation here.

We won't be leaving alone. I plan on taking most of the other paras ont he planet with me. Each of us possesses unimaginable power. If we cooperate, we can easily take on millions of soldiers successfully. I'm not saying we're going to leave Earth immediately. I'm saying that that should be our next goal, after we spread the word and gather up our allies.

Again, you fail to mention how. This is not a light thing your talking about. When I was captured, a flight to Mars took at least a week... Dealing with our little motley crew for a day has left me feeling like I am a cat herder. The thought of dealing with hundreds to thousands of us makes me break out into a cold sweat. I say yes, someday, but we have things to do now. Let us not move until we are sure we can deal with the results.

If we have to wait until we're sure everything will work out perfectly, we'll never accomplish anything. I appreciate your concern, but I think that the fight must begin. We must demonstrate that the paras are to be taken seriously. Fear of failure should not stand in our way.

I don’t. You might have grand plans, but I am the one that will have to execute it. We still have the Tom factor here. Look, I am getting writer’s cramp. I don’t feel we should move. Next time we resurface, maybe, but not now. Look, Here’s the mall. We'll continue this discussion later.

_________________
A man said to the Universe, "Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the Universe, "the fact has not created in me a sense of obligation."


- Stephen Crane


Last edited by Chaos on Tue Mar 23, 2004 7:49 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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During the rest of the trip, Claire kept singing song after song. Andy thought he would explode from the annoyance, but he kept everything inside. After all, it seemed like everyone else didn’t mind it, except for him. Kinda strange that no one’s said anything about it though. Maybe they’re just being nice. Her voice isn’t too horrid, but I wish she’d sing something else. For God’s sake enough is enough. Doesn’t she know any other songs? Oh great, here comes the refrain again. Andy continued to stare ahead without seeing, trying to escape this miserable nightmare. He almost missed the mall entirely until he felt the car begin to slow down. Finally, we’re here. Maybe she’ll shut up and focus on something else now.

Their convoy stopped right at the entrance, not caring about designated parking. Most of them just left the cars and entered the complex, wanting to see what wonders it contained. Andy didn’t care much about the shops though. When he walked in, the first thing he noticed was the crowd. Holy fucking shit, there’s so many people. All together, in one place. Then he heard the music. Remarkably, it was the same as what Claire had sung during the ride. You got to be kidding. God, why do you hate me so much? His thoughts were interrupted when one of the group mentioned the weapons. Oh right, I made a few promises. Oh well, a promise is a promise. He walked to a screen at the entrance and found a digital map of the complex. Well, at least we don’t need to search too long. He quickly searched for the House of Knives and was given directions for the quickest route. As he walked back towards the group, he made a simple announcement.

“Hey, anyone looking for a custom job, follow me and I’ll see if I can make what you need.” He turned around and headed to an escalator, not even checking to see if anyone followed him. When he reached the second floor, he saw a juice bar nearby and grabbed a large cup of green slush before continuing along his way.

“Hey, you have to pay for that!”

“Tell someone who cares.” Not like I have money anyway. He kept walking and sniffed the drink before taking a sip. Smells sweet. Should boost my energy for a bit. Hmm, lime. Not bad. If only someone could CHANGE THE FUCKING MUSIC! I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE IF THIS SHIT KEEP PLAYING!


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<div align=right>Radiohead-Everything in its right place</div>

“well it should be, anyway.”

<div align=right>The Darkness-I Believe in a Thing Called Love</div>

Leonard sat up and looked around. He wished he lived anywhere else. It could be worse, he told himself I could be living in one of those towns where the spot to hang out in was a friggin gas station at exit 96 It’s not such a bad mall anyway, much nicer than the other one up north.

He was on the second floor of brand-spanking new Megiddo Mills, right on the bridge between FYI music and a Dairy Queen. If he cared to move to the edge, which he didn’t, he would be greeted with the spectacular view of the grand fountain in the center of the mall and the grand entrance window that framed it, grandly, on the opposite side for approximately the 49th time since this “Ultra-mall of the future” opened today. It was about the time for the average rushes from the after school slackers, so Leonard propped himself up against the glass guard with his pretzel and smoothie and resumed his practice.

He closed his eyes. “Lessee who we have today” Call of Duty“ah, the gamers, they’re usually the first ones out” Prada Purse “The shallow ones, I never saw why they liked product placement”. Beyblades, Transformers, Spiderman “all right, either a child or a 35 year old, always a tough one” Something to darken my soul, ooo…fuzzy wings! “Goddamnit, they put a Hot Topic in here too?” He opened his eyes again and looked around. “Well, I stretched myself a little thin there at the end, but there’s always more time to practice, especially since this place is like 20 minutes from my place and I doubt it’s going anywhere soon. I probably should do something about all this, I really have no need for any of it.” He gathered his newly aquired goods: the purse, the game, toys, and fuzzy wings and GIR plush toy and sent some of his “minions” to slip them into some of the lower floor shoppers’ bags. It always surprised him a little whenever he saw his own handywork; it’s not so much getting things through stealing, it was the verb that he liked.

Leonard finished his smoothie and tossed it deftly into a nearby trashcan. "All right, let’s see what I can do for distance, it’d be nice to see if I can get people on their way here"…supplies… “Well, that’s a new one, I’ve never seen anyone go to a mall for supplies, and it’s quite a lot of them, too. This should prove much more entertaining” Leonard got up and walked towards the far arcade/skatepark, smiling as he licked the salty buttery pretzel residue from his fingers.

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They
arrived at
the mall.


Morrie stepped out of the Hummer, looking hesitantly around. Seeing the mall's name, Megiddo Mills, Morrie shivered. She didn't recognize it, but it felt ominous. "Something wicked this way comes," a voice in the back of her head sang tunelessly, mocking her. As Harry stepped out of the Hummer, she clutched at his hand, hoping for more of his security.

She
walked into
the mall.


Crowds. Jostling back and forth--shoving left and right--endless, endless noise, humming, chittering, scratching--crowds crowds crowds--someone shoved her, broke the connection to Harry, pushing her back.

She
looked up.
The mall.


Towering over her, the shops stretched higher than even the roof of the mansion she could barely remember as an illusion. Her eyes widened, her pulse quickened.

Run. Runrunrunrunrun.

She
fled away--
further into--
away from--
them all.


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James was glad that they reached the mall. The mass of humanity seemed almost oppressive, but he didn't care. He was hunting. For the first time in months, he was in his element.

He spotted a young, fairly attractive looking girl who seemed to be here on her own. This will be good. It has been a while since I have fed from a girl, he thought. Moving with the smooth silence of a master predator, he slid through the sea of humanity, towards his chosen prey. She didn't hear his approach, her first knowledge of his presence his tap on her shoulder. She jumped, turned towards him.

"Sorry to startle you," he said, and pushed his glasses up to his forehead. She glanced, startled, at his red eyes, and he had her. "I'd like to talk with you." He nodded at a nearby service corridor. Making sure to hold her with his gaze, he took her hand and led her there. Once they were in the semi-privacy the side corridor allowed, he said, "I need something from you, but I will not take withought giving you something in return." He stared deep into her eyes, adjusting his mesmerizing control slightly. She flushed, her breathing became uneven, and her smell became the smell of sex as his control induced an orgasm.

He had no compunction about taking men withought any exchange, but refused to take a woman withought giving her something in return. Having done so, he bit into her neck, drinking deep. The orgasm and blood loss weakened her, he lowered her to the ground. He drank enough to state his hunger, but not enough to harm her long-term. A yell from the mouth of the corridor made him jump.

A man in his early twenties glared at him, beet red and shaking with rage. He looked to be the girl's boyfriend. He looked from James to the girl and back again. He drew the normal conclusion: this strange young man had done something sexual and perverse with his girlfriend. Deal with her, and wether or not she cooperated, later. Beat the crap out of the offender now.

He charged with a growl, right fist positioned for a thundering punch. He was opperating on anger, no thought. This would be easy. James ducked the man's punch, slammed a fist into the man's stomach, his un-natural strength lifting the larger man from the ground. He grabbed the man and slammed him into the wall. The man sagged unconsious. James turned to the girl, who was about to panic. Again, he caught her with his mesmerizing stare, calmed her. He forced her to fall asleap. He grabbed the money from the man's wallet, kissed the girl lightly on the forehead, and stepped back into the main corridor.

He'd ate, and he'd had a quick, invigorating fight. Time to shop.

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This girl is fun to talk to. Guy had been chattering quietly with Alice and hadn't even noticed when they reached the mall. "We here already? well we better... hey where you go?" The girl had seemed to dissapear into thin air. "Oh well."

Following the rest of the group Guy walked through the doors of the mall and into a brand new world. His joy only matched by his exitement, Guy ran off to what appeared an arcade. One of the adults called out to him but hes just kept running as if he didn't here. A kid running recklessly through a packed mall is bound to run into someone, and unfortuanilly it happened to be a large man with a short temper. The drink the man was carrying spilled all over him. Face red with rage, he looked as if he would beat Guy to a pulp right then and there.

Guy's red eye flashed, and before Guy new what was happening Grass had taken over. "Why you little-" the man's gruff voice as a small needle pierced his skull. Once inside his head the Needlebug stretched out its legs and started its feast. Grass move Guy away from the drooling man and returned control to him.

Hey what was that all about?
"Nothing, just thought I saw something."
With a shrug Guy resumed running to the arcade and miracously made it there without any more accidents. He walked to the most flashy game, and finally realized I have no money. Heart-broken, he walked out looking to the ground. Wishing he had some tokens, he bumped into Leo, and Grass wondered why he was cursed with Guy.


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OOC: Yes, I know this will require editing of a post or two, but remember: Claire's music is usually in someone's head. This is the first post is is to be otherwise. :-P Let's keep it straight this time, folks! ^^; (I'll edit my post if asked, but personally, a live band is far more cinematic and spiffy than PA music.) There are three distinct posts contained within this one to keep the timeline intact. I have asked Icy, and he approved. Credit is mentioned. Due to the way I post, they will share the same style - coloration will be maintained, however.

<style>#claire p { margin: 0px; text-indent: 2em; } #claire p.spacer { margin-top: 1em; }</style><div id="claire"><p style="text-align: right; margin: 1ex;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/taintedlove.ogg">Marilyn Manson - Tainted Love</a> */<br />/* Written By: GothAlice */</tt></p><p>Claire parked her vehicle next to the others, strangely finding consecutive parking spaces at the busiest mall at the busiest time of the year. Snapping back to reality as her passengers departed, she followed. Watching her newfound friends enter a glass universe through glass doors, she paused to admire the scene. Happy people, hundreds, nay, thousands of them. <i>Time to add a few more to the mix, eh Alice?</i></p><p>Smiling, Claire entered the mall accompanyied by a little girl. <i>First things first, right?</i> Quickly finding the directory for the mall, Claire turned the virtual pages until she came across the House of Knives. Eyes narrowing, she examined the picture of the store owner - more specifically, the background of said picture. Nodding once to herself, she strode purposfully to the nearest escallator, and then on to the House. Long coat twirling as she turned the corner, she walked right up to the counter and caught the attention of the clerk</p><p>"I would like to buy that zatochi, behind you."</p><p>Transfering her link, the music faded from Andy's awareness. "Uh... of course. Everything's on sale today, of course." He turned to retrieve the item, and placed it on the counter. Taking it, Claire examined the beautiful and detailed silverwork on the handle, then, giving the handle a 90<sup>o</sup> turn counter-clockwise, silently removed the straight blade from its sheath. <i>Good balance...</i> Sheathing the short sword, she glanced at and removed the small orange price tag. Claire reached into her coat and retrieved from a breast pocket what appeared, to the clerk, to be a $50.</p><p class="spacer">Overlooking the food court, Claire noticed a band getting set up for the morning's affair. Smiling to herself, she walked towards an escallator, her new laquered cane tap, tap, tapping against the stone floor. <i>Eccentric</i>, thought those around her as they stared, <i>as she obviousally does not need it. Though she does hold it oddly, as if prepared to lay about anyone who gets in her way with it.</i></p><p>Approaching the group, their leader in torn jeans and with green hair noticed her long before she was within vocal range. Smiling pleasantly, Claire spoke, "I don't suppose you take requests?"</p><p>Heavily british in accent, the teen responded warmly, "Anything for a pretty girl, eh what? What d'ya have in mind?"</p><p>"Actually," Claire's smile widened, "I was thinking of singing the first, if you'd let me."</p><p>"Ah, well... 'you any good? We've got quality control and all that, eh?"</p><p>Anticipating this, she raised the muted orchastra and sang,</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: center;">Don't touch me please,<br />I can not stand the way you tease.<br />I love you though you hurt me so.<br />Now I'm going to pack my things and go.<br />Touch me baby, tainted love.<br />Touch me baby, tainted love.<br />Touch me baby, tainted love.<br /><br />Once I ran to you, (I ran)<br />now I'll run from you.<br />This tainted love you've given,<br />I give you all a girl could give you,<br />Take my tears and that's not nearly all.<br />Tainted love (oohooaoo)<br />tainted love (oohooaoo)<br />tainted love...</p><p class="spacer"></p><p>Blinking a few times to restore moisture to his eyes, the teen beamed, "You're hired!"</p><p class="spacer">Finishing their setup, Claire walked to the mic and introduced the band. "Hello all, and welcome to the Sunrise Festival! I hope you're ready for some kickin' music as we've got one hell of a band here for you! Introducing, in the uncomfortable looking shirt and tie and worn-in guitar, Davey-boy Jones!" Sure to have everyone's attention now, "At keyboards is quiet Katelyn! Our drum man tonight, er, this morning, will be none other than Moose! As an interesting twist, Tom is on sound board, and we have the wonderful antics of Dianne on bass!" Pausing, as if waiting for the obvious question to be asked, "Ah, yes, and I'm Claire. I hope y'all enjoy the show! This first one is a request by none other than yours truly, and I promise to get a little happier as the show goes on!"</p><p>Smiling to the crowd, the lights cut.</p></div>

(OOC: Er... this'll have to be a multiple-post. Seems my browser doesn't like ginormous form submits.)

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Location: Done.
<style>#claire p { margin: 0px; text-indent: 2em; } #claire p.spacer { margin-top: 1em; }</style><div id="claire"><p style="text-align: right; margin: 1ex;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/comawhite.ogg">Marilyn Manson - Coma White</a> */<br />/* Written By: GothAlice */</tt></p><p>A quiet guitar line strummed to life, the bass interposing itself after the fourth repetition. A spot faded to life as Claire's voice spread through the gathered crowd on both levels of the mall. Her power thinned and projected to all those gathered, enhancing the band and adding small flair not otherwise present. Those present were enthralled.</p><p class="spacer" style="Text-align: center">There's something cold and blank,<br />behind her smile.<br />I'm standing on an overpass,<br />in a miracle mile.<br /><br />'Cause you were from a perfect world,<br />a world that threw me away today.<br />Today, today, to run away.</p><p class="spacer">With a violent motion, lead and bass exploded in sound, point spots quickly fading up on each player.</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: center;">A pill to make you numb.<br />A pill to make you dumb.<br />A pill to make you anybody else.<br />But all the drugs in this world,<br />won't save me from myself.</p><p class="spacer">The spot on Claire faided with the lingering last word, walking to the edge of the raised stage she leaned forward precariousally as if to illustrate the next verse. Underlighting flaring to life gave Claire an unearthly palor, evil shadows playing over her face as she continued,</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: center;">Her mouth was an empty cut,<br />and she was waiting to fall.<br />Just bleeding like a polaroid,<br />that lost all her dolls.<br /><br />You were from a perfect world,<br />a world that threw me away today.<br />Today, today, to run away.<br /><br />[Refrain x2]<br /><br />You were from a perfect world,<br />a world that threw me away today.<br /><br />[Refrain x2]</p><p class="spacer">The lights faded again as there was a quick commotion to one side of the stage as someone conversed with the lead guitarist. Quick mumbling around the stage brought forth the second song as those on stage remained oblivious of the commotion further down the prominade. Quickly, Tom and Dianne switched places, tom hastily unpacking his violin as Katlyn switched switches on her keyboard. Claire sat on the edge of the stage, enjoying the performance as she continued to lend her power to those on stage. It began...</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: right; margin-bottom: 1em;"><tt>/* Thus begins IcyMonkey's post. */</tt></p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: center;">- - -</p><p class="spacer">Look, here's the mall, Chaos wrote back to Zara. We'll continue this discussion later. Chaos switched off the radio, but a barely-audible and angry melody emanating from the mall, which they were now parked directly in front of, managed to allow Zarathustra to maintain control.</p><p>They exited the car. By this time the others had already entered the mall; they were the last to arrive it seems. As they drew nearer, Z began to hear the music somewhat more clearly. Sounds like some kind of metal or something. What does that marquee up there say - "NOW PLAYING: VIOLET ROSE: BY REQUEST"? Hmmm, never heard of them. I must have missed so much within the past five years. I wonder if Radiohead's come out with a new album? I wonder if popular music has stopped sucking so much? Oh well, better hit a record store.</p><p>As they entered the building, the music grew louder, being enhanced by Claire's extended power, his aura changed from a dull glow to a brilliant, pulsating nova of light. Vortexes of swirling energy seemed to spontaneously form around him. He recognized the girl on stage. Well, shit. This pretty much blows our cover. Not that I wanted us to have any in the first place. As everyone turned toward this conspicuous new arrival, and several recognized him as the infamous mass murdering terrorist Zarathustra, panic spread throughout the mall. Within minutes, almost every person there was running for cover, and the mall security force dashed toward him.</p><p>Zara jumped up into the air and stayed there, hovering above the security. They fired at him, an unwise move, since he was far too high up for any of them to get in a good shot, and Zara managed to reverse the trajectory of the shots and launch them in new directions. Most of the bullets that the guards had fired at him were now lodged deep within those same guards' skulls.</p><p>The other paras had, of course, noticed the commotion by now, and some of them rushed towards the battle to aid Zara, while others simply used this pandemonium as an excuse to indulge in their darker urges. Wait a minute - where the hell is Chaos?</p><p>With the aid of the others, Zara managed to dispatch all the guards (as well as many of the mallgoers) with relative ease. Now, there were only pockets of resistance among the unarmed victims of the more violent and uninhibited paras (including Zara himself), and this was easily dealt with. Zara was currently preoccupying himself with a certain very old man, silver-haired with a face like crumpled tissue paper. He had already gouged out one of the man's eyes with his mind, and was slowly crushing his skull when he was interrupted byone of the paras, the one named Max. Her was trying to ask Zara something, forgetting for the moment that, although Zara could hear the music perfectly (as well as the screams of his artwork, interestingly enough), he could not hear Max's words, or any other non-musical noise, at all, nor could he respond. Dammit. How am I supposed to implement the next phase of my plan without being able to speak? I can't fix my vocal chords and ears with this style of music...</p><p>As if in response to that, the music abrubtly stopped in the middle of the song. After about a minute or so of silence, in which Tom briefly regained control, new music started up. First came the piano, playing a gentle, sweet melody, and soon it was joined by a cello.</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: right;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/faraway.ogg">Apocalyptica - Faraway</a> (Instrumental, will change to vocal if asked.) */</tt></p><p class="spacer">Perfect....</p><p>The aura that surrounded Zarathustra now was not the full-body brilliance that he had displayed earlier. His entire body was indeed still glowing, and his pupils were still invisible beneath the effusion of light puring out of his eyes, but the light was by far most intense around his ears and throat, as he began the process of re-stitching the fibres of his vocal chords and mending his shattered ear drums. No one dared approach him. By the middle of the song, at which point the guitars had joined in the swelling melody, Zarathustra had begun humming along, hoarsely at first, but with increasing intensity. Finally, the song ended and a new song came on, this one a more dissonantly energetic piece. By now, Zara was fully healed.</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: right;"><tt>/* <a href="http://www.gothcandy.net/attachments/music/somewhere.ogg">Apocalyptica - Somewhere Around Nothing</a> */</tt></p><p class="spacer">I want my first words in five years to be something... appropriate. Zara stared into the sunrise intently. He then scanned around the mall, his gaze stopping upon a large bookstore several hundred feet away. In the front he could see, featured quite prominently, a large Nietzsche display. Is that Thus Spoke Zarathustra they have there? How convenient. The book flew through the air and into his hand, and he lifted himself up, so that he was hovering directly in front and in the middle of the giant window facing the sunrise. He opened the book. section 1 of Zarathustra's Prologue should be quite appropriate here...</p><p>Zarathustra turned back towards the people at the mall and began to read aloud in a booming voice.</p><p>"When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home, and went into the mountains. There he enjoyed his spirit and his solitude, and for ten years did not weary of it. But finally he had a change of heart - and rising one morning with the dawn, he went before the sun, and spoke thus to it:"</p><p>(Here Zara turned again toward the sunrise.)</p><p>"'Oh great star! What would your happiness be if you did not have us to shine for?</p><p>'For ten years you have climbed here to my cave: you would have become weary of shining and of the journey, had it not been for me, my eagle, and my serpent.</p><p>'But we waited for you every morning, took from you your overflow, and blessed you for it.</p><p>'Behold! I am weary of my wisdom, like the bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take it from me. I wish to spread it and bestow it, until the wise have once more become joyous in their folly, and the poor happy in their riches.</p><p>'For that I must descend into the depths, as you do in the evening when you go below the sea and bring light also to the underworld, you superabundant star!</p><p>'Like you, I must descend - as the men, to whom I shall go, call it.</p><p>'So bless me then, you tranquil eye that can behold even the greatest happiness without envy!</p><p>'Bless the cup that is about to overflow, that the water may flow golden out of it, and carry everywhere the reflection of your bliss!</p><p>'Behold! This cup wants to become empty again, and Zarathustra wants to be a man again.'"</p><p>(Zarathustra again turned toward the people in the mall.)</p><p>"Thus began Zarathustra's descent."</p><p class="spacer" style="text-align: right;"><tt>/* Thus begins Ancient's post, ver batim. */</p><p class="spacer">Guy was very happy. After bumping into Leo's shade, Grass had prepared to nedle him, whne suddenly it outstretched its hand and revealed a box. Guy was didn't think twice before taking the box from the strange, glazed over man. When he opened the box and found several tokens, he almost hugged the guy. Running back into the arcade he went towards what appeared to be a space shooter. Just as he was reaching the high score, he heard screams coming from outside and was overcome with curiosity. Ignoring Grass' protests, he ran out and saw one of his friend up in the air, glowing, and being fired upon.</p><p>With the game still fresh in his mind, he muttered "level 1" and jumped up into the air. Spitting out a Dementia Hornet, he stood its back with his foot positioned on its firing nerve. Keeping his balance while dodging bullets, he kept score his mind while he picked off gaurd after gaurd with giant stingers. A goup of 3 gaurd fromed up a squad and ripped his Hornet to peices. "Continue" falling from the second story, he spit out another Hornet and circled back to the group. Once he was done with them, he looked around for more targets and found none. "New high score."</p><p>Feeling a warm light on his back, he turned around and saw his glowing friend reading from a book. The words inspired him (he didn't understand them, but nevertheless, he was inspired) and he wanted to add his own touch to the powerfull image of Zara holding the book out before the sun. Still hovering on the Hornet, he spit out Butterfly again. This time he gave her the order to completly unfurl her wings. Foot after foot of color spread out from he base. She almost didn't have enough space to flap them in the huge mall. Flying behind Zara, she splayed them wide, and the suns rays shattered into a million briliant colors upon him.</p></div>


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