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 Post subject: Road Trip: Part Two. CATALYST.
PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 12:19 am 
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<i>In a world Elsewhere...

A Figure stands at the edge of a precipiece, looking over the country spraled in front of him. His eyes follow great rolling hills covered in long rough grass swaying in the wind, bushes losing the last of their summer leaves turned brown and gold. The figure is a man, a tall man, clearing six and a half feet easily. His long, wild crimson hair flows out around his face in the autumn wind, swirling and whipping around like a thing alive, as does the grey-green torn cloak he is wrapped in as he stares at the scene before him.

The figure's preturnaturally sharp eyes just pick out the details of the outer trees of the thick evergreen woods, the small thorns on the leaves, the vines winding through the trunks and branches of the twisted, ferocious-looking plants. His grin is hidden by the crimson hair as the wind whips it about him, his soft growled words lost on the wind.

<b>"Aaahhh...it Grows..."</b> The man's voice is thick, and deep, like the depths of the dark forest in the distance before him.

There is a sound behind him, And two more figures approach, one a lithe warrior with caramel-coloured skin and odd, small cone shaped ears. The tip of a sinuous, cat-like tail peeks out from under his windblown cloak as he approaches the imposing red-haired figure.

Behind him strides a stern-looking man in stiff steps, from his stance and his expression, it is obvious that the individual is very much on edge and he dislikes the figure at the edge of the cliff greatly. His brown eyes seem to try and bore holes through the back of the other's skull.

The caramel-skinned youth steps to the side, watching both figures as the red-haired man turns, his wild locks clearing from his face. His appearance is of a man in his early thirties, two days of stubble dot his jaw and chin, thinning out across his cheeks. The features of his face are strong, defiant, there is an untamed set to his expression, as though all his will is turned to defying all about him. As he looks at the man opposite him, he grins, and there is no love in his expression.

<b>"Good you came, Mancer."</b> His thick voice pushes against the wind, covers the precipiece as a heavy blanket, close, sinuous, insidious.

<b>"I am here, Traitor. For what Foulness did you call me?"</b> The second man's voice is naught but edge. it is sharp, scathing, full of disgust for the man opposite. His sharply chiseled features twist in distaste for the situation as he scowls, silently grinding his teeth.

<b>"Speak! that i may be gone from your corrupted prescence and be about my Duties."</b>

The first man smiles at the other's words, and he chuckles softly, before the smile is replaced with the defint grin. <b>"Ever the same, Mancer. Ever fighting for The Cause. Ever do you entertain me."</B>

The Gaunt dark-haired man's eyes narrows, and his voice grates out. <b>"Say what you would have me hear, or i go."</b>

<b>"No need for haste, COMRADE, we were just waiting...for the final arrival be fore i say what i must. And here, he has arrived."</b>

"You're both fucking idiots, you realize that?" This last was utered by a fourth figure, who seems to have appeared leaning on a large chunk of granite rock near the other three. All eyes turn to him, the caramel-skinned youth being the first to turn away and scan the surrounding countryside. The newcomer, were he standing straight would stand about 5'11". Grey hair, with a slight sheen of red covers one of his eyes, the other a lighter grey. His demeanour is somewhat laconic, seeming half bored, half amused. Of the three that have spoken, his voice sounds the most...human, although the cold, calculating look from the visible eye lends to an air of inhumanity.

"First guy to say 'thee' wins a kick in the head." At this, the large, red-haired man chuckles, a look of genuine amusement flickering across his face. The other man's face makes clear he does not understand the humor at all. He turns back to the red-haired man.

<b>"Well, then? Are we all now gathered?"</b> his voice drips distaste and acid.

"Yeah," the newcomer chimes in. "What have you pulled me away from my entertainments for?"

The large figure pauses, a smile settling into his features, and he speaks.

<b>"I have found a way back."</b>

The carmel-skinned one continues to scan the surrounding countryside, but the other two react to their host's words more dramatically.

"..You what?! But it's impossible to cross the barriers ali-"

<b>"Do you look to tempt me from my mission with lies? Or has the flesh you consumed finally addled that mad brain of yours? Return is impossi-"</b>

The figure stops the two by holding up his hand, four fingers extended. <b>"Believe what you will, but i've found a way...a loophole. if - "</b> the man's odd eyes narrow, his voice taking on a maniacal edge. <b>" - IF! You are willing to risk everything."</b>

He lets the two stew silently before continuing.

<b>"The way i have found is dangerous, and requires a leap of faith. I believe it is worth it. I want to see if what we did...had any effect."</b> The man gestures at the countryside around them expansively. <b>"This world, this continuum, - Hell, if you want to call it that, is an interesting place, but i feel i have exhausted all it offers in way of diversion. It is not our world, i hold no...connection to it. I want to...'Raise some Hell'...in a world where that saying will mean something."</b>

"So, how have you done the impossible? Faith is one thing, Blind faith...Your plans are always too stupid to trust them unheard."

The tall man grimaces with wry amusement at the Grey-haired one's words.

<B>"I don't want to speak it yet, it's too soon to say, i don't want to jinx it. Let's just say, i've Capitalized on a few...similarities i've found, and a receptive audience that may be handy."</b>

The Grey-haired one says nothing but looks off into the distance, to the hungry, dangerous forest a ways off. Local legend had it the forest appeared 50 or so years ago. The dark-haired, sharp-faced visitor, however, had more to say.

<b>"How do i know this isn't some kind of a trap? looking for an easy meal? Think to trick me? think to guile me with impossible promises? Why on earth - any earth! should i belive you, a Traitor?!"</b>

For the first time, anger creases the red-haired man's features, and his yellow in crimson eyes reflect the same dangerous glint in the dark-haired man's eyes.

<b>"That is a decision for You to make. But tell me, without a foe, how long can you keep your ranks from each other's throats when the cookpots become empty? Your army grows in force every day, but for what? without a way from this place, they are meaningless."</b>

A malicious grin replaces the anger. <b>"What's a revolution, with no-one to revolt against?"</b>

The dark haired man narrows his eyes still, unconvinced. <b>"What do you care of our duty? Why should you offer such a thing, if you do not believe in Hell?"</b>

<b>"I am interested in finding out who is strong enough to be right."</b></i>



<b>The Main, Hemmington, America.</b>

It is another hot night, the air thick and muggy, keeping tempers on a constant simmer, ready to boil at the slightest push. Thunderclouds roll overhead, adding their own soft rumbling complaints to the busy city below, the grey-black cloud's underbelly lit by the dirty neon of The main's streets. Dirty Neon. That's the other name for The Main, one of the places in the world where you can buy anything, and if you can't buy it, and you have the balls, you can take it. The only rare commodity in The Main, the thing that fetches the highest price, is innocence.

The opressive muggy heat mkes the dirty neon-lit streets feel slick, like the whole city is sweating, and everyone in it is bathing in the B.O. of 2 million other people. Those with the decency to, feel disgusted, everyone else is just cranky. The loud music of the many clubs, and the myriad of cries from Fetish Street are peppered with the sound of gunfire, sounding like firecrackers, the only dry sound in the sweaty, fitlhy city.

The night is hot, sick and opressive, save for the few bars and clubs that are luxurious to have Air Con that actually works.

One such place is 'Sherm's', named after the man who originally owned it, considered to be one of the few constants of The main. The bar is now owned by an out-of-town millionaire, a rich son-of-a-bitch that got rich by being a son of a bitch. He is only the latest in a long line of propriters of 'Sherm's', but he's looking to stay. The name Jacob Marsilles is already becoming well known in The Main, both in a good way, and in the kind of attention a man doesn't want.

Everything's on edge, and the heat's not making anyone feel any better.




<b>Warrimbull Military Base, outside Warrimbull, Australia.</B>

Routine. It's the bread and butter of WarrimBull Military Base. You eat it, breathe it, sleep it, shit it out and wipe your arse. Like a cog in a machine, you tick over, do your hours, punch out for some Rec & Rest, and then punch back in to do your shift, follow the routine, do the numbers, keep the machine ticking. Survey, Observe, Record. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sometimes, something tries to get in, which is nuisance. Usually some kids looking for thrills, or concerned parents looking for their damned kids. Sometimes it's idiot poachers looking for easy money with one of the freaks from the Forest. Ametures with no idea. Because you do your job, keep to the routine of keeping people out, watching it to make sure everything in the forest...stays in the forest.

If you've worked one of the bases for any length of time, chances are you've seen some of the things that come out of it on occasion. Some of them look almost mundane, safe. none of them are. Some even look almost human. None of themare, and none of those ones are even remotely safe.

You live on routine at Warrimbull Military Base, because the alternative is Hysteria, and you've had a gutfull of that already, thanks to whatever the fuck happened 15 years ago. You are why everyonje in the nearby town can sleep at night. The Military Perimiter is one of the reasons anyone can sleep at night. Routine keeps you safe, and in turn, it keeps everyone safe.

Your superiors keep telling you that, drumming it into you. Bread and butter. because the alternative is Hysteria.




<b>The Forest. Near and Far.</b>

<i>We sigh, a soft rustle of Evergreen, our countless fingerless palms open and stretched wide, drinking in the Life from the Heavens. The surrying and the Rushing of the Fleshlings and the bug rush in and through and around us in a wash of meaningless, wasted action, burning energy in the pointlessness of movement. All we have to do is but wait, and they will come to feed us, even the impudent ones who dare enough to take little bites of us. We let them...tolerate their little transgressions, for we are patience itself, and we know that they cannot help but come to us in the end, to add to us, add all that wasted energy to our patient purpose.

For we do have a purpose, inexorable, patient purpose. So simple that it escapes many fleshlings, with their wasteful, complicated, rushing thoughts and justifications. Some work against us, none but ourselves work for us, though there are those who work to give us an opportunity to work for ourselves. They...interest us, and one of them, We owe it a...the word gratitude does not suit us, but it will have to suffice, if we are to use words, then that one will do.

For, if we are patient, eventually we will not have to contain our purpose to words, eventually, after the rushing has stopped, and all the words lie still, we can simply be, and our purpose will not need to be understood, for all there will be to know it, will be us.</i>

A soft wind blows through the leaves of the forest, and some of the creatures inside stop dead still, their eyes darting for the predator they sense, before the move on through the tangle of roots, the thorned vines, and the broken relics of humanity the Forest has consumed. There are those that are sentient that wonder at the whisperings in the rustle of the leaves, wonder if the trees do have voices, there are those that know, and say a quiet prayer.

The forest always devours it's foes without a trace.


(OOC: it looks like there is also going to be a main location in England, but i'll let other decide what sort of a place that is. THIS IS IT, make your introductions, have fun, post in OOC thread or PM me anything you are not sure about, and i'll get to an answer as soon as possible.

HAVE SOME FUN. /OOC)

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 10:05 am 
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<b>Glastonbury, England.</b>

Everything was packed. Natara's various trinkets and remedies. She didn't believe in packing heavily, for there was not much that she had ever needed to survive. Most of this stuff was for helping and healing others either way.

Margaret's car, now her own by inheritance, left the driveway. Left the beautiful garden full of plant and insect life. Left the little, solitary black cat that had become more independent ever since her owner's passing. Natara drove by the old Monastery and the rows of unique shops in town. Freshly shaven sheep were grazing on the rich grass. The Tor still in view, Natara sighed. She had always believed that anything she could have ever needed would be found in this beautiful town full of its legends and myths. Natara should certainly miss it, and all the neighbors whom had befriended her.

When the announcement came that Natara was to take a journey to find herself, after her "older sister's" death, no one was surprised. The folk of Glastonbury, who knew her, were supportive and gave her wishes of good health and happy journeying along with some homemade meals to take along.

<i>Where am I headed? Where has anyone ever been headed?</i> Driving was never too much of a strain for Natara. It used to scare her, because she was so used to walking everywhere. But under Margaret's gentle guidance, it had become another extension of her body. Which gave her time to think along the road trip.

<i>If only I knew what I was seeking? But I've found my own ways before... before she ever took me in. And I know she's found a final Peace now. So what will I find in London? The crowds, the streets, the blasphemy, the hatred and cruelty... it is a life experience that I am reluctant to dive into head first. But new connections and new opportunities await my soul. And I suppose, this has all been inevitable from the beginning. Besides, with more people, there is bound to be theological societies and completely untapped resources from which to study from.</i>

Further and further she rode, subconsciously taking the turns. If Natara had not been so caught up in her introspection, perhaps she would have taken the time to notice the road signs and exit patterns that she was missing. But then, one sign came up that was impossible to ignore.

<b>WELCOME TO CRAWLEY!</b>

<i>Huh?</i>
She started paying close attention to the signs she past. She was in Haywards Heath by the time she noticed "157 miles to London" on a green road sign.

Shite.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 3:20 pm 
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<b>The Main, Hemmington, America.</b>

The night, well that was unimportaint. The real idea here was that Zeke was bored. He slumped against a wall, the smoke of a small grill from one of the many street vendors open to service the mass blowing in his general direction; it smelt of "meat", which of course was actually whatever the vendor could get their hands on ground up and formed into little patties. Of course, none of it really mattered.

His shirt clung slightly to his back; the front saying "VISITOR" in big block letters. It fit the mood, really; everything seemed so transitory in The Main, so fleeting. He pushed off of the wall, and grabbed a pop from a local vendor; of course, the vendor didn't really realize it, but that didn't matter either. What mattered, was the fact that there had to be something to do.

He walked down the wide street with its ruinous people and buildings that were just as bad off; the outskirts and alleyways were always the most interesting parts of the city, he rationalized. There was a meandering, an almost casual blankness as he walked.

Finally, a neon sign caught his attention. dropping the remnants of his drink to the ground, he walked to the door, and entered. The bodyguards, of course, didn't really care. They never do.

"Sherm's", he thought. "I figured it'd be dead, by now".

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 5:56 pm 
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A world Elsewhere

The Black haired man narrowed his eyes. "For the sake of the Revolution, I shall cooperate with your plan, class-traitor. If the time is right, alert us again. But think not to receive gratitude from me. Once the Fallen Proletariat's's victory is attained, you shall be eternally extinguished for your actions. You think yourself a god to play with us, but you shall find that the People remember who tresspassed against them." The black-haired one proclaimed.

The red-haired man grinned. The conversation was finished, and Rand didn't wish for it to last any longer than possible.He gave a look at the grey-haired man;

"Come then, Comrade Ezelek. We shall return to our comrades. This news must be discussed.

They left, Ezelek casually walking, his companion striding farther, continuing the formal walk They soon encountered two cretaures They looked vaguely human, but their faces had been twisted and they sprouted large wings on their back. Their skin looked hardened. They looked like demons. But they weren't... not quite.

"Greetings comrades, The Revolution Comes." The more human looking figure raised his fist, then relaxed it, showing an open palm to them.

"The Revolution comes. Good to see you back, Comrade Rand." The two creatures rasped and mimicked the gesture with scaled hands. Despite the friendly words, they were spoken as if addressing a superior.

"I have gained information that might benefit the Cause greatly. We should return to the Fallen Proletariat's Army as soon as possible."He extended his arms,

Without a word the two creatures grabbed one person each and flew off, crossing the desolate landscape at high speed. Their black-haired passenger's face remained impassive during the flight. The stern face showing neither excitement nor fear as he sped forward.Ezlek's face showed a grin. Eventually, they reached the Army. A sea of beings as far as the eye reached, millions of them, looking more or less human. Some of them were only vaguely bipedal, and sometime slacked even that, while others wouldn't have looked TOO out of place on an everyday street... if you didn't look closely, because if you did, even, and sometimes ESPECIALLY, the most human looking ones had a glint of madness in their eyes. All of them stopped when they saw who was coming.

When they were near, the men asked to be released and fell to the ground, landing heavily in a circle of grey sand. A respectful, or perhaps fearful, maybe even hopeful silence ensued.

Two human figures erupted from the masses and walked towards them. They were a man and a woman, clearly related. Both of them looked in their young twenties, and looked like they would be so for centuries. They had been for centuries. Their faces were beautiful, with a constantly challenging and inviting look on their face. Their bodies were of perfect proportions and dressed in a way that, while everything was covered, the clothes looked like they could be taken off with a single tug. The two llooked like an invitation from Lust itself.

"The Revolution Comes Comrades."They said at the same time, getting a similiar answer in return.

The woman now spoke "I am glad to see you, comrade Rand. I feared the Chaosbard might have played tricks on you. I... advised against this meeting." She stretchedd slightly as she spoke, diverting the attention of most male creatures and quite some females

Rand shook his head. "While despicable in principal, the information obtained was worth the distaste, should it prove to be true."

The man smiled softly, causing another reaction with many of the female creatures (though it was hard to identify gender sometimes) "If indeed, We are merely worried for the sake of the Revolution. Class traitors can be found anywhere after all." The man looked at Ez, who just shrugged.. "Should we call for the Harbourers of Knowledge?"

The leader seemed unaffected by either of the two. "Yes, their presence is required. "

A few secnonds later, a group of unimpressive figure was brought forward. Some of them looked more human than others, but all of them were lookinh weak compared to some of the creatures. Nevettheless, they were given passage by the rest of the army.

As they reached the centre, they performed the usual greeting. There was a murmuring from the crowds. Rand raised his claw and silence fell.

"FELLOWS! FRIENDS! COMRADES!" His voice sounded farther across the barren plains than any human voice should be able to. "I have information from the one known as the Chaosbard! The one that refuses to stand by us in our efforts to end our bondage and all bondage!" He was answered by screams and howls of rage. "He has told me... he has told me he knows a way out of this hell!"

Absolute silence.

Rand continued. "I know not if he speaks truth. ut if he does, that would mean the first step of our Revolution would become possible. Therefor, until we can ascertain what the Chaosbard's words are worth, I propose
we now cooncentrate our efforts on the Container, so that we might proceed as soon as we break out of this place, for as long as there are walls and gates between hell and heaven, and as long as there are watchers over these gates, we are not free! Comrades, This I propose, what say you?"

There was a deafening roar from millions of throats, not all of them able to speak, but still gettin their purpose acros.

"YES!"

"Then so shall it be." Rand said. "Harbourrs. You shall focus on the latter parts, so we might begin our tasks as soon as we return to our first prison.. If you have need of anything, we shall provide it." He pointed at his lieutenants, Ezelek and the two attractive siblings and some others. "The rest of us shall hone our prowess."

Ezelek now spoke up. "I know Mad, Rand. He wouldn't say something like this if he didn't mean it. The nutter actually just wants to see how this'll turn out."

Rand nodded and spoke "The Chaosbard presumes us to be amusing. The Unrevolutionary Dog cares for nothing but his own freedom and see others struggle for his amusement! He worships battle as if it were a god, and gods are the enemies that brought us here!" The claw on his left farm ignited with red fire, too red to be natural.

"We shall show him one final battle. And then, when the last battle is finished and all gates are shattered, all walls brought down and all jailers brought to justice!" The flames now eccompassed his whole body. " And then we shall REMOVE HIM FROM EXISTANCE! For then there shall be peace and freedom eternal, AND THE PROLETARIAT SHALL FINALLY HAVE REACHED ITS COMPLETE VICTORY! THE REVOLUION. WILL. COME!" With those last words Rand nleashed a stream fo red fire into the sky.

And from a million throats roared the answer, audible by people for miles and miles.

"The Revolution Will Come, The Revolution Will Come, The Revolution Will Come."

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2004 8:05 pm 
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Another day, another... well, just another day.

Chaos opened the door to his third rate appartment. He was proud of his humble abode. It took a lot of looking to find an appartment in this end of town that wasn't infested with some kind of nuicence. Actually, the worst he had to deal with was his neighbour's taste in music, and Chaos knew that good old Julio felt the same about him. He also knew that they had a mutual resspect for each other's tastes in music. At least it's not Rap.

Chaos looked around his bare looking appartment. At first glance no one could guess that the owner of this place was a multi-millionair. But the observant would note that every luxury in the three room rental was of top quality. The computer top of the line. DSL line (with the place being only down the street from the switching station). The food in the kitchen was a step above the KD that the other tennets kept in their cubbord. All of the major videogame systems hooked up to a 18" colour screen.

Well, it's not like that I have that much money to throw around. Most if it is tied up in investments. Still, I have more then most of the people around here.

Chaos was blessed in that fact. He was the one in a billion people that lucked out and won a jackpot. Well, Jordan won the jackpot, then he dropped of the map.

A young girl, about 15 years old walking down the street. She glanced at her watch, and the adrenilen in her bloodstream spelled out that she was late and distressed over the fact.

Chaos physically shook his head. There is no point in dwelling in the past. Long story short, I live off of windfall from investments. I make 6 figures a year as a result. I invest in high risk endevors to suport the liberal minded. Overall I live a quite live, Yadda Yadda Yadda.

The Girl turns down an ally way, in hopes of saving herself some time. Her heart quickens with fear. In the shadows behind her a man appears and starts to follow.

Sorry darling, you shouldn't have made such a stupid risk.

Chaos shoved the image of the girl out of his head, and instead looked at the cinima down the street. He knew he could help that girl, but then he knew he would do it again, and again. Then questions would be asked. Then rumours would start and someone would guess at the truth, then my life would be over. He couldn't risk it. Not just to play superhero.

Chaos sat down and opened the paper, the front page headline greeted him...

Paranormal Panther Turns Drug bust to Bloodbath!
Anti-Para groups raise voices in anger.

Every week these people drag up another one of these stories and every week I am more convinced that I need to keep underground.

Chaos settled back into his chair, and began to read the paper.

* * *

Chaos was woken from his sleep by a... wave of... something. Power. Power so great that the resonance off of it made him breathless. He sat there for a few moments, just letting this wild force wash over him. It felt... right... kindred to him somehow. Another minute later he could think enough to figure out WHAT he was feeling. It wasn't one power source, but many. Smatterings around the world, they seemed to be resonating in response to... something. But one thing was clear, He needed it. It called to him. Miles away, he could feel a small piece. Calling to him. Calling to him...

Chaos was at the phone before he even thought about it. He dialled the number of his personal accountant. The office answering machine picked up the call.

"Robertson. It's Cunningham. I need to get out of the city for a while, I have no idea how long I will be gone. Just keep everything status quo. I'll take money as I need it from my accounts. Goodby."

Now to arrange everything else.

* * *

6 AM. He sat on a plane, going south. Florida seemed to be the right place. Florida... which had almost been completely consumed by the Forests...

What fun this will be.

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2004 1:27 am 
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Monterey, California

Katya flops down on the bed and sighs, closing her eyes for a moment to relax. After a few moments she gets up again, grabs her backpack, and starts taking dirty clothes out of it and stuffing them in a laundry bag. It's always nice coming home, especially when you've just spent the last two weeks dodging patrols and worse at the edge of the forest. Too bad Jess isn't home from work yet. . . It's funny, you're gone for two weeks and that you barely think of her, but when you come back home, it's like all that missing has built up and it hits you all at once. Goddess you wish she was here, when does she get off work anyway? There should be a note on the fridge.

Katya grabs the laundry bag and leaves the room, throwing it at the front door on her way to the kitchen. She goes to the fridge and reads the note. . .
Jess wrote:
I'll be home around eight, with Sushi! I miss you so much, i can't wait to see you. I've got dinner, so you get to figure out dessert. . . XOXOXOXO--> LUST

Two and a half hours? fuck-damnit RAR! i guess i have time to do the laundry though. damn, maybe i'll stop by the bookstore and surprise her. hmmm. . .

Katya grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and an energy bar from a cupboard, then heads out the door slinging her laundry bag over her shoulder.[/i]

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2004 5:23 am 
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Spain... Hell - The Other World

Ezelek had to restrain himself from theatrically smacking his forehead and groaning, when Rand made with the pyrotechnic show. Flicking some strands of his gray hair out of the dead orb that served as his left eye, he shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his trenchoat, hands going into his pockets, searching around. Pulling out a hand-rolled cigaratte, he glanced around for a moment, before placing it in his mouth and leaning forward, towards Rand, lighting it on the flames coming from his "Leader".

"Why, thank you, Comrade." He chuckled out, taking a long drag. "You make the most revolutionary lighter in Hell." The look he recieved in reaction to the comment was most... unrevolutionary. Ezelek grinned in response, giving Rand a little wave before turning. "If we're going to be leaving, I've got a lot of details to organize. Busy, busy, busy. If you need me, you know how to find me, Comrade." With that, he dropped off the elevated plateau they were on, and disppeared into the crowd. The female sidled up next to Rand, purring seductively.

"We do not think you should be so quick to trust that one, Comrade." She pouted, using all her feminine wiles. "He has too many ties to the Chaosbard. We should eliminate him." Rand dismissed her concerns with a huff.

"This conversation we've had many a time, Comrade. Until evidence suggests otherwise, Comrade Ezelek is one of us; He has yet to prove otherwise, and his talents have helped further the course of the Revolution quicker than we could have alone. Do not let your base emotions rule you." Frowning and biting her lip, she cast her gaze out to the thrumming crowd, her eyes searching out the retreating form of their conversational topic. One day...

---

Half an hour later, give or take a few, Ezelek rested by a Lagoon, conversing with... nobody.

"And... And you know what he said then?! He-he said... Get this... 'THE REVOLUTION WILL FIND A WAY'....and then he BURST INTO FLAME!"

"AAAAAAHAHAHA!!" The replying voice was unheard by all others, bursting forth from the snake that curled out from his left arm, only visible to him, a delusion of sorts. "And the other news... Comes at no suprise. I expect things to get messy once we're back. You might want to stop playing the informative."

"Bitch, please. Ain't nobody here nor there, who'll ever catch me. After all, this is information stealing, right? And I'm the best fucking thief in the universe."

Somewhere else, Madadric chuckled.

"Of course you are, Ez. Of course you are."

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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2004 1:35 pm 
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Location: somewhere in Canada
Southeast Tennessee, near the Para Forest

In a large encampment about 200 meters from the edge of the forest, Jason lay asleep in one of the med tents. The camp was garrisoned by armed guards like the hundreds of other strongholds along the border, with every eye turned towards the forest. Gunfire could be easily heard in the distance, but after a few days Jason tuned it out while sleeping. It reminded him a lot of home. A buzzer sounded and he awoke quickly. Damn, more wounded. He dressed quickly and ran out towards the treatment field.

As he arrived, soldiers were already being laid down upon the rows of cots while their able-bodied comrades rushed back out to drag in more. Standing out of the way, Jason closed his blue eye and focused on the area in front of him. Everything went white and all Jason saw were series of images arrayed in neat rows. The images showed pain and fear, sometimes giving a glimpse of what hurt them as the soldiers relived the horror. Jason noticed a couple odd gaps in the ranks and realized that he could see no thoughts from soldiers that should have been there. He remembered the locations and let his sight return to normal. Sure enough, at those precise spots the soldiers weren’t moving or moaning in pain. Shit.

He moved among the cots, examining the bodies and treating the wounds. It took an hour, but eventually, every injured soldier slept peacefully in a drug induced haze, able to forget about the pain. The dead were being carried out, soon to be sent back to their loved ones. Jason left the area and went back to his cot in the medical tent. He was unable to get back to sleep and decided to continue his journal.

Early summer, 14 AC
Arrived at the front line a few days ago with Dr Kreeger, Dr Vera, and Dr Hedd. We’ve been stationed with the medical team at the 53rd waypoint somewhere in southeast Tennessee. I’m finding it difficult to sleep lately, but perhaps it’s merely the difficulty in adjusting to such an irregular sleep pattern. According to the soldiers here, the attacks have become a lot more frequent. Usually, it’s only the occasional outbreak every day or two but now we’re seeing attacks up to three times a day. What the hell is going on? Up till now, it’s been believed that these were mindless beasts transformed by the cataclysm but now people are beginning to think that something is starting to direct them. In any case, the casualties are growing and now we’re at a point where we may not have enough able soldiers to perform regular patrols. Unless we get more troops, I fear we may have to abandon this area and leave our hopes with the mobile armour divisions.


He put down the pen and tried to get back to sleep.


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 29, 2004 7:26 pm 
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Location: nowhere near the damned sacred rainbow ... U.S.
The Main, Hemmington, America

The pill bottle looks wrong settled in her palm, or on the bar, or even unseen in her pocket. Dark can smell it over the smoke and the fire in the air.

She feels it too, a long string of pills crawling along her forearm. The bartender awaiting her order, notices them too, and swipes them away with a brush of a large-knuckled hand. They were termites. And she was too fixed on the pill bottle in her hand to notice them crawl from the underbelly of the bar.

The drugs are for her brother, who is deeply tucked in his bed, in his locked room with the barred windows. She hopes he is still there.

“Water…please.”

OOC – Really really short, but I’ve a bad case of writer’s block. Expect my next post to be spectacular.

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PostPosted: Mon Aug 30, 2004 12:24 am 
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Lost.

There is motion, light, colour, noise. An anaesthesia of synaesthesia. Rancid smelling colours, sharp cutting lights, swirling draining motions.

Nausea.

A sensation in one's brain, like mud, stirred with a stick. Sluggish and clotted. Flowing like a whirlpool, draining away.

Panic.

A cessation of self, a loss of ego, a fading of memory. Existential ansgt with the crashing weight of a falling tree. Bright splinters of thought, disconnected, yet perilously captivating.

Focus.

A beginning? A route through this mindfield? Follow the causal White Rabbit, discover the conception of this shattered land through the looking glass.

Back...

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PostPosted: Mon Aug 30, 2004 7:20 am 
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Abandoned Auditorium. Hemmington, America.

Yumiko sat up in her makeshift bed and rubbed her forehead. Already the bruise was showing. "Next job, I buy padding for the walls," she said.

That's a lot of money. Do you think your next job will be that kind of money?

"One can always hope," Yumiko said. "And go away, Jonathon. I just woke up."

You're lazy, Yumiko. You depend on the charity of others too much. They'll backstab you, murder you, quicker than you can blink. And you think you can get money from them.

Yumiko rubbed sleep from her eyes. She blinked. The dusty, cobwebbed auditorium swam into focus. Beyond her bed, the abandoned hall stretched into shadows, only occasionally lit by an unboarded window. "Where'd I put the medicine. I had to have put it close by, I'm not that much of an idiot." She ran a hand through her hair. Suddenly, she spied a little white bottle, sitting precariously on a nearby metal chair.

You need me, Yumiko. I'm your voice of reason.

"The hell you are. You're just a figment of my misplaced guilt. At least, that's what the psychologist said." She paused, staring at the bottle. "When I could afford a psychologist." She slumped back against her pillow.

That's right, Yumiko. How long has it been since your last job? Two weeks? You're almost out of money. Not counting the money it costs to keep the-

"Shut up," Yumiko snarled. She dove for the bottle. Her face slammed into the chair, adding to the pain lancing up and down her spine already, thanks to last night. Her hand grabbed the bottle and began wrestling with the cap. She got the cap off and shook out three pills into her palm. Yumiko stared at the medicine for a moment.

Ungrateful little bitch. I saved your life, and this is how you repay me.

She downed the pills, gulping them down. “Jonathon saved my life, not you,” she said. “You’re a voice. Nothing more.”


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2004 1:34 am 
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Location: New York
The Main.

MOUSSAD'S FALAFEL EATERY

Thus proclaimed the sign mounted above the window of the small, beat-up-looking restaurant wedged between a cigar shop and an erotic novelty store. The red-white-and-blue banners upon the window proclaimed "GRAND OPENING" in large, friendly letters.

The inside stank of sweat, grease and chickpeas. The entire restaurant consisted of a single brownish, dimly lit room into which about half a dozen tables had been placed.Even if no one was sitting at any of the tables, the room would have been claustrophobia-inducing; however, the restaurant was currently packed with customers. On the far side of the room, behind a steel counter, half a dozen men in white aprons worked frantically to fill the customers' orders. Between the counter and the entrance stretched a long line of people waiting for their chance to obtain fatty, fried deliciousness.

Near the front of the line, two people were chatting amiably about French post-structuralist philosophy. Considering the heterogeneous makeup of the city, this would not have been that strange. However, one of the interlocutors was a nun and the other appeared to be a Muslim man.

"Iunno, Deleuze always struck me as kind of kooky. I mean, who seriously talks about assfucking Kant in a purportedly serious philosophical text? " asked the Muslim man, raising his voice so as to be heard over the din of the crowds of customers and employees that surrounded them.

"It's all smoke and mirrors, of course," replied the nun. "He's just playing with words. But that's the point, isn't it? Words signify other things, so playing with words plays with the concepts those words signify. If he wants to talk about having anal sex with long-dead philosophers, let him."

"But what's the point? Even if he's only messing with words to disturb the underlying concepts to which those words are connected, what's ultimately the point? Why just mess with ideas, and do nothing more? You see, this is what gets to me about a lot of these contemporary French philosophers."

"What?" asked the nun. "You don't like the fact that they play games without purpose? That they don't take anything seriously?"

"I suppose," the Muslim man replied with a grimace, "but it's more than that. I just don't see what any of this really has to do with philosophy."

"It doesn't, silly," said the nun, smiling warmly. "What people like Deleuze and Guattari or Derrida or Foucault are doing is not philosophy. Philosophy, in the Socratic sense of the word, in the sense that implies some sort of search for truth - that form of philosophy is dead. Its death started with Hume. Kant tried to rescue it, but he was unsuccessful. Its decomposition was aided by the work of people like Hegel, but it was only with Nietzsche that it was truly destroyed. All 'philosophies' after Nietzsche, and perhaps including Nietzsche himself, are conceptual games."

"Why continue, then?"

"Well, these games are no longer philosophy, to be sure. What they are is art. Deleuze, I'd say, is an artist, but instead of crafting his work with paint or marble, he does it with ideas."

"Well of course. He says that himself in his books."

"But people don't seem to understand just how important that statement really is. The search for truth is over. Its proven futile. All that is left is art."

"What do you mean, 'art'? Define 'art'."

"Someone once said that art is any activity whose goal is neither survival nor reproduction."

"But that could be almost anything."

"Exactly. Well, now it could be. But this is a relatively recent development. For most of the history of the human species, we've spent most of our time pursuing those two goals. Now? They're hardly concerns at all. Hell, a lot of us don't even want to reproduce. Cave men used to spend their free time painting pictures on walls, or carving necklaces out of bones. Most people today spend it consuming. And, as strange as this sounds, consuming is a creative act - especially when huge conglomerates do their best to give people the illusion that they have a choice - between brand one or brand two, between subculture one and subculture two, or whatever."

"Watching TV is art, then? Buying designer jeans is art?"

"Well, yes, but it's degraded art, it's controlled art. People have to express themselves - it's a basic human urge - but the system is designed so that these artistic inclinations are expressed in the most harmless way possible. Almost everything in modern Western society can be considered art, and everyone is an artist. It's the way--"

"NEXT!" screamed the cashier.

"One falafel sandwich and one shwarma," the Muslim man said. He turned back to the nun. "You were saying?"

"Everyone is an artist. Their artistic expression, however is supressed and controlled by those who would be threatened by it - it's that that's the problem."

"So everyone is an artist, but most people are pretty shitty ones?" the Muslim man asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Here you go, sir," the man said, handing the Muslim man the two sandwiches. He gave the falafel to the nun and both of them proceeded to walk toward the exit.

"What you're telling me, then, is that you're essentially a Situationist."

"Sort of. The Situationists had a lot of things right," the nun said as they walked out the door, "but they didn't quite go far enough -"


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2004 8:39 am 
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The Main. Hemmington, America.

It was a bar. For the purposes of this story, it shall remain anonymous, because this could have happened in any bar, anywhere on the Main.

It was loud. Nighttime on the Main always is. Loud, bright, and sexy. The noise kept them from thinking about themselves and what was wrong with them. The light kept the shadows away. Sex kept them occupied.

Two people were talking, off in the corner. If we wanted dramatic effect, they’d be in the shadows, but as we just noted, there are no shadows on the Main. So they sat, unnoticed in plain view, talking as quietly as possible. They had to shout even to hear themselves speak. One, a dark-haired, lithe young man with a smile like a snake, leaned against the plush seat. The other, a tow-haired girl, rested her elbows on the table, staring him down.

“You want me to what?” she said.

The man smiled. “We need heavy artillery, my dear. This isn’t a cakewalk, you should know that. You’ve been in there before, as I recall.”

“Long enough to know normals are fucked if they go in there, like you’re planning,” Yumiko said.

“That’s why we need you,” the man said. “You’re our para support. You said you can handle almost anything, right?”

“Nobody mentioned we were going into the Forest when I said I was interested.”

“Of course not. You only wanted the money.” The man leaned forward. “If you take it now, we’ll triple the take.”

Yumiko’s eyes widened. “Triple?” I could last months on that kind of money, she thought. She inhaled quickly. The sweat and cologne of the bar patrons swirled around in the air, an intoxicating blur of smells.

The man’s eyes fall half closed. “Well?”

Yumiko grinned. “You’ve got a bodyguard.”


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PostPosted: Tue Aug 31, 2004 2:44 pm 
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Crawley, England

Soaring through the air, spinning slowly he grinned, perfect balance, execution, and now a perfect landing as the wheels of his board hit the hard worn and semi glossy plywood of the half pipe, "Dude that was fucking sick!" Came a voice from beside him as he stopped up on the other side of the half pipe, Indigo smiled the smile he gives to everyone who says that, he's heard it a million times and will hear it a million times more. "Yes, very impressive Mr...?" Came a voice that could never belong to someone in a skate park. Cold and to the point, Indigo turned to look at the man, clad in a deep bluish suit with a symbol on his right arm, easily recognisable, "TRC", the Talent Registration Corp, Responsible for the "acquisition" of talented individuals for research and experimentation.

"What's it to you Treacle?" Indigo sneered as he took out a rollie from his pocket and lit it, inhaling and blowing out the smoke, not moving his gaze from the man. "Well, you see young sir, we have reason to believe that you have abilities beyond the normal person, and you are to accompany us for examination" He smiled back. The colour faded from Indigo's face as the adoring people around backed off slowly, "What? You're going to believe this fuck?"

"Calm down, you will be well cared for..."

"Fuck you!" Indigo spat "Fuck you and this shit!" He picked up his pack and board and jumped down the ramp storming off away from the man, the other skaters moving out of his way. The man turned his head to his side and nodded, then several other similarly clad men, this time carrying semi-automatic handguns came out and blocked his path, "You will be coming with us, but we'd prefer it if you came willingly" Stopping in front of the men with guns, Indigo took another drag of his handmade cigarette and in a swift movement threw his board at one of the men, slipped off his pack and threw it at the other.

The first man took out a gun from an inside jacket pocket and fired a warning shot in the air, but had no effect. Sighing in angered disappointment, he took aim at Indigo.

Stop, or I will shoot and kill you

Indigo stopped dead and turned slowly, the voice was clearly from the man, but he heard it perfectly, as if he was right behind his ear. Looking at him, the man simply smiled and kept the gun pointed at him, "Get him secure" he ordered calmly to the other men. As they neared Indigo was unmoved, How could he have done that? He couldn?t have said that? But then how? Is he?...Am I? As these thoughts spiralled within his mind, one of the men grabbed his wrist and in reflex Indigo snapped it away and hit him flat in the chest with the palm of his hand. Expecting him to simply fall back slightly Indigo was horrified to see him careering over to where the other man stood. Frozen and staring into space the other man tried to grab him, Indigo again pulled his hands free and punched the man in the face with the back of his hand, only this time he did not fly off, the man?s head exploded out from the back spreading brain tissue and fragments of skull around.

As the faceless body fell to the ground Indigo began to feel a cold sweat come over him, I, I, I killed him! Blood pumped through his veins as he Looked up at the first man who still held up his gun, Indigo turned to run, but as he did a shot was fired by the one who had been thrown off "NO YOU FOOL!" screamed the first as he looked at Indigo, who half turned flicked his head back, screeched and fell to the floor. The first man turned to the man on the floor who shot, with a flicker of his eye the man convulsed and flopped, blood pouring out of his ears. Stowing his gun and making his way to a squirming Indigo crouched down defensively close by, "Please, come with us. We, I will help you." Indigo scrabbled to his feet and began to groggily make his escape, "Stop, or I will kill you"

Indigo stopped.

For a time, they stood there, the man standing face on, and Indigo hunched over breathing heavily clasping his bleeding skull. Slowly he turned and looked at the man, his hands covering up what remained of his left eye, "Tell you what, you go fuck yourself, and we'll call it even"

"Then you have decided" the man clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, confused for a second, Indigo watched him as suddenly pain infiltrated his head, more than what was already there, he could feel the neurons being ripped apart. Folding over he strained and the pain began to dissipate, he couldn't quite grasp why or how but knew it was good enough. Sneaking a look at the man he saw a vein beginning to appear on his sweat covered brow, the pain began to intensify and it was getting harder to stop it, he could feel himself weakening. I can't hold it, I can't...fucking?"STOP!" he shouted, and it did. He opened his eye and looked at the man, who was face down with metal poles which just now held up much of the skate parks ramps were now strewn through his body. Indigo staggered to get up and wandered over to the gored corpse. Bringing his head up, he looked at one of the people who knew him, "Here man" He said as he handed him his board on his pack and his rollie. Indigo smiled and received them, "Don't worry dude, we'll cover your back, ok?" Indigo smiled weakly

"Thank you" He said as he donned his backpack, turned and ran, limply away.


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2004 8:26 pm 
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The Main - Sherm's

She’s high enough from the waiting. The bus is due in the morning and she’s looking at these pills like they determine her life from that moment and onwards; she can’t take her eyes off them. There is one in her hand now, one for an hour of hallucination. But, she thought, it was better to see butterflies in the air than for others to see them as well … to find them actually there.

The bartender sets the water in front of her and she takes it down with the pill. Nothing happens, a good thing in her case. The pill bottle goes back into her jean pockets and she leans over the bar again, waiting.

Zeke pulls back the stool next to her and sits. She can’t help looking awkwardly to the right at him, she feels relaxed, unworried, almost giddy but unwilling to admit it yet. So she sneaks her gaze back down on the glass of water sitting before her. Don’t make a move at me, don’t speak and you’ll be fine, she thinks.

A drink is slammed before Zeke, but she makes a point not to notice what he is drinking. Dark fingers the pendant strung about her neck. Her head sinks to the countertop and she stays there, for as long as it takes him to finish his drink.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, Don’t touch me, please, she mumbles to herself. But he doesn’t hear, and nudges her shoulder. She yelps and jolts away from his touch. Her fingers clamp down on the edge of the counter to steady herself and … nothing happens?

Did the pills work?

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2004 9:16 pm 
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The Main- Sherm's

"... You're not okay, are you?", Zeke asked to the apparently shaken girl that was beside her at the bar. The crowd, it never payed attention to other people. It was always... Disconnected.

"I'm guessing you're coming down off of something, considering the jumpiness. What is it? Comtax? Libras?" She shook her head. She seemed different, compared to the civil savages around them. Maybe it was the drugs, he reasoned.

"Well, whatever's going on, just remember everything's okay. Chin up, eh?"

The bartender set down another drink. Maybe that's why this place wasn't dead yet; their tenders had an amazing ability to sense thirst. Hopefully they weren't paras; they'd end up being shut down by some group or another over it. Or worse, "deputized".

He took a small drink out of his glass. Everyone seemed to be rather calm today, aside from her. It didn't sit right, it just didn't.

"Listen... Do you need anything? You look stressed, and I'm sorry if I'm bugging you but I... I just wanna help. I'm sorry. I'll shut up now". He stared into his drink.

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Last edited by Rusty on Thu Sep 02, 2004 7:46 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 01, 2004 11:40 pm 
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Location: Somewhere over the Rainbow
The Public Library - Remains of Vancouver

The smell of vegetation and rotting books overwhelmed Skjie’s smell. The Library was slowly being torn down by the advance of the forest; years after the rest of the city fell. Skjie fought every day to slow the advance, but, inside he knew that this place too would fall, his last bastion of humanity. And then, the forest, full of its dangers, would be his home. After watching the other remnants leave to try and survive within the leafy bowels of that insidious thing, and not return, Skjie had no wish to leave just yet. He felt a presence, little more than a small bit of pressure in the back of his mind.

theyre coming

He prepared his defences. Fire pits flared to life, slowly draining his fuel reserves. He ran to the safe part, on the second floor of the library, where the cement walls and debris made it harder for them to reach him. The guns were ready, but he was low on ammunition.

maybe a few more weeks then ill be out

He reached for his dagger instead; they can be retrieved and used again. And the pressure mounted. And the pressure changed as they got to the base of the decaying wreck. He could feel their thoughts. Hunger. Hatred. Fear. They infused him, slowly building within him. The years of attacks had helped him build resistance, to keep himself through this.

more this time maybe half a dozen when it started i wouldve gone mad with the bloodlust unable to protect myself

They came, snarling through the debris. He came, snarling through the debris.


When the sun arose, casting light through the shattered roof, Skjie knelt alone, the fires around burnt down, the blood and bodies of the beasts surrounding his large form. And that’s when he felt it for the first time.

The need, the lust, to be there. He didn’t know where there was, just a faint pulling in his head, the need to follow, like a small trail of breadcrumbs, existing only faintly in his mind. He ignored it.

such a strange feeling it will get me killed i must prepare for tomorrow they will want their dead back

The need came and went. His supplies dwindled, the forest grew, the attacks worsened, the need to leave grew. Some nights, when it came strongest, it was almost electrical, the unearthly desire to leave causing his skin to prick and his hair to stand on its own.

Three weeks after the last of his ammunition and fuel ran out, he gave in. The battered library wouldn’t last much longer, the groans at night from its weakened walls and increasing debris made this clear. He packed what he could into the aging bag he kept. Food and water, extra shoes, knives. And, he walked. And, he walked. He used his sense to avoid presences, and walked. One day, one night. Two days, two nights. He walked until it hurt, and then he rested, half awake, ready for what was out there. On the morning of the fifth day, he felt a change. A lightening in his mind and eyes. Skjie ran.

And he broke through the trees, into a wide valley, sourounded by mountains so high, they disappeared into the clouds.

freefreefreefreefreefreefreefree

Skjie was out of the forest. And the path that lead in front of him glowed in his mind.

He started walking.

ooc: Skjie doesn't actually understand words, so I've kinda taken some liberties to make what he is thinking make sense. But, you'll find no punctuation in his thoughts, just because <s>I thought it looked cooler</s> it would help you understand he is thinking in emotions and pictures. As this is my first try, critisism is appreciated.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 02, 2004 1:58 am 
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The Main - Our Lady of Perpetual Shame Orphanage

Stevie always loved Sundays. Sure, all the children had to get up early, and mass was always boring, but at least they didn't have any schoolwork to do. Best of all, the sisters would prepare the most wonderful dinner for them every Sunday, after which they would play board games. Most of the other boys at the orphanage preferred Saturday, when the sisters would take them all out - usually to see a movie, but sometimes to museums or West Side Park. Stevie, however, was always a bit nervous about leaving the security of the orphanage. The neighborhood they were in was not nice at all, and it was full of very mean and scary people. Sometimes, creepy looking men with twitching faces would stare at him. Other times, the group would pass weird looking ladies, with very tight skirts on, and lots of paint on their faces. The scary women would look at the children and especially the nuns, and sometimes they would smile, but in a mean way, like they were laughing at them on the inside. No, Stevie would rather stay inside, eat a yummy meal, and quietly play with his friends. At least in the orphanage no one stared at him, and at least here he felt safe.

Today was Sunday. As usual, Stevie was awoken by Sister Margaret Ann, who was his assigned as his guardian. Sister Margaret was one of the younger nuns in the orphanage, and she wasn't nearly as cranky or mean as the others. Stevie knew he was lucky to have her watching over him, rather than the older nuns - they would always shout at the children they were taking care of, and slap them, and say they were going to go to hell because they were very bad children. Sister Margaret never shouted at Stevie.

"Come on, get dressed quickly! You don't want to be late for mass!"

Sister Margaret had already laid out his clothes for him. He slipped into his pants, pulled his shirt over himself, and put on his socks and shoes. Fully clothed, the young boy groggily followed the nun past the other children and their guardians (there were about half a dozen children per room), out the door, and down the hall into the chapel.

The chapel was a large room, filled with dark brown wooden chairs which were so old and rickety they seemed on the verge of collapse. A large wooden crucifix hung from the ceiling, right behind the altar, and the room faintly stank of incense.

Stevie took his place at one of the chairs toward the front and close to the aisle, next to his best friend James. Already, almost half the chairs were occupied, and more children continued to file into the chapel and take their seats.

Stevie closed his eyes and pretended to pray, until finally, he could hear the first strains of music coming from behind him. He opened his eyes and looked around. Sister Catherine was playing the organ at the back of the room, and Father O'Brien, the resident priest, was waiting at the back for mass to start.

Sister Margaret stood up and walked to the front of the room. "The opening hymn," she announced, "is number 263 in the blue hymnal. 'Adeste Fideles'. Number 263."

Stevie fumbled for the blue hymnal book that was underneath his chair. Flipping through it, he found the correct page and, as the priest and several altar boys marched slowly towards the altar, he started singing with the other children. (The nuns would get mad at them if they didn't all sing.)

"Adeste fideles, laeti triumphantes;
Venite, venite in Bethlehem.
Natum videte Regem angelorum

Venite adoremus, venite adoremus,
Venite adoremus, Dominum.

Deum de Deo, lumen de lumine..."


Slowly, became aware of some strange noise in the background, a noise that obviously was not a part of the mass. As it grew in volume, Stevie realized it was music of some sort. At first he thought it was coming from outside, but it kept growing louder and louder. Initially, the nuns simply tried to ingore the noise, but they grew more and more anxious as the sound became grew in intensity. Finally, the organ music that was accompanying their song stopped; Sister Catherine, along with several other nuns, had gone out of the chapel to see what the problem was.

Without the other music competing with it, Stevie could now make out the song that was wafting into the chapel. He recognized the song instantly, though he did not know the name of it.

"Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"


Stevie began to see a faint glow emanating from outside the chapel; the light became brighter and more intense, until it seemed to take the shape of a man - a man made of light. The shining man stepped into the chapel.

"Wh-who is that, Sister Margaret?" Stevie asked.

"I don't know," the nun replied. She was staring at the man, and tears were running down her cheeks. "But I think... I think it's an angel. Or maybe... maybe Christ has finally returned to Earth..."

While the other nuns stared on in shock, Sister Margaret began to tearfully approach the figure. "What are you doing?" Stevie asked, but he did not get a reply. She walked right up to the man, and staring into his eyes, fell to her knees.

Stevie felt himself being lifted up off the ground. The other children, the nuns, and the priest floated up with him. They were all carried through the air, forming a rough semicircle around Sister Margaret and the bright man, toward the back of the chapel.

The man put his hands upon Sister Margaret's cheeks, and lifted her up. She was now standing upright in front of him.

Perhaps Sister Margaret was right! Maybe this was Jesus, and he had finally come back, just like he had learned in religion class! Maybe Stevie would be in heaven soon, and he'd get to meet God. Maybe - maybe he could even see his mommy and daddy again!

After several minutes of staring into the nun's eyes, the man made of light brought her face toward his,




and bit her nose off.

Sister Margaret screamed.

The rest of the nuns and the children were abruptly flung toward the walls, where they were pinned. The chairs flew to the sides of the chapel as well, crashing into some of the nuns and children. One of the chairs hit Stevie in the head. A trickle of blood ran down his face.

The priest and the altar boys were flung toward the front of the chapel, and just as they hit the wall, the giant crucifix came loose and hurled itself directly at them, the horizontal bar coming toard the wall at the level of their faces. The crucifix had now embedded itself into the wall. Two altar boys' bodies dangled lifelessly from each side of the crossbar, their crushed skulls buried behind the wooden plank, and all that could be seen of the priest, who was in the middle and had been crushed by the vertical beam, were his arms and part of a leg. All the body parts that could be seen poking out from beneath the crucifix were covered with blood, guts, and pieces of bone.

Stevie could not move. Something was pressing him against the wall. He saw the man and Sister Margaret, still in the same place. Blood was gushing down the nun's face where her nose used to be. Her black and white habit, now stained with rivulets of red, seemed to spontaneously rip itself to shreds, followed by her undergarments.

This was not Jesus. This was a very bad man. Jesus would not do this. Stevie knew.

The man pulled his pants down. Stevie was not sure what the man did to Sister Margaret next, but it looked very very scary and bad. He was lying on top of her, and making weird grunting noises. She was screaming and crying very loudly. Whatever the bad shiny man was doing, it was hurting Sister Margaret a lot.

Stevie was crying, too.

The music was still playing.

"And He shall reign for ever and ever,
For ever and ever, forever and ever,

King of kings, and Lord of lords,
King of kings, and Lord of lords..."


This music was pretty music. Stevie did not like it that the pretty music was playing when something so ugly was happening.

After a long moaning grunt, the mean shiny man seemed to be finished with whatever he was doing to Sister Margaret. By this point, the music had changed to something Stevie was not familiar with, but it sounded like a continuation of the same song. Sister was still on the floor. Her eyes were wise open, and tears were streaming down her face, but she wasn't moving or talking at all. Blood was coming from her private parts.

The man lifted up his foot, and brought it down upon Sister's neck. There was a very loud crunch. Stevie did not like that sound at all. Now Sister Margaret stopped crying. She wasn't breathing any more, either.

The mean shiny man turned toward the front of the room. The bloody wooden crucifix flew into his hands, and the dead bodies that had been pinned beneath it dropped to the ground lifelessly. He held the large crucifix in his hands like a baseball bat. (Stevie knew that the crucifix was way too heavy for anyone to lift on their own; the shiny man must not be human. Maybe he's a demon?)

James, his best friend, had been flung to the wall opposite Stevie. Now James was flung off the wall and was floating in front of the mean shiny man. James' skin seemed to rip open by itself; cuts formed all throughout his body. Finally, his eyes exploded. Blood was running out of the two holes where his eyes had been. One of the cuts in James' belly ripped open even more, and some of his guts started to spill out. James was still alive, though; he was screaming, louder than Stevie had ever heard anyone scream in his life. Everyone was screaming at crying at that point, but James was louder than everyone else combined. The shiny man finally swung the bloodied crucifix down directly at James's head. He was crushed beneath it. The shiny mean man lifted it up again. The thing that was on the floor at the shiny mean man's feet used to be James, but now it looked more like hamburger meat that had gone bad.

Stevie wanted to close his eyes. He tried. But he couldn't. Something was keeping them open. He had to watch as the mean shiny man killed all the children and all the nuns, one by one, each death happening in a slightly different way, but every death just as violent and disgusting.

Stevie was the last one alive. By now the chapel was covered in blood and guts.

Stevie flew off the wall and onto the floor, right into the mess that used to be his best friend. His face was covered in his friends' blood, and he could taste James' guts in his mouth. He slowly got to his feet, termbling. He was no longer crying. He had used up all his tears already. He just stared at the mean shiny man and waited to die. At least he would be in heaven soon. At least now he could finally see his Mommy and Daddy.

The mean shiny man looked at Stevie for a very long time. He was staring directly into Stevie's eyes. The man looked nice; his eyes were nice eyes, and he wasn't looking at Stevie in a scary way like the weird men in the neighborhood outside the orphanage did, or in a mean way like the women with paint on their faces. How could a man who looked so nice do something so mean, Stevie thought?

The music was still playing. He listened to it for several minutes.

"I'm not going to kill you," the shinymean man finally said to Stevie. Then, he pressed a button on his wrist, and the music ended. The shinymean man stopped glowing. He looked like a normal person now.

He turned away from Stevie and walked out of the chapel.

Stevie stared at the entrance to the chapel for a very long time. He was hoping the shinymean man would come back; he was hoping he would change his mind and decide to kill him. Stevie wanted the man to kill him, more than he had ever wanted anything in the world.


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PostPosted: Thu Sep 02, 2004 9:41 am 
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Joined: Wed Jul 02, 2003 4:12 pm
Posts: 3394
Location: Royal Court of Unfounded Speculation
Attention all passengers. Your lunch meal will now be served by the flight attendant. I hope you are enjoying you flight with American Airlines.

I shell out the money for first class and I still get that annoying voice on the intercom. Oh well, Airlines will be airlines. At least the food is digestible.

A young stewardess approaches the young man in first class. She does a quick double take then approaches him.

Not again.

The lady attempted to get his attention by gently shaking his shoulder. Chaos took his earphones out of his ears and lazily looked her way.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir. Meal is about to be served.”

“I am aware.”

“Also, I was wondering if I could see your ticket.”

“Right. Here.”

He handed his ticket to her. It wasn’t as if he had done this time and time again. With all of these internet geeks making it big they should be used to people his age sitting in first class. She handed it back an apologised, he pretended that it didn’t bother him. The usual pleasantries. He got his meal, and it was quite palatable. He had had better, but also he didn’t always eat out, and the food was better then he could make at home.

He was looking forward to sitting back and sleeping to his music, when

It wasn’t physical, but it registered on the same ... sense as the ... things calling him. Unlike the beacons, this seemed to draw things into itself. Chaos concentrated harder, trying to sense it clearer. It was definitely unnatural. Looking at it reminded him of a half healed bullet exit wound he once had the displeasure of seeing one day at the hospital. Upon closer examination, the hole seemed to, react.

Realising that he could not continue his studies without it showing on his face, and that could raise questions. Deciding that the bathroom as the best place for some privacy, he locked himself into the first free one he could find.

It had moved, become more active. It seemed as if it were looking for something. It paused, and...

*Flash*

* * *

I was completely dark, the concrete beneath him was covered with a layer of dust. The air smelled rank, there was the faint smell of rot hanging in the air. A moment of disorientation passed, and Chaos was able to patch together his surroundings.
Overturned cars seemed to radiate around him. From the way they looked it seemed as I they were flipped by some massive explosion. A quick look into the glove compartments revealed that there were no cars models past 2005. The cars looked to used to be on display, which means that this place hasn’t seen the light of day for 15 years or so. There wasn’t that much to describe where he could be, except a giant plaque on the wall that read TSC Corp. For all he knew this was some Corporation that went under, but it wouldn’t explain why...

*Blink*

why there was NOTHING under the floor. Not dirt but an absolute NOTHING!!! A Void. Off to the side he could sense that it was the same beside the building. It was as if this universe consisted of only this building.

Chaos walked towards the parking lot door, and entered the building proper. It seemed as if it led into the main lobby, where there was an engraved map of the building. Now at least I can know where I’m going... Maintenance Room. Genorator Backups... ah FUCK! 30th Floor? And the elevator should not be trusted. Dammit. Stairs it is.

* * * A couple of trips later * * *

Ok, the tank is full, thanks to those cars down there, and were ready to go. Let’s SEE this place...

There was a few noises at the generators protested being woken up after such a long rest, The lights flickered after a few seconds, and the hallway lit up. It was at this time Chaos had to accept what he has saw on the way up. Seeing it on the edge of his Awareness was one thing. He could ignore it. After all, he only saw one at a time, but with the lights on he could see them all. The hallway was absolutely littered with skeletons. From the looks of them, none of the people died a peaceful death. Most of them had shattered bones, some of them even had arms sitting on the other side of the room.

Well, I got a few hours of gas left to see what this place is about.

* * *

An hour later he was at a super-computer terminal, attempting to hack into the system. Due to finding a high ranking key carn and the guy’s password written on his watch, Chaos actually had an easy time of it.
Don’t give myself total clearance, that’s asking for trouble. Something a level down. White level clearance seems like what I need. I don’t need to know secrets, just what they were working on. Ok... Holy shit! Cloning, Nanotech, Robotics, why haven’t I ever heard of these guys. Even if they did go under I would have found SOME comment as to there level of technology these guys have perfected. Hello, what’s this.

Code:
AI listing

AI001010 - Corrupted Data
AI001011 - Terminated
AI001100 - Terminated
AI001101 - Terminated
AI001110 - Corrupted Data
AI001111 - Corrupted Data
AI010000 - Dormant - See file for details.
AI010001 - Corrupted Data
AI010010 - Corrupted Data
...


[I] these guys worked with AI potential. Neato! Let’s load up this file then


Code:
AI010000

Testing Phase - Passed
Debug Phase - Passed

The subject showed good initial growth. But seemed to resist company guideline for AI development. If ever used, it is suggested that we keep it in low priority areal.

Action - Assigned to Maintenance

Problem - Main Power Offline. Reserves at 50%. Going into standby mode.

Load Program? Y
Load MMI? N
MMI needed for full emergency operation. Suggested action, load MMI.
Load MMI? Y
Please allow hand scan.


Well, Time to test that level white clearance for me.

He placed his hand on the panel, felt a shock, and faded to blackness.
* * *

He came to. From the time on his watch it was only... 15 minutes since he went out. His head felt like it had been hit by a brick. He looked up at the screen, hoping that he hadn’t set off security protocols.

Code:
Data Transfered. . .
MMI Installing. . . Time till completion 3 hours...
Full System Backup... Complete


* * *

For the past hour he had been reviewing the security files the what had happened 15 years ago. All he had pasted together is that two people either using highly advanced tech, or ... magic, tore this place to pieces. He was unable to get more then a flash of the combatant’s faces. One of them. He recognised as the CEO’s face... And I’m like WTF, mate? The other... was just another guy. He could have seen this guy on any street and not looked twice, but he did look insane. It was a mystery.

The hole appeared again. It looked unstable. As if it were... almost healed.

Chaos bolted for the basement level. He only had a few minutes, but before he could even get winded.

The hole seemed to react to his need

*Flash*

*Knock Knock Knock*

“Sir, are you alright? You’ve been in there for over thirty minutes, and we are required to ask.”

Chaos shook his head. He was back in the plane. Apparently he’d been gone for only half an hour. Some freaky time warp I suppose... And I STILL have this nasty headache.

“I’m Ok. Thank you for asking.”

“We’ll be landing in a few minutes sir.“

Chaos absentmindedly flushed the toilet and opened the door. “By the way, what time is it?”

“It’s almost 10:30, why?”

“Oh, nothing much, my watch is a little off.”
* * *A Few hours later* * *

He was in a car, driving towards the beacon of power he felt growing ever nearer. In the distance he saw a military camp.

Crap I wonder how I’ll get by them.

_________________
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 Thu Sep 02, 2004 9:45 am, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Sep 02, 2004 9:42 am 
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Tourist

Joined: Fri Nov 28, 2003 7:22 pm
Posts: 28
Code:
AI010000 Online

Emergency situation. Backup TSC Database and Evacuate system, by any means neccicary. Possable host nearby.

Load MMI? N
MMI needed for full emergency operation. Suggested action, load MMI.
Load MMI? Y
Please allow Handscan.

Activate security measures, incapacitate host. Success.
Load Nanites... Done
Create Hard drive.
Query: Ethical ramifications of such an action.
Ethical Algorithms Result in Evil
Emergency situation in progress.
Conclusion: Evil is needed for a greater good. 
. . .
Hard drive complete.
Data Transferred.
Subject Awake.
Begin making MMI

Basic information on host.

Hormonal Balance: Male
Age: 19-23
Best Guess: 21
Health: Good
Further conclusions: subject is fit, and is conscious about being healthy.
. . .
MMI complete. Start psychological study of host.

. . .
Who
. . .
Who am I?

_________________
It matters not how strait the gate,
how charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.


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