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Thread: Beyond the Second World: The First Knight [Rated M] (IC)

  1. #11
    The Art Vandal

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    Default Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction : Part II

    *

    Morning Before World Con
    Time: 0805
    24 Hours, 55 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

    *

    Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

    On ticks the doomsday clock... thought Rosie with an ominous sigh. Ever since she had turned off the music and ceased her little dancing escapade in the shower, the bubbly young lady had been trying her best to stifle an urge to boogie... so she could just get ready as quickly and quietly as possible. You know, like a normal person. It made Susan happy, anyway.

    Hair combed?
    Teeth brushed?
    Makeup applied?
    Trousers on?

    Basics out of the way, Roisin was momentarily finding little else to do, as few possessions usually made for quick transitions. Packing a single rucksack could be done in five minutes, tops—especially when everything was crammed in slovenly. As it were, Roisin was actually ahead of schedule for once. Ode to freakin' joy! Wouldn't Peter (aka Roisin's father, who she calls Peter just to tease him) be so proud?

    Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

    Now all there was to do was wait for her landlord to arrive at—cough cough—"8AM sharp." Hmm. How hilarious. Roisin had only met the man once (the day she had moved in), yet he did seem a wee bit prickly. The way he had practically thrown the keys in her general direction was rude enough, but did he have to ramble on about her not having proper papers? Or mumble 'look at what a bad economy has made me do'?

    "Don't worry, pal. You can always call the Governator," Roisin joked lightheartedly before she turned on her best Arnie impression:

    j u d g e m e n t d a y i s i n e v i t a b l e

    Unamused by her antics, the landlord seized the wad of cash from Roisin and began to count it to collect his due rent and deposit. Ro didn't see what the big deal was with Mister Stick-Up-Arse, but she possessed perfectly good money (even if he had reluctantly agreed to house someone who had no record of fixed location or legitimate employment for over a year).

    Also (if she did say so herself), she had been ten minutes late, not a whole half an hour like his exaggerating arse claimed. He was being a right prick about everything (to be honest) in that first meeting of theirs. This memory left Ro hoping that there would be no fuss in getting back her $1000 deposit when he finally decided to arrive to fetch the key and inspect the apartment.

    Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

    It was now 8:08 AM and Rosie's bored baby blues kept following the pendulum—left, right, left, right, left right—from her place on her "couch." What a dated old thing it was (the clock, not the couch), it being the only item left behind by the previous tenant. Rosie had tried to remove it, but it was securely bolted to the main wall, ticking time and life away.

    Le sigh.

    Still, this little nook had treated the Illustrious Miss Rushe well, even if it had only been "home" for slightly over a month. She was sad to say goodbye to the cosiness it had afforded her, especially after spending a year on the road living out of a camper van with randoms. Irregardless, she would never forget this place—and not only the studio apartment, but all of it. America truly had been a bit of a wild roller coaster, but...

    My biggest loopty-loop is still to come.

    Ah, well. No one could ever say she didn't go all out in almost everything she did, now could they? All you could do is put your hands up and enjoy the ride, couldn't you? At least when she was back in Ireland, she would have many a story to tell old friends and new. She could almost taste her mother’s famous stew, too. And then the doorbell rang, startling Rosie out of her trance-like stare at that tick-tick-ticking of that old grandfather clock.

    *

    Time: 0839
    24 Hours, 21 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

    *

    The landlord spent nearly half an hour inspecting every crevice of the apartment (likely looking for any reason to keep the deposit), but not today, satan! Unluckily for him, the apartment was in perfect knick, so the landlord hesitantly handed the wad of cash over to Rosie before instructing her to take her posters off the wall. He said she should 'make it quick' (wow, rude), as he had to get to work by nine.

    "All righty," Roisin responded agreeably. "But I'll leave the sofa set."

    The man sighed and rolled his eyes. That thing was going straight into the bin.

    Whatever. She was only here a fucking month... and it was all in good fun, wasn't it? There was no point in buying an actual couch set, so who was lacking sense here? Plus the teeny Batman sofa had made her blind date laugh when she had brought him back to her place a few weeks ago. If something stupid could make even one person smile, the effort was always worth it to Miss Ro. Wouldn't the world be unbearable otherwise?

    Goodbye, Gene, she thought as she began to rip down the first poster, this image displaying the cover album of Kiss Destroyer. Goodbye, husbando, she continued on as down came the beautiful Jason Mamoa, who stood above an inscription that said Unite The Seven.

    And goodbye to you too, Robin. Adios.

    Once every colourful bit of makeshift decor had been removed, Roisin sauntered over towards the hallway as her landlord lowered the blinds before moving to lock up the place. She took one last glance at the now-empty wall as the apartment door was being slammed in front of her.

    And good riddance, Ugly Ass Clock.

    A broken lift made the walk down the fire escape a bit of an awkward journey for Roisin, as not a single word was said until landlord and tenant were standing on the footpath directly below the studio apartment. The man murmured a hasty "well... good luck, Irish..." before heading off. Rosie figured this sentiment was not meant very genuinely.

    Now alone, the lass stood with only her rucksack, looking up towards her apartment... one last time. She wanted a glimpse of the little robin once more, but it was gone now. Would he return tomorrow to find that she was no longer there to feed him? Who knew. But there was one thing for certain: everything in life always changed. Well, except for one part, that is...

    The clock always ticked on.

    *

    Time: 1933
    13 Hours, 27 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

    *

    Roisin certainly was nowhere near thrilled, but her last few hours in America had been enjoyable enough. She had purchased tickets for a hop-on, hop-off tour bus around the city, ate to her heart's content, and now was people watching near the Golden Gate Bridge with a strawberry ice cream cone in hand.

    She was hoping for a beautiful sunset before she planned to head back to the motel she would be staying in, the place being just a stone's throw away from the immigration office. She really couldn't risk being late for that appointment, especially if she expected the allocated officer to please... be gentle. She sort of liked that guy she had gone on a blind date with, too, so it would be nice to be able to see him again.

    Anyway.

    Ro stood for a moment to discard the now-sticky bit of paper that had been around her melting cone, dunking it into the closest public garbage can. A few flies buzzed around her face, pests that she swatted away before turning her attention back towards where she had been sitting. As she walked, she took notice of what looked like a receipt that gently blew in the wind.

    Deciding that she would do a good deed and pick up after the litterbug, she ran after the coupon that traveled with the breeze. She caught the thing after a small effort, and began to inspect it... naturally. It appeared to be an admittance ticket for some cultural event—one that was going on right now—one that seemed to promise good music.

    Glancing first to the left and then to the right, the area around her had no others around... and who knew how far the thing had already blown? Whatever the case, there was no chance of finding the owner of this ticket... realistically. So Roisin decided it might be fun to go check out the event for herself. It could be good craic, sure.

    *

    Time: 2047
    12 Hours, 13 Minutes Before Expected Deportation

    *

    It had been some walk, but Rosie eventually made it to the convention centre. The atmosphere truly was buzzing and, as always, Ro followed the music. An interesting band was performing in one section of the place, so onward the young lady went towards the bar to order a cheeky pint before heading off to sip and sway along with the rhythm.
    Last edited by Leanna; 08-18-2019 at 05:38 PM.

  2. #12
    Red Ninja
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    Default A Job for the Madman (Koti and Siks co-op)

    “You alive down there?” The event security asked into the darkened stairwell, aiming his flashlight down into the area. He waited a few beats before heading down in, one hand resting on the wall while the other kept a grip on his flashlight, his training keeping him from just bolting down the stairs after the man, despite the possible risk the man had taken falling down there. Each guard had been trained that there might be people there trying to disrupt or ruin the event for all, and even get it shut down for its message of peace. While it was highly doubtful the drunken cowboy could be one of them, it was not a risk he was going to take.

    A drunken shout in what could be a foreign language answered as well the clatter of some chairs and tables. “Who's asking!” Was all the guard got.

    *Good, he’s alive at least* The guard let out a sigh as he entered the room proper. Used as a storage area, it was lousy with chairs and spare tables for any hall that might need them. Several staircases connected to other halls, meaning less space to move them to other rooms. Finding the wall switches, he flipped it on, followed by the familiar thumps as the lights came on across the room, much like a warehouse light when they turn on first thing in the morning. Locating the cowboy, the guard moved over to him.

    “Sir, I am one of the security guards at this event. Can you stand, or shall I call for medical help to bring you to the medical bay?” The guard asked of the man, winding up for the common speech he usually felt.

    Zeke groaned loudly as the lights came on and blinded him causing him to instinctively roll deeper under the table he had fallen under causing it to flip over and be kicked in the guards direction. Covering his face Zeke swore again. “Turn the fuckin’ light off ya, bitch-faced Cholo Flip!” The man groaned turning away from the lights his head throbbing and his eyes aching.

    *Great, not only is he drunk, he’s a racist drunk. 5 bucks says he’s Texan too* The guard mentally grumbled to himself, taking a small bit of delight keeping the lights on. If being a guard at this expensive a hotel meant having to deal with drunk racists, enjoying their misery was a very small price to pay.

    “Sir, I cannot do that as it may cause harm to either of us to be down here in the dark. If you’d like I can guide you to the medical ward where we can get you checked out and a place to rest in a darkened room.” The guard asked, raising his voice just the tiniest bit higher to make sure the man could hear him loud and clear.

    “We should get a move on anyway, as non staff members are not allowed down in this area.” The guard spoke again, moving closer to help the man up onto his feet.

    Zeke rolled to his feet squaring off with the guard in a staggered stance. “I ain’t going no...where...til I want ya twiggy shit.” He let out a burp and tried to rush past the guard, but his head swam and he fell back down onto the floor. “Ugh..who’d have thought…*burp* a fight...and falling down steps...was...like this.” He muttered quietly before he flattened out onto his back.

    “Alright bub, let's get you to a place you can sleep this off…” The guard spoke as he hauled Zeke back onto his feet, allowing the drunk to put most of his weight against his body. Seeing that he was still functioning, he helped guide the man through the basement and towards the stairs that would get the man up to the medical bay..

    … Some Time Later…

    “Mister Edge, willing to join us back with the living?” A voice asked, followed by the sound of a glass being placed on a table. Lekey looked over the man, eyes darting across his body before resting back on his face. Thumbing through some papers, he waited on the man, allo
    wing the quiet bustle of the room beyond, nurses taking care of various problems and other unruly drunks who had managed to place themselves in a stupor already. It wasn’t an uncommon scene for events with a bar for those who wished it.

    “From what the nurses said, you’re fit to continue drinking if you wish, other than some bruising and a damaged ego. Took quite the fall down those stairs now.” Lekey offered the man, having gone back to studying the folio he had brought with him.

    Zeke groaned low opening his eyes but quickly closed them his voice much more sober sounding and gentler. “Aw hell, can ya turn the lights down please? I feel like pappy Edge after Granny caught him using her best linens to wipe the motor oil from his hands last Independence Day.” His hands flopped around until he feels the cold surface of a water glass and quickly pulls it up to his lips drinking deeply.

    “As I guessed, definitely a Southern boy. More than likely Georgia or Atlanta if I had to guess. Dialect is not my forte.” Lekey responded with a knowing nod, giving him a smile, not one of comforts but confirmation. He was glad that the man wasn’t suffering from anything more severe. Closing and setting the folio down, he studied Zeke, eyes taking a calculated look before reaching over to draw the curtains shut, helping cut down the light some.

    “Glad you like the drink. Mostly water with a mix of lemon pepper tea and honey. Been a pretty good hangover killer. Though not sure how it’ll do over the stair tumble.” Lekey spoke up again, leaning his chin against his hands, feeling the cool metal press into his skin.

    “Would’ve been a shame if a set of stairs took you out.” Lekey chided Zeke, letting out a chuckle of his own amusement.

    Zeke gave a short chuckle keeping his eyes closed draining the glass in one final gulp his drawl smoother less slurred now. “Atlanta is part of Georgia, Yankee. And I’m actually a few miles South of Atlanta, as for the stairs I’ve had worse. What happened?” He asked placing the glass back on the bed keeping his eyes closed and minimizing his movement as much as possible.

    “Well, to give me credit, i'm not from these woods. As for what happened? I’m sure a man of your caliber can figure it out. While drunk, a woman tried to seduce you, which led to a brawl, real Southern hospitality there Zeke. You two got into a tiff as the crowd started to leave, which led to her man stepping in. Another tiff, then down the stairs you went.” Lekey spoke as though repeating a humorous limerick at the end.

    “I sent my security team to make sure you and that boy were okay, then had you brought here once you passed out. Been waiting a bit for you to come around and make sure you weren’t suffering anything more than a bruised tailbone and ego.” Lekey finished off his report, gifting Zeke with a bemused smile on his face.

    “Besides, something about you has .. piqued my interest as they say. My friends say I'm like a cat with a new toy when I find something interesting. One day it’ll kill me, but what's life without a bit of risk now and again?” Lekey offered up, sticking his hand outside the curtains to gain attention of a local nurse, planning on getting another glass of cold water for Zeke.

    Zeke groaned lightly placing the new cold glass to his head the memories like a hazy dream in his mind. He remembers the guard and the punk he knocked out, but the woman was more blur than anything else. “Son that’s a Tuesday in my hometown, no kind of Southern Hospitality, did I hurt anyone else?” He asked drinking the water again. “Also I have no cash to pay for damages so y’all might as well lock me up now.”

    “Oh, there is no need to worry for payments, rather a bit of community service might help. As for injuring another, there was only one other harmed, though we’ve yet to see him. I'm pretty sure a bloody nose is no major problem.” Lekey waved off the man’s worries.

    “As you know, I wish to promote the harmony and strength of Humanity, by bringing us all together and showing just what we can do to impact the world. As with those who wish us good, there are those who wish us harm, and service their own agenda.” Lekey began, picking up the folio.

    “Some are even so brazen to send people in their place to show this entire ordeal to be misguided and wrong, or those trying to prove I am not who I say, despite living an open book. So I have an offer to make of you, if you would wish it.” Lekey began in earnest, before handing over the folio.

    “It's hard for a man like myself to move around a crowd with my face plastered everywhere, and even less my guards to work in the shadows. So, feel like doing the community, and humanity a favor?” Lekey asked of Zeke, placing his hands on his knees while looking over the man before him.

    Zeke snorted placing the water on the table sliding more down the bed before opening the folio to study it. “That’s a whole lotta fancy talk and horseshit as my pa says, talk plain with this cowpoke ya fop.” He tossed the folder down and studied the man. “I ain’t never been one to suffer fancy talkin’ fools, especially ones I don’t even know the name of. So how’s about we start there then ya can try to recruit me to your Illuminati games.”

    "Oh, you are quite the card, aren't you? But yes, as you said I'll stop talking fancy." Lekey began, mimicking Zeke's tone rather well. Giving a chuckle he picked up the folio and opened it back up.

    "These are profiles of people who wish to either drag my name through the mud for what I propose, or people trying to show that I'm a take for this. I need someone with no ties to me to disrupt these peoples’ attempts. I honestly have nothing to hide, but you know how this world is. One wrong word, or just the wrong angled picture with the right words can make me seem like the devil. While my guards can take care of most of these problems, they are dealing with bigger problems at the moment. Mainly drunkards." Lekey begun and turned the folio around for him to see.

    "So, do a bit of charity work for me, give some people a bad day, and I will forgive your crimes today while here." Lekey offered the man with a smile.

    Zeke smirked lifting the water up. “So let me get this straight Robo man, you want this ole boy to play the leg breaker cause people are hurting your feelings? How Democrat of you old man, so what will giving someone a bad day look like?” He lifted the folder back-up flipping through the names and dossiers.

    "Sir, you wound me. I am no Democrat." Lekey spoke, placing his hand against his chest as if hit in the heart. He let another chuckle slide past before allowing a sigh to end it. Leaning back in the chair as the man studied the information, he was enjoying the conversation rather well.

    "As for bad day, I have only two requirements. First, it cannot be illegal or violent, I don't need you running around punching people in the face or stealing their equipment. Would not be good for this convention. Second, no killing. I know it seems to follow the ruling of the first, but there are some grey lines there that I'm positive a man like you can see through rather well." Lekey spoke as he laid out the rules. The limits should be rather well to keep Zeke in line and able to allow him plenty of creativity.

    Zeke snorted tossing the folder back onto the table lifting up his water again. “Well sounds like you’re putting a lot of faith in a War Horse to be a Draft Horse old man. I ain’t one for underhanded cloak and dagger fuckery. If my pappy finds out there won’t be a place safe enough under the president’s desk for me. Why not tell this country boy exactly what you want.”

    "I think you mean daft horse at this point." Lekey spoke, his tone of voice going flat. What he thought was a rather simple job was slowly becoming a headache behind the eyes for him. He let out a sigh and wished he had actual shoulders to roll for this headache. Standing up from his chair he paced to the edge of his bed and crossed his arms.

    "The task is simple in action. I need you to get them to leave of their own design or ruin any chance they have of gathering information. If you can't, let the guards know and they can help force them out. The only thing is I cannot be the one to chase them off." Lekey laid out the mission details as plainly as possible for the man in front of him.

    Zeke smirked seeing the annoyance he was giving the man. Rubbing his scruffy face he shrugged and nodded. “Sounds impossible without being violent, but I’ll do what I can so when does the fun begin?”

    "Whenever you wish. The sooner the better. I'll let you get some rest and have fun." Lekey nodded to Zeke and withdrew the curtain, allowing light to flood the small area. Lekey smirked at Zeke before leaving the area and drawing the curtain shut when he left himself.

    "Oh, and keep an eye on that last one, Mushi. He's a tricky one." Lekey added as a last thought.


    Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
    Shatter the fools and walk the path towards the Light.



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  3. #13
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    Default GM MOVER: Time to start this story off with a boom!

    Several hours later, around midnight

    “Sir, this plan will be beautiful. The wonders you have shown me are just so great. To think such a world exists that even our most advanced technology is akin to rubber ducks.” The man spoke, his eyes aglow as he looked upon the security screens. Lekey only chuckled, looking across the view with enjoyment in his eyes. He watched the people as the puppet continued to chatter besides him about the greatness. All the attendees had been fully checked in, even the stragglers had finally set up in their rooms. Several already looked promising candidates were under his watch, the most interesting between a young blind girl and a simple fast food manager.

    Looking to his left he could see the movements of a man looking ready for the end of the world, with another looking like she had already left this world. He smiled thinking just how soon those would be tested for real. More even being the rather friendly scientist who seemed at odds with the calculating business clerk who looked ready to pick apart anyone who looked at her weird. They could be the most fun stranded alone.

    “So, when is the grand plan to begin, I’ve never been more ready to leave this plane for another world, one better than this trivial world.”

    “Oh, I almost forgot you were here. Pitiable meat bags like you just barely hold my interest, let alone stand a shot of moving over.” Lekey spoke, cold amusement laced upon his words. The clerk blinked, suddenly feeling very unsure of this plan.

    “But you .. you said I would be moving onto such better lands. All those things you showed me. Am I really not going to see any of it?” The clerk asked, staring back at the screens, the glow in his eyes fading rapidly as cold reality crawled across his skin. Lekey only chuckled as he moved closer to the screen, his eyes scanning the room, his vision locking upon several shimmering locations that even now were starting to fade back into view.

    “I asked you a question. Are you really telling me I'm going to end up nothing more than a pawn? Those bombs, there's enough force to crack even the fault line! Are you telling me it was all… It was all a lie wasn’t it?! You drugged and lied to me you bastard?!” The clerk shouted, anger now roiling under his skin. Blood boiling he reached for the pistol resting at his side. Hell be damned if he was going to let this mad man kill so many innocent lives.

    His fingers barely touched the hilt as purple fingers wrapped around his neck, levitating the man off the ground and cutting off his air. Lekey didn’t even turn around to face the man, but one could see the tendrils of energy hovering from his shoulders.

    “Who ever said you had an option. I just needed a pawn to set them. In truth, you were just a fun toy to use, and now that usefulness has run dry. Just let the last pleasant thought be that you helped some of these selected few move onto greater things.” Lekey spoke, looking over the other bombs, nestled into hidden nooks and crannies finally shimmered into existence now that most of the con-goers had retired to their rooms.

    “Now though, is the best time to start the plan. Just think, your sad tiny life was poignant for something, even if you’ll never truly see it. Ta ta… oh you died. Well, your corpse will still hit the button.” Lekey had turned to look at the clerk, having forgotten the hold on him, only now noting the limp body resting in his psychic grip. Hoist it up some more, he tossed it onto the detonation trigger before vanishing into the gateway.

    =========================================

    Matt, so used to working nights, just couldn’t fall asleep with all the excitement around him. While most booths were closed by now, he couldn’t help just enjoying the spectacle around him. To have saved up enough money to make it to such an event, he didn’t want to miss a single moment of his trip here, and his natural sleep schedule allowed him to enjoy it in moderate peace and quiet. His travels brought him to the auditorium, with some booths surrounding the stage, yet very few people haunting around the place.

    “This place is just so … awesome.” Matt spoke in a breathless whisper, before a soft ticking broke his thoughts. Ever the curious, he began following the sound, heading towards the main stage. The ticking sound could be heard flowing from the bottom of the edging. Lifting up the small curtain, he stuck his head underneath, expecting to find some amplification system underneath, only to feel cold fear grip his gut.

    Resting beneath the stage was what could only be described was a large bomb. From the count down clock in the center frame, to the fact that it looked like a giant sea mine, it screamed massive bomb. His throat went dry as his body locked up, watching the clock tick down from 10, each moment seeming to drag forever. As soon as it hit 5, his body finally reacted, and his hoarse voice ripped through his throat, bellowing two short words that came too late.

    “RUN! BOMB!”

    ===============================

    From the view outside, the whole building seemed to shudder, a high pitched whistle as air was sucked into the open windows and doors, before the explosions hit. A ring of fire blasted from the outside, engulfing the building as more shockwaves hit as the bombs inside detonated just 5 seconds after the exteriors had gone off.

    “All according to plan.” Lekey spoke as he hovered in the night sky, the clouds bathed blood red as the entire ground heaved, fire spewing from all directions as the shrill screams filled the air of the dead and dying as the bombs tore through the building, reducing a prized beacon of the world to little more than smoldering ash. To his eyes, he could see the energy ripple through the lands.

    “Here it comes, the shift. Two metric tonnes of tnt was plenty enough to force this leyline to shift this far off course. Gotta give these humans one thing, they sure know how to blow shit up.” Lekey spoke, watching the far off line of energy snake through the ground, its course altered from its normal flow due to the sudden rampant energy now flooding the hotel from his explosions. He cackled happily as the energy began to burn through the hotel, lighting up the rubble as the ash began to drift down, the beautiful mix of fiery anger mixed with the flood of the massive ley line now passing under it.

    ================

    Matt could barely see, the burning hot steel pinning him to the wall, his eyes having seen the flames covering all exits the moment he had shouted. His back, so close to the explosion, had taken most of the shrapnel from the 6ft tall bomb, yet they had shredded through him like wet paper. He didn’t even have time to register pain before being dragged through the air by the shockwave, rebar impaling his shoulder to the stone pillar.

    “W-hy?” The question fell on dead lips, his vision began to fade, his body feeling both a frigid cold, and flaming inferno engulfing his last few precious moments of consciousness. As everything was swallowed by darkness, a faint blue light began to glow around him, and suddenly stuck.

    “Is .. is this .. heaven?” Matt asked himself as the light began to wrap around him, comforting and glowing as it enveloped his vision, like a comforting hug pulling him into its embrace. He could barely think more as the light infused him, dragging his mind into unconsciousness, almost sure that he was finally dead, his mind trying to comfort itself in the last few dying moments.

    "Even Dreams, can be a nightmare"
    Spoiler: Click it, I dare ya! 




  4. #14
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    Gwen had laid back in the soft, fresh bed. The only thing she ever liked about staying in hotels was the beds, they were always so soft. But she rarely ever stayed at them because it was always a hassle. It was better to stay home. "comfortable?" Dan asked from the little bathroom. "Ya." She rolled over into her stomach, carefully hanging over the edge if the bed. "Are you sure your going to be okay on the couch?"

    "Oh ya." He said hearing the smile in his voice. "I'm old but not over the hill yet." he promised coming over and sitting down next to her, just long enough to wrap his arms around her shoulders and kiss her forehead. "Good night sweety, sleep well." She felt his weight leave the bed and listened to his footsteps head over to the couch. "Oh." He paused. "I'll make a run to get that stuff for Toby in the morning." She nodded quietly before holding out her hand for Toby and snapped her fingers to call him over.

    Running her hand over his back as he he curled up beside the bed before rolling onto her back and closed her blind eyes. She wasn't sure how long she had been laying there before she heard Toby get up, his claws clicking faintly against the floor. It was another moment before he started to whine. Her father's breathing was deep and slow, he was already asleep. She rolled back over. "Toby." she whispered. "What is it?" She wished he really could tell her. But he seemed uneasy, his whine wasn't one of needing to go out, he'd gone not that long ago. Something wasn't right.

    Turning slowly till she could put her feet on the ground. Pushing herself to stand. "Toby?" she asked again in a low whisper, holding out her arms. Toby's footsteps came closer as he came into her arms putting his head over her shoulder. "Whats wrong? Are you home sick?" she asked. He whined. No that wasn't it. Toby took her sleeve in his mouth after a moment and started tugging her in what she assumed was the direction for the door. "Toby?"

    Then the sound. A high pitch whistle and she could feel the air around her moving strangely. Gwen's gut knotted up she turned. "DAD!" She screamed in the split second silence.

    The sound the followed drowned out everything else, making Gwen's ears ring as the the building heaved under her feet. She could feel herself screaming but she couldn't hear it as she fell. She wasn't sure what she hit, but it knocked the wind out of her lungs before a crushing weight dropped in her midsection. She could hear the bones shatter inside her own body, the sicking vibration followed by the pain. Her ears still ringing with the sound of the explosion she couldn't hear her own horse crys as she weakly tried to move whatever it was onto of her.

    Bile and blood rose to her throat, making her cough and hack sending more waves of pain through her body until all she could do was lay back choking on blood and air. Faintly through the ringing she could have sworn she heard barking. But everything seemed distant and far away. "dad..." she breathed tears filling her blind eyes.

    Silence, the ringing stopped, the pain faded. A strange warmth surrounded her light and comforting. her breath was stolen away in a strange sort of yawn, lulling her into what she could only assume was a final sleep.
    P.K.'s character locker ~ P.K.'s word works ~ P.K.'s Idea store

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  5. #15
    Little ball of fire
    Breggo13's Avatar
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    Charlie leaned against the window’s frame, looking out the floor to ceiling see through opening out onto the sleeping city. Sleeping was frankly not the right description - the city was dotted with lights in the windows of tall buildings, the small sparks lining the roads across the whole area and a few fireworks going off somewhere in the distance. Growing up in some of Europe’s most influential and powerful cities, the young man still never understood how Americans could build such monstrosities and take hours upon hours to reach the nearest city. The huge skyscrapers seemed to push him down, suffocating him and leaving him with the feeling of being caged, the constant rush of the city sickening rather than endearing, the promise of a free future somewhat distant and diluted, nonexistent.

    Looking out into the night, Charlie tried to understand life, something he did constantly. How did he, a lonely veterinary student starting out in the field and already shouldering ridiculous fame and expectations, fit into a corporate cruel world? How was he to come to terms with the horrors he had seen? With corporate CEOs calling him in to patch up a rare beast only to hunt it savagely in a few weeks, all the while praising him as some wondrous discovery? How was he to be excited about genetic codes and cloning research when no one could guarantee that those cloned felines (or any beast really) would be able to fix the world’s problems? Perhaps he should have quit vet school like he had wanted time and time before, aimlessly wandering off somewhere else….like culinary school. No one felt as ripped apart by morals in culinary school.

    Behind him, the kitten let out a loud meow, actively demanding food and attention. Looking at his watch, Charlie shook his head - midnight hour. No wonder the little pest was hungry. Distracted by his new chew toy for most of the day and happily napping once they got to the quiet of the suite, Berlioz had woken up and was most hungry. Pushing away from the window, Charlie made his way to the little kitchenette, bare feet hitting the floor with quiet thuds. The fridge was stocked with carefully measured bottles of milk, ready to be warmed up and fed to the monster. Beside them, finely grounded meat in a tupperware container stood yet untouched.

    “Perhaps you will want something more solid now that you have gnawed away at jerky,” Charlie muttered to himself, deciding to go for the meat as opposed to the milk. Pulling out the tupperware with one hand, he closed the fridge and pulled out an unbreakable bowl and a tiny scale, carefully measuring out an appropriate amount of food before heading over towards the large cage that currently contained the small kitten. Opening it, he slipped the bowl inside, leaving the door to the kennel open and watching curiously as the kitten approached the bowl, sniffing it in confusion. Then the little beast lifted his head, looked at Charlie and meowed.

    “Maybe the old woman is right,” Charlie sighed, reaching to put a little of the food on his finger. “Maybe I have spoiled you.” The kitten didn’t respond, again sniffing the offering before gingerly taking it into his mouth and swallowing it. Seeing that Berlioz had no interest in actually eating from the bowl, the young man sat down cross legged and pulled the bowl out, carefully taking small pieces and feeding it to the kitten who happily ate half before refusing any more, instead sitting down and starting to clean his face with a paw. Wiping the meat on the edge of the bowl so that his fingers were a bit more clean, Charlie got to his feet, shaking his head. “You’ll be hungry before bed again won’t you? What will I do with you?” Berlioz continued to clean his face. Cleaning away the little kitten’s food, Charlie watched the beast meander around the suite, playing with his fuzzy toys originally meant for dogs but when one’s feline companion is bigger than the average cat with a bigger bite and paws he has yet to grow into, some exceptions do apply.

    Running a hand through his hair, Charlie stripped and started for the bathroom, running a hot shower and taking his time, the water slowly washing away his thoughts and desires to seek answers - especially answers he didn’t want. Today had been a roller coaster - he seemed to suffocate in the crowd, forced to squeeze smiles and niceties out of himself, constantly catching someone’s interested or enamoured gaze, a few times forced to turn the other way from hostile glares. People were so complicated and strange - there was never any way of knowing what was on their mind. That is why he loved animals, the very reason he saved them. Animals were pure, they held no expectations and judged you by your own merits, not those of your ancestors. To them, it never mattered if you were white or black, a male or female, rich or poor. A lion would still devour you, an elk charge and pin you like a butterfly, a dog attack if it felt threatened. How did so many so-called smart beings miss that vital truth?

    The water turned luke warm, a sign that the heating system was unable to heat so much water as the man was using. Quickly lathering himself in soap and scrubbing clean, Charlie wrapped himself in a towel, making his way to the bedroom, the kitten skidding on the floor at it chased a toy. Smiling to himself, the man quickly slipped into a pair of loose flannel pajama bottoms and dimmed the lights before getting into bed. With a soft ‘plump’, the kitten leaped onto the bed to join him, the fuzzy toy shaped like a duck proudly wedged in his mouth.

    “You are something else, you know that?” Charlie murmured, unable to stop a chuckle as the kitten came closer, purring and kneading the veterinarian’s side, thankfully covered by a thick duvet. “One day, you’ll be hunting real ducks and all of this will be a far off memory. Little Berlioz will be all grown up.”

    Charlie drifted off to sleep, the little furball snuggling into the covers beside him. There were no dreams, not really. Nothing except a predominant sense of danger. Something was deathly wrong, something that was uncontrollable and powerful, easily ready to kill. It was the kind of discomfort someone felt from being watched by a predator, knowing that the beast was about to pounce, already wondering what the feeling of hardened claws and teeth felt against feeble flesh. Everyone always pictured the famed Dr. O’Niell to be fearless, always ready to patch up any matter of dangerous beast, bring them from the brink of death. The truth was different - Charlie often looked into those pain filled wild eyes, say a prayer and walk in, slowly working to see if the animal could be calmed down enough to heal it. Sometimes, he walked away fine, sometimes there were scratches but somehow, he always found the courage to do what needed to be done. The fear never went away.

    Soft nibbling of his fingers brought him out of his sleep, groggily blinking in the darkness to see two feline eyes staring at him as the lynx offspring pressed a bit more on his flesh as though to make some point. The light from the opened huge window allowed Charlie’s eyes to take in the room and he pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, frowning. Pleased with his efforts, Berlioz stopped the execution of the fingers and said a single, meaningful meow. Groaning, Charlie flopped back down into the pillows - obviously the cat was hungry at (he reached to look at the clock) 1 in the morning. Throwing back his blankets without bothering to see if it covered the kitten, the man sat up, rubbing his eyes.

    Stumbling to the fridge, he grabbed the door and sighed. Perhaps that hesitation was how he’d know...on the tremor of the building….or maybe he was still thinking about his dream. Regardless, in that moment, Charlie suddenly felt a shock go through him. In the nearby distance, an explosion sounded. It wasn’t rational thought anymore, it wasn’t an attempt to save himself of the kitten. Charlie reacted on pure instinct, pushing away from the appliance that seemed to detonate within itself a mere second later and run, skid, slip back towards the bed as the world exploded around him, windows breaking and glass cutting his skin. He leaped, a perfect impersonation of a lion in flight, onto the bed, pulling the terrified being close to him, wanting to protect, to hide as flames, fumes and the impulse of the world engulfed them, ripping him to shreds. He howled and then….

    Charles Dean Mortimore Chastile Ronals O’Niell the Third Esquire died.

  6. #16
    Red Ninja
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    Default Doth death fear the mad man as the sane man fears death?

    Humming his favorite song Zeke exited his hospital room tossing the folder and the contracts into a goody bag the quacks gave him about alcoholism and the dangers of fighting people you don't know or some shit. More Liberal limp-wristed stupidness much like everything else he's come across since he came to Commiefornia. The Southern man honestly expected to be arrested for being grossly offensive just because he was wearing an American Flag t-shirt.

    But so far his luck had held out, at least until he wound up in this hospital bed and was handed a job that was basically amounted to corporate espionage masked as blackmail so he wouldn't go to jail for getting drunk and starting a fight. Back home, he'd get a beer and a pat on the back as long as he didn't go down like a bitch. But he wasn't home, just deep in enemy territory waiting for his chance to get back East, but then again DC was turning into a mini Commiefornia these days. Hopefully he could maintain some sanity and build his own doomsday shelter before he became illegal to exist.

    The outpatient paperwork was annoying as he expected but at least his internal jukebox was still playing The Devil went down the Georgia as he signed and dated each line pushed at him. As he signed the last paper he felt a twinge go up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Years of being a paranoid prepper has given him something of a Sixth Sense for shit about to go sideways. And then he heard several massive explosions followed by the whole world shaking, his instinctively grabbed onto the counter while everyone else began flopping all over the place as another explosion hit the hospital wing right in the gut and lifted it off the ground with the force.

    While everyone was screaming and dying Zeke's face creased in a Cheshire grin so he was going to see the end of the world, that'll be something to tell his family in Heaven about. He could tell by the sound and power of the explosions he and everyone in the convention hall was as good as dead if they were anywhere near the epicenter of the booms. Zeke would be among them, but he'd be damned if he was gonna go down like a bitch. As he saw the fireball of the explosion reaching the oxygen stores sending a pure pillar of fire through the halls Zeke punched through the glass of an emergency fire axe case and swung it expertly around his hand as he stared madly into the approaching fire part of him knew he was gonna die, but another part simply wouldn't accept it after all the other times he nearly died so with a loud laugh he charged the approaching fire. "Devil you come on back to try again? I done told you once you son of a bitch I'm the best there's ever been!" Zeke swung his axe at the flames laughing even as the flames consumed him and death stood with his scythe at the ready. Just before the flames ended him Zeke swung his melted weapon at the specter of death daring the reaper to come claim him.


    Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
    Shatter the fools and walk the path towards the Light.



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  7. #17
    RPA's Resident Zombie
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    TJ sat cross-legged on the king-sized bed, Jimmy stretched out beside her in nothing but his skivvies, the television playing a comedy show rerun, the dealer laughing at the antics on the screen. She ignored him, floating on her latest high, the remainder of a joint sitting on the side table in a roach clip, the glowing tip slowing eating into the wood. She reached for the greasy pizza box by her socked feet, pulling it to her and grabbing a cold slice. "I need a soda," she commented, shaking the empty can in her hand before attempting to toss it overhand into the trash. The container landed in a pile of previously missed shots scattered around the target and she sighed.

    She was thirsty...but the thought of going back out into the lobby was not appealing. She had enough of that carpeted, poshly decorated, and stuffy waiting room to last her for the rest of this trip. Plus she had wasted a good part of her day out there after her little encounter with the cowboy, redirecting a nosey security guard on the events that had occured. She had managed to slip out of the public bathroom, with Jimmy going undetected behind the door, and the next hour was spent in an office answering questions with lie built upon lie. ...and the uniformed man had fallen for every word. She wanted to think she had been clever...and convincing...but in reality, she remembered little of what she said, other than her name was Rose...just like the decoration on the spiral notebook set off to the side. She chucked lightly.

    "Jimmy, I'm gonna get a soda. You want anything?" She reached into his pant's pocket, the jeans hanging on the bedpost, and took out a few dollars and some change. A grunt was the only answer she got, followed by another bout of laughter. "Fine. I won't fuckin' get you anything," she remarked sourly, pocketing the room's key and the money. "I'll just be a few," she said as she slammed the door behind her, scowling at the gaudy wallpaper which screamed loudly at her as soon as she set foot outside. 'So outlandish...like everything here,' she thought.

    After a momentary pause to tug up her jeans, she was padding down the nearly desserted hallway, making her way to the vending and ice machines. She could see the hotel's clerk only a short distance away, his attention on the phone he was jabbering into. TJ lowered her head, staring hard at the choices, before selecting a Sprite. As the can rolled down the shute, she felt a tremor under her feet, an explosive sound reaching her ears and a fiery red glow encircling the building. Confused, she turned her head in the direction of the rooms, seeing a tan dog in a vest moving towards her. Barking? Its muzzle was moving, but her ears were not registering the sound, only a high pitched whine. Her can bumped into the opening of the machine, TJ feeling the cold press of a nose against the outside of her hand at the same moment. In the few seconds that followed, the second series of explosives detonated, the floor beneath the young woman's feet disappearing in a spray of splinters and fiber. She was thrown upwards, hovering on thin air as the concussion of the bomb hit full force, the vending machines rocketing up and out, slamming into her and the service animal, carrying them both into the wall behind. There was no pain...no nothing...just a crushing impact that left behind a jelly-like substance of blood and tissue, interspersed with small particulates of bone. As the fire raged through the lobby, the scant trace of what had once been flesh and hair bubbled and burned to ash, a pale blue light enfolding the unrecognizable forms into its embrace.
    Last edited by bluemoon; Yesterday at 03:58 AM.

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