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The Demon by Bluewpc
The Sewer
Catherine stood on a cold concrete floor, her body bare to the elements. She stood in the center of a large expanse enclosed on all sides by concrete walls that rose up for as far as they eye could see. On opposite sides of the room were two manhole covers of identical proportions. They stood a few feet off the ground and a clean white steam could be seen emanating from below. A cold wind blew from nowhere the chill it caused forced her to wrap her arms around her body. Everything around her was gray save for the large red rusted pipes that leaked a thick black fluid onto the ground below. What lay beyond the pipes was a mystery; a thick mist blocked everything that might have been behind wispy clouds.
A sudden movement off to her left snatched her attention from the filthy pipes above. Beside her where there had been nothing but a second before a boy whom she’d never seen before was now standing next to her. He was stark naked and covered in layers of grime that nearly hid his pale complexion. The boy stood almost four feet tall putting him just slightly taller than her. His face was a mask of rage directed at something across the room. Catherine followed his gaze to across the room until her eyes rested on another man who had mysteriously appeared, leaning against a large ivory chair. His appearance was frightening to say the least; like herself the man was naked but his skin was covered in thousands of lacerations ran the length of his body, intersecting with other cuts. The man’s face was hidden behind long strands of pure black hair that hung elegantly from his head.
The man noticing that he’d attracted her attention stood up straight and beckoned with his hand. As soon as the gesture was finished both Catherine and the strange boy were ripped from their feet by an unseen force. Breathing hard Catherine looked over to the boy just in time to see him dragged off screaming into the manhole behind her. Suddenly as if on cue whatever force had taken away the screaming boy bore down on her and ripped her across the concrete floor, the skin on her back tearing free as she was dragged into the second hole.
The Bathroom Mirror
Catherine stared in disbelief at the disheveled visage in the mirror. Her hair was cut a quarter of an inch from her scalp and lice held free reign over its domain. The torn and tattered wife beater she wore had been stained a filthy yellow and brown. Her blue black sweat shorts hung loosely from her malnourished body. Her body was covered in dirt that did nothing to cover the many bruises on her face, neck and shoulders. Her feet were bleeding from the many cuts she’d incurred on the broken tile floor she stood on and the piping underneath the sink leaked water that ran across her feet, stinging her already butchered feet. On the edge of the dilapidated sink lay a long blade of glass. Catherine picked the shimmering blade and in a single deft movement plunged it into her neck and cut through her throat causing bright red blood to splash in the laughing face of her maniacal twin.
The Librarian
Catherine burst though the yellow double doors, breathing hard. The thick wire was still wrapped tightly around her left arm and the strain caused her veins to bulge. She quickly shut the doors behind her just as the rope went taut and started to pull her back. She slammed into the doors with a skull rattling crunch the impact shattering her forearm. Suddenly the wire went limp again and she slumped to the ground quietly collecting herself. After a few seconds she got up and looked around surprised to find that an old man was sleeping soundly not five feet from her, sitting in a plastic chair and his wizened head resting on a large desk that reminded her of those her scholam teacher had once sat at. The man wore a light brown pair of wool slacks and a brown vest over a white coffee stained undershirt. A feeling bordering on relief washed over Catherine and she broke out into a sprint.
“Wake up!” She cried as she ran. Inches away from the old man the line went taut again and she was pulled off her feet. The pain in her arm was excruciating but she ignored it, instead grabbing the wire with her right arm and using her feet to brace herself against the tiled floor. Despite her exertions she found herself being dragged to the doors at an alarming rate.
“Get up! Help me!” She called out but the old man showed no signs of stirring from his deep slumber. She screamed as she slid across the floor the skin on her feet being shorn away by the friction. When she reached the door she braced her feet against them and called out again.
“Help me! Get up! Get up! For God’s sake help me!” She called out again and again but her screams devolved into sobbing pleas when the blood inside her arm, under extreme pressure from the wire, and with nowhere else to go popped out of the ends of her fingertips, spraying little jets of blood against the cold metal doors. Catherine let out a horrible scream as she watched the splotches of blood on the door grow larger with every heartbeat. The terrible agony however seemed to have worked in her favor. The nightmarish howl jolted the old man from his slumber and his eyes searched frantically round the room for its origin. When he saw Catherine he jumped up and rushed to her side.
“Let go of it!” He screamed at her as he took hold of the wire with his right hand. With the other he pulled out a small knife and went to work on cutting the wire. The blade was sharp but wire is not cut easily and for an agonizing minute the old man worked frantically, slicing and stabbing at the wire until finally, with an ear shattering crack it came free.
The Bathtub and the Elevator
Sam felt his body squeeze through the tubs drain, the sheer impossibility of the feat doing nothing to prevent its happening. Pain wracked his body as it was compressed and then depressed as his body passed through the narrow and unlikely entrance. It took five agonizing minutes until the tips of his toes finally made it through. When he recovered enough from the pain Sam took in his surroundings. He found himself in another enclosed room; each wall was formed from concrete save for the wall in front of him which was made of metal and from inside the sadistic grinding of gears could be heard. The butchered man was there too, leaning against what appeared to be a doorway to whatever hell awaited him. Standing next to him in a simple loincloth and shaking with fear was a small boy who couldn’t have been older than six. The man beckoned at me with his finger and I stepped out of the tub and onto the dirt floor.
As I walked towards the man I heard a blaring noise from inside the metal frame and I stopped dead in my tracks. The noise continued to ring until finally an elevator locked into place on the floor with a great hiss. With the elevator locked in the door rose up and disappeared into the ceiling above revealing a space just large enough to fit a child. Inside however were a number of octagonal slabs of metal that rotated around the space where one would stand. I quickly noticed that if one were to stay still while inside than the poor soul would soon be crushed beyond all recognition. As soon as the door finished opening the man stuck his head inside and looked around. Satisfied that all was well with his motorized contraption he motioned to me and again despite my fear and hatred I came closer.
“One of you two going to get in?” The man said a hint of a smile just barely visible behind his black hair. It seemed that the man’s flesh wasn’t the only thing that was butchered; his voice had a sickly wet sound that was entrancing. The two boys exchanged glances of dread before Sam grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulders and forced him into the death trap before stepping back a few feet. As soon as the young boy was inside the rotating slabs locked in place trapping the boy’s arm outside the elevator.
“I think you’ll be glad to know that the first one down there will find themselves very…deserted.” The man said adding a wet laugh at the end. The man pressed a glowing orange button and the elevator began to descend. From outside the elevator Sam could hear the boy whimpering as the elevator began its descent. As it got closer to the ground he could see the boy’s arm flail around in a desperate attempt to bring it back inside. His struggles were in vain for in the next second the boys’ arm was torn off with a wicked scream and Sam felt hot blood splash against his legs. When the elevator was out of sight Sam turned to regard the mutilated man.
“Cesar wanted revenge on Brutus my boy and you know what? I got it for him. I give power boy always remember that, what you want I have and am willing to give for a price. Speak boy, what do you want?” He said with a devilish grin.
“I want revenge.” Sam said the age old rage building up inside of him again.
“Everyone wants revenge boy, a cheatin’ spouse, a lyin’ friend, a knife in the back.”
And then I woke up. This was actually a dream (or nightmare really) I had last night and I decided what the hell might as well write it up. Kind of funny, the blaring noise turned out to be my neighbor’s car; someone broke into it around three in the morning and the alarm went off. Kind of strange how real life mixes in with dreams. By the way I know the whole thing’s fragmentary, I really tried to dredge up all the details I could, but such are the way of dreams. I’m kind of thinking I’d flesh out the characters (The names of course are made up) a little depending on how people felt about it. So leave comments and opinions, we’ll see about continuing this little nightmare later in the future. Freudians are welcome to their analysis cause’ I have absolutely no idea where the hell this came from.
The Talks
“What’s wrong boy? You don’t like my cookin’?”
The butchered man gave Sam a wolfish grin as he tore a single rib from the rack and sticking a long, fleshy, barbed tongue out ripped the flesh from the bone drawing it back into his waiting maw. The man chewed the tender meat noisily with sweet relish before breaking the bone in two and sucking out the marrow. When he’d finished with the bone he chucked it aside on the ground and lustily licked the remaining juices from his blood stained lips.
The man questioned in his slow playful way. Sam toyed with the rack of ribs that rested on the fine silver platter before him. It wasn’t an elevator he thought to himself, it was an oven. Displayed before him on a small chestnut table were the remains of the young boy who for several long hours had been cooked alive. Upon removing the boy from the glowing hot elevator the butchered man dragged the smoking corpse and proceeded to skin the body with a small reaping knife. Despite the extreme heat that had been applied the boy’s skin showed no signs of charring and once the man had finished he draped it over the table like a cloth, taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and make sure it was evenly distributed. Even still the boy’s face flapped freely at the end of table.
With his ghastly decoration complete he set about harvesting each of the boy’s organs the heart, liver, kidneys, pancreas, all were removed and placed inside a large elaborately styled bowl. He did however throw the intestines and stomach off into a corner where they sat even now. He pulled the boys ribs free with a sickening crack and proceeded to gather up muscles and tendons placing each inside the bowl. The butchered man gazed up at Sam, “I’m a chef boy I got skills you’ve never seen before. Be a good lad and set the table for me while I do my magic.” He said as he got up and vanished into a solid wall.
Once the man had disappeared Sam looked around the room. In a single corner was a cabinet. Sam walked over it his mind barely registering the pain in his feet as he tread across the rocky floor. He opened the cabinet and took out a pair of expensive looking plates as well as a pair of blue dyed whine chalices. He set the tableware on the cooked boy’s skin before returning for silverware. No sooner had he finished setting down the last fork did the butchered man return the same way he’d gone carrying several plates of delicately prepared platters of food wearing an apron that read KISS THE COOK.
“No napkins boy?” The man said menacingly. For a moment Sam feared retaliation for the lapse in judgment but the man’s hateful very literally melted into a warm smile. He set a rack of steaming ribs on Sam’s plate that made him salivate despite knowing its origins. “Just kidding boy, take a seat while I get ourselves something to drink.” Sam obeyed and took a seat at the far end of the table. The butchered man walked over to the boy’s body and kicked it over. Then he grabbed the spine and ripped it out before walking back to the table.
“Nothing like cerebrospinal fluid, sweet taste, quenches the hardest thirst.” The man said with a chuckle before he drained the spine into each of the chalices in the same manner one would ring water out of a wet towel. When he’d eked out the last of the clear he took each eye and impaled them on a small plastic stick, placing them in the chalice. When he’d finished the final touches of the feast he cast aside the apron and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Bow your head boy and give thanks! A feast has been laid before you eat heartily boy, heh, actually I got dibs on the heart so hands off!” The man said before letting out a phlegm coated laugh.
“You want revenge boy we know that much, but ‘why’ is my question and in more than one way boy. Why do you want revenge boy and why should I help you. What’s in it for me? You gonna pledge your service and give me your soul? What use is that to me? I got souls, thousands of them, all kinds of them. Human, Tau, Eldar, Ork, hell I even ripped the essence of a Necron Lord that thought he was pretty bad ass and he was, till he met me. Who do you want boy? Tell me now.” The man said before tearing into the rib.
“Elliot, my stepfather,” Sam said as he stared blankly at the two empty holes where the boy’s eyes should have been, “he killed my mom and my older brother, and then he crashed the colony’s ship here. If it wasn’t for him…” Sam drifted off. The butchered man took a moment to consider the irony of the boy’s words. If it hadn’t been for dear Elliot he’d never would’ve had the opportunity to meet this most promising of children. The man’s lips began to form a smile but he stopped suddenly. ‘Damn girl got away,’ he thought disappointedly as he realized the wire was no longer wrapped around her pretty little arm.
“He’s a horrible man Sam,” he said putting a lyrical twist to his words, “and I’ll get you your revenge, for a price. All things happen for a reason, whether we realize it or not and I think you were sent to me for a reason beyond your understanding. I isn’t very sure by who but I have a hunch. You’re special there boy, got a cold heart that beats fast and hard. I’ll do right by ya boy but you gotta do right by me.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked looking up from the steamed face and into the man’s burning eyes.
“I got a little something, a little something of mine that’s disappeared and I want it back or dead, preferably the former.” The man said.
“What is it?” Sam asked with wonder. Flames were jetting out of the man’s eyes now and Sam couldn’t help but gaze at their beauty with awe and not a little trepidation.
“Not to worry about it now boy, it’s just a little thing.” The man said as he took a sip from his regal looking chalice, “Actually no. Here’s my deal with you boy. Go and fetch a little something for me and I’ll bless your body with a strength you’ve never known. Crush the life out of your pappy with your bare and bloody hands.”
The butchered man set the chalice down and picking up the boy’s heart took a giant blood spewing bite out of it.
“Where is it? What is it?” Sam asked eager now that he had a means to kill his stepfather.
“Far off now and getting farther still boy. That girl I found you with, she’s mine and she’s gone and I want her back. She’s with someone an old man, bring me his head and we got a done deal, paid in full, with no string attached.”
The butchered man reclined in his seat as he finished devouring the boy’s heart. Sam felt pure unadulterated glee rush through his body at the thought of avenging his family. Elliot had always been a brute to his mother and brother, beating his mother and then beating the two of them when we’d protested. Now I’ll square things up, Sam thought.
The butchered man broke Sam’s musings, “You gonna let that get cold boy? I didn’t cook it for nothing.”
Sam looked at the rack of ribs on his plate. For a moment he hesitated, he could almost feel the boy’s non-existent eyes pleading him not to. Under the grinning gaze of the man Sam pulled a rib away and bit in. The meat was delicious. Soon he’d forgotten all about the fate of the poor boy as he began to devour everything on the table.
“Tastes good don’t it boy?” The man asked. Sam nodded as he scarfed down a piece of liver and downed it with a thick dreg from the chalice.
“So we got ourselves deal now don’t we boy?” The man asked.
“Yeah a deal. We got a deal.” Sam replied.
Metamorfose Ambulante is copyrighted by Raul Seixas. If an administrator has a problem with it I’ll take it down no argument.
The Drive
The old man raced down the school’s empty hallways, Catherine’s half-conscious body in his arms. He ran past empty classrooms with desks and chairs aligned in neat rows. He ran past windows that gave a bleak and broken view of the monstrous world outside, a radioactive hell with a hundred dead cities, a nightmarish landscape where nature had run rampant and gone insane. The old man charged through the schools entrance, crashing into the chained doors and breaking them off their hinges. The old man fell to the ground but picked Catherine and himself up with a dexterity that the old do not usually possess. He moved into the parking lot and slowed his pace as he looked around for any signs of mutants. He listened for the tell tale scraping, the heavy panting. There was nothing but the black grass that sprouted through cracks in the pavement, swaying in the bitter wind.
Though he was uncomfortable with moving with such haste in the Western Territories he ignored his survival instinct and moved through the long dead rows of cars until he found his own. When he reached his jeep he set the girl down on the hood as he fumbled for his keys. Just as he’d brought them out he heard a long bone chilling howl that originated from the far end of the parking lot. The old man stopped what he was doing and peered from out the side of his car. There thirty feet away standing on the top of a car whose paint had long worn away and whose frame was a rusted red was a Threnody, so called for the tales of woe they wrought. It was a massive beast that stood on four limbs each of which had a protruding sickle like claw. Its body was lean and muscular though the old man knew they were not always like this. Its skin was a light brown and marked with a lifetime worth of scars. Its deadly maw was filled with foot long teeth that could puncture an inch of steel given time. The creature sniffed at the air as it shifted its weight on the car.
Terror paralyzed Catherine as she gazed at the monstrosity. From where she sat on the car she could just barely see the beast. With an act of will she tore her gaze away from the creature and looked at the old man. He had produced a shiny looking pistol that had a green laser pointer underneath the barrel. The man was sweating despite the cold. She probably would have too if there was anything left in her to sweat. The man trained his pistol on the animal and looked slowly to his right. Catherine followed his gaze and her eyes soon rested on a large camouflaged rifle that rested against the rear window inside the jeep. The man cursed himself silently for having left the rifle; he could have killed the Threnody with a single shot from the rifle and be done with it. Ever so slowly he took his keys and inserted them into his cars lock. He turned the keys and there was a soft click as the doors unlocked. The beast reacted immediately to the sound hunching its massive shoulders and letting out a terrifying growl as it began to stalk slowly towards the two, its claws clicking and clacking against the pavement. The old man looked at Catherine and motioned for her to enter the jeep.
Painfully she eased herself off the hood of the car stifling a gasp as her tattered arm brushed against the top of the hood. When she’d recovered the old man gave her the keys and with hand gestures instructed her to start the car as soon as she got inside. Though her pain was great she nodded her head realizing that if she didn’t suck it up they’d both die here. She put her hand on the handle and pulled. The sound of the opening door was the final spur for the creature as it broke out in an insane sprint, scrambling over ruined cars in mere seconds. Catherine raced inside the car as the old man open fired on the creature creating dark holes that didn’t bleed. Once inside she frantically inserted the keys and turned them. The car started with a blessed roar.
“Prefiro ser essa metamorphose ambulante. Prefiro ser essa metamorphose ambulante, Do que ter aquela velha opiniao formada sobre tudo” the radio sang softly.
Outside the man stopped firing to duck out of the way as the beast leapt towards him. He shot the beast three times in mid air causing it to crash head first into the back frame of the jeep. The old man took advantage of its momentary disorientation and raced to the driver side and got in. As soon as he did the creature stuck its head through the rear window and bit down on the front passenger seat, Catherine barely avoiding being decapitated as curled up into a ball.
“Eu quero dizer agora o oposto do que eu disse antes Prefiro ser essa metamorfose ambulante”
The old man slammed on the gas with the Threnody’s head still inside. The Threnody let out an ear shattering roar as it realized what was happening. The creature tried to dislodge its head and the old man helped by reloading his pistol and plugging round after round it’s the creatures gaping maw as he drove.
“Sobre o que é o amor, Sobre o que eu nem sei quem sou, Hoje eu sou estrela amanhã já se apagou, Se hoje eu te odeio amanhã lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho horror, Lhe faço amor, Eu sou um ator”
Halfway through the magazine the beast finally broke free and disappeared out the window. The old man drove his car back onto the main causeway taking care not to hit any of the cars that had been abandoned on the road. Beside him Catherine sat motionless her body bordering on shock from the horror and blood loss. A sudden crash off on the passenger side knocked the man’s glasses from his face and let him know the creature hadn’t given up its pursuit despite taking half a magazine point blank to the face.
“Ah shit! Ah ****!” He yelled as he fumbled to get his glasses back on. No sooner had he set them upon his face did he have to swerve to avoid a faded blue car that had been left in the middle of the room. He barely managed to clear it though he lost the passenger mirror as he passed. The Threnody simply leapt up and over the vehicle and resumed its pursuit. He was going seventy five miles per hour and had a quarter tank of gas. He didn’t have enough fuel to outrun the monster.
“É chato chegar a um objetivo num instante, Eu quero viver essa metamorfose ambulante, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo”
“Hey kid wake up! Wake up I need you to take this!” The old man said as he reached back and grabbed the large rifle. The rifle was a relatively new Haousen that fired a 12.7x99 caliber that was very likely going to break her remaining arm and a few ribs. He couldn’t aim the thing and drive; he didn’t know the roads well and any lapse on his part could kill them. He handed Catherine the rifle and she took it with a small whine of pain. ‘She’s a tough girl,’ the old man thought as she propped the rifle up against the window with her right hand.
“It’s loaded all you have to do is point it at its head and pull the trigger. I’m going to slow down when it gets even with us shoot it in the head!” The man shouted. Catherine nodded her head and began to lower the window.
“Sobre o que é o amor, Sobre o que eu nem sei quem sou, Hoje eu sou estrela amanhã já se apagou, Se hoje eu te odeio amanhã lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho horror,Lhe faço amor, Eu sou um ator”
The Old man slowed the jeep down and tried to keep the jeep steady for the girl. The jeep made a sudden lurch as the Threnody bit down on the rear bumper, tore it off and spat it out. The creature began to gain as the car slowed down. The old man pulled off to the left side of the road trying to give Catherine a shot. Catherine rested the barrel of the rifle on window ledge of the door and looked down the rifle’s scope. “Don’t bother using the scope kid, he’s too close! Make sure you’ve got a clear shot you’re only getting one!” The old man yelled out. Catherine looked out. The beast was five feet away its maw very nearly touching the barrel of the rifle. Suddenly the beast snapped at the barrel and Catherine pulled the trigger sending a 46 gram round traveling 890 meters per second down its throat. The blast killed the creature instantly though instead of flying away in a dramatic death scene it simply fell to the ground and rolled to a stop. The recoil shattered Catherine’s wrist and sent her flying into the dashboard where the stock impacted her chest crushing a rib. Catherine let out a short scream of pain as she cast aside the rifle and attempted to clutch her shattered wrist. Her other arm, while still functional hurt far too much to move.
“You got it kid! You did it! I’m gonna get you some help? OK? I’m gonna get you some help, you just hang on!” The man yelled to her. He slowed the car down and helped her sit up straight. Her breathing was hard and tears were flowing freely down her face. “You’re gonna be fine I promise.” The old man said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Catherine didn’t respond, letting her broken arms lie still in her lap as she eased herself into the chair and closed her eyes.
“Eu vou lhes dizer aquilo tido que eu lhes disse antes, Prefiro ser essa metamorfose ambulante,Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aqu-
“Let’s turn this off and get some help.” The old man said as he drove down the road. Off in the distance, perhaps twenty miles away was the crashed ship that he’d come to loot. Rumors were it was a Mechanicus ship that held some very interesting weapons. If that were true then the window for getting anything out of it was growing smaller by the second. They were bound to send a retrieval team. He let out a sigh and continued driving.
“Can’t always get what you want.” He said quietly to himself.
I Can See For Miles Copyright The Who/ Final Solution Copyrighted By Pere Ubu If a mod has a problem with anything I’ll take it down no argument.
This one contains some sexually related dialogue isn’t too explicit nothing like in Recordae but still inappropriate for pretty much teenagers and below.
The Hit
Naves took a deep breath as he sighted in through his rifles scope. ¾ of a mile away he could clearly see the ten armored figures who were patrolling down in the valley below. Space Marines he thought. Nave took another breath and held it as he sighted in on the lead marine. He was a giant brute, nine feet and two tons of pure unadulterated kill. Nave didn’t recognize the dark gray colors painted upon their armor nor the crossed bolter/chainsword on their shoulder pads. “Not that it- Nave stopped himself from talking. Even at this distance he wasn’t sure if the marines would hear him. Nave, his eyes glued to the scope, did a quick scan of the squad. No change he thought with relief. He put his sights back on the lead marine. In his peripheral vision he could make out the chronometer he’d set on the tree branch next to him. Nave was lying prone on the fat branch of a Corsent tree; an atrocious monstrosity whose ancestors had been mutated by radiation exposure causing the leaves to turn black and manufacture toxic fumes. Off in the distance he could just make out the fallen space ship the Marines had come from.
Earlier in the day when Nave had scaled the tree in his all black combat fatigues he’d worn a full face rebreather. Now it lay next to the steadily ticking chronometer. Naves wouldn’t take the chance of missing his shot, toxic fumes be damned. The effects weren’t hallucinogenic and he wasn’t going to live long anyways if his shot didn’t hit its target. Nave glanced at the chronometer, seventeen seconds, he thought. For the last seven days the marines had patrolled a forty mile circle around their crashed strike cruiser. Most of the rumors flying around still had it pegged as a Mechanicus ship but Naves knew the truth of the matter. Early hopes for a looters’ wet dream had been dashed when the first men arrived to find that not only were there survivors but that the survivors also happened to be gods of wholly unmerciful war.
Eleven seconds. The marines were advancing through the Neciea valley, named after the large locust like insect that predominantly bred there. Fortunately they were out of season. Even without the man eating swarms the valley was still treacherous. Threnodies reigned supreme in the valley when the Neciea weren’t out. The terrain was rugged, sinkholes, sudden depressions, all masked by the chest high black grass that grew everywhere on Kiev. Though it only came up to their wastes Nave thought grimly, even ¾ of a mile away Nave knew what a Space Marine could do…if he missed.
Five seconds. Nave locks his sights on the lead marines head. He reckons he can see the marine’s eyes behind the green lit visor.
Three seconds. Nave takes a final breath, the Corsent’s fumes stinging his lungs. He ignores the pain for the fumes do not affect his eyes. The lead Marine holds up his hand halting their doomed patrol.
One second. The lead marine looked in Nave’s direction as his middle finger presses lightly against the trigger.
The chronometer beeps softly. Nave pulled the trigger and a soft click marked the firing of a high velocity armor piercing round that ripped the leaves from their branches as it passed throwing them up into the air in a sick mockery of the ash that had once fallen decades ago.
¾ Of a mile away the lead marine fell to the ground, a large gaping hole in his visor. Behind him eight other Marines simultaneously did the same. A single marine was left standing, blood gushing out of a wound in his jaw. He ran for cover but another deluge of shots impacted his armored body and he disappeared underneath the black grass. More shots struck his fallen corpse in an effort to be thorough. Had it been anything else Naves would have thought the ammunition was being wasted but you didn’t **** around with the Astartes. You made sure.
Naves jumped down from his hiding place into the foliage below. He took a moment to locate his gasmask and chronometer in the grass as they’d been dislodged by the shockwave. He packed his mask into the pack he’d stored at the base of the tree and strapped his chronometer on his right wrist. He then mounted his pack and made off rifle in hand towards the dead marines. Off in the distance he saw a black clad figure move through the grass. He waved and it waved back. They’d been monitoring the Marine’s patrol routes for four days now. Every patrol varied its route so their ambush points were educated guesswork. For the last four days the ten man squad had laid ambush after ambush only to find that the Marines patrol simply didn’t bring them to them. Luck had brought the squad to them after only a few days camping. There had been one time several years ago they’d tracked a group of Eldar rangers. It’d taken two months to track them down though when they finally caught up with them Naves was disappointed to find out that the Eldar didn’t last ten seconds, taken down in crossfire between alternating sniper and machinegun fire.
Naves wasn’t the first to reach the bodies. An old timer by the names of Sergei was already crouching over one of the fallen Marines as Naves emerged from the grass. Sergei was an ugly man from off world who’d lost an eye and gained an unpleasant disposition as a result. Sergei went for his sidearm when he spotted Naves. Naves let his rifle go slack on its sling and held up his hands. Sergei didn’t lower his weapon. There was murder in his eyes. Fortunately for Naves they were not alone long. Lijew and Erets emerged from the grass in their silent fashion and Sergei quickly put away his pistol. Lijew a Nordic looking man with a giant beard and a matching frame looked at Naves for an explanation. Naves gave his potential murderer a confused glance but Sergei just shrugged his shoulders and began to rummage through the Marines pack.
In a few more minutes the rest of the crew had arrived and they stood in a semi circle each man hefting a large caliber rifle. They stood silent for a few minutes to appreciate the gravity of what they had just accomplished. They were all dressed in the same all black uniform that blended in with the bleak landscape though each was heavily modified to reflect its owners personality. Lijew a native of Kiev kept several
“We are bad ass.” said Brandis looking down on the fallen Marines and the crowd burst out laughing. Like Lijew, Brandis was another Nord but with a lack of facial hair that irritated his larger counterpart. On one occasion Lijew confronted Brandis on the subject saying that any self-respecting Nord should grow a beard. Brandis countered that women preferred a smooth face in between their legs as opposed to a Throne damned mane and besides if her hair was the same color as his beard how would he know what to lick? More than that how would he actually fit the damn thing in between her legs as thick as the damn thing was? Would the girl hold it up for him while he ate her out? And what if she’s a squirter; do you really want that in your beard? It was at that point Lijew grabbed Brandis and threw him through a window. That of course didn’t stop Brandis from talking.
When the laughter finally died down Cyrillic their stoic taskmaster spoke, “Call in the trucks, strip this shit off we’ve got half an hour before we leave.” All laughter ceased as the men busied themselves with working the armor off the dead marines. They couldn’t use it of course but that wouldn’t stop them from selling it. Weapons and armor, personal affects all were taken. Even the Progenitor glands were harvested, not for future sale however. Ibsen the VOX master called in the trucks that would transport the armor and weapons back to their base in the Wastes.
As they worked Vaughan remarked, “We really shouldn’t have accepted this job.”
“Pray tell why not?” Kirin asked sardonically.
“These are the Emperor’s chosen, his finest, cut from his very flesh; they’re very blood is holy and were desecrating them!” Vaughan said dramatically.
Erets a relative newcomer who’d yet to figure out the boys quirks looked over at Brandis before saying exasperatedly, “You have a ****ing eight pointed star tattooed on your face Vaughn what the hell are you talking about?”
“Stop right there don’t get him started.” Nidas said as he pried a damaged helmet off a head.
“Boy rants these insane shits all the damn time just ignore him.” Lijew said as he hefted up a bolter that was the size of his chest.
“Well I haven’t heard it yet so you know what Vaughan please I’d like to hear whatever you…think.” Erets said.
“Well, see someone’s interested. So listen OK this all came to me when I made a pilgrimage to Terra so I know what I’m talking about. The Emperor is…he paused for dramatic effect… the fifth Chaos God!” Vaughan yelled.
Erets face turned into a mask of pure confusion. “Are you OK in the head?”
“No!” The men all cried in unison.
“Well now hear me out OK. It all makes sense once you put it in perspective. The Emperor feeds off of souls right? Eventually what’s going to happen is the Emperor will eventually consume enough souls to you know birth himself into you know reality.”
“Well you just completely turned me off to the idea of Chaos with an image of the emperor shitting himself out of his own ass, Serega help me out here I’m trying to imagine how the Emperor, a man mind you, could birth himself. Thank you Vaughan for that mental image I am now scarred for life.” Erets said.
“No, no, no! See the four chaos Gods are-
“You’re a ****ing blank we all our, what part of anathema to the warp do you not get?” Ibsen said. Vaughan was about to retort when the trucks arrived their heavy tracks flattening the tall black grass.
“Load!” Cyrillic yelled and the men rushed to obey. They distributed the spoils evenly between each of the six trucks. Four of the trucks were used to carry the armor, two suits in each. The extra suit, weapons and miscellaneous objects were stored in the other two. The men moved fast each without saying a word to each other intent on getting the hard labor done as quickly as possible. When they’d finished Cyrillic exchanged words with each of the drivers and grabbed several canisters of promethium before they sped off. No ride back home for us Naves thought gloomily. It was late morning but the sky was still dark and the shadows of the fallen heroes cast wicked shadows that were barely visible against the black grass.
When the trucks were out of sight Cyrillic turned back to the assembled team. “Burn the bodies, as ****ed up as it sounds Vaughan’s half-way right we can’t leave these corpses to rot.” The men pulled each of the bodies into a long line and doused them with promethium before throwing a match onto each body. They caught quickly and soon they were engulfed in flame. For a moment they all stood there silently save for Brandis and Lijew who said a small prayer for the departing souls. It took almost an hour for the bodies to be consumed and even then the bones remained. Cyrillic, satisfied that due respect had been paid ordered the men to move out. The powers that be decided a pair of trucks to come back and pick them up a mile up the valley. They plodded along wary of any wondering wild life but none showed.
As they walked Erets asked Vaughan, “So you gonna finish your little rant or what?”
“Well since you’re interested I’ll continue, where was I?” He wondered aloud.
“Something about the Chaos Gods.” Erets said. Lijew gave the newcomer an acid look but ignored it. He wasn’t paid to care about such things and who he worshipped was his business. Besides as a psychic blank the boy could never actually worship the foul gods so there wasn’t any harm in talking about it.
“That’s right I remember now”, Vaughan said excitedly, “see there are four Chaos Gods. Khorne is the God of War, Nurgle the God of disease, Slaanesh the Goddess of Pleasure, and-
“Goddess of pleasure? You haven’t been laid since I first met you and that was a decade ago! I mean if the bitch hasn’t intervened on your behalf yet I wouldn’t hold my breath!” Brandis cried out much to the amusement of the rest of the men.
“That’s blasphemy, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Vaughan said suddenly turning serious.
“What’s the bitch gonna do suck me off? Hell I could get Naves sister to do that!” Brandis said laughing.
“**** you Brandis.” Naves replied venomously.
Suddenly Brandis ran ahead of the men screaming manically waving his hands above his head his rifle slapping his back in time with his strides. About twenty feet ahead he stopped and started twirling in a circle continuing his maniacal laughter.
“Oooooyyyyy! Slaanesh I’ll make a deal with you if you can get this insane prick a girlfriend and a ****ing steady one I will bow down and lick your divine pussy! And she’s gotta look good too! No ugly ****ers! You got till the end of tonight!” He shouted to the sky. He ran back laughing hysterically.
Fifteen minutes of suppressed violence later they reached the pickup site. Two trucks were waiting for them their engines still running. The trucks weren’t there to take them back to base instead they’d ferry each of them to their respective homes or drinking spots. It had been a very good day and Mathias, the head of their mercenary band, was undoubtedly pleased. The trucks weren’t part of the organization; they were taxis that ferried people to and fro in the territories. They split into two groups of five and heaved themselves into the waiting trucks. Naves boarded the second truck, a rusty old model whose tracks were filled with mud, along with Lijew, Brandis, Vaughan and Kirin. The five of them waved to their comrades as they departed the truck carrying them down an old overgrown road. The other truck stayed on the main road driving off at a leisurely pace. Despite their mission being over each man was wary, in the Western territories it didn’t pay to be careless, not that you could tell by Brandis’ behavior, Naves thought with a grin. He watched the world fly by him. Scattered trees, the long grass blowing softly in the wind, buildings dilapidated alongside the road. He spotted a Threnody sniffing around in the parking lot of an abandoned school, the creature raising its head as the truck passed.
After a short but heated debate the five of them decided that instead of going home they’d head off to the Magical World, a bar that would tolerate a crowd of psychic blanks mostly because they didn’t have any customers to discomfort. That and they allowed weapons inside. Lijew and Kirin had wanted to go drinking while Vaughan and Naves wanted to go home. Brandis didn’t care either way but he was adamant about sticking with Vaughan wherever he went, intent on seeing if he actually managed to get laid that night. After about twenty minutes of driving along the road they came to Essex, a small town that was completely deserted save for the bar in question and a seedy brothel that was more famous for the new diseases that seemed to pop up than the girls. Naves often wondered why the owners just didn’t combine the two; it’d save a lot of trouble. After a few more minutes of driving through the town they came to the bar.
The five of them got out, tipped the driver, and went into the Magical World.
“Well, here's a poke at you You're gonna choke on it too You're gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while I can see for miles and miles I can see…” the intercom system sang.
Inside the bar was empty save for Mikas the bartender and the beautiful waitress he was chatting to and that Naves didn’t recognize. They waved to Mikas who lifted a drink in a mock salute.
“Must be new.” Naves said to Lijew who nodded his hairy head. They took a booth down in a dark corner of the bar and he waitress sauntered over. She took their orders consisting solely of amasec, stoplights, and iho-sticks. While they waited for their drinks the five of them talked about their personal lives. Kirin told them of his newborn son and when the drinks arrived they toasted to him. Vaughan spouted some of his nonsensical ramblings but fortunately no one but the other four heard him. Lijew began to tell them of his latest sexual conquest but Brandis interrupted him claiming that now he knew where his missing pet Ukulele was. Despite himself Lijew laughed before throwing a pack of iho-sticks into Brandis’ laughing face. After a few minutes of bullshitting and low laughter Kirin challenged Vaughn to a game of pool and the two left for the tables taking their drinks but leaving their overpowered rifle behind. Naves slightly drunk looked at Lijew and asked, “So what’re you gonna do?” Naves asked seriously as he drained his glass. He looked over at the stoplight next to him.
“Get out maybe. I’m 79 years old Lane I can’t do this anymore. When have you ever known me to miss?” Lijew said quietly.
“You didn’t miss you took out half his jaw, freak accident, you know that happens. The hell am I supposed to do stick with Sergei? The guy was about to shoot me today...only reason he didn’t was cause you showed up.” Naves hand reached for the first of the three shots but Brandis seeing his wondering hand quickly reached over and drained all three shots before Naves could react. He grinned the grin of a man satisfied.
“I don’t need a cure need a final solution…”
“**** Sergei,” Brandis said clenching his jaw, “that old asshole doesn’t know shit, he’s worthless, only reason he’s even in here is because he’s a blank like us. That’s it no other reason.”
Naves looked at Lijew.
“I don’t know what to tell you about Sergei, deal with him when the time comes in the meantime just relax that’s what I’m doing. I mean you’re not the only guy he’s gunning for.” Lijew said.
“Yeah.” Naves said.
“Buy me a ticket to a sonic reduction- guitars gonna sound like a nuclear destruction. It seems I’m the victim of natural selection, or maybe just another slide in another direction. I don’t need a cure…”
Suddenly Brandis sat straight up his jaw gaping at what must have been some horrifying monstrosity. Naves and Lijew followed his gaze over to the pool tables where they witnessed with their own eyes Vaughan making out with the waitress on the pool table, Kirin staring back at them speechless. Naves looked at Brandis who exchanged an understandably perturbed look.
“What, Brandis where are you going?” Naves asked as Brandis got out of his seat and began walking towards the duo.
“So on a scale of one to ten how was it?” The waitress asked Vaughan when she finally let him breathe. A grand smile began to play across his lips and he nodded his head. “Thought so, oh who ar-
BANG!
The pointblank shot to the head splattered the waitresses’ brains all over Vaughan and sent her sprawling on the ground. The bar erupted into chaos. Brandis turned and shot Mikal through the heart.
“Brandis what the **** is wrong with you!” Vaughan screamed.
“**** You!” Brandis screamed at the ceiling.
On the other side of the bar Naves drained his drink.
“Lijew I’m heading home, you comin?”
“Yeah.”
The Sword
“Here and now boy hear my words.” The butchered man spoke softly into Sam’s ear. “You aren’t old enough to track my quarry; you’re just old enough to kill it. I am not the kind of a man who would send anyone into the wilderness unprepared! I’ve got death on my tongue and life on my fingertips, I am God.”
The butchered man looked upwards his grin stretching to epic proportions. Sam followed his gaze and gasped when he realized that the fat rusted pipes that had once obscured the gray sky had been replaced by giant opaque worms squirming and screeching in lustful ecstasy. Sam could see their milky white insides troll around the insides of their circular bodies. Each was hundreds of feet long and there were dozens of them thrashing about in a nightmarish tangled midair dance. It was hard to tell where one ended and another began but Sam knew there had to be more than a dozen considering the ends that he could see opened up to reveal long dagger like teeth.
The butchered man stared at the vicious worms with a smile. “Aren’t they magnificent? Unimpeded by wind and weather, they won’t break down, won’t get stuck, won’t overheat, won’t freeze up. Cause after all snow or shine people still need to die.”
Sam gazed up in disgust and not a little awe. He began to walk towards them sparing a glance at the manhole covers and the long lines of blood that led to them. The butchered man stood silent as he watched him go. From above one of the worms detached itself from the raging orgy slithering down the walls and up to Sam. The beast made its way towards him until they were mere inches apart. Sam could feel the worm’s hot heady breath blow against his face in a pulsating rhythm in time with the creatures above. The creature’s mouth opened revealing its sword like teeth and a thick barbed tongue snaked its way out. Frozen by fear and wonder Sam remained still as the purplish appendage wrapped itself around his body.
“Not yet boy!” The butchered man cackled. “I’ve something to give you first before your first depart.” The worm’s tongue receded back into its malicious maw and stood over him. Sam, his trance broken turned around and walked over to the butchered man. He was dimly aware that his feet throbbed with pain every time his foot hit the jagged rock floor beneath. Such concerns seemed to be beyond him now that he had a means to his end. Still, he thought despairingly, even with the help of the crazed man he wasn’t sure he’d still be able to kill Elliot.
Though Sam was still a dozen feet away the butchered man kneeled on a single knee, bowed his head in mock submission and stretched out his bleeding arms, the sound of tearing skin and stretching muscles only slightly disturbing Sam as he looked into the outstretched hands. The man held out a wicked sword whose fleshy form constantly shed its outer ‘skin’, for that was the only word that came to Sam’s mind as he gazed upon the blade, revealing sinews of muscle and tendons underneath.
“Take the sword boy!” The butchered man bellowed. Sam obeyed grasping the blade by its bone like hilt. As he did he felt the bone underneath melt at his touch, reforming to fit his tiny hand. “Here I am boy in your mind, in your heart, in your soul.” The blade spoke to his mind. Startled Sam released his grip on the blade but it did not fall from his hand. Instead he could feel the blade bonding with his body in the most painful way imaginable. To his horror Sam witnessed the flesh on his hand slip from his bones as the blade forced itself into his profusely bleeding arm.
“A part of me in you, I’ll not leave you to the wolves’ boy!” The butchered man cried maniacally.
Sam fell to his knees and howled in pain as the blade eviscerated the inside of his arm to make room for its body. Once the blade felt it had disemboweled Sam’s arm enough for one day the blade settled. From its resting place new flesh was born, melding with the ruin that was Sam’s arm. Pulpy bruised flesh mingled with his own pale skin overlaying the bloody muscles that the blade was excreting.
After about a minute of sanity destroying pain the blade finally ceased its menstruations. “What did you do to me?” Sam gasped from the floor as he cradled his arm. “You’re going out looking to kill a shitload of people boy and you’re gonna need a weapon that can kill a shitload of people.” The butchered man said as his arms retracted back to their normal length.
The butchered man began to walk towards Sam. “Stand up boy, you got feet for a reason.” Sam struggled to obey but his legs felt like lead weights. “Pain ain’t nothing you’re new to boy! Life is pain, Life is suffering, Life is what you make of it!” The butchered man shouted. Galvanized by the man’s words Sam forced himself to ignore the pain and rose to his feet.
“That’s my boy!” The man shouted to the heavens as he spread his arms out and twirled around. “Blood spillers, soul skinners, Sam you will be one mad killer!” The butchered man sang aloud. Suddenly from above Sam heard a series of loud screams that seemed to send the worms into a violent frenzy. Sheets of scarlet rain poured down in a torrent that stained the gray rocks. After a few seconds and crunching noises later the screams ceased and a single foot encased in a sneaker fell to the ground, a bloody stump protruding out of the gore stained shoe. Mere seconds after more body parts fell, an arm, a head, a hand. Sam backed away in sudden fear of the worm at his side.
“Don’t mind the foot boy, these guys wonder in from time to time.” The butchered man said as he grabbed the foot and head and began juggling them in the air sending spurts of blood everywhere.
Sam looked at the grotesque figure before him and almost laughed despite the sheer horror of what he saw. “That’s what I like about you boy, always got a smile.” The butchered man said as he cast aside the dismembered parts.
The butchered man suddenly got serious. “The sword I gave you is Barrathos, he’s a cruel bastard born of me and me alone. He’s taken more lives than you’ve seen in your life boy. He’s a hundred million and a half years old, forged from my own flesh to fight a foe the lesser of my kin cringe in fear at the very mentioning of a name that has been long since forgotten in the annals of time and the races of the mortal realms who in unison cower at its coming awakening and the heralding of a new era of war the likes of which have not been seen since Horus lifted a crowbar over the old bastards head and brought it down in a galaxy shattering crack!” Sam stood stunned, partially by the raging monologue and partially because he’d expected the man to pass out.
The butchered man continued, albeit in a much calmer manner, “Over the years I’ve lent him to various…people, none have ever been able to master Barrathos, but you boy, oh you might just have it in ya to do the dirty deed. I gave him life and now I gave him to you, he is yours and he will obey your will in all things. He comes with a heavy price though you’ll see in the end all parties are equally compensated for their troubles. Take this sword and give that little whore an early period, do that for me and Elliot’s yours…for the killin.”
Sam nodded his head unsure of what to say to the butchered man’s words. “OK.” Was all he managed to say in the end.
“It’s alright boy, you’re still young, but stick with me and I promise you, you’ll understand everything.” The butchered man cast his eyes up at the worm that stood apart from his pack. “Time to go Sam I am, time to find what were lookin for.” The butchered man said.
And with that the worm let out an ear bleeding screech and swallowed Sam whole.
The Sewer
Catherine stood on a cold concrete floor, her body bare to the elements. She stood in the center of a large expanse enclosed on all sides by concrete walls that rose up for as far as they eye could see. On opposite sides of the room were two manhole covers of identical proportions. They stood a few feet off the ground and a clean white steam could be seen emanating from below. A cold wind blew from nowhere the chill it caused forced her to wrap her arms around her body. Everything around her was gray save for the large red rusted pipes that leaked a thick black fluid onto the ground below. What lay beyond the pipes was a mystery; a thick mist blocked everything that might have been behind wispy clouds.
A sudden movement off to her left snatched her attention from the filthy pipes above. Beside her where there had been nothing but a second before a boy whom she’d never seen before was now standing next to her. He was stark naked and covered in layers of grime that nearly hid his pale complexion. The boy stood almost four feet tall putting him just slightly taller than her. His face was a mask of rage directed at something across the room. Catherine followed his gaze to across the room until her eyes rested on another man who had mysteriously appeared, leaning against a large ivory chair. His appearance was frightening to say the least; like herself the man was naked but his skin was covered in thousands of lacerations ran the length of his body, intersecting with other cuts. The man’s face was hidden behind long strands of pure black hair that hung elegantly from his head.
The man noticing that he’d attracted her attention stood up straight and beckoned with his hand. As soon as the gesture was finished both Catherine and the strange boy were ripped from their feet by an unseen force. Breathing hard Catherine looked over to the boy just in time to see him dragged off screaming into the manhole behind her. Suddenly as if on cue whatever force had taken away the screaming boy bore down on her and ripped her across the concrete floor, the skin on her back tearing free as she was dragged into the second hole.
The Bathroom Mirror
Catherine stared in disbelief at the disheveled visage in the mirror. Her hair was cut a quarter of an inch from her scalp and lice held free reign over its domain. The torn and tattered wife beater she wore had been stained a filthy yellow and brown. Her blue black sweat shorts hung loosely from her malnourished body. Her body was covered in dirt that did nothing to cover the many bruises on her face, neck and shoulders. Her feet were bleeding from the many cuts she’d incurred on the broken tile floor she stood on and the piping underneath the sink leaked water that ran across her feet, stinging her already butchered feet. On the edge of the dilapidated sink lay a long blade of glass. Catherine picked the shimmering blade and in a single deft movement plunged it into her neck and cut through her throat causing bright red blood to splash in the laughing face of her maniacal twin.
The Librarian
Catherine burst though the yellow double doors, breathing hard. The thick wire was still wrapped tightly around her left arm and the strain caused her veins to bulge. She quickly shut the doors behind her just as the rope went taut and started to pull her back. She slammed into the doors with a skull rattling crunch the impact shattering her forearm. Suddenly the wire went limp again and she slumped to the ground quietly collecting herself. After a few seconds she got up and looked around surprised to find that an old man was sleeping soundly not five feet from her, sitting in a plastic chair and his wizened head resting on a large desk that reminded her of those her scholam teacher had once sat at. The man wore a light brown pair of wool slacks and a brown vest over a white coffee stained undershirt. A feeling bordering on relief washed over Catherine and she broke out into a sprint.
“Wake up!” She cried as she ran. Inches away from the old man the line went taut again and she was pulled off her feet. The pain in her arm was excruciating but she ignored it, instead grabbing the wire with her right arm and using her feet to brace herself against the tiled floor. Despite her exertions she found herself being dragged to the doors at an alarming rate.
“Get up! Help me!” She called out but the old man showed no signs of stirring from his deep slumber. She screamed as she slid across the floor the skin on her feet being shorn away by the friction. When she reached the door she braced her feet against them and called out again.
“Help me! Get up! Get up! For God’s sake help me!” She called out again and again but her screams devolved into sobbing pleas when the blood inside her arm, under extreme pressure from the wire, and with nowhere else to go popped out of the ends of her fingertips, spraying little jets of blood against the cold metal doors. Catherine let out a horrible scream as she watched the splotches of blood on the door grow larger with every heartbeat. The terrible agony however seemed to have worked in her favor. The nightmarish howl jolted the old man from his slumber and his eyes searched frantically round the room for its origin. When he saw Catherine he jumped up and rushed to her side.
“Let go of it!” He screamed at her as he took hold of the wire with his right hand. With the other he pulled out a small knife and went to work on cutting the wire. The blade was sharp but wire is not cut easily and for an agonizing minute the old man worked frantically, slicing and stabbing at the wire until finally, with an ear shattering crack it came free.
The Bathtub and the Elevator
Sam felt his body squeeze through the tubs drain, the sheer impossibility of the feat doing nothing to prevent its happening. Pain wracked his body as it was compressed and then depressed as his body passed through the narrow and unlikely entrance. It took five agonizing minutes until the tips of his toes finally made it through. When he recovered enough from the pain Sam took in his surroundings. He found himself in another enclosed room; each wall was formed from concrete save for the wall in front of him which was made of metal and from inside the sadistic grinding of gears could be heard. The butchered man was there too, leaning against what appeared to be a doorway to whatever hell awaited him. Standing next to him in a simple loincloth and shaking with fear was a small boy who couldn’t have been older than six. The man beckoned at me with his finger and I stepped out of the tub and onto the dirt floor.
As I walked towards the man I heard a blaring noise from inside the metal frame and I stopped dead in my tracks. The noise continued to ring until finally an elevator locked into place on the floor with a great hiss. With the elevator locked in the door rose up and disappeared into the ceiling above revealing a space just large enough to fit a child. Inside however were a number of octagonal slabs of metal that rotated around the space where one would stand. I quickly noticed that if one were to stay still while inside than the poor soul would soon be crushed beyond all recognition. As soon as the door finished opening the man stuck his head inside and looked around. Satisfied that all was well with his motorized contraption he motioned to me and again despite my fear and hatred I came closer.
“One of you two going to get in?” The man said a hint of a smile just barely visible behind his black hair. It seemed that the man’s flesh wasn’t the only thing that was butchered; his voice had a sickly wet sound that was entrancing. The two boys exchanged glances of dread before Sam grabbed the smaller boy by the shoulders and forced him into the death trap before stepping back a few feet. As soon as the young boy was inside the rotating slabs locked in place trapping the boy’s arm outside the elevator.
“I think you’ll be glad to know that the first one down there will find themselves very…deserted.” The man said adding a wet laugh at the end. The man pressed a glowing orange button and the elevator began to descend. From outside the elevator Sam could hear the boy whimpering as the elevator began its descent. As it got closer to the ground he could see the boy’s arm flail around in a desperate attempt to bring it back inside. His struggles were in vain for in the next second the boys’ arm was torn off with a wicked scream and Sam felt hot blood splash against his legs. When the elevator was out of sight Sam turned to regard the mutilated man.
“Cesar wanted revenge on Brutus my boy and you know what? I got it for him. I give power boy always remember that, what you want I have and am willing to give for a price. Speak boy, what do you want?” He said with a devilish grin.
“I want revenge.” Sam said the age old rage building up inside of him again.
“Everyone wants revenge boy, a cheatin’ spouse, a lyin’ friend, a knife in the back.”
And then I woke up. This was actually a dream (or nightmare really) I had last night and I decided what the hell might as well write it up. Kind of funny, the blaring noise turned out to be my neighbor’s car; someone broke into it around three in the morning and the alarm went off. Kind of strange how real life mixes in with dreams. By the way I know the whole thing’s fragmentary, I really tried to dredge up all the details I could, but such are the way of dreams. I’m kind of thinking I’d flesh out the characters (The names of course are made up) a little depending on how people felt about it. So leave comments and opinions, we’ll see about continuing this little nightmare later in the future. Freudians are welcome to their analysis cause’ I have absolutely no idea where the hell this came from.
The Talks
“What’s wrong boy? You don’t like my cookin’?”
The butchered man gave Sam a wolfish grin as he tore a single rib from the rack and sticking a long, fleshy, barbed tongue out ripped the flesh from the bone drawing it back into his waiting maw. The man chewed the tender meat noisily with sweet relish before breaking the bone in two and sucking out the marrow. When he’d finished with the bone he chucked it aside on the ground and lustily licked the remaining juices from his blood stained lips.
The man questioned in his slow playful way. Sam toyed with the rack of ribs that rested on the fine silver platter before him. It wasn’t an elevator he thought to himself, it was an oven. Displayed before him on a small chestnut table were the remains of the young boy who for several long hours had been cooked alive. Upon removing the boy from the glowing hot elevator the butchered man dragged the smoking corpse and proceeded to skin the body with a small reaping knife. Despite the extreme heat that had been applied the boy’s skin showed no signs of charring and once the man had finished he draped it over the table like a cloth, taking time to smooth out the wrinkles and make sure it was evenly distributed. Even still the boy’s face flapped freely at the end of table.
With his ghastly decoration complete he set about harvesting each of the boy’s organs the heart, liver, kidneys, pancreas, all were removed and placed inside a large elaborately styled bowl. He did however throw the intestines and stomach off into a corner where they sat even now. He pulled the boys ribs free with a sickening crack and proceeded to gather up muscles and tendons placing each inside the bowl. The butchered man gazed up at Sam, “I’m a chef boy I got skills you’ve never seen before. Be a good lad and set the table for me while I do my magic.” He said as he got up and vanished into a solid wall.
Once the man had disappeared Sam looked around the room. In a single corner was a cabinet. Sam walked over it his mind barely registering the pain in his feet as he tread across the rocky floor. He opened the cabinet and took out a pair of expensive looking plates as well as a pair of blue dyed whine chalices. He set the tableware on the cooked boy’s skin before returning for silverware. No sooner had he finished setting down the last fork did the butchered man return the same way he’d gone carrying several plates of delicately prepared platters of food wearing an apron that read KISS THE COOK.
“No napkins boy?” The man said menacingly. For a moment Sam feared retaliation for the lapse in judgment but the man’s hateful very literally melted into a warm smile. He set a rack of steaming ribs on Sam’s plate that made him salivate despite knowing its origins. “Just kidding boy, take a seat while I get ourselves something to drink.” Sam obeyed and took a seat at the far end of the table. The butchered man walked over to the boy’s body and kicked it over. Then he grabbed the spine and ripped it out before walking back to the table.
“Nothing like cerebrospinal fluid, sweet taste, quenches the hardest thirst.” The man said with a chuckle before he drained the spine into each of the chalices in the same manner one would ring water out of a wet towel. When he’d eked out the last of the clear he took each eye and impaled them on a small plastic stick, placing them in the chalice. When he’d finished the final touches of the feast he cast aside the apron and took a seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Bow your head boy and give thanks! A feast has been laid before you eat heartily boy, heh, actually I got dibs on the heart so hands off!” The man said before letting out a phlegm coated laugh.
“You want revenge boy we know that much, but ‘why’ is my question and in more than one way boy. Why do you want revenge boy and why should I help you. What’s in it for me? You gonna pledge your service and give me your soul? What use is that to me? I got souls, thousands of them, all kinds of them. Human, Tau, Eldar, Ork, hell I even ripped the essence of a Necron Lord that thought he was pretty bad ass and he was, till he met me. Who do you want boy? Tell me now.” The man said before tearing into the rib.
“Elliot, my stepfather,” Sam said as he stared blankly at the two empty holes where the boy’s eyes should have been, “he killed my mom and my older brother, and then he crashed the colony’s ship here. If it wasn’t for him…” Sam drifted off. The butchered man took a moment to consider the irony of the boy’s words. If it hadn’t been for dear Elliot he’d never would’ve had the opportunity to meet this most promising of children. The man’s lips began to form a smile but he stopped suddenly. ‘Damn girl got away,’ he thought disappointedly as he realized the wire was no longer wrapped around her pretty little arm.
“He’s a horrible man Sam,” he said putting a lyrical twist to his words, “and I’ll get you your revenge, for a price. All things happen for a reason, whether we realize it or not and I think you were sent to me for a reason beyond your understanding. I isn’t very sure by who but I have a hunch. You’re special there boy, got a cold heart that beats fast and hard. I’ll do right by ya boy but you gotta do right by me.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked looking up from the steamed face and into the man’s burning eyes.
“I got a little something, a little something of mine that’s disappeared and I want it back or dead, preferably the former.” The man said.
“What is it?” Sam asked with wonder. Flames were jetting out of the man’s eyes now and Sam couldn’t help but gaze at their beauty with awe and not a little trepidation.
“Not to worry about it now boy, it’s just a little thing.” The man said as he took a sip from his regal looking chalice, “Actually no. Here’s my deal with you boy. Go and fetch a little something for me and I’ll bless your body with a strength you’ve never known. Crush the life out of your pappy with your bare and bloody hands.”
The butchered man set the chalice down and picking up the boy’s heart took a giant blood spewing bite out of it.
“Where is it? What is it?” Sam asked eager now that he had a means to kill his stepfather.
“Far off now and getting farther still boy. That girl I found you with, she’s mine and she’s gone and I want her back. She’s with someone an old man, bring me his head and we got a done deal, paid in full, with no string attached.”
The butchered man reclined in his seat as he finished devouring the boy’s heart. Sam felt pure unadulterated glee rush through his body at the thought of avenging his family. Elliot had always been a brute to his mother and brother, beating his mother and then beating the two of them when we’d protested. Now I’ll square things up, Sam thought.
The butchered man broke Sam’s musings, “You gonna let that get cold boy? I didn’t cook it for nothing.”
Sam looked at the rack of ribs on his plate. For a moment he hesitated, he could almost feel the boy’s non-existent eyes pleading him not to. Under the grinning gaze of the man Sam pulled a rib away and bit in. The meat was delicious. Soon he’d forgotten all about the fate of the poor boy as he began to devour everything on the table.
“Tastes good don’t it boy?” The man asked. Sam nodded as he scarfed down a piece of liver and downed it with a thick dreg from the chalice.
“So we got ourselves deal now don’t we boy?” The man asked.
“Yeah a deal. We got a deal.” Sam replied.
Metamorfose Ambulante is copyrighted by Raul Seixas. If an administrator has a problem with it I’ll take it down no argument.
The Drive
The old man raced down the school’s empty hallways, Catherine’s half-conscious body in his arms. He ran past empty classrooms with desks and chairs aligned in neat rows. He ran past windows that gave a bleak and broken view of the monstrous world outside, a radioactive hell with a hundred dead cities, a nightmarish landscape where nature had run rampant and gone insane. The old man charged through the schools entrance, crashing into the chained doors and breaking them off their hinges. The old man fell to the ground but picked Catherine and himself up with a dexterity that the old do not usually possess. He moved into the parking lot and slowed his pace as he looked around for any signs of mutants. He listened for the tell tale scraping, the heavy panting. There was nothing but the black grass that sprouted through cracks in the pavement, swaying in the bitter wind.
Though he was uncomfortable with moving with such haste in the Western Territories he ignored his survival instinct and moved through the long dead rows of cars until he found his own. When he reached his jeep he set the girl down on the hood as he fumbled for his keys. Just as he’d brought them out he heard a long bone chilling howl that originated from the far end of the parking lot. The old man stopped what he was doing and peered from out the side of his car. There thirty feet away standing on the top of a car whose paint had long worn away and whose frame was a rusted red was a Threnody, so called for the tales of woe they wrought. It was a massive beast that stood on four limbs each of which had a protruding sickle like claw. Its body was lean and muscular though the old man knew they were not always like this. Its skin was a light brown and marked with a lifetime worth of scars. Its deadly maw was filled with foot long teeth that could puncture an inch of steel given time. The creature sniffed at the air as it shifted its weight on the car.
Terror paralyzed Catherine as she gazed at the monstrosity. From where she sat on the car she could just barely see the beast. With an act of will she tore her gaze away from the creature and looked at the old man. He had produced a shiny looking pistol that had a green laser pointer underneath the barrel. The man was sweating despite the cold. She probably would have too if there was anything left in her to sweat. The man trained his pistol on the animal and looked slowly to his right. Catherine followed his gaze and her eyes soon rested on a large camouflaged rifle that rested against the rear window inside the jeep. The man cursed himself silently for having left the rifle; he could have killed the Threnody with a single shot from the rifle and be done with it. Ever so slowly he took his keys and inserted them into his cars lock. He turned the keys and there was a soft click as the doors unlocked. The beast reacted immediately to the sound hunching its massive shoulders and letting out a terrifying growl as it began to stalk slowly towards the two, its claws clicking and clacking against the pavement. The old man looked at Catherine and motioned for her to enter the jeep.
Painfully she eased herself off the hood of the car stifling a gasp as her tattered arm brushed against the top of the hood. When she’d recovered the old man gave her the keys and with hand gestures instructed her to start the car as soon as she got inside. Though her pain was great she nodded her head realizing that if she didn’t suck it up they’d both die here. She put her hand on the handle and pulled. The sound of the opening door was the final spur for the creature as it broke out in an insane sprint, scrambling over ruined cars in mere seconds. Catherine raced inside the car as the old man open fired on the creature creating dark holes that didn’t bleed. Once inside she frantically inserted the keys and turned them. The car started with a blessed roar.
“Prefiro ser essa metamorphose ambulante. Prefiro ser essa metamorphose ambulante, Do que ter aquela velha opiniao formada sobre tudo” the radio sang softly.
Outside the man stopped firing to duck out of the way as the beast leapt towards him. He shot the beast three times in mid air causing it to crash head first into the back frame of the jeep. The old man took advantage of its momentary disorientation and raced to the driver side and got in. As soon as he did the creature stuck its head through the rear window and bit down on the front passenger seat, Catherine barely avoiding being decapitated as curled up into a ball.
“Eu quero dizer agora o oposto do que eu disse antes Prefiro ser essa metamorfose ambulante”
The old man slammed on the gas with the Threnody’s head still inside. The Threnody let out an ear shattering roar as it realized what was happening. The creature tried to dislodge its head and the old man helped by reloading his pistol and plugging round after round it’s the creatures gaping maw as he drove.
“Sobre o que é o amor, Sobre o que eu nem sei quem sou, Hoje eu sou estrela amanhã já se apagou, Se hoje eu te odeio amanhã lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho horror, Lhe faço amor, Eu sou um ator”
Halfway through the magazine the beast finally broke free and disappeared out the window. The old man drove his car back onto the main causeway taking care not to hit any of the cars that had been abandoned on the road. Beside him Catherine sat motionless her body bordering on shock from the horror and blood loss. A sudden crash off on the passenger side knocked the man’s glasses from his face and let him know the creature hadn’t given up its pursuit despite taking half a magazine point blank to the face.
“Ah shit! Ah ****!” He yelled as he fumbled to get his glasses back on. No sooner had he set them upon his face did he have to swerve to avoid a faded blue car that had been left in the middle of the room. He barely managed to clear it though he lost the passenger mirror as he passed. The Threnody simply leapt up and over the vehicle and resumed its pursuit. He was going seventy five miles per hour and had a quarter tank of gas. He didn’t have enough fuel to outrun the monster.
“É chato chegar a um objetivo num instante, Eu quero viver essa metamorfose ambulante, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo”
“Hey kid wake up! Wake up I need you to take this!” The old man said as he reached back and grabbed the large rifle. The rifle was a relatively new Haousen that fired a 12.7x99 caliber that was very likely going to break her remaining arm and a few ribs. He couldn’t aim the thing and drive; he didn’t know the roads well and any lapse on his part could kill them. He handed Catherine the rifle and she took it with a small whine of pain. ‘She’s a tough girl,’ the old man thought as she propped the rifle up against the window with her right hand.
“It’s loaded all you have to do is point it at its head and pull the trigger. I’m going to slow down when it gets even with us shoot it in the head!” The man shouted. Catherine nodded her head and began to lower the window.
“Sobre o que é o amor, Sobre o que eu nem sei quem sou, Hoje eu sou estrela amanhã já se apagou, Se hoje eu te odeio amanhã lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho amor, Lhe tenho horror,Lhe faço amor, Eu sou um ator”
The Old man slowed the jeep down and tried to keep the jeep steady for the girl. The jeep made a sudden lurch as the Threnody bit down on the rear bumper, tore it off and spat it out. The creature began to gain as the car slowed down. The old man pulled off to the left side of the road trying to give Catherine a shot. Catherine rested the barrel of the rifle on window ledge of the door and looked down the rifle’s scope. “Don’t bother using the scope kid, he’s too close! Make sure you’ve got a clear shot you’re only getting one!” The old man yelled out. Catherine looked out. The beast was five feet away its maw very nearly touching the barrel of the rifle. Suddenly the beast snapped at the barrel and Catherine pulled the trigger sending a 46 gram round traveling 890 meters per second down its throat. The blast killed the creature instantly though instead of flying away in a dramatic death scene it simply fell to the ground and rolled to a stop. The recoil shattered Catherine’s wrist and sent her flying into the dashboard where the stock impacted her chest crushing a rib. Catherine let out a short scream of pain as she cast aside the rifle and attempted to clutch her shattered wrist. Her other arm, while still functional hurt far too much to move.
“You got it kid! You did it! I’m gonna get you some help? OK? I’m gonna get you some help, you just hang on!” The man yelled to her. He slowed the car down and helped her sit up straight. Her breathing was hard and tears were flowing freely down her face. “You’re gonna be fine I promise.” The old man said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Catherine didn’t respond, letting her broken arms lie still in her lap as she eased herself into the chair and closed her eyes.
“Eu vou lhes dizer aquilo tido que eu lhes disse antes, Prefiro ser essa metamorfose ambulante,Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aquela velha opinião formada sobre tudo, Do que ter aqu-
“Let’s turn this off and get some help.” The old man said as he drove down the road. Off in the distance, perhaps twenty miles away was the crashed ship that he’d come to loot. Rumors were it was a Mechanicus ship that held some very interesting weapons. If that were true then the window for getting anything out of it was growing smaller by the second. They were bound to send a retrieval team. He let out a sigh and continued driving.
“Can’t always get what you want.” He said quietly to himself.
I Can See For Miles Copyright The Who/ Final Solution Copyrighted By Pere Ubu If a mod has a problem with anything I’ll take it down no argument.
This one contains some sexually related dialogue isn’t too explicit nothing like in Recordae but still inappropriate for pretty much teenagers and below.
The Hit
Naves took a deep breath as he sighted in through his rifles scope. ¾ of a mile away he could clearly see the ten armored figures who were patrolling down in the valley below. Space Marines he thought. Nave took another breath and held it as he sighted in on the lead marine. He was a giant brute, nine feet and two tons of pure unadulterated kill. Nave didn’t recognize the dark gray colors painted upon their armor nor the crossed bolter/chainsword on their shoulder pads. “Not that it- Nave stopped himself from talking. Even at this distance he wasn’t sure if the marines would hear him. Nave, his eyes glued to the scope, did a quick scan of the squad. No change he thought with relief. He put his sights back on the lead marine. In his peripheral vision he could make out the chronometer he’d set on the tree branch next to him. Nave was lying prone on the fat branch of a Corsent tree; an atrocious monstrosity whose ancestors had been mutated by radiation exposure causing the leaves to turn black and manufacture toxic fumes. Off in the distance he could just make out the fallen space ship the Marines had come from.
Earlier in the day when Nave had scaled the tree in his all black combat fatigues he’d worn a full face rebreather. Now it lay next to the steadily ticking chronometer. Naves wouldn’t take the chance of missing his shot, toxic fumes be damned. The effects weren’t hallucinogenic and he wasn’t going to live long anyways if his shot didn’t hit its target. Nave glanced at the chronometer, seventeen seconds, he thought. For the last seven days the marines had patrolled a forty mile circle around their crashed strike cruiser. Most of the rumors flying around still had it pegged as a Mechanicus ship but Naves knew the truth of the matter. Early hopes for a looters’ wet dream had been dashed when the first men arrived to find that not only were there survivors but that the survivors also happened to be gods of wholly unmerciful war.
Eleven seconds. The marines were advancing through the Neciea valley, named after the large locust like insect that predominantly bred there. Fortunately they were out of season. Even without the man eating swarms the valley was still treacherous. Threnodies reigned supreme in the valley when the Neciea weren’t out. The terrain was rugged, sinkholes, sudden depressions, all masked by the chest high black grass that grew everywhere on Kiev. Though it only came up to their wastes Nave thought grimly, even ¾ of a mile away Nave knew what a Space Marine could do…if he missed.
Five seconds. Nave locks his sights on the lead marines head. He reckons he can see the marine’s eyes behind the green lit visor.
Three seconds. Nave takes a final breath, the Corsent’s fumes stinging his lungs. He ignores the pain for the fumes do not affect his eyes. The lead Marine holds up his hand halting their doomed patrol.
One second. The lead marine looked in Nave’s direction as his middle finger presses lightly against the trigger.
The chronometer beeps softly. Nave pulled the trigger and a soft click marked the firing of a high velocity armor piercing round that ripped the leaves from their branches as it passed throwing them up into the air in a sick mockery of the ash that had once fallen decades ago.
¾ Of a mile away the lead marine fell to the ground, a large gaping hole in his visor. Behind him eight other Marines simultaneously did the same. A single marine was left standing, blood gushing out of a wound in his jaw. He ran for cover but another deluge of shots impacted his armored body and he disappeared underneath the black grass. More shots struck his fallen corpse in an effort to be thorough. Had it been anything else Naves would have thought the ammunition was being wasted but you didn’t **** around with the Astartes. You made sure.
Naves jumped down from his hiding place into the foliage below. He took a moment to locate his gasmask and chronometer in the grass as they’d been dislodged by the shockwave. He packed his mask into the pack he’d stored at the base of the tree and strapped his chronometer on his right wrist. He then mounted his pack and made off rifle in hand towards the dead marines. Off in the distance he saw a black clad figure move through the grass. He waved and it waved back. They’d been monitoring the Marine’s patrol routes for four days now. Every patrol varied its route so their ambush points were educated guesswork. For the last four days the ten man squad had laid ambush after ambush only to find that the Marines patrol simply didn’t bring them to them. Luck had brought the squad to them after only a few days camping. There had been one time several years ago they’d tracked a group of Eldar rangers. It’d taken two months to track them down though when they finally caught up with them Naves was disappointed to find out that the Eldar didn’t last ten seconds, taken down in crossfire between alternating sniper and machinegun fire.
Naves wasn’t the first to reach the bodies. An old timer by the names of Sergei was already crouching over one of the fallen Marines as Naves emerged from the grass. Sergei was an ugly man from off world who’d lost an eye and gained an unpleasant disposition as a result. Sergei went for his sidearm when he spotted Naves. Naves let his rifle go slack on its sling and held up his hands. Sergei didn’t lower his weapon. There was murder in his eyes. Fortunately for Naves they were not alone long. Lijew and Erets emerged from the grass in their silent fashion and Sergei quickly put away his pistol. Lijew a Nordic looking man with a giant beard and a matching frame looked at Naves for an explanation. Naves gave his potential murderer a confused glance but Sergei just shrugged his shoulders and began to rummage through the Marines pack.
In a few more minutes the rest of the crew had arrived and they stood in a semi circle each man hefting a large caliber rifle. They stood silent for a few minutes to appreciate the gravity of what they had just accomplished. They were all dressed in the same all black uniform that blended in with the bleak landscape though each was heavily modified to reflect its owners personality. Lijew a native of Kiev kept several
“We are bad ass.” said Brandis looking down on the fallen Marines and the crowd burst out laughing. Like Lijew, Brandis was another Nord but with a lack of facial hair that irritated his larger counterpart. On one occasion Lijew confronted Brandis on the subject saying that any self-respecting Nord should grow a beard. Brandis countered that women preferred a smooth face in between their legs as opposed to a Throne damned mane and besides if her hair was the same color as his beard how would he know what to lick? More than that how would he actually fit the damn thing in between her legs as thick as the damn thing was? Would the girl hold it up for him while he ate her out? And what if she’s a squirter; do you really want that in your beard? It was at that point Lijew grabbed Brandis and threw him through a window. That of course didn’t stop Brandis from talking.
When the laughter finally died down Cyrillic their stoic taskmaster spoke, “Call in the trucks, strip this shit off we’ve got half an hour before we leave.” All laughter ceased as the men busied themselves with working the armor off the dead marines. They couldn’t use it of course but that wouldn’t stop them from selling it. Weapons and armor, personal affects all were taken. Even the Progenitor glands were harvested, not for future sale however. Ibsen the VOX master called in the trucks that would transport the armor and weapons back to their base in the Wastes.
As they worked Vaughan remarked, “We really shouldn’t have accepted this job.”
“Pray tell why not?” Kirin asked sardonically.
“These are the Emperor’s chosen, his finest, cut from his very flesh; they’re very blood is holy and were desecrating them!” Vaughan said dramatically.
Erets a relative newcomer who’d yet to figure out the boys quirks looked over at Brandis before saying exasperatedly, “You have a ****ing eight pointed star tattooed on your face Vaughn what the hell are you talking about?”
“Stop right there don’t get him started.” Nidas said as he pried a damaged helmet off a head.
“Boy rants these insane shits all the damn time just ignore him.” Lijew said as he hefted up a bolter that was the size of his chest.
“Well I haven’t heard it yet so you know what Vaughan please I’d like to hear whatever you…think.” Erets said.
“Well, see someone’s interested. So listen OK this all came to me when I made a pilgrimage to Terra so I know what I’m talking about. The Emperor is…he paused for dramatic effect… the fifth Chaos God!” Vaughan yelled.
Erets face turned into a mask of pure confusion. “Are you OK in the head?”
“No!” The men all cried in unison.
“Well now hear me out OK. It all makes sense once you put it in perspective. The Emperor feeds off of souls right? Eventually what’s going to happen is the Emperor will eventually consume enough souls to you know birth himself into you know reality.”
“Well you just completely turned me off to the idea of Chaos with an image of the emperor shitting himself out of his own ass, Serega help me out here I’m trying to imagine how the Emperor, a man mind you, could birth himself. Thank you Vaughan for that mental image I am now scarred for life.” Erets said.
“No, no, no! See the four chaos Gods are-
“You’re a ****ing blank we all our, what part of anathema to the warp do you not get?” Ibsen said. Vaughan was about to retort when the trucks arrived their heavy tracks flattening the tall black grass.
“Load!” Cyrillic yelled and the men rushed to obey. They distributed the spoils evenly between each of the six trucks. Four of the trucks were used to carry the armor, two suits in each. The extra suit, weapons and miscellaneous objects were stored in the other two. The men moved fast each without saying a word to each other intent on getting the hard labor done as quickly as possible. When they’d finished Cyrillic exchanged words with each of the drivers and grabbed several canisters of promethium before they sped off. No ride back home for us Naves thought gloomily. It was late morning but the sky was still dark and the shadows of the fallen heroes cast wicked shadows that were barely visible against the black grass.
When the trucks were out of sight Cyrillic turned back to the assembled team. “Burn the bodies, as ****ed up as it sounds Vaughan’s half-way right we can’t leave these corpses to rot.” The men pulled each of the bodies into a long line and doused them with promethium before throwing a match onto each body. They caught quickly and soon they were engulfed in flame. For a moment they all stood there silently save for Brandis and Lijew who said a small prayer for the departing souls. It took almost an hour for the bodies to be consumed and even then the bones remained. Cyrillic, satisfied that due respect had been paid ordered the men to move out. The powers that be decided a pair of trucks to come back and pick them up a mile up the valley. They plodded along wary of any wondering wild life but none showed.
As they walked Erets asked Vaughan, “So you gonna finish your little rant or what?”
“Well since you’re interested I’ll continue, where was I?” He wondered aloud.
“Something about the Chaos Gods.” Erets said. Lijew gave the newcomer an acid look but ignored it. He wasn’t paid to care about such things and who he worshipped was his business. Besides as a psychic blank the boy could never actually worship the foul gods so there wasn’t any harm in talking about it.
“That’s right I remember now”, Vaughan said excitedly, “see there are four Chaos Gods. Khorne is the God of War, Nurgle the God of disease, Slaanesh the Goddess of Pleasure, and-
“Goddess of pleasure? You haven’t been laid since I first met you and that was a decade ago! I mean if the bitch hasn’t intervened on your behalf yet I wouldn’t hold my breath!” Brandis cried out much to the amusement of the rest of the men.
“That’s blasphemy, you shouldn’t talk like that.” Vaughan said suddenly turning serious.
“What’s the bitch gonna do suck me off? Hell I could get Naves sister to do that!” Brandis said laughing.
“**** you Brandis.” Naves replied venomously.
Suddenly Brandis ran ahead of the men screaming manically waving his hands above his head his rifle slapping his back in time with his strides. About twenty feet ahead he stopped and started twirling in a circle continuing his maniacal laughter.
“Oooooyyyyy! Slaanesh I’ll make a deal with you if you can get this insane prick a girlfriend and a ****ing steady one I will bow down and lick your divine pussy! And she’s gotta look good too! No ugly ****ers! You got till the end of tonight!” He shouted to the sky. He ran back laughing hysterically.
Fifteen minutes of suppressed violence later they reached the pickup site. Two trucks were waiting for them their engines still running. The trucks weren’t there to take them back to base instead they’d ferry each of them to their respective homes or drinking spots. It had been a very good day and Mathias, the head of their mercenary band, was undoubtedly pleased. The trucks weren’t part of the organization; they were taxis that ferried people to and fro in the territories. They split into two groups of five and heaved themselves into the waiting trucks. Naves boarded the second truck, a rusty old model whose tracks were filled with mud, along with Lijew, Brandis, Vaughan and Kirin. The five of them waved to their comrades as they departed the truck carrying them down an old overgrown road. The other truck stayed on the main road driving off at a leisurely pace. Despite their mission being over each man was wary, in the Western territories it didn’t pay to be careless, not that you could tell by Brandis’ behavior, Naves thought with a grin. He watched the world fly by him. Scattered trees, the long grass blowing softly in the wind, buildings dilapidated alongside the road. He spotted a Threnody sniffing around in the parking lot of an abandoned school, the creature raising its head as the truck passed.
After a short but heated debate the five of them decided that instead of going home they’d head off to the Magical World, a bar that would tolerate a crowd of psychic blanks mostly because they didn’t have any customers to discomfort. That and they allowed weapons inside. Lijew and Kirin had wanted to go drinking while Vaughan and Naves wanted to go home. Brandis didn’t care either way but he was adamant about sticking with Vaughan wherever he went, intent on seeing if he actually managed to get laid that night. After about twenty minutes of driving along the road they came to Essex, a small town that was completely deserted save for the bar in question and a seedy brothel that was more famous for the new diseases that seemed to pop up than the girls. Naves often wondered why the owners just didn’t combine the two; it’d save a lot of trouble. After a few more minutes of driving through the town they came to the bar.
The five of them got out, tipped the driver, and went into the Magical World.
“Well, here's a poke at you You're gonna choke on it too You're gonna lose that smile
Beacuse all the while I can see for miles and miles I can see…” the intercom system sang.
Inside the bar was empty save for Mikas the bartender and the beautiful waitress he was chatting to and that Naves didn’t recognize. They waved to Mikas who lifted a drink in a mock salute.
“Must be new.” Naves said to Lijew who nodded his hairy head. They took a booth down in a dark corner of the bar and he waitress sauntered over. She took their orders consisting solely of amasec, stoplights, and iho-sticks. While they waited for their drinks the five of them talked about their personal lives. Kirin told them of his newborn son and when the drinks arrived they toasted to him. Vaughan spouted some of his nonsensical ramblings but fortunately no one but the other four heard him. Lijew began to tell them of his latest sexual conquest but Brandis interrupted him claiming that now he knew where his missing pet Ukulele was. Despite himself Lijew laughed before throwing a pack of iho-sticks into Brandis’ laughing face. After a few minutes of bullshitting and low laughter Kirin challenged Vaughn to a game of pool and the two left for the tables taking their drinks but leaving their overpowered rifle behind. Naves slightly drunk looked at Lijew and asked, “So what’re you gonna do?” Naves asked seriously as he drained his glass. He looked over at the stoplight next to him.
“Get out maybe. I’m 79 years old Lane I can’t do this anymore. When have you ever known me to miss?” Lijew said quietly.
“You didn’t miss you took out half his jaw, freak accident, you know that happens. The hell am I supposed to do stick with Sergei? The guy was about to shoot me today...only reason he didn’t was cause you showed up.” Naves hand reached for the first of the three shots but Brandis seeing his wondering hand quickly reached over and drained all three shots before Naves could react. He grinned the grin of a man satisfied.
“I don’t need a cure need a final solution…”
“**** Sergei,” Brandis said clenching his jaw, “that old asshole doesn’t know shit, he’s worthless, only reason he’s even in here is because he’s a blank like us. That’s it no other reason.”
Naves looked at Lijew.
“I don’t know what to tell you about Sergei, deal with him when the time comes in the meantime just relax that’s what I’m doing. I mean you’re not the only guy he’s gunning for.” Lijew said.
“Yeah.” Naves said.
“Buy me a ticket to a sonic reduction- guitars gonna sound like a nuclear destruction. It seems I’m the victim of natural selection, or maybe just another slide in another direction. I don’t need a cure…”
Suddenly Brandis sat straight up his jaw gaping at what must have been some horrifying monstrosity. Naves and Lijew followed his gaze over to the pool tables where they witnessed with their own eyes Vaughan making out with the waitress on the pool table, Kirin staring back at them speechless. Naves looked at Brandis who exchanged an understandably perturbed look.
“What, Brandis where are you going?” Naves asked as Brandis got out of his seat and began walking towards the duo.
“So on a scale of one to ten how was it?” The waitress asked Vaughan when she finally let him breathe. A grand smile began to play across his lips and he nodded his head. “Thought so, oh who ar-
BANG!
The pointblank shot to the head splattered the waitresses’ brains all over Vaughan and sent her sprawling on the ground. The bar erupted into chaos. Brandis turned and shot Mikal through the heart.
“Brandis what the **** is wrong with you!” Vaughan screamed.
“**** You!” Brandis screamed at the ceiling.
On the other side of the bar Naves drained his drink.
“Lijew I’m heading home, you comin?”
“Yeah.”
The Sword
“Here and now boy hear my words.” The butchered man spoke softly into Sam’s ear. “You aren’t old enough to track my quarry; you’re just old enough to kill it. I am not the kind of a man who would send anyone into the wilderness unprepared! I’ve got death on my tongue and life on my fingertips, I am God.”
The butchered man looked upwards his grin stretching to epic proportions. Sam followed his gaze and gasped when he realized that the fat rusted pipes that had once obscured the gray sky had been replaced by giant opaque worms squirming and screeching in lustful ecstasy. Sam could see their milky white insides troll around the insides of their circular bodies. Each was hundreds of feet long and there were dozens of them thrashing about in a nightmarish tangled midair dance. It was hard to tell where one ended and another began but Sam knew there had to be more than a dozen considering the ends that he could see opened up to reveal long dagger like teeth.
The butchered man stared at the vicious worms with a smile. “Aren’t they magnificent? Unimpeded by wind and weather, they won’t break down, won’t get stuck, won’t overheat, won’t freeze up. Cause after all snow or shine people still need to die.”
Sam gazed up in disgust and not a little awe. He began to walk towards them sparing a glance at the manhole covers and the long lines of blood that led to them. The butchered man stood silent as he watched him go. From above one of the worms detached itself from the raging orgy slithering down the walls and up to Sam. The beast made its way towards him until they were mere inches apart. Sam could feel the worm’s hot heady breath blow against his face in a pulsating rhythm in time with the creatures above. The creature’s mouth opened revealing its sword like teeth and a thick barbed tongue snaked its way out. Frozen by fear and wonder Sam remained still as the purplish appendage wrapped itself around his body.
“Not yet boy!” The butchered man cackled. “I’ve something to give you first before your first depart.” The worm’s tongue receded back into its malicious maw and stood over him. Sam, his trance broken turned around and walked over to the butchered man. He was dimly aware that his feet throbbed with pain every time his foot hit the jagged rock floor beneath. Such concerns seemed to be beyond him now that he had a means to his end. Still, he thought despairingly, even with the help of the crazed man he wasn’t sure he’d still be able to kill Elliot.
Though Sam was still a dozen feet away the butchered man kneeled on a single knee, bowed his head in mock submission and stretched out his bleeding arms, the sound of tearing skin and stretching muscles only slightly disturbing Sam as he looked into the outstretched hands. The man held out a wicked sword whose fleshy form constantly shed its outer ‘skin’, for that was the only word that came to Sam’s mind as he gazed upon the blade, revealing sinews of muscle and tendons underneath.
“Take the sword boy!” The butchered man bellowed. Sam obeyed grasping the blade by its bone like hilt. As he did he felt the bone underneath melt at his touch, reforming to fit his tiny hand. “Here I am boy in your mind, in your heart, in your soul.” The blade spoke to his mind. Startled Sam released his grip on the blade but it did not fall from his hand. Instead he could feel the blade bonding with his body in the most painful way imaginable. To his horror Sam witnessed the flesh on his hand slip from his bones as the blade forced itself into his profusely bleeding arm.
“A part of me in you, I’ll not leave you to the wolves’ boy!” The butchered man cried maniacally.
Sam fell to his knees and howled in pain as the blade eviscerated the inside of his arm to make room for its body. Once the blade felt it had disemboweled Sam’s arm enough for one day the blade settled. From its resting place new flesh was born, melding with the ruin that was Sam’s arm. Pulpy bruised flesh mingled with his own pale skin overlaying the bloody muscles that the blade was excreting.
After about a minute of sanity destroying pain the blade finally ceased its menstruations. “What did you do to me?” Sam gasped from the floor as he cradled his arm. “You’re going out looking to kill a shitload of people boy and you’re gonna need a weapon that can kill a shitload of people.” The butchered man said as his arms retracted back to their normal length.
The butchered man began to walk towards Sam. “Stand up boy, you got feet for a reason.” Sam struggled to obey but his legs felt like lead weights. “Pain ain’t nothing you’re new to boy! Life is pain, Life is suffering, Life is what you make of it!” The butchered man shouted. Galvanized by the man’s words Sam forced himself to ignore the pain and rose to his feet.
“That’s my boy!” The man shouted to the heavens as he spread his arms out and twirled around. “Blood spillers, soul skinners, Sam you will be one mad killer!” The butchered man sang aloud. Suddenly from above Sam heard a series of loud screams that seemed to send the worms into a violent frenzy. Sheets of scarlet rain poured down in a torrent that stained the gray rocks. After a few seconds and crunching noises later the screams ceased and a single foot encased in a sneaker fell to the ground, a bloody stump protruding out of the gore stained shoe. Mere seconds after more body parts fell, an arm, a head, a hand. Sam backed away in sudden fear of the worm at his side.
“Don’t mind the foot boy, these guys wonder in from time to time.” The butchered man said as he grabbed the foot and head and began juggling them in the air sending spurts of blood everywhere.
Sam looked at the grotesque figure before him and almost laughed despite the sheer horror of what he saw. “That’s what I like about you boy, always got a smile.” The butchered man said as he cast aside the dismembered parts.
The butchered man suddenly got serious. “The sword I gave you is Barrathos, he’s a cruel bastard born of me and me alone. He’s taken more lives than you’ve seen in your life boy. He’s a hundred million and a half years old, forged from my own flesh to fight a foe the lesser of my kin cringe in fear at the very mentioning of a name that has been long since forgotten in the annals of time and the races of the mortal realms who in unison cower at its coming awakening and the heralding of a new era of war the likes of which have not been seen since Horus lifted a crowbar over the old bastards head and brought it down in a galaxy shattering crack!” Sam stood stunned, partially by the raging monologue and partially because he’d expected the man to pass out.
The butchered man continued, albeit in a much calmer manner, “Over the years I’ve lent him to various…people, none have ever been able to master Barrathos, but you boy, oh you might just have it in ya to do the dirty deed. I gave him life and now I gave him to you, he is yours and he will obey your will in all things. He comes with a heavy price though you’ll see in the end all parties are equally compensated for their troubles. Take this sword and give that little whore an early period, do that for me and Elliot’s yours…for the killin.”
Sam nodded his head unsure of what to say to the butchered man’s words. “OK.” Was all he managed to say in the end.
“It’s alright boy, you’re still young, but stick with me and I promise you, you’ll understand everything.” The butchered man cast his eyes up at the worm that stood apart from his pack. “Time to go Sam I am, time to find what were lookin for.” The butchered man said.
And with that the worm let out an ear bleeding screech and swallowed Sam whole.
