tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48989996188028087262024-03-13T10:00:36.766-04:00The Chrysalis Falls VigilantJason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.comBlogger165125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-50045298864888366672025-11-06T00:01:00.000-05:002015-11-14T20:06:50.974-05:00Our CollectionsLooking for someone in specific? Stop right here and pick your poison. If you're looking for a particular series, whether in Chrysalis or out, you can find it here.<br />
<br />
<b>First, from within the walls of Chrysalis Falls -</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/the-pallbearer.html">The Pallbearer</a> </h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/the-boy-named-nod.html">The Boy Named Nod</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/wither-vain.html">Wither The Vain</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/rue.html">Rue</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/speechless.html">Speechless</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/the-isolated-cases.html">The Isolated Cases</a></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px; text-align: start;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<b>And from reaches far outside -</b><br />
<b><br /></b></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://chrysalisfalls.blogspot.com/p/the-march-of-red-dwarf.html">The March of the Red Dwarf</a></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Before the walls were all the way up around Chrysalis Falls, the world had already decided the reign of humans had gone on long enough. These are from the last survivors of the fall of Detroit; those who witnessed the ancient forests reclaim ground as the Red Dwarf began it's final march.</div>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-43949747513051815562015-11-18T21:20:00.000-05:002015-11-18T21:20:17.104-05:00The Pallbearer: The Barter System Part 2<table><tbody>
<tr><th>Mercy Killing</th></tr>
<tr><td>For the first time in a long time, I didn’t really want to pull the trigger. Killing angels was starting to bore me. Particularly when they weren’t that angelic to begin with. This one was all quivering and shaking beneath the couple layers of bravado topsoil he had planted. Too bad I’d had plenty of time sifting through bullshit.<br /><br />“Cassie, could you just, I don’t know, break his legs or something?”<br /><br />“I’m better at pushing stuff and bursting internal organs.”<br /><a name='more'></a><br />The Conduit-clone boy frowned and started sparking.<br /><br />“What are you two talking about?”<br /><br />“Internal organs you say Cass?”<br /><br />“Ah-yup.”<br /><br />“Pop one of his lungs for me will ya? I want to ask him a couple questions and really, I’m just not feeling this today.”<br /><br />“A bit shell-shocked?”<br /><br />“You know, I’m just…. Eh. Y’know? Just not feeling it. The tigers were alright but this ass is just completely unnecessary.”<br /><br />There was a lightning bolt shooting past my face, splitting the air between us.<br /><br />“You will pay attention when an agent of West Worthington speaks! I demand your atten…”<br /><br />His voice turned into a squawk as Cassie burst his right lung. I watched it swell and pop within his chest. The clone’s electricity failed and he plummeted to the dirt with a flat thud. I sauntered over to his prone body and kicked him in the ribs with the toe of my boot.<br /><br />“Hey, you still alive?”<br /><br />There was a whimper and a creak that I took for a yes. He wasn’t bubbling blood just yet so he had a couple minutes left at least.<br /><br />“You should tell me what you guys have been up to with The Sleepers. I might just feed you to them if you don’t behave yourself.”<br /><br />“We… West Worthington… needs supplies. They have old tech. T-t-tanks and stuff. Missles. S-s-stuff we can use. Can’t use the j-j-junkyard… anymore… now that you… have it. Oh Christ, p-p-lease… let me die… It hurts bad.”<br /><br />“One more question and I’ll let you go off to whatever hell you feel is appropriate. How many more of you are there? How many clones of Ol’ Sparky?”<br /><br />He shook his head.<br /><br />“I’m… only one that was… approved. Professor Arlee…”<br /><br />“Arlee?”<br /><br />He nodded.<br /><br />“Yeah… Arlee made me… First success… The rest… kinks… ironing… P-p-lease…”<br /><br />“Oh fine. Cry baby.”<br /><br />I pulled out my boot knife and drew the blade across his throat with a flick of my wrist. The clone thing seemed relieved. Didn’t even have a name he wanted to bother sharing. How typical of West Worthington. When you can’t get anybody to lose any more of them selves for the company, just create a person from the ground up. Bunch of cheating losers.<br /><br />The tiger Sleepers were fairly quiet behind me. Too quiet. That lack of noise needed to be fixed.<br /><br />“Alright, which one of your is next?”<br /><br />The six that had been guarding us each stepped back and the couple dozen coming out of the woods stopped in their tracks. Cassie was smirking at my side.<br /><br />“Now now Neil, don’t go scaring the natives too badly.”<br /><br />“Alright you lot, what was West Worthington trading you for? The little loser here just spilled that you’re getting them old military gear. What are they providing you?”<br /><br />“They make sure a certain number of us make it over the wall a day.” It was the tiger that had been sitting on my chest talking. At least somebody was taking responsibility around here.<br /><br />“How?”<br /><br />“Overworked guards, gaps in shifts, misfiring ammo, you name it. Supposedly they have a price bracket for each item. They have it broken down to how many of us can make it over due to certain faults.”<br /><br />“And this sounded like a good deal?”<br /><br />“It’s better than nothing isn’t it? Enough good trading got us this chunk of wall shut down so the tunnel could be dug for The Grey Pack. They aren’t the only exiles you know? Plenty of us don’t agree with what The Somnubi are doing. We just want somewhere to hide. We don’t care if the humans live. The Judges and The Somnubi and everyone else is struggling to take over or kill the humans. We just want to live.”<br /><br />“That wall won’t help you do it.”<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“They’re going to turn that wall back on soon. They used The Grey Pack as bait to weaken my forces so they could take back their junkyard. You all are welcome in Phoenix District but if you’re coming, I suggest you hurry up. Like I say, this wall won’t stay down forever. They want you dead too badly. Why don't you come with us? In exchange for all the stuff you've got lying around, you can have a home. Deal?”<br /><br />For a moment, I felt bad. I really did. I think I about made the small pack of tiger people cry. The thought that they were about to be betrayed again just broke their little hearts.<br /><br />“There are hundreds of us. If it’s like you say and this wall is only off so they could make today’s trade then they’ll have the wall operational too soon for us to make it down the tunnel.”<br /><br />I sighed and my Brute body pulled a full high explosive clip from its belt and slammed it into St. George. It had been awhile since I had bothered with a full clip but it seemed most sensible. St. George looked up at the wall and started shouting.<br /><br />Each shell rotated perfectly as it burst through the air, puncturing the atmosphere, leaving small sonic booms in their wake. They slammed into the wall, each one erupting in a brilliant volcano of super-heated gas and corrosive chemicals. Great weeping wounds opened in the gleaming wall. Smaller explosions shivered through the nerve-endings and gunnery rooms embedded within, leaving beautiful black smoke seeping out of the horrid scars left behind.<br /><br />As I fired, I was talking.<br /><br />“Get moving then. Bring your people, bring your stuff. Get your asses down that tunnel. If it’s off, it won’t be going on again real soon anyway. Now though, they’ll have problems routing power or people to the trouble spots. You should be good for…. oh… about a mile up. They can still launch missiles at you from here but that’s unlikely. They don’t want to damage their goodies.”<br /><br />As St. George kept singing the gospel, I turned and kissed Cassie. It was a delicious tasting kiss, dripping with passion sauce and just the right amount of grilled newlywed heat.<br /><br />“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I will be going home. Come join us when you feel like living a little.”<br /><br />Cassie and I headed down the path into the tunnel; my suit marching behind me, St. George slung over its shoulder. The tiger man was still standing there, shaking. I think he was asking what I had done but I didn’t bother answering him. I mean, if he hadn’t been listening to St. George preach, I wasn’t about to summarize such a classy sermon. That would just be heretical.<br /><br />And we couldn’t have that with an angel lying in the grass now could we?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-84824864639987073122015-11-13T17:29:00.004-05:002015-11-14T01:20:01.786-05:00Low Hanging Fruit<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Empty.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The street has run dry</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
of hungry monsters.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My feet are running.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Although I have not told them,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;">they know this cannot last.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Out in the street,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
there is no Sun.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The sky is green leaves.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Branches sag with fruit.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The plums above</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
used to be my neighbors.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I see them rocking, bulging.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When they are ripe,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
they will split the skin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Wet slurping.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A gush.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Their water has broken.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Spiders creep from torn folds.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Swelled heads hang.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Eight legs drop.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I don't think</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
they are coming</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
to borrow my sugar.</div>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-39954941094717929272015-11-12T18:56:00.000-05:002015-11-12T18:57:00.050-05:00The Boy Named Nod: Part 3 of Milk Carton<table><tbody>
<tr><th>The Face on the Carton<br />
<br /></th></tr>
<tr><td>Even as the Wrecking Crew lined up in front of me to face the onrushing tide of imps, I was looking at the three bullet holes I had made. They were in the chest of a lifeless imp whose tongue was lolling out. He was the first dead thing I had ever made. It felt different when it was you that did it, rather than infecting someone’s mind and letting a dream kill them.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t an entirely pleasant feeling. To tell the truth, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant either. It just was. I had killed something and it was lying on the floor and would not be getting back up again.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
I had seen too many corpses to get riled up about another one lying at my feet. Particularly seeing as it wanted to kill me.<br />
<br />
Oh, time to look alive. They’re stampeding through the door. How about that? They’re all the same sea green color with nasty teeth. I wonder if the holes will look the same in their chests. Chests with hearts and lungs. Important organs whose purpose is to be pierced by bullets so that their owners die.<br />
<br />
Moving on. Yes, moving. Pulling in fact. On a trigger. The trigger causes the action on my revolver to strike the bullet. The powder ignites and flings the lump of metal. The metal does a swan dive into the eye of one of the lagoony colored imps and digs until it reaches its brain.<br />
<br />
I bet that really hurts. No. I know it hurts. My body remembers Trevor being shot. It DID definitely hurt.<br />
<br />
The boy continues to scream. I wonder if he’s trying to heal the dead too. I pull the trigger again and give him something else to do.<br />
<br />
The Wrecking Crew isn’t having fun either. They’re killing cousins and lots of them. For the first time ever, James is already out of knives. The heap of pincushions in front of me tells me where they went. He’s plucking the knives from the dead and throwing them as more and more imps clear the mound of dead in front of him.<br />
<br />
They have to. If they don’t keep moving, Manfred and Whitfields’ presents will find them. The two are lobbing little packages the size of kiwi fruit into the room beyond. I keep hearing spray hitting the walls just like someone’s painting.<br />
<br />
I wonder what color they chose for the kitchen.<br />
<br />
Charles is nowhere to be seen. I’m too busy throwing lumps of lead at internal organs to really see where he is but I have a feeling. My feeling becomes a certainly when the horde of imps all start wailing at once. What was a packed house is starting to slow. The eyes that my metal is doing somersaults into has something new in it.<br />
<br />
What was that thing again? It’s sitting in the back of my brain wanting to talk but my finger on the trigger doesn’t care enough to stop and listen.<br />
<br />
It’s as I’m reloading that I remember that look.<br />
<br />
It’s called fear.<br />
<br />
That’s right, fear. I’ve seen it a lot. I saw it on Jefferson Blank, I mean, Martin Windham’s face. I saw it on my brother’s face. I saw it on my father’s face. I knew what it felt like to wear it in my own eyes. This time though, this time, it didn’t bother me. Why was that?<br />
<br />
These things weren’t things. They had names. Like James or Charles, like Manfred or Whitfield. I never liked killing. It’s one of the reasons I always missed. I couldn’t bear to shoot straight. Why now?<br />
<br />
As I kept shooting and reloading and shooting and reloading, I heard the question and the answer repeated. Not to save your life. Click. Blam. Not to save your friends. Click. Blam. To rewrite history. To stop a son from being motherless because of a lunatic father. That’s why.<br />
<br />
The tide turned into a trickle turned into a rout as the nasty, rot-toothed imps turned and fled backwards. They were met by a living flamethrower who was shouting at them.<br />
<br />
“No, you beasties. You not play fair. You not ask permission. You burn!”<br />
<br />
They didn’t ask permission to burn? That was okay. We’d burn them anyway. I reached into my coat pocket and realized I was out of bullets. That was new.<br />
<br />
One of the blue-green imps leapt at me and I cracked it across the face with the butt of my pistol. It hit the ground, snarling and I stepped on its throat. As I ground my heel I felt its windpipe collapse. That’s why it was making a gurgling noise now. That’s why it wasn’t moving now.<br />
<br />
Good.<br />
<br />
James blinked at me for a moment before sliding in front of me; Manfred and Whitfield moving in front of him.<br />
<br />
“Kill them all boys. Get me to that boy.”<br />
<br />
Manfred and Whitfield moved double time; pegging the nasties with explosives and watching them explode into bits. James stayed in front of me, stabbing things that got too close.<br />
<br />
Oh look, they’re all dead. La la la. Every one.<br />
<br />
“Boss, boss! Come here!”<br />
<br />
I pushed James aside at the sound of Charles’ voice and staggered into the room at the other side of what may have been a living room before it was painted with guts. There was a small boy, smaller even than me, with pitch black hair and shocking blue eyes strapped to a table. The small boy was screaming as more imps tried to climb out his mouth and his ears, growing exponentially as they hit fresh air.<br />
<br />
“I keep killing them but they won’t stop!”<br />
<br />
I looked into the boy’s eyes as the Wrecking Crew caught and crushed each new imp between their fingers. There was no fear in Mob’s eyes. There was only pain.<br />
<br />
“Stop them.”<br />
<br />
The boy whimpered as the imps kept forcing their way out his throat. I put my hands on either side of his face.<br />
<br />
“Stop them or I will keep killing them. They will keep killing you in order to escape. If you can’t stop them, I will kill you and end it for you. Do you understand?”<br />
<br />
The Wrecking Crew recoiled in horror as I loomed over Mob. Tears streamed down the boy’s face as the little bastards kept coming.<br />
<br />
“Do it or die.”<br />
<br />
The boy whimpered again, his jaw slamming shut, the imps coming out his ears, screeching in pain. Twice his jaw started to move and I started to open my mouth. Twice he slammed it back shut and shook his head. The imps in his ears were sucked back within, dragging their claws harmlessly over his lobes.<br />
<br />
In another minute, there were no imps. Just a little black-haired boy crying on a table.<br />
<br />
“Good. Have they stopped?”<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
“Did you want them to stop?”<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
“Why?”<br />
<br />
“They hurt too much.”<br />
<br />
“When they died or when they came out?”<br />
<br />
“Both.”<br />
<br />
“Do you want to kill me?”<br />
<br />
He shook his head violently. No.<br />
<br />
“James, let him up. Let him go see his mother before his father gets here.”<br />
<br />
“Daddy’s coming? Oh no. He’ll be angry. I was supposed to kill Mom. I was supposed to kill her before he got back with Pepper.”<br />
<br />
“Is Pepper your sister’s name?”<br />
<br />
“Uh-huh.”<br />
<br />
“Do you want to kill your mother?”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Then follow these guys out. We’ll talk after you and your mother are safe.”<br />
<br />
The boy nodded and staggered to the door.<br />
<br />
“Wait.”<br />
<br />
He stopped and turned, wincing a little.<br />
<br />
“What’s your name?”<br />
<br />
“Jacob.”<br />
<br />
“Keep your Mom safe for me, alright?”<br />
<br />
He nodded and disappeared through the doorway. I rubbed my eyes and sat on the table he’d be strapped to.<br />
<br />
“Nod?”<br />
<br />
It was Charles.<br />
<br />
“Yes?”<br />
<br />
“They was nasty nasties but he had to let them out first. Once they got out, they went out whenever they wanted. They took as much as they wanted.”<br />
<br />
“I know.”<br />
<br />
“Nod.”<br />
<br />
“What?”<br />
<br />
“He let them. So he could make his daddy happy.”<br />
<br />
I blinked.<br />
<br />
“Watch him. If he does anything that looks like he’ll let them back out, kill him.”<br />
<br />
“Kill?”<br />
<br />
“Kill. He’s not the boy I thought he was.”<br />
<br />
“Neither are you.”<br />
<br />
“I know. I’ll have a good cry about that later.”<br />
<br />
Charles nodded and headed out. I sat and looked at the bloody imp corpses around me. It seemed Michael Tarcynski was just a figment as well. I was Nod, with all that came with it.<br />
<br />
Sorry Mom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-63712230407399219152015-11-05T19:21:00.000-05:002015-11-05T19:21:38.902-05:00Speechless: Hunting Party 5<b>Divergence</b><br />
<br />
I suppose it wasn’t the smartest thing to do but it seemed most honorable to tell Jack to his face that it was time to take his head. He didn’t seem surprised at all, either. He was just… thoughtful as we walked down the sewer tunnel. It had only been hours since dealing with Anne and Tobias but I’d been brooding about it ever since. Jack was the first to speak.<br /><br />“You don’t want to wait until after the others are dealt with?”<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />“It doesn’t seem fair to each other. You, from what I gather, want to deal with the management on Pier 451. You wouldn’t mind pursuing the prisoners that were released but it isn’t what you’re really after. I want them captured above and beyond anything else. Should I still be breathing after confronting Daniel Corsair, I’ll be returning home to try and eliminate the corruption among The Consulate. Our paths are diverging in directions that will end us, likely as not. It seems rude to not allow each other to choose our manner of death.”<br /><br />Jack touched my shoulder, meeting my two eyes with his single good one.<br /><br />“I suppose you’re right Nagumo. I don’t have anyone to wish well or anything. Did you want to let your fish know what’s about to happen, on the off chance that I win? I mean, you’ve been carrying those letters in your waist sash for days now without opening them.”<br /><br />I blinked. I had, hadn’t I? There was the letter to Sturm from Lord Kraken and the two from The Consulate. I nodded wordlessly in agreement and opened each letter; pulling out the paper inside and stacking them in order to read.<br /><br />The first two from The Consulate only served to enrage me further. The first was asking for confirmation from Sturm that the prisoners had been released and that I had been placated in my hunt for Jack. The second was even worse. It sought to determine Sturm’s opinion on their plan to have me removed via a trap to be laid by Anne and Tobias. It seemed that they hadn’t even needed to follow through on their orders without me being captured anyway.<br /><br />The letter from Lord Kraken, however, had me reconsidering my position. It began quietly and simply.<br /><br />“Dear Magistrate Nagumo,<br /><br />You are reading only just reading this letter after taking it from Arbiter Sturm’s floor. I always knew you were a lawful one; even when you leave the normal channels to deal with those needing to be judged. How do I know these things? I don’t. The ink has been instilled with a high enough percentage of water to adapt to the circumstances that you read this under.<br /><br />I expect that at this point you are curious as to why this letter is to you. I wasn’t sure that you would be the one to receive it or if Sturm would. If you found it, it meant that you had stumbled across the monstrous release that The Consulate has planned, objected, and survived. This is highly important.<br /><br />We’ve known for some time that you are a water speaker, young Nagumo. We allowed you to lead the life of a magistrate in order to deter the corruption at street level. However, at this time, we cannot allow this to continue any longer. We cannot allow you to kill “Rascal” Jack Lorenz. He may strike at our operations but his rebellion is not the greatest threat facing us. In fact, Arbiter Moon has intelligence that leads us to believe that our survival depends on Mr. Lorenz’ for now. While his rebellion will not be allowed forever, do not draw your blades today. Should you both survive the coming dangers, you will be granted your opportunity.<br /><br />Return to us at the greatest rate of speed you can muster. Do not head for The Consulate. Come straight into the bay. Our agents will find you and bring you to see us personally. We must speak about how to handle The Consulate.<br /><br />We recognize your vendetta and will honor such. However, the timing is simply incorrect. Our apologies for your lost, loyal son.<br /><br />Return home quickly,<br />Lord Kraken (by way of) Scribe Felwyn”<br /><br />I looked up from the last letter, frowning deeply. Jack extended his lead pipe to touch my arm.<br /><br />“Not the conspiracy letter you expected?”<br /><br />“The Divine are well aware of the corruption I seek to end. They instruct me to let you live.”<br /><br />Jack raised an eyebrow curiously.<br /><br />“How generous. Any length on this reprieve or is it a full pardon?”<br /><br />“Just a reprieve. I am promised a chance for your head eventually. However, they seem to believe that you will help them survive.”<br /><br />We both had a good laugh at that. It bubbled up from the bottoms of our stomachs and took hold. Laughing about the usefulness of a terrorist that I had been preparing to duel to the death. How odd.<br /><br />“Whatever floats their boat, I suppose. You plan to listen to them and run along home, or are we going to finish this here.”<br /><br />“As much as I want to Jack, I’m afraid it is against everything I believe in to disobey this order. I am a Judge in order to enact the will of The Divine.”<br /><br />“Riiiight. So then, we’re off on our separate paths for now?”<br /><br />“It would seem so.”<br /><br />Jack reached down and pulled The Darkening from its sheath, wrapped his hand around its blade, and squeezed.<br /><br />“A deal in blood then; that you won’t have the audacity to die early.”<br /><br />I nodded and sliced my palm open as well, extending my hand to shake his.<br /><br />“Agreed.”<br /><br />He grinned and laughed a soft, sad laugh.<br /><br />“You sure aren’t going to go dying on me now?”<br /><br />“I can’t. I’ve given you my word.”<br /><br />“It’s a date then. Catch you later, fishface.”<br /><br />“I’ll be seeing you <i>bait</i>.”<br /><br />And in that moment that we turned our backs, I felt better for the first time since I had taken Tobias’ head.<br /><br />I didn’t have to fear having Jack behind me. It was a good feeling.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-39234805886303261492015-10-31T12:10:00.002-04:002015-11-06T00:24:10.248-05:00The Fall of DetroitAnd now for a taste from far outside the wall of Chrysalis, back when the walls were still on the rise and the world was already making ready to evict humanity.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>The Fall of Detroit</b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I am curled</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
in the corner.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A blown wrapper, hiding</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
in an ice box</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
apartment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The trees have passed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They peeked in,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
thirsting,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
to water their roots.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They found many.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Now, squeezed water balloons,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
scattered on the street.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Furry lopers chew</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
on the empty.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
There is rubber in their teeth.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Vines slither;</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
green snakes embracing</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
my old, brick home.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In the morning,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
it will be an overturned box of legos.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I do not know</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
what I will be.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A red star burns</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
in River Rouge.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They say</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
nothing grows there.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Nothing new</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
anyway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When the lopers lope,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will too.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Twenty years</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
on the line</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
have left me slow.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will not be slow tonight.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will outrun the forest</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
that has eaten Detroit.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-12903138338192026732015-10-29T01:15:00.001-04:002015-10-29T01:15:03.592-04:00Please, Patronize me.After much fussing, hemming and hawing about the topic, Chrysalis Falls now has a <a href="https://www.patreon.com/chrysalisfalls?ty=h">Patreon campaign</a> active! If you're so inclined to help continue funding weird serial fiction, head on over. And as the dashingly handsome man in the video will tell you, we'll even be bringing weirdos from outside the borders of Chrysalis to come and play... as long as we have your support. After all, Chrysalis Falls has never existed in a vacuum. It's only ever been made possible by you. I hope to provide you the kind of oddities that you never knew you cared to have in your life, and the closer I can get to making that my full time job, the happier I am. And it's you that makes it happen.<br />
<br />
Thank you for that.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-41956326770409356492015-10-29T00:15:00.000-04:002015-11-06T00:24:44.972-05:00Wither The Vain: Part 2 of The Tower<span style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">Stationary, Eyewear, and Scaly Things, Going Up</span><br />
<br />
Some people must request before they’re born to have their balls dipped in liquid steel. Because that’s the only way I can really see someone being stupid enough to get in our way after seeing the thrashing I give someone. He was still standing there on the sixth floor though, smiling with all the beaming audacity of the sun at us.<br />
<br />
“Glad to see you made it father. Wither, Seth, Christoph, hello to you as well.”<br />
<br />
“Hello Pox. Guessed you’d be here. Why?”<br />
<br />
“Why? You mean, other than to legitimize my work and gain a modicum of protection against you barbarians? How about the fact that father threatened my children when last we met. Still so smug now Victory?”<br />
<br />
I snorted.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
“Do you really think you rebelling against him is going to make him care one way or the other? Good god you’re dense. The only regret he’s probably having right now is that he didn’t kill you after getting the disease to infect The Scavenger. You’re disposable. It’s time you were gotten rid of.”<br />
<br />
Pox frowned angrily at that and touched a finger to either eye. Long, snotty tendrils extended from either viscous orb and he twirled them together.<br />
<br />
“I’m not limited to the bacterium I was intended for. I can create far more interesting things. I’m not about to let you spoil our plans. My Society of Ashes will take its place at the forefront of a new age.”<br />
<br />
“Arturo, can you shut him up. Please.”<br />
<br />
The little Spaniard was already scribbling away as his creation’s vile bodily fluids combined in his hands. I put a foot forward to clear the distance between myself and Pox and propelled myself forward.<br />
<br />
I never was good at waiting.<br />
<br />
Pox finished drawing the goop from his eyes and slapped it down on the floor in front of me as I took a swing for him. He ducked backwards, narrowly avoiding me. I was moving forward again when the snotball on the ground grew an arm and grabbed me with it.<br />
<br />
“Have fun with him Uncle Wither. I can’t imagine you’ve seen one in awhile. Should be some fun, eh?”<br />
<br />
Seth and Christoph were both finally moving across the room while Arturo continued to scribble in his notepad. Pox wrapped his arms around himself and leapt through the window. A child with wings swooped down and caught him, carrying him away.<br />
<br />
“What the hell was that Wither?”<br />
<br />
“How should I know? Help me with the ooze you moron!”<br />
<br />
By this point, the bubbling puddle of goo had grown another three arms, all ending in nasty claws. It seemed determined to pull the rest of its torso out of the snot bubble on the floor. All it was doing to me was shredding my ankle something fierce.<br />
<br />
I grabbed Christoph’s hand and we both pulled back as he slashed the arm across its green wrist with a vine whip. The clawed hand let me go and started to twist around as green scales grew over top of it.<br />
<br />
“What the hell is this thing Arturo?”<br />
<br />
“Silence while I’m working!”<br />
<br />
“I won’t be silent while I’m kicking its ass. What is it?”<br />
<br />
“Hydra. Now be quiet.”<br />
<br />
A hydra. Oh good. The first two heads pushed free of the widening puddle; their necks like noodles extruding from the muck. Seth pulled a chunk of broken glass from the window Pox had gone through. He threw it like a discus, the glass embedding itself halfway into one of the creature’s necks. Christoph reached out and grabbed ahold of the injured neck and wrenched. It screamed as he pried the hydra’s head from its neck, lobbing the torn off head out the window.<br />
<br />
The second head snapped for me as I pulled my lighter from my pocket. Seth caught it in mid-air and wrestled with the angry head as I poured the lighter’s reserve fluid all over the already healing stump. Flick, flick, flick, whoosh. The lighter caught and the fluid lit with it.<br />
<br />
The bloody stump started to sizzle and pop as it burned closed.<br />
<br />
“One down, two to go. What the hell are you doing over their Arturo?”<br />
<br />
“It’s composed of diseases and virii. It isn’t going to behave like a “normal” hydra. It’s a play on words. Hydras are types of virii; computer and otherwise. You three are already immune to its effects. You’d be bleeding from the ears right now if I hadn’t fixed that first.”<br />
<br />
The burned through stump caved in and showed rows of nasty teeth, its mouth becoming like a lamphrey.<br />
<br />
“Can you do something about the unkillable thing now?”<br />
<br />
“Working on it. You’re talking too much.”<br />
<br />
The first neck that Seth had leapt onto smashed him into a wall before growing arms of its own to claw at him with.<br />
<br />
“Arturo!”<br />
<br />
“Now! Stab it with a stick!”<br />
<br />
“What?!”<br />
<br />
“Stick! Stab it! Now!”<br />
<br />
Christoph jabbed his fist into the gasping mouth where the one neck’s stump had been. The entire creature seemed to vibrate, squealing wildly, before collapsing into a puddle of sea-green oil.<br />
<br />
“You couldn’t just write “It died” could you?”<br />
<br />
“No. There are rules that I have to bend. Particularly with someone of his caliber creating this thing. I had to reverse the way certain mitochondria process…”<br />
<br />
“Shut up. Just shut the hell up and get up those steps. We’ve got a long way to go before we get to Morelli and if you keep talking you’ll be laying here on the ground in your boy’s eye juice.”<br />
<br />
Arturo was quiet, another floor was clear, and we were on our way. I couldn’t help but grin.<br />
<br />
The kid hadn’t done a bad job on the hydra. I’d have to get him to make a more accurate version sometime. Those things were great to toy with when you got bored.<br />
<br />
And suddenly I understood why he was so damn cocky. He may be Victory’s son, but he took after his uncle damn well.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-13938398886500301362015-10-27T00:21:00.001-04:002015-10-27T00:21:42.245-04:00The Gates Are Back OPEN!It's been a long time worms and germs, but Chrysalis Falls is opening its gates again. As a special call to action, we're offering the 1st ebook collections of both The Boy Named Nod and The Pallbearer free on Kindle through Friday! So go get free stuff, I know you want to, then come on back and get caught up. We've got a wild ride to go on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sons-Adam-Named-Collection-Book-ebook/dp/B008CQ8X44/">The Sons of Adam: The Boy Named Nod - Collection 1</a><br />
<br />
<div class="western">
"Someone knew we were coming.<br /><br />More than
that, someone was using us to do their own job.<br /><br />"Mr.
Jonathan, get out here, double time. We're leaving."<br /><br />"Already?
But, you see, she's scared and a gentleman would..."<br /><br />"I
don't give a damn. Something's out of place and I won't be a sitting
target."<br /><br />Mr. Jonathan sauntered out of the back room,
still buttoning his shirt. His eyes met mine and he snarled. His lip
curled up, white teeth gleaming. His nostrils flared. Mr. Jonathan
slid one of his straight razors from his pant's pocket and took a
step towards me. He spun on that foot, ducking low, just in time to
miss our waitress swinging at him with a fire axe. He brought the
razor up and across her hickeyed throat. Her throat smiled red, a
crimson water fountain. Mr. Jonathan was already spinning to the side
beneath the spray of blood. He grabbed her by the back of the head
and flung her back into the stockroom."</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B008CQAQKS">Rate of Decay: The Pallbearer - Collection 1</a><br />
<br />
"The music started again. Different this time. More
upbeat. Showy.<br />
<div class="western">
And something started through the breach.<br /><br />"Jesus
Neil, they're clowns."<br /><br />Packs of them, claws scraping the
ground, mouths overflowing with teeth. Painted white with cotton
candy pink and blue polka dots. Naked. Snarling. Spittle-flecking
their cheeks. Another fine product of The Black Symphony's hackwork
bioengineering program. I pulled St. George from its holster on my
back."</div>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-44628266525247348182014-08-13T23:08:00.000-04:002015-12-15T23:09:04.449-05:00Elevator Music<table><tbody>
<tr><th>Elevator Music</th></tr>
<tr><td>There was pepper in my brain; a burn, a twist, an itch.<br /><br />"Nod, get out of my head. Your only warning. I'll tear you apart and have a janitor hose this room out."<br /><br />"Understood sir."<br /><br />I swiveled my head to look at Nod. He grinned, then turned away, looking into the mirrored sides of the elevator. He adjusted his tie, straightened his bowler.<br /><br />As he preened, the elevator died. Silent stop as the fluorescent lights ended. No flickering. Blown out like candles.<br /><br />"Does this happen here often? I can't say as I'm impressed."<br /><br />"Quiet boy. Show your owner some respect."<br /><br />He recoiled at that, scraping a bad taste from his tongue. Too bad.<br /><br />Too many assaults take place through elevator shafts. No cables in mine. Hydraulics. The shafts themselves are under constant guard.<br /><br />What the hell is going on?<br /><br /><i>skitter skiver skrich skrich skratch</i><br /><br />"Did someone cut the power?"<br /><br />"Ridiculous. We have our dedicated conduits beneath the building. It's part of our contracts with Morelli and East Fredricksburg. Now be quiet, I hear something."<br /><br /><i>skriver shiver</i><br /><br /><b><i>SQUEAL</i></b><br /><br />In the steel beside my head, four thick ridges grew. They burrowed down the wall, stopping a foot from the floor.<br /><br />"Mr. Jorgensen, I take it that doesn't happen here very often either?"<br /><br />Panting. There was panting. Above me, to the right. Drip drip drip; spittle landing on the elevator roof. Twisting. A soft <i>skitter skratch</i> as the drooling, panting thing moved to a different elevator.<br /><br />"No. It doesn't. We need to finish our descent. Down there, we stand a decent chance."<br /><br />"Chance at what?"<br /><br />"Surviving. Some<i>thing</i> has broken through my defences, gotten into the elevator shafts, and is looking for one with filling inside. I suggest we move on before it gets in."<br /><br />"Any suggestions mon capitan?"<br /><br />"The access panel in the ceiling. It'll find it soon enough. I boost you up. There's a panel on the roof of this elevator. Crush it, shoot it, whatever seems best to you. As long as it's destroyed, we'll begin a slow descent."<br /><br />"How's that?"<br /><br />"Controlled release. It has its own power source. Power dies, we go down. Now get over here so I can boost you up before it comes back."<br /><br />Nod moved slowly, laying his bowler down in the corner. Could the child move any damned slower?<br /><br />"Hurry up. It is hungry and it knows we are here. <i>Move</i>."<br /><br />He stepped to me and lifted a foot. I caught it and pushed him up into the air. He flipped open the latch on the first try and caught hold.<br /><br />I slipped under him and pushed and he struggled onto the roof.<br /><br />"Alright. Clear up here."<br /><br />"Good. Do you see the terminal?"<br /><br />"Yes."<br /><br />"Destroy it."<br /><br />He was pulling his pistol. Trigger rocking, clicking. Three shots into the panel.<br /><br />We were moving again. Down.<br /><br />Wait. Panting.<br /><br />"Nod, get back down here."<br /><br />"Sir..."<br /><br />"Get down here now."<br /><br />There was no muffled thud this time. No hushed squeak or skitter. The elevator jerked as weight slammed down onto the roof, dual dents above my head.<br /><br />Firing. Four shots.<br /><br /><i>roo roo roo</i><br /><br />A laugh. I've heard that laugh. No.<br /><br /><i><b>Ní dhíolann dearmad fiacha.</b> A debt is unpaid, even if forgotten.</i><br /><br />Nod screamed. Flesh parting.<br /><br />trinkle.<br /><br />shatter.<br /><br />A bloody pair of glasses lay at my feet.<br /><br />"Hallo wee man. We have business together."<br /><br />A single red eye peered down through the hatch.<br /><br />Teeth. Thick teeth.<br /><br />Black Shuck.<br /><br />"We have not taken kindly to your treachery."<br /><br />No. Impossible.<br /><br />"No worries wee man, although I can promise you, I give you not twelve minutes, let alone twelve months."<br /><br />Shredded my sleeves, baring my claws. Not at him. Eyes searing my back as I slashed at the door. Out. Must get out.<br /><br />Landed behind me. Towering over me. Don't look.<br /><br />I buried my claws in the door and strained.<br /><br />"I miss my eye."<br /><br />The doors cracked slightly, barely open.<br /><br />"Fear Dearg, you of all should know..."<br /><br /><i><b>Ní cleas é go ndéantar trí huaire é.</b> It isn't a trick until it is done three times.</i><br /><br />I screamed, through rows of teeth and dove through the elevator door. Down. Going down. Digging claws into the wall, slowing my drop. The door below was open.<br /><br />I swung inside, fell hard. A sack of potatoes. No one plays a trick on red cap. No one.<br /><br />I looked up into a hound's face, a single eye. A single hateful loathing eye.<br /><br />Thump thump.<br /><br />Heartbeat.<br /><br />Thump thump.<br /><br />He had no heart.<br /><br />I blinked and the boy smiled.<br /><br />The lights went out.<br /><br />---------------------------------------<br /><br />I flipped over Jorgensen's unconscious body and fished through his robes. A simple id card and a remote control. It would have to do.<br /><br />I stepped into the elevator, picking up my bowler and glasses. I wiped my glasses off on Jorgensen's robes and slipped them back on. Even the scar would fade soon. Just like all dreams do.<br /><br />I have never killed a man personally. I have destroyed them with my dreams and theirs.<br /><br />No man kills my dreams. No man holds them hostage.<br /><br />"Anything he can lead me to, I can find myself. Don't worry gents, I'm coming."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-53483460631281425112012-12-08T19:58:00.000-05:002012-12-08T19:58:06.008-05:00Hiatus ExtensionIt looks like we're pushing back the hiatus until at least January 1st. Apologies to all the folks who've been waiting for new material. Finances are being sorted. Thank you for your understanding.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-6861780656072873332012-09-18T19:42:00.001-04:002012-09-18T19:42:29.124-04:00HiatusLife can get ugly and get in the way. I'm sorry to say that because of this, our hiatus is coming a little earlier than expected. It's starting today, September the 18th and we'll be resuming again on December 1st. Again, this wasn't intended, but ugly life issues have pushed their way in. Thank you for your time and support.<br />
<br />
-JasonJason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-77879692257462915932012-09-17T21:28:00.000-04:002012-09-17T21:29:09.978-04:00Rue: Perdido Part 4<h4>
An Undertaker's Task</h4>
<br />
I hadn’t really expected the visitor’s center to look normal when we
reached it. I just wasn’t really expecting it to have become a stepped
pyramid either. They hadn’t fooled around with the color; they hadn’t
mucked about with the size of the first floor.<br />
<br />
However, there
were now second, third, and fourth floors. Each one was an equally
rectangular, boring little building stacked atop the other. Stairs
ascended the side of the building, giving access to each layer of the
still under construction pyramid.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
The workers, unsurprisingly,
appeared to be dead. They hustled tirelessly up and down ladders;
nailing boards into place, welding in chunks steel. Among their number
were a handful of werewolves like William and a handful of pale figures
with too taut skin.<br />
<br />
“Vampires?”<br />
<br />
“My brother is quite proud of them. They work well but are better suited to detail. My boys are the heavy lifters.”<br />
<br />
Two
of William’s “boys” stood on either side of the center’s doors, arms
folded across their chests, either one wearing a security guard uniform.<br />
<br />
“Who’re these three boss?”<br />
<br />
“I’m taking them to see Mr. Jackal. They have some information on the Stitches that might be useful.”<br />
<br />
“Easier ways to pull them apart?”<br />
<br />
“Doubtful but you never know.”<br />
<br />
They
nodded and held open the doors for us as I slogged forward with Rick on
my shoulder and Amy at my side. He was certainly not getting any
lighter.<br />
<br />
The light inside made me wince as my eyes adjusted away
from the dank dark outside. Even with as few changes as they had made
to the outside, the interior was a vast improvement. Instead of the
cold, brushed aluminum that pervaded most of the cemeteries everything
had been giving a gleaming, golden sheen. A cloaked figure with paper
white skin was painting hieroglyphics on wall with spidery fingers.<br />
<br />
“Who’s that?”<br />
<br />
“My brother, Hugh.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t see the family resemblance.”<br />
<br />
“Adopted family. Went through a lot of shit together.”<br />
<br />
I
nodded and continued to follow William through a second set of double
doors covered in cracking yellow paint. Sixteen stone tables with
sixteen stone dead corpses were arranged in the rectangular room. An
angular man with a black jackal head was bent over one of them, a
dark-skinned woman, frowning intently. An individual that appeared to
be as dead as the one on the table dabbed at his forehead. Another
tended a cart with ceramic jars atop it.<br />
<br />
Canopic jars. He was embalming them.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, the body on the table started to shake, rustling noises coming out its throat. It was crying.<br />
<br />
“Don’t worry Erin, it’ll be alright. We’ll finish putting you to rest soon. I promise.”<br />
<br />
And in that moment, he looked up and saw me. And saw Amy. And saw Rick.<br />
<br />
“William, can you please escort our guests to my office? I’ll be along shortly.”<br />
<br />
William
bowed his furred head silently and aimed our little parade through a
non-descript black door. Inside, the little Egypt feel had been
replaced by that of a doctor’s office. Beige walls, cherry wood desk,
cushioned leather chairs.<br />
<br />
I sat Rick down in one; careful to keep his hat perched on his head.<br />
<br />
“Amy?”<br />
<br />
“I’ll stand Morgan. It doesn’t ever make a difference to me; you know that honey.”<br />
<br />
I
nodded and sank into one of the chairs to wait. My eyes flickered as I
sat there and I reached into my pocket for more ProTabs.<br />
<br />
“Those are terrible for your health, you know?”<br />
<br />
Mr.
Jackal slipped in through the door, wiping off his hands, slipping a
white lab coat back over his shoulders. His head was no longer an
animals’; it was that of a young Middle Eastern man with thick black
stubble and meticulous hair.<br />
<br />
I opened and swallowed a pair of packages anyway.<br />
<br />
“I know. I’m just not worth much without them.”<br />
<br />
He
sat down in the rolling, leather chair on the opposite side of the desk
and waved off William. William nodded silently once again and slipped
away.<br />
<br />
“I wouldn’t say that Mr. Chadwick. You got Mr. Hatter here safely.”<br />
<br />
“You already know who we are. I suppose I shouldn’t suspect any less from a god.”<br />
<br />
He smiled toothily.<br />
<br />
“See there, I knew you were a quick one. Now, how can I help you?”<br />
<br />
“Rick here woke up in this cemetery. We’re trying to figure out why. More important, I want to know who killed his family.”<br />
<br />
“Well, to figure that out, I’ll need to examine Mr. Hatter more thoroughly. Will he be needing to go back to bed afterwards?”<br />
<br />
“That’ll
be up to him. When you’re family’s murdered, most likely to keep you
from dethroning the current mayor, it might make you a bit… restless.”<br />
<br />
Anubis’ lip twitched, his mouth flashing to a jackal’s for a moment. Then, he was back to being the quiet Mr. Jackal again.<br />
<br />
“I hadn’t realized the situation. Do you have any leads?”<br />
<br />
“The Sergeant that at least took responsibility for the kill was what William referred to as a Stitch.”<br />
<br />
“How…
detestable. Abusing the corpses of the fallen to keep multiple copies
of a single individual alive. Worse than cloning personally. At least
someone can earn a soul. These people are allowing fragments of souls
to be brutally subjugated. I wouldn’t be surprised if The Society paid
off Morelli by doing the deed for him. What happened to the Stitch?”<br />
<br />
“Bodily? Cremated. Spiritually? Imprisoned by the pissed off souls in the Green Gates crematorium.”<br />
<br />
The god sat there quietly, pursing his lips.<br />
<br />
“Well deserved, I’m sure.”<br />
<br />
I opened my mouth to agree when Rick started to stir.<br />
<br />
“Good morning sleepyhead.”<br />
<br />
“Where are we?”<br />
<br />
“Talking to one of the Egyptian gods of the dead. How are you feeling?”<br />
<br />
“Terrible.”<br />
<br />
“He’s a doctor too. Care for a checkup?”<br />
<br />
“Whatever you say Morgan.”<br />
<br />
I nodded to Anubis and he stood reverently.<br />
<br />
“Mr. Chadwick has alerted me to what happened to your family. I’m going to help you get to the bottom of this.”<br />
<br />
“Why?”<br />
<br />
“It’s
what I do. I am the Master of Embalmers. Our job is to make sure the
dead stay restful. That’s why we’re here in Perdido; in order to help
everyone get back to sleep.”<br />
<br />
That was the last bit I saw as my
eyes slid shut. I didn’t need anyone’s help getting to sleep. I was
doing just fine on my own.<br />
<br />
“Morgan, honey, what’s wrong?”<br />
<br />
“Gonna sleep now.”<br />
<br />
“You just had your ProTabs.”<br />
<br />
“I know, still sleepy.”<br />
<br />
“Morgan? Morgan!”<br />
<br />
The pills in my pocket pulled me down into the pillow of sand that had been left for me and I slept. Night night.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-59292882506773232302012-09-14T19:52:00.002-04:002012-09-14T19:52:35.591-04:00The Pallbearer: The Barter System Part 1<h4>
Incubii</h4>
<br />
Waking up is closer to death than any other part of life. You thrash
and twitch as you come to, your eyes starting to open. That crusty shit
gets in the way though and keeps them mostly shut, only letting light
barely peep under the lid. Finally, when you do get them all the way
open, the world isn’t half what you were expecting. At this point,
you’d rather just roll over and forget it. You can’t though. You can’t
sleep any more now than you could if a tiger was standing on your
chest.<br /><br />In my case, one was.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />“Glad to see you’re awake. Would you mind telling us who you are?”<br /><br />“Name’s Neil Anderson. Wife’s Cassie. Would you mind telling me who you are before I kill you?”<br /><br />The tiger Sleeper straddling my chest flourished his claws and grinned.<br /><br />“Awfully cranky when you wake up aren’t you? One should never nap in unfamiliar territory.”<br /><br />“If
you would’ve been more gracious hosts, we wouldn’t have been left to
nap on the lawn. Instead, you’re sitting on my chest like some fat
dream demon waiting to get their ass kicked.”<br /><br />The tiger man snarled a little and leaned in close.<br /><br />“I’m
not liking your attitude Mr. Anderson. I want to know what you’re
doing out here. Finish killing the Exiles and decide to have some fun
sharp shooting? Or are you here to kill us instead of trading like your
company agreed?”<br /><br />“Cassie?”<br /><br />“I’m here Neil.”<br /><br />“Do you have a precocious kitty on you too?”<br /><br />“Yup.”<br /><br />“Anything you can’t deal with?”<br /><br />“Nope.”<br /><br />“Good.”<br /><br />“Mr. Anderson! I’m talking to you!”<br /><br />I
sat up and drove my forehead into the tiger’s muzzle. Something
shifted, broke, and started to bleed all over my forehead. I flipped my
sitter over and onto the dirt as he clutched at his nose.<br /><br />A female tiger with lovely black and white stripes flew through the air and skidded along the grass less than three feet away.<br /><br />“I’m done being interrogated. So is my wife. Any further inquiries can be directed to St. George.”<br /><br />Both
sets of eyes were wide, my Brute seeing that they had been foolish
enough to leave only a guard apiece for us, and only four to stand watch
over my suit. My Brute swung St. George in a simple semicircle and
flung its guards away.<br /><br />My tiger man was rocking back onto his feet, golden eyes burning with rage. His mouth was moving as he lunged for me.<br /><br />“You are murderers then, aren’t you? More West Worthington filth.”<br /><br />My fist found his nose and he crashed to the ground. Again.<br /><br />“Don’t
ever associate me with West Worthington again. Understand? I’m not
here for whatever the hell backwater deal you’ve made; I’m here on
honeymoon. Now, if you’re so intent on ruining my first day outside the
city, we can just kill you right now. Cassie can crush people’s hearts
in their chest and I guarantee you that the big gun my Brute carries
isn’t just for looks.”<br /><br />The male was still clutching his nose as the female slunk over to us, watching us warily.<br /><br />“No one comes out here but West Worthington filth. How did you make it out?”<br /><br />“The
Gray Pack have a home in the district we conquered. We wanted a break
from kicking corporate ass and decided outside would be nice.”<br /><br />The female gasped, the male looked up astounded, and I finally noticed the crowd gathering at the edge of the trees.<br /><br />“What, is it that amazing?”<br /><br />“Neil?”<br /><br />“Yes Cassie?”<br /><br />“I don’t they’re amazed over you.”<br /><br />“Why not?”<br /><br />“Because
there’s an individual coming out of an opening in The Wall, about three
stories up. He’s throwing off sparks and levitating.”<br /><br />“That doesn’t sound very nice.”<br /><br />“He has a whole mess of troops following him down the side of the wall via ladder.”<br /><br />“I see them.”<br /><br />“You aren’t even looking Neil.”<br /><br />“Wrong set of eyes honey.”<br /><br />My Brute eyes saw them. As did St. George. The angel would be dealt with last. The troops though, their time had come.<br /><br />St.
George spoke, clearing his throat of the no doubt foul tasting high
explosive shell inside. It raced through the air, zipping past the
electric blue seraph and finding the doorway the Corp Sekkies were
coming out of. Those that didn’t turn into dog food fell screaming as
the ladder peeled away from the wall.<br /><br />The angel was booming now.<br /><br />“Who dares defy West Worthington? Who dares defy their representative, Conduit?”<br /><br />I started laughing. All eyes were on me but I just couldn’t help myself. It was too damn funny.<br /><br />“Why… why are you laughing? You aren’t a Sleeper. Who the hell are you?”<br /><br />“I’ve killed Conduit. And you sir, you are no Conduit.”<br /><br />The
Corp soldier’s eyes went wide and he dropped about a foot before his
concentration caught again and his electro-magnetic field started
buffering his descent.<br /><br />“You’re Ex-Associate Anderson. You’re the one that took Jeng.”<br /><br />I smiled and lined him up in St. George’s sights.<br /><br />“And you’re a smart one. Too bad the only good angel’s a fallen angel.”<br /><br />Figured. Why was it I always had to work on my vacations?Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-78730718411852283932012-09-14T19:51:00.001-04:002012-09-14T19:52:45.082-04:00The Boy Named Nod: Part 2 of Milk Carton<h4>
Hijackers</h4>
<br />
I had come here to save a boy from suffering and his mother from certain
death. I had not come here to peep through windows at rusty skeletons.
Here they were though, remnants of the latest disease in a parade to
take its turn filleting up parts of the city.<br />
<br />
Oh good, the
conquering hero, come to throw fate aside. Let us not mention that he
destroyed or at very least, delayed one of the sources of a cure. It
made me sick to my stomach that so many had died and were left to
decompose in their homes. Their bodies served no real purpose, spread
no disease that the Corps couldn’t cure. So to hell with them, they
could stay in their tenement tombs until they faded back into dust.<br />
<br />
Pathetic.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Our
intel hadn't been as accurate as I usually liked. It wasn’t horrible,
mind. A four block radius when most of the city didn’t know what
district these people were in was fine by me. I just hated having to
scout by myself.<br />
<br />
“Oooo…. More dead ‘uns!”<br />
<br />
I sighed and
rubbed my temples. Strike that. I wasn’t alone. I was much worse than
alone. I was being followed by four imps in hooded sweatshirts that
couldn’t stop gawking at the corpses. Or at birds. Or at people. Or
at that shiny thing in the drain.<br />
<br />
“Come on you lot. Let’s keep
moving. Remember, we’re looking for a young boy. Quite possibly, we’re
looking for several young boys who look exactly alike. We may even be
looking for a boy with a team like ours. He won’t be friendly, that
much is certain.”<br />
<br />
“So fars, only dead ‘uns boss.”<br />
<br />
“I know about those James.”<br />
<br />
“Did you see that can in the drain!? It was shiny!”<br />
<br />
I
sighed and kept walking. Why oh why had I insisted on letting Mr.
Jonathan, Rebecca, and Trevor scout from below? They could blend just
fine. Instead, I was stuck playing peeping tom with four halfwit, badly
disguised imps.<br />
<br />
“Oh! That one’s pretty!”<br />
<br />
“What one?”<br />
<br />
“The lady with the ropes.”<br />
<br />
“What ropes?”<br />
<br />
“That one that’s tied up in that room. That looks like fun!”<br />
<br />
I stopped in my tracks.<br />
<br />
“Manfred, Whitfield, what are you two talking about?”<br />
<br />
“The
tied up lady in that room back there. She had a rope in her mouth and
tying up her hands and feet. I remember you tying us up like that once.
It was fun!”<br />
<br />
I darted back to the window they were pointing at
and squinted to see inside. Indeed, there a woman was tied up and
gagged, sitting amongst a clutch of almost skeletons. The door started
to swing open and a young boy sauntered into the room, wearing grungy
khakis and a black button down shirt. Followed by his twin. Followed
by a third duplicate. Then a fourth.<br />
<br />
Two of them grabbed the
woman by the feet and dragged her into the middle of the room. Then,
each one of the no more than ten year old boys started kicking her in
the ribs.<br />
<br />
“Charles, get the others. You three, we’re going in.”<br />
<br />
“Now? No waiting?”<br />
<br />
I
pulled my pistol, fired three times through the window, and jumped
inside the room. This little shit needed teaching a lesson. Sons do
not strike their mothers. Each one of the four turned, a frown on their
faces, dark hair shading their eyes. Their feet stopped kicking their
mother as their fists balled up and they came for me.<br />
<br />
The butt
end of my pistol kissed the nearest one’s chin and he spun away into the
wall, crashing into the arms of a skeleton. One lunged forward, cocked
back his fist to punch me in the stomach, and ended up with James
landing on his chest.<br />
<br />
The other two duplicate boys hesitated for a
moment and ended up with Manfred and Whitfield tackling them. With the
fourth boy still reeling on the floor, I stooped to undo the woman’s
bonds. I ripped the gag out of her mouth.<br />
<br />
“Is this all of them? How many more of your son are there?”<br />
<br />
“This isn’t my boy. These are his things. I don’t know where he is. Help him. Help him please.”<br />
<br />
A
hand on my shoulder told me I had taken too long and the fourth boy was
back up. Then, his claws dug into my shoulder and I realized that he
wasn’t a boy at all. I put my elbow where its stomach belonged and made
squishy contact. It was enough to make the thing grabbing me let go.<br />
<br />
“Nod, these is brothers! Cousins! Uncles!”<br />
<br />
I
turned to see The Wrecking Crew wrestling blue-green imps with stringy
fluorescent yellow hair. The one that had grabbed my shoulder grinned
through a mouthful of half-rotted teeth.<br />
<br />
“If they aren’t Mob, they don’t matter.”<br />
<br />
I
shot the imp three times in the chest and watched its shit-eating grin
melt off of its face. It fell over wordlessly as a boy screamed
somewhere else in the house. The imps my boys were handling howled and
all at once lifted up Manfred, Whitfield, and James to fling them off
and escape.<br />
<br />
But my boys knew their instructions. If these were
not Mob, there was no reason to let them live. Lethal force ends fights
so much faster.<br />
<br />
James’ foe fell with four knives sticking out of
its neck. The two remaining imps successfully flung off Manfred and
Whitfield and darted out the door only to explode into a cloud of teal
mist moments later.<br />
<br />
Then, I head the feet. Like raindrops on a
tin roof. They were coming. That was what had torn apart the
roadblocks. Not a little boy. Not four imps. An army of imps.<br />
<br />
I helped the woman to her feet and pushed her towards the window.<br />
<br />
“Run.”<br />
<br />
“But my boy…”<br />
<br />
“I promise, I won’t kill him. But you need to go.”<br />
<br />
Then Mr. Jonathan was there at the window, taking her hand, lifting her through. The cavalry was here.<br />
<br />
“Nod, what have we gotten ourselves into?”<br />
<br />
Charles was coming back in through the window, speaking in soft words, his purple skin furrowed, crimson Mohawk drooping.<br />
<br />
“Big
mess, fur face. Big messes. All of you, get’s get’s your ass movin’.
We wills take care of this. You’s watch for nasty man and nasty girl.
These brothers hurt their caller. These brothers ran away, long time
long time. They did nasty things to imps. We do nasty things to them.”<br />
<br />
“You
heard them Mr. Jonathan. Somebody needs to get Mob’s mother to safety,
the rest of you start securing the neighborhood for when Corsair and
his daughter get here.”<br />
<br />
“What about you?”<br />
<br />
“I’m staying with The Crew.”<br />
<br />
I
reloaded my pistol. Damnation those footsteps sounded like they would
never end. Where were they coming from? Why weren’t they here already?<br />
<br />
“You sure?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, it’s time I picked on somebody my own size.”Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-34247492429865986172012-09-13T19:08:00.003-04:002015-11-06T00:25:09.724-05:00Speechless: Hunting Party Part 4<h4>
Eye For An Eye</h4>
<br />
I thought I was making some pretty good time down that hallway for a
cyclops, but the bastard just wouldn’t slow down. He was dodging and
weaving through every little corridor, prancing across the catwalks,
hopping over guardrails, thinking he was going to get away.<br />
<br />
Too
bad I’m persistent. Having your arm flayed open, salt scraped into it,
and then losing your eye can do that to a man though.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
What? You
thought I’d be laying in a puddle of blood trying to recover? Screw
that. Nagumo had waited with me in that godawful cistern with Curtis’
corpse until I came to. By that point, he’d already got my tongue sewn
closed. My head was throbbing. When didn’t it throb? A little more
pain meant nothing. My life was agony already. That’s why I wanted to
die a hero hadn’t it been?<br />
<br />
To end it without letting everyone know I was a coward.<br />
<br />
That
was all well and good, the whole bit about dying. But the laundry list
just kept growing. Anne and Tobias, Samedi and his boys, Nagumo…
Yeah… That one wasn’t going to be fun. A promise was a promise though.
I’d give Nagumo his chance when the time came. But that time wasn’t
going to be anytime soon, no siree, not with how quick this little freak
was racing along.<br />
<br />
I had noticed his spindly legs as his sister had been rubbing hers against them. As raw, red meat, they were hard to miss. I didn’t intend to miss them though. My
pipe was crying out for his kneecaps and I intended to deliver.<br />
<br />
I
put my foot up onto a bit of railing and leapt into the air, grasping
onto a chain dangling from overhead. Appeared to be connected to some
monstrous pump, churning the water up through the city, providing
everyone with what they needed, letting us all imagine that the inland
sea we were pulling it from past The Bastion would never run out. It
had to run out. Nothing lasted forever.<br />
<br />
With a little luck, his legs would be next on the list of expired goods.<br />
<br />
And that got me wondering if Nagumo was having as much fun as I was.<br />
--------------<br />
<br />
<br />
Jack
was probably finding this amusing. I was not. Hunting criminals was
serious business, and this one was no exception. She may have been
originally limping when she got away from Jack but she was moving at a
pretty brisk pace by the time I caught up with her.<br />
<br />
Anne had stopped to face me, a chain half wrapped around her arm.<br />
<br />
“You think to fight me with that?”<br />
<br />
“I’ve succeeded with much less effective tools against nastier people than you, fish.”<br />
<br />
I
unsheathed The Darkening and she tensed, ready to pounce if I made a
move towards her. I didn’t. Instead, I tossed down the catwalk to her.
Anne skittered back as if it was a spider and she a luscious fly for
the taking.<br />
<br />
“Pick it up.”<br />
<br />
“What?”<br />
<br />
“I said pick it
up. I’ll not be fighting you with a chain in your hands. That’s
ridiculous. I’ll face you fairly. I’m not here to cut you down, full
of bloodlust. I’m here to judge you in as fair a way as possible. This
is what you’re going to get.”<br />
<br />
She stooped down and scooped up the blade I had thrown her.<br />
<br />
“But I’m keeping the chain.”<br />
<br />
“If it makes you feel more secure, by all means.”<br />
<br />
I put my hand on Illumination’s hilt and stood relaxed.<br />
<br />
“What are you doing?”<br />
<br />
“Waiting.”<br />
<br />
She swung the blade limply, feeling its weight before raising it up, horizontal to her shoulders.<br />
<br />
“It was a mistake to give this to me.”<br />
<br />
“Obviously. You have no idea what you’re doing.”<br />
<br />
“On the contrary, I’ve watched your kind long enough to know how this goes.”<br />
<br />
“Have you?<br />
<br />
She
lunged for me, blade falling for the center of my skull. I brought my
own blade up from the sheath in one fluid motion, one hand on the hilt,
blocking her swing. Her arm wrapped in chain came for the side of my
head. It was approximately six inches away when it fell slack. That
might have had something to do with the sheath that had just smashed into
her throat.<br />
<br />
Anne fell to her knees, The Darkening falling from her hands. She floundered for air, trying to breath.<br />
<br />
“Your
windpipe has been crushed. You are already dead. I am merciful, more
merciful than I fear Jack will be to your brother. You need not suffer
any longer than this.”<br />
<br />
I raised Illumination. Justice would be done.<br />
------------------------------------<br />
<br />
So
like I was saying, he was damn fast. Thankfully, the third time
around the reservoir, he started slowing down. I think the panic that
had overcome him when he saw me coming with an eye hole who bandages were
fluttering away now. He was getting a grip on himself. By keeping the
ring of chains, I could even move without him seeing me.<br />
<br />
Let me tell you, that was some fun.<br />
<br />
Swinging
around like a monkey with no one able to hear you is a riot. He never
thought to look up. Oh, he looked side to side plenty. He looked
behind plenty. But he never looked up. Hell, he only looked down
when he started to trip.<br />
<br />
That’s when I let go of the chains.<br />
<br />
I
landed right behind him as he staggered forward. He was leaning into
his run, trying to keep moving even as he lost his balance. You know
the kind of run, where you pretend you’re a bird that some how is going
to achieve lift off if you just keep moving.<br />
<br />
I slammed the pipe into the back of his knees and his legs crumpled beneath.<br />
<br />
Sorry dearie, the flight’s been canceled. Seems the plane’s landing gear are broken.<br />
<br />
He
hit grating face first and dented that cute little nose of his. Tobias was just turning his head to look up at me when Angela’s sweet voice
sang out a victory cry and my pipe crushed all the vertebrae at the base
of his neck.<br />
<br />
Tobias screamed. It was a scream I let shake through
me with glee. This wasn’t justice. This was vengeance. This was
screw getting even and screw getting ahead. This was about making it so
that there could be no evening of the score ever again. The complete
annihilation of your opponent.<br />
<br />
I saw Nagumo coming and smiled a
little. He did not smile at me, but he knew better than to make a
judgement right now. Too much was missing from me right now to question
what I was about to do.<br />
<br />
I touched my finger to the back of Tobias’ head and started to whisper softly to him.<br />
<br />
“Hi
Tobias. Remember me? Remember my arm? Remember how my eye looked
before your little friend that it would fit his head better? Don’t
worry, it’s okay. We’re squaresies now. I don’t plan on killing you
any time soon. In fact, I don’t plan on ever killing you. I bet it’ll
get lonely laying here, but you’ll manage. You’re a big boy. And
hell, Anne’ll even join you.”<br />
<br />
That was when I gingerly took Anne’s head from Nagumo and set it down in front of him, eye to eye with him.<br />
<br />
The
scream that had almost died rose again to new heights, none of it
intelligible. His mind was gone. That would be just fine.<br />
<br />
I stood and shook hands with Nagumo, less to congratulate, more to just speak.<br />
<br />
“Now that that’s done, what’s next on the agenda. Samedi and Mr. Heat or more escapees?”<br />
<br />
“We
need to take time and plan our next course of action. It’s not so easy
as just pointing ourselves in a direction and walking.”<br />
<br />
“I suppose. Let’s go then.”<br />
<br />
“Are you going to end his suffering?”<br />
<br />
“No.”<br />
<br />
“Why not? How long will it take of his screaming before you feel vindicated?”<br />
<br />
“When my eye grows back. Let’s go.”<br />
<br />
I
could still hear him screaming as we left, even as his vocal chords
were starting to go, I could hear the weakening whimper blowing across
them as his lungs emptied, refilled, and emptied again. It didn’t
matter where we went, I’d hear him. <br />
<br />
So we picked a direction and walked. And I, at the very least, felt better about my life.<br />
<br />
So there. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-64499234145978609682012-09-11T17:50:00.001-04:002015-10-27T14:02:32.973-04:00Wither The Vain: Part 1 of The Tower<h4>
Foundation of Blood</h4>
<br />
The skull was heavy in my hand. It was a little surprising, I’ll admit.
I wouldn’t have expected a weak-minded creation to have such a thick
skull. I turned to Wither. He was still clenching his teeth, his fists
balled up nice and tight. Christoph and Seth were standing on either
side of him. They didn’t look quite as pissed. Not quite. More just
tired and eager to hurt things.<br />
<br />
I understood. This was an embarrassment. A fucking slap to the face. It would not be tolerated.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
You
see, that’s why I always liked Excalibur. It wasn’t because it was a
decent sword. Seth was the one who liked swords. He would fight all
day with random peasants just to feel the way a good sword sliced up the
opposition. Everybody thinks War’s in it for the killing. Hardly.
He’s in it for the fight. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to
him whether he dies or someone else dies for the most part. He just
wants a good clean fight.<br />
<br />
I was the one that created Excalibur.
I’m the one that made it so ungodly powerful so as to be nigh
unstoppable. Seth loathed it, loathed its ability to turn a fair fight
into a rout. Him and his stupid fair fight. I don’t want fair. I want
dirty. Actually, to be frank, I don’t want a fight at all. I want a
massacre. I want a slaughterhouse. I’m not about wading through a
field of soldiers cleaving them in twain with an ass’s jawbone. I’m
about planting explosives through the field that they’ll be running
through and letting a flaming arrow light the fuse that causes the earth
to erupt beneath their feet.<br />
<br />
We had come to negotiate with
Morelli in order to deny a piece of the city charter to Samedi, Anubis,
and my creation Pox. We had already cleaned out his precious Meddigo
Tower. It should have been an easy negotiation, as far as these kinds
of things go.<br />
<br />
But the others had arrived and started negotiations
early. A dozen Sergeant Johnson’s were standing just inside the
entrance to Meddigo Tower, each one of them standing still and at
attention as we had strolled inside. Odd. The Mayor supposedly
detested clones as troops. Obviously, the original trooper the Johnsons
had been based on had some special meaning to Morelli.<br />
<br />
“You lot aren’t welcome here.”<br />
<br />
“We’re
come to speak to Mayor Morelli. Negotiations. Starting with the fact
that we were the ones that removed the bird from his roost.”<br />
<br />
“The Mayor acknowledges what you’ve done. However, he’s not available today.”<br />
<br />
The Sergeant Johnson that had taken point smirked.<br />
<br />
“After
all, he’s waiting for a very important document to arrive so he can get
a signature down on paper. Now hurry on along. The important people
are busy here.”<br />
<br />
Wither was swinging for the Johnson’s jaw as one
of my pencils buried itself between its eyes. His skin changed color
and consistency. Where the pencil had lodged itself faded to a soft
tan. The color blossomed outward, stopping only where it collided with
rows of stitches. Beyond the stitches, skin tones of various flavors
continued to spread in a wave.<br />
<br />
“They’re Stitches. Anubis and
Samedi already paid the bastard off. Kill anything that moves. Watch
for anything toxic. I’m guessing Arturo’s little boy is here too.”<br />
<br />
Seth
was already clearing the distance between himself and a cluster of
three Johnsons. Each of hulking stitched together nasties had raised
assault shotguns and seemed to think the odd were in their favor. That
was mere moments before the thorny-whip Christoph had given him unfurled
from Seth’s hand and lashed across their faces. The thorns broke off
and lodged in their cheeks and noses and began to sprout. Smaller vines
burst from the thorns and wrapped around the guards’ throats,
strangling them to death. Christoph snickered as he dispatched them
without ever bothering to move.<br />
<br />
Seth snatched up the guns and
tossed one to me before firing on the guards with one himself. Wither
was darting between the guards, his hair whipping about as he pummeled
their ribs into powder and kneaded their faces into lumps of crimson
dough.<br />
<br />
Thirteen guards were all they had standing in that
expansive lobby. It took approximately that many seconds before they
were all dead on the floor, crumpled up like fast food wrappers, vines
growing happily in their lungs, their eye sockets converted into pencil
holders.<br />
<br />
I stooped and scooped up one of the heads that had been
severed by the more ambitious of Christoph’s vines. The skin was
sloughing off now that the stitches were failing. The skull had been
cobbled together a bit more successfully. That is to say, not put
together well at all. The ridges of the artificial calcium seams were
obvious even before the muscle had started to deteriorate.<br />
<br />
Like I say though, decent production value on the weight at least.<br />
<br />
“They’ll be waiting for us in force up the stairs Wither. You realize that don’t you?”<br />
<br />
“Seth
is right. Morelli will be in his secured office. They’ve probably got
him convinced that they can protect him from anything.”<br />
<br />
“We’re
going to march up there and kill everything and everyone in our way.
Have fun. Go wild. Just like the old days. If he wants to spit in our
face after saving his city, so be it. I’ll kill the fat bastard myself
if it comes down to it. He will not be allowed to sign that charter.”<br />
<br />
I snickered under my breath.<br />
<br />
“You
do realize Wither, that if we kill him, this city will almost certainly
fall apart? That our heroics against that stupid bird will be for
nothing?”<br />
<br />
“They won’t be for nothing.”<br />
<br />
“No? What purpose will they serve?”<br />
<br />
“We’ll be the ones responsible. If the world’s going to end, we’ll be the ones to do it. No one else.”<br />
<br />
“Oh, more territorial pissing.”<br />
<br />
“You have a problem with that?”<br />
<br />
“On
the contrary, anything less would count as a draw. I’m Victory,
remember? I’m in it for the win. Anything else is pointless.”<br />
<br />
Wither nodded and looked over his shoulder at Christoph and Seth. They nodded back to him.<br />
<br />
“No one disrespects the horsemen without suffering for it. Let’s go.”<br />
<br />
It was good to be a family. A family of murderers and madmen, sure. But a family nonetheless.Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-72236917936571387822012-09-11T17:48:00.000-04:002012-09-11T17:48:19.070-04:00Rue: Perdido Part 3<h4>
Dead Tired </h4>
<br />
Those of you unfortunate enough to have been in a similar situation
assuredly understand what I’m about to say. The rest of you will,
unfortunately, have to use your imaginations. If you took every piece
of meat that has ever gone rancid in your personal refrigerator over the
course of your entire lifetime, dipped it in liquid fecal matter, and
cooked it in a rice steamer, you would understand what feral dog breath
truly smells like. Werewolf breath smells only slightly better. I have
to imagine that’s because they don’t eat their own shit. I don’t think
they do anyway.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />Regardless, my nose was recoiling in disgust as
soggy breath poured out between the werewolf’s teeth that rested on my
throat. His hairs were still merrily smoking on the back of his neck
where Cassie’s silver ring rested.<br /><br />“So… are you going to move first?”<br /><br />A
growl started to rise in the werewolf’s throat, vibrating my neck
slightly. I pressed the ring a little tighter against his skin and his
jaws popped open. A small “yipe” of pain burst out from between them
and we rolled apart.<br /><br />“That’s better now. Care to tell me why you were planning to use me as a chew toy?”<br /><br />It stayed in a crouch, watching me. One clawed hand was one the ground and I realized he was getting ready to sprint.<br /><br />“Come
on, knock it off. Before trying to see if this next round will be any
less disastrous for you, you could at least tell me why you’re trying to
kill me.”<br /><br />“You know damn well why. Coming this far out with a
zombie in tow, you’re looking for a fight. Maybe you figured with all
the Corp activity lately that you could get out and go round up some
more friends of yours. Too bad. I’m not letting you leave.”<br /><br />“That’s a relief. We were wanting inside anyway.”<br /><br />Wrinkles creased its furry forehead.<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“You’re
the one with the sense of smell. I know you know I’m alive, the passed
out one is dead, and my wife over there is a ghost.”<br /><br />I flashed my badge.<br /><br />“I’m
a detective from up in Sho. Our zombie friend is a former mayoral
candidate that showed up at my door thinking he was still alive. We’ve
been following the trail back here to figure out what the hell’s going
on. Care to help?”<br /><br />“What’s going on? We’re fighting.”<br /><br />“West Worthington or East Fredricksburg?”<br /><br />“Pfft. They both bailed months ago, right before we got here with Mr. Jackal.”<br /><br />“Then who’s fighting?”<br /><br />“The
South Cairo Corporation and The Society of Ashes. I’m with South
Cairo. Mr. Jackal is trying to keep the zombie problem that The Society
started contained here.”<br /><br />The werewolf stood and I slowly
followed suit, dusting myself off. He was shaking his head as the fur
receded back under his skin; his teeth and claws falling out, only to be
filled in by normal human sized replacements.<br /><br />“I don’t know why
I’m bothering to tell you this. If you’re serious about heading further
in, you’re only going to get yourself killed. Be it by the undead or
by one of my fellows.”<br /><br />“I was hoping we’d work together.”<br /><br />“Now why would I do that?”<br /><br />“Seeing
as I want to find out why he came back from the dead, and why some very
unpleasant stitched together individuals want him eradicated, I
thought…”<br /><br />“Did you say stitched together?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Like how?”<br /><br />“Like a three year old with thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. However, until they start dying, you can’t see the lines.”<br /><br />“Come with me. I think you and Mr. Jackal need to talk.”<br /><br />I
tossed Amy’s ring back to her and it became just slightly see-through,
just like her. As I stooped to pick up Rick and throw him over my
shoulder, the werewolf started chuckling.<br /><br />“Decided to trust me?”<br /><br />“No, she’s just much faster than me and would have you dead long before you could get your first shot in.”<br /><br />He
quieted down at that. It was good. With how heavy Rick was, I didn’t
have the energy for banter. I just wanted to meet up with this Mr.
Jackal and figure out why the dead were getting restless. I reached a
hand into my pocket, pulled out my Pro-Tabs, and downed a handful of
them.<br /><br />“Are you ready?”<br /><br />“Lead on fuzzy.”<br /><br />“My name is William.”<br /><br />“”Mine’s Morgan. My wife is Amy. The sack on my shoulder is Rick Hatter. Where are we heading?”<br /><br />“The old visitor’s center. Mr. Jackal is having it converted for his needs.”<br /><br />I
nodded, readjusted Rick on my shoulder, and followed William down the
cracked concrete path to the visitor’s center. The fog shrouded
everything but our guide’s back and I was having trouble shaking the
sluggishness from my mind this time. Rick twitched a little on my
shoulder.<br /><br />At least that meant he’d be walking on his own again shortly. The Pro-Tabs were heavy in my pocket.<br /><br />I wondered when I’d be walking on my own again too. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-20509845614592169872012-09-07T17:49:00.002-04:002012-09-07T17:49:31.768-04:00The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 4<h4>
Rising</h4>
<br />
The sun was rising when Cassie and I reached the outside. I had never
been one that watched sunrises much before Chrysalis. I was too busy
watching strange things happening around me to be bothered. This one
though, this particular sunrise, got watched.<br /><br />It was worth it.<br /><br />Cassie
saw it first as we came up the incline leading out of the tunnel we had
walked for over thirty hours. Her head tilted to the right as she saw
the sky. She stood that way for a moment, even as I kept walking, my
eyes on the ground, trying to tug her forward. Then, just as my eyes
started to tilt up and look at the thing pouring light across my toes,
even as my Brute’s optics were finally deciding to come out of
night vision mode, Cassie ran.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />You see, some people towards the
center of the city that don’t live in arcologies where day and night are
simulated can still watch the sun rise and set. In some places in
Chrysalis Falls, the lights flicker just right so that you can watch the
stars at night. We had not been to those places in over five years.
We had not watched the sun rise, had not watched it set. We had only
been able to see it slip through the sky high above our steel cocoon,
our prison.<br /><br />When my eyes hit the skyline and began to absorb what
I was seeing, I ran too. I ran with my feet and my Brute’s feet both.
We charged forward into the sight before our, diving into the newborn
rays and drinking our way up.<br /><br />What words are there for a sunrise? How do I tell you what one looks like?<br /><br />The
Corps spent billions on engineering the arcologies to artificially
broadcast a single unified image through hundreds of floors stuffed with
people. Every pane has to work in synchronicity to display the proper
angle of light just the way it would strike real glass windows. They
have to be able to show the sun at just the right angle so that if I
walk from one end of the building to another, I see the same sun in the
same position in the sky. In order to create this seamless illusion
every arcology has an entire support complex filled with supercomputers
and support staff maintaining them to properly engineer every sunrise
and sunset. Happy people need their circadian rhythms catered to.
Happy people work harder for less. Happy people revolt less often and
sell fewer secrets to the competition. Happy people don’t steal company
time by clocking in right before running to the bathroom. And so,
Happy people get their sunrises and sunsets. But you know what? Every
single person that lives in the arcologies, from the youngest child to
the oldest suit sitting and rotting at his desk while he debates whether
he wants a male or female personal assistant to get his rocks off this
morning, knows that their sunrise is a boldfaced fucking lie. They know
it. With every part of their body, they clench their teeth tight as
they watch artificially generated U.V. rays pour through panes of
supposed glass claiming to show the morning on the other side. They
bite their tongues until they bleed, wincing in agony as the
computerized sun rises. It is, by and large, an accurate replication.
Just as a sunrise in a movie is an accurate depiction of a real event.
But you know what it isn’t?<br /><br />It isn’t a fucking sunrise.<br /><br />I
don’t care what you call it; just don’t call it a sunrise. It isn’t.
What we saw that morning was a sunrise. It was an enormous egg rising
from a vast sea that you couldn’t look at without rainbow spots eating
your eyes. It was a blood-drenched apron being spread across the sky as
the day settled down to watching the ants below play war. It was a
lake of molten fire being poured from the night god’s forge over the
clouds to line them. <br /><br />It was the glory that ancient people first worshipped.<br /><br />I
tripped as I ran and fell to my knees. I stayed there, my hands in the
dirt, looking up at the sun as rose, unhindered by walls. I felt the
soft dirt between my fingers, the stab of grass into my palms, the bite
of ants as they crawled over my hands.<br /><br />Inhale.<br /><br />Exhale.<br /><br />Repeat.<br /><br />I
was breathing air that hadn’t been swirled within the smog-filled
vortex of Chrysalis Falls. I was breathing air that wasn’t filled with
neurotoxin byproducts from the chemical factories and the crematoriums.<br /><br />I
didn’t notice that The Wall wasn’t active. I wouldn’t notice that for
another four hours. I wouldn’t even start to wonder why we weren’t
being filled with holes yet. I didn’t see the eyes following our every
movement, watching us from the trees a hundred yards away. I didn’t
even see the dark green of the pine trees for two more hours.<br /><br />Cassie and I had eyes only for the sunrise. It was dawn.<br /><br />How little did I know.<br /><br />It was dawn. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-55462062823105085112012-09-06T18:46:00.001-04:002012-09-06T18:46:24.229-04:00The Boy Named Nod: Milk Carton Part 1<h4>
Bloodhounds</h4>
<br />
“Absolutely not.”<br /><br />“Mr. Nod, please reconsider.”<br /><br />“I don’t reconsider hunting down children.”<br /><br />“These aren’t normal children.”<br /><br />“In case your powers of observation are lacking, I’m not normal either.”<br /><br />“That’s one of the reasons why we chose to contact you first and foremost.”<br /><br />“I
see. You decided that a child would be useful to hunt down other
children. While I’m loathe to forcibly expel a job offer from my home,
my colleagues have no such compunction. Make your point swiftly or
leave with equal speed.”<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />“Mr. Nod, are you familiar with The Judges?”<br /><br />“Who
isn’t? We’ve done our fair share of turning in fish head bounties. I
don’t much care for groups that like to persecute others because of
their own standards. Besides, they frown on hiring specialists like
us.”<br /><br />“Are you familiar with their leaders?”<br /><br />“The Consulate?”<br /><br />“No,
the sea monsters who rarely come into the bay. The three that are seen
most commonly are Leviathan, The Kraken, and the island sized tortoise
Mundo.”<br /><br />For the first time in our conversation, I was starting to
become curious. My curiosity was piqued for only one reason. At the
mention of Leviathan, Gregor had dropped his tea. Oh, Mr. Jonathan had
caught it for him so there would be no unsightly shattering across the
floor Rebecca had just cleaned. But he had dropped it.<br /><br />“What bearing does this have on the children you want me to find?”<br /><br />“Their father blew a hole in Leviathan Mr. Nod.”<br /><br />Gregor nearly fell over. It took everyone in the room to catch the giant as he swayed and lower him slowly to the sofa.<br /><br />“Sounds like they were doing the rest of us a favor. I fail to see your point.”<br /><br />“The
Judges were able to capture their father, one Daniel Corsair. However,
he was released again into the city under one condition. That
condition was that he would not return to the water looking to pick a
fight until he had destroyed the rest of the city. Our sources tell us
that he readily agreed. His daughter had been captured at roughly the
same and escaped with her father. His son and their mother were never
apprehended. It has been reasoned that Mr. Corsair is searching for
them right now. Once he finds them, his wife will be killed.
Furthermore, both of his children share his… propensity for violence.
His daughter uses her telekinesis to play dress up with people before
shaking them death during temper tantrums. The son’s abilities are
unknown at this point but it appears as if he has some sort of ability
to either duplicate himself or to summon multiple individuals. Every
roadblock he and his mother have escaped from appeared to have been torn
apart by a small army rather than one boy.”<br /><br />A mother to be killed. A father gone mad. Siblings separated.<br /><br />“Who do you represent Mr. Fehr?”<br /><br />“Hm?”<br /><br />“Who
do you represent? Normally, that sort of thing isn’t necessary to
know. It’s often distracting and takes away from the idea that we’re
simply doing a job. Everyone wants a relationship these days, it seems.<br /><br />I don’t.<br /><br />I
just want to know who you are that you give so much of a damn about the
state of the city. You aren’t municipal. That’s plain. You aren’t
throwing pile after pile of money after me while layering threats in
their as well. You aren’t Corp elsewise you wouldn’t share any
information. Who are you?”<br /><br />He adjusted his tie and thought for
moment. That was rare too. He was searching for the right way to
answer a question that should’ve been proclaimed with pompous zeal.
Instead, I was watching this desert-skinned man with mild stubble and
cold black eyes frown and fidget.<br /><br />“I am… No… Let me start again… I represent The South Cairo Corporation.”<br /><br />“Go on.”<br /><br />He blinked, surprised.<br /><br />“That doesn’t phase you?”<br /><br />“Hardly. We already know the North Covington Corporation exists. Why wouldn’t there be one more to round out the pack?”<br /><br />“That
is more or less what we felt. It seemed to be just waiting for someone
to claim the place. Our status will be affirmed shortly after Mayor
Morelli signs an amendment to the city charter legalizing our and North
Covington’s activities.”<br /><br />“That settles who you are. Why do you give a damn?”<br /><br />“We…
are more interested in the preservation of the city than most of our
competition. West Worthington and East Fredricksburg exist only via
continuing to squeeze more and more out of anyone within their reach.
North Covington plans to do the same thing. It is our belief that they
will ruin any potential for profit through this inorganic method of
profit making.<br /><br />In short, if Corsair tears apart the city and
everyone pays the Corps more to end the problem, they still have to
spend money to fix things don’t they? If they don’t, the population
will eventually start to dwindle and they won’t have as many people to
squeeze. Whereas, if we actually do our job, we make more money because
there are more people.”<br /><br />“Fancy that.”<br /><br />“Hm?”<br /><br />“A Corporation with business sense. Alright, tell me their names. We’ll take the job.”<br /><br />“We’ve
been unable to determine their real names. They were never properly
registered with the city when they were born. However, we do know that
The Judges have codenamed the girl Riot and her brother Mob.”<br /><br />“Any leads on where they may be headed?”<br /><br />“We
have reliable sources claiming that Mob and his mother are holed up
somewhere in Takt District. Be careful, we aren’t the only ones seeking
them. Everyone’s coming out of the woodwork to find a way to deal with
Corsair.”<br /><br />I stood, adjusting my tie, straightening my suit.<br /><br />“That’s
just fine Mr. Fehr. Transmit the first half of the payment to our
account when you leave. By the time they clear, we’ll already be
mobilized.”<br /><br />Another mother would not be killed by a lunatic
father, regardless of where the son’s mind might be. My life was an
aberration, a one in a million occurrence, and would stay that way.<br /><br />“Alright lady and gents, let’s get packed. We’ve got a job to do.” Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-10895724235578171642012-09-05T19:20:00.000-04:002012-09-05T19:20:17.800-04:00Speechless: Hunting Party Part 3<h4>
Eye Sore</h4>
<br />
Being held up against the wall by thin air was not what I had been
expected. Jack had warned me that the other two had gone on ahead of us
but I hadn’t quite pictured this little albino worm with one fish eye
and one oily eye to be waiting for us. Jack and I had almost expected
it to be Corsair and were ready to charge headlong into death for our
own reasons. We were not ready for our lives to be thrown away to some
random twit.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />As the air was squeezed out of me, I watched him
from across the room. He was in dirty jeans and an old white t-shirt
with eye juice stains spattered across it. He stood there, grinning
broadly through white, bloodless lips, staring at me with other people’s
eyes. That’s who he was. Curtis Eye. The collector. As bad as Mr.
Shine. Whose eyes were those I wondered?<br /><br />The hand around my throat squeezed tighter and I heard Curtis giggling.<br /><br />“Yes, Mr. Sturm. That’s it. I don’t need to tell you, do I? Oh, well, I suppose. It means that much to, then certainly.<br /><br />Take as much time as you want.”<br /><br />Those
weren’t good words were they? Someone had gotten one of Sturm’s eyes
into Curtis’ possession. And now his ghost was choking the life out of
me.<br /><br />A gushing reprieve of air swelled into my lungs as my throat
was released and I fell to the floor. Spoke too soon hadn’t I? A sharp
kick to the ribs reminded me that I wasn’t being left alone, I was just
being worked over first. Another kick came and then another and I felt
my ribs splitting apart.<br /><br />“Is what he’s saying true? Did you
really cut off your friend’s head because of me? That was very nasty of
you Nagy. Very very nasty.”<br /><br />Nagy? Someone might’ve told him
about me taking off Sturm’s head but no one outside of he and I knew
that I put up with being referred to as “Nagy” by Sturm. He had been
one of my oldest friends before he unleashed these monstrosities instead
of killing them in their cells.<br /><br />“Still lacking honor aren’t you Sturm?”<br /><br />A
foot slammed into my mouth and shook loose three of my teeth. I spat
them out as my head cracked against the wall behind me. Better out than
swallowed. The next kick was to my stomach again. I swung my arms
around to catch the foot I couldn’t see but there wasn’t anything to
grab hold of.<br /><br />“You know Nagy, he really doesn’t like it when you talk like that.”<br /><br />“Then he should stop kicking me and take his eye back.”<br /><br />Curtis
frowned hard at that and started to pout. It was the kind of pout that
comes before a three-year old squeezes the eyes out of their hamster
while throttling them to death. It was the kind of pout that makes the
cats hide under couches and dogs whimper in their houses.<br /><br />I did not like that pout.<br /><br />The
next kick came and it hit the same sort spot on my ribs that had been
slowly worsening with every shot. Was it my imagination or was it
softer this time?<br /><br />“He can’t take his eye back. That wouldn’t be
fair would it? Nobody else gets their eye back. Everybody gets to stay
with me forever.”<br /><br />“Forever?”<br /><br />“Yes. One big happy family.”<br /><br />“How happy?”<br /><br />“Oh, they yell and scream and cry a lot, but that’s what families do. Oh! Inky! Good Inky!”<br /><br />Jack
floated into the room, flailing wildly against a captor he couldn’t
see. He was two feet of the ground, by the back of his neck from the
looks of it.<br /><br />“Jack? You okay?”<br /><br />His lips were moving but nothing was coming out. He was too far away. I blinked, trying to see his lips through the gloom.<br /><br />“Shut up. Shut them up. Shut them all up.”<br /><br />“Shut who up Jack?”<br /><br />“All
of them. They’re all in his head. I can hear them. Screaming.
Begging. They want out. They want out of his goddamn head. That’s
where they are. The eyes are just his link with them. They’re all
mixing around in that big empty bowl that’s supposed to be a head.”<br /><br />“Shut up Mr. Nasty Mouth. Inky, make him shut up.”<br /><br />Unseen
hands slammed Jack’s jaws together and it chomped off the end of his
tongue. Blood poured out of Jack’s mouth as he writhed in the grip of
his captor.<br /><br />I was kicked in the stomach again but it was half-hearted this time. What was Sturm thinking?<br /><br />Curtis frowned again.<br /><br />“You think he should speak? Are you sure Mr. Sturm? Well, alright. Go ahead Inky, let him talk again.”<br /><br />Jack’s lips were moving through the fountain of blood pouring out of his mouth.<br /><br />“If
you’re that excited about eyes, take mine first. Right one’s always
been pretty lame. Was supposed to get contacts for it but I never
bothered. Left one’s perfect though. Wouldn’t you agree Mr. Sturm?”<br /><br />“Quiet Jack! Don’t give in!”<br /><br />I
was kicked in the stomach three more times in quick succession but
every one was light and barely meant to connect at all. I doubled over
in pain regardless and played my part. They could hear him. They were
touching him without touching him. And they were part of Curtis… So
all three could hear everything he said. Just like he could hear them…
Just like he could hear Sturm let up on kicking me. <br /><br />Suddenly there was a hand drawing The Darkening from its sheath.<br /><br />“Oooohhh…
I’ve never seen one removed that way Mr. Sturm. And with his friend’s
sword. This should be most delightful. Inky, help him.”<br /><br />Jack’s
eyes bulged from its socket slowly, pressing up and out. It made a
slick “pop” as it emerged from the socket and was suspended in mid-air.
Its vein tendrils reached back into the socket, a snake slipping into
its hole.<br /><br />My blade floated in mid-air slowly, inspecting its
target with care. With a single slice, it carved off the mass of veins
and nerves. The eye began to float toward Curtis, my blade accompanying
it. Curtis was clapping his hands and giggling happily. Jack slumped
in the grasp of his captor, biting his lip in pain. Blood dripped from
the hole where his eye should’ve been.<br /><br />“Yes! Yes! It’s very
pretty! That was very nice Mr. Sturm! Oh, I’ve never tried putting it
in while they’re still alive before. That sounds like fun! Inky, can
you burn those ends off for me so he doesn’t die too quickly. I like
Mr. Sturm’s plan.”<br /><br />Burn them off? What the hell was this Inky
that Curtis kept talking about? It obviously was the owner of the orb
that was oozing thick, black oil from Curtis’ right eye. Jack still
hung unmoving except for the teeth digging into his lip as the severed
tips of the veins that had once been part of his eye started to sizzle
and burn closed.<br /><br />I looked away and saw that Jack’s eye had
reached Curtis by this point. It was lowered into Curtis’ waiting
hands, reverently cupped to receive the eye.<br /><br />“Oh thank you Mr.
Sturm, you’ve been so helpful today. Would you help me take out your
eye? You’re so nice Mr. Sturm, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”<br /><br />Curtis frowned.<br /><br />“What do you mean I had better learn?”<br /><br />Those
were Curtis Eye’s last coherent words. Everything else that came out
of his throat was incomprehensible screaming and a great deal of air
blowing past his vocal chords. He seemed to lose all motor control when
the invisible Sturm rammed The Darkening through his old eye and into
Curtis’ brain. Sturm’s hand twisted the blade as it sank into the juicy
parts of Curtis’ skull and jerked back out again. Jack fell to the
floor and The Darkening jerked wildly through the air before pulling
free and plunging into Curtis’ right eye.<br /><br />Jack was cackling
wildly through the blood dripping from his mouth. I crawled over to him
and grabbed his shoulder so I could hear him clearly.<br /><br />“He’s done. They’re free. They’re all free.”<br /><br />Jack grinned. With one amputated eye and shortened tongue, he grinned.<br /><br />“Sturm’s being pulled off to somewhere else but before he goes, he has a question.”<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“Is it too late?”<br /><br />I grinned in return and placed my head against the floor in a bow.<br /><br />“Never, old friend. Join the honored dead, it is truly your right now.”<br /><br />Jack
laughed at some response I couldn’t hear before collapsing unconscious
where he lay. I rolled him to the side so he wouldn’t drown on his own
blood before I could tend to his tongue. It was never too late, for
anyone, was it? Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-69702952658300774762012-09-04T17:54:00.002-04:002012-09-04T17:54:41.694-04:00Wither The Vain: Lost Cities Part 4<h4>
Brigadoon</h4>
<br />
One person swinging four swords tends to make people concerned that
maybe, just maybe, they’re now four times as deadly. That’s nonsense.
Nandin had always been proof of that. Even with him flailing around
wildly like some random Hindu deity on speed, he was more pest than
warrior. There was a problem though.<br /><br />I had no weapons.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />This
may not seem like much of a problem, but I tell you, if you are ever in
a similar situation, it will be. Fighting barehanded against someone
inept with good weapons was annoying enough. Nandin may be a scaly
green pest that only achieved the rank of god-killer because he was
without honor in a society that was built on it, but he was not inept.
He played dirty and liked to stick people from behind with copies of
their own weapons. Part of me applauded his ability to get the job
done.<br /><br />The rest of me hated him for that same reason. He was too much like Wither.<br /><br />Nandin
slid the blades in his top hands across each other while doing the same
with those below. Sparks flew from his custom made scimitars and he
smiled through his nasty teeth.<br /><br />“Reconsidering? The big bad embodiment of War came unarmed?”<br /><br />“You’re armed enough for both of us.”<br /><br />“You know, you’re probably right. How about I give you a couple of my swords… right through the sternum?”<br /><br />And with that, he lunged for me.<br /><br />Good
God, he was sloppy. It was a wonder to me how he had ever successfully
killed a gods. Nandin kept his lower two arms tucked in at his waist
while he sliced through the air for me with the uppers. I stood
unmoving as he charged me, pureeing the air in front of him.<br /><br />I
knew he was close enough when I could smell the rotten meat stink he
blew out from between his teeth. In that moment, my hands shot out and
snatched the wrists of his upper arms. This is what I was supposed to
do. His tucked in lower arms shot forward, both blades aiming straight
for the sternum he had mentioned previously.<br /><br />Too bad he was too predictable.<br /><br />I
jumped in the air, flipping backwards, keeping a tight grip on his
wrists. He stumbled forwards as I went back and his lower blades
dropped. As I landed, his lower arms were swinging again. My talons
left the ground once more and aimed for his chest. As they connected,
digging into his scaly hide, I pulled. My back landed on the blunt edge
of his blades as I fell backwards, pinning them to the ground beneath
me.<br /><br />As he passed over me, my hands let go, and my talons
propelled him. Within seconds, Nandin was airborne, sailing down the
alleyway upside down. His lower blades were still pinned beneath me as
he went.<br /><br />I rocked up onto my feet and picked up his blades. As
he scrambled to his feet, I began to test the weight of my new blades.
Nandin may have been dishonorable scum but he was still a remarkable
smith.<br /><br />“You know Nandin, it was kind of you to give me these, but I have a concern.”<br /><br />Nandin wiped his jaw with his wrist as he got his feet back underneath himself.<br /><br />“What’s that old friend?”<br /><br />“Well,
I’m concerned that you won’t be able to keep up now. After all, you
couldn’t keep up with four of them. Maybe you should just run along
home.”<br /><br />“I thought you were going to break me.”<br /><br />“It appears
someone already did the job for me. Why don’t you go suck up to your
new owner and see if you can get some training done?”<br /><br />“You know, I might just do that. Then next time, I’ll kill you.”<br /><br />“Haven’t managed it yet you cold-blooded filth.”<br /><br />Nandin
smiled through his non-existant lizard lips, his eyes narrowing. He
met my gaze and held it for over a minute, just standing there, staring
at me. There was something in his eyes. And it was chafing me. There
wouldn’t be any pearl coming to my oyster from this irritation though.<br /><br />Finally,
Nandin turned, breaking eye contact. He slipped his two blades into
his hip sheathes, leaving those sheathes at the small of his back empty.
At least he’d be leaving with less than he came.<br /><br />At least that’s what I thought. Then he spoke.<br /><br />“No,
but at least I was made to kill things. That’s why you’ll never kill
me. I’m like your brother; I’m a destroyer. You’re just a hammer for
him to swing, just a way to tenderize the meat. You can’t finish
anything War, all you can do is start shit, like a schoolyard bully. So
next time I see you, I’ll be the one doing the breaking. And you can
sit there hoping Wither’s around to protect you.”<br /><br />I drove the
scimitars into the ground, clutching their hilts tightly. I ground my
break and scraped my talons against the filthy cobblestone of the
alleyway. Nandin disappeared into the crowd at the alleyway’s mouth as
one only can in the entertainment district.<br /><br />I sank to my knees,
tilting my head down, and sobbed. I had his damned swords and nothing
else had been left to me. I was just another tool eh? Even the filth
of eternity had lost respect for me.<br /><br />Time wandered down the alley
and urinated in the corner as I knelt and sobbed. It found a nice
cardboard box to sleep in and curled up happily. Time snored as I sat
and bemoaned my fate. It wandered back out of the alley to rejoin the
crowd outside and began to loop within my mind.<br /><br />“Seth, get up.”<br /><br />Wither. Wither was speaking to me. Back already?<br /><br />“What are you doing? We’ve been looking all over for you. I’ve got work for us to be doing.”<br /><br />“Nandin was here.”<br /><br />“Did you kill him?”<br /><br />“No. I took two of his swords and he got away.”<br /><br />“Damn it! He always gets away. Any idea what he’s up to?”<br /><br />“Spying on us.”<br /><br />“Then Anubis is probably already anticipating our next move.”<br /><br />“Anubis? What’s going on?”<br /><br />“Anubis, Samedi, and Pox are trying to get themselves added to the city charter as newly formed corporations.”<br /><br />“That’s just what we need. Everyone that would prefer us dead given carte blanche to do whatever the hell they feel like.”<br /><br />“That’s why we’re going to go see the Mayor and cash in on clearing out his tower for him.”<br /><br />“Think he’ll listen?”<br /><br />“Think I’ll give him a choice?”<br /><br />I nodded slowly and pulled Nandin’s swords from the ground.<br /><br />“Wither…”<br /><br />“Yeah?”<br /><br />“…nevermind. I’ll tell you later.”<br /><br />“Whatever. Let’s get back to the Inn.”<br /><br />I
nodded and fell in step behind him. I wouldn’t ask him for help. I
wouldn’t stoop so low. Maybe I couldn’t end things like Wither and
Arturo could. So be it. Instead Nandin would get war without end.
Yes, that’s what they would all get. Suffering without release. <br /><br />It was what they all deserved. It was my duty to give it to them.<br /><br />Yes, my duty. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-78360786672818047482012-09-03T23:18:00.000-04:002012-09-03T23:18:21.820-04:00Rue: Perdido Part 2<h4>
Lookin' Up From Six Feet Down</h4>
<br />
For the first time in weeks, my optimism wasn’t entirely misplaced.
There was no trouble getting past the guards at the gates. There were
no guards at the gates. There were no gates. The sign at the main
entrance lay in splinters on the ground as blood dribbled out of the
guardhouses in sticky streams.<br /><br />“That certainly makes this easy.”<br /><br />“Easy? What’s easy about this? People are dead!”<br /><br />“True enough.”<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />“Aren’t you going to pull over and look in on them?”<br /><br />“No. Amy’s already done that job for us. There’s no point in inspecting extra dead bodies right now.”<br /><br />“Why not? Don’t they deserve equal treatment? Don’t they deserve…”<br /><br />“Mr.
Hatter, Rick, please. This is something that you need to understand.
They are corporate employees. The only people with jurisdiction in this
city to touch them are their corporate sponsors. We’re here to
trespass into a war zone to try and determine the details of you and
your family’s death. I’d prefer not to head back to work in four days
with East Fredricksburg wanting me dead for being here.”<br /><br />“But…”<br /><br />“I
understand your concern. We need to take things one step at a time.
Once we get in here, we’re going to have to abandon the car and get
inside the visitor’s center if it’s still standing. I don’t see the
Corps spending unnecessary resources building something new when that
would work just fine as a base. From there, we may be able to figure
out where you were buried. This isn’t what I’m about Rick. I don’t
wage wars. I’m a cop and I try to figure things out.”<br /><br />Hatter
nodded and was silent. Amy stared at me from the passenger seat. I
downed two more packs of Pro-Tabs and drove through the gateless
entrance and tried not to look at the guardhouses where bodies were
lying. Amy had whispered their conditions into my ear. The guards had
been left in pieces, torn apart by claw and tooth. It was worse than
the mess the Fiddlers had made.<br /><br />As we passed into Perdido, I
realized that the war that was being fought here had long left the realm
of the living. The narrow cobblestone road that wove between the
reptilian ridges of tombstones around us lolled before us like a tongue.
The graves to either side of us had been excavated. Some were old
holes, some looked fresh.<br /><br />But every single one of them was empty.<br /><br />“Doesn’t look like you’re the only one having trouble sleeping Rick. Rick? Rick?”<br /><br />He
had brought his knees up to his chest and was shivering in the back
seat. His face that had been so deathly had grown ever more pale. Dark
rings were slathered around his eyes as he turned his porkpie hat over
and over in his hands.<br /><br />“These things aren’t supposed to be real. They aren’t supposed to happen.”<br /><br />“A lot of things happen that aren’t supposed to.”<br /><br />“That’s not what I mean!”<br /><br />He was shouting and his words rang through my ears, ricocheting wildly around the car.<br /><br />“Rick, calm down.”<br /><br />“Calm
down? How in the hell can I be calm? I’m a youth minister on my days
off Mr. Chadwick! When I had days off anyway. I taught everyone about
the world working in mysterious ways, about the grace of God, about…”<br /><br />I stomped on the brakes and the car ground to a halt.<br /><br />“Stop. You’re talking about something completely different here Rick and it’s time you got familiar with it.”<br /><br />“Morgan, don’t be so hard on him.”<br /><br />Amy’s hand touched my arm. It was cold. So cold. Cold as she always was. Cold as she would always be.<br /><br />“No,
he needs to hear this. Rick, whether this fits your concept of reality
or not, it’s happening. If you have faith in whatever you believe in,
you go right ahead and find ways to explain it as such. I’ve got no
problem with that. But I don’t want to hear any damned nonsense about
this not being possible. It’s possible and it’s happening. No one
thought The Second Salvo would really fall. No one thought the Sleepers
or Judges could exist. No one thought Morelli would turn his nephew
loose on the city to rape and kill whenever the kid asked. This isn’t
about what people expected. This is about what is. Plain and simple.
You wanted to be mayor of this place, right? To help clean it up? Then
keep your eyes open. You may be able to do something useful yet.”<br /><br />Rick
was nodding, his entire lanky frame still shaking. He was terrified
and I was yelling at him. It wasn’t right but it was what was needed.<br /><br />“Morgan! Someone’s alive!”<br /><br />I
swiveled in my seat and looked out the front window to see the
headlights illuminate a guard wearing an East Fredricksburg uniform
limping out of the smog towards us.<br /><br />“Rick, you stay in the car. Amy, let’s go see what’s going on here.”<br /><br />The
guard was in a standard blue jumpsuit and had three bullet holes in his
right leg. He was dripping blood as he stumbled towards us. There
were days that I wished I carried a service pistol.<br /><br />Today was one of them.<br /><br />“You alright?”<br /><br />The guard nodded and kept stumbling forward.<br /><br />“I’ll survive. Who’re you?”<br /><br />“Detective Morgan Chadwick. We’re here investigating several murders. What’s going on here?”<br /><br />“Same
shit, different day, detective. I assume you know about the friction
between us and West Worthington down here? Of course you do, otherwise
you wouldn’t be keeping your distance.”<br /><br />I nodded.<br /><br />“I know
enough. Visitor’s center still standing? I need some information about
a specific plot. Didn’t really intend to get caught up in Corp
politics.”<br /><br />He cackled and nodded in return.<br /><br />“Yeah, yeah I
got you. It’s just up the road a ways. I can show you how to get
there. Any chance you can help me bandage up my leg before I bleed out
though?”<br /><br />I heard a door slam behind me and tried to contain my wince. Why hadn’t you just stayed in the car Rick?<br /><br />“What’s going on Mr. Chadwick?”<br /><br />“Just helping out one of the guards Rick. Go ahead and get back in the car.”<br /><br />I
could tell he was fidgeting with his hat. He was just standing there
fidgeting with his hat. C’mon Rick, get back into the car.<br /><br />“Who’s the stiff?”<br /><br />“Who says he’s a stiff?”<br /><br />“I do.”<br /><br />“Why do you say that?”<br /><br />“I can smell him from here.”<br /><br />I sighed and nodded, motioning to the car.<br /><br />“Yeah, he’s a stiff. Now get over here so I can bandage up your leg. Amy, toss me the bandages.”<br /><br />The guard was almost to Amy and I when Rick spoke. I could’ve slapped him.<br /><br />“We didn’t bring any bandages did we?”<br /><br />“Sure we did. Amy, toss them to me.”<br /><br />The guard had stopped walking, barely turning his head to look over his shoulder at me.<br /><br />“What kind of bandages you got detective?”<br /><br />Amy’s hand fluttered and her ring was airborne.<br /><br />“Silver ones.”<br /><br />The
guard sprouted razors from his mouth, claws from his fingertips, and
fur from everywhere else as he spun. My left caught Amy’s ring as I
swung for the werewolf with my right. He slipped to the side, claws
slicing for my stomach. I caught his wrist and jerked him toward me.
His jaws snapped hungrily for my throat as he crashed into me. I
staggered backwards and fell, the werewolf falling with me.<br /><br />His
jaws were around my throat as I hit the ground. He hesitated to close
them and I knew why. The cold silver of Amy’s ring was ever so slightly
touching his spine at the back of his neck. I could smell the little
hairs burning on the back of his neck.<br /><br />“Truce?”<br /><br />Mumbled words of agreement came out of jaws that held my throat. Amy was standing there, shaking her head.<br /><br />Rick had fainted again.<br /><br />Maybe that optimism HAD been unwarranted. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-76244346038139398902012-08-31T23:33:00.001-04:002012-08-31T23:33:51.432-04:00The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 3<h4>
Reverant</h4>
<br />
I have always been accused as having a lack of proper respect for the
important things in life. I think that got started the first time I put
my gum in the collection plate. Nobody seemed very amused. I figured
Jesus could use some gum. Must suck being stuck on that cross all the
time. Y’know, the way I figured it, if his death was stopping us from
being in hell, he must be there too. And you know, that only pissed off
the priest all the more.<br /><br />That was fine too though. I quite
liked the idea that I wasn’t well liked. Never really felt like
polishing the holy pole myself.<br /><br />But here, here, I think they’d all have to shut their fucking mouths.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />I
took a step forward with one pair of feet as I stood still with the
others. Two eyes watched Cassie. The other two watched Grendel and his
nice new arm. My heart felt Cassie’s hand squeezing it as her face
creased in pain like mine should be.<br /><br />This was the kind of moment you bothered to be quiet for. A moment of faith. A moment of love. A moment of blood.<br /><br />It doesn’t get much better than that.<br /><br />Grendel
took the first swing. That was to be expected. I wasn’t going to.
Today, he wanted me dead. I just wanted to enjoy my honeymoon.<br /><br />Cassie’s eyes were cracking into pieces, tears dripping out of them. I breathed slowly, my Neil eyes never leaving hers.<br /><br />“Squeeze, if you want.”<br /><br />She
whimpered softly, her hand trembling. It was trembling a lot like
Grendel’s was trembling right now as I caught his brand new arm by the
wrist and squeezed. Whatever new alloy they were using sucked. It
crumpled like a cheap pop can in my hand. I had half a mind to ask him
if I could drop it off somewhere for a deposit refund.<br /><br />“Neil, I
don’t want to hurt you. But they’re in my head. I can feel them
digging around in my skull, pressing the buttons, splicing the wires.”<br /><br />“Just do what you want to do Cassie. Like I said, if it’ll make you feel better, go ahead and squeeze.”<br /><br />“You’ll die.”<br /><br />I
smiled and shrugged. Grendel was swinging with his other arm now. I
caught that one too. It was more satisfying to crush the wrist on that
one. The feeling of bones snapping and sliding against each other. The
soft velvet river of blood dribbling down your arm as shards of white
burst free from the skin.<br /><br />He may have been screaming. If he was,
it was unimportant. Cassie was screaming too. It was all resounding
in her head only, but I could see into those eyes and see the words
flinging themselves about.<br /><br />“Cassie.”<br /><br />“Neil, I just…”<br /><br />“Cassandra. Cassandra Emily Anderson.”<br /><br />Her eyes widened a bit at that and she nodded slowly.<br /><br />“You do what you need to do Cassie. I trust in my wife.”<br /><br />Grendel was kneeing my Brute in what ought to be its stomach. I wasn’t flinching. I was squeezing as he screamed.<br /><br />“I… I refuse… I refuse to be used anymore.”<br /><br />I nodded and smiled.<br /><br />“Go on honey.”<br /><br />“I refuse to let West Worthington take any more of me. I refuse to let West Worthington control my life. I refuse to run.”<br /><br />The
grip on my heart fell away and my smile bloomed into something that
consumed my entire face. I headbutted Grendel with my Brute’s head and
his nasty green nose became a broken nasty green nose with a river of
crimson pouring down his face.<br /><br />“Do you hear that Grendel?”<br /><br />“Nothing too terribly important Neil. Just someone switching sides again.”<br /><br />“Just like you when you fought your own troops?”<br /><br />“Just saving my own skin.”<br /><br />“Bullshit. They’re in your head too. You’re just too much of a coward to do anything about it.”<br /><br />“Fuck
you Neil. I had a good thing going. I was Chief of Security on The
Black Dragon Express. Nothing could get in my way. Then you had to
butt in. And for what? Another bit of West Worthington’s property?
I’ve been in this to save my ass from the get go. I’m just another
trooper they pulled from a vat. I was nothing. West Worthington made
me something. You think I’m going to throw that all away for a
psychopath’s delusion of grandeur?”<br /><br />“Yeah, I think you were ready. But I think something different now.”<br /><br />“What’s that?”<br /><br />“I
think when you wake up, you need to get the fuck out of my district and
go grow some balls. That is, after you find someone to fix your
wrists.”<br /><br />I drove my Brute’s head into his nose one more time and I heard bone on bone grinding again. Grendel fell, his eyes dulling.<br /><br />“With
that new trick of yours, do you think you could tie off the major
arteries I severed? I may not like the bastard but he’s not going to
snip the wires unless I do this.”<br /><br />“I can do it. But are you sure its wise to keep him alive?”<br /><br />“He still couldn’t touch me Cass. At this point, I just feel bad for the twit.”<br /><br />Cassie
nodded and began to move her fingers in pinching motions. Her eyes
closed as she concentrated. I tiptoed up behind her and wrapped my arms
around her waist, leaning down to bite her softly on the neck. I felt
her shiver and I held her just like that until she was done.<br /><br />And then?<br /><br />We
started walking again. After about an hour, we stopped for two. Why?
Because it was about damn time we got to enjoy the perks of being
married.<br /><br />And besides, beating someone’s ass always put us in the mood. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4898999618802808726.post-47438192185180722702012-08-30T18:16:00.000-04:002012-08-30T18:16:45.949-04:00The Boy Named Nod: Seas of Blood and Fire Part 4<h4>
Booty</h4>
<br />
As I stood next to Michael, I couldn’t help but remember the quiet
little island where I would sell off all of our captives. The island
had a name but I never cared to remember it. I knew all I needed to
about it.<br /><br />It was a clearinghouse for slaves.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />You could get
whatever you wanted there. British and Norse generally were the most
expensive simply because it was harder to get them across the sea
intact. Still, the Spaniards and the Africans fetched enough money to
tend to whatever repairs the ship needed. That way, the rest of our
haul was to be split evenly amongst the crew.<br /><br />It was a good
system and it usually worked well. Every so often, I’d have to hire one
of the natives to buy the female slaves back for me. They would have
enough problems surviving in the islands. They didn’t need to try and
earn or kill their way out of slavery.<br /><br />After a while though, one
of the lads would hear about what I had done. They’d start to wonder if
I was going soft. And so, I’d cut loose the entire crew and take a
couple of the more adventurous ladies with me. They’d be plenty to get
us to Tortuga or whatever the nearest filthy hole was that I could pick
up a new crew. They’d get plenty of tough learning scrubbed into them
over the couple days but those I chose to come with me were always glad
to have learned.<br /><br />That’s how I earned the name The Gentleman. It
wasn’t my suits or my bowler or my British accent or my love of tea. It
was my concern for the ladies. Near the end of my career, I began
sailing only with a crew of ladies, each one a lass that I’d freed from
the slaver’s block. Those were the best times. The ladies certainly
meant more business than the men had. They had a fine eye for where
treasure would be hidden and after their unpleasant experiences with the
other gender, they had no soft words for our prey.<br /><br />I remember
the last time I left that island where the slaves were sold. I remember
sailing off into the sunset with a lovely redhead with blazing green
eyes and a wicked laugh. We had no other crew at the time but we’d be
all the crew needed for this would be a quick sail to what would be our
home.<br /><br />And that is where it all ends. The spigot turns closed and the flood of memories dries up.<br /><br />And as I stood next to Michael, all I could think of was that accursed island coming ever closer.<br /><br />“I’ll ask you again Nod; how much?”<br /><br />“And
I’ll say it again Commandant; how much what? Your cut in the
commercial profits from the broadcasts has been decided. Your allowance
for improving the conditions and obtaining fighters set. What are you
going on about now?”<br /><br />The Commandant chuckled softly, shaking his
head at Nod like he was a small child. It was enough to make me want to
slap him. I knew where this conversation and so did Michael.<br /><br />“How much for your butler?”<br /><br />Michael
turned to look at me. His eyes traveled up and down my weathered
appearance. My suit was quite dusty, my shoes terribly scuffed, and I
was missing large chunks of my stony exterior. I wouldn’t be worth much
on the open market. Not battered like I was.<br /><br />“How much are you offering?”<br /><br />“Come now Nod. You can’t counter a question with a question.”<br /><br />“Most
certainly you can. You want to buy my butler. You seem to think that
if you ask my price, you can either nab him for a song compared to what
you’d offer. Or, if I say something positively insane, you can always
try to talk me down. So why should I speak first Commandant?”<br /><br />The
Commandant lit a cigar and puffed at it heavily. The cigar was old and
the tobacco in it had been soaked in rum. I could smell it from where I
sat.<br /><br />“You’re damned shrewd for a pre-teen boy; I’ll give you that.”<br /><br />“I’ve
been told that before. What do you think on the matter Gregor? Shall I
sell you off after you disobeyed me and lunged into a fight with Greeg?
Shall that be how this goes?”<br /><br />“It will be as you wish it sir.”<br /><br />Michael shrugged at The Commandant.<br /><br />“What can I say? He seems to be willing.”<br /><br />“That
would appear to be the case. Now name your price. I won’t reject any
price you name Nod. I simply must have him here in the Coliseum. He
was a joy to watch in battle.”<br /><br />Michael leaned back in his leather chair, putting his feet up on The Commandant’s conference table.<br /><br />“Another question for you first. Why did Greeg call you daddy?”<br /><br />“He
was abandoned at the base I ran before The Wall fell. We took him in.
He wasn’t old enough at the time to draft into service, but we allowed
him into the choral group. As I say, his voice was a wonder to behold.
After The Wall fell, I had him neutered in order to provide the world
with the voice of a castrati again. It has gone too long without one.
Even after his time in the Coliseum, I still tend to him weekly. He
knows I’m proud of him. That was why I offered to have him face your
butler. I had no intention of kowtowing to Morelli. I am a man of my
word though. Why do you ask?”<br /><br />Michael stood and straightening
his tie methodically. He checked each button of his jacket and adjusted
his hat. Then, with his entire body facing The Commandant, his
swiveled his head to the side just enough to say:<br /><br />“Go get the others Gregor. We’re going home.”<br /><br />“But Nod, I thought…”<br /><br />“You
thought I would sell a member of my family. I regret to inform you
that I would rather die that allow any of those that choose to travel
with me to fall into your hands. I respect that you are a man of your
word, and as such we will be leaving without further incident. However,
if ever we meet and it is not under contract for me to leave you
unharmed, I will end you.”<br /><br />“That’s a bluff little boy. Everyone
knows that you’ve never killed someone personally. It always takes one
of your “family” or an all too vivid nightmare. You don’t have the
stones to take care of it yourself.”<br /><br />I crossed the room in three
strides and slapped The Commandant with my ring finger. He was flung
from his chair and struck the wall as a wet garbage bag would.<br /><br />“That was for Nod. And for Greeg. I recommend lying there until we are gone from your district.”<br /><br />The
Commandant lay there on the cement floor glaring at our backs with his
hateful black eyes, peering out of his ghastly blue mask of a face.<br /><br />“Gregor?”<br /><br />“Yes Nod?”<br /><br />“Good show old boy.”<br /><br />“Thank you sir. One day, might you be kind enough to help fill in the rest of my memories?”<br /><br />“Most certainly my friend.”<br /><br />The island’s name was Circe, and that was her name too.<br /><br />It seemed The Gentleman was alive and well after all. Jason A. Clarkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03397534352422564990noreply@blogger.com0