The Pallbearer: The Barter System Part 2

Mercy Killing

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. “Cassie, could you just, I don’t know, break his legs or something?” “I’m better at pushing stuff and bursting internal organs.”

The Pallbearer: The Barter System Part 1

Incubii

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.

In my case, one was.

The Pallbearer: Honeymoon Blues Part 1

Forté

The walls of my new junkyard district were overrun with refugees. They were rats fleeing a sinking ship for another one that had only begun its descent. Bellmaker’s Errata were almost back to full strength with only two hundred memory chips left to implant into a functioning robot but it wasn’t enough. Even up to the original six thousand they had been before West Worthington’s purges, they had to stop all construction in order to simply monitor the tide of immigrants. Alithea and her mate Nar had their thousands working to try and build shelters for themselves AND the refugees. They too were swamped under our new popularity. That was something to this empire running that I hadn’t considered.

That people would want in.

Pallbearer: Wedding Dirge

Wedding Dirge

It has always struck me just how similar the wedding song and the funeral march are. Don’t worry too much about that to death ‘til us part bit; it won’t be that long until you’re both in the ground anyway. Some people say pomp and circumstance is like that too. I don’t know, never heard it. It wouldn’t surprise me though. Between stunted imaginations and the normal tongue-in-cheek crap, it’d be just about par.

The Pallbearer: War Part 5

One Man Army

My nightmares walked with me as I made the long haul towards the oncoming Disciples. It was hard to tell apart the nightmares from the dreams. With at least one clone of Arlee having been kicking around, it wasn’t that hard to imagine more. That’s all I needed, an army of Arlee; barking orders and whimpering dinner instructions to their long gone wife in their sleep.

I had stumbled through this junkyard before on my way out of Gravesite. I had gunned down phantoms then too. It had been my prisoner disposal unit. I had blown apart their memories and put them to bed. They weren’t haunting me this time. No. This time, it was everyone else.

The Pallbearer: War Part 4

Fishing With Dynamite

I cried for joy as the air was painted with the screams of the dying and the lamentations of those who would soon join them. St. George was far too strong a beast to cry, but it roared its appreciation of the carnage with volley after volley of high explosive. The ground erupted angrily, spewing shards of old car and apartment windows into the Judge army.

It had been beautifully text book. The Judges had made their encampment in a sloping valley of garbage. They had no cover barring the old husks of long dead cars. The Sleepers had held back in reserve as those Errata with long-range rifles came to the fore. The tank-treaded Errata retrofit their grenade launchers to volley fire and positioned themselves as our artillery. Well out of range of the few Repentant pistols, the massacre had begun.

The Pallbearer: War Part 3

Conscripts

The first time I had come through this district, I had had the dead following me. I had put down every one of my companions. At the very least, I put away their bloody memories. This time, I had an army of machines out to help me slaughter a massive raiding party of animal men. Except things were more complicated than that. Weren’t they always?

My Errata pushed forward relentlessly. It was beautiful. St. George sought out the largest mounds of trash and blew them apart with high explosives. The Sleepers that broke from cover died, gunned down by the treaded Errata leading the charge. Hardly any bothered to try and charge us. It was appalling to me.

Wither The Vain: Scavenger Hunt Part 4

Something Green and Something Fat

Unlike his fellows, this one’s face twisted up in surprise more than fear as I slid my knife across his throat and wiped it off on my feathers. It didn’t surprise me to find that they were using guppies as security guards in places they thought no one could get to.

It was a little saddening, but not surprising. Nine were dead so far and not a single one had managed to hit me yet.

Crawling around in this damp aquarium of a building was grating on my nerves. The humidity was collecting on my feathers, weighing me down. So far, none of the Judge functionaries that could tell me where my target was could be found. It would easy enough to know whom I sought. There had only been one Sleeper captured in the last three months according to the records I had found in the possession of a now very dead barracuda. The other Sleepers had all been killed on the spot and sent immediately to a medical center for summary dissection. I wasn’t sure what they were hoping to extract but I filed away the information for future use.

The Pallbearer: War Part 2

Outnumbered

Cassie’s ring had never shone more butter gold than when I had slipped it on her finger on Bellmaker’s operating table. She was not awake. I hadn’t been able to stay that long. The Errata were already on the march. Landon, the little Dr. Steel fan, had been busy. After the initial intrusion, he had rounded up the other scouts and sent them searching for signs of invasion. What they found distressed the Errata.

Speechless: The Way Part 2

The Price of Inner Peace

He just lay there, his nose bleeding. Everyone stared at me. I suppose that would put a damper on any welcomes Angela and I would be receiving. It was his fault though. Even that stupid rat Sleeper knew better by this point. Angela’s mouth was open. I’d have to correct that. I tucked a finger underneath her chin and lifted her jaw closed. As my finger touched her chin, we spoke. Quickly.

“He cussed. I don’t allow that word around me.”
“So you dropped him? He’s the resistance leader at this safe house.”
“How am I supposed to know these things? I told you, I’m antisocial.”

The Pallbearer: War Part 1

Casualties

There wasn’t a mop big enough to clean up the shit storm that the Errata and I had started. That’s what it looked like anyway, when West Worthington failed to send any troops to reclaim The Junkyard after a week and a half. I was vaguely amused. It must have taken them completely off guard to have their operations effectively neutered. There were corporate stragglers still wandering back from failed patrols deep into The Junkyard only to find that it wasn’t a safe house for them any further. Those that wanted to fight were cut down without regret, but those smart enough to surrender were spared. It seemed the fair way to handle things.

The Boy Named Nod: Lords of the Pulpit Part 5

The Return

I ran my fingers along Father’s steam powered teeth, furrowing my brow. So delicately designed, so intricately forged, it was remarkable. A chill trembled up my spine as I pushed down on a molar and all the teeth rotated. Click clack click. I trailed my hand up the steel plate that had been his cheek and traced the rivets with the very tips of my fingers. My fingers followed the steely crease of his cheek up to his eyes. They were soulless orbs now, even more so than when he still was breathing. I touched one of the smooth bronze balls and it spun in the socket, an insane globe careening through space.

Wither The Vain: Scavenger Hunt Part 3

Five Sharpened Pencils

I jerked my pencil from the neck of the security guard behind the desk. His fellows were already wading in their own blood further down the hall. I stuck the end of my pencil into the sharpener on his desk and whistled to myself. Things were going smoothly.

Wither would be amazed. I had made sure to complain to such a length that he would be certain to send me after Pox regardless. I smirked. It wasn’t an enviable position I suppose. Hunting down one’s own mad creation with the ability to sling poisons and diseases about with impunity. That didn’t matter to me though. Not now. I had a score to settle with him.

Speechless: The Way Part 1

The Price of Honor

I have never believed in seppuku.  Even with my predisposition towards things Japanese, I have never believed that seppuku is enough to redeem one for the loss of honor.  One must serve, and serve well, to work off one's debts.  These things are not just deducted from your karma for good intentions when removing yourself from existence.  No, the deeper you go, the more you owe.  One's end must be prolonged until their honor is regained.  Only then can they die in peace.  That said, Jack would have to die before I could.  His life, his freedom was my shame.

"Magistrate, there are signs that they have been down this tunnel."

"Good work Rynth.  Pursue.  You four are the hands of justice.  Follow them, wherever they are going, follow them.  We will cut this sore from our flesh."

Wither The Vain: Scavenger Hunt Part 2

Three Candy Kisses

I slogged through the sewers, my root system trying to filter out usable water from the filth.  It was truly foul.  Thankfully these weren't like the pipes near the wall or the dock works.  There would be no high pressure flushes this far in.  Which was good, I didn't feel like trying to cram myself into a stuffy little metal coffin for a half hour at a time.  I had more important shit to get done.  Boyd and his retinue were on my mind.  Their komodo had gotten off easy last time.  I was looking forward to breaking him into tiny pieces the next time I met him.  According to Seth, the komodo was a war hero and the only Sleeper to ever survive The Commandant's arena out in Gravesite.  It would be good to crush someone strong again.

Anything to stop thinking about Holly.

The Pallbearer: Bad Blood Part 4

Swallowed Whole

It's kind of funny.  I think me and the old man are the only two people I know of who could spill their guts on all their devious little activities while chasing each other around an office that had been torn to hell.  I'd gone charging after him, shotgun in hand, as he bounded away.  He was giggling as he had told me about my parents' death and his occult associations.  He had stopped dead in his tracks when the last word spilled from his mouth, caught my shotgun, and bent it in two.  He had stared into my eyes with a bit of sadistic glee then.

"Your turn boy."

The Boy Named Nod: Lords of the Pulpit Part 4

Prodigal

There's a certain level of trepidation when you see your father again for the first time in years.  Even more so, when you've parted last time under less than favorable conditions.  Like him killing your mother.  There aren't butterflies exactly.  I wouldn't use any living creature to describe the feeling.  It isn't some positive jumpy nervousness.  It's like an icy cannonball is sitting in the pit of your stomach with worms wriggling in and out of it.  It's disgusting and it makes you feel infected every time you think about the person.  It just gets worse the closer the time comes to seeing them, and when you do finally see them...  the worms erupt out and you have to choke back the bile in your throat.

Speechless: Sound, Mind, and Body Part 5

Shattered Glass and Flopping Fish

Few things are as soothing as sitting where no one can see you with a high-powered sniper rifle in your arms.  No one knows where you are, they can't find you, and you can exert your control over a situation with impunity.    It's terribly relaxing.  The only trouble is that it all ends with the first shot.  You have to decide at what point losing control is worth gaining your goal.  All of life's dilemmas summed up in one tidy little package.  I hate tidy little packages.

The Pallbearer: Bad Blood Part 3

 Retelling

Somehow, I expected the story of my birth parents' death to be more exciting, particularly seeing as their lives were sacrificed to a dark god by my inhuman (non)grandfather.  I had been looking forward to finding out all the juicy details when I finally died and was burning in Hell.  Unfortunately, it was boring and trite.  Oh no, there was a car wreck due to failed brakes.  Tragedy, the occupants were robbed and their throats cut.  That was it.  That was all the old bastard had done.  He cut their brakes and their throats, drank some blood, and bailed.  He took some back to grandma (who was not my grandma either) and she drank some too.  He killed her six months down the road because he was bored with her and wanted all the power to himself.  The only thing of faint amusement to me was that he claimed to worship Jack of the Lantern, and that he had taken to calling himself Mobius.  Whoop de freakin' doo.

My story was much better.  And it went something like this...

The Boy Named Nod: Lords of the Pulpit Part 3

Communion

I was never the problem solver of the batch. Nod was. He wasn't good at fighting, but he could bargain, wheedle, bluff, and plan better than the rest of us combined. I was not entirely stupid though. Even facing the mechanical monstrosity that was Nod's father, I didn't lose my wits. The gleaming, golden construct clacked its piston teeth at me with annoyed arrogance. It would've sneered, might have been, but without skin, it was impossible to tell.

"How old was Michael when you killed her?"

Adam snorted.

"I didn't kill her. I fed her to the Sleepers as a peace offering. She tasted delicious."

"How old was he?"

"Why? His memory is beneath me."