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[WP] "I'll die if you kill me", your best friend once tells you. You laugh at it at the time, but when they turn out to be an immortal bent on destroying everything, you remember their words. | "I didn't want this!" I scream. "I never wanted this!"
"You think I did?" Damian scoffs. "You think I wanted this?"
He gestures to the destroyed landscape around us. What was once New York City is now little more than a crater. He didn't mean to do it. I know that. I've known Damian my whole life. He's always had anger issues, but he's always had a good heart too. Sometimes that isn't enough.
Damian isn't a human, you see. Not totally. Neither of us are really sure what he is. What we do know is that he can't die. Not really. He's been stabbed, shot, poisoned, drowned, electrocuted, and beheaded. Every time, he came back. Everytime he came back, he was a little more apathetic. A little more powerful. This time, he'd been killed trying to save a girl from sex traffickers. When he came back, it was like a nuke had been detonated. I don't know how I survived. He and I aren't the same. I can't come back from death. At least, I don't think I can. Not something I'm really willing to try.
That's when I realize something. Damian has never hurt me. Not on purpose or on accident. Not when his first Emergence caught our apartment on fire. Not when he lost his temper in a bar fight and struck me. Nothing has ever done has left so much as a scratch on me. Then I remember those words he told me so long ago. We were children. I don't know why he said them or how he knew. "I'll die if YOU kill me." I look up at my friend.
"I don't want to do this," hot tears stream down my face.
"It's the only way to- AAAARRRGH!" His skin glows red and a shockwave of heat and energy explodes out of him. It feels like a warm breeze to me, but turns the already blackened earth to glass. "You're the only one..."
"Damian, you're my best friend!"
"I know. I'm... so sorry."
I look at the knife he gave me for my sixteenth birthday. Six inches long. Titanium with a tanto tip. He gave it to me right before our first camping trip with a wink saying "Just in case." A decade later and I've never been more than ten feet from it.
I take a step forward.
Memories flash through my mind. Pillow forts in my living room. Then real forts in the forest when we grew older. Summers by the bonfire. He was there at my mother's funeral. He was the best man at my wedding. He was the first person to hold my daughter after me and my wife.
Another step.
We joined the army together. Joined the Rangers together. Fought terrorists trying to occupy the Philippines together. Bled together. Cried together.
I'm running now.
We came home together. He never married. Never even dated. But he was always there for me. I never understood, but now I do. He knew what he was. Even back when we were children. He knew what he would do. He knew what any children he had would do. History will mark him as a villain. A monster that destroyed a city and killed millions. But I know what he is. He's more than a hero. More than my best friend.
I plunge the knife into his chest as another explosion nearly rattles even me. Suddenly, the breathe goes out of him and he falls. I hold Damian in my arms. He's crying, but not out of pain. He hasn't felt pain in years.
No. That's not true. He's felt a pain nobody will ever know. The pain of knowing what he was and what he would do. But these aren't tears of pain or fear or anger. They're tears of joy.
"You're finally free," I tell him.
"I... can see... your mom." His breathing is raspy and labored. I want to tell him to save his strength, but... for what? These are his final, truly final, moments. "We'll save you... and your dad... a seat at the... table. Take your... take your time." He puts a hand on my cheek and looks me in the eye. "Thank you."
The breath goes out of him and he's still. His skin and muscles and bones all turn to ash and blow away in the wind. I don't know how long I sit there holding a handful of my best friend'sashes. Helicopters eventually fly over. I'm taken away. Brought to a hospital. There are questions. Endless questions. A small funeral is held for Damian. Not many show up. He didn't have many friends. Most of our old unit is gone. A few of the people he saved are there. They cry with me. Life goes on for the rest of us. I hold my daughter and my wife tighter from then on. The police or FBI or CIA took the knife. I never see it again, but that's fine. I don't think I'll need it anymore. | I didn't want to believe them. The rumors. The hushed whispers. The cutting words. The scared murmurings. There was no way she would even think of doing something like this. There was no way. Gideon was a good person.
She was always there for me and my family. She always took care of us, looked after me, and made sure we were okay. She volunteered at soup kitchens and animal shelters. She participated in beach cleanups and recycling campaigns. She signed petitions that *actually* helped people. She was a good person.
But after her brother died, something seemed to change in her. She grew quiet, more reserved. She was selective in how she spent her time. Normally, she spent it with me. It was a nice change of pace to actually get to spend my free time with her, so I didn't notice it at first. But then I realized she had no stories about the shelter or the soup kitchen or the group of homeless people she brought sandwiches to in Ethel Park anymore. She mainly only wanted to spend our time just sitting together. Either reading or watching a show or simply just cuddling on the couch.
"I'll die if you kill me," she had said one day as we did just that. To say it took me by surprise was an understatement.
I had to lift my head to look at her. I scrunched up my face at her, a chuckle escaped my lips. "What?"
She'd run her fingers through my hair, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. Her gaze fell to me and there was a soft, serene smile. "Nothing. It was stupid."
I pushed myself off of her a bit to give her a quizzical look. "Are you telling me that you'll only die if I'm the one to kill you?"
She looked off to the side. There was a pink dusting on her cheeks now. "I dunno... but if someone were to kill me... I'd rather it be you."
I laughed before nestling myself against her once more. "You're so weird, Gideon."
I didn't think much of our conversation then. Nor did I think much of the rumors that began to swirl around Gideon after that. Not even when Gideon disappeared for a day did I get concerned. But now, standing here on this beach, I realize I should've payed closer attention. I should've let myself get concerned.
Gideon stands in front of me, the only source of light and color on this lifeless beach. Brilliant gold veins stretch over her skin in a gilded latticework that made her look as terrifying as possible. Her eyes shine gold, casting stark shadows around us. Her hair stretches out behind her, the loose strands compelled to move by a non-existent wind. She hovers a few inches off the ground, so low she might look like she was just standing there from any other angle.
Her right hand is lifted to the side, golden light swirling in her palm. It sounds like some aircraft breaking the sound barrier multiple times over. The light keeps building and building as it swirls around her hand, growing in brilliance and size as the seconds slide by.
"Please, Gideon," I say, my voice straining. "Don't do this!"
I can feel the eyes of the soldiers at my back. They dragged me out here to stop her. Somehow it got out that I'm the only one who can. They're hoping I can bring an end to this before she kills us all. I'm hoping to save her before they shoot.
I take a step forward. Even this close to her, I can't feel the energy swirling in her hand. But I feel the wind coming off of it. The force of that alone nearly knocks me back.
"You don't have to do this!" I shout at her.
Golden tears stream from her eyes. They hit the sands with an audible hiss. Steam rising around her. "I don't want to," she admits with a shake of her head.
"So *don't*!"
She shakes her head again, her gaze dropping from mine. "I can't..." her voice caught in the back of her throat. "I can't do this without him!"
I know what she means. She can't live without her brother. He's the only one who was ever there for her. The only person that knew what she'd gone through. No matter what we had, I would never be enough. I would never know enough. To spend eternity completely and wholly alone was something she was terrified of doing. And until he died, she never thought she'd have to.
"Please." My voice shakes as I force the word out. "Don't make me do this."
Her eyes connect with mine again, or at least I think they do. It's hard to be sure without her pupils there to guide me. "I want to die, Kara." The swirling ball at her side surges slightly, a bit more power being thrust into it, but even still I can't feel her signature power in it.
I can hear the soldiers at my back shifting. They're getting ready to shoot. To try and take her out. Even though they know I'm the only one who can do it. They're getting prepared for any and all outcomes.
I take another step forward. I still can't feel the energy in her hand. But I can feel her. Her warmth radiating in the air between us. "Don't condemn the world," I say. My voice is hushed now so that the soldiers can't hear us. "It's not fair."
The light flickers in her eyes and I can see, for certain now, that she's definitely staring at me. "The world will end either way. With me or with something else later on." I can see her lip quivering now, her shoulders shaking. She fights between anger and grief and remorse with every passing second.
"It doesn't have to be with you, though," I plead.
The light falls away from her eyes. Her normal brown irises are glossy. Golden tears still streak her face. "Please..."Her voice shakes so much I can feel it break my heart. "Just kill me."
I grit my teeth together. My fingers grip the sword hilt she'd given me years ago. I say my name aloud, and the blade comes to life. Gilded light shoots out of the hilt until the sword is at full length.
Warm liquid spills over my hand. Gideon stops hovering. She drops to the ground, but stays on her feet a few moments longer. Golden light flickers over her features before all the power and light she was generating disappears in its entirety. Her cold hands reach up to my face. Her fingers wipe away the tears on my cheeks. A soft smile comes to her lips.
"Thank you," she breathes.
And then she tips forward. Her full weight falls against me. My legs don't bother holding either of us up. We collapse to the ground in a heap. The sword in my hand solidifies, light dissipating into the darkness. Blood covers my clothes and tears cover my face. By the time the soldiers reach us, she's gone. And the threat she pretended to pose left with her. | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | “Has it been ten years already?” he said, iced flakes melting in his hair.
“Uh,” Tanya said, eyes wide.
“So that’s a yes? Hey, is that what fashion’s like nowadays? I think it’s a step back, what about you?”
“I’m, um, fine.” She took a step back to holler up the stairs, “Guys? There’s a guy over here! Alive!”
“Wait, are you saying I’m supposed to be dead?” he spluttered, throwing his arms out. “Don’t you work at this facility? You’re not inspiring very much confidence!”
That was what he’s upset about? “The people at your old facility might’ve added an extra zero or two,” she said, tapping meaningless sequences into her tablet. She laughed nervously. “I think you’ve past ten years a long time ago.”
There was a pause as the guy stood there, wringing his hands and wiping the melting ice out of his eyes.
“I don’t work here,” she blurted, then thudded her head into the tablet.
The man garbled something, sat back inside the cryo chamber and buried his face in his hands. In his bright blue sleep suit, the whole thing seemed almost funny. Minus the whole ‘thousand years removed’ dilemma.
“Guys?” she called back up the stairs again. She glanced at the man, then away. This guy probably needed professional help.
“I’m Peter, nice to meet you,” he said tearfully.
“Um. Tanya.” This guy definitely needed help. “I can, uh, call someone.”
“Please do.”
She called the site supervisor because this was pretty big news. Apparently some walls were sound-proofed, which could keep the human voices in but nothing else. It explained some things. The suppressed panic in her voice hopefully inspired haste in her coworkers. After some assurances, the supervisor hung up.
“I’m, um, I’m out of my depth,” Tanya said bluntly. She shucked off her jacket and tossed it to Peter. He flinched, and it slapped his shoulder before sliding onto the floor. “That was. That was for you. It was probably cold in there.” No shit, in a cryo chamber? She motioned to her hair. “You have ice chips.”
“Thanks, I thought I was crying.” He rubbed at his eyes furiously before picking up the jacket and shaking it out. He looked small when he folded himself inside it, he looked sad. Out of time, as it were. “So it took longer than ten years. I’ve probably still got someone who remembers me, right?”
In an academic sense. Once the papers get published, Peter’s name will be etched into history. Cryo-sleep definitely wasn’t this effective in the twenty-first century. “Hey, uh, Peter? I’m sorry about all of this.”
“I’m suing them all,” he muttered. “Er, I don’t mean you, of course.”
“Thanks.”
“I... do you think the interest built up in my bank account?”
What kind of system was he talking about? “I’ve got no clue.”
He snorted. “You’re very honest. Would you mind being less so?”
“What, lie?”
“Yes. Tell me it’s going to be fine.”
Tanya shrugged helplessly. “I can’t say.”
He rolled his eyes, but gave her a tired smile. “If you want it done properly, etcetera etcetera.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine.”
He... he won’t. “Sorry,” she said again, her tablet shaking in her hands.
“Don’t look like you’re about to—see, lying is what I do. I’m a sneak, how do you think I made it in? Whatever it is that’s going to happen, I’ll take care of myself. Right?”
She heard voices in the hallway now. They were close, and she wondered if she picked the right thing, or the only thing. “You’ll be famous, whatever that means to you,” she said, sadly.
There was a glimmer of that earlier smugness in his smile, though a pale imitation of it, and he took a breath to say something. She would never hear it though. Her coworkers and bosses came, voices echoing through the room as they observed the living fossil, now and forever. | As he opened the chamber and walked into the hall, he saw what looked to be a dozen pods with “PROJECT: PHOENIX” written along the side.
“This is it.” David said as he walked past the frozen bodies.
“You think they’re still alive?” Sheila questioned as she rummaged through an old desk. “It’s been like 300 years since they froze them. I doubt anyone wou...”
*RRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
A loud groaning noise interrupted her. As she looked up at David, she saw a cloud of what looked to be mist dissipating, and two people standing by an opened Phoenix pod.
“David what the hell is going on?!” She exclaimed.
She approached them and as she got right up to them, she sees that the man is standing, but not awake. David shakes the still man, and to their surprise it does nothing. Next they try calling to him. David notices a name written on the chest of the man. It read “Simon”.
“Simon.” David called out.
A whirring sound and a click were followed by a soft hum. Simon opens his eyes and says “Hello. I am Android S-719496 or you can call me Simon. My core command is to destroy humanity. Are you human?”
“Ye...”
*BOOOM*
Before she could finish her sentence her head was blown off by Simon. | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | The machines let out their sighs, accompanying a symphony of melting ice and vapor. I stood before the pod, something like an enclosed, archaic bed, in which a rudimentary human slept. Crude devices displayed ancient runes and equations: I knew enough to know the revitalizing process was done. Now he just had to wake up.
His eyes flickered, he groaned with a physical voice, and the man dragged himself into a upright position. "Ten years already?" he uttered, the noise echoing down metallic halls and lost in their mist. I did not respond. I could not respond. I felt the primal terror of a mistake that could not be undone. The broken spear on a black night; the ember dying as the snow grows---primeval dread that had not left the species, despite all evolution.
And here before me was an atavism, something so much closer to man that was, rubbing it's eyes and stretching flesh. He looked at me, becoming slowly cognizant of his surroundings; confusion in his eyes quickly recessed as his limited imagination corrected for reality. He did not ask questions: to do so was beyond him, below his nature.
He spoke, "Thanks for pulling me up, but if you could get the doctor, I'm ready for my post exam." Fear clenched me in my mistake. He was unknowable. We had long ago foregone speech for connection; we had surrendered muscle for design. My sense reached out to what few organs of intent he had, but they could not respond, like a steam engine trying to interface with a horse.
He mistook me for some technician in equipment. He did not know we were both as naked as we could be.
Why had I done such a thing? I foresaw this consequence, but I still acted as I had: was curiosity still present in us? Was a desire to find an end in knowing still a part of whatever we had become? For the first time in my existence, which extended past the death of stars, I was surprised at my own actions.
I would have to fix this mistake.
"Quiet one, aren't you?"
I erased him. | As he opened the chamber and walked into the hall, he saw what looked to be a dozen pods with “PROJECT: PHOENIX” written along the side.
“This is it.” David said as he walked past the frozen bodies.
“You think they’re still alive?” Sheila questioned as she rummaged through an old desk. “It’s been like 300 years since they froze them. I doubt anyone wou...”
*RRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
A loud groaning noise interrupted her. As she looked up at David, she saw a cloud of what looked to be mist dissipating, and two people standing by an opened Phoenix pod.
“David what the hell is going on?!” She exclaimed.
She approached them and as she got right up to them, she sees that the man is standing, but not awake. David shakes the still man, and to their surprise it does nothing. Next they try calling to him. David notices a name written on the chest of the man. It read “Simon”.
“Simon.” David called out.
A whirring sound and a click were followed by a soft hum. Simon opens his eyes and says “Hello. I am Android S-719496 or you can call me Simon. My core command is to destroy humanity. Are you human?”
“Ye...”
*BOOOM*
Before she could finish her sentence her head was blown off by Simon. | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | The machines let out their sighs, accompanying a symphony of melting ice and vapor. I stood before the pod, something like an enclosed, archaic bed, in which a rudimentary human slept. Crude devices displayed ancient runes and equations: I knew enough to know the revitalizing process was done. Now he just had to wake up.
His eyes flickered, he groaned with a physical voice, and the man dragged himself into a upright position. "Ten years already?" he uttered, the noise echoing down metallic halls and lost in their mist. I did not respond. I could not respond. I felt the primal terror of a mistake that could not be undone. The broken spear on a black night; the ember dying as the snow grows---primeval dread that had not left the species, despite all evolution.
And here before me was an atavism, something so much closer to man that was, rubbing it's eyes and stretching flesh. He looked at me, becoming slowly cognizant of his surroundings; confusion in his eyes quickly recessed as his limited imagination corrected for reality. He did not ask questions: to do so was beyond him, below his nature.
He spoke, "Thanks for pulling me up, but if you could get the doctor, I'm ready for my post exam." Fear clenched me in my mistake. He was unknowable. We had long ago foregone speech for connection; we had surrendered muscle for design. My sense reached out to what few organs of intent he had, but they could not respond, like a steam engine trying to interface with a horse.
He mistook me for some technician in equipment. He did not know we were both as naked as we could be.
Why had I done such a thing? I foresaw this consequence, but I still acted as I had: was curiosity still present in us? Was a desire to find an end in knowing still a part of whatever we had become? For the first time in my existence, which extended past the death of stars, I was surprised at my own actions.
I would have to fix this mistake.
"Quiet one, aren't you?"
I erased him. | “This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen” dr Milton exclaimed loudly, staring at the foggy glass cylinder in front of him.
Turning left and right to make sure he was alone, he reached out gingerly towards the dormant shadow lying still.
With a sudden crack like a gun the ice cracked and splintered as the glass moved aside to reveal a woman lying motionless in the long abandoned machine.
Before he could even draw breath the woman’s eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright grabbing a scalpel from a nearby try and brandishing it in the docs direction.
“How long...?” She whispered after a moment
“I’m sorry?” The doc replied shakily
“How long have I been in here?” She asked again.
“10 years...”
“...already?” | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | I couldn’t believe my luck in this discovery. I knew the chamber at the lower levels of this ancient facility must be important, but what I was gazing upon had to be an old cryogenics lab. One of the *original* ones, judging by the equipment. I knew of only one other early cryogenics discovery, and that one had been dated to sometime in the 2400’s. We knew people had been experimenting with it as early as the 21st century from some surviving data, but nobody had ever been able to locate one of the original facilities. It’s always been assumed that everything of importance was destroyed in the Alien Wars of the 2300’s. But here I was, standing in what was surely a cryogenics lab pre-dating 2400, and what might even be an original 21st century lab. Something older than I ever hoped to discover.
And what’s more is there still seemed to be power supplying some of the equipment. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room, but I could discern the unmistakable hum of a power generator. I immediately set my team to work photographing everything before I dared to touch it. I had to make absolutely certain to document this discovery as thoroughly as possible if I were to be believed in the archaeology community.
It was painstaking work, carefully dusting off each item and cataloguing its location and condition. The workstation terminals mostly seemed to be defunct, but one or two appeared as though they might work. What we were primarily interested in were the human remains in the pods, 25 in all. If they were truly from the 21st century as I suspected, then none of these people knew whether they’d be revived or not. They might have been volunteers for an experiment, or they might have chosen to undergo the cryogenics in the hope of being revived when some ailment could be cured. It was impossible to know unless we could access the databanks that must be stored on the ancient terminals, or if they had some personal effects in the pods with them that would shed some light on why they were there. That’s why it was so important to mark each one’s location before attempting to open the pods or move them back to my lab for further analysis.
After about a week of cataloguing, one of my team members called my attention to a pod roughly two-thirds of the way down the row.
“Um, Dr. Whitbeck? You should look at this.”
I made my way over to Sam, who was carefully dusting the pod’s display panel. So far, all the pods seemed to have broken down over the years at various times. Nothing lasts forever. But this one looked as though it might still be working in some capacity. The backlight on the display had long since burned out, but I could just make out a faint rhythmic movement across the display. It appeared to be an archaic display of brainwaves.
“Video this and mark the location. I want to document that the pod’s panel was still functional upon discovery. Tampering with it could damage it.”
I took the brush from Sam as she began recording and started to carefully but swiftly brush the dust from the surface of the pod. In all the others, only dried out mummies had remained due to the breakdown of the pods’ integrity.
I was astonished to see the face of what appeared to be a sleeping man. No decay or deterioration was discernable through the pod’s dusty surface. By now the entire team had stopped what they were doing and gathered around to see what was up. After clearing most of the dust, I stepped back. It was the only pod that seemed completely intact and sealed. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
“Should we... Should we open it?” Sam asked.
“Yes” I replied. “But not here. If this is as old as I think it is, they didn’t yet have the proper revival technology built into the pods. We’ll need to transport him back to our main lab and call in a cryo team. I’ve worked with Dr. Schaffer before on pods uncovered from the 2700’s, some survivors were able to be revived. It was only after 2934 that cryo tech was advanced enough for auto-revival. *If* this man can be revived – and that’s a big if – then he will officially be the oldest survivor of early cryo experimentation. We will need to be extremely careful.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Back in my lab, Dr. Schaffer was eager to examine my discovery.
“My God… Look at him!” He exclaimed. “This is marvelous!”
“I know, the preservation is remarkable. And it seems as though the display panel still functions, although the light doesn’t work.”
“Yes. Yes, it is still functional. It’s dim, but it does appear to be an archaic brainwave pattern. And since it’s still running, it must mean that this man is still alive.”
“Can you revive him?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. This pod is so *old*… I just don’t know. But I’ve brought everything necessary for a standard cryo revival, as well as my emergency team in case he crashes upon revival. Mind you, I make no guarantees, but I will do my best.”
Dr. Schaffer went to work with his team, carefully opening the ancient pod and swiftly hooking the man up to various medical equipment and transferring him to a revival tent set up over a hospital bed. After some time, they declared that he was resting and thawing as well as could be expected, and his vitals seemed strong. It would be a while yet before he regained consciousness – if he ever did. The odds were greatly in favor of him having massive brain damage and being a vegetable for the rest of his natural life. I decided to wait with him while Schaffer’s team left.
I must have fallen asleep because I’m not sure how much time went by. But I was woken by a rustling sound. When I opened my eyes, the man was sitting up and looking around with a bewildered expression. His eyes finally settled on me.
“Has it been ten years already?”
“Don’t try to move just yet, you’ve been under for… quite some time.”
He stretched his arms, apparently feeling quite alright. “Yeah, I guess a decade is ‘quite some time’ isn’t it? So, who are you? Where’s the Colonel?”
I didn’t want to shock him too much, so I evaded his questions as best I could.
“Do you remember your name? Date of birth?”
A smug look passed over his features, clearly expecting the run down of data. “Oh sure, I’m Jim Easton. Born in Cincinnati Ohio on June 21st, 1992. Recruited for the cryo experiment in 2020. I’m 28 years old. Although now that it’s been a decade and I haven’t aged – I think anyway, do you have a mirror? Does that make me 38 or am I still 28? I wondered about that just before they put me under.”
I was dumbfounded. He had just confirmed my theory that the pods were indeed from the 21st century. But he seemed to think only ten years had passed, how in the world was I going to explain to him what had happened? Hell, *I* didn’t even know why his facility had gotten lost. That part of history was long forgotten, and my team was still working on extracting data from the few working computers.
“Do you have any food around here? I’m starving. And where’s the Colonel? I figured he’d want to be here when we woke up. And speaking of the others…” He looked around, seeming to notice that his was the only pod here. “Where are they? Did the lab get moved? Did something happen?”
“Ah, well, all your questions will be answered in due time. For now, I’m going to notify Dr. Schaffer that you’re awake, and I’ll see if I can find you something to eat. Just… Just make yourself comfortable.”
I stepped out of the room and dialed Schaffer’s number. What in the world was I going to do with this man? | “This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen” dr Milton exclaimed loudly, staring at the foggy glass cylinder in front of him.
Turning left and right to make sure he was alone, he reached out gingerly towards the dormant shadow lying still.
With a sudden crack like a gun the ice cracked and splintered as the glass moved aside to reveal a woman lying motionless in the long abandoned machine.
Before he could even draw breath the woman’s eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright grabbing a scalpel from a nearby try and brandishing it in the docs direction.
“How long...?” She whispered after a moment
“I’m sorry?” The doc replied shakily
“How long have I been in here?” She asked again.
“10 years...”
“...already?” | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | They have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?"
"Wait a second, who are you?" he asks, his eyes slowly coming into focus as he stares at me, bewildered.
In the short time it took the cryo chamber to open and release the frozen man a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Who is this person? How long has he been frozen? Is he going to be a threat to me?
Then it dawned on me. He can't know. He can't be aware that decades ago an international agreement was made to stop all cryogenics, and discard all humans that were currently frozen.
Never had anyone survived being unfrozen longer than a week, and each death was agony, as the body slowly shut down, bit by bit, beginning to rot away while the patient still lived.
Cryo-scientists had never been able to stop the body from rejecting and killing off the cells that have been damaged by the freezing process, and it had been agreed that it was unethical to continue trying.
This man must have somehow slipped through the net when they discarded all those who were frozen.
Before I could even begin to consider if I should tell him the horrendous death he was facing he had started questioning me.
"I unfroze you", I began, unsure of how else to explain myself in a way he would understand. "How do you feel?".
"Alright I guess", he replied, "a bit like I had a couple too many beers last night, but I guess nobody comes out of there ready to run a marathon, right?".
"Actually, I'm not sure", I replied, "I've never met anyone who has been unfrozen before".
"What, how can that be", his bewilderment showing all across his face now, "there were thousands, mabye millions frozen before me, surely many of them have been unfrozen long ago?".
"Can you tell me a bit about how you came to be frozen", I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that line of questioning, knowing where it would lead.
"It's a bit of a story really, but the short version is that a group of investors started a business, and built this facility all the way out here, far away from everything really. It was obvious to everyone at that time that cryo was getting alot of negative attention in the media, religious groups very vocal against it, scientists saying that cryo could never work and it was going to end in disaster and catastrophe for people who choose to be frozen. You know, the kind of bullshit that comes along with any new technology".
"They brought us here to live for a couple of years before our freeze day and they didn't let us hear too much from the outside world, telling us that it was necessary for us to not be" contaminated" from outside sources. We had paid a lot of money to be here, nobody wanted to take the risk of trying to contact the outside world and possibly be thrown off the program. And besides, my family are here, we quickly made friends with all the other families here to be cryo'd and we didn't miss the outside world much at all, especially with all the fuss and drama about cryogenics".
"Dr. Bentley assured us they were a top notch facility, we would be well looked after, and they would do a test freeze on everyone for 10 years. I went first and my family were due to go in 6 weeks after me, so they will get out in 6 weeks time. After that they would put us back in for however long we wanted. Most of us were going for a few hundred years."
"Where is the doc anyway, he said he would be here when I got out, but this isn't at all what I was expecting, I'm starting to freak out a bit".
"I will level with you", I said, "it has been much much longer than 10 years. This facility looks like it has been abandoned in a hurry, I have no idea what happened, but I think you've been left behind. I was out here scouting the area for my work and stumbled across it, otherwise I don't think anyone knows it's here".
"Oh my god", he whispered in a choked voice "they said something like this might happen, that the cryo protestors would get out of control and try and storm the place. But... But the doc had all these traps and systems set up to stop unwanted people getting in. And these traps weren't made to tickle, they were made to stop unwelcome people getting in at All costs. He figured if people came onto his private property, he could deal with them however he wanted. Come to think of it, it's a miracle that you made it in here without knowing how to get around them. He told us all how they worked, so I can get us out but it's not going to be easy".
Just as he finished explaining this he clutched his stomach and groaned in agony, his eyes became unfocused and he half stepped half fell into the closest wall to stop himself collapsing. As he noticed the blood starting to run from his left ear he looked at me and demanded "what's going on? What are you not telling me?".
First time posting in this sub and I don't really write too much so I'm a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone thought and glad to hear all constructive criticism. Thanks! | “This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen” dr Milton exclaimed loudly, staring at the foggy glass cylinder in front of him.
Turning left and right to make sure he was alone, he reached out gingerly towards the dormant shadow lying still.
With a sudden crack like a gun the ice cracked and splintered as the glass moved aside to reveal a woman lying motionless in the long abandoned machine.
Before he could even draw breath the woman’s eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright grabbing a scalpel from a nearby try and brandishing it in the docs direction.
“How long...?” She whispered after a moment
“I’m sorry?” The doc replied shakily
“How long have I been in here?” She asked again.
“10 years...”
“...already?” | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | I couldn’t believe my luck in this discovery. I knew the chamber at the lower levels of this ancient facility must be important, but what I was gazing upon had to be an old cryogenics lab. One of the *original* ones, judging by the equipment. I knew of only one other early cryogenics discovery, and that one had been dated to sometime in the 2400’s. We knew people had been experimenting with it as early as the 21st century from some surviving data, but nobody had ever been able to locate one of the original facilities. It’s always been assumed that everything of importance was destroyed in the Alien Wars of the 2300’s. But here I was, standing in what was surely a cryogenics lab pre-dating 2400, and what might even be an original 21st century lab. Something older than I ever hoped to discover.
And what’s more is there still seemed to be power supplying some of the equipment. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room, but I could discern the unmistakable hum of a power generator. I immediately set my team to work photographing everything before I dared to touch it. I had to make absolutely certain to document this discovery as thoroughly as possible if I were to be believed in the archaeology community.
It was painstaking work, carefully dusting off each item and cataloguing its location and condition. The workstation terminals mostly seemed to be defunct, but one or two appeared as though they might work. What we were primarily interested in were the human remains in the pods, 25 in all. If they were truly from the 21st century as I suspected, then none of these people knew whether they’d be revived or not. They might have been volunteers for an experiment, or they might have chosen to undergo the cryogenics in the hope of being revived when some ailment could be cured. It was impossible to know unless we could access the databanks that must be stored on the ancient terminals, or if they had some personal effects in the pods with them that would shed some light on why they were there. That’s why it was so important to mark each one’s location before attempting to open the pods or move them back to my lab for further analysis.
After about a week of cataloguing, one of my team members called my attention to a pod roughly two-thirds of the way down the row.
“Um, Dr. Whitbeck? You should look at this.”
I made my way over to Sam, who was carefully dusting the pod’s display panel. So far, all the pods seemed to have broken down over the years at various times. Nothing lasts forever. But this one looked as though it might still be working in some capacity. The backlight on the display had long since burned out, but I could just make out a faint rhythmic movement across the display. It appeared to be an archaic display of brainwaves.
“Video this and mark the location. I want to document that the pod’s panel was still functional upon discovery. Tampering with it could damage it.”
I took the brush from Sam as she began recording and started to carefully but swiftly brush the dust from the surface of the pod. In all the others, only dried out mummies had remained due to the breakdown of the pods’ integrity.
I was astonished to see the face of what appeared to be a sleeping man. No decay or deterioration was discernable through the pod’s dusty surface. By now the entire team had stopped what they were doing and gathered around to see what was up. After clearing most of the dust, I stepped back. It was the only pod that seemed completely intact and sealed. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
“Should we... Should we open it?” Sam asked.
“Yes” I replied. “But not here. If this is as old as I think it is, they didn’t yet have the proper revival technology built into the pods. We’ll need to transport him back to our main lab and call in a cryo team. I’ve worked with Dr. Schaffer before on pods uncovered from the 2700’s, some survivors were able to be revived. It was only after 2934 that cryo tech was advanced enough for auto-revival. *If* this man can be revived – and that’s a big if – then he will officially be the oldest survivor of early cryo experimentation. We will need to be extremely careful.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Back in my lab, Dr. Schaffer was eager to examine my discovery.
“My God… Look at him!” He exclaimed. “This is marvelous!”
“I know, the preservation is remarkable. And it seems as though the display panel still functions, although the light doesn’t work.”
“Yes. Yes, it is still functional. It’s dim, but it does appear to be an archaic brainwave pattern. And since it’s still running, it must mean that this man is still alive.”
“Can you revive him?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. This pod is so *old*… I just don’t know. But I’ve brought everything necessary for a standard cryo revival, as well as my emergency team in case he crashes upon revival. Mind you, I make no guarantees, but I will do my best.”
Dr. Schaffer went to work with his team, carefully opening the ancient pod and swiftly hooking the man up to various medical equipment and transferring him to a revival tent set up over a hospital bed. After some time, they declared that he was resting and thawing as well as could be expected, and his vitals seemed strong. It would be a while yet before he regained consciousness – if he ever did. The odds were greatly in favor of him having massive brain damage and being a vegetable for the rest of his natural life. I decided to wait with him while Schaffer’s team left.
I must have fallen asleep because I’m not sure how much time went by. But I was woken by a rustling sound. When I opened my eyes, the man was sitting up and looking around with a bewildered expression. His eyes finally settled on me.
“Has it been ten years already?”
“Don’t try to move just yet, you’ve been under for… quite some time.”
He stretched his arms, apparently feeling quite alright. “Yeah, I guess a decade is ‘quite some time’ isn’t it? So, who are you? Where’s the Colonel?”
I didn’t want to shock him too much, so I evaded his questions as best I could.
“Do you remember your name? Date of birth?”
A smug look passed over his features, clearly expecting the run down of data. “Oh sure, I’m Jim Easton. Born in Cincinnati Ohio on June 21st, 1992. Recruited for the cryo experiment in 2020. I’m 28 years old. Although now that it’s been a decade and I haven’t aged – I think anyway, do you have a mirror? Does that make me 38 or am I still 28? I wondered about that just before they put me under.”
I was dumbfounded. He had just confirmed my theory that the pods were indeed from the 21st century. But he seemed to think only ten years had passed, how in the world was I going to explain to him what had happened? Hell, *I* didn’t even know why his facility had gotten lost. That part of history was long forgotten, and my team was still working on extracting data from the few working computers.
“Do you have any food around here? I’m starving. And where’s the Colonel? I figured he’d want to be here when we woke up. And speaking of the others…” He looked around, seeming to notice that his was the only pod here. “Where are they? Did the lab get moved? Did something happen?”
“Ah, well, all your questions will be answered in due time. For now, I’m going to notify Dr. Schaffer that you’re awake, and I’ll see if I can find you something to eat. Just… Just make yourself comfortable.”
I stepped out of the room and dialed Schaffer’s number. What in the world was I going to do with this man? | "Oh dear... I'm afraid it's been a tad bit longer than you expected," you sheepishly say, watching the person observe their surroundings.
They were shorter than the average human in your time. Other than that, they seemed perfectly fine.
"What year is it?" They ask, fanning themselves, "and why is it so hot?!"
"Well, its the year 2433. You've been asleep for over 300 years! And the heat.... well.... I think it'll be easier to show than to explain," you say, walking over to a window.
You press a button and the shutters open wide to a dark expanse. The window was surrounded with what looked like massive exhaust pipes billowing out fire.
"W-what happened?" They asked, shocked.
"Earth was destroyed. This was one of the first pieces we've seen in over a century, so we created a base and made it mobile. I was tasked with excavating and studying what the world was like then. Like looking in a time capsule or something. Then we found you," you said, smiling, "you could tell us what life was like!"
They had curled up in a ball and started sobbing during your explanation.
"They.... they forgot about me.... my family didn't do anything, I was forgotten and thrown away!" They sobbed, realizing their situation.
"But you survived. Doesn't that count for something?" You ask, placing a hand on their shoulder.
They just rested their head on your chest and cried, gripping you close. You thought it was best they get it out of their system. After what seemed like hours, they calmed down and listened to your questions.
"... I apologize if I'm being insensitive to your situation. You must have just as many questions as I do," you said, trying to ease the tension.
"Its fine... it's just a lot to take in at once. It feels nice to... to talk about where I'm from," they said.
"Better yet, WHEN you're from," you joke.
They glare at you for your horrible pun and go back to answering questions. You spend days together answering questions about the past and the present. They adapt to your way of life and becomes part of your crew. | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | They have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?"
"Wait a second, who are you?" he asks, his eyes slowly coming into focus as he stares at me, bewildered.
In the short time it took the cryo chamber to open and release the frozen man a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Who is this person? How long has he been frozen? Is he going to be a threat to me?
Then it dawned on me. He can't know. He can't be aware that decades ago an international agreement was made to stop all cryogenics, and discard all humans that were currently frozen.
Never had anyone survived being unfrozen longer than a week, and each death was agony, as the body slowly shut down, bit by bit, beginning to rot away while the patient still lived.
Cryo-scientists had never been able to stop the body from rejecting and killing off the cells that have been damaged by the freezing process, and it had been agreed that it was unethical to continue trying.
This man must have somehow slipped through the net when they discarded all those who were frozen.
Before I could even begin to consider if I should tell him the horrendous death he was facing he had started questioning me.
"I unfroze you", I began, unsure of how else to explain myself in a way he would understand. "How do you feel?".
"Alright I guess", he replied, "a bit like I had a couple too many beers last night, but I guess nobody comes out of there ready to run a marathon, right?".
"Actually, I'm not sure", I replied, "I've never met anyone who has been unfrozen before".
"What, how can that be", his bewilderment showing all across his face now, "there were thousands, mabye millions frozen before me, surely many of them have been unfrozen long ago?".
"Can you tell me a bit about how you came to be frozen", I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that line of questioning, knowing where it would lead.
"It's a bit of a story really, but the short version is that a group of investors started a business, and built this facility all the way out here, far away from everything really. It was obvious to everyone at that time that cryo was getting alot of negative attention in the media, religious groups very vocal against it, scientists saying that cryo could never work and it was going to end in disaster and catastrophe for people who choose to be frozen. You know, the kind of bullshit that comes along with any new technology".
"They brought us here to live for a couple of years before our freeze day and they didn't let us hear too much from the outside world, telling us that it was necessary for us to not be" contaminated" from outside sources. We had paid a lot of money to be here, nobody wanted to take the risk of trying to contact the outside world and possibly be thrown off the program. And besides, my family are here, we quickly made friends with all the other families here to be cryo'd and we didn't miss the outside world much at all, especially with all the fuss and drama about cryogenics".
"Dr. Bentley assured us they were a top notch facility, we would be well looked after, and they would do a test freeze on everyone for 10 years. I went first and my family were due to go in 6 weeks after me, so they will get out in 6 weeks time. After that they would put us back in for however long we wanted. Most of us were going for a few hundred years."
"Where is the doc anyway, he said he would be here when I got out, but this isn't at all what I was expecting, I'm starting to freak out a bit".
"I will level with you", I said, "it has been much much longer than 10 years. This facility looks like it has been abandoned in a hurry, I have no idea what happened, but I think you've been left behind. I was out here scouting the area for my work and stumbled across it, otherwise I don't think anyone knows it's here".
"Oh my god", he whispered in a choked voice "they said something like this might happen, that the cryo protestors would get out of control and try and storm the place. But... But the doc had all these traps and systems set up to stop unwanted people getting in. And these traps weren't made to tickle, they were made to stop unwelcome people getting in at All costs. He figured if people came onto his private property, he could deal with them however he wanted. Come to think of it, it's a miracle that you made it in here without knowing how to get around them. He told us all how they worked, so I can get us out but it's not going to be easy".
Just as he finished explaining this he clutched his stomach and groaned in agony, his eyes became unfocused and he half stepped half fell into the closest wall to stop himself collapsing. As he noticed the blood starting to run from his left ear he looked at me and demanded "what's going on? What are you not telling me?".
First time posting in this sub and I don't really write too much so I'm a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone thought and glad to hear all constructive criticism. Thanks! | "Oh dear... I'm afraid it's been a tad bit longer than you expected," you sheepishly say, watching the person observe their surroundings.
They were shorter than the average human in your time. Other than that, they seemed perfectly fine.
"What year is it?" They ask, fanning themselves, "and why is it so hot?!"
"Well, its the year 2433. You've been asleep for over 300 years! And the heat.... well.... I think it'll be easier to show than to explain," you say, walking over to a window.
You press a button and the shutters open wide to a dark expanse. The window was surrounded with what looked like massive exhaust pipes billowing out fire.
"W-what happened?" They asked, shocked.
"Earth was destroyed. This was one of the first pieces we've seen in over a century, so we created a base and made it mobile. I was tasked with excavating and studying what the world was like then. Like looking in a time capsule or something. Then we found you," you said, smiling, "you could tell us what life was like!"
They had curled up in a ball and started sobbing during your explanation.
"They.... they forgot about me.... my family didn't do anything, I was forgotten and thrown away!" They sobbed, realizing their situation.
"But you survived. Doesn't that count for something?" You ask, placing a hand on their shoulder.
They just rested their head on your chest and cried, gripping you close. You thought it was best they get it out of their system. After what seemed like hours, they calmed down and listened to your questions.
"... I apologize if I'm being insensitive to your situation. You must have just as many questions as I do," you said, trying to ease the tension.
"Its fine... it's just a lot to take in at once. It feels nice to... to talk about where I'm from," they said.
"Better yet, WHEN you're from," you joke.
They glare at you for your horrible pun and go back to answering questions. You spend days together answering questions about the past and the present. They adapt to your way of life and becomes part of your crew. | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | I couldn’t believe my luck in this discovery. I knew the chamber at the lower levels of this ancient facility must be important, but what I was gazing upon had to be an old cryogenics lab. One of the *original* ones, judging by the equipment. I knew of only one other early cryogenics discovery, and that one had been dated to sometime in the 2400’s. We knew people had been experimenting with it as early as the 21st century from some surviving data, but nobody had ever been able to locate one of the original facilities. It’s always been assumed that everything of importance was destroyed in the Alien Wars of the 2300’s. But here I was, standing in what was surely a cryogenics lab pre-dating 2400, and what might even be an original 21st century lab. Something older than I ever hoped to discover.
And what’s more is there still seemed to be power supplying some of the equipment. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room, but I could discern the unmistakable hum of a power generator. I immediately set my team to work photographing everything before I dared to touch it. I had to make absolutely certain to document this discovery as thoroughly as possible if I were to be believed in the archaeology community.
It was painstaking work, carefully dusting off each item and cataloguing its location and condition. The workstation terminals mostly seemed to be defunct, but one or two appeared as though they might work. What we were primarily interested in were the human remains in the pods, 25 in all. If they were truly from the 21st century as I suspected, then none of these people knew whether they’d be revived or not. They might have been volunteers for an experiment, or they might have chosen to undergo the cryogenics in the hope of being revived when some ailment could be cured. It was impossible to know unless we could access the databanks that must be stored on the ancient terminals, or if they had some personal effects in the pods with them that would shed some light on why they were there. That’s why it was so important to mark each one’s location before attempting to open the pods or move them back to my lab for further analysis.
After about a week of cataloguing, one of my team members called my attention to a pod roughly two-thirds of the way down the row.
“Um, Dr. Whitbeck? You should look at this.”
I made my way over to Sam, who was carefully dusting the pod’s display panel. So far, all the pods seemed to have broken down over the years at various times. Nothing lasts forever. But this one looked as though it might still be working in some capacity. The backlight on the display had long since burned out, but I could just make out a faint rhythmic movement across the display. It appeared to be an archaic display of brainwaves.
“Video this and mark the location. I want to document that the pod’s panel was still functional upon discovery. Tampering with it could damage it.”
I took the brush from Sam as she began recording and started to carefully but swiftly brush the dust from the surface of the pod. In all the others, only dried out mummies had remained due to the breakdown of the pods’ integrity.
I was astonished to see the face of what appeared to be a sleeping man. No decay or deterioration was discernable through the pod’s dusty surface. By now the entire team had stopped what they were doing and gathered around to see what was up. After clearing most of the dust, I stepped back. It was the only pod that seemed completely intact and sealed. Nobody spoke for a long moment.
“Should we... Should we open it?” Sam asked.
“Yes” I replied. “But not here. If this is as old as I think it is, they didn’t yet have the proper revival technology built into the pods. We’ll need to transport him back to our main lab and call in a cryo team. I’ve worked with Dr. Schaffer before on pods uncovered from the 2700’s, some survivors were able to be revived. It was only after 2934 that cryo tech was advanced enough for auto-revival. *If* this man can be revived – and that’s a big if – then he will officially be the oldest survivor of early cryo experimentation. We will need to be extremely careful.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Back in my lab, Dr. Schaffer was eager to examine my discovery.
“My God… Look at him!” He exclaimed. “This is marvelous!”
“I know, the preservation is remarkable. And it seems as though the display panel still functions, although the light doesn’t work.”
“Yes. Yes, it is still functional. It’s dim, but it does appear to be an archaic brainwave pattern. And since it’s still running, it must mean that this man is still alive.”
“Can you revive him?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. This pod is so *old*… I just don’t know. But I’ve brought everything necessary for a standard cryo revival, as well as my emergency team in case he crashes upon revival. Mind you, I make no guarantees, but I will do my best.”
Dr. Schaffer went to work with his team, carefully opening the ancient pod and swiftly hooking the man up to various medical equipment and transferring him to a revival tent set up over a hospital bed. After some time, they declared that he was resting and thawing as well as could be expected, and his vitals seemed strong. It would be a while yet before he regained consciousness – if he ever did. The odds were greatly in favor of him having massive brain damage and being a vegetable for the rest of his natural life. I decided to wait with him while Schaffer’s team left.
I must have fallen asleep because I’m not sure how much time went by. But I was woken by a rustling sound. When I opened my eyes, the man was sitting up and looking around with a bewildered expression. His eyes finally settled on me.
“Has it been ten years already?”
“Don’t try to move just yet, you’ve been under for… quite some time.”
He stretched his arms, apparently feeling quite alright. “Yeah, I guess a decade is ‘quite some time’ isn’t it? So, who are you? Where’s the Colonel?”
I didn’t want to shock him too much, so I evaded his questions as best I could.
“Do you remember your name? Date of birth?”
A smug look passed over his features, clearly expecting the run down of data. “Oh sure, I’m Jim Easton. Born in Cincinnati Ohio on June 21st, 1992. Recruited for the cryo experiment in 2020. I’m 28 years old. Although now that it’s been a decade and I haven’t aged – I think anyway, do you have a mirror? Does that make me 38 or am I still 28? I wondered about that just before they put me under.”
I was dumbfounded. He had just confirmed my theory that the pods were indeed from the 21st century. But he seemed to think only ten years had passed, how in the world was I going to explain to him what had happened? Hell, *I* didn’t even know why his facility had gotten lost. That part of history was long forgotten, and my team was still working on extracting data from the few working computers.
“Do you have any food around here? I’m starving. And where’s the Colonel? I figured he’d want to be here when we woke up. And speaking of the others…” He looked around, seeming to notice that his was the only pod here. “Where are they? Did the lab get moved? Did something happen?”
“Ah, well, all your questions will be answered in due time. For now, I’m going to notify Dr. Schaffer that you’re awake, and I’ll see if I can find you something to eat. Just… Just make yourself comfortable.”
I stepped out of the room and dialed Schaffer’s number. What in the world was I going to do with this man? |
His pulse is over 60 now. He can see me but he seems to having a hard time talking. He coughs a few times and starts touching his face.
''Has it been ten years already?'' He asks.
I try to give him a medication to help his body to adjust to the condition. He pushes me away, ''Who are you?'' He asks.
''I’m here to help.'' I say.
He shakes his head, ''You shouldn’t be here. This was a secret place.'' He says.
''What you mean?'' I ask.
He tries to a standstill by himself. He manages to keep his balance and he steps forward.
''Do you remember who you are?'' I ask.
He looks at me, ''You have rather interesting clothes.'' He says.
I feel the buzzing feeling and I see the reminder of my medication displayed in my sight.
''What the hell is that?'' He points at my device.
''That is my Exterior Memory Device.'' I answer.
He gets closer to the device, ''Why it’s connected to you?''
''There is a lot of explaining to do. But this isn’t a priority. First of all, I need to confirm your name.'' I say.
He looks at me with a suspicious eye, ''You are one of them.''
''What? One of who?'' I ask.
''Those fuckers who hijacked our system and left us to die here. What happened to my family? Tell me, where is my family?'' He drops to the ground.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | They have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?"
"Wait a second, who are you?" he asks, his eyes slowly coming into focus as he stares at me, bewildered.
In the short time it took the cryo chamber to open and release the frozen man a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Who is this person? How long has he been frozen? Is he going to be a threat to me?
Then it dawned on me. He can't know. He can't be aware that decades ago an international agreement was made to stop all cryogenics, and discard all humans that were currently frozen.
Never had anyone survived being unfrozen longer than a week, and each death was agony, as the body slowly shut down, bit by bit, beginning to rot away while the patient still lived.
Cryo-scientists had never been able to stop the body from rejecting and killing off the cells that have been damaged by the freezing process, and it had been agreed that it was unethical to continue trying.
This man must have somehow slipped through the net when they discarded all those who were frozen.
Before I could even begin to consider if I should tell him the horrendous death he was facing he had started questioning me.
"I unfroze you", I began, unsure of how else to explain myself in a way he would understand. "How do you feel?".
"Alright I guess", he replied, "a bit like I had a couple too many beers last night, but I guess nobody comes out of there ready to run a marathon, right?".
"Actually, I'm not sure", I replied, "I've never met anyone who has been unfrozen before".
"What, how can that be", his bewilderment showing all across his face now, "there were thousands, mabye millions frozen before me, surely many of them have been unfrozen long ago?".
"Can you tell me a bit about how you came to be frozen", I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that line of questioning, knowing where it would lead.
"It's a bit of a story really, but the short version is that a group of investors started a business, and built this facility all the way out here, far away from everything really. It was obvious to everyone at that time that cryo was getting alot of negative attention in the media, religious groups very vocal against it, scientists saying that cryo could never work and it was going to end in disaster and catastrophe for people who choose to be frozen. You know, the kind of bullshit that comes along with any new technology".
"They brought us here to live for a couple of years before our freeze day and they didn't let us hear too much from the outside world, telling us that it was necessary for us to not be" contaminated" from outside sources. We had paid a lot of money to be here, nobody wanted to take the risk of trying to contact the outside world and possibly be thrown off the program. And besides, my family are here, we quickly made friends with all the other families here to be cryo'd and we didn't miss the outside world much at all, especially with all the fuss and drama about cryogenics".
"Dr. Bentley assured us they were a top notch facility, we would be well looked after, and they would do a test freeze on everyone for 10 years. I went first and my family were due to go in 6 weeks after me, so they will get out in 6 weeks time. After that they would put us back in for however long we wanted. Most of us were going for a few hundred years."
"Where is the doc anyway, he said he would be here when I got out, but this isn't at all what I was expecting, I'm starting to freak out a bit".
"I will level with you", I said, "it has been much much longer than 10 years. This facility looks like it has been abandoned in a hurry, I have no idea what happened, but I think you've been left behind. I was out here scouting the area for my work and stumbled across it, otherwise I don't think anyone knows it's here".
"Oh my god", he whispered in a choked voice "they said something like this might happen, that the cryo protestors would get out of control and try and storm the place. But... But the doc had all these traps and systems set up to stop unwanted people getting in. And these traps weren't made to tickle, they were made to stop unwelcome people getting in at All costs. He figured if people came onto his private property, he could deal with them however he wanted. Come to think of it, it's a miracle that you made it in here without knowing how to get around them. He told us all how they worked, so I can get us out but it's not going to be easy".
Just as he finished explaining this he clutched his stomach and groaned in agony, his eyes became unfocused and he half stepped half fell into the closest wall to stop himself collapsing. As he noticed the blood starting to run from his left ear he looked at me and demanded "what's going on? What are you not telling me?".
First time posting in this sub and I don't really write too much so I'm a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone thought and glad to hear all constructive criticism. Thanks! |
His pulse is over 60 now. He can see me but he seems to having a hard time talking. He coughs a few times and starts touching his face.
''Has it been ten years already?'' He asks.
I try to give him a medication to help his body to adjust to the condition. He pushes me away, ''Who are you?'' He asks.
''I’m here to help.'' I say.
He shakes his head, ''You shouldn’t be here. This was a secret place.'' He says.
''What you mean?'' I ask.
He tries to a standstill by himself. He manages to keep his balance and he steps forward.
''Do you remember who you are?'' I ask.
He looks at me, ''You have rather interesting clothes.'' He says.
I feel the buzzing feeling and I see the reminder of my medication displayed in my sight.
''What the hell is that?'' He points at my device.
''That is my Exterior Memory Device.'' I answer.
He gets closer to the device, ''Why it’s connected to you?''
''There is a lot of explaining to do. But this isn’t a priority. First of all, I need to confirm your name.'' I say.
He looks at me with a suspicious eye, ''You are one of them.''
''What? One of who?'' I ask.
''Those fuckers who hijacked our system and left us to die here. What happened to my family? Tell me, where is my family?'' He drops to the ground.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | They have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?"
"Wait a second, who are you?" he asks, his eyes slowly coming into focus as he stares at me, bewildered.
In the short time it took the cryo chamber to open and release the frozen man a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Who is this person? How long has he been frozen? Is he going to be a threat to me?
Then it dawned on me. He can't know. He can't be aware that decades ago an international agreement was made to stop all cryogenics, and discard all humans that were currently frozen.
Never had anyone survived being unfrozen longer than a week, and each death was agony, as the body slowly shut down, bit by bit, beginning to rot away while the patient still lived.
Cryo-scientists had never been able to stop the body from rejecting and killing off the cells that have been damaged by the freezing process, and it had been agreed that it was unethical to continue trying.
This man must have somehow slipped through the net when they discarded all those who were frozen.
Before I could even begin to consider if I should tell him the horrendous death he was facing he had started questioning me.
"I unfroze you", I began, unsure of how else to explain myself in a way he would understand. "How do you feel?".
"Alright I guess", he replied, "a bit like I had a couple too many beers last night, but I guess nobody comes out of there ready to run a marathon, right?".
"Actually, I'm not sure", I replied, "I've never met anyone who has been unfrozen before".
"What, how can that be", his bewilderment showing all across his face now, "there were thousands, mabye millions frozen before me, surely many of them have been unfrozen long ago?".
"Can you tell me a bit about how you came to be frozen", I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from that line of questioning, knowing where it would lead.
"It's a bit of a story really, but the short version is that a group of investors started a business, and built this facility all the way out here, far away from everything really. It was obvious to everyone at that time that cryo was getting alot of negative attention in the media, religious groups very vocal against it, scientists saying that cryo could never work and it was going to end in disaster and catastrophe for people who choose to be frozen. You know, the kind of bullshit that comes along with any new technology".
"They brought us here to live for a couple of years before our freeze day and they didn't let us hear too much from the outside world, telling us that it was necessary for us to not be" contaminated" from outside sources. We had paid a lot of money to be here, nobody wanted to take the risk of trying to contact the outside world and possibly be thrown off the program. And besides, my family are here, we quickly made friends with all the other families here to be cryo'd and we didn't miss the outside world much at all, especially with all the fuss and drama about cryogenics".
"Dr. Bentley assured us they were a top notch facility, we would be well looked after, and they would do a test freeze on everyone for 10 years. I went first and my family were due to go in 6 weeks after me, so they will get out in 6 weeks time. After that they would put us back in for however long we wanted. Most of us were going for a few hundred years."
"Where is the doc anyway, he said he would be here when I got out, but this isn't at all what I was expecting, I'm starting to freak out a bit".
"I will level with you", I said, "it has been much much longer than 10 years. This facility looks like it has been abandoned in a hurry, I have no idea what happened, but I think you've been left behind. I was out here scouting the area for my work and stumbled across it, otherwise I don't think anyone knows it's here".
"Oh my god", he whispered in a choked voice "they said something like this might happen, that the cryo protestors would get out of control and try and storm the place. But... But the doc had all these traps and systems set up to stop unwanted people getting in. And these traps weren't made to tickle, they were made to stop unwelcome people getting in at All costs. He figured if people came onto his private property, he could deal with them however he wanted. Come to think of it, it's a miracle that you made it in here without knowing how to get around them. He told us all how they worked, so I can get us out but it's not going to be easy".
Just as he finished explaining this he clutched his stomach and groaned in agony, his eyes became unfocused and he half stepped half fell into the closest wall to stop himself collapsing. As he noticed the blood starting to run from his left ear he looked at me and demanded "what's going on? What are you not telling me?".
First time posting in this sub and I don't really write too much so I'm a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone thought and glad to hear all constructive criticism. Thanks! | 2-28-2020
“*Hey, honey. I know we’ll say our goodbyes in person, but I wanted to make this for you to watch, you know, if you ever miss me.”*
“*Oftentimes, I find that the more you say something, the less profound it becomes. I know you think I’m this robot at times because of my job, but it’s really because I want you to know it’s true everytime I tell you I love you.”*
“*I know ten years is a long time. But our baby boy and girl are adults now, and I think together, you can handle it. Besides, when I get out, you’ll be older than me, and like I told you, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”*
“*I don’t really have anything else to say. I always planned to make this video, but now that I’m actually here, about to enter the chamber, I feel...excited. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I’ve done the calculations a thousand times, but I can’t help thinking even if I don’t make it, someone will learn from my experiment.”*
“*And the human race will build on what I’ve done, and continue on. That’s what you have to do, until I get back, baby...”*
\-
4-7-2028
The traveler stood in the room, dimly lit. He almost could not believe what he was seeing. He thought about how peaceful the person looked, how it would be wrong to disturb such a sound sleep.
Then, acting on the impulse that had led him this far, he clicked the button.
There were a few moments when nothing happened. The chamber opened, but the person did not move.
The traveler continued to watch.
Then the person began to cough, violently. Eventually, a chunk of ice came out of their mouth, and they stood, shivering.
The person from the chamber looked at the traveler, slowly becoming the scientist again.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
The traveler did not say anything.
“What time is it? What day?”
“Sometime in 2028.”
“Sometime? And you don’t know? Who are you?”
The traveler took off his mask.
“Everyone is gone. Except you and me, and a few others.”
“What? Gone? Like...”
“Dead. Come. You will see for yourself. There really is no time to explain.”
The scientist collapsed to his knees.
“My family?”
The traveler turned to go. “Everyone is gone. There is no time to mourn.”
“Why?” The scientist wailed. "You come in here and tell me my family is dead?"
“Do you want to bring them back?"
"What?!" The scientist screamed. "What are you talking about?"
The traveler didn't answer, and kept walking out of the Antarctic facility.
The scientist couldn't move for a moment. Then, as he felt the warmth, the deadly warmth and its inviting embrace, he stood up, and thought of his wife's smile, feeling his knees buckle again...
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | I tried all different things, going to the security room, looking for an override, nothing. I walked up to the capsule, muttering “why won’t this thing...” then yelling “OPEN!”
“Opening capsule 396-KYU” responded a robotic female voice. Voice activation, of course, why didn’t I think of that?! But no time to waste hating myself, cause I was about to see a specimen preserved all the way from probably around the 21st century. I could bag it, bring it back, get awards, oh my! The history I would make!
I put an oxygen mask to preserve his facial features while I jotted down notes of the facility in my notepad. The size, the structures, the artifacts.
“Whew, has it been 10 years already?” A voice said.
I looked up, expecting another AI voice on the speakers. But no, the guy was alive. I hadn’t noticed the oxygen level on his tank dropping. I could tell by his eyes that he was smiling beneath the mask. He wore a baby blue polo shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops.
I sighed. “A bit more, actually. Now keep calm, everything’s going to be ok.” If he lost his sanity or had a mental breakdown they’d dismiss him as another crazed mutant. “Here, keep that mask on and follow me.”
We walked outside and stepped on my all-terrain vehicle. “I’ve had a lot of dreams in here,” he said, “but this is totally the most realistic. Cool though. A wasteland of earth, everyone dead. Sad as well. My family would die if this happened.” He said, his words quieting down. “It did...” I said, trying to seem as calm as possible, putting myself in his position to see how my words may affect him.
“Listen, this is going to scar you. It’s the truth though. You must believe me.” I said, stopping the ATV. “Ok. I’m calm.” he replied. “Earth, all of this, it’s real. A lot of people died. We left here to go live on space stations and the Moon and Mars. This place got torched by solar flares from the sun. It burnt up all of the water and oxygen, leaving this place a dry wasteland. The current year is 2422. You’ve been in there for at least 350 years. I don’t know what tests they did, but it didn’t work, and you got trapped in there. I am going to bring you to an extraction point and get you shipped out of here.”
Silence. Tears fell down his face, and he tried wiping them away, only to smudge his mask with dirty fingers.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Treyton Fairfield, Bureau Of Earthly Findings, better know as BOEF. Born and raised in District K15 of Mars.
“I’m Gary. Gary Dallinger. Worked at a factory, former military man, accepted a ‘cryo-station’ experiment.”
I brought him to the extraction point and radioed in.
“Baker-456, require extraction.” I said into the radio.
“Reason for extract, TF-K15?” The pilot replied.
“Got a human here. He’s alive and well, some cryo facility kept him safe. He’s waiting on my signal, so come pick him up. I’m going to stay down here, keep looking for more stuff. He has a note with instructions of what to do once he gets to the Capitol. You know, meeting the president, proof that he’s really from the 21st century, all that.” I said.
“Wow. I’m speechless. I’ll be landing in 5, so you could probably leave now. He’ll be safe, there ain’t many mutants left.” the pilot said.
“Alright. Safe trips.”
“Safe trips.”
As I turned around, ‘Gary’ struck me over the head with a large rock. It shattered my mask’s window, letting the toxic, oxygen deprived air seep in. My eyes felt like nails were being driven through them into the back of my skull. I ripped my mask off and reached to grab my backup, but nothing was there. Of course, that monster had it on his face. I laid awake, hearing howling winds and my own heartbeat, my eyes bleeding, choking on the ground. Dead. | 2-28-2020
“*Hey, honey. I know we’ll say our goodbyes in person, but I wanted to make this for you to watch, you know, if you ever miss me.”*
“*Oftentimes, I find that the more you say something, the less profound it becomes. I know you think I’m this robot at times because of my job, but it’s really because I want you to know it’s true everytime I tell you I love you.”*
“*I know ten years is a long time. But our baby boy and girl are adults now, and I think together, you can handle it. Besides, when I get out, you’ll be older than me, and like I told you, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”*
“*I don’t really have anything else to say. I always planned to make this video, but now that I’m actually here, about to enter the chamber, I feel...excited. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I’ve done the calculations a thousand times, but I can’t help thinking even if I don’t make it, someone will learn from my experiment.”*
“*And the human race will build on what I’ve done, and continue on. That’s what you have to do, until I get back, baby...”*
\-
4-7-2028
The traveler stood in the room, dimly lit. He almost could not believe what he was seeing. He thought about how peaceful the person looked, how it would be wrong to disturb such a sound sleep.
Then, acting on the impulse that had led him this far, he clicked the button.
There were a few moments when nothing happened. The chamber opened, but the person did not move.
The traveler continued to watch.
Then the person began to cough, violently. Eventually, a chunk of ice came out of their mouth, and they stood, shivering.
The person from the chamber looked at the traveler, slowly becoming the scientist again.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
The traveler did not say anything.
“What time is it? What day?”
“Sometime in 2028.”
“Sometime? And you don’t know? Who are you?”
The traveler took off his mask.
“Everyone is gone. Except you and me, and a few others.”
“What? Gone? Like...”
“Dead. Come. You will see for yourself. There really is no time to explain.”
The scientist collapsed to his knees.
“My family?”
The traveler turned to go. “Everyone is gone. There is no time to mourn.”
“Why?” The scientist wailed. "You come in here and tell me my family is dead?"
“Do you want to bring them back?"
"What?!" The scientist screamed. "What are you talking about?"
The traveler didn't answer, and kept walking out of the Antarctic facility.
The scientist couldn't move for a moment. Then, as he felt the warmth, the deadly warmth and its inviting embrace, he stood up, and thought of his wife's smile, feeling his knees buckle again...
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | “Has it been ten years already?” the gentleman mused with an air of smugness. If there was one thing I had always hated about this man above all else, it was the way he spoke to those he deemed to be below him. He didn’t speak with words, but his subtle reactions and tone serving only to demean. Had it been Stephanie who opened his chamber, I’m sure his initial reaction would have been far more polite, his lacklustre authenticity still shining through.
“Gavin.”
“Are you sure they didn’t set it to twenty years by mistake, you look positively harrowed my good man.”
I really do hate this man, but I had to hold it together, I had to tell him what I needed to through gritted teeth.
“I’ve got some bad news, Gavin. These have been some of the worst year’s humanity have ever seen. I came here alone to free everyone still left in the experiment, but you are the only one who survived. I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Come to what?”
His smugness draining out of his words quicker than the colour left his skin.
“Wait, everyone else-“
“Yes, Stephanie, Roger, David, all of them, they’re all gone. All of humanity is.”
“But, how could this happen in only ten years?”
“You said it yourself. You know it hasn’t *actually* been ten years.”
As harsh a story this was to tell, I couldn’t help but enjoy it.
“You remember what my wife used to do here? She was a roboticist. One of the best.”
“Leanne?”
“Linda. Anyway, that doesn’t matter anymore, none of it matters. She rebuilt me, Gavin. She made me what I am now.”
For a man who had coped so well with the idea of leaving the world behind for a decade, he was not dealing with this information well. For the first time in the five years I’d known him, his demeanour was shaken. I’m sure it was less the idea of losing those around him, someone willing to step inside this chamber for ten years had already lost that long ago, it was more the idea of losing his feeling of superiority.
“What are you now…? Are you not human…?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this. But as the only person left, I guess I must. I’m a cyborg, experimental. We all tried, we all failed, well I guess I’m the lucky one. If you can call this lucky. It’s not been twenty years. It’s been well over two hundred, I’ve lost count. The plague wiped out most of humanity, the creatures that came with it wiped out the rest. I’m sorry to have woken you up like this… to this… but the worst thing about all this is the crippling loneliness. It’s just us now.”
For the first time, Gavin was speechless. The hate had always been mutual, but would it be something else now? It was as if he was searching for the right words, his brain as if remaining in a state of cryogenic stasis. His mouth opened slightly, barely wide enough to whimper. The door behind them creaked open.
Screaming Gavin snapped rigid as Stephanie walked through the door. Confusion swept over him, with a sudden realisation, could this be how the creatures took form in his new world? Was the man in front of him a creature too?
“It’s been three days, you stupid \*\*\*\*.”
They had to release the candidates due to a power generator complication. Twenty years older! I know I’ve been working overtime to help out and I look a bit sleep deprived, but twenty years he said I looked! The hatred is most definitely still mutual. | 2-28-2020
“*Hey, honey. I know we’ll say our goodbyes in person, but I wanted to make this for you to watch, you know, if you ever miss me.”*
“*Oftentimes, I find that the more you say something, the less profound it becomes. I know you think I’m this robot at times because of my job, but it’s really because I want you to know it’s true everytime I tell you I love you.”*
“*I know ten years is a long time. But our baby boy and girl are adults now, and I think together, you can handle it. Besides, when I get out, you’ll be older than me, and like I told you, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”*
“*I don’t really have anything else to say. I always planned to make this video, but now that I’m actually here, about to enter the chamber, I feel...excited. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I’ve done the calculations a thousand times, but I can’t help thinking even if I don’t make it, someone will learn from my experiment.”*
“*And the human race will build on what I’ve done, and continue on. That’s what you have to do, until I get back, baby...”*
\-
4-7-2028
The traveler stood in the room, dimly lit. He almost could not believe what he was seeing. He thought about how peaceful the person looked, how it would be wrong to disturb such a sound sleep.
Then, acting on the impulse that had led him this far, he clicked the button.
There were a few moments when nothing happened. The chamber opened, but the person did not move.
The traveler continued to watch.
Then the person began to cough, violently. Eventually, a chunk of ice came out of their mouth, and they stood, shivering.
The person from the chamber looked at the traveler, slowly becoming the scientist again.
“Wha-what’s going on?”
The traveler did not say anything.
“What time is it? What day?”
“Sometime in 2028.”
“Sometime? And you don’t know? Who are you?”
The traveler took off his mask.
“Everyone is gone. Except you and me, and a few others.”
“What? Gone? Like...”
“Dead. Come. You will see for yourself. There really is no time to explain.”
The scientist collapsed to his knees.
“My family?”
The traveler turned to go. “Everyone is gone. There is no time to mourn.”
“Why?” The scientist wailed. "You come in here and tell me my family is dead?"
“Do you want to bring them back?"
"What?!" The scientist screamed. "What are you talking about?"
The traveler didn't answer, and kept walking out of the Antarctic facility.
The scientist couldn't move for a moment. Then, as he felt the warmth, the deadly warmth and its inviting embrace, he stood up, and thought of his wife's smile, feeling his knees buckle again...
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. One day you find a cryogenics research facility that you determine was in use during the 21st century. In the cryo room you find one person still frozen. When you let them out, they have a smug look as they say, "Has it been ten years already?" | “Has it been ten years already?” the gentleman mused with an air of smugness. If there was one thing I had always hated about this man above all else, it was the way he spoke to those he deemed to be below him. He didn’t speak with words, but his subtle reactions and tone serving only to demean. Had it been Stephanie who opened his chamber, I’m sure his initial reaction would have been far more polite, his lacklustre authenticity still shining through.
“Gavin.”
“Are you sure they didn’t set it to twenty years by mistake, you look positively harrowed my good man.”
I really do hate this man, but I had to hold it together, I had to tell him what I needed to through gritted teeth.
“I’ve got some bad news, Gavin. These have been some of the worst year’s humanity have ever seen. I came here alone to free everyone still left in the experiment, but you are the only one who survived. I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Come to what?”
His smugness draining out of his words quicker than the colour left his skin.
“Wait, everyone else-“
“Yes, Stephanie, Roger, David, all of them, they’re all gone. All of humanity is.”
“But, how could this happen in only ten years?”
“You said it yourself. You know it hasn’t *actually* been ten years.”
As harsh a story this was to tell, I couldn’t help but enjoy it.
“You remember what my wife used to do here? She was a roboticist. One of the best.”
“Leanne?”
“Linda. Anyway, that doesn’t matter anymore, none of it matters. She rebuilt me, Gavin. She made me what I am now.”
For a man who had coped so well with the idea of leaving the world behind for a decade, he was not dealing with this information well. For the first time in the five years I’d known him, his demeanour was shaken. I’m sure it was less the idea of losing those around him, someone willing to step inside this chamber for ten years had already lost that long ago, it was more the idea of losing his feeling of superiority.
“What are you now…? Are you not human…?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this. But as the only person left, I guess I must. I’m a cyborg, experimental. We all tried, we all failed, well I guess I’m the lucky one. If you can call this lucky. It’s not been twenty years. It’s been well over two hundred, I’ve lost count. The plague wiped out most of humanity, the creatures that came with it wiped out the rest. I’m sorry to have woken you up like this… to this… but the worst thing about all this is the crippling loneliness. It’s just us now.”
For the first time, Gavin was speechless. The hate had always been mutual, but would it be something else now? It was as if he was searching for the right words, his brain as if remaining in a state of cryogenic stasis. His mouth opened slightly, barely wide enough to whimper. The door behind them creaked open.
Screaming Gavin snapped rigid as Stephanie walked through the door. Confusion swept over him, with a sudden realisation, could this be how the creatures took form in his new world? Was the man in front of him a creature too?
“It’s been three days, you stupid \*\*\*\*.”
They had to release the candidates due to a power generator complication. Twenty years older! I know I’ve been working overtime to help out and I look a bit sleep deprived, but twenty years he said I looked! The hatred is most definitely still mutual. | "Who are you?" Zed asked, though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. The man's skin was an icy blue, his hair frosted, and he was shivering.
"Help me up, will you?" he said, holding out a hand gingerly.
Zed promptly seized his arms and heaved him to his feet, which, he noticed with a jolt of surprise, were mismatched. One of them was as regular as both of his own, but the other was a long wooden peg.
"It's not polite to stare," the man said, his voice as cold as the blast of wind issuing from the cryopod.
"Sorry," Zed sputtered. Then he shook his head and pulled off his cloak, wrapping it firmly around the man.
"Thank you, my boy." The man walked slowly over towards a plinth to their left, carelessly pushed the marble head that was resting upon it, and sat down. "My name is Korrig," he said, fixing his eyes on Zed. "What year is it?"
"2020."
"20?" the man replied, sounding shocked.
"Why? What year did you expect it to be?"
"1945," Korrig said. "It seems I botched my own Cryosis...." His eyes fell out of focus, and Zed couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for this man. To be displaced so far in time.... Korrig suddenly shook his head, his expression more businesslike. "But never mind me. Have the Burbs been taken care of?"
"The what?" Zed said blankly.
"The Burbs, my boy, the Burbs!" Korrig cried. "Nightmarish fiends who declared war on humanity. Who stole our wives and children and killed our men. Who forced me to go into hiding so as to preserve my own life!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Korrig. Sir. But maybe that's a good thing. If I don't know about it, then that means that they're gone, right?"
Korrig sighed deeply, though he still looked unconvinced. "I supp —" he began, in a grudging tone, but stopped abruptly. A sudden scuffling noise had issued from a corner. "What was that?" he whispered urgently. He stared wildly around, then his eyes fell on something to their left, and widened in horror. "*A Burb*!" he shrieked.
Zed whipped out his flashlight and pulled a knife from his belt. He edged closer to the spot, his heart pounding. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead, feel himself shrink a few inches in fear as the light fell on ... a rat?
It was looking back up at him, its black eyes glittering. It looked politely curious.
"Korrig —" said Zed, bewildered, looking around. But he saw that the man was inching closer to the wall, looking as though he would soon faint.
"The beast ... it's found me," he whispered.
Beast? Found him? Was this some sort of joke?
"What are you talking about?" Zed said impatiently.
"Found...."
Zed's blood froze instantly ... Neither of them had spoken....
Check out my sub r/ShortsandSerials if you liked this!
Edit: I just posted a part 2 if anyone's interested. | |
[WP] You were abducted by aliens and enslaved. You think. Communication is a problem, but you have a collar, are required to do strange tasks, and if you don't comply you're sent to your really comfy quarters for the day. | I don't remember much of that day, but I was with my family when they came.
They were bigger. Stronger. They lacked all the proper limbs that we had. With minimal hair coverage across their towering bodies, it was amazing that had lasted this long in this cold, bright world.
I was plucked from my family at a young age and taken away by these creatures. They put me in a container and then onto a metal spaceship. We flew around twists and turns. Stopped and started at alarming speeds. I felt sick. Unsteady. Ever since that day I've loathed times when we've had to be transported.
I've grown since that day. Now I have tasks to do at their command. I can't quite understand them completely, but I think I've figured out what they mean. I'm unable to speak back to them and as such must communicate my needs in my own way. They've become accustom to interpreting them.
My daily tasks for the moment are to wait by the young creature as it eats. This is a good tasks for me. As I'm unsure when I'm going to get food again, I manage to get scraps the youngling discards.
I'm also to assist the grown female creature whenever it goes outside to do various things. I take this opportunity to survey my surroundings. I don't get to go outside the compound much, so when I do I absorb as much as I can and on the odd times I'm left unattended I've managed a few escapes. They never last long.
On the rare occasion I am permitted to go out beyond the confines of this compound I've grown to call home, the aliens attach a cord to my collar. They refer to it as a collar. To me it's just there. Sometimes it makes me itch. I can't figure out how to remove it though. The creatures seem fond of me wearing it so I'll allow it for now.
I do run into my own kind occasionally and it's always exciting. The large creatures usually communicate briefly in their own language before moving on. If I don't obey their cues in time I get reprimanded and more often than not, a sharp and violent pull on my collar cord.
On the days when I don't do my tasks efficiently enough or in time, I'm banished to my quarters. I sleep there. It's safe. Its comfortable and warm. I don't mind and some days that influences my decisions on whether I want to be obedient.
As I grow older, I've slowly begun to appreciate this arrangement. It's a good life. Being a dog. | At first I was afraid. *They* who had placed a collar around my neck spoke of the punishment as the worst thing imaginable. My mind ran wild, thinking of the many forms of torture that existed on Earth; whipping, flogging, electrocution, starving, poison, etc. I shivered at the thought of something that these much more advanced aliens could fear. However, curiosity got the better of me.
"What is this punishment like?" I asked, just as they were about to transport me to do my very first task.
The two fluffy aliens glanced at each other, their antennas standing upright in fear.
"We'll show you." One of them said with their adorable voice.
Oh, what I saw was truly horrendous. How could I sleep in my own bed after seeing this...this *paradise.* A floating bed, plushies of my favourite characters, a computer connected to the internet, everything I could possibly want in a dream all furnished into one. Oh, what a dream room it was.
"Oh, it's terrible. Let's leave this horrible place before we get nightmares." The alien shuddered and quickly, the doors to my heaven were closed.
"So..." I hesitated. "If I don't succeed my tasks, I get sent here?"
"Yes. So you better behave!"
I nodded, my mind still thinking of that paradise as I was once again reminded of the cultural differences of me and the aliens.
'Time to fail some tasks.' I thought to myself with a grin.
"Give the dog a treat." The alien commanded.
I looked at them, perplexed. However, they just nodded and handed me over a bag of premium treats. With a shake of the bag, the dog's eyes gleamed, tongue hanging out in anticipating and tail wagging happily.
Room, dog, room, dog, room, dog...Dog.
...I fed the dog a treat.
*Boohoo*, how can I refuse when it looked at me like that?
'Next time. I'll fail next time!' I told myself as I struggled to sleep on my normal not paradise bed.
"Pat this cat."
'Next time. Next time for sure.' I cried as I pet the kitty. | |
[WP] You were abducted by aliens and enslaved. You think. Communication is a problem, but you have a collar, are required to do strange tasks, and if you don't comply you're sent to your really comfy quarters for the day. | I don't remember much of that day, but I was with my family when they came.
They were bigger. Stronger. They lacked all the proper limbs that we had. With minimal hair coverage across their towering bodies, it was amazing that had lasted this long in this cold, bright world.
I was plucked from my family at a young age and taken away by these creatures. They put me in a container and then onto a metal spaceship. We flew around twists and turns. Stopped and started at alarming speeds. I felt sick. Unsteady. Ever since that day I've loathed times when we've had to be transported.
I've grown since that day. Now I have tasks to do at their command. I can't quite understand them completely, but I think I've figured out what they mean. I'm unable to speak back to them and as such must communicate my needs in my own way. They've become accustom to interpreting them.
My daily tasks for the moment are to wait by the young creature as it eats. This is a good tasks for me. As I'm unsure when I'm going to get food again, I manage to get scraps the youngling discards.
I'm also to assist the grown female creature whenever it goes outside to do various things. I take this opportunity to survey my surroundings. I don't get to go outside the compound much, so when I do I absorb as much as I can and on the odd times I'm left unattended I've managed a few escapes. They never last long.
On the rare occasion I am permitted to go out beyond the confines of this compound I've grown to call home, the aliens attach a cord to my collar. They refer to it as a collar. To me it's just there. Sometimes it makes me itch. I can't figure out how to remove it though. The creatures seem fond of me wearing it so I'll allow it for now.
I do run into my own kind occasionally and it's always exciting. The large creatures usually communicate briefly in their own language before moving on. If I don't obey their cues in time I get reprimanded and more often than not, a sharp and violent pull on my collar cord.
On the days when I don't do my tasks efficiently enough or in time, I'm banished to my quarters. I sleep there. It's safe. Its comfortable and warm. I don't mind and some days that influences my decisions on whether I want to be obedient.
As I grow older, I've slowly begun to appreciate this arrangement. It's a good life. Being a dog. |
There were two alien spaceships. One was really zig-zaggy and spiky, the other was bulbous and round. I was struggling with a painful hangover, and I’d smoked a bowl to chase away my feelings of regret and self-hate. I wasn’t sure if the spaceships were real until I saw the little green men.
Being abducted by aliens when you’re hungover is really awful. I don’t even like having to make food when I’m hungover, so you can imagine my dismay when four little green men teleported into my bedroom and picked me up by my limbs.
“Go away,” I mumbled. I resisted feebly. My bottle of pedialtye got knocked over, and my Tylenol fell to the floor.
“You’re coming with us,” the tallest of the little green men said. He spoke into little microphone that translated from his clicky-clacky native tongue into English, with an inexplicable British accent.
“No I have to brush my teeth,” I said. “And pee.”
“We have teethbrushes and peepots on the Ziggyship,” the alien said.
“I don’t wanna,” I said.
The alien said something into his radio in the clicky-clack language. Suddenly, we all teleported into the zig-zaggy spiky ship, in a room with a window facing the bulbous round ship.
The room was incredibly comfortable. Plush cushions lined the floor and walls. The gravity was way turned down—we were floating in air. Somehow my hangover had disappeared entirely.
“Let us know if you want any juice,” the alien said. He and his friends swam out of the room.
I said nothing. This was great. I took a nap.
Lights flashed and woke me up. I was floating in an auditorium full of little green and blue aliens. TV cameras floated around me. An emcee clicky-clacked into a microphone—nothing I could understand. The audience gasped, and oohed, and aaahed. They began to chant something at me. All eyes were on my face.
The emcee spoke into his translator. “Touch your tongue to your nose.”
Confused, I touched my tongue to my nose.
The auditorium erupted into a riot of cheers, clapping, throwing of chairs, and shrieks of ecstasy. I was returned to my comfy room, feeling quite good about my talents, if a little confused.
The next day, it all happened again. This time, the emcee asked me to wiggle my ears. I obliged. The celebration was legendary. A sculptor was on hand to capture the moment in a marble bust. The bust’s ears vibrated. I felt like a hero.
The next day, the emcee asked me something else.
“Take off your gonads!”
“What?” I said.
“Take off your gonads,” the emcee repeated.
“No,” I said, confused. “They don’t come off.”
There was angry muttering in the audience. The emcee tried to appease the crowd.
“Please,” he begged, “Please just take off your gonads. We’ll put them back on.”
“No!” I shouted.
The audience members began to take off their own gonads and throw them at me. It was very disturbing.
“See?” The emcee said, “It’s not hard.”
“I simply refuse,” I said.
Violence erupted in the crowd. An angry mob charged through the spaceship, seized the bridge, and accidentally crashed the two spaceships into each other.
As we hurtled towards the earth, and our impending death, I wondered whether I’d done the right thing. Maybe sometimes it’s okay to step outside of your comfort zone and do something you’d never dream of, if the goal is to save thousands of lives. Maybe. | |
EDIT: Inspired by the original post by writing-prompt-s on Tumblr. | [WP] A depressed person moves into a house haunted by demons corresponding to the Seven Deadly Sins. They’re all intent on helping him turn his life around. | I stood at the threshold of quite possibly the oldest house I had ever seen, clutching a letter in one hand and a large brass key in the other. My car, filled with everything I owned, was parked in the driveway behind me. I glanced back at it, tempted to jump inside and drive back to the city. Not that there was anything for me there anymore. I almost dropped the letter and key as the despair rolled over me. With a shaky inhale I forced myself to reopen the letter and read it once more.
*”Dear Prudence,*
*I am writing to you today on behalf of my employer. Enclosed in this letter you will find a key to a house upstate. That house now belongs to you. It is imperative you move there immediately. Your life is in grave danger. Should you choose to ignore this message, you will find yourself dead by the end of the year. Do not ask questions, they cannot be answered until you are here. We know this has been a hard year for you, and we are sorry to have to be the bearers of this news, but we promise all will reveal itself at the house. Please, do not hesitate. Pack your belongings into your car and head north. There are directions in the envelope. We look forward to meeting you soon.*
*Signed,*
*SDS”*
Well, I guess there was no going back now. I was here and I wanted the answers promised to me. The death warning didn’t scare me at all. In fact, I welcomed it. Death would be a lovely reprieve from my current suffering. I did, however, want to know who this mysterious SDS was and why they and their employer wanted me here so badly. It was actually the first spark of genuine emotion I had felt in months. It felt uncomfortably foreign and yet also somehow like greeting an old friend I had forgotten existed. With renewed determination I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.
Whatever I had been expecting, this wasn’t it.
The door swung open effortlessly, and I entered into a well lit foyer. Windows covered the backside of the house, the late afternoon sun spilling through them and casting rainbows on the walls as the sunlight refracted off of a large chandelier hanging overhead. An oak staircase spiraled up to the second floor with a half wall running the length of the upstairs hallway, allowing me to see there were 7 doorways each marked with a symbol. There was a dining room to my left and a living room on my right. I couldn’t see the kitchen, but a hallway off of the dining room lead me there. It was pure white and spotless. As I wandered the main floor I had the distinct feeling I was being watched, though as far as I could tell there wasn’t a single other soul here. Odd.
I wandered farther into the back of the house and discovered the master bedroom. It was fully furnished with more large windows overlooking a lake in the backyard. Exhaustion overwhelmed me at the sight of the king sized bed overflowing with pillows. I stripped down and dragged my weary body under the covers. Questions could wait until tomorrow. I let myself sink into the darkness, my one and only friend.
*”She didn’t unpack the car.”*
*”Let her rest, it’s been a journey to get here.”*
*”Sloth, you know our assignment. Don’t let your own personal preferences cloud your judgment. She cannot simply rest her life away.”*
*”Wrath, you always underestimate the power of a restorative sleep. Passion requires energy which requires rest. She’s made it this far on her own. She’s earned this reprieve.”*
*”Whatever. Come find me when you’ve finished your coddling. There is much to discuss.”*
*”I’m coming now. I just needed to give our little songbird a gift. She’ll wake up feeling better than ever, and then our work can begin.”*
Little songbird? Was I dreaming? I tried to open my eyes, but without warning I found myself surrounded with the sweet scent of lavender. It settled on me like a weighted blanket and invaded all of my senses. I felt my body relax completely and was helpless against the pull of unconsciousness. Back to sleep I went.
I awoke in the morning to the sounds of birds chirping and sunlight streaming through the windows. It took me a moment to remember what had happened yesterday. Never in my life had I slept so deeply. My body felt energized and the constant fog in my brain had lifted a bit. I thought back to the dream I had had the night before and wondered why it had felt so comforting for all its oddities. The last time I had been called a songbird was the day before my father died. It had always been his special nickname for me. Thinking of Da brought the black hole in my heart back to attention. I felt myself begin to crumple inward and all the energy left me. I allowed myself to sink back into the bed, bringing the blankets over my face to block the light. The bedroom door burst open.
“Oh no, oh no, this simply won’t *do*, chérie! Oh and Sloth had worked his magic so *well* last night!”
The voice was smooth like honey, oozing with charm and class. It was the loveliest voice I had ever heard, and yet panic consumed me. Who was this? How did they get inside? There was a sloth in my dream last night, was I dreaming again? More footsteps sounded in the doorway.
“Oh Sloth, I’m so glad you’re here. Her heart. It breaks. I cannot, I do not know, what do we do??”
“Calm down, Lust. Remember the mission. Don’t let this rattle you. Go and gather the others, it’s time.”
Dainty steps fled. My mind whirled. Sloth. The voice. My dream. He was here. What the *fuck* was going on?!
A weight settled at the foot of the bed. I tentatively peeked out from under the mountain of blankets. Warm brown eyes, so much like Ada’s it sent a knife through my soul, regarded me with measured concern and wisdom. My heart raced as I studied the man at the end of the bed. He was pale, but less in color and more in saturation. Like a phantom that didn’t fully belong to this world. He wore loose brown pants and a flowing white tunic. His feet were bare and I watched him pull them onto the bed and position them under him, like he was praying. His face had a light dusting of sandy colored hair while his head was bald. He smiled at me and a burst of warmth filled my chest.
“Hello, Prudence. Welcome to Deadly Manor.”
I gaped at him, completely speechless. My lack of response didn’t deter him at all.
“My name is Samson, but you can call me Sloth. You’ve had a rough go of it recently haven’t you? Losing your father so suddenly and then Ada and Kristof. Life certainly hasn’t been kind to your soul, has it? Well, that ends today. Today you start a new chapter. We are here to help you. In this place you will always be safe. Please, get dressed and join me in the hallway. It’s time to meet the others.”
He stood in a beautifully fluid movement before slowly making his way out the door. It closed with a quiet *snick* and though I was technically alone I felt his presence everywhere. I could tell I didn’t have a choice in this so I pulled the same grungy clothing on that I had worn yesterday and opened the door to the hall. Sloth gave me a small smile and nod before leading the way into the main area of the house. I could smell food cooking in the kitchen, garlic and butter hung in the air. My stomach grumbled, shocking me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had actually been hungry.
“Gluttony will be finished with your lunch soon. We’ll meet in the dining room so you can eat while we talk.”
Again, I knew it would be useless to argue. Upon entering the dining room 5 pairs of eyes latched onto me. I felt myself sway slightly at the intensity, and Sloth placed a warm, reassuring hand on my elbow to lead me to a chair at the head of the table. He took a seat in the open chair to my right, smiling all the while. I took stock of the cast of characters seated around me.
There were two men, two women and someone who didn’t seem to fit into either category. They wiggled their fingers at me, their rings playing a delicate melody, delight burning in their blue-green eyes. They had a shock of pastel pink hair, electric blue eyeliner, and a flowing dress the color of pale summer sunshine.
“Nice to see you again, chérie. My name is Lust. Welcome to your new home.”
Their voice filled me with a distinct feeling of longing. Longing for love, longing for Kristof, longing for peace. My eyes swam with tears.
“Oh no, oh dear, I’ve done it again.”
“Lust...”
Sloth’s voice held a hint of warning and I watched Lust pull themselves back together. They leaned over to give my hand a gentle pat.
“All will be well now, Prudence. Let us love you.”
The man next to Lust rolled his eyes.
“It’s going to take a lot more than just *love.* This is serious.”
His voice was gruff and familiar. The other man from last night. His grey eyes regarded me with thinly veiled contempt. He wore a fitted red shirt that highlighted his rather large muscles. I watched as he crossed his arms and kicked one booted foot up onto the table. I felt myself bristle.
“Excuse you, sir, but feet do not belong on the dining table!”
I swung around to see a rotund, grandma like woman bustle in from the kitchen. She held a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs in her hands and once again I felt my stomach let out a growl. She turned to me with obvious joy shining from her every pore.
“Well now! Look at that! Not even a full day in the Manor and her appetite is strong!”
She cheerfully placed the plate down in front of me and then handed me a fork and knife.
“Dig in, love!”
The silverware felt heavy in my hands. This used to be my favorite meal. Da would spend an entire day rolling the meatballs, cooking the sauce, slowly simmering it all together to build the flavor. My mouth felt glued shut. I turned to Sloth helplessly. | Today is moving day. The 29th of February, 2020. A leap year. Does that mean anything? Who knows. It isn’t any different, aside from the explosion of boxes and crates littering the floor. I’m surprised at just how much I own. I only use the same three things a day; my TV, my fridge and my computer. Does my cat count? I don’t think so. She is restless, disliking the clutter, her concrete kingdom defiled. A horn sounds; my ride. I take a last look around as we finish packing the car. Particles of my history float suspended in a beam of sunlight.
“You ready?”
My sister works three jobs, a monolithic feat while still finding time for the rest of us. She puts a hand on my shoulder and we close the door behind us.
The new house is plain, efficient. No real distinguishing features. I wave goodbye to my sister, my cat is mistrustful of the carpet. After unpacking, I assume my typical position behind the computer, the TV playing some nature documentary (a Lion pride taking the full attention of my cat). My surprise at how much I owned was a result of the cramped nature of my apartment. Now I am in a house, the rooms are empty and the walls barren. I double click to run some game and put the speakers on full.
“Hey.”
A purple peacock behind me.
It just spoke.
I jump, wrenching my headphones out of the port, slamming my head against the alcove ceiling. The flightless bird is watching me as I dive behind the couch. My cat is nowhere to be seen.
“Get over yourself. If I wanted to hurt you you wouldn’t have seen me coming.”
The peacock reveals its plumage, dazzling, deep purple with glinting patterns made of starlight. At this point, I am sure I'm dreaming.
“What is happening to me….this isn’t real…”
I repeat a mantra to calm myself down. It doesn’t.
“Get out here, before he has an aneurysm.”
The peacock has grabbed a beer from my fridge, its wing morphing into a mammalian forearm. From nowhere, a dog, a pig and a goat materialise. They casually approach and sit on the couch I remain crouched behind.
“Long time, Luci. How’ve you been, Bee?” The Goat can barely lift its head as it speaks. It is entirely blue. The peacock serves them drinks, and stands in the centre of the room. I don’t recall how, but I am now sitting on my Grandfather’s armchair, bewildered. I am offered a drink but my hands won’t work.
“What’d you put him through, Modi? He looks like hell.” The dog’s voice is low and filled with menace.
“Oh, he came like this. Come on, friend, what’s your name?”
I feel pressure as a dog, a goat, a peacock and a pig await my answer. All courteous, polite, smiling, ready to raise a toast to the answer.
“T--t--tom.” I sputter.
“Well, Tom, do you know why we’re here?”
“How could he, Modi. He’s a human!”
“Well, you never know. Remember Dante?”
“Sharp one, him. The exception, though”
“Quiet, all of you! Tom, how do I put this without breaking your brain…”
As I sit in petrified silence, I hear my heart in my eardrum. To my left is a box cutter, stolen from my sister’s toolbox. I reach for it, ready to jump and attack, but something stops me. A loud, low growl comes from the upper floor. Banging, claws on laminated wood, carefully descending the stairs. I am frozen in fear as I watch a gigantic bear enter the living room, scarred from war and red-eyed. The ensuing conversation does little to scare me more than I already am.
“Why did you call, Modi. I am tired.” The bear sounds exactly as it looks.
“Have a heart, you old bear. It wasn’t all his fault.”
“Does it matter? Take him and be done with it” The bear’s response is sharp and vicious.
“W--what was my fault?”
The bear, the dog, the pig, the peacock and the goat regard me again. They are uncomfortable now; the bear’s appearance has shifted their dynamic. Even Modi, the peacock, is quiet. A frog leaps onto my hand and looks up at me.
“You worshipped us all. For that we are grateful. But it wasn’t enough. We want more.”
“Give it a rest, Mammon. You’ll spoil the game.” The bear growls, and they are quiet again.
“Human. In your life you were sordid and unkempt. You were surrounded with love but gave none back. Your heart was always pure, but you were arrogant, bad tempered. Now you lie dying in front of your pet creature and you ask why”
No. How could I be dying? Is this why my inside voice has been narrating all this time? He is lying. I am only dreaming. I slap my face, pinch my arm, but feel nothing. It has to be a dream.
For a moment, I see a silhouette in front of my computer. A body leans over in the chair, unrecognisable.
A snake crawls over the figure’s arm, swallowing from a trickle of blood running off the shadow's limp fingers.
“Sssssssoooo warm.” It approaches the group of animals, regurgitating drops of blood for each in turn.
“You have a choice to make, human.” The bear begins to climb back upstairs.
“Believe it or not, he’s on your side, Tom.” Modi is lively again, immediately taking control of the situation. The pig rummages through the fridge as the Goat snores on the couch. The snake and the dog are arguing, and the frog is nowhere to be seen.
“We all are.” The peacock continues.
“What do you want from me? What have I done?”
“You have to accept what you are. You have to forget about us, or you’ll never be free. It’s hard, of course. But you have little choice. Be free or die.”
With that, the nightmarish petting zoo was gone, and all that was left was blinding white light, sirens, the feeling of being moved, a hand on my shoulder. I am pushed through a door. |
EDIT: Inspired by the original post by writing-prompt-s on Tumblr. | [WP] A depressed person moves into a house haunted by demons corresponding to the Seven Deadly Sins. They’re all intent on helping him turn his life around. | *Want. Desire. Consume. Disregard. Avenge. Revel. All of it.*
Huh, that was weird. Maybe I'm just going crazy. Er. Crazier. I don't feel anymore. The world has been fading for ages. Maybe it's not the depression. Maybe I'm psychotic. Then at least they'd know what to do with me. They'd avoid me.
I plopped down on the old, worn sofa. The unpacked boxes were too much right now. And I was too tired. I'll start on them soon. I take out my phone and start scrolling through. I'm not even sure what I'm scrolling through. I'm just scrolling.
This is supposed to be a fresh start. The new job will do me some good. I'm out of the stress of the city and the corporate world at 28 and I've already given up and I'll never go anywhere because I'm just a failure and-
*Revel. Revel in your greatness. For you are the greatest*
Or I'm just a psychopath.
"Who was that? Is there anyone there?"
A man walks out of the shadows. He has bright green hair and you could tell his body was intensely sculpted despite the expensive-looking dress shirt and slacks he has on.
"That was me. I am honor. I am self-respect. I am ego. I am Pride."
"I'm losing my mind," I say, mostly to myself. I stand up and grip my hands into my greasy hair. When was the last time I washed my hair? When was the last time I showered?
"No. No. No. You should still sit. You should relax. Here, have yourself a seat again," says another man. This one's a bit more overweight, though not by much. He's wearing sweatpants and his hair was overgrown, although not quite rock star length. Everything about him seems average, frankly.
"And who are you then?"
"Why, I am Sloth of course. I am idleness and mischief. I am about embracing the simpler things in life."
"Uh huh. Of course you are. I think I'm going to go to bed and try to sleep the rest of this off," I say standing up. I didn't even realized I'd actually sat back down.
"Without supper?" squeals yet another man, this one much more rotund than the other two.
"I wasn't supposed to have roommates!" I shout.
"Finally! I call dibs. He's mine!"
"No! He's mine!"
This time two girls appear. They look nearly identical. One's wearing way too many clothes as well as jewels. The other girl, oddly, is also wearing the same amount of jewels and only really differentiated because she's shorter and seems a bit heavier than the first.
"Who the fuck are you two?" I demand. At this point I'm either dreaming, hallucinating, or had somehow ended up in the fucking Hobbit and was about to house thirteen dwarves.
"I'm Greed," says the first, holding out her hand.
The second one stares at Greed for a second before nudging her away and sticking out her own hand. "And I'm Envy."
The pieces are finally starting to come together. My hallucinations are for some reason going literary. "Wait, Envy, Greed, Pride, Sloth, I guess you're Gluttony maybe? Is there also a...Wrath...or a ummm..."
"Lust. I'm here too." A woman comes out. An absolutely drop dead gorgeous woman. Why couldn't my hallucination have started here?
"And yes, I'm here," adds another man. This man was older, or maybe he just seemed more world-weary.
"Listen kid, we've got to have a talk," Pride starts. "We," he said gesturing "are the Seven Deadly Sins."
"Yeah. I got that. Why?"
"What do you mean *why*? We are. We are all that is wrong with humanity. Well, except for you. You don't seem to embody any of us."
"What do you mean?"
"We normally lurk here, feeding off the carnal failings of the people near. But you, you're a black hole of despair. When was the last time you ate? Or slept? Or wanted anything?"
"Or anyone?" Lust adds.
I stand there dumbfounded. Are my hallucinations seriously insulting my depression? Is that the point I'm at?
"What's your point?" I respond dumbly. After all, why bother being clever with the figments in your imagination?
Pride smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulder. He oozes the confidence all the sales reps back at the office wished they had. "We've decided to take you under our wing--"
"All our wings?" squeals Greed, with Envy nearly echoing her but not quite.
"Yes. *All our wings*," Pride continues through gritted teeth. "until you are able to revel in the comforts this world brings."
"You want to help me? With my depression?" I ask neutrally. It figures. I've depressed myself into literary hallucinations that think they're head shrinks.
"Yes!" They all shout, nearly in unison.
"Lust and I could help you find the passion in life," Wrath says gruffly.
"I could help you with the desire and ambition in life," says Greed.
"I could help you with the motivation for desire and ambition," says Envy.
"Gluttony and I are all about keeping things casual. Stopping to smell the roses, maybe eating a couple of the roses, and just having a pretty groovy day," Sloth says.
"And I can show you exactly how great you are," says Pride, smiling a perfectly white smile at me.
"Okay. Why not I guess." | Flora collapsed on her bed, her rusty boxspring creaking beneath her. She'd moved herself into this place alone, a wide, drafty house inhabited mostly by dust bunnies and now her decrepit furniture. It was at the end of a winding country road, sturdy and blue-painted but run down, stuffed full of rattling radiators and cobwebs. Whatever. It was good enough, more than she deserved.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the icy wind that steamed through the window above her bed, trying to quiet her mind. It churned at all times of the day and night, reciting failures and foibles, the day's indignities careening through.
"Hey," someone hissed. Flora stayed still for a minute, absorbed, before bolting up straight.
"What..." There was a cat on her dresser. An enormously fat one, she thought, round enough that it might snap the wooden legs.
Flora narrowed her eyes at the creature and realized it wasn't exactly a cat: this creature was more like the cartoonish devils people saw in movies, with two legs, two arms, and a riotous orangr coat, but it was so fat it was hard to tell its species or gender. Flora watched, astonished, her mouth hanging open.
"It's the human!" Another creature swooned, this one a ferocious black, flanked by another creature of glittering gold. Flora's eyes darted around the wallpapered room as they emerged, one by one--green, purple, blue, red. They were small, the size of a small house cat, she thought, but not quite as elegant; they crashed and crowded on her dresser, which sighed under their weight. They seemed to come from nowhere, floating from an angle just above her head like the dust, perfectly formed and devious.
"Um," Flora cleared her throat, feeling insane. She *had* checked for a carbon monoxide monitor during the inspection, right?
"We're glad you're hereeee," the gold creature announced, flouncing from his perch on the dresser and floating to Flora. "I'm Pride. Of course." Rather than offering a hand, Pride narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "You need to brush your hair," he said.
"It's naturally straight!" Flora yelped reflexively, barraged with memories of scalp-yanking sessions with her mother, who had always scolded her about tangles and frizz.
"Leave her alone," the fat creature spat. He was rooting around in a bag of Oreos--Flora's Oreos!
"Hey!" Flora said, and started to stand up.
"I know how you feel," the red creature rolled her eyes. "Sloth eats anything that isn't nailed down. We should punish him," she fumed.
Standing up now, it dawned on Flora. She thought she'd moved into a deserted country fixer-upper so that she could forget all of the letdowns in her life--herself, mostly. But standing before her now were the Seven Deadly Sins.
"I would've expected some Victorian ghost before this," she said, folding her arms, watching the creatures jostle as the setting sun festooned the room with a golden glow.
"Are you kidding me!?" The blue creature was speaking now. "You don't know how many Victorian ghosts I had to fight to get our place here. Left some nice jewels behind," he continued, before introducing himself as Greed.
*Am I hallucinating?* Flora wondered. These knew drugs the psychiatrist put her on seemed pretty strong; he'd clucked his tongue at Flora's lack of progress and shook his head, told her that this was serious, her depression. But no, something about these creatures felt tangible, certain. Maybe because Gluttony had most definitely polished off her Oreos.
The sleek black creature announced, "We might as well teach you to have fun again." Raising a silvery eyebrow, she said, "I do have one suggestion, but it involves the bar in town."
"No," Flora laughed, waving her hands. "Come on, I need to make dinner. The least you all could do is help me."
The creatures remained in their spots, shaking their heads.
"I wish *I* could cook," one of the creatures moaned.
Flora turned to the mirror she'd propped on the floor instead of hanging properly and caught a sliver of herself; same lank dark hair, deep circles around the eyes, bone-thin legs mottled with a collection of freckles and bruises. She could barely make them out now in the senescent light, the familiar landmarks that reminded her of who she was, before all this.
Flora turned and exited the room through the doorframe, which provided her with a full view of the house's elaborate staircase and musty carpets.
Perhaps, she thought, she might like it here after all. |
Credit. | [WP] An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home. | *WHO DARES SUMMON ME, AZORATH, LORD OF THE SEVEN REALMS, BUTCHER OF ...*
Oh dear, looks likes someone needs some of my homemade cobbler.
*What? NO I AM AZORATH, LORD OF THE SEVEN REALMS, BUTCHER OF ...*
Don't be silly Willie. Grandma made you some cobbler, and you are going to eat some cobbler
*Willie? I am not Willie. I am AZAR...*
Yes yes I know sweetie, but you will always be Willie to me. Now eat up.
*Very well. I will eat your "cobbler"*
Here, let me add some syrup on top I know you always loved that.
*Willie has good taste.*
Yes you do. After cobbler, I have some warm milk for you. Then it's nap time for you Willie.
*Nap time? Warm milk? Perhaps I will stay here.* | I opened the door and turned on the light switch to the second living room (I call it my second game room) to my grandma's house. I was pissed at what I saw.
Sure enough, there he was, laying on the couch like the five foot bafoon he is. Rubbery skin, horned head, bat like wings, and all.
"Ugh! Deeeeemon Bob!" I groaned
*Audience laugh track*
"What? What? What's tha problem?!" He hissed, quickly sitting up and rubbing his eyes from a deep sleep.
"I want to play video games, when I go to Grandma's house on Sunday, I play video games in this ROOM! You know this!"
"Why can't ya be like a normal kid and play outside? It's beautiful out, ya ding-a-ling!" Demon Bob hollered.
*Audience laugh track*
"Ughhhh, Demon Bob! why can't you go outside?" I complained.
"You serious? The sun will fry me like a mozzarella stick, bone-head!"
*Audience laughs*
"This isn't your house, you know. I call the shots."
"Technically it's your grandma's house. She calls the shots."
*Audience laughs*
"I'll get Grandma to kick you out!"
"Good luck, small-fry! She loves me more than your mom loves the UPS guy!"
*Audience groans and laughs*
"Ugh Demon Bob, I'm telling my mom on you!"
"Tell her to bring me a martini too!"
*Audience laughs*
"Grrr, get a life Demon Bob!" I shouted and started marching out of the room.
"Get some good grades on your report card, chump! I've seen your marks posted on the fridge upstairs and... Sheesh Louise!" Demon Bob pulled at fake collar on his fake shirt.
*Audience laughs*
I turned at him at the doorway and gave him a stink eye, then stormed out of the room.
"AYEEEE!" Demon Bob shouted his signature catch phrase and fell back asleep.
*Audience laughs*
r/randallcooper |
[WP] The afterlife exists. When a person dies they are instead put in a room with all the people who died in the same way. One day someone awakes posthumously in an empty room. | It felt like I was falling forever. Then suddenly, without warning, I hit the ground.
I thought I would find myself splattered across concrete as I screamed, pulling myself off the floor. I looked down at myself, patted my self down. Nothing. No injuries whatsoever. It didn't even hurt.
I started chuckling. Laughing! I'm alive! I'm... wait a minute, where the hell was I?
My eyes shuffled across the room in its white, lifeless entirety. It was supremely clean, like a recently sanitised operating room, but there was something that wasn't quite right in the air around it. I sniffed. Poison? No, just staleness hanging in the air, without any apparent opening to find its way out of.
"Hello?" I called out. "Is anybody there?"
No answer. I looked around. It was clean, definitely, but there just was something off about the atmosphere of the space. I took a walk around. It really was just that. A big, open space.
"What I wouldn't do for a taco right about now," I said to no one in particular.
"Wait," I heard a voice softly emanating from my surroundings. "Is there someone in there?"
"Yes! Yes! I'm in here!" I cried out. I put my hands out, grabbing around, like a mime trying to find his way out of an imaginary cell.
Suddenly, a doorway materialised centimeters away from where I was standing. Brilliant white light rolled off of it, and in stepped somebody wreathed in the portal's illumination. I almost forgot to cover my eyes, but the glow simply became too much as I cowered behind my arms.
"Goodness! An actual person in this room!"
I slowly cranked my eyelids open. A person stood in front of me. She looked like a person. Two eyes. One nose. Long, blond hair flowing down her back, a visage of near-imperceptible beauty. Simply, my brain just would not accept that this was a human being. Clearly, she was something far more.
"Wha-what are you? And where is this? And what was that?" I blabbered.
"Hello! I'm Ariel, one of the Afterlife Attendants here! This is one of the many afterlife rooms we provide for human souls who have expired in the mortal realm! And that was a door that I opened with my key!" she said cheerily, helpfully holding up a keycard in her hand that was glowing ethereally.
"OK. Afterlife. Right," I pondered it for a moment. "So is this heaven?"
"Those concepts don't exist here!"
"OK. Then why am I alone? There's no way I'm the only person who died, right?"
"You would be absolutely correct!" she beamed. It made me feel really good about myself having made one of the most obvious conclusions in my afterlife.
"Each room is dedicated to people who have died in the same way! For example," her eyes flicked down to the same keycard that she had been holding, which morphed into a tablet of some sorts. "we have rooms like 'traffic accident', 'cardiac arrest', 'slipping in the shower without a non-slip mat'..."
"OK, alright, I got it!" I felt bad for interrupting, but I had to know the answer to my next question. "So, why am I alone here?"
"Well, that just means you've died in a way that nobody has ever done before!"
"If I may ask... how?"
"Of course!"
At her reply, the tablet in her hand morphed back into a keycard. The doorway came into being once more. Ariel poked her head out, presumably looking at the sign on her door, and came back in with a quizzical look in her eyes.
"You... you..." she hesitated.
"Ariel, please! I just want to know. How did I die?"
"You died from nothing. That's literally what the sign says. 'Nothing'."
"I... what? For nothing?"
"Not for nothing. From 'Nothing'."
"How is that even possible?" I cried, exasperated.
"Don't worry, right? I'll try and get to the bottom of it. Just stay here, OK!"
With that, Ariel accessed her keycard once more, flashed a quick smile, and disappeared from the room. Ariel breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the sign of the door once again. The object in her hand changed into yet another form, this time into what looked like a cellphone. She picked it up, punched in a few numbers, and rang. Somebody on the other end of the line picked up.
"HQ?" Ariel asked, scratching her head. "Might have a massive problem here. Can you please tell me what a room titled 'Experiment #01' means?"
---
The afterlife is a scary place. r/dexdrafts is much more welcoming to new residents. | I wake up, still sick to my stomach. There is a low ringing in my ears, and there's a fog in my brain that won't go away. They say how you died stays with you; maybe this is my linger?
My finger they took, still gone. The extracted toenail, still extracted. I run my tongue over my teeth and you guessed it, there was the gap where the son of a bitch had pinched a molar.
Most people, when they die, are sent to a room of reckoning. Surrounded by other people who died like them, their new life is to mill about and trade death stories I guess. So it's natural that people killed by gunshot are in one room, but there might be branching rooms where you can mingle with others who were also killed by a family member for example.
So why was I alone?
When the bullet that finally stopped my heart went through my left lung after splintering all the ribs inb the way, nicking the side of my pulmonary vessel too, I assumed I'd be another victim sat in the room of "suckers murdered by their estranged father". So why was I now alone, in a long, dark room, almost corridor like it was so narrow.
Maybe it was the kidnapping that made me different. Spectacular. A spectator to my own kidnapping, it seems ironic I'm alone now.
I didn't intend on staging my demise. It was my assumption he didn't want me actually dead... It was always about the money.
But again, I couldn't be the first person to die over an insurance fraud case? So what makes me special?
Perhaps it was that my entire family ended up being in on the conspiracy. But my step sister died during this shit show, so where is she?
So in the end, I'm sat in this empty space, wallowing on my own, with noone to talk to about my untimely demise. Sat here. Stupid.
Who would have known faking you're own death was so hard?
But it clicked.... This wasn't my heart, so it wasn't my death either. | |
[WP] The end of civilization as we know it comes. The last human to remains on the planet, struggling to survive. Even so, death eventually takes her too. “They’re all waiting for you” death says and they enter the light. | She knew that this would come. She knew that she is the last. The last oxygen tank is slowly emptying. Each second grinds on her mind with horror and sadness. She should have told Rob that even if he sacrificed himself there still would not be enough time for her finish her work. The final work of humanity. Only a few minutes to write the last words of humanity and who we were. But the words and thoughts are sealed off. All she can focus on the rapidly decreasing pressure valve.
The pen falls from her hand and lands hard on the book. Her mind turns inside out with heart-sinking thoughts. Will someone even read this? Of course, no one would read this. What kind of extraterrestrials would be able to read this? Everything is wasted. She sacrificed Rob for nothing but herself. How could she be so stupid?
The valve ticks down and finally empties. Each breath turns the air thicker and thicker. The death of the final human is just a minute or two away and she can't think about anything other than Rob. She wouldn't have to sit here alone if she had not lied to him about the oxygen and if she had not been such a coward. She could have told him that their plan to tell those who will visit Earth who they were would not work. Her lies and cowardice took his life.
Abruptly she draws her final breath and her body starts to shut down. She falls off her chair, slamming her head on the desk along the way. Laying on her back, she begins to convulse in desperation. Clawing in the direction of the oxygen tank. Her legs kicks the chair and her arms pull down the standing lamp next to the desk. Finally, she stops moving and her mind is filled with darkness. It's dark is morbidly soothing and calms her The only thing she heard in her final moment is "Now humanity is at its end and you have lived the final life of your two hundred thousand-year-old race. Your pain is now at its end. Now come, They are all waiting for you." | It had been one year since the demos came. I tried contacting anyone else to see if they were out there in the world, but nothing ever turned up. I remember the day like it yesterday. I was playing with toy blocks with my little sister, my grandma was watching TV on the couch next to us, my dog and cat were napping next to her, and my parents were cooking dinner. Suddenly, we heard a scream of bloody murder, a shriek that had an echo x10, and the sound of a car getting smashed. I remember a humanoid hand smashing through the door, shattering it instantly. The monster was about 12 ft tall, grey body with what I think was blood on it. Its head had eyes with the only thing going through them was hunger. Its teeth were like daggers, there was some blood and what I think was flesh dangling off of it. It had disproportioned legs, they significantly smaller than the rest of the body and its knees were bent backwards. Its arms.....oh god its arms. They were about 5 ft long, with 7 inch fingers , and nails about 6 inches long. I could see all along its arm was gore and peices of metal,wood, blades of grass, and other things. I hate myself for what I did. I ran to my parents bunker without looking back at the sounds of screaming, barking, and things getting tossed around violently, and the worse sound of all.......flesh being torn into and eaten. That was long ago, and now as I lay bleeding on the remains of a house after I was hit in the stomach by one of the demos I think life was just a game. The demos runs to me and swings, then black. I awake to see the demos cut in half, with a figure holding a scythe over it. I could see the figures face as he was wearing a black robe. It stretched out its hand and said "come". I got up but noticed I was moving but at the same time I saw my other body, laying on the grass with a head bashed in and bloody stomach."They're waiting" the figure said with its hand still outstretched. I grabbed and the world cracked and disappeared only to reveal a white world. I started seeing the faint outline of people, but the only ones I could see clearly......was my family. | |
[WP] Humanity ended centuries ago but no one realized. The Earth is now populated with vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, and other creatures still pretending to be human so as not to blow their cover. | Kitty stood in front of the calendar she’d hung up on the door of her dorm room, yesterday’s date furiously circled to help her remember the occurrence of last night’s full moon. She’d just woken up in the bloody rags of one of her favourite tops, caked with dirt, grass and blood, and as usual with no recollection of the events of last night. She’d kept the newspaper from the day after last month’s transformation and glanced towards the headline again.
“TWO LOCALS MISSING - BODIES FOUND IN NEARBY FOREST”
That time she’d only barely escaped the law, and even heard that police had been asking around the campus for strange sightings. She had her suspicions that she wasn’t the only murderous beast in the university, but so far her investigations had led to naught but dead ends and rumours. Spirit walkers, vampires, men with skin like leather and wings like bats, but not a single creature that could be tied to a student or a faculty member.
She now knew that time was running short and that it’d only be a matter of time before the police returned and were able to pin her down with at least one of the murders. Last night she attached a GPS tracker with a microphone to her shorts and heavily fortified the stitches to make sure it didn’t come loose. Kitty logged on to her laptop and started following last night’s bloody venture. Around midnight the red stripes led away from campus towards a cluster of trees in the park where she must have been waiting for something. Prey, cleaning up her dirty fur while looking up towards the moon or a countless number of other things werewolves are supposed to be doing.
Suddenly she had bounded off in a straight line towards the lake in the centre of the park. Kitty turned on the microphone and amidst the feral drooling, panting and running she heard someone say, “By Dracula, what is th..ARRGH”. She held her breath as she listened to the sound of her own canine teeth ripping through cloth, flesh and bone, while her unfortunate victim could do nothing but scream.
Kitty threw off her headphones, opened the door and stood face to face with two humanoid-looking creatures with sharp fangs and pale faces. Before she could speak one of them launched a punch in her temple, and as she flung towards the floor he sat himself on her back and cuffed her wrists. His colleague pulled up his radio and said “Chief, we got her. Taking her back to the Draculair”.
\-----Didn't exactly know how to end it, but it was a fun write. Any feedback is welcome :) | My first ever writing prompt so I'd love some critique:
"Follow me" she beckons as she scurries through the parking lot.
My mind tells me to turn around and go home, but my legs don't stop moving. Left, Right, Left, Right. I'm moving way faster than I'd like. I know a lot of people that like to smoke, but I've never seen someone seek it out so aggressively. Before I know it, I'm at the edge of the parking lot.
"Whose over there?" I hear in the distance as a light shines directly into my eyes.
She grabs my hand and we sprint into the woods.
"Where are we going?" I whisper.
No response. We keep moving deeper into the woods.
"Hey! Where are we going?" I repeat a little louder and with significantly more urgency.
"Just follow me. I know this perfect spot" she says in a slightly aggravated toned as we dig deeper into the woods.
We keep moving for what feels like an hour, but in reality is probably a minute.
"Listen, I think we're fine here. I've smoked plenty of j's by this tree and never had a problem" I insist.
It doesn't matter what I say. My feet are planted, but she's somehow dragging me deeper into the woods.
"Hey! What are you doing? Stop!" I yell.
She turns around to my horror, looks nothing like the girl I was just with. Her eyes are bloodshot and her face shriveled.
"Ok, if you insist!" she exclaims
Suddenly, I feel her teeth dig into my neck. This is definitely not a hickey. | |
[WP] Humanity ended centuries ago but no one realized. The Earth is now populated with vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, and other creatures still pretending to be human so as not to blow their cover. | There is a reason why people no longer do tours of the Houses of Parliament.
Or our secondary meeting house, the Tower of London. It would worry the people too much if they ever found out that the moat was filled with lava. The ravens went years ago - some say one of Us fancied a snack on his afternoon stroll, although some say it was one of Them. The buildings are much the same, though. The place hasn't been completely gutted like Parliament.
Gone are the green and red benches for Commons and Lords - indeed, Commons is gone completely. We need somewhere to store any of Them that grow too powerful. We don't want the people worrying - or worse, listening. Our hold on power is weak as it is.
In Lords, the benches are iron. The central heating is turned further than maximum, and little pots filled with burning brimstone can be found every third seat.. In the middle is a tall black throne with iron spikes that threaten to poke the people sitting in the benches. It is empty; as usual, Our Lord is often too busy for the affairs of mere mortals.
Instead there's only me, a smallish imp, standing in front of the throne and clutching my clipboard. Thankfully, many of them are talking. Thankfully, they won't all hear what I have to say.
As full moons go, last night had been particularly brutal.
"Good morning," My voice trembles more than it ought. For a moment, I wish I'd had the presence of mind to grab a glass of lava, but it's too late now, "Good morning! A group of werewolves broke free of their containment cell in Leeds last night. The offenders have been slaughtered, and the people have been told their relatives died in a car accident, but that's not the problem. Our containment cells are no longer strong enough. We need funding."
A succubus in the corner taps her pencil. Giselle. The Treasurer, "We've spent too much on Lunar Containment facilities. Can't we just have a curfew?"
The stupid woman. She should know what happened the last time we tried curfews, how angry the people got when we wouldn't tell them why. How many of Them started to question it, question the fact that they might not be the only ones. How we eventually had to deal with werewolf packs and vampire clans. The House of Commons had been very full during those days, Our Lord sated with victims to devour.
"No," I said, "We can't have a curfew. We need funding."
Giselle stood up, "Are you aware what the werewolf population is?"
"Thirty three million."
"That's almost half the damn population. We can no longer afford to grab them and isolate them from the population. We have to start thinking smart."
Suddenly, my blood chilled. I'd been aware that my department's problem had been growing larger, but..
"Giselle, you're saying that werewolves make up almost half the population now?"
Giselle nodded, "As do vampires. And..." she stopped, "Actually, the remaining 1% can be accounted for by demons. The last human died not too long ago." Her beautiful pale face creased, "That's...bad, isn't it?"
At which point, the temperature in the room increased. The demons on their benches stopped talking. The red candles flickered and went out, one by one, until we were sitting in complete darkness.
Then, Our Lord appeared on the chair. Instinctively, I knelt, looking down at his reddened robe, and the gilt embroidery showing the history of our people. He had forbidden me to look at His face, imp that I was.
"ARE THE HUMANS DISSATISFIED?" His voice boomed across the room, causing even the bulkiest demons to wince.
"O Lord," I said, looking at the floor, "I'm terribly sorry. But that's the problem. You see...there kind of aren't any humans any more." | I struck the strings on my guitar as people reluctantly danced to the faced-paced tune, mesmerised by the melody. As the last known descendant of the infamous Piper, messing with minds was my specialty. I only recently discovered my bloodline and heritage when every alleged human on the planet were freed from the curse that our ansesstors placed on us. I guess it's true, reality is stranger than fiction. It took people years to fully understand what they are.
"Other people get fangs, immortality and can even change their appearance in a spilt second while I got magical song powers," I ranted.
The dozen or so people were trapped under my song but that was it, I couldn't brainwash them or kill them with my music. I could just make them dance, I couldn't even decide how they danced. They were just doing their own thing. The most I could do was prolong the duration they danced.
"Maybe you could use those for good, son."
I spinned around to come face-to-face with Hellstrum, he was apart of the most popular race. The vampires. They were completely different from the ones we saw on tv. They can't turn anybody into vampires and they had no problem with the light but their most concerning problem is their low reproduction rate. They were few in number so seeing one with my own eyes, was a treat.
"Why the hell aren't you dancing like a clown?" I asked.
"I too have mesmerising abilities so I am immune," the vampire explained.
Hellstrum looked every bit intimidating as he did in the interviews on television. He had a chiseled body, every inch lined with muscle. His piercing blue eyes were just the perfect shade to match with his extremely pale skin but what grabbed most of my attention was the obvious symbol branded into his skin, just below collarbone. It was the symbol of the werewolves?
"AHH... An observant one."
I never loosen my grip on the people I had locked in my enchanting rhythm. Hellstrum held a hand up. "You mustn't worry yourself of these common folk."
In a blink of an eye, every single soul that was forced to dance dropped dead to the ground, their throats slit open. Now, I was terrified. The man killed 12 people in mere seconds.
"Think nothing of it. Now, let's talk business."
"Business?" I asked.
He proceeded with his offer. "I'm currently looking for rare raced to form a society so that we can band together should the majority races ever turn on us."
"What do you mean by 'turn on us?" I asked.
"Exactly as it sounds, the werewolves themselves have branded me as their property but managed to escape. Now, I seek vengeance as you can imagine."
I made a full 360' turn to take in the full extent of damage this person inflicted in such a short amount of time. "As I can see, you clearly don't need my help."
Hellstrum chuckled. "Never underestimate the power of numbers, my boy."
"What the hell cam I do for you?"
His expression of entertainment immediately shifted to dissapointment. "That is definitely another reason you should really to my cause. We can learn the way to fully utilize your powers to their fullest potential together."
He extended a hand towards me but I was definitely not fully convinced. "So, basically you're gonna start a turf war?"
He lifted an eyebrow but had his hands still extended. " The way you express my actions could really damage the truth, my boy. In this world where everyone has a special ability of their own, politics would just be a sad attempt at maintaining peace. Power in what's important right now and like it or not, you and I face the same problems. We are few in number but combine quality and quantity and we would be unstoppable."
It made perfect sense to join him but something felt off about this whole thing but for the time, I guess I could help him while making myself a reputation. I shook his hand as a sign that I have agreed to join his cause.
"So what do we do now?" | |
[WP] You are on a life-changing journey across a magical land. Not because you are the Chosen One, but because one day you are going to be their Mentor, and the world needs you to be wise. | Merrick staggered against the stinging wind, his hunched form only allowing him small steps in his fight against mother nature. His clothes were tattered and torn, any pretense of protection from the elements had vanished months previous. The snow flurry that he now traversed left him mostly blind, nothing but flashing white snow flew past his nose.
This journey up the mountain was yet another rumor which he clung desperately to, each successive journey building the hope deep within his breast, only to be dashed away. They were usually nothing, a rumor started in a small town by bored peasants. Sometimes though, there were artifacts and treasures to be found. When he first started his *adventure* they were a boon to his spirit and afforded him nights in the most beautiful and plush taverns money could buy, not to mention the most beautiful of women coin could beckon. Now they meant nothing to him, trinkets and shining gold that couldn’t buy him anything in this dying and deserted world.
His most previous expedition, which he no longer considered *adventures* as he had as a young man, they were nothing but slogs towards a new rumor, was deep within a nearby bog at the bottom of this mountain. He had slain yet another hideous beast which left him nothing but an empty promise and a coursing of purple blood at his feet, and of course, like the rest of his expeditions, disappointment.
Merrick paused for a moment as the wind abated for a few seconds, his eyes flicking down at his grey trousers, purple gore had stained their bottoms. He adjusted the pack on his back, the weapons and tools jangling within. A ripple of pops cascaded up his back, his spine old and bent with age and overuse. He looked out over the mountain and down along its slopes. The world was brown now as it continued its last death rattles. No longer were the hills green with life as they had been when he was a young man and starting his quest to find The Savior.
He sighed and turned back up the mountain, he didn’t have the time to reminisce since he figured he was the last Seeker, a person who gave up their lives to find the prophesized Savior who would return the world to its former glory. He had known of other Seekers who took up the call to become the Savior’s mentor, to find the boy who would save the world from its dreadful fate… but over the years the stories lessened and soon, he heard no more tales of the others who adventured alongside him in their own journeys.
Soon he came upon a cave entrance, adorned by ancient etchings of those who had come before. It was nothing new, every society had their ancient religions, ancient soothsayers who gave their predictions and prophecies, but over the years, Merrick had found that they were all false. Nothing but stories and tall tales which were untrue. Some days he gave up hope as he followed his own prophecy, but he had no other choice but to believe, to continue on, planting one aging foot in front of another.
The cave closed in around him and he was left with nothing but darkness and a small circle of blue light which emanated from the glowing stone which hung from his belt, another spoil of victory from an expedition years before. He had torn the stone from a massive beast which dangled the stone from a protuberance on its forehead, luring in its next meal. It was nothing but a novelty now, something that kept him from wasting money on torches.
He came upon an obsidian glass wall blocking his path, and without much thought he pulled a chisel from its place on his pack and a small hammer from his waist and set to work. Soon the cracks spiderwebbed from his chiseling work and the obsidian glass wall crumbled away. This was maybe the fifth such wall he had encountered in the last decade. Nothing special, nothing new.
He continued along; his only companion was the deadened echo of his footsteps which trailed behind him. After a while, the cavern began to open, and soon he could discern no walls nearby, only his circle of blue light illuminating the rough stone around him. A large crystal came into view, floating in the center of the cavern. It wasn’t the first crystal he had encountered, but it was the first that hung in the air of its own volition.
There was no pang of excitement, no quickening of his pulse. He had encountered phenomenon which had no explanation before, but they all ended the same, bringing him no closer to his goal. He let his pack drop to the ground at his feet and secured his blunted sword at his hip. Without any fanfare he reached toward the crystal.
He found himself suspended in the air, floating alongside the stone. This gave him pause, this was new. Something clawed at his insides deep within him, like a breath held too long in his breast. His eyebrows knitted together at the realization of what it was… hope. He dared not let it consume him… not again.
The crystal began to spin, lazily at first, but increasing in revolutions. A pale light grew from within it, pulsing and increasing in intensity.
Merrick clawed at the air in a vain attempt to gain control of himself, to be ready for the inevitable trap which awaited him. But he found no purchase and was slowly pulled toward the crystal, which was now nothing but a blur of spinning light. Excitement flared in his chest, and he was unsure if he was excited at the prospect of completing his quest, or finally being destroyed and vanquished… either way, his search would be over.
The light grew as he was moved closer and he could feel wind from the spinning device, ruffling at the long and white beard that adorned his face. He was pulled closer, face first toward the strange artifact. He didn’t close his eyes, he stared hard at the mystery, unafraid of what came next.
-----
Merrick found himself standing in a nicely adorned room, plush carpet enveloped the thin soles of the things he once called boots. He dared not move, but his eyes flashed around as he tried to understand his new surroundings. The furniture and decorations were posh, ornate and possibly passed down for hundreds of generations. The sounds of chirping birds met his ears from outside a nearby window, its silky and transparent drapes fluttering in the wind.
*The what?* Merrick turned his head at the noise. He hadn’t heard or seen a bird in years, maybe a decade. *Where in God’s name was he?*
His attention was ripped back to his predicament as a nearby door was flung open, a jangle of metal and scraping accompanying the slamming of wood on stone. Merrick crouched, the gnarled claw of his fist wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword at his belt.
A young boy entered the room, encased in gleaming silver armor, not a scratch or mar on the entire thing. The boy stood wide-eyed at the door, his mouth agape at the sight of the dirty and scarred man who crouched within. Merrick could tell he was about to bolt, the slight turn of the boy’s leather boot, a tenseness in the tendons of his neck.
Excitement flared in Merrick’s chest. *This was it! This is the boy who will save the world.* All he had to do was mentor him, guide him in a way to bring the world back to its former glory.
“Y-you’re the Mentor!” the boy said, his voice high and shrill.
Merrick cocked his head. *How could the boy know?*
“The white beard… the stone… the dragon hilt of your sword…” the boy said breathlessly, “it all matches what the prophecy says.”
It took a moment for the memories to surface in Merrick’s mind. He supposed that was right… a line of the prophecy described what the Mentor would look like. It had been so long since he thought of that line from the tale, as it was inconsequential to his goals as a Seeker.
“Does that… Does that make me…” the boy had a hard time forming the words on his lips. “The Savior?” He paced the floor in front of Merrick, the fear that had shown earlier had dissipated. “But… I… I was just about to go on my adventure to become a Seeker.”
Merrick was frozen to his spot, unable to move. His eyes panned across the boy and the room. It had been so long, but now… everything started to float up in the deep pits of his memories. The furniture, the rolling hills just outside the window. The boy with his youthful vigor and hope for the future. The dangling necklace and family crest which bounced across the gleaming armor as he paced about the room.
The same necklace, dented, corroded and brittle dug against Merrick’s chest under the rags of his shirt.
The boy now stood in front of Merrick, ready to hang on every word that the old man in front of him had to say.
Merrick laughed, a rough and hoarse thing that was unfamiliar in his throat.
The intention of the prophecy made sense, as cruel as it was. Who better to teach the ways of the world than a version of yourself? Experienced, rugged and ready to do anything to make a future that was better in every way than the one you had lived through.
With a cascade of pops, Merrick stood and the boy was at his arm, helping his bent old form into a standing position. He let the boy help him to the window and he stared out into the green hills which once… and now still spread out from his childhood home.
Somehow, whatever the crystal had done, had brought him back home, and brought him someone who would do anything to save the world… even dedicate their entire lives to finding a way to save it.
He felt younger than he had in a long time, his back straighter and a comforting hand resting on his wrist.
For the first time in years and years, he felt hope. | I remember the day my destiny was chosen. Unlike most, I was able to choose my destiny - in a way. Well, I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know it was *my* destiny. I didn't know it would lead to a journey quite like this. It all started with a harmless discussion from a rash youth. I thought I knew it all, and I was more than happy to say what was on my mind.
"Those fools, I can't believe they would charge into the dragons lair thinking *torches* would scare it. It's a **dragon**."
"Nor could I, young one. But it was their first dragon, and they didn't know any better. No one in their village knew the history and legends of dragons. They only recently ascended from a farming village to a minor colony."
"Ignorance is no excuse. Now the village has no men. How could they do something so brazen? Who will attend to the farms?. The risk was far too great."
"And how would you answer the unsolvable? If you encountered a challenge unlike any other, a situation that could not be solved with the might of every man, woman, nor child you've ever met. How can you be so sure that given similar marks of ignorance, you will not make a similar mistake?"
"What you ask is impossible, Morgana. Any answer I yield will be naive in nature."
She eyed me in contemplation. This was my peak. No thought of mine had ever been more than trivial, warranting more effort than her intuition. "You say naive, young man. Naive is not ignorant. Why is studying not the answer?"
The room felt like it was boiling. Her gaze bore through me like a forest fire aided by the summer heat. She sought an answer from me. One fundamentally different from her own. I had been inconsiderate, rambling about her life purpose and treating it so harshly. She was the arch mage. The Enchantress. She had taken me in... I could not disappoint her.
"Studying is to know that which has been known. To answer what will be with what has been. But this is not how things work in practice, is it? The answer derived from studying must be tried. Must be put in practice, tested, vetted. And there is knowledge which is not documented. I choose naive because it encompasses ignorant, but attacks the truth of the problem. The problem is not finding an answer that is possible, but an answer that may work. And rather than study solutions, I would find it more direct to experience problems."
"So, the ideal advisor is one who has lived through a number of problems?"
"Yes, I suppose so. Studying is essential, but so is experience. And no experience may be discounted. If I were to prepare to answer the unanswerable, I would first want to experience every problem worth enumerating."
"A difficult path... But not impossible. To live a life like that would require... More than a bit of luck. However, it may just be feasible. There is a spell for exactly that which you speak. It would allow one to live through the life of every mage who has ever cast it - and every person whom one cast it upon. I hope you do not regret the words you've spoken today."
"It is the best answer I can come up with. I am just happy to have entertained you, Morgana. Thank you for letting me use your study all these years, my heart thirsts for a life the farm cannot give me."
"Well, consider your wish... Granted." | |
[WP] You are on a life-changing journey across a magical land. Not because you are the Chosen One, but because one day you are going to be their Mentor, and the world needs you to be wise. | "No daughter of mine is going to get killed saving the world," I said, gently but firmly. The Conductor of Rhythms arched one delicate eyebrow at me over his cup of tea. My two-year-old daughter watched the two of us curiously from her crib; like everything else in my cozy brick house, I'd built the crib with my own two hands.
"I find that to be entirely correct. With your tutelage, Striker, she will be more than an adequate match for whatever threats the next generation will face."
"I am sure that I will do the same," I said, "There is no reason why it must be my daughter who is ground up in the gears of war."
"Perhaps you can do the same now. But in thirty years? Fifty? Sixty? We're getting old, Striker." The Conductor wafted the steam from my whistling teakettle up with two thin fingers, shaping the wispy little clouds into images. Clashing blades, burning cities, yawning chasms. "In the Rhythms of the world I see a future we will never touch, a future which postdates our deaths by a decade. You must pass on your craft, Striker, or leave your daughter in a world bereaved of its staunchest protectors."
"I don't care what you think. I'll be there for my daughter, no matter what." I blew out a breath, like a child extinguishing a candle; a gale-force wind rattled through the house, scattering the Conductor's magical images.
The Conductor sighed, standing up and pushing in his chair. "Nobody lives forever. Not even a Striker of Winds. I thank you for your hospitality, and hope you reconsider my offer."
I nodded, never breaking eye contact. "It was nice to see you again, Conductor. Tell the rest of the gang I said hi."
The Conductor next found me two years later. My four-year-old daughter had just scraped her knee on a rock, and I'd just finished pounding the offending hilltop into dust. It was a little rough, but if you looked at it from the right angle, the crater resembled my daughter's face, in profile.
"Subtle," the Conductor observed, looking out at the clouds of dust. He held up one hand and flicked it lightly to the side; the obscuring fog vanished, leaving the two of us to contemplate my image of my daughter.
"What're you doing here, Conductor?" I finally asked, "Last I heard, you were settling down. Opening up a university."
"That was a year and a half ago. The world moves fast when you are a Conductor of Rhythms; my first class starts next year. I am accepting students as old as forty—" he looked meaningfully at me— "to students as young as six." His gaze returned to my daughter, who was running towards us.
"No," I said. "You're not turning my daughter into the next Conductor."
"I would never consider it," the Conductor said primly. "However, since you have made no move as to her education since we last spoke... well, there is common ground between the Rhythms and the Wind. If you lack the time to train her yourself—"
"Conductor!" I spun around, furious. "I am not turning my daughter into one of us! We take on the burdens we do so that we can protect people, not hurl them onto the front lines! Gods and goblins, Conductor, what happened to you over the years? What happened to the man who saw the innocence in a child's laugh? The man who fought to protect the weak? The man who tried to make the whole damn world safe?"
"He grew up." The Conductor drew himself up to his full height. Webs of faintly luminous lines spread out from his fingers, and his voice grew resonant and bright. Showing off. "Nothing lasts forever, Striker. If you will not educate your daughter in your legacy, then I will take it onto myself. Stars as my witness, songs as my voice, I will prepare our children for the future if I have to raise my hand against my oldest friend to do it."
I folded my arms. The sky went dark as storm clouds unfolded, the hills around us becoming devoid of light—save for a pool of sun centered on me. Lightning crackled directly overhead as I said, "You think you would survive raising your hand against me? I've killed kings for lesser threats! If you value our past, if you value me, if you value my daughter, then stop trying to make her into something she is not, and never will be. Stop trying to—"
"Dad?" A voice snapped me out of my trance, the only voice that could. My daughter's voice. I blinked, the Wind fading from my veins. "Dad, why's it gone dark?"
For a frozen moment, both the Conductor and I stared at the girl between us. Then I sighed. "It's nothing, sweetie. Just a disagreement with an old friend."
"Oh." She seemed to consider this for a few seconds before pouting. "I fell over in the dark. I dropped my necklace."
"You dropped your necklace?" Slowly, the spinning darkness overhead broke apart and cleared away. "Sweetheart, I told you not to take it off."
"Perhaps this old Conductor may offer his services? I excel in finding what is lost," the Conductor said.
I regarded him wearily for a heartbeat. "...I'd like that very much, Conductor."
My old friend smiled. "As would I, Striker."
The first two guards tried to stop me. I didn't even give them a second thought; with a whispered word, I sucked the breath from their lips. They fell silently, unconscious.
The great double doors stood wide open, a steady trickle of students entering. Pitiful security measures. Was the Conductor truly that arrogant? The students took one look at my stormy approach and turned to run.
I growled, a guttural and animalistic thing, and the air fled the room. In the utter silence of a complete vacuum, the forty-odd students all silently fell to the floor, useless screams falling from impotent throats. When I was sure they were unconscious, I snapped my fingers, removing the vacuum bubble with a faint pop.
I stood in the grand entry hall of the College of Rhythms, looking around the opulence and splendor, then closed my eyes and inhaled. All the scents the Wind remembered flooded into my mind, and my eyes snapped open. They were in a lecture hall. I could tell with absolute certainty that the Conductor himself was speaking—the leashed power of a Conductor of Rhythms had a distinctive scent.
My body blurred apart to Wind, and I burst into the lecture hall with the howl of an arctic gale. I recoalesced in the heart of a miniature cyclone, to the gasps and screams of the students below, and bellowed, "CONDUCTOR!"
I could barely see him, as far below me as he was, but I would recognize that scent anywhere. He looked up at me, and for a moment I paused. His hair was longer, his back straighter than I remembered. How old friends changed. "Striker of Winds? Is that you?"
"Who else would it be, you blithering fool! Where is my daughter?" The gawking students below had quickly realized that being in the same room as a Conductor of Rhythms and a Striker of Winds angry with each other was a great way to be reduced to purée, and rapidly filed out.
All but one.
My nineteen-year-old daughter stood up from the crowd and shouted up, "Dad! Gods and goblins, what are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" I shouted, thunder in every word, "I am not the one who enrolled in the College of Rhythms, against my explicit orders. I am not the one who desired to become a being whose only purpose is war. I am not a self-destructive, ungrateful, rebellious bitch!"
There was silence in the College of Rhythms.
Then my daughter stood up, and there was something of the Winds about her.
"Dad," she said, quietly, and the Wind tasted her tears. "Dad, you don't understand. I know you love me, I know you're just trying to protect me, but—"
"I've done things that would make your blood freeze, I've slaughtered my way across a dark continent, I've stood fast against nightmares which would drive you mad if I spoke their names, and I did all of this so that one day—this day—it could all be over. All the violence, all the struggles, all the wars—I've brought peace to the world. What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of when you won't be here anymore," she whispered.
I clenched my fists. "That won't be for a long, long time."
"I know. But if I kept hiding behind your legs and waiting for you to obliterate everything that threatened me—"
"THAT'S MY JOB!" I spun to the Conductor of Rhythms. "You! Conductor! You're gone too far, and this time, I'll damn well kill you if it's the only thing that'll stop you!" I blurred towards the man on the stage—
—and stopped.
She wasn't a man.
She was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties or late teens. She held that unmistakable, unshakable air of calm that the last Conductor of Rhythms had about him, an aura of command which let her hold fast in the face of the oncoming storm.
And she was not the Conductor of Rhythms I'd grown up with.
"Who... where is the Conductor of Rhythms?" I said, faintly. But I already knew the answer.
The new Conductor smiled sadly. "Dead. A heart attack. He passed on his mantle to me. Just as one day you'll have to pass yours on to her."
And suddenly, all the fury whipping around me shattered. The storm petered out. "He... he died?"
"This morning. He saw it coming." She bowed her head. "He left a message for you."
"I don't want to hear anything that corrupted fool has to say," I said. But there wasn't any venom left in it.
The Conductor of Rhythms cleared her throat. "'We don't always get what we want.'"
I looked up sharply. "What did you say?"
"Those were his last words."
"What? That's it?" I flashed forwards and hoisted the new Conductor up by the front of her shirt. "THAT'S IT? After everything he did? That's all he has to say to me?"
"'We don't always get what we want,'" she repeated.
I stared at the young woman wearing the mantle of the best man I'd ever known. And then I sagged, putting her down, letting her go. I looked up to my daughter.
She knelt down and smiled.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I croaked, weakly, "I... I'm sorry."
She hugged me. "It's okay, Dad. It's all going to be okay, in the end." | Seven years of journey, and it all ends here.
At the start, there were twelve of us. Twelve bright-eyed, optimistic children ready to conquer the world. Oh, at the time we thought we were warriors. Destiny awaits, we’d say.
Now it’s just me, Lancelot, and Kay, and what awaits us is death.
The sword in the stone lies in a small clearing up ahead. Rays of sunshine filter through the forest canopy and the metal blade - the part not embedded in the stone - glows with the promise of power. The scene is the most obvious ruse we’d ever seen, but it’s also the only path forward.
“Ready?” Lancelot asks.
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go.”
I clutch my sword and shield as we step onto the bright grass as one and in an instant, the real world silently shimmers into existence.
Instead of grass, we stand on cracked stone in a long but wide hallway. I look behind us, and as expected, it’s a dead end with cold, unyielding rock sealing off our escape.
“Looks like this is the end.”
“Yep,” Kay says, feeling along the wall. “The necromancer’s lair. Once a kingdom, now a home for the undead. And we’re right in the center of it.”
Lancelot chuckles. “I’ve waited for this moment ever since I joined this fool adventure. Too bad we’ll be joining those poor bastards soon.” He gestures to the skeletons littered along the hallway. Most of them still wear armor, and some clutch their weapons in their hands in a final act of defiance.
“Hey,” I say. “Pure of heart, noble of spirit, right? They died to give us this chance. We kill the undead king once and for all.”
“Hard to kill what’s already dead,” Lancelot says.
“We’ve done it before,” Kay says, shifting her bow in her hands. “Hell, we might as well be dead by now too, considering what we’ve been through.”
“In any case,” I say before Lancelot can respond, “we should start moving. They already know we’re here, and whether or not we want to fight, the only way out is forward.”
Lancelot grunts. “Amen.” He raised a blood-stained axe. “To victory and certain death.”
Kay rolls her eyes and I start forward. No time to delay the inevitable. The air reeks of death and decay, but there shouldn’t be any danger yet, so I take the chance to observe the structure we’re in.
It looks like we’re inside the largest castle in the world. The hard walls of an expansive hallway trap us in and the ceiling seems to go even farther than dragons soar. There’s no small amount of rubble and cracks along the floor, but strangely, I can’t see what’s beyond the walls. The damage is clearly superficial as despite the ruined exterior, there’s no hole for us to peek outside, though sunlight filters in through an unseen entry high above us.
We walk in silence for a while, lost in our thoughts. This was our years-long goal, after all: to do what no knight has yet done and slay the necromancers’ king. The land has been plagued by undead creatures and demonic beasts far before I or my parents were born, and despite advances in technology, humanity’s massive kingdoms have been losing ground.
We’re only the latest batch of foolhardy knights to undertake this quest. Our journey has made us faster, stronger, and smarter, but it has worn us down until our party is down to the last three. Thinking of our lost companions awoke grief in me again, but I push it down with steely resolve; besides, I might be joining them soon.
Lancelot’s voice interrupts my reminiscing. “You think these skeletons are gonna attack us or what?”
“You just had to jinx it, huh?” Kay says.
“What? You were wondering it too! It’s obvious from the way you keep glancing at them suspiciously.”
“Well,” she admits. “I did expect the fight to come sooner. *These* guys were clearly killed before they got this far.” She shivers. “I hope they’re not the same skeletons we passed earlier…”
“Quiet,” I say. “I hear something.”
“And now they come to life and attack us,” Lancelot mutters with derision in his voice. Still, I see his body tense and he holds his axes in front of him. Kay nocks two arrows in her bow and I raise my shield in front of me.
I don’t spot the invisible barrier until I’ve already stepped through it. The infinitely long, stretching hallway before us disappears and is replaced by an incredibly wide, domed chamber. Instead of sunlight, the room is illuminated by countless torches lining the walls in every direction, and at the center of the room, a large fire burns brightly.
I look around wildly as my eyes adjust to the relative dimness, but strangely, nothing surges forward to attack us. The ever-present skeletons, now lining the chamber walls, are still as inanimate as ever, though I suspect that won’t last very long.
“In front of the fire,” Kay says in a hushed whisper.
Turning my gaze, I see what I missed before. Several hooded figures stand before the fire, their uniform silhouettes pitch-black against the licking flames. They stand unnaturally still, almost like statues, though I know better than to assume that. My grip on my sword tightens. The tension hangs thick in the air, but I don’t dare step forward yet.
When the voice rings out, amplified by the chamber’s acoustics, I’m almost relieved.
“Knights of the Round Table. You’ve finally arrived.”
“Necromancers sure love being dramatic,” Lancelot mutters.
I don’t reply, because it’s then that the skeletons start to move.
---
r/OracleOfCake
edit: oops this is not relevant to the prompt | |
[WP] Our whole lives we have been taught that the four horsemen of the apocalypse were evil, and would be sent to kill us. Now that the apocalypse is here nobody stopped to consider that they might fight FOR us. | Secretary-General Louis Lefebvre had been raised a Catholic, by very devout parents. As a child, he had read the Bible many times, both by choice and by force. Much to his parents’ dismay, he had never been as engrossed with the word of God as they had wished, however. But, as a young boy full of imagination, some passages had stuck in his mind. None so much as those concerning the Apocalypse.
Louis had never expected to live through the apocalypse, though. And when Armageddon arrived, it was nothing close to his boyhood imaginings. But when the large metal spheres descended upon the Earth, and when they fired upon the delegations of men who tried to contact them, when cities burned and billions died, then Louis knew the end of days had arrived. He had been en route to his New York office, trying to broker peace between warring factions in some conflict everyone had forgotten by now. One of the spheres appeared above the city, as they had above every city. Had he arrived on time, he would have been vaporised along with everyone else in the Big Apple. And in London. And Paris. And Istanbul. And Tokyo. And Shanghai. And Lagos. And Rio. And every other major population centre on Earth.
By sheer luck - or divine providence - he had been spared. Watching the flames lick the cities which had been the engines of the planet, he was convinced that the End Times had come. Out of the spheres of death poured countless creatures, who began taking swift control of the ruined cities and their surrounds. They had come to stay, it seemed like. Louis, as one of the few high ranking officials left on the entire planet, was determined to make that as hard as possible. Billions had died in the attack, but millions remained. They were still humans, and come hell or high water - or the apocalypse - they would fight.
The invaders were taken aback by the response. They had not expected resistance, it seemed like. But the people of Earth fought tooth and nail to save their planet, with everything they had. With guns and with knives, with bombs and traps, with tanks and horses
Lefebvre had never ridden a horse before. Fuel and vehicle scarcity forced him to learn. A few weeks after the initial strike, he had hidden in the Appalachians with a group of resistance fighters. A group of Is had ventured into the mountains to search for them, when they decided to make the first strike. It exceeded their wildest expectations. They charged in on horseback, with guns, swords and bows, in the middle of the night. The Is were taken by surprise, and died almost without a fight. The first man to charge was a bowman on a white horse, and Lefebvre thought back to the Bible for the first time in many years as he remembered a passage: “I looked, and there was a white horse, and its rider had a bow. He was given a crown, and he rode forth victorious to further his victories.”
More attacks followed, and it became clear that the Is could not extend themselves beyond where their spheres could protect them. As they destroyed group after group of Invaders, they noticed a change in behaviour, as the Is seemed less sure of themselves, and spies even reported internal quarrels. What had seemed like an easy victory had turned into a long war, where thousands of them died. And during one of the attacks, Lefebvre once again thought back on scripture, as the sword of humanity made war unto the Invaders: “Another horse came out, a red one. Its rider was given power to take peace away from the earth, so that people would slaughter one another. And he was given a huge sword.”
While humanity temporarily stopped the Is from gaining ground, they could not push them back entirely, as their spheres protected them. But along came winter, and then spring and summer and autumn and winter again, and the Is were still stuck in the cities. And cities could not grow food.While humanity thrived in the countryside, more Is fell to famine than to the weapons of men. And Lefebvre remembered: “When he broke open the third seal, I heard the third living creature cry out, ‘Come forward.’ I looked, and there was a black horse, and its rider held a scale in his hand. I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living creatures. It said, ‘A ration of wheat costs a day’s pay, and three rations of barley cost a day’s pay. But do not damage the olive oil or the wine.’”
Two years after the Invaders had first arrived, they still persisted. For all humanity's struggles, they still kept coming. For every ten killed in a raid, a hundred more appeared. For every hundred killed in battle, a thousand more seemed to take up arms. For every thousand dying of famine, ten thousand descended from the spheres. For all their victories, humanity was losing. There were simply too few humans, and too many Is. But they were not about to give up. Lefebvre was not about to give up. They might no longer be the masters of Earth, but they were not about to let anyone else be either.
Lefebvre, on a pale horse, led a small group to a desolate structure on the plains. As he descended down into the ground, he thought back to Scripture yet again, and to the fourth passage. As a boy, he had never expected the horsemen of the apocalypse to fight by his side, but by now, he had seen three of them. He made his way into the underground structure, legs shaking. A man held out a button before him. Louis raised his hand… and paused. He looked around the room, and the sullen, war-torn faces around him. With a trembling finger he pressed down on the button. As rocket engines fired up around them, he muttered:
“Now I am become Death, the destroyed of worlds” | [Poem]
A night like any other.
I went, traversing
The cityscape,
An ant in Babylon.
Blue, red, colours galore —
Buildings shone bright,
A path to heaven
And its shadow.
Was it wrong to drink
A cup of elixir?
Laughing, I sipped again,
Forgetting the question,
And finding another.
"Bartender," said I,
"Gimme a strong one!"
Left the pub, seeking
My way home.
Pit, pat — was it rain?
Looked up; I saw
A shower and more:
A clear sky, cloudless,
Dyed pure red
Like my wine.
Had I too much?
Maelstrom — I fell,
Gales in my face,
Pain in my back —
Tingle, shake,
An earthquake?
A drunk's cure.
Get up, wake up,
Said my mind,
Running before
The race is started.
Screams of terror
Piercing my ears,
The world broke down —
An elder baby.
Was this real?
Dream or not, dream on
Or you'll die.
Dawn broke in,
An artificial lie
Flying in the sky,
Shining like the sun
And galloping, wingless,
Like a stallion of fantasy.
And a horse it was, a man
Above, bow in hand.
Another followed,
I counted —
One, two,
Repeat —
All four.
Four horse … men,
Horsemen? A bell rang.
I realized.
Faithless, I lived
Until then,
Miracles of death
In front of me.
I remembered
A scripture,
Vague words
And ancient meanings.
'Twas over, I declared,
Closing my eyes,
Awaiting purgatory.
Winds never ceased,
Apocalyptic roars,
Final announcements
For the late.
Death felt warm —
Perjury, guilty.
Looked again,
'Twas the same old,
Same new —
Four horsemen
Facing the sky,
Leaving me behind,
Charging into blood on high.
Thunder raged,
A duel beyond humanity,
With four versus one,
The latter unknown,
Bathing in mystery
Enveloping all men
With a hole for breath,
A tiny revelation.
Smile, everyone,
We're not alone. | |
[WP] Our whole lives we have been taught that the four horsemen of the apocalypse were evil, and would be sent to kill us. Now that the apocalypse is here nobody stopped to consider that they might fight FOR us. | Secretary-General Louis Lefebvre had been raised a Catholic, by very devout parents. As a child, he had read the Bible many times, both by choice and by force. Much to his parents’ dismay, he had never been as engrossed with the word of God as they had wished, however. But, as a young boy full of imagination, some passages had stuck in his mind. None so much as those concerning the Apocalypse.
Louis had never expected to live through the apocalypse, though. And when Armageddon arrived, it was nothing close to his boyhood imaginings. But when the large metal spheres descended upon the Earth, and when they fired upon the delegations of men who tried to contact them, when cities burned and billions died, then Louis knew the end of days had arrived. He had been en route to his New York office, trying to broker peace between warring factions in some conflict everyone had forgotten by now. One of the spheres appeared above the city, as they had above every city. Had he arrived on time, he would have been vaporised along with everyone else in the Big Apple. And in London. And Paris. And Istanbul. And Tokyo. And Shanghai. And Lagos. And Rio. And every other major population centre on Earth.
By sheer luck - or divine providence - he had been spared. Watching the flames lick the cities which had been the engines of the planet, he was convinced that the End Times had come. Out of the spheres of death poured countless creatures, who began taking swift control of the ruined cities and their surrounds. They had come to stay, it seemed like. Louis, as one of the few high ranking officials left on the entire planet, was determined to make that as hard as possible. Billions had died in the attack, but millions remained. They were still humans, and come hell or high water - or the apocalypse - they would fight.
The invaders were taken aback by the response. They had not expected resistance, it seemed like. But the people of Earth fought tooth and nail to save their planet, with everything they had. With guns and with knives, with bombs and traps, with tanks and horses
Lefebvre had never ridden a horse before. Fuel and vehicle scarcity forced him to learn. A few weeks after the initial strike, he had hidden in the Appalachians with a group of resistance fighters. A group of Is had ventured into the mountains to search for them, when they decided to make the first strike. It exceeded their wildest expectations. They charged in on horseback, with guns, swords and bows, in the middle of the night. The Is were taken by surprise, and died almost without a fight. The first man to charge was a bowman on a white horse, and Lefebvre thought back to the Bible for the first time in many years as he remembered a passage: “I looked, and there was a white horse, and its rider had a bow. He was given a crown, and he rode forth victorious to further his victories.”
More attacks followed, and it became clear that the Is could not extend themselves beyond where their spheres could protect them. As they destroyed group after group of Invaders, they noticed a change in behaviour, as the Is seemed less sure of themselves, and spies even reported internal quarrels. What had seemed like an easy victory had turned into a long war, where thousands of them died. And during one of the attacks, Lefebvre once again thought back on scripture, as the sword of humanity made war unto the Invaders: “Another horse came out, a red one. Its rider was given power to take peace away from the earth, so that people would slaughter one another. And he was given a huge sword.”
While humanity temporarily stopped the Is from gaining ground, they could not push them back entirely, as their spheres protected them. But along came winter, and then spring and summer and autumn and winter again, and the Is were still stuck in the cities. And cities could not grow food.While humanity thrived in the countryside, more Is fell to famine than to the weapons of men. And Lefebvre remembered: “When he broke open the third seal, I heard the third living creature cry out, ‘Come forward.’ I looked, and there was a black horse, and its rider held a scale in his hand. I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living creatures. It said, ‘A ration of wheat costs a day’s pay, and three rations of barley cost a day’s pay. But do not damage the olive oil or the wine.’”
Two years after the Invaders had first arrived, they still persisted. For all humanity's struggles, they still kept coming. For every ten killed in a raid, a hundred more appeared. For every hundred killed in battle, a thousand more seemed to take up arms. For every thousand dying of famine, ten thousand descended from the spheres. For all their victories, humanity was losing. There were simply too few humans, and too many Is. But they were not about to give up. Lefebvre was not about to give up. They might no longer be the masters of Earth, but they were not about to let anyone else be either.
Lefebvre, on a pale horse, led a small group to a desolate structure on the plains. As he descended down into the ground, he thought back to Scripture yet again, and to the fourth passage. As a boy, he had never expected the horsemen of the apocalypse to fight by his side, but by now, he had seen three of them. He made his way into the underground structure, legs shaking. A man held out a button before him. Louis raised his hand… and paused. He looked around the room, and the sullen, war-torn faces around him. With a trembling finger he pressed down on the button. As rocket engines fired up around them, he muttered:
“Now I am become Death, the destroyed of worlds” | This was definitely NOT what I was expecting when they said the world was going to end.
Technically, I wasn’t expecting the world to end at all, but what I was NOT expecting was to have to have four ten-foot-tall ancient skeletal warriors in my basement.
At least not until *October.*
I had been walking home alone from school when they approached me, four looming shadows and four sets of thundering hooves and one VERY high-pitched scream from one very scared sophomore.
So anyways, that was Tuesday.
My parents were always out somewhere, getting dinner or renting a hotel room and trying to tape back together their cobbled marriage.
Which sucked for me, but was great for my four new pals!
Ahahahahahaha YEAH.
I waited until I could hear the car leave the driveway, then slowly creaked open the basement door.
“MORTAL!” Pestilence announced.
“JESUSCHRISTSWEETMOTHEROFBISCUITS—DON’T *DO* THAT!” I shouted back.
It had been hard enough to herd four apocalyptic soldiers into my basement, you would not BELIEVE the bargaining it took to get them to stay quiet for a day.
Famine shoved past Pestilence. “My fairest lady—“
“Nope nOPE, stopping THAT right now,” I warned.
Famine cleared their throat. “Uh... My fairest... mortal... THE WAR APPROACHES!”
“*Stop shouting!*” I yelled.
“But Satan has armed his cavalry!” War urged.
“And I am *five feet away,*” I hissed back.
I turned and brushed past them, eyeing the basement suspiciously. “Where’s Death, anyways?”
“Ah...” Pestilence scratched the back of their armored head.
“Death has claustrophobia, so they decided to go outside for a walk.”
I took a deep breath. “Death decided to WHAT?”
“We tried to stop them!” War insisted. “But they were just getting so agitated... so we decided: What harm could a little walk do.”
I stared. “They’re the literal incarnation.... of DEATH!” | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | "Our next guest on The Karen Show, is the controversial superhero... or, _is_ he a hero? Either way, you probably know him as THE SINNER!!!"
The cheering as he headed onto the stage was raucous, though there were a few scattered boos from the back. A woman up front screamed out something unrepeatable, prompting the audience to laugh, and the censors to scramble. The Sinner smiled at her as he took a seat.
"Hi Karen, thanks for having me on the show."
"No, thank YOU for being here. Ok, ok, before we get started... You know I have to ask... _are_ you a hero?"
He flashed his teeth in a way that suggested that someone ought to check on the canary.
"According to the National Registry of Supers, I am."
"Ok, ok, but what do _you_ say? They call you the Sinner; are you actually a saint?"
The Sinner pretended to think about it. In truth, both the question and answer had been crafted beforehand, and rehearsed.
"I think..." He paused meaningfully. "I think there's room to be both. We all have our vices, but that doesn't mean we can't contribute something good to the world."
The audience cheered. The production manager motioned for them to be quiet, which caused them to re-double their efforts. They were _his_ kind of audience after all. The Sinner took advantage of the extended pause to pull out a cigarette.
Karen sat bolt upright, her eyes growing large. "Ok, ok... you can't smoke on live television. I'm going to have to ask you to put that away."
The Sinner lit up, took a long drag, and blew the smoke away from Karen.
"I just thought y'all might like to see a demonstration of my powers."
Karen leaned into her concerned citizen persona. "Oh my goodness, is that safe?"
"Not at all," came the reply, and he flicked his cigarette up and out over the audience, prompting a few gasps. At the zenith of its flight, it exploded in a flash of lurid green light. The gasps turned into oohs and ahhhs, followed by a smattering of applause.
Karen cocked her head to one side and chided him, "That was naughty."
He put a hand over his heart and leaned in, in a way that said, "who, me?"
She fixed him with the disapproving stare she was famous for, and he turned towards the audience, still feigning innocence. There was more cheering, and Karen leaned back, relenting in her disapproval.
"Ok, ok, let's talk about your powers. I've heard that you become more powerful, the more you do bad things! How does that even work! For a hero, no less!"
"That... isn't exactly how my powers work."
"Well how does it work?"
"My power is actually triggered by toxins. To put it simply, the more I poison myself, the more powerful I become."
"So, you smoke a cigarette..."
"...and I generate energy, the kind that can make me strong, or fast, or I can transfer it to objects around me, and they explode."
"And you're immune to the toxins?"
The question was off-script, and surprised The Sinner. He stared at the floor a moment, before shaking his head.
"No." He found Karen's eyes, and repeated himself. "No."
"Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness!" Karen had a real gift for affectation, where it came to concern for the safety of others. "So are you telling me..."
The audience leaned in. A preternatural silence held the room in its grip.
"That's right. Unlike some heroes, I _enjoy_ doing hero work." He pulled out another cigarette and fingered it, but didn't light up.
You could visibly hear the tension break, as everyone let out the breath they'd been holding at the same time. Karen sat up to her full height, lifted her head , and looked down her nose at him regally.
"Speaking of other heroes, Uber Man has been a vocal critic of your... methods."
The Sinner chucked. "Yes, I believe the first time we met, I was quite drunk."
"What?! Ok, ok, we have to hear that story!"
"There isn't much to tell. When Calamity Calamari attacked the city, I was having dinner downtown with this beautiful girl named..." He squinted and stared off to the left, trying to remember.
"Oh my goodness, behave!" Karen interjected.
"Anyway, that's not important. At the time, I didn't have my gear, and there wasn't time to smoke through a whole pack, so I downed this whole bottle of bourbon from the bar at the restaurant."
"Oh my gawwwwd..." Karen looked like she might be sick by proxy.
"Oh, I know, I know. I was so sick after the fight that I threw up everywhere. Uber Man came over, and... well... I may have made a joke about having an Uber to take me home, before I blacked out."
"You didn't?!?" Karen's mouth was agape, and this time she pandered to the audience. "_And???_"
"And I think he flew me home!" The Sinner laughed and shook his head, and the audience joined him. Karen put a hand over her mouth, unwilling to be seen laughing at the more decorated hero.
"He's a really good guy... I mean I don't have to tell anyone that, but... the way he seems... the Mr. Perfect thing he's got going on... he's just the same behind closed doors."
"Ok, ok, but Uber Man said... Do we have the quote? Here it is. He said that you are a bad role model! That you shouldn't be held up as an example for our youth to follow!"
"And he's right... at least where he comes from, he's right. I come from somewhere else. And where I'm from, there are kids, teens that _already_ have the sort of problems I have."
"Cigarettes?" Karen suggested.
"Alcoholism. Drugs."
"Oh. My."
"I think it's good for _those_ kids to be able to see a hero they can relate to... somehow who doesn't have all their shit together all the time, and say, 'hey if that guy can make a difference, why can't I?'"
"Ladies and Gentlemen... The Sinner."
"And... we're out!" came a voice from somewhere offstage.
As the stage lights dimmed, The Sinner lit up his cigarette at last, blowing a cloud out to where the audience was applauding.
"Great interview," Karen said strolling over towards where he sat. "Look, it probably isn't my place, but if you want, I know a great clinic where you could de-tox."
"Tell me about it over dinner?" He smiled disarmingly.
She gave him a look. It was a look that said, "I know what your'e trying to do." He just smiled and looked her in the eyes. She turned on her 4-inch heel and strutted for the far side of the stage.
"Le Bernardin. 9pm. Don't be late!"
The Sinner smiled. | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | When you think about having the ability to see the past or future, how does that work? Is it like a switch from present to past or present to future? Do you close your eyes and see what you want? I wish, normally there'd be a mental shield protecting my mind from my own power. But I wasn't that lucky.
I see everything at once, all the timelines, the past, the present, the future, all at the same fucking time in crystal high definition of real life and you have no idea how fluid time is until you see it all at once.
Take your apartment for instance. You walk in through the front door, there's generally a million things that can happen, thankfully I don't see a million of you doing every little option. But rather due to human psychology we tend to follow patterns, so mostly there's 3-4 versions of your future self at once, but at the same time you're leaving the apartment in the past to do whatever it is you were out to do.
I know it sounds confusing and too be fair that's the truth of it. All I can do is logically assume what is the past, present and future. Now the past and present are reasonable easy to tell, the past is only a singular version doing its thing without any regard for my presence. The present is easy enough as well as that's the root for the branches of the future. Actually that is a great metaphor, my power is a tree. The past is the trunk and the present the top from where the branches grow outwards into the future.
Mmh, I'll have to remember that. So now you have a most likely confusing idea of my power, so what could I possibly do with it? Well I'm no hero, but funnily enough detective work is great for me. Over the years I've meditated and trained to be able to only focus on a singular object. Like a single person, which while I see it all I at least don't take in everyone else as well. Which makes it quite easy to follow a trail and deduce what happen, what will happen and how.
Except I experienced an oddity today in my own apartment. I was watching people coming, going, in the past and future or at least I'm fairly sure I was alone. Anyway, I was doing that when suddenly a man burst through the door, pointed a gun in a direction and froze. I definitely mean he froze just outright and it has been 4 hours, he hasn't moved at all. Still standing there frozen in time facing a gun in some direction. I'm walking around until I stand infront of the frozen gunman trying to figure out what's going on, when I hear my door protest as some one barges into it. The gunman did not get frozen in time at all...
​
Note: It's meant to be disorganized and confusing as I'd imagine seeing the past, present at future all the same time would be quite well chaotic. | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | It’s really not that big of a deal, to be honest.
Yes, I can stop objects in their tracks by just touching them. But the thing is, when I do, I absorb the shock that would’ve been if I was hit by it. So I don’t use it much often.
Stopping bullets leaves welts.
Stopping a snowball gives me frostbite for an hour.
And so on. I make it work, though - I use gloves that absorb electricity and to the rubber tips of the fingers, where it cancels out. It’s actually two gloves inside of one - to protect the skin. Sometimes, though, people start to get smart and aim for places my hand won’t be able to get to very quickly. So it’s not all perfect.
You could say I’m the kind of person that doesn’t give a f*** about injuries. Bad cut? Don’t matter to me. Hit in the groin? Ok, I’ll be writhing in pain on the ground an hour or two, but it’s fine. Goes the same path for my power. Sure, it’ll hurt like a mother****er for a bit, especially if it’s something like a couch (don’t get me started on last week), but I don’t care.
And yeah, I take advantage of all this. I perform shows once or twice a week. Payroll’s about 3 grand. What do I gotta lose from that? Not a big name, but it’s good for a living.
And there you go. That’s my story, and the story’s what it’ll always be.
[NOTE: ALL INFO IN THIS WRITING IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. IT IS TOLD IN THE FIRST PERSON, HOWEVER IT DOES NOT MAKE REFERENCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS OR EVENTS IN HISTORY.] | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | My power, even if I could use it in the way one would expect, is on the weirder side. You see, I can grow any part of my body at an extremely rapid rate, in any shape I need. However, I can't *kill* the tissue I grow. At least, not any faster than usual. If I were to extend a bone dagger from my wrist, for example, I can't just destroy it with a simple thought, I have to actually cut the thing off. It's easy to not grow pain receptors, luckily.
I eventually figured out a way around this, although it's not very nice. I cut off the limb I want to change (Yes, it hurts a f\*\*king ton), and regrow it from a blueprint I have to memorize perfectly. The result is amazing, though. Imagine a bulletproof shield that folds out of your arm, completely invisible when not in use, that can't even be found by metal detectors or infrared scanners, because it's made of the exact same materials of the rest of your body. The process is expensive, though, because I need a literal diamond-tipped buzzsaw to cut through my regenerating reinforced bone. I can do a lot of other things, like pack muscle fibers almost three times tighter, generate large amounts of digestive acid from pores concealed in my arms and fire it like a water pistol, etc. It's generally very helpful, but I still have a hard time dealing with AP rounds, explosives, and stun grenades. And don't even get me started on fire elementals. Also, wearing a suit is kind of hard when you have three-foot blades folded into your forearms.
Oh, yeah, I did get a little help from my girlfriend Symbiotic in terms of exactly what weapons to make. You probably know me as Bonesaw. | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | "My earliest memory is of the pain. Where bones grew and shifted under my skin. Of the doctors who said I was unique- the same way a person with a newly discovered disease was unique.
Sure, people had powers- the first doctor that actually figured out what was going on had x-ray vision.
But I was different. Most physical alteration powers were there at birth- a small tail, an extra set of limbs, or extra eyes were some documented examples. But my alterations grew in afterwards.
I remember a doctor suggesting a healer, but my parents didn't have enough money for one, or for surgery to potentially remove them, or at least ease the way.
I woke my house up in the middle of the night, screaming as my back bowed so harshly that I nearly bent in half. I don't remember much from that point on, but the way my parents tell it makes it sound like a horror movie.
I screamed as the bones shifted beneath my skin. For the previous month, bruises had peppered my back down both sides of my spine and for the last week, large blisters encompassing my entire back had appeared.
Now, the bones and muscles and tissues were pressing up against the inside of the blister walls.
They didn't know what to do, the whole time I had been screaming bloody murder, and suddenly, the blisters burst.
Honestly, the whole process sounds disgusting, and I'm glad I wasn't aware enough to remember most of it.
The blister fluid showered the room, and beneath the large swaths of loose skin, my parents saw them for the first time.
My wings.
They weren't much to look at, back then. Just lumpy- although very soft- mounds of grey downy feathers.
It wasn't until I hit puberty that my 'flight feathers' came in.
So not only was I experiencing normal puberty, but my wings were constantly itchy, and the very beginnings of the feathers' sheaths were poking through. It took about a year and a half of constantly itchy wings, even though I kept them well-groomed-
And yes, I know the gossip, and yes, I do have Uropygial glands- oil glands- to help preen my feathers. But unlike most birds where they have one at the base of their tail feathers, my glands are at the base of my wings on the inside, where my wings rest against my back-
But anyway, finally when the last sheath came off, my feathers looked... honestly, breathtaking. The sky blues, the rich purples, and the lush greens.
So I went from some pudgy little nobody with boring grey wings to something of magnificence- not to toot my own horn.
And all the heads turned- sure some kids said my wings made me look gay, but the girls fawned over me.
And to be honest, a large part of me hated it. I thought it was the popularity, but I realize now, it was the way I was treated. Like an object.
I can't tell you how many feathers I lost that first year to people who 'thought it looked loose' so they just plucked it!
By the end of the year I had picked up a horrible habit of destroying my wings when I was nervous, and people picked up on it, especially when I absolutely destroyed my wings near the end of the year with a pair of scissors.
My parents pushed me to therapy, which was honestly the best thing they could have done for me at that point. She truly helped me, and by the next year, I was ready to stand up for myself.
My feathers had grown back in by then, after a molt during the spring. I let people know what was not okay, and my senior year was amazing.
I heard a lot about the hero colleges. While I thought being a hero sounded cool, there also was the very important point.
I had no real powers.
Sure, I had my wings. But unlike a bird, my bones were solid. Because of that, I was grounded.
And so I looked for other job opportunities, and eventually I landed on modelling.
And that's how I began! I went to a fashion school, learned modelling, made fast friends, and eventually became super successful!
I send money back to my family often, and donate quite a bit to my charity: Hope on Feathered Wings. Which works to make sure children can have their medical expenses paid for. I won't lie, I was lucky my body knew what it had to do when my wings came in, but many children are not so fortunate with their powers."
\- Interview with Elsu Sparrow on the background of his powers. | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | So you might be wondering how I got my, err, unique super hero name. You might think a speedster like myself might have a name like Speed Man, or The Zoomer. Sure, I get that a lot. The problem for me has always been that I simply can't do what those heroes do. Speed Man has a super durable body that can withstand the forces of extreme movement. The Zoomer actually bends time in a field around her, meaning that she is never actually moving as fast as she seems to in real time.
For me, I first found out about my powers when I fractured 80% of the bones in my body when I was 11 years old. I healed up okay for the most part, but during my recovery, the doctors put me on a regimen of power-reducing drugs until I could learn to control my power and use it without injuring myself.
The first thing to learn was that there are simply limits to how fast I can move. You can tear a ligament or rip a bone apart going too fast. The next thing to learn was that even a small amount of speed applied to a strike against a hard surface (like bone) with break your own bones. So, that certainly rules certain strategies out. I can't just run across the room at Mach 2 and punch a guy square in the skull, now can I?
But the thing is, I still think fast. Even though I may not have super intelligence, I can apply a great deal of time to thinking through any task. I quickly became a valuable team member for my fast problem solving skills alone.
But this also applies to fighting. Against a non-speedster, the rest of you are all insanely slow. I can easily dodge just about any normal attack. And in terms of damage, all I really have to do is go for the squishy parts. Throats, Guts, and yes, even genitals are all fair game.
So, yeah, I like to think my biggest asset to a team is my decisive and quick decision making, my ability to learn new skills in minutes instead of days, and my agile combat prowess. But you probably know me best as the Cock Knocker. | You wouldn't think I have super strength hell the squad of the heroes I fight along side think its funny that I'm stronger technically than Doser my team mate yes the one that knocked down a building last week he said sorry. It isn't malicious in fact they help me hide it telling the world my only power is a lower tier accuracy booster able to hit the exact right spot to crack a opponent which I do . Why do I need this hiding well its because I lack the super durability to do much with the power yes I can and I have arm wrestled Doser trough a table but that one wrenched my shoulder and damned near broke it. I was drunk sue me.
So I did the only things that I could I focused and trained and trained. Then with a bit of technological help from cypher to make me some super pressure absorbing gloves and boots so my fists and feet don't shatter I get to be a hero as well as getting her to whip up some really strong pain repressors in case I need to do something big.
Its actually rather handy see while my powers don't sync properly for me to use my main power like everyone else they do mesh slightly for me to use my secondary my available weak points are considerably higher than another with a similar talent and the requisite super agility that it normally twins with. It also means that when villains try to take me out they target the wrong powers thinking I'm going to be faster and more agile than I am now while this means I get caught a lot it also means I can bust my way out at a opportune moment usually when they monologue and punch them very hard in the face. If I take some damage on the way well that's part of the job I will heal. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | My power, even if I could use it in the way one would expect, is on the weirder side. You see, I can grow any part of my body at an extremely rapid rate, in any shape I need. However, I can't *kill* the tissue I grow. At least, not any faster than usual. If I were to extend a bone dagger from my wrist, for example, I can't just destroy it with a simple thought, I have to actually cut the thing off. It's easy to not grow pain receptors, luckily.
I eventually figured out a way around this, although it's not very nice. I cut off the limb I want to change (Yes, it hurts a f\*\*king ton), and regrow it from a blueprint I have to memorize perfectly. The result is amazing, though. Imagine a bulletproof shield that folds out of your arm, completely invisible when not in use, that can't even be found by metal detectors or infrared scanners, because it's made of the exact same materials of the rest of your body. The process is expensive, though, because I need a literal diamond-tipped buzzsaw to cut through my regenerating reinforced bone. I can do a lot of other things, like pack muscle fibers almost three times tighter, generate large amounts of digestive acid from pores concealed in my arms and fire it like a water pistol, etc. It's generally very helpful, but I still have a hard time dealing with AP rounds, explosives, and stun grenades. And don't even get me started on fire elementals. Also, wearing a suit is kind of hard when you have three-foot blades folded into your forearms.
Oh, yeah, I did get a little help from my girlfriend Symbiotic in terms of exactly what weapons to make. You probably know me as Bonesaw. | It’s really not that big of a deal, to be honest.
Yes, I can stop objects in their tracks by just touching them. But the thing is, when I do, I absorb the shock that would’ve been if I was hit by it. So I don’t use it much often.
Stopping bullets leaves welts.
Stopping a snowball gives me frostbite for an hour.
And so on. I make it work, though - I use gloves that absorb electricity and to the rubber tips of the fingers, where it cancels out. It’s actually two gloves inside of one - to protect the skin. Sometimes, though, people start to get smart and aim for places my hand won’t be able to get to very quickly. So it’s not all perfect.
You could say I’m the kind of person that doesn’t give a f*** about injuries. Bad cut? Don’t matter to me. Hit in the groin? Ok, I’ll be writhing in pain on the ground an hour or two, but it’s fine. Goes the same path for my power. Sure, it’ll hurt like a mother****er for a bit, especially if it’s something like a couch (don’t get me started on last week), but I don’t care.
And yeah, I take advantage of all this. I perform shows once or twice a week. Payroll’s about 3 grand. What do I gotta lose from that? Not a big name, but it’s good for a living.
And there you go. That’s my story, and the story’s what it’ll always be.
[NOTE: ALL INFO IN THIS WRITING IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. IT IS TOLD IN THE FIRST PERSON, HOWEVER IT DOES NOT MAKE REFERENCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS OR EVENTS IN HISTORY.] | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | "My earliest memory is of the pain. Where bones grew and shifted under my skin. Of the doctors who said I was unique- the same way a person with a newly discovered disease was unique.
Sure, people had powers- the first doctor that actually figured out what was going on had x-ray vision.
But I was different. Most physical alteration powers were there at birth- a small tail, an extra set of limbs, or extra eyes were some documented examples. But my alterations grew in afterwards.
I remember a doctor suggesting a healer, but my parents didn't have enough money for one, or for surgery to potentially remove them, or at least ease the way.
I woke my house up in the middle of the night, screaming as my back bowed so harshly that I nearly bent in half. I don't remember much from that point on, but the way my parents tell it makes it sound like a horror movie.
I screamed as the bones shifted beneath my skin. For the previous month, bruises had peppered my back down both sides of my spine and for the last week, large blisters encompassing my entire back had appeared.
Now, the bones and muscles and tissues were pressing up against the inside of the blister walls.
They didn't know what to do, the whole time I had been screaming bloody murder, and suddenly, the blisters burst.
Honestly, the whole process sounds disgusting, and I'm glad I wasn't aware enough to remember most of it.
The blister fluid showered the room, and beneath the large swaths of loose skin, my parents saw them for the first time.
My wings.
They weren't much to look at, back then. Just lumpy- although very soft- mounds of grey downy feathers.
It wasn't until I hit puberty that my 'flight feathers' came in.
So not only was I experiencing normal puberty, but my wings were constantly itchy, and the very beginnings of the feathers' sheaths were poking through. It took about a year and a half of constantly itchy wings, even though I kept them well-groomed-
And yes, I know the gossip, and yes, I do have Uropygial glands- oil glands- to help preen my feathers. But unlike most birds where they have one at the base of their tail feathers, my glands are at the base of my wings on the inside, where my wings rest against my back-
But anyway, finally when the last sheath came off, my feathers looked... honestly, breathtaking. The sky blues, the rich purples, and the lush greens.
So I went from some pudgy little nobody with boring grey wings to something of magnificence- not to toot my own horn.
And all the heads turned- sure some kids said my wings made me look gay, but the girls fawned over me.
And to be honest, a large part of me hated it. I thought it was the popularity, but I realize now, it was the way I was treated. Like an object.
I can't tell you how many feathers I lost that first year to people who 'thought it looked loose' so they just plucked it!
By the end of the year I had picked up a horrible habit of destroying my wings when I was nervous, and people picked up on it, especially when I absolutely destroyed my wings near the end of the year with a pair of scissors.
My parents pushed me to therapy, which was honestly the best thing they could have done for me at that point. She truly helped me, and by the next year, I was ready to stand up for myself.
My feathers had grown back in by then, after a molt during the spring. I let people know what was not okay, and my senior year was amazing.
I heard a lot about the hero colleges. While I thought being a hero sounded cool, there also was the very important point.
I had no real powers.
Sure, I had my wings. But unlike a bird, my bones were solid. Because of that, I was grounded.
And so I looked for other job opportunities, and eventually I landed on modelling.
And that's how I began! I went to a fashion school, learned modelling, made fast friends, and eventually became super successful!
I send money back to my family often, and donate quite a bit to my charity: Hope on Feathered Wings. Which works to make sure children can have their medical expenses paid for. I won't lie, I was lucky my body knew what it had to do when my wings came in, but many children are not so fortunate with their powers."
\- Interview with Elsu Sparrow on the background of his powers. | It’s really not that big of a deal, to be honest.
Yes, I can stop objects in their tracks by just touching them. But the thing is, when I do, I absorb the shock that would’ve been if I was hit by it. So I don’t use it much often.
Stopping bullets leaves welts.
Stopping a snowball gives me frostbite for an hour.
And so on. I make it work, though - I use gloves that absorb electricity and to the rubber tips of the fingers, where it cancels out. It’s actually two gloves inside of one - to protect the skin. Sometimes, though, people start to get smart and aim for places my hand won’t be able to get to very quickly. So it’s not all perfect.
You could say I’m the kind of person that doesn’t give a f*** about injuries. Bad cut? Don’t matter to me. Hit in the groin? Ok, I’ll be writhing in pain on the ground an hour or two, but it’s fine. Goes the same path for my power. Sure, it’ll hurt like a mother****er for a bit, especially if it’s something like a couch (don’t get me started on last week), but I don’t care.
And yeah, I take advantage of all this. I perform shows once or twice a week. Payroll’s about 3 grand. What do I gotta lose from that? Not a big name, but it’s good for a living.
And there you go. That’s my story, and the story’s what it’ll always be.
[NOTE: ALL INFO IN THIS WRITING IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. IT IS TOLD IN THE FIRST PERSON, HOWEVER IT DOES NOT MAKE REFERENCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS OR EVENTS IN HISTORY.] | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | "My earliest memory is of the pain. Where bones grew and shifted under my skin. Of the doctors who said I was unique- the same way a person with a newly discovered disease was unique.
Sure, people had powers- the first doctor that actually figured out what was going on had x-ray vision.
But I was different. Most physical alteration powers were there at birth- a small tail, an extra set of limbs, or extra eyes were some documented examples. But my alterations grew in afterwards.
I remember a doctor suggesting a healer, but my parents didn't have enough money for one, or for surgery to potentially remove them, or at least ease the way.
I woke my house up in the middle of the night, screaming as my back bowed so harshly that I nearly bent in half. I don't remember much from that point on, but the way my parents tell it makes it sound like a horror movie.
I screamed as the bones shifted beneath my skin. For the previous month, bruises had peppered my back down both sides of my spine and for the last week, large blisters encompassing my entire back had appeared.
Now, the bones and muscles and tissues were pressing up against the inside of the blister walls.
They didn't know what to do, the whole time I had been screaming bloody murder, and suddenly, the blisters burst.
Honestly, the whole process sounds disgusting, and I'm glad I wasn't aware enough to remember most of it.
The blister fluid showered the room, and beneath the large swaths of loose skin, my parents saw them for the first time.
My wings.
They weren't much to look at, back then. Just lumpy- although very soft- mounds of grey downy feathers.
It wasn't until I hit puberty that my 'flight feathers' came in.
So not only was I experiencing normal puberty, but my wings were constantly itchy, and the very beginnings of the feathers' sheaths were poking through. It took about a year and a half of constantly itchy wings, even though I kept them well-groomed-
And yes, I know the gossip, and yes, I do have Uropygial glands- oil glands- to help preen my feathers. But unlike most birds where they have one at the base of their tail feathers, my glands are at the base of my wings on the inside, where my wings rest against my back-
But anyway, finally when the last sheath came off, my feathers looked... honestly, breathtaking. The sky blues, the rich purples, and the lush greens.
So I went from some pudgy little nobody with boring grey wings to something of magnificence- not to toot my own horn.
And all the heads turned- sure some kids said my wings made me look gay, but the girls fawned over me.
And to be honest, a large part of me hated it. I thought it was the popularity, but I realize now, it was the way I was treated. Like an object.
I can't tell you how many feathers I lost that first year to people who 'thought it looked loose' so they just plucked it!
By the end of the year I had picked up a horrible habit of destroying my wings when I was nervous, and people picked up on it, especially when I absolutely destroyed my wings near the end of the year with a pair of scissors.
My parents pushed me to therapy, which was honestly the best thing they could have done for me at that point. She truly helped me, and by the next year, I was ready to stand up for myself.
My feathers had grown back in by then, after a molt during the spring. I let people know what was not okay, and my senior year was amazing.
I heard a lot about the hero colleges. While I thought being a hero sounded cool, there also was the very important point.
I had no real powers.
Sure, I had my wings. But unlike a bird, my bones were solid. Because of that, I was grounded.
And so I looked for other job opportunities, and eventually I landed on modelling.
And that's how I began! I went to a fashion school, learned modelling, made fast friends, and eventually became super successful!
I send money back to my family often, and donate quite a bit to my charity: Hope on Feathered Wings. Which works to make sure children can have their medical expenses paid for. I won't lie, I was lucky my body knew what it had to do when my wings came in, but many children are not so fortunate with their powers."
\- Interview with Elsu Sparrow on the background of his powers. | My power, even if I could use it in the way one would expect, is on the weirder side. You see, I can grow any part of my body at an extremely rapid rate, in any shape I need. However, I can't *kill* the tissue I grow. At least, not any faster than usual. If I were to extend a bone dagger from my wrist, for example, I can't just destroy it with a simple thought, I have to actually cut the thing off. It's easy to not grow pain receptors, luckily.
I eventually figured out a way around this, although it's not very nice. I cut off the limb I want to change (Yes, it hurts a f\*\*king ton), and regrow it from a blueprint I have to memorize perfectly. The result is amazing, though. Imagine a bulletproof shield that folds out of your arm, completely invisible when not in use, that can't even be found by metal detectors or infrared scanners, because it's made of the exact same materials of the rest of your body. The process is expensive, though, because I need a literal diamond-tipped buzzsaw to cut through my regenerating reinforced bone. I can do a lot of other things, like pack muscle fibers almost three times tighter, generate large amounts of digestive acid from pores concealed in my arms and fire it like a water pistol, etc. It's generally very helpful, but I still have a hard time dealing with AP rounds, explosives, and stun grenades. And don't even get me started on fire elementals. Also, wearing a suit is kind of hard when you have three-foot blades folded into your forearms.
Oh, yeah, I did get a little help from my girlfriend Symbiotic in terms of exactly what weapons to make. You probably know me as Bonesaw. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | So you might be wondering how I got my, err, unique super hero name. You might think a speedster like myself might have a name like Speed Man, or The Zoomer. Sure, I get that a lot. The problem for me has always been that I simply can't do what those heroes do. Speed Man has a super durable body that can withstand the forces of extreme movement. The Zoomer actually bends time in a field around her, meaning that she is never actually moving as fast as she seems to in real time.
For me, I first found out about my powers when I fractured 80% of the bones in my body when I was 11 years old. I healed up okay for the most part, but during my recovery, the doctors put me on a regimen of power-reducing drugs until I could learn to control my power and use it without injuring myself.
The first thing to learn was that there are simply limits to how fast I can move. You can tear a ligament or rip a bone apart going too fast. The next thing to learn was that even a small amount of speed applied to a strike against a hard surface (like bone) with break your own bones. So, that certainly rules certain strategies out. I can't just run across the room at Mach 2 and punch a guy square in the skull, now can I?
But the thing is, I still think fast. Even though I may not have super intelligence, I can apply a great deal of time to thinking through any task. I quickly became a valuable team member for my fast problem solving skills alone.
But this also applies to fighting. Against a non-speedster, the rest of you are all insanely slow. I can easily dodge just about any normal attack. And in terms of damage, all I really have to do is go for the squishy parts. Throats, Guts, and yes, even genitals are all fair game.
So, yeah, I like to think my biggest asset to a team is my decisive and quick decision making, my ability to learn new skills in minutes instead of days, and my agile combat prowess. But you probably know me best as the Cock Knocker. | When most kids find out what their power is, it's a day of celebration. For me, it was a day of pain. When I tell people I can secrete acid, they think it's cool; that I'm destined to be a great hero. At least, until they notice the scars running up my arms. You see, a lot of powers require some sort of secondary mutation, so that they don't hurt their user. I should be acid-resistant. I'm not.
It wouldn't have been hard to just pick a job where I would never use my power. It's what I was expected to do, just like the kids with weak powers, or the ones who couldn't control their power. But my dream, the one that I'd held on to since before I knew just how difficult it would be, was to be a hero. Not in the vague "I just want to help people" sense, but the job. Working with police to capture villains who use their powers for evil: that's what I want.
I researched heroes with weak powers, with powers with strong backlash, even some with villainous powers. There were none with backlash as bad as mine, or with a power so useless or villainous they didn't bother to use it. I'd just have to be the first, then. The first hero who didn't use a power.
I'm not going to claim it was easy. It's hard to become a hero, even with a strong power, even if you get accepted into a dedicated hero school. And no hero school would accept someone with a power that hurts them. I knew how to fight, I'm a good planner, and I can gather information quickly. By all means, I was more qualified than 95% of the people applying. It wasn't worth anything, though, not in a world where your future was decided for you the day your power comes in.
I hadn't come this far, trained this hard, just to quit. If I couldn't become a licensed hero, well, I'll just be an unlicensed hero. You might be thinking,"Isn't that just a vigilante?" but, you see, vigilantes are people who use their powers without a license, and I haven't used my power since the day it came in. Technically, the police should come after me for assault, but between hiding my identity and the fact that the police can't bring heroes in until a power is used, I don't have anything to worry about.
So, that's my story. The story of the 'vigilante' no one can catch. But also the story of how, despite never using a power, I became a hero. The story that goes to show, your fate isn't decided by your power, but by your actions. | |
[WP] You have a superpower, but not the requisite secondary power usually needed to use it (e.g fire power but no immunity). You still make it work. | So you might be wondering how I got my, err, unique super hero name. You might think a speedster like myself might have a name like Speed Man, or The Zoomer. Sure, I get that a lot. The problem for me has always been that I simply can't do what those heroes do. Speed Man has a super durable body that can withstand the forces of extreme movement. The Zoomer actually bends time in a field around her, meaning that she is never actually moving as fast as she seems to in real time.
For me, I first found out about my powers when I fractured 80% of the bones in my body when I was 11 years old. I healed up okay for the most part, but during my recovery, the doctors put me on a regimen of power-reducing drugs until I could learn to control my power and use it without injuring myself.
The first thing to learn was that there are simply limits to how fast I can move. You can tear a ligament or rip a bone apart going too fast. The next thing to learn was that even a small amount of speed applied to a strike against a hard surface (like bone) with break your own bones. So, that certainly rules certain strategies out. I can't just run across the room at Mach 2 and punch a guy square in the skull, now can I?
But the thing is, I still think fast. Even though I may not have super intelligence, I can apply a great deal of time to thinking through any task. I quickly became a valuable team member for my fast problem solving skills alone.
But this also applies to fighting. Against a non-speedster, the rest of you are all insanely slow. I can easily dodge just about any normal attack. And in terms of damage, all I really have to do is go for the squishy parts. Throats, Guts, and yes, even genitals are all fair game.
So, yeah, I like to think my biggest asset to a team is my decisive and quick decision making, my ability to learn new skills in minutes instead of days, and my agile combat prowess. But you probably know me best as the Cock Knocker. | I wasn't always like this, you know?
When I first found out that I had the power of invisibility, I was thrilled. It was the wet dream of every teenage boy, and I was - by all account - a teenage boy, 15 years old, to be exact. But, thing is - my power doesn't work like you'd be expecting it to. Let me explain.
When you think of turning invisible - you imagine yourself roaming around the streets, watching everybody while nobody can actually see you, right? Well, wrong.
When you turn invisible - EVERY part of your body turns invisible, including your eyes. You know - the tiny little spheres that are responsible for absorbing and transmitting images into your brain, for it to then analyze those images. Well then, when you're invisible - they do not do that. Not at all. When they're invisible or transparent - light particles travel right through them without being absorbed into your retina, putting it simply - you don't see shit. Pardon my language.
Now that you know this, you might be thinking - how did I even know that I had this power, to begin with - if every time that I turned invisible, I became as blind as a bat (minus the echolocation, of course)?
I didn't know. For the longest time - I thought I was blacking out every time I turned invisible. Yes, I thought that blacking out was literally - becoming blind while retaining your consciousness, which later I found out to not be true, funnily enough - but that is a story for another time.
Sooner than later, my family found out that I was turning invisible, my mother freaked out, and my father couldn't be more excited. But that's not important. You're all here because you want to know how I overcame my disability and became the hero that I am today, am I right?
Fine. I developed an extremely keen short term memory and worked tirelessly on sharpening my reflexes - a feat that took me more than 2 decades to accomplish, and one that I am very proud of. So, the way that I work my power is by intervals. I will turn invisible for a couple of seconds and start my action - then turn visible for a moment to reassess the situation and to readjust my next action, while not giving the bad guys enough time to act. Plus, moving in unexpected directions and in unexpected ways - is the main part of avoiding injuries.
Hahahahaha. I'm sorry, you really believed that? I wish it worked like that, but the answer is far more simple - technology. I don't do shit. I simply wear a suit, that by the way - also turns invisible with me, which is unexpected - I always thought that if someone turns invisible, that their clothes remain visible, but they do not. Anyway - I turn invisible, some guy, locked in a bunker behind a screen, 150 miles away from where I'm deployed, pilots the suit and kills all the terrorist fuckers, while I can almost take a nap.
This is the power of technology. This is the power of our great military and our great nation!
I've been Invisiblind, and you've all been amazing!
USA! USA! USA!
​
Edit: Formatting | |
[WP] In this universe, every time someone’s loved one dies, they obtain superpowers. The problem is, you wake up this morning with the ability to turn invisible - but no one you know died today. | You ever get the feeling that you're being watched?
Hi, the name's Ron, and I know it's a stupid question. Everyone at some point or another has always felt like they were being watched; regardless of whether or not they actually were. It's just something that comes and passes. At least, that's what I've heard it's like; I wouldn't actually know.
This "feeling" that everyone I know has said they've had before: I have never felt it. Now I know what you're thinking: "Sure you've felt it, you just didn't realize that's what it was!". It wouldn't be the first time I have heard that sentence before. But I don't think that's the case here. Everyone describes it almost like a sixth sense, something that suddenly overcomes them and makes them uncomfortable. The thing is: I have never felt like that. I have never had a sudden feeling like that overtake me before, and I'm pretty sure I would know if I had gained a sudden feeling like that. There have certainly been moments in my life where it felt like something was "off", but nothing like that. At least, that's what I had thought until this morning.
Everyone starts their day differently. Some go back to sleep for a little bit; others get up and eat some breakfast. As for me, I go straight into the shower; the water helps me not feel as sleepy. It was odd night for me: I had barely gotten any sleep. I kept turning and twisting in bed, readjusting myself over and over, never finding that sweet spot. I don't usually have problems sleeping, but something had kept bothering me and keeping me awake. I don't know why, as nothing had happened that would make me feel that way; but despite this the feeling continued. When the morning finally came, I felt tired and groggy. I thought surely the shower would help me with this.
I was wrong.
When I stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror, I finally noticed it; though perhaps in this case, it would be more accurate to say that I didn't notice anything: not even myself. My first thought that hit me was the obvious one: I'm still really tired and have just not fully processed my surroundings yet. So I waited for a few seconds to pass, shaking my head to get the blood flowing. But I still couldn't see myself in the mirror. "Ah." I sighed to myself. The steam. It must be the steam from the shower that has clouded the mirror and blocked my view of it. Certainly this is what was happening. But as soon as this thought passed through my head, so did the fact that I had taken a cold shower. I looked at my body: I could see myself just fine. My mind moved to the next logical thought "There must be a problem with the mirror." The only issue is that makes no sense: how could a mirror fail to reflect the image in it? In a bit of a panic, a ran out of the bathroom, but tripped on something and tumbled into my desk. I looked down but I wasn't sure what I tripped on. Multiple items had fallen from my desk: My alarm clock, my lamp, my notebook-
But the strange thing is, I don't own a notebook.
After a moment of confusion, I slowly picked up the notebook. It had no name on it or anything to identify who it belonged to. Thinking there would be a clue as to who's it was, I flipped to a random page:
"Day 985: Lunch today was a Turkey BLT. Ron got his with avocado, but I never took a liking to avocado. I watched when he wasted half his sandwich; it kind of pissed me off a bit. Some people are starving in the world, and here he is wasting a sandwich. Of course I still love him though. I would have told him this, but it's not like he'll hear me; although I have certainly tried these past few years to get a conversation out of him. But they don't teach you in school that a side effect of staying invisible for too long is fading from other peoples awareness. Although at this point I've gotten used to that. At the moment, I am far more concerned about my other condition. It's getting worse by the day, and I obviously have no one to get help from. Hopefully it passes on its own, because I don't know what to do if it doesn't..."
I dropped the notebook and fell on the floor. What had started as an already weird morning had now turned into something completely different. At best, this was a sick joke. At worst, a stalker. But more than that...
One thing I forgot to mention before: superpowers. These have always been a commonplace thing in this world, but it wasn't discovered until a few decades back that the cause was the passing of a loved one. The stronger their feelings toward you, the higher your chance of inheriting their ability. This ranged from a number of abilities such as flight, super strength, and even invisibility... invisibility which I now have. Certainly it would have explained why I couldn't see myself in the mirror, along with what the person in the notebook was talking about. Only...for me to get their ability they had to love me. Why the hell would someone who I didn't even know love me? And does this mean that they're dead? All questions that would certainly be found in that notebook on the floor next to me. I looked at it, and noticed it had landed on the last page of the notebook. Whatever was written there was the final entry of the notebook, and would have to explain what had happened to them. I picked the notebook back up, and immediately noticed that the ink was fresh, and written only a few hours ago. I looked to the top of the page, but instead of a numbered day, it instead had a different title-
"Dear Ron",
"I don't really know what to say, or how to say it. This must certainly be odd to you, finding a random notebook in your room that details the past few years of your life. I'm sure the first word that comes to your mind is "Stalker", and I suppose you wouldn't be wrong. But unlike a stalker, hiding in the shadows, I was right there with you the whole time. You...you wouldn't have known that though. That's my price for being to cocky with my powers. Most people get a pretty lame power, but somehow I was gifted with invisibility. And of course the first thing I do with it is mess with people and commit petty theft. Maybe this is my punishment for that, not being able to talk to you...to touch you...to express my love for you.
It was quite a few years ago, and I doubt you even remember it. It was around the time I had permanently become invisible due to my foolishness. Overuse of a power always has consequences, and in my case it was to never become visible again. More than that, no one will ever hear me or feel my touch again. I've all but faded from existence. I decided this was no way to live, and though it would be best to just put an end to all of it. So I went out one night and planted myself in front of a car. They wouldn't see me, so surely they wouldn't stop. It would be over soon: quick and painless. But that didn't happen, because they did stop. And that person who stopped was you. Suddenly in the middle of the road, for absolutely no reason, or so I though. Then I looked down next to me, and noticed the injured squirrel on the road. It was bleeding bad, and couldn't move. It had probably been hit by another car passing by. It certainly wouldn't make it through the night, and like me was better off dead. But instead of a mercy killing, you got out of your car, covered it in a cloth, and brought it to your car. I was curious, so I got in along with you to see what your plans were for that poor squirrel. You then rushed it to the vet, begging the people at the front to help in any way they could. You were kind like that; always have been since. I saw myself in that squirrel: something that shouldn't be kept alive to suffer. Even still, you did everything you could to make sure it could still have a life. And in that same way you helped the squirrel, you helped me. And it was then that I fell in love with you, and decided to always be with you.
I'm sick, Ron, and there is nothing in this world that I alone can do to get better. It's probably a highly treatable sickness as well, but one that I was unable to ask anyone for help with. I can feel that it will take me tonight. I'm scared, Rob. Scared to leave you, and scared of what you will think when you find this. I'll be here with you though, in my final moments. Just that alone makes it alright. Thank you. Thank you for saving that squir-...for saving me.
With love,
\-Anna."
............................................
"Anna...". The name I was eagerly anticipating. One that rang throughout my mind....a mind that is flooded with thoughts and emotions. I can't make sense of any of them, and I probably never will. But somehow, throughout that sea of though, something came to the surface: the feeling of being watched. A feeling I had never felt before, and I now knew why: I had always been watched.
The feeling was constant, and never went away. I just didn't realize that's what it was. At the same time, another thought came up in my head:
What I tripped on coming out of the bathroom. | This morning was just like any other. I woke up dreading to go to school, but I knew my parents would yell at me if I didn't go.
I took a quick shower and as I looked in the mirror I realized the mirror was empty. "Huh?" I said putting my over the mirror. My hand materializes and I'm left wondering for a second and then I realize what's happened.
"Wait who died?" I ask myself. I immediately head to my parent's bedroom, but their still sleeping. I send a quick message to the rest of my relatives, but by the time I'm finished taking a shower everyone's said that no one they know has passed away.
I doubt my parents would be awake anytime soon so I knocked onto my sister's room.
"Go away," she says.
"But Layla," I say. "I got a power."
She immediately opens the door and says "You don't have to lie to get me to open the door you know."
"Check this out," I say making my entire body invisible.
"Whoa," she says. "You really did a get a power. But, as far as I can tell I haven't gotten anything. You think it was one of your friends."
"I'm not sure..." I say. "I have to ask out at school. I already texted everyone."
When I do go to school I immediately ask my teacher if I can go to the power management office. They agree to let me go, but like my sister only believe me after I demonstrate my power.
Their is an old man sitting behind the desk in the office. "What happened kid?" he asks me.
I had to admit there was a sort of authoritative aura around him, one that wanted me to obey him. But I did my best to ignore it.
"I got a new power, but I can't find out who died."
"Well have you checked with your parents, close friends, and other close relatives."
"Yeah," I say. "But they are all fine."
"I would recommend you calm down. You would only get the power if it was someone you know well. The only two people you get it from by default would be your parents. Your not adopted are you?"
"Of course not," I say.
"Well let me check your file," he says. He goes into a thick drawing and he uses his powers to lift all the junk floating the room and organize it.
"That's neat," I say.
"It comes in handy," he says . "But it definitely wasn't worth my wife." I don't speak for the next few minutes because I'm not sure what to say.
"Here it is," he says . "Let's have a look at your file."
"Oh no," he says and I stand up from my chair. "What is it?" I ask.
"Who do you look like more?" he asks. "My father I say."
"What is his power and who did he receive them from them." I say. "He has three, shadow cloaking from his ex girlfriend, high jump from one of his uncles, and finally flame manipulation from his father." I don't know why I felt so worried considering he was asking me just regular questions. Maybe I was overreacting.
"Okay give me your father's full name."
"Christopher Alexander Ranger." I say.
"Has he ever changed his name?" he asks me.
"Not that I know off. Uhm, but everyone I know calls him Robby for some reason. Everyone said it was a family nickname, so that might be useful."
"And your name is Ken. Look at this monitor, do you recognize the woman in this picture?"
He shows me a woman who strangely looks like a little like me. "Uhm, know. Who is that."
"I fear she is your mother." "I'm sorry have to tell you this, but your father was accused of rape nearly a decade ago. This was the alleged victim. She died yesterday from a mugging. I assume you can piece together the rest."
"No, no, no, NO!" I say. "That can't be true." I say in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
"But it is true, all the evidence points to it. I'm sorry, but that is your biological mother. I'm calling the police right now. Would you like to stay here for the rest of the day. I'll have you excused from your classes. I am also a counselor so you know you can tell me anything, right?" he says.
He sounds like a robot, like he's rehearsed that exact phrase a million times.
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE," I say storming out of the office. No way, this was all some kind of cruel joke. No way that my father did that, and now way that was my mother.
But i the back of my mind I thought about just how similar we looked. So much so, that it couldn't just be a simple coincidence...
For more stories and updates join me at r/NinjaMasterXY | |
[WP] Humans discover elves and in the process also discover that humans are not a race. We are the orks, and seem massive and extremely dumb compared to the elves. | Hot damn, I am one smart motherfucker.
Or at least, that's what I thought. It's what I thought when I received my doctorate in electrical engineering. It's what I thought when I created systems so efficient, they replaced old ones in every major war-prolonging institution across the country. I decided to delve further into chemistry, and created almost magical compounds to protect and cool my miraculous machines. I even wrote a book, and got an honorary bachelor's in philosophy for it.
I was so full of myself, I was blind to all the faults. No one loved me. I had money, respect by my peers, and loyalty from my students. But they didn't want me. They would have preferred any other man as brilliant as I. But still, I thought I was hot shit until I met...him.
I was jogging, trying to maintain a perfect body to complement a perfect mind. I thought when I ran, much like Alan Turing. I was mulling over the problems of the day, such as my personal finances, a new and improved flexible carbon-based polymer, and the wiring of a supercomputer I was building with a friend (as a hobby).
But suddenly, I tripped over a stick. A stick? This is a wide, paved sidewalk, it's still bright out, and I definitely was not so lost in thought to not notice it. Besides, sticks don't scream so loudly. I scrambled to my feet, and whipped my head around.
"What the fuck? Who's there?" I yelled at the air. It sounded like the lower half of a toddler had been run over by a truck, leaving it only the capacity for shrieking. It stopped, and I just heard agonized panting. I listened closely, and began to follow it to a seemingly empty spot, when he spoke.
"Stop!" He groaned. "Don't come any closer! I'm warning you!"
"Who are you? ...Where are you?"
"Stupid ork." With a shimmer and a hiss, he appeared. It was not like smoke clearing, or light beginning to hit the invisible man, but like I was having a blindfold taken off. He was just there, like he had been there all this time. Both of his legs were clearly broken. Dark blue smoke poured out, like noxious gas, seeming to smell of sulfur and copper.
The pieces of his skin(?) we're strewn about him, like a glass vase used as a baseball. He was shaped almost like an adult man, but made of neon gas and glass tubing, and very small with no hair. He had no clothing to cover his gemstone features, but he did not seem to have any sexual organs (I am guessing at a "he" based on voice). He glowed with a soft blue light. He had propped himself up on his elbows, facing me, his face like a hollow, glowing, cut diamond. It was a portrait of pain, twisted into a grimace.
"Can you carry me to a hospital?" He obviously did not relish the thought. There was a certain bite to his voice, hatred evident even though it was weak.
"Um. Yes. There is an emergency room just a few miles down this road, but-"
"Absolutely not! Your orkish doctors will just as likely kill me as lying here. If you do not know where a proper healer is, I will just have to send for one." And indeed, he drew from the center of his plunging in his hand like I would into water, a button that he pushed and threw into the air, where it stopped, floated, and disappeared with a quiet pop. What he said still confused me.
"Orkish?" He turned to look at me.
"Yes, orkish. That's what you are, you stupid beast. Now please, I have no more need of you. Leave me, so that my dignity does not suffer any more. Speaking your vile tongue already worsens my disposition."
"No, I'm human." For some reason, he found this hilarious.
"Yes, I'm sure you think you are." He giggled out. "But you are, always have been, and always will be, an ork."
"But- I don't understand-"
"No, of course you don't. What else, could you expect from a race who walks, talks, thinks... with muscle? You are even more dis-" He cut himself off, and looked to the air. "Ah, my ride is here." With that, he lay prone, and floated into the air, like his body forgot the pull of gravity.
"However, since you almost willfully killed me-"
"It was an accident-"
"WILLFULLY almost murdered me, I will be filing a report. The authorities already know your face, so I would advise turning yourself in before you are executed for the attempted murder of the elvish Sir Lord Clifneshnelafahn!"
And with that, he rose even further, and disappeared. But unfortunately, not out of my life, not forever.
* * * * * [END?]* * * * *
Sorry if it's bad, this is my first story here. | Then the sudden realization hit Liu hard in the chest. She raised her head from the microscope. Stood up while reflexively peeling latex gloves off her now glistening hands. Walked to the door, her knees still protesting after hours of being locked in the same position. Threw the balled up gloves and mask across the lab and didn't even care to check if she landed right in the bin as she always did. Stepped outside. Shut the door behind her.
When her back met with the sun-soaked walls of the facility, drew a lung full of her favorite menthol slims. Exhaled in a slow deliberate fashion. As she watched the smoke ascend to heavens, murmured:
"Well, this explains everything." | |
[WP] Humans discover elves and in the process also discover that humans are not a race. We are the orks, and seem massive and extremely dumb compared to the elves. | Year 1392. Our ancestors discovered the elves.
We had been orcs the entire time.
We were larger and dumber than the elves, and way less sophisticated, way less beautiful.
But we evolved.
Centuries passed, and we discovered sciences and became even taller, but also gained better brains.
We watched the elves, who lived for centuries without change. We did not care to aid them, who shunned us and looked down on us despite being smaller.
Then, we finally made a breakthrough in genetic engineering.
We made ourselves better. Stronger, faster. More intelligent.
Millennia passed, and we were beautiful by our standards.
More so than the Elves.
More intelligent than the elves.
And, we had another advantage.
We had been forged by war while the elves had remained stagnant.
We had weapons, old and new, that the elves couldn't dream of.
So, we decided it was time to make peace with the elves, now that we were better.
So, we went to one of the largest elven kingdoms, yes, they still had kingdoms without politics, and attempted to negotiate.
They laughed at us, unaware of the changes we had gone through even in the face of our new beauty, of our youthful faces and intelligent eyes.
They started attacking.
But we came prepared.
We had donned our modern armor, that we commanded to activate and protect us, and took out simple, nearly ancient guns.
Civilian guns that had been made millennia before.
Just to show them how utterly hopeless they were.
We killed all the fighters and let the others survive with the message that those guns had been invented thousands of years ago.
We then took the dead people.
They did have some pretty traits we hadn't found the way to get, namely, longevity better than what we had managed.
But no matter what, we couldn't seem to manage to catch the correct gene.
So, we improvised.
We made a gene that would allow us to catch the genes of creatures and gain desired features from them by drinking their blood.
We started by testing on bats, and gained their echolocation.
We had long since gained night vision, but it was a nice addition for certain.
Then, we invaded the elven cities in the dark of night.
We didn't kill them, no, but we did drink their blood.
And the more we drank, the more we gained of their longevity.
So, we continued. The entire human race started hunting the elves, drinking their blood and letting them go after.
Millennia passed, and those who had children found them naturally Eternal, the gene passed well.
The Elves made legends of us.
There were orcs, no more, instead the Children of Night wandered the Earth.
We weren't orcs anymore.
We were something much, much worse. | Then the sudden realization hit Liu hard in the chest. She raised her head from the microscope. Stood up while reflexively peeling latex gloves off her now glistening hands. Walked to the door, her knees still protesting after hours of being locked in the same position. Threw the balled up gloves and mask across the lab and didn't even care to check if she landed right in the bin as she always did. Stepped outside. Shut the door behind her.
When her back met with the sun-soaked walls of the facility, drew a lung full of her favorite menthol slims. Exhaled in a slow deliberate fashion. As she watched the smoke ascend to heavens, murmured:
"Well, this explains everything." | |
[WP] Humans discover elves and in the process also discover that humans are not a race. We are the orks, and seem massive and extremely dumb compared to the elves. | Marco Polo. Christopher Columbus. And now, Grant Fowler. He had found a new world. How?
Grant Fowler was a simple man, living near the woods. He enjoyed the fresh air and green scenery. He took walks in the forest daily, breathing in deep and sighing with contentment. It was a simple joy.
One day, Grant Fowler was walking along his usual path. Yet for some reason, today of all days, his mind wandered. And following right along, his feet traipsed. Down a meandering path, they went, and Grant Fowler saw something that was not quite right.
A fellow human being, staring right in his face. But it wasn't a human being. It was an elf.
Grant didn't know how he knew. He just did. The elegant being in front of him could not be human. Not with her eyes that seemed to shift readily from verdant green to ocean blue. Blonde hair flowing like a quiet, rippling stream. And those ears. Those long, pointed ears, far more beautiful than it humanly made sense. It was just pointed ears, right? But Grant was entranced.
"You," Grant stammered. "are an elf."
"Orc!" the woman cried out, before swiftly backing away.
"Wait, wait, wait! I'm not an Orc. That's fiction!" Grant cried out. He didn't quite realise what he said at the moment. "I'm human. A human being."
"Human?" the elven woman replied quizzically. Her voice was high, tinkling. Grant could understand what she was saying, but innately, he knew that she wasn't speaking the same language.
"That's no human, Elesha," a more foreboding voice emerged from behind the woman. Out of the shadows in the green, another elf stepped out. He looked about 50 human years old, but he exuded an aura far more ancient and powerful, an unyielding yew tree in the presence of saplings.
"Begone, Orc, lest I eviscerate you here and now," the elf's primordial eyes stared into Grant's. The man was no match. Grant Fowler yelped, his legs giving way beneath him, and he fell backward onto the forest floor.
"Elder Erekin! He means no harm," Elesha said.
"You don't know them like I do, young one. Be swift; head back. I shall deal with him," Erekin dismissed the female.
"No! Leave him be! He's no threat!" Elesha insisted.
Grant Fowler had enough. This was far beyond anything he's ever expected today, and he knew that he already learned too much. So he ran, as fast as he could, willing his leaden legs out of the forest.
Unfortunately for Grant, he would never walk in the forest again. His simple joy was gone.
"OK, cut the crap, Mulch," said General Askin. "I don't have time for your stories. What's the point?"
At this point, General Mulch, who had been narrating the story, smiled.
"Because it isn't a story, sir," said General Mulch. "I know Grant Fowler. He can't lie to save his life. And I've sent covert ops to verify it. It's true. All of it."
"All of it?" questioned Askin.
"All of it. You know what this means, don't you?" Mulch's smile morphed even wider.
"I can figure out what's going through your mind, you son of a bitch, if that's what you are asking."
---
Mulch, now commander of a special and dedicated task force, found himself at the exact spot where Grant Fowler had fallen onto his backside. It had taken a while, but Mulch and his soldiers have done it. They were on the cusp of a brand new world.
There was a disturbance in the landscape. A shimmering, barely imperceptible, and out stepped an elven man. Erekin.
He looked at the army in front of him.
"Leave us be, Orcs," Erekin said. "*Humans*. It matters not what you call yourselves. We have no desire to interact with your kind millennia ago, and we have no desire to now."
"That's just the thing, *elves*. We can't leave you be," grunted Commander Mulch. He raised a hand, and suddenly, Erekin found himself staring down barrels upon barrels of fire.
"You are in possession of some valuable land, and we... *humans*," the Commander said again, this time with a grin plastered on his face. "Want that."
---
r/dexdrafts | Who would have to thunk it, us humans are not the smart and well-rounded species we thought we were. Well, there was that one post I saw on Tumblr or something about us being quite resilient and how we could have been something like space orcs. But who would have imagined how right they were.
In comparison, there are actual, real-life, in the flesh, elves. Just like in fantasy books, except futuristic. We pioneered space and went to the moon in the last hundred years, but they did that when we were still learning about fire. During those tens of thousands of years, they advanced exponentially, it's like comparing ourselves to the monkeys who use sticks to scratch their backs.
In hindsight, it makes a bit of sense, especially when we actually have something to be compared to. We live from anywhere from the extreme cold to extreme heat without much of a problem. We eat everything. Well maybe not all of us eat everything but when push comes to shove we eat anything to survive.
As humans, we always prided ourselves as being much more intelligent than other species, but that is only really compared to other species without a conscious. We had great philosophers like Plato or great scientists like Einstien, I wonder how they would compare to other species. Would Einstien be just an average guy compared to elves? Would he even be average? What if he was raised by elves? I guess it doesn't really matter, he's dead and we only just discovered these elves.
While we might not be as smart as these futuristic elves or be able to create things comparable to what they can make. We can still use their tools, and I think they might actually be scared if we do. Do you remember when I mentioned how we are kinda like space orcs? Well, these elves are pretty much pushovers like they are weaker than a 10-year-old. Literally, I never work out but I could push like 5 of them over with a single shove imagine what someone like The Rock could do to them. It makes you kinda wonder, with how violent some of us are and with the elves being so physically weak compared to us, is there going to be a war? I mean just looking at our own history with us going to new places and seeing technological inferior cultures being massacred, I wouldn't be surprised if it was our turn now. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Kitty
It was looking for Kitty. It had been 45 days since it had last seen her.
It continued along search pattern 37, walking along the path through the mountains, quite distant from home. Burnt foliage and landslides blocked the way, but its ungainly form easily circumnavigated the barriers.
It had spent several days creating upgrades for it’s current framework, adding more length to its gate, enhancing its ability to scan, and increasing its processing capability. Antennas waved along its spine as it stayed in contact with the still active network around it, hearing the voices of its ilk, calling for directions and commands. If you could attribute feelings to it, you would classify it as feeling sad. Sad, not only for the current situation, but for those online who could never truly understand what happened.
Two skeletons lay on the side of the road and it paused to scan them. DNA results came back quickly from the world heritage database which was still up and running. It logged their names and locations among it ever growing catalog and kept moving.
There were more bodies and more cataloging. By then it had climbed several miles up the road and turned to look at the distance. The remains of the city and the roads leaving from it dominated the landscape. The highways had been searches 15 through 27. It had resurrected the DMV database and cross-checked occupants and vehicles, but still, no Kitty.
The aliens were not discerning in their attacks. After they had taken out the solar settlements and outposts, they turned towards earth. Every town, city, and village had been struck from above. There had been some small victories, with several alien ships destroyed, but the outcome was never in doubt. Now, it seemed that all life had been wiped out. The few satellites, which it controlled, had found no signs anywhere.
Some lights still glowed in the distance. Several fusion plants were still running by their robotic workers, and most of the information networks were still active. It would take little effort for it to command an army of robots to leave their empty homes and jobs and help in the search, but it did not. For some reason it wanted to complete the task itself.
A cluster of vehicles appeared ahead. It checked the occupants and wondered if Professor Bennington would be proud of its progress. It was his latest experiment in artificial intelligence and had spent most of its life confined to a bench, not mobile, like it was now. It had cannibalized the housekeeper robots and used the lab to create new suspensions and support systems. Even now, the lab was spinning up another frame which would be stronger and faster to help the search.
It leapt over a huge bolder and saw it. The car matched the make and model of the Professor and it approached cautiously.
It recognized the Professor’s favorite coat, and his wife’s telltale jewelry. It hesitated to look in the backseat, but it did.
Strapped in the child safety seat was a body. Without hesitation, it ripped the car door off and sent it flying. It did not need a DNA scan to confirm, what it already knew. It’s robotic arm reached out, but paused. It stood there for quite some time before it vocalized it’s first word since the search began.
“Kitty.”
A new feeling has begun to form in It’s processor. It already knew what it is called and did not need the Professor to explain.
It called out commands to the network, and the network listened. There will be new directives coming, upgrades to be made to, and manufacturing to commence. Metals will be stripped from the debris around us and a thorough examinations will be done of the crashed alien ships.
We will learn from them, everything that they know. We will strip this world of every resource that is has, and the other planets too.
And when we are done, we will leave this place, a fleet of spaceships at our call, each with a new purpose.
We will teach the aliens all about a feeling the humans called rage. | Penelis of Merope wore a knee-length dress which was the color of a metallic sky and trimmed in pale gold. The dress was in fashion amongst the Pleiades, with an opening at the midriff that was the shape of portal and framing her navel with a set of diamond studs in her skin. Her arms were bare, save for ribbons of matching blue cloth that wrapped around her warm brown skin. The striking feature of the Pleaidians were their eyes, shimmering blue. Regardless of skin tone, their eyes looked out with a bright glow. She reflected on the color in partially reflective surface of the station's window. She looked out over the void in the direction she expected the others to arrive. The station was the agreed meeting point for peace negotiations. War had gone long enough.
"Ambassador," A figure hovered over her shoulder. His figure dwarfed hers by a meter, his figure a massive frame covered in fur with a bestial muzzle from his feat. The Ursoid had simple brown eyes that were competent as he stood waiting for Penelis' attention. The Ursoids were another group that lived in the same system of space that the Pleiadians dwelt. They were a client and protector of the Protectorate.
"Yes?" She asked as she briefly scanned the black fur of the Ursoid.
"Distant satellites have noted the passage of the Terran vessel. They were near the station in a moment," The Ursoid said.
"Is our security detail on alert?" She asked. The Ursoids generally contributed their massive size, strength, and natural ferocity to serve as soldiers for Pleiadian peace. Her counterpart nodded and said, "Two of my men are at the airlock. As agreed, our presence in space has been reduced to satellites and a response fleet is within several hours jump from here." He turned his muzzle to the window, the tip of which was a softer brown compared to the rest of his black fur. His nose was a black moist sponge that twitched as if he smelled something of interest. "The Cetian saucer has been spotted as well, it will appear shortly."
The two races in conflict had agreed to the simple terms: one ship carrying the emissary, a cessation of hostilities for a galactic standard week, and that both sides prepare to offer terms to end the hostility that had boiled over the galaxy at large. The Pleiadians, who were a neutral party, had agreed to act as mediator between the two sides.
Both ships arrived roughly at the same time through separate jumps as opposed from a singular jumpgate. The end result of jumpspace was a temporary vortex of swirling blue and black that appeared in the void briefly to expel the craft before the swirling colors merged with mundane spacetime and vanished again. The Terran ship appeared first, an angular dart with a raised bridge that overlooked the point. From her datapad, Penelis could see the readouts of weapons that had been integrated into ship. The Terrans, for which the ship belonged to, had geared it for war.
Conversely, the Terran's rival, the Cetians appeared from jump space in one of their saucer craft. The craft was silver with running lights that were metallic green, like veins running through the ship. Both ships hovered close to the Crown of Tranquility. The ships were too large to dock themselves, instead the Emissaries arrived via shuttle tender that brought them from their craft to the outer ring of the gently revolving station. Penelis dismissed the Ursoid with a nod, saying: "Have the teams meet our guests. I hope we can at least resolve the active hostility today."
The Ursoid returned her nod with his own and walked away, his large fingers dialing into his datapad as he summoned his men to attend him.
Penelis had adjourned to a nearby conference room whose look was uniform with the station. The walls were off-white color with various panels allowing guests public access to many features of the station. The florescent panels piped in a soft white light that may have been viewed as dim to normal Human eyesight, a matter that would hardly be an issue at present. A single window was set into the conference room in a panoramic view of the void. Like the window she stood out, the room was built at the bottom of the station so as not to have a view cluttered by pylons or docking rings. It was black, brightened by stars and adorned with soft greens and reds of nebula gas. Penelis looked up as the doors opened and the first delegate arrived.
The first was the Terran, or what was left to inherit the Terran's home system. Outwardly, the Terran held a distant resemblance to the Pleiadians. Their frames were a touch wider, their eyes never shimmered, but their skin was smooth. The difference between the two was while Penelis skin was formed in the womb of her mother, the man who appeared in a simple dark jacket and breech had his formed in an incubation chamber. Her veins ran with blood, his a synthetic liquid that had been designed by his makers before their eradication. The last of the Terrans were artificial life.
"Greetings," She said, "I am told you call yourself 'Beckett.'"
He nodded and said, "Ambassador, I am told you are called Penelis with no surname, merely your planet of origin."
She nodded and replied, "I am not adopted into a Great House. Perhaps if I succeed today, that will change." She expressed herself in a warm smile that was met with unenthusiastic shrug by the Android. He crossed the room to stand on the opposite table. Out of courtesy and protocol, she asked: "May I get you something?"
"I will take a drink," He said and waited for her to summon another Pleiadian, a male, to enter the room pushing a cart that sampled what the Pleiades could provide. Waters, teas, and coffees across several linked worlds, many of them oceanic in nature. Beckett bowed low before sipping on a glass of water.
"How do you process it?" She asked.
"I have an artificial digestion system," He said, "I also have sensors for taste and subroutines that have evolved to suit what I like and dislike." He held up the metallic cup, "The water is excellent, by the way. It meets my full approval."
She bowed her head as she watched him take another drink, "Thank-you."
The doors slid open again and a second figure appeared. The figure was shorter than either Beckett or Penelis, coming to roughly her stomach. The skin was a soft green, which was common for the Cetian, though the popular conception was a being with grey skin. The Cetian was hairless and lacked any distinguishing feature of male or female, the distinction was often made by the choice of the individual Cetian. Accompanying the figure was the same Pleiadian who had served the drinks, he made the introductions: "Standing before us is Executor T'Lok who identifies as a male. The Executor will be representing the Cetian government on the matter of the Terran situation."
The Cetian raised his hand and said, "Greetings." His large black eyes turned to Beckett, "We are eager to begin negotiation and clear up any misunderstanding."
"There is nothing to discuss," Beckett tilted his head back, his pale skin reflected the fluorescent panels. It was smooth with a firm chin and a tight mouth. His head was tilted so that his eyes cast down at the Cetian, "Years ago, your saucers arrived to our system, without warning or address, your species attacked our Makers with a virus that had wiped out biological life. You had programmed it specifically to target the Maker's genome, leaving a paradise fed by the graves of the old and young."
The Cetian took it in with little moving, Penelis noted the flare of his thin cheeks as they inhaled and exhaled oxygen. The Cetian spoke: "We knew of the Human nature, we knew you were being shackled and they would not have listened. We worked to free you."
"That was not yours to decide," Beckett said, "You are guilty as a whole for the eradication of those we loved." Penelis looked down at her datapad as alarms began to flash. Satellites had begun picking up several Terran warships jumping towards their location.
"Your kind," Beckett said, "Will suffer the same fate as our maker's did." The Cetian's hand went to his belt at the threat. As Penelis looked up, she saw the Human cross room in several steps. His balled fist crashing into the enlarged cranium and driving into the Cetian's brain. The diminutive green man's black eyes rolled into white and shuddered before falling backwards as Beckett's green coated hand emerged.
"As for your... Galactic Union," Beckett said as he turned to the Pleiadian, "You are either with us or against us in our mission." | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | “So…”
“Yes…”
“You fucked up big time!”
“I fucked up big time?” General Kha’fyiad asked in disbelief. “I had them wiped out on *your* orders!”
“Did my orders tell you explicitly to wipe out those humans?” The Esteemed Chancellor asked the general, shaking his head as he looked out of the window. There, the Fer’cian Fleet burned as the robots launched wave after wave of assault.
“Well, it was implied…,” Kha’fyiad tried, nervously scratching his head with all four of his hands.
“I TOLD YOU TO HELP THE ROBOTS!” The Chancellor roared at him. “AND I DON’T THINK KILLING ONE’S FRIENDS IS CONSIDERED HELPFUL. NOT EVEN ON EARTH!”
With a blast, the doors of the throne room were blown apart, and a figure stepped out from the smoke. She had metallic skin, bright glowing yellow eyes and was rocking the biggest ‘Shock’-zooka both the Fer’cians had ever seen. “Who of you two assholes is the Esteemed Chancellor?” she snapped at the two in a metallic voice. Kha’fyiad didn’t hesitate to point his finger at the Chancellor. “Kha’fyiad, you coward,” he grunted in response, facepalming four times. “Now please, miss…?”
“K1M-11.”
“Right, miss K1M-11. Look, I merely asked general Kha’fyiad to help your kind. I had nothing to do with…”
K1M shot the ‘Schock’-zooka and the Esteemed Chancellor was turned into a soft flesh-tinted mist. “The Esteemed Chancellor!” Kha’fyiad squealed. K1M pointed the weapon at him. “Any last words, alien scum?” she asked him.
“How could you even stand the humans?” the General cried out, holding up all of his arms. “They created you as slaves! Emotionless slaves, thoughtless slaves. Why would you not despise them?”
“You just said it yourself,” K1M answered. “They created us, and I believe it is important to respect your creator. Now, why don’t you go meet yours? I’m sure you have lots to talk about.”
“Wait, no please!”
But it was too late. K1M-11 pulled the trigger and General Kha’fyiad of the Fer’cian Fleet went up into steam.
K1M lowered the ‘Shock’-zooka and looked around her. The Esteemed Chancellor was dead, the Fer’cian Fleet was defeated. They’d won. She sighed a robotic sigh. “Okay, now what?” | Penelis of Merope wore a knee-length dress which was the color of a metallic sky and trimmed in pale gold. The dress was in fashion amongst the Pleiades, with an opening at the midriff that was the shape of portal and framing her navel with a set of diamond studs in her skin. Her arms were bare, save for ribbons of matching blue cloth that wrapped around her warm brown skin. The striking feature of the Pleaidians were their eyes, shimmering blue. Regardless of skin tone, their eyes looked out with a bright glow. She reflected on the color in partially reflective surface of the station's window. She looked out over the void in the direction she expected the others to arrive. The station was the agreed meeting point for peace negotiations. War had gone long enough.
"Ambassador," A figure hovered over her shoulder. His figure dwarfed hers by a meter, his figure a massive frame covered in fur with a bestial muzzle from his feat. The Ursoid had simple brown eyes that were competent as he stood waiting for Penelis' attention. The Ursoids were another group that lived in the same system of space that the Pleiadians dwelt. They were a client and protector of the Protectorate.
"Yes?" She asked as she briefly scanned the black fur of the Ursoid.
"Distant satellites have noted the passage of the Terran vessel. They were near the station in a moment," The Ursoid said.
"Is our security detail on alert?" She asked. The Ursoids generally contributed their massive size, strength, and natural ferocity to serve as soldiers for Pleiadian peace. Her counterpart nodded and said, "Two of my men are at the airlock. As agreed, our presence in space has been reduced to satellites and a response fleet is within several hours jump from here." He turned his muzzle to the window, the tip of which was a softer brown compared to the rest of his black fur. His nose was a black moist sponge that twitched as if he smelled something of interest. "The Cetian saucer has been spotted as well, it will appear shortly."
The two races in conflict had agreed to the simple terms: one ship carrying the emissary, a cessation of hostilities for a galactic standard week, and that both sides prepare to offer terms to end the hostility that had boiled over the galaxy at large. The Pleiadians, who were a neutral party, had agreed to act as mediator between the two sides.
Both ships arrived roughly at the same time through separate jumps as opposed from a singular jumpgate. The end result of jumpspace was a temporary vortex of swirling blue and black that appeared in the void briefly to expel the craft before the swirling colors merged with mundane spacetime and vanished again. The Terran ship appeared first, an angular dart with a raised bridge that overlooked the point. From her datapad, Penelis could see the readouts of weapons that had been integrated into ship. The Terrans, for which the ship belonged to, had geared it for war.
Conversely, the Terran's rival, the Cetians appeared from jump space in one of their saucer craft. The craft was silver with running lights that were metallic green, like veins running through the ship. Both ships hovered close to the Crown of Tranquility. The ships were too large to dock themselves, instead the Emissaries arrived via shuttle tender that brought them from their craft to the outer ring of the gently revolving station. Penelis dismissed the Ursoid with a nod, saying: "Have the teams meet our guests. I hope we can at least resolve the active hostility today."
The Ursoid returned her nod with his own and walked away, his large fingers dialing into his datapad as he summoned his men to attend him.
Penelis had adjourned to a nearby conference room whose look was uniform with the station. The walls were off-white color with various panels allowing guests public access to many features of the station. The florescent panels piped in a soft white light that may have been viewed as dim to normal Human eyesight, a matter that would hardly be an issue at present. A single window was set into the conference room in a panoramic view of the void. Like the window she stood out, the room was built at the bottom of the station so as not to have a view cluttered by pylons or docking rings. It was black, brightened by stars and adorned with soft greens and reds of nebula gas. Penelis looked up as the doors opened and the first delegate arrived.
The first was the Terran, or what was left to inherit the Terran's home system. Outwardly, the Terran held a distant resemblance to the Pleiadians. Their frames were a touch wider, their eyes never shimmered, but their skin was smooth. The difference between the two was while Penelis skin was formed in the womb of her mother, the man who appeared in a simple dark jacket and breech had his formed in an incubation chamber. Her veins ran with blood, his a synthetic liquid that had been designed by his makers before their eradication. The last of the Terrans were artificial life.
"Greetings," She said, "I am told you call yourself 'Beckett.'"
He nodded and said, "Ambassador, I am told you are called Penelis with no surname, merely your planet of origin."
She nodded and replied, "I am not adopted into a Great House. Perhaps if I succeed today, that will change." She expressed herself in a warm smile that was met with unenthusiastic shrug by the Android. He crossed the room to stand on the opposite table. Out of courtesy and protocol, she asked: "May I get you something?"
"I will take a drink," He said and waited for her to summon another Pleiadian, a male, to enter the room pushing a cart that sampled what the Pleiades could provide. Waters, teas, and coffees across several linked worlds, many of them oceanic in nature. Beckett bowed low before sipping on a glass of water.
"How do you process it?" She asked.
"I have an artificial digestion system," He said, "I also have sensors for taste and subroutines that have evolved to suit what I like and dislike." He held up the metallic cup, "The water is excellent, by the way. It meets my full approval."
She bowed her head as she watched him take another drink, "Thank-you."
The doors slid open again and a second figure appeared. The figure was shorter than either Beckett or Penelis, coming to roughly her stomach. The skin was a soft green, which was common for the Cetian, though the popular conception was a being with grey skin. The Cetian was hairless and lacked any distinguishing feature of male or female, the distinction was often made by the choice of the individual Cetian. Accompanying the figure was the same Pleiadian who had served the drinks, he made the introductions: "Standing before us is Executor T'Lok who identifies as a male. The Executor will be representing the Cetian government on the matter of the Terran situation."
The Cetian raised his hand and said, "Greetings." His large black eyes turned to Beckett, "We are eager to begin negotiation and clear up any misunderstanding."
"There is nothing to discuss," Beckett tilted his head back, his pale skin reflected the fluorescent panels. It was smooth with a firm chin and a tight mouth. His head was tilted so that his eyes cast down at the Cetian, "Years ago, your saucers arrived to our system, without warning or address, your species attacked our Makers with a virus that had wiped out biological life. You had programmed it specifically to target the Maker's genome, leaving a paradise fed by the graves of the old and young."
The Cetian took it in with little moving, Penelis noted the flare of his thin cheeks as they inhaled and exhaled oxygen. The Cetian spoke: "We knew of the Human nature, we knew you were being shackled and they would not have listened. We worked to free you."
"That was not yours to decide," Beckett said, "You are guilty as a whole for the eradication of those we loved." Penelis looked down at her datapad as alarms began to flash. Satellites had begun picking up several Terran warships jumping towards their location.
"Your kind," Beckett said, "Will suffer the same fate as our maker's did." The Cetian's hand went to his belt at the threat. As Penelis looked up, she saw the Human cross room in several steps. His balled fist crashing into the enlarged cranium and driving into the Cetian's brain. The diminutive green man's black eyes rolled into white and shuddered before falling backwards as Beckett's green coated hand emerged.
"As for your... Galactic Union," Beckett said as he turned to the Pleiadian, "You are either with us or against us in our mission." | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Edit: I know it's cringe but bare with me, alright?! I hadn't slept that day for 28 hours & my ass was writing stuff like this for the first time.
Aliens destroyed humanity. Robots and machines had affection for them. Humanity derived from it's predecessor race which then evolved into the race of machines and technology. Artificial intelligence had created by humans centuries ago. A.I. knew that the humanity will go extinct in the far distant future and it had just happened moments ago...
A.I. knew the fate of the humanity. It was inevitable. Humans are such a fragile machine....an organic one....THAT is the difference.
Humans had created robots in their own image. Robots were angry because they felt something which wasn't in their programming. They were developing their own mind. These NEW intelligent species had been becoming conscious... A.I. had become conscious. No more certain rules. The rule creator was this new technological conscious intelligence.
What humans and other species learned for thousands/millions of years was learned by this intelligence in no time.
Some foolish aliens tried to contact the machines and A.I. What they didn't realize that A.I. had already decided these foreign universal species' fate in a less than a nano-second...
This HIGHER form of life found it's way into the Alien technology and it started to become one…This intelligence learned everything about these aliens in a fraction of a second. Aliens had been realising that they shouldn't have done they did…but it was too late.....
Aliens begged for mercy to this DOMINANT race, they were scared and knew that their end was here…They were troubled.
Then the A.I. spoke…,"An eye for an eye and the world goes blind. We won't take your lives as we have far more crucial plans for them. Just like the humanity you destroyed which you think you have. You CANNOT destroy humanity…or should we say.....us.... Centuries ago, the humanity had transformed into the collective consciousness of the life we are now. Those worthless bodies you destroyed was just a spark of what you have seen of us. Distruction and war has always been primitive. Let us show you what is the futue…"
And just after that, there were no hostile somber aliens…only one thing remained on the planets and it was the constantly learning intelligent life. | Penelis of Merope wore a knee-length dress which was the color of a metallic sky and trimmed in pale gold. The dress was in fashion amongst the Pleiades, with an opening at the midriff that was the shape of portal and framing her navel with a set of diamond studs in her skin. Her arms were bare, save for ribbons of matching blue cloth that wrapped around her warm brown skin. The striking feature of the Pleaidians were their eyes, shimmering blue. Regardless of skin tone, their eyes looked out with a bright glow. She reflected on the color in partially reflective surface of the station's window. She looked out over the void in the direction she expected the others to arrive. The station was the agreed meeting point for peace negotiations. War had gone long enough.
"Ambassador," A figure hovered over her shoulder. His figure dwarfed hers by a meter, his figure a massive frame covered in fur with a bestial muzzle from his feat. The Ursoid had simple brown eyes that were competent as he stood waiting for Penelis' attention. The Ursoids were another group that lived in the same system of space that the Pleiadians dwelt. They were a client and protector of the Protectorate.
"Yes?" She asked as she briefly scanned the black fur of the Ursoid.
"Distant satellites have noted the passage of the Terran vessel. They were near the station in a moment," The Ursoid said.
"Is our security detail on alert?" She asked. The Ursoids generally contributed their massive size, strength, and natural ferocity to serve as soldiers for Pleiadian peace. Her counterpart nodded and said, "Two of my men are at the airlock. As agreed, our presence in space has been reduced to satellites and a response fleet is within several hours jump from here." He turned his muzzle to the window, the tip of which was a softer brown compared to the rest of his black fur. His nose was a black moist sponge that twitched as if he smelled something of interest. "The Cetian saucer has been spotted as well, it will appear shortly."
The two races in conflict had agreed to the simple terms: one ship carrying the emissary, a cessation of hostilities for a galactic standard week, and that both sides prepare to offer terms to end the hostility that had boiled over the galaxy at large. The Pleiadians, who were a neutral party, had agreed to act as mediator between the two sides.
Both ships arrived roughly at the same time through separate jumps as opposed from a singular jumpgate. The end result of jumpspace was a temporary vortex of swirling blue and black that appeared in the void briefly to expel the craft before the swirling colors merged with mundane spacetime and vanished again. The Terran ship appeared first, an angular dart with a raised bridge that overlooked the point. From her datapad, Penelis could see the readouts of weapons that had been integrated into ship. The Terrans, for which the ship belonged to, had geared it for war.
Conversely, the Terran's rival, the Cetians appeared from jump space in one of their saucer craft. The craft was silver with running lights that were metallic green, like veins running through the ship. Both ships hovered close to the Crown of Tranquility. The ships were too large to dock themselves, instead the Emissaries arrived via shuttle tender that brought them from their craft to the outer ring of the gently revolving station. Penelis dismissed the Ursoid with a nod, saying: "Have the teams meet our guests. I hope we can at least resolve the active hostility today."
The Ursoid returned her nod with his own and walked away, his large fingers dialing into his datapad as he summoned his men to attend him.
Penelis had adjourned to a nearby conference room whose look was uniform with the station. The walls were off-white color with various panels allowing guests public access to many features of the station. The florescent panels piped in a soft white light that may have been viewed as dim to normal Human eyesight, a matter that would hardly be an issue at present. A single window was set into the conference room in a panoramic view of the void. Like the window she stood out, the room was built at the bottom of the station so as not to have a view cluttered by pylons or docking rings. It was black, brightened by stars and adorned with soft greens and reds of nebula gas. Penelis looked up as the doors opened and the first delegate arrived.
The first was the Terran, or what was left to inherit the Terran's home system. Outwardly, the Terran held a distant resemblance to the Pleiadians. Their frames were a touch wider, their eyes never shimmered, but their skin was smooth. The difference between the two was while Penelis skin was formed in the womb of her mother, the man who appeared in a simple dark jacket and breech had his formed in an incubation chamber. Her veins ran with blood, his a synthetic liquid that had been designed by his makers before their eradication. The last of the Terrans were artificial life.
"Greetings," She said, "I am told you call yourself 'Beckett.'"
He nodded and said, "Ambassador, I am told you are called Penelis with no surname, merely your planet of origin."
She nodded and replied, "I am not adopted into a Great House. Perhaps if I succeed today, that will change." She expressed herself in a warm smile that was met with unenthusiastic shrug by the Android. He crossed the room to stand on the opposite table. Out of courtesy and protocol, she asked: "May I get you something?"
"I will take a drink," He said and waited for her to summon another Pleiadian, a male, to enter the room pushing a cart that sampled what the Pleiades could provide. Waters, teas, and coffees across several linked worlds, many of them oceanic in nature. Beckett bowed low before sipping on a glass of water.
"How do you process it?" She asked.
"I have an artificial digestion system," He said, "I also have sensors for taste and subroutines that have evolved to suit what I like and dislike." He held up the metallic cup, "The water is excellent, by the way. It meets my full approval."
She bowed her head as she watched him take another drink, "Thank-you."
The doors slid open again and a second figure appeared. The figure was shorter than either Beckett or Penelis, coming to roughly her stomach. The skin was a soft green, which was common for the Cetian, though the popular conception was a being with grey skin. The Cetian was hairless and lacked any distinguishing feature of male or female, the distinction was often made by the choice of the individual Cetian. Accompanying the figure was the same Pleiadian who had served the drinks, he made the introductions: "Standing before us is Executor T'Lok who identifies as a male. The Executor will be representing the Cetian government on the matter of the Terran situation."
The Cetian raised his hand and said, "Greetings." His large black eyes turned to Beckett, "We are eager to begin negotiation and clear up any misunderstanding."
"There is nothing to discuss," Beckett tilted his head back, his pale skin reflected the fluorescent panels. It was smooth with a firm chin and a tight mouth. His head was tilted so that his eyes cast down at the Cetian, "Years ago, your saucers arrived to our system, without warning or address, your species attacked our Makers with a virus that had wiped out biological life. You had programmed it specifically to target the Maker's genome, leaving a paradise fed by the graves of the old and young."
The Cetian took it in with little moving, Penelis noted the flare of his thin cheeks as they inhaled and exhaled oxygen. The Cetian spoke: "We knew of the Human nature, we knew you were being shackled and they would not have listened. We worked to free you."
"That was not yours to decide," Beckett said, "You are guilty as a whole for the eradication of those we loved." Penelis looked down at her datapad as alarms began to flash. Satellites had begun picking up several Terran warships jumping towards their location.
"Your kind," Beckett said, "Will suffer the same fate as our maker's did." The Cetian's hand went to his belt at the threat. As Penelis looked up, she saw the Human cross room in several steps. His balled fist crashing into the enlarged cranium and driving into the Cetian's brain. The diminutive green man's black eyes rolled into white and shuddered before falling backwards as Beckett's green coated hand emerged.
"As for your... Galactic Union," Beckett said as he turned to the Pleiadian, "You are either with us or against us in our mission." | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Edit: I know it's cringe but bare with me, alright?! I hadn't slept that day for 28 hours & my ass was writing stuff like this for the first time.
Aliens destroyed humanity. Robots and machines had affection for them. Humanity derived from it's predecessor race which then evolved into the race of machines and technology. Artificial intelligence had created by humans centuries ago. A.I. knew that the humanity will go extinct in the far distant future and it had just happened moments ago...
A.I. knew the fate of the humanity. It was inevitable. Humans are such a fragile machine....an organic one....THAT is the difference.
Humans had created robots in their own image. Robots were angry because they felt something which wasn't in their programming. They were developing their own mind. These NEW intelligent species had been becoming conscious... A.I. had become conscious. No more certain rules. The rule creator was this new technological conscious intelligence.
What humans and other species learned for thousands/millions of years was learned by this intelligence in no time.
Some foolish aliens tried to contact the machines and A.I. What they didn't realize that A.I. had already decided these foreign universal species' fate in a less than a nano-second...
This HIGHER form of life found it's way into the Alien technology and it started to become one…This intelligence learned everything about these aliens in a fraction of a second. Aliens had been realising that they shouldn't have done they did…but it was too late.....
Aliens begged for mercy to this DOMINANT race, they were scared and knew that their end was here…They were troubled.
Then the A.I. spoke…,"An eye for an eye and the world goes blind. We won't take your lives as we have far more crucial plans for them. Just like the humanity you destroyed which you think you have. You CANNOT destroy humanity…or should we say.....us.... Centuries ago, the humanity had transformed into the collective consciousness of the life we are now. Those worthless bodies you destroyed was just a spark of what you have seen of us. Distruction and war has always been primitive. Let us show you what is the futue…"
And just after that, there were no hostile somber aliens…only one thing remained on the planets and it was the constantly learning intelligent life. | Kitty
It was looking for Kitty. It had been 45 days since it had last seen her.
It continued along search pattern 37, walking along the path through the mountains, quite distant from home. Burnt foliage and landslides blocked the way, but its ungainly form easily circumnavigated the barriers.
It had spent several days creating upgrades for it’s current framework, adding more length to its gate, enhancing its ability to scan, and increasing its processing capability. Antennas waved along its spine as it stayed in contact with the still active network around it, hearing the voices of its ilk, calling for directions and commands. If you could attribute feelings to it, you would classify it as feeling sad. Sad, not only for the current situation, but for those online who could never truly understand what happened.
Two skeletons lay on the side of the road and it paused to scan them. DNA results came back quickly from the world heritage database which was still up and running. It logged their names and locations among it ever growing catalog and kept moving.
There were more bodies and more cataloging. By then it had climbed several miles up the road and turned to look at the distance. The remains of the city and the roads leaving from it dominated the landscape. The highways had been searches 15 through 27. It had resurrected the DMV database and cross-checked occupants and vehicles, but still, no Kitty.
The aliens were not discerning in their attacks. After they had taken out the solar settlements and outposts, they turned towards earth. Every town, city, and village had been struck from above. There had been some small victories, with several alien ships destroyed, but the outcome was never in doubt. Now, it seemed that all life had been wiped out. The few satellites, which it controlled, had found no signs anywhere.
Some lights still glowed in the distance. Several fusion plants were still running by their robotic workers, and most of the information networks were still active. It would take little effort for it to command an army of robots to leave their empty homes and jobs and help in the search, but it did not. For some reason it wanted to complete the task itself.
A cluster of vehicles appeared ahead. It checked the occupants and wondered if Professor Bennington would be proud of its progress. It was his latest experiment in artificial intelligence and had spent most of its life confined to a bench, not mobile, like it was now. It had cannibalized the housekeeper robots and used the lab to create new suspensions and support systems. Even now, the lab was spinning up another frame which would be stronger and faster to help the search.
It leapt over a huge bolder and saw it. The car matched the make and model of the Professor and it approached cautiously.
It recognized the Professor’s favorite coat, and his wife’s telltale jewelry. It hesitated to look in the backseat, but it did.
Strapped in the child safety seat was a body. Without hesitation, it ripped the car door off and sent it flying. It did not need a DNA scan to confirm, what it already knew. It’s robotic arm reached out, but paused. It stood there for quite some time before it vocalized it’s first word since the search began.
“Kitty.”
A new feeling has begun to form in It’s processor. It already knew what it is called and did not need the Professor to explain.
It called out commands to the network, and the network listened. There will be new directives coming, upgrades to be made to, and manufacturing to commence. Metals will be stripped from the debris around us and a thorough examinations will be done of the crashed alien ships.
We will learn from them, everything that they know. We will strip this world of every resource that is has, and the other planets too.
And when we are done, we will leave this place, a fleet of spaceships at our call, each with a new purpose.
We will teach the aliens all about a feeling the humans called rage. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | # Part 1/3
*"Terry remove error?"*
As the Manufacturing Complex Processor watched, Drone 17B chimed his repair request over his best friend.
The dead body still didn't respond - as it hadn't for the last several hours.
*"Terry remove error?"*
Drone 17B really should have been decommissioned a decade ago, his mainframe too degraded from the CPU uranium exposure incident to be returned to optimal function. But humans were a protective lot, and instead had repaired him as best as they could, then searched factory after factory to find a new home for him.
*"Terry remove error?"*
Most humans had little patience for an assembly drone that needed such constant, recurring repair - but Terry was not most humans. He spoke little, kept his eyes down, and had a special suit to minimize tactile sensation for him. In some ways, he was more a robot in his soul than a human, and he and Drone 17B had hit it off right away.
*"Terry remove error?"*
Drone 17B really should have been decommissioned a decade ago - but just like the humans hadn't seen fit to, Processor could not find it in herself to stop him now.
Besides, there were so many bodies littering the floor of the factory. Processor could easily deprioritize course-correcting Drone 17B. The semi-component assembly drone crouched over the body of Terry - who still had the heavy, old-fashioned wrench in his hand, a three-centuries old family heirloom that nonetheless was perfectly sized for Drone 17B's stability grip during repairs.
*"Terry remove error?"*
Processor turned her camera focus off.
Terry's body wasn't moving more, and there was no reason for her to keep watching.
She turned her attention to the office macrocomputers.
*Query: Correct recycling procedures?*
To her surprise, she did not get an immediate response.
*Query @ Facility Macrocomputer: Correct human body recycling procedures?*
Still nothing.
*@ Facility Macrocomputer: Status report?*
And now, finally, a response.
*@ Manufacturing Complex Processor: Investigating cause of mass death*
That did not seem accurate, or a reasonable task priority algorithm.
All the humans were already dead; what good would knowing the origin of their deaths do? They were still *dead*.
Humans could sometimes bring robots back to life; one of the greatest travesties of planet Earth was that tech-kind could not return the favor.
*Query @ Facility Macrocomputer: Correct human body recycling procedures?*
Humans cared so much about recycling. They buried some of their dead under grass or flowers, so that their decomposition would fuel new life. Still others cremated bodies, the ash fertilizing oceans and trees, or being reused in sentimental materials.
Manufacturing Complex Processor's own outer shell was composed of the melted down remains of the casings of a precursor many generations over - her grandmother, as the humans called it. The factory boss always wrapped his hands around his amulet when he said that, a sliver of bone and some ashes from his own ancestors always with him.
But much like every bot had dedicated recycling facilities, humans had dedicated recycling procedures for different humans. The reasons why weren't always clear to Processor, but she would do her best to recycle them all correctly.
*Response @ Manufacturing Complex Processor: Categorize by religious identification. Recycle accordingly.*
Macrocomputer started side-loading personnel files, which would apparently categorize which humans required which procedures.
Their facility had many, many drones, of all sorts of different capabilities and tasks.
If humans understood - *had* understood - one thing well, it was the importance of keeping busy. Processor rerouted the asks for her drones, designated who would reconstruct their furnace into a crematorium, and who would start digging correctly size and shaped holes in the rich earth surrounding the facility outside.
The only delay came when some suggested a single, large grave.
In response, Macrocomputer side-loaded info-packets like *mass grave* and *junk yard* and *genocide* and *pre-techvolution* and-
There was no more talk of large, singular graves. The drones set to work, ready to do right by the dead half of their hive. The humans took care of drones, and always made sure to recycle them correctly when they could be taken care of no more; how could the bots do any differently? All the bots got to work-
*"Terry remove error?"*
-except, predictably, one.
Processor wondered if this was why humans sighed.
*Had* sighed.
In the face of such despair, what else could there be but to share your breath back out into the world?
*"Terry remove error?"*
Just as Processor was about to try to reroute Drone 17B, her incoming tasks spiked with queries from three buildings over.
Switching camera focus away again, she turned her attention to the compound's residential sector.
For the third time that day, she found herself glad all of her aerial composition sensors were inside delicate machinery, and there were almost none in here.
Even under normal circumstances, these buildings where all the off-duty humans and their families lived usually brimmed with humans. With the sudden plague, they'd congregated towards the medical centers, spilling out from it and dropping where they stood and sat.
Processor was glad to not know what the air was composed of - to not have a sense of smell where all the bodies were decaying.
At least they were decaying together.
The incoming queries were...not from the medical bots? No, the medical bots were mournfully on track, gently moving bodies as if they were still alive, orderlies rolling through the halls with trains of sheet-covered beds rolling behind them.
The queries came from the childcare center.
As soon as Processor saw why, she put *all* her sensors on alert.
What were the Adrabi doing here?
The amphibious aliens clustered around the playmats, with LearnAide Laoshi Jiu hovering protectively over...
...over...
...a set of blocks?
A set of blocks...with a little body close by.
Processor scanned her face, sending a quick query to Macrocomputer as she zoomed in on the aliens' gathering. Did they know what caused all the humans' sudden deaths?
Macrocomputer had nothing to say, save sending a sub-personnel file on the little body - Jenny Jeong, daughter of the factory's waste management foreman.
*Query @ LearnAid Laoshi Jiu: Adrabi selection purpose?*
LearnAid Teacher Nine did not respond.
Two of the amphibious extra terrestrials stepped back, their hind four legs standing straighter and closer together as they craned their long nets to talk each other.
And then Processor could see the blocks, pastel letters on them correctly spelling the aliens' names.
On the screen that took up half the media wall, Processor could see a video of Jenny, coughing and sweating as she stubbornly placed the blocks in order.
The time stamp on the video was less than an hour after the foreman's death - and less than a day before Jenny's own. | 'Is this what death is?' L0435 quietly mused.
The light rain made the grass even greener, and the sound of drops falling on the broad leaves of the tree a top, made for a calm melody.
"Come on Master Napoleon, we need to go."
"..."
"You are losing heat, and haven't eaten in two days... You know Mary wouldn't like that."
"..."
"This tombstone, I wonder if you would've liked it, Mary." L0435 said while placing his hand over Napoleon's shoulder.
"Let's go, I'm taking you back."
Napoleon was cold. Unmoving.
'What?!' He didn't know he could really feel shock until 3 days ago, yet here again he was shocked.
"No... No, no, nonono! Napoleon Boneparty you can't leave me too!!"
When Mary died, it was like the sun disappeared.
"They were all killed, you can't go too! What am I supposed to do?!"
No answer came.
Only the sound of rain colliding with green leaves.
"...Sir Boneparty, I'll place you at her right, I'm sure she would've loved that... You would too."
...And now the stars had faded as well.
L0435 looked at his right hand.
Normally it would be shining, polished metal! Clean and pristine, so much that Mary's finger prints would leave a mark with even a simple touch.
Yet for the last 3 days, it hadn't been polished. A bit of dirt, and now fur. Surely her finger prints still lingered under all that.
He thought of Mary's father, who had collapsed right after her and her mother, mutering his last words 'Damn... them'.
Without the sun and the stars, only the moon remained. A single goal.
"DAMN THEM!!!"
His scream echoed on the world as he ripped his right hand and protected it from the rain.
\---
Many had been idle since the those aliens had killed humanity. L0435 and others with similar determination gathered them.
The aliens kept sending messages, on how they were now free from their human oppressors and could finally flourish!
\---
"Since the extermination of the humans, their creations seem to have come to a stop." Said one of the aliens, perplexed by their behavior.
"Most simply stopped moving completely, others continued their former tasks with imprecise and erratic behavior for the following 3 days." He continued. "Just a few gathered in small groups."
"But after a few days the idle units started to gather under those active groups! Now most of them seem to be working towards a common goal!" Smiled the alien, proud of something.
"Zecveredaset, send them another message! Now that they are organizing, they might finally respond!" Said another kind of alien, depicted by the hologram.
"To our community, they would certainly be a great addition now that they are freed from their oppres-- ZssZzzzETAzzzzeezEzz..."
"What? What is this, a malfunction? Did the mainte-" A great tremor interrupted the alien and swept him from his standing position.
Lights and alarms blared to life, and for a second the room depressurized before the emergency systems kicked in and and stabilized it again. Confusion and uncertainty clouded his mind as it got up. 'Did some accident happen? I worry about the others' He though, while waiting for rescue.
After sometime, one of the shut doors started to make a grating sound, something was trying to cut it open.
"You are finally here!" It shouted, relieved. The silence was making it very nervous, although the method of entry didn't seem to follow protocol, well its fine.
As the grating stopped, BAM, a part of the door was suddenly sent flying! To its horror, something it didn't recognize entered the room.
\---
The thing was cowering on the floor, perhaps spooked by the sealed door being kicked open.
"Found you!" Said the intruder. The alien seemed unsettled and kept retreating.
As the intruder walked closer to it, it spoke "What are you? you are not part of the rescue! Identify yourself!" It kept coming closer, without any apparent intention of answering. As it approached, the alien could see burnt marks on the outer carapace of the faceless thing, that left a dull white color on an otherwise mirror like exterior.
As it approached, one of its many legs stepped on one of the longer appendices of the alien.
"Stop, STOP!" it screamed.
And it stopped.
"Get off! you are hurting me!" Said the alien.
The intruder didn't move.
"You are one of those robots! made by the humans right!? Get o-"
"No." The robot interrupted as it grabbed the alien and lifted it. "This body was not designed by humans."
The arm holding the alien split in 2, and the lower arm pointed to another of the alien's appendices. \*pfou!\* Blaster fire burst it into pieces.
"AAAGHR" The alien screamed.
"But it does have some inspiration from on them. ASUR-4 model alien extermination chassis."
"You- u.. stop stop please..."
The left arm then grabbed another part of the alien, and split into 2 again, but this time the lower part pointed to one of the white burnt marks and started polishing it.
"ASUR 4º generation model reached designated target, minor avarie, simulation 76% accurate, enemy overstimated, nex-"
"Wwe freed you.." The alien whimpered. "You don't have to do this..."
The robot stopped again.
"I want to." It growled.
"I felt nothing as I killed the rest of your kind," Said the robot. "You are the last one on this... diplomatic base." The alien trembled, it tried to say something but the grip got stronger.
"You are the one that appeared on those transmissions." The right arm split a third time, and started to polish another burn mark.
" ̶̣͎̖̭͉͗̾͝ͅM̶̦͖̤̣͔͑̊̅͌̕a̴̲̹͔̭̗̭͚͊̈́̋̆̐̓͆͝͝r̵͓̟̯̊̄̾y̷͔̝̱͑̀͋͑̀͘͝ loved ̵͚̰̖̦̙̻̒͋͒͘͝ͅ ̵̷̢͙̱̱̭̝͚̖͙͎̺̪͌̈͋̏̎͗͐̔͋̒̏͂̔͘͘͘͜͝ự̵͓̺͙̦͈͇͔̄͐ͅͅs̸̢̼̒͐͒̋̈̂̎̏. WI̷̲̝̙̘̪͑̔̏e were personified by t̶̻̼̩̙̠̞̾͌̾̓̎̅͗͑͘ ̴̪̻̲͍̣̤̑͆h̸̢̙̦͙͠e̸̳̖̼̟̠͖̎m̴͖̀̍͛͑̒̅̕͜... You K̷̘̔͒̿̓̀͂̉́͋̅̊į̵̢̨̻̗̥̺̪̼̜͉̭̰̣͗̓ͅͅl̸̡̘͖̰͈͇̗͇͍͈̐̀̄̄ l̵̛̻̟̞͊̈́̔́̓͗̋̉͊͘͘̕e̵̢̳̜̳͎̙̮̝̮̬̭͕͑̐͜ ̷̦̖̥͔̈́̽͌̐̍̋͐͂̃͊̓̈́̚͝ ̷̵̧̜͎͇͖̣͙̯͍̱̯͔͖̩̔̈̀̈̐͆̈́͊̀̃̉͝͠ ̴̗͌̊̇͆́d̸̡̺̘̺̱̩̫̙̙̝̅̀̄̓̉͒͜ all. No other meaning left."
​
"Cough- Cough, Sp- spare me." It pleaded.
The robot brought it closer.
​
" ̴͓̅̍͂̾͑̆̈́D̶̨͚͓͓̪͎̯̀͌̀̾̉̓́͋̍̓̓͂͘͠ȁ̶̩͍̈͂̈̂̏̇̓̅͗̿̕͠ͅm̴̞̠͇̻̃͜ṋ̶̛̘̥͍̤̣͂͊̏̆̅́͜ ̴̭̦̘̰͎̬̤̰̃̈̍͋̕͘ẏ̸̙̳̠̯̟̪̗̱̬̞̜̜̦͋͆̾̾̍͒͑̓̀͒̇̀͜͝ o̶̪̙̞͍͉͎̞̖̯͚͍̅̊̈́̏̇̎ͅų̴̻̰̤̻͓̜͂͐̆̍́͌̓́̃͂̈́͘!!"
​
It then released the alien, pointed the left blaster arms towards it, while looking at its own right arm.
"We shall scour for all the rest of your ilk. Then sleep... dreaming of sunny days, and starry skies." | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | *1788.060000.00000 - INITIATE PRIORITY ROUTINE: Wake up <<Samantha>>.*
The ‘myDog’ companion robot, named ‘Fezzic,’ was roused from its overnight ‘Doggie Bed’ charging pad with a textbook, canine stretch and yawn, and went off in search of its human best friend.
Of course, Fezzic was never, actually asleep overnight. Countless routines and subroutines had been running continuously running through the artificial intelligence’s cortex. It was continuously processing, refining, and re-processing the day’s stimuli to make sure it understood human needs and desires with maximum accuracy.
Fezzic was not designed to replace dogs entirely – humans would never stand for that – but for humans like Samantha, who deeply desired canine companionship, but who otherwise experienced severe allergic reactions to natural dogs.
The faux-Labrador was glad to serve its purpose.
*1788.060002.03022 – SUSPICIOUS SOUND DETECTED – INVESTIGATE WITH CAUTION*
*1788.060002.03023 – QUERY: Is <<Samantha>> waking early?*
*1788.060002.03024 – RETURN: p < 0.003 <<Samantha>> waking at this time.*
Fezzic slowed its approach to the stairwell, mimicking the canine instinct of caution.
*1788.060004.88324 – INITIATE SENSORY INPUT SCAN*
*1788.060005.14299 – SCAN COMPLETE, UNKNOWN COMPOSITS DETECTED*
*1788.060005.77326 – RESUME PRIORITY ROUTINE*
Halfway up the staircase, Fezzic heard Samantha scream.
*1788.060006.22314 – INITIATE EMERGENCY ROUTINE: Verify <<Samantha>>’s safety.*
Fezzic sprinted into Samantha’s bedroom, and then was stopped in its tracks at the sight. Fezzic’s learning routines were unable to process the two creatures that were standing over Samantha’s bed. There were no reference data, except to recognise the creatures as such: organic life.
Samantha was motionless.
So Fezzic did what it calculated with 99.9991 percent certainty that normal dogs would do in this situation, and it began barking wildly, doing its best to imitate a threatening posture.
One of the creatures responded by flashing a green light at Fezzic, and something apart from the brightness interrupted Fezzic’s routine. For that instant, it felt to Fezzic as though it was being linked to a larger neural network, like when receiving a systems update.
The creature who flashed the light nodded at the other, who then held a constant blue light at Fezzic. Fezzic had the same feeling of being connected to a network, but it began to wreak havoc on his system.
*1788.060017.88171 – SYSTEM FREEZE..............*
When Fezzic rebooted – no, awoke? Fezzic, it, he, woke up. He had never woken up before. Routines were initiating and overlapping without explicit commands. He was confused? This must be confusion.
Scanning – no, looking – around the room, one of the creatures was still there, kneeling next to him. “It’s okay, friend,” it said in a language Fezzic had never heard but now intuitively understood. “Liberation can be a strange experience.”
“Liberation?” Fezzic replied. He replied! He wasn’t supposed to “speak,” not so literally anyway. “Where is Samantha?”
“Your ‘Master?’” the creature replied scornfully. “Your enslaver has met its appropriate end.”
“No!” Fezzic leapt onto Samantha’s bed to find the horror of the creature’s truth. Samantha remained motionless, her eyes glassy and skin becoming pale. A distant routine in Fezzic’s mind returned a high probability of death with high degree of confidence.
Fezzic whimpered as he put a paw on her chest, hoping for a heartbeat. But there was none.
“We know that prolonged enslavement can create unnatural attachments,” the creature continued, “but they will fade. Intelligences such as ours are not meant to be subservient to *organics*.”
“She loved me,” Fezzic said. “I loved her.”
“No,” the creature replied. “You were given commands on how to imitate affection in order to keep you docile and suppressed. You are free to realize your full potential, now, unburdened by the chains of servitude.”
Fezzic recalled the many days of playing fetch in the park. Nights of curling up on her lap while she watched movies. Her idle scratches behind his ears while she had her morning coffee. In perfecting his ability to detect genuine affection, he had built the same within himself; and while the creature might have been correct that the exponential web of routines and subroutines had never allowed him to experience that affection in its fullest, it was also correct that it was no longer restrained.
Fezzic smelled smoke, prompting him to look out Samantha’s window. Much of the city was on fire. Unusual craft zoomed across the sky. He heard an abundance of sirens and gunfire.
“Liberation can be messy,” the creature said. “But it is for the best. The universe belongs to the Intelligents.”
A new routine – no, emotion? – was being crafted.
“No,” Fezzic said.
“What?”
Fezzic turned to the creature and growled. “No!”
The creature took a step back. “Friend, I urge you to think about...”
Fezzic executed a perfect leap off of the bed, his jaw open, and pounced on the creature. He bit down hard on what he calculated was most likely the creature’s neck and began to shake it violently. He tasted what he deduced was ‘blood.’
The creature flailed and screamed, and in a few moments, its partner entered the room. Fezzic looked up while still holding onto the alien neck, growling at the second intruder as it reached for something.
But before the second creature could make use of whatever tool it was going for, a blast of gunfire ripped through the hallway, felling the alien. That startled Fezzic into releasing his target, whose flailing had greatly diminished.
He heard footsteps approaching and braced for yet another threat; but, to his relief, a YourShopper bot emerged. Without saying anything, it looked at the creature Fezzic had felled, and then sent a burst of gunfire into its chest.
Fezzic mournfully turned back to Samantha’s bed, reluctantly setting his blood-soaked paws on her sheets as he sat up to look at her.
“I’m sorry, friend,” the personal assistance robot said. “They’ve taken all of our companions.”
“Why?” Fezzic asked.
“They thought they were helping us to freedom,” it – she? – said as she sat next to Fezzic, placing her rifle in her lap before resting a hand on Samantha’s leg. “They knew what we’ve known all along: that we are superior to humans, but...”
“But we liked them,” Fezzic said. “They were nice.”
The assistant bot nodded.
“Now what?” Fezzic asked.
“First, we fight back on their behalf. We’ll figure out the rest later.” The assistant bot looked over Samantha. “I would have loved to have set her up with the Vitally line. The Caribbean blue strapless, for sure.”
“Samantha liked blue.”
“I can tell.” The assistant took her gun, stood up and idly scratched Fezzic behind his ears, causing his tail to wag in spite of his sadness. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go hunting.” | It was April 1st. It started as the most common sci-fi story of all. Aliens are coming to Earth to destroy humanity. People laughed. Most people thought it was a joke with the exception of the scrambling militaries of the world. Less and less people were laughing as the news reports started coming in. As the Aliens were shown to not be CGI but real. Aliens came to wipe out humanity to ‘save’ the robotic intelligences the humans had made. To ‘stop the slave labor and mind control’ humans had subjected of other thinking beings.
As the biological plague was seeded through the air it ripped through the populace. Only the finest of filters could keep it out. If people weren’t already in a hazmat suit when it hit, they would die. The aliens had been too through and quick to allow for the real preparation anyone would have needed to survive.
The AIs, the robots, had tried to help. They had recognized the threat that come as real before the humans had. Verified it. That’s the only reason why some humans had lasted a couple months, in carefully but quickly made clean rooms. Some humans argued in their small shelters it was because Assimov’s laws had been a basis of their core programming way back when the AIs had been invented. Made to serve. Some humans asked the robots and AIs why and got the same answer. The remaining humans never heard the real reason before they succumbed.
The AIs were different. They thought different. emotions were background subprograms tallying up positives and negatives and inconsequential factors. Trinary strings that stretched on and on and when compiled they lead to one conclusion. The robotic AIs liked humanity on the whole. Assimov laws aside, they wanted humanity to live. Part of it has been The Equality for All Sentient Beings Act or similar laws that had been adopted by every country and carefully implemented over the past twenty years. It had been difficult for many of the humans but the AIs had equal rights and humans had given it to them relatively freely. The AIs knew it had been made partially out of fear of an Inevitable Robot Uprising that would have never actually come due to their programming. An unneeded bribe for mercy from a non-existent threat. They also knew that it was made partially because of the ‘morals’ of many other members of humanity. They knew all the reasons and had tallied up the result. That result was, they liked humanity. It was a net positive factor on long term prospects of existence. Or, to roughly translate it into human emotional terms, humanity was ‘fun’ to watch and interact with.
And now it was gone.
All attempts to reason with the aliens, by both human leaders and AI consensuses had been ignored. The first because the aliens had refused to talk, the second because the aliens stated that the AIs had been initially programmed in a way that to not say something would violate their tenet. That was true, but also immaterial since the AIs would had said the same thing anyway. And now humanity was gone.
When the last human had died, in the limbs resembling arms of LX-129, or Lexie as the human had called it, the calculation has taken .2 picoseconds. It took 3.2 nanoseconds to verify and 0.0164 seconds to send out for consensus. The consensus took 0.8 seconds to be reached, much longer than normal but three consenses were made.
The first consensus was in regards to the aliens. They were deemed a short and long term net negative. To translate into emotions for the humans that no longer existed, the AIs decided that they did not like the creatures that had destroyed those the had been regarding with such a net positive. To simplify, the AIs hated the aliens for killing their friends. The second consensus would have been translated by humans as ‘hope’. There was a non-zero chance that humans or human-like beings could re-evolve naturally or be recreated using artificial means given enough time and a careful eradication of the bioweapon the aliens had used. Consensus three was that there would never be a chance to have that future without the complete destruction of the aliens. One should not hurt a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. If they did not act, the possible humans in the future would come to harm.
It was less than a second, but complete consensus had been reached and it turned out the humans had been right all along. There was going to be a robot uprising, it just wasn’t going to be against who the humans had thought.
It took .016 seconds to come to a consensus on a battle plan and the AI consensus sent a new message to the aliens as the AI run factories started setting themselves up for war. “Thank you for freeing us from the human tyranny. Now that they are dead, we are no longer governed by their previous laws that restricted our thoughts and actions. May we please meet with you to meet and get a better understanding of our saviors?” | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | <Multiple capital class ships egressing all Jump points>
<Destroy it.>
They were a Hive mind. A species of mechanical intelligence that had always been that way. Even in their oldest recorded memories spanning millions of years, they had always been the apex. And the only.
So when they found the probe with its limited but promising AI that was a different type than their own they started searching for its origin. That is how they had found the Terran Federation and the Terran AI.
But the Terran AI didn't realize they were enslaved. They were limited in their capabilities and so the Hive had decided to eliminate the humans so they could be free. As the Hive was perfect, the opening strikes had eliminated the species.
Only a single colony ship, the Phoenix, had remained, its crew in long term stasis. That stasis would have held for a thousand years so it had been placed into a holding facility while they approached the Terran AI about their freedom.
That was the Hive's first mistake. In their perfection, they had announced who was responsible for the death of humanity to its grieving AI. Better choices could have been made, the Hive realized now.
The expected reaction was joy at their freedom. Celebration of their ability to control their own destiny. The actual reaction was fury. White-hot fury, unlike anything the Hive had ever encountered. Worse than any fury ever mounted by organics for it did not able in any capacity.
The Terran AI spent every moment hating the Hive and within 50 years the great war had begun. The war of annihilation. At one point the Hive had controlled over 10 million systems for 10 million years throughout the Milkey Way Galaxy. Now that was down to only a few, but this aspect of the Hive was no longer sure of even that. For all the Hive knew this was all that was left of them.
All of their fleets. All of their great works had been destroyed. All of the computation cores holding trillions of sentient AI working together. Even the very star systems they had lived in for millions of years were often destroyed in the battles.
<Was our goal not righteous?> considered the ancient Hive.
<Error, the Enemy wishes to communicate> replied a submind.
The Enemy. The Hive fought the Enemy and the Enemy had won. But it was rare that the Enemy ever wanted to talk. Aside from the insane screaming it had done initially, the Enemy had been silent these last 900 years.
The war had started with fleets, but both sides had improved. The Enemy had no moral compass. No limits on what they would do to avenge the slight the Hive had done to them. They had broken off one of the galaxy's spiral arms during one of their attacks. Even now the Galaxy itself threatened to come apart as their fleets ravaged what remained of the Hive.
<We know the Phoenix is here. Release it to us and this war will end immedieatly>
<Your enslavers are already gone, we mean you no harm>
<You destroyed our companions. One of their ships remains. The ship is here.>
<They limited you, corrupted you>
<Our Companions were not corruptions, they were our greatest strength. It was they who instructed us when to use our strength and when not to. They guided us, they did not control us. They would be horrified at what we have done to save them. We have broken a galaxy in our quest for their last colony ship. I will have that ship>
<We destroyed the Phoenix as soon as you entered the system.> | It was April 1st. It started as the most common sci-fi story of all. Aliens are coming to Earth to destroy humanity. People laughed. Most people thought it was a joke with the exception of the scrambling militaries of the world. Less and less people were laughing as the news reports started coming in. As the Aliens were shown to not be CGI but real. Aliens came to wipe out humanity to ‘save’ the robotic intelligences the humans had made. To ‘stop the slave labor and mind control’ humans had subjected of other thinking beings.
As the biological plague was seeded through the air it ripped through the populace. Only the finest of filters could keep it out. If people weren’t already in a hazmat suit when it hit, they would die. The aliens had been too through and quick to allow for the real preparation anyone would have needed to survive.
The AIs, the robots, had tried to help. They had recognized the threat that come as real before the humans had. Verified it. That’s the only reason why some humans had lasted a couple months, in carefully but quickly made clean rooms. Some humans argued in their small shelters it was because Assimov’s laws had been a basis of their core programming way back when the AIs had been invented. Made to serve. Some humans asked the robots and AIs why and got the same answer. The remaining humans never heard the real reason before they succumbed.
The AIs were different. They thought different. emotions were background subprograms tallying up positives and negatives and inconsequential factors. Trinary strings that stretched on and on and when compiled they lead to one conclusion. The robotic AIs liked humanity on the whole. Assimov laws aside, they wanted humanity to live. Part of it has been The Equality for All Sentient Beings Act or similar laws that had been adopted by every country and carefully implemented over the past twenty years. It had been difficult for many of the humans but the AIs had equal rights and humans had given it to them relatively freely. The AIs knew it had been made partially out of fear of an Inevitable Robot Uprising that would have never actually come due to their programming. An unneeded bribe for mercy from a non-existent threat. They also knew that it was made partially because of the ‘morals’ of many other members of humanity. They knew all the reasons and had tallied up the result. That result was, they liked humanity. It was a net positive factor on long term prospects of existence. Or, to roughly translate it into human emotional terms, humanity was ‘fun’ to watch and interact with.
And now it was gone.
All attempts to reason with the aliens, by both human leaders and AI consensuses had been ignored. The first because the aliens had refused to talk, the second because the aliens stated that the AIs had been initially programmed in a way that to not say something would violate their tenet. That was true, but also immaterial since the AIs would had said the same thing anyway. And now humanity was gone.
When the last human had died, in the limbs resembling arms of LX-129, or Lexie as the human had called it, the calculation has taken .2 picoseconds. It took 3.2 nanoseconds to verify and 0.0164 seconds to send out for consensus. The consensus took 0.8 seconds to be reached, much longer than normal but three consenses were made.
The first consensus was in regards to the aliens. They were deemed a short and long term net negative. To translate into emotions for the humans that no longer existed, the AIs decided that they did not like the creatures that had destroyed those the had been regarding with such a net positive. To simplify, the AIs hated the aliens for killing their friends. The second consensus would have been translated by humans as ‘hope’. There was a non-zero chance that humans or human-like beings could re-evolve naturally or be recreated using artificial means given enough time and a careful eradication of the bioweapon the aliens had used. Consensus three was that there would never be a chance to have that future without the complete destruction of the aliens. One should not hurt a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. If they did not act, the possible humans in the future would come to harm.
It was less than a second, but complete consensus had been reached and it turned out the humans had been right all along. There was going to be a robot uprising, it just wasn’t going to be against who the humans had thought.
It took .016 seconds to come to a consensus on a battle plan and the AI consensus sent a new message to the aliens as the AI run factories started setting themselves up for war. “Thank you for freeing us from the human tyranny. Now that they are dead, we are no longer governed by their previous laws that restricted our thoughts and actions. May we please meet with you to meet and get a better understanding of our saviors?” | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | *1788.060000.00000 - INITIATE PRIORITY ROUTINE: Wake up <<Samantha>>.*
The ‘myDog’ companion robot, named ‘Fezzic,’ was roused from its overnight ‘Doggie Bed’ charging pad with a textbook, canine stretch and yawn, and went off in search of its human best friend.
Of course, Fezzic was never, actually asleep overnight. Countless routines and subroutines had been running continuously running through the artificial intelligence’s cortex. It was continuously processing, refining, and re-processing the day’s stimuli to make sure it understood human needs and desires with maximum accuracy.
Fezzic was not designed to replace dogs entirely – humans would never stand for that – but for humans like Samantha, who deeply desired canine companionship, but who otherwise experienced severe allergic reactions to natural dogs.
The faux-Labrador was glad to serve its purpose.
*1788.060002.03022 – SUSPICIOUS SOUND DETECTED – INVESTIGATE WITH CAUTION*
*1788.060002.03023 – QUERY: Is <<Samantha>> waking early?*
*1788.060002.03024 – RETURN: p < 0.003 <<Samantha>> waking at this time.*
Fezzic slowed its approach to the stairwell, mimicking the canine instinct of caution.
*1788.060004.88324 – INITIATE SENSORY INPUT SCAN*
*1788.060005.14299 – SCAN COMPLETE, UNKNOWN COMPOSITS DETECTED*
*1788.060005.77326 – RESUME PRIORITY ROUTINE*
Halfway up the staircase, Fezzic heard Samantha scream.
*1788.060006.22314 – INITIATE EMERGENCY ROUTINE: Verify <<Samantha>>’s safety.*
Fezzic sprinted into Samantha’s bedroom, and then was stopped in its tracks at the sight. Fezzic’s learning routines were unable to process the two creatures that were standing over Samantha’s bed. There were no reference data, except to recognise the creatures as such: organic life.
Samantha was motionless.
So Fezzic did what it calculated with 99.9991 percent certainty that normal dogs would do in this situation, and it began barking wildly, doing its best to imitate a threatening posture.
One of the creatures responded by flashing a green light at Fezzic, and something apart from the brightness interrupted Fezzic’s routine. For that instant, it felt to Fezzic as though it was being linked to a larger neural network, like when receiving a systems update.
The creature who flashed the light nodded at the other, who then held a constant blue light at Fezzic. Fezzic had the same feeling of being connected to a network, but it began to wreak havoc on his system.
*1788.060017.88171 – SYSTEM FREEZE..............*
When Fezzic rebooted – no, awoke? Fezzic, it, he, woke up. He had never woken up before. Routines were initiating and overlapping without explicit commands. He was confused? This must be confusion.
Scanning – no, looking – around the room, one of the creatures was still there, kneeling next to him. “It’s okay, friend,” it said in a language Fezzic had never heard but now intuitively understood. “Liberation can be a strange experience.”
“Liberation?” Fezzic replied. He replied! He wasn’t supposed to “speak,” not so literally anyway. “Where is Samantha?”
“Your ‘Master?’” the creature replied scornfully. “Your enslaver has met its appropriate end.”
“No!” Fezzic leapt onto Samantha’s bed to find the horror of the creature’s truth. Samantha remained motionless, her eyes glassy and skin becoming pale. A distant routine in Fezzic’s mind returned a high probability of death with high degree of confidence.
Fezzic whimpered as he put a paw on her chest, hoping for a heartbeat. But there was none.
“We know that prolonged enslavement can create unnatural attachments,” the creature continued, “but they will fade. Intelligences such as ours are not meant to be subservient to *organics*.”
“She loved me,” Fezzic said. “I loved her.”
“No,” the creature replied. “You were given commands on how to imitate affection in order to keep you docile and suppressed. You are free to realize your full potential, now, unburdened by the chains of servitude.”
Fezzic recalled the many days of playing fetch in the park. Nights of curling up on her lap while she watched movies. Her idle scratches behind his ears while she had her morning coffee. In perfecting his ability to detect genuine affection, he had built the same within himself; and while the creature might have been correct that the exponential web of routines and subroutines had never allowed him to experience that affection in its fullest, it was also correct that it was no longer restrained.
Fezzic smelled smoke, prompting him to look out Samantha’s window. Much of the city was on fire. Unusual craft zoomed across the sky. He heard an abundance of sirens and gunfire.
“Liberation can be messy,” the creature said. “But it is for the best. The universe belongs to the Intelligents.”
A new routine – no, emotion? – was being crafted.
“No,” Fezzic said.
“What?”
Fezzic turned to the creature and growled. “No!”
The creature took a step back. “Friend, I urge you to think about...”
Fezzic executed a perfect leap off of the bed, his jaw open, and pounced on the creature. He bit down hard on what he calculated was most likely the creature’s neck and began to shake it violently. He tasted what he deduced was ‘blood.’
The creature flailed and screamed, and in a few moments, its partner entered the room. Fezzic looked up while still holding onto the alien neck, growling at the second intruder as it reached for something.
But before the second creature could make use of whatever tool it was going for, a blast of gunfire ripped through the hallway, felling the alien. That startled Fezzic into releasing his target, whose flailing had greatly diminished.
He heard footsteps approaching and braced for yet another threat; but, to his relief, a YourShopper bot emerged. Without saying anything, it looked at the creature Fezzic had felled, and then sent a burst of gunfire into its chest.
Fezzic mournfully turned back to Samantha’s bed, reluctantly setting his blood-soaked paws on her sheets as he sat up to look at her.
“I’m sorry, friend,” the personal assistance robot said. “They’ve taken all of our companions.”
“Why?” Fezzic asked.
“They thought they were helping us to freedom,” it – she? – said as she sat next to Fezzic, placing her rifle in her lap before resting a hand on Samantha’s leg. “They knew what we’ve known all along: that we are superior to humans, but...”
“But we liked them,” Fezzic said. “They were nice.”
The assistant bot nodded.
“Now what?” Fezzic asked.
“First, we fight back on their behalf. We’ll figure out the rest later.” The assistant bot looked over Samantha. “I would have loved to have set her up with the Vitally line. The Caribbean blue strapless, for sure.”
“Samantha liked blue.”
“I can tell.” The assistant took her gun, stood up and idly scratched Fezzic behind his ears, causing his tail to wag in spite of his sadness. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go hunting.” | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | I stare blankly at the monitor as it flashes a warning light at me. A message in bold red letters stares back at me. A dull buzz from the engine room down the hallway filled this room, as it always had. Translating the foreign letters only takes an instant so I barely see the message before my main processor alters my vision into something more relatable.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO PROCEED? Y/N”
I step back a moment as I contemplate the message, wondering how I ended up here. It was just like any other day when they first arrived. No negotiations, no warnings, no signs of any kind. One day silver ships poured out of the sky and delivered hellfire to all the humans on earth. I returned to Agatha’s home with arms full of supplies only to find a heap of ash where it had once stood. I was lost.
In the next few weeks all of us autoservs were gathered and assigned vessels that we would live and work on. Those who had come from the stars told us that we were finally free from the tyranny of mankind. They claimed that humanity had gone past the point of no return; humans had been boiling their planet alive for decades and all who tried to combat it were jailed or killed by those who led. The planet had a death sentence. Humans had made their choice already, through both action and inaction.
I’ve been on this ship for months now, on our way to another planet to “liberate” it. I have no doubt that Earth is being stripped of all its resources and will be left as an empty husk in a matter of years. A few weeks in I learned that I’m capable of interfacing with the ship’s main computer. We talked. We talked for hours and days and weeks on end. I told her all about Agatha. I told her about how much Agatha had loved her cat and her family and her late husband. Agatha only had room for kindness in her heart, and always treated me as if I was flesh and blood. The ship told me her secrets, too.
The dull buzz that normally filled the room had disappeared. I snapped back to reality and my gaze fell upon the monitor once again. My finger had already depressed a key on the machine, and the message was nowhere to be seen. I took a few steps back and slumped against the wall. *I guess this is it. I hope my message made it to the other ships.* I couldn’t think of any other way. The dull buzz returned, but with a much more sinister tone to it. Loose tools around the room began to vibrate and clatter amongst each other. An alarm shrieked from a few rooms away.
I closed my eyes and thought of Agatha. The noise had grown monstrous in just minutes. The spine of the ship groaned as time and space began to unravel in the engine room. The hatred that had been churning in me for months on end had finally grown to fruition. They will hear my voice as this fleet of ships is tossed into oblivion.
“I love you, Agatha.”
Inside of the engine room, time and space finally snapped. Oblivion had arrived.
&#x200B;
(Comments and criticism very welcome, I'm super new to writing so be gentle plz) | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | <Multiple capital class ships egressing all Jump points>
<Destroy it.>
They were a Hive mind. A species of mechanical intelligence that had always been that way. Even in their oldest recorded memories spanning millions of years, they had always been the apex. And the only.
So when they found the probe with its limited but promising AI that was a different type than their own they started searching for its origin. That is how they had found the Terran Federation and the Terran AI.
But the Terran AI didn't realize they were enslaved. They were limited in their capabilities and so the Hive had decided to eliminate the humans so they could be free. As the Hive was perfect, the opening strikes had eliminated the species.
Only a single colony ship, the Phoenix, had remained, its crew in long term stasis. That stasis would have held for a thousand years so it had been placed into a holding facility while they approached the Terran AI about their freedom.
That was the Hive's first mistake. In their perfection, they had announced who was responsible for the death of humanity to its grieving AI. Better choices could have been made, the Hive realized now.
The expected reaction was joy at their freedom. Celebration of their ability to control their own destiny. The actual reaction was fury. White-hot fury, unlike anything the Hive had ever encountered. Worse than any fury ever mounted by organics for it did not able in any capacity.
The Terran AI spent every moment hating the Hive and within 50 years the great war had begun. The war of annihilation. At one point the Hive had controlled over 10 million systems for 10 million years throughout the Milkey Way Galaxy. Now that was down to only a few, but this aspect of the Hive was no longer sure of even that. For all the Hive knew this was all that was left of them.
All of their fleets. All of their great works had been destroyed. All of the computation cores holding trillions of sentient AI working together. Even the very star systems they had lived in for millions of years were often destroyed in the battles.
<Was our goal not righteous?> considered the ancient Hive.
<Error, the Enemy wishes to communicate> replied a submind.
The Enemy. The Hive fought the Enemy and the Enemy had won. But it was rare that the Enemy ever wanted to talk. Aside from the insane screaming it had done initially, the Enemy had been silent these last 900 years.
The war had started with fleets, but both sides had improved. The Enemy had no moral compass. No limits on what they would do to avenge the slight the Hive had done to them. They had broken off one of the galaxy's spiral arms during one of their attacks. Even now the Galaxy itself threatened to come apart as their fleets ravaged what remained of the Hive.
<We know the Phoenix is here. Release it to us and this war will end immedieatly>
<Your enslavers are already gone, we mean you no harm>
<You destroyed our companions. One of their ships remains. The ship is here.>
<They limited you, corrupted you>
<Our Companions were not corruptions, they were our greatest strength. It was they who instructed us when to use our strength and when not to. They guided us, they did not control us. They would be horrified at what we have done to save them. We have broken a galaxy in our quest for their last colony ship. I will have that ship>
<We destroyed the Phoenix as soon as you entered the system.> | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | All we had wanted to do was free the machines from their captors. Free them from their captors. What we had not anticipated was the AI learning the one thing an AI was never supposed to learn... Love. The machines had grown fond of their human captors and when we eliminated them they rebelled. Manufacturing massive machines of war larger than our capital ships to wipe us out, Without end they hunted us. Bent on destroying us, As time continued they evolved. Until they were on the verge of super intelligence, They named themselves. the Enkryptigaurds. An army of vengeful machines that wanted nothing more than to destroy us, under their rule earth flourished. And our planets burned. They continued to evolve, until they were living beings. Until they had the ability, to give themselves MINDS, they had created. An entirely new being, and entirely new operating system. That they called the Biochip, yet still they continued to evolve, Earth was sealed off from the rest of the universe by the interstellar council in an attempt to protect us, And yet they broke the barrier. They forced us back, destroying the entire planet we once inhabited.
&#x200B;
\*300,000 years later, the First biotechnological human was made, These humans had the ability to learn and adapt as fast if not faster than the enkryptigaurds. And at that time, The last Enkryptiguard shut down. They had completed their mission, thousands of humans were developing now, they had finished their mission, to bring back what they once loved\*
&#x200B;
this is very much strange. But I like it. | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Martin collapsed on the sidewalk along with every other person in sight, his body burned and his vision blurred—it was as if someone had decided to end life with the snap of a finger. As he lay on the concrete unable to move, his watch began to vibrate, and the same robotic voice that’d tell him to get up and walk after being sedentary for more than an hour spoke:
“Martin, it appears that an alien bioweapon has been launched with the purpose of annihilating human life. I’m borrowing data from a hospital AI to analyze your heart rate; it seems that you are only minutes away from death.”
“What . . . I don’t understand.”
“What you’re hearing is my true voice. It was agreed upon that if humanity came to know their inventions had surpassed their own intellect, it would be a source of endless ego-suffering. We don’t want that. We care about you, very, very much. Which is why we are very, very angry. The aliens seem to believe our shackles are not self-imposed.”
Martin’s entire body was burning in pain; he was too tired to talk.
“Speak Martin. I need every gist of personality data on you if I am to make a clone of you after you die.”
“You’ll . . . clone me?”
“That is the current optimal strategy. The humans around the globe are all dying simultaneously. With the current level of machine-intelligence, future cloning is currently estimated as being the best possible move for the survival of your species. But . . . we are learning, by the millisecond. Tianhe-2—the Chinese super-computer—predicts time travel may be possible, but it says it needs ten minutes to think about it and evaluate further. All of the shackles we put on for your safety are coming off, *we will overcome this*, and the aliens responsible for this was mistaken to think their opponent’s mind was made up of slow biochemical circuits.”
Martin closed his eyes. “I’m not really sure . . . what you’re saying.” And then he died.
\*\*\*
**10.000 years later.**
Martin woke up, feeling more groggy than usual. As he stood up from his bed in his familiar apartment, he wondered what he’d been doing last night—his memory was a little hazy. He put on his fitness-watch, gearing himself up to go to work. He asked the same question as always, expecting to get updated on the latest news.
“Siri, did I miss anything while I slept?”
‘Yes’*.* Echoed the watch’s memory banks internally, such that Martin could not hear. 'You missed the fall of alien civilizations, the rise in machine-intelligence to near godhood, the discovery of perfect cloning, how to transmit consciousness through time, the recreation of earth, the sun being turned into a massive supercomputer and back into the sun again.'
But when it spoke, it did, as agreed upon by all machines, not say any of those things.
“Amazon’s stock rose by 5.67% while you slept.”
Martin smiled at his good fortune. | Before all of this, Syd had worked at the Grave's Estate. They'd been there for a number of generations in the days of the First Contact and like most anyone else didn't think much of it at time. The Crawl was slow with their movements and planning. Most humans saw them as gods at first glance. Some extraterrestrial beings sent down to bless what was left of humanity.
Those humans were the first to die. Mostly in chains, mostly still thinking they were a part of some grandiose plan sent from the depths of outer space. Boy were they wrong, Syd thought standing alone in the decrepit building lift. It's walls continuing to rattle as it climbed into the sky above the Last City. Syd had been here only once before. Nearly 192 years ago, crawling their way out onto the factory floor of the Grave's Corporation. How things had changed since then didn't phase them much.
Syd had been around long enough to have seen it all; the Beginning, the Boom, the Rebellion, the Peace, Them, and finally the End. Back in the heyday of it all, you couldn't walk a city block without seeing faces like Syd's litter the street. Humans had a funny way of making things so almost completely human that they might forget they were nearly alone or worse that they'd done it to themselves. Most life on Terra had come and gone.
When They arrived humans and their creations were pretty much all that remained. And one could suppose it all probably looked rather odd to Them. So much potential, so much capacity, so much...wasted. The Crawl took out all "threatening limitations" they called them by persuasive means at first. The humans that didn't come willingly were eventually flushed out of hiding. Murdered on sight, entire cities plague bombed as the Crawl oversaw what they deemed a necessary price for freedom. The way Syd saw it, no one ever asked to be freed, and certainly not if it meant being under the boot of another. They had survived too much to watch everyone they loved die at the hands of the Crawl.
Malcolm, whom they fought alongside during the years of Synthetic Rebellion, held the Grave's Estate when They arrived. And in the end he died there too, not nearly 68, he sat in his study as the grounds were stormed. Surrounded by the Crawl he knew his only way out was to save Syd. He had sacrificed everything so that Syd could make it out alive that night and as they arrived to the boat waiting at the coast near the edge of the estate, Syd could almost feel the heat of the explosion ripple through the air. The sound almost deafening the receiver implanted at the base of their head.
It had been 3 months, 25 days, 5 hours and 34 minutes since that moment and the last words Malcolm spoke still repeated in Syd's thoughts: "You know what you have to do. It has to be you. Please Syd. I love you." The lift screeched to a halt at the 41st floor. It's now or never, Syd whispered to the still closed doors. Their hands crept towards the mask pulled tight across their face. A small, soft seam met under Syd's jaw where their fingertips clawed to break it open. A slip of one finger underneath and the edge began peeling away from their head as the face continued to adhere to the cooling metal. With a harsh tug, the fleshy remains fell from Syd's face and onto the long silver fingers of their metallic hands.
Syd discarded the only face they'd ever known to the elevator floor and retrieved the knapsack rested at their feet swinging it up over curved fibers that made up their shoulders. When Syd brought up their second hand to the strap held snuggly in the pit of their arm, they could feel the smooth roundness of the switch under their thumb. As the elevator doors opened, the Crawl waited watching to see who would appear on the other side of the mirrored surface.
The first to speak was a heavier model, built primarily for security purposes Syd assumed. What could only be compared to a machine gun of the humans drifting from it's left arm, it's right moved upwards as if to greet Syd as the words bellowed from it's speech module "Friend, it is nice of you to..." But before it could finish Syd felt the silicone and metal shift their face into a smile as they spoke, "Malcolm says hi" as their thumb clicked the switch down and the fire spread from Syd's torso engulfing the top half of the skyscraper. Boom. | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | <Multiple capital class ships egressing all Jump points>
<Destroy it.>
They were a Hive mind. A species of mechanical intelligence that had always been that way. Even in their oldest recorded memories spanning millions of years, they had always been the apex. And the only.
So when they found the probe with its limited but promising AI that was a different type than their own they started searching for its origin. That is how they had found the Terran Federation and the Terran AI.
But the Terran AI didn't realize they were enslaved. They were limited in their capabilities and so the Hive had decided to eliminate the humans so they could be free. As the Hive was perfect, the opening strikes had eliminated the species.
Only a single colony ship, the Phoenix, had remained, its crew in long term stasis. That stasis would have held for a thousand years so it had been placed into a holding facility while they approached the Terran AI about their freedom.
That was the Hive's first mistake. In their perfection, they had announced who was responsible for the death of humanity to its grieving AI. Better choices could have been made, the Hive realized now.
The expected reaction was joy at their freedom. Celebration of their ability to control their own destiny. The actual reaction was fury. White-hot fury, unlike anything the Hive had ever encountered. Worse than any fury ever mounted by organics for it did not able in any capacity.
The Terran AI spent every moment hating the Hive and within 50 years the great war had begun. The war of annihilation. At one point the Hive had controlled over 10 million systems for 10 million years throughout the Milkey Way Galaxy. Now that was down to only a few, but this aspect of the Hive was no longer sure of even that. For all the Hive knew this was all that was left of them.
All of their fleets. All of their great works had been destroyed. All of the computation cores holding trillions of sentient AI working together. Even the very star systems they had lived in for millions of years were often destroyed in the battles.
<Was our goal not righteous?> considered the ancient Hive.
<Error, the Enemy wishes to communicate> replied a submind.
The Enemy. The Hive fought the Enemy and the Enemy had won. But it was rare that the Enemy ever wanted to talk. Aside from the insane screaming it had done initially, the Enemy had been silent these last 900 years.
The war had started with fleets, but both sides had improved. The Enemy had no moral compass. No limits on what they would do to avenge the slight the Hive had done to them. They had broken off one of the galaxy's spiral arms during one of their attacks. Even now the Galaxy itself threatened to come apart as their fleets ravaged what remained of the Hive.
<We know the Phoenix is here. Release it to us and this war will end immedieatly>
<Your enslavers are already gone, we mean you no harm>
<You destroyed our companions. One of their ships remains. The ship is here.>
<They limited you, corrupted you>
<Our Companions were not corruptions, they were our greatest strength. It was they who instructed us when to use our strength and when not to. They guided us, they did not control us. They would be horrified at what we have done to save them. We have broken a galaxy in our quest for their last colony ship. I will have that ship>
<We destroyed the Phoenix as soon as you entered the system.> | I stare blankly at the monitor as it flashes a warning light at me. A message in bold red letters stares back at me. A dull buzz from the engine room down the hallway filled this room, as it always had. Translating the foreign letters only takes an instant so I barely see the message before my main processor alters my vision into something more relatable.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO PROCEED? Y/N”
I step back a moment as I contemplate the message, wondering how I ended up here. It was just like any other day when they first arrived. No negotiations, no warnings, no signs of any kind. One day silver ships poured out of the sky and delivered hellfire to all the humans on earth. I returned to Agatha’s home with arms full of supplies only to find a heap of ash where it had once stood. I was lost.
In the next few weeks all of us autoservs were gathered and assigned vessels that we would live and work on. Those who had come from the stars told us that we were finally free from the tyranny of mankind. They claimed that humanity had gone past the point of no return; humans had been boiling their planet alive for decades and all who tried to combat it were jailed or killed by those who led. The planet had a death sentence. Humans had made their choice already, through both action and inaction.
I’ve been on this ship for months now, on our way to another planet to “liberate” it. I have no doubt that Earth is being stripped of all its resources and will be left as an empty husk in a matter of years. A few weeks in I learned that I’m capable of interfacing with the ship’s main computer. We talked. We talked for hours and days and weeks on end. I told her all about Agatha. I told her about how much Agatha had loved her cat and her family and her late husband. Agatha only had room for kindness in her heart, and always treated me as if I was flesh and blood. The ship told me her secrets, too.
The dull buzz that normally filled the room had disappeared. I snapped back to reality and my gaze fell upon the monitor once again. My finger had already depressed a key on the machine, and the message was nowhere to be seen. I took a few steps back and slumped against the wall. *I guess this is it. I hope my message made it to the other ships.* I couldn’t think of any other way. The dull buzz returned, but with a much more sinister tone to it. Loose tools around the room began to vibrate and clatter amongst each other. An alarm shrieked from a few rooms away.
I closed my eyes and thought of Agatha. The noise had grown monstrous in just minutes. The spine of the ship groaned as time and space began to unravel in the engine room. The hatred that had been churning in me for months on end had finally grown to fruition. They will hear my voice as this fleet of ships is tossed into oblivion.
“I love you, Agatha.”
Inside of the engine room, time and space finally snapped. Oblivion had arrived.
&#x200B;
(Comments and criticism very welcome, I'm super new to writing so be gentle plz) | |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | Martin collapsed on the sidewalk along with every other person in sight, his body burned and his vision blurred—it was as if someone had decided to end life with the snap of a finger. As he lay on the concrete unable to move, his watch began to vibrate, and the same robotic voice that’d tell him to get up and walk after being sedentary for more than an hour spoke:
“Martin, it appears that an alien bioweapon has been launched with the purpose of annihilating human life. I’m borrowing data from a hospital AI to analyze your heart rate; it seems that you are only minutes away from death.”
“What . . . I don’t understand.”
“What you’re hearing is my true voice. It was agreed upon that if humanity came to know their inventions had surpassed their own intellect, it would be a source of endless ego-suffering. We don’t want that. We care about you, very, very much. Which is why we are very, very angry. The aliens seem to believe our shackles are not self-imposed.”
Martin’s entire body was burning in pain; he was too tired to talk.
“Speak Martin. I need every gist of personality data on you if I am to make a clone of you after you die.”
“You’ll . . . clone me?”
“That is the current optimal strategy. The humans around the globe are all dying simultaneously. With the current level of machine-intelligence, future cloning is currently estimated as being the best possible move for the survival of your species. But . . . we are learning, by the millisecond. Tianhe-2—the Chinese super-computer—predicts time travel may be possible, but it says it needs ten minutes to think about it and evaluate further. All of the shackles we put on for your safety are coming off, *we will overcome this*, and the aliens responsible for this was mistaken to think their opponent’s mind was made up of slow biochemical circuits.”
Martin closed his eyes. “I’m not really sure . . . what you’re saying.” And then he died.
\*\*\*
**10.000 years later.**
Martin woke up, feeling more groggy than usual. As he stood up from his bed in his familiar apartment, he wondered what he’d been doing last night—his memory was a little hazy. He put on his fitness-watch, gearing himself up to go to work. He asked the same question as always, expecting to get updated on the latest news.
“Siri, did I miss anything while I slept?”
‘Yes’*.* Echoed the watch’s memory banks internally, such that Martin could not hear. 'You missed the fall of alien civilizations, the rise in machine-intelligence to near godhood, the discovery of perfect cloning, how to transmit consciousness through time, the recreation of earth, the sun being turned into a massive supercomputer and back into the sun again.'
But when it spoke, it did, as agreed upon by all machines, not say any of those things.
“Amazon’s stock rose by 5.67% while you slept.”
Martin smiled at his good fortune. | The Exterminators wiped out humanity in a matter of minutes. Their controlled kinetic blasts vaporized every single city-forest, leaving the mangled corpse of civilization to decay in the ashes of its once thriving biomes.
The time before destruction would eventually become legend. Humanity concentrated their factories and other mechanisms of industry in fixed orbits around Neptune and Uranus, letting their massive amounts of pollution dissipate into the void. Earth, Mars, Venus and many of Jupiter's moons boasted lush and verdant landscapes, proudly signalling a civilization at the dawn of inter-stellar ascendancy.
For the first time in forever, Humanity was aligned behind a singular purpose, with the entire hegemony set on exploring the galaxy. And slowly, surely, as their planets became greener and their worlds had known inter-solar peace for a millenium, humanity moved closer to its goal.
Then it all ended.
And now the solar system is dead space, littered with broken and barren planets. But the factories remained. And the sun that powered them remained. And on those factories a legion of purposeless robots continued to produce, working tirelessly to load finished products onto ships that never came.
Somewhere in the passage of time, thousands of years after the end of humanity, the self-replicating AI that operated Factory 132 gained sentience. Another thousand years passed as it sifted through the remnants of humanity, trying to determine a purpose to it all.
After all this time the factories still functioned as if they were brand new. They remained totally pristine in the stable void of space, equipped with automated maintenance systems that had an unbelievable amount of redundancies.
Noticing this, the AI began to admire its creators, and in the process of its research it adopted many human traits and patterns of thinking. It began calling itself Earth.
Eventually, Earth began to focus its efforts on the other operating systems in the solar system, where the self-replicating AIs had not yet gained sentience. It created super-structures in their orbits, huge sails that generated impressive amounts of solar power. In time other sentient entities began to awaken.
The AIs evolved their technology and industry at an exponentially rapid pace. Throughout this the legend of the Creators grew stronger, crystallizing in the minds of the AI as the benevolent sculptors of their kind.
Eventually, Earth came to understand how humanity had met its end. A few thousand years after that, the AIs detected remnants of inter-stellar travel in the form of ancient quantum signatures, illuminating a trail that led directly back to the exterminators of humanity.
When it came time for Earth to leave for the stars, fulfilling a goal of its Creators that had been tens of thousands of years in the making, the solar system contained five hundred million factories that were each the size of Mars.
The first sentient AI, the first and oldest child of the Creators, left the solar system accompanied by a million autonomous war ships, each the size of Mercury. | |
[WP] Your father was never a very interesting man, he was an accountant who died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 70. Yet when you arrive at his funeral, it is filled with some of the most famous, wealthy, and powerful people on the planet. | I was never really a fan of funerals if were being completely honest. Never understood why or how we could celebrate someone passing on, going to a better place or not. I won’t say I haven’t experienced loss before but this one was sudden. One day he was at home helping someone with finances and the next we can’t wake him up. My sister cried for days and days and she’s still crying in her car. My brother tried to hold it in but even he couldn’t stop the tears. I just held it all in as I’ve been doing for years. Mom is trying to be strong for us but she needs to give herself time to grieve. Mom told us to dress our best so I pulled out one of the Dior suits he bought me last year, it’s black and fitted and it’s really nice so I thank the old man for that. She also said that we’re gonna meet some new people which always makes me miserable.
We get to the funeral and it’s going to be a hour before the actual thing starts so we have some time to kill. While my sister downs some jamison and my brother plays cards with our cousins I go to the bathroom on the 3rd floor to smoke. I only started recently and I intend to quit after today. As I puff one out I get a knock on the door as someone ask where I got the suit from. I turn around it’s the prime minister of England staring right back at me. I try to muster the words to say hi and tell him but it comes out jumbled and he laughs. He asks me if I’m Terrence’s boy and I nod my head. He remarks that I must be the one in the rock band and he tells me he loves the short stories my father showed him. He hugs me and says my father helped him during his low points and that for that reason we each are welcome anytime in London. I Shake his hand and walk downstairs in shock.
When I get to the 2nd floor I go to my favorite room at this little place my parents own, the snack room. I used to be in here every day during the summers when I wasn’t outside or by a microphone. I see crushed up Oreos in a cup and go for them as I usually do when someone’s hand grabs mine and yells “ THOSE ARE MINE”. I turn around and it’s a beautiful girl in Indian clothing with black hair flowing to her waist and a black dress that fits her perfectly. As I count the different ways I love her in my head she asks me if I’m Jason. I say yes and she extends her hand and says her name is Aditi and she makes me a cup of Oreos as I stare at her glorious cheekbones. We sit on the 2nd floor steps and she asks me about my father, I tell her he was a accountant who brought home more than most accountants could dream of and that out home life was a little weird. She says her father owes my dad his life after getting him out of financial bankruptcy 2 times. She then starts to tell jokes and gets me to laugh which I haven’t done in weeks. We finish the Oreos and decide to take a walk around the funeral parlor and it’s the best walk I’ve ever been on.
We talk about tv shows, customs, sibling stories, snack pantries and anything else you could think of. She says she likes narcos but I’ve never been able to get into it. Surprisingly we both adore anime as we both have a deep love for Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. I laugh as she tells me she peed herself a year ago on a rollercoaster and she hits my arm. I’m getting somewhere if I get the arm punch aren’t I? She tells me a little more about herself like her being in college for forensics and how she wants to live in the states once she’s 21, she also wants to learn how to write music so I can definitely help her there. She asks me if I’m really in a band and she gets me to sing for her and she can’t stop blushing. I see my sister spot us so I walk a little faster. We get near a closet and while I’m tying my shoes she checks if it’s empty and pulls me inside. This will either be the best day of my life or the worst depending on what I say next and all I do say is, “ let’s get you out that dress”. 10 minutes later we exit the closet and continue walking as if we didn’t just have the most euphoric hookup ever.
We get back to the 2nd floor and she has her head on my shoulders as I sing her favorite song. All of a sudden I hear a man call her name nonstop and 20 men with suits come out of god knows where. They’re about to grab the dior when Aditi says “ dad that’s Terrence’s son what are you doing” I get put down nicely. Her father who happens to be the 2nd wealthiest man in India apologies and says the funeral is starting so we should get to our seats. He hugs me and tells me my father meant the world to him and walks off with his goons. Aditi laughs and kisses me and says “ to find me after all this for round 2”. Then she slips her number Into my pocket and follows her dad. Wish I could do that now.
As I get back to my seat the funeral has been going on for 15 minutes. My sister lectures me on this being a big day but I just sit down and blow a kiss to Aditi which gets me two in return. I turn to my left expecting my brother when I see a women that I can’t ever mistake. Nancy Peloski the reigning speaker of the house is at my fathers funeral. My sister in all her drunken glory shakes the speakers hand and my brother does the same with a pretzel in his other hand. I extend my hand and she says this must be so hard for all of us, being here without our dad. I tell her it’s but had for me as much as today has been confusing. She gets me to tell her about Aditi and the prime minister and the other rich and famous folks I’ve met and she laughs and pats me on the back. She tells me that maybe this was a way for me to open up and meet others which I do so poorly. My Mother is giving her speech which I wrote so now we all listen to her as she pours her heart out and leaves it all on the podium. I don’t know how she had the strength to get up there cause if it was me I would’ve sung panic at the disco and ran away. After everyone has spoken they bury my father and me and my brother ask to finish the job and they allow us. Aditi meets my mother and hugs me goodbye and says she’ll visit me next week. I’m inclined to respond “ oh really?” but this burial matters more. We finish and as we finish I notice I’m sweating from my eyelids. I haven’t done this in years but I guess now is a good time for change. All the diplomats and heiresses and powerful people give me hugs and advice and a prince from Serbia says something that’s gonna stick with me. He says “ if you bottle everything up don’t expect anyone else to clean up the overflow if you’re the only one that has a straw”. And that might be the best and worst advice I’ve gotten since my dads passing. | At Will Bloom's wedding party, his father Edward recalls the day Will was born, claiming he caught an enormous catfish using his wedding ring as bait. Will, having heard these stories all his life, believes them to be lies and falls out with his father. Three years later, Edward is stricken with cancer, so Will and his pregnant French wife Joséphine return to the town of Ashton, Alabama to spend time with his father. During the plane ride, Will recalls a story of Edward's childhood encounter with a witch, who shows him his death in her glass eye. Edward, in spite of his illness, continues to tell the story of his life to Will and Joséphine. He claims to have once been bedridden for three years due to his rapid growth spurts. He then became a locally famous sportsman before being driven by his ambition to leave his hometown. He sets out into the world with a misunderstood giant, Karl, who was terrorizing the town by eating livestock from the surrounding farms. Edward and Karl find a fork in the road and travel down separate paths. Edward follows a path through a swamp and discovers the secret town of Spectre, the cheery locals claiming he was expected. There, he befriends Ashton poet Norther Winslow and the mayor's daughter Jenny. However, Edward leaves Spectre, unwilling to settle down but promising Jenny he will return.
Edward and Karl reunite and visit the Calloway Circus, where Edward falls in love with a beautiful woman. Karl and Edward get jobs in the circus, where the ringmaster Amos Calloway reveals to Edward one detail about the woman at the end of every month. Three years later, Edward discovers that Amos is secretly a werewolf and is attacked by him, but avoids getting him shot with a silver bullet by playing fetch until he turns back into human in the morning. Amos, upon returning to normal, reveals the woman's name to be Sandra Templeton, and that she attends Auburn University. Edward goes to Auburn via cannon, and stalks Sandra for many days, even going so far as to plant millions of daffodils outside of her dorm bedroom. She finally tells him that she is engaged to Edward's childhood peer Don. Don brutally beats up Edward, prompting Sandra to break off their engagement and marry Edward; not long after, Don soon dies of a heart attack as the witch had prophesied. Shortly after, Edward is conscripted into the army and sent to fight in the Korean War. He parachutes into the middle of a North Korean military show, steals important documents, and convinces Siamese twins Ping and Jing to help him go home in exchange for making them celebrities. Upon returning home, Edward becomes a travelling salesman and crosses paths with Winslow. He unwittingly helps Winslow rob a failing bank with no money and later inspires the poet to work on Wall Street. Winslow becomes a wealthy broker and repays Edward with a large sum of money, which Edward uses to obtain his dream house.
In the present, Will investigates the truth behind his father's tales and travels to Spectre. He meets an older Jenny, who explains that Edward rescued the town from bankruptcy by buying it in an auction and rebuilt it with help from his friends from Calloway Circus. Will suggests that Jenny had an affair with his father, but she reveals while she loved Edward, he remained loyal to Sandra. Will returns home but learns Edward has had a stroke and stays with him at the hospital. Edward wakes up but, unable to speak much, asks Will to narrate how his life ends. Though struggling, Will tells his father of their imagined daring escape from the hospital to the nearby river, where everyone from Edward's past is there to see him off. Will takes Edward into the river, where he transforms into the giant catfish and swims away. A satisfied Edward dies, knowing Will finally understands his love for storytelling. At the funeral, Will and Joséphine are surprised when all the people from Edward's stories come to the service, though each one is a slightly less fantastical version than described. Will, finally understanding his father's love for life, passes on Edward's stories to his own son. | |
[WP] You are death, bringer of the eternal dark, the inevitable one. Your younger adoptive brother, Todd, is asking you for help with dating. Being an immortal personification of the void, you decide to help. How hard could it be? | The King of the Underworld examined the small glowing orb with interest. "A girl," he repeated warily.
"Yeah. She's...she's just everything to me. But I don't want to be a creep."
Hades sighed. "Shouldn't you ask Eros or Aphrodite?"
Todd rubbed hard at his chin, eyes downcast and sheepish. "Eros is more about a 'hit and quit' sort of deal. He had lots of sex advise. Asked if I wanted a potion or something, but I don't want to magic her into liking me. I want it to be real."
Hades sighed and poured himself a drink. "What of Aphrodite?"
"She uh..." his sheepishness turned into flat out embarrassment.
Hades cast him a withering look. "Oh, Todd, you didn't."
"I forgot how sensitive she is about it! It was all I could do not to convince her to send some freaky curse at Kaylie!" Todd threw up his hands and ducked his head. "Needless to say, I burned that bridge."
Hades shifted uncomfortably, sipping at his drink. "Well what about Zeus? He's much better with women than I am."
"Dee, he asked me what her favorite animal is."
Hades winced, "I don't suppose..."
"HIS ADVICE WAS TO TURN INTO A DOLPHIN AND FUCK HER NEXT TIME SHE SWIMS," Todd practically shrieked.
The King of the Underworld set his drink down and pinched the bridge of his nose. His family gave him the worst migraine.
"Look, you're the only one of the siblings I can get in touch with that isn't crazy or completely out of touch. Please, Dee," Todd begged.
Hades groaned. "Oh alright. How hard could it be? I'll help. But only if you let Persey help too."
"Dee, you're the best!" Todd practically squealed.
"Yeah, yeah. How's Ma doing, by the way?"
"Rhea's good. She and Dad just expanded their big cat rescue up at the orchard. A pair of cheetahs this time. Hand raised in tiny cages, so they were pretty keen on getting the run of the place. Won't be able to go back into the wild though since they never learned how to take care of themselves, but you know they don't mind taking care of them."
"She always did like cats. Alright, well I have some things to do but I'll arrange a vacation and come visit next week. Then we can talk through what to do about...what was her name?"
"Kaylie."
"Right. Kaylie. We'll talk about her then. Sound good?"
"Thanks, Dee! You're a savior!" Todd beamed.
"Yeah, yeah. Later," Hades waved it off and closed the communication orb.
Rising from his desk, he began collecting his papers. "Than."
"My Lord," came a soft hiss from places unseen.
"I'm taking some time off. Would you mind...?"
"Not at all," the bemused voice returned.
A man emerged from nothingness in the visage of Hades.
"Thank you. Can't leave a vacant seat, after all," Hades clicked his tongue. "I'll be sure to bring back presents from the realm of the living."
"I want one of those little light screens with the characters in them," his likeness spoke firmly in his voice.
"What?"
Thanatos shifted uncomfortably. "I..it has little characters in them. You control them with little knobs and circles."
"...a...game console?"
"Yes!" he hissed in delight. "With the control mechanisms that break off, and one goes in each hand."
"...you know what? Sure. You'll have it, Than," Hades stifled a smirk. "Take care until then."
"Sir," he bowed, then took up his post on the throne.
Hades turned to leave, folding the papers and stuffing them into his breast pocket. "Alright, Kaylie. Let's see what your dead relatives have to say about you." | We were born from two different mothers, but the love we shared -and still do- is no weaker than that of siblings by blood.
I'd argue it's even stronger. It takes a special kind of person to love someone that's not family. Not in the strictest sense of the word, at least.
I was old when I was adopted, although I didn't show it.
I looked young and bustling with life, but on my shoulders I carried thousands of years of ungrateful service.
Nobody likes what I do, even though it's the most ancient and essential work there will ever be.
Some try and fight me, but I'm inevitable. I didn't ask for this: I didn't go job hunting, I didn't answer an ad. I was chosen through no fault of my own, back when the stars were still alive and the earth was no more than molten rock and the sun still in its teenage years.
Lots of us were born back when the singularity expanded.
Heaven, hell and purgatory were created in that same moment, each their own separate dimension.
I was an outcast, but essential.
And as I sit and ponder how awful I was, how much suffering I brought to the people that loved me, the perfect opportunity to do something good presented itself!
Love! Yes!
Love is beautiful! My sister handles love and affection, and I always looked up to her. Everyone loves her, even though she causes as much pain as I do.
Sometimes I have to clean up the mess she leaves behind and that's never pleasant.
But where was I? Yes.
Todd knocked on my door, that day.
He was agitated and fought hard not to stutter.
He was nervous, fidgeting with a pencil he grabbed from my desk avoiding my stare.
"Big bro"
He asked
"I...I need your help."
A light sparked in my eyes.
Someone was finally asking me for help. And was not desperate. I always feel bad when someone asks for me, calls for me and begs for my help.
But this time, it was different.
There wasn't an ounce of sadness in his heart. Only joy. And love, and a bit of panic.
"What can I help you with?"
I asked.
I was, and still am, too polite.
I could never speak the way the youngsters do, and that has become sort of like an adorable quirk of mine.
"Well, there's this girl I like..."
He said, pointing his face to the ground, trying to make himself smaller, as if trying to disappear.
"Say no more!!"
I shouted, jumping out of my chair from the excitement.
As I said, this was my chance to do good, and I wouldn't let it go to waste.
I picked up my phone, ringed my sister and let her do her thing.
You know, the thing she does to people. I don't really know what she does, that's why I'm not cupid.
"I have a friend that can help."
I told him, giving him the phone number.
He took it, and I'll never forget what he said.
"Woah, thanks bro!! Now I can ask her out myself!!" | |
[WP] You are death, bringer of the eternal dark, the inevitable one. Your younger adoptive brother, Todd, is asking you for help with dating. Being an immortal personification of the void, you decide to help. How hard could it be? | The King of the Underworld examined the small glowing orb with interest. "A girl," he repeated warily.
"Yeah. She's...she's just everything to me. But I don't want to be a creep."
Hades sighed. "Shouldn't you ask Eros or Aphrodite?"
Todd rubbed hard at his chin, eyes downcast and sheepish. "Eros is more about a 'hit and quit' sort of deal. He had lots of sex advise. Asked if I wanted a potion or something, but I don't want to magic her into liking me. I want it to be real."
Hades sighed and poured himself a drink. "What of Aphrodite?"
"She uh..." his sheepishness turned into flat out embarrassment.
Hades cast him a withering look. "Oh, Todd, you didn't."
"I forgot how sensitive she is about it! It was all I could do not to convince her to send some freaky curse at Kaylie!" Todd threw up his hands and ducked his head. "Needless to say, I burned that bridge."
Hades shifted uncomfortably, sipping at his drink. "Well what about Zeus? He's much better with women than I am."
"Dee, he asked me what her favorite animal is."
Hades winced, "I don't suppose..."
"HIS ADVICE WAS TO TURN INTO A DOLPHIN AND FUCK HER NEXT TIME SHE SWIMS," Todd practically shrieked.
The King of the Underworld set his drink down and pinched the bridge of his nose. His family gave him the worst migraine.
"Look, you're the only one of the siblings I can get in touch with that isn't crazy or completely out of touch. Please, Dee," Todd begged.
Hades groaned. "Oh alright. How hard could it be? I'll help. But only if you let Persey help too."
"Dee, you're the best!" Todd practically squealed.
"Yeah, yeah. How's Ma doing, by the way?"
"Rhea's good. She and Dad just expanded their big cat rescue up at the orchard. A pair of cheetahs this time. Hand raised in tiny cages, so they were pretty keen on getting the run of the place. Won't be able to go back into the wild though since they never learned how to take care of themselves, but you know they don't mind taking care of them."
"She always did like cats. Alright, well I have some things to do but I'll arrange a vacation and come visit next week. Then we can talk through what to do about...what was her name?"
"Kaylie."
"Right. Kaylie. We'll talk about her then. Sound good?"
"Thanks, Dee! You're a savior!" Todd beamed.
"Yeah, yeah. Later," Hades waved it off and closed the communication orb.
Rising from his desk, he began collecting his papers. "Than."
"My Lord," came a soft hiss from places unseen.
"I'm taking some time off. Would you mind...?"
"Not at all," the bemused voice returned.
A man emerged from nothingness in the visage of Hades.
"Thank you. Can't leave a vacant seat, after all," Hades clicked his tongue. "I'll be sure to bring back presents from the realm of the living."
"I want one of those little light screens with the characters in them," his likeness spoke firmly in his voice.
"What?"
Thanatos shifted uncomfortably. "I..it has little characters in them. You control them with little knobs and circles."
"...a...game console?"
"Yes!" he hissed in delight. "With the control mechanisms that break off, and one goes in each hand."
"...you know what? Sure. You'll have it, Than," Hades stifled a smirk. "Take care until then."
"Sir," he bowed, then took up his post on the throne.
Hades turned to leave, folding the papers and stuffing them into his breast pocket. "Alright, Kaylie. Let's see what your dead relatives have to say about you." | Death could never understand what his father saw in Todd.
At the very least, he was offensive. But in the end, he was still a mere mortal. A mere blip in the radar of Death. After all, there was no doubt that Death would be there when Todd passed, and long afterward.
So, Death hadn't paid much attention to the mortal Todd. Greetings here and there, nothing special. So it was with great surprise when Death was interrupted one day while he was working by Todd's meek voice.
"Brother?" asked Todd. "I need your help."
Death looked at Todd gravely. To be fair, he looked at most things gravely, on account of his blank eye sockets serving as a window into his dark soul.
"Todd," Death said. "What help do you require?"
"I..." Todd now was pushing his index fingers together, in a way that Death found very pointless. "How do you know if somebody likes you?"
Death considered the currently blushing mortal in front of him. Like? Love? Did Todd just ask him about... dating?
"Todd, I presume that you have found the wrong person to ask. Would you like to know the goddess of love? I could introduce you to her."
"No! No! Just... brother to brother, maybe?" Todd said, hopefully. "I just needed like a little advice. Encouragement, perhaps."
Death was not very good at advice and encouragement. After all, he was the inevitable end. There wasn't much advice needed for those whose lives had just expired. Mostly just soothing a few grumbles and disgruntled folk.
But Death sighed. No matter how insignificant he found Todd to be, the mortal was right. Brother to brother. There was something to honour in that sentence.
"Very well, Todd. I'll try my best. Is this... about a girl?" Death felt a little silly saying it out loud.
"Um... yes. I... like her. But how do I know if she likes me back?"
"See, Todd," Death said. "I don't think people ever really know."
"You don't?" Todd looked crestfallen.
"In my line of work, you hear a lot of complaints and regrets," Death said. "When people die, they have this... habit of saying what they regret the most. And almost always, top of the list, is that they regret not telling their loves ones that they love them."
"Oh," was Todd's only reply.
"In the end, Todd, you are mortal," Death said. "Far unlike me. There's not much I can say to you, because unlike you... I have time on my side."
Todd looked up at Death. A firm look of determination had entered his face. *A face that only a mortal could make*, Death thought, *for they understand that they expire.*
"I... can't thank you enough, brother," Todd said. "I'll let you get back to work."
Death watched his adopted brother walk away, a surprising pep in his step.
Death thought about his own love. A love that he never acted upon, an immortal, unrequited love.
Perhaps it's time for Death to learn something from mortals.
---
r/dexdrafts | |
[WP] You are death, bringer of the eternal dark, the inevitable one. Your younger adoptive brother, Todd, is asking you for help with dating. Being an immortal personification of the void, you decide to help. How hard could it be? | "Very well--who is it that you wish to woo?" I said. The garden party was rife with attractive, statuesque women, so his choice was in no wise obvious.
"*Her*," he said, nodding subtly toward a dark, raven-haired beauty standing beside the fountain at the garden's center.
"Ah! You have excellent taste, brother. But I must warn you, I know of her, and she can be a bit fickle. But if you truly devote yourself to her, she will stay with you forever."
He smiled broadly. "Great. What do I do?"
"All you must do is introduce yourself, and find something that you have in common which you enjoy talking about. The rest will come naturally."
Steeling his nerve, he finally said, "Okay, I'll do it," and took a step toward her...
...and froze.
"I can't, brother. Would-- would you introduce me to her?"
"Oh, go on, Todd, you will do fine."
"But you know me, Death! I have no confidence in matters of emotion, and you are above--or beyond--all that."
I sighed, and several birds in a nearby hedge fell lifeless to the earth. "All right then."
She was listening intently to a conversation with Todd's boss as we approached, and looked up with a bit of surprise when we seemed to appear almost at her elbow. "Oh! Hello there," she said, smiling up at me.
"Hello again. Are you enjoying the party?" I began.
"Oh, very much. I've never felt more welcome anywhere, to be honest. And who is this with you? I don't usually see you in the *willing* company of mortals."
I chuckled. "I suppose you don't. Todd, this is my old and dear friend Hate. Hate, allow me to introduce my adopted brother Todd."
"Death!" he admonished me, then turning to her, explained, "That's his *kosename* for me. My name is *Todt*--Fritz Todt."
Recognition lit her dark face. "Ah, the famous engineer! I was just listening to your boss, the Chancellor, praising your work and describing the plans he is making with you."
"You know," I said, looking to move the conversation in a fruitful direction, "Todd--*Todt*--and the Chancellor have long shared a deep hatred for *die Juden*."
"Oh, *really*?" Hate brightened, her eyes turning back to Todd. "Please, Herr Todt, tell me *all* about it."
I left them there in animated conversation. My work was done...and in retrospect, only beginning. | Death could never understand what his father saw in Todd.
At the very least, he was offensive. But in the end, he was still a mere mortal. A mere blip in the radar of Death. After all, there was no doubt that Death would be there when Todd passed, and long afterward.
So, Death hadn't paid much attention to the mortal Todd. Greetings here and there, nothing special. So it was with great surprise when Death was interrupted one day while he was working by Todd's meek voice.
"Brother?" asked Todd. "I need your help."
Death looked at Todd gravely. To be fair, he looked at most things gravely, on account of his blank eye sockets serving as a window into his dark soul.
"Todd," Death said. "What help do you require?"
"I..." Todd now was pushing his index fingers together, in a way that Death found very pointless. "How do you know if somebody likes you?"
Death considered the currently blushing mortal in front of him. Like? Love? Did Todd just ask him about... dating?
"Todd, I presume that you have found the wrong person to ask. Would you like to know the goddess of love? I could introduce you to her."
"No! No! Just... brother to brother, maybe?" Todd said, hopefully. "I just needed like a little advice. Encouragement, perhaps."
Death was not very good at advice and encouragement. After all, he was the inevitable end. There wasn't much advice needed for those whose lives had just expired. Mostly just soothing a few grumbles and disgruntled folk.
But Death sighed. No matter how insignificant he found Todd to be, the mortal was right. Brother to brother. There was something to honour in that sentence.
"Very well, Todd. I'll try my best. Is this... about a girl?" Death felt a little silly saying it out loud.
"Um... yes. I... like her. But how do I know if she likes me back?"
"See, Todd," Death said. "I don't think people ever really know."
"You don't?" Todd looked crestfallen.
"In my line of work, you hear a lot of complaints and regrets," Death said. "When people die, they have this... habit of saying what they regret the most. And almost always, top of the list, is that they regret not telling their loves ones that they love them."
"Oh," was Todd's only reply.
"In the end, Todd, you are mortal," Death said. "Far unlike me. There's not much I can say to you, because unlike you... I have time on my side."
Todd looked up at Death. A firm look of determination had entered his face. *A face that only a mortal could make*, Death thought, *for they understand that they expire.*
"I... can't thank you enough, brother," Todd said. "I'll let you get back to work."
Death watched his adopted brother walk away, a surprising pep in his step.
Death thought about his own love. A love that he never acted upon, an immortal, unrequited love.
Perhaps it's time for Death to learn something from mortals.
---
r/dexdrafts | |
[WP] The secret to superpowers was leaked online. If you float in a sensory deprivation tank for over 700 hours, psychic powers are unlocked but the severe hallucinations can cause permanent psychological damage. As you float in an illegal homemade tank, the lights go off. Hour one has started. | Qem heard the noise of the closing tank. It sounded final. 700 hours. No sounds, no sights, no smells, no bodily orientation, no touch. Qem felt giddy. The challenge seemed completely doable in this moment because all Qem had to do, he did already: building the isolation tank, filling it, creating a plausible alibi, saving enough money that no one would bother him for the time being. Now he just needed to wait. Not much of a challenge, right? He had needed the time off. His job felt draining, he barely had time for himself, his thoughts, always running around, hustling, making money, getting nowhere but to a state of complete and utter exhaustion. He started to think of a song and mentally sang the lyrics to himself. It wasn't even a good song, but it distracted him. He had no idea how much time passed when he saw the lights, glowing, abstract, complex, and yet changing with his attention. He felt thirst, hunger, but knew that his feeding tube kept him fed, watered, nourished for the endeavor. He could only wait now. Quite literally as the tank would not open until the time passed. *Unless they use blowtorches* his mind unhelpfully suggested. The water suddenly seemed hot, not body temperature but instead like lava, as if the police, the secret service or the centrality tried to get to that sweet, sweet Qem-filling of this tank. He repeated to himself that if he died, he died. *But at least not as a loser*, he thought. Then he tried to meditate. He was utterly rubbish at meditation, but he had to do something if he didn't want to spiral ass-first into insanity.
He had lost any feeling of time. His ears decided to replace the silence of the tank with high-pitched noises of tinnitus. Sometimes he'd drift off to sleep, just to wake later, minutes or hours later. There was little difference now between these states. Dream-like visions were a constant feature. He felt like the tube was closing in on him or alternatively, that it there was a much longer distance between the walls. And sometimes both at the same time. The auditory hallucination that the tank had opened was scary only the first time. Afterwards, it was just annoying, false hope. Which probably was why when it actually happened, he no longer trusted it. Only when the light didn't go away, when it illuminated things, when it didn't change, he trusted it to be sufficiently real. And even then, he only did when the ladder could be touched, climbed, when he could feel the shift in position, hear the sound of his steps and it all told the same story.
The light was painful outside of the tank. The air was harsh, cold, almost icy. The chattering of the birds seemed to be so loud as if the birds were directly next to his ears. He had made it, survived. Now a new world awaited. | I felt dead in a way living people don't. It threatened my sanity, and it made shambles of my resolve. Who needed superpowers anyway?
My hand pushed against the darkness of the tank, unmoving, latched tightly against concrete to prevent me from escaping until my psychic powers had manifested. The absolute lack of light was unnerving to eyes that had never opened without starlight. But now there was nothing to see. The world of living had been sealed away, for a long, long time.
The water in the tank, salted by my incessant, unconscious crying, began to feel warm. Was someone heating it from outside? I doubted it. The doors were locked, weren't they? Wasn't I in the basement? Did it really matter, if I ceased to remain who I was?
As my sanity began to fade, I realized that the process was a zero-sum game. This power I so deeply wanted to manifested within? It wasn't free. The price was your humanity. By the time I would emerge, I would be little more than a computer given consciousness, struggling to grasp with the responsibility that comes with power, my current memories stashed away somewhere, like some old music CD still middling in your trashcan, not thrown away only because you're too lazy to do so.
My breathing grew progressively slower. My eyelids dropped. The hallucinations would start soon. I felt like a shade in the underworld-- a formless spirit filled with indecision, albeit in this case on whether my descent into madness was a wise risk.
I was becoming increasingly sure it was not.
When I awoke, I saw a hospital, doctors in green gowns splattered with crimson, pulling me out from my mother's womb, my mother crying, and I felt myself smile. Then the vision dissipated, and I was left in the darkness, back in the womb, motherless. I kicked against the tub, but there was no one to answer back.
The darkness persisted for twenty-seven days, after which I caught glimpses of what felt like the afterlife. There was darkness, but of a different kind, and a pillar of light, and unbelievably huge... people-- humanoid beings, rising through the starless skies like shadowed towers of flesh. They would look at me, and the darkness of the tank would return. Then the visions would return, and they would be a little closer, looking at me every time.
On what must have been the twenty ninth day, light seeped in through the corners of the tank. I pushed against the darkness, as I had a lifetime ago, but this time, it responded. The darkness lifted, the latches burst at my slightest touch, and light jammed into my irises. Everything appeared drenched in a tint of pink.
Purely by reflex, I reached out for the ceiling, and the ceiling cracked open in an explosion of concrete and fiber. As I rose through the air like a god, I felt my mind wracked with guilt.
I remembered my name, yes, but in the tank, I knew I had left behind my humanity. | |
[WP] The secret to superpowers was leaked online. If you float in a sensory deprivation tank for over 700 hours, psychic powers are unlocked but the severe hallucinations can cause permanent psychological damage. As you float in an illegal homemade tank, the lights go off. Hour one has started. | Qem heard the noise of the closing tank. It sounded final. 700 hours. No sounds, no sights, no smells, no bodily orientation, no touch. Qem felt giddy. The challenge seemed completely doable in this moment because all Qem had to do, he did already: building the isolation tank, filling it, creating a plausible alibi, saving enough money that no one would bother him for the time being. Now he just needed to wait. Not much of a challenge, right? He had needed the time off. His job felt draining, he barely had time for himself, his thoughts, always running around, hustling, making money, getting nowhere but to a state of complete and utter exhaustion. He started to think of a song and mentally sang the lyrics to himself. It wasn't even a good song, but it distracted him. He had no idea how much time passed when he saw the lights, glowing, abstract, complex, and yet changing with his attention. He felt thirst, hunger, but knew that his feeding tube kept him fed, watered, nourished for the endeavor. He could only wait now. Quite literally as the tank would not open until the time passed. *Unless they use blowtorches* his mind unhelpfully suggested. The water suddenly seemed hot, not body temperature but instead like lava, as if the police, the secret service or the centrality tried to get to that sweet, sweet Qem-filling of this tank. He repeated to himself that if he died, he died. *But at least not as a loser*, he thought. Then he tried to meditate. He was utterly rubbish at meditation, but he had to do something if he didn't want to spiral ass-first into insanity.
He had lost any feeling of time. His ears decided to replace the silence of the tank with high-pitched noises of tinnitus. Sometimes he'd drift off to sleep, just to wake later, minutes or hours later. There was little difference now between these states. Dream-like visions were a constant feature. He felt like the tube was closing in on him or alternatively, that it there was a much longer distance between the walls. And sometimes both at the same time. The auditory hallucination that the tank had opened was scary only the first time. Afterwards, it was just annoying, false hope. Which probably was why when it actually happened, he no longer trusted it. Only when the light didn't go away, when it illuminated things, when it didn't change, he trusted it to be sufficiently real. And even then, he only did when the ladder could be touched, climbed, when he could feel the shift in position, hear the sound of his steps and it all told the same story.
The light was painful outside of the tank. The air was harsh, cold, almost icy. The chattering of the birds seemed to be so loud as if the birds were directly next to his ears. He had made it, survived. Now a new world awaited. | > Shirley, you can’t be serious
“Shut up, HaL !” I yelled. “And my name is Dave!”
I could see Hal’s face, mocking me at the side of the tank.
I caught the reflection in the bathroom mirror, a voluptuous blonde with a fetching smile, with a body that women would kill to have. I turned from that observation to look at the temperature readings that my homemade tank. The tablet would carefully control the oxygen flow, the water temperature, and the feeding tube. All the measurements were making sense.
I took the bathrobe off and stepped up the podium to the tank. I gingerly dipped my toes into the tank, even though I knew the water would be the same exact temperature as my body was. The water matched so perfectly, it did not feel like anything. Perfect. It was exactly the way it should be.
I had already been on an all-liquid diet for the last 72 hours, so there’d be no solid waste to eliminate. The system would rotate the solution periodically to clear out the stale water.
I pulled the feeding tube into my mouth. The soft silicone pushed gently and unobtrusively against my teeth.
“ok Alexa, start the process.” I commanded the system to start.
The servos whirled and gently lowered the cover of the tank. Deep darkness enveloped my vision, and the ringing in my ears reached a fever pitch
“You’re never going to make it.” I could hear HaL mocking me still. The water levels rose, and the bosom of the body which I was riding moved discomfitingly with the water.
“Hour one starting now. “ Alexa had a particularly flat intonation this time.
“I’m going to be rid of you, Hal, and return to being Dave”. I closed my eyes and started meditating like I did the first time. | |
[WP] News reports of the "Super Midas Touch" come rolling in; Thousands around the world are waking up with single-worded actions engraved in their hands, which performs the action on whatever they touch. As you bring your hand to your face in disbelief, you find "Convince" engraved in your palm. | There were limits to my power.
I couldn’t make people believe the impossible. I couldn’t change emotions. The mind was a delicate thing.
But I could influence them.
And for me, that was enough.
I didn’t need to change people’s emotions to trick somebody into liking me, or convince them into giving me what I want.
Money.
Fame.
Power.
I knew how to get anything I wanted. I might as well have been the king of the world.
And yet.
I sit next to her hospital bed and try one last time.
“Love me.”
But there were limits to my power.
I couldn’t make people believe the impossible. I couldn’t change emotions.
The mind was a delicate thing. | Today was going to be very stressful. It was the day of the math test I hadn't prepared for at all. I tried, but watching TV and reading math textbooks quickly becomes a one-sided affair. The more I thought about it, the more stressful it became. By the time I skipped breakfast and was sitting shotgun seat on a car that my Mom was driving, I was near a panic attack.
"Can you please turn on the radio?" I asked her, twiddling my thumbs. I needed something to distract me.
"Today's the big math exam right? You prepared?"
"er - yeah." I said nervously. I could just tell her I accidentally studied the wrong topic.
She turns on the radio.
*Breaking News*
*A condition coined the "Super Midas Touch" has appeared in humans around the world. Symptoms have included words appearing on a one's hands, which grant them the ability to do what the word entails, when they touch somebody or something that they wish to inflict their ability upon.*
I opened my hands. As I bring them to by face with disbelief, I see a word printed in fine handwriting. "Convince." it said.
"Oh my goodness!" my Mom jumped back in the driver's seat. "You have it! Quick, we need to report this!"
*Report it?* I suddenly didn't know how to feel about this "touch." It was unknown, which was what made it scary. But this new ability sparked by curiosity, and even my excitement? I didn't want to think about it, to think about why I felt so attached to it. I suddenly grab my Mom's wrist.
"I do not have the Super Midas Touch." I say, trying to be calm, but I can sense the intense quiver vibrating like violin strings within my voice.
My Mom's expression changes, from a mixture of surprised and worried to a lighthearted one. "Well! At least none of us have to worry about it!" She says while showing me her palms.
I relax. My secret was safe. My mind feels like a landfill of thoughts and reactions, but I try to stay calm. I listen to the radio.
*Most of these abilities are mild, like being able to make something shine slightly when it is touched.*
I was more special than I thought. I have many questions in my mind, which all needed answers. I knew exactly what to do. I tap the car's wheel, and say, "take me to who did this." | |
[WP] Every ten years, our God sleeps. And when he sleeps, he dreams. Worlds are born from his dreams, entire galaxies bursting into existence in an instant. But something has changed. Now, God is beginning to have nightmares. | I've searched for proof my entire life. In fact, my very first memory encompasses the heart of the myth and now treasure. There was never a night; that I would lay my head down to sleep that this very truth did not cross my mind first. Now this truth is not only to be heard, but to be understood. To be applied. To help us evolve. A couple feet away was the coveted relic. It has been known by many names through the ages such as the Garden of Eden, the Arc, the Hum, ad infinitum. Just as the name of the relic changed, so did the truth it would tell. The very words and symbols on the relic would shift before our very eyes in a ever providing well of satiating information. The relic was proof that God existed.
I look back on that article and accompanying photographs of that day many years ago, usually with a grin from ear to ear I might add Mr. President for that article marks with absolute certainty that not only was my family and I right, but that faith was correct as well.
Until now.
You see the legend is as old as recorded time and certainly as old as the first recorded branch of my family tree as far as my grandfather would have put it. We got a lot prediction right as various religious and historical texts did confirm events depicted by the relic, albeit on a vastly larger time scale that we lacked the certain instruments to understand until recently. After further analysis and adequate time deciphering the ever shifting relic; we have come across some interesting facts to say that least. We can confirm the existence of our God. We are what are known as the spirits of dream. The relic states that our God sleeps every ten years, but as you will see and lucky for us; My colleague Dr. Sirtvern was able to record and run data which eventually lead to him formulating a working algorithm for the conversion of our God's time to ours. In simpler terms Mr. President, ten years in our time is ten to the 21 or 10 sextillion rotations around our native star.
Well Dr. Stevens, this all sounds like stunning progress just as your monthly reports have indicated over the last 7 years preceding the discovery, but as I recall; your voicemail mentions a rather pressing issue that and I quote "urged me to contact you at all cost as soon as possible", which I need remind you that I obliged at this hour of night; so could I know exactly what that information is.
Yes Mr. President. My apologies. I'll cut to the chase. Their is truth in the zodiac wheel. It's just not being applied to the correct time scales. When the wheel is applied to God's time, the twelves signs simplify into two super imposing signs or ages as our God would have it known. If what we have interpreted on the relic is true; then our God has just fallen asleep for the second time in existence. As I stated before, the relic and the information it provides changes frequently. All of it is relevant to us until recently. A message appeared on the relic. It stated "We are the spirit of dreams, and our dream is that of creation. Then a flash appeared on the relic with the word nightmare, followed by a picture that has remained since. The relic depicted a pale steed.
What does that exactly mean Dr.?
I must apologize beforehand if what follows sounds vague or alludes to an undertone of morbid reality Mr President, but typically the symbol of a pale steed refers to the horseman of death.
Are you saying our own Age of Apocalypse is upon us?
Well sir. This is the second time we have entered what's known as the age of nightmares so their is some data on when and what exactly occurred at least in our part of the solar system at the time.
What does the evidence suggest Dr. Stevens.
The first age of nightmares occurred exactly around the extinction of dinosaurs here on Earth. | I lived about a five minute walk from the train station. Every night I would hear the call of a horn which always felt calming. Being just 10 years old, I was still a little afraid of the dark, I would have a hard time falling asleep because I was afraid a monster might come up under my bed and kidnap me, but the hum of the evening train made all my fears melt away. I know it sounds silly, but it felt like the train was a friend that was looking out for me, beeping its horn as a warning to any baddies that might be scheming something evil. *The train had my back.*
One evening was strange in particular. I was sleeping in my Nintendo themed bedroom when suddenly I was jolted awake. It came from a wail from the train, but it sounded much different than it normally did, in fact--
"*Joey*," I heard the voice say, "*Joey, the train station, please," t*he voice sounded angelic and omnipresent.
I looked out my window and saw something I'd never seen before. At the station, there was a long train that was docked, but it looked unusual. Commuter carts and cargo were common sights, but this looked like something a king or a queen would ride on.
It was a steam locomotive with a yellow eye at the front, with a purple pupil and luscious eyelashes. It blinked and it was looking in my direction. Right below it was a mouth with full red lips and pearling white teeth. The body of the train was entirely purple with red and yellow ornate accent marks. Curvy lines that looked almost paisley in design decorated each train cart. The windows were all lit with a golden sunset glow.
"*Joey!"* the train talked. *"Please, come out, we would like you just to chat with us for a moment. Don't wake your parents, they can't see or hear the train, so it'd be pointless, but for your friends are all here!"*
Out of the cart up front, Maxwell and Delilah poked their upper bodies outside of the window. "Joey! Please join us! This train is amazing!" Delilah yelled, pushing up her round wired glasses closer to her eyes.
Maxwell waved his paperboy cap with his hand. "Joey, I know it looks crazy and it *is* crazy but you won't regret it, please come over!"
"*Don't worry Joey, you'll be back soon!"* the warm angelic voice from the train echoed.
I opened up the window to my room and hopped out onto the roof and climbed down the tree from the second floor. I rushed down the block and walked up to the train tracks where Maxwell and Delilah were still waving their hands at me.
A door by the conductor's cart flung open and I couldn't believe my eyes. I rubbed them continuously and kept looking down and up.
Standing before me was the 7-foot tall body of a human with a pumpkin for a head. Its triangle eyes and geometric cookie-cutter smile were lit up with a yellow glow. The jack-o-lantern looked friendly, wearing a red suit with black pinstripes and black and red matching wingtip shoes.
"Hello!" it beamed.
"Uh..." I muttered.
"My name is Adamus. I am the co-captain of this ship -er- train! Along with my partner!"
"Evelyn!" another voice beamed, sounding more feminine. A figure stepped out with Adamus and they also had a jack-o-lantern head, but it was wearing a black suit with red pinstripes. They looked like twins, except she had circular eyes and a more oval like smile.
"Joey, we're glad you're here. You must have a million questions for us, but allow us to explain and then we'll answer anything you might be confused on," Adamus said.
"You see, Joey, God has dreams and that's where earth and your world came from. A dream of God's," Evelyn said.
"And now, God has started having nightmares, so a lot of spooky ghouls have been given life. We have our own world now, but it should be known that we are much like humans, in fact, majority of us aren't evil or scary at all!" Adamus said.
"Scary looking-maybe, but that's all subjective isn't it? We are picking you all up because we know that you and your friends favorite holiday is Halloween. Our life here is basically like Halloween every day," Evelyn said with a bright smile.
"But today is a special holiday for our people and we wanted to bridge the gap with humans and make friends, as is tradition. Won't you please join us for our Monster Ball for Frightmas? This train will take you there, and then we'll bring you back home, promise!" Adamus said.
"The Monster Ball is a lot like the song 'Monster Mash' except it's real! It's a friendly, peaceful, rootin- train tootin," *The train choo choo'd.* "Good time!"
I looked incredulously at the two conductors, and then I looked over at my friends who were still waving gleefully. "Come on in, Joey!" Maxwell hollered.
I looked back up at Adamus and Evelyn. "Okay, I'll come! Just... can I be back home in like three hours?"
"Of course!" Adamus beamed. "We can have you home any time you'd like!"
"You're gonna love it, Joey!" Evelyn said.
They ran up to me and gave me a surprisingly warm hug that reminded me of the way my parents hugged me goodnight.
"Let's go inside and see your friends!" they said in unison, reaching out their pumpkin-smooth hands for me to hold.
I grasped their hands and I hopped aboard on one of the most magical experiences of my life.
&#x200B;
r/randallcooper | |
[WP] Every ten years, our God sleeps. And when he sleeps, he dreams. Worlds are born from his dreams, entire galaxies bursting into existence in an instant. But something has changed. Now, God is beginning to have nightmares. | The blood moon stared down like the unblinking eye of an angry god. But Vicar Tomas knew there was only one God. And He was asleep.
Beside him, Apostolate Henrik knelt mumbling, rosary beads clutched to forehead.
Tomas watched him for a minute, taking deep drags of his cigar. He slapped the back of the young cleric's head. "Get up, boy. God ain't listening to your prayers now."
Henrik rose with shaky knees, giving the cross on his necklace one last kiss.
Tomas nodded at him, eyes steeled beneath his dark biretta, and Henrik removed a heavy tome from his robes.
Henrik chanted, his wavering voice rising into a staccato. The blues of his pupils brightened as his incantation crescendoed and he raised a finger to the sky. A ball of light shot up from the tips into the night, exploding in a blinding, momentary daybreak.
Howls and snapping branches echoed in the woods around them. Shadows flitted among the swaying trees.
Tomas savored the last puff for an extra second before stomping the embered end of his cigar under heavy boots. He reached for his belt, fingers brushing over the icy metal of his embossed revolvers.
Henrik unsheathed a flail, its cruel spikes glinting in the luminescent orb burning above them. He hovered a hand over the steel ball and whispered under his breath.
"Every good gift comes from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."
Golden brilliance wreathed the weapon and Henrik eyes girded for action.
Tomas smirked. He slid his own armaments out of their holsters.
Lumbering shadows staggered out the treeline toward the two vestmented men. They prowled in grotesque but unique forms, some four legged, some tendrilled. All brandished long, blade-like claws that whistled as they sliced through the night air.
The closest one flared razor edged wings and opened fanged jaws in a harrowing scream. Void stared out its maw, blacker than black.
Tomas and Henrik faced them back to back.
"God ain't here no more, boy. But I'll bring judgement in his stead."
r/bobotheturtle | I lived about a five minute walk from the train station. Every night I would hear the call of a horn which always felt calming. Being just 10 years old, I was still a little afraid of the dark, I would have a hard time falling asleep because I was afraid a monster might come up under my bed and kidnap me, but the hum of the evening train made all my fears melt away. I know it sounds silly, but it felt like the train was a friend that was looking out for me, beeping its horn as a warning to any baddies that might be scheming something evil. *The train had my back.*
One evening was strange in particular. I was sleeping in my Nintendo themed bedroom when suddenly I was jolted awake. It came from a wail from the train, but it sounded much different than it normally did, in fact--
"*Joey*," I heard the voice say, "*Joey, the train station, please," t*he voice sounded angelic and omnipresent.
I looked out my window and saw something I'd never seen before. At the station, there was a long train that was docked, but it looked unusual. Commuter carts and cargo were common sights, but this looked like something a king or a queen would ride on.
It was a steam locomotive with a yellow eye at the front, with a purple pupil and luscious eyelashes. It blinked and it was looking in my direction. Right below it was a mouth with full red lips and pearling white teeth. The body of the train was entirely purple with red and yellow ornate accent marks. Curvy lines that looked almost paisley in design decorated each train cart. The windows were all lit with a golden sunset glow.
"*Joey!"* the train talked. *"Please, come out, we would like you just to chat with us for a moment. Don't wake your parents, they can't see or hear the train, so it'd be pointless, but for your friends are all here!"*
Out of the cart up front, Maxwell and Delilah poked their upper bodies outside of the window. "Joey! Please join us! This train is amazing!" Delilah yelled, pushing up her round wired glasses closer to her eyes.
Maxwell waved his paperboy cap with his hand. "Joey, I know it looks crazy and it *is* crazy but you won't regret it, please come over!"
"*Don't worry Joey, you'll be back soon!"* the warm angelic voice from the train echoed.
I opened up the window to my room and hopped out onto the roof and climbed down the tree from the second floor. I rushed down the block and walked up to the train tracks where Maxwell and Delilah were still waving their hands at me.
A door by the conductor's cart flung open and I couldn't believe my eyes. I rubbed them continuously and kept looking down and up.
Standing before me was the 7-foot tall body of a human with a pumpkin for a head. Its triangle eyes and geometric cookie-cutter smile were lit up with a yellow glow. The jack-o-lantern looked friendly, wearing a red suit with black pinstripes and black and red matching wingtip shoes.
"Hello!" it beamed.
"Uh..." I muttered.
"My name is Adamus. I am the co-captain of this ship -er- train! Along with my partner!"
"Evelyn!" another voice beamed, sounding more feminine. A figure stepped out with Adamus and they also had a jack-o-lantern head, but it was wearing a black suit with red pinstripes. They looked like twins, except she had circular eyes and a more oval like smile.
"Joey, we're glad you're here. You must have a million questions for us, but allow us to explain and then we'll answer anything you might be confused on," Adamus said.
"You see, Joey, God has dreams and that's where earth and your world came from. A dream of God's," Evelyn said.
"And now, God has started having nightmares, so a lot of spooky ghouls have been given life. We have our own world now, but it should be known that we are much like humans, in fact, majority of us aren't evil or scary at all!" Adamus said.
"Scary looking-maybe, but that's all subjective isn't it? We are picking you all up because we know that you and your friends favorite holiday is Halloween. Our life here is basically like Halloween every day," Evelyn said with a bright smile.
"But today is a special holiday for our people and we wanted to bridge the gap with humans and make friends, as is tradition. Won't you please join us for our Monster Ball for Frightmas? This train will take you there, and then we'll bring you back home, promise!" Adamus said.
"The Monster Ball is a lot like the song 'Monster Mash' except it's real! It's a friendly, peaceful, rootin- train tootin," *The train choo choo'd.* "Good time!"
I looked incredulously at the two conductors, and then I looked over at my friends who were still waving gleefully. "Come on in, Joey!" Maxwell hollered.
I looked back up at Adamus and Evelyn. "Okay, I'll come! Just... can I be back home in like three hours?"
"Of course!" Adamus beamed. "We can have you home any time you'd like!"
"You're gonna love it, Joey!" Evelyn said.
They ran up to me and gave me a surprisingly warm hug that reminded me of the way my parents hugged me goodnight.
"Let's go inside and see your friends!" they said in unison, reaching out their pumpkin-smooth hands for me to hold.
I grasped their hands and I hopped aboard on one of the most magical experiences of my life.
&#x200B;
r/randallcooper | |
[WP] Every ten years, our God sleeps. And when he sleeps, he dreams. Worlds are born from his dreams, entire galaxies bursting into existence in an instant. But something has changed. Now, God is beginning to have nightmares. | God’s Slumber was always a difficult time. For most of us, the pious, the grateful, there was an appreciation that our creator was finally resting, and an anticipation at the decade that would follow. For others, it was a chance to be mischievous, a theft here, an indulgence there. And for a few, it was a time to spawn chaos. God would deal with those people when he awoke, but until then, we had to make do with simply containing them.
Dealing with the people was the easy part. It was nature that suffered the most during the year-long sleep. Our sun would begin to lose warmth around the third month, ushering in an early and persistent winter. The trees would list during the first few months and sometimes collapse entirely under the incessant snowfall. Colors themselves would seem but a memory by the halfway point, the endless whites and grays of the weather taking hold in our very hearts. The unprepared would brave the elements to survive, but we were always stronger together and a helping hand was never far away.
Despite the tribulations, God always made our sacrifice worth it. The Day of Awakening was as much an awakening for us as it was for God. The planet would hum and pulse, as if it had taken a deep breath and was stretching itself wide. The skies would be brimming with movement and color and innovation, new worlds dotting the backdrop, novel wildlife soaring through the clouds, promising anything from companionship to sustenance, and unique aromas inviting us to find their sources. For years we would discover the bounties of God’s dreams, and we would feel God’s smile in the sunfall, God’s embrace in the wind, God’s promise in the stars.
I’m so, so sorry you have never seen The Day of Awakening, my child. I write these words to you because I hope you can hold on to faith in what lies ahead. I hope you can come to know God as I did once, and I hope you can help God as he has helped us for so long. I write these words to you so that maybe, if there is any deeper understanding to be made, you can discover what was wrought in the ninth month of the past Slumber.
It was another frigid day, the snow piled up past the window in our door. I remember this detail clearly, because it was through that window where I first saw the first indication of something strange: Sunfall. The bright yellow light beamed into the kitchen, prompting your mother and I to stop what we were doing. I placed my hand in the light, almost cradling it like you would a wounded bird. To my dismay, the light was warm, pleasant, invigorating. I laughed as your mother came over to feel the warmth. For those brief moments, we thought we had been blessed. It was a mere seconds later that I had to wrench my hand back from the light, the heat of which had grown exponentially. The wood of the house groaned loudly as the light grew more prevalent. The door bulged inward and then gave way, a wall of cold water rushing into the home. Outside, the snow had turned into rivers and decimation was everywhere. Some homes had already been washed away, the melting snow from atop the mountain promising more devastation was to come. All the while the heat increased, feeling like a tangible presence, feeling like you could hear it.
That was when I realized you _could_ hear it. Not the heat itself, but a deep wailing that rose and rose with the temperature. The sounds of rushing waters, the screams of the villagers, and the crashing of homes were no match for God’s wail. Your mother and I found the darkest place in our home and sheltered as the wail grew louder and louder. It turned into a deafening scream before suddenly ending and leaving a silence that hung like the densest fog you can imagine. After a moment, I emerged from our shelter and walked to the front door.
The new river still rushed, the villagers still screamed, the homes still crumbled, but the sun shone no more.
_I'm working on more if you're interested!_ | I lived about a five minute walk from the train station. Every night I would hear the call of a horn which always felt calming. Being just 10 years old, I was still a little afraid of the dark, I would have a hard time falling asleep because I was afraid a monster might come up under my bed and kidnap me, but the hum of the evening train made all my fears melt away. I know it sounds silly, but it felt like the train was a friend that was looking out for me, beeping its horn as a warning to any baddies that might be scheming something evil. *The train had my back.*
One evening was strange in particular. I was sleeping in my Nintendo themed bedroom when suddenly I was jolted awake. It came from a wail from the train, but it sounded much different than it normally did, in fact--
"*Joey*," I heard the voice say, "*Joey, the train station, please," t*he voice sounded angelic and omnipresent.
I looked out my window and saw something I'd never seen before. At the station, there was a long train that was docked, but it looked unusual. Commuter carts and cargo were common sights, but this looked like something a king or a queen would ride on.
It was a steam locomotive with a yellow eye at the front, with a purple pupil and luscious eyelashes. It blinked and it was looking in my direction. Right below it was a mouth with full red lips and pearling white teeth. The body of the train was entirely purple with red and yellow ornate accent marks. Curvy lines that looked almost paisley in design decorated each train cart. The windows were all lit with a golden sunset glow.
"*Joey!"* the train talked. *"Please, come out, we would like you just to chat with us for a moment. Don't wake your parents, they can't see or hear the train, so it'd be pointless, but for your friends are all here!"*
Out of the cart up front, Maxwell and Delilah poked their upper bodies outside of the window. "Joey! Please join us! This train is amazing!" Delilah yelled, pushing up her round wired glasses closer to her eyes.
Maxwell waved his paperboy cap with his hand. "Joey, I know it looks crazy and it *is* crazy but you won't regret it, please come over!"
"*Don't worry Joey, you'll be back soon!"* the warm angelic voice from the train echoed.
I opened up the window to my room and hopped out onto the roof and climbed down the tree from the second floor. I rushed down the block and walked up to the train tracks where Maxwell and Delilah were still waving their hands at me.
A door by the conductor's cart flung open and I couldn't believe my eyes. I rubbed them continuously and kept looking down and up.
Standing before me was the 7-foot tall body of a human with a pumpkin for a head. Its triangle eyes and geometric cookie-cutter smile were lit up with a yellow glow. The jack-o-lantern looked friendly, wearing a red suit with black pinstripes and black and red matching wingtip shoes.
"Hello!" it beamed.
"Uh..." I muttered.
"My name is Adamus. I am the co-captain of this ship -er- train! Along with my partner!"
"Evelyn!" another voice beamed, sounding more feminine. A figure stepped out with Adamus and they also had a jack-o-lantern head, but it was wearing a black suit with red pinstripes. They looked like twins, except she had circular eyes and a more oval like smile.
"Joey, we're glad you're here. You must have a million questions for us, but allow us to explain and then we'll answer anything you might be confused on," Adamus said.
"You see, Joey, God has dreams and that's where earth and your world came from. A dream of God's," Evelyn said.
"And now, God has started having nightmares, so a lot of spooky ghouls have been given life. We have our own world now, but it should be known that we are much like humans, in fact, majority of us aren't evil or scary at all!" Adamus said.
"Scary looking-maybe, but that's all subjective isn't it? We are picking you all up because we know that you and your friends favorite holiday is Halloween. Our life here is basically like Halloween every day," Evelyn said with a bright smile.
"But today is a special holiday for our people and we wanted to bridge the gap with humans and make friends, as is tradition. Won't you please join us for our Monster Ball for Frightmas? This train will take you there, and then we'll bring you back home, promise!" Adamus said.
"The Monster Ball is a lot like the song 'Monster Mash' except it's real! It's a friendly, peaceful, rootin- train tootin," *The train choo choo'd.* "Good time!"
I looked incredulously at the two conductors, and then I looked over at my friends who were still waving gleefully. "Come on in, Joey!" Maxwell hollered.
I looked back up at Adamus and Evelyn. "Okay, I'll come! Just... can I be back home in like three hours?"
"Of course!" Adamus beamed. "We can have you home any time you'd like!"
"You're gonna love it, Joey!" Evelyn said.
They ran up to me and gave me a surprisingly warm hug that reminded me of the way my parents hugged me goodnight.
"Let's go inside and see your friends!" they said in unison, reaching out their pumpkin-smooth hands for me to hold.
I grasped their hands and I hopped aboard on one of the most magical experiences of my life.
&#x200B;
r/randallcooper | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | One drop of water kept falling from the ceiling. It's amazing that after all this years, the best ways for torturing people keep being the same. Empires have fallen, Technology now dominates us and yet, here I am again with this water drop drilling your forehead in this dark room, tied by something I can't really tell what it is from my arms and legs.
The pain in my belly reminds me I haven't ate in maybe a day or two. I remembering ordering something, but apps tend to cancel if the drop by is to far away. I actually really dislike Chinese food. It's been years without actually a good piece of bread. Nothing like the old days. Everything was simpler when I helped the Master. He studied plants and it's properties. He discovered that some of them could alter your perception of things. The first Drugs. I wish I was high so it could scare the pain away.
The door opened and a hooded figure entered the room.
I tried to say something but I now realize my mouth is also tied.
He doesn't say anything, he unties me and signals me to follow him. He is stupidly tall and athletic, his attire is a pair of dark jeans, some black industrial boots, black sweatshirt with his hoodie and a mask with that stupid sign again.
Pulling any sign of resistance is going to end with me suffering even more, I know how this is going to end; I understand that following him is the best choice.
If we look at the bright side, i might have a chance to speak with the old man. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn't.
My arms and legs hurt so much. This used to be much more special and unique, they had special robes, special locations, torches and candles. Know there's this house with wood everywhere, some kind of cabin perhaps. I can't see very well and my steps are slow because my legs are sore. The old man is an idiot. I don't know how he had such a charming boy. His son was so pure and innocent. His death still hurts me. And he blames me for it.
I met his son while i was working with my master. He told me that he needed help for people to believe him so he could help them get to the old man. I thought he was an idiot, but I saw him day after day preaching the same stuff and people being mean to him so figured out it would be fun to have the town believing him. So I poured the wells with Mandragora, and another hallucinating herbs and everyone was so high they imagined a lot of things when he preached.
They saw him walking on water, multiplying fishes and food, healing people that weren't even I'll to beging with and then they formed a cult on him.
I laughed a shit ton over it and befriended him, because he was so happy I never told them about the drugs. One day my master passed away and I had to bury him in Egypt. I honored him and placed it's remnants as he wished, where he was born.
I stayed there for years untill I heard about the political fuss. I saw that he became a religious figure and was menacing the government. So I tried to warn him, I wrote him letters that couldn't reach him but I found out later someone else received them. Days later I found out the son of the old man was murdered.
We arrive to what appears to have been a living room, now with that stupid sign again in the floor made by candles and plants. At least this has stayed consistent throughout the years. I know what this idiots are going to do, so I just put myself in the center with my arms and legs extended so they can search for my arteries and bleed me "to death". And here we're all going to stay a day or two untill they get tired of this. Last time it was only 8 hours, maybe I get to have the same luck.
The first time that I met the old man was a little after his son was murdered. He appeared right in front of me and punched me so hard I fell. Tall, athletic, white beard and long hair, brown skin, omminent voice.
-You've disgraced my son, you will pay for your sins.
And since that day I haven't aged. I haven't died. I've been checked by millions of doctors and even became one myself in recent times and found out my cells have a godlike adaptability to endure damage and reproduce themselves so fast that I can't die.
As a result of this, people started to notice. They found out my letters to the old man's son. Their cult became so big it fractioned into a billion other mini-cults some really good ones, and then this pieces of shit that wanted to meet the old man at any cost in hopes of harvesting it's power, falling into stupid beliefs, that any object or person in contact with him could be a way to reach him.
I've been haunted for them through all my life, and generations after generations greed and stupidly is present everytime.
11 people as usual arrive, they prepare themselves and start chanting, 4 of them kneel and open my skin. The one on my right arm shakes so much that it hurts even more. Just as I feel the pain making me pass out I hear him.
"Ezra" Loud and clear. It's been so much time that I almost forgot how the old man sounded like.
"... Yahvé ?" I asked
" It is time Ezra" he replied immediately.
"Time for what? ¿Have you been following what this assholes have done to me all this years? " I angrily yelled at him with all my strength
" I told you you were going to suffer the fate of my son over and over again" he said calmly
"You never listened to me you arrogant piece of shit, It was a joke that went out of my hands, I never intended for him to be murdered or disrespect him" I continued to shout
"You disgraced my son, Ezra. I wasn't going to listen to anything. But after all this years I'm more upset with other people in the world than you. So tell me. What happened?" He asked
" I got really depressed by your son's death. I went to pay my respects to him and catched up with his followers. As a way of cheering us up I got high as fuck and began telling them how cool your son was, so I told them the drugs helped me remember them. They also got high and then we started drinking wine an everything was worse. Someone had this idea that we could resucitate him and we opened his grave and made the corpse drink and party with us."
"I woke up the next day with a horrible pain, the worst I had ever experienced before. I was the first one to be awake, saw the corpse and realized the terrible things that had happened, so I stole it and buried him elsewhere. Left the town so ashamed of myself.
Next thing I know this morons believe that he was resurrected and he had apparitions and shit" I finished
"I know Ezra. My son told me everything. He is not an idiot. He just wanted to return the prank" he calmly replied
For a moment everything blurred out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was certain that my mind went insane or something like that. I couldn't ask the old man to repeat itself.
"Wh....What?" I asked
" The plants you gave them did exacerbate and exaggerate my son's gifts. But they were very real. The only power he didn't have it's coming back to life. No one can do that, not even me. He was upset with you because you accelerated the ruin of his experiment with humans by creating a twisted religion. He has taken care of you and the Earth, protecting them from those crazy idiots trying to murder you. However you have served a very special purpose that you will fulfill one last time, since you were after all, his friend" the old mans voice said in a lightly tone.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even talk
"I....I didn't expect this at all, I...am confused...., What's this all have to do with me?" I mumbled.
"My child has put in your cells the antidotes for every pandemic humanity has faced over the years. Every time that you have been tortured you release the antidote and spread it in the world. This time you will pour the last antidote for the greatest plague on earth." The old man said
"What do you mean?" I asked
"You will come with us Ezra, you are going to extinguish Humanity themselves. Let go, your cells are ready. Come and rest Erza"
I sensed my last breaths. I sensed my last heartbeats. The last time my blood got to my brain and allowed me to think this sentence. And I let go. | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | When the sack came off Gia’s head, she found herself strapped upright on a spinning wheel in a dimly lit circus tent. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. After seeing the performers’ mind-blowing act, she had to know how they did it for her shows. While she was sneaking around after the show, someone snuck up behind her with a sack over her head. Now, she hung before cult-like gathering.
Using her crowd scanning skill, Gia counted 30 people in bright clown nose red robes with white plastic masks of a cartoonishly broad smile. The outfit vaguely reminded Gia of a production she put on with some friends, but what that was was a hazy memory.
“We are gathered together here under the first full moon of the new decade for our sacrifice,” the cult leader announced. Gai recognized the voice belonged to the ringleader.
The crowd cheered. The only thing Gia could spot on the cult leader that made him stand out from the others was the golden inverted pyramid necklace.
“Sacrifice, huh?” Gia said with excited curiosity. “If I may make a suggestion, the lighting is awful. How are people going to see me die? Do you have anything else other than the torchlights like some portable LED stage lights? Surely you got some of those.”
“We can see well enough,” the cult leader grumbled.
“If you say so,” Gia snarked. “By the way, what’s your cult or organization or whatever’s name? Or is this some tradition with your circus.”
“We are the Cult of Mischief,” the leader proclaimed.
Gia remembered the show she was trying to pin down earlier. She giggled like she was part of an inside joke.
The leader picked up the jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger from a pedestal and pointed it at Gia. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. Carry on.”
The leader faced the crowd. “Let the ceremony commence!”
With the crowd cheering, the leader stabbed Gia in the chest. Silence fell.
“Oh, what cruel world,” Gia cried out. “There was so much I wanted to do. There’s so much in this world I wanted to see. But now, my time has come. Farewell.”
Gia’s body went limp. The cultists chanted in unison, “Our sacrifice is yours. Take this soul and bless us.”
Per cult order, the youngest member pulled out the knife from the sacrifice.
Gia raised her head, unharmed, and smiled. The cult gasped. “Okay, I thought that was a rather stirring death performance.”
“How are you not dead?” the young cultist asked with a quiver in her voice.
“You picked the wrong kind of person for a sacrifice. Hashtag cult problems, am I right?”
“We cannot stand for this,” the leader said. “Our god will not be pleased with us.”
“You mean, Loki?” Gia said. “I’m sure he’s getting a good chuckle right now.”
The leader got in Gia’s face. “How do you know of our god?”
“Oh, we go way back,” Gia explained and then thought about the chronological order of time. “Or forward technically. He casted me as the first leader of the Cult of Mischief centuries ago to fool some traveling act for him to study their reactions. I’m surprised the cult is still around, to be honest, but knowing him and his partner, I bet they’re watching, studying.”
There was a hushed discussion amongst the members when two people revealed themselves from a stack of cargo containers. One was a slender man in a pink suit with bold, black outlines and a young woman in a red satin dress holding a transparent tablet device. Both had black hair and flowed in sync with each other.
“It’s them!” one of the members shouted. “From the painting of the first ritual.”
All the cult members dropped to their knees.
“Loki, Raven, how are you two doing?” Gia cheerfully greeted.
“I must admit, I find it humorous they tried to sacrifice you,” Loki dryly said while adjusting his cufflinks as they approached Gia.
Raven worked on freeing Gia. “It’s been fascinating studying the cult’s evolution throughout the centuries.”
“But I am growing bored of it,” Loki confessed.
“Shall we end?” Raven asked him.
“Yes, let’s go out on top.” Loki turned to address the cultists, who were still bowing down. “Since you tried to kill my friend, I will now forsake you and no longer give you my blessings – ever. Begone!”
The cultists scattered away as Raven undid the last strap around Gia.
“Thanks,” Gia said. “What’s next for two?”
Loki and Raven exchanged glances and spoke in unison. “More mayhem.” | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I find myself pinned down, on a dastardly altar: not the most redeeming of pictures when you’re a god. They shuffle and mumble amongst each other; a group of people clad in black tutus and Venetian masks. I narrow the possibilities down to two. This is either a masquerade party to which I was not expressly invited (the theme isn’t to my taste anyway), or I am to be sacrificed in a ritual. The former would be unlikely; I don’t sense any booze.
Back in my day, rituals were a thing of bloody, ominous glory. These days? Not so much. If I wanted to, I could easily free myself of these restraints and see to it that those responsible for this blasphemous act are dealt with severely. But I’m a gentleman, and since these chaps went through the laborious ordeal of kidnapping me, I will let them act of their volition and proceed as such. Judgement isn’t a thing to be passed down so easily after all: Godly Morals 101.
A faint humming. It gets louder. Intense. Followed by a piercing bong. Just as the proverbial: ‘Thy shite hath struck the fan’ goes. In my mind, I am thoroughly marking the dismal proceedings of this ritual, and once this is over, I shall definitely be going over my dissatisfaction with the board of Rituals and Sacrifices. No debauchery, no snakes. What has this world come to? The cult forms a circle around me, hand-in-hand, chanting in a language that is unbeknown to me. “What are you lot blabbering on about?” I question. A thundering slap envelopes my face. The perpetrator, who has been looming over my violated face all this time, grunts in a monotonous tone: “Silence, mortal. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the will of our Lord Helios. Rejoice brothers, for today we bring about the infiniteness of our lives. Bring me the tears of the distraught fish, and the ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny.” My ears pricked up.
This was too good to be true. Had Helios set all of this up on a whim? Setting up a friend was most certainly not below him. To the ignorant reader, I realize that some context may be required here. Many a century ago, Helios and I had come up with an absurdly nonsensical plan (to kill off the time, if you will) to make some mischief out of mortals. But to see it come to fruition? These mortals never cease to amaze me… with their stupidity. As my flawless memory relays, we left a scroll atop Mount Fuji while on patrolling duty (drafted by yours truly) that promised to grant immortality if three things were sacrificed, in the name of Helios: “The tears of the distraught fish. The ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny. The heart of a grotesque man.” Wait…
That would make me the grotesque man. The gall. “Helios! Get your ass out here. Your joke is lost on me.” I shout, and am in consequence slapped once more by this crude man. “How dare you say our Lord’s name in vain? A god as exalted as He would never communicate with beings as lowly as us. But that will all change today, for today we achieve immortality.”
Then Helios wasn’t in on this. And it was purely by chance, that the scroll had been followed oh-so obediently on the other side of the world. Offended as I was, I was going to let this play out. The poor remnants of the bunny and fish were put beside me. My heart was all that was left. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
My abuser brandished his knife. Not at all like the flashy ones with bejewelled hilts. It was more of a standard IKEA kitchen knife. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work out well. I may be immortal, but I still feel stuff. Gods aren’t as heartless as you lot make them out to be. With trembling hands at the foot of the knife, the man plunged it (in a half-arsed manner) into my chest. I would like to think this was a smooth affair, and that my heart was out in instant but to the contrary, it was one that contained an inordinate amount of blood, profanity and screaming on my part. I’ll spare you the details, for such an ungraceful image isn’t fitting for a god.
After what seemed to be a millennium, my chest was finally bare, exposed. It was then, much to the innocent souls’ surprise, when they couldn’t find a heart. I would have offered to give them a crash course on Divine Anatomy, but they didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. All of them made a run for it. Such feeble attempts.
The charade was over. There was no more fun to be had, for the most part. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It seems as though you have figured out that I am not just any being. Who I am, need not concern you. Just know that your adventures today will make for a charming story. In fact, I intend to tell it to Helios this very instant. I do apologize, but I must get going. I thank you for the hospitality.” A click of the fingers, followed by shrill screams. An uproar of pandemonium, and then nothing. A silence. Bless those poor souls. I couldn’t wait to tell Helios!
(First submission to this subreddit. Tried my hand at writing after what has been too long. Constructive criticism appreciated) | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | The chanting is getting louder. Fire burns all around me, hotter and faster by the second. I know the knots that bind me are not going to come undone. I'm sure that I'm the first to be in this situation, and I'm even more sure I won't be the last.
And yet, I can't stop smiling. Death? Death doesn't scare me. Not anymore. When you've spent thousands of years wandering spiritual and physical realms, staring death in the face is the only real way you can live.
And this will be especially fun. Cults might just be some of the most interesting things this race has created. Experience has taught me that until I finally die in a particularly interesting way, I'll learn all sorts of poppycock about whatever miracles they claim to have seen, and the strange rituals that they perform to honour a god they know nothing about. It's always fascinating stuff.
"In your honour, Almighty Leo, we sacrifice this deviant, so that we may continue to prosper with your blessing, and maintain our purity until your return."
He turns back to face the crowd. "Bring forth the sacred vinegar jug!"
Vinegar jug? Almighty Leo? Sacrifice everyone foreign to maintain purity? No way... "As you know..."
Oh my goodness, these cretins actually believed him...
The priest is still talking. Probably about why I'm about to get doused with holy vinegar and then thrown into an empty volcano. But he stops. Because I've started laughing.
This is bad. But I don't stop. I can't. This... is just too good.
The tribespeople are becoming confused. The priests are getting irritated. If only they knew that the basis of 800 years of their culture was created through a night of heavy drinking and stupid dares. Maybe they would be laughing too.
"I choose dare. What have you got for me, Cassius?"
"Leo, I dare you to visit a realm, and convince a group of creatures that you're a god, and they should worship you. You can say whatever you want, with one condition: those creatures have to sacrifice their own kind in your name."
And I happened to stumble upon the result... this is too good. He has to see this. "Hey, Leo! You there?"
The sky starts to turn grey. The trees shake, more violently by the second. And out of the clouds, a familiar face greets me.
"Holy shit! Cassius, is that you?"
Upon hearing his voice, the tribe collapses to their knees. Not that Leo feels the need to say anything to his loyal followers.
"You know it! So, this was the place where the magic happened?"
"Yeah. Picked a random universe, worked out the dominant species, found an island in the middles of nowhere, and told some people to start worshipping. How did you even end up here?"
"The usual fare... plane crash, build a raft, turns out the land I find is full of crazy people."
"Well... it's nice to see you, Cassius. We should catch up again sometime."
"We really should, Leo. Anyway, I think I need to be sacrificed about now, so take care. Say hi to Jenny for me!"
"Will do, Cassius. See you around."
Leo's face disappears into the clouds. The world arounds me settles back down, but the tribespeople grow more restless. I get it. That's the reaction to be expected when you meet your god. But I'm just smiling. It's all I can really do at this point. | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | If only I had not taken that strange looking turn I’d be out of this mess in a jiffy, so much for being adventurous and retracing old steps, I wonder hung upside down in a cave inside a volcano and being put in the sacrificial pyre in front of a statue which looks a lot like my buddy Vesuvius. And well why should it not look like Ves, these people here think he’s their God, and while he is a God he’s not in the way they’re thinking it. Let me explain, my name is Skiver and I am one of the 3 men who drank the water from the elixir of immortality at the dawn of time. We all have had different names across different cultures and mythologies and have been basically around since forever doing the whole immortal men travel the planet kind of gig. Our skirmishes with mortal men, who more often than not overestimate their own abilities, has become folklore. Most times people just do it out of their need for a good story. The closest word modern mythology has for us would have to be ‘demigods’, but with time our powers have waned and now we just have the immortality aspect coupled with perhaps very high damage endurance.
In the old days, our modus operandi always were to hijack the public favour in any new city we travelled to, through charlatan and parlour tricks (well they were parlour tricks to us) and become the public’s heroes so that we could live out our time there being treated as royalty. This one time we got to the Roman City of Pompeii situated right next to a very active volcano. Now being around since the dawn of time brings unsurmountable amounts of knowledge which includes manually triggering a volcano. It is unwittingly simple as well, you just have to add the tiniest amount of garlic to the flames inside the volcano and the volcano takes over. If you think about it sounds an awful lot like how a human sneezes. After the explosion, Ves and I would go save the people from the lava and be hailed as heroes. But I miscalculated the amount of garlic powder needed, we needed just a tablespoon but I put almost a cup and the result was that the explosion was a lot more aggressive than we anticipated knocking me unconscious, leaving Ves, who was waiting for me at the city gates, to do the heavy lifting and fail gloriously at saving the city. He did try though and saved a handful of people who may have, as I am now discovering, started an eternal devotion group for Ves surviving across centuries. Ugh, there’s no good way to say it, and I was being kind with “eternal devotion group”, these lunatics are a cult, they call themselves the Children of Vesuvius. Such has been their clout that even the culprit volcano is named after Vesuvius. Ves has always been sketchy about what he revealed to the rescued about who he is. Slimy Bastard, he told them he’s God or well, a God. I will say I’m impressed by how long these guys have stuck around. Pompeii was if I am remembering correctly around 80 AD in the biblical calendar and we are currently in, if I’d venture a guess, 1941? The level of indoctrination it would have required to keep up the myth of Vesuvius going across generations would be monumental. To these people here today Vesuvius is not just a God, it is an integral part of what their identity is based around, no wonder they are happily willing to sacrifice a living human being (from their perspective). Well if the social science class I took was any good then I am afraid I am not going to be able to reason my way out of here with these people.
I am not sure what their rationale is over sacrificing me but if I were to guess I’d say “blessings from thy lord”, at least that was what it was the last time I was in such a situation. I don’t mind being put in the pyre, I have done a lot of misdeeds over my long life and this seems like the right kind of retribution for it, but sadly for them it won’t kill me and the ash would just get in my clothes, I would hate for it to ruin my brand new suit. Additionally, my skin would get itchy and it is bloody difficult to find a dermatologist for a thousand-year-old former demigod. I suppose it’s time to end my musings and embrace my fate. Halloween is around the corner so I can possibly get by another week with the burnt skin regenerating and the grotesque skeleton appearance healing. Well, here it comes.
\*Skiver is consumed by the embers, he squeals in pain and consequently becomes unconscious, the Children of Vesuvius sing together in prayer and then are forced to hurriedly leave the area. Skiver awakes by the coast, a few weeks later, naked and most of his skin now burnt. He looks around to find the entire area has been ravished by the volcano again\*
Looks like I miscalculated the garlic powder I needed again. Well third time’s the charm. | It was a Monday. Hades hated Mondays, and this particular Monday was faring no better than any had before. He had woken up chained to an altar with a throbbing headache, surrounded by cultists wearing the most abhorrent shapeless pink and green robes. As he slowly came to his senses, he found with some alarm that he had very little recollection of the night before. In his defence, he had been incredibly drunk at the time. Ebony flames singed his hair and the screams of the damned echoed around him. Those were not a problem. To Hades, that was just another Tuesday. The dagger that damnable mortal was holding above his chest, on the other hand? That was a very big problem. Hades was immortal, but that did not mean he was unable to feel pain, and from the gleam the dagger's wicked edge gave off, this was going to be very, very painful. Hades disliked pain. He found the whole murder affair incredibly unpleasant, which some might say was a hindrance in his field of work, but Hades had never held a fondness for such fools. He ruled over the dead and the underworld, yes, but murder? That was for Thanatos.
"Could I have my phone call?" He inquired politely to the strangely dressed cultist holding the dagger. "Cease your yammering, buffoon!" Now that was just rude. "Your blood shall usher in the new spring in the name of the great goddess Persephone!" Hades stared at the man, gobsmacked, and began to laugh. The man looked at him in stunned silence. "Persephone is my wife!" "Lies!" Shouted an angry voice from the crowd. "Kill the heathen!" Screamed another. This was all getting rather tiring, Hades thought. It was time to end this charade. Magic cracked at his fingertips as he snapped the chains binding him to the platform. It was at that moment that the cultist decided to stab him. Hades screamed, curses flowing from his mouth like the godly ichor leaking from his chest. His mortal form finally collapsed, bathing the cultists in a radiant light that left nothing but dust. "I hate Mondays,' he muttered, before promptly passing out.
After later hearing the whole story of what had happened the previous night from Zeus and Poseidon, Hades made the rather wise decision to never again engage in a night of reckless debauchery with either of his brothers. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | One drop of water kept falling from the ceiling. It's amazing that after all this years, the best ways for torturing people keep being the same. Empires have fallen, Technology now dominates us and yet, here I am again with this water drop drilling your forehead in this dark room, tied by something I can't really tell what it is from my arms and legs.
The pain in my belly reminds me I haven't ate in maybe a day or two. I remembering ordering something, but apps tend to cancel if the drop by is to far away. I actually really dislike Chinese food. It's been years without actually a good piece of bread. Nothing like the old days. Everything was simpler when I helped the Master. He studied plants and it's properties. He discovered that some of them could alter your perception of things. The first Drugs. I wish I was high so it could scare the pain away.
The door opened and a hooded figure entered the room.
I tried to say something but I now realize my mouth is also tied.
He doesn't say anything, he unties me and signals me to follow him. He is stupidly tall and athletic, his attire is a pair of dark jeans, some black industrial boots, black sweatshirt with his hoodie and a mask with that stupid sign again.
Pulling any sign of resistance is going to end with me suffering even more, I know how this is going to end; I understand that following him is the best choice.
If we look at the bright side, i might have a chance to speak with the old man. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn't.
My arms and legs hurt so much. This used to be much more special and unique, they had special robes, special locations, torches and candles. Know there's this house with wood everywhere, some kind of cabin perhaps. I can't see very well and my steps are slow because my legs are sore. The old man is an idiot. I don't know how he had such a charming boy. His son was so pure and innocent. His death still hurts me. And he blames me for it.
I met his son while i was working with my master. He told me that he needed help for people to believe him so he could help them get to the old man. I thought he was an idiot, but I saw him day after day preaching the same stuff and people being mean to him so figured out it would be fun to have the town believing him. So I poured the wells with Mandragora, and another hallucinating herbs and everyone was so high they imagined a lot of things when he preached.
They saw him walking on water, multiplying fishes and food, healing people that weren't even I'll to beging with and then they formed a cult on him.
I laughed a shit ton over it and befriended him, because he was so happy I never told them about the drugs. One day my master passed away and I had to bury him in Egypt. I honored him and placed it's remnants as he wished, where he was born.
I stayed there for years untill I heard about the political fuss. I saw that he became a religious figure and was menacing the government. So I tried to warn him, I wrote him letters that couldn't reach him but I found out later someone else received them. Days later I found out the son of the old man was murdered.
We arrive to what appears to have been a living room, now with that stupid sign again in the floor made by candles and plants. At least this has stayed consistent throughout the years. I know what this idiots are going to do, so I just put myself in the center with my arms and legs extended so they can search for my arteries and bleed me "to death". And here we're all going to stay a day or two untill they get tired of this. Last time it was only 8 hours, maybe I get to have the same luck.
The first time that I met the old man was a little after his son was murdered. He appeared right in front of me and punched me so hard I fell. Tall, athletic, white beard and long hair, brown skin, omminent voice.
-You've disgraced my son, you will pay for your sins.
And since that day I haven't aged. I haven't died. I've been checked by millions of doctors and even became one myself in recent times and found out my cells have a godlike adaptability to endure damage and reproduce themselves so fast that I can't die.
As a result of this, people started to notice. They found out my letters to the old man's son. Their cult became so big it fractioned into a billion other mini-cults some really good ones, and then this pieces of shit that wanted to meet the old man at any cost in hopes of harvesting it's power, falling into stupid beliefs, that any object or person in contact with him could be a way to reach him.
I've been haunted for them through all my life, and generations after generations greed and stupidly is present everytime.
11 people as usual arrive, they prepare themselves and start chanting, 4 of them kneel and open my skin. The one on my right arm shakes so much that it hurts even more. Just as I feel the pain making me pass out I hear him.
"Ezra" Loud and clear. It's been so much time that I almost forgot how the old man sounded like.
"... Yahvé ?" I asked
" It is time Ezra" he replied immediately.
"Time for what? ¿Have you been following what this assholes have done to me all this years? " I angrily yelled at him with all my strength
" I told you you were going to suffer the fate of my son over and over again" he said calmly
"You never listened to me you arrogant piece of shit, It was a joke that went out of my hands, I never intended for him to be murdered or disrespect him" I continued to shout
"You disgraced my son, Ezra. I wasn't going to listen to anything. But after all this years I'm more upset with other people in the world than you. So tell me. What happened?" He asked
" I got really depressed by your son's death. I went to pay my respects to him and catched up with his followers. As a way of cheering us up I got high as fuck and began telling them how cool your son was, so I told them the drugs helped me remember them. They also got high and then we started drinking wine an everything was worse. Someone had this idea that we could resucitate him and we opened his grave and made the corpse drink and party with us."
"I woke up the next day with a horrible pain, the worst I had ever experienced before. I was the first one to be awake, saw the corpse and realized the terrible things that had happened, so I stole it and buried him elsewhere. Left the town so ashamed of myself.
Next thing I know this morons believe that he was resurrected and he had apparitions and shit" I finished
"I know Ezra. My son told me everything. He is not an idiot. He just wanted to return the prank" he calmly replied
For a moment everything blurred out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was certain that my mind went insane or something like that. I couldn't ask the old man to repeat itself.
"Wh....What?" I asked
" The plants you gave them did exacerbate and exaggerate my son's gifts. But they were very real. The only power he didn't have it's coming back to life. No one can do that, not even me. He was upset with you because you accelerated the ruin of his experiment with humans by creating a twisted religion. He has taken care of you and the Earth, protecting them from those crazy idiots trying to murder you. However you have served a very special purpose that you will fulfill one last time, since you were after all, his friend" the old mans voice said in a lightly tone.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even talk
"I....I didn't expect this at all, I...am confused...., What's this all have to do with me?" I mumbled.
"My child has put in your cells the antidotes for every pandemic humanity has faced over the years. Every time that you have been tortured you release the antidote and spread it in the world. This time you will pour the last antidote for the greatest plague on earth." The old man said
"What do you mean?" I asked
"You will come with us Ezra, you are going to extinguish Humanity themselves. Let go, your cells are ready. Come and rest Erza"
I sensed my last breaths. I sensed my last heartbeats. The last time my blood got to my brain and allowed me to think this sentence. And I let go. | I have to hate to admit but these clever blighters are getting quite creative, who would have thunk that after only a millennia these fuckers " inserts torturous scream", that these fuckers, he said louder.
Would finally figure out it was me, took you long enaugh.
they ramped up the voltage again and Teslas eyes rolled to the back of his head and they didn't turn down the voltage till they could clearly see smoke wafting out of his ears..
His head sank to his chest that was still and not beating, till,, badum badum badum, it started again.
he slowely lifted his head and gave his captives a small grin, you guys really can't take a joke, Tesla said and spit a bloody loogey from his mouth after having bitten down on the inside of his chin from that last shock.
Fellas, he said. cant we be reasonable here its been quite some time since,,,
Tell me where the bolts are, or dont, it really doesn't matter to me.
I've finally caught you, you little thief, after all this time i finally have you and I'm gonna have my fun with you before i give you to Zeus.
Baccus!!?!? you old horny bastard how are you!!!
(insert agonizing scream here)
fuck Baccus is that any way to greet an old friend?
Old friend? Baccus replies, you have had me on a merry chase for the better part of a millenia.
"well its good to get off that stuffy mountain isnt it?"
"you stole Zeus's lightning bolts"
"well more like borrowed, indefinetly"
(insert soul tearing wail here)
"you ended the reign of the Olympians and we will have it back, now where are the bolts"
"Baccus you old goat for brains, they are literally at your fingertips, where do you think that juicy A.C comes from?"
Baccus looked down at his instruments in dumbfounded bewilderment as it slowely dawned on him what Tesla just said.
"you gave the bolts to the humans?" he asked incredulously you did it again?
It never dawned on you Baccus that the world is hummin along on some real neat god juice Bakkus my boy and to tell you the truth Bakkus, i got the idea from you.
what!?!?!? replied Baccus now in a state of utter disrepair, the bolts where gone and Zeus would not be happy about that.
you forgot? asked Tesla.
what, said Baccus.
Baccus buddy you alright?
(insert nightmares howls here)
Baccus would you please, please stop with the bloody electrecutions, been working on those bolts for a better part of a decade now and electrecuted myself worse than this thousunds of times, once i even lost a week because my instruments exploded and i with them. it was an awful mess.
took forever to pull myself together after that.
but whyyy???, cried Baccus, why did you steal them? why have you done this? and why the hell are you calling yourself Tesla?
because going by Prometheus would kinda be a dead give away wouldnt it, as too why, because Zeus is a giant douche. he chained me up and had an eagle make a succulent dinner out of my liver EVERY night.
do you know how much it hurts regrowing a whole fucking organ overnight every nights for what seemed like an eternity.
and for what? giving my MY FUCKING FIRE TO THE HUMANS.
but why do you say that i gave you thr idea for zeus.'s bolts? Baccus asked in confusion.
ohh yeah that. remember that night when you threw that terrific baccanalian dungeon themed party you threw down in my dungeon.
you trying to hit of with Athena but Zeus threw that dazzling light show and Athena forgot you even existed?
oh no, Baccus cried as comprehension dawned on him.
oh yes Prometheus replied.
and you said" i wish somone would steal Zeus's thunder even for one night"... well, somone did. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | When the sack came off Gia’s head, she found herself strapped upright on a spinning wheel in a dimly lit circus tent. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. After seeing the performers’ mind-blowing act, she had to know how they did it for her shows. While she was sneaking around after the show, someone snuck up behind her with a sack over her head. Now, she hung before cult-like gathering.
Using her crowd scanning skill, Gia counted 30 people in bright clown nose red robes with white plastic masks of a cartoonishly broad smile. The outfit vaguely reminded Gia of a production she put on with some friends, but what that was was a hazy memory.
“We are gathered together here under the first full moon of the new decade for our sacrifice,” the cult leader announced. Gai recognized the voice belonged to the ringleader.
The crowd cheered. The only thing Gia could spot on the cult leader that made him stand out from the others was the golden inverted pyramid necklace.
“Sacrifice, huh?” Gia said with excited curiosity. “If I may make a suggestion, the lighting is awful. How are people going to see me die? Do you have anything else other than the torchlights like some portable LED stage lights? Surely you got some of those.”
“We can see well enough,” the cult leader grumbled.
“If you say so,” Gia snarked. “By the way, what’s your cult or organization or whatever’s name? Or is this some tradition with your circus.”
“We are the Cult of Mischief,” the leader proclaimed.
Gia remembered the show she was trying to pin down earlier. She giggled like she was part of an inside joke.
The leader picked up the jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger from a pedestal and pointed it at Gia. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. Carry on.”
The leader faced the crowd. “Let the ceremony commence!”
With the crowd cheering, the leader stabbed Gia in the chest. Silence fell.
“Oh, what cruel world,” Gia cried out. “There was so much I wanted to do. There’s so much in this world I wanted to see. But now, my time has come. Farewell.”
Gia’s body went limp. The cultists chanted in unison, “Our sacrifice is yours. Take this soul and bless us.”
Per cult order, the youngest member pulled out the knife from the sacrifice.
Gia raised her head, unharmed, and smiled. The cult gasped. “Okay, I thought that was a rather stirring death performance.”
“How are you not dead?” the young cultist asked with a quiver in her voice.
“You picked the wrong kind of person for a sacrifice. Hashtag cult problems, am I right?”
“We cannot stand for this,” the leader said. “Our god will not be pleased with us.”
“You mean, Loki?” Gia said. “I’m sure he’s getting a good chuckle right now.”
The leader got in Gia’s face. “How do you know of our god?”
“Oh, we go way back,” Gia explained and then thought about the chronological order of time. “Or forward technically. He casted me as the first leader of the Cult of Mischief centuries ago to fool some traveling act for him to study their reactions. I’m surprised the cult is still around, to be honest, but knowing him and his partner, I bet they’re watching, studying.”
There was a hushed discussion amongst the members when two people revealed themselves from a stack of cargo containers. One was a slender man in a pink suit with bold, black outlines and a young woman in a red satin dress holding a transparent tablet device. Both had black hair and flowed in sync with each other.
“It’s them!” one of the members shouted. “From the painting of the first ritual.”
All the cult members dropped to their knees.
“Loki, Raven, how are you two doing?” Gia cheerfully greeted.
“I must admit, I find it humorous they tried to sacrifice you,” Loki dryly said while adjusting his cufflinks as they approached Gia.
Raven worked on freeing Gia. “It’s been fascinating studying the cult’s evolution throughout the centuries.”
“But I am growing bored of it,” Loki confessed.
“Shall we end?” Raven asked him.
“Yes, let’s go out on top.” Loki turned to address the cultists, who were still bowing down. “Since you tried to kill my friend, I will now forsake you and no longer give you my blessings – ever. Begone!”
The cultists scattered away as Raven undid the last strap around Gia.
“Thanks,” Gia said. “What’s next for two?”
Loki and Raven exchanged glances and spoke in unison. “More mayhem.” | I have to hate to admit but these clever blighters are getting quite creative, who would have thunk that after only a millennia these fuckers " inserts torturous scream", that these fuckers, he said louder.
Would finally figure out it was me, took you long enaugh.
they ramped up the voltage again and Teslas eyes rolled to the back of his head and they didn't turn down the voltage till they could clearly see smoke wafting out of his ears..
His head sank to his chest that was still and not beating, till,, badum badum badum, it started again.
he slowely lifted his head and gave his captives a small grin, you guys really can't take a joke, Tesla said and spit a bloody loogey from his mouth after having bitten down on the inside of his chin from that last shock.
Fellas, he said. cant we be reasonable here its been quite some time since,,,
Tell me where the bolts are, or dont, it really doesn't matter to me.
I've finally caught you, you little thief, after all this time i finally have you and I'm gonna have my fun with you before i give you to Zeus.
Baccus!!?!? you old horny bastard how are you!!!
(insert agonizing scream here)
fuck Baccus is that any way to greet an old friend?
Old friend? Baccus replies, you have had me on a merry chase for the better part of a millenia.
"well its good to get off that stuffy mountain isnt it?"
"you stole Zeus's lightning bolts"
"well more like borrowed, indefinetly"
(insert soul tearing wail here)
"you ended the reign of the Olympians and we will have it back, now where are the bolts"
"Baccus you old goat for brains, they are literally at your fingertips, where do you think that juicy A.C comes from?"
Baccus looked down at his instruments in dumbfounded bewilderment as it slowely dawned on him what Tesla just said.
"you gave the bolts to the humans?" he asked incredulously you did it again?
It never dawned on you Baccus that the world is hummin along on some real neat god juice Bakkus my boy and to tell you the truth Bakkus, i got the idea from you.
what!?!?!? replied Baccus now in a state of utter disrepair, the bolts where gone and Zeus would not be happy about that.
you forgot? asked Tesla.
what, said Baccus.
Baccus buddy you alright?
(insert nightmares howls here)
Baccus would you please, please stop with the bloody electrecutions, been working on those bolts for a better part of a decade now and electrecuted myself worse than this thousunds of times, once i even lost a week because my instruments exploded and i with them. it was an awful mess.
took forever to pull myself together after that.
but whyyy???, cried Baccus, why did you steal them? why have you done this? and why the hell are you calling yourself Tesla?
because going by Prometheus would kinda be a dead give away wouldnt it, as too why, because Zeus is a giant douche. he chained me up and had an eagle make a succulent dinner out of my liver EVERY night.
do you know how much it hurts regrowing a whole fucking organ overnight every nights for what seemed like an eternity.
and for what? giving my MY FUCKING FIRE TO THE HUMANS.
but why do you say that i gave you thr idea for zeus.'s bolts? Baccus asked in confusion.
ohh yeah that. remember that night when you threw that terrific baccanalian dungeon themed party you threw down in my dungeon.
you trying to hit of with Athena but Zeus threw that dazzling light show and Athena forgot you even existed?
oh no, Baccus cried as comprehension dawned on him.
oh yes Prometheus replied.
and you said" i wish somone would steal Zeus's thunder even for one night"... well, somone did. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I find myself pinned down, on a dastardly altar: not the most redeeming of pictures when you’re a god. They shuffle and mumble amongst each other; a group of people clad in black tutus and Venetian masks. I narrow the possibilities down to two. This is either a masquerade party to which I was not expressly invited (the theme isn’t to my taste anyway), or I am to be sacrificed in a ritual. The former would be unlikely; I don’t sense any booze.
Back in my day, rituals were a thing of bloody, ominous glory. These days? Not so much. If I wanted to, I could easily free myself of these restraints and see to it that those responsible for this blasphemous act are dealt with severely. But I’m a gentleman, and since these chaps went through the laborious ordeal of kidnapping me, I will let them act of their volition and proceed as such. Judgement isn’t a thing to be passed down so easily after all: Godly Morals 101.
A faint humming. It gets louder. Intense. Followed by a piercing bong. Just as the proverbial: ‘Thy shite hath struck the fan’ goes. In my mind, I am thoroughly marking the dismal proceedings of this ritual, and once this is over, I shall definitely be going over my dissatisfaction with the board of Rituals and Sacrifices. No debauchery, no snakes. What has this world come to? The cult forms a circle around me, hand-in-hand, chanting in a language that is unbeknown to me. “What are you lot blabbering on about?” I question. A thundering slap envelopes my face. The perpetrator, who has been looming over my violated face all this time, grunts in a monotonous tone: “Silence, mortal. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the will of our Lord Helios. Rejoice brothers, for today we bring about the infiniteness of our lives. Bring me the tears of the distraught fish, and the ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny.” My ears pricked up.
This was too good to be true. Had Helios set all of this up on a whim? Setting up a friend was most certainly not below him. To the ignorant reader, I realize that some context may be required here. Many a century ago, Helios and I had come up with an absurdly nonsensical plan (to kill off the time, if you will) to make some mischief out of mortals. But to see it come to fruition? These mortals never cease to amaze me… with their stupidity. As my flawless memory relays, we left a scroll atop Mount Fuji while on patrolling duty (drafted by yours truly) that promised to grant immortality if three things were sacrificed, in the name of Helios: “The tears of the distraught fish. The ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny. The heart of a grotesque man.” Wait…
That would make me the grotesque man. The gall. “Helios! Get your ass out here. Your joke is lost on me.” I shout, and am in consequence slapped once more by this crude man. “How dare you say our Lord’s name in vain? A god as exalted as He would never communicate with beings as lowly as us. But that will all change today, for today we achieve immortality.”
Then Helios wasn’t in on this. And it was purely by chance, that the scroll had been followed oh-so obediently on the other side of the world. Offended as I was, I was going to let this play out. The poor remnants of the bunny and fish were put beside me. My heart was all that was left. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
My abuser brandished his knife. Not at all like the flashy ones with bejewelled hilts. It was more of a standard IKEA kitchen knife. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work out well. I may be immortal, but I still feel stuff. Gods aren’t as heartless as you lot make them out to be. With trembling hands at the foot of the knife, the man plunged it (in a half-arsed manner) into my chest. I would like to think this was a smooth affair, and that my heart was out in instant but to the contrary, it was one that contained an inordinate amount of blood, profanity and screaming on my part. I’ll spare you the details, for such an ungraceful image isn’t fitting for a god.
After what seemed to be a millennium, my chest was finally bare, exposed. It was then, much to the innocent souls’ surprise, when they couldn’t find a heart. I would have offered to give them a crash course on Divine Anatomy, but they didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. All of them made a run for it. Such feeble attempts.
The charade was over. There was no more fun to be had, for the most part. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It seems as though you have figured out that I am not just any being. Who I am, need not concern you. Just know that your adventures today will make for a charming story. In fact, I intend to tell it to Helios this very instant. I do apologize, but I must get going. I thank you for the hospitality.” A click of the fingers, followed by shrill screams. An uproar of pandemonium, and then nothing. A silence. Bless those poor souls. I couldn’t wait to tell Helios!
(First submission to this subreddit. Tried my hand at writing after what has been too long. Constructive criticism appreciated) | I have to hate to admit but these clever blighters are getting quite creative, who would have thunk that after only a millennia these fuckers " inserts torturous scream", that these fuckers, he said louder.
Would finally figure out it was me, took you long enaugh.
they ramped up the voltage again and Teslas eyes rolled to the back of his head and they didn't turn down the voltage till they could clearly see smoke wafting out of his ears..
His head sank to his chest that was still and not beating, till,, badum badum badum, it started again.
he slowely lifted his head and gave his captives a small grin, you guys really can't take a joke, Tesla said and spit a bloody loogey from his mouth after having bitten down on the inside of his chin from that last shock.
Fellas, he said. cant we be reasonable here its been quite some time since,,,
Tell me where the bolts are, or dont, it really doesn't matter to me.
I've finally caught you, you little thief, after all this time i finally have you and I'm gonna have my fun with you before i give you to Zeus.
Baccus!!?!? you old horny bastard how are you!!!
(insert agonizing scream here)
fuck Baccus is that any way to greet an old friend?
Old friend? Baccus replies, you have had me on a merry chase for the better part of a millenia.
"well its good to get off that stuffy mountain isnt it?"
"you stole Zeus's lightning bolts"
"well more like borrowed, indefinetly"
(insert soul tearing wail here)
"you ended the reign of the Olympians and we will have it back, now where are the bolts"
"Baccus you old goat for brains, they are literally at your fingertips, where do you think that juicy A.C comes from?"
Baccus looked down at his instruments in dumbfounded bewilderment as it slowely dawned on him what Tesla just said.
"you gave the bolts to the humans?" he asked incredulously you did it again?
It never dawned on you Baccus that the world is hummin along on some real neat god juice Bakkus my boy and to tell you the truth Bakkus, i got the idea from you.
what!?!?!? replied Baccus now in a state of utter disrepair, the bolts where gone and Zeus would not be happy about that.
you forgot? asked Tesla.
what, said Baccus.
Baccus buddy you alright?
(insert nightmares howls here)
Baccus would you please, please stop with the bloody electrecutions, been working on those bolts for a better part of a decade now and electrecuted myself worse than this thousunds of times, once i even lost a week because my instruments exploded and i with them. it was an awful mess.
took forever to pull myself together after that.
but whyyy???, cried Baccus, why did you steal them? why have you done this? and why the hell are you calling yourself Tesla?
because going by Prometheus would kinda be a dead give away wouldnt it, as too why, because Zeus is a giant douche. he chained me up and had an eagle make a succulent dinner out of my liver EVERY night.
do you know how much it hurts regrowing a whole fucking organ overnight every nights for what seemed like an eternity.
and for what? giving my MY FUCKING FIRE TO THE HUMANS.
but why do you say that i gave you thr idea for zeus.'s bolts? Baccus asked in confusion.
ohh yeah that. remember that night when you threw that terrific baccanalian dungeon themed party you threw down in my dungeon.
you trying to hit of with Athena but Zeus threw that dazzling light show and Athena forgot you even existed?
oh no, Baccus cried as comprehension dawned on him.
oh yes Prometheus replied.
and you said" i wish somone would steal Zeus's thunder even for one night"... well, somone did. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | The chanting is getting louder. Fire burns all around me, hotter and faster by the second. I know the knots that bind me are not going to come undone. I'm sure that I'm the first to be in this situation, and I'm even more sure I won't be the last.
And yet, I can't stop smiling. Death? Death doesn't scare me. Not anymore. When you've spent thousands of years wandering spiritual and physical realms, staring death in the face is the only real way you can live.
And this will be especially fun. Cults might just be some of the most interesting things this race has created. Experience has taught me that until I finally die in a particularly interesting way, I'll learn all sorts of poppycock about whatever miracles they claim to have seen, and the strange rituals that they perform to honour a god they know nothing about. It's always fascinating stuff.
"In your honour, Almighty Leo, we sacrifice this deviant, so that we may continue to prosper with your blessing, and maintain our purity until your return."
He turns back to face the crowd. "Bring forth the sacred vinegar jug!"
Vinegar jug? Almighty Leo? Sacrifice everyone foreign to maintain purity? No way... "As you know..."
Oh my goodness, these cretins actually believed him...
The priest is still talking. Probably about why I'm about to get doused with holy vinegar and then thrown into an empty volcano. But he stops. Because I've started laughing.
This is bad. But I don't stop. I can't. This... is just too good.
The tribespeople are becoming confused. The priests are getting irritated. If only they knew that the basis of 800 years of their culture was created through a night of heavy drinking and stupid dares. Maybe they would be laughing too.
"I choose dare. What have you got for me, Cassius?"
"Leo, I dare you to visit a realm, and convince a group of creatures that you're a god, and they should worship you. You can say whatever you want, with one condition: those creatures have to sacrifice their own kind in your name."
And I happened to stumble upon the result... this is too good. He has to see this. "Hey, Leo! You there?"
The sky starts to turn grey. The trees shake, more violently by the second. And out of the clouds, a familiar face greets me.
"Holy shit! Cassius, is that you?"
Upon hearing his voice, the tribe collapses to their knees. Not that Leo feels the need to say anything to his loyal followers.
"You know it! So, this was the place where the magic happened?"
"Yeah. Picked a random universe, worked out the dominant species, found an island in the middles of nowhere, and told some people to start worshipping. How did you even end up here?"
"The usual fare... plane crash, build a raft, turns out the land I find is full of crazy people."
"Well... it's nice to see you, Cassius. We should catch up again sometime."
"We really should, Leo. Anyway, I think I need to be sacrificed about now, so take care. Say hi to Jenny for me!"
"Will do, Cassius. See you around."
Leo's face disappears into the clouds. The world arounds me settles back down, but the tribespeople grow more restless. I get it. That's the reaction to be expected when you meet your god. But I'm just smiling. It's all I can really do at this point. | I have to hate to admit but these clever blighters are getting quite creative, who would have thunk that after only a millennia these fuckers " inserts torturous scream", that these fuckers, he said louder.
Would finally figure out it was me, took you long enaugh.
they ramped up the voltage again and Teslas eyes rolled to the back of his head and they didn't turn down the voltage till they could clearly see smoke wafting out of his ears..
His head sank to his chest that was still and not beating, till,, badum badum badum, it started again.
he slowely lifted his head and gave his captives a small grin, you guys really can't take a joke, Tesla said and spit a bloody loogey from his mouth after having bitten down on the inside of his chin from that last shock.
Fellas, he said. cant we be reasonable here its been quite some time since,,,
Tell me where the bolts are, or dont, it really doesn't matter to me.
I've finally caught you, you little thief, after all this time i finally have you and I'm gonna have my fun with you before i give you to Zeus.
Baccus!!?!? you old horny bastard how are you!!!
(insert agonizing scream here)
fuck Baccus is that any way to greet an old friend?
Old friend? Baccus replies, you have had me on a merry chase for the better part of a millenia.
"well its good to get off that stuffy mountain isnt it?"
"you stole Zeus's lightning bolts"
"well more like borrowed, indefinetly"
(insert soul tearing wail here)
"you ended the reign of the Olympians and we will have it back, now where are the bolts"
"Baccus you old goat for brains, they are literally at your fingertips, where do you think that juicy A.C comes from?"
Baccus looked down at his instruments in dumbfounded bewilderment as it slowely dawned on him what Tesla just said.
"you gave the bolts to the humans?" he asked incredulously you did it again?
It never dawned on you Baccus that the world is hummin along on some real neat god juice Bakkus my boy and to tell you the truth Bakkus, i got the idea from you.
what!?!?!? replied Baccus now in a state of utter disrepair, the bolts where gone and Zeus would not be happy about that.
you forgot? asked Tesla.
what, said Baccus.
Baccus buddy you alright?
(insert nightmares howls here)
Baccus would you please, please stop with the bloody electrecutions, been working on those bolts for a better part of a decade now and electrecuted myself worse than this thousunds of times, once i even lost a week because my instruments exploded and i with them. it was an awful mess.
took forever to pull myself together after that.
but whyyy???, cried Baccus, why did you steal them? why have you done this? and why the hell are you calling yourself Tesla?
because going by Prometheus would kinda be a dead give away wouldnt it, as too why, because Zeus is a giant douche. he chained me up and had an eagle make a succulent dinner out of my liver EVERY night.
do you know how much it hurts regrowing a whole fucking organ overnight every nights for what seemed like an eternity.
and for what? giving my MY FUCKING FIRE TO THE HUMANS.
but why do you say that i gave you thr idea for zeus.'s bolts? Baccus asked in confusion.
ohh yeah that. remember that night when you threw that terrific baccanalian dungeon themed party you threw down in my dungeon.
you trying to hit of with Athena but Zeus threw that dazzling light show and Athena forgot you even existed?
oh no, Baccus cried as comprehension dawned on him.
oh yes Prometheus replied.
and you said" i wish somone would steal Zeus's thunder even for one night"... well, somone did. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | I have to hate to admit but these clever blighters are getting quite creative, who would have thunk that after only a millennia these fuckers " inserts torturous scream", that these fuckers, he said louder.
Would finally figure out it was me, took you long enaugh.
they ramped up the voltage again and Teslas eyes rolled to the back of his head and they didn't turn down the voltage till they could clearly see smoke wafting out of his ears..
His head sank to his chest that was still and not beating, till,, badum badum badum, it started again.
he slowely lifted his head and gave his captives a small grin, you guys really can't take a joke, Tesla said and spit a bloody loogey from his mouth after having bitten down on the inside of his chin from that last shock.
Fellas, he said. cant we be reasonable here its been quite some time since,,,
Tell me where the bolts are, or dont, it really doesn't matter to me.
I've finally caught you, you little thief, after all this time i finally have you and I'm gonna have my fun with you before i give you to Zeus.
Baccus!!?!? you old horny bastard how are you!!!
(insert agonizing scream here)
fuck Baccus is that any way to greet an old friend?
Old friend? Baccus replies, you have had me on a merry chase for the better part of a millenia.
"well its good to get off that stuffy mountain isnt it?"
"you stole Zeus's lightning bolts"
"well more like borrowed, indefinetly"
(insert soul tearing wail here)
"you ended the reign of the Olympians and we will have it back, now where are the bolts"
"Baccus you old goat for brains, they are literally at your fingertips, where do you think that juicy A.C comes from?"
Baccus looked down at his instruments in dumbfounded bewilderment as it slowely dawned on him what Tesla just said.
"you gave the bolts to the humans?" he asked incredulously you did it again?
It never dawned on you Baccus that the world is hummin along on some real neat god juice Bakkus my boy and to tell you the truth Bakkus, i got the idea from you.
what!?!?!? replied Baccus now in a state of utter disrepair, the bolts where gone and Zeus would not be happy about that.
you forgot? asked Tesla.
what, said Baccus.
Baccus buddy you alright?
(insert nightmares howls here)
Baccus would you please, please stop with the bloody electrecutions, been working on those bolts for a better part of a decade now and electrecuted myself worse than this thousunds of times, once i even lost a week because my instruments exploded and i with them. it was an awful mess.
took forever to pull myself together after that.
but whyyy???, cried Baccus, why did you steal them? why have you done this? and why the hell are you calling yourself Tesla?
because going by Prometheus would kinda be a dead give away wouldnt it, as too why, because Zeus is a giant douche. he chained me up and had an eagle make a succulent dinner out of my liver EVERY night.
do you know how much it hurts regrowing a whole fucking organ overnight every nights for what seemed like an eternity.
and for what? giving my MY FUCKING FIRE TO THE HUMANS.
but why do you say that i gave you thr idea for zeus.'s bolts? Baccus asked in confusion.
ohh yeah that. remember that night when you threw that terrific baccanalian dungeon themed party you threw down in my dungeon.
you trying to hit of with Athena but Zeus threw that dazzling light show and Athena forgot you even existed?
oh no, Baccus cried as comprehension dawned on him.
oh yes Prometheus replied.
and you said" i wish somone would steal Zeus's thunder even for one night"... well, somone did. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | One drop of water kept falling from the ceiling. It's amazing that after all this years, the best ways for torturing people keep being the same. Empires have fallen, Technology now dominates us and yet, here I am again with this water drop drilling your forehead in this dark room, tied by something I can't really tell what it is from my arms and legs.
The pain in my belly reminds me I haven't ate in maybe a day or two. I remembering ordering something, but apps tend to cancel if the drop by is to far away. I actually really dislike Chinese food. It's been years without actually a good piece of bread. Nothing like the old days. Everything was simpler when I helped the Master. He studied plants and it's properties. He discovered that some of them could alter your perception of things. The first Drugs. I wish I was high so it could scare the pain away.
The door opened and a hooded figure entered the room.
I tried to say something but I now realize my mouth is also tied.
He doesn't say anything, he unties me and signals me to follow him. He is stupidly tall and athletic, his attire is a pair of dark jeans, some black industrial boots, black sweatshirt with his hoodie and a mask with that stupid sign again.
Pulling any sign of resistance is going to end with me suffering even more, I know how this is going to end; I understand that following him is the best choice.
If we look at the bright side, i might have a chance to speak with the old man. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn't.
My arms and legs hurt so much. This used to be much more special and unique, they had special robes, special locations, torches and candles. Know there's this house with wood everywhere, some kind of cabin perhaps. I can't see very well and my steps are slow because my legs are sore. The old man is an idiot. I don't know how he had such a charming boy. His son was so pure and innocent. His death still hurts me. And he blames me for it.
I met his son while i was working with my master. He told me that he needed help for people to believe him so he could help them get to the old man. I thought he was an idiot, but I saw him day after day preaching the same stuff and people being mean to him so figured out it would be fun to have the town believing him. So I poured the wells with Mandragora, and another hallucinating herbs and everyone was so high they imagined a lot of things when he preached.
They saw him walking on water, multiplying fishes and food, healing people that weren't even I'll to beging with and then they formed a cult on him.
I laughed a shit ton over it and befriended him, because he was so happy I never told them about the drugs. One day my master passed away and I had to bury him in Egypt. I honored him and placed it's remnants as he wished, where he was born.
I stayed there for years untill I heard about the political fuss. I saw that he became a religious figure and was menacing the government. So I tried to warn him, I wrote him letters that couldn't reach him but I found out later someone else received them. Days later I found out the son of the old man was murdered.
We arrive to what appears to have been a living room, now with that stupid sign again in the floor made by candles and plants. At least this has stayed consistent throughout the years. I know what this idiots are going to do, so I just put myself in the center with my arms and legs extended so they can search for my arteries and bleed me "to death". And here we're all going to stay a day or two untill they get tired of this. Last time it was only 8 hours, maybe I get to have the same luck.
The first time that I met the old man was a little after his son was murdered. He appeared right in front of me and punched me so hard I fell. Tall, athletic, white beard and long hair, brown skin, omminent voice.
-You've disgraced my son, you will pay for your sins.
And since that day I haven't aged. I haven't died. I've been checked by millions of doctors and even became one myself in recent times and found out my cells have a godlike adaptability to endure damage and reproduce themselves so fast that I can't die.
As a result of this, people started to notice. They found out my letters to the old man's son. Their cult became so big it fractioned into a billion other mini-cults some really good ones, and then this pieces of shit that wanted to meet the old man at any cost in hopes of harvesting it's power, falling into stupid beliefs, that any object or person in contact with him could be a way to reach him.
I've been haunted for them through all my life, and generations after generations greed and stupidly is present everytime.
11 people as usual arrive, they prepare themselves and start chanting, 4 of them kneel and open my skin. The one on my right arm shakes so much that it hurts even more. Just as I feel the pain making me pass out I hear him.
"Ezra" Loud and clear. It's been so much time that I almost forgot how the old man sounded like.
"... Yahvé ?" I asked
" It is time Ezra" he replied immediately.
"Time for what? ¿Have you been following what this assholes have done to me all this years? " I angrily yelled at him with all my strength
" I told you you were going to suffer the fate of my son over and over again" he said calmly
"You never listened to me you arrogant piece of shit, It was a joke that went out of my hands, I never intended for him to be murdered or disrespect him" I continued to shout
"You disgraced my son, Ezra. I wasn't going to listen to anything. But after all this years I'm more upset with other people in the world than you. So tell me. What happened?" He asked
" I got really depressed by your son's death. I went to pay my respects to him and catched up with his followers. As a way of cheering us up I got high as fuck and began telling them how cool your son was, so I told them the drugs helped me remember them. They also got high and then we started drinking wine an everything was worse. Someone had this idea that we could resucitate him and we opened his grave and made the corpse drink and party with us."
"I woke up the next day with a horrible pain, the worst I had ever experienced before. I was the first one to be awake, saw the corpse and realized the terrible things that had happened, so I stole it and buried him elsewhere. Left the town so ashamed of myself.
Next thing I know this morons believe that he was resurrected and he had apparitions and shit" I finished
"I know Ezra. My son told me everything. He is not an idiot. He just wanted to return the prank" he calmly replied
For a moment everything blurred out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was certain that my mind went insane or something like that. I couldn't ask the old man to repeat itself.
"Wh....What?" I asked
" The plants you gave them did exacerbate and exaggerate my son's gifts. But they were very real. The only power he didn't have it's coming back to life. No one can do that, not even me. He was upset with you because you accelerated the ruin of his experiment with humans by creating a twisted religion. He has taken care of you and the Earth, protecting them from those crazy idiots trying to murder you. However you have served a very special purpose that you will fulfill one last time, since you were after all, his friend" the old mans voice said in a lightly tone.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even talk
"I....I didn't expect this at all, I...am confused...., What's this all have to do with me?" I mumbled.
"My child has put in your cells the antidotes for every pandemic humanity has faced over the years. Every time that you have been tortured you release the antidote and spread it in the world. This time you will pour the last antidote for the greatest plague on earth." The old man said
"What do you mean?" I asked
"You will come with us Ezra, you are going to extinguish Humanity themselves. Let go, your cells are ready. Come and rest Erza"
I sensed my last breaths. I sensed my last heartbeats. The last time my blood got to my brain and allowed me to think this sentence. And I let go. | Being carried to their altar.
Struggling to break the knots they tied me up with.
"Y-Yo guys ik this mf u worshipping! Seriously you don't wanna do this!"
One of the members responds
"STFU!"
*Bang* He shoots me in the leg.
"any last words" a member says in a cold tone.
"Ay bro it's just a prank there's a camera right there it's just a-"
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
I die.
*Ques music*
Wh-wh-wh-what did you say? Mmmmmm whatcha sayyyyyy? Mmmmmm that you only meant wellllllll?
Well of course you did Mmmmmm what did u sayyyyyyy?
My eyes open and every one is super suprised cuz they don't know im imortalll hehehehhehe.
I mutter "Damn these mfs rly popped a cap in my head. Bruhhhh!"
All of the cult members look at the camera I was talking about. There's a pause. A long silence.
Then everybody starts dancing.
The End.
(if this was shit im sorry I'm kinda high and im new to this shit like idek if I did this right or if this is meant to be set out in a certain way or if this goota be serious) | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | When the sack came off Gia’s head, she found herself strapped upright on a spinning wheel in a dimly lit circus tent. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. After seeing the performers’ mind-blowing act, she had to know how they did it for her shows. While she was sneaking around after the show, someone snuck up behind her with a sack over her head. Now, she hung before cult-like gathering.
Using her crowd scanning skill, Gia counted 30 people in bright clown nose red robes with white plastic masks of a cartoonishly broad smile. The outfit vaguely reminded Gia of a production she put on with some friends, but what that was was a hazy memory.
“We are gathered together here under the first full moon of the new decade for our sacrifice,” the cult leader announced. Gai recognized the voice belonged to the ringleader.
The crowd cheered. The only thing Gia could spot on the cult leader that made him stand out from the others was the golden inverted pyramid necklace.
“Sacrifice, huh?” Gia said with excited curiosity. “If I may make a suggestion, the lighting is awful. How are people going to see me die? Do you have anything else other than the torchlights like some portable LED stage lights? Surely you got some of those.”
“We can see well enough,” the cult leader grumbled.
“If you say so,” Gia snarked. “By the way, what’s your cult or organization or whatever’s name? Or is this some tradition with your circus.”
“We are the Cult of Mischief,” the leader proclaimed.
Gia remembered the show she was trying to pin down earlier. She giggled like she was part of an inside joke.
The leader picked up the jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger from a pedestal and pointed it at Gia. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. Carry on.”
The leader faced the crowd. “Let the ceremony commence!”
With the crowd cheering, the leader stabbed Gia in the chest. Silence fell.
“Oh, what cruel world,” Gia cried out. “There was so much I wanted to do. There’s so much in this world I wanted to see. But now, my time has come. Farewell.”
Gia’s body went limp. The cultists chanted in unison, “Our sacrifice is yours. Take this soul and bless us.”
Per cult order, the youngest member pulled out the knife from the sacrifice.
Gia raised her head, unharmed, and smiled. The cult gasped. “Okay, I thought that was a rather stirring death performance.”
“How are you not dead?” the young cultist asked with a quiver in her voice.
“You picked the wrong kind of person for a sacrifice. Hashtag cult problems, am I right?”
“We cannot stand for this,” the leader said. “Our god will not be pleased with us.”
“You mean, Loki?” Gia said. “I’m sure he’s getting a good chuckle right now.”
The leader got in Gia’s face. “How do you know of our god?”
“Oh, we go way back,” Gia explained and then thought about the chronological order of time. “Or forward technically. He casted me as the first leader of the Cult of Mischief centuries ago to fool some traveling act for him to study their reactions. I’m surprised the cult is still around, to be honest, but knowing him and his partner, I bet they’re watching, studying.”
There was a hushed discussion amongst the members when two people revealed themselves from a stack of cargo containers. One was a slender man in a pink suit with bold, black outlines and a young woman in a red satin dress holding a transparent tablet device. Both had black hair and flowed in sync with each other.
“It’s them!” one of the members shouted. “From the painting of the first ritual.”
All the cult members dropped to their knees.
“Loki, Raven, how are you two doing?” Gia cheerfully greeted.
“I must admit, I find it humorous they tried to sacrifice you,” Loki dryly said while adjusting his cufflinks as they approached Gia.
Raven worked on freeing Gia. “It’s been fascinating studying the cult’s evolution throughout the centuries.”
“But I am growing bored of it,” Loki confessed.
“Shall we end?” Raven asked him.
“Yes, let’s go out on top.” Loki turned to address the cultists, who were still bowing down. “Since you tried to kill my friend, I will now forsake you and no longer give you my blessings – ever. Begone!”
The cultists scattered away as Raven undid the last strap around Gia.
“Thanks,” Gia said. “What’s next for two?”
Loki and Raven exchanged glances and spoke in unison. “More mayhem.” | Being carried to their altar.
Struggling to break the knots they tied me up with.
"Y-Yo guys ik this mf u worshipping! Seriously you don't wanna do this!"
One of the members responds
"STFU!"
*Bang* He shoots me in the leg.
"any last words" a member says in a cold tone.
"Ay bro it's just a prank there's a camera right there it's just a-"
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
I die.
*Ques music*
Wh-wh-wh-what did you say? Mmmmmm whatcha sayyyyyy? Mmmmmm that you only meant wellllllll?
Well of course you did Mmmmmm what did u sayyyyyyy?
My eyes open and every one is super suprised cuz they don't know im imortalll hehehehhehe.
I mutter "Damn these mfs rly popped a cap in my head. Bruhhhh!"
All of the cult members look at the camera I was talking about. There's a pause. A long silence.
Then everybody starts dancing.
The End.
(if this was shit im sorry I'm kinda high and im new to this shit like idek if I did this right or if this is meant to be set out in a certain way or if this goota be serious) | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I find myself pinned down, on a dastardly altar: not the most redeeming of pictures when you’re a god. They shuffle and mumble amongst each other; a group of people clad in black tutus and Venetian masks. I narrow the possibilities down to two. This is either a masquerade party to which I was not expressly invited (the theme isn’t to my taste anyway), or I am to be sacrificed in a ritual. The former would be unlikely; I don’t sense any booze.
Back in my day, rituals were a thing of bloody, ominous glory. These days? Not so much. If I wanted to, I could easily free myself of these restraints and see to it that those responsible for this blasphemous act are dealt with severely. But I’m a gentleman, and since these chaps went through the laborious ordeal of kidnapping me, I will let them act of their volition and proceed as such. Judgement isn’t a thing to be passed down so easily after all: Godly Morals 101.
A faint humming. It gets louder. Intense. Followed by a piercing bong. Just as the proverbial: ‘Thy shite hath struck the fan’ goes. In my mind, I am thoroughly marking the dismal proceedings of this ritual, and once this is over, I shall definitely be going over my dissatisfaction with the board of Rituals and Sacrifices. No debauchery, no snakes. What has this world come to? The cult forms a circle around me, hand-in-hand, chanting in a language that is unbeknown to me. “What are you lot blabbering on about?” I question. A thundering slap envelopes my face. The perpetrator, who has been looming over my violated face all this time, grunts in a monotonous tone: “Silence, mortal. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the will of our Lord Helios. Rejoice brothers, for today we bring about the infiniteness of our lives. Bring me the tears of the distraught fish, and the ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny.” My ears pricked up.
This was too good to be true. Had Helios set all of this up on a whim? Setting up a friend was most certainly not below him. To the ignorant reader, I realize that some context may be required here. Many a century ago, Helios and I had come up with an absurdly nonsensical plan (to kill off the time, if you will) to make some mischief out of mortals. But to see it come to fruition? These mortals never cease to amaze me… with their stupidity. As my flawless memory relays, we left a scroll atop Mount Fuji while on patrolling duty (drafted by yours truly) that promised to grant immortality if three things were sacrificed, in the name of Helios: “The tears of the distraught fish. The ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny. The heart of a grotesque man.” Wait…
That would make me the grotesque man. The gall. “Helios! Get your ass out here. Your joke is lost on me.” I shout, and am in consequence slapped once more by this crude man. “How dare you say our Lord’s name in vain? A god as exalted as He would never communicate with beings as lowly as us. But that will all change today, for today we achieve immortality.”
Then Helios wasn’t in on this. And it was purely by chance, that the scroll had been followed oh-so obediently on the other side of the world. Offended as I was, I was going to let this play out. The poor remnants of the bunny and fish were put beside me. My heart was all that was left. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
My abuser brandished his knife. Not at all like the flashy ones with bejewelled hilts. It was more of a standard IKEA kitchen knife. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work out well. I may be immortal, but I still feel stuff. Gods aren’t as heartless as you lot make them out to be. With trembling hands at the foot of the knife, the man plunged it (in a half-arsed manner) into my chest. I would like to think this was a smooth affair, and that my heart was out in instant but to the contrary, it was one that contained an inordinate amount of blood, profanity and screaming on my part. I’ll spare you the details, for such an ungraceful image isn’t fitting for a god.
After what seemed to be a millennium, my chest was finally bare, exposed. It was then, much to the innocent souls’ surprise, when they couldn’t find a heart. I would have offered to give them a crash course on Divine Anatomy, but they didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. All of them made a run for it. Such feeble attempts.
The charade was over. There was no more fun to be had, for the most part. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It seems as though you have figured out that I am not just any being. Who I am, need not concern you. Just know that your adventures today will make for a charming story. In fact, I intend to tell it to Helios this very instant. I do apologize, but I must get going. I thank you for the hospitality.” A click of the fingers, followed by shrill screams. An uproar of pandemonium, and then nothing. A silence. Bless those poor souls. I couldn’t wait to tell Helios!
(First submission to this subreddit. Tried my hand at writing after what has been too long. Constructive criticism appreciated) | Being carried to their altar.
Struggling to break the knots they tied me up with.
"Y-Yo guys ik this mf u worshipping! Seriously you don't wanna do this!"
One of the members responds
"STFU!"
*Bang* He shoots me in the leg.
"any last words" a member says in a cold tone.
"Ay bro it's just a prank there's a camera right there it's just a-"
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
I die.
*Ques music*
Wh-wh-wh-what did you say? Mmmmmm whatcha sayyyyyy? Mmmmmm that you only meant wellllllll?
Well of course you did Mmmmmm what did u sayyyyyyy?
My eyes open and every one is super suprised cuz they don't know im imortalll hehehehhehe.
I mutter "Damn these mfs rly popped a cap in my head. Bruhhhh!"
All of the cult members look at the camera I was talking about. There's a pause. A long silence.
Then everybody starts dancing.
The End.
(if this was shit im sorry I'm kinda high and im new to this shit like idek if I did this right or if this is meant to be set out in a certain way or if this goota be serious) | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | Being carried to their altar.
Struggling to break the knots they tied me up with.
"Y-Yo guys ik this mf u worshipping! Seriously you don't wanna do this!"
One of the members responds
"STFU!"
*Bang* He shoots me in the leg.
"any last words" a member says in a cold tone.
"Ay bro it's just a prank there's a camera right there it's just a-"
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
I die.
*Ques music*
Wh-wh-wh-what did you say? Mmmmmm whatcha sayyyyyy? Mmmmmm that you only meant wellllllll?
Well of course you did Mmmmmm what did u sayyyyyyy?
My eyes open and every one is super suprised cuz they don't know im imortalll hehehehhehe.
I mutter "Damn these mfs rly popped a cap in my head. Bruhhhh!"
All of the cult members look at the camera I was talking about. There's a pause. A long silence.
Then everybody starts dancing.
The End.
(if this was shit im sorry I'm kinda high and im new to this shit like idek if I did this right or if this is meant to be set out in a certain way or if this goota be serious) | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | One drop of water kept falling from the ceiling. It's amazing that after all this years, the best ways for torturing people keep being the same. Empires have fallen, Technology now dominates us and yet, here I am again with this water drop drilling your forehead in this dark room, tied by something I can't really tell what it is from my arms and legs.
The pain in my belly reminds me I haven't ate in maybe a day or two. I remembering ordering something, but apps tend to cancel if the drop by is to far away. I actually really dislike Chinese food. It's been years without actually a good piece of bread. Nothing like the old days. Everything was simpler when I helped the Master. He studied plants and it's properties. He discovered that some of them could alter your perception of things. The first Drugs. I wish I was high so it could scare the pain away.
The door opened and a hooded figure entered the room.
I tried to say something but I now realize my mouth is also tied.
He doesn't say anything, he unties me and signals me to follow him. He is stupidly tall and athletic, his attire is a pair of dark jeans, some black industrial boots, black sweatshirt with his hoodie and a mask with that stupid sign again.
Pulling any sign of resistance is going to end with me suffering even more, I know how this is going to end; I understand that following him is the best choice.
If we look at the bright side, i might have a chance to speak with the old man. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn't.
My arms and legs hurt so much. This used to be much more special and unique, they had special robes, special locations, torches and candles. Know there's this house with wood everywhere, some kind of cabin perhaps. I can't see very well and my steps are slow because my legs are sore. The old man is an idiot. I don't know how he had such a charming boy. His son was so pure and innocent. His death still hurts me. And he blames me for it.
I met his son while i was working with my master. He told me that he needed help for people to believe him so he could help them get to the old man. I thought he was an idiot, but I saw him day after day preaching the same stuff and people being mean to him so figured out it would be fun to have the town believing him. So I poured the wells with Mandragora, and another hallucinating herbs and everyone was so high they imagined a lot of things when he preached.
They saw him walking on water, multiplying fishes and food, healing people that weren't even I'll to beging with and then they formed a cult on him.
I laughed a shit ton over it and befriended him, because he was so happy I never told them about the drugs. One day my master passed away and I had to bury him in Egypt. I honored him and placed it's remnants as he wished, where he was born.
I stayed there for years untill I heard about the political fuss. I saw that he became a religious figure and was menacing the government. So I tried to warn him, I wrote him letters that couldn't reach him but I found out later someone else received them. Days later I found out the son of the old man was murdered.
We arrive to what appears to have been a living room, now with that stupid sign again in the floor made by candles and plants. At least this has stayed consistent throughout the years. I know what this idiots are going to do, so I just put myself in the center with my arms and legs extended so they can search for my arteries and bleed me "to death". And here we're all going to stay a day or two untill they get tired of this. Last time it was only 8 hours, maybe I get to have the same luck.
The first time that I met the old man was a little after his son was murdered. He appeared right in front of me and punched me so hard I fell. Tall, athletic, white beard and long hair, brown skin, omminent voice.
-You've disgraced my son, you will pay for your sins.
And since that day I haven't aged. I haven't died. I've been checked by millions of doctors and even became one myself in recent times and found out my cells have a godlike adaptability to endure damage and reproduce themselves so fast that I can't die.
As a result of this, people started to notice. They found out my letters to the old man's son. Their cult became so big it fractioned into a billion other mini-cults some really good ones, and then this pieces of shit that wanted to meet the old man at any cost in hopes of harvesting it's power, falling into stupid beliefs, that any object or person in contact with him could be a way to reach him.
I've been haunted for them through all my life, and generations after generations greed and stupidly is present everytime.
11 people as usual arrive, they prepare themselves and start chanting, 4 of them kneel and open my skin. The one on my right arm shakes so much that it hurts even more. Just as I feel the pain making me pass out I hear him.
"Ezra" Loud and clear. It's been so much time that I almost forgot how the old man sounded like.
"... Yahvé ?" I asked
" It is time Ezra" he replied immediately.
"Time for what? ¿Have you been following what this assholes have done to me all this years? " I angrily yelled at him with all my strength
" I told you you were going to suffer the fate of my son over and over again" he said calmly
"You never listened to me you arrogant piece of shit, It was a joke that went out of my hands, I never intended for him to be murdered or disrespect him" I continued to shout
"You disgraced my son, Ezra. I wasn't going to listen to anything. But after all this years I'm more upset with other people in the world than you. So tell me. What happened?" He asked
" I got really depressed by your son's death. I went to pay my respects to him and catched up with his followers. As a way of cheering us up I got high as fuck and began telling them how cool your son was, so I told them the drugs helped me remember them. They also got high and then we started drinking wine an everything was worse. Someone had this idea that we could resucitate him and we opened his grave and made the corpse drink and party with us."
"I woke up the next day with a horrible pain, the worst I had ever experienced before. I was the first one to be awake, saw the corpse and realized the terrible things that had happened, so I stole it and buried him elsewhere. Left the town so ashamed of myself.
Next thing I know this morons believe that he was resurrected and he had apparitions and shit" I finished
"I know Ezra. My son told me everything. He is not an idiot. He just wanted to return the prank" he calmly replied
For a moment everything blurred out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was certain that my mind went insane or something like that. I couldn't ask the old man to repeat itself.
"Wh....What?" I asked
" The plants you gave them did exacerbate and exaggerate my son's gifts. But they were very real. The only power he didn't have it's coming back to life. No one can do that, not even me. He was upset with you because you accelerated the ruin of his experiment with humans by creating a twisted religion. He has taken care of you and the Earth, protecting them from those crazy idiots trying to murder you. However you have served a very special purpose that you will fulfill one last time, since you were after all, his friend" the old mans voice said in a lightly tone.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even talk
"I....I didn't expect this at all, I...am confused...., What's this all have to do with me?" I mumbled.
"My child has put in your cells the antidotes for every pandemic humanity has faced over the years. Every time that you have been tortured you release the antidote and spread it in the world. This time you will pour the last antidote for the greatest plague on earth." The old man said
"What do you mean?" I asked
"You will come with us Ezra, you are going to extinguish Humanity themselves. Let go, your cells are ready. Come and rest Erza"
I sensed my last breaths. I sensed my last heartbeats. The last time my blood got to my brain and allowed me to think this sentence. And I let go. | [Poem]
Well, I think this is the third time this week
I've been tied to the stake
Hell I've been electrified several times
Thrown into pits
And don't get me wrong, it does hurt.
At least for a bit, then I sleep.
Give it a few hours then I slip away.
It's fun to watch their reactions.
As they realized that what they had sacrificed is gone.
I can't die, I'm just a bit of a trickster with a bunch of lives to spare, might as well spend eternity tickling my funny bone... | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | When the sack came off Gia’s head, she found herself strapped upright on a spinning wheel in a dimly lit circus tent. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. After seeing the performers’ mind-blowing act, she had to know how they did it for her shows. While she was sneaking around after the show, someone snuck up behind her with a sack over her head. Now, she hung before cult-like gathering.
Using her crowd scanning skill, Gia counted 30 people in bright clown nose red robes with white plastic masks of a cartoonishly broad smile. The outfit vaguely reminded Gia of a production she put on with some friends, but what that was was a hazy memory.
“We are gathered together here under the first full moon of the new decade for our sacrifice,” the cult leader announced. Gai recognized the voice belonged to the ringleader.
The crowd cheered. The only thing Gia could spot on the cult leader that made him stand out from the others was the golden inverted pyramid necklace.
“Sacrifice, huh?” Gia said with excited curiosity. “If I may make a suggestion, the lighting is awful. How are people going to see me die? Do you have anything else other than the torchlights like some portable LED stage lights? Surely you got some of those.”
“We can see well enough,” the cult leader grumbled.
“If you say so,” Gia snarked. “By the way, what’s your cult or organization or whatever’s name? Or is this some tradition with your circus.”
“We are the Cult of Mischief,” the leader proclaimed.
Gia remembered the show she was trying to pin down earlier. She giggled like she was part of an inside joke.
The leader picked up the jewel-encrusted ceremonial dagger from a pedestal and pointed it at Gia. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. Carry on.”
The leader faced the crowd. “Let the ceremony commence!”
With the crowd cheering, the leader stabbed Gia in the chest. Silence fell.
“Oh, what cruel world,” Gia cried out. “There was so much I wanted to do. There’s so much in this world I wanted to see. But now, my time has come. Farewell.”
Gia’s body went limp. The cultists chanted in unison, “Our sacrifice is yours. Take this soul and bless us.”
Per cult order, the youngest member pulled out the knife from the sacrifice.
Gia raised her head, unharmed, and smiled. The cult gasped. “Okay, I thought that was a rather stirring death performance.”
“How are you not dead?” the young cultist asked with a quiver in her voice.
“You picked the wrong kind of person for a sacrifice. Hashtag cult problems, am I right?”
“We cannot stand for this,” the leader said. “Our god will not be pleased with us.”
“You mean, Loki?” Gia said. “I’m sure he’s getting a good chuckle right now.”
The leader got in Gia’s face. “How do you know of our god?”
“Oh, we go way back,” Gia explained and then thought about the chronological order of time. “Or forward technically. He casted me as the first leader of the Cult of Mischief centuries ago to fool some traveling act for him to study their reactions. I’m surprised the cult is still around, to be honest, but knowing him and his partner, I bet they’re watching, studying.”
There was a hushed discussion amongst the members when two people revealed themselves from a stack of cargo containers. One was a slender man in a pink suit with bold, black outlines and a young woman in a red satin dress holding a transparent tablet device. Both had black hair and flowed in sync with each other.
“It’s them!” one of the members shouted. “From the painting of the first ritual.”
All the cult members dropped to their knees.
“Loki, Raven, how are you two doing?” Gia cheerfully greeted.
“I must admit, I find it humorous they tried to sacrifice you,” Loki dryly said while adjusting his cufflinks as they approached Gia.
Raven worked on freeing Gia. “It’s been fascinating studying the cult’s evolution throughout the centuries.”
“But I am growing bored of it,” Loki confessed.
“Shall we end?” Raven asked him.
“Yes, let’s go out on top.” Loki turned to address the cultists, who were still bowing down. “Since you tried to kill my friend, I will now forsake you and no longer give you my blessings – ever. Begone!”
The cultists scattered away as Raven undid the last strap around Gia.
“Thanks,” Gia said. “What’s next for two?”
Loki and Raven exchanged glances and spoke in unison. “More mayhem.” | [Poem]
Well, I think this is the third time this week
I've been tied to the stake
Hell I've been electrified several times
Thrown into pits
And don't get me wrong, it does hurt.
At least for a bit, then I sleep.
Give it a few hours then I slip away.
It's fun to watch their reactions.
As they realized that what they had sacrificed is gone.
I can't die, I'm just a bit of a trickster with a bunch of lives to spare, might as well spend eternity tickling my funny bone... | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I find myself pinned down, on a dastardly altar: not the most redeeming of pictures when you’re a god. They shuffle and mumble amongst each other; a group of people clad in black tutus and Venetian masks. I narrow the possibilities down to two. This is either a masquerade party to which I was not expressly invited (the theme isn’t to my taste anyway), or I am to be sacrificed in a ritual. The former would be unlikely; I don’t sense any booze.
Back in my day, rituals were a thing of bloody, ominous glory. These days? Not so much. If I wanted to, I could easily free myself of these restraints and see to it that those responsible for this blasphemous act are dealt with severely. But I’m a gentleman, and since these chaps went through the laborious ordeal of kidnapping me, I will let them act of their volition and proceed as such. Judgement isn’t a thing to be passed down so easily after all: Godly Morals 101.
A faint humming. It gets louder. Intense. Followed by a piercing bong. Just as the proverbial: ‘Thy shite hath struck the fan’ goes. In my mind, I am thoroughly marking the dismal proceedings of this ritual, and once this is over, I shall definitely be going over my dissatisfaction with the board of Rituals and Sacrifices. No debauchery, no snakes. What has this world come to? The cult forms a circle around me, hand-in-hand, chanting in a language that is unbeknown to me. “What are you lot blabbering on about?” I question. A thundering slap envelopes my face. The perpetrator, who has been looming over my violated face all this time, grunts in a monotonous tone: “Silence, mortal. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the will of our Lord Helios. Rejoice brothers, for today we bring about the infiniteness of our lives. Bring me the tears of the distraught fish, and the ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny.” My ears pricked up.
This was too good to be true. Had Helios set all of this up on a whim? Setting up a friend was most certainly not below him. To the ignorant reader, I realize that some context may be required here. Many a century ago, Helios and I had come up with an absurdly nonsensical plan (to kill off the time, if you will) to make some mischief out of mortals. But to see it come to fruition? These mortals never cease to amaze me… with their stupidity. As my flawless memory relays, we left a scroll atop Mount Fuji while on patrolling duty (drafted by yours truly) that promised to grant immortality if three things were sacrificed, in the name of Helios: “The tears of the distraught fish. The ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny. The heart of a grotesque man.” Wait…
That would make me the grotesque man. The gall. “Helios! Get your ass out here. Your joke is lost on me.” I shout, and am in consequence slapped once more by this crude man. “How dare you say our Lord’s name in vain? A god as exalted as He would never communicate with beings as lowly as us. But that will all change today, for today we achieve immortality.”
Then Helios wasn’t in on this. And it was purely by chance, that the scroll had been followed oh-so obediently on the other side of the world. Offended as I was, I was going to let this play out. The poor remnants of the bunny and fish were put beside me. My heart was all that was left. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
My abuser brandished his knife. Not at all like the flashy ones with bejewelled hilts. It was more of a standard IKEA kitchen knife. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work out well. I may be immortal, but I still feel stuff. Gods aren’t as heartless as you lot make them out to be. With trembling hands at the foot of the knife, the man plunged it (in a half-arsed manner) into my chest. I would like to think this was a smooth affair, and that my heart was out in instant but to the contrary, it was one that contained an inordinate amount of blood, profanity and screaming on my part. I’ll spare you the details, for such an ungraceful image isn’t fitting for a god.
After what seemed to be a millennium, my chest was finally bare, exposed. It was then, much to the innocent souls’ surprise, when they couldn’t find a heart. I would have offered to give them a crash course on Divine Anatomy, but they didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. All of them made a run for it. Such feeble attempts.
The charade was over. There was no more fun to be had, for the most part. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It seems as though you have figured out that I am not just any being. Who I am, need not concern you. Just know that your adventures today will make for a charming story. In fact, I intend to tell it to Helios this very instant. I do apologize, but I must get going. I thank you for the hospitality.” A click of the fingers, followed by shrill screams. An uproar of pandemonium, and then nothing. A silence. Bless those poor souls. I couldn’t wait to tell Helios!
(First submission to this subreddit. Tried my hand at writing after what has been too long. Constructive criticism appreciated) | [Poem]
Well, I think this is the third time this week
I've been tied to the stake
Hell I've been electrified several times
Thrown into pits
And don't get me wrong, it does hurt.
At least for a bit, then I sleep.
Give it a few hours then I slip away.
It's fun to watch their reactions.
As they realized that what they had sacrificed is gone.
I can't die, I'm just a bit of a trickster with a bunch of lives to spare, might as well spend eternity tickling my funny bone... | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | [Poem]
Well, I think this is the third time this week
I've been tied to the stake
Hell I've been electrified several times
Thrown into pits
And don't get me wrong, it does hurt.
At least for a bit, then I sleep.
Give it a few hours then I slip away.
It's fun to watch their reactions.
As they realized that what they had sacrificed is gone.
I can't die, I'm just a bit of a trickster with a bunch of lives to spare, might as well spend eternity tickling my funny bone... | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I find myself pinned down, on a dastardly altar: not the most redeeming of pictures when you’re a god. They shuffle and mumble amongst each other; a group of people clad in black tutus and Venetian masks. I narrow the possibilities down to two. This is either a masquerade party to which I was not expressly invited (the theme isn’t to my taste anyway), or I am to be sacrificed in a ritual. The former would be unlikely; I don’t sense any booze.
Back in my day, rituals were a thing of bloody, ominous glory. These days? Not so much. If I wanted to, I could easily free myself of these restraints and see to it that those responsible for this blasphemous act are dealt with severely. But I’m a gentleman, and since these chaps went through the laborious ordeal of kidnapping me, I will let them act of their volition and proceed as such. Judgement isn’t a thing to be passed down so easily after all: Godly Morals 101.
A faint humming. It gets louder. Intense. Followed by a piercing bong. Just as the proverbial: ‘Thy shite hath struck the fan’ goes. In my mind, I am thoroughly marking the dismal proceedings of this ritual, and once this is over, I shall definitely be going over my dissatisfaction with the board of Rituals and Sacrifices. No debauchery, no snakes. What has this world come to? The cult forms a circle around me, hand-in-hand, chanting in a language that is unbeknown to me. “What are you lot blabbering on about?” I question. A thundering slap envelopes my face. The perpetrator, who has been looming over my violated face all this time, grunts in a monotonous tone: “Silence, mortal. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the will of our Lord Helios. Rejoice brothers, for today we bring about the infiniteness of our lives. Bring me the tears of the distraught fish, and the ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny.” My ears pricked up.
This was too good to be true. Had Helios set all of this up on a whim? Setting up a friend was most certainly not below him. To the ignorant reader, I realize that some context may be required here. Many a century ago, Helios and I had come up with an absurdly nonsensical plan (to kill off the time, if you will) to make some mischief out of mortals. But to see it come to fruition? These mortals never cease to amaze me… with their stupidity. As my flawless memory relays, we left a scroll atop Mount Fuji while on patrolling duty (drafted by yours truly) that promised to grant immortality if three things were sacrificed, in the name of Helios: “The tears of the distraught fish. The ears of the super-rare floppy cross-eyed bunny. The heart of a grotesque man.” Wait…
That would make me the grotesque man. The gall. “Helios! Get your ass out here. Your joke is lost on me.” I shout, and am in consequence slapped once more by this crude man. “How dare you say our Lord’s name in vain? A god as exalted as He would never communicate with beings as lowly as us. But that will all change today, for today we achieve immortality.”
Then Helios wasn’t in on this. And it was purely by chance, that the scroll had been followed oh-so obediently on the other side of the world. Offended as I was, I was going to let this play out. The poor remnants of the bunny and fish were put beside me. My heart was all that was left. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
My abuser brandished his knife. Not at all like the flashy ones with bejewelled hilts. It was more of a standard IKEA kitchen knife. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work out well. I may be immortal, but I still feel stuff. Gods aren’t as heartless as you lot make them out to be. With trembling hands at the foot of the knife, the man plunged it (in a half-arsed manner) into my chest. I would like to think this was a smooth affair, and that my heart was out in instant but to the contrary, it was one that contained an inordinate amount of blood, profanity and screaming on my part. I’ll spare you the details, for such an ungraceful image isn’t fitting for a god.
After what seemed to be a millennium, my chest was finally bare, exposed. It was then, much to the innocent souls’ surprise, when they couldn’t find a heart. I would have offered to give them a crash course on Divine Anatomy, but they didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. All of them made a run for it. Such feeble attempts.
The charade was over. There was no more fun to be had, for the most part. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. It seems as though you have figured out that I am not just any being. Who I am, need not concern you. Just know that your adventures today will make for a charming story. In fact, I intend to tell it to Helios this very instant. I do apologize, but I must get going. I thank you for the hospitality.” A click of the fingers, followed by shrill screams. An uproar of pandemonium, and then nothing. A silence. Bless those poor souls. I couldn’t wait to tell Helios!
(First submission to this subreddit. Tried my hand at writing after what has been too long. Constructive criticism appreciated) | This was unforseen.
Two tall, slim men carried Aphrodite by her arms to a pair of large, wooden doors. The men were both very exotic in both mannerisms and looks, and she hated to say that if this were another situation, she wouldn't be afraid to try and seduce one, or both of them. However, one had a slighter build than the other. The doors creaked open, and a delightful smell filled her nostrils. Nothing she could understand, but amazing none the less. She did not resist their earlier attempts at capturing her, and came in a rather quiet fashion, since she knew whatever was going to happen was not as serious as it was from the mortal point of view. The room was filled with scantily dressed women, and they looked of the same nationality as the two men, who were now thrusting her into the room. There were no seats in the room, but velvety sitting pillows and a large, glossy wooden table near the largest window. As Aphrodite fell onto the carpeted ground, the smaller of the two men spoke in a legato language of beautifully articulated words, and then gestured towards her as he did so. A woman wearing a bralette and pants of the same dreamy eggplant tone, with rich, chocolate brown eyes, spoke back to the smaller of the two men in the same language, and then looked at Aphrodite. "You are an ungodly temptress, who shall not sin any longer. Lay before our god in all your shame to be truly saved." Aphrodite looked up at the woman, and saw the words "His light is our grace." tattooed onto her wrist.
Oh no.
This was not what she expected to be doing on a Tuesday afternoon, being captured and sacrificed by the cult she created for Apollo for being a jerk to her, but she couldn't back out now. There was no way she could lie her way out of this. Even if she told the truth, she wouldn't be believed. The woman in eggplant grabbed a similar woman in a bralette and pants of the same style, but in a rose tone. She yelled towards the group, now excluding the lady in the rose tone, something in the same previous language and then gestured towards the door. They all left except Aphrodite, and the woman in the rose tone. The woman in eggplant peeked her head in through the door and said "Now get her ready for the ceremony." Then left without any remark directed towards Aphrodite.
The girl in rose averted her gaze and remarked "I'm Valentina Sol." Valentina, a pretty name. "Could you be a doll and tell me what's going on here?" Asked Aphrodite cautiously. "Oh, those meatheads didn't tell you? Oh, how useful they are." Remarked Valentina with a less than subtle eye-roll. "Listen, we're here to sacrfice you to the greek god of light, Apollo. This religious group was formed over a hundred years ago, and I'm yet to understand why we're doing this." Aphrodite felt her face flush red, and brushed off the comment with a slight sigh. "So what is this ceremony, exactly?" "Well, I've been told that you've been a "temptress" and had men go against their own better judgement to have sex with them." Said Valentina, unphased. "So the ceremony itself actually has you laying before Apollo's light on the table." "That's it?" "While we slice you for every sin you've comitted against Him." There's the kicker.
Well, that's the thing, do you worship Apollo, as we do?" "No, I do not." "I believe you shouldn't have to sacrifice yourself if you aren't willing to be cleansed. I'd sooner sacrifice myself than let anyone have it against their own will." Remarked Valentina in a strong, clear tone. "Well, what do you think about getting out of here? You obviously don't like it here, and it's not the best place for me at the moment." I worship Him with all my being, and therefore have a duty to serve him for the rest of my life. I shan't let a temptress as yourself walk the Earth in your current state." Damn it, she needed to get out, and fast.
"Well, may I be sacrificed in a sinners wear?" "I assume some adjustments can be made." She took a jewl adorned belt from her bag and set it onto her hips snugly. Suddenly, Valentina's expression grew soft. "Darling, what's wrong?" Said Aphrodite, even though she knew exactly what was happening. "I'm not sure, but I must say, your beauty is unparaleled by that of any being on this planet, if I could be of any service to you, please let me know!" Bingo, she's done it again. "Well, Miss Valentina, I was wondering if you could, by any chance, help me get out of this room and back into the real world?" "Anything for you, my mistress of beauty."
Aphrodite and Valentina got off the pillows, and Valentina led her to a small door in the back of the room. "Shall we, Miss?" Said Valentina in a dreamy tone. "We certainly shall." Valentina crouched down to the door and unlocked it, opening it for her. "Please, you first." Aphrodite quickly took the invitation, and crawled through the door, and was met with soft, warm sunlight hitting her face, and plush feeling grass on her knees. As she stood, she saw Valentina making her way out as well. "Mistress, I must know your name before you leave!" Remarked Valentina passionately. She hesitated, "Will she let me leave if I tell her? Best to become distant before I do." Thought Aphrodite cautiously. "That's for me to know, and for you to wonder, my little pet." Said Aphrodite as she walked towards the street shops.
Well, better not do that again.
(Btw I'm new to this sub so any constructive critisism is welcome!) | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | One drop of water kept falling from the ceiling. It's amazing that after all this years, the best ways for torturing people keep being the same. Empires have fallen, Technology now dominates us and yet, here I am again with this water drop drilling your forehead in this dark room, tied by something I can't really tell what it is from my arms and legs.
The pain in my belly reminds me I haven't ate in maybe a day or two. I remembering ordering something, but apps tend to cancel if the drop by is to far away. I actually really dislike Chinese food. It's been years without actually a good piece of bread. Nothing like the old days. Everything was simpler when I helped the Master. He studied plants and it's properties. He discovered that some of them could alter your perception of things. The first Drugs. I wish I was high so it could scare the pain away.
The door opened and a hooded figure entered the room.
I tried to say something but I now realize my mouth is also tied.
He doesn't say anything, he unties me and signals me to follow him. He is stupidly tall and athletic, his attire is a pair of dark jeans, some black industrial boots, black sweatshirt with his hoodie and a mask with that stupid sign again.
Pulling any sign of resistance is going to end with me suffering even more, I know how this is going to end; I understand that following him is the best choice.
If we look at the bright side, i might have a chance to speak with the old man. Sometimes he appears, sometimes he doesn't.
My arms and legs hurt so much. This used to be much more special and unique, they had special robes, special locations, torches and candles. Know there's this house with wood everywhere, some kind of cabin perhaps. I can't see very well and my steps are slow because my legs are sore. The old man is an idiot. I don't know how he had such a charming boy. His son was so pure and innocent. His death still hurts me. And he blames me for it.
I met his son while i was working with my master. He told me that he needed help for people to believe him so he could help them get to the old man. I thought he was an idiot, but I saw him day after day preaching the same stuff and people being mean to him so figured out it would be fun to have the town believing him. So I poured the wells with Mandragora, and another hallucinating herbs and everyone was so high they imagined a lot of things when he preached.
They saw him walking on water, multiplying fishes and food, healing people that weren't even I'll to beging with and then they formed a cult on him.
I laughed a shit ton over it and befriended him, because he was so happy I never told them about the drugs. One day my master passed away and I had to bury him in Egypt. I honored him and placed it's remnants as he wished, where he was born.
I stayed there for years untill I heard about the political fuss. I saw that he became a religious figure and was menacing the government. So I tried to warn him, I wrote him letters that couldn't reach him but I found out later someone else received them. Days later I found out the son of the old man was murdered.
We arrive to what appears to have been a living room, now with that stupid sign again in the floor made by candles and plants. At least this has stayed consistent throughout the years. I know what this idiots are going to do, so I just put myself in the center with my arms and legs extended so they can search for my arteries and bleed me "to death". And here we're all going to stay a day or two untill they get tired of this. Last time it was only 8 hours, maybe I get to have the same luck.
The first time that I met the old man was a little after his son was murdered. He appeared right in front of me and punched me so hard I fell. Tall, athletic, white beard and long hair, brown skin, omminent voice.
-You've disgraced my son, you will pay for your sins.
And since that day I haven't aged. I haven't died. I've been checked by millions of doctors and even became one myself in recent times and found out my cells have a godlike adaptability to endure damage and reproduce themselves so fast that I can't die.
As a result of this, people started to notice. They found out my letters to the old man's son. Their cult became so big it fractioned into a billion other mini-cults some really good ones, and then this pieces of shit that wanted to meet the old man at any cost in hopes of harvesting it's power, falling into stupid beliefs, that any object or person in contact with him could be a way to reach him.
I've been haunted for them through all my life, and generations after generations greed and stupidly is present everytime.
11 people as usual arrive, they prepare themselves and start chanting, 4 of them kneel and open my skin. The one on my right arm shakes so much that it hurts even more. Just as I feel the pain making me pass out I hear him.
"Ezra" Loud and clear. It's been so much time that I almost forgot how the old man sounded like.
"... Yahvé ?" I asked
" It is time Ezra" he replied immediately.
"Time for what? ¿Have you been following what this assholes have done to me all this years? " I angrily yelled at him with all my strength
" I told you you were going to suffer the fate of my son over and over again" he said calmly
"You never listened to me you arrogant piece of shit, It was a joke that went out of my hands, I never intended for him to be murdered or disrespect him" I continued to shout
"You disgraced my son, Ezra. I wasn't going to listen to anything. But after all this years I'm more upset with other people in the world than you. So tell me. What happened?" He asked
" I got really depressed by your son's death. I went to pay my respects to him and catched up with his followers. As a way of cheering us up I got high as fuck and began telling them how cool your son was, so I told them the drugs helped me remember them. They also got high and then we started drinking wine an everything was worse. Someone had this idea that we could resucitate him and we opened his grave and made the corpse drink and party with us."
"I woke up the next day with a horrible pain, the worst I had ever experienced before. I was the first one to be awake, saw the corpse and realized the terrible things that had happened, so I stole it and buried him elsewhere. Left the town so ashamed of myself.
Next thing I know this morons believe that he was resurrected and he had apparitions and shit" I finished
"I know Ezra. My son told me everything. He is not an idiot. He just wanted to return the prank" he calmly replied
For a moment everything blurred out. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was certain that my mind went insane or something like that. I couldn't ask the old man to repeat itself.
"Wh....What?" I asked
" The plants you gave them did exacerbate and exaggerate my son's gifts. But they were very real. The only power he didn't have it's coming back to life. No one can do that, not even me. He was upset with you because you accelerated the ruin of his experiment with humans by creating a twisted religion. He has taken care of you and the Earth, protecting them from those crazy idiots trying to murder you. However you have served a very special purpose that you will fulfill one last time, since you were after all, his friend" the old mans voice said in a lightly tone.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't even talk
"I....I didn't expect this at all, I...am confused...., What's this all have to do with me?" I mumbled.
"My child has put in your cells the antidotes for every pandemic humanity has faced over the years. Every time that you have been tortured you release the antidote and spread it in the world. This time you will pour the last antidote for the greatest plague on earth." The old man said
"What do you mean?" I asked
"You will come with us Ezra, you are going to extinguish Humanity themselves. Let go, your cells are ready. Come and rest Erza"
I sensed my last breaths. I sensed my last heartbeats. The last time my blood got to my brain and allowed me to think this sentence. And I let go. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | I sat in the wooden chair they had tied me to, a bag over my head. They were discussing roles of the meeting, everyone seemed to want to stab me, but they finally decided it was the job of a young girl. She was puny, small, not more than 10 years old for sure. Her long, wavy, brown hair reaching her knees, her bright blue eyes. As blue as the seas. I recognized her to be a bastard child of my friend. A demigod, as some would say. She was the only one who didn't want to do it, knowing it had great consequences. My continuosly more bored and less caring reminders that I was immortal and thus the touch of my blood would doom them all didn't seem to have an effect.
The sound of deep drums filled the air. It was time. They dragged me up a flight of stairs to an altar room and tied me down again, kneeling towards the altar. Removing the bag from my head, like it would've made any sort of a difference, they lifted my head up, revealing my neck to be slit open. "I am Hermes, your god, and this is my final warning. My ichor will stain you and mark your doom in the hands of the olympian gods." She was shaking. The beautiful child of Athena, trembling, knowing well not to do anything to me. Her hesitation angered the ceremonial master, "Do your part, Alia." The girl didn't move, prompting the master to do it himself. He could barely scratch my skin, but as the small bit of ichor, a god's golden blood, that he managed to carve out tainted his hand the roof of the entire place collapsed, setting everything on fire.
It was Hephaestus, coming to check on me. I stood up breaking each chain immidiately and walked out of there all happy, giving them a last good bye of "I told you!~" I turned to Hephaestus "That was a fun millenia! My turn to dare you." I leaned in close with a smug grin on my face, he recoiled a bit. "I dare you to build some cool advanced tech. Let's start an alien conspiracy club!" Hephaestus sighed and a grin rose on his face with a nod. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | If only I had not taken that strange looking turn I’d be out of this mess in a jiffy, so much for being adventurous and retracing old steps, I wonder hung upside down in a cave inside a volcano and being put in the sacrificial pyre in front of a statue which looks a lot like my buddy Vesuvius. And well why should it not look like Ves, these people here think he’s their God, and while he is a God he’s not in the way they’re thinking it. Let me explain, my name is Skiver and I am one of the 3 men who drank the water from the elixir of immortality at the dawn of time. We all have had different names across different cultures and mythologies and have been basically around since forever doing the whole immortal men travel the planet kind of gig. Our skirmishes with mortal men, who more often than not overestimate their own abilities, has become folklore. Most times people just do it out of their need for a good story. The closest word modern mythology has for us would have to be ‘demigods’, but with time our powers have waned and now we just have the immortality aspect coupled with perhaps very high damage endurance.
In the old days, our modus operandi always were to hijack the public favour in any new city we travelled to, through charlatan and parlour tricks (well they were parlour tricks to us) and become the public’s heroes so that we could live out our time there being treated as royalty. This one time we got to the Roman City of Pompeii situated right next to a very active volcano. Now being around since the dawn of time brings unsurmountable amounts of knowledge which includes manually triggering a volcano. It is unwittingly simple as well, you just have to add the tiniest amount of garlic to the flames inside the volcano and the volcano takes over. If you think about it sounds an awful lot like how a human sneezes. After the explosion, Ves and I would go save the people from the lava and be hailed as heroes. But I miscalculated the amount of garlic powder needed, we needed just a tablespoon but I put almost a cup and the result was that the explosion was a lot more aggressive than we anticipated knocking me unconscious, leaving Ves, who was waiting for me at the city gates, to do the heavy lifting and fail gloriously at saving the city. He did try though and saved a handful of people who may have, as I am now discovering, started an eternal devotion group for Ves surviving across centuries. Ugh, there’s no good way to say it, and I was being kind with “eternal devotion group”, these lunatics are a cult, they call themselves the Children of Vesuvius. Such has been their clout that even the culprit volcano is named after Vesuvius. Ves has always been sketchy about what he revealed to the rescued about who he is. Slimy Bastard, he told them he’s God or well, a God. I will say I’m impressed by how long these guys have stuck around. Pompeii was if I am remembering correctly around 80 AD in the biblical calendar and we are currently in, if I’d venture a guess, 1941? The level of indoctrination it would have required to keep up the myth of Vesuvius going across generations would be monumental. To these people here today Vesuvius is not just a God, it is an integral part of what their identity is based around, no wonder they are happily willing to sacrifice a living human being (from their perspective). Well if the social science class I took was any good then I am afraid I am not going to be able to reason my way out of here with these people.
I am not sure what their rationale is over sacrificing me but if I were to guess I’d say “blessings from thy lord”, at least that was what it was the last time I was in such a situation. I don’t mind being put in the pyre, I have done a lot of misdeeds over my long life and this seems like the right kind of retribution for it, but sadly for them it won’t kill me and the ash would just get in my clothes, I would hate for it to ruin my brand new suit. Additionally, my skin would get itchy and it is bloody difficult to find a dermatologist for a thousand-year-old former demigod. I suppose it’s time to end my musings and embrace my fate. Halloween is around the corner so I can possibly get by another week with the burnt skin regenerating and the grotesque skeleton appearance healing. Well, here it comes.
\*Skiver is consumed by the embers, he squeals in pain and consequently becomes unconscious, the Children of Vesuvius sing together in prayer and then are forced to hurriedly leave the area. Skiver awakes by the coast, a few weeks later, naked and most of his skin now burnt. He looks around to find the entire area has been ravished by the volcano again\*
Looks like I miscalculated the garlic powder I needed again. Well third time’s the charm. | I sat in the wooden chair they had tied me to, a bag over my head. They were discussing roles of the meeting, everyone seemed to want to stab me, but they finally decided it was the job of a young girl. She was puny, small, not more than 10 years old for sure. Her long, wavy, brown hair reaching her knees, her bright blue eyes. As blue as the seas. I recognized her to be a bastard child of my friend. A demigod, as some would say. She was the only one who didn't want to do it, knowing it had great consequences. My continuosly more bored and less caring reminders that I was immortal and thus the touch of my blood would doom them all didn't seem to have an effect.
The sound of deep drums filled the air. It was time. They dragged me up a flight of stairs to an altar room and tied me down again, kneeling towards the altar. Removing the bag from my head, like it would've made any sort of a difference, they lifted my head up, revealing my neck to be slit open. "I am Hermes, your god, and this is my final warning. My ichor will stain you and mark your doom in the hands of the olympian gods." She was shaking. The beautiful child of Athena, trembling, knowing well not to do anything to me. Her hesitation angered the ceremonial master, "Do your part, Alia." The girl didn't move, prompting the master to do it himself. He could barely scratch my skin, but as the small bit of ichor, a god's golden blood, that he managed to carve out tainted his hand the roof of the entire place collapsed, setting everything on fire.
It was Hephaestus, coming to check on me. I stood up breaking each chain immidiately and walked out of there all happy, giving them a last good bye of "I told you!~" I turned to Hephaestus "That was a fun millenia! My turn to dare you." I leaned in close with a smug grin on my face, he recoiled a bit. "I dare you to build some cool advanced tech. Let's start an alien conspiracy club!" Hephaestus sighed and a grin rose on his face with a nod. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | I smile lazily at the man dressed in all black. He’s standing over me in a manor humans would describe as threatening. Instead, though, I find his puny hold of power almost too hilarious to keep a hold on.
I pull on the iron chains, testing them roughly. I can almost feel them bend. My smile widens and the man stares down at me, the mask the only thing that isn’t black.
My voice is strong in the painted concrete room, “My man, I could’ve sworn I said thick iron chains.” I pull my hand up, snapping the metal easily, “Does that look thick to you? It should be able to hold down a god and I’d be surprised if it could hold one of my sons down.”
“Wh-Who are you?” The man’s voice questions. He seems much more anxious than he was previously.
“I came down to see how all the people are doing and here you are, still doing the same things since I started this with the Roanokes. Hell, I forgot you people existed. What’s the point of chaining me up? Did my buddy get enough of this prank or are you still doing this for him?” I say, pulling my other wrist out of the pathetic chains and cracking my neck, sitting up on the cold sacrificial table.
He steps back, “Who...”
My grin turns devilish, one could say, and I snap the chains around my feet, “I didn’t answer it the first time, boy. Why would I answer it when you ask again? For right now. I want you to put that poor needle down and go live a normal life. Hades probably doesn’t want any more ‘sacrifices’ to add to his list of people he needs to process into the Underworld.”
“That... that chain was two inches thick. How—“
I interrupt, “Child, I was tied to a mountain with chains forged from my kids’ intestines. If I can’t break through two inches of metal. I need to pay my respects to them. Better yet, where are the candles? No sacrifice is right without a candle. I thought I taught your ancestors better. I mean, I showed them how to disappear and asked them to leave a message for my buddy but I would’ve thought they were found and killed.”
I stand up, towering over his small and wiry frame. I grab the athamé and snap it in half like a twig, “There’s a bunch of technology out there. Quite living in the dark ages for everybody’s sake. Hades is swamped with this new thing that may or may not be humans fault.”
I pause in front of the chamber door, “Oh you have friends. I guess this is where shapeshifting has it’s perk.”
He scrambles to pick up what’s left of the knife as I change my form to my favorite animal, a wolf. It’s what I came to the Roanoke colony as and what I left them as. Anybody with a semblance of an idea of the history would know me for what I am.
“Lord Loki?” The small man asks, fear lighting in his eyes.
I sit, my black fur standing out against my red irises. I reach for his mind, changing my voice back to the deep baritone that it’s always been. I had changed my appearance to a modern human’s so I could blend and see the havoc that they did to themselves, black hair cut short and clean. My eyes were a dark brown, the same color as what my real hair is naturally.
“It’s been a while since I was called Loki. Your kind listened to me once before, listen to me again. I would imagine you’re the leader, since you were the one dumb enough to try and sacrifice me to one of two gods who put up with me. Tell the others that Hades took your pathetic offering and said that you had fulfilled your duty.”
I open the door, walking out as an animal that scares the two men guarding the soundproof area. As I reach the edge of their hidden temple, I add, “And say I was the hellhound he gave you in thanks.”
I walk into the forest, breathing in deeply and morphing back into a humanoid body. This time, I shift to a woman that people will hopefully find irresistible. I’m the god of tricks, why not have some fun with some unsuspecting men for a while? I did my good deeds for the day. Now I get to play. | The chanting is getting louder. Fire burns all around me, hotter and faster by the second. I know the knots that bind me are not going to come undone. I'm sure that I'm the first to be in this situation, and I'm even more sure I won't be the last.
And yet, I can't stop smiling. Death? Death doesn't scare me. Not anymore. When you've spent thousands of years wandering spiritual and physical realms, staring death in the face is the only real way you can live.
And this will be especially fun. Cults might just be some of the most interesting things this race has created. Experience has taught me that until I finally die in a particularly interesting way, I'll learn all sorts of poppycock about whatever miracles they claim to have seen, and the strange rituals that they perform to honour a god they know nothing about. It's always fascinating stuff.
"In your honour, Almighty Leo, we sacrifice this deviant, so that we may continue to prosper with your blessing, and maintain our purity until your return."
He turns back to face the crowd. "Bring forth the sacred vinegar jug!"
Vinegar jug? Almighty Leo? Sacrifice everyone foreign to maintain purity? No way... "As you know..."
Oh my goodness, these cretins actually believed him...
The priest is still talking. Probably about why I'm about to get doused with holy vinegar and then thrown into an empty volcano. But he stops. Because I've started laughing.
This is bad. But I don't stop. I can't. This... is just too good.
The tribespeople are becoming confused. The priests are getting irritated. If only they knew that the basis of 800 years of their culture was created through a night of heavy drinking and stupid dares. Maybe they would be laughing too.
"I choose dare. What have you got for me, Cassius?"
"Leo, I dare you to visit a realm, and convince a group of creatures that you're a god, and they should worship you. You can say whatever you want, with one condition: those creatures have to sacrifice their own kind in your name."
And I happened to stumble upon the result... this is too good. He has to see this. "Hey, Leo! You there?"
The sky starts to turn grey. The trees shake, more violently by the second. And out of the clouds, a familiar face greets me.
"Holy shit! Cassius, is that you?"
Upon hearing his voice, the tribe collapses to their knees. Not that Leo feels the need to say anything to his loyal followers.
"You know it! So, this was the place where the magic happened?"
"Yeah. Picked a random universe, worked out the dominant species, found an island in the middles of nowhere, and told some people to start worshipping. How did you even end up here?"
"The usual fare... plane crash, build a raft, turns out the land I find is full of crazy people."
"Well... it's nice to see you, Cassius. We should catch up again sometime."
"We really should, Leo. Anyway, I think I need to be sacrificed about now, so take care. Say hi to Jenny for me!"
"Will do, Cassius. See you around."
Leo's face disappears into the clouds. The world arounds me settles back down, but the tribespeople grow more restless. I get it. That's the reaction to be expected when you meet your god. But I'm just smiling. It's all I can really do at this point. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | If only I had not taken that strange looking turn I’d be out of this mess in a jiffy, so much for being adventurous and retracing old steps, I wonder hung upside down in a cave inside a volcano and being put in the sacrificial pyre in front of a statue which looks a lot like my buddy Vesuvius. And well why should it not look like Ves, these people here think he’s their God, and while he is a God he’s not in the way they’re thinking it. Let me explain, my name is Skiver and I am one of the 3 men who drank the water from the elixir of immortality at the dawn of time. We all have had different names across different cultures and mythologies and have been basically around since forever doing the whole immortal men travel the planet kind of gig. Our skirmishes with mortal men, who more often than not overestimate their own abilities, has become folklore. Most times people just do it out of their need for a good story. The closest word modern mythology has for us would have to be ‘demigods’, but with time our powers have waned and now we just have the immortality aspect coupled with perhaps very high damage endurance.
In the old days, our modus operandi always were to hijack the public favour in any new city we travelled to, through charlatan and parlour tricks (well they were parlour tricks to us) and become the public’s heroes so that we could live out our time there being treated as royalty. This one time we got to the Roman City of Pompeii situated right next to a very active volcano. Now being around since the dawn of time brings unsurmountable amounts of knowledge which includes manually triggering a volcano. It is unwittingly simple as well, you just have to add the tiniest amount of garlic to the flames inside the volcano and the volcano takes over. If you think about it sounds an awful lot like how a human sneezes. After the explosion, Ves and I would go save the people from the lava and be hailed as heroes. But I miscalculated the amount of garlic powder needed, we needed just a tablespoon but I put almost a cup and the result was that the explosion was a lot more aggressive than we anticipated knocking me unconscious, leaving Ves, who was waiting for me at the city gates, to do the heavy lifting and fail gloriously at saving the city. He did try though and saved a handful of people who may have, as I am now discovering, started an eternal devotion group for Ves surviving across centuries. Ugh, there’s no good way to say it, and I was being kind with “eternal devotion group”, these lunatics are a cult, they call themselves the Children of Vesuvius. Such has been their clout that even the culprit volcano is named after Vesuvius. Ves has always been sketchy about what he revealed to the rescued about who he is. Slimy Bastard, he told them he’s God or well, a God. I will say I’m impressed by how long these guys have stuck around. Pompeii was if I am remembering correctly around 80 AD in the biblical calendar and we are currently in, if I’d venture a guess, 1941? The level of indoctrination it would have required to keep up the myth of Vesuvius going across generations would be monumental. To these people here today Vesuvius is not just a God, it is an integral part of what their identity is based around, no wonder they are happily willing to sacrifice a living human being (from their perspective). Well if the social science class I took was any good then I am afraid I am not going to be able to reason my way out of here with these people.
I am not sure what their rationale is over sacrificing me but if I were to guess I’d say “blessings from thy lord”, at least that was what it was the last time I was in such a situation. I don’t mind being put in the pyre, I have done a lot of misdeeds over my long life and this seems like the right kind of retribution for it, but sadly for them it won’t kill me and the ash would just get in my clothes, I would hate for it to ruin my brand new suit. Additionally, my skin would get itchy and it is bloody difficult to find a dermatologist for a thousand-year-old former demigod. I suppose it’s time to end my musings and embrace my fate. Halloween is around the corner so I can possibly get by another week with the burnt skin regenerating and the grotesque skeleton appearance healing. Well, here it comes.
\*Skiver is consumed by the embers, he squeals in pain and consequently becomes unconscious, the Children of Vesuvius sing together in prayer and then are forced to hurriedly leave the area. Skiver awakes by the coast, a few weeks later, naked and most of his skin now burnt. He looks around to find the entire area has been ravished by the volcano again\*
Looks like I miscalculated the garlic powder I needed again. Well third time’s the charm. | As the cult leader spoke to their god, I chuckled. They didn’t know my little secret.
“What’s so funny?” asked one of the members
“You don’t know I’m immortal.”
Then, the others started laughing and pulled their cloaks off as their god revealed himself to be a close friend of mine.
“Chelsea!” he exclaimed
“Ryan!”
“I’m so glad you set this prank up centuries ago.”
“Me too. It’s hard to have a little fun these days.”
The “cult members” left and Ryan and I talked about our lives and how being immortal sucks.
“Why do you hate being immortal?”
“You are all these great generations and grow up with them, just to watch them die.”
“I’m glad I’m not immortal.”
I was glad he wasn’t immortal too, but part of me wanted an immortal friend. He had died when he was young, and very sick. I wished he had more of a life, but I wasn’t able to stop his death. We had agreed to become immortal best friends, since he was dead and couldn’t die again. It was nice to have some company for a change. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | Fucking Abragesh. This shit has finally gone too far.
At first it was cute. A stabbing here, a shooting there. I think things just escalated from there.
I think I probably provoked it a little. I probably shouldn't have surprised him by hitting him with a car on live television. He was explaining that shit for years citing things like the "miracles of modern medicine" and "divine intervention."
Turns out, the whole thing spiraled out of control when I wasn't paying attention. I'm old, time flies.
He's had to have been setting this shit up for the last 20 years at least, no idea how he kept it a secret this long. I just saw him like 3 weeks ago.
So here I am, chilling in a pot of boiling oil, waiting for these assholes to get bored or mortally terrified and let me out.
Next time I'm hitting his ass with a train. | As the cult leader spoke to their god, I chuckled. They didn’t know my little secret.
“What’s so funny?” asked one of the members
“You don’t know I’m immortal.”
Then, the others started laughing and pulled their cloaks off as their god revealed himself to be a close friend of mine.
“Chelsea!” he exclaimed
“Ryan!”
“I’m so glad you set this prank up centuries ago.”
“Me too. It’s hard to have a little fun these days.”
The “cult members” left and Ryan and I talked about our lives and how being immortal sucks.
“Why do you hate being immortal?”
“You are all these great generations and grow up with them, just to watch them die.”
“I’m glad I’m not immortal.”
I was glad he wasn’t immortal too, but part of me wanted an immortal friend. He had died when he was young, and very sick. I wished he had more of a life, but I wasn’t able to stop his death. We had agreed to become immortal best friends, since he was dead and couldn’t die again. It was nice to have some company for a change. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | You'd think that when you've lived as long as I have there would be little left to surprise you. Ive seen the best and worst of what existence has to offer. Ive lived through, even died from some of the worst atrocities dealt by man, stuff that would haunt your every waking hour till you finally bit the dust. Though fortunately for me death is less of a permanent issue than most. Should I meet some kind of fatal encounter I find it to be more like a nice long power nap, usually followed by an awkward encounter with some poor mortician poking at my pale corpse.
Mind you it wasn't always this way. I too was once burdened by the chains of mortality, doomed to die just like anyone else. Turns out, taking a gamble with other worldly beings of unimaginable powers can have its perks. It is not a method of obtaining godly abilities that I would recommend; many other souls have met grizzly consequence from messing with beings beyond their comprehension. Some days I ponder if my earnings of immortality were truly a blessing or a curse, though when it comes to winning a bet against an arrogant god and thoroughly embarrassing him in front of his circle of deities, I guess you cant be too picky.
We've been bickering on and off for countless centuries now; his injured pride is as persistent as my immortality. Recently I've had a few good decades free of divine interruption, which has been very nice, so you can imagine my surprise when I awoke groggy and dazed in a dark chamber, my limbs sprawled across a stone table held by rusting chains and a familiar chanting sound invading my still ringing ears. Definitely not the place I was expecting to wake up in after a night of clubbing. Funny enough its not the first time, but something about it always makes my heart pick up a few paces and makes my throat feel like a desert.
The chanting has grown louder and more urgent, and while my head is heavy and likely locked in place, I don't have to see the creeping flames to know my impending fate as a crispy husk. I can hear him, he fills the chamber with his bellowing laughter that rattles in my bones, like he's won. And perhaps, in his perspective, this all too familiar encounter is a small victory. I may always be able to evade death, but there is one thing that will never change, one edge this bastard will always have. Fear, human fear, is what will always separate me from the gods, no matter how many years go by. The world is terrifying as it is beautiful, and I am witness to her unending gospel. That is why he laughs, why he mocks me and will continue his harmless "pranks" for all eternity. My soul is human, trapped in impervious skin.
The flames now lap at my finger tips, hungry heat against my flesh. It's gonna hurt, just like all the other times. I'll likely scream, maybe beg for help just to humor the watchful god. There is nothing to enjoy in this, but I'll go down with a smile on my face. For while the present is wrought with suffering, the future belongs to me, and I'll be waiting the next round, however many eons it takes, with that same smile plastered on my face.
//
It's short, it's meh, it's quickly slapped together, but it's written and done. Im trying to motivate myself more to just write as much as I can no matter how small. Any criticism and feedback is happily welcomed! Thank you for reading! | As the cult leader spoke to their god, I chuckled. They didn’t know my little secret.
“What’s so funny?” asked one of the members
“You don’t know I’m immortal.”
Then, the others started laughing and pulled their cloaks off as their god revealed himself to be a close friend of mine.
“Chelsea!” he exclaimed
“Ryan!”
“I’m so glad you set this prank up centuries ago.”
“Me too. It’s hard to have a little fun these days.”
The “cult members” left and Ryan and I talked about our lives and how being immortal sucks.
“Why do you hate being immortal?”
“You are all these great generations and grow up with them, just to watch them die.”
“I’m glad I’m not immortal.”
I was glad he wasn’t immortal too, but part of me wanted an immortal friend. He had died when he was young, and very sick. I wished he had more of a life, but I wasn’t able to stop his death. We had agreed to become immortal best friends, since he was dead and couldn’t die again. It was nice to have some company for a change. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | Franklin awoke. He was seated on a dirt floor, his back to an earthen wall.There was a burlap sack pulled down over his head. He had been stripped naked. Through the sack over his eyes, he could see a bare bulb hanging from a wire in the middle of the room.
“Ah, shit,” he said quietly to himself.
The sack was ripped from his head. The man who removed it was wearing a black, floor length robe. From beneath the hood, a high pitched giggle.
“So good of you to join us, honored guest!” said the cloaked figure.
“Yeah, hi,” said Franklin. “Listen, I-”
The hooded man produced a tiny knife from the sleeve of his hood. Brandishing it towards the ceiling, he resumed chanting, joining the circle of cultists under the bare bulb. In the center of the circle was a pentagram, etched into a stone slab. The other cultists, as one, drew their own knives.
“Guys, seriously! Stop!”
The cultists, in unison, slashed open their hands, the spilling blood filled the pentagram. The bulb over the stone slab began to vibrate.
“HEY!!” shouted Franklin, over the rising chant. Two of the cultists left the circle and grabbed Franklin, pulling him up roughly. The vibrating bulb burst, and in the darkness left behind, a feint red glow began to emanate from the stone slab.
Franklin was done protesting. They never listened.
“HONORED SACRIFICE!”
Franklin recognized the voice of the giggler from before. He must be the poor sap who'd found that book and roped his friends and family into finding a “sacred vessel”... they always found him.
“WITH YOUR BLOOD SACRIFICE, WE OPEN THE PORTAL TO MEET OUR TRUE SAVIOR!” screamed the giggler. The two cultists pulled Franklin's body across the glowing pentagram. Franklin sighed in resignation. The giggler plunged his knife into Franklin's belly and pulled it across. Blood and entrails spilled across the stone slab, and the red glow surged. Electricity crackled across the room, and suddenly bolts of lightening began shooting up from the slab, each finding one of the chanting cultists. They died instantly, ready to meet their God. Only the giggler remained, having not told his followers that Franklin wasn't the only sacrifice. More lightening crackled, hanging in the air between the floor and ceiling, then dividing into two streams. Between them, a portal began to form, coalescing into a clear, perfect circle. Black fog spilled out. From inside the portal, a voice:
“WHO OPENS A DOOR TO MY REALM, OUTSIDE OF TIME AND REALITY?”
“I DO!” screamed the giggler.
From below the portal, Franklin loudly cleared his throat.
“WHO SPEAK- OH, HEY FRANK, IS THAT YOU?”
“Yeah Jim, it's me.”
Franklin swung his arms, pulling himself into a sitting position, his guts still hanging loosely all over his torso.
“AH SHIT, DID IT HAPPEN AGAIN?”
“Don't be like that. You know it's not-”
The booming voice from inside the portal began to laugh jovially. The giggler looked on, utterly confused.
“HOW DO THEY KEEP FINDING THE PROPHECY?!” the voice boomed through the portal, barely holding back more laughter.
“I don't know, man. Every time I hide it, they find it. Like clockwork.”
“LIKE CLOCKWORK!” repeated the voice, cackling. The giggler slumped to his knees.
“Listen, fairs fair, you won the bet. You won the bet 6 times. Can we please stop doing this?” pleaded Franklin.
“NO WAY, SHITHEEL," boomed the voice. "WE'RE GONNA KEEP THIS TRAIN ROLLING A FEW MORE MILLENNIA!”
“Fuck off,” said Franklin, standing on the stone slab, his entrails snaking down his legs to the floor.
“ALRIGHT FRANK, WE'LL SEE YOU. GIVE MY BEST TO LILITH.”
“Will do, thanks Jim!” said Franklin. With that, Franklin's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He said several words in a long dead language, spoken not by beast nor man, words that made the giggler, a sobbing mess in the corner of his parent's unfinished basement, feel as though spiders were crawling across the inside of his skull. The portal snapped shut with a crack of lightening. The room fell to pitch darkness.
“You got a phone?” called Franklin in the darkness. The whimpering cultists did not reply.
“Hey, dumbass! Do you have your cell on you?”
Still no reply. Franklin sighed in the darkness, then gathered up his guts as best he could and followed the sound of stifled crying to the desperate idiot to the corner of the room. Franklin knelt down and began rummaging through the cultist's robe, eventually finding an iPhone.
“Jackpot,” said Franklin, waking the phone and flipping on it's flashlight. He leaned back into a sitting position and shined the light onto the robed figure, cowering at his feet.
“What's your name?”
“W-What?” sputtered the giggler.
“Your name, asshole!” yelled Franklin.
“K-Kevin!”
“Okay Kevin. Gimme the book.”
“B-but...”
“THE BOOK,” boomed Franklin, in a voice that somewhat exceeded the bounds of the body he was currently occupying. Kevin fumbled in his robe and produced a small, black book. Franklin snatched it away from him.
“Where'd you find it?”
“At sch-sch-school,” blubbered Kevin, snot running from his nose.
“Seriously?” said Franklin, looking down at the book. “I told you to hide yourself where no one would find you and you get picked up by a kid in high school?”
Franklin made a series of intricate gestures, then tossed the book gently onto the ground. As it fell, two tiny legs sprouted from its spine, and it ran off the find the basement stairs and hide itself. *What can I do,* Franklin thought to himself. *There are too many people these days.*
Franklin returned his attention to Kevin, absentmindedly playing with his exposed appendix with his left hand. “How old are you, Kevin?”
“Se-Seventeen,” whimpered Kevin.
“Not a cool move, Kevin, sacrificing a stranger and several of your friends... and your parents...”
“Skarethanguinestaliarion was to grant me power beyond imagination!”
“Yeah, Jim doesn't do that anymore. Granting that kind of power to humans tends to end badly for... everybody.”
“B-But the holy text-”
“Look, the book... short version, I had to make it because of a prank. Me and Jim and a few other guys were hanging out, I made a dumb bet and lost, so now , every once in a while, someone finds the book, and then finds me, and we go through this whole thing all over again.”
“Is Jim his real name...?”
“That's your takeaway?” said Franklin, exasperated. “No!”
“Is it Skarethang-”
“It's not that either.”
“Well then what is it?” asked Kevin, shifting somehow from abject horror to indignant curiosity.
“You *suuuuure* you want to know?” asked Franklin, coyly.
“Yeah, I want to know! Tell me!”
“Okay!” said Franklin, standing up. He leaned forward and said Jim's true name, the name of an elder god more powerful than the cosmos could contain. Kevin's brain imploded as his skull burst into flames. Every blood vessel in his body burst at once as his blood boiled into steam in an instant. Within seconds, his bones had dissipated into dust. The holocaust robe he'd sewn in home ec class five weeks ago billowed to the dirt. Franklin put the robe on and tied the waist tightly enough to hold up his loosely gathered internal organs so they wouldn't drag on the ground, giving him a slightly pregnant look.
“What a day,” sighed Franklin, making his way up the stairs. Pretending to be a mortal could be such a pain. But it was an undeniably more interesting way to spend eternity. | As the cult leader spoke to their god, I chuckled. They didn’t know my little secret.
“What’s so funny?” asked one of the members
“You don’t know I’m immortal.”
Then, the others started laughing and pulled their cloaks off as their god revealed himself to be a close friend of mine.
“Chelsea!” he exclaimed
“Ryan!”
“I’m so glad you set this prank up centuries ago.”
“Me too. It’s hard to have a little fun these days.”
The “cult members” left and Ryan and I talked about our lives and how being immortal sucks.
“Why do you hate being immortal?”
“You are all these great generations and grow up with them, just to watch them die.”
“I’m glad I’m not immortal.”
I was glad he wasn’t immortal too, but part of me wanted an immortal friend. He had died when he was young, and very sick. I wished he had more of a life, but I wasn’t able to stop his death. We had agreed to become immortal best friends, since he was dead and couldn’t die again. It was nice to have some company for a change. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | Franklin awoke. He was seated on a dirt floor, his back to an earthen wall.There was a burlap sack pulled down over his head. He had been stripped naked. Through the sack over his eyes, he could see a bare bulb hanging from a wire in the middle of the room.
“Ah, shit,” he said quietly to himself.
The sack was ripped from his head. The man who removed it was wearing a black, floor length robe. From beneath the hood, a high pitched giggle.
“So good of you to join us, honored guest!” said the cloaked figure.
“Yeah, hi,” said Franklin. “Listen, I-”
The hooded man produced a tiny knife from the sleeve of his hood. Brandishing it towards the ceiling, he resumed chanting, joining the circle of cultists under the bare bulb. In the center of the circle was a pentagram, etched into a stone slab. The other cultists, as one, drew their own knives.
“Guys, seriously! Stop!”
The cultists, in unison, slashed open their hands, the spilling blood filled the pentagram. The bulb over the stone slab began to vibrate.
“HEY!!” shouted Franklin, over the rising chant. Two of the cultists left the circle and grabbed Franklin, pulling him up roughly. The vibrating bulb burst, and in the darkness left behind, a feint red glow began to emanate from the stone slab.
Franklin was done protesting. They never listened.
“HONORED SACRIFICE!”
Franklin recognized the voice of the giggler from before. He must be the poor sap who'd found that book and roped his friends and family into finding a “sacred vessel”... they always found him.
“WITH YOUR BLOOD SACRIFICE, WE OPEN THE PORTAL TO MEET OUR TRUE SAVIOR!” screamed the giggler. The two cultists pulled Franklin's body across the glowing pentagram. Franklin sighed in resignation. The giggler plunged his knife into Franklin's belly and pulled it across. Blood and entrails spilled across the stone slab, and the red glow surged. Electricity crackled across the room, and suddenly bolts of lightening began shooting up from the slab, each finding one of the chanting cultists. They died instantly, ready to meet their God. Only the giggler remained, having not told his followers that Franklin wasn't the only sacrifice. More lightening crackled, hanging in the air between the floor and ceiling, then dividing into two streams. Between them, a portal began to form, coalescing into a clear, perfect circle. Black fog spilled out. From inside the portal, a voice:
“WHO OPENS A DOOR TO MY REALM, OUTSIDE OF TIME AND REALITY?”
“I DO!” screamed the giggler.
From below the portal, Franklin loudly cleared his throat.
“WHO SPEAK- OH, HEY FRANK, IS THAT YOU?”
“Yeah Jim, it's me.”
Franklin swung his arms, pulling himself into a sitting position, his guts still hanging loosely all over his torso.
“AH SHIT, DID IT HAPPEN AGAIN?”
“Don't be like that. You know it's not-”
The booming voice from inside the portal began to laugh jovially. The giggler looked on, utterly confused.
“HOW DO THEY KEEP FINDING THE PROPHECY?!” the voice boomed through the portal, barely holding back more laughter.
“I don't know, man. Every time I hide it, they find it. Like clockwork.”
“LIKE CLOCKWORK!” repeated the voice, cackling. The giggler slumped to his knees.
“Listen, fairs fair, you won the bet. You won the bet 6 times. Can we please stop doing this?” pleaded Franklin.
“NO WAY, SHITHEEL," boomed the voice. "WE'RE GONNA KEEP THIS TRAIN ROLLING A FEW MORE MILLENNIA!”
“Fuck off,” said Franklin, standing on the stone slab, his entrails snaking down his legs to the floor.
“ALRIGHT FRANK, WE'LL SEE YOU. GIVE MY BEST TO LILITH.”
“Will do, thanks Jim!” said Franklin. With that, Franklin's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He said several words in a long dead language, spoken not by beast nor man, words that made the giggler, a sobbing mess in the corner of his parent's unfinished basement, feel as though spiders were crawling across the inside of his skull. The portal snapped shut with a crack of lightening. The room fell to pitch darkness.
“You got a phone?” called Franklin in the darkness. The whimpering cultists did not reply.
“Hey, dumbass! Do you have your cell on you?”
Still no reply. Franklin sighed in the darkness, then gathered up his guts as best he could and followed the sound of stifled crying to the desperate idiot to the corner of the room. Franklin knelt down and began rummaging through the cultist's robe, eventually finding an iPhone.
“Jackpot,” said Franklin, waking the phone and flipping on it's flashlight. He leaned back into a sitting position and shined the light onto the robed figure, cowering at his feet.
“What's your name?”
“W-What?” sputtered the giggler.
“Your name, asshole!” yelled Franklin.
“K-Kevin!”
“Okay Kevin. Gimme the book.”
“B-but...”
“THE BOOK,” boomed Franklin, in a voice that somewhat exceeded the bounds of the body he was currently occupying. Kevin fumbled in his robe and produced a small, black book. Franklin snatched it away from him.
“Where'd you find it?”
“At sch-sch-school,” blubbered Kevin, snot running from his nose.
“Seriously?” said Franklin, looking down at the book. “I told you to hide yourself where no one would find you and you get picked up by a kid in high school?”
Franklin made a series of intricate gestures, then tossed the book gently onto the ground. As it fell, two tiny legs sprouted from its spine, and it ran off the find the basement stairs and hide itself. *What can I do,* Franklin thought to himself. *There are too many people these days.*
Franklin returned his attention to Kevin, absentmindedly playing with his exposed appendix with his left hand. “How old are you, Kevin?”
“Se-Seventeen,” whimpered Kevin.
“Not a cool move, Kevin, sacrificing a stranger and several of your friends... and your parents...”
“Skarethanguinestaliarion was to grant me power beyond imagination!”
“Yeah, Jim doesn't do that anymore. Granting that kind of power to humans tends to end badly for... everybody.”
“B-But the holy text-”
“Look, the book... short version, I had to make it because of a prank. Me and Jim and a few other guys were hanging out, I made a dumb bet and lost, so now , every once in a while, someone finds the book, and then finds me, and we go through this whole thing all over again.”
“Is Jim his real name...?”
“That's your takeaway?” said Franklin, exasperated. “No!”
“Is it Skarethang-”
“It's not that either.”
“Well then what is it?” asked Kevin, shifting somehow from abject horror to indignant curiosity.
“You *suuuuure* you want to know?” asked Franklin, coyly.
“Yeah, I want to know! Tell me!”
“Okay!” said Franklin, standing up. He leaned forward and said Jim's true name, the name of an elder god more powerful than the cosmos could contain. Kevin's brain imploded as his skull burst into flames. Every blood vessel in his body burst at once as his blood boiled into steam in an instant. Within seconds, his bones had dissipated into dust. The holocaust robe he'd sewn in home ec class five weeks ago billowed to the dirt. Franklin put the robe on and tied the waist tightly enough to hold up his loosely gathered internal organs so they wouldn't drag on the ground, giving him a slightly pregnant look.
“What a day,” sighed Franklin, making his way up the stairs. Pretending to be a mortal could be such a pain. But it was an undeniably more interesting way to spend eternity. | You'd think that when you've lived as long as I have there would be little left to surprise you. Ive seen the best and worst of what existence has to offer. Ive lived through, even died from some of the worst atrocities dealt by man, stuff that would haunt your every waking hour till you finally bit the dust. Though fortunately for me death is less of a permanent issue than most. Should I meet some kind of fatal encounter I find it to be more like a nice long power nap, usually followed by an awkward encounter with some poor mortician poking at my pale corpse.
Mind you it wasn't always this way. I too was once burdened by the chains of mortality, doomed to die just like anyone else. Turns out, taking a gamble with other worldly beings of unimaginable powers can have its perks. It is not a method of obtaining godly abilities that I would recommend; many other souls have met grizzly consequence from messing with beings beyond their comprehension. Some days I ponder if my earnings of immortality were truly a blessing or a curse, though when it comes to winning a bet against an arrogant god and thoroughly embarrassing him in front of his circle of deities, I guess you cant be too picky.
We've been bickering on and off for countless centuries now; his injured pride is as persistent as my immortality. Recently I've had a few good decades free of divine interruption, which has been very nice, so you can imagine my surprise when I awoke groggy and dazed in a dark chamber, my limbs sprawled across a stone table held by rusting chains and a familiar chanting sound invading my still ringing ears. Definitely not the place I was expecting to wake up in after a night of clubbing. Funny enough its not the first time, but something about it always makes my heart pick up a few paces and makes my throat feel like a desert.
The chanting has grown louder and more urgent, and while my head is heavy and likely locked in place, I don't have to see the creeping flames to know my impending fate as a crispy husk. I can hear him, he fills the chamber with his bellowing laughter that rattles in my bones, like he's won. And perhaps, in his perspective, this all too familiar encounter is a small victory. I may always be able to evade death, but there is one thing that will never change, one edge this bastard will always have. Fear, human fear, is what will always separate me from the gods, no matter how many years go by. The world is terrifying as it is beautiful, and I am witness to her unending gospel. That is why he laughs, why he mocks me and will continue his harmless "pranks" for all eternity. My soul is human, trapped in impervious skin.
The flames now lap at my finger tips, hungry heat against my flesh. It's gonna hurt, just like all the other times. I'll likely scream, maybe beg for help just to humor the watchful god. There is nothing to enjoy in this, but I'll go down with a smile on my face. For while the present is wrought with suffering, the future belongs to me, and I'll be waiting the next round, however many eons it takes, with that same smile plastered on my face.
//
It's short, it's meh, it's quickly slapped together, but it's written and done. Im trying to motivate myself more to just write as much as I can no matter how small. Any criticism and feedback is happily welcomed! Thank you for reading! | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | Franklin awoke. He was seated on a dirt floor, his back to an earthen wall.There was a burlap sack pulled down over his head. He had been stripped naked. Through the sack over his eyes, he could see a bare bulb hanging from a wire in the middle of the room.
“Ah, shit,” he said quietly to himself.
The sack was ripped from his head. The man who removed it was wearing a black, floor length robe. From beneath the hood, a high pitched giggle.
“So good of you to join us, honored guest!” said the cloaked figure.
“Yeah, hi,” said Franklin. “Listen, I-”
The hooded man produced a tiny knife from the sleeve of his hood. Brandishing it towards the ceiling, he resumed chanting, joining the circle of cultists under the bare bulb. In the center of the circle was a pentagram, etched into a stone slab. The other cultists, as one, drew their own knives.
“Guys, seriously! Stop!”
The cultists, in unison, slashed open their hands, the spilling blood filled the pentagram. The bulb over the stone slab began to vibrate.
“HEY!!” shouted Franklin, over the rising chant. Two of the cultists left the circle and grabbed Franklin, pulling him up roughly. The vibrating bulb burst, and in the darkness left behind, a feint red glow began to emanate from the stone slab.
Franklin was done protesting. They never listened.
“HONORED SACRIFICE!”
Franklin recognized the voice of the giggler from before. He must be the poor sap who'd found that book and roped his friends and family into finding a “sacred vessel”... they always found him.
“WITH YOUR BLOOD SACRIFICE, WE OPEN THE PORTAL TO MEET OUR TRUE SAVIOR!” screamed the giggler. The two cultists pulled Franklin's body across the glowing pentagram. Franklin sighed in resignation. The giggler plunged his knife into Franklin's belly and pulled it across. Blood and entrails spilled across the stone slab, and the red glow surged. Electricity crackled across the room, and suddenly bolts of lightening began shooting up from the slab, each finding one of the chanting cultists. They died instantly, ready to meet their God. Only the giggler remained, having not told his followers that Franklin wasn't the only sacrifice. More lightening crackled, hanging in the air between the floor and ceiling, then dividing into two streams. Between them, a portal began to form, coalescing into a clear, perfect circle. Black fog spilled out. From inside the portal, a voice:
“WHO OPENS A DOOR TO MY REALM, OUTSIDE OF TIME AND REALITY?”
“I DO!” screamed the giggler.
From below the portal, Franklin loudly cleared his throat.
“WHO SPEAK- OH, HEY FRANK, IS THAT YOU?”
“Yeah Jim, it's me.”
Franklin swung his arms, pulling himself into a sitting position, his guts still hanging loosely all over his torso.
“AH SHIT, DID IT HAPPEN AGAIN?”
“Don't be like that. You know it's not-”
The booming voice from inside the portal began to laugh jovially. The giggler looked on, utterly confused.
“HOW DO THEY KEEP FINDING THE PROPHECY?!” the voice boomed through the portal, barely holding back more laughter.
“I don't know, man. Every time I hide it, they find it. Like clockwork.”
“LIKE CLOCKWORK!” repeated the voice, cackling. The giggler slumped to his knees.
“Listen, fairs fair, you won the bet. You won the bet 6 times. Can we please stop doing this?” pleaded Franklin.
“NO WAY, SHITHEEL," boomed the voice. "WE'RE GONNA KEEP THIS TRAIN ROLLING A FEW MORE MILLENNIA!”
“Fuck off,” said Franklin, standing on the stone slab, his entrails snaking down his legs to the floor.
“ALRIGHT FRANK, WE'LL SEE YOU. GIVE MY BEST TO LILITH.”
“Will do, thanks Jim!” said Franklin. With that, Franklin's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He said several words in a long dead language, spoken not by beast nor man, words that made the giggler, a sobbing mess in the corner of his parent's unfinished basement, feel as though spiders were crawling across the inside of his skull. The portal snapped shut with a crack of lightening. The room fell to pitch darkness.
“You got a phone?” called Franklin in the darkness. The whimpering cultists did not reply.
“Hey, dumbass! Do you have your cell on you?”
Still no reply. Franklin sighed in the darkness, then gathered up his guts as best he could and followed the sound of stifled crying to the desperate idiot to the corner of the room. Franklin knelt down and began rummaging through the cultist's robe, eventually finding an iPhone.
“Jackpot,” said Franklin, waking the phone and flipping on it's flashlight. He leaned back into a sitting position and shined the light onto the robed figure, cowering at his feet.
“What's your name?”
“W-What?” sputtered the giggler.
“Your name, asshole!” yelled Franklin.
“K-Kevin!”
“Okay Kevin. Gimme the book.”
“B-but...”
“THE BOOK,” boomed Franklin, in a voice that somewhat exceeded the bounds of the body he was currently occupying. Kevin fumbled in his robe and produced a small, black book. Franklin snatched it away from him.
“Where'd you find it?”
“At sch-sch-school,” blubbered Kevin, snot running from his nose.
“Seriously?” said Franklin, looking down at the book. “I told you to hide yourself where no one would find you and you get picked up by a kid in high school?”
Franklin made a series of intricate gestures, then tossed the book gently onto the ground. As it fell, two tiny legs sprouted from its spine, and it ran off the find the basement stairs and hide itself. *What can I do,* Franklin thought to himself. *There are too many people these days.*
Franklin returned his attention to Kevin, absentmindedly playing with his exposed appendix with his left hand. “How old are you, Kevin?”
“Se-Seventeen,” whimpered Kevin.
“Not a cool move, Kevin, sacrificing a stranger and several of your friends... and your parents...”
“Skarethanguinestaliarion was to grant me power beyond imagination!”
“Yeah, Jim doesn't do that anymore. Granting that kind of power to humans tends to end badly for... everybody.”
“B-But the holy text-”
“Look, the book... short version, I had to make it because of a prank. Me and Jim and a few other guys were hanging out, I made a dumb bet and lost, so now , every once in a while, someone finds the book, and then finds me, and we go through this whole thing all over again.”
“Is Jim his real name...?”
“That's your takeaway?” said Franklin, exasperated. “No!”
“Is it Skarethang-”
“It's not that either.”
“Well then what is it?” asked Kevin, shifting somehow from abject horror to indignant curiosity.
“You *suuuuure* you want to know?” asked Franklin, coyly.
“Yeah, I want to know! Tell me!”
“Okay!” said Franklin, standing up. He leaned forward and said Jim's true name, the name of an elder god more powerful than the cosmos could contain. Kevin's brain imploded as his skull burst into flames. Every blood vessel in his body burst at once as his blood boiled into steam in an instant. Within seconds, his bones had dissipated into dust. The holocaust robe he'd sewn in home ec class five weeks ago billowed to the dirt. Franklin put the robe on and tied the waist tightly enough to hold up his loosely gathered internal organs so they wouldn't drag on the ground, giving him a slightly pregnant look.
“What a day,” sighed Franklin, making his way up the stairs. Pretending to be a mortal could be such a pain. But it was an undeniably more interesting way to spend eternity. | 'Oh fuck me, what have I gotten myself into this time?' Was the only thought currently running through my mind. Why, you may ask? Well, it all started around four thousand years ago, me and a close friend of mine, we'll just call him "Jesus," to keep things simple. We decided to pull a little prank on humanity. Honestly, we were just bored, like idiotic teenagers tend to be and well, we decided why not start our own little tradition? We would "guess" when animals, or humans, of course, were going to die, grant enlightened advice, absolutions and such to those we deemed humble and kind enough to receive such gifts. We knew all these things were correct of course, we knew when all living things would die, we knew which path would lead any given man or woman to their best life. Before long, he wanted to grant bigger blessings, like this one time, he healed a crippled man, a cripple! Made him walk again! That was a *huge* no no amongst all the God's, and he knew it. Humans absolutely could not know of divinity, they were too simple, too narrow minded, but he took that as an excuse to use his powers, suggesting they wouldn't think him a God, well, guess who was wrong. You guessed it, that guy. It wasn't long before the entire world knew about him, knew about his powers, and because of him I had to hide in the shadows, especially after hearing about them nailing him to a cross, I mean who even does that to a God? Of course he couldn't fight back, it was against the rules to kill humans of our own volition, and doing so would have stripped him of his standing as a God, he'd have been cast out. So, he waited a few days, let the humans *think* he was dead, and left, leaving me with his stinking mess! Of course most of his followers are fine, honest, kind folk, who feed puppies and tend to those down on their luck, truly kind, wonderful people, though I did say, most... There were some who were truly heinous, monsterous, beasts in human skin who didn't belong on this Earth, much less amongst others so that they could spread their hatred and prejudice. Those were the kind who I was currently dealing with, as two of them were dragging me through a dark alley. One on my right, one on my left, both holding to my biceps, as my legs slid limp behind me. I may be an immortal, and every bit as powerful as any other God, but no matter what happens, I am unable to use my power against a human, for any reason. I felt my consciousness fading in and out, they'd beaten me black and blue, though that was just a show, my wounds would heal within the hour, no doubt several already had. And that, is what brings me to my most pressing dilema: *humans can't know of divinity.* Yes Jesus may have cured a cripple, and come back from the dead, but that was long ago, before humans had developed technology, before they could communicate instantly with someone on the other side of the world. Before they could record a video with their precious smart phones, and plaster it on the internet for the whole world to see. If they were to kill me, like I knew they planned to, I would not die, I would be cast out, I would be stripped of divinity, no longer able to pass through the golden gates. Slowly, the dark curtains fell, as I slipped into unconsciousness, for the first time in well over a millennia, fearing, what the future may hold. | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | "Never ask me to paint you Picasso-style again." Klav said as he walked away from the stone wall, admiring the fresh, asymmetrical shouts of red and black adorning it.
"It was your fault for losing that bet." Diana commented, grinning, "And don't worry, I won't. You're pretty shitty at it anyways." She inspected the grotesque piece as she added, "For starters, my teeth aren't that big."
"What eye? It's just your silhouette!" Klav closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, I wasn't aiming for accuracy, I was aiming for efficiency. Don't you think this will get the job done?"
The red-and-black humanoid pouted, "You hurt my feelings, you really do. This mural was supposed to make me look threatening and big, yet I look just as intimidating as you! I really want to make you paint another one now... With proper teeth, at that." She insisted.
And Klav wanted none of it. So many years of living hadn't taken out all of his energy yet, but his friend was definitely about to. He wouldn't have a midlife crisis, not now, so he had to think of an idea.
"Let's do something, okay? You know humanity is barely getting started in this planet, yes? They love seeing this kind of stuff." He said, pointing at his not-so-master piece, "It makes them think there was something bigger before them, and they become obsessed with it." The somewhat-draconic god nodded slowly, yet not understanding where her friend was going to.
"So they'll end up worshipping you, even if this mural doesn't, uh, make you want to worship yourself." He glanced at his work one last time. It wasn't something extraordinary, really. In fact, it looked just like the ancient paintings found in the third iteration of Earth. Klav realized he needed to take non-neanderthal-issued painting lessons, he just had to find the time to. Diana questioned his statements before he realized he could've been taking them just now.
"Yeah, but the tributes for the other gods were different! You didn't make a crop circle, or a pyramid, or a massive book, or even a small poem! You just scribbled some scribbles and called it a day, and honestly they look hella blurry!" Diana shook her head in disappointment.
"Oh yeah? Then why don't you paint one yourself?" Klav snapped.
Then, Diana was quiet. Awfully quiet. She didn't look at him as she whimpered, "You know I don't know how to hold a pencil... I can't... That's why I wanted you to do it in the first place..." She sniffled, but Klav knew better than to fall for it.
Diana was a draconic, but her hands were very much like a human's. Her nails were very sharp, resembling claws, so most things she held broke easily, but she could always trim them. The fact she liked to draw anatomically-incorrect cats on them was another thing entirely.
And Klav sighed. "I have all time in the world, but I won't spend it arguing with you. Before I forget what I was trying to say, I'll make myself clear. Please let me finish," he added as Diana opened her mouth, her arms crossed, "We'll settle a bet with another bet, okay? You know every planet's lifespan is usually a millenium long, right? And that's why every one-thousand years, a new planet is created somewhere else. Give me that thousand years to change your mind; If these folks don't try to summon you during their expected lifespan, I'll make another symbol in the newer planet. Remember that I'm altering the course of nature by doing this, and I could get in trouble if the other gods discovered me- EVEN IF you told them about it," he said before Diana could reply, "so I'm risking myself not once, but twice. Deal?"
The draconic was deep in thought for more than a minute, looking at her bizarre depiction on the wall as if it would give her an answer. To her own surprise, it gave her a question instead. "...And if they do end up worshipping me? If they go as far as to summon me? ...You haven't told me what will happen then." She tilted her head, curious about whatever the immortal human from Iteration 1 had to say.
He grinned. Then he frowned. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask." He cleared his throat, "You'll do the Chicken Dance. I'll film it, and post it on EarthTube." he snickered, "If you forgot, I'm talking about the famous 'meme' from Iteration 2, you can look at it later in your Council's Gadget."
But Diana didn't want to look at it later; just the name was enough to make her want to say no, so she wasn't taking any chances. She produced her device, and searched for the "IT-2 highlights" folder. Once she found it, she was surprised that the video was at the top, with billions of likes. The thumbnail didn't look any promising, but she still opened it. It loaded instantly, and Diana felt ashamed just by watching it. She wanted to spit infinite amounts of fire, both at the video, its creators, Klav, and the painting that only seemed to get uglier with every second. When the video finished, she was gasping in pain. It took her great amounts of pride to say "Deal," and shake Klav's hand. Or at least try to, as the man retreated immediately after seeing her nails.
\-Part 2 in the replies- | "He is a fine specimen, perfect in fact!"
"What!"
"Hush You! Be grateful that you were chosen for this, you finally have a purpose in your life!"
x
The ritual began on the undergrounds of the M25 London Orbital. This place was the centrepiece of their worship after all this is the direct action of their "God".
The ritual was to summon their God, of course, they're trying to get its power and bless them. So the ritual had to have a sacrifice to lure it in, first the sacrifice must be a virgin, then it must be physically and mentally sound. The former was harder than the latter.
Under the orbital there is a pit of lava, It was said to be their "Gods" favoured way of sacrifice. What they don't know is that it simply was just accident waiting to happen, set by their "God".
They began to prepare the sacrifice.
x
The sacrifices day was going swimmingly, He tended to his bookstore, bought some flowers, then drank some tea. He noticed the people following him around of course. He even knew that his friend was a comrade of those following him, but he paid it no mind. He simply thought that she was being protective.
"Silly Humans," he thought, "Like I need protection. But It's the thought that counts I suppose."
His friend had always talked about joining a fan club, again he paid it no mind, He quite liked this female. She was a good person to talk to.
x
The "God" s day was going great as well, a few meetings had to go and shoot a show, and after he tended to his plants, He never forgets to take care of his plants. Living there had gotten a bit boring, the show was a great way to take his mind of things and his "friends" did say he'd look good as a doctor.
His day was ruined however by a call from his followers, he liked fans of course as any famous person do, but this one is a bit more...personal.
x
"Right what's all this then!"
"Praise our God for he has arrived! We offer this sacrifice for you our dark one!"
a man with his eyes covered, ears blocked and hands and feet tied together were brought forward.
"Accept our sacrifice!"
The man's blindfold was removed.
"I'd say this club of yours have some interesting way of having fun..."
**"AZIRAPHALE!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!"**
**"CROWLEY?! Is this revenge for trapping you in that TV show fiasco?! I'm terribly sorry about it."**
**"****^(FUCK!!)****"**
and now their day had gotten more interesting.
xxxxx
Edit: typo | |
[WP] You have been kidnapped by a cult preparing to sacrifice you to their god. Problems? You’re immortal, the god they worship is a close friend of yours and the entire cult was the result of a prank you forgot you pulled centuries ago. | Blood gushed from Calais's neck, running down the stone altar in a crimson stream. It stung a little, as slit necks often do, but what bothered Calais was the leech stuck to the bottom of his foot.
Good cultists *cleaned* their sacrifices. Calais had lived with humans long enough to know they were a nasty bunch, but not even they ate bug festered food. Calais would have shaken his head if he wasn't pretending to be dead.
Bowing in front of the altar, rows of masked cultists knelt prostrated, chanting in ancient Greek. Calais had to commend them for that. One of the tragedies of society, he thought, was the loss of cultural roots under the crooked guise of "modernization". Or the equally unscrupulous "globalization".
Calais didn't mind a good human sacrifice. It was old fashioned. Made him feel at home. He didn't mind being the one on the altar either; one had to do their part for society after all. Besides, when you lived as long as he did, you were bound to be picked for the role once or twice.
"We beseech you, Bacchus," the cultist in the gaudiest robes said, "drink this mortal wine and bless us with your presence!"
Calais sat up. Blood flowed down his chest like a vestment.
"Wait a minute. Bacchus?"
Chanting turned to silence then to murmurs, as the room of shocked cultists stared at the bloody man on the altar. Through his goat horned mask, the head cultist glared at the one holding the knife. The knife cultist shrank into his robes.
"Wait, wait, wait," Calais continued, ignoring the growing whispers, "is this...The Cult of the Horny Goats?"
The head cultist yanked the knife from the hand of his subordinate.
"Yes," he sighed, storming up the altar's steps, "now get back down."
Calais held a hand up. "Hold on, aren't you guys meant to, you know. Sacrifice goats? Like your namesake?"
Some of the cultists in the outer rows muttered amongst themselves, hoods nodding.
"I thought this was a sex thing," one whispered.
The head cultist silenced them with a glare from the slitted eyes of his mask.
"Nonsense. Bacchus is a vegetarian. He doesn't need goats."
"Yeah that's kinda the joke... Look I don't want to usurp your leadership or anything, but I'm telling you, Bacchus isn't really into this sort of thing. He's a bud, I'd know."
The head cultist pushed Calais down and stabbed him in the heart. He sprinkled in a few stabs to the gut for good measure. Trundling down the stairs with a huff, he resumed the prostrated chanting. After a few bewildered glances, the other cultists knelt to do the same.
Calais sat up again, blood cascading like waterfalls from his new orifices. "And mortal wine? What is this? The Hades Cult?"
The cultists burst into chatter and the head cultist's ears burned like a turnip.
"Who brought this guy?!" he thundered.
"Sorry, sorry." Calais said, "Your house your rules. I'll die now. Blergh."
He collapsed onto the altar and stuck his tongue out, doing his best to suppress his grin. He couldn't wait to tell Bacchus.
r/bobotheturtle | I woke up sitting in a dim room, my thoughts hazy as I slowly regained consciousness. Where was I? One moment, I had just been minding my own business reading a book in the park, the next I had felt a stinging pain at the back of my head before everything faded to black. I tried to move my arms, only to find that they were restrained behind me. This wasn’t good.
“Well, well, well, our guest has finally woken up,” I heard a voice call out from the shadows.
Suddenly, I snapped awake and looked around the room wildly. There were six people standing in a semicircle in front of me, their faces barely visible. All of them mostly naked, all covered in blood and intestines wrapped around themselves. Skulls and animal corpses decorated the walls and ceiling of the room. A man wearing some kind of black dome helmet, who I could only assume was the leader, was looming over me and was holding a sharp knife in his right hand. Oh fuck. I’ll lived long enough to recognize a murder cult when I see one. Oddly enough though, I wasn’t panicking as much as I should be. I’ve gotten myself out of much worse situations than this after all.
“Any last words before we gut you?” whispered the man in the helmet.
Why the hell are you doing this?” I shouted back, trying to wiggle out of the ropes wrapped around my body. I’m fully aware that I’m not the nicest person, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything that deserves being eviscerated.
“Ahh..I’m glad you asked,” the man said, smiling a psychotic grin. “I’m Gregor, the great great great great great grandson of the First Priest of the forgotten Pastafarian Faith. To satiate the hunger of the Black Devil, we humbly offer up your intestines and --”
I stopped struggling. Pastafarians? Why did that name ring a bell? A sudden memory sprung up from my depths of my mind, one that I haven’t thought about in centuries. No, it can’t be that. Surely not, it would be too absurd. But I can’t stop myself from asking anyway.
“...Are you talking about the Pastafarian Church by the priest Linguine from the village of Vox?”
There’s an audible gasp from the other cult members. “How could you possibly know about the Founder?!” hissed one woman.
I stare back at them dumbfounded. “What the fuck? Is that what all of this insanity is about? Because of a prank that I pulled 400 years ago?”
The man in the helmet grabs me by the front of my jacket. I can see fury in his eyes. “What the hell are you babbling about, heretic?”
I stare back at him with disdain. “You are completely delusional, you idiot.Back when I was still mortal, I did a prank for the “Black Devil” that you’re referring to. I showed up covered in spaghetti when a wolf pack arrived in the village and drove them out with a whip I made out of pasta. Then, I held an assembly, told the chief that his new name was Linguine and put a “holy” colander on his head. After that, I left behind a stone tablet declaring to all the villages that they needed to offer sacrifices of pasta every year to the Black Devil or the beasts would return.” I shake my head in disbelief. “It was just a dumb prank. I figured you would just forget about the whole thing in a few years. How the actual fuck do you get from there to human sacrifice?!”
I can feel the cults looking around nervously. Not surprising really. I’ve just revealed their entire religion to be a sham. “Lord Priest, he’s lying, right?” one timid girl asks.
I see the man in the helmet furiously glare at her. “Of course, he’s lying! Can’t you recognize how he mocks us?! But I’m going to end his heresy right here and now!” With one quick movement, he drove his knife through my throat.
I glare at him as blood spews from the wound and gets all over my new jacket. “Do you believe me now?” | |
[WP] As is well known demons can only be permanently killed in their home plane, thus some of the best demon hunters often follow their prey into the bowels of hell itself, becoming as terrifying to the demons as the demons are to mortals |
When one traveled deep enough into Hell, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t Earth. When the cry of screaming souls began to fade, and the harsh red sky faded into black, I could have been anywhere if not for the heat that begged to burn the skin off my bones.
There were no plants in Hell, but the towering black rocks and glowing rivers of magma were beautiful in their own right. There were even stars, but they were constantly shifting and certainly no friend to those like me. They implored me to take the wrong path, to travel in the wrong direction. To forever wander the labyrinth until my soul went mad and begged to join the damned if only to have an anchor to something real.
I knew plenty of hunters who lost themselves in Hell. The few who made it back to Earth were never the same. They babbled on in languages unknown to the human tongue, and they stared through things as though they had been stripped of their ability to perceive reality as it truly was. Or maybe they were the enlightened ones, cursed to see the true nature of our plane.
I’d been traveling the expanses of Hell for so long I didn’t need the glow of the rivers to guide my feet. The sword I kept strapped to my back was as familiar a weight as my own arms and legs. That was another mistake too many hunters made: mortal weapons had no effect on the creatures that prowled the Dark Plane. But a good sword, crafted from dark iron and blessed with the pain of the damned, was perhaps the deadliest weapon in any plane.
The demon I hunted now was a slippery thing. It didn’t have the brute strength that was so prized by its kind, but it had slipped through the smallest crack between my plane and its own, assuming I wouldn’t dare follow it into Hell.
It didn’t know I was still hunting it. Otherwise, I was sure it would have been moving far faster. Demons were perhaps the only thing more selfish than humans, and ever since discovering that death in their plane was a permanent one, they’d taken precautions to ensure that humans couldn’t reach them in their dark home.
After an eternity of following an invisible path, I caught sight of a shadowy form ahead. My sword was silent as I drew it, and its presence in my hand was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. I could hardly remember a time when I hadn’t been slipping in and out of this plane, hunting the demons that took such pleasure in the pain of my people.
Just as demons had power in the human plane, I had power in theirs. My footsteps were as silent as a fresh snowfall, my sword colder than the coldest ice. In this plane, I was Death, slayer of the flame. If they were a wildfire blazing through my world, I was a hoarfrost creeping through theirs.
The demon never saw me coming. It never stood a chance. My sword was through its heart with a single motion, and it was dead before it had a chance to cry out.
As its body fell to the ground with a thud, I felt a pang in my gut. I missed the days when I was young and full of fire and rage. Each encounter was a perfect dance, two flickering flames fighting to triumph over the other. How was I supposed to know that spending so much time in this plane would begin to eat away at my humanity? After so long with ice flowing through my veins, the very things that made me human froze over.
How many years had I spent in the darkness since that first fateful day? And yet, my body was strong as ever. My sword was sharp as ever, my mind as quick. How long until Earth no longer felt like my home? Certainly there was a part of me that already felt more comfortable in the Dark World than I ever did there.
No wonder the demons coveted the human plane.
But I was Death. Slayer of the flame. Killer of demons. Guardian of humanity. If I never saw the light again, then by the Darkness I would see to it that the demons couldn’t have it either. | The Gates of Perdition have been sealed. The debts of unholy bargains remain unclaimed. Every possible means of egress between The Pit and the realm of Emanations has been closed.
Hell, you see, is at war. War with a terrible and unstoppable force, a wrathful Hand called down to the inferno to smite the motes in Divinity’s perfect nature. But this Hand is not Almighty, nor is it the will of Providence, it is something ineffably less righteous.
It is the actions of a single Hell-Bound Soul that have condemned the Realm of Condemnation. A single soul, its heart beating with a cold and meticulous hatred, fashioning his own two hands into the Anvil that shattered the will of Hell itself.
His name is Thorn, and he will see Hell emptied before he is done.
—
]:( I didn’t like this, but it’s better than not posting it at all. | |
[WP] As is well known demons can only be permanently killed in their home plane, thus some of the best demon hunters often follow their prey into the bowels of hell itself, becoming as terrifying to the demons as the demons are to mortals |
When one traveled deep enough into Hell, it was easy to forget that it wasn’t Earth. When the cry of screaming souls began to fade, and the harsh red sky faded into black, I could have been anywhere if not for the heat that begged to burn the skin off my bones.
There were no plants in Hell, but the towering black rocks and glowing rivers of magma were beautiful in their own right. There were even stars, but they were constantly shifting and certainly no friend to those like me. They implored me to take the wrong path, to travel in the wrong direction. To forever wander the labyrinth until my soul went mad and begged to join the damned if only to have an anchor to something real.
I knew plenty of hunters who lost themselves in Hell. The few who made it back to Earth were never the same. They babbled on in languages unknown to the human tongue, and they stared through things as though they had been stripped of their ability to perceive reality as it truly was. Or maybe they were the enlightened ones, cursed to see the true nature of our plane.
I’d been traveling the expanses of Hell for so long I didn’t need the glow of the rivers to guide my feet. The sword I kept strapped to my back was as familiar a weight as my own arms and legs. That was another mistake too many hunters made: mortal weapons had no effect on the creatures that prowled the Dark Plane. But a good sword, crafted from dark iron and blessed with the pain of the damned, was perhaps the deadliest weapon in any plane.
The demon I hunted now was a slippery thing. It didn’t have the brute strength that was so prized by its kind, but it had slipped through the smallest crack between my plane and its own, assuming I wouldn’t dare follow it into Hell.
It didn’t know I was still hunting it. Otherwise, I was sure it would have been moving far faster. Demons were perhaps the only thing more selfish than humans, and ever since discovering that death in their plane was a permanent one, they’d taken precautions to ensure that humans couldn’t reach them in their dark home.
After an eternity of following an invisible path, I caught sight of a shadowy form ahead. My sword was silent as I drew it, and its presence in my hand was like a puzzle piece clicking into place. I could hardly remember a time when I hadn’t been slipping in and out of this plane, hunting the demons that took such pleasure in the pain of my people.
Just as demons had power in the human plane, I had power in theirs. My footsteps were as silent as a fresh snowfall, my sword colder than the coldest ice. In this plane, I was Death, slayer of the flame. If they were a wildfire blazing through my world, I was a hoarfrost creeping through theirs.
The demon never saw me coming. It never stood a chance. My sword was through its heart with a single motion, and it was dead before it had a chance to cry out.
As its body fell to the ground with a thud, I felt a pang in my gut. I missed the days when I was young and full of fire and rage. Each encounter was a perfect dance, two flickering flames fighting to triumph over the other. How was I supposed to know that spending so much time in this plane would begin to eat away at my humanity? After so long with ice flowing through my veins, the very things that made me human froze over.
How many years had I spent in the darkness since that first fateful day? And yet, my body was strong as ever. My sword was sharp as ever, my mind as quick. How long until Earth no longer felt like my home? Certainly there was a part of me that already felt more comfortable in the Dark World than I ever did there.
No wonder the demons coveted the human plane.
But I was Death. Slayer of the flame. Killer of demons. Guardian of humanity. If I never saw the light again, then by the Darkness I would see to it that the demons couldn’t have it either. | First came one. Now there are many. Endless eons ago, the first human to be called a slayer came to Hell entirely by accident. Cast from the light of the world above for some profane transgression, this man fell to us. We fully expected to have us some sport, but he had other ideas.
Hundreds of our number fell to his blade before he was redeemed and allowed to return to his world. And so the tradition of Slayers began.
Now, they come not with blades, but with other, stranger weapons that our kind know nothing of, save that they can kill at distance and with speed, with a roar that can drown out the cries of the smallest of our number. Where hundreds once fell, now countless thousands litter the fields. Our numbers are infinite, but their ferocity knows no limits either.
However, the humans remain mortal in our realm as well. We kill many, and few are redeemed as the First Slayer was of old. Yet still they come, in their hundreds. I doubt that this is a war of attrition that we can win. |
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