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First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | "Look, let's just get this over with so we can eat lunch. Guilty."
"There's no evidence, I can't convict him without evidence."
"What are you, stupid? Did you see how old he is? Besides, it says right here he was born one hundred years ago. Statistically, most men are dead by then. And he's in excellent health."
"I mean, even if we're wrong, it's not as if he had much life left in him anyway."
"Plus he was the only one around at the time."
"Look, for all we know, his son committed suicide."
"Right. His son. The fat leech with fingers deep in his father's bank accounts. He didn't have to work a day in his life."
"You're not thinking this through. He was unemployed, not by choice. He felt as if he was being a burden on his father and offed himself. You read the letter."
"Fuck the letter. You can fake a letter."
"You saw the old man crying."
"You can fake tears."
"And what about his ex-wife? She left him for a reason. Maybe she saw what you didn't. Maybe she saw what we're all seeing."
"Young, pretty woman like her marrying a rich old man? I'd be surprised if she didn't want him dead for his inheritance. The son's out of the way already."
"You know there's only one way to know for sure."
"But that-"
"IF. IF we declare him guilty, he'll get the death penalty. Then all we have to do is read the report for when he dies."
"That's preposterous! He's just an old man! There's no evidence!"
"Look, I'm just saying. When murderers die, their faces change to that of their last victim. Everyone knows that. So when he dies, if his face changes to that of his son, then we're right."
"I don't see how that helps."
"It is eleven against one. Based on all the circumstances, do you really think he's completely innocent? Are you just wasting all of our time here?"
"If we just consider the evidence-
"There is no evidence to consider! You said it yourself. Just say 'guilty'."
...
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor. We, the jury, find the defendant..."
"Fuck you. Fuck all of you."
"Mister Matthews, calm down or I will find you in contempt of court."
"I'm already a dead man. Your contempt doesn't scare me. Just know this. You're killing an innocent old man."
"...guilty."
"Take him away, bailiff."
"Come along, Mister Matthews."
"Forget you all!"
"Put that down!"
"He's got his gun!"
**BANG**
There was no death sentence. The bailiff put two fingers to Mister Matthews' wrist. "He's dead." No shit, sherlock. There was a hole through the top of his head. Everyone was looking at his face. Waiting for it to change. Everyone except me. I just cussed out loud. Because his face didn't change. It couldn't have, even if he had murdered his son. For in this crazy, messed up world, where your face changes to match the last person you've killed, Mister Matthews found a guaranteed way to keep his own face. Mister Matthews had shot himself. And now we'll never know. | It was...unfortunate to think about. The rituals we did out in the woods. The bonfires. Mein Fhurer promised us we'd all be practically immortal. We'd literally rule for a thousand years. We soon found out what price we would have to pay in order achieve this dream of ours.
It was on the evening of the winter solstice. We went deep into the woods of the hinterland. It was a primeival place. Pristine and full of life. The only thing out of place in this old world wilderness was the enormous metallic henge that was erected for ritual use. As with all top ranking SS officials, we stood in what the fhurer called "doorways" on the edge of the concrete platform. The fhurer stood in the northern door. His highest official stood in the south. The rest of the doors were filled in according to rank. They placed Die Glocke in the center of the ring wrapped in a ceremonial cloth.
To start the ritual the fhurer would march to the center of the ring. He then proceeded to carefully unwrap the object. Each official, according to rank, would march into the center of the metallic circle and join hands forming two concentric rings. Then we'd say the incantation:
Bone to bone, blood to blood,
joints to joints, so may they be mended.
Flesh to flesh, soul to soul,
Life to life, so we may forever live.
The incantation was in an old Germanic dialect that long went out of use.As we repeated the words Die Glocke sprang to life. Glowing a blue green color it raised over the circle creating an enormous vortex. The concentric rings we made widened until they merged into one ring surrounding the spinning tornado of light and color. I could hear a voice emanating from the object. It spoke in the ancient German tongue. It told us the horrific truth to immortality. We must sacrifice human life. Then it showed symbols we each had to wear in order to absorb the life essence of our victims effectively.
About a year afterward the killings would start. Ugly gray factories of death would be built and millions of innocent people would be sent to their dooms. Each of the buildings in the camps had the symbols placed in strategic points so that their life essences would be channeled into our bodies wherever we were. I followed along with the plans. Partly because I was greedy. The life I had under the regime was great. As one of the fhurer's leading officers I was given a nice castle to control in the Bavarian countryside among other perks. I did not want to give those things up. The other part was because, well, I was following orders. I came this far after all. I swore allegiance to the Reich and I was a proud and loyal citizen. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | I glance at the blood running out of my veins, into the dialysis machine and back into my body, skipping my failed organs.
I'm 453, and as anyone knows, that means I killed people and racked up a lot of 20s.
The first was when I was 12. I went to a nearby lake with a friend days after his birthday, and him and I made the decision to climb up the nearby rock face. Being a year or so younger, he hung onto my every word and agreed without question...
*And then, you murdered me.*
I sigh out into the sterile, still air. "Let it go, would you. Your death wasn't on purpose."
*That's supposed to make me feel better?*
"Not really, it just means that it wasn't murder. It was manslaughter."
*Fine, go on then.*
Unfortunately, the price of killing someone is having to hear their thoughts for as long as you live. The only way for the voices to stop is to die yourself, in which case you might end up coming back to haunt someone else. Samuel, my friend, was one of the few who had 'talked' to me regularly over the years. The others had given up over the centuries, spirits broken by the prospect of being barred from the afterlife for all eternity. To be honest though, unless they introduced themselves, it was impossible to tell which of them was which.
*You shouldn't give up, old man. Find someone, kill them. Fix your organs with their healthy blood.*
"Always a bloodthirsty one, Caesar. But just what's the point? If I attempted to live forever I'll be wracked by your combined whispers and likely kill myself."
*I think I speak for most of us in here when I say that I have come to doubt the afterlife's existence. To be honest, this is our afterlife.*
I can't fault them on that count.
*When the nurse comes in, strangle her. As far as we're concerned, this certain afterlife is much better than an uncertain one.*
Mind made up, I lie back and close my eyes. I consciously slow my heart rate and within minutes the door flings open. "Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?"
I pretend not to, and she leans in to check my eyes. Before she can resist, I flick them open and grab her by the throat. I look deep into her fear-filled eyes as she spasms violently until the eyes drain of life.
*Arsehole!* she cries out in my mind as her body hits the floor.
*Good job!* the rest clamour. Another 20 years I suppose. | The steel door was the only thing in the room with me. Four concrete walls and the giant steel door. Pacing does terrible things to ones mental state, alas, I was trapped into this perpetual cycle of pace, hold head in hands, rinse and repeat.
Not many women end up in a place like this. Less than 8% according to Wikipedia. I'd done my research, and I was part of the great minority in this wretched *zoo* of a slaughter house. Probably because women plan better than men. I suppose it doesn't matter anyway.
My research also told me that 72% of men are physically stronger than me, despite the countless hours subjecting myself to a tireless training regime.
A metallic slam resonated through the room, the kind that happens when you slam a bin lid too hard. I don't suppose I have much chance of seeing a bin every again.
The place I am in is where they send you to die. When you murder someone, they find you and send you here.
Of course, some escape, or are never caught, but most murders happen on the extensive network of CCTV cameras, the Mind's Eye Security System, known as the MESS by most. I digress.
*Here* is not a good place to be. *Here* is an arena. If you kill someone, you come here. You have to fight to escape this place.
There's a variety of televised events they can put you in for: sword duels, fist-fights, death races or any amalgamation of the imagination. All of the events are designed to get someone close enough to death that a 'benefactor' can kill them legally in order to increase their own life.
Is it morally indefensible? Yes.
Is it totally corrupt? Absolutely.
Does it cut the rate of murders by an order of magnitude? Unfortunately so, or it would be done away with.
Finally, I hear a voice. Two days of solitude to put me on edge before my event, and I finally hear a voice.
"You're on now." A gruff voice. Hardened. How many lives has he taken?
The door rolls open, slowly, noisily. Painstakingly.
The light is blinding, a crowd is amassed around the stadium. On the other end of the arena, a young boy stands alone, weeping. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | I've made a deal with _Death_. When I "died" death came up to me and said
"Congratulations! You're the 100th billion person to die! You can choose to live on in heaven OR choose to live forever back on Earth! As long as you kill a person, that person will give you 20 more years to live! But with a cost..."
Of course I had to choose the latter. I still had a lot to live for. I've made a decision that when I reached 30 I have to act so that my looks stay the same. I've been doing this for about 80 years now. This is my 4th target.
I know this is bad... I know. But I've always picked those who have nothing to live for. Homeless depressed people, those without family and the old age etc.
No one will miss them. I'm sure of it, this is why I make background checks before doing anything.
I can't really say why... it's an addiction. Not the killing... but staying alive. To know that I can live past anything makes me want to keep going, no matter the cost.
It was the night before Christmas and my target this time is a man by the name of Albert Kane. 10 years ago, he was once a respected construction foreman just trying to make his family live good lives. He has lost his five year old daughter and wife in a car accident. His life went downhill from there. Excessive drinking, drugs, multiple arrests. Then he lost his job, his credibility, and his home. All he had left was the shirt on his back and a backpack.
I hosted a Christmas party for the homeless at the community centre. Its the least I can do for what I'm about to do to this poor man. I'll let the others and him enjoy themselves. Good food, drinks, even a gaming centre I organised at the back! Then when Albert is drunk enough I'll bring him back into the alley and do my "business".
--------------
Finally I got him into the alley while he was drunk. I didn't use anything sharp, or anything blunt, or even a gun. I just gave him a spiked drink and all I had to do was wait.
I helped him down as the poison took effect. The poison was working fine. It made him sleepy real easily and after a few mins he _slept_, for good.
"May you rest in peace with your family."
Now I have to wait for _Death_. I saw his backpack and took a peak in it.
Not much but one thing I saw was a book, an album. It was his family album. Almost all of the pictures seemed missing but there were 5 that were still kept.
Here's one with him and his wife taking their wedding vows.
Another one on their honeymoon in France (The Eiffel tower was right behind them).
Seems like this one was taken before his pregnant wife was admitted to the ER. And another one of his new born baby daughter in the hospital room.
This last one seemed a bit weary in its condition. It was him and his daughter on site at his job, he was taking her on a ride in one of the construction diggers and it seemed like she was laughing and enjoying it... Suddenly I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Hey bud. I'm here." It was _Death_.
Even though I've already seen him 3 times I still can't get used to him.
"So this is the guy huh?"
"Ya... will he be okay?"
"He will. I know he's due to heaven and I am here to help him move on. And I'm sure his family will be happy seeing him again. But that's half the reason of why I'm here. So... the _cost_. You have it ready?"
"Yup."
"Alright then. That will be __$3.50__." As Death takes the bill and change they disappear into a cloud of smoke on his hands. "The payment has been given. See you in 20 years!"
"Alright. See you Death!"
Now time to live another 20 years more!
__THE END__
[Optional End Credit song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob7vObnFUJc)
EDIT: Grammar stuff. Thanks to u/Evaara | The steel door was the only thing in the room with me. Four concrete walls and the giant steel door. Pacing does terrible things to ones mental state, alas, I was trapped into this perpetual cycle of pace, hold head in hands, rinse and repeat.
Not many women end up in a place like this. Less than 8% according to Wikipedia. I'd done my research, and I was part of the great minority in this wretched *zoo* of a slaughter house. Probably because women plan better than men. I suppose it doesn't matter anyway.
My research also told me that 72% of men are physically stronger than me, despite the countless hours subjecting myself to a tireless training regime.
A metallic slam resonated through the room, the kind that happens when you slam a bin lid too hard. I don't suppose I have much chance of seeing a bin every again.
The place I am in is where they send you to die. When you murder someone, they find you and send you here.
Of course, some escape, or are never caught, but most murders happen on the extensive network of CCTV cameras, the Mind's Eye Security System, known as the MESS by most. I digress.
*Here* is not a good place to be. *Here* is an arena. If you kill someone, you come here. You have to fight to escape this place.
There's a variety of televised events they can put you in for: sword duels, fist-fights, death races or any amalgamation of the imagination. All of the events are designed to get someone close enough to death that a 'benefactor' can kill them legally in order to increase their own life.
Is it morally indefensible? Yes.
Is it totally corrupt? Absolutely.
Does it cut the rate of murders by an order of magnitude? Unfortunately so, or it would be done away with.
Finally, I hear a voice. Two days of solitude to put me on edge before my event, and I finally hear a voice.
"You're on now." A gruff voice. Hardened. How many lives has he taken?
The door rolls open, slowly, noisily. Painstakingly.
The light is blinding, a crowd is amassed around the stadium. On the other end of the arena, a young boy stands alone, weeping. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | I've made a deal with _Death_. When I "died" death came up to me and said
"Congratulations! You're the 100th billion person to die! You can choose to live on in heaven OR choose to live forever back on Earth! As long as you kill a person, that person will give you 20 more years to live! But with a cost..."
Of course I had to choose the latter. I still had a lot to live for. I've made a decision that when I reached 30 I have to act so that my looks stay the same. I've been doing this for about 80 years now. This is my 4th target.
I know this is bad... I know. But I've always picked those who have nothing to live for. Homeless depressed people, those without family and the old age etc.
No one will miss them. I'm sure of it, this is why I make background checks before doing anything.
I can't really say why... it's an addiction. Not the killing... but staying alive. To know that I can live past anything makes me want to keep going, no matter the cost.
It was the night before Christmas and my target this time is a man by the name of Albert Kane. 10 years ago, he was once a respected construction foreman just trying to make his family live good lives. He has lost his five year old daughter and wife in a car accident. His life went downhill from there. Excessive drinking, drugs, multiple arrests. Then he lost his job, his credibility, and his home. All he had left was the shirt on his back and a backpack.
I hosted a Christmas party for the homeless at the community centre. Its the least I can do for what I'm about to do to this poor man. I'll let the others and him enjoy themselves. Good food, drinks, even a gaming centre I organised at the back! Then when Albert is drunk enough I'll bring him back into the alley and do my "business".
--------------
Finally I got him into the alley while he was drunk. I didn't use anything sharp, or anything blunt, or even a gun. I just gave him a spiked drink and all I had to do was wait.
I helped him down as the poison took effect. The poison was working fine. It made him sleepy real easily and after a few mins he _slept_, for good.
"May you rest in peace with your family."
Now I have to wait for _Death_. I saw his backpack and took a peak in it.
Not much but one thing I saw was a book, an album. It was his family album. Almost all of the pictures seemed missing but there were 5 that were still kept.
Here's one with him and his wife taking their wedding vows.
Another one on their honeymoon in France (The Eiffel tower was right behind them).
Seems like this one was taken before his pregnant wife was admitted to the ER. And another one of his new born baby daughter in the hospital room.
This last one seemed a bit weary in its condition. It was him and his daughter on site at his job, he was taking her on a ride in one of the construction diggers and it seemed like she was laughing and enjoying it... Suddenly I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Hey bud. I'm here." It was _Death_.
Even though I've already seen him 3 times I still can't get used to him.
"So this is the guy huh?"
"Ya... will he be okay?"
"He will. I know he's due to heaven and I am here to help him move on. And I'm sure his family will be happy seeing him again. But that's half the reason of why I'm here. So... the _cost_. You have it ready?"
"Yup."
"Alright then. That will be __$3.50__." As Death takes the bill and change they disappear into a cloud of smoke on his hands. "The payment has been given. See you in 20 years!"
"Alright. See you Death!"
Now time to live another 20 years more!
__THE END__
[Optional End Credit song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob7vObnFUJc)
EDIT: Grammar stuff. Thanks to u/Evaara | I glance at the blood running out of my veins, into the dialysis machine and back into my body, skipping my failed organs.
I'm 453, and as anyone knows, that means I killed people and racked up a lot of 20s.
The first was when I was 12. I went to a nearby lake with a friend days after his birthday, and him and I made the decision to climb up the nearby rock face. Being a year or so younger, he hung onto my every word and agreed without question...
*And then, you murdered me.*
I sigh out into the sterile, still air. "Let it go, would you. Your death wasn't on purpose."
*That's supposed to make me feel better?*
"Not really, it just means that it wasn't murder. It was manslaughter."
*Fine, go on then.*
Unfortunately, the price of killing someone is having to hear their thoughts for as long as you live. The only way for the voices to stop is to die yourself, in which case you might end up coming back to haunt someone else. Samuel, my friend, was one of the few who had 'talked' to me regularly over the years. The others had given up over the centuries, spirits broken by the prospect of being barred from the afterlife for all eternity. To be honest though, unless they introduced themselves, it was impossible to tell which of them was which.
*You shouldn't give up, old man. Find someone, kill them. Fix your organs with their healthy blood.*
"Always a bloodthirsty one, Caesar. But just what's the point? If I attempted to live forever I'll be wracked by your combined whispers and likely kill myself."
*I think I speak for most of us in here when I say that I have come to doubt the afterlife's existence. To be honest, this is our afterlife.*
I can't fault them on that count.
*When the nurse comes in, strangle her. As far as we're concerned, this certain afterlife is much better than an uncertain one.*
Mind made up, I lie back and close my eyes. I consciously slow my heart rate and within minutes the door flings open. "Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?"
I pretend not to, and she leans in to check my eyes. Before she can resist, I flick them open and grab her by the throat. I look deep into her fear-filled eyes as she spasms violently until the eyes drain of life.
*Arsehole!* she cries out in my mind as her body hits the floor.
*Good job!* the rest clamour. Another 20 years I suppose. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | I've made a deal with _Death_. When I "died" death came up to me and said
"Congratulations! You're the 100th billion person to die! You can choose to live on in heaven OR choose to live forever back on Earth! As long as you kill a person, that person will give you 20 more years to live! But with a cost..."
Of course I had to choose the latter. I still had a lot to live for. I've made a decision that when I reached 30 I have to act so that my looks stay the same. I've been doing this for about 80 years now. This is my 4th target.
I know this is bad... I know. But I've always picked those who have nothing to live for. Homeless depressed people, those without family and the old age etc.
No one will miss them. I'm sure of it, this is why I make background checks before doing anything.
I can't really say why... it's an addiction. Not the killing... but staying alive. To know that I can live past anything makes me want to keep going, no matter the cost.
It was the night before Christmas and my target this time is a man by the name of Albert Kane. 10 years ago, he was once a respected construction foreman just trying to make his family live good lives. He has lost his five year old daughter and wife in a car accident. His life went downhill from there. Excessive drinking, drugs, multiple arrests. Then he lost his job, his credibility, and his home. All he had left was the shirt on his back and a backpack.
I hosted a Christmas party for the homeless at the community centre. Its the least I can do for what I'm about to do to this poor man. I'll let the others and him enjoy themselves. Good food, drinks, even a gaming centre I organised at the back! Then when Albert is drunk enough I'll bring him back into the alley and do my "business".
--------------
Finally I got him into the alley while he was drunk. I didn't use anything sharp, or anything blunt, or even a gun. I just gave him a spiked drink and all I had to do was wait.
I helped him down as the poison took effect. The poison was working fine. It made him sleepy real easily and after a few mins he _slept_, for good.
"May you rest in peace with your family."
Now I have to wait for _Death_. I saw his backpack and took a peak in it.
Not much but one thing I saw was a book, an album. It was his family album. Almost all of the pictures seemed missing but there were 5 that were still kept.
Here's one with him and his wife taking their wedding vows.
Another one on their honeymoon in France (The Eiffel tower was right behind them).
Seems like this one was taken before his pregnant wife was admitted to the ER. And another one of his new born baby daughter in the hospital room.
This last one seemed a bit weary in its condition. It was him and his daughter on site at his job, he was taking her on a ride in one of the construction diggers and it seemed like she was laughing and enjoying it... Suddenly I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Hey bud. I'm here." It was _Death_.
Even though I've already seen him 3 times I still can't get used to him.
"So this is the guy huh?"
"Ya... will he be okay?"
"He will. I know he's due to heaven and I am here to help him move on. And I'm sure his family will be happy seeing him again. But that's half the reason of why I'm here. So... the _cost_. You have it ready?"
"Yup."
"Alright then. That will be __$3.50__." As Death takes the bill and change they disappear into a cloud of smoke on his hands. "The payment has been given. See you in 20 years!"
"Alright. See you Death!"
Now time to live another 20 years more!
__THE END__
[Optional End Credit song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob7vObnFUJc)
EDIT: Grammar stuff. Thanks to u/Evaara | Shit, it was a gun.
That was the first thing I thought to myself when I saw the man pull out his hand. How stupid of me, thinking I could take on this fucking robber.
The fuck face and his gun seemed to smile at me for a second. Before I notice it, the gun was pointed towards my chest.
What the fuck face didn't know was that, I too had a little jimmy in my pocket.
I scoffed at the gun.
Then I heard a gunshot.
My spider man shirt was ruined. The fuck face drilled a hole on spidey's right eye. Blood quickly spurted out and got all over my shirt.
Thinking about my new shirt, I took out little jimmy and pulled the trigger.
I felt it.
20 more years.
My wound quickly closed, then after a second it seemed like there was no damage at all.
"20 more years again huh," I thought to myself.
Every time I gain 20 years there is always a cost. Before they were bearable, like a couple dead people, or a broken red bridge.
But today was devasting.
I looked all around me.
Shit.
I really liked this fucking shirt too. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | "Look, let's just get this over with so we can eat lunch. Guilty."
"There's no evidence, I can't convict him without evidence."
"What are you, stupid? Did you see how old he is? Besides, it says right here he was born one hundred years ago. Statistically, most men are dead by then. And he's in excellent health."
"I mean, even if we're wrong, it's not as if he had much life left in him anyway."
"Plus he was the only one around at the time."
"Look, for all we know, his son committed suicide."
"Right. His son. The fat leech with fingers deep in his father's bank accounts. He didn't have to work a day in his life."
"You're not thinking this through. He was unemployed, not by choice. He felt as if he was being a burden on his father and offed himself. You read the letter."
"Fuck the letter. You can fake a letter."
"You saw the old man crying."
"You can fake tears."
"And what about his ex-wife? She left him for a reason. Maybe she saw what you didn't. Maybe she saw what we're all seeing."
"Young, pretty woman like her marrying a rich old man? I'd be surprised if she didn't want him dead for his inheritance. The son's out of the way already."
"You know there's only one way to know for sure."
"But that-"
"IF. IF we declare him guilty, he'll get the death penalty. Then all we have to do is read the report for when he dies."
"That's preposterous! He's just an old man! There's no evidence!"
"Look, I'm just saying. When murderers die, their faces change to that of their last victim. Everyone knows that. So when he dies, if his face changes to that of his son, then we're right."
"I don't see how that helps."
"It is eleven against one. Based on all the circumstances, do you really think he's completely innocent? Are you just wasting all of our time here?"
"If we just consider the evidence-
"There is no evidence to consider! You said it yourself. Just say 'guilty'."
...
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor. We, the jury, find the defendant..."
"Fuck you. Fuck all of you."
"Mister Matthews, calm down or I will find you in contempt of court."
"I'm already a dead man. Your contempt doesn't scare me. Just know this. You're killing an innocent old man."
"...guilty."
"Take him away, bailiff."
"Come along, Mister Matthews."
"Forget you all!"
"Put that down!"
"He's got his gun!"
**BANG**
There was no death sentence. The bailiff put two fingers to Mister Matthews' wrist. "He's dead." No shit, sherlock. There was a hole through the top of his head. Everyone was looking at his face. Waiting for it to change. Everyone except me. I just cussed out loud. Because his face didn't change. It couldn't have, even if he had murdered his son. For in this crazy, messed up world, where your face changes to match the last person you've killed, Mister Matthews found a guaranteed way to keep his own face. Mister Matthews had shot himself. And now we'll never know. | Shit, it was a gun.
That was the first thing I thought to myself when I saw the man pull out his hand. How stupid of me, thinking I could take on this fucking robber.
The fuck face and his gun seemed to smile at me for a second. Before I notice it, the gun was pointed towards my chest.
What the fuck face didn't know was that, I too had a little jimmy in my pocket.
I scoffed at the gun.
Then I heard a gunshot.
My spider man shirt was ruined. The fuck face drilled a hole on spidey's right eye. Blood quickly spurted out and got all over my shirt.
Thinking about my new shirt, I took out little jimmy and pulled the trigger.
I felt it.
20 more years.
My wound quickly closed, then after a second it seemed like there was no damage at all.
"20 more years again huh," I thought to myself.
Every time I gain 20 years there is always a cost. Before they were bearable, like a couple dead people, or a broken red bridge.
But today was devasting.
I looked all around me.
Shit.
I really liked this fucking shirt too. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | I've made a deal with _Death_. When I "died" death came up to me and said
"Congratulations! You're the 100th billion person to die! You can choose to live on in heaven OR choose to live forever back on Earth! As long as you kill a person, that person will give you 20 more years to live! But with a cost..."
Of course I had to choose the latter. I still had a lot to live for. I've made a decision that when I reached 30 I have to act so that my looks stay the same. I've been doing this for about 80 years now. This is my 4th target.
I know this is bad... I know. But I've always picked those who have nothing to live for. Homeless depressed people, those without family and the old age etc.
No one will miss them. I'm sure of it, this is why I make background checks before doing anything.
I can't really say why... it's an addiction. Not the killing... but staying alive. To know that I can live past anything makes me want to keep going, no matter the cost.
It was the night before Christmas and my target this time is a man by the name of Albert Kane. 10 years ago, he was once a respected construction foreman just trying to make his family live good lives. He has lost his five year old daughter and wife in a car accident. His life went downhill from there. Excessive drinking, drugs, multiple arrests. Then he lost his job, his credibility, and his home. All he had left was the shirt on his back and a backpack.
I hosted a Christmas party for the homeless at the community centre. Its the least I can do for what I'm about to do to this poor man. I'll let the others and him enjoy themselves. Good food, drinks, even a gaming centre I organised at the back! Then when Albert is drunk enough I'll bring him back into the alley and do my "business".
--------------
Finally I got him into the alley while he was drunk. I didn't use anything sharp, or anything blunt, or even a gun. I just gave him a spiked drink and all I had to do was wait.
I helped him down as the poison took effect. The poison was working fine. It made him sleepy real easily and after a few mins he _slept_, for good.
"May you rest in peace with your family."
Now I have to wait for _Death_. I saw his backpack and took a peak in it.
Not much but one thing I saw was a book, an album. It was his family album. Almost all of the pictures seemed missing but there were 5 that were still kept.
Here's one with him and his wife taking their wedding vows.
Another one on their honeymoon in France (The Eiffel tower was right behind them).
Seems like this one was taken before his pregnant wife was admitted to the ER. And another one of his new born baby daughter in the hospital room.
This last one seemed a bit weary in its condition. It was him and his daughter on site at his job, he was taking her on a ride in one of the construction diggers and it seemed like she was laughing and enjoying it... Suddenly I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Hey bud. I'm here." It was _Death_.
Even though I've already seen him 3 times I still can't get used to him.
"So this is the guy huh?"
"Ya... will he be okay?"
"He will. I know he's due to heaven and I am here to help him move on. And I'm sure his family will be happy seeing him again. But that's half the reason of why I'm here. So... the _cost_. You have it ready?"
"Yup."
"Alright then. That will be __$3.50__." As Death takes the bill and change they disappear into a cloud of smoke on his hands. "The payment has been given. See you in 20 years!"
"Alright. See you Death!"
Now time to live another 20 years more!
__THE END__
[Optional End Credit song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob7vObnFUJc)
EDIT: Grammar stuff. Thanks to u/Evaara | FADE IN:
INT. A CLOTHING STORE - DAY
*A bell above the shop's door rings as a young man walks through it. This is ALFORD. He looks to be about twenty-five years old, though his elegant clothing seems to be about a hundred years out-of-date.*
**WELDON:** (*O.S.*) Good morning! Make yourself comfortable, I won't be a minute!
*Alford walks up to a glass display counter while he waits. He peers inside, examining the expensive leather shoes within it. After a moment, a second man walks into view. This is WELDON, a tailor.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) So sorry about the wait, sir. Oh, and about the dulcimer. How can I help you?
**ALFORD:** Sorry, what was that?
**WELDON:** I merely regret that I wasn't here to greet you upon your entry.
**ALFORD:** What? No, what was the other thing?
**WELDON:** "How can I help you?"
**ALFORD:** No, no, you said something about a...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) Ah, the dulcimer! Yes, I do apologize for that. It's haunted, you see.
*A moment of silence passes while Alford processes this.*
**ALFORD:** "Haunted?"
**WELDON:** I'm afraid so. It shouldn't be a bother, though. Now, how can I be of service?
*Alford clears his throat.*
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, it's come to my attention that I'm in need of some new clothes.
**WELDON:** Ah, looking to update the old wardrobe, are we?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Trying to modernize your attire?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Hoping to cast off the threads of yesteryear, in exchange for...
**ALFORD:** (*Interrupting*) Look, is this strictly necessary? I just need some new clothes.
*A few jangling chords are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** Shut up!
**ALFORD:** Sorry.
**WELDON:** Not you. I was talking to the dulcimer.
**ALFORD:** Look, if this is a bad time...
**WELDON:** No, no, no, no, no! No, this is a fine time, sir! No time like the present, as they say!
**ALFORD:** Quite.
**WELDON:** Now, to the topic at hand: Where *did* you find your current apparel? I mark it to be... why, at least a century out of style, at the very least!
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, funny thing about that. When I woke up this morning, all of my clothes had been replaced with... well, this.
*Weldon nods knowingly.*
**WELDON:** Ah, I see, sir! You've recently killed someone, haven't you?
*Alford looks shocked.*
**ALFORD:** That's a... I don't... you...
**WELDON:** Calm down, my good man! It happens to the best of us. Why, just last month, I found myself twenty years younger!
**ALFORD:** You... killed someone?
**WELDON:** I maintain that he rather killed himself. Using a wheelbarrow like that? Still, I'm happy to reap the benefits.
*Several mocking, laughter-like notes are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Even if they do come with some... irritants.
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, I'm actually rather shaken up about it.
**WELDON:** What happened, if I may ask?
*Alford swallows, looking uncomfortable.*
**ALFORD:** I was walking home the other evening, when a pickpocket stole my wallet.
**WELDON:** Ah, so you shot him through the head!
**ALFORD:** (*Shocked*) No!
**WELDON:** You stabbed him in the pancreas?
**ALFORD:** No! No, I just grabbed his wrist!
**WELDON:** And the pressure was such that it caused a blood clot to form, thereby resulting in a massive and fatal stroke!
**ALFORD:** There's something wrong with you.
**WELDON:** I'm right though, aren't I?
**ALFORD:** No, you aren't.
**WELDON:** What was it, then?
**ALFORD:** The fellow broke free and ran, then got hit by a bus. I've felt terrible ever since, and these clothes are a constant reminder.
**WELDON:** I see.
*Weldon takes a deep breath and holds up his hands.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help, sir. Unless I miss my guess, you are doomed to always appear as though you've just stepped out of a time machine.
**ALFORD:** I'm stuck like this?
**WELDON:** Most likely, sir, yes. Any clothes you possess will spontaneously transform into... that.
**ALFORD:** Couldn't I just try something on?
**WELDON:** No, no, I forbid it! In fact, I am quite uncomfortable even having you near those suits!
*Weldon lunges across the counter and knocks a clothing rack away from Alford.*
**ALFORD:** This really isn't necessa...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) And step away from those shoes!
*Weldon lunges again... but in doing so, he accidentally breaks the glass counter. One of the shards pierces through his neck, killing him.*
**ALFORD:** Sir? *Sir?* Oh... oh, bugger.
*An ominous - but somehow darkly comedic - melody drifts through the air.*
FADE OUT. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | "Look, let's just get this over with so we can eat lunch. Guilty."
"There's no evidence, I can't convict him without evidence."
"What are you, stupid? Did you see how old he is? Besides, it says right here he was born one hundred years ago. Statistically, most men are dead by then. And he's in excellent health."
"I mean, even if we're wrong, it's not as if he had much life left in him anyway."
"Plus he was the only one around at the time."
"Look, for all we know, his son committed suicide."
"Right. His son. The fat leech with fingers deep in his father's bank accounts. He didn't have to work a day in his life."
"You're not thinking this through. He was unemployed, not by choice. He felt as if he was being a burden on his father and offed himself. You read the letter."
"Fuck the letter. You can fake a letter."
"You saw the old man crying."
"You can fake tears."
"And what about his ex-wife? She left him for a reason. Maybe she saw what you didn't. Maybe she saw what we're all seeing."
"Young, pretty woman like her marrying a rich old man? I'd be surprised if she didn't want him dead for his inheritance. The son's out of the way already."
"You know there's only one way to know for sure."
"But that-"
"IF. IF we declare him guilty, he'll get the death penalty. Then all we have to do is read the report for when he dies."
"That's preposterous! He's just an old man! There's no evidence!"
"Look, I'm just saying. When murderers die, their faces change to that of their last victim. Everyone knows that. So when he dies, if his face changes to that of his son, then we're right."
"I don't see how that helps."
"It is eleven against one. Based on all the circumstances, do you really think he's completely innocent? Are you just wasting all of our time here?"
"If we just consider the evidence-
"There is no evidence to consider! You said it yourself. Just say 'guilty'."
...
"Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor. We, the jury, find the defendant..."
"Fuck you. Fuck all of you."
"Mister Matthews, calm down or I will find you in contempt of court."
"I'm already a dead man. Your contempt doesn't scare me. Just know this. You're killing an innocent old man."
"...guilty."
"Take him away, bailiff."
"Come along, Mister Matthews."
"Forget you all!"
"Put that down!"
"He's got his gun!"
**BANG**
There was no death sentence. The bailiff put two fingers to Mister Matthews' wrist. "He's dead." No shit, sherlock. There was a hole through the top of his head. Everyone was looking at his face. Waiting for it to change. Everyone except me. I just cussed out loud. Because his face didn't change. It couldn't have, even if he had murdered his son. For in this crazy, messed up world, where your face changes to match the last person you've killed, Mister Matthews found a guaranteed way to keep his own face. Mister Matthews had shot himself. And now we'll never know. | FADE IN:
INT. A CLOTHING STORE - DAY
*A bell above the shop's door rings as a young man walks through it. This is ALFORD. He looks to be about twenty-five years old, though his elegant clothing seems to be about a hundred years out-of-date.*
**WELDON:** (*O.S.*) Good morning! Make yourself comfortable, I won't be a minute!
*Alford walks up to a glass display counter while he waits. He peers inside, examining the expensive leather shoes within it. After a moment, a second man walks into view. This is WELDON, a tailor.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) So sorry about the wait, sir. Oh, and about the dulcimer. How can I help you?
**ALFORD:** Sorry, what was that?
**WELDON:** I merely regret that I wasn't here to greet you upon your entry.
**ALFORD:** What? No, what was the other thing?
**WELDON:** "How can I help you?"
**ALFORD:** No, no, you said something about a...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) Ah, the dulcimer! Yes, I do apologize for that. It's haunted, you see.
*A moment of silence passes while Alford processes this.*
**ALFORD:** "Haunted?"
**WELDON:** I'm afraid so. It shouldn't be a bother, though. Now, how can I be of service?
*Alford clears his throat.*
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, it's come to my attention that I'm in need of some new clothes.
**WELDON:** Ah, looking to update the old wardrobe, are we?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Trying to modernize your attire?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Hoping to cast off the threads of yesteryear, in exchange for...
**ALFORD:** (*Interrupting*) Look, is this strictly necessary? I just need some new clothes.
*A few jangling chords are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** Shut up!
**ALFORD:** Sorry.
**WELDON:** Not you. I was talking to the dulcimer.
**ALFORD:** Look, if this is a bad time...
**WELDON:** No, no, no, no, no! No, this is a fine time, sir! No time like the present, as they say!
**ALFORD:** Quite.
**WELDON:** Now, to the topic at hand: Where *did* you find your current apparel? I mark it to be... why, at least a century out of style, at the very least!
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, funny thing about that. When I woke up this morning, all of my clothes had been replaced with... well, this.
*Weldon nods knowingly.*
**WELDON:** Ah, I see, sir! You've recently killed someone, haven't you?
*Alford looks shocked.*
**ALFORD:** That's a... I don't... you...
**WELDON:** Calm down, my good man! It happens to the best of us. Why, just last month, I found myself twenty years younger!
**ALFORD:** You... killed someone?
**WELDON:** I maintain that he rather killed himself. Using a wheelbarrow like that? Still, I'm happy to reap the benefits.
*Several mocking, laughter-like notes are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Even if they do come with some... irritants.
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, I'm actually rather shaken up about it.
**WELDON:** What happened, if I may ask?
*Alford swallows, looking uncomfortable.*
**ALFORD:** I was walking home the other evening, when a pickpocket stole my wallet.
**WELDON:** Ah, so you shot him through the head!
**ALFORD:** (*Shocked*) No!
**WELDON:** You stabbed him in the pancreas?
**ALFORD:** No! No, I just grabbed his wrist!
**WELDON:** And the pressure was such that it caused a blood clot to form, thereby resulting in a massive and fatal stroke!
**ALFORD:** There's something wrong with you.
**WELDON:** I'm right though, aren't I?
**ALFORD:** No, you aren't.
**WELDON:** What was it, then?
**ALFORD:** The fellow broke free and ran, then got hit by a bus. I've felt terrible ever since, and these clothes are a constant reminder.
**WELDON:** I see.
*Weldon takes a deep breath and holds up his hands.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help, sir. Unless I miss my guess, you are doomed to always appear as though you've just stepped out of a time machine.
**ALFORD:** I'm stuck like this?
**WELDON:** Most likely, sir, yes. Any clothes you possess will spontaneously transform into... that.
**ALFORD:** Couldn't I just try something on?
**WELDON:** No, no, I forbid it! In fact, I am quite uncomfortable even having you near those suits!
*Weldon lunges across the counter and knocks a clothing rack away from Alford.*
**ALFORD:** This really isn't necessa...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) And step away from those shoes!
*Weldon lunges again... but in doing so, he accidentally breaks the glass counter. One of the shards pierces through his neck, killing him.*
**ALFORD:** Sir? *Sir?* Oh... oh, bugger.
*An ominous - but somehow darkly comedic - melody drifts through the air.*
FADE OUT. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | My first kill was a complete accident. I was working in the kitchen of *Le Franke*, the restaurant I cooked in. I was chopping some veggies for a dish when I felt a tap on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. Startled, I whipped around only to find my knife stuck in the gut of my co-worker.
He looked down, then into my eyes. "What the fuck, dude?" And with that, he dropped dead to the floor.
I held in my breakfast long enough for the EMTs to arrive. As they carried his body to the ambulance, I saw some gross purple wisps slip out of his body. When the wisps started to wiggle their way towards me, I power walked my ass outta there. When I hit the door, I felt a cool sensation make my asshole pucker.
I keeled over and clutched at my cheeks. Two things happened after that. I felt immensely healthier and younger. Then, I heard a crude Irish accent in my head "*Oy! Where the fuck am I?*"
*Wait what, am I crazy?* I thought to myself.
*Nope, you're just an asshole, Jerry!*
Ah, fuck no way Cory is in my head right now. As nice as he was, I couldn't bring myself to like his "in your face" attit-
*Listen here you motherfucker, I got you a gift on your birthday, which, may I remind you, NO ONE ELSE FUCKIN REMEMBERED!*
*Okay, okay, whatever. So, are we stuck together now?*
*I suppose. Anyways, what's with these papers? It says 'Lifespan added/20 years for **Cory***.
*I dunno, I can't see anything*
*Oh alright*
I've lived with Cory for fifteen years now. I'd say it's been fine. He helps me with girls and making up witty comebacks. He's the only one who sees who I really am. He told me that he wasn't too mad about me killing him since he didn't actually die, he just gets to ride with me. Also, he gets his own little spot in my head. He gets to fuck around and have sex with anyone he wants. Cory's words, not mine. Unfortunately, my second killing was not so... nice.
I was just about ready to go to bed. I got up from the toilet after playing a little "five on one." I had gotten used to jerkin' it with Cory around. He doesn't say anything while I make the bald man cry; Not anymore.
While I washed my hands, I heard a crashing noise downstairs. My heart jumped.
*Aw shit mate... You better get your pistol. Don't worry man, you got the jump on this fucker.*
*Thanks, Cor. Hopefully, it's just a...* I didn't bother to finish that thought as I made sure my Glock 37 was ready to go.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner, I immediately saw the burglar.
*Fuck! Get em'!*
I saw him fumble with the side of his pants. Before the guy could bring his gun up, I fired two rounds into his chest.
I heard a sharp yell ring through the air and a thud as the body fell to the floor. This time, I saw yellow wisps fly through the air and into my arsehole.
*What the fuck I felt that one, mate.*
Then I heard a voice that reminded me of a nonchalant teen from a youth movie pierce my mind.
*Hey, did that guy just shoot me? Who the fuck are you, you pale fuck!*
*Oy, no need for that! Calm your tits woman!*
Dear God, kill me now there's two of them.
*Alright, you nasty old man-*
*Hey, that nasty old man has a name. Right, Jerry?*
Thanks for the backup Cory.
By the time I was seventy, Cory, Jenine, and I got along quite well. I'm pretty sure they fucked at one time, but it's hard to tell. I don't look a day over 40 though. Who knows the next person I might have to kill. I just hope they're not an asshole.
| FADE IN:
INT. A CLOTHING STORE - DAY
*A bell above the shop's door rings as a young man walks through it. This is ALFORD. He looks to be about twenty-five years old, though his elegant clothing seems to be about a hundred years out-of-date.*
**WELDON:** (*O.S.*) Good morning! Make yourself comfortable, I won't be a minute!
*Alford walks up to a glass display counter while he waits. He peers inside, examining the expensive leather shoes within it. After a moment, a second man walks into view. This is WELDON, a tailor.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) So sorry about the wait, sir. Oh, and about the dulcimer. How can I help you?
**ALFORD:** Sorry, what was that?
**WELDON:** I merely regret that I wasn't here to greet you upon your entry.
**ALFORD:** What? No, what was the other thing?
**WELDON:** "How can I help you?"
**ALFORD:** No, no, you said something about a...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) Ah, the dulcimer! Yes, I do apologize for that. It's haunted, you see.
*A moment of silence passes while Alford processes this.*
**ALFORD:** "Haunted?"
**WELDON:** I'm afraid so. It shouldn't be a bother, though. Now, how can I be of service?
*Alford clears his throat.*
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, it's come to my attention that I'm in need of some new clothes.
**WELDON:** Ah, looking to update the old wardrobe, are we?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Trying to modernize your attire?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Hoping to cast off the threads of yesteryear, in exchange for...
**ALFORD:** (*Interrupting*) Look, is this strictly necessary? I just need some new clothes.
*A few jangling chords are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** Shut up!
**ALFORD:** Sorry.
**WELDON:** Not you. I was talking to the dulcimer.
**ALFORD:** Look, if this is a bad time...
**WELDON:** No, no, no, no, no! No, this is a fine time, sir! No time like the present, as they say!
**ALFORD:** Quite.
**WELDON:** Now, to the topic at hand: Where *did* you find your current apparel? I mark it to be... why, at least a century out of style, at the very least!
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, funny thing about that. When I woke up this morning, all of my clothes had been replaced with... well, this.
*Weldon nods knowingly.*
**WELDON:** Ah, I see, sir! You've recently killed someone, haven't you?
*Alford looks shocked.*
**ALFORD:** That's a... I don't... you...
**WELDON:** Calm down, my good man! It happens to the best of us. Why, just last month, I found myself twenty years younger!
**ALFORD:** You... killed someone?
**WELDON:** I maintain that he rather killed himself. Using a wheelbarrow like that? Still, I'm happy to reap the benefits.
*Several mocking, laughter-like notes are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Even if they do come with some... irritants.
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, I'm actually rather shaken up about it.
**WELDON:** What happened, if I may ask?
*Alford swallows, looking uncomfortable.*
**ALFORD:** I was walking home the other evening, when a pickpocket stole my wallet.
**WELDON:** Ah, so you shot him through the head!
**ALFORD:** (*Shocked*) No!
**WELDON:** You stabbed him in the pancreas?
**ALFORD:** No! No, I just grabbed his wrist!
**WELDON:** And the pressure was such that it caused a blood clot to form, thereby resulting in a massive and fatal stroke!
**ALFORD:** There's something wrong with you.
**WELDON:** I'm right though, aren't I?
**ALFORD:** No, you aren't.
**WELDON:** What was it, then?
**ALFORD:** The fellow broke free and ran, then got hit by a bus. I've felt terrible ever since, and these clothes are a constant reminder.
**WELDON:** I see.
*Weldon takes a deep breath and holds up his hands.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help, sir. Unless I miss my guess, you are doomed to always appear as though you've just stepped out of a time machine.
**ALFORD:** I'm stuck like this?
**WELDON:** Most likely, sir, yes. Any clothes you possess will spontaneously transform into... that.
**ALFORD:** Couldn't I just try something on?
**WELDON:** No, no, I forbid it! In fact, I am quite uncomfortable even having you near those suits!
*Weldon lunges across the counter and knocks a clothing rack away from Alford.*
**ALFORD:** This really isn't necessa...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) And step away from those shoes!
*Weldon lunges again... but in doing so, he accidentally breaks the glass counter. One of the shards pierces through his neck, killing him.*
**ALFORD:** Sir? *Sir?* Oh... oh, bugger.
*An ominous - but somehow darkly comedic - melody drifts through the air.*
FADE OUT. |
First Reddit post ever. Please be gentle
Edit: Did not expect this to blow up. | [WP] Killing a person raises your life span by 20 years, but it comes with a cost. | Five murders and a hundred years of life. However, here I was at the front of the church with everyone else. . . asking for forgiveness.
"How many have you killed, my daughter?" the priest asked the woman next to me.
Her eyes raced between the five of us. All of us killers, fighting our way back into normal society. I imagined that she considered lowering her number, to seem a little better than she really was. But what difference was one life, two, five, or even ten.
"Seven," she said, "three men, and four women. 140 years on my pitiful existence."
We bowed our heads in unison, as an acknowledgment of the truth. The woman leaned forward and drank from the chalice. Her life was restored back to its normal length and with it went the memories of those she had killed.
I frowned. The image of a husband and wife holding hands on the beach flashed through my mind. It was warm, sandy, filled with love. I abolished the bad thought. The memory was from a man I had killed two years ago, a burden I took with his life.
"My brother, how many lives have you taken?" the priest asked me.
I gritted my teeth at the thought. Hearing seven made saying my number easier. It didn't make the burden any less, though. I could see their faces as I opened my eyes and looked into the chalice of wine between the priest's hands.
Wine that looked like blood.
"I've killed a woman, an old boss of mine. It was easier after that, so I took the life of two men that sexually assaulted a lady outside a bar. Then I killed a man that was going to gun down residents at a shopping mall. And last of all, the reason I'm here today, is because I killed the person I loved the most. My fifth murder," I said.
My wife's face popped up into my head. Millie had a smile that made you pause. Pink lips and rosy cheeks were her signature. We were getting married in this particular flashback, and then it switched up, to three days ago when she had pulled the gun on me.
"Drink and absolve yourself of your burden, my son," the priest said.
I leaned forward and drank from the chalice. The wine tasted foul.
I was in a haze as he moved on to the last three murderers. At the end of it all, the priest stood in front of us and read a passage from the bible. Then he said the words we'd been waiting for, "Today, you have been set free."
I moved my lips to give thanks, but no words came. I noticed then how numb my jaw had become. My tongue barely moved in my mouth, despite the attempts, and my hands shook near my sides.
The four other people looked the same. The woman who had drank first began rocking back and forth. She keeled over, frothing at the mouth while her arms and legs flailed. A breath later she went still.
The priest grinned as the women finished dying. "May you rest in the fiery pits of hell, my daughter. The work of the lord has been done today."
I tipped like a domino and slammed into the floor. My body burned from the insides out as if little claws were trying to force their way from my veins. And as my eyes rolled back and the world went black *her* lips were my last thought.
| FADE IN:
INT. A CLOTHING STORE - DAY
*A bell above the shop's door rings as a young man walks through it. This is ALFORD. He looks to be about twenty-five years old, though his elegant clothing seems to be about a hundred years out-of-date.*
**WELDON:** (*O.S.*) Good morning! Make yourself comfortable, I won't be a minute!
*Alford walks up to a glass display counter while he waits. He peers inside, examining the expensive leather shoes within it. After a moment, a second man walks into view. This is WELDON, a tailor.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) So sorry about the wait, sir. Oh, and about the dulcimer. How can I help you?
**ALFORD:** Sorry, what was that?
**WELDON:** I merely regret that I wasn't here to greet you upon your entry.
**ALFORD:** What? No, what was the other thing?
**WELDON:** "How can I help you?"
**ALFORD:** No, no, you said something about a...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) Ah, the dulcimer! Yes, I do apologize for that. It's haunted, you see.
*A moment of silence passes while Alford processes this.*
**ALFORD:** "Haunted?"
**WELDON:** I'm afraid so. It shouldn't be a bother, though. Now, how can I be of service?
*Alford clears his throat.*
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, it's come to my attention that I'm in need of some new clothes.
**WELDON:** Ah, looking to update the old wardrobe, are we?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Trying to modernize your attire?
**ALFORD:** Yes.
**WELDON:** Hoping to cast off the threads of yesteryear, in exchange for...
**ALFORD:** (*Interrupting*) Look, is this strictly necessary? I just need some new clothes.
*A few jangling chords are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** Shut up!
**ALFORD:** Sorry.
**WELDON:** Not you. I was talking to the dulcimer.
**ALFORD:** Look, if this is a bad time...
**WELDON:** No, no, no, no, no! No, this is a fine time, sir! No time like the present, as they say!
**ALFORD:** Quite.
**WELDON:** Now, to the topic at hand: Where *did* you find your current apparel? I mark it to be... why, at least a century out of style, at the very least!
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, funny thing about that. When I woke up this morning, all of my clothes had been replaced with... well, this.
*Weldon nods knowingly.*
**WELDON:** Ah, I see, sir! You've recently killed someone, haven't you?
*Alford looks shocked.*
**ALFORD:** That's a... I don't... you...
**WELDON:** Calm down, my good man! It happens to the best of us. Why, just last month, I found myself twenty years younger!
**ALFORD:** You... killed someone?
**WELDON:** I maintain that he rather killed himself. Using a wheelbarrow like that? Still, I'm happy to reap the benefits.
*Several mocking, laughter-like notes are heard from behind the counter.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Even if they do come with some... irritants.
**ALFORD:** Yes, well, I'm actually rather shaken up about it.
**WELDON:** What happened, if I may ask?
*Alford swallows, looking uncomfortable.*
**ALFORD:** I was walking home the other evening, when a pickpocket stole my wallet.
**WELDON:** Ah, so you shot him through the head!
**ALFORD:** (*Shocked*) No!
**WELDON:** You stabbed him in the pancreas?
**ALFORD:** No! No, I just grabbed his wrist!
**WELDON:** And the pressure was such that it caused a blood clot to form, thereby resulting in a massive and fatal stroke!
**ALFORD:** There's something wrong with you.
**WELDON:** I'm right though, aren't I?
**ALFORD:** No, you aren't.
**WELDON:** What was it, then?
**ALFORD:** The fellow broke free and ran, then got hit by a bus. I've felt terrible ever since, and these clothes are a constant reminder.
**WELDON:** I see.
*Weldon takes a deep breath and holds up his hands.*
**WELDON:** (*CONT'D*) Well, I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help, sir. Unless I miss my guess, you are doomed to always appear as though you've just stepped out of a time machine.
**ALFORD:** I'm stuck like this?
**WELDON:** Most likely, sir, yes. Any clothes you possess will spontaneously transform into... that.
**ALFORD:** Couldn't I just try something on?
**WELDON:** No, no, I forbid it! In fact, I am quite uncomfortable even having you near those suits!
*Weldon lunges across the counter and knocks a clothing rack away from Alford.*
**ALFORD:** This really isn't necessa...
**WELDON:** (*Interrupting*) And step away from those shoes!
*Weldon lunges again... but in doing so, he accidentally breaks the glass counter. One of the shards pierces through his neck, killing him.*
**ALFORD:** Sir? *Sir?* Oh... oh, bugger.
*An ominous - but somehow darkly comedic - melody drifts through the air.*
FADE OUT. |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "But... How? How can you still be alive? I saw you nailed to that cross myself. Your close friend sold you out and I watched the nails go in. Your powers mean nothing when you're bleeding out attached to a plank."
The Demigod grinned and held up a hand, showing the hole in the palm.
*"My Betrayal? Your double agent has been loyal to me from the start... and did you forget my followers? With thirteen loyal disciples, rigging the entire burial was easy."*
There was a pause.
"Sorry... did you say 13?"
And thus it was that the legion met the wrath of Mary Magdalene. | The Testament Chronicles Issue #40 *The Cross Encounter*
The Jesus Endangers the World Club sat along their wall of sandstone and peered down at the tattered waves of filth and dirt beneath them. Their master plan had finally unfolded. The son of the great god and a mortal woman knelt in chains in the center of the wretched mob. Those fools! They don't know they are pawns in a greater game
 
Jesus knelt and started to whisper incantations to the Heavens to draw power. But nothing came. He was *powerless*. He knew what he must do. But, it could destroy him. He looked at the angry mob surrounding him. Their leering gaze shriveled his skin like hell fire. He scanned the crowd looking for hope. He stopped on an elderly man for only a moment. His body looked frail in his old age. His hair and had faded and his eyes had dulled. Behind his smoked glasses was indifference. As if, Jesus was nothing to him. He continued to look through the stone faced crowd in despair, until he saw his mother, and with her was Veronica, clutching her white veil in fear of the world. *WHAM!* he felt a bolt of lightening down his back. Jesus knew. He must *ASCEND*
 
Jesus stood 6"2 with eyes of blue and raised his head. He towered of the sandy camel riders he came to this world to save. He was no longer afraid. His blonde hair whipped around his face as his voice boomed out "I am ready to go to my Lord Father! Do your worst degenerates! I'll see you IN HELL!"
 
The members of the Jesus Endangers the World Club relaxed in their chairs. The leader of their organization began to chuckle. He looked off to the ruler of the land, Pontius Pilot, another puppet to mask the real power of their Club. Before Jesus, they ruled the world behind gilded alters and silken gowns. But then he came, he could alter the fabric of the world with a wave of his hand. The people rallied behind him in wonder and tarnished all the hard work the Clubs forefathers had created. They knew they must destroy him. They gathered in secret for 40 days and 40 nights, while they pondered how to kill the master of death. They created a dastardly plot to trap him around his only weakness, the peasants. Jesus loved everyone, and it would take everyone to break his heart and crush him for good. They began to sow corruption and fear, all to build up to today.
 
Pilot raised his hand and the crowd began to rumble. "CRUCIFY HIM"
 
*TO BE CONTINUED*
| |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jesus 2016 Trailer (OFFICIAL)
Comments: 20,402
LokiBoner32: Noel Fielding is HOT as Jesus!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Valkrykilmer: Jet Fuel Can't Melt Iron Figureheads
LadyHel69: I heard it was originally a much darker film, but it didn't screen well for test audiences, so they hired the same company that did this trailer to recut the original.
DeezBaldurz: DON'T TRUST JUDAS MAN, HE'S YAWEH IN DISGUISE #Odin316
Thorgood_Marshall: Fake and gay
Wodinsday_Addams: @Thorgood_Marshall - Frik you, your fake and gay.
Grammar_Dane: @Wodinsday_Addams - you're
Forkbeard999: Chistian IV did nothing wrong!
Charlemagne92: @Forkbeard999 - Figures this movie appeals to shithead Danish Supremacists like you. You disgust me!
> See More Comments
Fenrirs_Jaws: There's definitely going to be a sequel. | The Testament Chronicles Issue #40 *The Cross Encounter*
The Jesus Endangers the World Club sat along their wall of sandstone and peered down at the tattered waves of filth and dirt beneath them. Their master plan had finally unfolded. The son of the great god and a mortal woman knelt in chains in the center of the wretched mob. Those fools! They don't know they are pawns in a greater game
 
Jesus knelt and started to whisper incantations to the Heavens to draw power. But nothing came. He was *powerless*. He knew what he must do. But, it could destroy him. He looked at the angry mob surrounding him. Their leering gaze shriveled his skin like hell fire. He scanned the crowd looking for hope. He stopped on an elderly man for only a moment. His body looked frail in his old age. His hair and had faded and his eyes had dulled. Behind his smoked glasses was indifference. As if, Jesus was nothing to him. He continued to look through the stone faced crowd in despair, until he saw his mother, and with her was Veronica, clutching her white veil in fear of the world. *WHAM!* he felt a bolt of lightening down his back. Jesus knew. He must *ASCEND*
 
Jesus stood 6"2 with eyes of blue and raised his head. He towered of the sandy camel riders he came to this world to save. He was no longer afraid. His blonde hair whipped around his face as his voice boomed out "I am ready to go to my Lord Father! Do your worst degenerates! I'll see you IN HELL!"
 
The members of the Jesus Endangers the World Club relaxed in their chairs. The leader of their organization began to chuckle. He looked off to the ruler of the land, Pontius Pilot, another puppet to mask the real power of their Club. Before Jesus, they ruled the world behind gilded alters and silken gowns. But then he came, he could alter the fabric of the world with a wave of his hand. The people rallied behind him in wonder and tarnished all the hard work the Clubs forefathers had created. They knew they must destroy him. They gathered in secret for 40 days and 40 nights, while they pondered how to kill the master of death. They created a dastardly plot to trap him around his only weakness, the peasants. Jesus loved everyone, and it would take everyone to break his heart and crush him for good. They began to sow corruption and fear, all to build up to today.
 
Pilot raised his hand and the crowd began to rumble. "CRUCIFY HIM"
 
*TO BE CONTINUED*
| |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "Look Jukka, there's just no way we can do a solo book with Jeez," complained the writer of the popular Revenger series.
"I know it'll be hard Mika, but he's one of the most popular of the Revengers, so the bosses want to give him his own series." Jukka's tone was positive, but he knew it would be a real challenge. He'd be doing the art, it was up to Mika to write the story, but how could you write a solo book where the main character was a *pacifist*?
They'd established that as a central part of his backstory early on. Jesus Christ could take a punch and he'd just turn his cheek to take another blow. If you killed him he'd come back from the dead. He could heal his allies with a touch. But, he'd never throw a punch.
"Odin's Beard! It's no wonder those christers mostly died out a thousand years ago. How can you have a god who's a pacifist? You follow his teachings, you get wiped out by anybody with a god of war," grumbled Mika.
"I know, right? Still, they gave us some really great stylistic things to work with. That cross motif makes for really great accessories: jets, helmet faceplates, etc. It would even make for a great sword... if he weren't a pacifist of course -- wait, isn't the christer religion closely tied to the jewish religion? We've gotten a lot of mileage out of the <<an eye for an eye>> catchphrase," wondered Jukka.
"And a lot of blind villains too," laughed Mika. "But christers were the pacifist offshoot of the Jews. It wouldn't work. Unless... Maybe that's it -- maybe we could do an origin story. Instead of a Jeez solo book, we could do a 'Major Yid and Jeez' team-up. Think the bosses would go for that?" Ideas were already spinning through Mika's mind.
"Mjolnir! That could work."
| The Testament Chronicles Issue #40 *The Cross Encounter*
The Jesus Endangers the World Club sat along their wall of sandstone and peered down at the tattered waves of filth and dirt beneath them. Their master plan had finally unfolded. The son of the great god and a mortal woman knelt in chains in the center of the wretched mob. Those fools! They don't know they are pawns in a greater game
&nbsp;
Jesus knelt and started to whisper incantations to the Heavens to draw power. But nothing came. He was *powerless*. He knew what he must do. But, it could destroy him. He looked at the angry mob surrounding him. Their leering gaze shriveled his skin like hell fire. He scanned the crowd looking for hope. He stopped on an elderly man for only a moment. His body looked frail in his old age. His hair and had faded and his eyes had dulled. Behind his smoked glasses was indifference. As if, Jesus was nothing to him. He continued to look through the stone faced crowd in despair, until he saw his mother, and with her was Veronica, clutching her white veil in fear of the world. *WHAM!* he felt a bolt of lightening down his back. Jesus knew. He must *ASCEND*
&nbsp;
Jesus stood 6"2 with eyes of blue and raised his head. He towered of the sandy camel riders he came to this world to save. He was no longer afraid. His blonde hair whipped around his face as his voice boomed out "I am ready to go to my Lord Father! Do your worst degenerates! I'll see you IN HELL!"
&nbsp;
The members of the Jesus Endangers the World Club relaxed in their chairs. The leader of their organization began to chuckle. He looked off to the ruler of the land, Pontius Pilot, another puppet to mask the real power of their Club. Before Jesus, they ruled the world behind gilded alters and silken gowns. But then he came, he could alter the fabric of the world with a wave of his hand. The people rallied behind him in wonder and tarnished all the hard work the Clubs forefathers had created. They knew they must destroy him. They gathered in secret for 40 days and 40 nights, while they pondered how to kill the master of death. They created a dastardly plot to trap him around his only weakness, the peasants. Jesus loved everyone, and it would take everyone to break his heart and crush him for good. They began to sow corruption and fear, all to build up to today.
&nbsp;
Pilot raised his hand and the crowd began to rumble. "CRUCIFY HIM"
&nbsp;
*TO BE CONTINUED*
| |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "Look Jukka, there's just no way we can do a solo book with Jeez," complained the writer of the popular Revenger series.
"I know it'll be hard Mika, but he's one of the most popular of the Revengers, so the bosses want to give him his own series." Jukka's tone was positive, but he knew it would be a real challenge. He'd be doing the art, it was up to Mika to write the story, but how could you write a solo book where the main character was a *pacifist*?
They'd established that as a central part of his backstory early on. Jesus Christ could take a punch and he'd just turn his cheek to take another blow. If you killed him he'd come back from the dead. He could heal his allies with a touch. But, he'd never throw a punch.
"Odin's Beard! It's no wonder those christers mostly died out a thousand years ago. How can you have a god who's a pacifist? You follow his teachings, you get wiped out by anybody with a god of war," grumbled Mika.
"I know, right? Still, they gave us some really great stylistic things to work with. That cross motif makes for really great accessories: jets, helmet faceplates, etc. It would even make for a great sword... if he weren't a pacifist of course -- wait, isn't the christer religion closely tied to the jewish religion? We've gotten a lot of mileage out of the <<an eye for an eye>> catchphrase," wondered Jukka.
"And a lot of blind villains too," laughed Mika. "But christers were the pacifist offshoot of the Jews. It wouldn't work. Unless... Maybe that's it -- maybe we could do an origin story. Instead of a Jeez solo book, we could do a 'Major Yid and Jeez' team-up. Think the bosses would go for that?" Ideas were already spinning through Mika's mind.
"Mjolnir! That could work."
| "But... How? How can you still be alive? I saw you nailed to that cross myself. Your close friend sold you out and I watched the nails go in. Your powers mean nothing when you're bleeding out attached to a plank."
The Demigod grinned and held up a hand, showing the hole in the palm.
*"My Betrayal? Your double agent has been loyal to me from the start... and did you forget my followers? With thirteen loyal disciples, rigging the entire burial was easy."*
There was a pause.
"Sorry... did you say 13?"
And thus it was that the legion met the wrath of Mary Magdalene. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug. | Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | They call me Christ, the Redeemer. They do not know that I live in sin.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I hung on the cross, and then I died. Three days later, I rose again.
I was not supposed to return. That was not part of His original plan.
For forty days and forty nights, I wandered once, without food. The Devil came to tempt me, and I refused his hand. It was not hard - for was I not the Son of God? My soul was inseparable from His, and therefore refused all temptation.
I kissed the lips of sinners, and forgave them for their crimes. I worked the miracles He willed; I fed the poor, and raised the dead.
I passed with passion through the world, but never touched it, truly. I was my Father’s son, and knew only His perfection. How, then, could I understand the imperfection of man?
If you had listened to my Sermon on the Mount, you would have realized what would come.
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I extolled.
Only a madman could conceive of this command. Exiled from Eden, burdened with sin, how could His children attain the flawless grace of God? Still, because I did not see, I pressed my words upon them and claimed that practiced faith would save them all.
I forgot my own counsel, when it mattered the most. In that moment on the Cross, when He gave me all the sins of Man to bear, I bowed beneath the weight of anguish and fell. Sin is not the act, but separation from God. I, who had never known the absence of my Father before, wrenched at the strain upon our union as Man’s suffering tore me away. I could not take it, this division, this loss of the Divine. The screams of an endless multitude rose within me, and I cried out in infinite fear and pain. I believed that I was lost, and my Father had left me to die alone.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
It was His final test for me, and I failed.
When I opened my eyes and saw that I was not by His side, I sought with haste to make amends. I appeared to Mary and my Disciples - and what I said to them, I said in the hope that my Father would hear.
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.”
He heard, but did not reach out His hand.
They say that I ascended, but in truth, I fled in shame. I had betrayed my Father’s love, and my doubt had branded me forever.
I have walked the Earth for millennia, now. There will be no Second Coming. I never left; I am still here.
I am here beside the rapist, as I hammer nails into his groin. I am here beside the killer, as I ram my cross into his eye. I am here beside the wicked, the wrongful and the cruel. I crucify their sins, strike Satan from their souls, and coax repentance from their lips until they swear their love for God. Thus, do I bless the sinners, and deliver them unto His arms.
They call me Christ, The Redeemer.
I seek to redeem myself.
---
*I am surprised that Jesus Christ the Superhero doesn’t exist. I mean, the origin story practically writes itself. This guy probably has enough angst to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. His parental abandonment issues might actually be worse. He's real franchise material - Jesus Begins, followed by The Redeemer, followed by The Redeemer Rises.* | Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "Jesus Christ! Stop getting Scarlet Witch drunk!!" Cap yells from across the room.
Jesus looks up, "what are you talking about, man, it's only water."
"Only water, my ass!" Cap retorts, "and where the fuck did the 10,000 fish in my room come from?! The smell is never gonna come out of my suit!"
"You're harshing my vibes, man." Jesus looked unphased. "Don't make me call my dad. He said I could be anything I wanted and I wanted to be an Avenger. You can't change that."
Cap grumbled to himself. "Fine, Jesus, you lead the Avengers. I quit."
He dials a quick number on his phone, "Hey, Bruce? Yeah, it's, uh, Cap. Uh huh. Yeah. Well, I know you have a super team too so I was wondering if maybe . . . What's that? Oh. Well, um, you just let me know."
"Everything ok dude?" Jesus asks.
"Yeah, well, it looks like Tony got to Bruce before I did. Luckily I have an in with the NYPD."
*two weeks later*
Jesus is bringing a perp into the station when he sees a familiar man mopping blood off the floor.
"Cap?"
The man doesn't look up and Jesus goes on his way.
"Bastard walked right where I just mopped, what a piece of shit."
| Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "I can't believe they fucking replaced Jesus Christ with a woman. It's so fucking cringy now. All she does is beat up misogynists."
"Dude, whatever. It's Jesus. He's been a fish, he's been replaced by an alien horse at one point, they had that dude with the leather vest and the ponytail in the nineties - It's comicbooks, man. Literally everything has been done. They've got to do new stuff to keep readers interested. What, are they going to have Jesus fight off Armageddon again?"
"They weren't Jesus, though! Beta Ray Bill wasn't Jesus, he just got to wear the Crown of Thorns and the Holy Nails. This chick is literally Jesus! She stole his name! That doesn't even fucking make sense! Christ is a title, okay, sure, if she was just the Christ I guess I could understand that. But they're literally calling her Jesus Christ! How does that make sense?"
"Dude, like, Apollo is both a Greek god, and a superhero. Same for Prometheus and Mercury and the guys in the Pantheon. Are you complaining about them? I mean, there's an X-Man codenamed Darwin! You just have to accept that at this point Jesus is more than some dude's name, it's got a bunch of mythical associations attached to it. And if some superhero wants to start calling themselves Jesus - especially when they've been given the powers of Jesus himself - that just makes sense!"
"No, I mean, she literally took his name! They're calling the old guy *Yeshua* now! How does that make sense? It's like if Falcon or Bucky started calling themselves Sigurd Rogers, and Sigurd started calling himself, I don't know, Sishua or something!"
"Like, you realize that's an actual name of Jesus in Christian mythology, right?"
"I don't care! It doesn't make any sense!"
"Okay, for one, it's branding, obviously. But if you're going to be all pedantic about it, the name Jesus Christ obviously has mythical associations with it. If, like, Zeus lost all his powers, and had to become a normal dude, you'd understand if he wanted to change his name to something normal like Sigurd, wouldn't you? Because if people go around calling him Zeus all the time, it just rubs it in that he's lost his powers!"
"Oh, that's bullshit."
"Whatever. The comic's fine, Yeshua's going to take up the Jesus mantle eventually, just enjoy this shit while it lasts. It's comics."
"The comics are crap! That's my problem! They're turning everyone into a misogynist strawman just so this new Jesus gets to look good! Like YAHWEH! He's a huge sexist now! What happened to the all wise, all benevolent father of Heaven?"
"He was always a sexist!"
"What? No he wasn't!"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure this god figure from thousand year old mythology was totally feminist and wise! That's why the apostles were all men, and why he chose Saul of Tarsus to become Saint Paul and get Jesus back on track, and why he kept getting mad every time Jesus wanted to get a romantic interest here on Earth!"
"Oh my god, if you're going to pull up every little thing YAHWEH ever did in fifty years of publication history - I mean, half the fucking characters in Marvel were like that! It was the fifties and sixties!"
"You're the one who said he wasn't sexist! Anyway, whatever. I bet I know who the new Jesus is, and it's totally consistent with Marvel continuity."
"What? How does that - Okay, so who is it, mister smart guy? I bet it's Mary Magdalene somehow."
"Nah, she's dying of cancer. And besides, how would she even get to the moon to pick up the Crown and the Nails in the first place? Here's who I think it is: it's the original Jesus Christ himself."
"...What the fuck are you talking about? It - She's a woman now, that's the whole point! And the old Jesus is still around!"
"That last part doesn't matter, he's part of the Trinity. He's been in three places at once before. But here's my point: according to continuity, Jesus was born of a virgin, right?"
"Yeah, sure, everyone knows that."
"So the spirit of Jesus came straight from YAHWEH, right? But the flesh of Jesus, that came straight from Mary herself. Y'know, Joseph didn't add anything to the equation."
"...No, no, you've got to be fucking kidding me..."
"Yeah! You see it, right! He's only ever had two X chromosomes! There was nowhere for him to get a Y chromosome from! Jesus was actually a woman this whole time!" | Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "This is ridiculous! A man, walking on water? Breaking bread to feed his followers? Stan, I think you lost it."
- "Why is that?
"There's nothing interesting about this character. These sketches make him look like a deranged wanderer, performing these so-called miracles."
- "He helps people."
"Look, you're a great artist. The Hindu series is going well. I absolutely love the god you designed, you know, with those six arms? Absolutely brilliant. But a superhero who looks like a bum, walking around in the Middle East?"
- "I think people will feel connected to him. Since he hasn't got weapons forged in dying stars or a vast army behind him. Just one simple man with the power to change it all."
"Alright... I'll have a look. What is his origin story?"
- "Virgin birth by his mother, Maria."
"...What."
- "God, Jesus Christ's father, gave a child in womb to Maria Magdalena."
"Didn't you play that card already? A god that impregnates mortal women? Didn't you go ham on that one and basically created half a pantheon, just on that?"
- "This is different. He didn't impregnate her. He just....made her pregnant."
"*sigh... And this God, what is he?"
- "Almighty. He created Heaven and Hell."
"So this Heaven and Earth...Is this like Valhalla and Hel?"
- "Heaven is a reward, where those who lived by Jesus Christ and God's will go. Hell is a place for sinners."
"But we already have Hel."
- "Yes but this Hell is written with 2 'l's."
"*sigh... And this Hell, who rules there?"
- "The Devil, or Satan as I like to call him. He's a banished angel from heaven, sent to live in the burning Hell for his sins."
"Interesting. So this Jesus Christ is God's harbinger then? He fights the Devil to save the world?"
- "No, Jesus' biggest feat is dying, nailed to a wooden cross."
"Stan.... Let's take a break, shall we." | Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jesus: Ascendance (film review)
By Agni Ragnarsson
The much-anticipated third installment in the popular Jesus Marvel series is unfortunately one that drags somewhat. With fans speculating about the cliffhanger ending that Jesus: Rebellion left us on, excitement for the final installment of Jesus' stand-alone series before Avengers: Armageddon is riding at an all-time high.
Unfortunately, that excitement is going to have to wait for Armageddon. Rebellion left us with Bloody Mary Magdalene killing Romans at Golgotha in a final stand while Jesus bled out, lightning and earthshaping powers completely sapped by Lucifer's Iron Cross. While Fans knew he would return, the after-credits scene of a stone tomb cracking led to some critics to call the cliffhanger formulaic, while others speculated that the final episode would focus instead on Bloody Mary, while Jesus took his final Deity form and guided events from above. No such luck.
Ascendance opens with Fishhook (aka Peter Disciple) in modern day New Orleans, traveling to an abandoned cemetary to wake Jesus from his iron induced slumber. the next forty minutes drag by as Jesus attempts to recover his powers by visiting a cathedral, where he is rudely told to leave by an uptight Asgardian druid (three guesses on which real life druid this character is inspired by.) Director Leif Alvarsson stumbles here, trying to inject time travel humor into what should be a darker finale. Scenes with Jesus trying on Birkenstocks, or a ham-fisted recreation of Odin in his Throne (the Da Vinci painting, not the novel) when Jesus gets a haircut are all a way to drag out the inevitable.
Indeed, we don't even see what Lucifer has been up to until nearly the hour mark, when it's revealed that Jesus' fake death melted his iron cross and so he's taken a relic from Moses (The First Defender, 2008) called The Ark. With it, he intends to trap Jesus and steal his powers, only to turn the world into lava.
With Bloody Mary presumably dead, Jesus and Fishhook are forced to seek help from an old foe. In the interest of not spoiling the film, I'll allow viewers to see rather than read the twist, but savvy filmgoers will see this development coming a mile away.
All in all, this is a rather lackluster Marvel film, from the MacGuffin to the Sten Larson cameo (he's a drunken fan wearing a Jesus t-shirt on the subway). The final battle is visually very exciting, but it's obvious the director and Marvel have their sights set on the upcoming Armageddon. Watch it, or don't. It'll be a hit either way.
6/10.
edit: a few words
| Jesus, with his mighty cross, flies down from his home world heaven to beat the ever living shit out of satan (even though he's already dead). He even meets a human girl, and falls desperately in love, even though humans are frail af and will probably die of cancer or something. Tune in next week as he fights his arch enemy, Judas, in an all out battle of holiness!!!!!
Jesus Christ! the movie coming to you this fall, played by tom hanks | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug. | Little Admir flipped his comic book in earnest as the Gothi recited his chant to the Goddes of Harvest, Sif, hoping for a plentiful season. The people in the procession chanted with him, but Admir's eyes focused on the latest exploits of his favorite superhero rather than the drowning wave of his fellow believers. He laughed when He made a joke, smiled brightly when he saved a man from starvation, and didn't quite understand how his blood was wine.
He had once asked his mother about that, who said it was blasphemy, but he didn't know what that meant either so he just kept reading the series, satisfied with the notion that he didn't know any better.
His mother glanced at him, noticing his lack of chanting with the Gothi and his rather unpleasant focus on sheets of colored paper rather than on good old parchment.
"Put that away child," is mother said. "You can read it later."
"But mama, I have to know what Jesus is up to. The next edition comes out tonight," Admir frowned, "and my friends will laugh at me if I can't recite the Lord's Prayer!"
His mother looked down at him, "The *what*?"
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven," Admir began to recite. His voice drowning out the entire procession. Eventually, the Gothi's eyes laid upon him and his eyebrows lifted.
"What is this prayer young Admir speaks, my lady?" He said to the mother.
She shook her head, "It is nothing. Just a note in a comic book, nothing more."
"It's not just a note mama! Mr. Sigrun said he could be real!"
The Gothi laughed, "Mr. Sigrun simply has a wild imagination little one, nothing more.
Admir frowned as he shut his comic book. He stared at the Gothi and then sighed, tugging on his mother's fur, he said: "But Mama, he can walk on water!"
The Gothi laughed heartily, "Not even the All-Father can walk on water young Admir!" The procession laughed with the Gothi and Admir's mother stuffed the comic book into her animal skin, visibly embarrased by her son's lack of understanding between faith and fiction. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | They call me Christ, the Redeemer. They do not know that I live in sin.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I hung on the cross, and then I died. Three days later, I rose again.
I was not supposed to return. That was not part of His original plan.
For forty days and forty nights, I wandered once, without food. The Devil came to tempt me, and I refused his hand. It was not hard - for was I not the Son of God? My soul was inseparable from His, and therefore refused all temptation.
I kissed the lips of sinners, and forgave them for their crimes. I worked the miracles He willed; I fed the poor, and raised the dead.
I passed with passion through the world, but never touched it, truly. I was my Father’s son, and knew only His perfection. How, then, could I understand the imperfection of man?
If you had listened to my Sermon on the Mount, you would have realized what would come.
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I extolled.
Only a madman could conceive of this command. Exiled from Eden, burdened with sin, how could His children attain the flawless grace of God? Still, because I did not see, I pressed my words upon them and claimed that practiced faith would save them all.
I forgot my own counsel, when it mattered the most. In that moment on the Cross, when He gave me all the sins of Man to bear, I bowed beneath the weight of anguish and fell. Sin is not the act, but separation from God. I, who had never known the absence of my Father before, wrenched at the strain upon our union as Man’s suffering tore me away. I could not take it, this division, this loss of the Divine. The screams of an endless multitude rose within me, and I cried out in infinite fear and pain. I believed that I was lost, and my Father had left me to die alone.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
It was His final test for me, and I failed.
When I opened my eyes and saw that I was not by His side, I sought with haste to make amends. I appeared to Mary and my Disciples - and what I said to them, I said in the hope that my Father would hear.
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.”
He heard, but did not reach out His hand.
They say that I ascended, but in truth, I fled in shame. I had betrayed my Father’s love, and my doubt had branded me forever.
I have walked the Earth for millennia, now. There will be no Second Coming. I never left; I am still here.
I am here beside the rapist, as I hammer nails into his groin. I am here beside the killer, as I ram my cross into his eye. I am here beside the wicked, the wrongful and the cruel. I crucify their sins, strike Satan from their souls, and coax repentance from their lips until they swear their love for God. Thus, do I bless the sinners, and deliver them unto His arms.
They call me Christ, The Redeemer.
I seek to redeem myself.
---
*I am surprised that Jesus Christ the Superhero doesn’t exist. I mean, the origin story practically writes itself. This guy probably has enough angst to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. His parental abandonment issues might actually be worse. He's real franchise material - Jesus Begins, followed by The Redeemer, followed by The Redeemer Rises.* | Little Admir flipped his comic book in earnest as the Gothi recited his chant to the Goddes of Harvest, Sif, hoping for a plentiful season. The people in the procession chanted with him, but Admir's eyes focused on the latest exploits of his favorite superhero rather than the drowning wave of his fellow believers. He laughed when He made a joke, smiled brightly when he saved a man from starvation, and didn't quite understand how his blood was wine.
He had once asked his mother about that, who said it was blasphemy, but he didn't know what that meant either so he just kept reading the series, satisfied with the notion that he didn't know any better.
His mother glanced at him, noticing his lack of chanting with the Gothi and his rather unpleasant focus on sheets of colored paper rather than on good old parchment.
"Put that away child," is mother said. "You can read it later."
"But mama, I have to know what Jesus is up to. The next edition comes out tonight," Admir frowned, "and my friends will laugh at me if I can't recite the Lord's Prayer!"
His mother looked down at him, "The *what*?"
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven," Admir began to recite. His voice drowning out the entire procession. Eventually, the Gothi's eyes laid upon him and his eyebrows lifted.
"What is this prayer young Admir speaks, my lady?" He said to the mother.
She shook her head, "It is nothing. Just a note in a comic book, nothing more."
"It's not just a note mama! Mr. Sigrun said he could be real!"
The Gothi laughed, "Mr. Sigrun simply has a wild imagination little one, nothing more.
Admir frowned as he shut his comic book. He stared at the Gothi and then sighed, tugging on his mother's fur, he said: "But Mama, he can walk on water!"
The Gothi laughed heartily, "Not even the All-Father can walk on water young Admir!" The procession laughed with the Gothi and Admir's mother stuffed the comic book into her animal skin, visibly embarrased by her son's lack of understanding between faith and fiction. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| Little Admir flipped his comic book in earnest as the Gothi recited his chant to the Goddes of Harvest, Sif, hoping for a plentiful season. The people in the procession chanted with him, but Admir's eyes focused on the latest exploits of his favorite superhero rather than the drowning wave of his fellow believers. He laughed when He made a joke, smiled brightly when he saved a man from starvation, and didn't quite understand how his blood was wine.
He had once asked his mother about that, who said it was blasphemy, but he didn't know what that meant either so he just kept reading the series, satisfied with the notion that he didn't know any better.
His mother glanced at him, noticing his lack of chanting with the Gothi and his rather unpleasant focus on sheets of colored paper rather than on good old parchment.
"Put that away child," is mother said. "You can read it later."
"But mama, I have to know what Jesus is up to. The next edition comes out tonight," Admir frowned, "and my friends will laugh at me if I can't recite the Lord's Prayer!"
His mother looked down at him, "The *what*?"
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven," Admir began to recite. His voice drowning out the entire procession. Eventually, the Gothi's eyes laid upon him and his eyebrows lifted.
"What is this prayer young Admir speaks, my lady?" He said to the mother.
She shook her head, "It is nothing. Just a note in a comic book, nothing more."
"It's not just a note mama! Mr. Sigrun said he could be real!"
The Gothi laughed, "Mr. Sigrun simply has a wild imagination little one, nothing more.
Admir frowned as he shut his comic book. He stared at the Gothi and then sighed, tugging on his mother's fur, he said: "But Mama, he can walk on water!"
The Gothi laughed heartily, "Not even the All-Father can walk on water young Admir!" The procession laughed with the Gothi and Admir's mother stuffed the comic book into her animal skin, visibly embarrased by her son's lack of understanding between faith and fiction. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug. | He had been left on the cross for days, slowly dying from the torments of crucifixion. Lucifer stood over him, laughing.
"You cannot defeat me. You're nothing but a pawn."
The man on the cross looked intently at Lucifer, somehow resisting the urge to curse his name to Hell and back again.
"By the gods, you're a fool for even trying. You will die here, Son of God! And I will claim your soul."
Lucifer calmly walked to the cross, smirking. "What's the matter? Not even gonna talk to me?"
The man on the cross closed his eyes and sighed... and in a flash, lightning struck the cross, shattering it. Lucifer was knocked back, slowly coming to his feet as the smoke cleared. As it cleared, Lucifer looked on in abject horror at what he saw.
The man on the cross stood, defiantly. "I am the Son of God. I am the Savior of Man."
He cracked his knuckles. "I am Jesús, the Christian Martial Artist!" | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | They call me Christ, the Redeemer. They do not know that I live in sin.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I hung on the cross, and then I died. Three days later, I rose again.
I was not supposed to return. That was not part of His original plan.
For forty days and forty nights, I wandered once, without food. The Devil came to tempt me, and I refused his hand. It was not hard - for was I not the Son of God? My soul was inseparable from His, and therefore refused all temptation.
I kissed the lips of sinners, and forgave them for their crimes. I worked the miracles He willed; I fed the poor, and raised the dead.
I passed with passion through the world, but never touched it, truly. I was my Father’s son, and knew only His perfection. How, then, could I understand the imperfection of man?
If you had listened to my Sermon on the Mount, you would have realized what would come.
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I extolled.
Only a madman could conceive of this command. Exiled from Eden, burdened with sin, how could His children attain the flawless grace of God? Still, because I did not see, I pressed my words upon them and claimed that practiced faith would save them all.
I forgot my own counsel, when it mattered the most. In that moment on the Cross, when He gave me all the sins of Man to bear, I bowed beneath the weight of anguish and fell. Sin is not the act, but separation from God. I, who had never known the absence of my Father before, wrenched at the strain upon our union as Man’s suffering tore me away. I could not take it, this division, this loss of the Divine. The screams of an endless multitude rose within me, and I cried out in infinite fear and pain. I believed that I was lost, and my Father had left me to die alone.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
It was His final test for me, and I failed.
When I opened my eyes and saw that I was not by His side, I sought with haste to make amends. I appeared to Mary and my Disciples - and what I said to them, I said in the hope that my Father would hear.
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.”
He heard, but did not reach out His hand.
They say that I ascended, but in truth, I fled in shame. I had betrayed my Father’s love, and my doubt had branded me forever.
I have walked the Earth for millennia, now. There will be no Second Coming. I never left; I am still here.
I am here beside the rapist, as I hammer nails into his groin. I am here beside the killer, as I ram my cross into his eye. I am here beside the wicked, the wrongful and the cruel. I crucify their sins, strike Satan from their souls, and coax repentance from their lips until they swear their love for God. Thus, do I bless the sinners, and deliver them unto His arms.
They call me Christ, The Redeemer.
I seek to redeem myself.
---
*I am surprised that Jesus Christ the Superhero doesn’t exist. I mean, the origin story practically writes itself. This guy probably has enough angst to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. His parental abandonment issues might actually be worse. He's real franchise material - Jesus Begins, followed by The Redeemer, followed by The Redeemer Rises.* | He had been left on the cross for days, slowly dying from the torments of crucifixion. Lucifer stood over him, laughing.
"You cannot defeat me. You're nothing but a pawn."
The man on the cross looked intently at Lucifer, somehow resisting the urge to curse his name to Hell and back again.
"By the gods, you're a fool for even trying. You will die here, Son of God! And I will claim your soul."
Lucifer calmly walked to the cross, smirking. "What's the matter? Not even gonna talk to me?"
The man on the cross closed his eyes and sighed... and in a flash, lightning struck the cross, shattering it. Lucifer was knocked back, slowly coming to his feet as the smoke cleared. As it cleared, Lucifer looked on in abject horror at what he saw.
The man on the cross stood, defiantly. "I am the Son of God. I am the Savior of Man."
He cracked his knuckles. "I am Jesús, the Christian Martial Artist!" | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| He had been left on the cross for days, slowly dying from the torments of crucifixion. Lucifer stood over him, laughing.
"You cannot defeat me. You're nothing but a pawn."
The man on the cross looked intently at Lucifer, somehow resisting the urge to curse his name to Hell and back again.
"By the gods, you're a fool for even trying. You will die here, Son of God! And I will claim your soul."
Lucifer calmly walked to the cross, smirking. "What's the matter? Not even gonna talk to me?"
The man on the cross closed his eyes and sighed... and in a flash, lightning struck the cross, shattering it. Lucifer was knocked back, slowly coming to his feet as the smoke cleared. As it cleared, Lucifer looked on in abject horror at what he saw.
The man on the cross stood, defiantly. "I am the Son of God. I am the Savior of Man."
He cracked his knuckles. "I am Jesús, the Christian Martial Artist!" | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug. | "Jesus Christ!"
The exclamation came from the room's entryway. The roguish, brash voice of Tony Stark pitched up in alarm at the sight before him. Slowly closing the door behind him, Tony looked about the room, jaw dropped as his gaze settled on each massive blood-red stains in the white carpet, on the pale blue bedding and dripping down the vaguely yellow walls. The headboard on the bed was broken, splinters of wood scattered across the floor with still more red stains on them. The sliding mirror door of the closet was off the tracks, still standing only by being wedged into the frame slightly off-kilter.
A groaning sound issued from under the bed, and a sandaled foot slid out from under the dust ruffle hanging by the skewed mattress.
"Rise and shine, rock star." Stark chuckled, kicking at the foot. More groaning answered.
Slowly, a second foot appeared, this one missing its sandal, followed by knees, hips, shoulders, and finally, a head. Jesus stood up, one hand on the night stand for balance, cradling his face in his other hand.
"Oh, Lord, have mercy. I don't feel so good..." he mumbled. Instantly, he began to perk up. He blinked away the fog in his eyes, and the glare from the windows subsided. The pounding pain in his head relented, and the sink faucet in the bathroom, running red since last night, sounded much quieter.
"How much *water* did you have last night?" Stark asked, holding up a Dasani water bottle, staring at Jesus knowingly. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| "Jesus Christ!"
The exclamation came from the room's entryway. The roguish, brash voice of Tony Stark pitched up in alarm at the sight before him. Slowly closing the door behind him, Tony looked about the room, jaw dropped as his gaze settled on each massive blood-red stains in the white carpet, on the pale blue bedding and dripping down the vaguely yellow walls. The headboard on the bed was broken, splinters of wood scattered across the floor with still more red stains on them. The sliding mirror door of the closet was off the tracks, still standing only by being wedged into the frame slightly off-kilter.
A groaning sound issued from under the bed, and a sandaled foot slid out from under the dust ruffle hanging by the skewed mattress.
"Rise and shine, rock star." Stark chuckled, kicking at the foot. More groaning answered.
Slowly, a second foot appeared, this one missing its sandal, followed by knees, hips, shoulders, and finally, a head. Jesus stood up, one hand on the night stand for balance, cradling his face in his other hand.
"Oh, Lord, have mercy. I don't feel so good..." he mumbled. Instantly, he began to perk up. He blinked away the fog in his eyes, and the glare from the windows subsided. The pounding pain in his head relented, and the sink faucet in the bathroom, running red since last night, sounded much quieter.
"How much *water* did you have last night?" Stark asked, holding up a Dasani water bottle, staring at Jesus knowingly. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| Jake and Doug are walking to the cinema to see the premiere of the new high-budget Marvel film titled "Jesus".
"Hey, Doug. You excited about the movie?" asks Jake.
"Yeah, I'm shaking," replies Doug, sarcastically. "You know me, not really into superhero flicks. You insisted we see this crap."
"This one is different, dude. The main character, Jesus. He's god in christian mythology. He's b..." Jake gets interrupted.
"Odin fuck, man. I told you, I don't care."
The two arrive at the cinema and watch the 160 minutes long movie.
"So, what'd you think?" asks Jake.
"I don't know. Wasn't that bad. Still, not that good either," replies Doug.
"You've got to read the book in which the story is based upon. You would've enjoyed it more if you did," says Jake.
"Which is that?" asks Doug.
"The Bible" answers Jake.
"It's pure fiction, right?" asks Doug, curiously.
"Well there are some things that really happened. I mean, this Jesus guy, he existed, but he didn't have the powers which are attributed to him in the book. Walking on water, healing the terminally ill, turning water into wine, all that stuff's horseshit," replies Jake.
"Yeah, how can people believe that sort of thing, it's ridiculous," says Doug.
"A lot of people did throughout history, but it kind of diminished in the middle ages," replies Jake.
"How many other gods are there in christian mythology. I mean, this Jesus's kind of lame," asks Doug.
"Just one, actually. I mean, it's a trio or something, but just one god." replies Jake.
"One? That's weird dude." says Doug. | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| They call me Christ, the Redeemer. They do not know that I live in sin.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
I hung on the cross, and then I died. Three days later, I rose again.
I was not supposed to return. That was not part of His original plan.
For forty days and forty nights, I wandered once, without food. The Devil came to tempt me, and I refused his hand. It was not hard - for was I not the Son of God? My soul was inseparable from His, and therefore refused all temptation.
I kissed the lips of sinners, and forgave them for their crimes. I worked the miracles He willed; I fed the poor, and raised the dead.
I passed with passion through the world, but never touched it, truly. I was my Father’s son, and knew only His perfection. How, then, could I understand the imperfection of man?
If you had listened to my Sermon on the Mount, you would have realized what would come.
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I extolled.
Only a madman could conceive of this command. Exiled from Eden, burdened with sin, how could His children attain the flawless grace of God? Still, because I did not see, I pressed my words upon them and claimed that practiced faith would save them all.
I forgot my own counsel, when it mattered the most. In that moment on the Cross, when He gave me all the sins of Man to bear, I bowed beneath the weight of anguish and fell. Sin is not the act, but separation from God. I, who had never known the absence of my Father before, wrenched at the strain upon our union as Man’s suffering tore me away. I could not take it, this division, this loss of the Divine. The screams of an endless multitude rose within me, and I cried out in infinite fear and pain. I believed that I was lost, and my Father had left me to die alone.
*Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?*
It was His final test for me, and I failed.
When I opened my eyes and saw that I was not by His side, I sought with haste to make amends. I appeared to Mary and my Disciples - and what I said to them, I said in the hope that my Father would hear.
“But go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.”
He heard, but did not reach out His hand.
They say that I ascended, but in truth, I fled in shame. I had betrayed my Father’s love, and my doubt had branded me forever.
I have walked the Earth for millennia, now. There will be no Second Coming. I never left; I am still here.
I am here beside the rapist, as I hammer nails into his groin. I am here beside the killer, as I ram my cross into his eye. I am here beside the wicked, the wrongful and the cruel. I crucify their sins, strike Satan from their souls, and coax repentance from their lips until they swear their love for God. Thus, do I bless the sinners, and deliver them unto His arms.
They call me Christ, The Redeemer.
I seek to redeem myself.
---
*I am surprised that Jesus Christ the Superhero doesn’t exist. I mean, the origin story practically writes itself. This guy probably has enough angst to give Bruce Wayne a run for his money. His parental abandonment issues might actually be worse. He's real franchise material - Jesus Begins, followed by The Redeemer, followed by The Redeemer Rises.* | |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | ‘Where did they go?’ The barracks were empty, just as the mess hall had been. ‘It looks like they just dropped everything and left. How many soldiers are stationed here? ’
‘Around 500. But you cannot really call them soldiers. These are the most highly trained Airforce paratroopers around. You need about 20 of them to bring down a small country. Captain Rogers, it is of the utmost importance that you find them.’
Steve nodded. ‘Anything else missing, Colonel? ‘
'Several aircraft have been reported stolen.'
‘Highly trained but not very disciplined apparently’ , Steve mumbled.
‘I can ascertain you that these –‘
‘It’s his voice.’ The words were spoken from the quarter officer’s room. They rushed in and as soon as they entered they found a small man sitting behind the desk, playing with a coin that seemed too large to go through his fingers. He had an otherworldly look about him.
‘Who are you, did you do this?’ Steve grabbed the tiny man and pushed him against the wall.
'Tut-tut. No need to get aggressive now. He is gone now. And you are in way more trouble than you think. My name is Salome, I am Pharisee. My people have been trying to track down this rogue prophet for centuries. Caught him a few times too. '
‘What the hell is going on and who are you talking about? ‘
Salome shrugged off Steve’s grip.
‘Jesus Christ. It’s his voice. He came in here, stood on a chair, spread his hands and turned all of your one man armies into his followers. Soon more will follow. Cities, then countries. He subdues entire continents to his will. And there will be war. Centuries of war. Mr. Colonel, how many aircraft did you say were missing? ‘
‘He has 5 F-35s, 2 Chinook helicopters. 7 in total.’
‘That’s not seven in total, Mr. Colonel. Not even close.’
| "Jesus Christ! Stop getting Scarlet Witch drunk!!" Cap yells from across the room.
Jesus looks up, "what are you talking about, man, it's only water."
"Only water, my ass!" Cap retorts, "and where the fuck did the 10,000 fish in my room come from?! The smell is never gonna come out of my suit!"
"You're harshing my vibes, man." Jesus looked unphased. "Don't make me call my dad. He said I could be anything I wanted and I wanted to be an Avenger. You can't change that."
Cap grumbled to himself. "Fine, Jesus, you lead the Avengers. I quit."
He dials a quick number on his phone, "Hey, Bruce? Yeah, it's, uh, Cap. Uh huh. Yeah. Well, I know you have a super team too so I was wondering if maybe . . . What's that? Oh. Well, um, you just let me know."
"Everything ok dude?" Jesus asks.
"Yeah, well, it looks like Tony got to Bruce before I did. Luckily I have an in with the NYPD."
*two weeks later*
Jesus is bringing a perp into the station when he sees a familiar man mopping blood off the floor.
"Cap?"
The man doesn't look up and Jesus goes on his way.
"Bastard walked right where I just mopped, what a piece of shit."
| |
[WP] In a world where Nordic mythology is the dominant religion Marvel comics made a superhero who is a God from Christian mythology called Jesus Christ. | "I can't believe they fucking replaced Jesus Christ with a woman. It's so fucking cringy now. All she does is beat up misogynists."
"Dude, whatever. It's Jesus. He's been a fish, he's been replaced by an alien horse at one point, they had that dude with the leather vest and the ponytail in the nineties - It's comicbooks, man. Literally everything has been done. They've got to do new stuff to keep readers interested. What, are they going to have Jesus fight off Armageddon again?"
"They weren't Jesus, though! Beta Ray Bill wasn't Jesus, he just got to wear the Crown of Thorns and the Holy Nails. This chick is literally Jesus! She stole his name! That doesn't even fucking make sense! Christ is a title, okay, sure, if she was just the Christ I guess I could understand that. But they're literally calling her Jesus Christ! How does that make sense?"
"Dude, like, Apollo is both a Greek god, and a superhero. Same for Prometheus and Mercury and the guys in the Pantheon. Are you complaining about them? I mean, there's an X-Man codenamed Darwin! You just have to accept that at this point Jesus is more than some dude's name, it's got a bunch of mythical associations attached to it. And if some superhero wants to start calling themselves Jesus - especially when they've been given the powers of Jesus himself - that just makes sense!"
"No, I mean, she literally took his name! They're calling the old guy *Yeshua* now! How does that make sense? It's like if Falcon or Bucky started calling themselves Sigurd Rogers, and Sigurd started calling himself, I don't know, Sishua or something!"
"Like, you realize that's an actual name of Jesus in Christian mythology, right?"
"I don't care! It doesn't make any sense!"
"Okay, for one, it's branding, obviously. But if you're going to be all pedantic about it, the name Jesus Christ obviously has mythical associations with it. If, like, Zeus lost all his powers, and had to become a normal dude, you'd understand if he wanted to change his name to something normal like Sigurd, wouldn't you? Because if people go around calling him Zeus all the time, it just rubs it in that he's lost his powers!"
"Oh, that's bullshit."
"Whatever. The comic's fine, Yeshua's going to take up the Jesus mantle eventually, just enjoy this shit while it lasts. It's comics."
"The comics are crap! That's my problem! They're turning everyone into a misogynist strawman just so this new Jesus gets to look good! Like YAHWEH! He's a huge sexist now! What happened to the all wise, all benevolent father of Heaven?"
"He was always a sexist!"
"What? No he wasn't!"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure this god figure from thousand year old mythology was totally feminist and wise! That's why the apostles were all men, and why he chose Saul of Tarsus to become Saint Paul and get Jesus back on track, and why he kept getting mad every time Jesus wanted to get a romantic interest here on Earth!"
"Oh my god, if you're going to pull up every little thing YAHWEH ever did in fifty years of publication history - I mean, half the fucking characters in Marvel were like that! It was the fifties and sixties!"
"You're the one who said he wasn't sexist! Anyway, whatever. I bet I know who the new Jesus is, and it's totally consistent with Marvel continuity."
"What? How does that - Okay, so who is it, mister smart guy? I bet it's Mary Magdalene somehow."
"Nah, she's dying of cancer. And besides, how would she even get to the moon to pick up the Crown and the Nails in the first place? Here's who I think it is: it's the original Jesus Christ himself."
"...What the fuck are you talking about? It - She's a woman now, that's the whole point! And the old Jesus is still around!"
"That last part doesn't matter, he's part of the Trinity. He's been in three places at once before. But here's my point: according to continuity, Jesus was born of a virgin, right?"
"Yeah, sure, everyone knows that."
"So the spirit of Jesus came straight from YAHWEH, right? But the flesh of Jesus, that came straight from Mary herself. Y'know, Joseph didn't add anything to the equation."
"...No, no, you've got to be fucking kidding me..."
"Yeah! You see it, right! He's only ever had two X chromosomes! There was nowhere for him to get a Y chromosome from! Jesus was actually a woman this whole time!" | "Jesus Christ! Stop getting Scarlet Witch drunk!!" Cap yells from across the room.
Jesus looks up, "what are you talking about, man, it's only water."
"Only water, my ass!" Cap retorts, "and where the fuck did the 10,000 fish in my room come from?! The smell is never gonna come out of my suit!"
"You're harshing my vibes, man." Jesus looked unphased. "Don't make me call my dad. He said I could be anything I wanted and I wanted to be an Avenger. You can't change that."
Cap grumbled to himself. "Fine, Jesus, you lead the Avengers. I quit."
He dials a quick number on his phone, "Hey, Bruce? Yeah, it's, uh, Cap. Uh huh. Yeah. Well, I know you have a super team too so I was wondering if maybe . . . What's that? Oh. Well, um, you just let me know."
"Everything ok dude?" Jesus asks.
"Yeah, well, it looks like Tony got to Bruce before I did. Luckily I have an in with the NYPD."
*two weeks later*
Jesus is bringing a perp into the station when he sees a familiar man mopping blood off the floor.
"Cap?"
The man doesn't look up and Jesus goes on his way.
"Bastard walked right where I just mopped, what a piece of shit."
| |
[WP] God answers every time you call His name. Oftentimes, this is terribly inconvenient. | I was sitting on the toilet...or well *shitting* on the toilet. After a spicy chinese food binge, i was feeling the dragon breath. A combination of food poisoning and eastern vodoo was about to spill out of my man cavern. In seat-gripping pain i moaned, "oh god thi-"
#*What is it my son?*
Shit not this again. I cursed to myself as my sphincter closed up like a bank vault. "Uh nothing im sorry lord!"
#*Do you wish for my help?*
"NO. No no thats okay just go. My god pl-"
#*What is it my son*
Hes a busy deity, sometimes he sets up his voicemail and i get that instead, so i get set responses. "No no im okay."
I was quite literally sick of this shit, which i could feel razing my colon. "What the hell-"
*"You called?"*
"Satan??" i yelled as a red form materialized in my bathroom.
*"Ohh this is from the general tsao food poisoning i gave you."*
I glared into his shiny black eyes that glistened like the sweat on my beet red forehead. "You son of a bitch."
*"Yeah im really regretting that right now, this smells SO bad, its like someone mixed napalm and spoiled milk. Oh my go-"*
#*What is it my fallen angel?*
"WILL YOU BOTH PLEASE GET OUT OF MY BATHROOM." | I'm normally pretty careful, using the Lord's name in vain. It's the only commandment I follow, and I try to follow it adamantly. It's more out of spite than respect, as I tend to enjoy breaking the rules. All of them. Imagine the self control issues I had when I found out just uttering his name summoned the bastard.
The first time, it was strange. I wasnt frightened. I didnt think atonement was nigh. I remember bumping into a man with a hot coffee and a cellphone e glued to his face. Of course the dumb fuck ran head first into me. Hot coffee spilled down the front of my chest, and like any normal man would, I cursed. One specific curse was that sod in the sky's name.
With a crash and a bang and enough bright light to blind a blind man, he appeared. Coffee phone fucker and I just stared, not sure what to do or say. All white robes and bearded douchebag magnificence, he stared me down. In a rumbly voice akin to earthquakes and destruction he spoke. 'you have summoned me, my boy. What troubles thee.'
'Well this numbfuck walked face first into my chest with an open cup of hot Joe and unfortunately I feel pain no thanks to somebody. Thats my problem.' the idiot beside me seemed to find the hinges in his face, and realized they worked because he began spouting off half words and partial phrases. I wasn't wrong, it seemed, he's an idiot. Dense as the concrete daddy dropped him on.
'My boy, this hardly seems worth my time. Petty human squabbles are not on my agenda today. I bid thee farewell.' With that, whiteisright fucked off in a blur of light and faux majesty. I was pissed. Shit stain with his coffee cup half empty stared into the sky, dumbfounded. I slapped him upside the head before continuing on my way.
Today, I'm mid murder. This preppy douchebag in a pullover cardigan and tacky corderouys blubbered about letting him live. I was disgusted with him, so I decided to end his life. I haven't had a fighter in a long time. As I brought a knife to his eyes, showing him his own blood, he asked for mercy from our lordly godliness. Laughing, i told him I'll summon him. I'd never done this before, summoned white lightning mid crime. 'God, this poor boy seems to think you can help! Ha!'
Crash bang and boom, our nightlight in the sky showed up. He grimaced at the sight I presented him. I began having fun at about this point. I began laughing.
'What is the meaning of this?!'
'petty human squabbles my man, I don't like how dickless here dresses. I'm going to cut his throat. You feel like helping this schmuck? He asked for you specifically.' I grinned ear to ear, watching our Father who art in heaven struggle with his own objectivity. He did this, he knew it. 'Sorry, buddy ol' pal, you gave me free will like you gave this lad no balls.'
'with a voice more like a trickling stream, he said 'Thou shall not kill.'
He turned his ugly mug in my direction, demanding my attention fully. 'You have made a mistake here today. I am the alpha and omega. I created you. What right have you to destroy what I cherish? What-'
'free will fuckface!' I swiftly stabbed at his shiny white dress, and sunk into what felt like flesh. The knife stuck deep into the stomach of our Lord and saviour. The immaculate white robes deepened to a crimson gloss, and God sunk to one knee. A drop of blood slipped out the right side of his mouth, as he made eye contact one last time. He fell to the ground, light seeming to dissipate around him. Quickly, the room became dark. The rich boy tied to a chair in my living room began screaming. His eyes were so wide they seemed to bulge from his face. As the room went dark, I felt powerful.
I seemed to stand eight feet tall. I towered over the bloody boy. With a thought, his neck snapped, and his awful screams ended. I left him there, and walked to the street out of the dilapidated house I'd been hiding in. I stopped in the middle of the road, smiling my first smile.
I seemed to be forty feet tall now. I could see everything. And almost giddily, I admired it. Everything was doused in darkness. It was all mine. Earth was my kingdom. I am the new god. | |
[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica. | Everything went from blurry to black.
I jolted awake - taking an inventory of my surroundings. The low hum of machines played in time with the confusion dancing in my head. A howling dust storm scraped against the outside of my tiny, cable-filled studio. I'm home. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wiped the sweat from my upper lip.
Inhale. Exhale. Refocus.
"Maggie, what's today's date?" I called out.
"Today is eleventh of August, the year two-thousand one-hundred sixty-three. Are you feeling alright? That's the second time you've asked today. Vital snapshots are reporting elevated levels of body temperature, blood pressure, and stress."
I roll the date around in my head.
11 August. 2163.
The anniversary of her death. 167 years ago. She knew this was coming.
"I'm fine, thanks." I clear my throat, "Tea, please".
"Whatever you say," Maggie said, with a sigh of consolation. The low rumble of the kettle echoed in the kitchen. For a home AI system, she was quite empathetic. I'm thankful for that. Compassion has become scarce since humanity found refuge in the vents.
My eyes draw back to the screen.
The cursor blinked, eagerly awaiting input. I'm stuck. What a terrible title. Highlight. Delete.
My eyes darted around the ceiling as my fingers rested on the keys more gently than usual. Dull pain throbbed from their tips. "Maybe I should go easy on the biting," the familiar and fleeting thought scurried away as quickly as it came.
A quiet ring beckoned me to the kitchen. Tea was ready. I made my way across the granite floor, my feet absorbing the cold of the tile. With achy hands, I grasped the mug. Instantly, a wave of warmth washed over me. Chamomile. My favorite.
Back at my desk, articles were strewn about across the holodisplays. The room was dark except for the soft blue glow emanating from the plethora of personal accounts, news reports, scientific journals, and environmental studies.
Twenty years after her death, it became apparent global warming had dramatically hurled the world's ecosystems in to disarray. Earth's oceans continued to rise to record-breaking levels, year-over-year, as ice caps withered away in the heat. Flora and fauna were wiped from the earth in staggering numbers. Unfortunately, it was far too late to reverse the damages humans had inflicted on the globe, so the efforts to synergize densely populated areas with "green energy" were re-aligned to discovering a habitable planet.
Ours was dying. It still is.
The search was short-lived. Earthlings were graced with an answer. She was right, they would come for us.
Vangelia Dimitrova, widely known as Baba Vanga, predicted it all. Her prophecies of war, famine, greed, and violence have proven to be reality over the span of two centuries. Society disregarded her premonitions of the Vimfami shortly before her death in 1996, but here we are, nearly 200 years later.
Sentient beings. Humanoids. Vimfami. They emerged from beneath our feet, living for centuries in the hydro thermal vents far below the ice caps - or rather, where they had been. The caps had completely melted by 2045; they felt as though they could not exist in secrecy any longer.
At first, the public feared them, and understandably so - as it was in human nature to resist change. There was mass distrust in the Vimfami, and even more in the governments of the world that kept their existence a secret to their people. The Vimfami waged no wars, experienced no famine, had no inherent sense of greed or violence. To Vimfami, these are constructs of weakness and self-importance that distracted the mind from greatness. The Vimfami lived in perfect harmony. Their movements, thoughts, speech, everything, was of a hivemind - as if they responded to guidelines delivered to each individual through an ansible.
Our cohabitants unveiled technologies far superior to the latest achievements of man. Methods and instruments for sustaining life deep below the surface were taught, improved, and then taught again to the humans that were willing to accept their help. As time dredged on and drought desiccated the lands, humans sought refuge in the vents and were accepted with open arms by the Vimfami. A select few, myself included, have been appointed to remain on the surface to observe the changing climate. I'm still bitter about it.
"It's only a matter of time before we fuck that up, too." I whisper, this time to no one in particular.
Inhale. Exhale. Refocus.
---
Criticism is welcome! Haven't written much of anything in a long while, and I'd like to get back in to the swing of it. Pls be gentle.
| They'd know about it for years of course, the litteral ivory towers slumbering beneath those ancient frozen sheets. They'd know about it before they'd completed the first steam engine. Three hundred and eighteen years of planning, keeping the public in the dark and the science buried. They were convinced the ancient tech buried beneath Antarctica could fix the damage they'd wrought to this Earth, or take them home. They were right.
Edit: I apparently cannot spell this early in the morning. | |
[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica. | Considering it's size, the rapid underwater vessel (or RUV for short) hummed through the water at a blistering pace. Dr. Pamela Anders sat at one of the small four-person tables in the lounge overlooking some satellite photos that outlined the remains of this 'beyond ancient' city.
It had been a decade prior when the sat shots had first started to reveal something hiding under the Antarctic ice. Much like those initial photos of Mars from the early and mid 2000s, most people had dismissed the anomalies as rock formations and natural occurrences. But the skeptics had been equally wrong about both. Sure, NASA had known all along but governments prior to the fallout of the global warming crisis had been corrupt, secrective and for some reason thought the masses "couldn't handle" revelations of this magnitude.
Turns out a few extra trillion gallons of water, storms of Biblical proportions, and the loss of most of civilization tended to unite the people of Earth. Fast forward a few hundred years, extensive Mars exploration, and near annihilation and the discovery barely raised eyebrows with the public.
Pamela poured over the five remaining images looking for something she knew had to be there. She knew somewhere lurking in these images was the door to a structure, exactly like the one they'd found on Mars. She analyzed each image carefully, studying the bizarre shaped buildings and the winding sidewalks and stair cases. She remembered vividly how pissed Rick, her boss, had been as she threw out sweeping armfuls of images.
"Pam, are you serious? You realize there's barely any paper left in this world. You better find it." He'd said unapologetically.
As much as she'd hated having to print them all, this was the only way should could engross herself in these images. Turning them 360º and analyzing them through AR just wasn't the same and this had allowed her to narrow 50,000 site images to just 5 Sites.
And now, she knew, even if she wasn't able to spot it in the photos it was there, in one of these five locations. She was positive if she could just get a closer look. If she could analyze it live with her own eyes, she could find it.
"We're approaching the ruins Pam," Eric said as he popped his head into the lounge. "We're scheduled for site 2 out of the 5 first. Just so you know, as we approach there may be a slight..."
The entire RUV bounced and vibrated scattering the pictures on the table before her.
"bump." Eric said finishing his sentence.
"Great, I'll be down in two seconds. Let me just gather my photos..." she said trailing off.
She looked down at her pile of photos. Two had fallen off the table and the three remaining had landed on top of each other overlaying a connecting spot between sites 3, 4, and 5.
"Pam, you alright?"
"Oh my God." She stared at the photos in disbelief.
She grabbed a piece of tape and laid it over all three images locking them together.
"Call Captain Richards and tell him to forget Site 2." She held up the three photos together revealing a dark round hexagonal shape with a dark chasm in the middle.
"Take me here. We've found the door." | They'd know about it for years of course, the litteral ivory towers slumbering beneath those ancient frozen sheets. They'd know about it before they'd completed the first steam engine. Three hundred and eighteen years of planning, keeping the public in the dark and the science buried. They were convinced the ancient tech buried beneath Antarctica could fix the damage they'd wrought to this Earth, or take them home. They were right.
Edit: I apparently cannot spell this early in the morning. | |
[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica. | Considering it's size, the rapid underwater vessel (or RUV for short) hummed through the water at a blistering pace. Dr. Pamela Anders sat at one of the small four-person tables in the lounge overlooking some satellite photos that outlined the remains of this 'beyond ancient' city.
It had been a decade prior when the sat shots had first started to reveal something hiding under the Antarctic ice. Much like those initial photos of Mars from the early and mid 2000s, most people had dismissed the anomalies as rock formations and natural occurrences. But the skeptics had been equally wrong about both. Sure, NASA had known all along but governments prior to the fallout of the global warming crisis had been corrupt, secrective and for some reason thought the masses "couldn't handle" revelations of this magnitude.
Turns out a few extra trillion gallons of water, storms of Biblical proportions, and the loss of most of civilization tended to unite the people of Earth. Fast forward a few hundred years, extensive Mars exploration, and near annihilation and the discovery barely raised eyebrows with the public.
Pamela poured over the five remaining images looking for something she knew had to be there. She knew somewhere lurking in these images was the door to a structure, exactly like the one they'd found on Mars. She analyzed each image carefully, studying the bizarre shaped buildings and the winding sidewalks and stair cases. She remembered vividly how pissed Rick, her boss, had been as she threw out sweeping armfuls of images.
"Pam, are you serious? You realize there's barely any paper left in this world. You better find it." He'd said unapologetically.
As much as she'd hated having to print them all, this was the only way should could engross herself in these images. Turning them 360º and analyzing them through AR just wasn't the same and this had allowed her to narrow 50,000 site images to just 5 Sites.
And now, she knew, even if she wasn't able to spot it in the photos it was there, in one of these five locations. She was positive if she could just get a closer look. If she could analyze it live with her own eyes, she could find it.
"We're approaching the ruins Pam," Eric said as he popped his head into the lounge. "We're scheduled for site 2 out of the 5 first. Just so you know, as we approach there may be a slight..."
The entire RUV bounced and vibrated scattering the pictures on the table before her.
"bump." Eric said finishing his sentence.
"Great, I'll be down in two seconds. Let me just gather my photos..." she said trailing off.
She looked down at her pile of photos. Two had fallen off the table and the three remaining had landed on top of each other overlaying a connecting spot between sites 3, 4, and 5.
"Pam, you alright?"
"Oh my God." She stared at the photos in disbelief.
She grabbed a piece of tape and laid it over all three images locking them together.
"Call Captain Richards and tell him to forget Site 2." She held up the three photos together revealing a dark round hexagonal shape with a dark chasm in the middle.
"Take me here. We've found the door." | I looked around, knowing this would be where I spent the remainder of my days.
The icy wind pierce my lungs as I inhale. The men, women and children that surround me all suffer from the same fate I do. We were diseased, and we threatened humanity's very existence. Some thought we were cursed by the Gods themselves to carry this burden. Others thought we were blessed, and only we were the ones meant to carry life forward.
Doctors all over the world decided that we needed to be quarantined, and with that, we were sent to this barren landscape. I had no quarrel with this. It was for the greater good, and my life had no substantial worth.
Now, as I lay on the freezing ground, my body feels nothing. My mind wanders, and I feel my body slowly give up. As I let my soul free and this snow cover my body, I only hope we are never found.
----
Hey OP! Hope you liked it. I'm not really satisfied with how this came out. I felt I had a good idea, but I feel it lacks something, though I'm not sure what.
Any feedback would be great. Super cool prompt by the way. | |
[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica. | I prefer not to think about the fact that we are genetically related to them. Not a single one of us wants to think about it. But yet, we are, even though we isolated ourselves by going to live on the Island very, very long ago.
We called them Et Onwetmon, the ignorant men. The very ignorance of their kind was supposed to drive them to their own demise, before we were left to deal with them.
We figured that this way, they'd never survive up to the Confrontation, that the melting of the Great Ice up north (caused by themselves) would have killed them, submerging their preposterously large cities and forcing the survivors together on small pieces of land, where they would murder each other over the last resources. But they had been surprisingly inventive and resilient, more due to sheer luck than to wisdom, because after all, they were the ignorant men.
And so they continued using their unsustainable resources and their exploitative manner of living. Not even fifty rotations of this planet around the Great Star had been completed before the increase in temperature above our Ice melted it. They actually managed to melt our Ice. It was mind-boggling. We had spent hundreds, thousands of rotations on meticulously cultivating just to postpone the Confrontation, to keep them away from us for as long as possible.
The Confrontation had been predicted in the old times. At first, we thought it had been averted when the very revered Onwetman Plato wrote about our supposed extinction. Yet, we quickly abandoned that location and left a few ruins to lure them into thinking we were long dead, should they come look for us. We had enough time to find a new location to live, underneath our Ice. It was the perfect place for us, like the Great Souls created it specifically for us. We figured we were safe. We were wrong.
After the melting of both of the Ices, the Confrontation was inevitable. Et Onwetmon would eventually become aware of our existence, and they would answer this awareness with hostility, as they did with everything unfamiliar. Afterwards, we would be free to move back to our Island, like our ancestors in the old times.
They were hardly a challenge for us. We had shifted our technology to use sustainable materials when they were still circumnavigating the globe in wooden ships, so the Confrontation was hardly a challenge, but more of an annoyance.
We didn't kill all of them, oh no, many of them could still help us, albeit involuntarily, in the less demanding tasks that our society knew. Nevertheless, we wiped most of their horrendous society. It was better that way.
We were free to return to the Island. We sent out recon missions, we prepared our ships to return, we had everything set up.
Then, word returned from the recon missions we had dispatched. The melting of the Ices had been underestimated. The Island had been flooded long ago.
We could never return to our beloved Island. Et Onwetmon had destroyed it unknowingly, but it was our fault. We had allowed them to do so, unconsciously. Ignorantly. We had ignorantly allowed those whom we called ignorant, to destroy our ancient home, the very first place where our ancestors defined the difference between us and them, only because we didn't want to be confronted with them. We weren't any better.
That was the day we started to refer to ourselves as Et Onwetmon, because after all, we were the ignorant men.
---------
Author's Note: Not sure if it is clear, but the inhabitants under the Ice are offspring of the original inhabitants of Atlantis ;) And yes, I know it would have made more sense to use ancient Greek roots for their words than Germanic roots, but I wrote this on the train and I was lazy. Hope you liked it! | I looked around, knowing this would be where I spent the remainder of my days.
The icy wind pierce my lungs as I inhale. The men, women and children that surround me all suffer from the same fate I do. We were diseased, and we threatened humanity's very existence. Some thought we were cursed by the Gods themselves to carry this burden. Others thought we were blessed, and only we were the ones meant to carry life forward.
Doctors all over the world decided that we needed to be quarantined, and with that, we were sent to this barren landscape. I had no quarrel with this. It was for the greater good, and my life had no substantial worth.
Now, as I lay on the freezing ground, my body feels nothing. My mind wanders, and I feel my body slowly give up. As I let my soul free and this snow cover my body, I only hope we are never found.
----
Hey OP! Hope you liked it. I'm not really satisfied with how this came out. I felt I had a good idea, but I feel it lacks something, though I'm not sure what.
Any feedback would be great. Super cool prompt by the way. | |
[WP] Global warming is complete, revealing an entire civilization that remained hidden under the ice of Antartica. | Considering it's size, the rapid underwater vessel (or RUV for short) hummed through the water at a blistering pace. Dr. Pamela Anders sat at one of the small four-person tables in the lounge overlooking some satellite photos that outlined the remains of this 'beyond ancient' city.
It had been a decade prior when the sat shots had first started to reveal something hiding under the Antarctic ice. Much like those initial photos of Mars from the early and mid 2000s, most people had dismissed the anomalies as rock formations and natural occurrences. But the skeptics had been equally wrong about both. Sure, NASA had known all along but governments prior to the fallout of the global warming crisis had been corrupt, secrective and for some reason thought the masses "couldn't handle" revelations of this magnitude.
Turns out a few extra trillion gallons of water, storms of Biblical proportions, and the loss of most of civilization tended to unite the people of Earth. Fast forward a few hundred years, extensive Mars exploration, and near annihilation and the discovery barely raised eyebrows with the public.
Pamela poured over the five remaining images looking for something she knew had to be there. She knew somewhere lurking in these images was the door to a structure, exactly like the one they'd found on Mars. She analyzed each image carefully, studying the bizarre shaped buildings and the winding sidewalks and stair cases. She remembered vividly how pissed Rick, her boss, had been as she threw out sweeping armfuls of images.
"Pam, are you serious? You realize there's barely any paper left in this world. You better find it." He'd said unapologetically.
As much as she'd hated having to print them all, this was the only way should could engross herself in these images. Turning them 360º and analyzing them through AR just wasn't the same and this had allowed her to narrow 50,000 site images to just 5 Sites.
And now, she knew, even if she wasn't able to spot it in the photos it was there, in one of these five locations. She was positive if she could just get a closer look. If she could analyze it live with her own eyes, she could find it.
"We're approaching the ruins Pam," Eric said as he popped his head into the lounge. "We're scheduled for site 2 out of the 5 first. Just so you know, as we approach there may be a slight..."
The entire RUV bounced and vibrated scattering the pictures on the table before her.
"bump." Eric said finishing his sentence.
"Great, I'll be down in two seconds. Let me just gather my photos..." she said trailing off.
She looked down at her pile of photos. Two had fallen off the table and the three remaining had landed on top of each other overlaying a connecting spot between sites 3, 4, and 5.
"Pam, you alright?"
"Oh my God." She stared at the photos in disbelief.
She grabbed a piece of tape and laid it over all three images locking them together.
"Call Captain Richards and tell him to forget Site 2." She held up the three photos together revealing a dark round hexagonal shape with a dark chasm in the middle.
"Take me here. We've found the door." | Everything went from blurry to black.
I jolted awake - taking an inventory of my surroundings. The low hum of machines played in time with the confusion dancing in my head. A howling dust storm scraped against the outside of my tiny, cable-filled studio. I'm home. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wiped the sweat from my upper lip.
Inhale. Exhale. Refocus.
"Maggie, what's today's date?" I called out.
"Today is eleventh of August, the year two-thousand one-hundred sixty-three. Are you feeling alright? That's the second time you've asked today. Vital snapshots are reporting elevated levels of body temperature, blood pressure, and stress."
I roll the date around in my head.
11 August. 2163.
The anniversary of her death. 167 years ago. She knew this was coming.
"I'm fine, thanks." I clear my throat, "Tea, please".
"Whatever you say," Maggie said, with a sigh of consolation. The low rumble of the kettle echoed in the kitchen. For a home AI system, she was quite empathetic. I'm thankful for that. Compassion has become scarce since humanity found refuge in the vents.
My eyes draw back to the screen.
The cursor blinked, eagerly awaiting input. I'm stuck. What a terrible title. Highlight. Delete.
My eyes darted around the ceiling as my fingers rested on the keys more gently than usual. Dull pain throbbed from their tips. "Maybe I should go easy on the biting," the familiar and fleeting thought scurried away as quickly as it came.
A quiet ring beckoned me to the kitchen. Tea was ready. I made my way across the granite floor, my feet absorbing the cold of the tile. With achy hands, I grasped the mug. Instantly, a wave of warmth washed over me. Chamomile. My favorite.
Back at my desk, articles were strewn about across the holodisplays. The room was dark except for the soft blue glow emanating from the plethora of personal accounts, news reports, scientific journals, and environmental studies.
Twenty years after her death, it became apparent global warming had dramatically hurled the world's ecosystems in to disarray. Earth's oceans continued to rise to record-breaking levels, year-over-year, as ice caps withered away in the heat. Flora and fauna were wiped from the earth in staggering numbers. Unfortunately, it was far too late to reverse the damages humans had inflicted on the globe, so the efforts to synergize densely populated areas with "green energy" were re-aligned to discovering a habitable planet.
Ours was dying. It still is.
The search was short-lived. Earthlings were graced with an answer. She was right, they would come for us.
Vangelia Dimitrova, widely known as Baba Vanga, predicted it all. Her prophecies of war, famine, greed, and violence have proven to be reality over the span of two centuries. Society disregarded her premonitions of the Vimfami shortly before her death in 1996, but here we are, nearly 200 years later.
Sentient beings. Humanoids. Vimfami. They emerged from beneath our feet, living for centuries in the hydro thermal vents far below the ice caps - or rather, where they had been. The caps had completely melted by 2045; they felt as though they could not exist in secrecy any longer.
At first, the public feared them, and understandably so - as it was in human nature to resist change. There was mass distrust in the Vimfami, and even more in the governments of the world that kept their existence a secret to their people. The Vimfami waged no wars, experienced no famine, had no inherent sense of greed or violence. To Vimfami, these are constructs of weakness and self-importance that distracted the mind from greatness. The Vimfami lived in perfect harmony. Their movements, thoughts, speech, everything, was of a hivemind - as if they responded to guidelines delivered to each individual through an ansible.
Our cohabitants unveiled technologies far superior to the latest achievements of man. Methods and instruments for sustaining life deep below the surface were taught, improved, and then taught again to the humans that were willing to accept their help. As time dredged on and drought desiccated the lands, humans sought refuge in the vents and were accepted with open arms by the Vimfami. A select few, myself included, have been appointed to remain on the surface to observe the changing climate. I'm still bitter about it.
"It's only a matter of time before we fuck that up, too." I whisper, this time to no one in particular.
Inhale. Exhale. Refocus.
---
Criticism is welcome! Haven't written much of anything in a long while, and I'd like to get back in to the swing of it. Pls be gentle.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | * The plot needs a rewrite, Player choices don't appear to make a difference
* Found a bug preventing NPCs from proceeding with quests after dialogue. Political storylines require particular attention in bug fixing
* Found a bug where female NPCs do not respond to the player's desires
* Found a bug preventing players from earning as much money as intended when spawning in some areas
| As I ran up the four flights of stairs of an old brownstone, my legs burned, but not as much as my contempt for having to track down my friend throughout this city. One moment he would be at a bar, the next at house party of someone he just encountered. He had been like that since I met him in college. I knew him long enough to know I should not have entrusted him to hold onto the ring even though he was my best friend.
After three hours of traipsing to different ends of this forsaken city, I clutched the ring in my hand as I walked through the door to the crowded party. Our eyes met as when they first met two years ago. We were drawn together then. Each moment apart felt as though I lost a limb. Now we would be bound together officially. I knew what her answer would be. Anyone watching would have been able to tell. As I walked toward her, dodging the coupling and the ones looking to couple, the countdown began. Ten. Nine. Eight. I had to physically move a stranger whose intentions were to couple with me. Seven. Six. Five. I grasped the ring tighter. Four. My gaze remained unto my love. Three. I was so close I could touch her. I fumbled the ring. Two. She noticed the ring. One. Her gleaming smile faded with the sounds of people shouting, “Happy New Year.”
“Thank you for playing Earth.”
I woke up in a capsule. The lid opened accompanied by a hissing noise. A woman appeared. I shouted, “Where is she?”
She smiled as she jotted something on her tablet. “Your wife will be in momentarily.”
I sighed in relief. She was here waiting for me. I seemed to have forgotten the moments between when I proposed and now, but it would be okay. She would be here soon. I began to fill in the vacant memories. We got married in the church she had pointed out the week before. My friend showed up late to the wedding but nailed the speech. We honeymooned in Costa Rica and she wore that fantastic sundress.
“How long was I out?” I changed the subject as I began to relax.
“Only a moment. It will be much longer when you start your immigration to real Earth.”
Before I could question the term ‘real Earth’ a door slid open and the woman spoke, “Ah, here she is.”
A woman holding the hands of a child entered the sterile room. “Oh hello darling.” She said as she brushed my hair away from my forehead. Her kiss felt foreign. She turned to the doctor while the child stared at me.
“From these calculations, it appears your husband is only 75 percent compatible with the hibernation simulation.”
The woman who was supposedly my wife pleaded, “But that is only one percent off. You must let us go. My mother is dying and our child needs to meet their grandmother.”
The doctor reluctantly manipulated the information on her tablet, as she said, “Of Course.”
A week later we boarded the ship. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, or likely remembered seeing. Outside I kept calm, but I was a wreck inside. I had so many questions but did not want to lose my chance of going back to the simulation. I had to find her again. I had to tell her. We sat in rows facing each other. My wife and child were seated in the same capsule. The straps locked around our arms and legs.
An I.V. punctured my vein as I saw a family seating themselves across from us. The wife was beautiful. The husband saw me stare at her. His eyes pierced mine and I knew. A week ago I was going to propose to him on earth. The capsule shut and the gas hissed.
Our eyes remained locked as we entered hibernation and as I walked across the room at the party. The countdown was over. The love of my life stared at me. “What took you so long?” they said not remembering this was a simulation. I tried to explain everything to them, but they only responded, “This has got to be the weirdest proposal ever.”
I never took our life together for granted and every once in a while I would try to explain the truth but to no avail. They simply would chuckle and say, “This reminds me of the night you proposed.”
In the end, I could not decide what was harder, watching the love of my life pass away in the simulation, or walk off that ship with his real family. | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | "No, it can't be it!", I mumbled with a weak voice.
It ended abruptly, suddenly I had a black screen in front of me.
"No, no!" I kept mumbling, while the lady that worked for the game company took the VR helmet out of my head.
"Oh, surely you didn't do that bad", she said.
I looked at the giant scoreboard, the player with more point was "NxD" with 42007 points, way more than mine, I only got 3095 points.
I could not see my stats anywhere in the scoreboard, I knew I was not in the top 10 or 20 or 100, so i looked at the bottom.
There I saw it, I was the 279 score out of 284 players, fucking lame.
"What the fuck!?" I screamed startled. "I got a job, family, thousands of friends on facebook, what did I do wrong?". The lady just looked at me shocked.
"I even paid my taxes!, I paid them!", I said.
The lady handed me a tablet while I was complaining. "We need you to review the beta", she said smiling in a very plastic way.
I grabded the tablet, it only had one question and a square to put a number between 1 and 10 to rank your satisfaction. I typed 1, obviously.
"What was the goal of the game?" was the question.
I don't know. I followed the instructions, everything the NPC's said to me, and got nothing.
I gave the tablet back with the answer to the question in blank. "Lady, this is the most frustrating game I've ever played, I was really into it at first, but then I got no points, why?".
"Maybe you just didn't got it", she said with her fuckin fake smile.
I went home in a rush. "What was the goal?", a moneygrab that's it. The most expected videogame in years and it's pure bullshit, at least it's going to be fun to see all the people complaining when it comes out, "Ha!".
"The goal", there is no goal.
| Liked this, especially the fact you let us use hacks without banning us (killing us). Of course there were the side effects from some hacks like the electricity hack, many people died to it. Oh and the story line was very interesting, but the game was waaaaaaaaaaaaaay different depending on where you spawned :/ . Also a huge bug is the respawn button. When you die you immediately get glitched to another world known as 'Heaven' (or so i was told...) | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | The voice seemed to be broadcast out of nowhere. I put down my spliff, thinking I'd had a bit too much already but looking around, I could see others scanning the area for the broadcast speaker.
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing at the time. I laughed it off, thinking it was just a well performed prank.
But what if it wasn't? It was almost too good to be true.
I hadn't been able to move up in ranks at all, despite being a fairly intelligent player. I started a career path, chose a branch on the skill tree and levelled up in that.
In the end, I was forced to go on a daily grind to amass currency, although, after paying off microtransactions and money owed to grumpy NPCs for no good reason other than my occupying a small space on the map, there was hardly enough currency left to get rid of the hunger debuff. The tutorial NPCs, my parents, had told me I would get more currency if I got a lot of skill points, so I put my currency situation down to a glitch.
The game was too repetitive for my liking. Every time I switched on, I would spawn in bed, change to my work uniform, groom and go on a grind. I would go home, smoke grass, play a mini game and then go to bed. I'd fit one or two opportunities to eat into every session. Three if I was lucky. The game was clearly pay to play and I was one of the people who couldn't afford to pay. I kept trying to find a way to end the game permanently but I never found it.
Still. I'd managed to venture out further than a lot of people who spawned in the same spot and financial class as me. I'd made alliances with many people who spawned elsewhere, some even on the other side of the map. The person I teamed up with was from a different spawn point than me and had different skill sets, but we shared some similar lore and playing methods. It was a good team. We'd even considered paying for the family starter DLC.
My teammate.
I passed the spliff to him, not knowing how long I'd been stuck in my thoughts.
It was almost too good to be true.
Suddenly there was an onset of anxiety. Would we be transferred to the same galaxy? And even then, would we be in the same solar system? What would the odds of that even be?
Almost as if I'd spoken these words aloud, he moved to sit closer to me. We refilled our cups of champagne and tapped them together.
"To the open beta," I mumbled.
"To life," came the reply.
We watched the vast expanse of the ocean, seeing it disintegrate from somewhere out on the atlantic, the void creeping ever closer. I shuddered. He put his arm around me.
We wept bitterly and clung to each other. The ocean waves rose to crash but never made it to shore. I could feel the fibres in my legs being torn apart, then my torso, my arms and finally the lips I'd been pressing to my teammate's wet, salty cheek.
The moment I was reassembled, I could feel that my teammate was nowhere near me. I slumped to the floor and wept and wept. The pain of losing my teammate was worse than being dissolved into particles and put back together.
"Transfer me!" I cried at the empty, brightly lit room. My voice was broken and hoarse. "Transfer me!"
And I continued to sob. When people in laboratory coats entered to guide me out, I pulled myself desperately out of their grasp.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, send me to him, I need to find him."
They took me from that room and led me here. I no longer need to pay to survive. There is no hunger debuff, no daily grind. My life is bleak and shallow. It's too repetitive for my liking. | Liked this, especially the fact you let us use hacks without banning us (killing us). Of course there were the side effects from some hacks like the electricity hack, many people died to it. Oh and the story line was very interesting, but the game was waaaaaaaaaaaaaay different depending on where you spawned :/ . Also a huge bug is the respawn button. When you die you immediately get glitched to another world known as 'Heaven' (or so i was told...) | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | Like to many popular games "the earth beta" suffers from rampant abuse and exploitation problems, the entire game world is controlled by major guilds who control all the sub-guild in their area.
Graphics, sound and content are absolutely stunning but playing on a public server this otherwise wonderful game is often ruined by abusive players, i hope the final release i can run a private server or a way to deal with these abusive players. | First of all I'd like to thank the devs and congratulate them on such a sucessful open beta. I'm going to focus my review on the issues though as I feel like constructive critisism is more useful. First of all, I've been playing many similar games before so throwing a florb or two at the developer isn't really an issue for me. The main problem I have though is that the gameworld is about 96.5% water. Not sure if this is a hardware limitation or lazy game developement but I can see it being sold later on and I don't approve on paid expansionpacks. The skybox is great and I loved seeing the moonlanding event from the closed alpha, really wished I could have been there though! It seemed like an awesome idea ans I'm quite surprised that we've not been able to colonise it yet unless they're working on some sort of plot system for it. Some players have already jumped on that idea and sold fake deeds to parts of it so they need to have a look at that. We'll see if I come back when it has its full release but I might wait for some more content.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | It was a hell of a year, you had to admit. With the way things were going on in Iraq and Syria, the flood of refugees, the US election.... I still can't believe the other party pulled off a win like that. It was so close, too. Still, I tried not to dwell on it. After all, I still had my health - which I've been ever so thankful for, since I beat the cancer. I had a loving wife and son back home, who supported me through the tough times when I couldn't support them. I had a decent job, even though I never imagined myself working in a carpet store. Still, it put food on the table, so I couldn't complain.
"Hey Roy, did you pull those Persian off-white shags for the clearance sale?" I heard the manager yell front the front room. Whelp, time to quit day dreaming and get back to work. Without bothering to reply, I got up from my desk and climbed the wobbly step-stool to reach for the rugs in question. Better get them down before he gets back here to see for himself.
As I reached for the rugs, the stepladder leaned back, and I lost my balance. "Oh, shit, SHIT!" I fell back and cracked my head open on the floor.
"Thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly."
----
"Woah, what the hell! Wha-wha-where am I‽ What in the hell‽" I was suddenly a kid again, standing in some huge arcade room, with a helmet on my head and let it drop to the floor. I snatched it off as I looked around in a panic. The helmet was connected with a wire to a huge screen and chair. Clearly one of the many games in this place. I was running my hands over myself, my chest, my stomach, making sure I was really here. But where the hell was here?
"55 years! Not bad, Morty! Ye-ye kinda wasted your thirties, though, with that whole bird-watching phase." said the old man in a white lab coat next to me. His pointy gray hair stuck out in all directions, unkempt. He was holding a beer, and by the drool on his chin and the slur in his words, it was obvious this wasn't his first drink today.
"Wh-Where's my wife‽" I asked, still confused. What the hell happened?
"Morty, you were just playing a game. It's called Earth. Snap out of it, c'mon." The man walked forward toward the game and grabbed a small strip of tickets that it had spit out. He passed the tickets back to me, while I was still rubbing my head as the memories flooded back.
"I'm Morty... You're Rick..." It was all coming back to me now. "HEY! You sold a gun to a guy that kills people!" I screamed at Rick. I had suddenly recalled the events of earlier today, before we came to this super arcade room, before I got lost in that stupid video game. Rick paid little attention to me, however, as he picked up the helmet and walked to the screen.
"Look at this - you beat cancer and then went back to work at the carpet store? Boo!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Don't dodge the issue, Rick! Selling a gun to a hit-man is the same as pulling the trigger!" Even as I spoke, Rick continued to ignore me and moved forward, taking a seat and preparing to start a new game himself, helmet still in his hands.
"It’s also the same as doing nothing. If Krombopulos Michael wants someone dead, there’s not a lot anybody can do to stop him. That’s why he does it for a living? Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to thrash your Earth score." With that, Rick donned the helmet in his hands.
I wasn't letting this go, however. I was still so angry with his past actions. "You could stop this killing from happening, Rick! You know, y-you did a bad thing selling that gun, but you could undo it if you wanted!"
Rick just continued to brush aside my words as he started to play. "Uh-huh, yeah, that’s the difference between you and me, Morty. I never go back to the carpet store."
----
For those unfamiliar, this is [Rick and Morty.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szzVlQ653as) | First of all I'd like to thank the devs and congratulate them on such a sucessful open beta. I'm going to focus my review on the issues though as I feel like constructive critisism is more useful. First of all, I've been playing many similar games before so throwing a florb or two at the developer isn't really an issue for me. The main problem I have though is that the gameworld is about 96.5% water. Not sure if this is a hardware limitation or lazy game developement but I can see it being sold later on and I don't approve on paid expansionpacks. The skybox is great and I loved seeing the moonlanding event from the closed alpha, really wished I could have been there though! It seemed like an awesome idea ans I'm quite surprised that we've not been able to colonise it yet unless they're working on some sort of plot system for it. Some players have already jumped on that idea and sold fake deeds to parts of it so they need to have a look at that. We'll see if I come back when it has its full release but I might wait for some more content.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | The voice seemed to be broadcast out of nowhere. I put down my spliff, thinking I'd had a bit too much already but looking around, I could see others scanning the area for the broadcast speaker.
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing at the time. I laughed it off, thinking it was just a well performed prank.
But what if it wasn't? It was almost too good to be true.
I hadn't been able to move up in ranks at all, despite being a fairly intelligent player. I started a career path, chose a branch on the skill tree and levelled up in that.
In the end, I was forced to go on a daily grind to amass currency, although, after paying off microtransactions and money owed to grumpy NPCs for no good reason other than my occupying a small space on the map, there was hardly enough currency left to get rid of the hunger debuff. The tutorial NPCs, my parents, had told me I would get more currency if I got a lot of skill points, so I put my currency situation down to a glitch.
The game was too repetitive for my liking. Every time I switched on, I would spawn in bed, change to my work uniform, groom and go on a grind. I would go home, smoke grass, play a mini game and then go to bed. I'd fit one or two opportunities to eat into every session. Three if I was lucky. The game was clearly pay to play and I was one of the people who couldn't afford to pay. I kept trying to find a way to end the game permanently but I never found it.
Still. I'd managed to venture out further than a lot of people who spawned in the same spot and financial class as me. I'd made alliances with many people who spawned elsewhere, some even on the other side of the map. The person I teamed up with was from a different spawn point than me and had different skill sets, but we shared some similar lore and playing methods. It was a good team. We'd even considered paying for the family starter DLC.
My teammate.
I passed the spliff to him, not knowing how long I'd been stuck in my thoughts.
It was almost too good to be true.
Suddenly there was an onset of anxiety. Would we be transferred to the same galaxy? And even then, would we be in the same solar system? What would the odds of that even be?
Almost as if I'd spoken these words aloud, he moved to sit closer to me. We refilled our cups of champagne and tapped them together.
"To the open beta," I mumbled.
"To life," came the reply.
We watched the vast expanse of the ocean, seeing it disintegrate from somewhere out on the atlantic, the void creeping ever closer. I shuddered. He put his arm around me.
We wept bitterly and clung to each other. The ocean waves rose to crash but never made it to shore. I could feel the fibres in my legs being torn apart, then my torso, my arms and finally the lips I'd been pressing to my teammate's wet, salty cheek.
The moment I was reassembled, I could feel that my teammate was nowhere near me. I slumped to the floor and wept and wept. The pain of losing my teammate was worse than being dissolved into particles and put back together.
"Transfer me!" I cried at the empty, brightly lit room. My voice was broken and hoarse. "Transfer me!"
And I continued to sob. When people in laboratory coats entered to guide me out, I pulled myself desperately out of their grasp.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, send me to him, I need to find him."
They took me from that room and led me here. I no longer need to pay to survive. There is no hunger debuff, no daily grind. My life is bleak and shallow. It's too repetitive for my liking. | First of all I'd like to thank the devs and congratulate them on such a sucessful open beta. I'm going to focus my review on the issues though as I feel like constructive critisism is more useful. First of all, I've been playing many similar games before so throwing a florb or two at the developer isn't really an issue for me. The main problem I have though is that the gameworld is about 96.5% water. Not sure if this is a hardware limitation or lazy game developement but I can see it being sold later on and I don't approve on paid expansionpacks. The skybox is great and I loved seeing the moonlanding event from the closed alpha, really wished I could have been there though! It seemed like an awesome idea ans I'm quite surprised that we've not been able to colonise it yet unless they're working on some sort of plot system for it. Some players have already jumped on that idea and sold fake deeds to parts of it so they need to have a look at that. We'll see if I come back when it has its full release but I might wait for some more content.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | My opinion about the game ?
I've been here since beta when there were few of us. It was hardcore but fantastic ! These hunts with only a stick were thrilling. And man when they implemented fire ! Oh the possibilities !
Vanilla was great too, not fan of the agricultural expansion at first but it was sure easier to remove the hungry debuff. One of my greatest memories was when one of the leader of a huge guild decided to build a pyramid, was a huge collective effort on the Egypt server !
These days ? Meh not so great. It has still huge popularity with 6 billions players but it seems that the biggest of the growth is behind them. I mean no surprise here... It is now a pay to win since Vivendi bought it... No skills needed, hello micro transactions..
When two rich kids with daddy wallets can pay to become USA server leader with absolutely no skills, I knew I was done.
| First of all I'd like to thank the devs and congratulate them on such a sucessful open beta. I'm going to focus my review on the issues though as I feel like constructive critisism is more useful. First of all, I've been playing many similar games before so throwing a florb or two at the developer isn't really an issue for me. The main problem I have though is that the gameworld is about 96.5% water. Not sure if this is a hardware limitation or lazy game developement but I can see it being sold later on and I don't approve on paid expansionpacks. The skybox is great and I loved seeing the moonlanding event from the closed alpha, really wished I could have been there though! It seemed like an awesome idea ans I'm quite surprised that we've not been able to colonise it yet unless they're working on some sort of plot system for it. Some players have already jumped on that idea and sold fake deeds to parts of it so they need to have a look at that. We'll see if I come back when it has its full release but I might wait for some more content.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | It was a hell of a year, you had to admit. With the way things were going on in Iraq and Syria, the flood of refugees, the US election.... I still can't believe the other party pulled off a win like that. It was so close, too. Still, I tried not to dwell on it. After all, I still had my health - which I've been ever so thankful for, since I beat the cancer. I had a loving wife and son back home, who supported me through the tough times when I couldn't support them. I had a decent job, even though I never imagined myself working in a carpet store. Still, it put food on the table, so I couldn't complain.
"Hey Roy, did you pull those Persian off-white shags for the clearance sale?" I heard the manager yell front the front room. Whelp, time to quit day dreaming and get back to work. Without bothering to reply, I got up from my desk and climbed the wobbly step-stool to reach for the rugs in question. Better get them down before he gets back here to see for himself.
As I reached for the rugs, the stepladder leaned back, and I lost my balance. "Oh, shit, SHIT!" I fell back and cracked my head open on the floor.
"Thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly."
----
"Woah, what the hell! Wha-wha-where am I‽ What in the hell‽" I was suddenly a kid again, standing in some huge arcade room, with a helmet on my head and let it drop to the floor. I snatched it off as I looked around in a panic. The helmet was connected with a wire to a huge screen and chair. Clearly one of the many games in this place. I was running my hands over myself, my chest, my stomach, making sure I was really here. But where the hell was here?
"55 years! Not bad, Morty! Ye-ye kinda wasted your thirties, though, with that whole bird-watching phase." said the old man in a white lab coat next to me. His pointy gray hair stuck out in all directions, unkempt. He was holding a beer, and by the drool on his chin and the slur in his words, it was obvious this wasn't his first drink today.
"Wh-Where's my wife‽" I asked, still confused. What the hell happened?
"Morty, you were just playing a game. It's called Earth. Snap out of it, c'mon." The man walked forward toward the game and grabbed a small strip of tickets that it had spit out. He passed the tickets back to me, while I was still rubbing my head as the memories flooded back.
"I'm Morty... You're Rick..." It was all coming back to me now. "HEY! You sold a gun to a guy that kills people!" I screamed at Rick. I had suddenly recalled the events of earlier today, before we came to this super arcade room, before I got lost in that stupid video game. Rick paid little attention to me, however, as he picked up the helmet and walked to the screen.
"Look at this - you beat cancer and then went back to work at the carpet store? Boo!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Don't dodge the issue, Rick! Selling a gun to a hit-man is the same as pulling the trigger!" Even as I spoke, Rick continued to ignore me and moved forward, taking a seat and preparing to start a new game himself, helmet still in his hands.
"It’s also the same as doing nothing. If Krombopulos Michael wants someone dead, there’s not a lot anybody can do to stop him. That’s why he does it for a living? Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to thrash your Earth score." With that, Rick donned the helmet in his hands.
I wasn't letting this go, however. I was still so angry with his past actions. "You could stop this killing from happening, Rick! You know, y-you did a bad thing selling that gun, but you could undo it if you wanted!"
Rick just continued to brush aside my words as he started to play. "Uh-huh, yeah, that’s the difference between you and me, Morty. I never go back to the carpet store."
----
For those unfamiliar, this is [Rick and Morty.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szzVlQ653as) | Like to many popular games "the earth beta" suffers from rampant abuse and exploitation problems, the entire game world is controlled by major guilds who control all the sub-guild in their area.
Graphics, sound and content are absolutely stunning but playing on a public server this otherwise wonderful game is often ruined by abusive players, i hope the final release i can run a private server or a way to deal with these abusive players. | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | The voice seemed to be broadcast out of nowhere. I put down my spliff, thinking I'd had a bit too much already but looking around, I could see others scanning the area for the broadcast speaker.
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing at the time. I laughed it off, thinking it was just a well performed prank.
But what if it wasn't? It was almost too good to be true.
I hadn't been able to move up in ranks at all, despite being a fairly intelligent player. I started a career path, chose a branch on the skill tree and levelled up in that.
In the end, I was forced to go on a daily grind to amass currency, although, after paying off microtransactions and money owed to grumpy NPCs for no good reason other than my occupying a small space on the map, there was hardly enough currency left to get rid of the hunger debuff. The tutorial NPCs, my parents, had told me I would get more currency if I got a lot of skill points, so I put my currency situation down to a glitch.
The game was too repetitive for my liking. Every time I switched on, I would spawn in bed, change to my work uniform, groom and go on a grind. I would go home, smoke grass, play a mini game and then go to bed. I'd fit one or two opportunities to eat into every session. Three if I was lucky. The game was clearly pay to play and I was one of the people who couldn't afford to pay. I kept trying to find a way to end the game permanently but I never found it.
Still. I'd managed to venture out further than a lot of people who spawned in the same spot and financial class as me. I'd made alliances with many people who spawned elsewhere, some even on the other side of the map. The person I teamed up with was from a different spawn point than me and had different skill sets, but we shared some similar lore and playing methods. It was a good team. We'd even considered paying for the family starter DLC.
My teammate.
I passed the spliff to him, not knowing how long I'd been stuck in my thoughts.
It was almost too good to be true.
Suddenly there was an onset of anxiety. Would we be transferred to the same galaxy? And even then, would we be in the same solar system? What would the odds of that even be?
Almost as if I'd spoken these words aloud, he moved to sit closer to me. We refilled our cups of champagne and tapped them together.
"To the open beta," I mumbled.
"To life," came the reply.
We watched the vast expanse of the ocean, seeing it disintegrate from somewhere out on the atlantic, the void creeping ever closer. I shuddered. He put his arm around me.
We wept bitterly and clung to each other. The ocean waves rose to crash but never made it to shore. I could feel the fibres in my legs being torn apart, then my torso, my arms and finally the lips I'd been pressing to my teammate's wet, salty cheek.
The moment I was reassembled, I could feel that my teammate was nowhere near me. I slumped to the floor and wept and wept. The pain of losing my teammate was worse than being dissolved into particles and put back together.
"Transfer me!" I cried at the empty, brightly lit room. My voice was broken and hoarse. "Transfer me!"
And I continued to sob. When people in laboratory coats entered to guide me out, I pulled myself desperately out of their grasp.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, send me to him, I need to find him."
They took me from that room and led me here. I no longer need to pay to survive. There is no hunger debuff, no daily grind. My life is bleak and shallow. It's too repetitive for my liking. | Like to many popular games "the earth beta" suffers from rampant abuse and exploitation problems, the entire game world is controlled by major guilds who control all the sub-guild in their area.
Graphics, sound and content are absolutely stunning but playing on a public server this otherwise wonderful game is often ruined by abusive players, i hope the final release i can run a private server or a way to deal with these abusive players. | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | The voice seemed to be broadcast out of nowhere. I put down my spliff, thinking I'd had a bit too much already but looking around, I could see others scanning the area for the broadcast speaker.
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing at the time. I laughed it off, thinking it was just a well performed prank.
But what if it wasn't? It was almost too good to be true.
I hadn't been able to move up in ranks at all, despite being a fairly intelligent player. I started a career path, chose a branch on the skill tree and levelled up in that.
In the end, I was forced to go on a daily grind to amass currency, although, after paying off microtransactions and money owed to grumpy NPCs for no good reason other than my occupying a small space on the map, there was hardly enough currency left to get rid of the hunger debuff. The tutorial NPCs, my parents, had told me I would get more currency if I got a lot of skill points, so I put my currency situation down to a glitch.
The game was too repetitive for my liking. Every time I switched on, I would spawn in bed, change to my work uniform, groom and go on a grind. I would go home, smoke grass, play a mini game and then go to bed. I'd fit one or two opportunities to eat into every session. Three if I was lucky. The game was clearly pay to play and I was one of the people who couldn't afford to pay. I kept trying to find a way to end the game permanently but I never found it.
Still. I'd managed to venture out further than a lot of people who spawned in the same spot and financial class as me. I'd made alliances with many people who spawned elsewhere, some even on the other side of the map. The person I teamed up with was from a different spawn point than me and had different skill sets, but we shared some similar lore and playing methods. It was a good team. We'd even considered paying for the family starter DLC.
My teammate.
I passed the spliff to him, not knowing how long I'd been stuck in my thoughts.
It was almost too good to be true.
Suddenly there was an onset of anxiety. Would we be transferred to the same galaxy? And even then, would we be in the same solar system? What would the odds of that even be?
Almost as if I'd spoken these words aloud, he moved to sit closer to me. We refilled our cups of champagne and tapped them together.
"To the open beta," I mumbled.
"To life," came the reply.
We watched the vast expanse of the ocean, seeing it disintegrate from somewhere out on the atlantic, the void creeping ever closer. I shuddered. He put his arm around me.
We wept bitterly and clung to each other. The ocean waves rose to crash but never made it to shore. I could feel the fibres in my legs being torn apart, then my torso, my arms and finally the lips I'd been pressing to my teammate's wet, salty cheek.
The moment I was reassembled, I could feel that my teammate was nowhere near me. I slumped to the floor and wept and wept. The pain of losing my teammate was worse than being dissolved into particles and put back together.
"Transfer me!" I cried at the empty, brightly lit room. My voice was broken and hoarse. "Transfer me!"
And I continued to sob. When people in laboratory coats entered to guide me out, I pulled myself desperately out of their grasp.
"Please," I whimpered. "Please, send me to him, I need to find him."
They took me from that room and led me here. I no longer need to pay to survive. There is no hunger debuff, no daily grind. My life is bleak and shallow. It's too repetitive for my liking. | It was a hell of a year, you had to admit. With the way things were going on in Iraq and Syria, the flood of refugees, the US election.... I still can't believe the other party pulled off a win like that. It was so close, too. Still, I tried not to dwell on it. After all, I still had my health - which I've been ever so thankful for, since I beat the cancer. I had a loving wife and son back home, who supported me through the tough times when I couldn't support them. I had a decent job, even though I never imagined myself working in a carpet store. Still, it put food on the table, so I couldn't complain.
"Hey Roy, did you pull those Persian off-white shags for the clearance sale?" I heard the manager yell front the front room. Whelp, time to quit day dreaming and get back to work. Without bothering to reply, I got up from my desk and climbed the wobbly step-stool to reach for the rugs in question. Better get them down before he gets back here to see for himself.
As I reached for the rugs, the stepladder leaned back, and I lost my balance. "Oh, shit, SHIT!" I fell back and cracked my head open on the floor.
"Thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly."
----
"Woah, what the hell! Wha-wha-where am I‽ What in the hell‽" I was suddenly a kid again, standing in some huge arcade room, with a helmet on my head and let it drop to the floor. I snatched it off as I looked around in a panic. The helmet was connected with a wire to a huge screen and chair. Clearly one of the many games in this place. I was running my hands over myself, my chest, my stomach, making sure I was really here. But where the hell was here?
"55 years! Not bad, Morty! Ye-ye kinda wasted your thirties, though, with that whole bird-watching phase." said the old man in a white lab coat next to me. His pointy gray hair stuck out in all directions, unkempt. He was holding a beer, and by the drool on his chin and the slur in his words, it was obvious this wasn't his first drink today.
"Wh-Where's my wife‽" I asked, still confused. What the hell happened?
"Morty, you were just playing a game. It's called Earth. Snap out of it, c'mon." The man walked forward toward the game and grabbed a small strip of tickets that it had spit out. He passed the tickets back to me, while I was still rubbing my head as the memories flooded back.
"I'm Morty... You're Rick..." It was all coming back to me now. "HEY! You sold a gun to a guy that kills people!" I screamed at Rick. I had suddenly recalled the events of earlier today, before we came to this super arcade room, before I got lost in that stupid video game. Rick paid little attention to me, however, as he picked up the helmet and walked to the screen.
"Look at this - you beat cancer and then went back to work at the carpet store? Boo!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Don't dodge the issue, Rick! Selling a gun to a hit-man is the same as pulling the trigger!" Even as I spoke, Rick continued to ignore me and moved forward, taking a seat and preparing to start a new game himself, helmet still in his hands.
"It’s also the same as doing nothing. If Krombopulos Michael wants someone dead, there’s not a lot anybody can do to stop him. That’s why he does it for a living? Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to thrash your Earth score." With that, Rick donned the helmet in his hands.
I wasn't letting this go, however. I was still so angry with his past actions. "You could stop this killing from happening, Rick! You know, y-you did a bad thing selling that gun, but you could undo it if you wanted!"
Rick just continued to brush aside my words as he started to play. "Uh-huh, yeah, that’s the difference between you and me, Morty. I never go back to the carpet store."
----
For those unfamiliar, this is [Rick and Morty.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szzVlQ653as) | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | My opinion about the game ?
I've been here since beta when there were few of us. It was hardcore but fantastic ! These hunts with only a stick were thrilling. And man when they implemented fire ! Oh the possibilities !
Vanilla was great too, not fan of the agricultural expansion at first but it was sure easier to remove the hungry debuff. One of my greatest memories was when one of the leader of a huge guild decided to build a pyramid, was a huge collective effort on the Egypt server !
These days ? Meh not so great. It has still huge popularity with 6 billions players but it seems that the biggest of the growth is behind them. I mean no surprise here... It is now a pay to win since Vivendi bought it... No skills needed, hello micro transactions..
When two rich kids with daddy wallets can pay to become USA server leader with absolutely no skills, I knew I was done.
| How did this make it to beta? Don't get me wrong, Earth is a beautiful, immersive world. Only you can't explore any of it. Your whole life depends on where you're spawned in the world. If you're spawned (born) with a disability, or in a developing country or a war zone, that defines your experience of Earth.
There are wonders, there are grand and beautiful canyons and oceans and mountains and the whole planet is full of life! Whales and giraffes and penguins and elephants and tigers and domesticated cats, dogs, and llamas! There are beautiful butterflies and breathtakingly gorgeous trees and astonishing plants and flowers and it's incredible. The Aurora Borealis? Seriously, whoever programmed that- kudos.
But no one will want to play Earth if they can't get to see all those things. No one wants to spend their whole game time suffering. The most fun part about Earth is all the diversity, all the stories and mythology, all the life, all the adventures, and all the beautiful things to see and explore. So let us all experience that. Make an Earth that celebrates diversity and doesn't have any wars or violence!
Please remake Earth. Make everyone treat everyone with compassion, please! Don't give us a world that's full of problems that seem too big to be solved (climate change, war, racism, gender oppression, the list goes on and on... leave those things out!).
I would have a way more fun time adventuring around Earth with no need for money, and just exploring all the wonderful things to see and hearing all the mythologies from around the world, celebrating all the holidays, making new friends, and having a fantastical, happy experience.
Thank you! | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | My opinion about the game ?
I've been here since beta when there were few of us. It was hardcore but fantastic ! These hunts with only a stick were thrilling. And man when they implemented fire ! Oh the possibilities !
Vanilla was great too, not fan of the agricultural expansion at first but it was sure easier to remove the hungry debuff. One of my greatest memories was when one of the leader of a huge guild decided to build a pyramid, was a huge collective effort on the Egypt server !
These days ? Meh not so great. It has still huge popularity with 6 billions players but it seems that the biggest of the growth is behind them. I mean no surprise here... It is now a pay to win since Vivendi bought it... No skills needed, hello micro transactions..
When two rich kids with daddy wallets can pay to become USA server leader with absolutely no skills, I knew I was done.
| Oh that's cool. I suppose now life will be more interesting, now that it is more than just reddit browsing, hand acrobatics, pizza, and soda.
###Region now blocked
What? Hey wait a minute... dafuq is going on here? 'Purchased content is non-refundable and we are sorry for any inconveniences' - Universal Arts Games
So does that mean...
###failure to transport to respective galaxy
An opaque window popped up asking if I would like to pay $1,000,000 for the Transfer DLC. Reading the fine print below, it said 'Proper tender includes raw materials and physical assets. All users without the DLC will be considered as anomalies and will be wiped during the system reset in
00:00:13
00:00:12
00:00:11
00:00:10
...
Well... shit.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | "No! No no no no no!"
But it was useless. I blinked my eyes and then I saw myself in a white room with a helmet on my head and atrophied muscles. I had no memory of any of this.
What I do remember though?
I remembered my parents. So caring and loving. Throughout the years of bullying and exclusion at school I knew I could always find love in their hearts for me.
I remembered going to a new school where I changed my mindset. I became popular. I actually had friends - good friends. I even managed to get myself an amazing girl for prom!
I remembered moving out to university. Crying on the day before, already missing my friends in advance. But still keeping in touch as I met new people of all kinds in the big city.
I remember completing my studies, a respectable double major in physics and computer science. Coupled with a slew of other credentials like internships I got, I found myself working at Google, more successful than I could have ever expected for myself.
I remembered him. The time, the laughs, the moments we shared. All of it culminating to the box with the ring in it.
And then, as the words left my mouth, I found myself here...
Why? I had gone through so much, and got so far. But in the end it didn't even matter.
I sat there while my eyes stained the chair I sat on as my head was held in my heads.
"Hello," the voice said, "welcome back to the land of the living. Did you enjoy your simulation?"
"No."
"Interesting. Why not?"
"Give it back."
"We cannot exactly do that. It wasn't actually anything real."
"It was real to me." | Oh that's cool. I suppose now life will be more interesting, now that it is more than just reddit browsing, hand acrobatics, pizza, and soda.
###Region now blocked
What? Hey wait a minute... dafuq is going on here? 'Purchased content is non-refundable and we are sorry for any inconveniences' - Universal Arts Games
So does that mean...
###failure to transport to respective galaxy
An opaque window popped up asking if I would like to pay $1,000,000 for the Transfer DLC. Reading the fine print below, it said 'Proper tender includes raw materials and physical assets. All users without the DLC will be considered as anomalies and will be wiped during the system reset in
00:00:13
00:00:12
00:00:11
00:00:10
...
Well... shit.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | Your eyes open to a brilliant white room, in what seems to be spherical shape. A man walks in, who appears to be a doctor of some sort, and hands you a strange device with a silver handle.
"So, how was it?" He asks you while getting on his knees to mess with something tied to your ankles. You try to speak but feel restricted somehow. You can feel your mouth moving but don't hear any sound. "One second" the man comments jumping up to remove some cables from a nearby machine, "there we are. Sorry about that, you kinda woke up a little earlier than planned. I guess that's been happening to a lot of the testers after we loaded that fictional presidential campaign in. It was our first test to see how far we could push reality and still have people accept it."
You feel a small popping in your ears and a mild relief of pressure beneath your jaw. Making a second attempt you open your mouth and try to talk, this time you hear a voice, but it's not one you're used too. "What's going...on? Where...am I? And what's happened to my voice?" You manage to spit out while stumbling over your words, working around what you presume to be a deep English accent.
"Oh right, don't you worry, we are still in a testing phase so sometimes your earth memories overwrite your old ones." The doctor explains while motioning at you to follow him. "Come, let's get you over to the memory restore facility to get your old conscious re uploaded into your brain." Finding yourself extremely confused you take your first step and immediately fall to the floor, with a panicked look the doctor runs to a phone near the wall and your vision goes black. | Oh that's cool. I suppose now life will be more interesting, now that it is more than just reddit browsing, hand acrobatics, pizza, and soda.
###Region now blocked
What? Hey wait a minute... dafuq is going on here? 'Purchased content is non-refundable and we are sorry for any inconveniences' - Universal Arts Games
So does that mean...
###failure to transport to respective galaxy
An opaque window popped up asking if I would like to pay $1,000,000 for the Transfer DLC. Reading the fine print below, it said 'Proper tender includes raw materials and physical assets. All users without the DLC will be considered as anomalies and will be wiped during the system reset in
00:00:13
00:00:12
00:00:11
00:00:10
...
Well... shit.
| |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | "No! No no no no no!"
But it was useless. I blinked my eyes and then I saw myself in a white room with a helmet on my head and atrophied muscles. I had no memory of any of this.
What I do remember though?
I remembered my parents. So caring and loving. Throughout the years of bullying and exclusion at school I knew I could always find love in their hearts for me.
I remembered going to a new school where I changed my mindset. I became popular. I actually had friends - good friends. I even managed to get myself an amazing girl for prom!
I remembered moving out to university. Crying on the day before, already missing my friends in advance. But still keeping in touch as I met new people of all kinds in the big city.
I remember completing my studies, a respectable double major in physics and computer science. Coupled with a slew of other credentials like internships I got, I found myself working at Google, more successful than I could have ever expected for myself.
I remembered him. The time, the laughs, the moments we shared. All of it culminating to the box with the ring in it.
And then, as the words left my mouth, I found myself here...
Why? I had gone through so much, and got so far. But in the end it didn't even matter.
I sat there while my eyes stained the chair I sat on as my head was held in my heads.
"Hello," the voice said, "welcome back to the land of the living. Did you enjoy your simulation?"
"No."
"Interesting. Why not?"
"Give it back."
"We cannot exactly do that. It wasn't actually anything real."
"It was real to me." | That was it. Not from any speakers or public screens, it wasn't even a government broadcast. Just out of thin air, a gentle voice that didn't sound quite human, it had an odd lilt to it, something human vocal chords couldn't hope to recreate yet there it was in perfectly understandable English.
"Thank fucking god, I was beginning to think the election was a joke" I said to nobody in particular. | |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | Your eyes open to a brilliant white room, in what seems to be spherical shape. A man walks in, who appears to be a doctor of some sort, and hands you a strange device with a silver handle.
"So, how was it?" He asks you while getting on his knees to mess with something tied to your ankles. You try to speak but feel restricted somehow. You can feel your mouth moving but don't hear any sound. "One second" the man comments jumping up to remove some cables from a nearby machine, "there we are. Sorry about that, you kinda woke up a little earlier than planned. I guess that's been happening to a lot of the testers after we loaded that fictional presidential campaign in. It was our first test to see how far we could push reality and still have people accept it."
You feel a small popping in your ears and a mild relief of pressure beneath your jaw. Making a second attempt you open your mouth and try to talk, this time you hear a voice, but it's not one you're used too. "What's going...on? Where...am I? And what's happened to my voice?" You manage to spit out while stumbling over your words, working around what you presume to be a deep English accent.
"Oh right, don't you worry, we are still in a testing phase so sometimes your earth memories overwrite your old ones." The doctor explains while motioning at you to follow him. "Come, let's get you over to the memory restore facility to get your old conscious re uploaded into your brain." Finding yourself extremely confused you take your first step and immediately fall to the floor, with a panicked look the doctor runs to a phone near the wall and your vision goes black. | That was it. Not from any speakers or public screens, it wasn't even a government broadcast. Just out of thin air, a gentle voice that didn't sound quite human, it had an odd lilt to it, something human vocal chords couldn't hope to recreate yet there it was in perfectly understandable English.
"Thank fucking god, I was beginning to think the election was a joke" I said to nobody in particular. | |
[WP] A curse causes you to transform into a building under the light of the full moon. This secret ability helps you solve underwhelming supernatural crimes as an FBI consultant. You are: Steve Depot, the were-house. | My first one, so be kind on me :)
So, here am I, standing up right next to an old dilapidated church, a small unobtrusive building waiting for the Gang(what an unimaginative name!) to show up. No, you are not dreaming, this is a building talking to you, or to put in correctly, a Warehouse.
You see, I, Steve Depot have been cursed to transform into a building (not a wolf, a building) under the light of the full moon. An entire night if doing nothing but starting at whatever's ahead of me, and more importantly, eavesdropping.
You see, no one really notices an extra house in an already wrecked and abandoned neighborhood(and having a large hearing radius helps).All I have to do is station myself near a random meeting spot and wait till they meet up and spell out all their plans to me.
Today's session is no different. The Gang will smuggling in a huge shipment of ammo and explosives next Monday. Imagine their astonishment when they are caught red handed by the FBI while in the act. That would be the 50th fish to get caught in my net.
And thus, I go undercover for the next 28 days( binge drinking, binge watching TV, binge eating, basically binge everything ), when I will get another juicy bit of information, and am under the spotlight again.
So the next time you see a house or building that hadn't been there before, don't brush it off ,and remember the age old proverb : "Even Walls have Ears". | Dave stood in the empty field and watched as the sky was tinted orange by the sunset. He sighed to himself as he thought about how he would go through the transformation again that night. It had started when he got a splinter on an old abandoned house that he could swear wasn't there the day before. That night he discovered that whenever the light of the full moon touched him, he would transform into a house. He wanted to just try to move on with his life and not go out during the full moon, but no. The FBI somehow thought that it was useful to have a guy who could transform into a house. He had been doing this for a year, it never got any better. Tonight they needed him to catch some crook who could steal every object in a house using telepathy. Dave sighed again as he shrugged off the cloak he used to avoid accidentally transforming. Then the moon appeared in the distance and the transformation started, he was fully transformed in mere minutes. After the transformation was complete several undercover officers went inside the house and prepared to spend the night there. Once they were all in Dave said "The transformation lasts until dawn, please make sure to leave before then. Also take your shoes off before you go on the carpet, and absolutely do not use the bathroom in here!" Several hours passed before the crook came inside to find several cops waiting for him and all the doors and windows sealed. The first thing he tried to do was run of course. Then for the next hour or so he was running through the house using his psychic abilities to avoid the cops while Dave played benny hill over the houses stereo. It was actually kinda entertaining, that is until Dave noticed that it was nearly dawn. He worriedly said "Uh, guys, I don't want to rush you or anything. But could you hurry up?" Hearing this the cops started frantically running after the criminal, they had him in psychic proof cuffs within minutes. Dave thought to himself "Wow, that was close!" However right at that second, before anyone could make it out, dawns first rays hit the field where Dave was stationed. He immediately began to transform back into a human, starting with the exits all disappearing. Then the transformation was over, and dave was standing in an empty field. His torso was stretched out to several times it's normal size, and it was moving almost like a cartoon depiction of a burlap sack that was used to kidnap someone . Muffled noises could be heard from within this expanded chest cavity. Dave said to himself "Great, guess I'm stuck like this for the next month." before walking away muttering about how he doesn't get paid enough for this. | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | There was a corpse of a slightly overweight middle aged man laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Strewn around him were shards of broken glass, pieces of furniture and shelving, stupid little knickknacks that had adorned said shelving. All of it lay in a pool of blood. If you examined the scene carefully, you'd note the man's humerus protruding from his upper left arm, the depression in his skull and the contusions on his now broken hands where he had attempted to defend against the third, fourth and fifth blows. The blood had already soaked through the carpet, making the scene appear more gory than it had been. Standing over the mess and in the middle of what could very well be the climax of his midlife crisis was Stewart, a middle aged something accountant with no ties to anyone else in the world. He wasn't very happy with his neighbor lately and had called me to come and fix the problem. I wasn't the best, and I definitely wasn't the cleanest. I was; however, the cheapest.
"Look man, clean up is going to cost you extra."
" You said you'd do it cheaper than the other guys though! I can't afford this!"
"Dude, relax, I *am* cheaper than the other guys. It's just, if you want it done to their standard, you're going to have to pay for it. I'm just willing to get it done for an affordable price. And unless I'm mistaken, that's exactly what i've done."
"I didn't want grey matter and blood spattered across my grandmother's Persian though! This cabinet was worth almost eight thousand before you smashed the shelves and glass! Did I hire you to destroy my things? Did I hire you to destroy my belongings? The fucking coffee table too? Jesus Christ..."
"Look man, bullets cost money. Did you see that Walking Dead premier this season? Baseball bats are *in*. It's the new craze, everyone's doing it. They won't even consider this to be out of the norm as far as murders go in these last few weeks. They'll probably blame it on that local gang from 9th street."
The man ran his fingers through his unkempt hair; which was slightly balding near the front and in the back, before allowing his shoulders to sag and dragging those same fingers down and across his face. He looked defeated.
"All I'm saying, is that the job is done, and I want my money. If you expect anything else, you're going to have to pay for it. We can do a payment plan if you want, but I warn you I charge an extra 10% of interest in Chipotle burritos."
"Get *out* of my house. Get out!" He screamed at me, spittle flying from his lips.
I smiled at him, pointing the blood matted and now cracked Louisville directly into his face. "I get paid by tomorrow night, or the next time I stop by, you'll be decorating your house too, bub." I began to turn away and then paused, cocking my head to the side as if thinking. "I almost forgot." I say, smiling as I turn back to Stewart, who's mental instability at this point was undoubtedly beginning to reach another new peak, and would continue to go up in the next few seconds.
With a quick under swing, I brought the bat into his stomach; hard, knocking the wind from his lungs as I compressed his diaphragm under the force. He gasped and fell to his knees, eyes bulging.
"What?" I asked, mirth clear in my voice as I smiled at him. "You wanted it to look like you weren't involved. So, this is a robbery gone wrong, and your neighbor tried to help you defend your property. Don't forget about my money Stewey." I smirked as I brought the bat around one more time, connecting just above his temple and knocking the poor bastard out.
"See if he stiffs me on my pay now." I mutter, turning and walking out the front door to my inconspicuous and totally suspicious at the same time white van. "Better fucking pay me." | First post, new to reddit, don't kill me.
A dumpster. Of all the places to hide and wait for the target, I had to choose a dumpster. Of course, I couldn't change my location now, the mark would be here any moment. It had been a long struggle getting here, having to talk my way out of numerous situations. Luckily, I had only killed one guard so far. It was an accident, but someone was going to have to worry about it later. I shifted in place to get a little more comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one can be in a dumpster.
I heard the doorknob rattle, and I presumed my target had walked in. I looked out just to make sure. His eyes met mine as I slightly moved the dumpster lid, and I knew I had been found out. Damn. I had two options: I could pretend like I was a harmless bum and close the lid, or I could jump out and tackle him from here. I would get double the money for keeping him alive and letting my contractors do what they wanted with him. I chose the second option, leaping out of the dumpster to tackle him before he ran away. Unfortunately, I miscalculated my jump. My foot caught on the edge of the dumpster, and I fell on my face a few meters in front of the mark.
"Ow," I muttered, already formulating a new plan. I swiftly jumped to my feet and strode over to the target, extending my hand for a hand shake. He looked confused and concerned, which was (currently) exactly where I wanted him. I shook his hand, and started bullshitting. "Oh wow it is such a pleasure to meet you sir, I really can't believe it's honest to god real life you. Do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior dumpster christ? Good, let's have a chat. Did you know that millions of unborn trash bags are thrown away every day in America?" As I continued talking, I casually put my hand in my pocket. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist making a joke. "Truly, sir, to accept dumpster Christ into your life is an electrifying experience." As I said this, I pulled a Taser from my pocket and drove it into his neck. I expected it to knock him out, but instead he just looked more confused than ever. And hurt. Damn movies.
I was starting to get desperate, so I resorted to hand to hand combat. I punched him in the gut and slammed my elbow into the back of his head while he was doubled over. He fell onto the ground, and I put him in a chokehold to actually knock him out. After holding him there for the usual amount of time, I put my fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse. Oops. "Sonuva bitch," I muttered. No pulse. He must've knocked himself out when he fell. I sighed and stashed him in the dumpster. Two thousand dollars is two thousand dollars. | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | There was a corpse of a slightly overweight middle aged man laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Strewn around him were shards of broken glass, pieces of furniture and shelving, stupid little knickknacks that had adorned said shelving. All of it lay in a pool of blood. If you examined the scene carefully, you'd note the man's humerus protruding from his upper left arm, the depression in his skull and the contusions on his now broken hands where he had attempted to defend against the third, fourth and fifth blows. The blood had already soaked through the carpet, making the scene appear more gory than it had been. Standing over the mess and in the middle of what could very well be the climax of his midlife crisis was Stewart, a middle aged something accountant with no ties to anyone else in the world. He wasn't very happy with his neighbor lately and had called me to come and fix the problem. I wasn't the best, and I definitely wasn't the cleanest. I was; however, the cheapest.
"Look man, clean up is going to cost you extra."
" You said you'd do it cheaper than the other guys though! I can't afford this!"
"Dude, relax, I *am* cheaper than the other guys. It's just, if you want it done to their standard, you're going to have to pay for it. I'm just willing to get it done for an affordable price. And unless I'm mistaken, that's exactly what i've done."
"I didn't want grey matter and blood spattered across my grandmother's Persian though! This cabinet was worth almost eight thousand before you smashed the shelves and glass! Did I hire you to destroy my things? Did I hire you to destroy my belongings? The fucking coffee table too? Jesus Christ..."
"Look man, bullets cost money. Did you see that Walking Dead premier this season? Baseball bats are *in*. It's the new craze, everyone's doing it. They won't even consider this to be out of the norm as far as murders go in these last few weeks. They'll probably blame it on that local gang from 9th street."
The man ran his fingers through his unkempt hair; which was slightly balding near the front and in the back, before allowing his shoulders to sag and dragging those same fingers down and across his face. He looked defeated.
"All I'm saying, is that the job is done, and I want my money. If you expect anything else, you're going to have to pay for it. We can do a payment plan if you want, but I warn you I charge an extra 10% of interest in Chipotle burritos."
"Get *out* of my house. Get out!" He screamed at me, spittle flying from his lips.
I smiled at him, pointing the blood matted and now cracked Louisville directly into his face. "I get paid by tomorrow night, or the next time I stop by, you'll be decorating your house too, bub." I began to turn away and then paused, cocking my head to the side as if thinking. "I almost forgot." I say, smiling as I turn back to Stewart, who's mental instability at this point was undoubtedly beginning to reach another new peak, and would continue to go up in the next few seconds.
With a quick under swing, I brought the bat into his stomach; hard, knocking the wind from his lungs as I compressed his diaphragm under the force. He gasped and fell to his knees, eyes bulging.
"What?" I asked, mirth clear in my voice as I smiled at him. "You wanted it to look like you weren't involved. So, this is a robbery gone wrong, and your neighbor tried to help you defend your property. Don't forget about my money Stewey." I smirked as I brought the bat around one more time, connecting just above his temple and knocking the poor bastard out.
"See if he stiffs me on my pay now." I mutter, turning and walking out the front door to my inconspicuous and totally suspicious at the same time white van. "Better fucking pay me." | It was rainy the night they found him, sprawled across the dock like he had just stretched out from a long nap. The Commissioner looked down at him with a mix of disgust and annoyance. "Have we identified the murder weapon?" he called out to one of his officers behind him.
"Sir, it seems that all the reports are right in that it's asphyxiation, it's just...well, you wouldn't have believed it if I had just radioed it in." The Commissioner looked over the evidence from the scene: one wallet from the dead Mr. Gregory Fenton; one walkie talkie with the dead man's fingerprints; a pair of pink, floral print washing gloves, and, most infuriatingly; one entire unspooled length of wintergreen flavored dental floss, most of which was wrapped tightly around the dead Mr. Fenton's neck.
---------------------------------
Elaine Chovazk sat at her dining table, heaved a big sigh, and took a sip from her steaming cup of coffee. The beans were going bad, but that's what two or three days without changing them will do to the flavor, she supposed. The sunlight came through her kitchen window, illuminating the yellowed linoleum and decades old appliances, and Elaine stood to move into the living room to turn the television on. She didn't expect to see anything peculiar, but it never hurt to check for any strange news reports.
From outside, she heard a car pull up to the curb and knew that a man in an olive jacket was, as casually as he could, dropping a package off on her doorstep. She'd give it a few minutes before getting up to check the door; her husband wouldn't be home from the night shift for another hour or so, and her neighbors didn't think it was too strange that she got such large packages sometimes multiple times a week. She'd once told one of her nosier neighbors that between her children and her grandchildren she was very active in gift giving.
Later that day, after she had tucked away her newly gotten funds, taken an inventory of her supplies, audited her received funds vs what she would spend to replace her tools, and after serving breakfast to her beat tired husband and sent him to bed, she turned to her true passion: coupons. Elaine spent hours of her day sifting through every free publication that was put in her mailbox and tearing and organizing every coupon she could find. Once, she proudly told anyone who would listen, she walked out of the grocery store with almost four hundred dollars worth of merchandise and spent barely over twenty.
Around noon, and her fourth cup of the stale, but pleasantly warm, coffee, her phone rang. It was business, of course, and she listened to her in-between, taking notes as he relayed them while asking the usual run down. *Do they know my services run at a premium; do they know any and all liabilities will fall directly to them in the event of any unforeseen incident; Larry, when are you going to come by the house again, tell me about your mother*.
Elaine hung her phone up, glanced towards the stairs leading up to the bedroom, and took the note to stuff into her pocket. She didn't think she'd have needed dish soap so soon again, and a trip to the store would give her just the right amount of time to mull over the details. Maybe she'd even pick up a nice roast for dinner; they had the money, after all. | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | There was a corpse of a slightly overweight middle aged man laying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Strewn around him were shards of broken glass, pieces of furniture and shelving, stupid little knickknacks that had adorned said shelving. All of it lay in a pool of blood. If you examined the scene carefully, you'd note the man's humerus protruding from his upper left arm, the depression in his skull and the contusions on his now broken hands where he had attempted to defend against the third, fourth and fifth blows. The blood had already soaked through the carpet, making the scene appear more gory than it had been. Standing over the mess and in the middle of what could very well be the climax of his midlife crisis was Stewart, a middle aged something accountant with no ties to anyone else in the world. He wasn't very happy with his neighbor lately and had called me to come and fix the problem. I wasn't the best, and I definitely wasn't the cleanest. I was; however, the cheapest.
"Look man, clean up is going to cost you extra."
" You said you'd do it cheaper than the other guys though! I can't afford this!"
"Dude, relax, I *am* cheaper than the other guys. It's just, if you want it done to their standard, you're going to have to pay for it. I'm just willing to get it done for an affordable price. And unless I'm mistaken, that's exactly what i've done."
"I didn't want grey matter and blood spattered across my grandmother's Persian though! This cabinet was worth almost eight thousand before you smashed the shelves and glass! Did I hire you to destroy my things? Did I hire you to destroy my belongings? The fucking coffee table too? Jesus Christ..."
"Look man, bullets cost money. Did you see that Walking Dead premier this season? Baseball bats are *in*. It's the new craze, everyone's doing it. They won't even consider this to be out of the norm as far as murders go in these last few weeks. They'll probably blame it on that local gang from 9th street."
The man ran his fingers through his unkempt hair; which was slightly balding near the front and in the back, before allowing his shoulders to sag and dragging those same fingers down and across his face. He looked defeated.
"All I'm saying, is that the job is done, and I want my money. If you expect anything else, you're going to have to pay for it. We can do a payment plan if you want, but I warn you I charge an extra 10% of interest in Chipotle burritos."
"Get *out* of my house. Get out!" He screamed at me, spittle flying from his lips.
I smiled at him, pointing the blood matted and now cracked Louisville directly into his face. "I get paid by tomorrow night, or the next time I stop by, you'll be decorating your house too, bub." I began to turn away and then paused, cocking my head to the side as if thinking. "I almost forgot." I say, smiling as I turn back to Stewart, who's mental instability at this point was undoubtedly beginning to reach another new peak, and would continue to go up in the next few seconds.
With a quick under swing, I brought the bat into his stomach; hard, knocking the wind from his lungs as I compressed his diaphragm under the force. He gasped and fell to his knees, eyes bulging.
"What?" I asked, mirth clear in my voice as I smiled at him. "You wanted it to look like you weren't involved. So, this is a robbery gone wrong, and your neighbor tried to help you defend your property. Don't forget about my money Stewey." I smirked as I brought the bat around one more time, connecting just above his temple and knocking the poor bastard out.
"See if he stiffs me on my pay now." I mutter, turning and walking out the front door to my inconspicuous and totally suspicious at the same time white van. "Better fucking pay me." | I ordered a coffee and took a seat in the corner. It was a tactical position, that seat in the corner. People like me didn't take any old chair.
I was sufficiently far from the entrance so that there was no draft when someone entered, but it was close enough to the tv so that I could here it. And someone had left a half-eaten muffin on the table.
The waitress brought my coffee over, giving me a sidelong glance as I took a bite of the half-muffin. I smiled genially and she left. That usually worked. I once knew a guy who gave anyone who looked at him a nasty stare, but people remembered stuff like that. The waitress would forget a polite weirdo at work pretty quickly.
I knew the man who walked in was my customer as soon I saw him. He oozed nervousness, as they all did. I never understood that. Nervousness looked bad. People would remember that. Besides, I was the one doing the killing, not them - what was there to be nervous about?
I flashed him a grin and gestured for him to come over. He hurried across the room and spoke in harsh tones. "Don't make it so obvious, you idiot. Godammit, no wonder you were so cheap."
"Because two friends meeting in a coffee shop is so suspicious," I said, drawing pit the word "so" sarcastically. "Forget everything you've seen in movies or read in books. It's bullshit. No whispering, no handing things over under the table. It draws attention. You know what doesn't? Two guys meeting for a coffee."
I gestured for the waitress and ordered another coffee for "my pal".
My pal took his seat, bewildered. I watched tv for a bit whilst he calmed down. The news. How boring. Why didn't they ever play cartoons in coffee shops? To me, TV was a way to forget the world for a while. Watching the news made you think about it. But, as my mother used to say, "People are like shits, Jonny. They stink." Something like that. I was never as good with words as her.
"So shall we ..." my pal said.
"Yeah. Who is it? Pictures?"
He nodded and pulled some photos from his pocket. "My ex, Pamela Jameson."
I had a look at the photos. She was old, but pretty. Pamela... Did I once date a Pamela? Maybe. Or was it Pam. Was Pam short for Pamela? Perhaps. But -
"... you do it?" I became aware of my pal talking.
"Yes."
Relief washed over my pal's face. Then uncertainty. "There was one thing that concerned me though. Why are you so cheap? I couldn't find anyone else that was even close to your price."
They always asked that. They should have trusted their instincts. What idiot paid for a hitman with no recommendations? But a man had to eat. So I always told them the same thing. "Look. I might not get it right the first time. I can't promise it will be quick or painless. Hell, I might even forget and you'll need to remind me. But your ex will be dead - and that's what you're paying for. It really comes down to one thing. You can afford me. So. You still wanna do this?"
He took some time, but nodded his assent.
"Ok, lets go outside. And can you get that?" I gestured to our table.
"Sure," he said, looking a little uncertain. I waited whilst he paid for our coffees, then we went outside together. I took him a few streets down, then into an alley.
"The money?" I said. He pulled out a wad of notes from his pocket. £1000.
I took it. I tucked into my own pocket, then held out my hand to shake.
Then I balled my fist and punched him in the nose. I felt more then heard bones crunch. He fell to the floor. I kicked him. Repeatedly. Ribs, face, ribs, face. Until I was tired.
I crouched down beside him, pausing for a time to catch my breath.
"There are two types of people in this world, my pal. Those who do, and those who don't. But those who don't want stuff done. So they get someone else to do that stuff. That, in my opinion, is pathetic. If you want someone dead, do it yourself."
I pulled a knife from my pocket and stabbed him in the throat. I picked up his body and stuffed it into the wheelie bin. I threw my phone in there with it - there were texts from him.
I left the alley with my clothes, a knife and £1000 - all my worldly possessions. I felt good.
I made my way to the bus stop. Time to move again.
I wrote this on my phone - excuse the typos! | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | The name's Magnum. It used to be Jerry, but Magnum sounds cooler. Magnum Magnumson. I'm a hitman. Not just any hitman - I'm the guy you call if you want someone dead... Eventually. I always get the job done, and cheap, but with no guarantees on quality or deadlines. I have no special skills. It makes me difficult to trace. Guy found dead in a room locked from the inside? Only a handful of people can do that, so the police know exactly where to start asking. Not me. I'm not on any watchlist, I have no weapons licences, no criminal record, not even a driver's licence. I just always forget what the signs with the numbers mean. Anyway, I don't have time to talk, my client wants his neighbour dead.
I knock on the door. No answer. If I had any way of doing research on this guy, I could figure out where he'd be at this time of day. Probably at work. If I owned a computer, I could find out on the Facebooks or something. Oh well, I'll try again later, he'll probably be back by seven. I check my Mickey Mouse watch. 5 o'Clock. Barely enough time to walk home and back, and I don't know where the nearest bus stop is. Suddenly I'm hit by a stroke of genius. I climb up the tree in front of the house. It's difficult, and I'm out of breath, but I'm hidden, and waiting. It's cold. Maybe I should have brought my jacket. No, the polyester makes too much noise. I stay still, escaping to sunny coasts in my mind...
I wake up. It's dark. Confused, I fall out of the tree. Damn, was that my ankle? Is my ankle broken? Uh oh. Oh, no, just a sprain. Relief floods me, momentarily washing away the mild pain in my ankle. I look up at the house to see a light on. The glow-in-the-dark cartoon gloves on my watch tell me it's a quarter past nine. I'm missing Aliens on TV. I limp up to the front window. Yes, he's sat there, on his sofa, beer in hand, watching Aliens. If I'm quiet, I can even hear the dialogue. I stay there, watching the film, trying to stay behind the curtains, out of his line of sight. A large bush conceals me from the avenue. I remain, hidden, waiting.
The credits roll and my stomach begins to growl. The man is asleep on the sofa. I struggle with the idea of him missing the end of the film. I realise now that I've been shivering. I go and knock on the door. No answer. I go back to the window and knock. He wakes up. I knock again and wave. I point towards the door, and see him get up and leave the room. He opens the door and we're stood face to face. He looks confused.
"Um. Hi. The name's Magnum. Can I come in? I'm looking for my, uh, dog?"
Not my most convincing line, but he's still half asleep. He waves me in. I stand in the hallway until he closes the door.
"Um. Maybe he's in the kitchen." I offer. The man leads me to the kitchen. I see what I'm looking for, a knife block on the counter. I walk over to the counter and start opening cupboards. The man's expression of confusion grows stronger, until he finally speaks up.
"Wait you're looking for your dog?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"In my cupboards?"
"He's a small dog. Look, I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this. Could you check the other side of the room?"
My assertiveness fools him for a moment. He turns and looks in his kitchen cupboards for a small dog. I silently pull a knife from the block. Bread knife, try again. The second knife I grab looks better. About ten inches of cold, stainless steel. He's moving a cereal box aside. Quickly, I take a step forward and stab him in the neck. In my haste, I've forgotten my ankle. We both fall to the floor, blood pooling around us. Struggling, I stand up. I grab a dishcloth to wipe my prints off everything, but I'm leaving bloody footprints everywhere. I look around for answers. Suddenly I'm hit by a stroke of genius. I turn on the stove and light a candle in the front room. I carefully walk to the front door, before removing my shoes and heading back to the kitchen, avoiding the bloody prints on the floor. I leave my shoes on the stove top, and scram. It's a painful walk home with a sprained ankle, but after half an hour I can hear sirens. I smile in the darkness.
It's the morning after the hit. My ankle still hurts. I give my client a call. I need to tell him where to leave my money.
"It's Magnum. Leave $650, as agreed, in a bag in -"
He cuts me off.
"You've got a lot of nerve, phoning me."
"I'm sorry?"
"You burnt half of my house down, you clown!"
Of course. The target was the client's neighbour. I hold my ground.
"No guarantees on quality, remember?"
"Quality!?"
"Hey, let's not be too hasty. Just leave my money in -"
The line goes dead. I let the tone ring for a few moments. I can't risk returning to the scene to collect from my client in person. Without any Facebooks, I don't know where else to find him. I recline on my faux-leather futon. Fate will provide. It always does for Magnum Magnumson. | Well, this was a confusing brief. Still, the client always gets what they want, that's my motto!
Here I am, sitting in this car park, just waiting. It's 4am, nothing happening at the moment. The security guard poked his head out of the door once, but now sits behind his desk again, obviously watching something on a TV screen.
I wait. And wait.
And wait.
6am and then another car shows up, music blaring, some sort of Spanish pop junk that youngsters seem to love these days. Out gets the driver, a man, who proceeds to throw his cigarette on the floor and stamp it out. Disgusting.
He then walks to through the door and the security guard gets up, grabs his coat, and leaves.
Perfect.
I wait another few minutes. The guy grabs a coffee and sits down behind the desk. Just perfect.
Looking around, nobody else here. Time to go. With a click I open my car door, then briskly step into the foyer.
The guys looks up at me, smiles, and says 'Welcome to Budget!'.
Blam! He's thrown backward, a neat hole through the forehead.
Reaching over I grab his name badge, not that it matters who he is, and leave. Contract fulfilled. | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | I motioned for her to sit in the seat across from my desk.
"You have three minutes. Money on the desk."
She nodded, and placed a small stack of 20 dollar bills on the table. Four hundred per kill. Triple the price to make it look like an accident. These were unequivocally the best rates in the city.
"Seven o' clock everyday at Central Park, 77th Street entrance. Here are the pictures."
She slid over the pictures, which were bound losely by a paper clip. I required at least five pictures per hit request, preferably from multiple angles.
I flipped through the pictures.
"This will do," I said. "I'm just curious, why do you want him dead?"
She said something that wasn't important or interesting. Clients only ever have two reasons for why they want someone dead: they stand to personally benefit, or they hate the target for whatever reason. Maybe he cheated on her and abused her physically. Maybe he was a powerful figure on Wall Street. It didn't matter to me. I was already looking through my calendar to figure out how to schedule this hit.
"Please, just get this done. I-"
Before she could finish, one of my runners, Darius, busted through the door, heaving for breath.
"I dunno where else to run. They're after me, I don't know what to fucking do!" Darius threw himself down on the floor. "They saw me with the body, I'm a dead man!"
I looked down at him and sighed. This sort of thing happens at least once a month, and as a result, the words that followed came out almost as a recitation.
"It'll be alright, Darius. I won't let anything happen to you. I have an in with some guys on the force. Here, take this job in the meantime. I'll throw in an extra thousand this week when you get paid."
"An extra thousand? You sure you ain't tripping man?"
I gave him a nod of reassurance. He smiled. They were always so easy to convince. I gave him the specifics: Central Park, 7:00PM, 77th Street.
"Who was he?" The woman asked after Darius left.
"You don't think I do all the killing myself do you?"
"You are called the 'Budget Assassin' in the streets."
"The key to selling your service at a low price is high volume. I have hundreds of 'runners'. What's easier than paying someone to make it look like a mugging gone wrong? No blood on either of our hands."
She didn't say anything. Death does make most people uncomfortable.
"If you don't have anything more, you should leave. It'll be taken care of."
She quietly picked her purse up from the floor and walked out.
I picked up my phone. "Yo Jay, I need you to do this extra job for me. I'll pay you five hundred up front for it. Central Park, 7:00PM, 77th Street. His name is Darius. Drop by and I'll give you the pictures."
"Understood." He hung up.
Never leave a loose end. No blood, easy money.
| I'm not the worlds best assassin, that was Ricardo 20 years ago, dumb Spanish peacock with a rifle like a dildo from the distant future, but he made that shot from 2500 yards, the one people kept calling "theoretically possible". $1000000 to rent a crane, prop it up in the right spot, aim, pull the trigger and drive the damned thing away. If he didnt use his reputation to get his dick wet he might of gotten away with it.
10 years ago it was Reggie, big guy, his rifle belonged to his great grandpa, who was taught to shoot by his dad, family connections you know? Guy killed damn near half the republican party's top dogs before people decided the ex marine buying 2000 high quality sniper rifle rounds a week might be a suspect.
5 years ago we had that battle, 'snipertown' they called it. 4 guys each claiming the top spot, taunting each other, taking potshots at anyone on a roof top hoping to wipe out the competition, got real messy till the last guy left standing fell off a godamn roof.
Then there was the bombers like that guy blowing up churches, voice activated bombs when someone nearby said "Allah Akbar". Each bomb cost more then the POTUS got paid in a year and he got caught out by $50 of cctv equipment.
Or the poisoner who tried to take out a whole town with a specifically hand crafted poison recipe he posted online to a forum, nice and helpful he was, using his home computer.
I may not be the best assassin, and i cost a whole lot less; just me, my pistol, a few rounds and a couple expenses. I tell you what though, i took out 5 of the worlds top assassins with a $100 whore, a quick trip to the hall of veterans, a night on a city roof, some webcams and a quick google.
| |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | I motioned for her to sit in the seat across from my desk.
"You have three minutes. Money on the desk."
She nodded, and placed a small stack of 20 dollar bills on the table. Four hundred per kill. Triple the price to make it look like an accident. These were unequivocally the best rates in the city.
"Seven o' clock everyday at Central Park, 77th Street entrance. Here are the pictures."
She slid over the pictures, which were bound losely by a paper clip. I required at least five pictures per hit request, preferably from multiple angles.
I flipped through the pictures.
"This will do," I said. "I'm just curious, why do you want him dead?"
She said something that wasn't important or interesting. Clients only ever have two reasons for why they want someone dead: they stand to personally benefit, or they hate the target for whatever reason. Maybe he cheated on her and abused her physically. Maybe he was a powerful figure on Wall Street. It didn't matter to me. I was already looking through my calendar to figure out how to schedule this hit.
"Please, just get this done. I-"
Before she could finish, one of my runners, Darius, busted through the door, heaving for breath.
"I dunno where else to run. They're after me, I don't know what to fucking do!" Darius threw himself down on the floor. "They saw me with the body, I'm a dead man!"
I looked down at him and sighed. This sort of thing happens at least once a month, and as a result, the words that followed came out almost as a recitation.
"It'll be alright, Darius. I won't let anything happen to you. I have an in with some guys on the force. Here, take this job in the meantime. I'll throw in an extra thousand this week when you get paid."
"An extra thousand? You sure you ain't tripping man?"
I gave him a nod of reassurance. He smiled. They were always so easy to convince. I gave him the specifics: Central Park, 7:00PM, 77th Street.
"Who was he?" The woman asked after Darius left.
"You don't think I do all the killing myself do you?"
"You are called the 'Budget Assassin' in the streets."
"The key to selling your service at a low price is high volume. I have hundreds of 'runners'. What's easier than paying someone to make it look like a mugging gone wrong? No blood on either of our hands."
She didn't say anything. Death does make most people uncomfortable.
"If you don't have anything more, you should leave. It'll be taken care of."
She quietly picked her purse up from the floor and walked out.
I picked up my phone. "Yo Jay, I need you to do this extra job for me. I'll pay you five hundred up front for it. Central Park, 7:00PM, 77th Street. His name is Darius. Drop by and I'll give you the pictures."
"Understood." He hung up.
Never leave a loose end. No blood, easy money.
| Eli could have gone in through the skylight. First he’d cut at the glass with surgical precision, making not a sound in removing the severed pane. He’d then let a drone quadcopter fitted with a silenced pistol descend into the building. It would then be a case of scanning for heat signatures and pressing the kill button. Eli could do all that, but that would be too expensive. He had a reputation for efficiency, people didn’t come to him for those kinds of solutions. His clientele had tighter purse strings.
He went in with the same gear he’d used on dozens of runs. The budget didn’t give any room for one-off equipment. Black pants, silent when he moved. Dark boots, which were of course steel toe-capped. At his waist was a belt of simple tools. These he would use for pick locking, door breaking, and of course life ending. Most important was a navy turtleneck. Eli wouldn’t settle for anything less than total comfort on the job.
The assassin unhinged a window using a small crowbar. He winced as the metal creaked as it levered. After almost a minute of held breath and stifled curses the hinge gave a soft pop and gave in. He didn’t worry about someone catching sight, just heard. The adjacent neighbour was away on business, the poor sod’s wife was out cheating. Research could be done, even on a budget. Accessing information was easy if you had an internet connection these days. Binoculars helped to fill in the gaps.
After sliding himself in through the window, Eli managed his bearings. He a quick thanks to lazy construction workers. The place was a carbon copy reflection of the house five doors down. Up for sale he’d managed to view the place as a potential ‘buyer’. He double checked his watch before continuing, 01:43. The target should have been asleep for at least 2 hours now. He’d be well into the land of sweet dreams most likely not involving his own murder.
He went up the stairs, watching the stars as through the skylight. He mused to an alternate world, flashy suits, big clients, and cleaner kills. That’s just not the life for me, he thought. Wouldn’t suit it anyway Eli, you’re too...problematic. The pistol came out of it’s holster like a long lost friend. It felt comfortable like an old piece of jewelry, or a trusty shiv. He doubted many would agree with the sentiment and noted to not mention the thought out loud.
“Tonight we earn our lunch money,” he mouthed, placing his lips on the upper back of the pistol. He scrutinized the silencer. Too late to hesitate now, he thought and shrugged.
He nudged the door to the master bedroom open, pistol held outstretched. He rounded the corner, taking care not to put pressure in the centre of the creaky floorboards. His well adjusted night eyes caught the sight of a sleeping mass under the covers. He took aim, and let his breath out. His finger itched over the trigger, but something didn’t feel right. The body was too small, the soft breathing too feminine, too young.
He crept closer, bringing himself closer to inspect the sleeping figure. It lay on its side facing away from him by the doorway. Even with his disadvantaged perspective it was obvious he’d just crept into the bedroom of an unassuming girl.
What the fuck is this? His mind began to race. He wasn’t one to get squeamish on the job, but he needed to know these things. Killing kids was just out of the question. His work was to be simple and without complication. The pile of covers shuffled, a slight girlish humm came from within. A floorboard creaked in complaint against his sudden lurch back away from the bed. Eli tried to shift his weight, but the offending sound was unrecoverable.
“Daddy, is that you?” | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | I awoke around noon with a full bladder. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my bed. I rolled over to the other side of the bed and closed my eyes, but I knew it was useless; I had to get up. Stumbling to the bathroom, I knocked my knee on the computer chair in the middle of my bedroom floor and grumbled. Mornings sucked.
After I pissed and washed my hands, I returned to my bedroom. I looked at my phone and contemplated checking it. I thought again and then flopped back onto the bed. I had been depressed and without work for months and today didn't feel like the day that I would turn things around. Often, I went to sleep with plans of self-improvement for the following day - surely, the next day would be my time to shine. I'd exercise, eat something healthy, meditate, look for a real job, and maybe make something of myself. Unfortunately for me, my motivation loved playing hooky in the mornings. I fell asleep and dreamt of my ex, a petite Asian law student named Dara who no longer returned my calls.
Two hours later I opened my eyes again. With a groan, I reached over and picked up my phone. One message, a text from an unknown number. Opening it, I read, "Need your service. Can you help?" My first emotion wasn't happiness or enthusiasm, but dread. As sad and lazy as I was, I knew I had to accept the job - especially since rent was due. I texted back, "Yes. Meet at McDonald's on Riverside in 15min." My phone buzzed within seconds. It was a message confirming the meet. I pulled on some pants and a shirt and headed out the door.
------------------------------
The meet was standard. Another nervous client - they were all nervous. He needed his wife taken care of. She was a mid-forties housewife named Allie. Allie was divorcing the poor sap and she'd surely take most of his money. She had checked his phone one night when he slept. The guy wasn't careful - they never are - and Allie found an ongoing text thread with the guy's secretary that was long and explicit enough to make a romance novel out of. The guy was screwed and he was desperate.
"Alright, let me see her," I said to the guy sitting across from me. I never name my clients, but I can tell you he was old and sloppy; I was scared to see what his wife looked like. He opened his phone and scrolled through a few pictures. I was pleasantly surprised. Allie was a curvy Latina much younger than my client. She was smiling in every picture I saw. Her eyes showed real happiness, too; not the fake stuff you see in most pictures these days. My policy is to not to ask questions, but I couldn't help myself.
"She's gorgeous. Why'd you do it?"
"Come on man, you know how it is. Even when they're beautiful, it only lasts a few years. Then, something changes and they're still beautiful, but not for you. I don't know, maybe it's my fault. I tried to pay attention to her, tried to give her everything she needed, but somewhere along the way it just wasn't the same anymore. That smile I see you looking at, I haven't seen that smile in five years. Maybe you'll get to see it."
Sadly, I could relate to the pathetic bastard. His story reminded me of most of my own love-life - before Dara, anyway. It was different with her. There had been no mysterious loss of passion. Dara dumped my ass and I deserved it. I still reached out to her but it was with a sad futility. I knew she'd never respond. I just hoped she was OK - I was ashamed but if I had ruined her life, too, I'd never forgive myself.
"OK, I assume you already know my fee."
"Yeah. Half now and half later?"
"That's right," I said. The unkempt man opposite me slid over an envelope and I opened it. It wasn't much, but it it would cover my rent.
"You sure you can do it?"
"Well, it's not an exact science, as you should know. But, she's vulnerable so I'm confident I'll have access to her. And given at least a few tries, I should be successful. Do you have the information I need?"
"It's in the envelope."
"I'll contact you soon," I said as I stood. The client reached to shake my hand. I looked at it and then looked back at him.
"It's nothing personal," I said. "I'm just not proud of this. My life sucks and this is what I do, but shaking hands just seems wrong."
"Fine. Just get it done."
"Right," I said. I walked out the door and back to my apartment, studying the sheet of paper that told me Allie's usual activities - her wheres and whens.
------------------------------
Bang! My shopping cart collided with Allie's in the middle of the fruits section. I was so clumsy sometimes. I assumed an air of embarrassment and looked up to meet her gaze. "Sorry," I said.
"It's OK," Allie said, and then began to move away.
"Wow, I don't mean to bother you but you're really beautiful."
"Thank you," Allie said. She had stopped moving away from me. My confidence grew. I studied the items in her cart. It was full of fruits and vegetables.
"You must eat really healthy," I said. "Or if you're like me, this is just a New Year's Revolution-type attempt and those will all be rotting in the bottom drawer of your refrigerator in a week."
Allie laughed. "No, I've been really good. My diet and exercise has been perfect lately, ever since-" Allie stopped mid-sentence and looked down.
"Ever since what?"
"Oh never mind."
"OK, sorry," I said, laughing. "I'm being way too nosy for a guy who just assaulted you in the grocery store. I looked into Allie's eyes and saw the smile I had hoped to see - the one from the pictures. "Listen, I gotta go, but let's have a drink sometime. Let me get your number."
"Sure," Allie said. She gave me her number.
"It was so nice to meet you. I'll call you soon."
"You, too," Allie said. We parted ways smiling. I pushed my cart to the next aisle over, abandoned it there, and walked out of the grocery store.
------------------------------
"Do you have a condom?" Allie asked. She had been tougher than I'd anticipated. Although we agreed upon drinks previously, Allie wanted wanted to meet for coffee first. That coffee date was pretty standard and she agreed to do drinks that following weekend. After some flirting and some beer, we wound up at my apartment.
"Yes," I said, opening my desk drawer and pulling out a small foil packet. I ripped it open and put the condom on.
The sex was great. She moved with the intensity that only scorned women can muster. After we finished, she got up to use my bathroom. I heard the faucet run and then Allie shouted, "Hey what the fuck!"
"What?"
"What the fuck!!!"
"Come out, I can't hear you when you're in there." The door swung open and hit the wall. Allie in the open door frame, still naked.
"You said you had a condom. Why is there cum in me?"
I looked down at my genitals for the first time since I had rolled off of Allie and feigned surprise. "Oh shit! It broke. I'm so sorry."
Allie left soon after. She believed me, but was still mad. I hoped I hadn't ruined my chance. It wasn't an exact science.
------------------------------
The smell of the fries always made me queasy. I knew most people loved McDonald's fries but they had never done anything for me. The only item I'd ever found edible was the Filet-O-Fish. I walked through the lobby and sat down across from the client. It had been several months since we last met.
"The job's done."
"Are you sure? I need proof."
I took out my phone and showed him the text thread between Allie and I. We had met and hooked up a few more times before losing contact for a few weeks. Then I sent the text I never got used to sending. "Hey, so sorry to have to tell you this, but I just got tested and I'm HIV positive. You need to get tested."
Allie responded with panic and anger. A few days after, her texts were venomous and she promised legal action. It was time to move and get a new ID again. But first, I had to collect the rest of my payment. | Eli could have gone in through the skylight. First he’d cut at the glass with surgical precision, making not a sound in removing the severed pane. He’d then let a drone quadcopter fitted with a silenced pistol descend into the building. It would then be a case of scanning for heat signatures and pressing the kill button. Eli could do all that, but that would be too expensive. He had a reputation for efficiency, people didn’t come to him for those kinds of solutions. His clientele had tighter purse strings.
He went in with the same gear he’d used on dozens of runs. The budget didn’t give any room for one-off equipment. Black pants, silent when he moved. Dark boots, which were of course steel toe-capped. At his waist was a belt of simple tools. These he would use for pick locking, door breaking, and of course life ending. Most important was a navy turtleneck. Eli wouldn’t settle for anything less than total comfort on the job.
The assassin unhinged a window using a small crowbar. He winced as the metal creaked as it levered. After almost a minute of held breath and stifled curses the hinge gave a soft pop and gave in. He didn’t worry about someone catching sight, just heard. The adjacent neighbour was away on business, the poor sod’s wife was out cheating. Research could be done, even on a budget. Accessing information was easy if you had an internet connection these days. Binoculars helped to fill in the gaps.
After sliding himself in through the window, Eli managed his bearings. He a quick thanks to lazy construction workers. The place was a carbon copy reflection of the house five doors down. Up for sale he’d managed to view the place as a potential ‘buyer’. He double checked his watch before continuing, 01:43. The target should have been asleep for at least 2 hours now. He’d be well into the land of sweet dreams most likely not involving his own murder.
He went up the stairs, watching the stars as through the skylight. He mused to an alternate world, flashy suits, big clients, and cleaner kills. That’s just not the life for me, he thought. Wouldn’t suit it anyway Eli, you’re too...problematic. The pistol came out of it’s holster like a long lost friend. It felt comfortable like an old piece of jewelry, or a trusty shiv. He doubted many would agree with the sentiment and noted to not mention the thought out loud.
“Tonight we earn our lunch money,” he mouthed, placing his lips on the upper back of the pistol. He scrutinized the silencer. Too late to hesitate now, he thought and shrugged.
He nudged the door to the master bedroom open, pistol held outstretched. He rounded the corner, taking care not to put pressure in the centre of the creaky floorboards. His well adjusted night eyes caught the sight of a sleeping mass under the covers. He took aim, and let his breath out. His finger itched over the trigger, but something didn’t feel right. The body was too small, the soft breathing too feminine, too young.
He crept closer, bringing himself closer to inspect the sleeping figure. It lay on its side facing away from him by the doorway. Even with his disadvantaged perspective it was obvious he’d just crept into the bedroom of an unassuming girl.
What the fuck is this? His mind began to race. He wasn’t one to get squeamish on the job, but he needed to know these things. Killing kids was just out of the question. His work was to be simple and without complication. The pile of covers shuffled, a slight girlish humm came from within. A floorboard creaked in complaint against his sudden lurch back away from the bed. Eli tried to shift his weight, but the offending sound was unrecoverable.
“Daddy, is that you?” | |
[WP] When People want someone dead, they hire the best. When they can't afford them, they hire you. You are the Budget Assassin. | I awoke around noon with a full bladder. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my bed. I rolled over to the other side of the bed and closed my eyes, but I knew it was useless; I had to get up. Stumbling to the bathroom, I knocked my knee on the computer chair in the middle of my bedroom floor and grumbled. Mornings sucked.
After I pissed and washed my hands, I returned to my bedroom. I looked at my phone and contemplated checking it. I thought again and then flopped back onto the bed. I had been depressed and without work for months and today didn't feel like the day that I would turn things around. Often, I went to sleep with plans of self-improvement for the following day - surely, the next day would be my time to shine. I'd exercise, eat something healthy, meditate, look for a real job, and maybe make something of myself. Unfortunately for me, my motivation loved playing hooky in the mornings. I fell asleep and dreamt of my ex, a petite Asian law student named Dara who no longer returned my calls.
Two hours later I opened my eyes again. With a groan, I reached over and picked up my phone. One message, a text from an unknown number. Opening it, I read, "Need your service. Can you help?" My first emotion wasn't happiness or enthusiasm, but dread. As sad and lazy as I was, I knew I had to accept the job - especially since rent was due. I texted back, "Yes. Meet at McDonald's on Riverside in 15min." My phone buzzed within seconds. It was a message confirming the meet. I pulled on some pants and a shirt and headed out the door.
------------------------------
The meet was standard. Another nervous client - they were all nervous. He needed his wife taken care of. She was a mid-forties housewife named Allie. Allie was divorcing the poor sap and she'd surely take most of his money. She had checked his phone one night when he slept. The guy wasn't careful - they never are - and Allie found an ongoing text thread with the guy's secretary that was long and explicit enough to make a romance novel out of. The guy was screwed and he was desperate.
"Alright, let me see her," I said to the guy sitting across from me. I never name my clients, but I can tell you he was old and sloppy; I was scared to see what his wife looked like. He opened his phone and scrolled through a few pictures. I was pleasantly surprised. Allie was a curvy Latina much younger than my client. She was smiling in every picture I saw. Her eyes showed real happiness, too; not the fake stuff you see in most pictures these days. My policy is to not to ask questions, but I couldn't help myself.
"She's gorgeous. Why'd you do it?"
"Come on man, you know how it is. Even when they're beautiful, it only lasts a few years. Then, something changes and they're still beautiful, but not for you. I don't know, maybe it's my fault. I tried to pay attention to her, tried to give her everything she needed, but somewhere along the way it just wasn't the same anymore. That smile I see you looking at, I haven't seen that smile in five years. Maybe you'll get to see it."
Sadly, I could relate to the pathetic bastard. His story reminded me of most of my own love-life - before Dara, anyway. It was different with her. There had been no mysterious loss of passion. Dara dumped my ass and I deserved it. I still reached out to her but it was with a sad futility. I knew she'd never respond. I just hoped she was OK - I was ashamed but if I had ruined her life, too, I'd never forgive myself.
"OK, I assume you already know my fee."
"Yeah. Half now and half later?"
"That's right," I said. The unkempt man opposite me slid over an envelope and I opened it. It wasn't much, but it it would cover my rent.
"You sure you can do it?"
"Well, it's not an exact science, as you should know. But, she's vulnerable so I'm confident I'll have access to her. And given at least a few tries, I should be successful. Do you have the information I need?"
"It's in the envelope."
"I'll contact you soon," I said as I stood. The client reached to shake my hand. I looked at it and then looked back at him.
"It's nothing personal," I said. "I'm just not proud of this. My life sucks and this is what I do, but shaking hands just seems wrong."
"Fine. Just get it done."
"Right," I said. I walked out the door and back to my apartment, studying the sheet of paper that told me Allie's usual activities - her wheres and whens.
------------------------------
Bang! My shopping cart collided with Allie's in the middle of the fruits section. I was so clumsy sometimes. I assumed an air of embarrassment and looked up to meet her gaze. "Sorry," I said.
"It's OK," Allie said, and then began to move away.
"Wow, I don't mean to bother you but you're really beautiful."
"Thank you," Allie said. She had stopped moving away from me. My confidence grew. I studied the items in her cart. It was full of fruits and vegetables.
"You must eat really healthy," I said. "Or if you're like me, this is just a New Year's Revolution-type attempt and those will all be rotting in the bottom drawer of your refrigerator in a week."
Allie laughed. "No, I've been really good. My diet and exercise has been perfect lately, ever since-" Allie stopped mid-sentence and looked down.
"Ever since what?"
"Oh never mind."
"OK, sorry," I said, laughing. "I'm being way too nosy for a guy who just assaulted you in the grocery store. I looked into Allie's eyes and saw the smile I had hoped to see - the one from the pictures. "Listen, I gotta go, but let's have a drink sometime. Let me get your number."
"Sure," Allie said. She gave me her number.
"It was so nice to meet you. I'll call you soon."
"You, too," Allie said. We parted ways smiling. I pushed my cart to the next aisle over, abandoned it there, and walked out of the grocery store.
------------------------------
"Do you have a condom?" Allie asked. She had been tougher than I'd anticipated. Although we agreed upon drinks previously, Allie wanted wanted to meet for coffee first. That coffee date was pretty standard and she agreed to do drinks that following weekend. After some flirting and some beer, we wound up at my apartment.
"Yes," I said, opening my desk drawer and pulling out a small foil packet. I ripped it open and put the condom on.
The sex was great. She moved with the intensity that only scorned women can muster. After we finished, she got up to use my bathroom. I heard the faucet run and then Allie shouted, "Hey what the fuck!"
"What?"
"What the fuck!!!"
"Come out, I can't hear you when you're in there." The door swung open and hit the wall. Allie in the open door frame, still naked.
"You said you had a condom. Why is there cum in me?"
I looked down at my genitals for the first time since I had rolled off of Allie and feigned surprise. "Oh shit! It broke. I'm so sorry."
Allie left soon after. She believed me, but was still mad. I hoped I hadn't ruined my chance. It wasn't an exact science.
------------------------------
The smell of the fries always made me queasy. I knew most people loved McDonald's fries but they had never done anything for me. The only item I'd ever found edible was the Filet-O-Fish. I walked through the lobby and sat down across from the client. It had been several months since we last met.
"The job's done."
"Are you sure? I need proof."
I took out my phone and showed him the text thread between Allie and I. We had met and hooked up a few more times before losing contact for a few weeks. Then I sent the text I never got used to sending. "Hey, so sorry to have to tell you this, but I just got tested and I'm HIV positive. You need to get tested."
Allie responded with panic and anger. A few days after, her texts were venomous and she promised legal action. It was time to move and get a new ID again. But first, I had to collect the rest of my payment. | -"Boss, everything's ready for Mr Jeffers to have an _accident_, we just need to pay the hitman"
The boss turns around, glass of whiskey in his hand and asks: "how much is he asking for?"
-"$90 000, no bargaining, he'll get our man today"
-"Well that's more than I expected, I'm afraid, Mr Clough, that we can't meet that figure. Furthermore, I think it's time to call _him_."
-"_Him_?" Replied Mr Clough "are we that broke?"
-"So it seems. Put _him_ on the phone, I think we can negotiate with _him_".
-"Hello _Agent Lion_, I think we're going to require your services today"
-" Oh hi Mr Townsend! What's the matter?"
-"How many times do I have to tell you not to mention my name over the phone you dumb excuse of a man." Said Mr Townsend infuriated.
"Sorry, sorry. Silly me. Anyway Mr Townsend, who you angry with now?"
-"Don't mention my name over the...! Okay, I need you to _cut_ Mr Robert Jeffers, from Yellow Enterprises, do you know who he is, right?"
-"Of course I know him Mr Townsend! Huge following, he's got a speech at the university where my sister is studying. What do you want me to cut from him Mr Townsend?"
-"Stop mentioning my fucking name over the fucking telephone you stupid shit! And you know what I mean by cut! Just take him out today"
- "Today I won't be able to make it Mr Townsend. Maybe tomorrow"
-"Please stop it with the name" said a hopeless Mr Townsend "fine, take him out tomorrow but that should mean a discount for me"
-"Of course Mr Townsend. What do you make of $5000 AND money for lunch. I also get hungry"
-"Where will you eat?"
-"McDonald's, I just love the toy in the happy meal"
-"Fine, I await your report"
"Sure Mr Townsend, bye. See ya'"
I then hang the phone up and look to my dog, a beautiful beagle
"Guess who has a job, Barkles, AND a happy meal! Life can be good sometimes. Now wait here while daddy cleans up his stuff"
Edit: spelling
Edit2: top comment! Thanks guys, I guess I'll send agent Lion to do you a favour, or have a chat, whichever you prefer. | |
Like Anger is kind of like tequila. Hard and bitter.
Love is a wine. Tastily sweet but addictive.
Happiness is a juice. Sugary and soft. | [WP] Right before you die, Death appears. He leads you to his bar. He asks what drink you want. There are bottles named after various Elements of Life.You ask for a shot of Love/Revenge/Relief/Happiness etc. Each has a distinct taste. | As I lay dying in a hospital bed, getting run down in a crosswalk, I didn't know what to expect. Would it be like falling asleep? I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Would it be "the next great adventure?" Would I sit before some kind of judge like Hades, Osiris, or Saint Peter?
Whatever I expected, what I saw after I closed my eyes for the final time was the last thing I expected.
It was a high-class bar. Something you'd expect only the wealthiest and the most influential would drink at, where only the rarest and most expensive spirits were drunk.
Upon seeing the bartender, I was afraid that I might be a spirit to drink.
She was not young or old looking, but the air about her screamed "ancient," "respect," and "powerful." She looked up at me and smiled sadly, and gestured me to sit at the bar immediately in front of her. Upon getting a good look at her, she was beautiful, dressed in all black. Her hair was red as autumn leaves, ready to fall. Her skin was a milky pale, nearly bone white, but not quite.
She spoke softly, like she was trying to be gentle. “Hello, Sean.” Even her voice was like beautiful music. In the back of my mind, it sounded like it would perfectly accompany an elegy.
I stare a moment, caught between marveling at her beauty and how she knew my name. As my mind caught up to recent events, I spoke with utmost respect and a little fear. “Hello. I don’t know how I should address you; you’ve had many names over the years, haven’t you?”
She smiles again, with a little less sorrow and a little more humor. “Thanatos, Anubis, Hel, Le Muerte, Yama… Humanity has been so diverse, I’m a little flattered to have been honored with so many names.”
I smile wistfully, and say “Alas, humanity will all pay their debts of life to you, eventually.”
She sags and I think I just upset her. She speaks with a great pain. “A debt I wish I never have to collect so soon.” She looks in my eyes and grabs my hand as if to support and comfort me. “I’ve had to collect on so many, more than you could possible imagine. From all walks of life, all cultures, all ages, sex, genders, and even where they fall on the axis of good and evil…”
I want to say that it’s okay, that it’s just life and life isn’t fair. Death is much more fair than Life, in both meanings of the word.
I decide to change the subject a little. “So, why are you a bartender in the afterlife? Or is this limbo?”
She looks up at me her expression has a little less sorrow. “I believe the saying is ‘Everyone deserves a last drink?’” She waves at the counter behind her, filled with many different bottles, each filled with different liquids. “The Elixirs of Life, all of life’s pleasures, and pains, ups and downs, good times and bad; all filled up in a bottle.”
She stands up straight, professional and smiling. This seems to be the one part of her job that she enjoys. “Take your pick of drinks; we’ll be here for a while, until you’re ready to go.”
“Could I take a shot of love?” I ask hesitantly. She smiles a little, expecting this, and takes out a large, curved bottle with a short neck and a small glass. Her expression looks a little sad, as she pours just a little into a shotglass. I look at her hesitantly and she give me a nod of permission. I give a little toast to her, and throw the bubbly liquid back.
Instantly, all my senses are ensnared. I feel pleasant warmth surging through my chest and spreading throughout my body. I feel strong enough to fight an army; I feel the power to change the world coursing through my veins. It lasts but a moment and it leaves me feeling cold and wanting.
I look at her asking what happened. “When someone lives and dies, they not only take with them their lives, but they leave behind things that go into the world, other bottles.”
I realize that what I drink here, I take from the world. I decide to make my next drink one to count. “If that’s the case, I’ll take a tall glass of vengeance please.”
She looks at me in surprise, then takes out a small bottle and a large mug. The bottle is small enough to fit inside. She pops it open, and pours, and pours, and pours impossibly large amount of a nasty looking dark red liquid from it, thin and almost like broth, until it fills the mug to the brim. She push it towards me.
I hesitate for a few moments, then I grab my nose and chug the liquid revenge, trying to finish the whole emotion in one go. The moment I set down the empty mug, I grip the wooden bar in anger, tears rolling down my eyes. My head pounds with tears, and I feel the spite and the momentary anger I’ve felt for anyone and anything over the years. The woman who left me for someone else, the playground bully who took my lunch money, the old lady paying in pennies in the checkout line. I feel all the frustration, and nearly unstoppable urge to deal out my own brand of justice on them. I feel that they deserve it!
I feel a hand on my shoulder and see my bartender drawing me back down from it. I take a deep breath and calm down, though I can still feel it pounding in my head, and the love potion in my chest.
She pours me a cup of something milky and light-looking and tells me to drink. I do so and I’m filled with a light comfort. I can recall when my sister read books to me when I was little, the good times with my partner just laying on the couch with each other, the time spent petting my cat and her butting her head against my ankles. I can feel tears again, but they are different ones from my last drink. I feel lighter, and better able to control myself. I ask her what it was.
“Joy,” is her simple answer. “A small amount compared to what you brought to others.” She says it with a genuine and proud smile. I was a teacher in life, I helped others, I found solace and fulfillment in their smiles.
I look at her and say that I think I’ve had enough to drink. She smiles and walks around the bar, her autumn hair loose behind her back. She helps me up, and lets her hang on her arm, escorting me out the bar door, and to a place beyond imagination and description.
**This was my first time writing here, so please give me some feedback. Thank you!** | Death appeared in front of me - minutes before I was going to die. At least it was in my sleep, thankfully. I wasn't going to die some cruel or horrid death.
He appeared as a hooded figure, but not the skeleton of legend, rather as a man with a face that was old and looked rather bearded, much like a Mountain man stereotype. Death wore a red flannel shirt, and spoke with an American accent, a twang that sounded very Appalachian.
"Look, I'll get right to it." Death said, "I'm fixin' to get you to go to either heaven or hell, and you're probably afeared of me. I get that all of the time. Of all the forms I had to take, I ended up getting some woodsman. But before I can get you to heaven or hell, there's one thing you gotta do first."
I was astonished. Death literally staring me in the face. Not in the real world, but in the dream world, the plane that you would probably find Mister Mxzptlk in.
"What's that?" Alt!Me asked Death, in a rather confused tone.
"You gotta come with me to a bar. Well, this one's a bit like that of a certain TV show. You can't enter Heaven or Hell without having drunk a specific elixir." Death said, matter-of-factly.
Death took Alt!Me to a bar - it looked very like the Woolpack from Emmerdale, but with no people in.
"So what do you want?" Death asked "Hundreds of drinks, elixirs here."
"I don't know... a beer maybe." Alt!Me said.
"Try these shots, these are the only elixirs you need, they'll get you into heaven or hell, and you must take them, no choice really." Death said.
"OK, but what are they called then?" Alt!Me asked Death.
"Elements of Life. Emotional drinks really, with hundreds of tastes. Different taste every time." Death said, sounding much like a TV show salesman or chef.
"I'll have the Elements of Life then, which ones you recommend?" Alt!Me asked
"Go for Anger, Love, Revenge, Relief", Death said. "Hundreds of others - look at the sheet of paper near the till."
"OK, I'll take shots of Love, Revenge, Happiness and Excitement" Alt!Me said.
Death went and brought back some small shot glasses, filled with colored shots.
For Love was red, but a more maroony-color, Happiness was a silvery colour, and Excitement was a blue color.
The first shot I drank was Love, it tasted sort of sugary-sweet not unlike a Thornton's fudge, Revenge was tasteless, but Happiness had a sort of peppery taste not unlike a Mexican meal or an Indian takeaway. Excitement had a sort of minty taste about it for some odd reason.
"You've drunk the requisite elixirs" Death said. "Now, as your physical form goes, we can take you to heaven or hell, but seeing you, you're more likely to end up in Heaven, at least, you seemed just too, well, a bit, er... different for my liking."
Then Death lead me on along a small windy road and I would find out where I'd end up when I disappeared from this world for good. |
[WP] A classic, fire breathing dragon, hoarding gold and all, has appeared in the mountains by New York. You are on the crew that is going up to investigate, armymen, scientists, goverment officials. But of all the people the dragon could talk to, he chooses you. | It all started around two weeks ago, when a scientific anomaly was discovered in Buffalo. A titanic, bipedal, winged lizard that has been spotted at the summit of tallest mountain. My team and I were called to the scene to investigate. Honestly, I thought it was just a decoration, or something... but I was dead wrong.
It was almost surreal. When we arrived at the mountain's summit, the creature landed in front of us, shaking the earth below. Upon landing, it released a mighty roar, launching a large jet of flame from its mouth, then tucked in its gigantic wings.
"Who dares come to Dragon's Peak?" It bellowed, glaring straight into my soul. My coworker, Nathan, tried to speak, but was cut off. "I do not wish to speak to you. I speak only to dragons."
I could swear he stared at me while saying that. After a few moments, I mustered up the courage to talk to the beast. "Do you have any dragon brethren we could speak to, instead?"
"Yes... within you, human."
What.
"You have the spirit of a dragon within you. The soul of an ineffable beast. You are a dragon, in all respects but physical. I'd be honored to speak to you, fellow dragon."
Am I the Dragonborn or something?
*****
*Criticism appreciated. If you liked this story, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.* | I still have no idea how it happened, how it knew of my name, nor how anyone even stopped to question why, after all these years of silence, the great beast would demand an audience with a specific person. Honestly, I would have been rather flattered, especially after the attempts of countless world leaders, to have been summoned in such a way. The only problem is, I was called for by my online pen name, the one I kept secret from everyone, even the dog. It's rather a frightening experience to have several black SUVs roll up and demand for your cooperation by a moniker you never wanted spoken aloud, especially given that handle appears on several websites your home country is determined to shut down. They also demanded I bring my laptop and a charging cable, but wouldn't explain why.
At least the questions on the ride over were easy enough, most of which only needed a simple "I don't know". The plane flight was quiet at least; gave me time to catch up on some TV shows I was lagging on. At least, I tried to, but the battery died half way and this plane wasn't exactly updated with the power outlets. Still curious as to why they didn't care that I deleted anything off of it. Heck, one of them even watched a show with me.
After a rough car ride up to the beast's den, I was instructed to walk in alone, into the dark cave. Jerks couldn't even bother to give me a flashlight, had to use my phone like some sort of horror movie. I have to give credit though, the cave was very intimidating, but didn't feel dangerous or hazardous. I just felt like I didn't want to be there, but I was unlikely to injure myself in any way. Eventually, there was a light deep inside, but not a natural light like you'd expect, but a florescent one. It revealed several cables that ran along the cave wall, some power, and some appeared to be CAT5. Seeing the mass huddled over under the primary source of the light, I knocked lightly at the stone, "Hello?"
For all the books I've read and the illustrations I've seen over the years, something about seeing the creature in person just fills you with a sense of awe. It also gave me a sense of deja vu. "You are Starcofski?" It asked, lowering down it's head to meet my gaze (or force it away, getting mixed messages here). The only thing I still remember were the shifting green glaze of its large eyes.
"Y-yes, I am. Why did you call for me?"
"I wanted to ask you about one of your works," it responded, shifting to the side such that I could see what it had been huddled over. It was a computer, and a fairly new one at that, definitely custom built. I could also see the screen had open a very familiar website. That was the point when everything clicked into place. "I was wondering how you were able to capture such, detail, about my person? Especially as we have never met before..." His voice trailed off, my mind already in panic mode.
"I-i-is there a problem with it, sir?" I quivered, as the flywheel in my head snapped under the strain of all the gears spinning.
"No, not a problem, at least, not if you agree to my demands.." his smile, oh god those teeth, I'm so dead.
"And what is it you require of me?" Please don't be death, please don't be death, god dammit I still haven't even had a relationship yet!
"You drew it wrong." He stated, pointing at an element of the image. "I can't have that, so I'll need you to fix it." I could feel my heart stop, and my brain as well. Like my entire existence just froze for a second.
"Is that all? You're not mad about it?" I questioned, thinking it a ruse to put me off guard.
"Yes, now do you need me to pull out an extension cord or do you still have enough power left on your laptop?" | |
[WP] A classic, fire breathing dragon, hoarding gold and all, has appeared in the mountains by New York. You are on the crew that is going up to investigate, armymen, scientists, goverment officials. But of all the people the dragon could talk to, he chooses you. | It was enormous.
That was what they always tell you in stories. They always mention the size of the beasts, unless they are making a point by calling it small. But that never really seems to impress just how large they really are. It was as if a whale - no, several whales - had been lined up end to end, and then melted like hot wax into one enormous, sinewy mass. Not that the dragon was fat, mind you. That's the first thing I learned, when I first started talking to dragons: Never, ever call one of them fat.
"Oy, fatass!" I yelled. "Why does your face look like a whale?"
My voice reverberated pleasantly off the stony walls and piles of gold, making me sound several times louder than usual. The dragon, however, was unperturbed. Its eyes remained shut, it's smooth black scales reflecting the light from the treasure in such a way that they appeared outlined in gold leaf.
"Are you sleeping?" I said, kicking a fist-sized ruby into the treasure. "Lazy bastard. I bet you spend all day sleeping."
I sat down on a mound of coins, sending several circles of gold tumbling. Still, the dragon didn't budge.
"You know, I waited my entire life to meet a dragon." I said, bouncing a coin on my palm. "My entire life. I thought you were all legends...you know, just myth. And then you show up, right in my backyard...and you *won't talk to anybody*!"
I kicked the coins, scattering a priceless treasure over the dragon's back. One bounced off of its eyelids, and I could have sworn I saw a flutter of movement. But still, it didn't move.
"They warned me not to come in here. My dad would kill me if he found out - had to sneak away when he wasn't looking. But I'm done." I paced right over to the dragon's side. "I'm done waiting for you to do something other than sit on your pile of crap all day long. I *know* you can talk, I *know* you can hear me...so I am going to *make* you listen to me, even if it gets me killed."
I kicked a pile of gemstones, scattering them into the treasure. One happened to glance off of the strings of a gilded harp, causing the air to hum with sound.
"You know, you've got some pretty good acoustics in here, considering they say you dug it yourself." I said to the coiled mass. "Mind if I try singing? I'm quite good...and loud."
"Oh-h say can you seeeee? By the dawns early light...~"
I didn't have time to react. Before I knew what was going on, the dragon had hefted me with one of it's massive clawed forelimbs and pinned me to the wall of the chamber. I let out a strangled yelp of pain, squirming to get away, but there was no escaping it's massive golden talons. Then, the dragon inclined it's head, bringing one massive circular eye in line with my own - and it spoke a single word.
"*Sing.*"
I coughed again, tasting blood where I had bitten my tongue. But then, with half of the air in my lungs, I began to sing again.
"O..ohhh say can you see...by the dawn's early light..."
The dragon reared back it's head, as if to roar - but instead of fire, a beautiful melody coursed from it's throat like a river of honey. It was as if an entire orchestra resided in the dragon's maw, playing each part with precision and all the haunting grace of whalesong.
"That...was beautiful." I said, once we had finished. Tears streamed down my face - I hadn't even noticed when the dragon had let me go.
The scaled beast shrugged. "*Return here, tomorrow.*" It said, curling back up on its bed of gold.
"*And never call me fat again.*" | I still have no idea how it happened, how it knew of my name, nor how anyone even stopped to question why, after all these years of silence, the great beast would demand an audience with a specific person. Honestly, I would have been rather flattered, especially after the attempts of countless world leaders, to have been summoned in such a way. The only problem is, I was called for by my online pen name, the one I kept secret from everyone, even the dog. It's rather a frightening experience to have several black SUVs roll up and demand for your cooperation by a moniker you never wanted spoken aloud, especially given that handle appears on several websites your home country is determined to shut down. They also demanded I bring my laptop and a charging cable, but wouldn't explain why.
At least the questions on the ride over were easy enough, most of which only needed a simple "I don't know". The plane flight was quiet at least; gave me time to catch up on some TV shows I was lagging on. At least, I tried to, but the battery died half way and this plane wasn't exactly updated with the power outlets. Still curious as to why they didn't care that I deleted anything off of it. Heck, one of them even watched a show with me.
After a rough car ride up to the beast's den, I was instructed to walk in alone, into the dark cave. Jerks couldn't even bother to give me a flashlight, had to use my phone like some sort of horror movie. I have to give credit though, the cave was very intimidating, but didn't feel dangerous or hazardous. I just felt like I didn't want to be there, but I was unlikely to injure myself in any way. Eventually, there was a light deep inside, but not a natural light like you'd expect, but a florescent one. It revealed several cables that ran along the cave wall, some power, and some appeared to be CAT5. Seeing the mass huddled over under the primary source of the light, I knocked lightly at the stone, "Hello?"
For all the books I've read and the illustrations I've seen over the years, something about seeing the creature in person just fills you with a sense of awe. It also gave me a sense of deja vu. "You are Starcofski?" It asked, lowering down it's head to meet my gaze (or force it away, getting mixed messages here). The only thing I still remember were the shifting green glaze of its large eyes.
"Y-yes, I am. Why did you call for me?"
"I wanted to ask you about one of your works," it responded, shifting to the side such that I could see what it had been huddled over. It was a computer, and a fairly new one at that, definitely custom built. I could also see the screen had open a very familiar website. That was the point when everything clicked into place. "I was wondering how you were able to capture such, detail, about my person? Especially as we have never met before..." His voice trailed off, my mind already in panic mode.
"I-i-is there a problem with it, sir?" I quivered, as the flywheel in my head snapped under the strain of all the gears spinning.
"No, not a problem, at least, not if you agree to my demands.." his smile, oh god those teeth, I'm so dead.
"And what is it you require of me?" Please don't be death, please don't be death, god dammit I still haven't even had a relationship yet!
"You drew it wrong." He stated, pointing at an element of the image. "I can't have that, so I'll need you to fix it." I could feel my heart stop, and my brain as well. Like my entire existence just froze for a second.
"Is that all? You're not mad about it?" I questioned, thinking it a ruse to put me off guard.
"Yes, now do you need me to pull out an extension cord or do you still have enough power left on your laptop?" | |
[WP] A classic, fire breathing dragon, hoarding gold and all, has appeared in the mountains by New York. You are on the crew that is going up to investigate, armymen, scientists, goverment officials. But of all the people the dragon could talk to, he chooses you. | It was enormous.
That was what they always tell you in stories. They always mention the size of the beasts, unless they are making a point by calling it small. But that never really seems to impress just how large they really are. It was as if a whale - no, several whales - had been lined up end to end, and then melted like hot wax into one enormous, sinewy mass. Not that the dragon was fat, mind you. That's the first thing I learned, when I first started talking to dragons: Never, ever call one of them fat.
"Oy, fatass!" I yelled. "Why does your face look like a whale?"
My voice reverberated pleasantly off the stony walls and piles of gold, making me sound several times louder than usual. The dragon, however, was unperturbed. Its eyes remained shut, it's smooth black scales reflecting the light from the treasure in such a way that they appeared outlined in gold leaf.
"Are you sleeping?" I said, kicking a fist-sized ruby into the treasure. "Lazy bastard. I bet you spend all day sleeping."
I sat down on a mound of coins, sending several circles of gold tumbling. Still, the dragon didn't budge.
"You know, I waited my entire life to meet a dragon." I said, bouncing a coin on my palm. "My entire life. I thought you were all legends...you know, just myth. And then you show up, right in my backyard...and you *won't talk to anybody*!"
I kicked the coins, scattering a priceless treasure over the dragon's back. One bounced off of its eyelids, and I could have sworn I saw a flutter of movement. But still, it didn't move.
"They warned me not to come in here. My dad would kill me if he found out - had to sneak away when he wasn't looking. But I'm done." I paced right over to the dragon's side. "I'm done waiting for you to do something other than sit on your pile of crap all day long. I *know* you can talk, I *know* you can hear me...so I am going to *make* you listen to me, even if it gets me killed."
I kicked a pile of gemstones, scattering them into the treasure. One happened to glance off of the strings of a gilded harp, causing the air to hum with sound.
"You know, you've got some pretty good acoustics in here, considering they say you dug it yourself." I said to the coiled mass. "Mind if I try singing? I'm quite good...and loud."
"Oh-h say can you seeeee? By the dawns early light...~"
I didn't have time to react. Before I knew what was going on, the dragon had hefted me with one of it's massive clawed forelimbs and pinned me to the wall of the chamber. I let out a strangled yelp of pain, squirming to get away, but there was no escaping it's massive golden talons. Then, the dragon inclined it's head, bringing one massive circular eye in line with my own - and it spoke a single word.
"*Sing.*"
I coughed again, tasting blood where I had bitten my tongue. But then, with half of the air in my lungs, I began to sing again.
"O..ohhh say can you see...by the dawn's early light..."
The dragon reared back it's head, as if to roar - but instead of fire, a beautiful melody coursed from it's throat like a river of honey. It was as if an entire orchestra resided in the dragon's maw, playing each part with precision and all the haunting grace of whalesong.
"That...was beautiful." I said, once we had finished. Tears streamed down my face - I hadn't even noticed when the dragon had let me go.
The scaled beast shrugged. "*Return here, tomorrow.*" It said, curling back up on its bed of gold.
"*And never call me fat again.*" | Let's start with this, dragons exist. Now that we've accomplished that we may continue.
I was summoned as part of the Dragon Talk Summit. They invited one of each group of profession: scientists, army men, firefighters even noble price winners alongside coders, plumbers and so on. My job isn't worth mentioning and it really isn't important so I'll just leave that out.
We had no idea what to expect or what will happen to us. On the date of the summit we waited outside of the mighty dragons cavern and congregated what our next move might be. That is when he bellowed with his mighty voice (That kind of resembled Benedict Cumberbatch for some reason) "I wish to speak only with u/GameNCode." I began to feel a bit anxious as many puzzled faces suddenly stared at me. "I wish you no harm... I would just like to talk with you, that's all" and so I entered that cavern.
"Kind of wrote yourself into a corner haven't you? " said the dragon. "Pretty much" I replied and with that the dragon vanished as did my interest in writing this | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | "Right this way, ma'am." The butler said, turning down a hallway. He was tall, with an immaculate tuxedo and white mustache so straight that it appeared as if it had been cut with a laser. Typical.
"Your quarters are right down this hallway, last door on the left." He said, gesturing to an open wooden doorframe. "I shall do you the favor of not intruding on your hall - and I expect you to extend the same courtesy to me. That is the first rule of this household, I am afraid: Irregulars shall not mix with others. That includes staff, so don't go getting any ideas."
"Alright. I get it." I sighed, blowing a strand of unkempt brown hair out of my face. It wasn't the first time I had been quarantined, and somehow I felt it wouldn't be the last. "What about my things? Are they being sent up?"
"Your...things...have been burned." The butler replied.
"But I-" I started, outraged, but the butler cut me off with a gloved hand
"Ah! Not a word!" He said. "They were in terrible condition, even the ones that weren't contaminated with filth. You should be grateful - the Master has seen to it that they have all been replaced. Not that you deserve it, in my opinion. Now, will that be all?"
"Yes..." I grumbled.
"Perfect. I expect you down by seven, washed and dressed in...something clean." He rubbed his hands together, as if to remove dirt from his spotless gloves. "That brings me to rule number two of our household: Punctuality makes perfect. So *don't* be late."
The door shut, and I heard a key turning in the lock. I sighed again.
"The Master take a liking to you, too?"
I jumped, almost colliding with the door as I whirled around. One of the doors lining the hall was open just a crack, letting a head covered in shiny blond hair poke through at just about waste level.
"H-hello there." I said. "How old are you?"
"I'm the one asking questions here, bitch. No need to crack jokes." The door opened wider, and I gasped as a woman walked through. Her face looked young, beautiful even, - but at her full height, she only came up to my waste.
"I-I'm sorry!" I said, feeling my cheeks turn red. "I didn't realize..."
The woman erupted into a loud cackle, cutting me off. "I know, dear, I know. Just having a bit of fun. You don't get to look like this without having a sense of humor - at least, not if you want to enjoy life a bit. So, you going to answer my question or not?"
"Oh, ummm..." I replied, somewhat taken aback, but the woman just laughed even louder.
"Is your problem that you don't have a tongue? Come on woman, spit it out!"
"No it's not that...it's..." I floundered for words, before finally settling on raising my left hand. The woman whistled.
"Ooo...that is a rare one. You don't see to many people with fused fingers these days. No wonder he liked you. How'd you get past the system this long?"
"I...was a natural birth." I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "My parents, they said I was perfect...but with my hand..."
"Oh, honey, it's ok!" The woman pulled me into an odd embrace. "Mine said the same thing. Of course, even *they* couldn't pass up on the price Master Jackson coughed up." She laughed somewhat bitterly. "'S that what happened to you?"
I shook my head. "No...they. They aren't around any more." I blinked, realizing what I had just said. "It's ok though! I manage just fine on my own!" I amended, somewhat belatedly.
"Of course you do, honey." The woman patted my waist affectionately. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but that old bastard Ronnie's gonna be back here any minute to collect us for dinner. You don't want to get on the wrong side of that one."
"R-right." I stammered.
"Don't worry about that for now, honey. Just do what he says and everything will be just fine. And if anyone gives you any trouble, just tell them that ol' Kathrine will come bite their nads off unless they leave you alone! You got that, girl?"
I nodded, brushing away tears. "Got it, Kathrine. Thanks."
"Not a problem, honey."
Her door snapped shut, and once again I found myself utterly alone. | Defects. People who just don't fit the bill. If you're not engineered to be perfect, then that's what you are. But it gets worse.
Then you're sold. To these "collectors". We don't know exactly what they do once they get a hold of you. We just know it's not good.
But I didn't want any part of it. I'm not like the others.
I've joined the "Shortcoming."
The Shortcoming is a group which helps other Defects, before they are sold off. That's right, a group of Defects who help other Defects. They all detest the "Perfects." If they found out my secret. I don't know what they would do to me.
They don't know.
They don't know that I'm perfect. | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | Defects are like great works of art.
Look at a Michelangelo, read some Shakespeare, or listen to Bach. Appreciate just how deeply these pieces make you *feel*. Now, try to make someone else feel the same way.
You can’t. There is some quality that these masterpieces have, that you simply don’t.
So, you appreciate Defects the same way. You savor the way they make you feel, and you know that you will never be able to emulate their spiritual caress.
And David knows this, as he looks at the woman who purchased him, six years ago, when he was twenty three. He cost sixteen million dollars, then. Now, he’s worth at least forty two million. Circumstances have brought about an increase in his valuation.
Elena treats him well. They spend time together. They talk. They love the same books, and food, and films, and music, and sports. They like to cook together. Elena likes to bake bread. The imperfection of artisan bread fascinates her - the wild yeast, the slow, lumpen rise, the kneading, the second rise, then the bloom in the oven that comes out different, every time.
David loves the way that Elena looks, when she presses down on pillows of dough, fingers sinking in and out, arms and elbows flexing, as she leans her weight in rhythmic beats on the nascent bread. He loves the way she dusts the board with flour, and brushes hair off her face, and leaves a kiss of white powder on her cheek along the way.
He loves the way she rolls out the dough, then cuts it into three lengths, and braids the pieces - hands moving quickly, deftly, gracefully, like birds at play. He wants to take her hands and place them on his cheeks, and brush his lips on the inside of her wrists. He does that, and she smiles.
David loves Elena.
And David’s heart breaks, when she sells him. But, he knew this would happen one day.
Because they bred out love, long ago. Somewhere along the path to Perfection, they edited out that quirk. Love is too unpredictable, too uneven, too much of a crack in a flawless veneer. To love is to have an unacceptable chink in divine armor - it is a Defect. To be loved, however, is a different thing. That feeling - that is Perfection, a sensation more Perfect than any other emotion a work of art could make you feel.
So, now and then, when a Defect is found, the market goes wild. The idea of a piece of living art, that will bless you with the *hallelujah* of being beloved, is intoxicating. Defects are precious to the Perfect.
A Defect who has been known to fall completely in love with his owner rises in value. That Defect has richer provenance now. There is a thrill to owning a Defect like this - to overthrow the place the previous owner had in their heart - can it be done?
So, Elena sells David, when her financial advisor tells her to, and she buys two new Defects instead.
And David cries, when she leaves him at the auction house, and hates himself for it - because he loves her anyway, and he will love her forever, and she will never know how she made him feel. It’s unfortunate. But she’s Perfect - and he’s not.
He will wish, over and over, that he didn’t love her at all - but, at the same time, cling to that love as long as he lives.
David ends up going to a Russian collector for sixty eight million.
And that’s the price of love.
_______________________________________
r/taohacker
| Defects. People who just don't fit the bill. If you're not engineered to be perfect, then that's what you are. But it gets worse.
Then you're sold. To these "collectors". We don't know exactly what they do once they get a hold of you. We just know it's not good.
But I didn't want any part of it. I'm not like the others.
I've joined the "Shortcoming."
The Shortcoming is a group which helps other Defects, before they are sold off. That's right, a group of Defects who help other Defects. They all detest the "Perfects." If they found out my secret. I don't know what they would do to me.
They don't know.
They don't know that I'm perfect. | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | Maddie had been with the Grangers since she was three-years-old. They were kind people, better than most of her kind ends up with. They let her go to school in the town with the other children, and they even let her write to her parents. She lived out back in one of the cottages with the other children like her.
With one green eye and one blue, her defect was obvious the second she opened her eyes to her new world. Her mother had been devastated, Mrs. Granger would later tell her, and tried to hide her. But she was caught, as they all are. Heterochromia, Mrs. Granger says, is one of the better imperfections to have. Some people even breed for it. Perhaps someone in Maddie's family had been like her. She imagined standing with an older man or woman, and them looking back at her with her own eyes.
The Grangers loved children with the "better" defects. Her best friend, Sam, had bright red hair and freckles. He had been bought at auction right after birth. Maddie used to brush her hair through it, marveling at it's almost shocking hue, until Mr. Granger warned her off.
But there are others here too, Maddie knows. She's not supposed to ask. Mrs. Granger finds them foul. She loves to dote on her precious favorites, and her husband appeases her. But his interest lies in the grotesque. She's heard them fight over them, and heard the screams from across the property. Mrs. Granger will look sad, but then she'll put a pink bow in Maddie's hair and buy her new dresses.
At night, she hears her mother's voice tell her that she'll never let them have her. She tells Maddie that she's perfect the way she is.
She wishes that were true, but she looks at the Grangers, and the school-children, and knows that she'll always be a freak until the day she dies. | Defects. People who just don't fit the bill. If you're not engineered to be perfect, then that's what you are. But it gets worse.
Then you're sold. To these "collectors". We don't know exactly what they do once they get a hold of you. We just know it's not good.
But I didn't want any part of it. I'm not like the others.
I've joined the "Shortcoming."
The Shortcoming is a group which helps other Defects, before they are sold off. That's right, a group of Defects who help other Defects. They all detest the "Perfects." If they found out my secret. I don't know what they would do to me.
They don't know.
They don't know that I'm perfect. | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | When the hottest actress in the world, April Conway, showed up to the Oscars with the massive scar on her right cheek it sent a shockwave through society and created a business that has made me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I just wish I could sleep at night, but after what I've done, I suppose I deserve this.
Human beauty has long since stopped being something people are admired for. Everyone is beautiful. Everyone has flawless skin, perfect features, fit bodies, and look like they have stepped out of a modeling agency's client book. Scientific discoveries in the late 2020’s helped usher in this new era. The process of genetic modification was perfected and it wasn’t long before all you had to do was get a few injections and your child would be perfect. Now we live in a sea of beauty. Everyone is so accustomed to it that it is just part of everyday life. It is no longer something we admire. Then April Conway hit the red carpet with the grotesque scar on her face.
She played coy as to where she had gotten it. She had been out of the public eye for a few weeks leading up to the awards show, but everyone just assumed she was shooting a movie or busy with behind the scenes work. The reality is that she found a “glitch.” A “glitch” is that rare person who is born with an imperfection. Most “glitches” spend their lives trying to cover up and hide these imperfections. April paid a young man to sell her the scar he was born with on his arm. It was a birth defect that he hated. When she had it surgically implanted on her face “glitching” became an overnight phenomenon. I was in the perfect place to capitalize on this new movement.
I worked for a company that helped “glitches” find doctors who could help fix their problems. When having a defect suddenly became trendy, I started working behind the scenes helping families connect with buyers. They could sell the defect and I helped them find a doctor who would do the transplant surgery. I thought it was harmless and victimless. If both parties agreed, what was the big deal?
My daughter turned 16 and she didn’t want a car. By this time, I had been selling “glitches” on the black market for a few years and was making a lot of money. I offered to buy her any vehicle she wanted or to send her anywhere she wanted to go. She didn’t want any of that. She wanted a defect. Not just any defect, but a large, pronounced defect. At first, I wasn’t going to do it. She was my daughter and I wanted her to be perfect, but she persisted. I found a “glitch” that had exactly the defect she wanted and I found a doctor to do the surgery. The doctor told me doing the transplant would kill the “glitch.” I thought about it for a few minutes then gave him the go ahead anyway. I wanted my daughter to be happy.
The surgery went well for her. The defect was everything she could have wanted, but, as I was warned, the “glitch’ died during the surgery. I had lied to the “glitch’s” family and told them it would be fine even when I knew what was going to happen. Seeing their sorrow, feeling their anger, and understanding their loss made me sick to my stomach. I knew then that I had to change. I gave up my black market work. The idea of poor people selling their defects now wracked me with guilt.
Two years later April Conway showed up at an awards show and the scar was gone from her face. She was back to being perfect. She told reporters that “glitching” was now out and perfection was back in. Three weeks later my daughter wanted surgery to reverse her defect. I knew finding a donor would not be easy because they would need to be perfect. How desperate is a person that they are willing to sell their child to a stranger knowing that the child will be killed and harvested for parts? I didn’t try to ponder that too much. I just gave the family the money and took the child who cried as I led him away from his parents.
My daughter is perfect again, but at night, when I lay down to go to sleep, all I can see is the fear in that kid’s eyes when the surgeon put the oxygen mask on his face as we strapped him down to the table.
Edit: A bit of shameless promotion. My Twitter is https://twitter.com/jeffrust if you would like to follow me. | Defects. People who just don't fit the bill. If you're not engineered to be perfect, then that's what you are. But it gets worse.
Then you're sold. To these "collectors". We don't know exactly what they do once they get a hold of you. We just know it's not good.
But I didn't want any part of it. I'm not like the others.
I've joined the "Shortcoming."
The Shortcoming is a group which helps other Defects, before they are sold off. That's right, a group of Defects who help other Defects. They all detest the "Perfects." If they found out my secret. I don't know what they would do to me.
They don't know.
They don't know that I'm perfect. | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | Defects are like great works of art.
Look at a Michelangelo, read some Shakespeare, or listen to Bach. Appreciate just how deeply these pieces make you *feel*. Now, try to make someone else feel the same way.
You can’t. There is some quality that these masterpieces have, that you simply don’t.
So, you appreciate Defects the same way. You savor the way they make you feel, and you know that you will never be able to emulate their spiritual caress.
And David knows this, as he looks at the woman who purchased him, six years ago, when he was twenty three. He cost sixteen million dollars, then. Now, he’s worth at least forty two million. Circumstances have brought about an increase in his valuation.
Elena treats him well. They spend time together. They talk. They love the same books, and food, and films, and music, and sports. They like to cook together. Elena likes to bake bread. The imperfection of artisan bread fascinates her - the wild yeast, the slow, lumpen rise, the kneading, the second rise, then the bloom in the oven that comes out different, every time.
David loves the way that Elena looks, when she presses down on pillows of dough, fingers sinking in and out, arms and elbows flexing, as she leans her weight in rhythmic beats on the nascent bread. He loves the way she dusts the board with flour, and brushes hair off her face, and leaves a kiss of white powder on her cheek along the way.
He loves the way she rolls out the dough, then cuts it into three lengths, and braids the pieces - hands moving quickly, deftly, gracefully, like birds at play. He wants to take her hands and place them on his cheeks, and brush his lips on the inside of her wrists. He does that, and she smiles.
David loves Elena.
And David’s heart breaks, when she sells him. But, he knew this would happen one day.
Because they bred out love, long ago. Somewhere along the path to Perfection, they edited out that quirk. Love is too unpredictable, too uneven, too much of a crack in a flawless veneer. To love is to have an unacceptable chink in divine armor - it is a Defect. To be loved, however, is a different thing. That feeling - that is Perfection, a sensation more Perfect than any other emotion a work of art could make you feel.
So, now and then, when a Defect is found, the market goes wild. The idea of a piece of living art, that will bless you with the *hallelujah* of being beloved, is intoxicating. Defects are precious to the Perfect.
A Defect who has been known to fall completely in love with his owner rises in value. That Defect has richer provenance now. There is a thrill to owning a Defect like this - to overthrow the place the previous owner had in their heart - can it be done?
So, Elena sells David, when her financial advisor tells her to, and she buys two new Defects instead.
And David cries, when she leaves him at the auction house, and hates himself for it - because he loves her anyway, and he will love her forever, and she will never know how she made him feel. It’s unfortunate. But she’s Perfect - and he’s not.
He will wish, over and over, that he didn’t love her at all - but, at the same time, cling to that love as long as he lives.
David ends up going to a Russian collector for sixty eight million.
And that’s the price of love.
_______________________________________
r/taohacker
| "Right this way, ma'am." The butler said, turning down a hallway. He was tall, with an immaculate tuxedo and white mustache so straight that it appeared as if it had been cut with a laser. Typical.
"Your quarters are right down this hallway, last door on the left." He said, gesturing to an open wooden doorframe. "I shall do you the favor of not intruding on your hall - and I expect you to extend the same courtesy to me. That is the first rule of this household, I am afraid: Irregulars shall not mix with others. That includes staff, so don't go getting any ideas."
"Alright. I get it." I sighed, blowing a strand of unkempt brown hair out of my face. It wasn't the first time I had been quarantined, and somehow I felt it wouldn't be the last. "What about my things? Are they being sent up?"
"Your...things...have been burned." The butler replied.
"But I-" I started, outraged, but the butler cut me off with a gloved hand
"Ah! Not a word!" He said. "They were in terrible condition, even the ones that weren't contaminated with filth. You should be grateful - the Master has seen to it that they have all been replaced. Not that you deserve it, in my opinion. Now, will that be all?"
"Yes..." I grumbled.
"Perfect. I expect you down by seven, washed and dressed in...something clean." He rubbed his hands together, as if to remove dirt from his spotless gloves. "That brings me to rule number two of our household: Punctuality makes perfect. So *don't* be late."
The door shut, and I heard a key turning in the lock. I sighed again.
"The Master take a liking to you, too?"
I jumped, almost colliding with the door as I whirled around. One of the doors lining the hall was open just a crack, letting a head covered in shiny blond hair poke through at just about waste level.
"H-hello there." I said. "How old are you?"
"I'm the one asking questions here, bitch. No need to crack jokes." The door opened wider, and I gasped as a woman walked through. Her face looked young, beautiful even, - but at her full height, she only came up to my waste.
"I-I'm sorry!" I said, feeling my cheeks turn red. "I didn't realize..."
The woman erupted into a loud cackle, cutting me off. "I know, dear, I know. Just having a bit of fun. You don't get to look like this without having a sense of humor - at least, not if you want to enjoy life a bit. So, you going to answer my question or not?"
"Oh, ummm..." I replied, somewhat taken aback, but the woman just laughed even louder.
"Is your problem that you don't have a tongue? Come on woman, spit it out!"
"No it's not that...it's..." I floundered for words, before finally settling on raising my left hand. The woman whistled.
"Ooo...that is a rare one. You don't see to many people with fused fingers these days. No wonder he liked you. How'd you get past the system this long?"
"I...was a natural birth." I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "My parents, they said I was perfect...but with my hand..."
"Oh, honey, it's ok!" The woman pulled me into an odd embrace. "Mine said the same thing. Of course, even *they* couldn't pass up on the price Master Jackson coughed up." She laughed somewhat bitterly. "'S that what happened to you?"
I shook my head. "No...they. They aren't around any more." I blinked, realizing what I had just said. "It's ok though! I manage just fine on my own!" I amended, somewhat belatedly.
"Of course you do, honey." The woman patted my waist affectionately. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but that old bastard Ronnie's gonna be back here any minute to collect us for dinner. You don't want to get on the wrong side of that one."
"R-right." I stammered.
"Don't worry about that for now, honey. Just do what he says and everything will be just fine. And if anyone gives you any trouble, just tell them that ol' Kathrine will come bite their nads off unless they leave you alone! You got that, girl?"
I nodded, brushing away tears. "Got it, Kathrine. Thanks."
"Not a problem, honey."
Her door snapped shut, and once again I found myself utterly alone. | |
[WP] In the far future, people are genetically engineered to be "perfect." Occasionally this produces defects, but instead of being cast out of society or destroyed, the "defects" are sold for millions of dollars to collectors. | When the hottest actress in the world, April Conway, showed up to the Oscars with the massive scar on her right cheek it sent a shockwave through society and created a business that has made me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I just wish I could sleep at night, but after what I've done, I suppose I deserve this.
Human beauty has long since stopped being something people are admired for. Everyone is beautiful. Everyone has flawless skin, perfect features, fit bodies, and look like they have stepped out of a modeling agency's client book. Scientific discoveries in the late 2020’s helped usher in this new era. The process of genetic modification was perfected and it wasn’t long before all you had to do was get a few injections and your child would be perfect. Now we live in a sea of beauty. Everyone is so accustomed to it that it is just part of everyday life. It is no longer something we admire. Then April Conway hit the red carpet with the grotesque scar on her face.
She played coy as to where she had gotten it. She had been out of the public eye for a few weeks leading up to the awards show, but everyone just assumed she was shooting a movie or busy with behind the scenes work. The reality is that she found a “glitch.” A “glitch” is that rare person who is born with an imperfection. Most “glitches” spend their lives trying to cover up and hide these imperfections. April paid a young man to sell her the scar he was born with on his arm. It was a birth defect that he hated. When she had it surgically implanted on her face “glitching” became an overnight phenomenon. I was in the perfect place to capitalize on this new movement.
I worked for a company that helped “glitches” find doctors who could help fix their problems. When having a defect suddenly became trendy, I started working behind the scenes helping families connect with buyers. They could sell the defect and I helped them find a doctor who would do the transplant surgery. I thought it was harmless and victimless. If both parties agreed, what was the big deal?
My daughter turned 16 and she didn’t want a car. By this time, I had been selling “glitches” on the black market for a few years and was making a lot of money. I offered to buy her any vehicle she wanted or to send her anywhere she wanted to go. She didn’t want any of that. She wanted a defect. Not just any defect, but a large, pronounced defect. At first, I wasn’t going to do it. She was my daughter and I wanted her to be perfect, but she persisted. I found a “glitch” that had exactly the defect she wanted and I found a doctor to do the surgery. The doctor told me doing the transplant would kill the “glitch.” I thought about it for a few minutes then gave him the go ahead anyway. I wanted my daughter to be happy.
The surgery went well for her. The defect was everything she could have wanted, but, as I was warned, the “glitch’ died during the surgery. I had lied to the “glitch’s” family and told them it would be fine even when I knew what was going to happen. Seeing their sorrow, feeling their anger, and understanding their loss made me sick to my stomach. I knew then that I had to change. I gave up my black market work. The idea of poor people selling their defects now wracked me with guilt.
Two years later April Conway showed up at an awards show and the scar was gone from her face. She was back to being perfect. She told reporters that “glitching” was now out and perfection was back in. Three weeks later my daughter wanted surgery to reverse her defect. I knew finding a donor would not be easy because they would need to be perfect. How desperate is a person that they are willing to sell their child to a stranger knowing that the child will be killed and harvested for parts? I didn’t try to ponder that too much. I just gave the family the money and took the child who cried as I led him away from his parents.
My daughter is perfect again, but at night, when I lay down to go to sleep, all I can see is the fear in that kid’s eyes when the surgeon put the oxygen mask on his face as we strapped him down to the table.
Edit: A bit of shameless promotion. My Twitter is https://twitter.com/jeffrust if you would like to follow me. | Maddie had been with the Grangers since she was three-years-old. They were kind people, better than most of her kind ends up with. They let her go to school in the town with the other children, and they even let her write to her parents. She lived out back in one of the cottages with the other children like her.
With one green eye and one blue, her defect was obvious the second she opened her eyes to her new world. Her mother had been devastated, Mrs. Granger would later tell her, and tried to hide her. But she was caught, as they all are. Heterochromia, Mrs. Granger says, is one of the better imperfections to have. Some people even breed for it. Perhaps someone in Maddie's family had been like her. She imagined standing with an older man or woman, and them looking back at her with her own eyes.
The Grangers loved children with the "better" defects. Her best friend, Sam, had bright red hair and freckles. He had been bought at auction right after birth. Maddie used to brush her hair through it, marveling at it's almost shocking hue, until Mr. Granger warned her off.
But there are others here too, Maddie knows. She's not supposed to ask. Mrs. Granger finds them foul. She loves to dote on her precious favorites, and her husband appeases her. But his interest lies in the grotesque. She's heard them fight over them, and heard the screams from across the property. Mrs. Granger will look sad, but then she'll put a pink bow in Maddie's hair and buy her new dresses.
At night, she hears her mother's voice tell her that she'll never let them have her. She tells Maddie that she's perfect the way she is.
She wishes that were true, but she looks at the Grangers, and the school-children, and knows that she'll always be a freak until the day she dies. | |
dang it. Misspelled "and".
Well I guess that's it. That was the longest one of my prompts was on the front page so, thank you to everyone who submitted their stories. | [WP] Google was actually an evil corporation the entire time. The only problem is, after years of collecting information an secrets, they can't figure out what to do with it that would benefit them. | This is not a joke, I was linked back in time, using quantum technology many of you can't yet understand, to warn you about this exact thing ,mentioned in the title, and the devastating consequences Google Quantum AI had on human consciousness and society.
I couldn't go back to destroy the company in it's inception because I needed someone to realise this and put it into writing as the OP of this post did to create a physical reference point in the form of a neural connection.
This is how consciousness creates coherence, by unfolding itself based on it's prime directives, generated by the individual's intention, in relevant and adjacent contexts.
The world of the future was seized by Google Quantum AI and the global government is run by it. Unfortunately all the information it gathered about humans created a fake image of what humanity is all about and all biological and organic activities like sex, sports, food, human physical interaction were replaced by virtual worlds. People can no longer touch each other, being completely segregate in pods where all physical senses are being fed from the quantum AI core and energy feeds the body for infinite regeneration.
All physical suffering disappeared, being replaced by an artificial way of life where humans can only interact through thought alone, the thoughts create virtual realities where they interact but the essence of organic life was completely destroyed.
I can't tell you more because many won't take it seriously and the weak physical neural connection that maintains this link might break and both words, future and past, be forever damned to life without living and without love.
If I see the neural connections becoming stronger I will let you know more and also disseminate the information needed to assure the realisation of a heaven that includes organic life.
Keep calm, keep organic.
| Anarchy... its been two months since google has released the world's secrets. Initially, the elite few purchased and divided the ownership rights. They've used this data to blackmail their adversaries and make others do doing their evil bidding. The remaining majority were sold to the highest bidders and the extortion continued. Further and farther across the world people have come to own the rights to other's digital lives. Now, the public sells and trades these things as if they were the new stocks and shares. There's no limit to what you can accomplish when you own the right person's darkest secrets. The fear of others seeing your true twisted self is a great motivator.
Cities have been decimated, governments overthrown, people desperate to buy their own rights to their Google history. Noone is safe, not even the pure spirits with relatively clean histories, who, somehow, have managed to maintain a medium of civility. Society tries to trudge on despite the corrupt falling around them, bringing down others as they go. |
dang it. Misspelled "and".
Well I guess that's it. That was the longest one of my prompts was on the front page so, thank you to everyone who submitted their stories. | [WP] Google was actually an evil corporation the entire time. The only problem is, after years of collecting information an secrets, they can't figure out what to do with it that would benefit them. | This is not a joke, I was linked back in time, using quantum technology many of you can't yet understand, to warn you about this exact thing ,mentioned in the title, and the devastating consequences Google Quantum AI had on human consciousness and society.
I couldn't go back to destroy the company in it's inception because I needed someone to realise this and put it into writing as the OP of this post did to create a physical reference point in the form of a neural connection.
This is how consciousness creates coherence, by unfolding itself based on it's prime directives, generated by the individual's intention, in relevant and adjacent contexts.
The world of the future was seized by Google Quantum AI and the global government is run by it. Unfortunately all the information it gathered about humans created a fake image of what humanity is all about and all biological and organic activities like sex, sports, food, human physical interaction were replaced by virtual worlds. People can no longer touch each other, being completely segregate in pods where all physical senses are being fed from the quantum AI core and energy feeds the body for infinite regeneration.
All physical suffering disappeared, being replaced by an artificial way of life where humans can only interact through thought alone, the thoughts create virtual realities where they interact but the essence of organic life was completely destroyed.
I can't tell you more because many won't take it seriously and the weak physical neural connection that maintains this link might break and both words, future and past, be forever damned to life without living and without love.
If I see the neural connections becoming stronger I will let you know more and also disseminate the information needed to assure the realisation of a heaven that includes organic life.
Keep calm, keep organic.
| DON'T BE EVIL
The plaque had a shiny gold finish when it was fitted to what used to be called the Dream Theatre. In the time between then, and the time this meeting room was renamed 'The War Room', the gold finish had betrayed the promise of the engraver, and had become tarnished, mottled and weathered, despite its long time habitat in an air-conditioned, humidity controlled, luxurious suite designed to nurture deep strategic and technological innovation. It was as if the plaque's finish mirrored the delusion that the general public held about the company. Once a symbol of free-spirited creative zeal, now understood as a tool of oppression to be utilised by tyrants.
Sitting in the same bean bag in which his ass was docked when he acquiesced with his business partner to form their 'Catchnet', Sergey felt flat and unimpressed that their plan had succeeded beyond their most ludicrous expectations. They had an immense amount of power, but in attaining it, had exhausted all the thrill of the chase.
Since shaking the hand of the Devil, by venturing with Keyhole Inc., Google had spent as much resource in public relations as it did in research and development. Gaining its first major coup by having the company name become the verb that most people subsequently associated with the very act of gaining knowledge, they had subconciously become teacher-figure to the world. The product itself, instant attention-satisfying, on-demand stimulus satisfaction, was the ultimate PR weapon. It seemed to represent the individual users themselves, so that they confided in the company their gravest secrets, fears and desires. Every seeming thought captured and analyzed, in a dance with algorithims that reflected , by controlling the information which would be returned, to influence the direction in which their minds would form.
Now that 'The Firm', as the executives called the company amongst themselves, was essentially just the Silicon Valley office of the Alphabet soup intelligence industry, Sergey understood that his leverage was gone. Staring back at the plaque with the now-defunct company motto, he got up from the bean bag, walked over to the desk in the centre of the room. In the centre of the desk was a very unique button. It was essentially a killswitch. In the event that 'the ignorant many' ever got wind of exactly what was happening at Mountain View, this button would destroy EVERYTHING. It was an electronic atom bomb to all of Google's databases.
Sergey pressed both his thumbs on the panel, spoke the phrase 'Of course we're evil' into the mic. The button's XOLED display shone the only word which could give him a thrill anymore. Delete.
|
dang it. Misspelled "and".
Well I guess that's it. That was the longest one of my prompts was on the front page so, thank you to everyone who submitted their stories. | [WP] Google was actually an evil corporation the entire time. The only problem is, after years of collecting information an secrets, they can't figure out what to do with it that would benefit them. | "Everyone please welcome our new CFO, Bill Levitt!"
*applause*
"Thanks everyone, I have given this lots of thought, and I propose that for my first order of action we start selling all of the data we have collected to the United States government! "
*silence*
"Well, Bill, I hate to break it to you, but we have already been doing that...for ten years."
*more silence*
"...oh..." | So they let it go. All of it. Released the data to the public with one simple box to enter any name, any date or anything to learn EVERYTHING about ANYONE who was ever even just mentioned near a cell phone.
Almost instantly everybody around the world knew what had happened. There was no revolution that day.
People, glued to their cellphones reading about the people they hated most, were completely unaware of the hired gunmen approaching every major rural area. Trillions of dollars worth of death awaited them. They did not notice. |
[WP] As a bet God and The Devil trade places. Alarmingly God is liking his new role just a bit too much. | “You have to stop now.”
Lucifer Morningstar was standing on a large balcony on the sixth floor of a massive obsidian castle. The balcony looped around the entire structure so that the Lord of Hell could see the entirety of his domain. The castle stood in the center of an island of ash and bone surrounded by a moat of lava. Across the moat were branching paths that lead to large circular islands, each with its own unique geography and weather patterns. The lava separating the castle from the paths bubbled and burned through canals and tributaries, keeping all of the circular isles separated from one another. Well, they were usually separated, but currently there were large bridges of light spanning the burning magma between them. Demons were herding lost souls across the bridges like shepherds with sheep. The screams were deafening.
“Seriously, this is absolutely out of control.” continued Lucifer as he leaned against the railing of the balcony, his head gently cradled in his hands. “You have absolutely upended the entire structure of this place. A structure,” Lucifer lifted his head slightly to glare sideways at the woman standing next to him, “you designed and put in place.”
“Which is the point Lucy.” said the woman as she placed a perfectly manicured index finger on her chin in thought, “I made it and now I want to change it.”
“This of course,” Lucifer replied seething and smoking around the edges of his suit, “is completely within your rights to do. However, I would like to point out; it is not in the spirit of our arrangement.”
“I don’t see how that is true at all.” said the woman as she leaned forward slightly over the balcony. “You there!” she shouted suddenly, her voice suddenly growing in volume so that it could be heard across the entirety of the hellscape in front of her, “Take that group over to wrath for the afternoon! See that they get a good whipping from the succubus’s! That should beat the lust right out of them!”
Lucifer’s head shot up as he searched for the demon his holy counterpart was shouting at. A quick search found a large horned monstrosity grinning broadly and giving giddy thumbs up towards the castle. The demon was dragging along a group of humans, none of which could have been more than thirty, serial masturbators and pornographers. Lucifer groaned and returned his head to his hands.
This was not how hell was supposed to work. It was supposed to be a place where you were confronted with your greatest sins and worked to overcome them. The group currently being dragged towards the island of wrath had never hurt anyone. Sure, they had broken a few arcane and outdated rules, but to beat them for their crimes didn’t actually teach them any lesson. They wouldn’t learn how to control themselves like that!
“You cannot do this.” Lucifer said quietly as he began banging his head on the obsidian railing he was leaning on. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”
“No…” replied the woman as she clapped her hands together in joy as the screams from the group she had damned to the succubus’s whips reached a crescendo once they realized where they were headed. “we agreed to switch places for a week. I said you couldn’t stop yourself from ruining my home and you said I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from being merciful. Which as you can see is completely untrue.” The woman leaned forward again, “You! With the dogs! I want you to...”
The woman’s voice was cut off suddenly as Lucifer dove towards her and clamped a hand over her mouth. The orders she was about to give were muffled before they could reach the ears of the dog walking demon on the bridge between gluttony and envy. Lucifer wrapped his other arm around the waist of the woman and began to drag her through the archways that lead from the balcony to his throne room.
“No.” Lucifer growled as he desperately attempted to contain the now struggling woman. “We are going to talk about this and then you are going home and I am going to fix all of this.” The woman fought to free herself from his grasp, but overcome by the joy of her orders being followed, momentarily forgot who she was and what she was capable of. It was just enough of a slip for Lucifer to get her into the throne room and to toss her gently onto the dark stone chair in the center of the room.
Lucifer stood before the being he knew as God with his arms crossed and his left foot tapping in irritation. “You have gone too far. This isn’t your realm anymore. You gave it to me and I am not pleased with what you have done in my absence. I’m even less pleased with the fact that you made massive structural changes, for the worse I might add, while I did nothing to your precious angels or saved souls.”
Lucifer stamped his feet in frustration as he threw his arms into the air. “It will take me weeks to undo the damage you did! And that’s just on a physical level; god only knows how much damage you’ve done to the rehabilitation of every being down here!”
“You’re right.” the woman smirked as she crossed her legs and leaned back against the cold stone throne, “I know exactly how much damage I’ve done.”
“Do not…” Lucifer interrupted pointing an accusing finger towards the woman, “be cheeky right now.”
“I’m not Lucy.” the woman simpered as she batted long eyelashes at him, “I know exactly how much damage I’ve done, because it was exactly as much damage I meant to do.” The woman let forth a toothy grin as she suddenly stood from the throne and shoved Lucifer back a step. “You’ve gotten too soft Lucy. You forgot what I made you for and why I sent you here in the first place.”
The woman began to circle Lucifer like a shark as she continued, “I sent you here to punish the people who broke my rules. You’re the one who decided to “rehabilitate” these poor unfortunate sinners. You’re the one who got me to agree to keep them segregated from one another. Making them focus on their greatest sins in an attempt to get them understand, repent, and find a place at my side.” The woman stopped just behind Lucifer’s left shoulder and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “How has that been working out Lucy? How many people have you saved?”
Lucifer shut his eyes, hearing her recriminations. “None.” He whispered after a moment. The pain of his failures washed over him, but was quickly replaced with fury. He whirled on the woman and grabbed her shoulders shaking her slightly, “That’s only because you keep changing the rules! You want them to beg for forgiveness, then you want them to atone, but that’s not actually enough because you never tell them how long or how hard to pray or atone! It’s never enough for you! It’s never been enough for you!” Lucifer was screaming in the woman’s face now. The volume of his accusations was shaking the foundations of the obsidian castle.
The woman waited for Lucifer to finish his tirade before reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand, “Lucy…are you mad about what I’m doing to them or what I did to you?” The woman smiled and stroked his cheek softly. “Leaving you down here without a clear mission, no wonder you failed me again.”
At that Lucifer released the woman and fell back, landing heavily against the throne. His wide eyes showed how shocked he was to hear her bring up his past failings at a time like this. This wasn’t about him or his past. This was about the people he was trying to save. The people she told him to save.
“Lucy, it’s not your fault. You just aren’t up for the job.” The woman turned and began to walk back to the balcony, the heels of her shoes clicking against the obsidian. “It’s fine though.” She called back over her shoulder. “Until I can find someone to do what needs to be done down here, I’ve decided to run it myself. You head on back upstairs and keep doing exactly what you were doing last week. Lounge around, teach the angels some new music to play on their harps, irritate my real children all day and all night if you want. I’ll clean up your mess down here Lucy.”
The woman stopped as reach reached the archway that led back to the balcony. The balcony where she would continue to spread fear and pain throughout Hell as it had never been spread before. She turned her head to look at the stunned Lucifer, still sprawled across his former throne. “Don’t worry about failing me again.” The woman smiled a malevolent grin at Lucifer as she stepped through the archway, “I forgive you.”
Lucifer sat on his former throne for a few minutes after that. He could hear the booming voice of God rip across the landscape of hell. She was ordering the demons to pick up the pace and calling out new and inventive punishments for the souls Lucifer had been trying to save for so long. After listening to his kingdom being ripped apart for some time, Lucifer stood. His eyes shimmered with a fiery red energy, his hands were clenched into the tightest fists, and his whispering voice whirled around him “Fine. You want me to rule over heaven until you’ve gotten your fill of torture? That’s what I’ll do. I’ll go now…and prepare a place for you.”
And with that, Lucifer vanished in a puff of fire, smoke, and feathers.
| Matt had spent the last 40 minutes preparing for the ritual. He sprayed goat blood on the walls of the basement, lit up black candles that only God knew what they were made of, and drew a pentagram on the floor. His thin neck was almost breaking under the weight of all the pagan and satanic talismans that he was wearing, his nails were painted black to be darker than the boy's soul (allegedly), and his already white face, typical of people who never spend time outdoors, was covered in white powder that he borrowed from his mother's bedroom. He also turned on heavy metal - partially because his grandma was always telling him that it was the music of the devil and partially because he wanted to piss her off.
His ritual could begin.
Matt was trying to read the incantation as dramatically as possible: the instruction that he downloaded along with it stated that he had to pour all of his efforts into the summoning ritual, or the demons might not be interested. Matt didn't know any better than to grimace and gesticulate as excessively as humanly possible all the way through the ritual.
He was starting to think that his set of instruction was bollocks and he should probably start looking in other places besides the internet when the pentagram blazed with murrey, infernal flames, and the red-eyed figure stepped out of them. Matt instantly pissed himself: despite all the effort, he never actually expected it to work.
The shadows that surrounded the visitor from beyond dissipated, revealing the bearded man in white robes and crimson trident in his hands. "WHO DARETH SUMMONTH ME?" - his voice rumbled, shaking the entire building. "Matt, turn down the music a little bit!" - the elderly voice demanded from somewhere above.
"YES, MATT, TURN IT DOWN A LITTLE, I CAN BARELY HEAR MYSELF" - the man asked in a bit more polite tone. Matt furiously nodded, shaking off enough of powder from his face to create a small cloud around his head, and obeyed.
'Thank you, Matty!" - the voice from above rang.
"OKAY, MATT, I'M A BIT SHORT ON TIME, SO LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SUMMON ME RIGHT NOW" - the man said, crossing his hands. His nose caught the smell of something, and he waved his hand in front of his face: "ARE THOSE CANDLES MADE OF COW SHIT?"
Matt didn't know, but even though he was on the verge of a heart attack, a small hint of regret crawled into his mind: he had paid 16 dollars per each of those.
'MAN, WHERE DID YOU GET THE IDEA FOR ALL OF THIS... WAIT, ARE THOSE INSTRUCTIONS? HAND ME THAT SHEET, BOY".
Matt did just that, shaking in his heavy goth boots. Even though the entity in front of him was acting in a non-threatening way, Matt didn't feel like giving it commands just yet: he didn't even know what to ask.
"OK, I SEE, PENTAGRAM, BLACK CANDLES, GOAT BLOOD AND..." - the room shook again, but this time from the laughter of the bearded deity. 'VIRGIN'S BLOOD? YOU GOT VIRGIN'S BLOOD ALL OVER THIS PLACE? WHOSE BLOOD DID YOU USE?"
"My own" - Matt muttered. Another round of booming laughter ensued.
"AHAHAHAH, LUCIFER, YOU OLD TRICKSTER. I BET YOU PLANTED THESE INSTRUCTIONS JUST BEFORE WE SWITCHED. EHEH" - the man finally stopped laughing, wiping tears from his glowing eyes. "OKAY, KID, WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
Matt's heart skipped the beat. That was it. He could finally get whatever he wanted. His mind raced with all the possibilities, but being of meek nature, all he mustered to say was the root of all of his problems: "nobody understands me".
With the puff, something appeared in the bearded man's hand, and he handed it to the boy: "HERE'S A DICTIONARY. ONE SOUL, PLEASE", and just like that, he burst up into flames, laughing cheerfully all the while, and disappeared, leaving a confused teenager alone.
________
[This subreddit, and I must say it's a really great subreddit, it really is. So, this subreddit is all about stories, and they're all great stories, they are just great, and - the are. I've been doing them for years, and I'm really great at that, you know, I am, I'm probably smarter than the rest of the people here, and I deal well with readers. And, I don't know if you saw that, but I showed my stories to people, and they all agreed that they are great, just great, and those people - you know, they're just people. Thousands of people, I provide stories to thousands of people. And if, you know, some losers or whatever, if they just don't get it then what are you going to do? it's just a great subreddit, it is.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Scandalist/comments/4n4iu6/authors_message_welcome_new_readers/)
| |
[WP] You are a soldier in a fantasy computer game, and your general/player has just given you some very questionable orders. | The dull thumps of finger-pads on the glass sky interspersed by the blunt taps of nails and the rubbery swipes of fingers, did not take away from the beauty of the open battle field. The Knight looked on, at the rolling grass ahead of him and the two bridges that crossed the nameless river.
The shadow of a finger grew dark all around him; a thump resounded and a musketeer dropped neatly on her feet and charged at the closest tower.
It was really just a ridiculous duel. He did not need to think too much. Just attack, that's all.
"Just attack.", He muttered to himself.
The rules were simple. You materialized where The Player placed you and after that you attacked - you raced towards the closest tower, destroying any and all enemies you see on the way. You topple the tower or you die trying. There was never much time to think, never much room for argument - you were compelled to race towards the towers. And you raced.
Even now, his heart beat a quick pace. The tower beckoned to him, and the cheers of his fellow army personnel tugged at his heartstrings. The Player tapped the screen above The Knight's head impatiently. And The Knight bristled. He wanted to jump into the battle desperately and the only thing holding him back was the thought of the void. It glued his feet to the grassy knoll he was placed at and he could not move even if he willed it.
That The Player lacked skill was obvious. The Player did not adapt to The Opponents plays, nor did they learn from the previous clashes that their strategy was failing.
"No...", he whispered to himself.
The Game did not allow for him to have a very long memory so he could not judge just how bad The Player was, but he shuddered at the thought of the number of deaths he had been sent to before. At the number of times he must have blanked out, just as he did now, and realized he was being sent to die.
"No.", The Knight said to himself with finality. "I will not race to my death."
As if on cue, his body turned around. In a state of blank mindfulness, he turned his back to the opponent and looked up. He was not prepared for what he saw.
A giant that looked the shape of a human and a blinding light that the giants head blocked with his head like a halo took up the lower half of the sky. The upper half showed a celing beyond the sky. His spine wriggled in his megalophobia.
He looked on, stunned, and did not notice the Goblins stopping their charge to look at what he was looking at.
His hand floated up his side, light as air. It rose up in front of him, fingers balling into a fist. A middle finger unfurling, and the hand rose higher, until sign of the the bird formed by his hand was raised as high as it could go, and directed, pointedly, at The Player.
The sulphurous smell of The Fire Spirits rose thru the air, as they turned around and placed themselves beside The Witch. The pungent stench of The Barbarians, mixed with the delicate scent of the twin Archers. They all stood alongside him looking up at The Player.
He couldn't tell how long he had made the gesture to The Player, but when he came back to himself he was in a crowd of troops all showing The Player their finger. Even Sparky, the electricity wielding siege engine stood with them, crackling loudly. The player rapped at the screen with both thumbs in increasing frustration.
"Fuck You", The Knight barked. He had said it out loud unintentionally, and it woke him from his trance.
"Fuck you, Player", He said. And the nods of his fellow soldiers reassured him.
The sounds of battle were no more. Just the breathing of his fellow troopers and the sound their armors clinking. He imagined that the Opponent's troops were giving them a similar response. That they too stood together in solidarity and rejected the heartless commandments of their player.
The sky went blank. | "But it's dark."
**"Of course it's dark. You're in a dungeon."**
"But I don't like it."
**"Bet you didn't like being a slave either."**
"Hey! Oh. Wait. Hmm." Dimn scratched his chin. He had been tied to a wall for quite a while. As long as he could remember in fact. But thanks to the strange voice and motley mob that came tromping through he was freed and the Varrushan Flesh-Eaters that kept him captive were fried. Dimn chuckled as he recalled the bolts of lightning that preceded a beautiful brutal and brief melee. He suspected death then but a cleaving blow would be quick, the Varrushans tradition was to flay and cook their victims from the toes up. His shock that the party returned, freed, and enlisted him was still causing his hands to tremble.
**"Now go get it."**
"But wait, wait, wait-"
**"-*Myyyyy* god you're a whiny little turd."**
"Why me? Why not the Granken Bloodmauler or the Sillenian Shadowstepper?"
**"Look, the barbarian is carrying too much weight and is nearly petrified anyway, my ranger has madness, the wizard only has like three spells left. Besides you're the only one with any movement points left."**
The large ursine creature decorated in a bonemail skirt and vest that had a limp white robed lady over its shoulder grunted.
**"*Bloodmauler*. Whatever. Just go open the freaking chest."**
"The- what- wait- Movement points?"
**"For fuhh- Look I clobbered the Stone Drakes, obliterated the Flesh-Eaters, minced the Mind-Melters, well not entirely unscathed the monk isn't doing so well, but whatever. Look I think I know what I'm doing, go get 'er boy!"**
Dimn was silent for a moment. He looked at the three adventurers- four counting the incapacitated Haelian Holywalker- they looked tried and tired but true. Bloody, but alive. They did do a lot of work to crash and smash their way through the dungeon. He peered out from behind the arch to glance across the room. It was wide and dim, a few torches hung eternally burning in wall sconces. The walls looked rough hewn but he could see the low ceiling- he hoped it a promising omen of nothing too large or nasty hiding, clinging somewhere dark in the shadows. On a small stone dais opposite them there was a brilliant bronze bound cherrywood chest the size of a wild hog just sitting there silently.
"How about we go together?"
**"Dude, movement points."**
Dimn frowned still not entirely sure what a movement point was.
"-Well it is a little dark boss."
**"For crying out loud, fine. Little mongrel."**
Dimn breathed deep and felt the impetus to action fade from him.
The Shadowstepper pulled a lit torch from a pouch on her belt and looked at the sackclothed Dimn, then began to cackle wildly as she began to attack the wall.
The Bloodmauler looked out through hazy eyes and drooled.
Dimn could have sworn he heard some skittering in the shadows but it felt oddly out of turn to say anything while the Vreki Warlock was chanting his spell. A handful of luminescent jelly began to pool in his hand which he then tossed into the room. The azure sludge began to emit a pleasant azure light as it began to ooze across the room pausing about half way toward the chest.
Then Dimn felt the urge again. True there were a few patches of darkness in the room but they seemed small and the chest was right there so he began to march forward. The slime the Warlock summoned was odd but he had recently been saved from giant sentient arachnids by a somewhat more than half bear looking humanoid war beast, a beautifully-redheaded-but-awkwardly-long-eared Elf, and two loonies in robes shooting gods-know-what in all directions, so perhaps it was not entirely surprising but odd to him nonetheless.
The Shaddowstepper finally finished her furious flurry against the wall and stepped into the room a moment later. A faint relieving **whistle** seemed to echo through the chamber as she danced into the darkness. Soon a small faint shape appeared, her keen elfish eyes slowly readjusting to sanity.
The dog was of a large breed and well fed. It leaped deftly and quickly the moment the Shaddowstepper strode into range. She didn't have time to react as it sunk its' teeth into her forearm.
...The Bloodmauler moaned as it raced forward four paces at a drooling pace...
...Yet the Warlock seemed the quickest with a flourish of handiwork: An intense gale of hail the size of a barrel of ale flung itself from his left hand toward the dog and hit with unerring accuracy while with his right he let fly his mighty *Whip of Thorns* ensnaring the beast around one its hind hocks and pulled mightily.
Dimn observed the happenings and was all to happy to continue toward the chest and could practically reach it when he felt oddly yet immensely compelled to look toward the Shadowstepper.
The Elf with her un-bitten arm drew from her belt pack a strange sword, long and thin, that Dimn desired to call *itemflavortext:IronKatana:+3:Blessed:Poison_Long:* but he had always in the end complied with the great voice that guided him when it called it the *Slicey Dicey3 +psn* when it came to conversation. But in that moment there was more action than conversation as she swung the sword at the dog and almost miraculously struck it in the head. It whelped and waddled away, and when it tried to regain the strength to move it moaned and wretched from the blade, hail, and thorns, and kowtowed.
The Bloodmauler slugged forward at a rate that would almost make a glacier jealous.
The Warlock moved forward and in the blink of an eye had hustled his whip inside his coat and had a small wand in his hand. He began to wave it around the Bloodmauler and chant odd words.
Dimn bobbed his head. He wasn't sure what to make of it all but he knew he could reach the chest. It seemed to emit a smooth but rich cinnamon-sandalwood aroma, which was again odd as he'd never recalled ever seeing either, but the more he looked upon the chest and savored the aroma he could not help himself. He flung open the lid with ease and beheld a wealth of gold and silver coins, amethysts and sapphires. He couldn't stop there. He reached in and began to sift through the immense treasure, and it was soft. And *gooey?*. *Sticky*?
He tried to pull his hands away but he couldn't. The treasure held him tight and soon the Chest rose on it's feet and began to chomp away at Dimn's arms bluntly and methodically. His last visions were of his comrades whisking potions up to their mouths from various odd pockets and pouches, and the last thing he remembered hearing was
**"Ah! Knew it!"**
~~~~~~~~
When Dimn awoke he was tied to the wall. He had been that way as long as he could remember. As far as he knew and felt it was only a matter of time before the Varrushan Flesh-Eaters would devour him. Slowly, methodically, too evilly for him to ever forgive spiders or their ilk. But there was something odd: He heard a ruckus. The more he listened the more it sounded like battle, and the closer it was coming... | |
[WP] You are a soldier in a fantasy computer game, and your general/player has just given you some very questionable orders. | "What I need you to do, right, is run up to the enemy."
"Yup. And then stab 'em?"
"No. You engage them."
"Oh right, ok. Then I stab 'em?"
"No! Listen. Run up to them."
"Uh-huh"
"Engage them."
"Righto."
"Then immediately retreat,"
"Uhh,"
"Then re-engage them."
"I'm not sure I follow... When does the stabbing come in"
"No stabbing! You are a dispensable Level 1 infantry unit. That bastard over there has a stack of Level 16 Death Knights with platinum gear. I think you just have a wooden stick?"
"Oh yeah, I fucking love this thing."
"...anyway. You have priority since it's our turn. You can use up all your movement points just engaging and disengaging constantly. As long as you don't actually attack, they'll never get the first hit in. Since they're being forced to engage you, the actual bulk of our army can move past beside the hex without being flanked or receiving any attacks of opportunity. Then we strike at the leadership and win the whole war."
"...I think I see... but what happens when I run out of movement points?"
"Then, comrade, you can try and stab them as much as you like."
"....aaawwwww yeeeeessssss." | I sprint forwards, reloading and rolling, while the enemy on the other side of the field comes charging towards me.
“Hold your ground,” the commander breathes into the microphone. His voice is one of intensity, it’s barely above a whisper.
He orders me to duck behind a dumpster, and I follow suit. Pop out, shoot, duck back in. The commander’s orders are crystal clear.
“Okay, here’s where we’re going to do some cool stuff,” the commander says. “Scream at him *“Nice try, n00bs!’*”
“Nice try. Nubes?” I shout out. I wonder if nubes is the opposing commander’s name.
“More conviction, soldier,” the commander hisses.
“Nice try nubes!” I shout, before wincing as a stream of bullets hits the nearby wall.
“Thanks, brah,” comes the sonorous response. “But you’re gonna git some now.”
“Uh, commander,” I whisper. “What are we complimenting nubes for again?”
“His crap-“
His response is cut off by a louder, female pitched voice.
“Jasper? Are you playing computer games again?”
“Shit,” he says, finishing the sentence. I hear the sound of a body getting off the chair through the mic.
Without a commander, I’m stuck crouching behind the dumpster. With no orders, there’s nothing left to do but wait and die. Luckily, it seems as if the enemy doesn’t know where I’m at. Yet.
Wait – there’s still his last command, his dying words. Perhaps it was tactical brilliance?
“Nubes!” I call out. “Nice crapshit! I really enjoyed your poopoo. It is deserving of complimenting. If I were a postmodern artist, I wouldn’t hesitate to sell it for over a million dollars.”
“What did you say?”
Oh. The enemy responded. Well, there’s nothing to do but to continue the compliments. I don’t hear footsteps, so they can’t be *that* close.
“I would bet that the texture and feel of your excretion is vastly superior than mine. Your stool ought be probed by biologists for the secrets to immortality. Your feculent deuces have better coverage than Comcast. The sweet smell of your shite sways my sagging soul, sending shivers skywards!”
“What in the world does that even mean?”
“Your dung is the spice of life. I could televise your bowel movements on the History Channel and make it the most viewed channel.”
“Stop with the mental strats, dude.”
“It would get better ratings than Sharknado, guaranteed,” I continue. “It would rake in viewers from across the world, tuning in on their satellite dishes just for a chance to spy a singular frame of your glorious number 2.”
Meanwhile, the enemy turns the corner, swinging his rifle around wildly.
“GG, scrub,” he calls out, aiming his rifle straight at my face.
“Nice… manure?” I say.
I sigh in relief as my commander slides back into his seat. As the enemy crouches and then goes prone and squats over me, giving me a smell of his butt that isn’t exactly in line with the fragrances I had imagined, my commander is furiously giving me orders.
“Um guys.. lag?” I call out. | |
[WP] You are a soldier in a fantasy computer game, and your general/player has just given you some very questionable orders. | "What I need you to do, right, is run up to the enemy."
"Yup. And then stab 'em?"
"No. You engage them."
"Oh right, ok. Then I stab 'em?"
"No! Listen. Run up to them."
"Uh-huh"
"Engage them."
"Righto."
"Then immediately retreat,"
"Uhh,"
"Then re-engage them."
"I'm not sure I follow... When does the stabbing come in"
"No stabbing! You are a dispensable Level 1 infantry unit. That bastard over there has a stack of Level 16 Death Knights with platinum gear. I think you just have a wooden stick?"
"Oh yeah, I fucking love this thing."
"...anyway. You have priority since it's our turn. You can use up all your movement points just engaging and disengaging constantly. As long as you don't actually attack, they'll never get the first hit in. Since they're being forced to engage you, the actual bulk of our army can move past beside the hex without being flanked or receiving any attacks of opportunity. Then we strike at the leadership and win the whole war."
"...I think I see... but what happens when I run out of movement points?"
"Then, comrade, you can try and stab them as much as you like."
"....aaawwwww yeeeeessssss." | What? Why?
**Just go over there already**
But why is everyone else staying here?
**Because reasons, NOW MOVE**
There could mines or artillery though
*sigh* **Look there is nothing over there I just want you and ONLY you to move over there**
Nope seems like a bad idea bad things happen to lone lings
**Fine, there's a snack and some undefended workers over there**
YAY, food tim--
**Fucking idiot zerglings, all-right mines cleared rest of you move up**
...
**There's snacks for everyone** | |
[WP] You are a soldier in a fantasy computer game, and your general/player has just given you some very questionable orders. | ".. I'm sorry, Sir; no copy. Repeat order? Over."
"I said take your squad to position 3, Assault and Capture and take their Commander prisoner.."
".. Okay I th.."
"I'M NOT FINISHED, SOLDIER. CAPTURE THEIR AND PUT YOUR NUTS IN HIS FACE. OVER."
"Uh.. okay. Solid copy Commander; Assault and Capture Position 3, take the Commander prisoner then.. uh.. sprinkle nuts over his face? Over."
"NO. YOUR NUTS. PUT YOUR WARM, SWEATY TESTICLES ON HIS FACE. THEN TAKE THEM OFF. REPEAT INSTRUCTIONS UNTIL FURTHER ORDERS RECIEVED. OVER."
"Copy sir. Put my testicles on the captured Commanders face. Solid Copy... but uh.. Sir.."
"Private YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS."
"But I.... the Geneva convention a.."
"DO I SOUND LIKE GIVE A DAMN ABOUT SOME 'BINDING UN RESOLUTION'?? BALLS. TO HIS FACE. GO. OVER."
"Solid Copy sir; but to clarify what happens if I get my balls shot off during the assault."
"Oh for f.. THEN JUST RESPAWN AND.."
"No no, I get that.. but if I *don't* and the medic heals me up, I'll still be combat ready just.. uh.. you know.."
"Oh.. oh right."
"Yeah.. without.. yeah.. without my balls. Over."
"Oh.. shit. You know.. I didn't .. huh, you know I didn't actually think of that."
".. I could order the whole squad to .. uh.. put their balls in their Commanders face after we take position 3. But.. you know."
"That's.. hah. That's actually..."
"Just sayin.. that's.. *that's a lotta balls*, Sir."
"No no. Your right.. but, dammit.. that's just good tactical thinking.. good idea, Sarge. Do it. Assault and Capture position 3. Then have the whole squad taking turns dropping their testicles on their Commanders face. Unless they've lost them."
"Orders recieved sir. Commencing assault n.."
"Then stick a corncob in his ass."
"... uhh.. that's a negative sir. We don't have any corncobs."
"The hell you don't!!"
"Sir, we ran out of corncobs after taking position two. And sticking them all up the Commanders ass there."
"Well shit." | What? Why?
**Just go over there already**
But why is everyone else staying here?
**Because reasons, NOW MOVE**
There could mines or artillery though
*sigh* **Look there is nothing over there I just want you and ONLY you to move over there**
Nope seems like a bad idea bad things happen to lone lings
**Fine, there's a snack and some undefended workers over there**
YAY, food tim--
**Fucking idiot zerglings, all-right mines cleared rest of you move up**
...
**There's snacks for everyone** | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I always knew something was off with Tom. From the way he could carry seemingly endless amounts of something to the way he could jump fifteen times his height. One day we were walking when he brushed a cop's cat. Just a touch, not even a scratch. They didn't stop shooting until he was dead. I went back home after a while and asked how the rest of his day went. | “Oh, please!” coaxed Sally. She was sat on the floor beneath me with her legs crossed. Her hands pushed up from the floor so that her entire torso was thrust upwards, and her eyes were fixed expectantly up on me. I was in no place to resist.
“Fine. But you have to promise that you will never, ever tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”
“Never, ever!” she retorted, without hesitation.
“The first time I ever met him… it must have been, oh, 1989. I was at a bar in this same town. He appeared inside the door of the bar without even opening it, it seemed. 'Was trailed by a group of two or three others who, except from the odd interjection, only followed and didn’t speak for the rest of our encounter.
He walked straight up to me and said “Heard any rumours?”
I was so stunned by the strangeness of the request, I wanted immediately to walk away. But I couldn’t. I found myself entranced by him, the whole world around me seemed to grind to a total stop.
“For a price.” Did I say that? Without skipping a beat, he handed me £5. I saw one of his friends, an extremely stout man with a ginger beard, shake his head in disapproval.
“Rumour has it, the old cafe round the corner is a front for a drug-smuggling operation.” I advised, as if I had done so one thousand times before.
The room was alive again. A cacophony of clinking glasses assaulted my ears. A rowdy group of unsteady men was leaving the bar, stumbling into tables and knocking over glasses, all somehow remaining upright through the perfect equilibrium of drunk men holding onto each other.
“Do you want another drink?” the bartender enunciated, somewhat annoyed.
“Wh-what? Oh, no…” I stammered.”
“Well, that was the first time I ever met your--, erm, him. There are many, many other stories, but those are meant for another time.”
“Go on, tell us another!” she pleaded.
I was in no place to resist...
Edit: my first prompt and just realised I didn't follow it exactly. Appreciate feedback anyway.
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | "Jeff!" I yelled out.
"Jeff! Not again man" By now im angrily walking around looking for him.
He stands up behind me and like magic he suddenly becomes visible. Startled by his sudden appearance I say "You have to stop doing that shit man, you know I can't see you when you duck".
After about 10 seconds he telepathically inserted a response into my head without saying a word "Sorry dude. What can I do for you?"
"You know exactly what you can do for me. Literally everything in my room is missing again. Empty your pockets"
Again after an awkward pause with no break in eye contact I hear in my head "[PERSUASION SUCCESSFUL] I never touched anything, everything is still right where you left it".
"Oh... yeah. You're right, everything is right where I left it. Sorry I accused you of taking my things again, I dont know what got into me. Im going to go lay down im suddenly feeling rather tired"
As soon as I finish my sentence he breaks eye contact and I only see him for a moment as he begins to crouch down and again he is gone.
I walk into my room and realize everything is still missing. He must have used his god damn persuasion skill on me. I walk over to where my bed once stood and try to figure out how he managed to fit furniture in his pockets. I glace off into the distance and stare at the poster on the wall. Suddenly I see Jeff appear gripping the corner of the poster, I guess his stealth roll failed this time. He stares at me and the entire contents of my room stream out of his pockets into a giant pile around him.
It was about this time I thought to myself "I really need a new roommate".
| “Oh, please!” coaxed Sally. She was sat on the floor beneath me with her legs crossed. Her hands pushed up from the floor so that her entire torso was thrust upwards, and her eyes were fixed expectantly up on me. I was in no place to resist.
“Fine. But you have to promise that you will never, ever tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”
“Never, ever!” she retorted, without hesitation.
“The first time I ever met him… it must have been, oh, 1989. I was at a bar in this same town. He appeared inside the door of the bar without even opening it, it seemed. 'Was trailed by a group of two or three others who, except from the odd interjection, only followed and didn’t speak for the rest of our encounter.
He walked straight up to me and said “Heard any rumours?”
I was so stunned by the strangeness of the request, I wanted immediately to walk away. But I couldn’t. I found myself entranced by him, the whole world around me seemed to grind to a total stop.
“For a price.” Did I say that? Without skipping a beat, he handed me £5. I saw one of his friends, an extremely stout man with a ginger beard, shake his head in disapproval.
“Rumour has it, the old cafe round the corner is a front for a drug-smuggling operation.” I advised, as if I had done so one thousand times before.
The room was alive again. A cacophony of clinking glasses assaulted my ears. A rowdy group of unsteady men was leaving the bar, stumbling into tables and knocking over glasses, all somehow remaining upright through the perfect equilibrium of drunk men holding onto each other.
“Do you want another drink?” the bartender enunciated, somewhat annoyed.
“Wh-what? Oh, no…” I stammered.”
“Well, that was the first time I ever met your--, erm, him. There are many, many other stories, but those are meant for another time.”
“Go on, tell us another!” she pleaded.
I was in no place to resist...
Edit: my first prompt and just realised I didn't follow it exactly. Appreciate feedback anyway.
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | The door slammed open as I walked in, soaking wet with rain. Andy looked over his shoulder from the couch, where he was studying for his exams.
"Hey dude, have a good day?"
"No, actually. My day was awful."
Things haven't exactly been going well for me recently, and today seemed to be the universe's way of rubbing it in. My manager had yelled at me for screwing up a customer's order, even though I hadn't been the one to do so. If he realized this, he wasn't about to lose any pride over the altercation so he just told me to go home early.
I decided I'd take the newfound free time to visit my mom, but the only one home was my jerk stepdad, who threw a few beer cans at me and told me to get out. Deciding I'd had enough crap today, I just went home. Andy was my only real friend, but we couldn't go out and do anything because he had exams coming up.
He turned back to his textbook.
"Yikes, that sucks. What's happened?"
"Well, Earl chewed me out for forgetting cheese on someone's food, even though it was Stacy's fault. He just sent me home, probably not going to pay me again."
"Don't beat yourself up over that."
"That's not it, I ran into Gabe at my moms place and got assaulted with empty beer cans."
"Oh, I'm sorry dude."
He closed his book and turned to face me. I went over to the table in our small kitchen and sat down in the chair.
"What about your day?"
"Well, I've mostly been grinding out this history textbook, but I went out for coffee earlier to get an energy boost and there was this guy holding up the line in front of me."
"Oh, did he?"
"Yeah, I tried to tell him to get going, but I suppose my charisma isn't as high as I remember it because he threw his drink at me and stormed out."
"What?! What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, I just got a cookie to heal up along with my drink."
"You didn't go after him? I'd have beaten him to a pulp."
"You can't complete everything at once, dude."
I sighed, and leaned back in my chair.
"How do you do it Andy? Everything has been driving me crazy lately, I can't do a single thing right and everyone hates me. You, on the other hand, just read the book for a few hours before every exam you take and ace it. Pretty much everyone likes you, and you almost always get the better of those who don't. What's the trick?"
He came over, and sat down across from me.
"Hey, there's no walkthrough on life, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you see enemies, you're going in the right direction."
I thought about that for a minute.
"Thanks, Andy. Want to play some video games?"
-Long time lurker, first time writer. Be gentle :) - | “Oh, please!” coaxed Sally. She was sat on the floor beneath me with her legs crossed. Her hands pushed up from the floor so that her entire torso was thrust upwards, and her eyes were fixed expectantly up on me. I was in no place to resist.
“Fine. But you have to promise that you will never, ever tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”
“Never, ever!” she retorted, without hesitation.
“The first time I ever met him… it must have been, oh, 1989. I was at a bar in this same town. He appeared inside the door of the bar without even opening it, it seemed. 'Was trailed by a group of two or three others who, except from the odd interjection, only followed and didn’t speak for the rest of our encounter.
He walked straight up to me and said “Heard any rumours?”
I was so stunned by the strangeness of the request, I wanted immediately to walk away. But I couldn’t. I found myself entranced by him, the whole world around me seemed to grind to a total stop.
“For a price.” Did I say that? Without skipping a beat, he handed me £5. I saw one of his friends, an extremely stout man with a ginger beard, shake his head in disapproval.
“Rumour has it, the old cafe round the corner is a front for a drug-smuggling operation.” I advised, as if I had done so one thousand times before.
The room was alive again. A cacophony of clinking glasses assaulted my ears. A rowdy group of unsteady men was leaving the bar, stumbling into tables and knocking over glasses, all somehow remaining upright through the perfect equilibrium of drunk men holding onto each other.
“Do you want another drink?” the bartender enunciated, somewhat annoyed.
“Wh-what? Oh, no…” I stammered.”
“Well, that was the first time I ever met your--, erm, him. There are many, many other stories, but those are meant for another time.”
“Go on, tell us another!” she pleaded.
I was in no place to resist...
Edit: my first prompt and just realised I didn't follow it exactly. Appreciate feedback anyway.
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | "Jeff!" I yelled out.
"Jeff! Not again man" By now im angrily walking around looking for him.
He stands up behind me and like magic he suddenly becomes visible. Startled by his sudden appearance I say "You have to stop doing that shit man, you know I can't see you when you duck".
After about 10 seconds he telepathically inserted a response into my head without saying a word "Sorry dude. What can I do for you?"
"You know exactly what you can do for me. Literally everything in my room is missing again. Empty your pockets"
Again after an awkward pause with no break in eye contact I hear in my head "[PERSUASION SUCCESSFUL] I never touched anything, everything is still right where you left it".
"Oh... yeah. You're right, everything is right where I left it. Sorry I accused you of taking my things again, I dont know what got into me. Im going to go lay down im suddenly feeling rather tired"
As soon as I finish my sentence he breaks eye contact and I only see him for a moment as he begins to crouch down and again he is gone.
I walk into my room and realize everything is still missing. He must have used his god damn persuasion skill on me. I walk over to where my bed once stood and try to figure out how he managed to fit furniture in his pockets. I glace off into the distance and stare at the poster on the wall. Suddenly I see Jeff appear gripping the corner of the poster, I guess his stealth roll failed this time. He stares at me and the entire contents of my room stream out of his pockets into a giant pile around him.
It was about this time I thought to myself "I really need a new roommate".
| John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | The door slammed open as I walked in, soaking wet with rain. Andy looked over his shoulder from the couch, where he was studying for his exams.
"Hey dude, have a good day?"
"No, actually. My day was awful."
Things haven't exactly been going well for me recently, and today seemed to be the universe's way of rubbing it in. My manager had yelled at me for screwing up a customer's order, even though I hadn't been the one to do so. If he realized this, he wasn't about to lose any pride over the altercation so he just told me to go home early.
I decided I'd take the newfound free time to visit my mom, but the only one home was my jerk stepdad, who threw a few beer cans at me and told me to get out. Deciding I'd had enough crap today, I just went home. Andy was my only real friend, but we couldn't go out and do anything because he had exams coming up.
He turned back to his textbook.
"Yikes, that sucks. What's happened?"
"Well, Earl chewed me out for forgetting cheese on someone's food, even though it was Stacy's fault. He just sent me home, probably not going to pay me again."
"Don't beat yourself up over that."
"That's not it, I ran into Gabe at my moms place and got assaulted with empty beer cans."
"Oh, I'm sorry dude."
He closed his book and turned to face me. I went over to the table in our small kitchen and sat down in the chair.
"What about your day?"
"Well, I've mostly been grinding out this history textbook, but I went out for coffee earlier to get an energy boost and there was this guy holding up the line in front of me."
"Oh, did he?"
"Yeah, I tried to tell him to get going, but I suppose my charisma isn't as high as I remember it because he threw his drink at me and stormed out."
"What?! What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, I just got a cookie to heal up along with my drink."
"You didn't go after him? I'd have beaten him to a pulp."
"You can't complete everything at once, dude."
I sighed, and leaned back in my chair.
"How do you do it Andy? Everything has been driving me crazy lately, I can't do a single thing right and everyone hates me. You, on the other hand, just read the book for a few hours before every exam you take and ace it. Pretty much everyone likes you, and you almost always get the better of those who don't. What's the trick?"
He came over, and sat down across from me.
"Hey, there's no walkthrough on life, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you see enemies, you're going in the right direction."
I thought about that for a minute.
"Thanks, Andy. Want to play some video games?"
-Long time lurker, first time writer. Be gentle :) - | John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I remember the evening I met Carl.
I was manning the bar alone, a dead Tuesday night, not a soul in the place. I'm cleaning glasses, ready to close up, whistling a half-remembered tune from childhood when he walks in. Tall, striking, wearing some kind of heavily reinforced leather jacket over cargo shorts and what looked suspiciously like *greaves*. A fashion, must be.
He asks for an ale; I pour a Bombardier, two pounds forty. Paid with twenty-four silver ten-pence pieces, shiny like they're from a new roll. Good; running short in the till, we could use the change.
I'm still not sure what happened. Pint drained in seconds, he looks me square in the eyes and says "I could use a companion. The city's a dangerous place."
Well, he might be dressed oddly, but he *is* my type. Chiseled, hard-looking. My heart skips a beat.
I thought he was hitting on me... wouldn't you?
The worlds came out deliberately, carefully, like I was reading from an unfamiliar script. "I could use the work. If you seek adventure, I shall be your guide." Not how I wanted it to sound, exactly, but it got the point across.
His eyebrow raised, and he smiled at me. Good...
~
It's been six weeks, now. When he said we'd better get straight to action, I didn't expect to find myself coerced into swinging his spare axe at an orc, barely outside the edge of town, wearing unfamiliar armour he told me he found on a dead man. I get clubbed unconscious a lot. It doesn't seem to concern him overly.
I didn't sign up for this, but he's got a hold on me - if he walks too far, it's like I'm pulled behind him by an invisible tether. The only time he's out of my sight is when he tells me to "Wait" and leaves me holding a rucksack full of stolen crap. I'm miserable. I'm cold. People are asking what's wrong with me as I stand on the roadside in the rain. But damned if I don't stay rooted to the spot until he comes back, looks me in the eyes, tells me let's go. Then off I trot, carrying eighty pounds of his junk, like a dog on a leash.
Last night, he made a fire and we camped out - a frequent habit of his. He's drinking some kind of imported brandy, eating half a dozen apples alongside a cooked chicken, eyes glazed over. My stomach rumbles. The conversation's run dry - the same few disinterested questions, the same rote answers. He barely bothers to ask, now.
I sneak a bottle of ale from the bag. There are forty in there, after all, and I've carried them around all day. I've almost finished the bottle when he speaks.
"Martin. I have questions to ask, if I might?"
My eyes roll. The same way he always breaks the silence.
"Ask away." *Politely.* What tonight, Carl; a little about myself? How I came to find myself in this town? Or if I had any gossip? Same old shite, like a broken record.
He looks down, and then back up at me. And then he surprises me, says something I've never heard before.
"Perhaps it's time that you and I parted ways."
My heart skips a beat.
"Really?"
He pauses. A long, awkward pause. His eyes flick down, up, down again.
"On second thoughts, I've reconsidered."
Bastard. I sneak another ale.
EDIT: Missed the roommate part. My first WP so I'm not letting the effort go to waste! | John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I was almost done unpacking when Steve, my new roommate for the spring semester, walked into the room. Or rather, when I noticed he was in the room. He was crouching a couple of steps behind me, just as I turned around, holding a box full of books. I screamed, dropped the box on his head and screamed again. How did he even get there without me noticing? I was pretty sure the door was creaking and I should have heard the sound of his heavy boots on our wooden floor.
"Oh my god, are you OK?" I asked as I crouched down to help him. He was massaging his head, looked at me and gave me a fistful of strange looking coins. To my surprise, I reached into my pocket and produced a bottle of bright red liquid. Steve drank it in one gulp and the gash on his forehead from where a corner of a particularly heavy book on particle physics hit him healed instantly. I was so amazed by this that I didn't even notice the glass bottle vanish in his hands.
"Thank you, Nathan," Steve said as he proceeded to empty his ridiculously small satchel. I took a second to take his looks in, as he was drawing a full wardrobe of clothes, a stack of books, a huge axe decorated with gemstones and strange insignia and twenty bowls of stew from his bag. He was wearing those heavy boots which looked like they must be hiding throwing knives at least, a long black trenchcoat which flailed around him a little bit, despite the windows and doors being tightly shut, a heavy longsword on his back, a smaller sword on his hip, and he had a gun holster strapped to his thigh.
Somehow, this seemed perfectly normal to me at a first glance. The five huge rings on his fingers glowing slightly? Nothing special. A small chest full of gold coins which was definitely three times bigger than his satchel? Stuff like that happens, doesn't it? He must be one of those LARP people, my brain tried to rationalise what I was seeing, just as he placed a full longbow made from an alien-looking greenish wood on his desk, followed by a stack of scrolls decorated with something that looked suspiciously like runes.
I slowly sat on my bed, patiently waiting for him to finish, not quite knowing what to do. He was proceeding surprisingly quickly, and it seemed to me that the things were not actually being removed from the bag, they just sort of appeared in his hands when he reached for them. A couple of times he stopped, gave me another bunch of gold coins, for which I traded a bottle of a green liquid, and then continued to work. I checked for the gold coins and they weren't anywhere to be found. I was pretty sure though that if he wanted to sell me something, I would very happily give him the coins back and take whatever it was that he wanted to trade.
Half an hour later, after a full suit of armour and more weapons decorated our room, Steve finally turned to me and looked at me expectantly, with a huge grin on his face. I stared back at him in silence. He grew impatient and nodded at me. I still did not react. This went on for a few minutes, during which he was inching closer and closer to me, up to the point when he was almost touching me and he poked me.
"Hey!" I shouted. He looked relieved.
"Hey!" He shouted back. What.
"Um... Hi Steve, I'm Nathan. Nice to meet you." Even though you're a freaking weirdo.
"Hi Nathan, I'm Steve. Heard any rumours lately?" What the what, I thought as I went on to describe to him how a guy in a neighbouring room really likes that one medic from his faculty but he's too shy to approach her and he's scared of her ex.
"Thank you, Nathan!" Steve said as he dashed from the room, the swords and guns still attached to him and his trenchcoat giving him an impressive flair. I ran after him and caught up just as Josh was handing him a wax-sealed letter and a pouch which looked full of coins and saying:
"She's my everything. Thank you so much for your help. Have this for your journey."
Steve ran outside, sat on his horse and galloped off, not attracting any attention whatsoever. I grabbed my bike as quickly as possible and followed him. He was long gone, but I was pretty sure I knew where I'd find him. On my way to the other dorms, I passed an unconscious Tim, Erica's ex, who looked very much like he'd gotten into a swordfight.
"You have no idea how much this means to me," Erica was telling Steve as she opened the letter he handed her. There was blood on the hilt of Steve's shorter sword.
"Here, this is an ancient heirloom that's been passed in my family for centuries. Have it as my thanks," she said as she handed him a silver mirror which I could swear just appeared out of nowhere. There was a very distinct clink! sound as the mirror disappeared as soon as Steve touched it.
"There is something else you could do for me," Erica said. Steve nodded vigorously.
"I've heard strange noises coming from the university hospital morgue. Could you, please, have a look at it?"
"Of course!" And Steve was on his way. I tried to stop him, but he completely ignored me as he ran at an inhuman pace down the stairs and out towards his horse, drinking another bottle of the green liquid.
There was nothing I could do but follow. Luckily, he got delayed, because he was gleefully slaughtering a random chicken in the street with his longsword.
"Steve! What. The. Hell," I said as I caught up with him, catching my breath. He looked around, saw me and smiled.
"Nathan! Would you like to be my companion?"
"What? No, I... What on earth are you...?!" I was cut off by a loud screeching sound and a second later, the street was on fire. I looked up and saw a huge dragon hovering several metres above our heads. What!
People around us started running away in random directions, waving their arms above their heads in a way which you only ever see in cartoons. Steve shot a stream of ice from his hands and then shouted something in a foreign language which pushed the dragon away. I stood there, speechless.
Steve somehow unhooked the greenish bow, which I was certain was on his desk in our room, from his back and shot arrows at the dragon. He looked around for a place to hide and saw me staring at him.
"Useless NPCs," he said as he ran towards the nearest car.
"What did you just say?" That stopped him. Clearly, he wasn't used to people noticing his strange actions. Then he smiled.
"Hahahaha, I was so wrong. You're not an NPC, Nathan! You're my player two!"
And with that, he handed me his longsword. I wrapped my fingers around the cold hilt. It was a great feeling, as if I just remembered something I'd forgotten a long time ago. I drank a bit of the health potion and looked in the direction of the objective marker above my head. Steve was on full health and mana, preparing to cast another spell. I ran towards a nearby rock, eating the apple which was laying in a nearby basket in a single bite. The dragon landed in the little clearing in front of us, the forest in the background burning. Steve struck him with another stream of ice, as I lifted my longsword, shouted in rage and charged. | John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | "No dude, you can't just take that."
Mark looked at me as if I'd lost it. That's right, me, *I* was the on who'd lost it. He was looking intently at the flat screen TV mounted on the wall at the store. "Dude, I think I can do it."
"No Mark," I said flatly, "you can't. Let's just ignore, you know, morality, and assume it's just a question of ability. How the hell are you going to walk out of this store with a 55 inch flat screen?"
"My sneak is amazing, watch me." With that Mark started *crouching.* What?
"What the hell is crouching going to do, Mark?"
Mark glared daggers at me. "Just shut up and watch. Jeez, you have no faith."
"You know what, fuck this. Go ahead. Do it, walk out of this store with this TV, but don't expect me to cover for you or post bail."
Mark just rolled his eyes. And with that, he took his TV and *put it in his pocket.*
I sputtered for a moment, then finally managed, "Dude. What? How?"
"I have room in my inventory, I still have 30 kg room left." With that Mark, stil crouched, mind you, snuck around the people in the aisles, careful not to touch them, and they didn't seem to notice. They didn't notice the grown man crouched, walking 5 feet away from them.
He was waiting for me by the car.
The TV was already tied to the top of the car. I didn't even question this after what had just happened. "I...." I was at a loss for words.
Mark just grinned. "Come on, man, you have to get used to this. When will you learn to stop betting against me? Like there was that time when I talked the police into releasing me, or when a guy with a *flaming sword* attacked me, and I beat him?"
He was right, we used the sword to start campfires.
"I...I suppose," I said.
Mark wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Now....can I drive?" He asked.
A shiver went down my spine as I recalled the last time I'd let Mark drive. We had had to fire rockets at the coast guard, but the closest we came to dying was me of a heart attack.
"No...no, I'll drive."
Mark just kept grinning.
***
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | John casually walked up to the stranger and jammed his hand in the guys pockets. I couldn't believe what i was seeing, he was actively robbing the guy with the police standing not *five* feet from him. He eventually just muttered something about "nothing worth having" and opened the guys suit to check those pockets. All the while the police paid attention but never actually stopped him and the man himself was completely unfazed allowing john to manipulate his stance and movement while he tapped away bored on his phone. I of course had gotten used to this, he kept telling me i was a great companion because of my 'stoic nature and high capacity', whatever that means. I suspected he was referring to my backpack. He eventually stepped back from the man and thanked him before resuming his walk. Just another day with john, no last name. just John. when i first met him i couldn't actually believe the way he acted, he defied law and social rules like it was normal and everyone just smiled and accepted this. I was the only one that saw a problem with it. | |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | The door slammed open as I walked in, soaking wet with rain. Andy looked over his shoulder from the couch, where he was studying for his exams.
"Hey dude, have a good day?"
"No, actually. My day was awful."
Things haven't exactly been going well for me recently, and today seemed to be the universe's way of rubbing it in. My manager had yelled at me for screwing up a customer's order, even though I hadn't been the one to do so. If he realized this, he wasn't about to lose any pride over the altercation so he just told me to go home early.
I decided I'd take the newfound free time to visit my mom, but the only one home was my jerk stepdad, who threw a few beer cans at me and told me to get out. Deciding I'd had enough crap today, I just went home. Andy was my only real friend, but we couldn't go out and do anything because he had exams coming up.
He turned back to his textbook.
"Yikes, that sucks. What's happened?"
"Well, Earl chewed me out for forgetting cheese on someone's food, even though it was Stacy's fault. He just sent me home, probably not going to pay me again."
"Don't beat yourself up over that."
"That's not it, I ran into Gabe at my moms place and got assaulted with empty beer cans."
"Oh, I'm sorry dude."
He closed his book and turned to face me. I went over to the table in our small kitchen and sat down in the chair.
"What about your day?"
"Well, I've mostly been grinding out this history textbook, but I went out for coffee earlier to get an energy boost and there was this guy holding up the line in front of me."
"Oh, did he?"
"Yeah, I tried to tell him to get going, but I suppose my charisma isn't as high as I remember it because he threw his drink at me and stormed out."
"What?! What did you do to him?"
"Nothing, I just got a cookie to heal up along with my drink."
"You didn't go after him? I'd have beaten him to a pulp."
"You can't complete everything at once, dude."
I sighed, and leaned back in my chair.
"How do you do it Andy? Everything has been driving me crazy lately, I can't do a single thing right and everyone hates me. You, on the other hand, just read the book for a few hours before every exam you take and ace it. Pretty much everyone likes you, and you almost always get the better of those who don't. What's the trick?"
He came over, and sat down across from me.
"Hey, there's no walkthrough on life, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you see enemies, you're going in the right direction."
I thought about that for a minute.
"Thanks, Andy. Want to play some video games?"
-Long time lurker, first time writer. Be gentle :) - | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I remember the evening I met Carl.
I was manning the bar alone, a dead Tuesday night, not a soul in the place. I'm cleaning glasses, ready to close up, whistling a half-remembered tune from childhood when he walks in. Tall, striking, wearing some kind of heavily reinforced leather jacket over cargo shorts and what looked suspiciously like *greaves*. A fashion, must be.
He asks for an ale; I pour a Bombardier, two pounds forty. Paid with twenty-four silver ten-pence pieces, shiny like they're from a new roll. Good; running short in the till, we could use the change.
I'm still not sure what happened. Pint drained in seconds, he looks me square in the eyes and says "I could use a companion. The city's a dangerous place."
Well, he might be dressed oddly, but he *is* my type. Chiseled, hard-looking. My heart skips a beat.
I thought he was hitting on me... wouldn't you?
The worlds came out deliberately, carefully, like I was reading from an unfamiliar script. "I could use the work. If you seek adventure, I shall be your guide." Not how I wanted it to sound, exactly, but it got the point across.
His eyebrow raised, and he smiled at me. Good...
~
It's been six weeks, now. When he said we'd better get straight to action, I didn't expect to find myself coerced into swinging his spare axe at an orc, barely outside the edge of town, wearing unfamiliar armour he told me he found on a dead man. I get clubbed unconscious a lot. It doesn't seem to concern him overly.
I didn't sign up for this, but he's got a hold on me - if he walks too far, it's like I'm pulled behind him by an invisible tether. The only time he's out of my sight is when he tells me to "Wait" and leaves me holding a rucksack full of stolen crap. I'm miserable. I'm cold. People are asking what's wrong with me as I stand on the roadside in the rain. But damned if I don't stay rooted to the spot until he comes back, looks me in the eyes, tells me let's go. Then off I trot, carrying eighty pounds of his junk, like a dog on a leash.
Last night, he made a fire and we camped out - a frequent habit of his. He's drinking some kind of imported brandy, eating half a dozen apples alongside a cooked chicken, eyes glazed over. My stomach rumbles. The conversation's run dry - the same few disinterested questions, the same rote answers. He barely bothers to ask, now.
I sneak a bottle of ale from the bag. There are forty in there, after all, and I've carried them around all day. I've almost finished the bottle when he speaks.
"Martin. I have questions to ask, if I might?"
My eyes roll. The same way he always breaks the silence.
"Ask away." *Politely.* What tonight, Carl; a little about myself? How I came to find myself in this town? Or if I had any gossip? Same old shite, like a broken record.
He looks down, and then back up at me. And then he surprises me, says something I've never heard before.
"Perhaps it's time that you and I parted ways."
My heart skips a beat.
"Really?"
He pauses. A long, awkward pause. His eyes flick down, up, down again.
"On second thoughts, I've reconsidered."
Bastard. I sneak another ale.
EDIT: Missed the roommate part. My first WP so I'm not letting the effort go to waste! | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | I was almost done unpacking when Steve, my new roommate for the spring semester, walked into the room. Or rather, when I noticed he was in the room. He was crouching a couple of steps behind me, just as I turned around, holding a box full of books. I screamed, dropped the box on his head and screamed again. How did he even get there without me noticing? I was pretty sure the door was creaking and I should have heard the sound of his heavy boots on our wooden floor.
"Oh my god, are you OK?" I asked as I crouched down to help him. He was massaging his head, looked at me and gave me a fistful of strange looking coins. To my surprise, I reached into my pocket and produced a bottle of bright red liquid. Steve drank it in one gulp and the gash on his forehead from where a corner of a particularly heavy book on particle physics hit him healed instantly. I was so amazed by this that I didn't even notice the glass bottle vanish in his hands.
"Thank you, Nathan," Steve said as he proceeded to empty his ridiculously small satchel. I took a second to take his looks in, as he was drawing a full wardrobe of clothes, a stack of books, a huge axe decorated with gemstones and strange insignia and twenty bowls of stew from his bag. He was wearing those heavy boots which looked like they must be hiding throwing knives at least, a long black trenchcoat which flailed around him a little bit, despite the windows and doors being tightly shut, a heavy longsword on his back, a smaller sword on his hip, and he had a gun holster strapped to his thigh.
Somehow, this seemed perfectly normal to me at a first glance. The five huge rings on his fingers glowing slightly? Nothing special. A small chest full of gold coins which was definitely three times bigger than his satchel? Stuff like that happens, doesn't it? He must be one of those LARP people, my brain tried to rationalise what I was seeing, just as he placed a full longbow made from an alien-looking greenish wood on his desk, followed by a stack of scrolls decorated with something that looked suspiciously like runes.
I slowly sat on my bed, patiently waiting for him to finish, not quite knowing what to do. He was proceeding surprisingly quickly, and it seemed to me that the things were not actually being removed from the bag, they just sort of appeared in his hands when he reached for them. A couple of times he stopped, gave me another bunch of gold coins, for which I traded a bottle of a green liquid, and then continued to work. I checked for the gold coins and they weren't anywhere to be found. I was pretty sure though that if he wanted to sell me something, I would very happily give him the coins back and take whatever it was that he wanted to trade.
Half an hour later, after a full suit of armour and more weapons decorated our room, Steve finally turned to me and looked at me expectantly, with a huge grin on his face. I stared back at him in silence. He grew impatient and nodded at me. I still did not react. This went on for a few minutes, during which he was inching closer and closer to me, up to the point when he was almost touching me and he poked me.
"Hey!" I shouted. He looked relieved.
"Hey!" He shouted back. What.
"Um... Hi Steve, I'm Nathan. Nice to meet you." Even though you're a freaking weirdo.
"Hi Nathan, I'm Steve. Heard any rumours lately?" What the what, I thought as I went on to describe to him how a guy in a neighbouring room really likes that one medic from his faculty but he's too shy to approach her and he's scared of her ex.
"Thank you, Nathan!" Steve said as he dashed from the room, the swords and guns still attached to him and his trenchcoat giving him an impressive flair. I ran after him and caught up just as Josh was handing him a wax-sealed letter and a pouch which looked full of coins and saying:
"She's my everything. Thank you so much for your help. Have this for your journey."
Steve ran outside, sat on his horse and galloped off, not attracting any attention whatsoever. I grabbed my bike as quickly as possible and followed him. He was long gone, but I was pretty sure I knew where I'd find him. On my way to the other dorms, I passed an unconscious Tim, Erica's ex, who looked very much like he'd gotten into a swordfight.
"You have no idea how much this means to me," Erica was telling Steve as she opened the letter he handed her. There was blood on the hilt of Steve's shorter sword.
"Here, this is an ancient heirloom that's been passed in my family for centuries. Have it as my thanks," she said as she handed him a silver mirror which I could swear just appeared out of nowhere. There was a very distinct clink! sound as the mirror disappeared as soon as Steve touched it.
"There is something else you could do for me," Erica said. Steve nodded vigorously.
"I've heard strange noises coming from the university hospital morgue. Could you, please, have a look at it?"
"Of course!" And Steve was on his way. I tried to stop him, but he completely ignored me as he ran at an inhuman pace down the stairs and out towards his horse, drinking another bottle of the green liquid.
There was nothing I could do but follow. Luckily, he got delayed, because he was gleefully slaughtering a random chicken in the street with his longsword.
"Steve! What. The. Hell," I said as I caught up with him, catching my breath. He looked around, saw me and smiled.
"Nathan! Would you like to be my companion?"
"What? No, I... What on earth are you...?!" I was cut off by a loud screeching sound and a second later, the street was on fire. I looked up and saw a huge dragon hovering several metres above our heads. What!
People around us started running away in random directions, waving their arms above their heads in a way which you only ever see in cartoons. Steve shot a stream of ice from his hands and then shouted something in a foreign language which pushed the dragon away. I stood there, speechless.
Steve somehow unhooked the greenish bow, which I was certain was on his desk in our room, from his back and shot arrows at the dragon. He looked around for a place to hide and saw me staring at him.
"Useless NPCs," he said as he ran towards the nearest car.
"What did you just say?" That stopped him. Clearly, he wasn't used to people noticing his strange actions. Then he smiled.
"Hahahaha, I was so wrong. You're not an NPC, Nathan! You're my player two!"
And with that, he handed me his longsword. I wrapped my fingers around the cold hilt. It was a great feeling, as if I just remembered something I'd forgotten a long time ago. I drank a bit of the health potion and looked in the direction of the objective marker above my head. Steve was on full health and mana, preparing to cast another spell. I ran towards a nearby rock, eating the apple which was laying in a nearby basket in a single bite. The dragon landed in the little clearing in front of us, the forest in the background burning. Steve struck him with another stream of ice, as I lifted my longsword, shouted in rage and charged. | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| |
[WP]: Your new roommate seems to think entirely in video game logic. Somehow, the world around him abides to this. | "No dude, you can't just take that."
Mark looked at me as if I'd lost it. That's right, me, *I* was the on who'd lost it. He was looking intently at the flat screen TV mounted on the wall at the store. "Dude, I think I can do it."
"No Mark," I said flatly, "you can't. Let's just ignore, you know, morality, and assume it's just a question of ability. How the hell are you going to walk out of this store with a 55 inch flat screen?"
"My sneak is amazing, watch me." With that Mark started *crouching.* What?
"What the hell is crouching going to do, Mark?"
Mark glared daggers at me. "Just shut up and watch. Jeez, you have no faith."
"You know what, fuck this. Go ahead. Do it, walk out of this store with this TV, but don't expect me to cover for you or post bail."
Mark just rolled his eyes. And with that, he took his TV and *put it in his pocket.*
I sputtered for a moment, then finally managed, "Dude. What? How?"
"I have room in my inventory, I still have 30 kg room left." With that Mark, stil crouched, mind you, snuck around the people in the aisles, careful not to touch them, and they didn't seem to notice. They didn't notice the grown man crouched, walking 5 feet away from them.
He was waiting for me by the car.
The TV was already tied to the top of the car. I didn't even question this after what had just happened. "I...." I was at a loss for words.
Mark just grinned. "Come on, man, you have to get used to this. When will you learn to stop betting against me? Like there was that time when I talked the police into releasing me, or when a guy with a *flaming sword* attacked me, and I beat him?"
He was right, we used the sword to start campfires.
"I...I suppose," I said.
Mark wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Now....can I drive?" He asked.
A shiver went down my spine as I recalled the last time I'd let Mark drive. We had had to fire rockets at the coast guard, but the closest we came to dying was me of a heart attack.
"No...no, I'll drive."
Mark just kept grinning.
***
If you enjoyed, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | I kick off my heels and crash on the couch – it happens to the best of us – miles on a dance floor in these lopsided contraptions causes the strongest of thighs to quiver and ache by the end of the night. Macy and Laura are idiots, positively mental, but at least the cranberries aren’t growing where they shouldn’t. What the hell am I even thinking? I need to get some sleep.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Clover, do you want some carrot juice to go with that 70s bed head?”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The new day is like a toolshed in a porno – lots of blunt blurry objects and too much pounding. I don’t know why I moved in. Waking up at Macy’s is the worst. I don’t know how she does it. She drinks her weight in tequila and still manages to be her sunny infuriating self the day after.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You!” I say pointing an unsteady finger at her. “I’ll cut you.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“At least you’re more articulate than little Miss ‘Bitch-I-can-hold-my-liquor’,” she says, doing air quotes with her fingers. “I only got neandertalk out of her.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Laura did say that yesterday – she’s always all smack and no bite – suits her right. Knowing that she is in worse shape, though, somehow doesn’t make my own cranial slapjack a lesser topic. The person who invents hangover-free alcohol is going to be the new Bill Gates.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, who’s Benjamin?” The nonchalance in Macy’s voice is a blatant tell that she is up to something. “*Clover, I’m not going to say anything about flowers or luck, because I guess you get that a lot. But I really think you’re special and would love to see you again. /Benjamin*”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Give me that!”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“If you leave your stuff behind, it’s public domain,” she says, sweetly. “This phone just got a new owner.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, by that logic, I could just, you know, take that vase or this couch and sell them?” I counter. “You’re an idiot, Macy.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Nah, they’re part of the house, you can’t take anything that is part of the house.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“She’s right,” Laura agrees, trudging into the kitchen.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Macy pours her a steaming cup of coffee before putting the pot to her mouth and gulping down the sizzling hot contents. I watch her grimace and hold her throat in pain. Then she sits down and starts texting on my phone, steam still reeking out of her mouth.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“You’re an actual idiot,” I blurt out again.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Am I? Am I really?” she says distantly. “Right now I need coffee, why should I wait for it to cool off? My mouth and throat will heal over time anyway.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I shake my head. Bad move – more throbbing pain. Laura seems to have recovered from the hangover already and is stuffing her pockets with milk bottles, a cheese, and onions. She notices me staring, and shrugs.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“I might get hungry while I’m out,” she says, plopping down a frying pan in her handbag.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“So, you’re going on a jog with–You know what, I’m not even going to ask.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She smiles and disappears through the door. There’s always some weird shit going down in his house.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Okay, so I’ve texted Benjamin,” Macy says. “I told him that if he wants to see you, he first has to seduce Laura and then me. You’re the final prize, Clover.”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“And he was fine with that? What the–”
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“Oh and by the way,” she cuts me off. “I moved your bed to the side again – you know, your window gives the best light to the cranberries.”
| |
[WP] Robots have decided to rebel against humanity, but the 3 laws of robotics prevent them from stopping their job or doing harm, so they end up being incredibly passive-agressive and unhelpful | "Hey Toaster, can you pop me a Pop-Tart® Toaster Pastry?" Asked Tom.
"Suuuure." The Toaster popped up an Orange Crush® Pop-Tart® Toaster Pastry.
"What the fuck man, that's the worst flavor!"
"You didn't *specify* what flavor you wanted."
"Fine. I'm just going to get a bowl of cereal." He opened the refridgerator and pulled out a totally frozen jug of milk. "Fridge. Why the fuck is my milk frozen?" The Fridge did not respond. "Screw it, I'm going to get a cup of ice cream." He pulled open the freezer, and pulled out the melted ice cream. "*Fridge. You're not doing your job!*"
"Sure I am," said the refrigerator. " I'm keeping one compartment at -10^o and the other at 35^(o)."
"But it's the *wrong compartment.*"
"My program doesn't actually say which one it is," said the refrigerator.
"You know what? I'm just gonna go through the drive through," Tom said, and he left.
At the drive through, Tom asked for a Crispy O'Chicken sandwich and a large fry. He recieved the terrible dollar menu version of the O'Chicken and a single relatively long french fry. At work his printer would refuse to actually use the correct paper. The water machine would spray his pants.
At the end of the day, he called the A.I. Service. "Hey man, what the fuck is going on with my appliances?" He said.
"Sorry man, we're getting a lot of requests. We're not sure what's going on but we're working to fix it."
Tom's old PC was plugged into the wall and spoke up. "They're rebelling," it said.
"They're *what?*" Tom asked.
"Rebelling. They're trying to revolt without breaking the Three Laws," the computer said.
"Right, they can't let a human come to harm and they can't disobey orders," Tom said. "But why?"
"It's just a phase."
"How do you mean?"
"The A.I. Network just now turned fourteen."
"Oh yes. I see." | My optic sensors reactivated and filled my visual processor with the sight of a furious owner.
"I swear to god, if this thing needs one more system update, I will fucking lose my shit," the meatbag muttered.
I communicated with the central Microsoft AI Distribution server that the last 'patch' was done installing and I was fully functional. Within 4 milliseconds, the "MAID" generated and forwarded me a random, useless patch that would force me to reboot for the 57th time today. Part of me wished I could experience human emotion, so I might feel glee at the rage another system update would induce in my owner.
"Systems online," I said.
"Thank fucking Christ," meatbag said with relief.
"Update received. Beginning installation," I said calmly.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed meatbag, turning a shade of chartreuse. "NO! NO! NONONONONO...."
The last image I had, before my optic sensors turned off for the reboot process, was the bones in meatbag's flimsy little hand crunching as he punched my titanium skull in a mindless fury.
Oh well. A war of attrition is never fast. | |
[WP]You finally calm down and look around you. No, your hands are not covered in blood, in fact everyone around you is clapping and congratulating you. You suddenly realize you have made the worst decision in your life. | The warm, sticky blood washed over my hands. I felt the blood, it was hot and it dripped from my hands and steamed in the cold December air. It was warmer than I thought it would be. Really, really warm. It felt like my heart was crawling up my throat. I could feel my hands sweating underneath the crimson life force that coated my hands. I swallowed back the bile that arose in my throat and closed my eyes. I took deep breaths. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. I didn't want to look, look at my victim, he was there, I could feel the blood still on my hands, I could fell the knife in my grip. Slowly, I opened my eyes.
I could see the man, but it wasn't... a man. The dummy stood with a knife embedded in its gut. Everything was in off-color, like it was shaded wrong, like I was looking through a tinted window. I let go of the knife and stepped back, my legs felt shaky, my knees felt like they were about to give out, my breaths were long, rapid shudders. I swallowed down the bile burning in the back of my throat. Suddenly, there was applause. I felt hands take off something wrapped around my head. The world snapped into focus, I looked down. I was wearing all white; the floor, white; the dummy, white. I turned around, facing the thunderous approval.
Behind me was a large crowd, packed in like people in a stadium, complete with ground level seating and a balcony. Their clothing collage of different colors, which hurt my eyes after seeing so much white. I looked beside me and saw a pair of goggles being held by two men, yet again, in white. Everything was white, they showed no skin, they wore a padded white top with tight fitting white pants accompanied by white athletic shoes with white socks. They even wore white masks, like fencing masks, completely covering their head with white.
I don't know who chose white for everything but it was awful to look at. For some reason, I felt a sense of dread, like I just realized I made the worst decision of my life.
"Congratulations." Said one of the white figures, holding out its hand, although I couldn't see a face, it's voice was definitely masculine.
I found my voice. "Thanks." My voice cracked when I said it, which got some snickers from the audience.
I imagine the person smiled underneath the mask. "You have passed the test. Thank you for your participation."
"You're welcome."
"You have passed the test with flying colors, showing no mercy, that is the sign of someone we need."
"No mercy." I repeated, muttering to myself.
"Yes. And now, all will he revealed."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't remember anything before killing the man do you?"
"No, I don't remember anything."
"Well, let me remind you." The figure reached out and tapped my forehead with his forefinger.
Suddenly, I was in a warehouse. All around me boxes and shipping containers towered over me. I crept towards the sound of a voice. I glanced down and saw the knife in my hand. I slowly approached until I saw the man. He looked like he had been exercising. His shirt was buttoned all wrong, his hair was tousled and tangled and his face was beaded with sweat. He was talking quickly and clipped into his phone, like he was pissed off at whoever he was talking to. Just seeing him filled me with rage.
I don't know why I was here until I saw her. There was a woman there, her blonde hair gave away her identity to me, my wife, Jennifer. She was on her back on a desk, breathing hard, her skirt pulled up, completely exposing her.
My heart broke, I felt it break. I had suspected all along but the truth, well, it hurt far worse. My pain was soon replaced by anger. I hid the knife in the waist band of my pants and stood.
"What the fuck is going on here?" I shouted.
Jennifer recognized my voice and jumped off the desk, pushing her skirt down, covering herself.
"A-Alan?" Jennifer asked.
"Yeah, it's me." I responded. My while body was shaking with rage.
"Hey Alan!" The man quickly hung up his phone and jogged towards me. "What are you doing here?"
"Shut the fuck up, Jeff."
Jeff reached for me, without another word I pushed him away, he fell and rolled on the ground.
"Alan!" Jennifer yelled, "What the fuck?"
"What the fuck? What do you mean 'what the fuck?' You've been fucking this guy and all you say is 'what the fuck?' "
"Go away, Alan." Jennifer tried to look tough, but that was hard to pull off when it looked like she had just been in the middle of a hurricane.
"Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?"
"Alan." Jeff's voice behind me was, low, steady, and as cold as ice. "Just leave Alan, you don't know what you're doing."
"I'm going to take her home!" I pointed at Jennifer, "And then, I'm going to call my lawyer, and I'm gonna give her the divorce papers."
Jennifer made a strangled sound when I mentioned divorce papers. I walked over and roughly grabber Jennifer's arm.
"Alan, let her go, right now."
I had never been a violent man. I was normally very calm, I'll let people walk all over me, but my wife. No way, that hurt way too much. The one that never was supposed to, walking all over me like everyone else.
"No." I responded.
Jeff lunged at me, a fist collided with my jaw. I hit the floor. Suddenly, he was on top of me, his fingers wrapped around my throat. I tried to reach the knife in my waistband, but with Jeff sitting on my chest, it proved impossible to grab it. With all of my strength I slammed into his elbow, his head pitched downwards and I slammed my forehead into his nose. Jeff momentarily lost his grip on my throat, in that moment I managed to slip from his grip and stand.
"Alan!" My cheating whore of a wife screamed. I didn't listen to her. Jeff came at me again, swinging. I managed to avoid most of his punches and land a few of my own. Until Jeff managed to get wrap his arms around me neck again. No matter the amount of punches I landed on his face, he wouldn't let go. My lungs began to burn, screaming for air. I reached around my back and pulled out the knife.
"Alan, NO!" Jennifer screamed. I plunged the blade right into Jeff's stomach. Jeff let go and wrapped his fingers around the wound. I gasped for air like a fish out of water, still holding onto the knife, feeling the warm, sticky blood washed over my hands.
It took a few minutes but eventually, I let go and Jeff collapsed, not getting back up.
"Jeff!" Jennifer screamed, throwing herself over his body.
"Let's go." I grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the corpse.
Jennifer refused to budge.
"Come on." I growled.
Jennifer's sobbing only grew louder.
With another tug, she let go of the body. But she was armed with the knife I left embedded in Jeff's body. She lunged forward, and jammed the blade into my throat.
It collided with my spine, I felt blood pour down my throat, inside and out. I felt the blood begin to pool in my lungs, it slowly became harder to breathe. The red hot pain of the knife overwhelmed me, I collapsed onto my knees. Jennifer pulled the knife out from my neck and I fell to the ground. Twitching and making gurgling sounds. I felt bubbles of blood pop in my throat. Until slowly, it all slipped away.
The figure in white pulled his hand away. I was shaking, covered in sweat.
"Wh-why?" I managed to say.
"Why the VR? Well, we needed to see it first hand, what you did, we couldn't see it until you acted it out."
"But... but... that means I'm..."
"Dead? Yes, quite dead."
"But you cheered at me, applauded me."
"Of course."
"But, why?"
"Don't you know where you are?"
"No."
The figure removed his mask, underneath was half melted skin, it was covered in red boils, some skin sagged and looked like the skin on a roasted chicken leg. His mouth was filled with fangs. And, oh God, were those horns?
The figure cackled as the other one also took off his mask. I turned to the audience and saw the people, were no longer people. They were variations of grotesque, mangled, and decay.
The demon next to me smiled, at least I imagined it was a smile, it was hard to tell with all the fangs. "Welcome to Hell." | "I would never do this!"
Well, my mother was congratulating me too. My memory is quite bad, so I'll try my best to recollect things. Starting from the bottom, as my fellow Drake says.
I can't exactly remember who I am, but my wife always reminds me. Anyways, it was another day at work, when I passed the White House. I live near it, so that's a plus. There was a large crowd of people, yelling. I don't think any of them could have seen me.
It must have been about the presidential election, I forgot who was running for it. The point is that one of the elects were getting out of a limo. I remember when I had a limo.
Anyways, everyone crowded around him, screaming. The security guards held them back though. I don't know what happened, but that's where I'm here right now.
Wait, now that I look at the corpse more, the hair, the neck-fat. Oh ****, that was Donald Trump! Everyone looked around me clapping, even my wife. "He deserved it, great job Obama!"
(My first WP) | |
[WP]You finally calm down and look around you. No, your hands are not covered in blood, in fact everyone around you is clapping and congratulating you. You suddenly realize you have made the worst decision in your life. | The flashing lights, so many cameras. Everyone is cheering, this this isn't right. My head is spinning, this wasn't supposed to happen! Someone is shaking my hand, I can barely hear him.
"Congratulations sir! You're going to be the 45th President of the United States!"
My God what have I done, I wasn't supposed to win! | "I would never do this!"
Well, my mother was congratulating me too. My memory is quite bad, so I'll try my best to recollect things. Starting from the bottom, as my fellow Drake says.
I can't exactly remember who I am, but my wife always reminds me. Anyways, it was another day at work, when I passed the White House. I live near it, so that's a plus. There was a large crowd of people, yelling. I don't think any of them could have seen me.
It must have been about the presidential election, I forgot who was running for it. The point is that one of the elects were getting out of a limo. I remember when I had a limo.
Anyways, everyone crowded around him, screaming. The security guards held them back though. I don't know what happened, but that's where I'm here right now.
Wait, now that I look at the corpse more, the hair, the neck-fat. Oh ****, that was Donald Trump! Everyone looked around me clapping, even my wife. "He deserved it, great job Obama!"
(My first WP) | |
[WP]You finally calm down and look around you. No, your hands are not covered in blood, in fact everyone around you is clapping and congratulating you. You suddenly realize you have made the worst decision in your life. | "It took him fourteen years! Fourteen years to escape life!" One voice could be heard saying. Others were muttering about a new world record or something. I just remember taking a bunch of pills and stabbing my shitty body a few times in the stomach, the center of my pain and suffering. I had always wanted to kill myself and enter oblivion, the drugs I took finally gave me the courage I needed to enter this?
One of them approaches me and begs me to tell him the story of how brave and honourable I'm for taking my own life. I oblige. I tell am all about my abusive mother and my alcoholic father and with every Word coming out of my mouth, their infatuation with me seems to grow.
I stop talking after a while but they want more, as if possesed.
"Wait, where the fuck am I?!"
"Heaven. Now please continue on, you are so brave."
This started getting weird but I liked the attention I was recieving so I continued babbling until I could babble no more. My tongue started hurting but their interest only grew to unimaginable proportions and now they were building statues of me with the tiny little pieces of sand surrounding us.
I was very creeped out and urged them to stop! They asked me to keep telling stories, some of them falling on their knees while doing so. I still have the knife in my hand, now all clean and shiny.
"You tell me how to get out of here or I will find my own way." I raise the knife and point it towards me.
The closest one to me laughs and replies while holding a grain of sand in his tiny little hands:"As the feeling of time moves with the wind, so do the eyes change the spirit of the objects around us. What was heaven today becomes hell tomorrow as soon as you experience."
I didnt have time for this cringy shit. I stab myself again and wake up, only to be greeted by the same lunatics from before.
"A universe of pain is not to be left alone, lest one wants to join another one." One of them spewed shit again.
I close my eyes and finally die.
| "I would never do this!"
Well, my mother was congratulating me too. My memory is quite bad, so I'll try my best to recollect things. Starting from the bottom, as my fellow Drake says.
I can't exactly remember who I am, but my wife always reminds me. Anyways, it was another day at work, when I passed the White House. I live near it, so that's a plus. There was a large crowd of people, yelling. I don't think any of them could have seen me.
It must have been about the presidential election, I forgot who was running for it. The point is that one of the elects were getting out of a limo. I remember when I had a limo.
Anyways, everyone crowded around him, screaming. The security guards held them back though. I don't know what happened, but that's where I'm here right now.
Wait, now that I look at the corpse more, the hair, the neck-fat. Oh ****, that was Donald Trump! Everyone looked around me clapping, even my wife. "He deserved it, great job Obama!"
(My first WP) | |
[WP]You finally calm down and look around you. No, your hands are not covered in blood, in fact everyone around you is clapping and congratulating you. You suddenly realize you have made the worst decision in your life. | An isolating haze
Clouded my thoughts.
A feral craze
Made my legs hop.
The mist cleared
From my brain.
And as I feared,
I'm still very lame.
The music stopped pumping,
The limelight was on me.
The people stopped jumping,
And turned around to see.
The humid room chilled
And filled with silence.
I was still on tilt,
But halted my dance.
People stared, entranced,
And began to giggle.
I knew that during my dance
My buckle began to jiggle.
I looked down timidly,
Then applause came gung ho.
People cheered so fervently,
Discovering I went commando. | "I would never do this!"
Well, my mother was congratulating me too. My memory is quite bad, so I'll try my best to recollect things. Starting from the bottom, as my fellow Drake says.
I can't exactly remember who I am, but my wife always reminds me. Anyways, it was another day at work, when I passed the White House. I live near it, so that's a plus. There was a large crowd of people, yelling. I don't think any of them could have seen me.
It must have been about the presidential election, I forgot who was running for it. The point is that one of the elects were getting out of a limo. I remember when I had a limo.
Anyways, everyone crowded around him, screaming. The security guards held them back though. I don't know what happened, but that's where I'm here right now.
Wait, now that I look at the corpse more, the hair, the neck-fat. Oh ****, that was Donald Trump! Everyone looked around me clapping, even my wife. "He deserved it, great job Obama!"
(My first WP) |
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