Into the Dentverse

For those who have a way with words.
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Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

The point of this thread is to serve as a place to hold the various writing itches I get the characters I make ranging from short entries to full blown short stories.

Another Day, Another Mess starring Robert Murray
Old Friends starring Francis Sforza
Something New starring Leaf
The Chase starring Riley Jenkins
And So It Ends starring Ronald Green
Jokers starring Ricky Drake
Chat with Sally starring Edward Drake
A Seed Grow, A Soul Dies starring Diego Gonzalez
The Score starring Sandra O'Leary
The Man Comes Around starring Finian O'Toole
Waselands Everywhere starring Damian Monroe
Moving Day starring Mel Sara
Last edited by mrdent12 on Fri Oct 15, 2021 5:39 pm, edited 12 times in total.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Another Day, Another Mess

"These are your last words, make them quick.", said a large Russian man holding a Yarygin Pistol ten feet from a guy no taller than 5'8 simply wearing a Hawaiian shirt and slacks. In this sort of situation, one would expect the smaller guy in a cheesy Hawaiian shirt to be pleading for mercy or crying his eyes out. Instead, the smaller guy simply looked like a clown of sorts. For the last five minutes, he had been making wise cracks as the Russian smacked him about.

They were by an open ditch now with a cement mixed turning near by at a construction site near midnight. The area of Atlanta was being revamped into a shopping mecca, so all the residential real estate had been bought up by the aforementioned large Russian. No one was within a mile of the site. Previously for the smacking about, the two were in an office trailer that the smaller man had been caught rifling through some paper work. Leon, the large Russian, had caught Robert, the smaller man, mid search. Robert had a simple enough reason for being in the office trailer that night, which was him looking for some evidence where Tanya, a clients daughter, had been smuggled off. Cops wouldn't touch the case, as Tanya was a frequent run away. So, the mum turned to a PI, Robert.

All of the clue had lead to Leon doing more than just development. One piece lead to another, which lead to another, and so on giving Robert a high degree of confidence that Leon was also in the business of trafficking young girls for rich oil sheik's. of course, the evidence wasn't at Leons home or proper office. He had already searched those places. So, any trail if there was one, would have to be at the mega mall Leon was building with his "investors" money. Realistically, the project was going to go bankrupt soon. It was bleeding money to shell companies ultimately linked to Leon.

Robert only took the case because the mum thought the daughter simply ran away again. She gave a whole sob story of Tanya being all she had left in the world, how her husband had left her, and just to get by she had to work three jobs until coming into some money from an unknown relative. Enough to cover most bills with a modest living. The mum was also paying in cash. A quick pay day, Robert figured. Turned out, not so much.

"Look comrade, you don't need to do this. Just tell me where you stashed Tanya, I go get her, and we all go our merry ways. No one needs to get hurt here tonight. I saw a pretty good bottle of vodka at your office, sorry about having a shot by the way, you could be having right now. I am sure whatever old oil guy you are going to sell her to can find another girl.", says Robert as if not even worried about the gun pointed at him. He may as well have been trying to hustle someone.

Leon just looked at Robert even more pissed. For the past days, Robert had been getting into his face. Tanya was last seen putting in for a job at Leons construction company as a mail room person. Everyone had said Leon looked at her like a perv, as one teen put it. Naturally, Robert got into Leons face and called him out for being a pedo in front of everyone in the office that day. By the looks on the peoples faces, Robert could tell he wasn't far off the mark. To his credit, Leon had kept his cool and had Robert escorted out of the building by security roughed him up a bit in a back alley. Given his special abilities, Robert had to fake it really well.

Growling a little, Leon prepared the pistol to fire. "You come into my business, in front of my friends, and in front of my girl fiance accusing me of liking young girls! It's business. They pay me well and I deliver them merchandise. What they do with them I don't care. Now prepare to die.", says Leon pulling the trigger. The gun made a large sound for no one in particular to hear and the bullet tore through Roberts body.

After the incident in the alley, Robert followed the money. Leon didn't look the part of a smart business guy. In fact, some background checks showed him to be a thug who left Russia and had worked as muscle for hire back in the motherland. In America, he was a well funded real estate developer. A few well placed calls and Robert was able to trace his investors back to some middle eastern business men that had a proclivity for young girls based on photos of them. Some of them even flaunted the girls. Robert had worked enough cases to know Leon was the supplier of the girls.

All of this lead to him getting shot. Leon went to go get the cement mixer, but as his back was turned Robert stood up and pulled a tape recorder out of his pocket. Shocked, Leon shot at Robert a few more times, missing out of his frustration. "I am sure the FBI will love to hear about all the girls you sold off. Gotta run though, that storage container ships out in an hour.", says Robert as he rushes out just as the FBI arrives with a tape of the confession waiting for them.

The following day, Robert was getting the invoice ready for his records when a suit, as Robert called them, walked into his office/apartment. "You should have come to us sooner. Leon gave up the names of the men who won't be coming to America soon, but in their home country they are ruined. You did good. You should have come to us sooner though. One of these days you'll get yourself killed doing this all on your own.", says the middle aged FBI agent. The agent was clearly annoyed Robert had done the whole free wheeling thing again despite constant lectures on why it's stupid. Of course, the agent didn't know Robert was a tough mutant.

"Tell you guys sooner and risk you guys messing it all up? Yeah right. I used to work for the FBI remember? I know how it works there. Now if you'll excuse me, gotta finish this paper work. Even as a PI I need to push papers apparently.", says Robert shooing the agent out.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Old Friends

Francis sipped a glass of Chateu Latour 2005 offered by a young woman wearing a black and white waiters outfit. Unlike the people wearing nonwaiter attire, she had a professional look. Bernard always had the most professional staff, mostly because his wife would screen and hire them based on how they presented themselves. Bernards funeral was no reception. "I am sorry for loss Celeste. Bernard was a good man who I thought had many more years left before his bad habits of smoking, eating too much rich food, and drinking too much fine wine got to him. I thought he would outlive everyone.", said Francis to a women in her early 50's. Celeste was a striking woman with raven black hair who even after having five children made most other women's beauty pale in comparison. For the wake of her late husband, the black dress she wore only accentuated her exquisite beauty.

"Outlive you? Bernard and I had no secrets between us and he told me yours long ago. Do not worry though my dear Francis, it is safe with me. I was never one to gossip. It is in poor taste. Besides, Bernard had I had an understanding between us where we could be completely honest with one another and in return we could keep each other confidences and not hold it against each other. Yes, I knew of his diversions with other women. I had a few of my own with younger men.", said Celeste nonchalantly. She spoke as it was just a normal practice for men and women to stay married, keep intimate in every way, and still sleep with other people as the mood suited them. Twenty years ago, so even made a pass at Francis who politely declined.

For his part, Francis didn't even flinch. "Bernard made no secret of your arrangement with me. He kept the details to himself of course as he was a gentleman as you well know. I am the last one to pass judgement on matters of lust and sensuality as I have been known to have a few dalliances with married women myself. After giving him five children who were legitimately his, I would say you earned it even. The two of you made a fine couple despite the age difference.", responded Francis. At his time of passing, Bernard was in his late 60's. Like his widowed wife though, he could still charm any woman much younger than him without only relying on his appearance and personality.

Celeste took out a tissue from her jeweled hand bag and dabbed her eyes that were starting to tear up. That is kind of you to say Francis. While we had our moments, we always had each other and our commitment to each other. It is I you should be complimenting you on putting up with some of the more scandalous moments when Bernard would not be allowed in the house and he would be forced to stay on your barge. You were a good friend to him and to our family., said Celeste with a catch in her throat. It had been a rough day for her.

Picking up on the signs, Francis gently grabbed Celestes hand to reassure her. "I will always be here for you and your children. Most likely I will be here for your grand children and their grand children as well. Your family had given me shelter too many times in the past to count. It is the least I can do for you now.", gently said Francis. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a sight that he wished wouldn't be at the estate this day. "If you will excuse me though, I will let you attend to your other guests. It would be selfish of me to hog you with you so many here to comfort you.", continued Francis.

Smiling slightly and nodding, Celeste recomposed herself. "You are anything, but selfish my dear Francis.", said Celeste as she sipped a glass of water and went to mingle with the other guests. Bernard had been a popular man. Him and his wife Celeste had been very generous with their combined fortunes when it came to the local charities, so they were loved by the whole Paris community. There was some among the Paris underground who loathed the couple and would have preferred Bernard and Celeste died in the car accident. Chief among them had shown up to presumably finish the job in some discrete fashion.

Crowe was not precisely a man. He had the shape, appendages, genitalia, and physique of one if you discounted his paler complexion. Still, he was a vampyre. A small group of them had taken up resident in the catacombs and were feeding on those foolish enough to try and find shelter in them at night. Bernard and Celeste's foundation had seen to it that the destitute would have shelter that was safe cutting out most of the vampyre's food supply. Francis knew it was them who had killed Bernard. What was going to happen next, he hoped to put off until after the wake, but such as things were he didn't have a choice in the timing.

Politely making his way to the garden, Crowe in his formal attire befitting a wake followed Francis. Night had descended already. Francis knew from his experience this in when Crowes species of vampyre typically hunted prey because the sunlight weakened them. It turned out Crowe was not alone. Near the fountain that served as the center piece of the garden, eight more vampyres dressed in Paris casual attire stepped from the dense foliage around the garden surrounding Crowe and Francis. The look in their eyes was a hungry one out for blood. Between them and the guests, the only obstacle was Francis.

Sighing, Francis looked around and then back at Crowe. "You know who I am or say I am at the very least. Whether you believe me or not is a matter that doesn't concern me. What I can say with near certainty is that for over two hundred years there has been a truce in place preventing what I suspect is on the minds of you and your fellow kind. When you, the lycans, ghouls, and other shadow creatures made the truce. I was watching. Among the accords was an agreement to not pull mortals into your ways unwillingly. Killing everyone at a wake would qualify as breaking that provision I would imagine.", calmly said Francis.

"Truce! You speak as if we agreed to this. Men keep spreading forcing our kind to fight for smaller territory. It is our time to come out and take mens territory now. If you truly are who you say you are, you will not interfere.", hissed Crowe. The creatures hunger betrayed his attempt to sound gentile.

Putting his hand to his side, Francis put his hand near his pocket. "If you and the lycans or ghouls were fighting, I would gladly step back. Your battles are not mine. I cannot allow you to spread your issues into the domain of men. Clearly you are hungry. I am sure you can find some willing food sources in other places in France with a less dense population. This will be your only warning. A dear friend of mine was killed by you recently and it is with his memory in mind that I implore you to not force me to fight you this night.", implores Francis hoping to appeal to something inside the vampyres. Instead, he got the response he expected with them getting closer with fangs bared and claws out.

Long black coats were convenient for two things. First keeping warm in the winter while still looking stylish. Black was always in fashion. Second, to cover a black obsidian sword that while weighing nearly nothing was sharp enough to cut anything. As if second nature, Francis drew it out. Holding the blade at his side, the moonlight hit it then vanished as if being sucked into it. Despite Francis having a weapon out, the vampyres must have felt confident since they kept getting closer like ravenous dogs.

The first one pounced to be sliced in two then turning to dust with a single swipe of Francis's blade. Three more took it into their heads to pounce at the same time all from different directions with two getting close enough to swipe at Francis twice before all three of them turned to ash as well. Next four of them reasoned they would have good odds. This time, they all got close enough to him with a few even landing blows on the swording yielding immortal before meeting their ends as well with a few well placed swipes beheading the lot of them.

As the wounds on Francis closed up, Crowe's face went from hunger to looking around for an escape to hunger again. "They were children. Now you will see what a true vampyre can do and I will be taking your head immortal.", hissed Crowe. Crowe had been around long enough to develop a tail with edges as sharp as blades. Flying through the air, he angled it such that it could make a pass at Francis's neck. Francis's blade saw to the owner of the tail losing his own head instead.

After looking around to make sure no one saw plus spreading the ashes about, Francis returned his sword to his holster and straightened out his coat. Making his way back to the main house of the estate, a young couple kissing passionately stumbled out into the garden. Always discrete, Francis pretended not to see them. Back inside the house, he accepted another glass of wine and continued mingling with the guests.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Something New

A seemingly 18 year old slender girl sat on a metal chair with four space marines pointing large rifles at her head and a man with a grey beard betraying his age in a suite sat 10 feet away on a similar type metal chair. Around the six people, the space frigate disguised as a freighter they were on rocked a bit. "I am going to ask you one more time. Why were you trying to get into our engine room and how did you manage to take out the dozen men we had guarding it? If I don't like what I hear, I'll kill you. If I don't like your look, I'll kill you. I will probably kill you anyway. Maybe I won't if you convince me otherwise.", says the man. Leaf knew he was trying to sound threatening. His thoughts indicated he wasn't sure either way yet as he had no idea of what to make of her, so the man was trying to play it tough.

"Well if you really want to know, is pretty simple. After the last ship we were on blew up in a battle with some space pirates, we made it back to Mangola station by piecing together some engine parts and getting just enough to propel us on the right path. I said it couldn't be done. Made no sense, you know? Strapped to a heavy burner model thruster in just a space suit. Crazy, I said. So, of course I went along. Who wouldn't want to take that ride?", started Leaf before the man cut her off. When she spoke, there was no sign of guile or even attempt to disguise the truth. It was one of those faces that just told the truth.

The man just looked her in disbelief. His mind grasped for something to say she was lying. It failed to find any. "You made it all the way back strapped to that piece of shite engine found floating outside Mangola? The stations engineers tore it apart and in just a little while longer it would have exploded. You are either delusional or a really good liar.", says the man incredulously. As he spoke, he was still looking for any sign at all to give him an idea of who he had surrounded.

Leaf simply shrugged. "We've done crazier things. One time, he wanted to ride the gravitational waves of a collapsing star. So, we stole a skimmer ship, took off to the closest cordoned off system, and spent days riding the energy bursts. Got boring after the first day for me, but its a give and take type thing. Something about scientific data. I tuned after after a while. Got boring hearing him go on about places where worms go, black balls, and pool. I think it was pool anyway. Me? I was just trying to think back to that tune we heard a few years back. Couldn't quite place it.", said Leaf nonchalantly. By the look on the faces of his questioners, this line of conversation just opened more questions.

By now, the guards were looking at the man then back at Leaf with a what the hell type look. "We can get back to your delusions later. Clearly, you are crazy. No one just gets on a skimmer and tries to ride the gravitational waves of a dying star. Anyone who shite their pants just seriously considering doing it. You going along with whoever to do it is clearly something the doctors back at Mangola station will sort out. They have nice padded cells for your type. If you will get back to why you are on my ship, wanted to get into the engine room, and how you took out the squad guarding it please." , said the man. He had made up his mind. Leaf was crazy. There was something about the way she spoke so plainly though that got to him, so he tapped his ear activating a telepathtic link requesting a check up on any stolen skimmers and if they might have seen damage from gravitational waves.

"When you are looking for the ship, it's Farlan. We stole it from Scrown station.", says Leaf after listening in on the conversation. The man, now looking disturbed signaled her to hurry it up. "If you want to know why I am on your ship and trying to get to your engine room, thats an easy one. We had a wager. I bet that getting close to a singularity core would be the scariest thing ever. He said that was boring. So, I upped it and said a singularity drive on a ship powered by a modulating polarity core. That was something new to him, so we decided to try it. Your ship just happened to have those.", responds Leaf as if it was a logical thing to do.

Now getting deadly serious and trying his best to not be shaken, the man did his best to stare a hole through Leaf. It was a stare he had used countless times on prisoners in the same position as Leaf and every time it had made them say everything. Leaf just looked around taking in the boring room looking bored. "How did you get our information? You don't look like a spy and you definitely don't look like you work for any faction out there. So, the question is how did you get information on this top secret ship only my men, I, and the top admirals knew about?", asked the man.

Why are we still here? We could dispatch these guards and get out of here without issue. Why do you insist on playing these games?, quips Rugh. Its cute, he's trying to scare us. To just go off now would be mean. We need to have some manners, my mum always taught me., responded Emily in the shared mind. Fine, but hurry it up. I want to run into those pirates who blew up our last ship again. It would be an interesting exercise to see how they will react to seeing us again., signals back Rugh in a mental exasperation.

Ceasing looking around leaf looks back at the man. "I read your mens minds as they drank at the station. Alcohol makes people have all their secrets so easy to pick up. We get a good laugh out of it. I do at least. He never laughs. A bit dull he is. Did I say we were mind readers? We probably should have lead with all that so you didn't bother with the telepathic links. Yuo all seemed so proud of using the new technology though, so I didn't want to make you feel bad.", replies Leaf to the mans query.

Turning from his attempt to look scary to full on confusion at what he was looking at, the man just stared in disbelief for a minute trying to hide his thoughts. "So, let me get this straight. You are a teenage looking telepath who took out a squadron of highly trained marines just to see if you could get close to the most dangerous combination of reactor and power cores there is?", asks the man with no idea what to think.

Leaf nods. "Thats bout it. You said the men were highly trained though, which doesn't seem right. Really, all we had to do was walk up to their post, do a couple spins that would make my old dance instructors proud, and a few high kicks I learned from ballet. I don't want to be rude, but it doesn't seem like they were trying that hard.", responds Leaf with the same naive look she has had the whole conversation.

As a demonstration of what she just said, they found demonstrations easier than words really, in the blink of an eye leaf was on the chair spinning. With her legs spread, she first kicked the guns out of the marines hands. That was all she intended to do honestly, but the hostile reaction set something off inside here. Instead of stopping, she did a flip in the air bringing out her claws slashing at the marines around here as they fell to the ground. Through it all, the man looked like a deer in the headlights. None of it made any sense, especially when he got a response over his telepathic comms indicating the skimmer was stolen and had been exposed to gravitational waves.

Once the marines were all down, Leaf blushed and sat back on the chair. The man thought about reaching for his gun. Given his physical condition, it didn't make any sense. She would be on him in a second. "Sorry about the showing off. You just looked like you didn't believe me so I just wanted to disarm the marines around me. Sometimes I get carried away with these things and go too far. I do hope they will be alright.", says Leaf a little sheepishly.

"I...don't know what to say...", started the man his face turning pale upon the realization he had a weaponized person in front of him. he had heard of various research projects, but none were ever successful or so he thought. "You just took out the guards of the emperor himself that he let me borrow for this mission. What are you?", is all the man could muster.

Rugh gave a mental sigh. "I'd love to stay and chat about it more, but Rugh is getting bored. You wouldn't mind letting me use one of your hopper ships? I have some space pirates to find.", asked Leaf. With Rughs prompting, she realized the man was still in shock. So, they took it as a yes and went to get one. In sequence, the man heard the sound of plasma rifle fire, thuds, and a general ship alarm announcing an unauthorized departure.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

The Chase

It started like all fun adventures do, in a bar. More precisely, a bar at Esok Station on some large asteroid or other. Riley had stopped trying to keep track of the exact names of everything after being to a new place every few days while tracking a shipment of Catkin slaves on his skiff. It environmentals were crap, weapons worse, but it was and easily mistaken for space junk in a pinch. "Nother pint of zargbrew eh?", said Riley with four empty pints in front of him. Zargbrew was one of the few drinks that could get him buzzed if he drank enough. He usually did.

The bar keeper shrugged his shoulders. He was a humanoid like plant creature. Every species had their tolerances, so he stopped trying to get anyone to not drink too much. "That is your fifth in 20 minutes. Sure you have enough to pay me?", asked the bar tender. Someones ability to pay still concerned him. When Riley pulled out a small bag and put a single Dilornian coin on the bar he had pulled out, the bar tender made a big smile. "That'll do boy, that'll do.", said the bar tender trying to keep in his excitement. That one coin could cover fifty rounds of drinks for the entire place. All Riley knew is that he got it off some rich and stupid captain who had engaged his services only to die on the mission.

"You wouldn't happen to know if the Prince John came this way? Been tracking it for a wee bit and bugger keeps getting away.", says Riley still clearly sober much to his dismay. That wee bit had been for a month. Every time he got to a port, the ship would already be on its way again. Dealing in Catkin slaves was dangerous work. So slave hips rarely stayed in one place for more than a few days at most preferring to get more provisions then keep going.

While waiting for an answer, Riley's nose got a whiff of something. He wasn't sure what it was and he had gotten exposed to everything and species he thought. It was like ship tar, but less metallic. Strong, but not repugnant. It was a fluid, but the form from the scent felt almost solid. While he didn't hear it, there was also the smell of plasma charged weapon fire and singularity grenades going off somewhere. One of the advantages of Esok that made it a favorite port for the scum was its thick walls. Any sound would get easily absorbed. It would take a truly exceptional auditory system to even get whispers from some of the places.

Finishing polishing a glass, the bar tender looked over at Riley. "Can't say I've heard of a ship by that name coming through. Your in the wrong place if you want information like that. For my money, I'd go to the Broken Sails. Most ships crews coming through here stop by that place to pay tribute to the Sol Empire.", said the bar tender. He was in a helpful mood after seeing the coin. No need to jeopardize it by lying. What he didn't hear or smell was the new creature. It was six or so security personel of various races and one scent of the creature or thing.

Dashing out of the place to follow the scent, Riley tossed another coin at the bartender. The bar tenders face lit up like Christmas. New modest place, enough to buy a couple girls for a couple nights, and he could close early. Win all around as he saw it. RIley didn't care about any of that. He had to know what that thing being attacked was with his own eyes regardless of the fact it was being chased by well armed soldiers. A few high energy plasma rifles and singularity grenades never stopped RIley from satisfying his curiosity when it came to a scent he never encountered.

Chasing through the crowded station at top speed, he was desperate to keep up with the scent. As he pushed past people or jumped over them, he slowly started smelling one less security officer every so often. People grumbled, but he was gone before they could complain to him. Prince John his people enslaved on the ship, and even his way to exorbitant payment were the last things on his mind. Like a cat with a ball of yarn, he had his target and come hell or high water he would get it.

Finally, he found a hatch he could use to get down to the sewer level he'd isolated the scent. Now he could hear weapons fire from two plasma rifles and get a good whiff of the sewage water being sucked into the mini black whole created by the grenades. It wouldn't be long now. Clearly, some of the weapon fire was hitting its target as the blasts were followed by screams of pain that unlike the scent were recognizable. Amazingly enough, the creature being chased didn't smell wounded. Wasn't like Riley would know what a creature like whatever it was could sound in pain, which was all the more reason to keep up the chase! Screams of pain were only a conjecture to be verified.

Sewer levels provided their own unique challenges to tracking by scent, but once an idea got caught in Riley's head he just couldn't stop because it got tougher. Soon enough, it all paid off. He came upon the dripping black creature with illuminated streaks of orange going down its body at various points that didn't seem to stay consistent. The thing with hunting by scent is direction is tricky. In this case, the trick was that the six security agents weren't chasing the creature so much as they were being chased by it. What gave it away was the trail of bodies hacked to bits by the creatures long clawed hands.

At this point, RIley should have ran. He was faster than the guards and could likely get away to sniff another day. Fifteen years of beatings knocks the whole flight instinct out of someone though and replaces it with a fatal curiosity at times making in his species case curiosity really killing them. Eyeing the creature, it seemed like Riley was fixing to test that fatal curiosity. Putting his hands out, he let his claws glisten in the little lighter from the floor above. Similarly, the creature mimicked the posture. Hissing loudly, Riley tried to scare it away in hopes of chasing it back to wherever it came so he could identify what it was. Staying resolute, the creature didn't seem like the running type.

Giving out a small roar, Riley leaped at the creature going right through it yet slashing some bits of solid matter inside it that made up some organs most likely. With the remanent of the black ooze dripping off him, the creature slashed back leaving long bloody marks across Riley's chest that quickly closed up. On a hunch, Riley swiped up with his claws and managed to grab one of the organs pulling out the rest. Without the minimal support structure, the creature fell into a pile that quickly started evaporating when the periodic purge of stench pushed through the sewer level. Riley had the presence of mind to keep hold of one of the pieces, but the smell overwhelmed his senses as tends to happen when a whole stations waste gets pumped past someone with hyper sensitive smelling.

Now free to smell again, Riley caught the scent of twenty security agents hurrying down the level. It seemed like they were armed with plasma shells, rocket canons, and even a dispersal canon. Not even Riley was that stupid to hang around. Over one of the comms on the fallen security officer, there was a notice that the Prince John was disembarking in two minutes and to clear the docks of any security agents because of the sensitive cargo. He had his chance and he wasn't going to lose it. Quickly glancing at the spherical metallic organ holding the creature together, it had the markings of the Sol Empire and some numbers that made no sense to Riley with about the only thing that did being Mar's Defense Corp name on it. A lead he would need to follow up later.

Tossing the sphere aside, Riley bolted back to his ship. Even with his speed, it would take him ten minutes to make it to the docks and another five to fire up the engines. Prince John ran hot though, so his skiff could track it if he didn't get too far from it. A possible new bioweapon with the potential to destabilize the peace could wait. His people took priority.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

And So It Ends

The armies were arranged like pieces on a chess board. On one side, the last line of defense of man against the worst nightmares of mans imagination who came pouring through the Midworld portal like a flood of death. On the other side, all the hatred that man had festered in Midworld. Ever since most of the world became aware of the dimension of pure imagination, they had mined it for all they could, stripped it of its riches, and devoured all that made it good. A safe place for war games, they said. Somewhere to dump the worst prisoners properly lobotomized, they said. A playground for the rich, they said. All the while, the school that once housed so many students who brought a creative light to the world, growing it in Midworld, kept warning of the harm it all brought were marginalized as greedy or selfish.

By the time the first waves of monsters came streaming through the portal it was too late. Ronald, the last remaining teacher by virtue of his power, tried to stop it. There was just too much hate, self loathing, greed, and envy that had poisoned Midworld for him to hold back the tides of destruction the first wave wrought upon the world. After the first creatures had been stopped, half the world burned. Whole armies with technologies that once were thought the ultimate weapons of destruction such as nuclear bombs now lay in rubble and their cities consumed by nuclear fire. It was the only thing that could stop the first wave. Sacrifice half, to save half.

More waves came and more nukes flew. Slowly, men did the work of the demons of Midworld that they had created. Only a few million still roamed the earth after all the nuclear bombs had been exhausted from the armories of men and a large portion of the earth was now barren due to the radiation. They were alive though. Midworld also had exhausted its forces trying to conquer earth as retribution for the plight it had brought on their world. Millions upon millions of its forces had been thrown at the humans in failed waves of invasions thwarted only by humans destroying the planet themselves.

All that stood of the once highly populated and thriving planes of existence's forces now faced each other in one final battle in the wasteland of the once plentiful nature around the Midworld portal. Ronald Green with his spectral claws shining hovered over the armies of man. With their tanks, artillery, remaining conventional bombs, and rifles three million soldiers ranging from 15 to 80 waited for the signal to rain hell on the forces of Midworld. Pulgasari lead the forces of Midworld complete with wendigos, chimeras, dragons, elves, banshees, and other myths that haunted the dreams of men for so long. Unlike myths though, Ronald and the realm of men knew these creatures could die.

In sweeping passes over his assembled forces, Ronald struck a defiant tone. "Today we fight because we are all there is. Today we fight because if we lose humanity will lose. Today we fight because we either die on our knees begging for mercy from those who don't have any or take down every last one of them with our power! On this field, on this day, at this time we will be immortalized as heroes who in one collective voice said Not today!", exclaims Ronald projecting his rallying cry to the assembled forces via the fight jets flying overhead.

Pulgasari didn't have nearly such a rousing speech. He didn't need it. Men had grown these nightmares in Midworld from the worst of the worst that mankind had to offer. Among that was an insatiable bloodthirsty spirit. At the same time a defiant hurrah rang out from the humans, a growl that would stop a normal man cold echoed throughout the ranks of the Midworld forces. Overhead, dragons of all sorts matched the movement of the planes. Both sides knew this was it. This would decide who lived and who ceased to exist after the battle was over.

What only Ronald knew was that no one was going to survive this fight. Around his neck was a small gem concealed by his clothing that was the heart of Midworld itself. The energies of the gem were enough to rip whole plains of existence apart plus any with a direct connection to them including all who inhabited them. Ronalds mind raced with what he knew he had to do. If men won, Midworld would just grow more monsters this time morphing the men who remained into the monsters that would spread like an infection. If Midworld won, they would breathe and move on to other worlds. In order to end it all, the gem needed more power and more loose streams of energies to pull out of the fabric of the plains themselves.

So, it began with a swipe of Ronalds hand through the air. Ten thousands bombs, shells, morter rounds, and rifles fired at the assembled nightmares rebuffing the first charging wave of lesser nightmares with a rain of weapon fire that would make the gods weep. In fact, Vishnu in the second line did. This was the final coordinated strike of man. Chaos descended as the dragons tangled with the jets in the air, banshees wailed the death of thousands of men, and creatures whose names were never even spoken charged the line. Ronald held firm in all of this as the beacon men followed and looked to when all in the battle seemed lost for men. Lines were destroyed and creatures run amok.

At the heart of the fight was Pulgasari laying waste to swaths of men at a time. With claws out, Ronald charged the demon who dodged the charge with surprising agility. It was the counter attack that sent Ronald flying back and seemingly dead. Men started to give up hope. Word spread of Ronald falling projected by the valkyries swooping overhead spreading it like the plague. Just as all seemed lost, Ronald rose up brighter than ever. It didn't take valkyries or his own jets to spread the word of his resurgence as he glowed bright enough for all to see. Men rallied around him and pushed back at the nightmares they birthed. Catching Pulgasari by surprise, Ronald ran him through giving hte gem the last of the power it needed.

Flying high above the fray, Ronald silently asked for men to forgive him as if anyone could over the battle raging below. Pulling the gem out and grasping it in his hand, the power took over Ronalds body conducting it's immense energies through him until he was just a bright green shining star in the sky. Nothing in either plain saw anything ever again, except Ronald. Midworld and Earths dimension vanished when the gem exploded in power exhausting itself at the same time as the last safe guard of all realities of the gem's power was ever abused. Ronald awoke to limbo.
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Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:10 pm

Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »


Sitting around the table it felt like home. Some Jameson in a glass, bacon in a bowl, and the smell of cigars from those assembled around the table somehow made RIcky feel like he belonged. It has been ages, it felt like since he had been around a table like this. Maybe the last time was a year ago in Mexico City at Rosalinda's table. TIme passed in the blink of an eye for Ricky so he stopped trying to differentiate between a year and a month a long time ago. As far as he was concerned time was just time. It moved forward, mostly. When sitting around a table laughing, telling jokes, and making chitchat while starting to get drunk it was like second nature to him. No matter where he roamed, a table like this was always home.

Mercedes, a forty year old raven haired Spanish woman who still could pass as a super model and knew it flirted with RIcky as she passed around more shots of Johnny Walker Black Label whiskey to the players at the table. As she flashed the meet me the back room eyes and bent down revealing a path to the promised land to RIcky, he lost his focus on the game and folded his hand on accident. The other players may have laughed at him, but a few dollars to an immortal was nothing compared to the beautiful woman who had all but screamed take me now at this table to him. “Can I get you boys anything else?”, asked Mercedes in an almost cliche Spanish woman seductress accent. Her accent wasn’t lost on Ricky. In terms of the other players though, they all had wives, girl friends, husbands, or were just too old to be looking for that sort of signal. THey were at the table for the card action, not the potential server action.

Standing up from the table, RIcky tipped his cowboy hat. “I don’t know about y’all, but all this whisky is starting to get to me. I know how much I have here, twenty thousand three hundred and five dollars. If any of that goes missing while I’m relieving myself they’ll be hell to pay.”, said RIcky shaking off the ashes from his brown overcoat before heading towards the bathroom.. In some places, remarks like that would draw a laugh and there would be a leaving the table tax of a few hundred dollars give or take. At the particular establishment RIcky was playing though, the owner had rules. Not many, but she still had them. Rebecca was the sort of owner who would soon enough have people who stole money from other players, outside of a little cheating, beaten, stripped naked, and fed to pigs while still alive. She prided herself on that rule.

An older and experienced aged man with all of his past vices showing as wrinkles on his skin, looked over at the other players. “We all know the rules mate. Leroy swiped a few chips while no one was looking, or so he thought, and ended up lunch for Becky’s children. Something of a treat for them because they were happy for a week.”, remarked the man. The others at the table nodded in drunken agreement as the next hand of five card draw was dealt excluding RIcky. Coming back to places like this gave Ricky a sense of security. For all their idiocy, the council of mages should know better than to mix things up in Becky’s place, or more precisely her guest house out in the desert where she ran illegal poker games.

Making his way outside, RIcky caught a glimpse of Mercedes, who was Rebecca's younger step sister from a Spanish mum that her dad had a fling, Conveniently, she was picking up something on the ground, RIcky didn’t look to see what it was on account of her SPanish dress being low cut exposing what made her such a good waitress to degenerate gamblers like Ricky. Once she flashed that smile at RIcky and headed to the store room stroking her hair, Ricky followed. Who was he to decline an invitation from a beautiful woman? “Took you long enough. My sister doesn’t like me fraternizing with the customers, but for you I think I’ll make the exception.”, she said with a coy smile wrapping her arms around RIcky.

“I don’t like to rush things when a beautiful woman is involved. It’s one of the delightful moments in life that have to be savoured.”, replied Ricky falling back on his more rugged old west type charm that women found hard to resist. Mercedes smiled ear to ear and kissed Ricky. Soon, the dress was on the floor, RIcky’s pants were over some cases of whisky, and sounds of delight came from the store room. The family german shepherd dog heard the noises and started investigating the storage room, but gave up when it didn’t hear noises of distress. Despite what Mercedes had said, she made quite a few exceptions when the mood took her. Rover knew this and what the exceptions sounded like.

Thirty minutes later, Mercedes came out of the storage room with a dirty dress and messed up hair wearing a big smile on her face radiating joy. Ricky soon followed with the same happy grin. Even if the tables didn’t give him luck tonight, he had gotten more than he could have expected from a game out in the middle of nowhere.

Returning to the table, everyone knew why it took so long for him to relieve himself, but no one said anything. It wasn’t exactly a secret what Mercedes did under the nose of her sister, but even at a table as supposedly safe as this one discretion prevailed over crude jokes at the owners family’s expense. ”Sorry for the delay boys. Sometimes that whiskey takes a bit to come out and all these good snacks had to join the whiskey. I miss any good hands?”, inquired Ricky of the group who laughed a little because they knew the protocol. It was an old habit, so RIcky still counted his chips before tossing in a hundred for the next hand ante with his face still grinning ear to ear.

That grin soon vanished though when two of the men that had been more low key stepped back from the table and pointed at Ricky. “Thief! You took from my ornately stacked collection of markers and violated my trust in the sanctity of this table.”, exclaimed one of the men. “You violated my trust in the rules as well!”, screamed the second man. Everyone around the table looked at the men as if they were crazy.

One of the people still sitting, a middle aged man dressed in a full on pink suit with feathers couldn't stop laughing at the men. “You boys had a bit too much to drink there I think. Violated my trust in the rules and an ornately stacked collection of markers? What do you think this is? Some old English school or proper gentlemens club from forever ago?”, asked the man still laughing.

Rebecca, who kept an ear on the conversations, came barging in with a spiked baseball bat in tow. She was a large muscular woman who used to be a bodybuilder. Even in her late 50’s her reputation for being able to nearly kill a man with a single punch because of her strength was legendary and if armed with a weapon death with the likeliest outcome if she made contact. Mercedes quickly left the room with the tray she was bringing full of drinks because she knew what happened next and didn’t want any part of it. “Who stole at my table?”, demanded to know the woman.

“This man in the cowboy hat and duster removed from my well formed pile of markers, five black ones with red stripes on the edges. He is a thief!”, said one of the two men. The other man nodded as if to back up the story. Rebecca examined the two men and RIcky with expert eyes a piercing gaze that some men felt like it reached into their soul. Of the two accusers, she didn’t look amused. Of RIcky, she had more of a what the fuck type gaze. The last time she had seen RIcky at the table with her own eyes was five years ago and she didn’t see a single age mark on him.

Addressing the two men, Rebecca settled on the most vocal accuser. “Who the hell talks like that at a poker table? They’re chips taking the place of real currency not markers meant to have decorations on them. How the hell did you even get to my table in the first place? You think it’s a joke to go about accusing people at my table of stealing? If you’re going to falsely accuse someone at least do it right.”, angrily said Becky.

“Those two idiots are probably some guys from this wacko group called the Mystical Council who are out to mess with me. They think they are self appointed rulers or something crazy like that.”, says RIcky waving the two off.

Looking indignant, the man persisted. “He not only stole from us, but he was away from the table for a longer than normal time for going to the bathroom!”, they pressed.

Still not buying their story, Rebecca gripped the bat. “He probably just had to take a big dump. Happens with the food and drink I serve here sometimes to some men and women who play here. SInce when does a man’s bathroom time mean they are thieves?”, asked Becky, getting the bat ready to go.

With the wave of their hands, the men’s street clothes vanished replaced by dark red velvet robes with ornate golden drawings on them “We are master enforcers of the Mystic Councils will you accuse us of falsehoods! Infidel!”, said of the two. He waved his hand at Rebecca tossing her against the wall. This wasn’t what the other players had come for tonight, so they quickly gathered their chips and ran out of the room. Only Ricky remained looking annoyed.

Standing up, he stared at the two men. “Do you know what you just did? I knew the council was full of arrogant pricks, but didn’t know they sent muppets to do their dirty work in a place that will get them killed. That's Rebbecca Swine, famous for her pig farm and her poker games in the underground. You know why she’s famous for her pig farms, because she keeps them up to deal with idiots like you two.”, said Ricky. Not a novice at magic himself, Ricky waved one hand at each of the mages making them clinch their heads in pain.

By the time they fell to the floor Rebbecca had gotten up. “Mystic Council, you say? I never fed my kids magical people before, you think they will taste different?”, asked Rebbecca. Walking over to the two men, she swung her bat at their heads leaving the faces covered in nail marks and bloodied.

Ricky just shrugged. “I never ate people before despite what you might have heard about me, so I can't say. Been fun here though. Sorry for the interruption. These blokes just won’t leave me alone. I’m sure the pigs will love the food. Say hi to your daughter Anna for me. She’s what four now?”, inquired RIcky.

Looking at RIcky knowingly because she was too proud to say anything, Rebbecca agreed. “Yeah four. I’ll tell her you said hi.”, she said as he left. Ricky didn’t bother adding more. Despite his outward appearance and playboy ways he really did care in his own way, but his way wasn’t the normal mortal way.

Outside the door, Mercedes grabbed RIcky and pulled him in for a long passionate kiss. “Don’t stay a stranger. I’ve got some new black lace clothes I want your opinion on sometimes.”, she said. Ricky gave his rugged manly smile and tipped his hat heading back to his car parked half mile away. Rebbecca was good for sending the cash, minus expenses, back to him, so he didn’t bother cashing in the chips.
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Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:10 pm

Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Chat with Sally

All Edward wanted after a long shift at Grace Brown Memorial hospital was a cup of black coffee, a table in a secluded corner in the Cafe Louis a block from his loft, and not to have to talk to anyone. His raven black wings were out now and he wore brown slacks and a white hippie type t-shirt. While on shift, he always had to wear the standard blue orderlie scrubs big enough to cover his wings, which put some patients off despite slight mutations and super powered activity being a daily occurrence.

By most accounts, he looked normal. Slightly tan, black hair, and a frame that no one would look twice at if it wasn’t for the wings that came along with his mutation. In fact, no one was really looking at him in the cafe as he sipped his arabian blend medium roast coffee. Try as he might though, as terms of his employment and they made him keep his wings covered because of how the patients might feel about seeing them on an orderly who stood out because he was always talking over a headset. That was another term of employment. He always had to be wearing a bluetooth headset, which he didn’t mind so much as it stopped a lot of questions such as “Who are you talking to?” or “Is everything ok?”.

Outside of work, at Cafe Louis, he was generally left on his own. Most patrons of the cafe talked amongst themselves or became absorbed into the current task they were working on their laptops with notes spread out on the table. Edward just liked to sip his coffee. Every now and again, he would spot a shiny object such as a watch, gold ring, or the like every city has yet no one pays much mind. Today in particular, he couldn’t stop staring at them. Presently, his eyes were fixed on a shiny penny that was on the street outside and if he wasn’t so tired he would go get it to add to his already too big collection of shiny objects back at his loft. The shiny penny is also why it took him a minute to look at a woman who sat down at the table with him.

She was a young woman, in her mid thirties probably, with long red hair and fiery eyes that were dimmed a bit. While not a supermodel, she was possibly the most attractive woman in the whole cafe with curves in the right places and everything being proportionate. Her orange dress, faded a bit, caught his eye immediately after someone picked up the penny checking if it was heads or not. Instinctively, his eyes stared at the silver trim on the neck area that exposed just enough of her cleavage similar to how a bikini would. Most men would stare at the cleavage. Edward was transfixed by the silver trim that sparkled and shined like nothing he had ever seen.

The woman was the first to break the silence. “Are you going to stare at my breasts all day or are you going to talk to me?”, she said, sounding offended and understandably objectified by the man she had chosen to share a table. “I could have sat at any other table and none of them would have been so rude as to stare off into space than have the first thing they look at be my breasts. I am more than my chest. No one here really talks to me, but at least they don’t make me feel like their fantasy when they jerk off later.”, she added.

Edward shrugged. “Well that’s because you’re dead. They can’t see you.”, said Edward nonchalantly as if being told you’re dead was something he did fairly often. “Don’t get me wrong. You are stunning looking and in life you probably had every eye on you as you walked down the street, but now no one can see you. Except me of course and I promise not to think about you later as a sex object. I was staring at the amazing silver neckline of your dress. You know, the spirit world always adds a nice shine to silver.”, said Edward after another sip of his coffee.

Not knowing what to say or how to react, the woman sat there speechless. Dead? A ghost? She didn’t feel like a ghost or feel like she was dead. Touching her arm, it felt alive enough to her and scratching her neck it felt like a living neck as she remembered it. “I’m not dead. I just saw you over here all alone and figured you were interesting in the dark brooding sense. Now I see you’re just some perv with a boob fixation and makes up stupid stories to cover it up.”, she said indignantly deciding on a tone finally.

“Think what you want. I talk to spirits all the time at the hospital who can’t accept they are dead. It’s more common than you would imagine in the newly dead. Denial they are dead. Most get over it, but some don’t. Randy’s been at the hospital twenty years working down in the basement on nothing in particular thinking he’s alive. Poor guy died on the operating table.”, responded Edward.

Still stunned at the response, the woman made no motion to get up and leave. “If I am dead, then why can I feel my arm and my neck? Huh? You can’t because I’m not dead!”, exclaimed the woman trying to convince Edward or so she thought. Her tone betrayed her in conveying she was trying to convince herself.

Sighing, Edward put his coffee down on the table. “I don’t know why the rules are what they are. All I know is that when you are a spirit, you think you are corporeal and feel like you are corporeal to yourself. You’ll have to excuse my bluntness, but it’s been a long tiring day. A kid died at the hospital and I had to convince him to move on to the light instead of running to his mother who was being consoled by the doctor. I won’t get into the details, but it was a gruesome death.”, spoke Edward warily.

It didn’t sound right to the woman. As a proud feminist, she wasn’t going to let a man get away from being called out at staring at her chest with such a blatant lie. She was especially offended he would bring a child into it. “You really are just another bastard like all the guys I am drawn to. Saying you helped a kid to what, get to heaven or something just to get away from being called out on your pervish behavior. That’s a new level of sleaze.”, protested the woman although her voice was sounding less sure of itself. No, she wasn’t going to accept it. It was the prime of her life and she just landed her dream job. Being dead wasn’t acceptable.

He knew what he had to do now. It didn’t make it any less tiring to do it. “I’m sorry that you died. I am. My names Edward. If you were alive, I might have even hit on you in a more gentlemanly way if it was under different circumstances. It doesn’t change the fact though that you are a spirit now trapped on earth until you can move on to the next life. Never been there myself, so I can’t tell you much about it. Trust me, just accept you are dead. It will make it easier to move on to the light.”, said Edward, saying the jist of what he says so often at the hospital in a different manner now that he just wants some peace. His eyes kept coming back to her ample cleavage and that silver neck line. He knew he could add it to his collection, but it didn’t stop him from fantasizing about it.

Finally it was dawning on the woman Edward wasn’t lying. She still fought it though. “Sally, the name of the person who owns the chest you can’t stop staring at is Sally. If no one can see me, then why can you see me?”, pushed Sally hanging on to one last hope Edward was bull shitting her.

“It’s my gift or one of them. I can fly with my wings, get visions of the future, see really far away, and commune with spirits.”, said Edward matter of factly.

Sally was defeated. What she was being told made perfect sense. Over the last few days, her boyfriend had looked depressed and didn’t even acknowledge her. Anyone who she talked to on the street ignored her as if she wasn’t even there. After having enough of it, she even took off all her clothes and walked naked into the middle of Manfield park without so much as a glance by the people relaxing. At the time, she thought it was an overabundance of politeness or the way she avoided the crazy people she saw from time to time. One of the miracles of the mind is that it can rationalize anything when the truth is too disturbing. “I’m dead.”, Sally finally said with a deep sadness that stirred Edward a little.

Most who died and became spirits, once accepting they were dead moved on. It was partly why Edward liked to work in hospitals because when a spirit saw their bodies on the hospital bed with all the equipment stopped and the people grieving they accepted it. They might have wanted one more chat or asked Edward to pass on something, but they went into the light quick enough. Those who died in other ways had a harder go of it. “What's the last thing you remember before everyone started ignoring you?”, inquired Edward.

Trying to process her death still, Sally thought back. “I just got out of a building a few blocks from here where I was hired to be the designer of a new dress shop this woman wanted to open. I’ve always wanted to be an interior designer, but getting into that industry is so hard. It was my big break. Todd, my boyfriend...ex boyfriend now I guess.”, said Sally before stopping to recompose herself. Edward, in his own way, listened. “Todd pushed for me to take a chance on trying to get the job and pitch some designs. He was always pushing me to try stuff. Every other guy I’ve been with has been a jerk, but Todd I would have said yes to if he asked me to marry him.”, continued Sally now almost in tears.

The two sat silent for a few minutes while Sally got her courage up again. Her defenses were down and she was dead. To say it was a shock would be like saying a nuclear bomb explosion is a bottle rocket launch. “It’s alright. I am here for you Sally. Sometimes seeing your body helps you to pass on.”, comfortingly said Edward.

Sniffling, Sally continued her recollection. “The woman was so nice to me and really loved my design ideas. Next thing I remember I was leaving the empty store and no one paid any attention to me. You don’t think...”, started Sally not wanting to believe it. “She didn’t kill me did she?”, incredulously asked Sally. She knew the answer though.

“There is one way to find out. Come with me.”, said Edward as he got up to head out. People at the cafe were too much into their own lives to pay much attention to Edward walking out and talking to himself. Sally pointed in the direction of the empty store and the pair walked together for the few blocks to the location. Just as Sally had said. It was an empty store with some dress forms. At the side of the store, a woman in her fifties was loading a big suitcase into a white Toyota Corolla. Edward zeroed in on the suitcase and saw some dried blood.

“Well, no body so no murder.”, said Sally, trying to ignore the same woman she had met lifting a suitcase big enough to fit a body into a car. It was all too much for her. Realizing she was dead, her dreams being dashed, and now the woman who was going to give her the big break she needed killing her. No, just no. Her mind refused to accept it.

This refusal to accept wasn’t new to Edward. There was a lot of stuff to process when dead. Instead of pointing her attention at the suitcase and the dried blood only his keen eyes could see, he kept leading her. “Lets just see where the woman is going. Unless you have a hot date later.”, said Edward with a tired smile. Sally didn’t fight back as Edward took to the air and followed the car as it went through the city.

After thirty minutes, it stopped at a big warehouse in the desert in the middle of nowhere. The woman got the suitcase out and set it by a rolling metal door previously used for loading of supplies or something. Rolling it up, the woman dragged the suitcase into the warehouse and Edward followed stealthily with Sally following close behind. To bother their horrors, there were 20 other bodies posed in a store-like environment. Life sized dolls all arranged as if shopping. Sally’s body was just going to another prop in the woman's mad game of shop.

Perching himself on the warehouse roof, Edward made a quick call to the police. Sally was going crazy, but Edward kept his composure. “I’d like to report a crime. I just saw a warehouse full of 20 dead bodies and some woman arranging them as dolls or some shit like that.”, said Edward and he gave the address. Calming down a little now that the cops were coming, Sally still couldn’t process it all. The woman didn’t even try to lie and confessed to the cops that she had killed all those people because they were her customers. She couldn’t let a customer leave until satisfied and Sally was going to help her design the store to make the customers happy.

Sally heard it all and as the police were driving the woman away, a bright light appeared over Sally. “Tell Todd I loved him.”, said Sally to Edward as she departed. As was his custom, Edward wrote a note and left it under Todd’s apartment door with Sally’s last words. It was finally off to bed now and getting some rest before another 12 hour shift.
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Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:10 pm

Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

A Seed Grows, A Soul Dies

My life before Hadron City is irrelevant. The only details you need to know are I was an agent of Imperator well versed in spy craft. This tale begins after the fateful call to go to the Stronghold occupied Hadron City. Why go to such a hollowed out shell of a city pilfered by Stronghold and brought down from the paradise it was? Simple, the dream. It had been slowly growing in me like a seed and now it pulled me to meet with Peter, Alonzo, Levi, and Hitori outside of the city at night to convene at the first of many places I would stay in an abandoned underground station converted into a makeshift resistance base. The reasons unknown to me.

Soon, the reasons were revealed. The five of us were to rise to ascension and be the saviours of the city under the firm yet generous leadership of Praetor Null. On the first meeting, it was like nothing I had ever laid eyes on. Multifaced, speaking in many voices, and darkness with shadowy tentacles that made me look in awe of the Praetor who had battled Dr. Impossible leveling a whole district of the city near the onset of the war before fading into the shadows. The first task was when the death of my soul started. We got the information needed to locate Dr. Sokolov in an office building that held a secret Stronghold Server, but had to kill dozens of people to make it look like a terrorist attack by blowing up the floor. Alonzo sacrificed himself to cause a distraction allowing us to flee and a newly arrived Alexandria saved Levi. Alonzo was the first of many who failed to reach Ascension. It was that day I swore to never kill innocents again. You, of course, know I stopped keeping the oath.

Soon after an uneventful trip to a cub Flux, in Ward 23 controlled by the Jaguars, I left Alexandria to pursue a favour on her own from a character I would prefer not to yet associate. Leaving Levi, Peter, and Hitori alone, during which Levi compromised the base forcing everyone to flee, Alexandria and I scouted Ward 8 with Corporal Sanders as our guide in preparation to rescue Dr. Sokolov to perform Ascension. During the course of our scouting, Alexandria's gun was revealed to the people in the relatively safe ward causing a panic. So, I did what I made a career of doing, I lied. Agents investigating bombs under the city, I said to the people who only panicked at the word bomb, understandably so after the chaos of the war. It was not in vain though as we managed to escape with the aid of Corporal Sanders. I still had a soul then which nearly caused me to be caught as I rescued a woman and her child from an oncoming car.

The excursion was not in a waste of time. Alexandria and I learned of entrances into the Under City, a place that was meant to be the city building down, but has become a lawless place that any traveler risks their life to traverse amidst the crumbling underground infrastructure and chemicals. It was the Under City where I nearly met my demise at the hands of cannibals, but more on that later.

Alexandria, Corporal Tilly Sanders, and I met with Peter, Hitori, and Levi at a fall back way point warehouse used by Praetor Null’s resistance movement. Clearly, we were not welcome. Tilly helped to smooth things over a little and our special status gave us some protection, but we had to move on quickly. Staying among the fighters was not safe. Not after the casualties they suffered due to Levi’s naive actions. Our time at the way point did allow us to plot a route as best we could gather through the Under City to some coordinates Dr. Sokolov somehow provided via our encrypted comm links that led to a solid wall and a teenager with a blood soaked axe surrounded by people she presumably killed posed to be alive. The teenager was a member of the first generation.

I know you know who they are, but to me it was the first time meeting one of them having worked outside of the bubble. Alexandria had told me all about how the children were trained to be elite soldiers, but also encouraged to follow their passions in a city where money meant nothing. Instead of living above ground under the checkpoints and CCTV of Stronghold, they had decided to make their home in the dangerous Under City it seemed. My search for this group nearly led to my death before Ascension.

It took a few strategic charges, but we found an elevator shaft leading into an underground lab on lock down. My perceptions were not as they are now. What was left of my soul wanted to flee at the horrors we saw in Dr. Sokolovs lab, but the seed was growing into a powerful driving force. Driven by one who wanted to see her sister, the short with words girl guided us through the lab where Dr. Sokolov was holed up. Getting to the lab was not event free. Hitori sacrificed himself, becoming infected with an ancient virus that usually killed, to save Levi before entering the room Dr. Sokolov was healing our guide's sister.

At this point, you must understand, I did not care if Dr. Sokolov lived or died as long as he could grant us the promised Ascension and help Hitori. Working in what I thought was a house of horrors at the time, Dr. Sokolov proved he was the best candidate to stabilize Hitori or so I thought at the time. In the ensuing fight with Strong Hold who managed to get into the lab to buy time for Dr. Sokolov to regain his power suit, Hitori transformed into a monstrous beast which turned the tide of battle.

Hitori became the next of us to not gain Ascension. Instead, he became a monster who devoured people for restoration and to hold back the ancient virus consuming him. At times, he was useful. Other times, he caused complications. Of those who did not gain Ascension, he was still useful for the dream.

Once reclaiming his suit, Dr. Sokolov guided us through the Under City with an attachment of presumably First Generation soldiers to what was formerly meant to be a hospital for the Under City, which was now his lab. We still had a few days before the big day arrived, so I decided to foolishly brave the Under City alone in search of the First Generation. Even if I did not run into the cannibals, only surviving again because of Corporal Tilly, they would have likely killed me.

As it seemed to happen when I was away, the others still on the first floor of the underground hospital Dr. Sokolov allowed us to utilize, came to a disastrous fate. Hitoris hunger resulted in him eating two possible helpers of Levi whose soft heart wanted to only help the people of the Under City. My soul still lived, so I would not have opposed the idea. Looking back now, it was foolish. Wracked with guilt it seemed Levi defied Dr. Sokolov’s rule of going to other levels. All they ever found was his body sent up as a warning to the others. A third Ascension candidate was no more. So, you see even if I did not end up stuck in a hospital bed with Tilly my only companion the First generation would likely have killed me for what Hitori did. Any hope of an alliance was smashed by his hunger.

Days passed before Praetor Null, Colonel Costas, Chen, Tilly, and I were teleported into the Ascension lab of Dr. Sokolov. Colonel Costas held a special place as being the leader of Praetor Nulls forces. Chen, I never learned anything about. Among the people assembled was also Dr. Sokolovs assistant Iona who I later learned was an android.

Going into the Ascension pod was the last time my soul was alive. Inside the pod, I was taken apart atom by atom and infused into nanites empowered by a force Praetor Null could barely contain. While undergoing the process, I was haunted by a dream. A dream of something coming devouring whole worlds and solar systems coming straight towards earth. It was an indescribable horror that would dwarf the imaginary monsters of H.P Lovecraft. Others may have seen visions as well. There was no time to speak of these visions or reflect on them together because when we left our pods we were changed. My soul was no more.

I emerged from my pod a cloud of black nanites that with force of will I could shape as desired. Peter, Chen, and Alexandria also emerged transformed by the process. Colonel Costas was the only one of us who did not leave her pod and a war nearly broke out between Dr. Sokolov and Praetor Null over the incident before bigger problems came to our attention.

There was a violent electrical storm raging across the country coming towards Hadron City as if drawn to the embattled shell of utopia. Chen left with Praetor Null to handle other matters. I left Peter, Iona, and Alexandria alone in the lab to watch over Colonel Costas, which proved again leaving them alone was never a good idea as I will explain at the appropriate time. Through a shared mental link, I navigated Colonel Costas dream of an attack on the Cheyanne mountain fortress. It was a failed mission during the war, but the dream revealed the location of an item that may help calm the storm.

Hitori and I departed to retrieve the Eye of Odin, as I later learned was its name, based on only a pull. TIlly helped us to get out of the city in a car I took from a drug dealer and his client in a back alley out of the prying eyes of the CCTV system. I took one appearance and Hitori’s monstrous form shifted into his last victim's form. With the taking of life and seeing Hitori consume the bodies I should have been horrified, but my new clarity was practicality. No use leaving the bodies to be discovered.

Whatever was pulling me led us to a farm four hours away from the city. Storm clouds were on the horizon and I saw with my own shape shifted eyes the sheer power and immensity of it. It didn’t take long for Hitori and I to find a hatch leading into the underground missile silo base of Malstrom as he fashioned himself. Hitori let his appetites for humans run wild on the forces in the base while I made my way to Malstrom. The man with big fists that controlled immense electrical power and I had tense words and nearly came to a full blown fight before we reached an agreement. I would let him finish his work and after he would give me the Eye of Odin. For five minutes I watched as he worked until a missile launched that was meant to calm the storm a little, which was contrary to my initial impression of them being the Midnight Society who wanted to bring destruction to the world before being destroyed mostly by Imperator.

True to his word, Malstrom gave me the gem. On our way out, many soldiers were dead and the clean effort was going on with Hitori in chains. Entering Hadron City was a nearly dead monster was impossible, so I dropped him at a safe house before reentering the city.

Back at the lab, I learned over the Ascendant link that all was not well. Iona has collected samples she was never meant to capture and planned against Praetor Null. Peter also attempted his own collections of data with his new found powers. Neither could agree with each other how to proceed with Peter staying, so Iona was left under the watchful eye of the war machine Alexandria had become.

Upon our return to the lab, Iona tried to strike a deal with me with the lab defenses on high alert to keep the samples before allowing me to give Colonel Costas the gem. Naively, she thought she could get me to turn on my master in the interest of balance. Iona, for all the promise she possesses, is truly a simple machine not made for war and best used as a tool to be kept in check as needed so as not to cause too much trouble. Nothing could break my devotion to Praetor Null and his commands, so eventually she destroyed the samples and helped me to save Colonel Costas.

Upon arrival at another base, Colonel Costas provided Peter and I rooms begrudgingly until our debriefing with Praetor Null. It did not go well. It would have been easy to let Peter take some of the blame, but I was the one who had stepped up to lead shouldering the burden of the others. Praetor Null’s wrath felt like a million different tortues all at once. If not having undergone Ascension, I may have gone mad at all the pain and even with my hardened form I could not leave my dark room for a day.

Now, this is where we get to your part. Praetor Null decided it was best to form a joint base with Dr. Sokolov’s lab assistant. You see, that factory has a complex underneath it that we are building our base inside with some additions and I am useless in building. Security measures are already in place, so I needed your appearance to start building a network of spies around the base. I know the deal was you get my story and I could use your appearance as a disguise, but you never said anything about me not killing you as I gave you my story. Having you walk around and maybe running into me with your appearance is a risk I’d rather not take. So, once I finish making your remains unrecognizable I will go about building my network.
Posts: 3052
Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:10 pm

Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

The Score

The Offer

Being a professional “actor” was a hard job. Not many were cut out for it and those that were rarely had an easy time getting work on a steady basis. Not that Sandra would know this. Just because she was seated at the corner of a wine bar in New York reading a copy of the script for Juila’s Alive didn’t mean she actually intended to do anything as a result of the read. The script just happened to be laying around some coffee shop and she swiped it. Over the years, she had grown familiar with good and bad scripts reading them as cover to her true source of income, so she knew from the outset this play was going to be another show that ran for three nights with maybe 20 people coming to each performance before the producer and lead actor just gave up.

Given the times, the idea of the script was topical enough. A woman making it despite powerful men keeping her down or trying to have sex with her just because they thought they had the power over her. Julia, the main character, had the familiar path of ambition, followed by disappointment, and finally triumphing over all the men who viewed her as just another weak woman that needed their patronage to get anywhere in life. All of that feminist ideiology. Sandra rarely had time for any of that being on the run so often. Not from powerful men who wanted her for her body, but more so what she could do with her body outside of the bedroom to further their aims for power. Unlike Julia in the script, Sandra was never ambitious or even disappointed. When your life's on the line and freedom jeopardized with a slip up, there wasn’t time for those sort of things. It was all about staying ahead of your pursuers.

Wine bars were a nice place to lay low reading over scripts because unlike regular bars or coffee shops similar to the Starbucks where she worked few people would come up to her. She wasn’t a super model or an exotic beauty. Appearance wise, she was the hometown girl next door type with a nice smile, comfortable clothes, and a body that while thinner wasn’t super curvy or too thin. In other words, the type guys think is the good girl they have a shot with. Reading scripts in public gave them the perfect opening line. “I heard about such and such play a while back, but never saw it” or “Thats an interesting title, are you auditioning for a part? I’d bet you make a great lead role.” were just some of the lines men or women would use to approach her and strike up a conversation.

Today, the only person Sandra wanted to approach her was Jeff, a fence who was meeting her about selling a diamond ring that she had recently stolen from some rich woman with a value of a couple hundred thousand dollars by Sandra’s reckoning. If the fence gave her twenty thousand for it she’d be happy. Even if he took a haircut for moving the ring on the black market, she figured he’d still come out ahead a hundred thousand or so. That was the hope at least.

Two glasses of pinot and thirty pages in, a man in jeans and black shirt sat down at the table with her. Jeff finally arriving was a relief to her because Peter James was a terrible writer. Why would a woman who had just been propositioned by some sleazy, sweaty, and overweight director go back to her boyfriend's apartment and want to go straight to the bedroom? It only made sense if Peter was writing about some fantasy he secretly harboured. No woman in her right mind would go from being hit on by a repugnant man to being turned on by her boyfriend in the matter of five minutes without even talking about what happened to her. Not even halfway done with the script, it was even more clear Peter’s script was just another throw away vanity project from someone who thought themselves the next great playwright. Taking one look at the title, Jeff just let out a little laugh as Sandra put the script down in front of the taller man in his mid thirties across the table. Part of the dance was proving you had the goods. A horrible script tended not to draw a lot of attention because people were inclined to not want to even look at them on a fundamental level. Hiding smaller items in them was even more covert than advanced spy techniques.

Picking up the script, Jeff looked it over letting the ring fall into his hand. “Where did you find this one? Wait, I don’t want to know. This script is just so bad. ‘I feel so low, pick me up!’. Who writes those kinds of lines? At least in pornos the bad lines lead to screwing that is the whole point of those movies.”, remarked Jeff as he moved the ring such that the pages covered it from the sight of others allowing him to inspect it.

“There’s sex after she says that. The play hasn’t been acted out or even cast yet, so maybe it will be a good sex scene with tissue paper given out later to everyone?”, suggested Sandra as she waited for the dollar amount. As long as it wasn’t too low, she wouldn’t haggle.

Pausing to look at the ring, Jeff finally came back with an offer. “15,000. Its good quality and the diamonds are a higher karat. Moving it’s going to be tough though. I’ll take the script if you don’t mind as well. A director friend of mine is always looking for good scripts for his movies and he could change this one pretty easily for the kind of movies he makes.”, offered Jeff with his opening offer.

Jeff always low balled her. Most of the time, she would call another fence before him, but she needed the money to get out of the U.S for a week and pay for a passport. The heat was getting a little too much. Some of her last jobs, despite talking through walls, nearly got her caught by the people pursuing her. “Make it 17 and I’ll toss in the script.”, was her only counter offer.

Only nodding, Jeff pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a bit before speaking again. “Money’s transferred. If you are looking for more work, just let me know.”, he said looking back up. Pulling out a yellow post-it note, he passed it to Sandra before getting up and heading out. Sandra pulled out her own phone and confirmed the money had been transferred before picking up the post-it. On the note, Jeff had written down a phone number Sandra wasn’t familiar with and $40,000. While not greedy by any means, that much money could buy her a lot of cover. Making any rash decisions after a couple glasses of wine wasn’t the best idea in the world though so she paid her bill and headed home to think on it.

The Job

After wiring the forger twelve thousand for the passport, Sandra was short on money again. Her mentor told her stories of how easy it used to be to get a passport and forged papers before everything started going digital with every database linked to one another. Making a fake passport now was more than a picture on a card. The chip had to be programmed properly, the bar code had to be just right, some hackers would need to get the identity into the appropriate databases, and that was on top of getting the ink plus paper right.

Five thousand dollars plus the twenty thousand she had saved up wasn’t going to get her far. Some of that had to be reserved for bribes if she ran to a third world country and the rest would need to sustain her if she didn’t want to leave a trail of theft Division could follow. Seeing no other choice, she made the call.

The number rang for three rings before someone answered. With the first hello, Sandra picked up a deep male voice with a French accent that sounded older, yet still spry. Hello, who is this and who gave you this number?, asked the voice.

I got your number from Jeff and a dollar amount. If that dollar amount is still the same, I’m listening about the job you have., said Sandra in response. Ordinarily Sandra found her own jobs and did her own scouting bringing in fences only after the job was done. It would take her a couple days to find another good job and another couple to sell the loot, so in this case, she was willing to make an exception.

The dollar amount is correct. You will get a packet with the item and where to drop it off. Succeed and the money will be waiting for you in cash., said the voice before the line went dead. There was no mention of how the packet would be delivered, but Sandra had to assume that was worked out as well. For that kind of money, the backer knew what they were doing usually.

It was getting late, so Sandra went into the kitchen of her one bedroom apartment in New Jersey that she was renting for cash at the tune of two thousand a month under the table to get a cup of tea to help her sleep. This routine helped her get past the constant thoughts of her parents, Division chasing her, and why she was abandoned. None of it made sense to her, but she couldn’t deny it happened and was happening. Next in her routine, she changed into red and black striped silky pajamas with shorts that left little to the imagination in regards to her legs. An old boyfriend had gotten them for her. Wearing them made her think of the happier times with him before having to run off when a job went south.

After brushing her teeth and getting the twin memory foam mattress on the floor ready, she heard a knock at the door to the apartment. Slipped under the door, she found a manila envelope with the words, for Ghost written on it in black sharpie. Poking her head through the door literally, Sandra didn’t see anyone. Whoever delivered it was fast. What was unmistakable was that this was the information the voice on the phone had told her to expect.

Inside the envelope was a picture of a golden necklace that was reminiscent of ancient Egyptian artwork updated to have gems such as rubies and emeralds in addition to diamonds. From her experience, trying to fence such an artifact would be nearly impossible. It’s why she never went for such scores. Either the voice wanted it for themselves or knew of a way to move such merchandise, but either way, the money had better be good. Behind the picture was information that the necklace was in an apartment up 20 stories in Manhattan. Sandra knew the building. Only the wealthiest of the wealthy had an apartment there and their money bought major security with the discretion to go along with it. Another page laid out the meeting time of 2 PM the following day for the exchange.

To start with, Sandra went over in her head what she knew of the building. Its owners weren’t published anywhere in publicly available records and aside from confidential records behind many firewalls or government records of income by the building's owner seeing the list was impossible. Security measure wise, once inside, she knew there were no cameras. Apartments listed for sale in the building emphasized privacy and discretion, so cameras inside would only dispel that marketing jargon immediately. While there was an entrance into a lobby, it was never used except by prospective buyers or movers. Somewhere there was a secret tunnel owners utilized. Just because there likely weren't cameras didn’t mean there wasn’t a metal detector, armed guards, and a door man who fit better in a commercial for a private military contractor versus being a doorman.

All of those measures couldn’t stop Sandra. It’s how she got her nickname that she circulated in the criminal world to hide her real name. Ghost had the reputation of getting into places thought impossible and sneaking away with items that no one could reasonably steal without inside help. Sandra’s advantage was the same thing that drew the attention of Division.

Early the next morning, the weather was good for New York with temperatures in the low 80’s and a small cool breeze. As was usual for the city at 7:30 AM, investment bankers were rushing into their offices, taxis crowded the roads, and everyone else was just getting in early to hopefully get parking in cheaper lots that normally filled up pretty quickly. Sandra wore a nice floral skirt with a white long sleeved shirt that fit her perfectly for her top. On her arm was a black handbag she’d bought on clearance at Macy’s which was big enough to hold the necklace plus other basic items. For footwear, she wore brown fake leather boots. They were tasteful and functional because inside of them she kept four knives just in case she had to make a run for it and fight. Guns were just too noisy.

Walking past the apartment building once to scope it out, it was as expected. No one entered or left except for the low level help that likely couldn’t be trusted with the secret entrance and garage location. Staff entered through a side door that required key card access. Sandra just walked through the door. Even the walls of the low level worker areas looked freshly painted with white paint and a different shade of white for the metal doors going into the various rooms off the hallway.

Following the hallway, she found what she was looking for. Behind one of the doors that had a card reader was stairs out of the way of the rich owners so the maintenance staff could get around easier without ruining it for the wealthy owners. Sandra also saw the service elevator, but that was too risky right now. The grey metal stairs would need to do the trick and Sandra was going to need to climb 20 stories.

Even in great shape, climbing twenty flights of stairs wasn’t a trivial task. The help probably used the elevator most of the time for any tasks above five floors or so based on the increasing amount of dust as she climbed. Until the fifth floor, there were fingerprints everywhere and marks on the metal stairs. After the fifth floor, it was almost pristine. Sandra made sure to not touch more than she needed so that when they did the forensic analysis her fingerprints wouldn’t be all over the place. Last thing she needed was rich guys putting a bounty on her head. Finally, she made it up the stairs and to another door protected by a card reader. Once again, she just walked through the door.

On the other side of the door, Sandra found herself in a long hallway that had only two doors on either end. Along the walls was gold trim, red velvet wallpaper that almost sparkled, and beautiful handcrafted busts of figures she couldn’t quite place. Walking into the hallway felt like walking through a passageway in the Louvre because of the paintings she knew cost as much as a house in New York. There wasn’t time to marvel at the interior design though. Her target's apartment was supposed to be empty, so there wasn’t much time to waste as the information could have been bad or the mark just stepped out for a smoke.

Inside the apartment, Sandra gazed upon the most luxurious and opulent living place she had ever seen. In the main room, there was Rosewood furniture with dark green Egyptian cloth lining the chairs that were most certainly handmade. Encircled by the chairs and sofa was an elmwood oval coffee table that based on the lines could only have been handmade. No machine could craft that finely. She didn’t see a t.v anywhere, but saw the tell tale signs of a drop down one on the ceiling of the apartments main room with a bookshelf full of first edition books on ancient civilizations plus some cabinets that likely housed the electronics. Paintings and sculptures with millions line the walls dating back to the same ancient civilizations in the books. Whoever the owner was, they loved antiquity and had the money to pay for it.

Scanning the room, Sandra’s eyes finally found the necklace. It was on a marble pedestal propped up by an obsidian stone. A greedier thief might try to take more stuff, but even if she did who was going to buy any of it beside a select few who would know the thief that procured the items. Even taking the necklace was risky. Quickly, she looked around the pedestal to make sure it wasn’t boobytrapped and confident there weren't any alarms or security, she swiped it and put it into her handbag. Getting out as fast as she could.

Putting everything together, Sandra realized the apartment belonged to the greek. Any thief worth their salt knew not to steal from the greek because even if the item was a pen it meant a long slow death that got recorded and circulated around the city as a notice to other would be thieves. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get out quickly with the necklace she could live long enough to go on the run.

The Drop

Anyone who operated in the criminal underworld knew a couple things about the greek. First, he was the import/export(aka smuggling) business owner for the East coast of the U.S. Nothing came in from Florida all the way up to Maine illegally that didn’t go through a smuggler he owned or controlled through what he termed a merger. Second, he wasn’t Greek. His parents were ordinary American mutts and somewhere along the line he took the name of the greek because of a love of Grecian ancient civilization. Third, he was in constant proxy battles with Bernard Laurent, another smuggler, for control of the southern coast and inland smuggling routes. On top of that, they each loved antiques. Fourth, he had powered people on the payroll. No one knew how many or what they could fully do, but they kept his employees in line. Fifth, you don’t steal from the greek. If the skinning alive didn’t kill you, the dismemberment would eventually be too much.

Sandras mind raced with how she was going to get out of this as she waited in Central Park to collect her thoughts before proceeding to the drop off point. Division, Interpol, and the U.S government was bad enough. She didn’t want powerful crime lords after her as well, but at this point she was fairly certain her employer was Bernard Laurent.

I know where your necklace will be. 2:10 PM behind Daniel on East 65th street, said Sandra over a burner phone that distorted her voice to a voicemail box she knew the greeks soldiers monitored. If each side killed each other, she would be in the clear and forty thousand richer.

Before the drop off, arrangements had to be made. Right on schedule, the forger had her forged Singapore passport ready to go and at the location he said he’d drop it. In the case of needing to make a quick getaway, getting into any country wouldn’t be an issue. Her next stop was to get a bag packed plus placed a call into work saying she was feeling sick so needed to take a few days off work. The seeds had been planted already with her dropping hints of being immunocompromised because of a traumatic incident in her past. She left the rest to the hearers imagination. It helped build sympathy and let her leave as needed for “treatment” with an understood threat of lawsuit for firing her because of a medical condition.

Once the bag was placed in the fall back spot, Sandra changed into a short sleeved hoody white shirt that was starting to come back into fashion. Inside the pockets, she kept a few knives handy as well. At the appointed time of 2 PM, she met up with the associate of Bernard with her hoody up slightly covering her face. “Do you have my money?”, inquired Sandra.

“Do you have the merchandise?”, responded the associate. He was on the taller side and very muscular with the body of someone who worked out far too much. In his left hand was a black leather bag. His right hand was in the pocket of his tailored dress jacket that went along with his tailored blackpants and dark pink dress shirt.

Slipping the necklace out of her pocket, she nodded at the mountain of man. If he got a hold of her she would be snapped like a twig. “Is it all there?”, she pressed. The greek probably had some people closing in early, so all she had to do was stall for another minute or so.

“Mr Laurent always pays his bills. Toss me the necklace and I’ll toss you the bag.”, said the man in a thick German accent. He didn’t want to give Sandra the minute she secretly wanted.

“Show me the money first.”, persisted Sandra.

Begrudgingly, he opened the bag to reveal all the money was there in 10 bundles of four thousand dollars each of 100 dollar bills. “Satisfied?”, he asked.

There was no way she could stall anymore, so Sandra tossed the necklace while the man tossed the bag. Satisfied, he turned to walk away and Sandra did as well ducking behind the first rubbish bin she saw. As she had hoped, the man with the bag ran into one of the greek’s hired powered people commonly called a mover. When the eyes of each man met, they didn’t waste any time before showing a position of strength with the muscle man flexing his considerable muscle mass while the mover lifted a discarded metal pipe in the air.

The fight lasted all of ten seconds. Several sharp metal pipes flew into the muscle man who charged the mover like Sandra envisioned a rhinoceros would. Through sheer force of will, the muscle man made it to the mover. Being smaller and more normal sized than the scary big muscle man, close range did not favour the mover whose head prompt got crushed by the brute force of the muscle man. More were on the way though, so Sandra ran as fast as she could.

She didn’t stop running until a few blocks away. For good measure, she hid in an abandoned building for an hour to let things die down and the cop cars to stop hurrying to the scene of the killing. Argentina, somewhere on the beach, thought Sandra as she circled back to her bag and heard straight to the airport.
Posts: 3052
Joined: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:10 pm

Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

The Man Comes Around

The Price

“Sit down and rest yourself by the fire.”, said a figure in an old brown hooded robe that covered their face in a voice that was soothing yet terrifying at the same time. Its tone made people at ease, but the feeling that one got when listening to it was like a dam holding back a mighty river that if burst would wipe out a town. “What is your petition?”, inquired the voice. While the robbed figure stood, a woman in her early thirties with a tattered green dress and matted long red hair sat weeping in a chair by a fire. The robed figure didn’t make an effort to console her, but the woman's dirt covered face showed relief in the brief periods when the tears of sadness were not making streaks in the dirt.

It took a moment for the woman to compose herself as she tried to get the words out. She made several attempts at speaking with each one stopped before a single word left her lips with the sounds she did manage to make mostly coming out as sobs. Looking on, the robed figure was silent and patient. It didn’t make a move to get her to speak or at any time make a sound at all with an onlooker fully entitled to think the figure was a statue in a robe. “My village...”, began the woman before stopping again with her tears choking her a little. “A thing in black clothes and a cape from the lords castle visited us. He had the face of our lord, but spoke like a demon.”, continues the woman. Her face strains under the words almost as if she could barely stand telling the story for fear of reliving the nightmare.

“It wasn’t time to collect rent and he didn’t ask us for any. All he did was smile like a...”, the woman continues recoiling a bit as if some horrible face had appeared before her. Her features turned pale before the robed figure walked over and put its hand on her shoulder. “...a devil. Our lord was always greedy and took the women from the village he wanted, but never looked like a devil from hell itself. All he said was it will do. No one tried to talk to him.”, stuttered the woman breaking down again.

After being given a piece of cloth from a nearby wooden table by the robed figure, the woman wiped her tears away. “That night, some of the men in our village and my husband went to the lords castle on account of everyone being scared. None of them came back. The next night, my two children and half the children in the village went missing. After what happened to the men, everyone was too afraid to go back to the castle. We searched and searched, but the children were nowhere to be found.”, said the woman, gaining some resolve. A person can only cry so many tears before they do not have anymore to cry. She was out.

“What’s left of my village sent me here with all the gold and jewels we have. Please take it and kill that ...thing.”, pleads the woman offering a small purse containing 20 gold coins and three rubies.

Inspecting the bag, the robed figure shook its head. “We do not deal in protection for any price. To kill this man, your lord, will require something more valuable than any amount of gold or jewels you can give us.”, responds the figure in a steady voice. It was still compassionate with a hint of dread sounding, but was clearly quite resolute in refusing the payment.

“Take my life, my soul, my anything. You can do anything you want to me. I have nothing left and would welcome death. Anything if it will just get you to kill that monster.”, begs the woman falling to her hands and knees.

With the hood covering the face nodding, the figure walked over to the woman whispering something in her ear. Her limp body fell into its arms.


The tavern Blarney was buzzing with adventurers and would be heroes. Word had spread through the land that an evil force had started roaming the village of Markony with the lord of those lands supposedly under the sway of some evil super powered person. Women and children were in danger. Loot of a castle with the promise of a big reward from the wealthy lord, so everyone thought, was to be had if they could free the village and castle of the darkness that held it in its sway. Some versions of the stories circulating had an evil mutating bastard of some powered lord trying to carve out their own army from the people of the village. Other versions were a gang of rogues pillaging the village and the lords keep with tales of darkness as cover. Still other stories said the lord was bathing in the blood of his people. Depending on which band of adventurers one spoke to in the tavern that night, everyone had a different story they swore was true.

“My lad!”, yelled a large man with a battle axe strapped to his back and clearly given unnatural strength based on the size of it. The boy in question was a scrawny kid with dark red hair and brown eyes that walked with a limp. “I need five of the biggest mugs you have, no make those pitchers of the best beer you have. Me and the men are going to destroy the dragon lord and his beast from the abyss at Markony tonight and become rich.”, boasts the beast of a man. His companions sitting at the table with him were the sort you would expect in an adventuring party. One was a shady character with several daggers around his belt. One was a man dressed in armour with a sword and shield that had a lion picture on it. One was a tall figure with a big pointy hat and crooked staff that had an orb on top. To round out the party was a man in a green robe and leaf pin on his brown shirt.

At another table, someone with a sword strapped to his back, a quiver of arrows, and a crossbow on the table yelled back. “Dragon! You are all thick and stupid if you beleive that nonsense. It’s clearly an evil forest spirit that I am going to kill with my holy flame.”, proclaims the man loudly.

From across the tavern, another man sitting at a table with two others chimed in with an even louder voice to drown out the boasts of the previous person. “Dragons and evil forest spirits are nothing. Me mates and I are going to vanquish the demon hordes laying in wait to flood the lands.”, declares the adventurer with eyes that flashed with lightning and a voice that boomed with thunder.

“You all got it wrong.”, adds a voice in the shadows. Stepping out of the darkness is a figure that seems to be actually walking out of the shadows. “It’s not demons, dragons, or spirits. Clearly, someone has been trifling with powers outside of our realm and they corrupted his soul. My job as keeper of the light and protector from the dark is to fight such corruption the likes of you aren’t equipped to handle.”, begins the man before being drowned out by the others.

A loud banging rang through the crowd growing ever more boastful with their plans that silenced them all. “I’ll have no fighting over who gets to claim the bounty or reward or whatever you want to call it in my tavern.”, boomed the man without raising his voice. Somehow, it magnified itself to the listeners to the point of making even the toughest hold their ears and shut their mouth. “Drink, eat, and sleep with my fine selection of men and women as much as you want. Plan and scheme for your adventures, as long as you are drinking or eating, all you want. Just don’t go wrecking my place with all your hollering about who will get what adventure.”, demands the owner. For a figure of a hair short of five feet and on the thinner side, he commanded the room like they were puppets on a string.

“I’ve heard the Nameless Order has been paid already for a contract for whatever is in that castle.”, said a woman with ample bosom half way out of her top on the lap of a large barbarian that was grinning from ear to ear with his head buried in her chest. At the mere mention of the Nameless Order, the room got even more silent. No one dared to one up the name. Every eye in the room scanned it suspiciously upon every other person in the room including the people in their parties for any signs a member of the order could be amongst them. Even the owner stopped his control of the room.

No one dared speak out loud again of plans to storm the keep. Parties still discussed it amongst themselves with a few bringing out maps, but for the most part they kept to themselves for the rest of the night while the boy and another woman more conservatively dressed, yet still exposing cleavage, served the tavern.

By night's end, those who weren’t going to brave the keep that night went back to their rooms. Before the woman who had dared mention the name Nameless Order went upstairs with the brute, the tavern owner pulled her aside and in hushed tones, spoke with her. “You didn’t mean that did you? One of them passing through here.”, he inquired. The owners head pivoted over the mostly empty room occupied with one or two stragglers, the boy cleaning some pitchers next to him, and a couple people passed out on the floor.

“I’d never lie about something like that love. I’ve heard that some girls from another village paid them to kill their brothel owner and two days later they find the man’s body in his room dead. No sign of fighting or blood at all.”, replies the woman before rushing upstairs with a fake excitement.

Both the boy and the woman cleaning up approached the tavern owner with a nervousness that came through as uncharacteristic stutters as they spoke almost in unison. “Was it here with us? Really?”, they both asked. Unless your intent was to die, it was well known that to be around an assassin of the Nameless order was not a good idea for anyone assuming they would even know what the assassin looked like. Too afraid to even respond, the tavern owner walked away. Soon after, the boy and woman also parted to finish their chores for the night before heading off to their respective places of rest.


On the outskirts of Markony, a middle aged man with white hair and crooked features leaned on a walking stick outside of Markony. As feudal villages go, it used to be a nice place with bustling traffic of merchants eager to satisfy a glutinous lord or trade with some of the villagers. Stalls were set up by the townsfolk to help facilitate trade. Those who had some valuables to trade with the merchants were able to get nice enough homes while the ones who weren’t craftsmen and lacked the physically desirable traits to sell themselves lived in passable huts. People of the village were generally content, aside from the lord taking liberties of those he was supposed to protect.

What the man saw on the outskirts of town looking in wasn’t what Markony used to be. Since the lord made the fateful walk through town three weeks prior, all the stalls had been torn down. Those who had windows boarded them up with the material from the stalls or what could be taken from stables. Children who used to play in the streets were nowhere to be seen. Even the tavern, a place one would expect the occasional drunk to stumble out from or weary from the day worker to enter, was fortified against something.

Getting further into town, the man was visibly shaken. Any windows that did open were promptly closed. None of the dwellings which might have had people had any sound coming from them above the baby crying that was also promptly silenced in some fashion. Approaching the tavern, leaning more on his staff than before, the man struggled to get the door open to see a big room occupied by a sole portly woman warming herself by a fire. “Is there a room for a weary traveller?”, asked the man taking slow and steady breaths.

“We’re closed. Only devils would come to this place now and I don’t serve that kind.”, remarks the woman. She is firm in tone, but her voice also betrays some curiosity. “If you be not a devil, leave this village and never come back. A devil lives in the castle now.”, continues the woman.

The man heaved a sigh and fell back on a nearby bench as if his strength had given out. “I have walked too many miles today to walk anymore. If I be a devil, would I be so tired and on the verge of collapsing? All I ask for is a room for the night and a meal if you are serving it. There are still many more miles for me to travel on to Gilgoth where my daughter lives. I mean you no harm. I can pay you.”, pleads the man bringing out a gold coin.

Shaking her head, the woman looked down at the floor and then up at a cross hanging above the fireplace. “Gold in the devil's land does no good. My Bernard used to run the rooms and I ran the kitchen. He was a goodly man of even temperament, but that did him no good when the devil came for him. My son was a good man who never touched a drop of ale in his life. The devil came for him all the same as well. If you stay here tonight, I am sure the devil will come for you as well. If you be not a devil then find the strength to save yourself this very night.”, says the woman with sorrow in her voice.

“If I keep walking I will be killed by a brigand or the birds will think me dead as I sleep and eat me. Some food and a bed is all I ask. I will take my chances with the devil who may have pity on a weary traveler like myself.”, reiterates the man.

With her eyes on the cross, the woman relents. “We don’t have much for food since the merchants stopped coming, but we have some bread, old cheese, and ale in the cellar. I’ll go fetch you some and give you a room that locks if it will help slow the devil. No need to pay me. My good deed may offer me some protection from the devil in the castle.”, says the woman heading to the cellar.

Smiling weakly, the man bows his head. “Even a crumb would be a mercy I do not deserve.”, said the man before the woman disappeared down into the cellar. Having time to look around the place, it was the typical tavern arrangement. There were large benches and some round tables spread out amongst a large room that had a door leading into what was likely the kitchen. In one corner of the room was a more private area the light didn’t fully reach. At one end of the room an elevated platform served as a stage for whatever performers could be found in the town.

A creaking door alerted the man to the woman's return. She was carrying a plate of a half loaf of bread and a small portion of cheese in hand with a pint in the other. “This may very well be your last meal, so I am sorry it is not much. I’ll go fetch you the room key. Ever since the menfolk and children were taken I’ve kept all the locks we have locked. We never thought to put a lock on the front door.”, says the woman frowning.

“Even the devil would not take a weary traveler who has had many hardships. What you offer me is a feast.”, gets out the man before tearing into the bread and drowning it with the ale.

Soon the woman returns with a key in hand. “It's the last room up the stairs. I sleep in the cellar now with the door boarded up from the inside. I’ll leave you to your meal and clean up in the morning. Devils like their darkness and I dare not tempt the devil in the castle to come take me at night.”, says the woman who retires to the cellar. Alone in the big room that was probably full of loud people getting drunk before the troubles, the man devoured his meal in peace before retiring to the room he’d been given.

The Devil

Outside the window of his small room that had a bed and a writing desk with a bucket in the corner late into the night, the man heard a tapping on his window. On its own, the window unlatched itself opening to a dark figure. It was an overcast night, so the moon wasn’t shining brightly enough to make out the features of the figure. From its shadow, it was more or less humanoid shaped. “Another for the master.”, remarked the creature in a raspy voice looking at the man. Paralyzed with fear, the man couldn’t rise to his own defense if there was even some obvious way to defend against the shade. So, when the shade enveloped the room in darkness, the man made no attempt to flee the room.

Once the darkness went away, the man found himself in a stone dungeon underground. It was just barely lit by a torch down the hall. Around him were the dead and rotting body of a man next to a wrecked crossbow. Across from the cell were five rotting bodies. One was larger than the others, but the commonality of them all was a lack of any visible wounds.

Rising to his feet with no signs of fear, exhaustion, or hunger the man seemed like a new person. His walk over to the ruined crossbow was steady. When he disassembled it, his hands were sure and purpose driven in an almost mechanical type way. Soon, he had gotten a thin and long metal piece removed that fit nicely into the lock. WIth the skill of one trained in locks, he opened the lock just in time for foot steps to come down some stone steps. Footsteps belonging to something he wasn’t alive.

At the sight of the man out of his cell, the figure who turned the corner stopped. It was the same shadowy figure that had abducted the man earlier except it was walking now instead of hovering over the ground. Lacking any features to speak of, it was obvious all the same that it was sizing up the man. “I am ready to meet your master.”, simply remarked the rejuvenated man dropping the makeshift lock pick.

“You are expected by him, but you are not what you seemed to him when we saw you arrive. He will be pleased with your new vitality.”, hissed the shade in an almost robotic voice. There was an unnatural quality to it that gave it away it wasn’t exactly human. It’s s’s dragged a little too long. Similarly, it spoke with a voice devoid of any tone that deviated from the almost snake like hissing. Based on it’s pause though, it was clear that the shade was sizing up the man.

Without a verbal response, the man started walking towards the shade without any signs of physical issues. The shade didn’t seem used to having the prisoners follow it, so it began its first instinct of reaching out with black tentacles at the man only to retract them when the man kept walking toward it with barely a recognition of the eerie sight. Turning around, the shade headed back up the stone spiral staircase just wide enough for one person. Right behind him, the man followed in his old clothing, and the general look of a man older than his years, but still moved like a young spry man. Along the walls were torches which gave just enough light to see the stairs and the large heavy wooden door leading to the main castle proper.

Throughout the path to the study, as the shade called it, there were signs of a feudal lord mixed in with devices that the man had never seen. There was a suit of armour, never worn based on the dust, next to a big black box made out of a material that wasn’t wood or metal. Ornate tables had small wagons in various shapes of metal with wheels that were black with a silver looking disk in the middle. Picture frames were constantly changing their picture of women with no clothes in lewd positions. Around one corner the path to the study didn’t take him, the man heard loud humming and a fan going very quickly.

Finally reaching the study, it was more expected, for a land with magic. A swirling shades of red portal was at the other end with a writing table near it and piles of gold beyond what most lords could even dream. At the desk was a man, looking like the lord of the castle had been described as, dressed in black smiling wide. Upon seeing the prisoner walking in, the man looked startled. “You said he was tired and had a hard time walking? What happen? DId he all of a sudden get a long nights rest of a burst of energy for a plant?”, inquired the lord annoyed. Unlike the shade, the prisoner knew the lord was alive.

“He was waiting ro me outside of his cell like this master.”, replied the shade.

“Very well. His blood will fuel the portal as well as any others. Go fetch the knife while I give this man his last words.”, says the lord looking at the share which promptly heads out. “It’s a custom of mine. All of those I use to feed my portal to the future get last words. If you are doomed to die for my portal, It’s the least I can do. I’m not a monster or devil like they say I am.”, says the lord poofing out his chest.

For a moment, the man didn’t speak. “All of this, is the future? In the future are there demons who speak like snakes?”, inquires the man. There was no pleading or response to the insinuation he was going to die.

Laughing, the lord shook his head. “You’re the brave one aren’t you. Not like most adventurers who get to this point and insist they will kill me with their bare hands. No, you just ask a question. I’ve seen so much, being surprised is an added benefit to sacrificing you.”, begins the lord. “If you must know, the future holds a lot of things and creations we have never dared dream. There isn’t any devils or demons. Mortimer is one of the personal assistant robots, they call them, modified with teleportation and to fit my tastes. It is truly wondrous what the future holds and the only price I need to pay for it is giving the sorcerer who conjured the portal fresh blood. Sadly, getting children and strong men has been getting harder, but once my drone army is delivered I rule these lands with enough sacrifices to keep the portal open forever.”, boasts the lord. His voice rose in bluster as he kept talking.

“For all these wonders, you still cannot deny death. Yours is due.”, religiously said the man.

Again laughing, the lord waved a gloved hand with two slots in the ceiling opening up to reveal two small canon like objects. They were unlike any the man had ever seen. Attached to the ceiling, they were long with 10 long and small barrels each with small metal bolt-like objects being fed into them from the ceiling. “Gatling guns. Like them?”, laughed the lord again. “The sheer scope of their destructive power in the future is amazing. Do you know they have things called bombs that destroy whole cities now? Just one bomb. Of course you don’t and no matter who you are, you won’t be alive to tell anyone about them. You can make your death quick with my knife or slow with bullets from the guns. Your choice.”, says the man.

All the man did was shake his head. “If my nameless lord decides it is my time, so be it. Today it is my duty to free you from this world.”, replies the man in a speech he’d given many times. In his hands formed an array of glowing yellow daggers of energy. The lord stopped laughing and all colour drained from

“No! You may be sent by the Nameless Order, but you won’t kill me. I’ll see your temple and all who support your kind burn for this after I deal with you.”, exclaims the lord. He lifts his hands and points them at the man making a fist.

What happened next was a blurry of action. The gatling guns sent round after round at the man was able to deftly dodge each fresh burst for the part only sustaining a mild graze or two that didn’t seem to slow the man down. As the bullets hit the stone, small sparks flew. Other decorations in the room such as gold banners, paintings of naked women, and a cabinet containing spirits were torn to shreds. Returning attacks, the man let fly a flurry of spirit daggers that took out both guns.

Once the guns were destroyed, the man calmly walked up to the lord. “Now it is your turn.”, said the man.

“Please, I am begging you. Take anything you want. All of the gold, all of the weapons. I have a room full of long range guns that could kill a man a thousand feet away without any accuracy issues. You like art, I have a room full of books that have the most exquisite pictures of beautiful naked women. Spare me and go to the future even. Just please don’t kill me.”, begs the man. Despite the begging, a spirit dagger goes into the lords chest causing the lord to fall with a thud.

When the robot shade returned with an ornate ivory handled and diamond encrusted long knife all it found was the lord dead, the portal collapsed, and the room in disarray.


In a closed tavern in Markony, the door to the cellar opened in the morning with a portly woman walking out a bit stiff. She looked like she had been sleeping in dirt. On one of the tables where someone had eaten a meal was an empty pint glass and plate along with a small purse. Walking over to the table, the woman picked up the plate and glass taking it over to a cleaning area with some rags. Going back, she opened the purse to find 20 gold coins and three rubies. A smile crossed her face. Her next stop was up stairs to a room at the end with a still locked door. She didn’t even try to open it and went back down stairs to clean up the dirty dishes.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Wastelands Everywhere

Over the Walls

Sand mixed with tiny particles of metal, plastics, and rock stung one of the few parts of Damian not protected with scales by virtue of his transformation. Before leaving the walls of the city, he should have known to procure goggles or protective eyewear, but his departure wasn’t exactly planned well in advance. Surrounding him was a harsh wasteland ravaged by time. Miniaturized nuclear weapons, exploitation of the environment, and a disease that destroyed most life before burning out due to lack of fuel all helped contribute to what was now vast swaths of land deadly to all except the most hardened or lucky of people.

For a long time, Damian had resisted the urge to flee the megacity he was born, raised, turned into a monster, and tried to protect. His mind drifted back to the moment that made him change his mind. In doing so, a flash of energy pierced the sand and he was somewhere else.

“Help! A monster!”, screeched a woman who was laying on the ground with torn clothes next to three men dead from puncture wounds to their torsos. The men’s hands still held the knives and pistols with blood on their fists. They were dressed in the standard street thug attire of jackets, jeans, and old t-shirts. A tattoo on their neck said they were part of some gang, but Damian had never bothered to learn all of the symbols since the proliferation of gangs in the districts Stronghold had abandoned. On the woman’s body was bruises, a split lip, multiple cuts, and two already swollen black eyes. Her pants were already pulled down to her ankles.

It wasn’t the men who she was screaming at though. She was staring at a medium build humanoid creature with a long tail, scaly dark blue skin, and jet black eyes wearing a long overcoat with a hood. “I just want to help. I’m not here...”, started Damian. It was too late though as the woman kept screaming in fright to the point he had to cover his ears. There wasn’t much light in the alley, but the little that came in from a nearby street light allowed a perfect view of Damians monstrous visage.

The cowering woman curled up in a ball despite the pain that came with moving. “Help! There’s a monster here! Stay away you freak! Leave me alone! Help!”, continued the woman, her voice straining under the screams. They were louder than when she was being attacked.

“I can help. You need to get to a clinic. These men were going to kill you and worse before that.”, persisted Damian backing away into the darkness. His hands were up with scaly fingers spread and palms showing with his tail tucking back under the coat.

Understanding Damians plea to help was difficult due to the cacophony of noise coming from the woman. Each word from Damian caused her to scream louder attracting the attention of others on the street. “You are the devil come to kill me yourself and eat me! Stay away! Help!”, exclaimed the woman. At this point, some of the stronger men taking notice of the incident picked up metal pipes and started heading for Damian.

“Get the freak! Now’s our chance to get rid of the demon for good. Come on guys, let’s get him.”, urged a muscular man with a piece of rebar in his hand.

None of this was new to Damian. What happened next took him off guard though. A gorilla-like creature with sharp claws, jumped down from the shadows and beat the ground causing the men to fall down with their faces in fright. “He’s mine and so is her.”, loudly says the creature. Immediately Damian recognized it as Rob, one of his old mates that like him was subject to the transformation induced by the virus plus stabilization serum.

In the blink of an eye, Damian was somewhere else with what seemed like a thousand spikes coming out of nowhere to stab the creature. “Leave these people and the woman alone. She's been through enough already. It’s me you want.”, declares Damian from the shadows of the alley.

His response was a nearby car being thrown at him that slammed into a wall as Damian deftly dodged it. Pieces of metals, glass, and engine parts fell to the ground making a loud clanging sound as they fell on to metal rubbish bins used by the surrounding barely livable apartments. In one of them, a baby started crying. “You left us and can’t tell me what to do you traitor. Our master will deal with you and I will do what I want with the woman. There is nothing you can do to stop me!”, yells Rob at the darkness. Those who came to help and the woman were too afraid to move.

From the darkness, a volley of tail spikes went flying at the beast. One of them hit an artery causing blood to start spewing over the alley and all over the battered woman. “This isn’t over devil. We’ll get you one day. This city is only so big and when we find where you sleep we’ll get you.”, barks Rob as he squats down and does a mighty leap disappearing in another cluster of aparts with a trail of blood in his path. Damian appeared next to the woman, but the fight and trauma had all been too much for her. She was alive, but not moving. The men had regained their courage and started marching on Damian again, making sure to have steadier steps.

Wrapping his coat around himself, Damian vanished from sight again and headed for the walls. He popped from rooftop to rooftop not caring if he attracted the attention of cameras or anyone really. His time in the city was over. Even when he tried to help, they shunned him. Dr. Gazero and his crew would never stop looking for him. Unlike him, they didn’t care about collateral damage or the innocents whose lives would be lost.

Upon reaching the walls, he went right over without looking where he teleported next. One hell was as good as another as far as he was concerned and the one he was entering should be free of innocents. Before starting his walk through the heavy winds of the wastelands, he took one last look at the city. It stretched further than he could see in either direction. Its walls made of metal and stone reached higher than the sand storms pelting his body. Along the wall, the only breaks were the occasional access door or rubbish vent to expel the waste that wasn’t recyclable in the city. Closing his eyes, he said goodbye to the only home he ever knew.


Opening his eyes again, there was another burst of energy and Damians feet were back on the cracked earth of the wasteland. In the time he was gone the winds had picked up some. Grabbing the hood of his overcoat, he flipped it up holding it tight to give him some visibility into where he was heading aside from anywhere that wasn’t the megacity. First order of business he knew was to find shelter. The winds would die down, but how long they would take he didn’t know.

Each step was a struggle. An ordinary unprotected person would have been dead from the toxic air or wind like a million little daggers stabbing continuously. Worse than the physical punishment was the sound. Absent any life, each gust howled as if possessed by what used to be in the once thriving stretches between cities before the wars and plaque. So much had died that each burst was a unique sound someone who was more familiar with the historical record could ascribe to a dead thing. Damian wasn’t concerned with such things. His focus was on getting to a cave or shelter of some sort to get out of the dust storm. It was getting so bad that he resorted to a tactic he was loath to use, teleporting to move without seeing where he was going.

After half a day of random jumps all in a direction away from the city he finally spotted the ruins of an old city. Toppled buildings formed mountains. Ancient cars long since stripped of anything useful formed hills. Wreckage of destroyed airships that failed to evade the blasts littered the city's corpse and were pillaged by scavengers for anything remotely handy to survive. Signs advertising luxuries only the rich could afford now such as soap, shampoo, wines, and cakes beckoned Damian onward. They didn’t entice him for the luxuries, only the hope of cover.

Lifting his head only briefly, he saw his salvation. Right before his eyes was a tunnel entrance leading underground not too far ahead of the direction he was headed with an opening wide enough for him to get a clear look inside with his darkness piercing vision. Remnants of metal stairs going down too hard to remove waited to greet him. The winds still got into the tunnel, but at least they didn’t seem too bad. From the poort angle, he couldn’t see any creatures waiting to ambush him upon his arrival or obvious traps setup as defenses. Neither of the two he expected anyway. Survival in the wastelands was always mentioned as a joke at best and impossible in normal discourse because of the harsh conditions. It was the main reason he had ventured outside the walls.

As expected, he found the metal stairs sturdy and any wind a gentle breeze when compared to the monster of a storm that he had just fought. For the first time since leaving the city, he allowed himself to relax. “Who are you and how did you get here? I have a rifle pointed right at you, so you better speak quick like.”, barked a voice. At the new angle, Damian saw a man in protective metal armour pieced together from scraps covering everywhere except his face holding a cobbled together crossbow. Where the man stood it was dark. So, it was reasonable for him to claim whatever he wanted with the assumption that no one could see him.

“I’m Damian. I just need shelter and I’ll be on my way. I mean no harm.”, said back Damian adopting the hands in the air, palms out position.

There was a metallic clunking noise as the man walked closer. Damian inspected the armour and weapon more closely now that he was attempting to surrender to the man. The crossbow was constructed out of old metal molded into the pieces needed with steel wire forming the bow string. For a bolt, it had a wooden shaft with a metal head made of steel. Inspecting the armour visually, Damian noticed it was old and a few sizes too big for the man making it difficult to maneuver. On the man's waste was a machete with a black handle and worn blade. “Not another move or I’ll blow your brains out freak.”, barked the man before he let out a whistle.

From around the corners came five more people dressed in patched together metal suits yielding crossbows like weapons of similar construction to the first person Damian encountered. “Please, I just want shelter. I mean you no harm or wished to intrude. The storm is too much out there. Please have mercy on me and let me just rest here.”, pleads Damian. None of the people seemed inclined to lower their weapons.

“Oh, we’ll let you rest here forever. We’ve been needing new protection and your skin will do plenty nicely. That tail of yours is going to make a nice new cooking tool for my woman too when she cooks what’s left of your into a nice stew for me and the boys here.”, darkly laughs the man. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can stand there like a good little freak and we’ll put you down nice and easy or you can fight us and we’ll skin ya alive boy. Your choice.”, continues the man.

Going back out in the storm would have been easy enough for Damian. One thought and he would materialize back in the storm that was likely to kill him before he found another suitable place to hide out from it. The alternative of killing the six people crossed his mind as well. He rationalized it in his mind as doing a service for anyone else these cannibals might catch in their trap set to get their next meal. “Please, I just want to rest here a few minutes before heading out and don’t want to die to fight you.”, pleads Damian again more for their sake than his. Their weapons couldn’t do anything serious to him and he knew it.

“Looks like we’ve got us a live one here boys. Let’s all go have us some fun.”, exclaims the man. Six bolts let loose with five of them going wide slamming into the wall and a sixth hitting Damian to no effect because of his scales. “That skins going to make some mighty fine armour once we peel it off ya boy.”, exclaims the man undaunted.

Damian went to work like they were common thugs or a Stronghold patrol went astray. A choice between a storm or six men dressed in metal armour that couldn’t hold back a standard issued patrol rifle became an easy one to make. He let fly a burst of spikes form his tail at a cluster of three men going through their armour as if it wasn’t even there. “Leave now and I’ll let the rest of you live. I promise I will not track you down and leave once the storm calms.”, says Damian. Of the three men still standing though none of them looked to even be considering the offer. On the contrary, their eyes lit up at the sight of three more meals. They were going to have a feast tonight.

All three pulled out their machetes and charged Damians position. One got a lucky attack that drew a little blood in the soft spot between some of his scales, but the other two missed wildly. “Ya can bleed boy and I bet that would make great seasoning for the feast we’re going to have tonight.”, proclaims one of the men who missed.

Quickly putting any hopes of a feast to rest, Damian dispatched the rest with a whirl of his tail. Their bodies fell limp then collapsed on the ground. Waiting patiently, he listened for any other ambushes or surprises coming from any of the paths underground. Down one of them, he heard a small rattling that could possibly be more armour not suited for the wearer.

Proceeding with caution, he came to a room that had the makings of a kitchen back in the city except with more worn instruments. In one corner was a workbench with butcher tools. In another was hooks with bodies hanging from them with some pieces missing or already on the butchers block. Finally, in another corner was a whimpering little girl in a faded pink dress trapped in a cage with a portly woman standing over her. The look on her face was complete shock. In vain, she grabbed a knife nearby her and tossed it at Damian to no end other than to bounce off. Damian returned the favour with jamming his tail through her head.

“Please don’t eat me like they ate my family.”, begged the girl. Tears formed in her eyes and made lanes in the dirt crusted over her face.

As gently as he could, Damian approached the girl and broke the lock. “I don’t eat people. Everything is going to be ok. You are safe now. I killed the other mean people.”, said Damian attempting to comfort the girl. He put his hand out as if to beckon her to leave the cage on her own even giving a gentle smile that came across as strange. Smiles were few and far between for him. So, he was out of practice.

Sniffling her nose, the little girl looked at Damian and ran to him for a hug. “There were six others. We just wanted a place to rest, but they captured us and cooked each of us one by one. I was the last one they wanted to eat.”, manages to get out the girl before crying again.

“It's ok. My name is Damian and as soon as the storm clears we’ll get out of here. What’s your name?”, asked Damian. He wasn’t sure on the protocol on this sort of thing as most of the time little kids ran from him in the city. Should he pat her back? How long was too long to hug her? How long was too short? His limited experience with this told him to let the little girl lead.

Finally, she let go of the hug. “Elenor, but my family called me Elle. When can we get out of here?”, said the girl calming down a little.

Even as far down as they were, the sound of the raging dust storm resonated in Damians ears. “Soon, but for now let's go find a place to get some rest.”, is all Damian said in reply. He took the girl by the hand and led her to a room with some beds. Her head hit the pillow and she was out like a light. Damian covered the entrance to the room with two of the other beds and followed the little girl to dreamland on a fourth bed.

Home Hell Home

Damian awoke to the concrete walls of the sleeping quarters aroused from his sleep by noises in the passageways of the underground living space. Elle was still asleep, but having a nightmare that caused her to cry. No one else that Damian knew was in the hiding place, so he imagined it must be some little creature or just his imagination due to the ancient nature of the shelter. Either way, he figured he’d check it out.

Removing the beds, he quietly made his way through the passage into the entrance area. Little details his eyes missed before caught his attention. Along the walls were arrows pointing in various directions below text too faded to read properly. On the floor were bits of ceramic tile he only ever saw when venturing into the richer parts of the megacity for supplies or medicines to help popup clinics for the lowest classes. Down one of the tunnels was rubble completely blocking the path for who knows how far. Another tunnel led to a ruined guard post in front of more rubble. All in all, only two of the eight tunnels were even accessible anymore.

Continuing his search down one of the tunnels, he came across a store room containing piles of bones from the previous meals. To his surprise, a few were still wearing the Stronghold uniform. The implications of which didn’t bother him too much as all he wanted to do now was get out of this cannibal’s den before something else went wrong. When passing the entrance, he noticed the storm had finally passed.

His inner dialogue was interrupted by another sound. This sound he knew. Elle’s high pitched screams of terror filled the tunnels followed by a hiss like voice saying something too low to be carried by the echo. The hiss like voice could be none other than Cassandra, another of his old mates, who had been transformed into a snake like bird that got the telescopic eyesight of a hawk. It didn’t help much in the city where if she flew too long or high the antiaircraft weapons would blast her out of the sky. Out in the wastelands, she was able to cover a lot more ground. Damian never thought to think about how effective she would be spotting possible hiding places in the barren wastelands. There wasn’t time to kick himself. He had to get Elle away from Cassandra and to another hiding place so they could plot their next moves.

“I don’t see any sign of the bastard. Why master sent us out here makes no sense to me.”, grunts a loud voice belonging to Rob. His voice was hoarse from the storm. Unlike Cassandra, he couldn’t fly over it. Damian took the chance to move along the ceiling to avoid a fight. A fight in the city was one thing. Knocking the wrong column over, hitting the wrong wall, or any number of things underground could cause a collapse trapping Elle in the tunnels like a tomb.

Cassandra flew into the main entrance way carrying a kicking Elle. “Do you think the master would want a tiny child like this?”, inquired Cassandra of Rob. Her snake like tongue came out when she pronounced her s.

Rob shrugged his shoulders. “Small little meat like that. Just kill her already. She’ll only slow us down.”, said Rob as if Elle was a piece of rubbish to be discarded without regard for anything beyond getting rid of it. Damian couldn’t let this happen. Not here. Not in the wastelands where innocents weren’t supposed to get hurt by the creatures that hunted him.

It wasn’t enough time to intercede on Elle’s behalf. Cassandra snapped her like a twig with a boa constrictor like grip discarding the now quiet body that would never scream again into the corner. “No!”, screamed Damian teleporting to the ground. “She was innocent and pure. You were better than this once before we changed. They call me a monster, but you two are worse than any devil imaginable.”, exclaimed Damian. His gaze fixed on Casandra and Rob. Just one of them posed a challenge to him, but two without knowing the terrain made what he said next a risky idea. “I’ll kill both of you for this.”, he exclaimed.

“You and what army.”, laughed Rob slamming his fists into the ground causing the tunnel structure to shake and making Damian fall to the ground. Cassandra joined in on the laughing, but quickly stopped when she noticed cracks starting to form.

“Idiot buffoon! You’ll bring everything down on us. You need to be less kill all of us.”, scolded Cassandra. She followed it up with a demonstration of diving like a hawk on the prone body of Damian gashing into his scales with her claws.

There wasn’t a moment to lose. Damian blinked out of sight, appeared behind Rob, and slammed his tail through Rob’s stomach before teleporting into the darkness of one of the shallow tunnels. Rob doubled over and screamed in pain as he started bleeding out. It wasn’t serious enough to kill the beast, Damain knew from experience, but it would slow him long enough to allow for him to focus on Cassandra who was the real threat. It wasn’t like the city where he could get lost in the people. Once in the wasteland, she could harass him without fear of antiaircraft weapons blowing her out of the sky.

Turning her head to look down each tunnel, she clearly struggled to see Damian. “Come out, come out you bastard of a monster. Master will soon force you to obey his will.”, she hissed. Finally spotting her prey, because of some blood dripping from the large gash in his chest she made for another dive just missing Damian.

“At least I can still say I am human enough to not kill innocent little girls.”, retorted Damian lashing out at Cassandra with his tail penetrating one of her wings causing her to fall to the ground.

Limping up, Cassandra took another swipe at Damian with her tail breaking his foot in its tight grip. ”Master will see to that too.”, she hissed in pain while Damian let out a cry of anguish.
Time for talk was over. Damian had to get away with Elle’s body. He had to flee while Cassandra was prevented from flying if even for a few hours. Lashing his tail wildly one more time, Cassandra’s other wing got a few holes added to it making her scream even louder than before. All of that sound shook the already weakened structure. Cement started falling from the ceiling in chunks and the few tunnels that remained accessible collapsed.

Blinking away, Domain didn’t waste any time grabbing Elle and teleporting back to the surface leaving his former mates behind. On the surface, he tried to walk, but his foot gave out on him. Instead, he held the lifeless body of Elle that weighed surprisingly little close to his chest and teleported deeper into the ruins of the city until coming out of the other side into a ravine of rubble. Even teleporting hurt when he rematerialized, so he had no choice, but to take a break.

His eyes welled up with tears. “I’m sorry. I tried Elle I did. You weren’t supposed to die. I promised to keep you safe and I failed you. They weren’t supposed to follow me!”, screamed Damian as he slammed his fists into the ground until they bled.

Before going on his way, Damian reached for the closest thing to a shovel he could find. A strong piece of bent metal. Back in the city, he had heard tells of how they used to bury the dead instead of recycle them for generator power or fertilizer. Since they were in the wastelands, it seemed only fitting. Old place, old ways. Elle deserved a burial even if every step made his body scream in agony. It was his penance for failing to protect her liike all those in the city that shunned him, but still relied on him.

Burying the grave with rubble, Damian found it only fitting to say a few words. “I failed you. You deserved to live. So does everyone else I left behind. Wherever you are now if anywhere, I hope you are with your family again.”, said Damian through the tears of pain and sadness. Facing towards the spec that was the megacity in the distance, he started to teleporting his way back to the hell he had left.
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Re: Into the Dentverse

Post by mrdent12 »

Moving Day


Hadron City used to be a nice place. Carefree days of playing hide, sneak, and strike with the bigger, tougher kids seemed like a distant memory now. Mel’s small group of friends would hide and sneak. Arnie, Ricky, or one of the other bigger kids with fancier toys would come to seek them before Mel got the flag plus struck the bigger kids. Fun times all around.

There weren't as many cars or smog of any kind back in those days as well. People were generally nicer and not all kill or rapey like her current neighbours tended to be nowadays. It was the good old days. Before the invasion, when Mel had all her friends with her, They’d go about in the Undercity, talk to the various workers, play games, and have fun without the constant threat of having neighbours bent on bending them over or eating them for lunch. Her current neighbourhood had really gone to hell. All thanks to the invaders.

For so long, Mel had resisted the move. It was the usual excuses such as it was her home, it’s not much better above ground, and what if her friends somehow came back. The last excuse was the toughest to give up. She’d been searching for nearly seven months now and had no luck finding Becky. During that time, her excursions were getting increasingly dangerous with a few nearly fatal. It wasn’t just the cannibals. Everything in the Undercity was falling apart around her and getting supplies from the surface back to her little place became a guessing game of which route hadn’t been poisoned by a gas leak or crumbled.

It wasn’t as if she could just hop online and look in the apartment listings for a new place either, making toughing it out in the Undercity all the more appealing. First, there was the issue of money. She didn’t have any concept of it beyond what her instructors had told her if she was dropped into another city. Money was a weapon to win wars of infiltration, not for housing or food as the invaders had made it become. Second, there were actually viewing places issues. She had an ID card and could move about, albeit harassed at the check points if she wasn’t careful. Sometimes, a girl doesn’t want to put up with constant questions of what she was doing or a pervy older guard hitting on her. On that front, the above ground was a bit more civil. They would make crude comments, but not try to do much more. Third, there was an issue of security. The invaders ran a tight ship. Not as tight as Imperator, but it still made it inconvenient for Mel to go about her business of finding her chosen family.

All of the places she found were either not safe, too watched, or already taken. She couch surfed for a few days with people she knew while looking for a new place of her own. They’d have places for her to look at, but most just wouldn’t cut it. One had a great security system, but it was an old torture cell that still had the stench of dried blood and feces that just wouldn’t come out. Another had all the luxuries she could want. It even had a built in sound system. The trouble was it was in a neighbourhood going to be pilfered by the invaders soon. Somehow, these invaders thought they owned the place. On her night time excursions, Mel reminded them they didn’t.

After an exhaustive search, she had found it. It was in an area not going to be developed for a while, had easy sewer access, ok security, plenty of space for a dance studio, and it was already furnished. Before the invasion, she had heard of secret offices. Her own place was a secret, so the thought of above ground secret offices didn’t surprise her all that much. She just never knew where they were. This one seemed to be previously used by one of the higher ups that trained operatives like herself because it came equipped with a spacious training room, a couple cots, and a storage space.


“Hey Linda!”, greeted Mel to a homeless woman who offered to watch a cache she had been slowly moving all of her stuff. Linda was a nice woman in her fifties who had lost her three children in the war. During Mel’s search, the two had instantly bonded. Linda saw her youngest daughter in Mel and Mel saw one of the kindly trainers in Linda. The location Mel was moving was referred to her by Linda who saw Mel one day just looking around the area with some purpose, unlike most who just shambled around disillusioned with the pilfered city.

Linda gave Mel a warm smile. “Your stuffs all there still. I was wondering when you were going to return. I hope you don’t mind. I listened to one of the disks you brought. Utopia Now was one of my Esmereldas favourite songs.”, says Linda with a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t listened to that one in ages. Probably not in the last three months. That old disk player was getting dusty so I’m glad someone used it. Ever since I started moving my stuff here it’s been crazy.”, said Mel with the stereotypical teenager exaggerated voice. “All this destruction and now that liberation video is really stirring things up at my old place and up here. Getting around the sewers is a pain now.”, continues Mel. While talking her eyes gazed at the cache location with the trained eyes of an elite soldier. To look at her in that precise moment, one would think she was a killing machine. To hear her talk and soon after, she could be any normal cheerful teenager.

With a sigh Linda nodded. “Can’t say it’s much better lately. Not so much security, but still a few patrols here and there. Plus the workers. None of them wanted to disturb an old woman like me though.”, responds Linda with a saddened tone of voice.

Instinctively, Mel responded back with an optimistic cheerful tone. “Once I get moved in we’ll be neighbours! Plenty of space too if you want to move in. Whoever used to work out of the office must have bolted a while ago right after Praetor Null had it out with the attackers. Oh, and you’re not old.”, chimed in Mel.

“That's nice of you to say and offer, but growing girls like yourself need their space. My life is over, but you have all of yours ahead of you. Besides, if I move in with you, who will keep watch up here for any of the invaders or errand workers to come across your place?”, weakly smiles Linda.

“My door is always open. After a few supply runs I should have more than enough food for the both of us plus Otis and Freddy as well.”, said Mel. Her mind was already taking account of her stores. As it stood, she had enough for maybe three months if she rationed it right. The invaders had gotten more lethal in their responses, but if it came to it she felt confident in taking the random patrol and acquiring the supplies she needed. Her trainers had assured she could survive in any sort of environment. She just never thought she would need to use the skills to survive in her home city that was once a dream come true.

“You best get moving in before the morning comes around and the workers come back. They might not notice a girl going between buildings, but moving is stressful at the worst of times. I fear if they see you moving some of your more lethal things they’ll shoot you on sight.”, said Linda.

From her leaned back position on some rubble, Linda moved the shopping cart nearby plus a few stone blocks previously covered by her blanket to reveal a medium sized hole just big enough for Mel’s four office boxes plus duffel bag of possessions. As part of the move, she had to leave behind some of the items like the chocolate cake that just couldn’t be moved anymore. In better times, she would have thrown a going away party. Now, a party like that would be the last party and thing she did before departing the earth in unimaginably horrible ways.

So far, the move was sort of going to plan. Inside the cache, Mel took a quick check in her head. HK, check. The complete musical catalogue of Utopian Dream, check. Desert Eagle, check. Old rebar pipe, check. Her collection of rainbow dresses, check. Poison gas canisters, check. Photos of her old crew, check. The disk player as Linda mentioned was used, but now that she knew why it didn’t bother her too much, check.

Around the corner of the ruined building, Mel’s ears heard a sound while her mind worked on inventorying the cache. Like a mongoose, Mel’s attention turned to the direction of the noise in time to see a patrol of six Stronghold soldiers decked out in full combat gear. Ever since the recent incidents in the city, they all were battle ready. The six of them were laughing, cracking jokes of getting a break by being on the patrol, and generally having a good time. Upon turning the corner, their eyes in unison turned to the cache. Mels eyes turned to them. Lindas eyes turned to Mel.

“Get down on the ground with your hands behind your heads now.”, barked the biggest man who also had the others shift their gaze to him. All of the soldiers lifted their rifles at Linda and Mel. Linda had the look of a deer in the headlights alternating her gaze between Mel and the mercenaries.

Instinctively, Mel’s eyes scanned the area. She couldn’t get to her cache in time and load the weapons. They wouldn’t have helped much anyway given the body armour and time it would take to load a cartridge into them. This was the sort of situation that had been drilled into her with far deadlier opponents and weapons. The world is your weapon, flashed in Mels mind. Ten feet away or so from her was some old construction material such as metal pipes, small concrete pieces, shattered window pieces, and hammer like rebar with concrete. Based on the formation of the soldiers marking in two columns, the glass pieces would work nicely.

A cheery pop song, Lucky Star, started going off in Mels head. You must be my lucky star. Diving forward in a gymnastic tumble Mel rolled past some window shards while pulling her long sleeves over her arms right before picking up a few. Cause you shine on me wherever you are. As if break dancing, her next fluid motion was like a bowling ball going between pins with the glass shards slicing behind the knees of the soldiers. I think of you and I start to glow. One by one, the soldiers fell to the ground before even managing to get to their radios.

“Get her!”, barks the lead Stronghold soldier struggling to get up and failing.and I need your light and baby you know. Between the pain and disorientation, the spray of bullets goes wide as Mel moves to the music only she can hear. The noise draws the attention of others in the area, but they hide and cower verses do anything indicating an attack. Starlight, Star bright first light I see tonight. One goes for their radio, but it’s already smashed against the ground.

Continuing her dance, Mel does a twisting back flip slicing the throats of three of the patrol soldiers before slipping up a little bit. Star light, Star Bright make everything alright. Her instructor would have scolded her for the mistake. Mels rotation was off just enough to make her miss a fourth soldier. If only she would have another chance before they got her or called in for help. Already, her body shifted into standing in place dance motions. Starlight, Star bright first light I see tonight. Never stand still.

Three more shots rang out from the soldiers. They flew by Mel nearly hitting her. Starlight, Star bright, yeah. Too close for comfort. Mel went into a backflip moving her hands such that the glass shard she was holding went across the throat of the remaining three mercenaries.

In a matter of 18 seconds, six Stronghold mercenaries lay dead on the floor with their throats slit being looked over by a girl smiling like she was at a dance club. Blood dripped from the pieces of glass that Mel let fall to the ground casually. Linda just stared in amazement at Mel. Onlookers from around the area came out of hiding when the gun fire stopped only to give pause at Mel standing over the bodies of the soldiers with blood splatter over her dark blue dress. “This was my favourite moving dress too. Now it's ruined. Getting blood out of these dresses is so hard and I left those cleaning supplies behind.”, gripes Mel.

“You are one of them aren’t you? Did you know my daughters?”, asked Linda. Her mind was off the bodies and scrambling to get a connection with her own children who had been trained for combat. Something, anything would do. Lindas oldest had been trained in armour tactics with her youngest trained in areas she wasn’t privy except they would be assets for the cause. Maybe, just maybe Mel would know.

Mel shook her head. “Sorry, never met them. They kept me and my friends away from the others for the most part. We need to hide these bodies now though or Stronghold will send more this way to look for them.”, remarks Mel. She was surprisingly strong for her size and started moving some rubble over the bodies after taking their weapons of course. No use wasting good weapons. The body armour she gave to Linda for her protection. To help speed things along, Linda with renewed vigour started helping deal with the bodies as well. A few others came out of hiding and chipped in. All of them looked at Mel as if she was some sort of super hero or avenging angel sent to protect them from the ravages of Stronghold and escalating fights in the city.

One of the people who came out to help looked at Mel with wide eyes of admiration. “I wasn’t going to say anything and wasn’t snooping, but I know where you are moving.”, anxiously said the girl. She was maybe 19, had ratty red hair, and had burn scars all over her body. ”Some local gangsters found it and just started checking it out. You saved us from that patrol, so I didn't want you to die. That patrols been terrorizing us for months now.”, continued the girl.

Cleaning House

There went the easy move Mel had been hoping to have. The teenage girl's posture and exaggerations vanished to be replaced by a young woman who had just casually killed six Stronghold soldiers. “I’ll come back and break up the bodies for easier disposal before the works arrive. Cover up the hole again.”, is all Mel said. Despite the eyes of the others looking at her at the edge of their seats on what she would do next, Mel stayed calm and strategic. What was supposed to be a fun move had now become yet another battle she had to fight. One day she thought in her head it would be back to the fun care free days. Today was a day of more killing.

Getting to her new homes entrance wasn’t difficult. It was only a block away. Spying the concealed entrance area, Mel took an accounting of the scene drawing on her training. No guards, so not expecting an attack maybe. Still, act as if they have an ambush lying in wait for you. No cameras and few prying eyes, so more freedom to act. Still, pretend the whole world is trying to watch your every movement. No signs of others coming, so maybe this was it. Still, plan for reinforcements coming quickly on to the scene and trying to flank you. Behind the rubble, through the dark shadows cast by the ruins of a store house, and line up behind some old construction material was the calculated route.

On smoother terrain, Mel would have had an easier go of it. As it was, she couldn’t do tumbles or crawling without risk of wrecking her already ruined dress even more. Without a sound, she made it behind the rubble without disturbing so much as a spec of dust that had built up on it over the last few months. No one seemed to notice her yet. In the shadow of the storehouse, Mel couldn’t help but picture how glorious this area used to be and the abundance of delicious food she used to sneak from similar store houses in the area. Back in the day, they had been filled with candy, treats, and Scrumptious Bars specially made by Doctor Sokolov. Last stop was the construction material which was a quick dash to get behind.

From her new vantage point, Mel could hear the latino gangsters talking. “We should bring that puta here and have some fun. Might loosen her up a bit”, remarked one of the men. The others laughed a little.

“She couldn’t handle us. Last time I took her she couldn’t walk for a week. All of us she wouldn’t walk for a month.”, added another voice. The men let out another callus laugh that made Mel’s blood start to boil. She channeled it all into her next play of diving into the entrance and killing everyone of them.

“Theres plenty more out there for us. I’ve seen how some of those putas look at me in the club and I can have my pick of them if I wanted.”, adds in another one. Three so far. Mel waited as the laughing faded again and similar banter continued.

“That Rosario is up for anything. I pulled her back into a room one night at the club and she was loco screaming and scratching, pretending like she didn’t want me after giving me the eye all night long. If I could bring her back to this place we’d all have some fun with her.”, brought up the first again. Now Mel had an idea of what they wanted and a fairly accurate count of them. Her instructors would have told her to wait a little longer just in case there was more who weren’t talking, but making her new home a place to rape women didn’t sit well with Mel. She was moving to get away from all of that.

Her hand grabbed a steel pipe laying on the ground next to her and gripped it tightly. Quickly yet softly she rushed for the entrance. No music played this time. Only anger and red flashed before her eyes with a warrior woman scream as internal background music. If only she would have waited, she would have heard the fourth one rummaging near the entrance. It was too late and she was committed to the attack.

Before the rummager was able to comprehend what was coming, Mel spun and grabbed the man's head using her body's momentum to snap his neck. Movement was strength. She never would have won a battle of strength against a power armour suit, but moving quickly around it allowed to break the appropriate pieces causing it to become a paper weight. This rummager was no power armour user.

Next, she dove into the entrance between the three men. Each had an automatic rifle and sported tattoos all over their arms. Their clothes were yellow and each gave off the vibe one would expect from gangsters who ruled their own ward. Swagger wasn’t protection though. When a metal pipe slams into your chin like an uppercut, swagger doesn’t stop it from knocking you to the ground and in one case breaking your neck. Mel finished the job against the other two by slamming her improvised weapon into their eyes.

With the rapists now dead, Mel calmed down a bit. Her efficiency in the kill had allowed her to not get any blood in her new home. The bodies would need to be disposed of in addition to the Stronghold soldiers, but between all the people she’d killed her arsenal was building up quite nicely.

Making her way back to the cache after closing up the new home, Mel kicked herself for not locking it up properly last time. “Hey Linda, I’m back!”exclaims Mel with her teenager voice returning. “Now that all that's dealt with, feel like helping me chop up some bodies? Moving whole bodies is always such a pain. They are heavy, you can’t pack them in cute purses for disposal, and I won’t even get into the smell they quickly give off. It’s the worst.”, cheerfully said Mel.

“I...what...ok”, stammers Linda. Before her eyes that night, she had witnessed a seemingly teenage girl go from talking about her favourite music to killing six people that she saw die. Now, that same girl was going on about chopping up bodies. Aside from the body chopping up and packaging, the rest of the night was a normal move. Linda could almost imagine when she helped move her daughter's belongings.

As the sun started to rise of the conquered, but not surrendered, city Mel got the last of the boxes into her new home. Much to her surprise, it even had a cctv system with feeds to outside the base when she got the power back up. Whoever had occupied the office before also had a private room with a large comfy bed Mel discovered. It had been so long since she slept on anything except a cot that she fell asleep knowing at the sign of any attempted intrusions she would be alerted immediately.

All told, Mel considered it a pretty good moving night.
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