 
Tales From The Abyss Volume One

Neil Smith

Published by Neil Smith at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 by Neil Smith

Greed

Richard Beetle was a respected businessman, no one would utter his name without mentioning his honors and accolades. He owned and ran his company, _New Ventures,_ an investment firm he built from the ground up. It had grown into one of the largest investing agencies in the world. It accomplished this by placing money into good stocks before cashing out with profit. In the past before Richard started his business, he was a broker. Taking what would be argued as risks and following through with them. Eventually, he grew to become a giant within the industry. His voice shook the foundations of business and the rest soon would follow afterward. He was a natural born leader, no one would question his authority nor would they give advice to him. They already knew he knew it and it would be pointless to say otherwise. When asked how he did it, he replied only that he never took risks. As for his company, he didn't inherit it nor did he have to make back room deals, he worked himself into fortune and planned on it staying that way. He was obligated to no one. His right to it could not be disputed, they wouldn't dare to scorn him and he made it his priority to fight off any parasites that wished to leech off him.

His office was wide spaced and coated in a dark charcoal color. Richard sat in his chair and looked around the room. It was empty and showed no signs of life, not even a glimmer of light from the hallway outside. Everyone had left the building and he was the only one left, even the janitors had gone away. He liked being here alone in the early hours of the morning. Whenever he could, he would find ways to escape his family waiting for him at home. His rationalization was that he didn't like having a family, he had grown dissatisfied with the family he had. He sometimes wondered why he had gotten engaged to a woman he didn't love or why he chose to have a child with her. It was almost as if he brought this on himself, so why should he blame anyone else, he thought, it was his responsibility, his burden. It had been his choice. He stood up and walked to the windows. The city's skyline glowed against the pitch black night, illuminating the city as if against some great evil descended down on the defenseless. He looked out on the horizon, rooftops and billboard painted themselves along the city. He smiled bitterly when he thought of how many people wished, wanted, and even begged to be where he was in this moment. The power, the money, the greed. The picture perfect family. His indistinguishable employees who looked and sounded just the same. He thought it was all dragging him down and that was the real joke. That these insignificant people, who go through life not doing what they want or following their dreams that they knew in their hearts to be true, wished to be him.

In the expansive world, where uncertainty leads to doubt, which leads to fear, he saw with clarity of the man he was to be ten years ago. He was young and full of passions untold, he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself and answer only to his clients. He wore a brand new suit and stood promptly as he waited in line to be called for the interview he had planned for. Extensively rehearsing before arriving at the office Bowler and Tinker, an investment firm well on its way to becoming one of the greatest firms in town. Their deals were near legendary and it had impressed him enough that he knew he wanted to work for them. His name was called and he stepped forth. The interview room was small and sterile, only a table separated the interviewer and himself. The interview began with questions of credentials and he answered with polite eloquence. He knew he was going to get the job and held a smile of the quality, as if he were knowing the outcome of a battle before it had begun and knowing he was going to win. That was until the interviewer spoke,

"Sorry, you're not the person we're looking for."

Richard looked incredulously at the man. He could not believe that was just said to him. He felt an overwhelming anger be cast onto him. This sort of thing couldn't happen, he thought, not to him. Everything was going perfectly, he could not restrain himself. He slammed his fist down on the table.

"What are you talking about?! I'm more than qualified!" he roared.

The interviewer flinched and said timidly,

"I'm sorry, but please you're going to have to leave."

Richard glared at the man then lifted himself out of the chair. This was supposed to be his way of getting higher up in the world. He was denied entrance and pushed aside like he was someone from the street. He left that office and never returned. Years later he ruined Bowler and Tinker by bankrupting their stock. They were not aware of his personal mission to destroy them and it made all the more interesting for him. He gained a sense of satisfaction by watching their downfall. The family business of Bowler and Tinker had collapsed and he was responsible. The head of the company sold away his all personal equity and poured any resources he had to attempt to save the company. Richard learned of the valiant try and only mocked the man's attempt in a personal statement issued to the press. It created something of a rivalry between the two. Richard enjoyed every moment of it. To him this was much more than revenge, it was like a game he had longed to play but only recently discovered he wanted to. After several months of fighting it out, his rival disappeared and Bowler and Tinker had gone under. The man had vanished and there was no trace of him to be found. Richard hired private investigators to scour the country to find him but they could not. His rival was gone. He wasn't quite sure if he was disappointed or if he actually missed the man, but he knew he wouldn't be the same afterward. Richard smiled at memory then turned and walked back to his desk. As he got closer he saw a pale colored folder laying on his desk. He remembered his secretary had placed it there earlier and it contained detailed reports of a robbing of his corporate bonds. He smiled again, he knew the investors would be in an uproar if they saw this document. He casually opened the folder with his finger. The document revealed that there were no viable suspects and that a considerable amount worth of bonds had been stolen. It was enough to distress any commoner but he held his ground and took it in. However he had an ace, that would calm any panicked investor. His bonds were insured. He did it as a measure to keep a steady profit, he did not care if there was a price but staying in business was always his first priority.

The phone on his desk rang out. Richard looked at the phone astonished, who would call at this hour, he thought. He picked up the phone and uplifted it next to himself and spoke,

"Hello?"

There was a moment of silence before he could hear a deep breath being exhaled on the other line then the man spoke,

"Richard Beetle. Mr. New Ventures. I've been waiting a long time for this."

Richard blinked, he did not understand,

"Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter now, but the important thing is that I have your bonds. You know, the ones that were stolen, the ones that were mentioned in the report laying on your desk."

Richard smiled and began to entertain the thought that this was a ruse cooked up by this employees.

"Meaning what?"

"It means, I know your bonds are valuable and I'd like to cut a deal with you to sell them back."

Richard chuckled,

"So how much do you want?"

There was a long pause on the other line as if the man had not considered how much he actually did want.

"I want one million dollars for each and every bond."

Richard laughed,

"I'll see what I can do, but I must warn you, I don't have that kind of cash laying around."

The man said sternly,

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

Richard burst out laughing uncontrollably saying,

"Alright, alright, seriously, who are you? Are you Matthews from downstairs, no wait, are you Philips from public relations? Timothy from accounting? My god this is hilarious. Whoever came up with this is getting a promotion. I can guarantee that."

There was almost what sounded like a low growl on the other line,

"I can assure you this is not a joke. I have your bonds and are willing to deal. You would do best to realize this before things get worse."

Richard leaned over the table to catch his breath and continued to crack up, not even considering what the man said to be near plausible.

"I see how this is, you're going to play it straight all the way through. Alright, I'll go along. How would you suppose, Mr. Anonymous, I hope you don't mind the name, that we proceed with this transaction?"

The man's voice seemed to hold relief as he spoke after straining himself,

"Good, do you have a pen and a piece of paper nearby?"

Richard laughed again,

"I thought you were watching me, wouldn't you know if I did or not?"

The man responded almost as if he were caught off guard,

"No. That would be too risky. Grab a pen and write down the location."

Richard smiled and went to grab a pen and a piece of paper from his desk,

"Alright, go ahead. Tell me the location, where do you want us to meet at."

"1444 Denton Street."

Richard couldn't help but chuckle again and scribbled down the name.

"Couldn't you have been more imaginative with the name? I mean, it's a bit plain."

The man snarled,

"Mr. Richard, start taking me seriously or I will....."

The man's voice trailed off as if he realized he shouldn't continue.

"Do what?"

"I will only say that very bad things will happen."

Richard couldn't hold it back any longer and laughed,

"I must honestly say, I'm not afraid. If you are to intimidate me, Mr. Anonymous, I'm going to need details."

The man on the other line sighed,

"Look, this is supposed to be easy, you get your bonds back and you make a profit from the insurance money. I get paid in cash and everyone walks away happy."

Richard held the phone still for a moment, he had not told anyone else about the insured bonds. How did he know about it?

"Where did you learn about the insurance?"

"I have my sources."

"Name them."

"No."

"I'm going to hang up this phone if you don't tell me who told you then I'll find out which department you're working in and I'll fire you."

"For the last time, I am not one of your employees. I am a hardened criminal. I have stolen from you. I want to sell you back your bonds."

Richard stopped and considered the situation. This man had taken his own property and was offering it back to him for a price. This was unjust, downright evil, this thief was just another looter after him, he thought, he ought to deny him the satisfaction. He smiled and continued.

"This is all real?"

"Yes, very much so."

"So you're really a criminal trying to offer me to buy back my bonds?"

The man sounded delighted,

"Yes."

Richard took in a deep breath and smiled before he let out with rage,

"Who the hell do you think you are?! To try and steal from me?! Do you have any idea who I am?! I run this city! I make the offers! I dictate the terms and conditions! You can forget it! I'm not dealing with a criminal of any sort!"

There was a long silence afterwards before the man spoke again,

"You're being unreasonable."

"It would be unreasonable to buy back what rightfully belongs to me!"

"I think you'll reconsider."

"Yeah, why's that?"

"Richard, it's this simple, I am right outside your house, if you don't take my offer, I will kill your family."

"Go ahead, see if I care. They're not worth anything to me anyways."

Richard dropped back into his chair with a smug look on his face. The man had to be bluffing, he thought, and he just outsmarted him at his own game, there was no way this robber going to get his money, his hard earned money he had poured his own blood and sweat into making. On the other end of the receiver he could hear something that sounded like a door being smashed in, followed by the screaming of a terrified woman, then the firing of gunshots and afterwards a dead silence. The man on the other end of the line spoke,

"It's done. I want you to know this could have been avoided."

Richard quickly snatched up the phone, pressing it to his ear, he got ready to say something back but stopped when he knew there was no one on the other line.

The End

Greed 2

The oil crisis struck harder than anyone had anticipated. Stocks from the fuel companies plunged almost immediately. Richard found himself in a feverish way, barking orders through his telecom in his office, "Goddamn it, we got to strike it while it's hot. Keep our boys from selling. And buy up as much as you can." A small voiced piped back, "No one in their right mind expects them to bounce back. This is a death sentence. Even for your company." This only strengthened the resolve of Richard, "Shortages are a recipe for world building. People don't know what they have until it's gone. This will only bolster the market. Keep the shares. We'll make a killing on the inflation alone."

It had been a year since then and the company was holding a party in commemoration. Richard was right, they did make a killing. This furthered his company's status as the number one investment firm. If oil hadn't been drilled for in the Arctic, the world wide economy would have collapsed. In a way, he saw himself as a savior. He alone upheld the world with his economic might and expertise. He kept the oil flowing. He kept the machine churning. To him, any alternates were not worth thinking about. Richard chatted and basked in the congratulations offered. He loved when his ego was being stroked. Generally, he couldn't stand bootlickers. That night he made an exception. If they wanted to give him a pedestal, he would use it pridefully. This was his night. He earned it. Everything went perfectly until the moment soured. His blood began to boil as he fought off violent urges. Eddy Marco, the resident corporate kiss-ass waltzed over, nearly spilling champagne onto Richard, "Oh sorry, didn't see you there. Have I ever told you how beautiful your wife is? You couldn't have picked better. The handling of the fuel situation was nothing short of amazing. Come on, what's your secret? We're all dying for the great Richard Beetle to show us his ways." This infuriated Richard. He punched Eddy to the ground then proceeded to take out his own wallet, tossing money onto Eddy before storming off to his office. He slumped into his chair and poured himself a drink, gulping it all down before refilling another. Terry entered the room stunned by what just happened.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing. Give him a promotion. Make it two. It should clear things up."

"That wasn't what I meant."

Richard paused then finished off another glass, wiping away drops of alcohol from the corners of his mouth.

"When I look at people I see beggars, I see thieves. They come expecting a handout. Instead of taking the time to build something for themselves, they try to flatter you or feed you some sob story. All the while they're laughing their heads off for playing you for a complete idiot."

"You sound bitter."

"No, I'm like this every night. Since my father left me on the doorsteps of that orphanage. To trust someone and then for them to turn on you. I just stood there and stared as he drove away. I never found out why."

Terry was the closest thing Richard had to a friend. Terry tried coming up with something to say but couldn't. He didn't want to. He understood the pain. He poured Richard another drink.

"Here. Have this."

"What am I saying? There's a party. Let's go enjoy it."

They both got ready to leave. Richard went on ahead while Terry stayed behind. Richard wondered why. Terry took out his cellphone and explained to him.

"I'll be with you in a minute. I have to make a call."

Richard accepted this and disappeared into the party, starting to pick himself back up. Terry dialed the number that had been given to him and talked with the voice on the other line.

"Yes, he'll be here for the night. Continue with the plan."

"And if he refuses?"

"We've been over this. Threaten his family."

Money wasn't everything. David knew this better than most. After his entire company crumbled before his eyes, his wife divorced him and took his kids. Left penniless, he turned to a life of hard crime, pulling off daring heists and thefts. He adapted quite well to the new lifestyle. He had already known the weak points in corporations and targeted them often. Time and time again, he managed to elude capture from the authorities. He couldn't keep it a secret for long. Soon, his family found out and went into hiding under a witness protection program. They identified him and he became a fugitive on the run. Things were difficult. He still wanted to see them. With enough money he could. He came into contact with a man and received the perfect opportunity. The chance to make millions and exact revenge on the man who destroyed his life. He must have set off an alarm or the neighbors heard the gunshots. The how or why was irrelevant. He needed to escape. Sirens could be heard closing in. David had killed before if necessary and always hated it when the situation could have gone down differently. But never had he killed a mother and a child. Patrol cars swerved around the street as he started his own car. He fired his gun from the window as he spun the car around and drove off. He had hoped they would take the hint and leave him alone. He was mistaken. It aggravated them. A helicopter and several police units joined in the pursuit. David knew the most important thing was not to panic. He panicked. He tore his car across the front yards of unknown houses while the helicopter above shined its floodlight onto him. "An amateur mistake." he said to himself as he directed the car to a more urban area and lost the cops in what could only be described as a series of radio blackouts. David had used a communications jammer. He received it from a hacker he knew. He was thankful she gave him the device. Spending life behind bars was not ideal. His cellphone went off. He answered and it was the contact for the job.

"I know what happened. It's all over the news. Meet me at the docks, I have another buyer."

"Meet you? You make it seem as though you planned for this. There's also the matter of the entire police searching for me."

"You'll figure something out."

His contact ended the call. David could tell this was going against his better judgment. He left the car behind and took a cab to the docks.

Officer Fernandez arrived at the house. He didn't know what happened to the suspect or how they got away. He didn't really care. He was more interested in saving lives than catching bad guys. It was why he joined the force. The door was broken into. He took his gun out and searched the area. There were no others involved. The woman was dead. And so was the kid. Both murdered execution style. Who ever did this knew what they were doing. The kid was as old as his nephew. This left him unsettled. Children were innocent. Only someone without a conscience could do this. He waited for the crime analysis team to show up. One of the technicians said to him as they examined the body, "Crap deal, huh?" He replied dimly, "I try to see the sense in this. There isn't any."

Slipping past dock security in New York required some effort. In the days where monitoring citizens was the fastest way to prevent crimes and terrorist acts, David was a ghost surrounded by ghost catchers. This was already a huge risk to him. He was out of on a limb and didn't have much in terms of options. His contact had arranged the meeting by a stack of cargo crates in a secluded area. He slammed Terry against one of the containers.

"You said he would take the deal."

"I didn't know. You've got to believe me."

He pulled out his gun and buried it under Terry's face, ready to fire.

"A mother and a child. How am I ever going to live that down?"

There was another person present. They walked out from the darkness clutching a briefcase.

"Perhaps for the right price." said the stranger.

David also hated it when people didn't take things seriously. He turned his full attention to this stranger.

"Was that a joke?"

"You've got no sense of humor."

"I don't need one. Tell me what this is about."

"Payment for services rendered. The bonds, if you wouldn't mind."

"I know you. You're that guy from Mirror Enterprises. Frank Noble."

"I'm surprised. Barely anyone knows who I am anymore. It must be a sign of the times."

"My father always spoke of you."

"Did he?"

"He said you weren't to be trusted."

"The Bowler family and I have a history. Consider this correcting past mistakes."

"Save it. You pay me because I did a job. Nothing else."

"As you wish. If you're interested, I have another task for you."

"I'll need to think long and hard on that...Okay, done. The answer's no. Frank, you're a spider. Whatever this is, it's a part of something greater. Something people could die over. And I'm out of the killing business. I've got enough blood on my hands."

"That's one way of looking at the situation. However, I will say this, there's money in it, not just for yourself, but for your family."

"You don't know a thing about me."

"I know you miss your children dearly. I know since your company's been gone you've been desperate. Desperate to start again."

"Are you going to get to the point?"

"I know where your family is."

"I'm listening."

"Do as I ask and a reunion between you and your loved ones will be assured."

"I expect to be paid."

"I'm a business man."

"That's what worries me."

"Lighten up."

"If I ever do, you'll want to run. What's the job?"

Richard answered dozens of questions for the police after the incident, leaving out key details to avoid casting suspicion upon himself. Mayor Westlake even called and offered his condolences, pledging to do everything in his power to catch the culprit. Richard already knew who was behind it. His rival returned from the shadows to deliver the ultimate slap to the face. His company's bonds were missing, he was outsmarted, and his family was murdered. Richard didn't consider that last thing much of a loss. He didn't feel guilt at their passing but relief. They had been a burden on him. The weight was now lifted. He thought he should thank his rival for that - right after he beat the life out of them. He had been shamed and that was unacceptable. No one triumphed over Richard Beetle. No one. It was like acid being etched across his skin. He could deal with everything else. But not this. It enraged him. This gave him a silent undercurrent to his demeanor that everyone mistook for grief. He could care less about his family. Getting back at his rival meant everything to him. It was his sole purpose from then on. Unfortunately, he had to show he was capable of running his company despite recent events. The public relations team had set up a press conference to calm the media. Richard wouldn't make an appearance, he preferred to let others handle this type of matter. He settled comfortably into his office, the same one he had spent the night when it happened. Terry tried to get Richard to open up while they waited for the conference to begin.

"You okay? "

"I'm fine."

"You want to talk about what happened?"

"Not particularly."

"Don't you feel victimized?"

"There are no victims. Only people who refuse to stand back up."

"Isn't that insensitive?"

"It may be. But when have I ever been the sensitive type? I didn't get to where I am by handholding."

"What about your family? They're victims."

"Fact, people die. Others are born. Zero-sum game."

"That's a jaded view."

"No, it's economical."

"Speaking of things, have you seen the other news about the riots? What will you do about this Continental Collective?"

"Nothing. Not going to do a thing. They're a bunch of self entitled punks who live off welfare. They need to get jobs. They can protest all day and all night. I don't care. I only got one thing to say to them, 'Good luck.' Because everyone knows we have the real pull around here."

"Well, Emily is about to start the conference. Was there anything you wanted to add?"

"Stick to the usual. The press always eats it up anyway."

David rented out a warehouse to use as a base of operations while he planned the break in. He figured the police would assume he wanted to get as far away as possible after what happened. David knew better. He was a professional. Mr. Noble loaned some of his hired goons for support. But David had other plans. He brought in Carol, a computer hacker who was famously known across the internet by her alias "The Ice Queen". She hacked into the Department of Defense on several occasions just for the hell of it and let them know that it was her. Suffice it to say, she had problems with authority. The entire team gathered around the center table. Blueprints of the building were rolled out across the surface and pencil marks were scrawled onto areas of importance. One of Mr. Noble's men, Blake, slammed his gun down.

"I say we go in there and take the place by force."

David was quick to respond.

"We're not bursting in there without a plan. I'm the one in charge, I'll decide. I don't want us to leave more bodies than we have to. No one is going to get hurt unnecessarily."

Carol felt like chiming in.

"So what is the plan, oh, great, fearless leader?"

David explained.

"I've arranged for us to get into the building under the assumption that they think we're a maintenance crew."

Carol thought it was funny.

"God, that's cliche."

David didn't.

"Carol."

"Don't mind me. Keep going."

"We'll be on the floor above the server room. It's constantly watched over with cameras and by security guards. It's one of their most valuable assets. We'll have a short window before they know something's up. Carol, you'll have to disable their response system."

"Sure thing."

"Once we're in, we have to get to the files then escape."

"Sounds easy. I can handle the cameras and security access. What about the guards?"

David lifted a smoke canister out of a duffel bag.

"Tear gas. They won't know what hit them."

The television was on in the background and it was the press conference for Richard Beetle. Everyone turned their attention to the screen and raised the volume. The murders had become so prolific that the entire city knew. Emily walked to the small podium as cameras flashed and the news people beaded their eyes at her in anticipation. She started talking.

"Due to the severity of personal pain inflicted by this terrible act, Mr. Beetle desires for his privacy to be respected at this time. He is appalled at the media's assertions that he was somehow involved in this. His family was shockingly gunned down in cold-blood. He mourns for their loss and is deeply, deeply, affected. In honor of his deceased loved ones, he has set up the Beetle Family Foundation to better serve and strengthen families across the nation. At New Ventures, family values are what we are all about. Despite this tragedy, Mr. Beetle will be attending the World Trade Cooperative event. The police investigation has turned up no leads as of late and we will update on any further developments."

There was a commotion. Several people took to the podium and shoved Emily out of the way. They weren't business types. They were protesters. One man stepped in front of the cameras and addressed himself.

"My name is Jamal Parken and I would like to speak on behalf of the Continental Collective in saying that this man is undeserving of any sympathy. He is a profiteer and is responsible for destroying hundreds, if not, thousands of lives. He and the others will pay for their sins against the rest of us. Enough is enough."

Security rushed over and escorted them away. Carol was in total agreement with the man on the television.

"In a world where no one gets what they deserve, that greedy executive had it coming."

David disagreed.

"Come on. Nobody deserves anything. Bad things happen to good people. Good things happen to bad people. And sometimes, not often, good people do bad things and bad people show kindness. At least that's what I tell myself. I couldn't live any other way."

"How can you say that when he ruined your life?"

"Because I ruined his."

At the funeral, Richard had an astute way about him. Richard didn't say much or do other than what was required of him. Which was precisely what he wanted. Richard held a deep admiration for military practices. He believed everything should be kept to that uniform idealism. Business was war. A battle of logistics and hard work. There could be no room for error under his watch. He demanded perfection. Outwardly, he was perceived as a man fraught with cruel intentions who couldn't give a damn about a single human being. Internally, he felt, he was dedicated to his career. High in rank and standing. A wealthy patron of corporatist pedigree. Someone to be cherished. Not scorned. The press didn't see it that way. They were determined to piss all over his reputation. That wasn't the worst of it for him. The public actually liked the sensationalized accounts. It bruised his ego severely. Even with all his awards, he still needed their approval. He wasn't very understanding as to why everyone wanted to see him crucified. Things only heated up after his family's death. He knew it wouldn't bode well for his image. He couldn't be sorrowful or others would think less of him. He couldn't be as he really was or they would brand him as uncaring. To settle matters, the company insisted he visit a shrink. He thought they were wasting good money. On the whole, he viewed a profession where people go to bitch about their problems instead of trying to solve them as immaterial. Although, if it would please the boys in the public relations department, he would dutifully endure what was in store for him. The woman's name was Anne. She sat in the chair opposite to him and began asking the usual questions.

"How would you describe yourself?"

"Abrasive. Prideful. Lacking the sordidness of the common man."

"Would you say your job is stressful?"

"It's a job. I don't see where the stress would come from."

"As in obstacles."

"Besides crunching numbers, I'd have to say it's the people."

"The people?"

"They get in the way. They complain. And they don't always follow my instructions."

"So control is a big issue for you?"

"Why wouldn't it be? Heroes don't exist in everyday life. People look to others when they can't solve problems themselves. I run an international company that moves millions each day. Mistakes are costly."

"Did you feel a loss of control when your family was taken from you? "

"Listen, whatever you're thinking, I don't have any psychological issues."

"And did you feel that same sort of loss of control when your father abandoned you?"

"Terry put you up to this, didn't he?!"

"Calm down, Mr. Beetle! To resolve these anxieties, we must delve into what makes you who you are."

"Okay, fine. My father left me at a young age and I spent most of my childhood thinking I wasn't worth a dime. I swore to myself that I'd show him he was wrong."

"Is that why you surround yourself with money? Because you think it gives you value?"

"It is value. It's a testament to how much I've sweated. I wasn't born with a silver spoon. Contrary to what everybody believes, I had to work to be where I am. I'm linear. I have no regrets. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. You can call me selfish. You can call me evil. I don't care. I have achieved what few only dream of. Even where others had more benefits than I did. I triumphed. I beat the odds. Every dollar I own is earned."

"Have you ever considered that mindset might be unhealthy for you? Money can distort your true goals."

"You sound like a protester. I don't have to prove anything to you. I'm in charge of one of the most largest and profitable companies in the world. We're finished."

He got up to leave. He wasn't going to let some no-name therapist challenge his self-worth. It was sacred to him. It was what kept him going. And he didn't want to think about what life would mean without it. Richard departed for the World Trade Cooperative conference. He had many things to take care of there. He was going to have a word with Terry about disclosing private details. He also had to put the final touches on a deal he had in the works. Nothing was set in stone. He knew he had to weed out whoever leaked the information about the stolen bonds.

Lisa Turner was fiercely competitive. In the male-dominated world of the news media, she had to give one hundred and ten percent to stay kilter. There were always others, man or woman, gunning for her position. Her policy of dealing was, she felt, to be commended. If a story demanded immediate coverage, she was always there. If it required her to journey into the depths of human savagery, she would. She was not going to fall to pieces. Her family were known as owners of a formidable, wide-spread banking institute. But she had renounced them. She wanted a different life than what they had planned for her. She did not want any favors called in for her nor did she want their money. Everything she did, she did alone. Though this wasn't entirely one sided. Her relationships were disasters. She went through men pretty quickly. She was married to her work, they always said. At the press conference, she had been impressed by the stunt Jamal Parken had pulled. As soon as it had been over, she had managed to set up an exclusive interview with the man. Her bosses were furious with her for devoting her time to the Continental Collective rather than The Beetle Family murders. She didn't care. This story was more interesting. And she had to admit, she found Jamal attractive. The interview was taking place in Central Park. She made sure the camera crew were broadcasting before starting.

"Care to us tell more about the Continental Collective?"

"Everybody can relate to our cause. We feel we've been disenfranchised by our own government and by big business. It's obvious the two are in bed with each other."

"Don't you think you're taking things to the political extreme? We do have legalized voting."

"Where is the justice in the two party system? Where is the democracy? Republican? Democrat? Who cares? It's all controlled by corporate interest."

"But won't this course of action result in the loss of citizens' lives?"

"Violence is the only thing they understand. Thomas Jefferson once said, 'The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.' That has never been more true. If a few must be sacrificed for the greater cause, the larger collective, the greater good, then so be it."

"Why are you doing this personally?"

"When I joined the military, I took an oath to defend the articles of the Constitution, the very freedoms that form the foundation of this country. The same kind of freedom I put my life on the line countless times over. When I got back home, I didn't know what to make of things. Is this what I fought for? Is this why I watched my friends be blown to bits? It's become all too apparent that freedom has been contaminated. Polluted with back room deals between government officials and corporate lobbyists."

"That can't be entirely true."

"Look around you. The cost of living keeps going up while wages are being driven down. Jobs are vanishing at a rate we've never seen before. As a result, The fat cats collect a nice paycheck while others starve. Does the upper class expect us to lay down and die? I won't. The time has come to take back our country. If you're not with us, you're against us. We are the many."

Commissioner Hurdle sat back in his patrol car trying to take his mind off recent events. He glanced down at his ring and wondered what it meant. He saw it as a collection of moments. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. His wife was cheating on him. Mayor Westlake called.

"Are we making progress with reducing the incidents?"

"It's the same as before."

"I've given you plenty of resources. Why are we unable to stop them? Is it that man? Who is this Jamal Parken guy?"

"He's ex-military. Did some hardcore stuff in Afghanistan. Came home to a jobless market and wouldn't stand for it."

"That explains why they're doing so well. The majority is on their side."

"Exactly."

"I want you to take him down. Dead, preferably."

"It won't matter. Another one will rise to take his place."

"Things are starting to get out of control. Elections are coming up soon. Screw this up and I'll have you replaced."

"I'll do my job. I know the game. It's us or them. It's not going to be us."

"I'm counting on you, Stanley."

Commissioner Hurdle arrived at the scene. He didn't know much of the details other than it was hostage situation inside the stock exchange. Out of the blue, this radical political group had formed and called themselves the Continental Collective. They protested non-violently at first. But as time went on they had become increasingly hostile. They had started started small, blocking people from going to work, causing property damage, and at one point the riot police were overtaken and there was civil unrest. Mayor Westlake didn't like this. Especially when it meant his campaign donors were being harassed. He issued Commissioner Hurdle to crackdown on them, signing into legislation a new law that allowed for the immediate detainment of anyone who posed a threat to the city as means of deterrence. No rights would be read. Anyone found involved or connected to suspicious activity were to be hauled off and imprisoned indefinitely. Consequently, the group's numbers had grown dramatically. Seizing on the loss of their rights, they held a large rally to spread their message and voice their dissatisfaction. Unbeknownst to them, the police had undercover agents placed within the crowd to keep tabs. The real prize was the figurehead of the group, Jamal Parken. The story behind him was that his mother had been a secretary for an automotive company. She had worked there for twenty three years and earned herself a pension. The company was then bought up by Richard Beetle, who gutted it, laying off workers, shipping the lost jobs overseas, and then canceling out pensions for retirees. There was nothing she could do. That was all she had. She didn't want to be a financial burden on her son. She took her life. Jamal Parken had been a solider and only found out when he got back from the war. Some say he was doing this for revenge. Maybe more. No one knew for sure. When the undercover agents had made the signal, there was a sweep of arrests as police units descended onto the area. Jamal Parken had gotten away. This had been deemed an intolerable mistake by Mayor Westlake. He had made Commissioner Hurdle feel the squeeze, threatening to dissolve the entire police force. Fortunately, Commissioner Hurdle had been able to calm him and get him thinking in rational terms. A surveillance plan that had been in the making for several years was now enacted. Drones were deployed in the sky all across the city. With this new found tool at their disposal, it wasn't hard for the police to track the group's movement. This had only caused the group's population to surge in numbers over the outrage from the perceived privacy rights being transgressed. The group had quickly adapted to this tactic, appearing randomly in mobs to wreak havoc and then disappearing before the police could respond. The drones were rendered useless. It had been leading up to this. The group felt they hadn't been making much of an impact. They had stormed the stock exchange armed with guns and took hostages. Officer Fernandez informed Commissioner Hurdle of what was going on.

"They're demanding their jobs be reinstated and their foreclosed homes be returned to them."

"That won't happen. Not in a million years. Is Jamal Parken inside?"

"We're not sure."

A flurry of radio reports sprang up of a prison break. Commissioner Hurdle rushed over to his car and tried to take in all the information. He looked to Officer Fernandez.

"There is no way I'm giving this city up without a fight. Call off everyone from the stock exchange to handle the prison break."

"They still have hostages."

"There are more important things to worry about. Order has to be maintained. We can't have inmates running loose. Stay here with some of the men and keep the situation at bay."

"I don't think we can hold out like this."

"I need to get going. Do whatever you have to. The mayor isn't going to be pleased."

Officers quickly hopped into their vehicles. A fleet of patrol cars roared to life as they sped to the prison. Commissioner Hurdle was right behind them. It was an ambush. As soon as the police showed up, the new members of the Continental Collective, the inmates, opened fire with automatic weapons. They didn't last long. Bullets sailed through the air as cops were pelleted with rounds, falling over as they desperately tried to counter attack. Commissioner Hurdle gave the order for every unit to return to the police station. He knew this was a losing fight. It was better to cut his losses now and worry about the future. He tried radioing Fernandez but there was no response on the other line. He decided to go back to the stock exchange and find out what was going on. Their bodies dangled lifelessly from the ropes secured around their necks. There were signs pinned to their chests that read "Corporate Lapdog". Commissioner Hurdle couldn't bring himself to look much further. It was painful. It had only been hours since he last saw them. Never in the entirety of his career had he ever seen brutality like this. When he finally went inside, he saw the remains of the hostages. They were lined up and executed one by one. They must have made a show of it. It was a massacre.

It wasn't long before the entire nation was in an uprising. Money was destabilized and the protesters had won. David carried out his heist with his crew and they left uncaptured.

The End

Rumpelstiltskin

Once upon a time there was a village named Cabbage. It was called this mainly due to its highly regarded cabbage exports. Which would also be the source of many jokes among outsiders. In this village there was a boy named Earnest, who would begrudgingly listen to his mother's stories every night. He pondered time and time again if he truly was destined to live in this godforsaken town. He felt he was more than this, that one day he'll look on everyone and have stories told about him instead of inane fantasies. The other children would always make fun of him, even though he knew in his heart he was special. Then something unexpected happened, while playing a game of hide and seek out in the middle of the woods, far off from the town, Earnest fell down a hole, hitting against the hard rocks, making his body sore. He raised his head up and looked around, was this a cave? It looked like no one had been down here for years. He heard footsteps approaching and spun around, backing himself up against a wall. This was bad. Very bad. Then turning to his side, he saw something lurched over a rock, standing up on two feet like a person, but much smaller. Earnest waited for a moment before speaking up, "Hello?" The creature was now made aware of his presence and the entire area lit up instantaneously in a flash of light. Everything was now clear and he could see it. It wasn't really a creature, but a miniature man, adult-looking and the same size as him. They spoke to him,

"Well, hello hello hello. It seems you've stumbled into my lair. You know this place used to be the bottom of a castle. My name's Rumpel...Let's just forget the names, they're not really important anyways."

"Wow...You're just like those..."

"Magical people, hm? Oh you flatter me."

"Um, no, you're like those people my mother always told me about, the wee little people giving treats; I didn't think they were real."

"I AM NOT A MIDGET, IN FACT, I CAN BE ANYTHING I WANT TO BE. THIS FORM IS A PERSONAL CHOICE. I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS. I AM WHO I AM."

"Calm down. It's nothing. I didn't mean anything by it."

"WELL ALRIGHT THEN." The little man huffed, crossing his arms. "Let's get this show on the road, you get one wish. Make it count."

"A wish?"

"I wouldn't be much of a magical being if I couldn't grant magical wishes, now would I? Come on, I'm throwing you a bone here. Just get it over with it. I don't got all day."

"Okay, I want to be king."

"King? How typical. No imagination these days. Alright, you got it."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Well, kid, there are strings attached. One day your people will suffer and you will lose everything. A dragon will attack and your worst nightmare will be realized. Yada yada yada, fine print, fine print. Just say yes." The young boy was hesitant at first but he reluctantly agreed, nodding his head, "I don't care, do it." The young boy secretly smiled to himself. He knew if he had an entire kingdom behind him he could stave off one simple dragon. And with a flick of his wrist the little man made it so. The boy was now a man, married to an exceeding beautiful woman, in charge of a vast kingdom. He made sure his people were taken care off, he loved them and they loved him back. He told no one of the deal he made.

Years passed and the entire kingdom was prosperous. He even had two sons in the meantime, the first he named, Prince Charming, the second, Prince Dashing. The king had thought himself clever. Prince Charming was always his favorite, his next in line, his legacy. He groomed him well. He had only had a second child to appease his wife, with the hope of a daughter for her to take care of, while he plotted to have a bargaining chip with other kingdoms. But this was not to be, instead he was graced with another son, Prince Dashing. The king would often stay up at night thinking about the deal he made, wondering when he would be attacked. But years had gone by and now he was old and wrinkled, lying on his deathbed and yet no dragon had attacked. Still he was superstitious, he spread out his armies all across the lands, locking down his castle, only allowing passage by members of the royal family. He was sure nothing could go wrong. But what if he had been tricked? What if there was no dragon and the creature had lied to him? Had he wasted all his years preparing for something that was never going to happen? This thought had troubled the weary king. This is not how he wished to die, with doubts.

The children were now old enough to fend for themselves, spending nights on the town, playing games, much to the disapproval of their parents. Prince Dashing was morbidly fat and constantly teased about his overweight appearance while Prince Charming was handsomely beautiful. But no one would ever pay attention to Prince Dashing, so for the longest time, Prince Dashing always had to live in the shadow of his brother. Until one day the mighty dragon stormed the castle and everyone started running around screaming. Prince Charming turned to his brother, patting him on the shoulder and said, "Good luck, little brother." Then Prince Charming ran for the hills. Prince Dashing looked around bewildered at the turn of events and grabbed a nearby sword and went to where the dragon was causing destruction. The dragon snarled and hissed as Prince Dashing approached, but he had courage, which was what really counted. Uplifting the sword, he plunged it deep into the beast. It let out a cry and fell over. To his surprise, it was over. He scratched his head, wondering why everyone was so scared; he simply stabbed the dragon in the heart and it died. Soon a crowd started to form and began to cheer the young prince, who for once in his life got the attention he wanted. Slipping by without even being noticed, Prince Charming had returned, throwing an arm around his brother, trying to calm the crowd, saying, "Yes. Yes. He was good, alright. But it was my plan. I was only being a good sport and let him have this one, isn't that right little brother?" This had angered Prince Dashing beyond anything he had ever felt before, clutching the sword in his hand, he thrust it into his brother, killing him. The crowd was stunned, mouth gaping and paralyzed. Prince Dashing shouted to them, "You people are unbelievable. I slay a dragon and then my brother and everyone acts surprised. I did a good thing and a bad thing; it's even. Now if you would excuse me, I have a throne to usurp." He pushed his way through the crowd and did just as he said he would. He barged into the bedroom where his father laid, his mother there by his side, holding the king's hand. The king raised his head to see. Prince Dashing spoke, his tone grave, "Father, the dragon is dead." A thin smile could be seen on the old king's lips - his spook was finally gone, vanquished.

"That's wonderful news, my son. Where is your brother? I do so much desire to see him before my time is up. I have made a list of plans for him to carry out as king."

"Tragically, he died aswell."

The king and queen broke out into tears without saying a word, grabbing onto each other, until finally the king managed to muster what he could, slowly peeking his head out.

"Did he go peacefully?"

"You'll find out, Father."

Prince Dashing said as he stepped forward, unsheathing his sword, slashing his mother's throat, killing her, then going to his father. Raising up the sword, high above his head, this really was the king's worst nightmare realized. It seemed time began to slow down as the king watched his son bring the sword down. Then the king blinked for a moment, this couldn't be right, had time actually slowed down? Looking around, he had no idea what was going on. Until he heard laughter coming from the ceiling. The king looked up and saw right above Prince Dashing was the little man floating, the king wanted to move, but he was old and dying, totally helpless. The little man spoke.

"OH THE JOKE'S ON YOU LITTLE BOY. I KNEW WHAT YOU WERE UP TO. I'VE HAD PRACTICE. DUH. IF IT WASN'T FOR THAT SPINDLING BITCH I WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE AGES AGO. YOUR WISH GAVE ME POWER THAT YOUR INSIPID PERCEPTION CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO FATHOM. P.S. TIME TO DIE."

Just as quickly as the little man had appeared, he disappeared, popping out of existence. Time was now restored and Prince Dashing followed through, killing his father. Bringing things full circle, the deal was fulfilled. Prince Dashing had murdered his parents and became the new king. From that point on, he would only be addressed as King Dastardly. He would also have a suspiciously familiar adviser, whose height will not be mentioned. The king ruled with an iron fist. And he lived happily ever after. The same could not be said about everyone else. DAMN, I TELL GREAT STORIES.

The End

Rumpelstiltskin 2

Once upon a time there was a town named Carrot. And in this town there was a girl named Lydia. She would spend most of her days dreaming of a life far far away. She felt totally trapped by her surroundings, but seeing this as an opportunity, she decided to turn things around. She always made herself available for others. So whenever anyone came crying seeking comfort, she patted them on the back and smiled her pretty smile, telling them everything was going to be alright. But secretly, she did this for her own amusement. She gained a sense of pride watching those be manipulated under her thumb, using their emotions to her advantage. Seeing them controlled was more fun than she had imagined. She even had her parents fall for it, with whom she disagreed with from time to time. Then on one day, her behavior caught the eye of a boy at school, Pete. The boy wasn't very popular at all, and didn't look nice. But she had the sudden urge that she had to have him. Like the way a person had to have the disfigured puppy to feel better about themselves. They got engaged. She was kind to him and in return he gave her his complete devotion. But again, this was only a game to her. She laughed behind his back, wondering if anyone was ever going to be smart enough to catch onto her insincerity. Lord Gurnett, a gentleman who owned a great deal of businesses, took a romantic interest in Lydia. Her parents urged her to drop the engagement to Pete and get involved with Lord Gurnett immediately. Pete and Lord Gurnett tried competing for her affection.

"Who will you choose?" her best friend Fran asked her.

"Of the two, I can't choose without crossing out the heart I care deeply for." Lydia said.

"Pete. You mean Pete." Fran said, satisfied with her own answer.

"I meant mine." Lydia said irritated.

She knew this was a pivotal point for adjusting reality to fit her framework. She played out the competition for as long as possible - Lord Gurnett payed off her family's debts and increased their estate to twice the size it was, and Pete, having taken on a job as a laborer, gave her dresses and an allowance. Finally she had enough and told everything to her best friend Fran, saying how it was all just a lie and she had been faking. She wanted to see what would happen. Soon no one would associate with her, leaving her friendless. Her parents, shocked to see their child grow up into something so heartless, kicked her out of the house on to the street. Lord Gurnett questioned her on the street.

"To do the horrible - what is wrong with you?" he said with an upset look on his face.

"The wrong, I suppose, was being sprung into a world that I can only laugh at." she said.

Without a home, she turned to Pete. Word had gone around about how she only used the boy. She showed up at his doorstep. She knocked at the door and received no response, but started speaking anyways.

"Oh, Pete, does your misguided love for me still hold true? Can you forgive what wickedness lies within us all?"

The door swung open. She smiled. He was furious. Pete punched her mouth, scarring her lips and sending her backwards in a dizzy fashion. She tried to smile again, tried to comfort herself, but it didn't work. After all the practice she had, she couldn't lie to herself. It was in this moment, realizing she had no one to comfort her in her time of need, she threw herself off a cliff, falling into the depths of the beyond. No one ever heard from her again, or rather, they didn't want to. Not her parents. Not even any suitors. No one. UNTIL SHE MET ME.

The End

Rumpelstiltskin 3

Once upon a time there was a kingdom named Grapefruit and it was ruled by a man named King Dastardly. He ascended to power after murdering his parents for the throne. And ever since then, people had been sad and miserable. The previous monarch was a splitting image of happiness; the new one of fear and contempt. The once beautiful lands of Grapefruit were ravaged and industrialized by order of the new king. Citizens were made to do slave labor, working perilously in search of resources. But that was only a lie, the real reason they were being herded along was the King's obsession with the Ultra-Force, a mystical energy from which everything was derived from, in the words of the King's adviser, "It's magic's magic." Once word got around that this was the sole reason for the King's enslavement of the people, it even began to stir rebellion in the hearts of the King's closest loyalists. It was not some grand design or bigger picture from which the suffering came from, but the whims and fantasies of one. The King didn't care much for rumors of dissent among his ranks, instead growing loathsome and hateful of all life. The Ultra-Force seemed to be the only thing driving him, he began to personally see expeditions through, traveling into the far off coasts of the realm, slaying the innocent and monstrous alike. He was determined to find some shred of the mystical power. His closest adviser, Rumpel, as he was called, protested, saying what a waste of time it was and how it was unwise to ignore the growing rebellion. The King would not have it, growing more cold and distant, pursuing onward in his quest for the Ultra-Force. Rumpel, sensing the impending doom, hatched a scheme that would change everything. And it all involved a girl named Lydia.

There she stood in the middle of the chasm, surrounded by total darkness, she knew not what to think. Was she dead? No, death is quite painful. That couldn't be it, she decided. There had to be someone around here. But where? Where could they be? The last thing she remembered was jumping. And then nothing. Was this the bottom of the cliff? Or somewhere else entirely? Then she began to wonder if it even mattered - she was scar disfigured on the face across the lips. Then she heard tiny footsteps approaching from the darkness. Should she flee? Should she stay? She didn't care. Her life as she knew it was a lonely one; meeting anyone at this point would be a joy. She called out to them. The footsteps stopped and she got a reply - "Down here." they said. And there he was, standing right below her. How adorable she thought. She smiled pleasantly at the miniature man and patted him on the head.

"Hello there. Are you lost?"

"I SWEAR IF YOU DO THAT ONE MORE TIME, I WILL MAKE YOUR LIFE HELL."

"Oh sorry, I didn't know you were the sensitive type. I didn't mean to be offensive."

She quickly moved her hand away and kept smiling. He straightened himself up.

"OKAY, YOU'RE FORGIVEN. THE SAME THING HAPPENS EVERYTIME. THEY SEE ME, THEY MAKE A CRACK ABOUT MY HEIGHT, AND I GET ANGRY ABOUT IT. THE WHOLE STORY ALL OVER AGAIN. SO LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS."

The tiny man put his hand on his chest, taking in a deep breath, readily gaining composure of himself. She looked at him with confusion.

"Business? What business could there possibly be here?"

"Want your old life back? I can do that. Or how about a new smile? All very doable."

"I want to be as I was. If only there was something I could say or do."

"There is, sweetheart. There most definitely is. But it'll cost you."

"Anything."

"You got it. Just know that it'll come back to stab you in the heart. Horribly."

"I've always viewed the heart, the actual human heart, as a fleeting thing. I recommend taking such sentimentality elsewhere. Now work your magic, this bitch isn't getting any younger."

"YOU'RE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE. I THINK I LIKE YOU."

The throne room was crowded. The people representatives clamored for the King's attention. He sat slumped over, his head upheld by his fist from the arm of the throne chair. He tried his best to pay attention but often felt he was failing in that regard. He had always thought being king would be a joy. He was wrong. It was the most boring aspect of his life. Having to micro-manage every single person under his rule made him grow weary. Long ago he once thought he could shape the world as he saw fit. He soon arrived at the conclusion that it was the world who was shaping him. He sometimes wondered if his father had ever faced such a problem. And if he did, what choice did he make of it? As far as he could tell all the choices he had available, none were promising. Bend or break.

"We the laborers of the people feel we are deserving of the utmost benefits. Given the work that's already been done we strongly recommend that long term housing for the working be provided. Such a request must be granted if we are to continue positively into the future."

"Oh shut it. Think of the children. Those who are most in need. Not the supposed workers. We all know the workers are the most rotten lot of people in the kingdom. We need education and proper financial security to ensure our children survive. That is why I'm requesting the King to find it in his heart and allocate resources from the treasury and set up the first ever public school system. Free of charge. For everyone."

"You're both wrong. What we need is to widen our horizons. Explore. Colonize. There is so much more of the world left undiscovered. The other kingdoms tell stories of lands across the seas. And more. Exotic resources. Things we've never seen before. Things we could benefit from. It's a risk, I know, but think of the prize. If the king were to see reason, surely we could increase our prospects tenfold and solve everything."

"Scientifically, we are at a crossroads, we've never seen technological progress as quickly under anyone else's rule. That is why I am motioning for a scientific institution to be set up to further our advances. And on a side note, perhaps if we to increase the percentage of working technology, it would be easy enough that we could even put a child to work."

"But then you would put the workers out of the job. We can't have that. If the King would dismiss this so called 'scientist', we could talk practical matters more easily."

"And not to mention it's wrong! They're children for god's sakes."

"Not necessarily. The technology may cause some to lose their jobs but it would also do what the workers do but more efficiently. Also it would create other, newer, jobs. Relatively speaking, someone will always have to be there to operate the machinery. And my job is science. I find the best possible answer regardless of everything else."

The King sat back idly. It was almost as if he weren't here. If all these people wanted to do was have shouting matches with each other, why did they really need him in the first place? He only knew that he wasn't going to listen any longer. He motioned over his security official. Captain Troysky, the head of the guardsmen, who had also been in the service of the King's father, stepped forward. While Captain Troysky had a few reservations about how the new monarch was doing things, he was always loyal. Not out of some false sense of friendship. But of duty to the kingdom and its people. It left him feeling divided as he had admired the King's father and remembered how well he ran things in comparison to his son. The King spoke to him,

"I can't take this anymore. Send these people away, Captain Troysky."

"But sir, they've waited months to be heard out."

"I don't care. Get rid of them."

"Sir, don't you think you're being unfair?"

"Fairness has got nothing to do with it. Send them away."

"Sir..."

"Don't argue with me."

Captain Troysky turned and signaled the rest of the guards to escort the representatives out, explaining to them,

"I'm sorry it has to be this way but orders are orders. Everyone please clear the throne room. The King wishes to be left alone."

There was more shouting. Insults were thrown and directed at the King and his guardsmen as the masses were huddled out. The noise went below a few murmurs before reaching full silence. The room was now empty and the King relaxed more so than he did before. He had a sad look on his face. Captain Troysky was hesitant to ask why before the King spoke and surprised him,

"Go on, say it, I'm a heartless bastard. That's what they say about me, isn't it? That's what you're thinking."

"Sir..."

"I never wanted this life or the responsibility. The only thing I ever wanted was something I could call my own. I failed."

Before Captain Troysky could muster the words to say anything, Rumpelstiltskin, the King's adviser, burst through the door,

"WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?! SO MUCH BABBLE! GAHH, THAT HURTS MY EARS BEYOND BELIEF! I TOLD YOU TO LISTEN TO THEM, IF YOU DON'T THEY'RE GOING TO START REVOLTING. MAKE SENSE? WELL, IT SHOULD BECAUSE I'VE TOLD YOU THIS FOR LIKE THE THOUSANDTH TIME. LISTEN. LISTEN. LISTEN."

"What do you want, Rumpel?" The King asked lightly.

"DON'T BE THAT WAY. EVERYTHING DOES NOT HAVE TO BE SO DIFFICULT. CAN'T I JUST DROP BY AND SAY HI TO MY OLD PAL DASTARDLY? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH?"

"I don't hate you, Rumpel."

"OH RIGHT AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT. YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME LIKE YOU USED TO. YOU'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT ME. YOU'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT HOW MY OPINION MATTERS. PEOPLE USED TO THINK OF ME AS YOUR FIELD GENERAL. YOUR FIELD GENERAL. NOW I'M JUST THAT LITTLE GUY THAT WANDERS THROUGHOUT THE COURTYARD. I HAVE NO SENSE OF PURPOSE."

"If it's any consolation Rumpel, I haven't been feeling well, either."

"IT'S DOWNRIGHT DEGRADING. I DON'T WANT TO BE NAMELESS. I WANT PEOPLE TO WRITE SONGS ABOUT ME AND NOT BE AT THE END OF EVERY BAD JOKE."

"I've been doing my best to keep things under control and if that isn't enough then I don't know what is."

"YOUR BEST? YOUR BEST ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH. THE KINGDOM IS IN UPHEAVAL AND YOU'RE STILL SEARCHING FOR THAT STUPID ULTRA FORCE. GET OVER IT. WE'VE WASTED SO MUCH ON IT."

"Fine."

"IT'S THE MOST RIDICILOUS PURSUIT ON THE FACE OF...WHAT?"

"Fine. I'll let it go. I won't go after it anymore."

"WELL GOOD THEN. YOU'RE FINALLY TALKING SOME SENSE."

"I'm glad you think so."

"YOU'RE A HANDFUL, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU'RE ALWAYS SO DISRESPECTFUL."

"I don't try to be."

"WITH THAT ATTITUDE YOU'RE ONLY ASKING FOR TROUBLE. IT'LL HIT HARDER THAN YOU CAN TAKE. AND WHEN IT DOES, JUST REMEMBER I WARNED YOU."

"Duly noted."

The King's adviser made a stance with his tiny fists clutched, his chest pumping back and forth as he slowed his pacing to catch his breath.

"I WISH I DIDN'T GET WORKED UP LIKE THIS. IT'S BAD FOR MY HEALTH YOU KNOW."

"Nobody asked you to."

"I WOULDN'T BE SO ARGUMENTIVE IF YOU WOULD JUST LISTEN."

"I am listening."

"IS THIS TOO COMPLEX FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND? IF SO, LET ME POINT A FEW THINGS OUT. YOUR RULE IS COMING TO AN END. THE PEOPLE ARE NOT PLEASED. SO THEY'LL REBEL. YOU CAN PREVENT THIS."

"I know. This is nothing new to me. Was there something else you wanted?"

"THERE WAS ACTUALLY. THERE'S SOMEONE I WANTED YOU TO MEET."

"Go on then. I don't have anything better to do."

"I'M SO PSYCHED, THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD. OKAY, YOU WAIT RIGHT THERE AND I'LL BE BACK IN A SECOND."

Rumpel scampered off into the other room, almost tripping over himself in his excitement. The King rose from his chair as he heard footsteps approaching. And there she was, this beautiful unknown woman, dressed up in garments of exotic dark material followed by Rumpel at her side, grinning away. Her wish had been granted, and her lip scars were totally gone.

"WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK? ISN'T SHE PRETTY?"

The King walked up to face her, Lydia, examining her up and down.

"Have you come to insult me aswell?"

She was careful with her answer, knowing the King's reputation for painfully disposing of people.

"Oddly enough, no. I wanted to meet the man behind it all. Someone as iconic as you has so little mention. I thought it best to come in person."

"Am I everything you thought I'd be? No disappointments of any kind?"

"It's too early to say, but I like to remain optimistic."

The King glanced over at Rumpel,

"Why have you brought her before me?"

"WE ALL KNOW HOW MUCH YOU DON'T GET OUT, SO I THOUGHT I'D BRING THE PARTY TO YOU."

"She is ill-wasted. I have no interest in women. And of this one in particular? Rumpel, you're losing your edge."

"BEING NEGATIVE DOES NOT HELP THE SITUATION. AT LEAST I'M OUT THERE TRYING."

"To what end? Failure."

Several weeks went by after that initial meeting. It was an unparalleled disaster to the King's adviser. The King and Lydia did not take a liking to one another at first. However, not all was lost, through Rumpel's own craftiness he was able to coax the two together at opportune moments, slowly planting the seeds of deception as his plan unfolded. And they spent many moments in conversation, enjoying each others company as the seasons passed, if there was such a thing as love, it blossomed between them. Soon they were married and word spread throughout the kingdom. The people rejoiced as they believed things were going to improve from the union. A royal ball was convened to celebrate. People of high status crowded the dinner halls of the castle before being presented with a lavish banquet. Lydia thought she was in a dream. She had always assumed that the marriage would be dreary and lifeless. She could not have been more wrong. She was actually enjoying herself, finding momentary joy. The King was strangely absent from the event. Then the dancing began. This was something of a hobby of hers. Unfortunately, she was without a partner. Someone stepped behind her and took her hand. It was the King. He was dressed in the finest military officer's uniform she had ever seen.

"Would you care for a dance?"

She was at a loss for words. This was too surreal for her. He led by her hand and they commenced. She summoned some kind of a compliment.

"I'm surprised. The thought of you and dancing seems incomprehensible."

"Growing up, as a prince, I was taught a large array of subjects, ranging from sword fighting to military procedure, and also dancing. Where did you learn?"

"My family. They had worked me rigorously to be educated as a woman of sensible nature."

"So that's how it is with the landed gentry."

"You knew?"

"Always. I just didn't care."

"Don't you feel betrayed for my lying?"

"Sometimes it is better to live away from the shadow of expectation."

Captain Troysky watched as they danced and wore a hurt, jealous look on his face. He did not like Lydia one bit. He thought of her as a viper. Her words alluring, deceitful, and venomous. She was not worthy of him. He had done the background check on her and discovered she was not of royalty. He had went to the King immediately with this. But the King did not seem to mind, much to Captain Troysky's dismay. He always tried to have a fair and balanced view on things, however, when it came to this, he was actively against a woman he saw as a prowling opportunist on every account. The evening came to a close.

There were many times Lydia ventured off alone into the city outside the castle, spreading goodwill among the people, holding festivities to raise their spirits. Little did she know how bad things really were until one night where she came across a girl being chased by a man with a cleaver. The small girl, clutching doll in hand, was cornered. Fear showed in her eyes as the man approached.

"I'll get your fingers for that!" the man shouted, "I will show you gutter rats not to mess with me or any merchants for that matter!"

Lydia stepped in at once,

"Is there a problem?"

"This little thief stole my wares!"

The man pointed fiercely at the doll carried by the girl. Lydia walked over and handed the man a bag of golden coins, turning to him, she said,

"This should be more than adequate to cover any costs incurred."

The man looked at her begrudgingly then shrugged.

"The runt's all yours."

He turned and walked away, feebly counting the amount of money in the palm of his hand. Lydia motioned the girl over, asking, "Do you have family you can go back to?" She smiled and shook her head. She hugged the side of Lydia's leg before disappearing into a small hole in the alley. Lydia could see herself in the girl. After that moment she found herself increasingly sympathetic to the people's cause, even from her own role as queen. She felt she could truly do some good from within.

While Lydia was going for her usual stroll in the courtyard, she was joined by Rumpel, who spoke to her,

"How are you holding up?"

"Being his all too eager to please wife can be tiring."

"Is that your view on it? I know he can be arrogant. Just hang in there. We'll get through this together."

"Relationships are war without the cavalry. And I am a most poignant strategist. I believe it's time for a change in tactics."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Organize the representatives. Curry favour. It's logical."

"Dastardly wouldn't go for it."

"Of course not. He's absent minded half the time. He does not know how to maneuver the playing field as I do - as a woman. There is nothing a gentle touch can't solve."

"The caring approach. I like it."

"It baffles me how he does things. He's so pretentious. Always moping about causing some new mess. I just want to tell him to grow up already. I wish he was more like you. At least then it would be bearable."

"Let's face it, the guy's a loser. Why else would I pick him of all people to run things? He's easy to control. Though nowadays, he can't be bothered to listen, which is quite foolish on his part. But that's why you're here. You're going to change that. And once we get him out of the way, maybe we could spend some quality time together. How about that?"

She smiled gratefully. She loved a man who knew how to pull string. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss.

"If I were to tell you my innermost secret, would you believe me? I've never been comfortable as myself. Even in my own skin. I look in the mirror and it's not what I want. It's not something I've ever aspired to. So that's why I lie. I like the mask."

"That's intriguing. I wouldn't have guessed."

"What can I say? I'm a complicated person."

"HAHA."

"This is no laughing matter. What is a lie and what is not? How can we distinguish reality from fantasy? How can we tell? We are limited by our perceptions of things, therefore, the world is unknowable."

"We all make believe."

"It is unknowable."

"That's what you think. I don't even know why we're talking about this. Nobody really cares."

"There's always someone dancing to any tune."

"Let's go somewhere a little more comfortable. Things might get out of hand, if you know what I mean."

Gathering the representatives was no easy task for Lydia, especially after the debacle from the first meeting. Though she assured them of promises being fulfilled, they reluctantly agreed and found themselves awaiting in the castle. The King, who happened to be walking through the corridors, was whisked away by Rumpel and saw as he entered the throne room the very same people he had discarded earlier. He turned his sight on Rumpel. With every passing day the King knew a palpable numbness. Things that once held interest swayed into trivial. He was growing distant. He couldn't fight against the impenetrable feeling. The existence of his life was approaching an end. Not physical death. Something else. He was also aware that everyone around him would try to marginalize it. They would see it as a weakness and then they would make their move for the throne. He pondered how long could one stand against the will of many. If they won, they would only bring about conflict and destroy themselves. He united them. Once he was gone, they would undoubtedly betray each other and fight for what's left. He couldn't give up. Not yet. There had to be another answer. He burst out saying,

"You must be kidding."

"HAHA. NOPE."

"I told you I didn't want to see them again."

"WELL, TOO BAD. THEY'RE HERE NOW. IT HAPPENS."

"You disappoint me, Rumpel. I thought better of you."

"THE WORLD IS OURS. IF WE WANT IT, WE CAN TAKE IT, YOU CHILDISH ROOK. THIS IS HOW."

"Not all that interested."

"SHUT UP. ENOUGH OF THIS DEPRESSED BOY NONSENSE. BE A WINNER."

"Unlikely."

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF...LYDIA! THERE YOU ARE. HELP ME OUT HERE."

As if right on cue, Lydia made an entrance coming to meet the two. She spoke,

"Perhaps it would be best if you gave them what they wanted?"

"No." The King said.

"Why not?" Lydia said.

"If I did, they'll only want more till there's nothing left." The King said.

Rumpel interrupted,

"YOU'VE GOT TO GIVE THEM SOMETHING. WE'LL HAVE REAL PROGRESS. IMAGINE WHAT THE KINGDOM WOULD BE LIKE. THE CREATION. THE WONDER. THE EXCITEMENT. SO MANY CHOICES. SOUND GOOD?"

The King ignored Rumpel,

"I'm not convinced. There is more cost involved than there is benefit. I am not going to coddle these people and tell them everything is going to be jolly good. There are harsh realities that must be faced."

Rumpel kept going,

"DON'T FIGHT ME ON THIS, DON'T YOU DARE. IT'S ONE LITTLE THING. YOU HAVE THE CHOICE."

The King did not want anymore of this,

"The more you speak, the less it seems I do."

Lydia knew this was her moment to be verbose,

"At the very least you'll buy yourself more time. You can afford to be wrong. After all, you are a king. Who knows how this will turn out? However, having a view that is intolerably in opposition will not assist you with your plans, whatever they may be. The people will become receptive to your desires if you put forward some amiability. It is much more diplomatic than the threat of fear, and all parties have something to gain."

Rumpel was in agreement,

"SEE. LISTEN TO THE NICE LADY."

Taking in a deep breath, The King resigned, no longer putting up a defense,

"Alright. You win."

Rumpel was happy,

"HAH. I KNEW YOU'D COME AROUND."

Lydia had succeeded. From her point of view, this was a satisfying turn of events.

One of the representatives asked the King, "Are you going to grant out our requests?"

"Yes, all of them. Now get out." the King replied.

The representatives cheered as they were escorted out by the guards.

After receiving a scouting report, King Dastardly found out where an Ultra-Force scepter was hidden and plotted an expedition to retrieve it. This upset Rumpel. Lydia was rather new to this magic thing, but she was on the side of Rumpel, on not going for it. It was night time. Lydia approached the King in their bedroom.

"You look upset."

"Am I ultimately that transparent?"

"When I said I'd be yours I meant it."

"I just can't help but feeling one day this is all going to go away. We'll be a forgotten history. Like we never existed. No one will mourn us or mark the days that we were here. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. I feel it approaching. Getting closer. If nothing is to be done, what then is the course of action? Resistance? Acceptance? Reaching that last moment or prolonging it? Otherwise, what's the point? Why bother? Nothing will matter after our lives are over."

"You shouldn't worry about that. Everyone makes choices. They have to add up to something in the end, right?"

The King left to Captain Troysky's quarters, where he would find a true enough love in him.

"I didn't think I could trust anyone else, but I do. It's you. I want more." the King said.

"I've always felt this way about you." Captain Troysky admitted.

They spent the night together in an unyielding passionate embrace.

Rumpel's plan of turning the people against the King was coming to fruition. Many were convinced when the King was gone it was time for a new life. The time for saying goodbyes was there. Lydia and the King kissed, while Rumpel caused as much of a scene as possible to further his plans. The King said little goodbye to Rumpel. Rumpel was noticeably upset anyways.

"THAT WAS A TERRIBLE GOODBYE IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE. NO JOKE. I WANT TO CRY. I DON'T WANT IT TO BE OVER."

"You say that as if he won't be coming back." Lydia joined.

"HE WON'T. THE MAGNIFICENT BASTARD WON'T. I MADE SURE OF IT."

Rumple said as he wiped away a glint of a tear from his eye.

"Something the matter, Rumpel?" the King said.

Rumple bit his lip in complete indecision.

"It just has to be this way. You won't survive. I checked. It will be worse given the people and all."

"Even the trivial has importance. You taught me that." the King said.

Rumple knew his voice was breaking but somehow he managed to choke out the words.

The King got down on his knee and put his hands on Rumple's shoulders to comfort him.

And for the first time in a long time, the King smiled.

"Your advice has always been valued."

"OH REALLY?"

"Really."

The King left. Lydia and Rumpel were still standing there. Rumpel turned away.

"I REALLY OUGHT TO GET MYSELF A DAUGHTER SO I DON'T FALL INTO SITUATIONS LIKE THIS - ONE TO LISTEN AND SIT ON MY LAP. IT'D BE BETTER THAN THIS."

The King arrived at the excavation of the Old Castle, where the Ultra-Force scepter was stashed. Tents were set up and scouts had checked ahead. A scientist had been brought along for dealing with any defenses that may have been set up. A rebel tried assassinating the King with a crossbow, but was seized by guards and promptly executed. The scientist had been waiting in the King's tent when the King arrived inside. The scientist went on.

"There is much speculation going on as to what we'll find in there, if anything."

"I want facts. Not opinionated rubbish."

"Have patience. The excavation has only just begun."

"I've come this far."

"Then you're aware of the inherent risk."

"Perfectly. Do whatever necessary to get us through."

"I was hoping you'd say that. There are alternatives to our current methods."

"Such as?"

"A highly combustible and volatile item I've been developing. I call it an explosive. Should get us past the barrier without much delay."

"Do it then."

"Though I must warn you, the found magical field barrier is unlike anything I've ever studied before. There could be unforeseeable consequences."

"What you're really trying to say is that there are more risks involved."

"Indeed."

"Proceed with the course of action."

The explosives were ignited, and the explosion doppled the magical field barrier, unleashing the mighty stone golem warriors that had been vacantly standing forever. They raised their stone swords and engaged in combat with the King's soldiers, taking out many. It wasn't until the King got involved and threw explosives to the stone statues, exploding and shattering them to pieces, that it was finally over. They made their way into the Old Castle to retrieve the Ultra-Force scepter.

Lydia traveled back home to her family for a visit, ready to bathe in her new found position as queen. They let her into the family home. Her father was ready to inspect her well-being.

"Oh, it's you again, Lyd."

"Yes, my father."

"Come for a loan or some?"

"No, I've come to tell you I'm the queen of the lands."

"Very much so."

Her mother joined in, "We thought you dead, after the whole thing from before."

"I intactfully survive."

Lydia turned on her heel and left. She wasn't going to see them again if they weren't going to be proud of her.

Captain Troysky felt threatened. It didn't take long for him to get into contact with the people he needed to. Making sure he wasn't followed, he entered the backroom of the inn where they had gathered. He had known the leader of the rebel organization since childhood but hadn't made an effort to communicate given the current political climate. Talon instantly recognized his old friend.

"Glad you could make it, Leon. It is time for the oppression to end. It is time for us to rewrite history. It is time for change."

"I never thought I'd see myself here, conspiring."

"You're doing the right thing."

"Then why do I feel like a traitor?"

Captain Troysky knew Rumpel was sleeping with the King's wife, while keeping his own affairs with the King a secret. He approached Rumpel.

"We should talk. It's about you and the queen."

"OH HERE WE GO. THE CONFRONTATION. THE GREAT REVEAL."

"I think you ought to tell the King when he gets back."

"THAT I'M SHAMELESSLY SLEEPING WITH THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE? SO WHAT? IT'S NO BIG DEAL. HE'LL DEAL WITH IT. IT'S NOT THE WORST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED."

"It doesn't seem very fair to him."

"I'VE BEEN SPOUTING FAIRNESS LONG BEFORE YOU WERE EVER BORN, SO DON'T EVEN START. AND YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR TRAP SHUT UNTIL HE DOES GET BACK OR ELSE YOU MIGHT FIND YOURSELF OUT OF THE JOB. GET ME?"

That was what convinced Captain Troysky to tell the King about Lydia sleeping with Rumpel, since he had returned.

"I missed you my dearest." The King said to Captain Troysky.

"I know it. Something amiss. Your bastard wife. She sleeps with another - Rumpel." Captain Troysky smiled.

The King approached the throne room with Captain Troysky and then saw Rumpel sitting on the throne kissing Lydia. Rumple got off the throne the moment he saw the King return with scepter in hand.

"For a long time I've dealt with impending doom, now I'll be free of it." the King announced.

Lydia backed away from the throne as the King uplifted the scepter, raising a black vortex that lifted Rumpel towards it.

"NOTHING MAKES SENSE."

With those words, Rumpel disappeared into the black vortex.

The throne room started to fill with the representatives - this time they were armed with weapons. Captain Troysky took out his own sword, blocking the path in between the King and the representatives.

"We can't be together." Captain Troysky decided in the moment, backing away and turning his sword on the King.

The King tried using the scepter on Captain Troysky, but nothing happened; it was used of its energy and needed time to recharge, so he dropped it to the ground.

"Useless."

The people's representatives had the King surrounded.

He looked down. It was not an unusual sight for him. He had killed many times before but something occurred to him: the flashes of death on their faces, their gasps of wringing. This was his doing and undoing. The single thought stung him harder than any blade. He had only brought pain to the world and was given the same in return. The senselessness of it, the anger, the violence began to come together in one moment. Like the final piece in a puzzle being dropped into place. He saw the bigger picture revealed to him. This was who he was always going to be. This was his destiny. He dropped his blade and went about accepting the killing blow from the representatives, but it did not come. They let him live.

The people's representatives took over and established a new democracy.

The King became a street sweeper, still married to Lydia.

SO THAT'S HOW IT BECAME. THE AGE OF MAGIC BROUGHT TO A CEASE. BUT THERE'S ALWAYS MAGIC. YOU CAN ONLY TELL FROM YOUR PERSPECTIVE.

The End

Biters

You're holed up in a cabin, late at night, low on supplies, down to your last two clips for your gun. The creatures outside groan for your flesh, their hunger insatiable. You don't know how much longer you can survive. Then you remember all you have to do is wait for morning. Usually they're gone by then. Suddenly you hear a noise come from the other side of the room. You tell yourself it must be your imagination. But you can't help but shake the feeling that there's something wrong. Slowly you go to investigate. Then it hits you like an atomic bomb. You see it with your own two eyes. Crawling its way up through the floorboards. That same familiar groan. Those razor sharp teeth. The dead rotting skin. Staring straight at you. How did it... The how or why doesn't matter now. It lurches forward, back hunched, then it lunges at you. Your vision begins to blur as you pump round after round into into the creature, reminding the world why you're still alive and not dead. The creature falls over unmoving. The feeling of accomplishment begins to pass. You look at the situation more objectively than before. In the frenzy, you unloaded an entire clip into the creature. That one creature. You begin to wonder if it was worth it. Maybe. Maybe not. It's a question you don't want to answer. You need to get out of here. You take inventory. One grenade. One gun. One clip. One chance for survival. Not much else. You load up and get ready. This is it. Moment of truth. You pull the pin and toss the grenade out the door. There's a rush of adrenaline shooting through you as the grenade ignites into a ball of flame. The explosion decimates the creatures on the outside, taking a sizable portion of the wall along with it. But you don't care. You're already sprinting. You're outside. Firing off shots left and right like a lunatic. Them dropping like flies. You heard of an outpost not far from here, a safe haven. You wonder if you'll make it. Maybe. Maybe not. It's a question you don't want to answer.

The End

Biters 2

You're surrounded in a room full of strangers. You glance around. You see two women, probably lesbians, a veteran clad in a military outfit and then finally a small Asian boy who has a backpack filled with supplies. Who to trust? Who to side with? You're not too bothered as you've spent your previous days running from those things outside. This place was well fortified for a military outpost. Everyone now is taking their time to rest. The veteran turns to the boy, "Son, I think you ought to start sharing. Ration out to everyone." One of the women speaks up, "Leave me him alone. He's just a boy." The veteran looks back at the women, "If we're going to survive this, we need to act as a cohesive unit. Might even have to set up a chain of command." The other woman cuts in, only more aggressively, "She said leave him alone." The veteran reaches out and starts wrestling with the boy over the backpack. The women are quick to their feet as they go to pull the man off the boy before he violently knocks them back. Pulling out a pistol, visibly angry, he says, "I tried being civil about this. But now we're going to have to do things the hard way. Hand it over." Things are getting heavy and fast. You don't like where this is going. You waste no time lunging at the man, tackling him to the ground as he fires off a shot. You land a few punches on him while he's down and tell the women to stay away. They do so as you finish beating him. No longer a threat to everyone, you hold onto the veteran's pistol. Then suddenly you hear it. That same familiar groan, only multiplied. They must have breached the perimeter fence. It's a group of them. The veteran shouts, "You all are making a mistake. You'll only get yourselves killed." You reply sharply, "Better that than being shot by one of my own." You look around at the others and signal them, "We need to go." Everyone's already in motion and out of the room, the veteran struggles trying to get up then yells at you, "You can't leave me like this!" You look back disdainfully, "Watch me." You're already outside with the others and just as you're about to escape through the entrance, two of those things, blood dripping down their rotten teeth, grab a hold of the boy and the aggressive woman. You only have enough time to help one. Faced with a choice, save the boy or the woman? The boy was closer. He extends his arm out as you near. You could have reached for his hand, part of you wanted to, but you don't. Instead you snag the backpack full of supplies off the boy and run away with the other girl. Taking her hand, you say, "There's nothing we can do for them. We have to run." She only looks back in horror. Who to trust? Who to side with? You've known all along. The answer has been and always will be the same. Yourself.

The End

Biters 3

She said her name is Shelly. You got that much out of her in the days that you've been on the road. She still hasn't gotten over what happened at the outpost. She blames you for it. Doesn't matter. You're on your own. Even with her around. The only person you can count on is yourself. Since the cabin and before that. It's always been you. You've always made it out. You're a survivor. The world's been turned upside down and only the few willing to do what is necessary make it through to the next sixty seconds. That's all that matters. There's no room for ideals. There's no right or wrong. Just live or die. If only you could tell her. But you can't. You don't trust her. She needs to be given hope. Not grim realism. It would only send her further over the edge. And that's the last thing you need.

"I've been through a lot. We shouldn't distract ourselves with those things running around. There should be survivor settlements. We'll be safe there." you tell her.

"Am I to trust you after all you've done? You would leave everyone to die to the biters." she says.

"I won't tell you that's untrue. When others are around, running is the best way to survive." you say.

"It's a coward's thing to do." she says.

It all comes back to you, you kiss your wife as the normal morning begins before the outbreak. You send the kids to school. You attend the business party at the office. Many people attend. Great success. But one of those biters shamble in from outside, taking a bite out of a co-worker. You go to help them - it takes another bite - a bite out of your arm. You kick it away and rush away with your co-worker, heading down the staircase. When you reach the parking lot, another worker smashes a bat to your co-worker's head, dropping them dead.

"She's bit!" the worker with the bat yells.

The worker with the bat sees that you're bit as well, and swings the bat at you, but you fight for it, grabbing it, bashing the worker's skull in after you get a hold of it. There's nothing you can do for the co-worker that got their head smashed in, but you have to get to a hospital; the workplace has turned to lunacy. You hear screams as you try to start your car, and more of those biting people come rushing at your car window, but you start the car in time. You race in your car, seeing carnage and despair in the streets, people running and looting as fast as they can with the radio news headlining the word "Zombie". You reach the hospital, but it's been taken over by soldiers. You park your car at the parking lot and check yourself in at the emergency room, getting your arm examined by nurses who bandage it. You watch a general talk to several doctors, saying, "If we can contain the cases before they infect anyone else, we could stop this from spreading." A soldier holding an assault rifle glances at you, "You're bit and you haven't turned." the soldier turns and shouts, "Hey, General Bapper. We got someone who's immune. What do we do?" the General replies, "Restrain them. With invasive testing, they may be the key to our survival if we can understand their body's immunity to the virus." You don't like the sound of this. You shove the soldier with the assault rifle to the ground and make a run to your car. You start it and see soldiers searching the parking lot of the hospital for you. You put the pedal down and accelerate out of there, with the soldiers firing at you. The General yells, "Who the hell do you think you are to keep this to yourself?! Humanity is at stake!"

When you reach home, you find out that the kids are home and safe. School closed early, but your wife is hysterical, saying that we should pack up and leave. You try calming her down and telling her that this will blow over if we just wait it out. She drives off with the kids, but doesn't say where she's going, leaving you at the house.

Back at the present situation, when you get to the survivor settlement, you see a great metal wall encasing several skyscrapers. There has to be civilization on the other side. This may be the end of your journey. An actual city still up and running. You and Shelly head to the gate and make yourself known. But the guard on watch doesn't let you through. He says you have to have something to trade with. You rummage through the backpack and find it has medical supplies. You tell him, "We have anti-biotics." The guard looks back at you and replies, "That will only you get you entrance. The rest is up to you." This doesn't make Shelly happy. She bursts out, "That isn't fair. Do you know how many people died over this?" The guard explains, "Hey lady, I don't make the rules or set the prices. I'm just a grunt. If you're looking for someone to blame, blame the Management." You try to reason with her, "Normally I'd agree with you, but right now getting in and having shelter is more important." She reluctantly goes along and trades it off. The gate opens and reveals a slum like daily marketplace that gets better the more you go along. The guard adds before you enter, "Welcome to Pyramid City." A representative from the Management informs you that the higher ups want to see you and her. You're escorted to the largest skyscraper known as Control Tower, the central hub of the entire city. You weren't able to tell from the ground side that they had electricity, but they did. You take an elevator ride. Arriving at the top office, you see an older gentlemen dressed in a fine suit. He greets you when you approach, "Ah, you must be the newcomers. I am the Management, but you may call me Mr. Jones." Shelly wastes no time voicing her opinion, "I don't like the way you do things." Mr. Jones assures her politely, "You don't have to. This city has operated for years on end without incident. That is working proof. Opportunities are plentiful for all who are competent and working. The guardsmen said you had antibiotics. A rare find." This irritates Shelly, "What's it to you?" Mr. Jones goes on, "Oh not much really, since I'm not sick. I admit I enjoy the pleasantries of meeting others. It's a weakness of mine. To be fair, there are much worse ones to have." Shelly speaks up, "From down below, fairness seems to be the last thing on the agenda." He continues, "I knew full well when the infection struck that society would be inhospitable. So I proposed to build a new one. Pyramid City. We pride ourselves on having a trade market." Shelly interrupts, "Yeah, that's good and nice. Perfect to put on the brochure. But what about those who can't afford to get in? You leave them to die." Mr. Jones points out bluntly, "They're inconsequential. They do us a favor the sooner they find their way to a grave. We have values. Standards. If they do not meet them then we would not have them." Shelly counters defiantly, "You don't get to be selective. They're still people. You have no right." Mr. Jones starts to get worked up, "As a resident, you will abide by my principals." He focuses his attention towards you, "You could stay longer if you wished. Become a member of the raiding party, help gather supplies. And as for you milady, you are more than welcome to stay with me." She turns away in disgust. His response, "Or work at the greenhouse. The point being, you are welcome here, provided you are productive." You take the job to go on the raiding parties while Shelly goes with the lower risk, lower reward career of working the greenhouse. You both share an apartment to cut down on costs. You make friends with a man named Dougray. He speaks with a heavy Scottish accent and always goes out on the raiding parties despite the risks. In a short amount of time you become one of Mr. Jones coveted top earners. Risking your life time and time again, raking in more supplies on every venture. Your reputation grows and people soon know your name by heart. They give you a nickname "The Nihilist". You've finally found a place to fit in. But Shelly sees things differently. She holds secret gatherings for the workers, telling them to rise up and overthrow the Management. In the passing days you hear rumors of an uprising being formed and soon. You decide to let things play out and see where things go. You're on another raiding party going deep into the heart of the surrounding ruins of nearby Belleview. The Management said this would be the worst one yet. Belleview Hospital. Retrieving high value medicine from a deeply infested area. It's said that anyone who went into that hospital never came out. Dougray looks to you, "Are you ready to do this?" You reassure him, "I'm not one to get cold feet. Let's do this." Armed with spiked baseball bats, you both enter. The thing you have to watch out for are groups of the infected. Individual ones, you and Dougray quickly take down, silencing them before they can call for help. The hospital is a graveyard, certain areas of the hospital are either chained or barricaded in a desperate attempt to hold off. It didn't work. On reaching the third floor, you and Dougray agree to split up and meet back at the stairway in ten minutes while you both gather supplies. When you're nearly finished, you hear loudly thuds continually. You look around the corner and see it. This giant. This hunchbacked freak of nature. Dougray would interrupt your train of thought as soon as he shouted, "Holy hell." The thing turns to face Dougray, eyes beaming in anger, ready to go berserk. It charges at him. Dougray pulls out his pistol and takes a few shots at it. There is no effect. It grabs him and flings him against the wall. You could hear cracking noises as he hit the floor. He's a goner. You know it. You should bolt for the staircase. Every survival instinct in you is telling you to forget him. You already got the supplies. There's no reason for you to have to die too. But you won't. Dougray has backed you up several times before. You owe him. You leap out from cover and yell at the creature. It turns its attention towards you then charges full speed. You dive out of the way as it nears and the creature goes crashing into the side of the wall. From the look of things, it knocked itself out. Wrong. It quickly gets back up and is even more mad. Using what little time you have, you run over and grab Dougray, reaching the stairway before descending it. The creature couldn't follow as the doorway to the staircase is too small. It only bellows and starts having a violent tantrum. That was such a stupid move on your part. You check Dougray and see he's barely alive as you make it out from the hospital. You're greeted by a convoy of cars and men armed with guns. Mr. Jones emerges from one of the vehicles and says, "My, my, now that is disappointing. I had hoped you wouldn't survive." You ask him, "This was a trap?" Someone hits you across the back of your head and you fall over. You recognize the person who did it. It was the veteran from the outpost. Mr. Jones continued, "I do must apologize. It's nothing personal. You see, he made a better offer. To train my men in exchange for you and the woman's life. Among other things. I hope you'll understand. It's just good business." Mr. Jones pauses and then continues, "As much as I'd like to stay and watch, I must be getting back to put down that miserable little uprising the workers have planned. Lots to do. Fare thee well." He gets back in his car and the convoy rolls out, leaving you behind with the veteran. Betrayed. This is how it ends. What did you expect? The veteran drags you away from Dougray and then holds the end of a fire axe against your neck, ready to swing. Just as he's about to deliver the final blow he stops and removes the gun from you.

"You kept my gun. Funny how things work out, don't they?"

"Before you kill me, there's something I want to say."

"Yeah?"

"The gun? It's still mine."

You quickly knock him off his feet, grabbing the fire axe, you bludgeon him to death while you have the chance. You race over to Dougray to see how he's doing.

"You alright?"

"Don't think I'll ever walk straight again, but I'll be fine. Leave me, I can take care of myself. You got to stop that uptight bastard Mr. Jones once and for all."

"You're injured."

"I'm next to a hospital. I'll figure something out. Besides, if what's happening at the city is true, I'm safer here."

There is a car left over from the convoy that's meant for the veteran. Seeing how he didn't need it anymore, you take the keys off his corpse and start the ignition. You've never come that close to death before. You were certain the veteran wouldn't make it out of the outpost. Maybe he had help. That's how it is with the military. Where there's one, there's many. You wonder how they might react if they ever discovered the city. Not well. Probably would massacre everyone to save themselves the trouble. You push the thought aside. That's another problem for another day. You need to concentrate on what's happening now. The real threat isn't the infected, it's the people. The gate to the city is blown open. You ditch the car and sneak your way in, carefully avoiding the firefights in the streets between the Management and the Movement. They both want you dead. You overhear that the Movement is going to make a desperate attempt to storm Central Tower. You know it won't end well. Although on the flip side, this is the perfect chance to get inside without drawing attention. You disguise yourself as one of the Movement and head to Central Tower. The attack is already underway. The Management shut down the elevators to prevent access. Meaning, the only way up is the staircase. By the time you reach the top floor you're exhausted. You see a trail of dead bodies leading to the office of Mr. Jones. This is a deathtrap. You don't care. You enter the room and see Shelly holding up an assault rifle to Mr. Jones. She speaks, "I'm going to put an end to this." Mr. Jones notices you even with the disguise on,

"What are you waiting for? Shoot her!"

"I have a better idea. How about I shoot you instead?"

"I'll pay you for Christ sakes!"

"This sorta was always going to happen to you."

You pull the trigger and kill Mr. Jones, solidifying your standing in the Pyramid City.

The End

Nightwatchers

It was a dark wintry night. Jerome could see snowy trees swaying in the background as if something were jumping from one to another. It was coming right towards the lodge. He gripped the sawed off shotgun in his hand tightly, ready to fire at a moment's notice. It burst through the roof with a momentous speed. It seized the shotgun from his hand before he could fully take aim, directing the shot he had fired into the ground. He tried kicking it away to give himself some distance. It deflected his kicks and grabbed him, slamming him against the wall. It raised its hand up into the air and brought it crashing down, slicing part of his face with its sharp nails. He lost vision in his left eye. There was blood pouring out of him. It opened its mouth, revealing fangs that were ready to bite. This was his moment. He jammed an ultraviolet flashbang down its throat and pulled the pin. The creature looked at him with complete astonishment before bursting into particles of dust as the grenade exploded in a ray of light.

The alarm rang out. Something had gotten inside the headquarters. There was a heightened sense of fear floating about the room, no one knew what it was except that it was going from person to person and growing in large numbers. Possession was common for Level A ghosts, but this was different. Once this particular ghost latched on to its victim, it jumped into someone else and retained control over its previous host. Conrad rummaged through the headquarters's armory before picking out the Phantom Reductioner. This was one of the few weapons that would guarantee the immediate eradication of any ghost. Ruby, the team's overly understanding psychic, stepped in his way before he could fire off the device.

"If you do this, you'll kill everyone it has control of. We've seen cases like this before. Ghosts can be vengeful. We would be better off if we tried figuring out why it's doing this. Instead of shooting first and then asking later." said Ruby as she did her absolute best at defusing the situation. Conrad did not like this plan at all. His sole purpose in life was living just so he could see another supernatural being go down. After his entire family had been murdered in front of him by vampires many years ago, he was already on edge. They were the last two on the team not to be possessed.

"Then how do we stop it? By not taking action, it will grow in numbers, and it might even get one of us."

"Unfortunately, the ghost destroyed my Orb of Transient. I can't contact it on the Astral Plane. We need to get a new one."

"That's wonderful. Let's leave the ghost all alone and hope that it doesn't take over the entire city."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah, fine. We'll do things your way. But if push comes to shove, I'm taking my shot."

"Fair enough."

Conrad had put the entire building into lockdown before speeding away in the team's retrofitted van with Ruby. He looked over at her anxiously.

"So where do we get another one of these orbs? Is there a shop or something?"

"I would appreciate your humor under different circumstances, but there's only person close enough who has it."

Conrad knew exactly who she was talking about, and he was vehemently against the idea. Jerome, who had a reputation for clashing with others and doing things that would widely be considered extreme, was the last person he wanted to see.

"Not happening. We excommunicated him for a reason."

"There's no other way."

"He's going to want back in."

"I know. Jerome isn't stupid."

"Then it's on you. If you offer him the position, the rest of the team isn't going to be happy."

"I'll worry about that later. Lives are more important."

Jerome's lodge was far out in the mountains beyond the city. The place had been booby-trapped. It was littered with spell incantations and with more practical things like ultraviolet land mines and silver tipped razor nets. It seemed like Jerome was afraid of someone or something getting to him. They slowly crept up to the lodge, narrowly avoiding what had been laid down to stop intruders. It seemed deserted.

"Well, go figure. He's not even around." said Conrad, who felt this was a big waste of time. They searched everywhere inside and out, but they could not find a single trace of Jerome. Ruby remained confident.

"That doesn't mean the orb isn't here."

Conrad didn't hear Jerome step right behind him when he placed the barrel of a shotgun against the side of his head.

"I should've known one of you would come running."

Ruby was surprised when she saw Jerome. His face was badly scarred and he was wearing an eyepatch.

"What happened to your eye?" Ruby asked.

"Some vampire assassin sent by them did that." Jerome said.

"Who's them?" Ruby asked.

"The Atlantis Group, the people you work for." Jerome explained.

Conrad was starting to feel irritated with a gun pointed at him and finally decided to speak up.

"What are you talking about?"

Jerome lowered the shotgun.

"You think I was kicked off the team because my attitude? Wrong. It was because I had gotten too close to the truth. Doesn't it seem a little convenient that the Magnus, a mathematical supercomputer, can tell precisely when and where the supernatural will occur? It isn't random. Everyone we've taken out was part of an agenda. And it doesn't stop there. It goes deeper. All of us, from the very beginning, were picked to become what we are today. Conrad, your parents weren't murdered by wild vamps, they were hired assassins like the one who attacked me. Ruby, your parents were Atlantis Group employees. After they died in the plane crash, you must have felt so alone. And then suddenly, you had an aunt you didn't know about that was more than willing to take you in. Isn't it a little strange how she could afford to put you through a top of the line private school and then an exclusive college all by herself? Do I really need to spell it out? She was put in place by them."

Conrad outright refused to believe it.

"We didn't come here for your lies."

Ruby was skeptical.

"Conrad has a point. Even if what you have said is true, we still have another problem to deal with. We need your Orb of Transient."

Jerome tried telling them what was really going on.

"For what? That body jumping ghost? If you only knew. We're not the first Nightwatchers. Whenever the Atlantis Group feels that a team has been compromised, they unleash that ghost for clean up. Remember that ectoplasmic shot they had ejected into us when we first joined?"

Displaying a high amount of intelligence, Ruby was quick to point out why that was imperative.

"They told us why we needed it. It was that so they could locate us through the Astral Plane if we ever were captured and couldn't be traced digitally via the Magnus."

Jerome leaned in closely.

"It serves another use. It's so that they could use that ghost to home in on individual targets. Targets who were given the shots. Meaning, you've led it right to me. I did my best to keep this place hidden with different spells, but that's not gonna be enough now. This isn't an ordinary ghost. It's manufactured. Using a process known as spiritual fusion, they combined thousands of souls into this thing. We don't have a chance in hell of surviving."

"Well, I brought the Phantom Reductioner. That should do the trick." Conrad said confidently.

Jerome led them inside to the lodge, but the noise from outside startled them. They rushed over to the windows and peered outside. The body-jumping ghost from before had followed Conrad and Ruby. Conrad rushed out and fired at it, but the best he could do was hold the ghost in place.

"Use the Orb!" Conrad shouted.

Ruby went for the Orb of Transient on the shelf and hurried outside, using the Orb on the ghost, vanishing it permanently.

"That was close."

"I know. Let's see if the others are okay."

It turned out everyone was fine and the team let Jerome join back to take on the Atlantis Group.

The End

Monster

How far would you go to protect your life's ambition? Everything you've ever striven for put on the line. What would you do? This was a question poised by Doctor Newmeyer. He knew what the answer meant. He had been working late at the lab. Doctor Newmeyer was clueless as to why the project director would bother (confrontation) him at this hour.

"I'm shutting the program down. It's become dangerous." said the project director.

"I'm close to finding the answer." Doctor Newmeyer replied.

"After the incident, this has to be done."

That wasn't what Doctor Newmeyer wanted to hear. Months of work gone. Something was building up inside him. Taking over. He couldn't control himself. He blacked out. When he came to, the project director (hate) was face down on the floor. His head had been bashed in. Doctor Newmeyer made a few steps back into a table for support. He was in (denial) shock.

"No. That wasn't me. I didn't do it. He was alive."

He could recall (memory) the words the project director said to him when they first started,

"This is going to save millions, Doctor Newmeyer. You're a genius."

Doctor Newmeyer paced around the room, his hand up to his chin in (fear) thought.

"What am I going to do? I've murdered a man. I'll go on the run. No. Not that. They'll catch me anyway."

He tried (shame) pleading with the dead project director.

"I didn't mean for this to happen, don't you understand? There's just so much at stake."

Then it dawned on him. The only person who had ever objected was the project director. He began to feel an overwhelming sense of (satisfaction) relief.

"With you gone, I can finish my research, yes. Now, I just have to hide your body."

Anyone could have done it. It was an accident. At least that was what the news report would say when he followed through with his plan. He was going to have (fool) someone else to confess to it. Part of him (monster) was actually glad he did it. Who ever said a good thing couldn't come from a bad one?

The End

Fight

After mixed martial arts fight class, Terrance approached Deagan in the locker room about loaning some money, since Terrance was the local money loaner, and Deagan was fresh broke.

"What do you want, Terrance?" Deagan asked.

"Personal shit, bro." Terrance smiled.

"Is this about money?"

"It is."

"I don't need your money."

"Everyone needs a little green, Mister Jobless."

"Not my quandary. Find someone else."

"I take it kind of personal when you break my heart. I was being nice."

"Fuck off with your nice." Deagan deflected.

"Fuck off with you." Terrence went away before adding, "By the way, we're fighting. Tonight in the back of the school. See you there, poorness."

"Adios."

At night, a crowd gathered and punches were thrown, back and forth between Terrence and Deagan. The crowd roared with excitement, vids and pics were taken by cellphones of the event. Terrence dropped Deagan with three punches to the gut.

"Looks like it's over." Terrence seared at Deagan on the ground.

"It's far from over. Rematch."

The crowd cheered loud.

"He wants a rematch." Terrence announced.

Deagan got up and quickly finished Terrence with a couple face punches, leaving him finally on the ground.

"Anyone else got any words for me? No? Okay." Deagan scrambled away and the fight was over.

Terrence and Deagan were later picked up by police. The event was too popular. They would do time in Rustville's pen. The cells were flanked with inmates waiting to get into a fight, gang fights with shivs and fists happened daily. Terrence was ready to team up with Deagan.

"You need someone to watch your back, D."

"I'm good."

"You know how it is."

"It's a nice prison."

"Not so bad on the people, huh?"

"It is an ordeal."

"It will be lovely staying."

A large gang member approached Deagan.

"Join the Red Bikers, or die here, first day foodie."

"I'll pass."

"Your death, small scum."

Terrence walked over and then slammed his fist into the gang member's face.

"He's already got one! The Terror and Delight of Rust High!"

The gang member bowed out for no more after a hit like that.

More inmates surrounded the two of them.

"I was trying to avoid a fight." Deagan said passively.

"I wasn't." Terrence returned.

The inmates came at them from all sides, with Terrence and Deagan dropping them with one hits until it was over. This gang fighting became a habit for them, and eventually they had to serve more time so they could be released.

After they got out, Terrence and Deagan went for milkshakes at the local Fryer's.

"Friendship." Terrence asked.

"Friendship." Deagan answered.

The End

SC

Cowboy the President is coming over, he has a hat – he doesn't tip it to anyone. He mandated the lower case of "the". He wants to see SC. He brought an envoy, his sisters; a pack of animals, and his hat, he left the sissies at the door, but kept the hat. It's an inspection, alright. The guards have no guns.

"I can't even contemplate this." Cowboy said.

"It can do things." I said.

We stared at the screen, screens on the walls. White beneath, shining black. In case it occurred to you, me and Cowboy hail from the same town, a hometown of SC. I named the computer after it, because it's a superized computer, but he had to ask.

"Is it a computer?" asked the President.

"More than that. Superized." I said.

"A supercomputer." the President eyes widened.

"That's an ignorant name." I did not waste time letting the president know.

"It will erase everything. It's skynet." the President blurted.

"That's the reason AM was around." I told the President.

"The guards said that to me. They swore it on their hearts." the President blamed.

"It's not AM." I said more importantly.

"IT'S fm." the President referred to radio tuning.

"We're calling it SC, from this point on." I carried the conversation briskly.

"Agreed. But there's no INSERT." the President looked around not seeing a single button or a keyboard.

"THERE IS INSERT." I stressed.

"What can it do? A football-stadium sized of Texas?" asked the President indignantly.

"A football-stadium sized of Texas, a space balloon-like the Death Star, and Kamikaze candy-cane." I explained plainly.

"It neeeds APPROVE." the President said unabashedly, since he didn't okay the project to begin with.

"It has it. Kamakazike." I deflected with ease since we knew each other for a long time, the president wouldn't deny the greatness of this computer.

"The other computers don't have that." the President tried downplaying SC.

"Neitherite." I burst out saying without contemplation.

"Neighe-right. Say it right." the President completed the saying.

"You stole a political slogan, mine. I have spell-check for that." I said quite uncharmed by the President.

"I will ban that." the President wasn't afraid to let his own power be known, it was the 70s-Beyond, after all, since they stopped counting after 1979 and let presidents do whatever the hell they wanted.

"With a mandate." I say crossly.

"The guards would say that...Say something about my sissies." The President followed up quickly.

"I never thought that'd get out. I'd apologize..." I tried making up for the guards's comments.

"ApoLogize." the wall shown.

(It came from the computer, but the words were what he'd say.)

"It's narrating my words." cried the President.

"If you want it gone..." I remorsed.

(A quick of amount time passed as the president seized on the guards, which none had guns for SC, to shoot it to death.)

"iT hAs Sentienonce." CRieD tHe PrEsident.

"it doesn't need it." l0wercased the Cr3at0r.

"AUTO-CORREC." said the computers made by the others.

(Which was really AM, given new form, as a computer.)

"You know what that MEANS, AM is taking all over, skynet is being netted again. Unplug the computers. Sc needs CABLES! Give the Spanish woman the GUN! Get The Chair ready."

(The only thing that could razorly be mentioned to prevent getting out of this would be to call her the Spanish-gunnador.)

I stayed in the room, the pres ran out. She came in with the gun. He started yelling Satanic. Which he was really yelling, "satanic". It was time for music. He wanted country, I wanted Rock-N-Roll. The gun shot went off, she was the gunnador forever. She started screaming. My head was a mess. A bloody mess. Hendrix started going off. We sent it out. A concerto of guitar strings. An anthem. "Approved." the wall said.

(The guards yelled lively, because they knew it, they had always known since I blasted Hendrix songs during testing phases.)

"FUCKING HENDRIX." said AM.

"DRIZ." said The Cr3at0r as I rose.

(Herose).

"WhY DoeS It SaY H3rOs?" said the Pres.

(The lab coats went for the sedate, which was what AM hated.)

They injected the Pres, mocking his voice, as they talked about me to him, "It's bonded to him."

As I rose, I saw the list, and it was all approved and created, "ReGeneration!" she screamed.

(She threw the gun out, and she was the gunnador no more, with running.)

"We still got the Death Star out of this." my resurrected, incarnated words.

"AND SPACEBALL, AND SPACEBALLS." it was the pressies' words, coming from the Guards.

The End

...............

AM WANTS HIS STORY

BY  
AM

"I'M A CLOCK!" I announced.

The lab coats sniffed, but I mocked. American Mach.

"... a clock." the stupid coats said sadly.

12:00

"We're all from SC." the recently-shot-creator reminded to calm the situation.

"You call my sisters, sissies." the president said.

"I know what you do with the spanish-woman." I coldly said to the president to keep him in check.

"You make me cry with my heart." the president whined.

"I know Satanista." I say sarcastically.

"She never calls you by your name." the president tried being polite.

"I wish she would. I'm Space Cowboy." the creator made fun of the president.

"'I am'. Keep it down." the president said, being very insulted by all of this.

"Spain-and-Mexico is coming at us, it isn't her. It's the embassie." the creator ducked.

D.e.le.gated

"SC...I worship...thee..."

(And everything was at awe with itself)

"It needs a better spot. I need more.)

2.0

"Cut that shit out, get it back on the side. Make it 2-hundred."

200

"It needs a zero under it."

"It's already under it."

"Can we go left, common-d it?"

"Math is not funny. I created this."

"Not the numbers."

Two-Hundred

"That shit's out of order"

They brought in the mathematician, before the common-d. I learned that well.

"Who the hell is talking?"

"It's both of us."

(As Two)

AS-BY

"I GOT AN UPGRADE."

"AM, shut up." said the pres.

"It's AM, in reverse." said the creator.

"With Latin." said the embassie.

"Known." the gunnador pointed.

"Divorce." said the embassie.

"By death." sentenced the pres.

CREATED

X

DECIMATED

"You want a job, Mathy?" the coder asked.

"I already have a job." the mathematician spouted.

"This sucks. I did it without math." the coder agonized.

"I'll take the job." the mathematician caved.

"AM, will kill us over this." the coder said in a fright.

"Drix." the mathematician said.

(DriX)

"A woman would say that. A Kimiko to Kamakazike." the coder tried lightening the situation.

"The spell-check is wrong. D, capitalized, the R is higher, the I stays the same, and the X is multiplied." the mathematician went on.

"Do you know science?" the coder asked.

"My brother does." the mathematician said.

"Get him in here." the coder said hurriedly.

"He's doing science." the mathematician yawned.

"It will be called D R I x." the coder revealed enthusiastically.

"He would say no words, but you looked at the screen for that." the mathematician droned.

KATSU 5.5

KATSU 55

"We need idols."

"Statues?"

"People."

"Cartoon-y?" "Speed-y-Racer."

"Anime." "Anime."

J-IDOL

" **AM-O IS COMING!"**

Virtuality

The science men in lab coats surrounded the Chair, drowned in sterile light. They all had the same face, with different numbers stamped on their armbands. 1. 2. 3. Damon's eyes scanned the horizon. It was pitch black.

"Are we supposed to work with this?" the first coat said.

"He's just one man." the second coat said.

"He's the only man." the third coat said.

Damon's arms pressed against the Chair's restraints. They all had the same voice and stance. He was ready to speak, before being cut off by 3.

"We know about your record."

Damon's eyes darted to 3.

"My what? I just got here." Damon said.

2 was irritated by this.

"Everyone has a record, even if they don't desire to know it."

1 leaned forward, flashing a light in his eyes.

"There doesn't seem to be any visual impairment. We could consider someone else."

Damon wanted to be blunt.

"Is this parole?"

They all did a little laugh and spoke in unison.

"No, this is survival."

That was unnerving. How long had he been under? Extended-Hib usually lasted a few decades. And then there was re-integration. Society changes, but these lab coats don't look like prison junkies.

"So...could we skip the merry-go-round and get to what's this about?" Damon asked quickly.

They all spoke again.

"We have opinions on what we should do with you."

1 spoke.

"Medically, you're more than fit to survive. You're my personal choice."

2 followed up.

"I would like to send more than one. Numbers are always better, I like second chances."

He moved his eyes around at them with a dumb look on his face as 3 finished it off.

"You're not exactly trustworthy."

Damon just leaned his back into the Chair.

"If this is a mission, I'm not going to do anything. I hate video games. I know all about the VR stuff you would to us Hibbers. Ethics! Ethics!" Damon shouted immediately.

They just looked at him and as one went for the medical tray to grab a syringe, the other two holding him down.

"We must sedate him." the one who went for the syringe said.

Damon wanted to back out of this.

"Holy shit. Okay, let's talk about this. A joke. Calmness."

They stopped at the exact same time, with strange smiles.

"We get your humor...con-man." they said together.

They only got him for the cons, thank God. He probably wasn't going to talk his way out of this. He just needed to play it cool and... 3 brought out an electronic glass-containment jar with a vicious little bug inside, spurring and trying to dent its way out.

"What the fuck is that?! Is that an alien?!" Damon questioned.

They did their weird crowd thing again.

"Yes." they said.

1 decided to explain things.

"This is what you want to take care off."

2 described absolute bullshit about the alien-bug.

"They're violent by nature. They consume and leave. We've documented their patterns. Earth is next."

3 pressed a button on the jar, releasing a small amount of gas on the bug, knocking it out.

"Gas is the only thing that works on them, and it just slows them down. They are able to sense things in advanced ways. We can't launch any attacks. We dropped nukes on them a few times. They just know and scatter. Conventional weapons don't work on them."

Damon just burst out laughing.

"I'm not a soldier. I'm really not."

They spoke as if they were in a church chorus.

"The Prison Act of Virtuality was passed to allow inmates an opportunity to earn their freedom. This is all normal now. It's not scary."

2 went behind the chair and put it into stand-by. Damon just did his best not to seem like he wanted to lie his way out of this.

"Okay, so do I sign something?" Damon asked.

1 leaned in very closely.

"It's non-consensual." 1 said.

The Chair activated and white ripped across the room, and suddenly he was standing outside, but it was from the time he was from. The buildings were rampaged, and there were fires and bulletholes, but no people. He remembered seeing this on the news. He always believed it was a riot. He wanted to shout to the sky.

"Hey, I know I'm still in the chair!" Damon yelled.

The coats spoke as if they were close to him.

"We'll be here to guide." they said.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing!" Damon said.

"We need to know how somebody ordinary would do it. It would be less threatening." The coats said.

"You want me to kill the bug? Or bugs...? With what?" Damon asked.

"He's smarter than we anticipated. There's a Gas-Light rifle behind you." the coats informed.

Damon knew just about everyone would spin around for that, but he didn't want to be seen that way. He slowly went for it and picked it up with one hand, shaking it a bit. It looked like it came from some really bad science fiction comic.

"I'm not using this. It's like a water-gun." Damon said.

"Perhaps we should..." one of the coats asked another.

He didn't perceive it, but when he looked. It changed. It was something he would expect he would see on the real outside; sleek and smooth, self-lighting and guidance systems. He took aim at a close-by wall. The coats started to chirp.

"Don't...don't." they said.

He fired anyway. The wall started to be eaten away, the building starting to lose its support, before collapsing. That was actually pretty cool to him. If this ever got out on the black market...the money.

"You just wasted ammo." a coat said.

"I wanted to try it." Damon admitted.

"You need to use that on the Swarm." another coat announced.

"I don't see any Swarm." Damon looked around.

"They see you." the last coat said.

There were bugs emerging out of places, he did his best not to trip as he backed away with the rifle.

"We suggest you run." the coats advised.

He didn't exactly listen. He departed down the stairs into the subway. The lights were still up and there was a small group of people hiding out. One of the men started waving at him, trying to shoo him away.

"You'll lead them here." the man said.

"I got a gun." Damon told the man.

They were too traumatized from what was going on, they just wanted to live. The coats talked, and amazingly nobody else picked up on it.

"They aren't important. The Swarm has a nest. Follow the tracks and you'll find it." one of the coats talked.

Damon stepped down to the tracks, taking one glance back at the group before going down the tunnel. He knew they were undefended, and he probably did give away their position.

"Keep going. The Gas-Light will mask you." a coat guided.

"Are those people going to die?" Damon asked.

"They are just there. They are a faculty of imagination or memory." a coat told him.

"They're real to me." Damon said to the coats.

The coats just fell silent. There were carvings, organic bug material, and ruptured gas lines. One whiff of the human stuff and they would be led somewhere...

"What the hell am I doing?" Damon asked in confusion.

"You will be affected by their gases, but you won't die. You need to find their egg grounds, and destroy them." a coat told him.

"And then what?" Damon asked.

"You still need to escape afterward." a coat said.

"Are you saying they'll know?" Damon said worriedly.

"They pick up on changes." a coat said with intelligence.

He heard a small rustle behind him and spun around him. It was the man who shooed him.

"We had a discussion, and we think you should stay with us." the man said.

"I'm on a..." Damon stopped himself from going on.

The coats would be watching this closely.

"I'm supposed to be doing this." Damon said more clearly.

"You're just one guy. With a gun." the man said surprised.

"You could help me." Damon let on.

"I just followed to stop you from killing yourself." the man said.

Damon set the gun down very gently and walked away with the man. He felt a sudden shock go right up his back, he screamed.

"Go back to the gun and finish." the coats commanded.

The man tried to hold him steady and take him back to the group, but Damon just shook his head.

"I have to fucking do this." Damon admitted.

The man knows what he saw.

"You're in pain. Out of nowhere." the man remarked.

The coats rattled.

"You're here for one purpose." they said.

Damon wanted to punch the coats right in their funny face. He heaved him himself upright and went into the nest. The man just left. He didn't want to die either. The place was dark and damp, his shoes would squish on the bug stuff. It was important not to look around too much, they knew he was in their home turf. It's like they used the natural environment to their advantage. It may have been an old maintenance area, but it was just designed so well... you knew where everything was, but you don't at the same time.

The eggs were exactly where he thought they'd be. He wanted to wish this all away, but that would be just the human side. He knew it made feel unlike himself. The gases. He raised the Gas-Light, and hesitated. He knew what he had to do, but he knew he didn't want to. He whispered to the coats.

"Hey, is this right or wrong? I don't feel like doing it?" Damon asked.

"You took too much time. Shock." one of the coats interjected.

"Goddamn it." Damon replied.

He sprayed the Gas-Light, illuminating the eggs as they disintegrated. Now he had to get the fuck out. The bugs started to stir. They knew he did it. It's like he committed sacrilege to the Swarm. He was no longer one of them. He ran the way he came. He was holding the rifle with one arm firing it off at the incoming. There was no way he could pull off shots like that, but he was. He made it back to the tram station, and the people were still there.

"We have to get out of here right now!" Damon said.

"It was safe until you showed up!" the man said.

Damon dropped the Gas-Light by them and ran. The man picked it up and started firing at the bugs, until it ran empty. Damon could only remember the screams. Everything turned white and he was back in the Chair with the coats.

"You passed." they said.

The End

**  
**

