10. Time's Spoken Word
48 Hours before the Bombing in Philadelphia
The ‘Herser’, a Hidden Restaurant in Venice, Italy
48 Hours before the Bombing in Philadelphia
The ‘Herser’, a Hidden Restaurant in Venice, Italy
“How insulting, having to share a restaurant with these filthy reapers.” His majesty: King ‘T. Williams the Third’; he sat in the vast hall with empty tables surrounding him. On looking reapers sat far from the tyrannical king. “What an uncharted setting I find myself in. Even If I manage to behead these entire cretin’s I’d still be dining to a mediocre resort.” King Williams sat tall with his mantle behind him, his crown above him, and his long-blonde hair stretching to his lower back, but all anyone else could see was his proud civic that was flaunted on the back of his mantle. The symbol closely resembled the reaper’s emblem: An upside-down white cross with the name ‘REAP’ written overtop of it. This emblem was a right side-up black cross in front of the letters ‘HALO’.
With every bite Williams took, insults slurred from his mouth to the nearby reapers; but the reapers dared not oppose one of the great kings of Halo, for their mortal was rivaled as the closest power to God himself.
Williams took a bite from his Lobster. “Mehh… How insulting, this lobster is not adequate enough to taste the lips of a fine gentleman, such as myself.” He spat it out. As the floors of the restaurant now tasted Williams’ rejected fare, a man not so unfamiliar walked overtop the discarded piece of sea fish. “Hmm?” Williams noticed the adjacent pair standing behind him.
“Damn. These were some very nice boots too.” Weston’s Romanian accent never failed to encourage the mood.
“Heh. What an insulting toddler.” Williams denied them the face-to-face as he continued to eat his second round of Lobster. “To intentionally come up from behind, is to be an intentional fool.” Williams inched his smirk wider. “It could be… dangerous, you know.” The dramatic statement caused the atmosphere to blur for only a single second. The neighboring reapers began performing the most peculiar method of struggle anyone had ever bared to witness. Their arms began wrapping themselves around their necks as if freeing themselves from the overwhelming presence.
What is this feeling? I can’t tell. I’m choking! I’m choking! Weston had gone blind for that single second, feeling the utmost despair to the center of his core. He had gripped around his neck and locked eyes with his chest. Before he knew it, the single second became 5 seconds, and the 5 became 10. The sounds of collapsing reapers had barely filled the hazy atmosphere as sound was almost void to Weston’s person at this point. No more! Stop!
“Your majesty, please stop your man before we suffocate to death.” An unfazed voice, spoken with tranquility, came out from behind Weston Valor. “I apologize for my rudeness, but I wish not that you should have the death of our men ruin your afternoon.” This man spoke with Williams as if he stood on equal grounds with him. He wore a genuine Ecuadorian Panama Hat that brimmed around the top part of his face. After lifting the hat back into place his entire face was revealed to be a gaunt and very confident-looking man crossing no more than 30 to 35 years of age. He bowed to the feasting King and lead Weston the way as well.
King Williams turned back to find a prime representative to the head of REAP’s fine organization. He faced forward once more and spat the lobster from his mouth. “Enough, my Luke! Your spirit lingers too long in my presence. It insults me!” He stood. Williams was a titan by normal height standards, rising to the 2 meter spire and facing downward at his inferior other.
“I apologize your majesty, please forgive my insolence.” The man named ‘Luke’ was a lot shorter by Williams’s standards. His height rivaled that of Weston’s, even noting the two of them bowing in complete unison. This man’s existence however, barely stood on the same grounds with the disturbed and impassive young archer. Although standing alongside each other, the difference in ‘height’ was as clear as the conquering of Mount Everest versus a necking worm who only dreamt for the sky.
The fallen reapers slowly picked each other up noticing their utter defeat in this repulsive confrontation. Every face towards the four proctors was rejected by the back of a single bowing man. Most of the customers scurried through the open doors, caring naught for their bill. Other men, who dared not leave, were fastened tightly to their seats, knowing perfectly well the outcome of moving a single finger.
Weston’s leave had returned, looking literally pale in the face. In fact, with the gasp of his first breathe he threw his entire self back off of his bow. His face told the four of them everything there was to know. He was a pawn in this passionate game of chess, and although he managed to check the king, his bishop came out from hiding to throw ‘pity’ back at the lowly simpleton.
“Forgive his imposition your majesty, it’s not everyday he stands in the presence of such dominion.” Once more the informal voice found its way passed the artificial atmosphere and into the ears of the proud and vigilant King. His panama hat twisted with his head to face the bowing and noble Luke. “You must be Luke of the Four Gospels. What an honor it is to meet such power. It is almost frightening.” He removed the hat upon his respect. “It is a pleasure, to say the least. I cannot express to you the absolute grace. To be fronted with such sovereign...” He turned slightly to the much taller Williams. This instance made Luke rise to his dismay.
“I must disagree with you sir, for there is much difference between ‘power’ and ‘sovereignty’.” His voice muffled from beneath the mask now displayed overtops his entire face. This mask was specifically down-sized from the shape of a white heraldic shield, harboring a large ‘black cross’ across both eyes and down to his chin. All heads suddenly met Luke’s hidden expression as he continued his inspiring principle. “My place is not one to accept such credibility. Being the 3rd brother I… I’d much rather you ease your choice of words.” Luke’s concealed and brazen nature seeped through the white exterior that delegated his position beneath King Williams.
“Such strong words.” Weston’s superior had pitched a few laughs before letting slip the modest opinion. “Indeed, you’d make a fine addition.” His lips immediately caught themselves as his eyes captured King Williams, who was daunting his stifled repression. “Ah...Ha…Ha, but what kind of man would I be, stealing another man’s soldier.” The once, casual man was now fluttering his arms back and forth in front of one of the most frightening beings on earth. Williams slid forwards. He bent his head and exhaled his hilarity.
“Indeed. What does a man of your stature need with a little runt like this?” Williams eyed the unconventional man before him. “Don’t insult my being here with that kind of excuse, you toddler.” The king’s arms opened towards the back of him, indulging the man with seats. “How long are you going to pretend like I don’t know you, hmm, Lieutenant General ‘Matzen the Pride’?”
Weston sprung from his daze once he’d heard his commanding general’s name from the mouth of such royalty. He looked up at his superior to find a secure posture and a proud glow about the surface of his skin. Williams and Matzen both sat among the squared table. Luke was gone from Weston’s sight long before he had cared to notice. Lieutenant General Matzen had removed his favorite Panama hat and begun the discussion.
“Come now, your Highness. Simply just ‘General’ is fine.” The trespasser was now being served for dinner. Matzen had gathered only a few pieces of chicken before he conversed in what seemed to only be 'small talk' between the two of them.
The blond-haired Lieutenant was a slave to the extraordinary spirit he felt not moments ago. His innovation towards this roaming experience left him baffled and corrupt. He felt great displeasure and he wondered just how much longer he must sit at the children’s table watching people like Matzen and Williams exchange secretive words. That’ll be me someday, he’d think. He’d be on top and overthrow even his own father, but for now, he stood. He stood because he knew standing showed quality, standing showed character and repute, but most of all standing showed promise, and it was this promise he cared for most of all.
“Ha! Nothing but insults, general-boy.” Williams was a fundamental backbone to REAP’s parliament. Being from a separate organization however, the kings of Halo were indirectly essential to the building of any future the world had to offer. He laughed out again, spitting most of the food into Matzen’s face. “You think because the heretics over at REAP’s central command are worried, we Haloes are going to help you?” Williams wiped his mouth from the same lobster he had spat out many a time already.
“Your majesty, if they wanted your help they would be speaking with you today instead of myself.” Lieutenant General Matzen wasn’t the type to show his hand on such minuscule expeditions. He had given Williams the gist of any real importance, and this is what kept Williams, and the rest of the Haloes at bay. “These days have been rough, particularly on the chairmen.”
“Ha! That fool Marx, I haven’t seen him in years. Even if he asks me politely I won’t answer his call.” Williams took quite a swing from a half-empty bottle of whiskey, only to have droplets trickle into the clean blond beard he had shaped, outlining his face so well.
“That aside your highness, I would like to ask you personally as an overseer to a certain dilemma we’ve found ourselves in these past few days.” Williams wiped his chin and stared at Matzen intently.
“A favor? You may be crossing a line, general-boy.” Williams smiled off the bitter taste.
“A favor is not what I’m asking your highness.” Matzen pulled from his dark suit an envelope. Williams set aside his provision and looked down at Matzen before tugging the envelope from his fingers. Williams kept from opening the sealed packet until 5 simple words sprung his brow over radiant. “It’s evidence… of the records.” Matzen’s silent words shook the wary king. It was this simple allegation that had Williams overexcited about a single piece of paper. “I take it; you’re accepting my offer then?” He didn’t respond, instead he slipped the envelope into his pockets and rose from his seat.
“Contact me in a couple of hours. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He neatened his majestic garments and gave a nod to the seated general. “Come, my Luke. We have other business to attend to.” He gave his back to Matzen who was encouraging a smile as he rested his chin against his fist. Williams began to move. His steps were silent but not unnoticed; he could hear the people’s eyes shifting his way with each step, as if pushing him further and further. He stopped in front of a bowing blond archer. His arm reached for Weston’s back to lift his body higher. “Child, how good are you with that bow?” Weston felt as if he was struck by lightning. To finally speak to such royalty, to be recognized as someone worthy, it had finally come.
“A... Add… Adequate, your majesty.” He felt dense as the stutter pulsated throughout his body.
Williams pointed to the invisible Luke. “His brother is one of the best I’ve seen.” Weston couldn’t see where he was pointing, but he kept from adjusting pose as he stood underneath the king. Williams’s mild glare had become overcome with frustration. “Become stronger than him.” He barked. Weston didn’t understand the basis of this appreciation, but he hadn’t cared to think on it.
With that, the both of them had left, leaving more than just the scent of royal grace behind them. A short, black-haired waitress came out from behind the group of terrified reapers to ask of something of more importance.
“Sir, the king has asked that you were to pick up his bill.”
“Wha… What?!!” Matzen had almost fallen off his chair after gazing upon the dozens of plates on the very table in which he now dined at. He noticed that each plate had barely been touched and that every serving was simply bitten and spat back into other helpings that were on the same table. Weston had approached the shaken general and advised him of a greater matter.
“General Matzen sir, does the bill also include the second table to the side? It looks like there’s more there than here.” After pointing out the 5 dozen plates that were tossed aside by the ‘un-appreciative king’ the young waitress fiercely nodded stating the amount of times Williams had bitten off their delicious recipes and spat them back in disgust.
“My… my wallet. She’s going to cry!” He began to sob, realizing that the reapers weren’t the only ones to suffer complete and utter defeat.
With every bite Williams took, insults slurred from his mouth to the nearby reapers; but the reapers dared not oppose one of the great kings of Halo, for their mortal was rivaled as the closest power to God himself.
Williams took a bite from his Lobster. “Mehh… How insulting, this lobster is not adequate enough to taste the lips of a fine gentleman, such as myself.” He spat it out. As the floors of the restaurant now tasted Williams’ rejected fare, a man not so unfamiliar walked overtop the discarded piece of sea fish. “Hmm?” Williams noticed the adjacent pair standing behind him.
“Damn. These were some very nice boots too.” Weston’s Romanian accent never failed to encourage the mood.
“Heh. What an insulting toddler.” Williams denied them the face-to-face as he continued to eat his second round of Lobster. “To intentionally come up from behind, is to be an intentional fool.” Williams inched his smirk wider. “It could be… dangerous, you know.” The dramatic statement caused the atmosphere to blur for only a single second. The neighboring reapers began performing the most peculiar method of struggle anyone had ever bared to witness. Their arms began wrapping themselves around their necks as if freeing themselves from the overwhelming presence.
What is this feeling? I can’t tell. I’m choking! I’m choking! Weston had gone blind for that single second, feeling the utmost despair to the center of his core. He had gripped around his neck and locked eyes with his chest. Before he knew it, the single second became 5 seconds, and the 5 became 10. The sounds of collapsing reapers had barely filled the hazy atmosphere as sound was almost void to Weston’s person at this point. No more! Stop!
“Your majesty, please stop your man before we suffocate to death.” An unfazed voice, spoken with tranquility, came out from behind Weston Valor. “I apologize for my rudeness, but I wish not that you should have the death of our men ruin your afternoon.” This man spoke with Williams as if he stood on equal grounds with him. He wore a genuine Ecuadorian Panama Hat that brimmed around the top part of his face. After lifting the hat back into place his entire face was revealed to be a gaunt and very confident-looking man crossing no more than 30 to 35 years of age. He bowed to the feasting King and lead Weston the way as well.
King Williams turned back to find a prime representative to the head of REAP’s fine organization. He faced forward once more and spat the lobster from his mouth. “Enough, my Luke! Your spirit lingers too long in my presence. It insults me!” He stood. Williams was a titan by normal height standards, rising to the 2 meter spire and facing downward at his inferior other.
“I apologize your majesty, please forgive my insolence.” The man named ‘Luke’ was a lot shorter by Williams’s standards. His height rivaled that of Weston’s, even noting the two of them bowing in complete unison. This man’s existence however, barely stood on the same grounds with the disturbed and impassive young archer. Although standing alongside each other, the difference in ‘height’ was as clear as the conquering of Mount Everest versus a necking worm who only dreamt for the sky.
The fallen reapers slowly picked each other up noticing their utter defeat in this repulsive confrontation. Every face towards the four proctors was rejected by the back of a single bowing man. Most of the customers scurried through the open doors, caring naught for their bill. Other men, who dared not leave, were fastened tightly to their seats, knowing perfectly well the outcome of moving a single finger.
Weston’s leave had returned, looking literally pale in the face. In fact, with the gasp of his first breathe he threw his entire self back off of his bow. His face told the four of them everything there was to know. He was a pawn in this passionate game of chess, and although he managed to check the king, his bishop came out from hiding to throw ‘pity’ back at the lowly simpleton.
“Forgive his imposition your majesty, it’s not everyday he stands in the presence of such dominion.” Once more the informal voice found its way passed the artificial atmosphere and into the ears of the proud and vigilant King. His panama hat twisted with his head to face the bowing and noble Luke. “You must be Luke of the Four Gospels. What an honor it is to meet such power. It is almost frightening.” He removed the hat upon his respect. “It is a pleasure, to say the least. I cannot express to you the absolute grace. To be fronted with such sovereign...” He turned slightly to the much taller Williams. This instance made Luke rise to his dismay.
“I must disagree with you sir, for there is much difference between ‘power’ and ‘sovereignty’.” His voice muffled from beneath the mask now displayed overtops his entire face. This mask was specifically down-sized from the shape of a white heraldic shield, harboring a large ‘black cross’ across both eyes and down to his chin. All heads suddenly met Luke’s hidden expression as he continued his inspiring principle. “My place is not one to accept such credibility. Being the 3rd brother I… I’d much rather you ease your choice of words.” Luke’s concealed and brazen nature seeped through the white exterior that delegated his position beneath King Williams.
“Such strong words.” Weston’s superior had pitched a few laughs before letting slip the modest opinion. “Indeed, you’d make a fine addition.” His lips immediately caught themselves as his eyes captured King Williams, who was daunting his stifled repression. “Ah...Ha…Ha, but what kind of man would I be, stealing another man’s soldier.” The once, casual man was now fluttering his arms back and forth in front of one of the most frightening beings on earth. Williams slid forwards. He bent his head and exhaled his hilarity.
“Indeed. What does a man of your stature need with a little runt like this?” Williams eyed the unconventional man before him. “Don’t insult my being here with that kind of excuse, you toddler.” The king’s arms opened towards the back of him, indulging the man with seats. “How long are you going to pretend like I don’t know you, hmm, Lieutenant General ‘Matzen the Pride’?”
Weston sprung from his daze once he’d heard his commanding general’s name from the mouth of such royalty. He looked up at his superior to find a secure posture and a proud glow about the surface of his skin. Williams and Matzen both sat among the squared table. Luke was gone from Weston’s sight long before he had cared to notice. Lieutenant General Matzen had removed his favorite Panama hat and begun the discussion.
“Come now, your Highness. Simply just ‘General’ is fine.” The trespasser was now being served for dinner. Matzen had gathered only a few pieces of chicken before he conversed in what seemed to only be 'small talk' between the two of them.
The blond-haired Lieutenant was a slave to the extraordinary spirit he felt not moments ago. His innovation towards this roaming experience left him baffled and corrupt. He felt great displeasure and he wondered just how much longer he must sit at the children’s table watching people like Matzen and Williams exchange secretive words. That’ll be me someday, he’d think. He’d be on top and overthrow even his own father, but for now, he stood. He stood because he knew standing showed quality, standing showed character and repute, but most of all standing showed promise, and it was this promise he cared for most of all.
“Ha! Nothing but insults, general-boy.” Williams was a fundamental backbone to REAP’s parliament. Being from a separate organization however, the kings of Halo were indirectly essential to the building of any future the world had to offer. He laughed out again, spitting most of the food into Matzen’s face. “You think because the heretics over at REAP’s central command are worried, we Haloes are going to help you?” Williams wiped his mouth from the same lobster he had spat out many a time already.
“Your majesty, if they wanted your help they would be speaking with you today instead of myself.” Lieutenant General Matzen wasn’t the type to show his hand on such minuscule expeditions. He had given Williams the gist of any real importance, and this is what kept Williams, and the rest of the Haloes at bay. “These days have been rough, particularly on the chairmen.”
“Ha! That fool Marx, I haven’t seen him in years. Even if he asks me politely I won’t answer his call.” Williams took quite a swing from a half-empty bottle of whiskey, only to have droplets trickle into the clean blond beard he had shaped, outlining his face so well.
“That aside your highness, I would like to ask you personally as an overseer to a certain dilemma we’ve found ourselves in these past few days.” Williams wiped his chin and stared at Matzen intently.
“A favor? You may be crossing a line, general-boy.” Williams smiled off the bitter taste.
“A favor is not what I’m asking your highness.” Matzen pulled from his dark suit an envelope. Williams set aside his provision and looked down at Matzen before tugging the envelope from his fingers. Williams kept from opening the sealed packet until 5 simple words sprung his brow over radiant. “It’s evidence… of the records.” Matzen’s silent words shook the wary king. It was this simple allegation that had Williams overexcited about a single piece of paper. “I take it; you’re accepting my offer then?” He didn’t respond, instead he slipped the envelope into his pockets and rose from his seat.
“Contact me in a couple of hours. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He neatened his majestic garments and gave a nod to the seated general. “Come, my Luke. We have other business to attend to.” He gave his back to Matzen who was encouraging a smile as he rested his chin against his fist. Williams began to move. His steps were silent but not unnoticed; he could hear the people’s eyes shifting his way with each step, as if pushing him further and further. He stopped in front of a bowing blond archer. His arm reached for Weston’s back to lift his body higher. “Child, how good are you with that bow?” Weston felt as if he was struck by lightning. To finally speak to such royalty, to be recognized as someone worthy, it had finally come.
“A... Add… Adequate, your majesty.” He felt dense as the stutter pulsated throughout his body.
Williams pointed to the invisible Luke. “His brother is one of the best I’ve seen.” Weston couldn’t see where he was pointing, but he kept from adjusting pose as he stood underneath the king. Williams’s mild glare had become overcome with frustration. “Become stronger than him.” He barked. Weston didn’t understand the basis of this appreciation, but he hadn’t cared to think on it.
With that, the both of them had left, leaving more than just the scent of royal grace behind them. A short, black-haired waitress came out from behind the group of terrified reapers to ask of something of more importance.
“Sir, the king has asked that you were to pick up his bill.”
“Wha… What?!!” Matzen had almost fallen off his chair after gazing upon the dozens of plates on the very table in which he now dined at. He noticed that each plate had barely been touched and that every serving was simply bitten and spat back into other helpings that were on the same table. Weston had approached the shaken general and advised him of a greater matter.
“General Matzen sir, does the bill also include the second table to the side? It looks like there’s more there than here.” After pointing out the 5 dozen plates that were tossed aside by the ‘un-appreciative king’ the young waitress fiercely nodded stating the amount of times Williams had bitten off their delicious recipes and spat them back in disgust.
“My… my wallet. She’s going to cry!” He began to sob, realizing that the reapers weren’t the only ones to suffer complete and utter defeat.
37 Hours Later
Austin Meehan Middle School Parking Lot
Austin Meehan Middle School Parking Lot
“Y-You bastard! You killed her!” A menacing voice echoed.
“If you want to hate me, please go right ahead. Let your last vulgar moments embrace your entire soul.”
Three men, one woman; all of them were enriched with the darkness of outer cosmos. Of them lays a man with his head erected forwards, on the face of the cold and dreary asphalt. Two of them stood, with their shoulders abroad and flaring their outward rage at the defeated beast before them. Lastly, the female, had a clean slice across her throat. As her head crashes into the hard rock she faints into her half-dead fancy of a dream, spilling all her precious blood across the grounds of mid-level education.
“I swear I’ll…. I’LL KILL YOU!!” The barely conscious Samuel Kings tried as he might, but his wounds were too great to stand. Sam’s body flexed. He felt the weight of all his endeavors standing overtop of him and increasing the invisible pressure against his two shoulders. His expensive slim cut, two-button silhouette now mixed colors with the blood evacuated from his body. The lamp fixture above him had slowly began to fade.
“Sergeant Lime, prepare the ‘Dissipative Structure’.” The marauding commander stood behind his Sergeant, safe from the veil of luminosity.
“Right away, Lieutenant Valor.” The eyeglass-wearing Sergeant stepped into Sam’s weakened domain. He was a lithe type of somebody. His antique posture always reminded Weston of a doctor he once knew.
“This is the last night you’ll be using that title, Adrian.” Weston watched as his Sergeant removed the small mechanism from his haversack. The small antennae resembled the instrument more and more of an ant, as its body was only the size of a tick. A fine strap was hung from the sides of the tick, long enough to wrap itself around any beast. Sergeant Lime approached the half-dead Samuel.
“What’re you doing…. Get away from me…” His attempt at a break fall was haltered by the small mechanism in the hands of Sergeant Lime. “Ahhh-!” Sam felt the squeeze of suffocation around his neck.
“What do you think, Mr. Kings? How does ‘Captain Valor’ sound to you?” Weston ducked closer to the strangled Samuel. “It was particularly hard to find you, you know, especially after our last encounter.” He brushed off the apparent rubble on Sam’s shoulders. “You’ve killed plenty of my men already, Kings. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me how the 5 of you fell off our radar.”
Samuel’s eyes blazed with the glimmer of the fading lamp above him. He realized then that his life would not end tonight. This false hope kept his mouth shut in front of the reaper himself. Weston couldn’t stand the seconds he held him; he immediately tossed Sam’s head off his grip and back into the rough surface of organized car lots.
“Don’t get me wrong. We could’ve shot you and your dead friend anytime we wanted, you should consider yourself lucky to still be alive. Well, for the most part.” Sam’s eye’s twitched over to Lily who was racing her blood as her far from her as possible. Sergeant Lime had also taken the time to attach the strange mechanism around her neck as well. Sam looked back at Weston with the deadliest of scowls. “Talk!” Weston screamed.
For Sam, these sorts of circumstances seemed impossible. He always had the upper hand in a duel, but when the time came to lose his heart would sulk and it would murk behind his pride, and until this affair was over he’d remain in complete isolation. Death would follow Sam as far as possible and it took him all of his strength to not turn face and kiss the beast of his most feared adversary. With this significant thought in mind Samuel inserted himself back into reality and gave out his heaviest chortle.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! That Crowley-boy is one clever sonuvabitch.”
“Tell me! Now! Where are they?” Weston was touching upon desperation.
“Why don’t you tell me, reaper.” Sam’s voice began to regain character, and his mocking self was in control at last. “The world’s strongest power, the ‘Righteous Embassy of Abnormal Practices’. It has been said that not a single mystic can escape the power of REAP’s detection radars, why is it that three high school brats can surpass this legendary axiom?”
“I can make you dead more than you already are, you big oaf. How should we know how you sinners walk the planet?”
“Don’t be naïve, you little shit. They’re already dead.” Sam coughed and exhaled, in that order.
“What?”
“You can’t find them, right? Anyone can be picked up by that junk-heap-piece of scrap metal. Even regular humans. If you can’t find them than they’re dead.”
Weston tilted down and stared at Sam’s half-beaten exterior. He pounced back removing his deadly shadow off the poor man.
“Hah! Now who’s being naïve? You expect me to believe that bullshit? I know you’re trying to cover for them. I commend you for not spilling their location to me, even as you lay there dying, but there has to be something that can make you talk.” Weston removed his bow and aimed lower at Sam.
“You’re really an idiot then. I’ve got nothing to lose. How are you going to find them if I don’t tell you, hmm? Blow up the entire city?” Sam used up all his last words to joke in front of his greatest enemy.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He paused. “I don’t care if I take the lives of all these blind fools. I’ll blame it all on the embassy. They’re all expendable to me. The only thing I need is power. The only way to get there is ‘up’.” Weston had begun his famous chant.
“I’ve seen you pull on that bow plenty of times now. But do you really know how to kill?” Weston had ignored Sam’s breathless comment as he recited the words that would seal Sam’s fate. The words Weston sang grew softer and softer with each passing breath Sam took. His life was at its end next to the very person he loved most dearly. “Lily…” His words passed her like dead air. His reach felt the gap between them, but no matter the difference, she was still lost to him.
“For your insolence I shall let you suffer. I’ll pray you won’t be so cheeky in the face of your creator.” Weston shot. It had struck Sam’s back and onward into his chest. The hindering tempo slowed his metronome to a single note every 5 seconds, and he felt the taste of fresh blood run up his gullet. The fading lamp fixture had finally passed, and with it came the veil of despair among the fallen.
“Lieutenant, the device has been activated.” Sergeant Lime watched as Weston crossed the guilty frontier. “West, please pass this grief you have on the murdered. You’ve killed once before.”
“I can still count my losses, Adrian. There is no law against it.”
“It makes you weak in front of the enemy.”
“Shut up. I know that. I’m leaving before I’m caught in the cyclone.” The 20-year old Weston Valor had counted 2 murdered bodies by his hands. His first was the beloved 2nd Lieutenant, Laken Courland. Weston took almost 5 minutes before releasing his bow against her. He remembered the anguish he felt soon after the bow had struck her skull, and the color of his hands that followed the same night. In the case of Sam’s bluntness, he was truthful of the fact that Weston had no idea how to kill his enemies. I’m still… still so far away from him, from father, from that masked bastard, from the entire world. I’m still weak. Weston faced forward for the last time. “Make sure to retrieve the devices after it’s over. I’ll meet you back at the base.” Weston watched his Sergeant place the final gadget in between the two bodies, and it began to glow.
Weston had left the murder scene. The mess from the two responsible corpses was a sight that would leave any ordinary murderer in awe. Both Sam and Lily lay completely mutilated while their blood colored the sturdy grounds of ‘Austin Meehan Middle School’. Their final moments with each other included struggling breaths and faint-spoken speech. This instance broke the two lover’s bonds and sent them to hell to be tormented individually.
The two tick-sized devices wrapped around both of the body’s necks began to shine a fancy red simmer. The gadget in between Sam and Lily extracted an unbelievable amount of both cold and warm matter, and then came the gusts of very excessive winds from both Sam’s and Lily’s collars. Within the thermal dynamic boundaries came a blinding turn of the air and it seemed as if water itself was beginning to form between the three gadgets. The mini cyclone began to form, and with it Sergeant Lime threw the last device over top of the spinning cycle. Everything lined up perfectly to contain this beast of nature, but in the midst of the disastrous upheaval laid the bodies of Louis Crowley’s murderers, as well as his saviors. It was impossible to see the ripping of skin and cracking of bone from outside the cyclone itself. The force had grown so dense that it was actually eliminating every piece of flesh from the two dead bodies. Sergeant Lime simply stood, safe from harm as he waited out the process.
The airborne-spinning tube of water was perfect in its make. In the eye of the destructive cyclone contained the centerpiece of the entire course. The side pieces were strung around the dead, and the ceiling piece saved the final gadget from any damage. This cyclone spun within the dark and silent atmosphere. It spun horrendously fast; anyone that tried to see through the beast would fail in their attempts, although the problem didn’t lie with how you could see through it, it was a matter of how fast you could dodge the sight altogether. The centerpiece within the tube was accompanied by another being, someone so slick and soft that they basically walked straight through to the center without a single drop to touch her white gowned attire. She knelt down at the crowding gadget and pitched it into the cyclone itself.
Quickly afterward, she dragged in the two corpses and found skeletal expressions in place of their own. She looked up at the cyclone and noticed it beginning to diminish, so she moved fast. As fast as her blood could race and as fast as nerves could twitch, she was one full second ahead of time itself. She had pulled from her white pockets a rock. It was a dirty kind of rock but she hadn’t the time to brandish its ugly blackened smolder. She had placed the rock between the mouths of both beings and within 5 seconds each their skin began regrouping themselves overtop the white rigid bone. She saw their faces begin to plunge out the lifeless sealing as they slowly regained consciousness. Sam came back first with the most vulgar of tongues. He looked over his shoulder to find the white dressed lady kneeling over Lily as well.
“You are…?” Sam knew her, but not the face. It didn’t matter to him for a single second because after looking around him, he found that he was brought back from hell to another type of hell. “What the f…?”
“Please, be quiet.” The lady hadn’t the time to be answering such useless questions. In a split second she was already knelt down at Samuel’s ear. “You are going to listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, because this world is corrupt. You two are alive against the will of time. You two survived because you serve an even greater purpose than death.” Sam heard every word from her beautiful voice, but the concept of ‘serving death’ was lost in his dictionary. “Rebel, Samuel Kings, rebel against the force that brought you to your knees. Make them fear the world as you feared them, and start the anti-revolution they’ve been planning for years.” With her final words, she was gone. Sam threw his head back and forth but it was too late. It was at this same second that a rogue gust of wind grazed the lamp fixture over top of the dissipating structure and it came back as a strong and truthful ray of hope. This lamp shined down against its own time, even after the long months it shown it was finally ready to rebel against nature and keep on shining.
“What’s the matter with the cycle? Why’s it stopping?” Sergeant Lime watched his brilliant mechanism begin to disrupt. He could see two silhouettes from within the paths of water, but he was for certain that the two dead bodies were already depleted. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” He called. Lime removed his weapon from his holster. He looked again, but this time he saw no one. The silhouettes were gone. Did they escape from the rear, he thought. He kept tilting his neck back and forth to angle around the falling paths of water. He looked and he looked, his head even tilted upward and faced more towards the sky, and then it tilted even more upward than upward itself. He kept looking and noticed that his sight was not so comfortable anymore, in fact his entire head felt as if it were upside down and facing towards the rear of him. Why is everything upside-down? What has this cycle done? It’s made it so I can’t even face forwards and in an upright position anymore. I think I’ll shoot it just in case. Lime had reached for his gun, but he felt no gun. In fact he felt no reach at all. At that point he noticed that his head had been severed and was separated from his body. It was the matter of how fast he could notice and how fast he could die, for without a head on his shoulders his senses all but stopped, and to his side came the beast of his demise.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll hear this but, I’ve always liked the saying: An eye for an eye.” Samuel stood tall once more, above the body of the severed sergeant and beside him the woman of his desires. He lived again and was about to wreak havoc on the cruel life he had so endured.
“If you want to hate me, please go right ahead. Let your last vulgar moments embrace your entire soul.”
Three men, one woman; all of them were enriched with the darkness of outer cosmos. Of them lays a man with his head erected forwards, on the face of the cold and dreary asphalt. Two of them stood, with their shoulders abroad and flaring their outward rage at the defeated beast before them. Lastly, the female, had a clean slice across her throat. As her head crashes into the hard rock she faints into her half-dead fancy of a dream, spilling all her precious blood across the grounds of mid-level education.
“I swear I’ll…. I’LL KILL YOU!!” The barely conscious Samuel Kings tried as he might, but his wounds were too great to stand. Sam’s body flexed. He felt the weight of all his endeavors standing overtop of him and increasing the invisible pressure against his two shoulders. His expensive slim cut, two-button silhouette now mixed colors with the blood evacuated from his body. The lamp fixture above him had slowly began to fade.
“Sergeant Lime, prepare the ‘Dissipative Structure’.” The marauding commander stood behind his Sergeant, safe from the veil of luminosity.
“Right away, Lieutenant Valor.” The eyeglass-wearing Sergeant stepped into Sam’s weakened domain. He was a lithe type of somebody. His antique posture always reminded Weston of a doctor he once knew.
“This is the last night you’ll be using that title, Adrian.” Weston watched as his Sergeant removed the small mechanism from his haversack. The small antennae resembled the instrument more and more of an ant, as its body was only the size of a tick. A fine strap was hung from the sides of the tick, long enough to wrap itself around any beast. Sergeant Lime approached the half-dead Samuel.
“What’re you doing…. Get away from me…” His attempt at a break fall was haltered by the small mechanism in the hands of Sergeant Lime. “Ahhh-!” Sam felt the squeeze of suffocation around his neck.
“What do you think, Mr. Kings? How does ‘Captain Valor’ sound to you?” Weston ducked closer to the strangled Samuel. “It was particularly hard to find you, you know, especially after our last encounter.” He brushed off the apparent rubble on Sam’s shoulders. “You’ve killed plenty of my men already, Kings. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me how the 5 of you fell off our radar.”
Samuel’s eyes blazed with the glimmer of the fading lamp above him. He realized then that his life would not end tonight. This false hope kept his mouth shut in front of the reaper himself. Weston couldn’t stand the seconds he held him; he immediately tossed Sam’s head off his grip and back into the rough surface of organized car lots.
“Don’t get me wrong. We could’ve shot you and your dead friend anytime we wanted, you should consider yourself lucky to still be alive. Well, for the most part.” Sam’s eye’s twitched over to Lily who was racing her blood as her far from her as possible. Sergeant Lime had also taken the time to attach the strange mechanism around her neck as well. Sam looked back at Weston with the deadliest of scowls. “Talk!” Weston screamed.
For Sam, these sorts of circumstances seemed impossible. He always had the upper hand in a duel, but when the time came to lose his heart would sulk and it would murk behind his pride, and until this affair was over he’d remain in complete isolation. Death would follow Sam as far as possible and it took him all of his strength to not turn face and kiss the beast of his most feared adversary. With this significant thought in mind Samuel inserted himself back into reality and gave out his heaviest chortle.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha! That Crowley-boy is one clever sonuvabitch.”
“Tell me! Now! Where are they?” Weston was touching upon desperation.
“Why don’t you tell me, reaper.” Sam’s voice began to regain character, and his mocking self was in control at last. “The world’s strongest power, the ‘Righteous Embassy of Abnormal Practices’. It has been said that not a single mystic can escape the power of REAP’s detection radars, why is it that three high school brats can surpass this legendary axiom?”
“I can make you dead more than you already are, you big oaf. How should we know how you sinners walk the planet?”
“Don’t be naïve, you little shit. They’re already dead.” Sam coughed and exhaled, in that order.
“What?”
“You can’t find them, right? Anyone can be picked up by that junk-heap-piece of scrap metal. Even regular humans. If you can’t find them than they’re dead.”
Weston tilted down and stared at Sam’s half-beaten exterior. He pounced back removing his deadly shadow off the poor man.
“Hah! Now who’s being naïve? You expect me to believe that bullshit? I know you’re trying to cover for them. I commend you for not spilling their location to me, even as you lay there dying, but there has to be something that can make you talk.” Weston removed his bow and aimed lower at Sam.
“You’re really an idiot then. I’ve got nothing to lose. How are you going to find them if I don’t tell you, hmm? Blow up the entire city?” Sam used up all his last words to joke in front of his greatest enemy.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He paused. “I don’t care if I take the lives of all these blind fools. I’ll blame it all on the embassy. They’re all expendable to me. The only thing I need is power. The only way to get there is ‘up’.” Weston had begun his famous chant.
“I’ve seen you pull on that bow plenty of times now. But do you really know how to kill?” Weston had ignored Sam’s breathless comment as he recited the words that would seal Sam’s fate. The words Weston sang grew softer and softer with each passing breath Sam took. His life was at its end next to the very person he loved most dearly. “Lily…” His words passed her like dead air. His reach felt the gap between them, but no matter the difference, she was still lost to him.
“For your insolence I shall let you suffer. I’ll pray you won’t be so cheeky in the face of your creator.” Weston shot. It had struck Sam’s back and onward into his chest. The hindering tempo slowed his metronome to a single note every 5 seconds, and he felt the taste of fresh blood run up his gullet. The fading lamp fixture had finally passed, and with it came the veil of despair among the fallen.
“Lieutenant, the device has been activated.” Sergeant Lime watched as Weston crossed the guilty frontier. “West, please pass this grief you have on the murdered. You’ve killed once before.”
“I can still count my losses, Adrian. There is no law against it.”
“It makes you weak in front of the enemy.”
“Shut up. I know that. I’m leaving before I’m caught in the cyclone.” The 20-year old Weston Valor had counted 2 murdered bodies by his hands. His first was the beloved 2nd Lieutenant, Laken Courland. Weston took almost 5 minutes before releasing his bow against her. He remembered the anguish he felt soon after the bow had struck her skull, and the color of his hands that followed the same night. In the case of Sam’s bluntness, he was truthful of the fact that Weston had no idea how to kill his enemies. I’m still… still so far away from him, from father, from that masked bastard, from the entire world. I’m still weak. Weston faced forward for the last time. “Make sure to retrieve the devices after it’s over. I’ll meet you back at the base.” Weston watched his Sergeant place the final gadget in between the two bodies, and it began to glow.
Weston had left the murder scene. The mess from the two responsible corpses was a sight that would leave any ordinary murderer in awe. Both Sam and Lily lay completely mutilated while their blood colored the sturdy grounds of ‘Austin Meehan Middle School’. Their final moments with each other included struggling breaths and faint-spoken speech. This instance broke the two lover’s bonds and sent them to hell to be tormented individually.
The two tick-sized devices wrapped around both of the body’s necks began to shine a fancy red simmer. The gadget in between Sam and Lily extracted an unbelievable amount of both cold and warm matter, and then came the gusts of very excessive winds from both Sam’s and Lily’s collars. Within the thermal dynamic boundaries came a blinding turn of the air and it seemed as if water itself was beginning to form between the three gadgets. The mini cyclone began to form, and with it Sergeant Lime threw the last device over top of the spinning cycle. Everything lined up perfectly to contain this beast of nature, but in the midst of the disastrous upheaval laid the bodies of Louis Crowley’s murderers, as well as his saviors. It was impossible to see the ripping of skin and cracking of bone from outside the cyclone itself. The force had grown so dense that it was actually eliminating every piece of flesh from the two dead bodies. Sergeant Lime simply stood, safe from harm as he waited out the process.
The airborne-spinning tube of water was perfect in its make. In the eye of the destructive cyclone contained the centerpiece of the entire course. The side pieces were strung around the dead, and the ceiling piece saved the final gadget from any damage. This cyclone spun within the dark and silent atmosphere. It spun horrendously fast; anyone that tried to see through the beast would fail in their attempts, although the problem didn’t lie with how you could see through it, it was a matter of how fast you could dodge the sight altogether. The centerpiece within the tube was accompanied by another being, someone so slick and soft that they basically walked straight through to the center without a single drop to touch her white gowned attire. She knelt down at the crowding gadget and pitched it into the cyclone itself.
Quickly afterward, she dragged in the two corpses and found skeletal expressions in place of their own. She looked up at the cyclone and noticed it beginning to diminish, so she moved fast. As fast as her blood could race and as fast as nerves could twitch, she was one full second ahead of time itself. She had pulled from her white pockets a rock. It was a dirty kind of rock but she hadn’t the time to brandish its ugly blackened smolder. She had placed the rock between the mouths of both beings and within 5 seconds each their skin began regrouping themselves overtop the white rigid bone. She saw their faces begin to plunge out the lifeless sealing as they slowly regained consciousness. Sam came back first with the most vulgar of tongues. He looked over his shoulder to find the white dressed lady kneeling over Lily as well.
“You are…?” Sam knew her, but not the face. It didn’t matter to him for a single second because after looking around him, he found that he was brought back from hell to another type of hell. “What the f…?”
“Please, be quiet.” The lady hadn’t the time to be answering such useless questions. In a split second she was already knelt down at Samuel’s ear. “You are going to listen to me. You are going to do exactly as I say, because this world is corrupt. You two are alive against the will of time. You two survived because you serve an even greater purpose than death.” Sam heard every word from her beautiful voice, but the concept of ‘serving death’ was lost in his dictionary. “Rebel, Samuel Kings, rebel against the force that brought you to your knees. Make them fear the world as you feared them, and start the anti-revolution they’ve been planning for years.” With her final words, she was gone. Sam threw his head back and forth but it was too late. It was at this same second that a rogue gust of wind grazed the lamp fixture over top of the dissipating structure and it came back as a strong and truthful ray of hope. This lamp shined down against its own time, even after the long months it shown it was finally ready to rebel against nature and keep on shining.
“What’s the matter with the cycle? Why’s it stopping?” Sergeant Lime watched his brilliant mechanism begin to disrupt. He could see two silhouettes from within the paths of water, but he was for certain that the two dead bodies were already depleted. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” He called. Lime removed his weapon from his holster. He looked again, but this time he saw no one. The silhouettes were gone. Did they escape from the rear, he thought. He kept tilting his neck back and forth to angle around the falling paths of water. He looked and he looked, his head even tilted upward and faced more towards the sky, and then it tilted even more upward than upward itself. He kept looking and noticed that his sight was not so comfortable anymore, in fact his entire head felt as if it were upside down and facing towards the rear of him. Why is everything upside-down? What has this cycle done? It’s made it so I can’t even face forwards and in an upright position anymore. I think I’ll shoot it just in case. Lime had reached for his gun, but he felt no gun. In fact he felt no reach at all. At that point he noticed that his head had been severed and was separated from his body. It was the matter of how fast he could notice and how fast he could die, for without a head on his shoulders his senses all but stopped, and to his side came the beast of his demise.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll hear this but, I’ve always liked the saying: An eye for an eye.” Samuel stood tall once more, above the body of the severed sergeant and beside him the woman of his desires. He lived again and was about to wreak havoc on the cruel life he had so endured.
No comments:
Post a Comment